—†— CHAPTER THIRTY ONE —⸸—
The Queenslayer
Sarah stood looking over the strange pedestal. The air wavered and shimmered around it as if heat radiated from the stone tablet that lay across the top. Yet she couldn’t feel any warmth coming from it. The hidden chamber was smaller than she’d imagined, and the air tasted stale and cold.
“I recognize the writing on this, but I can’t read it,” she finally said.
The spirit materialized next to her in the dim light. It’s voice was uncharacteristically calm, catching Sarah off guard. “The language carved into this relic is Arcane. This relic is older than creation itself, older even than the celestial kingdoms.”
“I can feel the energy and power radiating off of it,” Sarah said as she raised her hand closer to the relic.
“The runes on the surface, were carved by the Creator himself.”
Sarah’s eyes grew wide, and she looked back toward the spirit.
“As in…”
“Yes,” the spirit said, and she could hear the smile growing in his voice. “And the very fact that you can stand in it’s presence, Nephilim, means that you’re ready for the trial.”
“Father Hoffman looked at this, didn’t he?”
“He did, despite my protests. I actually tried to stop him. The fool claimed what the other priests were hiding here was blasphemy, and he confessed to telling Rome about it.” The spirit paused for a moment, and Sarah could hear the amusement creeping into it’s voice. “He even tried to exorcise me,” he said, laughing. “So I decided to show him exactly what he was so desperate to uncover.”
“It drove him mad,” Sarah said in a gasp.
“Yes,” the spirit gloated. “And the loss of his mind was self-inflicted.”
Sarah looked back up at the spirit with a look of shock.
“Marcus thought that you were just being malicious. He thought you were being cruel.”
“I wanted to spare the others the sting of the betrayal. When Father Hoffman stared into the relic, it crippled his mind. The fool was no longer a threat. I did warn Marcus that Rome would send somebody to investigate.”
The spirit drifted closer to the pedestal. “But there’s no time for any of this now. Sarah, place your palm on the relic.”
“What will happen?” She asked, her voice shaking.
“We go home. Nephilim.”
“We go home.”
Sarah hesitated for a moment before finding her resolve and reaching out to place her palm on the stone. She opened her eyes to find herself standing outside in the dark, knee-deep in tall grass. She smelled turf and lingering wood smoke as a cool breeze moved across her skin.
She was startled to see a young man standing beside her, staring at a modest house on a nearby hill.
“No,” the man said. “No, please, not this.”
Sarah recognized the man’s voice, and she realized all at once that the person standing next to her was the spirit.
“Where are we?” Sarah asked.
“Oh God, why this?” The man pleaded.
“Spirit, please,” Sarah said as she reached up and touched his shoulder, surprised that she could.
All at once, a shattering scream ripped across the field from inside the house, and Sarah recognized immediately the sounds of a mother giving birth.
She looked up at the spirit, horror etched on his face.
“Who is she?”
“She was my mother, Nephilim. This is the day of my birth,” he said, and his voice trailed off.
“Why are we here?”
“You are here to bear witness.”
The man’s shoulders sagged.
“Come with me,” he said. Together they walked toward the house.
They stepped through the door just in time to watch a younger-looking nursemaid run right through them like they weren’t even there.
Sarah turned and looked back to the spirit. His eyes were locked on the woman on the floor.
“Am I dead?” Sarah asked.
“No. I told you, you’re here to bear witness. Pay attention, Nephilim. The next few moments will define everything.”
Sarah watched as the woman agonized in pain.
“Can’t we do anything to help her?” Sarah asked. “Where did that girl go?”
The spirit knelt next to the woman and tried to place his hand on her forehead, only for it to phase right through. “The baby’s breech,” he said softly, each word heavy with sorrow. “The maid’s gone to fetch my father and my brothers. When they come back, they’ll find my mother dead, bled out on this floor.”
“Isn’t there anything we can do?” Sarah pleaded.
“No, Nephilim,” the spirit said as he looked up to her. “These events have already happened.”
“Why are we being forced to watch this? How does this have anything to do with me completing a trial?”
“Nephilim, you misunderstand. Although in the end you’ll be tested, you’re not here to complete some task or quest. You’re here to bear witness. The trial is mine.”
Sarah watched as the young mother gasped and took her final breath in a pool of her own blood, and the spirit buried his face in his hands as he wept. Moments later, three men rushed into the house and found her dead on the floor. Two fell to their knees. The older one dropped next to his wife, pulled a simple knife from his sheath, and cut into her. He fell backward onto the floor and cradled a crying baby that was still covered in blood.
The world around them faded to black.
They found themselves standing on a dirt road at the town’s edge. The spirit was still kneeling, his hands covering his face. He gathered himself and stood, then walked back over to Sarah. He took a deep breath and pointed back up the road toward what Sarah now realized was a massive castle-like structure barely visible over the horizon.
“My mother was a queen, and my father ruled this kingdom, but his grief over the loss of my mother destroyed him in the end.”
“Why was your mother in that house if she was a queen?” Sarah asked.
The spirit gave a soft smile. “My father married a commoner. It was a normal practice in this realm. She wanted to give birth in her family’s home, just as she had done with both of my older brothers and my sister. That night my father and brothers were called away to a nearby homestead, and while they were gone, my mother went into labor.”
A small boy ran from the tall grass and into the road, appearing suddenly, and he knelt forward and grabbed his knees while he tried to catch his breath, obviously winded. Moments later, three other boys, a little older, sprang both in front of him and behind him on the road, boxing him in.
“Where are you running off to, Queen Slayer?”
“Please,” the young boy pleaded. “Just leave me be.”
“It’s your fault,” one of the boys spat. “It’s your fault, and the king’s dead.”
“I think that means he killed the king too,” another boy said through a sneer.
He picked up a rock from the road and threw it at the small boy, who squealed in pain and crumpled down into the dirt.
The small child tried to crawl off the road and get away, only to have another one of the boys kick him hard in his side.
One of the larger boys reached down and picked up a stone. He reared it back to bring it down on the child’s head, only to have his hand caught just in time by a teenage girl flanked by three young men wearing gleaming armor.
Sarah noticed immediately that the armor resembled Remiel and Azazel’s platemail in both appearance and shape.
The girl took the stone from the boy’s hand and tossed it to the ground. With her other hand, she snatched him up by his ear. “Well, perhaps your mother and father would like to hear how you were about to murder a prince in the dirt.”
One of the boys kicked dirt and spat on the young prince, who was still lying on the ground crying, before all of them disappeared back into the tall grass.
One of the young men knelt next to the prince. “Come on, little brother, let’s go get your head looked at.”
“Is it true?” the little boy said. “Did I kill our mother?”
The three boys looked at each other for a moment, but his sister didn’t hesitate. “No, you didn’t kill our mother. Babies don’t choose the circumstances of their birth. Now get up. I won’t hear any more of this.”
“How could they be so cruel?” Sarah said. “You were just a child.”
“My mother was revered. Many people didn’t take her passing very well.”
The world faded around them, and when it came back, Sarah was shocked to find herself riding inside what appeared to be a large carriage. She could see out the back window of the carriage, where an ornate wagon covered in flowers and carrying two white coffins was being pulled behind them. A large procession and crowd follow on either side.
She jumped as a rock slammed into the side of the carriage, and she could hear jeers and boos as more rocks and other projectiles slammed into the sides.
Random calls of “Queen Slayer” and “Cursed,” among other horrible things, were shouted at them as they rolled by.
The small boy buried himself into the side of his older sister and cried. “You need to be strong, Ethriel. People are grieving, and they don’t mean what they say. Nonetheless, I’ve talked with our brothers, and we’ve decided that Father’s original plan to divide us among the kingdoms needs to be adjusted in order to preserve your safety. You’re going to go to the lands in the north.”
The boy wiped his face with his sleeve and looked up at his sister. “Will I see you again?”
“Of course you will,” she said with a smile.
“I’m being exiled,” the boy said in a sad, soft voice.
“No. You’re being sent to guard that which is most precious. Did our brothers tell you what the temples of the north protect, little brother?”
“No,” Ethriel said, wiping tears from his cheek.
“One of the great relics is buried deep in the mountain, protected by stone and earth.”
“Like a rune?”
“Yes,” she said with a giggle. “One older than this realm, older than the Celestial Kingdom itself. Our people have been entrusted to protect it. I can’t think of anyone braver for such a task.”
Another rock slammed into the side of the carriage.
“I’ll do as you ask, sister, but how can I…”
His sister interrupted him and placed her finger to his lips as she reached into her garb and pulled out a rune stone.
“Our mother put this aside for you before you were even born. Ethriel, there is power in our blood. These runes help to teach and focus. They allow us to draw on these powers. Hold it in your hand and think of a pleasant memory.”
The boy closed his eyes hard, and the rune disappeared into his palm.
“It was this moment,” the spirit said. “This moment here. This is where I promised myself that I would find every rune that I could.
“That I would become the most powerful arcane mage in the realm.”
