Broken Souls Chapters

Bothvar Beorcolsson

The footsteps pick up as they get closer. They’re nearly on top of me. I bang my weapons together sending the clang of metal howling along with a mighty roar. “Bring it on. It’ll take a lot to kill me. Just ask the antler creatures if you can still find one alive.”

Suddenly, figures crash out of the forest and surround me. Spear points are held out against me as I see white fur-clad warriors wearing helmets and wielding the typical round shields we all use, but they wear no sign of who they are. They’re just painted white. They have me surrounded. I twirl around and snarl. If it is a fight they want, I’ll give it to them.

“Halt,” it doesn’t surprise me to hear a woman speak, but whether it is a Valkyrie, a Wolf, or a cannibal still remains to be seen. Women fight just as much as men in most of these villages. But I doubt it is the cannibals. The Bone Eaters would not stop to talk, they would’ve attacked.

“Why do you carry a yeti?” One steps forward with what little is exposed by the helmet covered in leather. Her voice sounds familiar and I believe she’s a Valkyrie.

“That is my own business, Valkyrie!” She sniffs. It was just a guess, but I must be right as she cocks her head up. “And will you show your face, stranger?”

The woman removes her helm and my eyes go wide as I recognize her. It doesn’t feel that long ago when we met here in these woods, when I was just a boy. But it was so long ago. When Thorkel was alive, leading our little crew of friends into trouble. I remember her being taller. “You are… Amalasontha, are you not?”

Her eyes narrow as she takes me in. “Who are you, stranger? Remove your hood.”

I pull back the hood of my cloak. She searches me but still does not recognize me. Have I truly changed that much? I reach up to stroke my long and wild beard. It has grown much since I left. It is nearly down to my chest and it has not been exactly well groomed. “What is your name, stranger?”

“I am Bothvar, son of Beorcol,” I say.

Her eyes widen, then she steps closer and looks into my face. “You… You could be him, but you do not look like him. Your skin… It is dark. Much darker. It has a stony gray color to it. Why is that?”

I look down at my hands and it has been such a long time since I have really taken notice of my appearance. My skin looks the same as it did yesterday, but compared to her, it looks a lot darker. It’s drifting closer to the yeti’s black onyx skin than to a Northern human color. “Must be from either the mushrooms I eat or the cave water I’ve been drinking. I’ve been living in a cave in the Northern Mountains since the end of the raiding season during my self-exile.”

“We have heard of your disappearance, if you truly are who you say you are,” Amalasontha says as she flips her head to the side to get a string of her blondish, whitish hair out of her face. It has grown longer since my wedding.

Behind her, one of her warriors steps up to Amalasontha’s side and takes her helmet off as well. She looks familiar too. She brings her hand to her chin and rubs it. “His eyes seem to be the same as Bothvar’s. His hair is dirty and has grown wild, but I think it’s the same color. But he is a lot bigger than Bothvar. Much broader shoulders, and his arms are much thicker. He’s a lot taller than Bothvar.”

“I am Bothvar Beorcolsson,” I snap back at the girl and suddenly my eyes go wide as I recognize her. “Tonna? You cut your hair. It was longer at my wedding.”

Her eyes narrow suspiciously. Then I step up to her. “I remember the first day we met back at the river with my brother, Thorkel, and our wives, Arni and Asfrid, along with Vog, Solmund, Griotgard, and Skardi.”

Her eyes go wide. “It is you. For the love of the gods, that was so long ago. What are you doing here with the yeti cub? What has happened to you?”

“Blue-Eyes’ family was killed by these fiends with antlers that stalk in the night. The yeti call them Shadow Stalkers. She needs a new home. Her father, Longhorn, told me they came from the Southern Mountains and there are more there. I am taking her there.”

“You speak with the yeti?” Amalasontha asks, her eyes widening.

“Well, that’s debatable. I speak with them as well as I can. They talk through their hands and bodies. It is easy to get wrong and can be confusing,” I say, looking down at Blue-Eyes as she sits there, clinging behind my leg, looking at them.

Tonna bends down to her and uses her hands with her words. “Do not fear, young one. You are safe with us.”

Blue-Eyes reluctantly releases my leg and moves out from behind me. She hesitantly walks towards Tonna.

“You know their language?” I ask and this time, I’m the one surprised.

“We have had many dealings with the yeti to the south. They are not that different from us,” Amalasontha says.

“Yes, I learned that to be true,” I say with a nod.

“And how did you come to befriend the yeti?” she asks as Tonna pulls out a ration and hands it to Blue-Eyes. The little yeti wearily looks at it and then up at Tonna before returning to the food. She quickly snatches it out of Tonna’s hand. She sniffs it. Sticks her tongue out and tastes it before she eats it. Then she looks around and snatches up some snow to hand back to Tonna. Tonna smiles and takes the snow from Blue-Eyes.

“I was hunting and came across a bear. The bear and I fought, and I came out victorious. It was a good fight. I went back to get a sled and the Shadow Stalkers, as the yeti call them, were trying to steal my bear. They are tall, thin, dark creatures who dislike the sunlight and only come out in the dark. Monsters with a head like a skull of a deer with antlers on top. Their bodies are blotched in dark hair with sickly decaying skin. They scream like the dead and have teeth and claws as sharp as swords. They’re wickedly fast and crazy strong. I thought I was going to have my last fight after they swarmed me.” A bitter chill goes down my spine, and I try to shake it off. Just thinking about those fiends makes my skin crawl. “Then Longhorn, the yeti father, came roaring out of a cave nearby and together we defeated the fiends. I was badly injured and passed out. When I woke up, I was wrapped in fur in their cave. White-Hair took me in and healed me with the mushrooms and the cave water. I salvaged what I could of the bear and shared it with the yeti, discovering they had cubs. A yeti woman I’ve called White-Hair; Blue-Eyes, the little girl cub here; and Snubs, a little boy cub. That felt like a long time ago before winter came in full swing. I spent most of the winter spending time with them, learning their ways, and trading with them. I grew quite fond of them, and we developed a strong bond. That is until the fiends overran and killed Longhorn, White-Hair, and Short-Snubs. Fortunately, Blue-Eyes got away and came to warn me. I was too late to save them, but I avenged them and killed the Shadow Stalkers. All of them, including the ones at their cave.”

“I see. The yetis have a strong sense of kinship, and they view gift giving as a sign of respect. You give to them and they’ll give back. I am surprised a man like you could put aside his lust for a fight to befriend the yeti. Most men would hunt their kind,” Amalasontha says with much distrust in her tone.

“Bothvar was always different from the others,” Tonna says with a smile. “The day we met, he and his now wife were trying to prevent his brother and friends from harming a little hare until I intervened.”

I laugh. “Such a long time ago, that was. I was a foolish child.”

“But you still have the same heart,” she says as she looks down at Blue-Eyes who walks over to her and picks at her boots. Tonna leans down and picks up Blue-Eyes and the yeti girl wraps her arms around Tonna. “Now, mother, we should help find this child a new home. That is what our mother would want. This little cub, like us, is a child of the forest. It is the right thing to do.”

“I don’t know, my child. Our responsibility is to defend our home. We cannot leave it unguarded,” Amalasontha says.

“Then let me go. I can lead Bothvar to the other yeti,” she says.

“I don’t know…”

I hear many footsteps in the distance from the East. Blue-Eyes hears them too as she clings to Tonna. I turn to face them, pulling out my sword and ax.

“What is it?” Amalasontha asks, as she puts on her helm and draws out her weapon. Her sisters in arms also prepare to fight.

“Many footsteps from the East are heading in our direction,” I say, gritting my teeth.

I step before the others as a scream erupts from the trees. The woods are thick, but I can just make out something between tree trunks. Shapes dart between trees as they stalk forward. That’s when I see antlers.

The fiends have followed us here. I’ll kill them. I’ll kill them all!

No. Not fiends. They’re far too short and slow. Men with antlers on their helms. Not all, though. One is wearing what looks like a boar’s head, but I can see that it is hollow with the eyes of a man inside. They must be Bone Eaters.

It’s a raid then. Maybe a few hundred. But they have no honor. They eat the flesh of other men and women. Despicable.

I’ll kill them all. My rage boils over while I let loose a roar that makes even the trees flinch and charge at them. However, I hesitate as the first Bone Eater storms into the opening. He is wearing the face of his victim, stretched over his own face. The hesitation gives him enough time to slash his blade out at my throat…

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Lura Syllana

We have to take classes to learn about other cultures, mostly humans and dwarves. We’re also taught their languages. How to read and write their written word. It’s a lot of long, tedious work. Especially for those who haven’t quite mastered our own language. Thankfully, I’ve got a good grasp on it.

Human history is wrought with war ever since they just appeared here, chopping trees down to ignite a war between our primitive Wood-Elven cousins. Fortunately for them, the dwarves were already in conflict with the elves and allied with the humans.

Of course, these humans later settled in High Water, the capital of the Southern Kingdom, which is now ruled by King Vandil. However, there are two other groups of humans to the north. Saxons, and those called Norsemen, or Northerners. The two groups don’t get along and often fight each other. That is until the Southern Human Kingdom rose up to claim the other two kingdoms. The last great battle was fought between them, where King Vandil defeated King Teowulf of the north.

We learned a bit more about our primitive ancestors, the Wood Elves, as well and their beliefs. They practice an ancient druidic magic that allows them to communicate with life. As fast as one can cut them down, they can grow trees with their magic. They believe the forest is a living thing. And the druids can grow what they need, harvesting bows, arrow shafts, staves, and anything else made of wood from the trees they can grow. Their magic allows them to twist the trees into what they need. Of course, that is why it is such a huge offense to cut down their trees. They can also cleanse water, heal the sick, and provide food from plants

—

I spent most of the night reading until I fell asleep. I read over two-thirds of the book, including the notes in the margin. The book itself is about Terel’s own journey to discovering the Light’s grace, including the time before Angel Akrasiel arrived when things were dark after King Volodar renounced the throne and left. The city of Isyelnaes and the Volodar Elven Nation itself fell into despair. Idols were worshiped. Those that the apostles of Akrasiel denounced as false gods were worshiped by others. However, the lands became ruled by corruption by the Elder Gods and demons sought to conquer. They weren’t the only threats they faced. Creatures of the void hungered to devour everything. Fiends of darkness tried to block out the sun and envelop the land in darkness.

These were hard times. Even the old gods that the High Elves used to worship did not come to save the people. But even at the darkest hour, Light shone down from above as angels came to our salvation. Akrasiel was in the lead. He brought hope with him. His love and compassion restored the elves and gave them strength.

But the false gods wouldn’t give up and sought to destroy the angels. War arose between the angels and the false deities. The angels did all they could to protect the mortal elves and defeat the false gods. Terel himself became one of Akrasiel’s disciples along with Riluaneth Waeszeiros, Colvardonn, Anfather, Vedana Oddheart, Amaranthae, Nostra Longswitch, and Mathienne Naesalor. Together, they fought alongside the angels while learning from them.

But even they weren’t enough to turn the tide. In the darkest hour, Akrasiel shone brightly and made the ultimate sacrifice. He pulled the false gods within his Light and erupted, destroying them and himself in the process. There is still a good chunk left I haven’t read yet. So, there is more to the story after the Angel Akrasiel died.

However, in the notes, it questions things. Circling false gods, leaving the question, are they false? What is that supposed to mean? He wrote, if the angels are real, can there be other gods? I don’t know, nor do I understand.

There are also notes that provide specific details about the events and draw attention to certain things, such as Akrasiel’s death and the words used to describe the false gods like demons, elder gods, creatures of the void, and fiends of the darkness, ending with a question mark asking if there are more. The notes themselves bring up more questions than they answer. If this is Terel, why is he questioning his own work?

It really makes me believe that this isn’t Terel and is instead someone else who asks the questions. Some kind of heretic or something.

As Chalia wakes up, I ask if she wants to wash dishes for a couple of hours and she shrugs but relents. We head down to the kitchens after Chalia helps me get an hourglass from the Sister of Novices, a rather tall skinny woman named Arnarra, who has a face that seems to be perpetually tired. She was a pleasant woman, though. Dark brown hair with somewhat creamy beige skin.

We grab breakfast with some of the other strays real fast before getting to work in the kitchens. A short, pudgy woman in a red dress with a white apron gives me an earful about how things are done in the kitchens before I can get to work on the mountain of dishes. The dishes are never-ending. Every time I wash a plate, two more take its place. The mountain of plates grows taller and I furiously scrub and rinse as the dishes are taken from the rack and put into use. After a few hours, the mountain stops growing and I can finally get it under control. When I finally finish the remaining dishes, my time conveniently comes to an end.

My hands have shrunk into prunes as Chalia and I head back up to our dorm. Chalia and I both immediately grab books and start reading. After a while of silence, I turn to her. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” she says, not looking up from her book.

“When you were at my level and you received one of the books by Terel Glarespell, did your book have any writing in it?”

She stops reading, closes her book, and looks at me. “Let me guess, your book has writing in it that appears to be written by the author, and it seems like you’re the only one who sees it. Am I right?”

“Yes, so you did have one,” I say.

She nods. “It seems like all of the strays do, or did.”

“Really? That’s odd, but I can definitely confirm that Ralodan and Biremeril can also see the writing. What does it mean? Who all can see it? Have you found the books mentioned?”

“Slow down. I have no idea what it means. I do not know who can see them and who can’t or why, and I still haven’t gotten the books myself, but I know who has them.”

My eyes go wide. “Really? That’s a relief. Ralodan, Biremeril, and I went looking for them after we got out of class yesterday and couldn’t find them.”

“Let me guess, you went to the booths where confessions are made in the Cathedral, didn’t you?”

I nod. “And before we could really dig, we got caught by Mother Chaetris.”

“Really?” she asks as her eyes go wide. I nod. “What happened? Did she punish you for putting your low-born hands all over the sacred marble?”

“Something like that. She gave us extra hours of labor. She’s a real cunt,” I say.

Chalia bursts out laughing. “Yeah, that’s why I told you to steer clear of her. She hates low-borns. If it were up to her, none of us would be allowed in the church. She’s exactly what notes warned you about.”

“That’s what I said! But Biremeril got mad that I would even speak against her or say the things I said about her.”

“Well, Biremeril had a rough life and has reason to think that way,” she says, looking away from me.

“Yeah, Ralodan explained it to me. It’s terrible, no one should ever have to endure slavery. It is truly atrocious.”

“It truly is. I can’t understand why slavery is legal. It’s the most hideous thing ever,” she says, her hand clenching into a fist. She takes a deep breath in and lets it out. “By the way, don’t go back to the booths to look for the books. They are not there and they were never there. That’s the new place of confession. There’s an older place of confession in the basement where they used to hold meetings in secret to tell truths. I believe that’s what he meant by the heart of the cathedral. But there’s a secret lever that opens up a little hidden storage chest where the books were stored.”

“So, who has the books now?” I ask.

“Charinva,” she says.

“Oh, that makes sense. Is that why she always has her nose in a book?” I ask.

“Nah, that’s just who she is, but she won’t give them up, saying she needs them to look into something. She won’t talk to any of us about it,” Chalia says. “It is really starting to piss me off.”

“How many people know about it?” I sit up in my bed.

“No idea. I talked to Damaris about it and she told me to come talk to her once I have read the books, so it’s clear she knows about it but won’t tell me anything. It’s frustrating. Charinva won’t even hand over one of them.”

“Who all within the strays have read them?” I ask.

She shrugs. “I believe only the Accepted so far, aside from Charinva, but I don’t know. Everyone is reluctant to talk about it, fearing it’s heresy.”

“Do things always have to be this complicated here? I feel like now that I know there’s this huge secret, I need to know what it is,” I say, flipping through my book.

“Tell me about it. I’ve been dying to get my hands on those books forever,” she says.

“What could Charinva be doing with them? It’s hard to believe she hasn’t finished them yet. I swear she seems to read nearly every waking hour.” I let out a sigh and lay back down on my bed, finding where I left off in the book.

“No kidding. That’s why we call her page-turner… Well, I need to finish this. I’d like to test for the next level soon,” she says as she returns to her own book.

I sigh and start again where I left off, reading about the hardships the disciples had to face after the death of Akrasiel. He talks about a prophecy that mentions Akrasiel being reborn from a virgin. Why is it always about virgins? And how does that happen?

There’s a note here that asks a simple question. Do all beings experience reincarnation? That would certainly make heaven rather pointless if we are just reborn again and again. Wouldn’t it?

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Bothvar Beorcolsson

Blue-Eyes won’t eat. She lays in the corner and rarely moves. It is as if she has lost the will to live. It saddens me to see such a lively and merry creature lose all the joy and happiness in life. I do not know what to do. If only I could’ve gotten there sooner. Maybe I could’ve saved them. I began to consider them family and to lose them makes my heart bleed in pain. There must be something I can do for Blue-Eyes. Seeing her like this reminds me of when Thorkel died. She looks the way I felt. Lost, confused, and full of sorrow.

I spend the day trying to get her to eat. I search my cave for anything to help her. I find the old clothes I wore when I met the yeti. They’re all covered in my blood. I go to burn them only to find something in the pockets. A pendant. The same pendant I found during the raid that killed my brother. The one with the large crystal inside it. I was going to give this to my wife, Arni. I take it, clean it and hold it in my hands, rotating it.

As much as I wish I could, I cannot bring her family back. But… maybe I can provide her with a new one. Longhorn mentioned that they traveled north, leaving behind many yetis in the mountains to the south. They said humans encroached upon their lands and would hunt and kill their people, but surely Blue-Eyes would be better with her own people than to slowly die here with me. I’ll think about it. I take the pendant and hang it around my neck.

I walk out of the cave into the long, cold winter that seems to never end. Even though the cold no longer bothers me, this lack of sunlight snuffs any hope inside me. My skin has darkened much and has almost become iron. Pain has no hold over me anymore. I have long ago lost track of the days, but it feels as if it should be spring by now.

Looking down the mountain at the little speck of my village, I can’t help but think about my own family and people back home. They are always on my mind and in my heart. I hope they are well. I pray to the gods to keep them safe. Especially Fridgerd, the mother goddess, Siv, Thunar’s wife, and Frida, the goddess of love and fertility. Those are Arni’s favorites. Surely, they will look after my wife and child. She has been a faithful believer.

I wonder how my father and mother are doing. Does my father still grieve? Does he blame me for Thorkel’s death? What about my siblings? Are they well? Do they blame me? I miss them, as strange as it sounds. Thormar and his stupid logic. He was always strange. Always collecting maps and books even though I know he can’t read. What good is a book, anyway? You can’t use it to fight. Nor can it be used to hammer metal or cut wood. It would make good food for the fire though. But he seems to find some value in those books. Father never read, but mother always has many books. Svala too reads, but she is a girl and that is expected. But Thormar is a man. He should spend more time training and building his strength, not wasting time with these nonsense books.

At least Bodvar sees reason. He’s a bit wild, that is true. The boy is fearless. He’s always climbing things and getting into trouble. He is so much like Thorkel in many ways. The thought saddens me. I look back at the cave to where the hammer sits, still unmoved. I’m beginning to think it is impossible to lift that hammer. It must be magic. Maybe you must be a god to lift it. Or there is some kind of thing you must say or do. I do not know. There must be a way, but I cannot figure it out. It is like the hammer does not want to be picked up. Or it is as heavy as a mountain. I can lift tree trunks like twigs and yet I cannot move that hammer an inch. I’m ready to give up. Am I not worthy? Will I ever be?

What if I am incapable of avenging my brother? How can I bring my family peace if that elf still breathes? How can my brother rest while his killer still lives? But surely, he feasts in Valholl with the gods, right? He died honorably. As honorably as anyone could. That surely should earn him a place in Ornulf’s hall. If not, I will kill the elf so my brother can feast. I’ll earn back my honor. I’ll follow my brother’s dreams and sail west with Thormar, since he’s always wanted to do that as well. I’ll become the strongest warrior and be the most glorious Viking ever. I’ll sail to shores unknown and discover treasures our people can’t even dream of. All in my brother’s name, and when we meet in Valholl and feast in Ornulf’s hall, I will tell him all about it. I will make sure his children are a part of the glory and earn much honor. I will see them become strong, just like their father.

I return inside where Blue-Eyes lies, staring at the wall. I hear her soft cries and feel her pain. I say I no longer feel pain, but I was wrong. The pain my body endures is no more bothersome than a mild itch, but the pain I feel in my heart at the loss of these yetis is far more painful than any cut or bruise my body could ever endure. It was as unbearable as the pain I felt when Thorkel was slain in front of my eyes. I think love is the most unbearable pain there is.

Seeing Blue-Eyes like this is proof that I must do something for her, and the only thing I can think of is to take her south. It will be a long journey, especially in winter. It might take me many days and nights, or more depending on how bad the weather is. I can run most of the way at a steady pace with her on my shoulders if I pack lightly, but I won’t be able to wear the armor. That would slow me down too much. But I can take my ax and sword. I’ll pack up all the smoked fish I have and a few bags full of mushrooms along with a wineskin of glow rock water. I can put on my bear cloak. Thankfully, I could add a hood to it. It is settled. In the morning I will take Blue-Eyes south to her people.

—

After a short and restless sleep, I arise and pack what I need. I attach my blades to my belt and the food I store in packs I’ll have to carry. I wrap the spare cloak I brought with me from home around Blue-Eyes and the bear cloak around myself. Then I pick the little yeti up and sling her around my back, keeping her hands around my shoulders as I wrap my arms around her legs. Thankfully, she holds on.

Then I run. I run down the mountain at a steady pace, sloshing through the snow. Even with the little yeti, the bags of food, and my weapons, it does not feel like I carry much. The yeti is not heavier than the trees I haul up the mountain. I start my journey in the dark. It is not too cold out. Of course, I never feel all that cold anymore.

It is still dark when we reach the bottom of the mountain. I go east for a little before going south. I hope the river is frozen over. I do not want to cross the bridges to the northeast. They are usually guarded by the Southern Tyrants who have taken Chillshore. They do not belong there. Chillshore was always our city. One day we’ll take it back.

I run south on the peninsula to the east of our village. To the east of here on the same peninsula is the Builder Clan. A strange lot they are. Peaceful Northman. Sounds like a contradiction to me, but no one seeks to fight them because they are some of the best builders around. Shipbuilders, house builders, blacksmiths, and much more live in their village, and they are always willing to trade finished goods for raw materials as long as they get a cut of them for themselves.

I do not tire, not when I keep a steady breath. My muscles have been hardened into tempered metal. This journey is nothing. I feel no pain. The snow is a bit annoying; I always sink. I finally reach the river and it looks pretty frozen solid. It is as wide as a small lake, but there is a point at the southeastern tip of the peninsula that is its narrowest. I find it and hesitantly step on the ice.

It groans. It looked thick enough. I take another step, putting my full weight on it, and the ice breaks, causing me to fall through. It is only as deep as my knees at this point, but still, being wet is something I hate. I can feel the cold of the water, but it does not bother me. I guess I have become too heavy now. The ice will not hold me. I’ll have to wade through the water. I set Blue-Eyes down on the coast, pull out my ax and chop at the ice. One whack makes the entire river crack open.

I toss my ax to the other side and it slices through a tree, causing it to fall. I wrap the bundles of food with the flint around my sword and hurl it like a spear. It slams into the ground and stands there.

Then I lift the little yeti above my head and walk into the water, pushing aside the ice. The river continues to get deeper and deeper until I’m up to my neck in the freezing water. My body feels the cold water, but it does not bother me. The ice makes me feel alive. It tingles my skin with prickles. I take another step forward and go completely under the water. I do not panic and continue forward, doing my best to hold my breath and keep Blue-Eyes above the water. Another step and I’m deeper as the bottom half of Blue-Eyes gets wet. I struggle to breathe as I continue taking steps forward to a flat bottom.

My lungs strain for air in the ice-cold freezing water. It continues to prick my skin as I walk further. Finally, the next step brings me up. A few more steps after that and my head pops out of the water and I take in all the air I can. It feels cold, but I embrace it.

We make it to the other side and I stop to grab my things. I decide to stop here to make a fire and dry off. I take the tree and chop it up into nice logs and build a pyre, piling it up on top of each other like a log cabin. Then I get some dead wood and chop it up into little kindling. With my flint, I start the fire. I take some time to get the deadwood to catch because it’s frozen and when the flame hits it melts and becomes wet. Finally, little by little, the fire burns.

The pyre slowly catches flame. I pull my wet clothes off and hang them on a nearby branch while I dry off. Blue-Eyes also sits near the fire. I have to bundle my feet up in the cloth of one of the sacks. It takes much of the morning to dry my clothes. I suppose I could use a little rest even though I don’t feel in the slightest bit tired.

I take out a mushroom for each of us and Blue-Eyes reluctantly eats it. By the time I get back to running, I’m feeling the odd effects of the mushroom and Blue-Eyes must be too as she fiddles with the fur of my cloak. These mushrooms make me feel a connection with the trees. It’s like I can hear their heartbeats as if they were alive. I can smell the pine and hear the birds that stay behind in winter chirping. I can also hear what I believe are wolves stalking in the distance. I don’t know why I know it’s the wolves, I just know. They linger just outside my sight but trail me. Keeping watch.

I know these wolves are in league with the Wolf Clan. I saw it with my own eyes. They scout for them and hunt with them. I’ve heard stories that the Earl’s grandson and granddaughter, Baldric and Siv, can speak with these wolves. They’re twins of the Earl’s daughter, Asny. I remember them being at my wedding. And I’ll never forget the All-Clan Meeting when Thorkel tried to play a prank on the Wolves, only to be met by Baldric and Siv along with a pack of wolves. If they are in fact with the Wolf Clan, they must know I’m running through the forest. I suppose they have no need to fight or interfere with me seeing how I’m not heading towards their village, but they’re not the only clans in these woods. I must be careful. The Bone Eaters linger in these woods. They’ve long been outcasted by the other clans for their cannibal ways. Both the Bone Eaters and the Wolf Clans are to the east of my path.

The Valkyrie clan is also here, and these are their woods. I remember that all too well from when I first met Tonna and her mother, Amalasontha. A clan of all women. As crazy as it sounds, they are fierce warriors. I do not wish to fight them. But I am in their part of the forest and they do not take kindly to trespassers. They may not be able to stop the wolves from scouting these lands, but I am not a Wolf.

Far to the south and west of the mountains I seek is the clan of the late King Teowulf. His brother rules there with the King’s widow, and both have much honor. The Giant Clan lives far to the northeast, but I am not exactly sure where the Eagle Clan lives. 

I have to turn east since I’m dangerously close to the road. The road is always full of Southerners, and I do not wish to fight them right now. I stop dead as I hear the footsteps of people approaching. Then, I set Blue-Eyes down and pull out my sword and ax. I then hear many pairs of feet make their way towards me. Who is it? If it is Bone Eaters, I’ll kill them all. And if the Wolves want a fight, they’ll get one, but it doesn’t smell like a wolf. 

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Lura Syllana

On our way out of class, Ralodan catches up with me. “Hey, sorry about Olizara Greatgazer, she’s a bit of a stuck-up crown bird.”

I laugh at the notion. I can picture the crown bird with its head up high, acting above the other birds. “That is a perfect comparison.”

He smiles. “What can I say? I tell it like it is.”

I can’t understand why this boy makes me feel so full of hope, love, and compassion. That smile just brings it all out from inside me. I try my best to ignore it. “Say, what do you know of Terel Glarespell?”

His eyebrows seem to collapse down on his nose. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m just curious. I heard a rumor that he had some secret or something like that,” I say nonchalantly, trying to downplay my curiosity.

“Did you hear this rumor or read it out of a book? Maybe someone wrote it in your textbook?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes… How did you know?” I ask, tilting my head as my eyes widen.

“Within my textbooks are notes written by someone who claims they are the author. However, when I asked about them to Olizara and several others, they have no idea what I am talking about. They say that Terel had no secrets. They even claimed there was no writing in my book,” he says.

“May I see your book?” I ask.

He hesitates. “The person who wrote the notes told me to keep them secret. I’m not sure I should show you.”

I hand him my book. He opens it and his eyes go wide. He looks at me with his jaw gaping down at the floor. “They’re the same notes, and it even looks as if they are written in the same handwriting.”

“Now may I see your book?” I ask. He hands both books over to me without saying a word. I open them and compare the two books. It’s as if they are identical copies with the same handwriting saying the same thing. “What does it mean?”

“I don’t know…”

“You two have the writing in them, too?” We both turn to see Biremeril following behind us.

“You mean your book has them too?” Ralodan asks. Biremeril says nothing, just hands him his book. Ralodan opens it and his expression says it all. The book must contain the same words written. “What does this mean? How many copies are there with these notes in them, and why do we have them?”

“I’ve been looking into it, and I suspect there is some kind of charm on the books themselves so that only a select few can read the notes. That is why if you give these books to another who isn’t selected for whatever reason, they can’t see the notes. The writings vanish. I suspect whoever cast the charm only wanted those with specific qualities he sought to read them,” Biremeril explains. “I’ve tested this, and I have verified it. I found that Irlana Blackshadow cannot see the notes, but Prysmeril’s book has the notes within them, and can see them in mine. Whatever this secret is, it is dangerous.”

“What should we do?” I ask.

“We should find Terel’s books and read them,” Ralodan says.

“I concur,” Biremeril says. This is the first time I’ve ever heard Biremeril speak more than a few words. There’s more to this boy than meets the eyes.

“Then let us find them and read them,” I say. “Have either of you read where they are located?”

“It says that the books which contain the truth are located where truths are admitted and forgiveness is given,” Biremeril says.

“What does that mean?” I ask, scratching my head.

“Don’t we have to admit our wrongdoings? Would that be considered truths? It would make sense to be forgiven for them,” Ralodan asks.

“That is my thoughts exactly,” Biremeril says.

“So where is the place where we are to confess for our wrongdoings?” I ask.

“Follow me,” he says and starts heading in the opposite direction. Ralodan and I exchange looks. He shrugs and we follow him. We head up the stairs until we reach the main floor. Then we head into the cathedral itself in all its glory. Rows upon rows of pews made from white marble with silver cushions trimmed with gold resting upon them line the cathedral. An aisle splits them down the middle covered in a vibrant gold carpet that leads to the most grandeur of pulpits made from pure gold. The walls have gold and silver-stained glass that depicts an image of angels. Brilliant chandeliers hang from the ceiling high above with a painting of such magnificence it truly leaves me in complete awe. It shows two angels, a man and a woman, descending from above to shed Light upon the darkness.

“That is Akrasiel with his sister Jophiel. Our savior,” Biremeril says.

“He is beautiful,” I say. I look around and oddly, there’s only one other person in here. A man who’s kneeling on a bench to pray. I immediately recognize his uniform. He’s some officer within the Golden High Elf Trading Company. The way he is dressed, he must be someone important.

“He feels…” Ralodan says before mumbling under his breath something I can hardly make out. “Familiar…”

He stares at the painting long and hard before Biremeril pulls him from his trance-like state. “It should be over here.”

We follow him over to several booths made of marble that line the back corner of the hall. He goes through them, inspecting each one. We help, searching for the others. “May I ask what you are doing?”

We all stop and stand up from the booths as a short, stout, pudgy woman wearing a white gown in gold trim with a rather pompous headdress that seems to stand up from her hair to make her appear much taller. It’s white with gold trim.

“Mother Chaetris…” Biremeril gasps. “We… we… we…”

“We were just marveling at the beautiful architecture of this gorgeously built cathedral. It’s quite impressive,” Ralodan says with that beautiful, handsome smile. “Have you seen the way this marble is elegantly chiseled to such perfection?”

“I agree, it is quite impressive and surely deserves such adoration. However, it should not be dirtied by such impure hands. I suggest you three should put in extra hours of chores to put such dirty hands to their proper use,” she says with a look that makes a crown bird seem humble.

“A… as… you wish… Ma… Mother Chaetris.” Biremeril tries to spit out in a trembling stutter. He turned into a complete mess.

“What makes our hands so impure?” I ask, meeting her judgmental eyes with defiance on my own.

“You dare question me, you low-born… Child?” the stout, pudgy woman asks with eyes full of fire.

“What she meant was how can her hands become pure such as yours? She only seeks to better serve the Light such as yourself,” Ralodan says. I go to correct him, but he speaks over me, giving me a warning glance. “Like we all do.”

“I suppose that is a worthy goal, but I’m afraid low-borns such as yourselves aren’t capable of reaching the level of purity that I and the other high-borns obtain. It’s just how things are and will always be. Now, go and do us all a service and put yourselves to good use and get to work cleaning our beloved cathedral,” she says raising her hand to shoo us away.

Before I can say a word, Ralodan ushers both of us out, practically dragging me behind him. I see the short stout woman spot the other man. “Ahh, Admiral Myrdin Sylkas. I’m sorry about them. Novices do not know any better, despite that, they shouldn’t be in here disturbing the peace of the faithful, such as yourself.”

“Thank you, Mother, Chaetris. I appreciate it. Order is of the utmost importance to me,” he says as he stands up. I realize he’s not the tallest man. In fact, he’s even shorter than Mother Chaetris, if that can be believed.

“What an impetuous, stuck-up, arrogant cunt!” I spit out when we get far enough away.

“Lura! You shouldn’t say such things. She’s a noblewoman. A high-born. We’re just low-borns who have no right to even be in the same light as a high-born,” Biremeril says, his eyes wide in fear as his face pales in shock.

“Seriously, Biremeril? Didn’t you read what Terel wrote? He was talking specifically about her! Those who call themselves pure and demand that others follow in their own light,” I say, quoting what Terel wrote in secret, word for word.

“We don’t even know if that was Terel himself. Besides, it’s acrimony to speak ill of nobles. We are but humble low-borns of no real value. Our only purpose in life is to serve those who are above us. That is why I am here. To serve the best I can,” he says, and it looks like he’s on the verge of tears.

“Then ask yourself, why are you able to read the notes and not someone like her? Or Olizara?” I ask.

“I don’t know… I just… It is not our place to question them. Please don’t say such things,” he says, dropping his gaze to the floor.

“I have been treated like gutter trash my entire life by those who think themselves above me just for the simple fact that I was born in poverty and grew up in a tent. I won’t suffer it from anyone, especially not from someone who is a hypocrite like her.” I feel my face getting hot with anger as I fold my hands against my chest and glare back at the cathedral. I hate high-borns like her. “She is supposed to be of the Light and yet she acts to place herself above the rest because she was born in wealth with a fancy family name. She is nothing but…”

“Lura, that’s enough,” Ralodan says, cutting me off. Biremeril doesn’t say a word but instead walks away with his head hanging down. “Look, I understand where you are coming from, but you don’t know what Biremeril’s been through. He was raised as a slave. Born into it by his parents who were slaves. His entire life he was taught that his only purpose was to serve the noble high-borns. That it was their birthright to rule and his to serve. Your anger is certainly deserved, but don’t blame him for his misguided views and take it out on him. He only does what he believes is right.”

My eyes fall to the floor as I let out a breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that. I shouldn’t have said those things. But still, it isn’t right. And neither was what was done to him. Surely, he can see that slavery is wrong.”

“I agree with you, and I think in time he’ll come to see that as well, but don’t rush him. He needs time to understand that what he lived through was not how life should be. This freedom we have is new to him. He needs time to adjust,” Ralodan says. I nod as I look down the halls to the back of Biremeril as he walks away. What a truly awful way to be raised.

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