Chapter 41: Sacrifice

The flames raged all around her.

For a moment, the sight of the roaring fires, the crackling sound of burning wood, and the acrid smell of gray smoke filling the air took her back to Halvar’s Crossing, to Windshore, to Orenleaf—to all the places she had sacrificed to Remura throughout the years.

So this is what it feels like to be on the receiving end of the gods’ attention, she thought grimly. Now the tables had turned. No longer the one doling out divine wrath on the innocent, she was experiencing, for the first time, the terror those she had burned for the glory of the so-called gods must have felt throughout her years of service.

It was sobering, to say the least. Relaila felt shame and horror, mixed into a thick soup that stained her soul.

But with it came hope.

She had never felt those things before. Never felt empathy for those she had deceived. Never felt the pain of those she had hurt. The fact that she did now was proof enough that she was no longer the same person she had once been. The Relaila who could exploit and maim for the glory of the gods of the world was gone, replaced by someone she did not know, but whom she desperately wanted to understand better.

“Come, children, quickly!” she called as she ushered forward the six girls and four boys who were old enough to walk on their own. In her arms, she held an infant girl, crying at the top of her lungs.

The thick smoke stung her eyes, making them water. Or perhaps it was the sight of ten small, dirty, and tired orphans trudging along the narrow path next to the river in the middle of the night, all just trying to survive until morning, that made her cry.

By now, the entire village was aflame. From what she could tell, not a single building remained standing, and everyone who had lived in Grainsel was either dead or on the run.

The fires, stretching their golden tendrils like deadly fingers toward the heavens, cast long, dark shadows in front of the children as they walked the winding trail leading away from their place of birth, now reduced to smoke, blood, and ashes to satisfy the whims of Mardocar and Patera. The summer night, which should have smelled of hay and jasmine, was now filled with the stench of burning flesh.

One of the little girls stumbled on a rock and fell onto the rough ground, scraping her knee. Relaila rushed to her side, trying to calm her and get her back on her feet, urging her on without making it sound like she was in a hurry. There was no time for delays. Now that Soria and Pelam had finished offering the entire village to the gods, they were no longer occupied with butchering people and burning their homes. In other words, they now had time to come after Themur, Dina, and her.

No, she thought. It was worse than that.

Far worse.

Soria had told Larean that the two servants of the gods had been ordered to sacrifice the village. From experience, Relaila knew all too well what that meant. The so-called gods would not be satisfied until every man, woman, and child was slaughtered. Pelam and Soria would now be hunting the survivors, the refugees.

And their easiest prey would be the children.

“Can you walk?” she asked the little girl. She was still holding the infant in her arms, and she didn’t think she could carry a six-year-old as well.

The girl shook her head, her long black hair whipping through the air.

“Alright,” Relaila said, her heart sinking as she tried to lift the child without dropping the baby she was already holding.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over her.

“Here, let me help.”

She looked up to see Themur standing there, lifting the girl. Together, they maneuvered her into Relaila’s embrace. With the six-year-old’s arms firmly wrapped around her neck and the infant safely cradled in her right arm, she continued ushering the other children forward.

“Thank you,” she said to the old man.

“No problem. But we’re moving too slowly.”

She sighed. “I know. They’ll catch up with us soon. But what can we do?”

The look on Themur’s wrinkled face told her she wouldn’t like what he was about to say.

“It’s worse than that, I’m afraid. The trail reaches the river just ahead. I checked, and there’s only a small rope bridge. We’ll have to cross it one at a time. Two, at best.”

She really didn’t like what he had said. Getting the children to the other side would take more time than they had. They could not afford to forget their charges weren’t adults. The boys and girls would need some coaxing to cross the raging stream.

Two minutes later, the group stood on a small cliff on the western bank of the river, overlooking the white waters below. The bridge crossing the gap was made from four strong ropes, tied on each side so that they formed two planes. To the lower, flat boards had been strapped to form a walkway, while the upper two ropes served as guardrails.

Though the cables themselves seemed sturdy, the bridge swayed and wobbled as the first two children stepped onto the planks, one after the other. Relaila held her breath, biting her tongue as she watched them go.

She leaned forward to get a better look at the river, its water flowing quickly through the narrow chasm here, in stark contrast to the slow, almost leisurely pace it had displayed as it moved past the widely spaced riverbanks near the village.

But something wasn’t quite right here. Not all the motions in the water could be explained by the stream cascading down the gorge. The currents made the surface of the river froth and bubble, but some of the foam floating on it moved in ways that didn’t seem entirely natural. The patterns were too precise, too inerrant.

There were water spirits here. Evil spirits drawn to the stench of fear and carnage rising from the sacrificed village, now circling below the bridge, hoping to devour anyone who might fall in.

Or worse, to entice those crossing to jump.

Suddenly, Relaila heard a commotion behind her. She turned. At first, all she could see were two black outlines, silhouetted against an orange sky, lit from beneath by the burning village behind them.

“Your gods command you to stop!” one of them shouted.

Pelam and Soria had caught up with them.

“Please,” Larean begged, desperation creeping into his voice as he turned to plead with them. “We don’t have to fight. Just let the children go.”

Soria glared at him. “Patera demands their blood. Don’t you see, Larean? It’ll be beautiful. But I’ll tell you what—if you give them to us now, we’ll let you leave.”

Themur walked up to them and positioned himself next to Larean, his legs spread wide and his arms crossed on his chest. Despite his age, the former Knight Eternal was still an imposing figure.

“You can’t have them. They belong to the Word,” he declared. If he felt any fear, his voice didn’t betray it.

Relaila turned to Dina, standing next to the bridge, holding two of the children in her arms.

“Go!” she shouted to the healer. “Take the children and go!”

Pelam raised his sword, aiming at Larean, but before he could swing it, Themur ran forward to tackle the novice Knight. Relaila wished he still had his shield, but he had left it behind in the village to keep his arms free for carrying the children.

Themur didn’t succeed in knocking Pelam off his feet, but the boy stumbled, and his sword didn’t connect with its intended target.

On the bridge, Dina ushered two more children across. Halfway to the other side, one of them stopped, fearful of the raging waters below. Frantically, she tried to convince the young boy to continue walking. For a moment, he just stood there, frozen.

This is it, Relaila thought. This was the last stand Themur had talked about before.

And this was where she finally chose her allegiance, giving herself fully to the Word rather than just rejecting Remura. This was where she broke the yoke of the fallen spirits that had tormented her for so long.

With a silent prayer, she asked the Word to watch over the children and see them to safety.

There was no flash from the sky. No thundering voice answered her prayer. But when she glanced back at the bridge, the two boys were walking again, safely crossing to the other side.

Themur was still struggling with Pelam, trying to wrestle the sword out of his hands, but the young boy was strong, and the old man didn’t seem to be winning.

Relaila raised her hands, trying to remember her old Deepwell magic. For a moment, nothing happened, and she thought she had forgotten how to call on it. But then, a calm settled over her, like a soft blanket from the heavens, and her mind opened the funnel to the magical force.

Carefully, she transmuted the air, turning breathable matter into flammable. Mixing the explosive vapors with new air, she waited until she got the ratio just perfect. Calling on the Deepwell to heat the mix, she ignited it and propelled it forward in a carefully controlled trajectory that intersected Pelam’s right thigh.

Somehow, it all came back to her, as natural as breath itself. You never forget how to walk, she thought, a wry smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Compared to the dark magic Remura had pretended to give her, it was inefficient and demanding, but so much more gratifying. And it was a magic the so-called gods could never take away from her.

To her side, Larean did the same, or at least tried to do something similar. She saw the vapors in the air around his outstretched hands ignite, only to sputter and die. Someday, she’d have to teach him to become a proper Fire Breather, she thought, but this was not the time. If he didn’t have what it took to control his magic, she’d have to fight for both of them.

* * *

To his left, Relaila fired a volley of flame into Pelam’s leg, causing him to stumble and allowing Themur to wrestle the sword from his grip. Maybe, just maybe, they could actually win this fight, Larean thought.

Trying to help, he launched his own fire at the Knight Eternal, but instead of streaking toward its target like Relaila’s had, it just fizzled and died.

With a heavy heart, he realized he had finally given up on his old friends. Now, they were only servants of the gods, their souls forever belonging to Mardocar and Patera. For the Knight Eternal and the Dark Flame standing before him, there was no turning back anymore.

Once again, he tried to cast his fire, and this time the magic worked. Perhaps, he thought, he hadn’t truly wanted to hurt Pelam before, when he still saw him as more of a fallen friend and less as an enemy. The flames now streaming from his hands didn’t exactly incinerate his target, but together with the blazing storm Relaila had unleashed, they were still enough to break up the fight.

Facing two Fire Breathers, the unarmed Knight Eternal slowly raised his hands in surrender.

Soria spat on the ground.

“Blasphemer! You will burn in the abyss for an eternity for your defiance!” she screamed at him, lost to rage and hatred.

Themur shook his head to correct her, sadness filling his voice. “No, he will not. The abyss is for the fallen. It is to be their prison, not their throne.”

Soria only glared at him, fire in her eyes, but said nothing to rebuke him.

With the immediate crisis finally defused, Dina continued bringing the remaining children over the bridge. While Pelam and Themur had fought, she had crossed the river herself and carried the infants with her. Now, only five of the older children were left on the western bank.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Larean said to his former companions. “We don’t have to be enemies.”

Pelam spat a curse at him. “You’re Nimean. Mardocar will purge the land of your blood.”

Well, imagine that, Larean thought with a sad smile. The so-called gods clearly didn’t mind being inconsistent when it served their purpose. Pelam was all for killing foreigners—unless those foreigners were serving the gods, like Soria, of course.

He was saddened by the realization that their friendship was forever broken, but he took comfort in knowing his two former companions had finally been stopped, and no one among them had been killed.

Then, everything changed.

Behind him, a scream turned their hard-won victory into sudden defeat.

Larean saw Themur’s face turn white and spun around to see what had happened. At the same time, the former Knight Eternal dropped Pelam’s sword and rushed toward the river.

In the water, they saw a small boy, crying out in fear, being carried away by the churning currents. Whether he had slipped or jumped, Larean didn’t know, but he could see the water spirits circling the child, eager to feast on his terror as he was swept out of view.

Moments later, Themur plunged into the water after him. Thrashing his arms, he fought to keep his head above the raging torrent, but soon, all they could see was the foam and the froth. Of Themur or the boy, no trace could be found, no matter how hard they tried to pierce the starlit night. In the span of a few seconds, everything Larean had hoped for was undone.

On the banks of the river, the children cried. Some, who were old enough to understand what had happened, teetered on the edge of panic. Others whimpered simply because their friends or siblings did. One of the young girls ran to Relaila, embracing her legs in a deep hug. The former Blood Sister hoisted the girl into her arms, trying to calm her down.

Suddenly, Larean felt a cold blade against his throat.

In the confusion, when everyone was busy watching the river, Pelam had picked up his sword again. Now, with Themur gone and Relaila occupied comforting the remaining children, he betrayed his earlier surrender.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Pelam wheezed in his ear, as he pushed Larean toward the rickety bridge.

Well, he truly had no intention of doing anything to get himself killed, that much was certain. Not that he was unwilling to get hurt if it meant protecting the children. But the problem was, he didn’t have the faintest idea what Pelam’s plan was, so there was precious little he could do to counter it, no matter how much he might have wanted to.

Relaila slowly set the girl down and lifted her hands, once again readying her fires. But with Pelam’s blade now resting on Larean’s neck, she clearly didn’t dare take action.

Standing at the edge of the cliff overlooking the river, Pelam suddenly lifted his blade and, with a swift stroke, severed the rope holding the bridge, cutting off their escape route. With a thundering crash, it collapsed and fell into the raging waters below. Now they were separated from Dina and the other children.

At least they are safe, he thought.

With his neck no longer under the blade, Relaila fired. The bolt struck Pelam in the back, just below his shoulders, burning through his blood-soaked shirt and searing his body beneath.

The Knight Eternal winced but did not scream out loud. To Larean’s horror, he saw the flesh immediately begin to move, writhing as if pushed by larvae until the surrounding skin twisted into a knot, sealing the wound.

A mortal man would have collapsed to the ground, squirming in pain. Pelam, sustained by Mardocar’s dark magic, instead turned toward the little girl still standing next to Relaila and raised his sword.

Larean conjured a stream of flaming vapors and directed it at Pelam. It struck his left cheek, burning him severely and causing him to stagger momentarily.

“Take the children and go!” Larean shouted to Relaila.

She leaned down and lifted the little girl again, then stretched out her hand to beckon the other two children to follow her.

Once more, Larean cast his fire at Pelam. This time, he only singed the Knight Eternal, but every second the hunter was distracted by his attacks was time bought for Relaila and the kids to get away. Carrying the little girl, she and the two boys scurried along the western bank of the river, hoping to find another place to cross now that the bridge was gone.

Pelam raised his sword. Larean was alone now. Alone, against a Knight Eternal bent on ensuring he would not survive the night.

Somehow, he was alright with that. It was a fitting end to Larean the Magnificent.

The children were safe.

Author's Note

Thank you for reading Echoes of Fallen Gods! If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider giving it a like.

Now also available as a free audiobook: https://www.youtube.com/@LordsOfTheStars