Chapter 10: Rest

In the mornings, Relaila enjoyed sleeping in.

She had been touring the northern coast of the Agerian Empire for weeks now, going from fishing village to fishing village, dazzling their simpleminded inhabitants with her magic shows in the evenings and offering those same villagers to her god at night. It was hard work, and there were moments when she wished she had never left the army and taken up Remura’s calling. But her patron urged her on, and once the god of the world caught the scent of blood, Relaila soon felt the urge to kill again, so overwhelming it was impossible to resist.

It had been well past midnight when she had finished her latest sacrifice. In the east, the sky had started to brighten slightly, preparing for the arrival of the early midsummer sun. She had been tired after a long night’s work and had simply picked one of the more impressive cabins in the village—one that had survived the fires—hoping it would be empty.

It had been. The previous owners had probably gone out trying to help the other villagers put out the fires, and chances were they had perished in the carnage. Or, she thought darkly, she had killed them herself during the night and simply didn’t remember.

In either case, the shed had been empty, and there had been a large, soft bed inside. Despite the sun starting to rise, she had slept like a baby, oblivious to the shifting patterns of light and shadow dancing over her face.

Now, later in the morning—or just before noon, depending on how you looked at it—she casually rummaged through their pantry. It was well stocked, and sitting comfortably on their porch, Relaila enjoyed a hearty, if ever so slightly late breakfast of bread, eggs, and bacon, which she downed with a large gulp of sweet mead.

When she had satisfied her hunger and thirst, she took a leisurely stroll through the smoldering remains of the little fishing village, admiring her and Remura’s handiwork again, this time in the light of day. More than once, she heard sounds coming from the charred ruins, but when she went to investigate, there was never anyone there. All she could find were blackened and burned logs, weakened by the fire, that had collapsed in the aftermath of the sacrifice.

Eventually, she concluded that none of the villagers had survived. Happy with the result of the night’s work, she continued down toward the shore. It was a warm, beautiful summer day, and for once, the Sea of Rage didn’t live up to its name. Although a light wind was streaking across the ocean surface, the swells were no higher than a hand’s breadth, slowly waving back and forth as the breeze drove them toward the shore. Feeling like taking a swim, she undressed completely and waded out into the shallow water, where a natural rock jetty had protected the shore from the torment of the waves and allowed a little sand to collect on the beach and on the bottom of the shallow bay.

She submerged herself in the salty water, delighted by the feeling. Like something in a dream, her long red hair, caught by the waves, floated leisurely on the surface of the sea. For a moment, she felt it made her look like a piece of red seaweed drifting in from the open ocean, or perhaps a sea monster, rising from the deep waters to consume the land of the living.

Probably the latter, she thought to herself and laughed.

Scrubbing her naked body thoroughly, she cleaned her skin of the sweat and soot of last night’s entertainment, doing her best to make herself presentable again. Before long, she’d have to perform in another tavern, and it wouldn’t do to look like she had just committed divine arson.

Being alone out here in the aftermath of the sacrifice was far from safe, though. The death and despair she and Remura had unleashed during the night would surely attract any spirits in the vicinity. Hungry for blood, they would come sniffing around, basking in the smell of terror and pain that still permeated the air.

But as long as she kept her wits about her, and her eyes open, she should be fine. Hopefully, Remura would protect her, too. Although the lesser spirits were always scheming, trying to gain favor among their ranks with the hope they’d eventually rise to prominence, it was rare to see any of them actually challenging any of the gods of the world.

Still, she’d better avoid speaking to any of them. It was better to be safe than sorry.

She had no more than finished the thought when she saw a sudden, silvery motion in the waters to her right, slightly further out. It rose and broke the surface, momentarily causing the waves to move in the opposite direction, against the wind. Eventually, the ripples coalesced and formed something resembling a beautiful female face, rising out of the ocean to look at her.

“Come out and swim with us in the deeper sea…” it whispered with a voice that sounded like swells breaking against the shore. “The water is even more delightful out there!”

Relaila ignored the spirit. She wasn’t naïve enough to fall for such a simple temptation. That schtick might work on small children, but she’d never go drown herself just because a lesser god asked her to take a swim.

To her left, a second water spirit approached them. She half expected the two to start squabbling, but the new arrival seemed to be more certain of itself, and the first one left without so much as a word.

“Relaila Litarian,” the second spirit hissed. “We know who you are, Blood Sister.”

Well, that was interesting, Relaila thought. That was a new one. Still, she was reluctant to reply, fearing it was yet another trap. With the lesser gods, you could never be too careful.

“The gods need you,” the spirit continued, its soft voice wheezing in her ears. It giggled, its laugh sounding like that of a small girl.

“You should go to Orenleaf. It’s such a beautiful place. I’m sure you’ll just love it there!”

Relaila considered her options. What the water spirit had told her did make her position a bit precarious. Either it had told her the truth, and it had really been sent to deliver a message to her from the gods of the world—or it was trying to trap and hurt her. The question was how to determine which.

For a fleeting moment, the notion of a third alternative entered her mind, but try as she might, she couldn’t quite grasp what it was, and eventually it disappeared into her unconscious. Never mind, she thought. If it had been important, she would surely have remembered it.

But at the time, it really had seemed to be important.

* * *

Once she had dressed again, Relaila gathered her things and sat down on a large rock close to the water’s edge, her back resting against one of the decrepit fishing shacks lining the shore. The building was weathered and leaned dangerously to the east, as if it were about to fall into the ocean the next time a storm blew in from the Sea of Rage. To her right, a fisherman’s nets were hung up on a rack to dry, smelling of salt and seaweed. They would never see use again. She mused idly on the meaning of the message the spirit had given her during her bath, still not sure what to do about it.

For a few hours, things were peaceful for her, even tranquil. The first sign of trouble came late in the afternoon, in the form of voices from within the forest to the south of the village. Voices, and the metallic clanging of swords against armor.

The soldiers from the next Imperial garrison down the road had come to investigate what had transpired there the previous night.

Relaila sat up with a jerk, her back straight as she listened to the sounds coming from down the road. Sitting on the seaside of the fishing shed, she wasn’t in any immediate danger of being spotted, as the building shielded her from being seen by anyone approaching from the south. But if they were—as she assumed they were—here to investigate the fires, they wouldn’t just take a quick look and leave. They’d be searching the buildings of the village, both the ruined ones and those still standing, until they eventually found her.

There was, of course, one other possibility. There was a chance, though she didn’t think it was very likely, that they were here on Mardocar’s orders to bring her to Orenleaf, just as the spirit had suggested. Perhaps the patron god of the Agerian Empire had simply sent them here to escort her there, since she hadn’t immediately obeyed the spirit? But that was probably just wishful thinking. Even if what the water spirit had said was true, she didn’t even know if Mardocar was involved. All she knew was that Remura hadn’t said anything.

No, it was far more likely they were just soldiers keeping order, didn’t have the slightest idea who she was, and would arrest her on sight. Or worse, if she was unlucky, decapitate her.

Silently, she picked up her satchel and began to sneak east along the shore, careful to stay low when she had to cross the open spaces between the fishing sheds. But out here, it was difficult to stay quiet. The windswept rocks that lined the beach were covered in dry reeds and brittle pieces of driftwood. It didn’t take long before a false step placed her foot on a withered branch, which snapped under the pressure.

She froze. For a moment, she didn’t dare breathe.

Listening carefully, she could hear how the soldiers approached her position. In silence, she cursed her own clumsiness.

Remura, apparently reveling in the foul words, took pity on her. Twenty men's lengths to the west, a burned building suddenly collapsed when its ridge beam broke. In a thunderous cascade of smoke and sparks, the charred piece of wood fell to the ground.

The soldiers turned around, curious to see what had caused the unexpected sound.

Relaila started to breathe again.

Slowly, without taking her eyes off the Imperials, she backed away, making sure she only stepped on clear ground. The soldiers were suspicious now, and she couldn’t afford to make another mistake.

From behind her, someone grabbed her waist and pressed a sword against her throat.

“Surrender in the name of the Lion!” the Imperial captain demanded. There was authority in his voice. This man was competent, used to commanding his men, and she had walked right into his trap. Or more precisely, backed into it.

Relaila forced herself to relax. The situation was bad enough as it was, but if she acted as if she had something to hide, it would quickly go from bad to worse.

“Oh, sir, thank the gods!” she exclaimed. “Are you here to save us?”

She tried to look wide-eyed and naïve, like a traumatized girl who had, against all odds, survived a massacre and had now found a strong, important man to protect her against the evils of the world.

“Who are you?” he demanded, without letting her go.

“I’m Terana,” she lied, her voice sounding like a mouse. “The fisherman’s daughter. I was in Codharbor yesterday and only came back here now.”

“Do you know what happened here?” she asked, trying to regain the advantage by becoming the one asking the questions.

For a moment, it seemed to work. The guard captain relaxed visibly. His sword was still on her throat, but his grip on her lessened substantially.

“We don’t know yet,” he answered. “We found the village burning like this. I was hoping you could tell us.”

Thinking a bit more, he continued to question her.

“Where do you live?” he asked. “Which shack was yours?”

Relaila pointed at random to one of the sheds to her left, a small building that had been halfway burned to the ground during the night.

The captain’s mood turned somber.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. The sword was still there, though, a hair’s breadth from her throat. Clearly, he didn’t quite trust her yet.

“I’m afraid I have the sad duty to inform you that the rest of your family perished in the fire,” he told her. “My condolences. My men found both your parents and your two sisters in that shed when we searched it earlier.”

Pretending to be in shock, she thanked him with feigned sadness in her voice.

A moment later, his grip on her waist was back, harder than ever. His sword cut into her skin, for the first time since the start of their altercation drawing blood.

“It’s interesting, though,” he wheezed, his breath now blowing in her ear. “We found three dead children in that shack. You didn’t know you had a third sibling? Or did you just forget to ask about his whereabouts?”

Well, it had been fun while it lasted, she thought.

Remura, god of deception, give me your strength today. Let me perform a sacrifice to your glory.

Standing that close behind her, with his mouth still a hand’s breadth away from her head, he never saw the sparks starting to dance around her hands.

The rest of the Imperial soldiers came running as soon as they heard their captain’s dying screams. But against the dark fires of the gods of the world, they never stood a chance.

Ten minutes later, Relaila left the village heading south, carrying her satchel on her back and whistling a happy tune.

Orenleaf, it was.

Author's Note

Thank you for reading Echoes of Fallen Gods!

This novel is 43 chapters long, with new installments posted twice each week. Perhaps you’d be interested in reading some of my other stories while you wait for the next update?

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