Chapter 1 — A Winter of Challenges

Irene thanked the wagon driver as she got down from the back and walked around to collect her luggage and her son. Ernest was at the wagon's side staring with awe at the gardens that had come into view upon entering the walls of the monastery dedicated to Ellnys. The spring blooms really were a beautiful sight.

The fields outside the low-walled gardens were littered with tents and campfires of the ill seeking healing that always tended to show up at Ellnys' temples. They wouldn't be turned away, but healing at the temple was not free. For those who couldn't pay, it came with a time of indentured service to the temple and was often how Ellnys' church maintained and grew the number of priests and priestesses.

As she entered the entryway into the reception hall, a young priest looked up from his desk. “Young traveler, how can the Temple of Ellnys be of service to you?”

“I'm here to see my brother—Priest Renner.”

“Please have a seat. I'll send someone to see if he's busy,” the priest instructed, motioning toward the benches set up for visitors as he made his way to a side door and left.

Irene settled herself onto a bench. This wasn't the first time she had visited her brother. How her brother had ended up in this monastery some distance to the south and west of Vorshan's Hills was a sad story. One which had impacted many of the families in the outlands and was the reason for her obsessive concern about the witch that had charmed the local lord and taken up residence in the important local village that the outland families depended on for survival.

When they had been young, an incident had happened. From what she was told, some unruly barbarian youths had gotten into a scuffle with some outland youths and two of the barbarians ended up dead. Sometime later a mysterious illness spread down from the stream that fed their farms. Many became ill with a strange wasting illness that the local priest couldn't cure. Once they knew the disease was magical in nature, it became clear that the barbarians had used their witches to enact revenge. Little Essa fought hard, and they prayed to Hemse day and night while she was ill, but in the end it wasn't enough.

Her brother lost faith in Hemse after that, and by the time he felt the calling to become a Priest of Ellnys, things had become awkward enough with the rest of the family that it was a relief when he left for the south.

“Ernest, sit still just a bit longer,” Irene chided her son who was standing on the bench’s seat and looking over the back rest.

“It's boring in here, mom,” was the expected complaint.

“If you're well-enough behaved, they may let you play in that garden you saw earlier.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but you can't run off.”

“Okay, mom.” He settled down, dangling his legs over the edge of the seat, swinging them about in anticipation.

Really, Irene couldn't complain about the boy's behavior during the trip. As boring as it was riding the wagon and even missing his father and friends, Ernest had managed to keep himself entertained. That he still seemed affected by the witch's charm angered her to no end, but there was nothing she could do about it at this point other than teach him best she could and keep him safe. His sudden interest in magic might not be a bad thing, either. Everyone knew that mages were stronger against magics that affected the mind.

When the young priest returned and resumed writing in the book that was open on his desk, Ernest hopped down and ran over to get a closer look. Irene immediately scolded her son and reminded him of his promise.

“It’s quite alright.” The young priest waved off her concern with good humor and motioned Ernest closer. “I'm copying the holy texts. Though it might be impious to say, it's really just busy-work for the priests who man the desk here.”

Ernest watched quietly and after the priest finished a lengthy section, he asked her son, “Do you know your letters?”

At Ernest's head shake. The priest took out a blank sheet of paper and began writing, saying out the name and sound of each letter as he stroked it onto the paper. He followed the letters with simple words to demonstrate how the sounds worked together.

Irene couldn’t help the warm smile that slipped onto her face at the sight of her young son so earnestly learning. She had thought about starting Ernest on his letters but thought him too young to sit still long.

“That’s yours to keep and study,” the priest told her son, and Ernest received the paper as if it were a treasure, carefully holding it with both hands. “Now that you have that, would you like to try reading some stories about Ellnys with me?”

“Who’s Ellnys?” her son asked with innocent curiosity.

She almost chuckled at the priest’s suddenly wide eyes. He probably didn’t get many at a monastery dedicated to Ellnys who hadn’t heard their goddess’ name before.

“She’s a goddess of medicine. What god or goddess does your mom teach you about?”

“Hemse!” Ernest proudly proclaimed.

“Hemse, is it?” the priest gave a sly grin. “Have you heard the story of the time when Hemse’s animals were sick and nothing he tried would make them better?”

When Ernest shook his head, the priest brought one of the books on the desk closer and flipped through it until finding the desired page.

“Here, I’ll point to the word and you tell me what you think it is.”

Together Ernest and the priest worked through a story about how Hemse had sought out Ellnys because of her renown for curing incurable diseases and the tasks that Ellnys gave to Hemse to find and grow the herbs that would be needed to save his animals.

As she listened to them work through the story, Irene wondered if her parents had brought Essa to this monastery, instead of the chapel in Vorshan’s Hills, if things would have gone differently. They didn’t have the fee to pay for the healing, but in the end, her brother had become a priest of Ellnys anyway. And, if it would have saved her sister, Irene would have gladly served the goddess herself. She was sure her parents would have felt the same.

“Does that mean that Ellnys is stronger than Hemse?” Ernest asked when the story ended, and Irene coughed, sputtering and choking on her spit as she just about fell over. The boy! He was too curious for his own good!

The priest discreetly waved to her not to worry as he answered the question, “Rather than one being stronger than the other, each has aspects of the world that they govern over.”

“Aspects?” Ernest asked, tilting his head at the unfamiliar word.

“Aspects are similar to ideas,” the priest patiently explained. “Hemse for example represents the guiding and nurturing of life, which is why he’s known as the Great Farmer. Ellnys represents medical knowledge and healing. Both benefit from the other, as medicine would be hard to make without the many special plants that Hemse provides us the means to cultivate, and we wouldn’t have the special plants if Taniel hadn’t created them.”

“Is there a god that creates the diseases?” her son asked.

“Goddess, yes. But we don’t say her name for fear of drawing her attention.”

Ernest considered the priest’s words then nodded.

“Shall we read another story…”

While the priest was speaking, the door opened to reveal her brother in his formal robe. “Ah, Irene! I made you wait. Sorry about that. I wanted to finish up my work, so we could spend the time uninterrupted.”

“It’s fine,” Irene assured him as she rose and shouldered the travel-sack then turned to the priest. “Priest…”

“Lensley,” the priest volunteered.

“Priest Lensley is doing a wonderful job entertaining Ernest. I wonder if maybe we should leave Ernest here for a while?”

“I don’t mind,” Priest Lensley readily answered.

“Mommm! You promised I could see the gardens!” Ernest promptly complained.

Renner gave a knowing smirk at the embarrassed face she was surely showing. “I think that can be arranged, but only if you behave for Priest Lensley here, Ernest. And you’ll have to promise to stay to the paths.”

“I promise!” was the immediate response accompanied by her son’s ‘I’m taking this seriously’ face.

“Good boy,” Renner acknowledged with a chuckle and a wink. “Well, look forward to it.”

“Thanks for that, Renner.”

He waved off her thanks as unnecessary. “I suspect calling me over to see my nephew isn’t the reason for your visit.”

“No,” Irene admitted and motioned toward the sack’s shoulder-strap. “I need some divinations performed.”

Renner’s eyebrows rose about as high as they could go, and he motioned for her to follow him into the petitioner’s hall. Once Ernest would no longer be able to hear them, he worriedly whispered, “Something you couldn’t trust a local priest with? Have you stuck your nose into something dangerous again?”

Irene bristled at the assumption. She had been right about the imp in the woods near the farms last time! It wasn’t her fault she was the only one to notice the children acting strangely!

Pressing down her annoyance, she kept her voice soft, so as to not be overheard. “Priest Dohan might be involved somehow, as well as the local lord, Master Rigure, and Bastach as well.”

Renner rolled his eyes at her, and she had to press a hand to her chest and take a calming breath to not say anything intemperate.

“Will you do it?”

Her brother shrugged and faintly grinned. “You know there’s no way I could have refused after you came all this way. Besides, now I’m curious and maybe a bit worried. I hear the barbarian attack on Vorshan's Hills was a perilous thing. Did our family weather the storm? ...or?"

“You received my letter about Cousin Nevill and his family being murdered?”

At her brother’s nod, she began summarizing the winter’s events.

What had happened at the trial was sorely disappointing. She had been so close to breaking the charm magic and ridding the town of that witch's influence, but as frustrating as it was, she had to admit that perhaps the gods had other plans.

Irene had been hoping to leave sooner, but selling enough to put together the coin for her journey took longer than expected and shortly after winter started to set in, the barbarians began attacking the outlands and making travel unsafe. Lord Vorshan and his men had made a valiant effort to save the outlands, but the barbarian warriors had overwhelming numbers backed up by their hells-sent shamans and witches and pushed Lord Vorshan all the way back to Vorshan's Hills where they lay siege to the village.

Though she had worried that the witch would betray them, the witch showed a strong interest in defending her investment into controlling the village and, to Irene's surprise, had played a significant role in aiding the village's defense against the siege—if the rumors were to be believed, helping Master Rigure deploy magical defenses and raining down lightning and fire from atop the walls—allowing the village to hold long enough to be reinforced by Thentis Hammerfell himself and scores of elites the likes she had never seen before.

After the barbarians' assault was broken and they were pushed back to the west, Lord Vorshan announced a new initiative to rebuild and expand into the northern wilds, and the offered pay to families and workers willing to relocate to a newly planned mining village was what finally gave Irene the coin she needed for the trip to see Renner.

“That they all survived can only be seen as divine providence. It’s a shame about the Emmers though…” Renner trailed off in thought before returning to the issue at hand. “So, you want to confirm about Cousin Nevill’s death and seek answers to the mysteries surrounding this odd witch girl?”

Irene nodded. "Yes."

“I see. We’d better get started then; this could require quite an effort.”

Renner bowed to the altar and left her there in the well of the hall in order to retrieve from a side room the supplies he would need. She watched as, after leaving a carved gourd on the altar, he placed around the petitioners’ well and altar dais colored candles with flecks of herbs and flower petals, ritually lighting each as it was placed.

The faint smoke from each candle was colored the same as the candle and gave off a scent that seemed to haze her vision and clarify her thoughts.

There were a few petitioners seated on the pews that lined the hall, praying, but Irene didn’t mind. She wouldn’t begrudge them their prayers, and only the priest would see any visions—except in cases of divine prophecy and important oracles bestowed to the most favored priests and priestesses. And neither her brother nor her sacrifices were anywhere near worthy enough to cause such an event.

“The offerings to be sacrificed?” Renner prompted when the preparations were complete.

Irene had been expecting his prompt and had already pulled out from her travel-sack a separate sack with the visceral's head and a scrollcase with two of the witch's scrolls.

She had followed after the guardsmen and claimed the head when they had cleared it away during the trial. She'd had to pay the alchemist a hefty sum to clean and preserve the head, but she needed to know if what that hunter had said was the truth and for that, it had to keep for the journey. The alchemist's shop was also where she purchased the witch's scrolls—a necessary expense for her goals but one that exceeded expectations and further delayed her departure.

“That's some offering…” Renner grimaced as he looked in the sack. “Not sure how it will be received, but the horns and other parts might have medicinal purpose, and it couldn't have been inexpensive having it preserved. Did you want to offer coin as well?”

“If it failed after all the effort because I was stingy…” Irene gritted her teeth before handing over two silvers. “Any more than this would make providing for Ernest and safely meeting up with Yarich difficult.”

Most of the money from selling the house in Vorshan’s Hills went to pay back the amount Bessel had loaned them, and while the amount offered by Lord Vorshan for their relocation was generous, Yarich needed what wasn’t necessary for the trip here to build the new house. Should she have set aside more?

“It’ll be fine,” her brother assured her. “And there is a spare scroll in case the divination fails.”

Yes, that was the plan. If she had to, Yarich could probably earn and send a gold coin before her coins ran out if she stayed at the monastery and worked to help the priests.

The incense from the candles had become thick by the time Renner had arranged the offerings and begun chanting.

Irene knelt and prayed. She prayed for Hemse to intercede on her behalf with Ellnys. Prayed that Ellnys would grant her brother the desired knowledge. Whether due to the fragrant incense or the fervor of her prayer she lost track of time, and it was only a hand on her shoulder that apprised her of the divination having completed.

It wasn’t a steady hand.

Alarmed, she looked up to see her brother’s sweat-drenched and stunned face.

“Gods, Irene! What you’ve gotten involved with this time…” he rebuked her. “This Ria… she’s not what you think. Where is she now?”

For the vision to have been so terrible! What did it mean? “By now, she’s on her way to the capital city together with Lord Vorshan’s granddaughter…”

“I’ll have to speak with the head priest.” The second scroll was clutched in his hand and his eyes were unfocused. “I must go to the capital.”

Irene grabbed his sleeve before he could rush off. “And Cousin Nevill’s murderer?”

Renner looked at her in confusion for a moment before answering. “It was as the hunter told you. The rift-beast was the murderer.”

She let the fabric of his robe slip from her hand, and he left in such haste that every petitioner in the pews was staring at her, wondering what had happened—exactly the question she herself wanted answered.