Humanity’s only true safety lies in our kingdom, and thousands of humans have sought refuge with us over the years.
I step over the boundary and feel a cool spring breeze replace the musty scent of death that pervades everything in Averna. There are flowers here, and grasshoppers explode from the knee-high grass at my feet, an announcement of my arrival. I climb the small hill that hides the Kingdom of Averna from this border village and smile as I hear the laughter of a group of children.
I’ve been gone from the world of the living for a month, and it’s all such a welcome sight. The momentary happiness is cut short as a woman sees me walking down the hill toward the village.She screams, “Boundary crosser!” at the top of her lungs, and immediately, everyone rushes indoors. The children don’t argue or kick their feet. They run as fast as their little legs can carry them toward the cottages that dot my field of vision.
The boundary is just a line in the dirt where one kingdom ends and another begins. Each of the god-controlled kingdoms has been remade in their image, and only Sylvantia is the way it was meant to be. The boundary between kingdoms may be obvious, but there’s nothing stopping someone from walking through it, a fact well known by everyone that lives near it.
I sigh, continuing on. My wounds are healed, thanks to the Infusion of the Lizard. Breaking through the window had left me with massive gashes over most of my body, but the Lizard increases the healing speed of the human body. Broken bones will heal in days rather than months. Cuts that would normally need to be sewn up heal on their own within hours. It’s not one to be taken in the midst of battle, though, as it makes everything more fragile for half an hour. Bones will shatter from a simple fall. A scrape can turn into a life-threatening gash. The Lizard is for after the battle is done.
Nothing helps the exhaustion, though. I’ve had to be on high alert for a month. Not a single moment went by, even in sleep, where I didn’t have my daggers within reach. But I’m safe now. Well, as safe as anyone is outside of Stormhaven, the capital of Sylvantia. The gods have given up their desire to war with our kingdom, recognizing that we’re not worth fighting.
There’s still danger to humans in Sylvantia, though. When the gods created the Godforged as soldiers in a never-ending war,othermonsters were introduced to Nyth as well. Shadow demons roam the Kingdom of Dunloch. Ravess’s Corpsebinders are always experimenting with how to turn the bodies of the dead into new types of Abominations, weapons of war made from the bodies of fallen humans, and most of their less than perfect experiments are discarded near the borders. Then there are the Mindless, the humans who have been brought back from death too many times in Averna, the ones who have lost their minds, save the desire for violence.
Nyth hasn’t been like this forever. Stories tell of a perfect world before the gods woke up, when all the world was like Sylvantia. They say there was peace, that humans lived without fear of anything other than the cruelness hidden in the hearts of men.
What a world that would be. A visitor to a village was welcomed rather than feared. Even soldiers were surprised when there was violence. Now… now, it’s peace that’s surprising.
Minutes pass in comfortable silence, filled with the natural sounds of life. The cawing of a jackdaw. The buzz of bees as I pass a lilac tree.
Peace is fleeting as always, and I hear sounds which are all too familiar. The drawing of blades and shifting of steel plates. Village guards will be waiting for me to get closer so they cansurprise me. At their head will be a single man in a tattered cloak like mine. It’s always a single man in these border villages. No more and no less.
As I get within sprinting distance of the first cottage, a contingent of ten men in head-to-toe steel armor steps around the corner, and a man I’ve never met wearing a tattered cloak stands in front of them, his hands at his sides.
He looks at me, sees my small stature, but recognizes my cloak for what it is. The hood is up, concealing my face. He’ll assume I’m a short man rather than a woman, and I don’t give him a reason to assume anything different.
There are no female Priests. The second edict of the Order specifically outlaws it. That’s why my father says I may wear the Marks and have the skills of a Priest, but I’ll never be a part of the organization.
“May humanity never bow,” the man says. A common test.
“And may the Order never fade,” I say. It’s the expected response. The Priest seems to relax. “I’ve been in Averna for a month and would appreciate a bed without ash and a bath without the stink of decay,” I say as I get within arm’s reach of him.
Immediately, the man’s hackles rise as he recognizes that my voice is a woman’s. It’s expected, and it’s something I planned for. I pull my hood down to show him my face and my fearlessness. Confidence can do wonders in these types of situations.
His eyes look over my face, see my blue eyes and short red hair. My body is my tool, one I’ve honed since my father took me in, but while I may be built to kill rather than seduce, there’s no doubting I’m a woman. “My name is Fiona Thorne, adopted daughter of Rhaskar, and I am on an errand for him.”
I pull the neckline of the cloak and my tunic down just enough for him to see the sparkling gold of a tattoo that runs under my collarbone. The Mark of the Spear. It gives me power over lightning, and it’s almost certainly not a Mark he possesses. The protection of border villages usually falls to Priests of the second or third Degrees while the Spear is given to those of the fifth.
He immediately bows at the waist, all his fears and reservations gone. There are very few Priests who have achieved the fifth Degree. Only Rhaskar Thorne knows how to give a Priest his Marks, and no one questions him or his judgement. “Don’t worry,” I say with a smile. “I know it’s unusual to see a woman wearing this cloak. This time only, it’s okay.”
He nods to me, accepting my words, though I can tell he’s still bothered. “Thomas Wellen at your service, Lady. Whatever you need, merely let me know and I’ll make sure you have it.”
I do as I know I’m supposed to. I look down the line of soldiers, who are not officially under his orders, but realistically are his to command. My eyes go to the well-oiled plate that’s had its fair share of dents and repairs.
“How have things been on this side of the border? Any raids by the Godforged?”
Thomas shakes his head. “It’s been relatively quiet. A few bands of the Mindless have been spotted on the other side of the boundary, but they’ve stayed on their side, luckily.”
I glance around at the little cottages, so quaint and peaceful looking. Only a mile from the boundary between the living andthe dead, it would be terrifying. Yet they still live normal lives, and children still laugh.
“That’s good to hear. I walked all the way from the Crimson Tower and didn’t spot a single sign of Mindless activity. I heard the Prince of Bones was at war with Draeven’s champion while I was in Averna, so that may be why it’s been quiet. But he’s back at his castle now, so be on your guard.”
Thomas nods in appreciation. As every Priest knows, information is the most valuable tool we have, even more than our Marks and Infusions. “I appreciate the word of warning. Now, you were hoping for a bath and a bed? We can probably throw in a hot meal while we’re at it. After being in Averna for a month, I’m sure you need it.”
I huff. “Even travel rations taste worse there. How that’s possible, I don’t know, but it’s the truth.”
“If I were forced to live in Averna, I’d slit my own throat. I have nothing but pity for the bastards Rhaskar’s sent to spy on that hellhole.”
I can understand the sentiment. Many of the highest-ranking members of the Order have been sent to live in the god-controlled kingdoms as spies. Even a first or second degree Priest can protect the borders against most of the vagrant creatures, but survival in a place where humans are nothing but cattle is a much more difficult prospect.
