Camille II: The Acolyte

17 years ago:

The waves crashed cacophonously against the shore, spraying salty water into the air as Camille approached, running up to the water so she could see the boats before it was time to leave.

Most of them were wooden, narrower than the merchant ships Camille had seen in the harbor, but not too different, though the distance made it difficult to see them too clearly. Every third or fourth ship glinted under the sunlight shining off of it like a mirror. Even so far away, the fleet was breathtaking.

“What’s wrong with your hair?” Lucien poked a stubby finger towards her head once she was close enough, probably the closest he could manage to a real greeting. “It looks different.”

Camille scowled. “Mother let me dye it, just like all the other Leclaires going back hundreds and hundreds of years. And she said it looked elegant.”

“Duh.” Lucien rolled his eyes. “She has it too. Why did you have to change it? It looked better before.”

“I wanted to!” Camille puffed up her chest. “It’s because I’m going to be the next High Priestess when Mother retires. It’s a sign that I’m more grown up and stuff.”

“Well I’m going to be the King!” Lucien said proudly. “King is better than High Priestess.”

“Nu-uh!” Camille wagged her finger. “I get to use spirit magic and move the waves around and stuff! It’s way better than sitting in a castle and doing whatever your father does all day.”

“He gets to lead the armies and fight people! That’s so much cooler.”

“It is so not!” Camille pushed against him slightly.

“Is so!” Lucien pushed back, knocking Camille into the sand.

“You’re dead!” Camille grabbed his legs, pulling him down next to her.

Lucien jumped on top, pinning her down so she couldn’t move. “Hah! I win!”

So unfair.

“Camille! Lucien! Stop roughhousing. You should both know better.” Uncle Emile stared down at them disapprovingly. “Now apologize to each other.”

“She started it,” Lucien grumbled as he got off of her.

“I’m sorry, Lucien,” Camille said as flatly as she could. As long as she said it first, she would look like the better-behaved child.

Lucien didn’t hold out long either, under Emile’s withering glare. “Sorry, Camille.”

“Christine must have told you that it isn’t safe to play on the beach, Prince Lucien. I’m sure she’ll be looking for you.”

Lucien sighed and began trudging back to firmer ground.

Emile sighed. “And you”—he pointed to Camille—“are coming with me to the temple immediately. Your mother wants to see you.”

Lucien stuck his tongue out as Emile dragged her off, fuming all the while.

They didn’t need to go far, at least. The Great Temple of Levian jutted out of the shore, twin step pyramids of deep blue stone framing the entrance, rising above the temple walls. Each was engraved with countless carvings Camille had spent hours poring over: a woman swimming around a serpent, to represent the first pact between Leclaire and Levian; a distant ancestor bowing before the first Fox Queen; and her favorite, a massive wave crashing against a snowy mountain, to show how the Leclaires had brought the Kingdom of Micheltaigne to heel under the Empire of the Fox, the final petty kingdom to complete the Fox Queen’s rule of the entire continent, almost five hundred years ago;.

Each level of the narrow pyramids had a balcony exposed to the seaside, allowing the wind to blow through in the summer months and cool the upper floors. The very top coalesced into a serpent’s head, staring out over the water. Right now all of the doors were shut though, even the front entrance, which was normally always open for visitors to leave offerings.

Uncle Emile knocked twice against the great wooden gate, calling out to the older acolytes on the other side, then bent down to meet Camille’s eye level. “Don’t go anywhere. I need to return to His Majesty’s war council. No playing in the sand.”

“Fine,” Camille sighed. “I’ll wait right here.”

“Good.” Emile stood up, knees cracking as he did. “I’ll see you soon.” He walked off hurriedly in the direction of the castle, turning back to give her a wave before he made it out of sight.

It wasn’t long before an acolyte opened the door, massive leather folders tucked under his arms. “Hello, Camille,” he said, a strain in his voice as he looked down at her. “Here to see the High Priestess?” When she nodded, he waved his arm inside before loading his papers onto an overburdened wagon in the courtyard, then returning inside at a jog.

Everything was subtly wrong. The big fountain in the center had no water flowing through, which Camille had never once seen before. All around, acolytes ran in and out of the main doors with more papers and folders. Some even brought relics: statues and artifacts belonging to prominent exhibitions in the temple, carried with a shocking haste and carelessness.

Inside, it was even worse. The bustle was even more frenzied, the acolytes bearing a grim determination across their faces. The shimmering blue stone bounced echoes from all around the temple, if you knew where to listen. Camille and Lucien had made a game of it, trying to listen without people noticing, but now the only sounds were overlapping arguments and sobbing.

Further in, the acolytes thinned out, though the echoes of them still bounced down the halls. By the time Camille reached the back of the temple, she was alone.

Biting her lip, Camille stopped for a moment to catch her breath. Standing here, most of the noises faded to a dull pulse, unintelligible beyond their despairing tone. Mother wanted to see her right away, but she couldn’t show up like this.

She took another deep breath and dusted the sand off of her dress. Another as she straightened her hair. By the time she was presentable, her face was rigid.

Still, it would be better to make sure the High Priestess was in a good mood. It was easier if Camille knew what she was getting into, if she were going to be punished for playing on the beach. If they knew, Camille had to get out ahead of it and apologize. If they didn’t, that would be the worst thing she could do. Softly, she stepped towards the door to her mother’s chambers and peered through the keyhole.

“…the time has come,” Mother argued, standing tall in scaled turquoise armor with her blue hair tied back. “With Onès fallen to Avalon, she may not get another chance.”

Father closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “She’s seven, Sarille. Only a child. You can’t send her to make a pact with a ruthless spirit! How old were you, when you became a spirit sage?”

“Sixteen.” Mother bit her lip. “There’s more to it than that and you know it, Farand. What if the city falls? She could be cut off from Levian forever, ending the ancient pact of our House.”

“Which would be better than having her soul taken by him!” Father’s fists clenched tightly. “I cannot believe you are even considering this.”

“I was worried that you wouldn’t understand,” Mother sighed. “You may not have been born a Leclaire, but our pact with Levian is of the utmost importance. A Lady of Onès without spiritual magic is completely unthinkable! I trust our daughter. Why can’t you?”

“Of course I trust her!” Father shrugged a brown patterned cloak over his armor, House Couteau’s emblem of a mountain on a coastline stitched onto the back in black. “But she is still just a child. One word amiss, and sending her will have been a mistake we will regret for the rest of our lives.”

“However long that might be.”

“No need to be so dour, Sarille. Malin has never been taken by sea; whatever pride Avalon takes in its navy, it shall not be the first to breach the city from the bay.” He held out his hand for her. “Come now. I’m sure His Majesty is wondering where we are. He means to do battle with Harold’s infantry to the north and overwhelm them before they can begin a siege. If Avalon’s king is defeated in the field, their morale will be broken, and the army will rout.”

“If…” Mother trailed off. “I’m just trying to prepare for the worst.”

“By putting Camille’s life at risk.” Father secured his swordbelt into place.

“Yes,” Mother answered frankly. “I believe she can handle it, and if we don’t act now, the consequences for her bloodline and power could be dire. She’s ready, Farand.”

Father closed his eyes. “We can revisit the topic later. In the meantime, she should be sheltering with Prince Lucien and the other children.”

“Fine,” Mother grunted icily, stepping closer to the door.

Camille jumped back before it opened, trying her best to look as if she had just arrived. “Hello, Mother.”

The High Priestess’s weary expression instantly melted into a smile. “Camille! Just who I was looking for.”

“I heard what you said.” Camille stuck her nose up. “Father doesn’t want me to make a pact with Levian yet. But I’m ready! I know I can do it!”

Mother sighed. “I know that, my little sea serpent. Your father knows it too. But we both agree that the risk is still too great.”

“But it’s not!” Camille pleaded. “I know all the words to the pact and I’ve practiced swimming for hours every day and I even did it at night so I’d be ready for the dark and––”

“And when you’re older, you’ll be one of the best spirit sages in the world. But not yet, sweetie.”

Camille clenched her fists. “Why did you want to see me then?”

“I––” Mother lifted a finger, paused a moment, then let it fall. “It doesn’t matter anymore. You are to wait outside the gates until that squire Christine collects you. During the battle, you’ll be staying in the inner sanctum with Prince Lucien.”

“He’s such a brat though!” Camille wrinkled her nose. “Can’t I come to the battle with you and Father?”

Mother laughed. “As devastating as I’m sure you would be, no. You’ll have to protect all of the children in the castle. I’m depending on you, Camille.”

“Great!” Camille responded, a touch too loud, but Mother didn’t seem to notice the insincerity. “I’ll see you after the battle, then!”

“Good girl.” Mother nodded, patting Camille on the shoulder. “Until then,” she said as she began walking down the hallway, back to the entrance. The gate was still open, the wagon being slowly wheeled out.

Camille followed at a distance, ducking back out of sight once she knew that no one was watching. As casually as she could manage, she walked back along the hall, hoping every instant that Father wouldn’t wouldn’t walk out and catch her in the act.

She reached the end of the hall just in time to hear the door to the inner sanctum open. In an instant, she ducked behind the wall. Father walked out, ready for battle, confidently striding forth without noticing her.

It was a near thing, but Camille managed to catch the door before it closed without alerting Father, stepping inside the chamber as she softly closed the door behind her.

The Great Altar of Levian lay up the stairs, facing the water when the doors to the balcony were open, but that was not where Camille was headed. She pulled on the tasseled green rug in the center of the room, tugging against it until it slid off the hatch it was covering.

Lifting it up was really hard since it was so heavy, but she managed to keep it up long enough to slip under it, hearing the click as it closed above her head.

Mother always complained that the stairs down into the tunnels were too small, too narrow, since they had been made when people were shorter, but Camille found them just right. Most stairs were too big anyway, really tiring to have to go up and down.

The sconces weren’t lit, but it didn’t take long for Camille’s eyes to adjust enough to make it down, especially with the wall to lean against so she didn’t trip.

The room at the bottom was bare. Aside from the staircase, there was nothing but a pool of water she could make out only by the faint glow emanating from it, pulsating almost like it was alive.

Camille took a deep breath, then jumped into the pool. It was deeper than it looked, dimly lit by faintly glowing blue plants clinging to the edges of the tunnel, which stretched far into the distance. Camille pushed off the back of the tunnel and began swimming as fast as she could.

The light grew dimmer and dimmer as she went, until only her sense of direction guided her forward, occasionally bumping against the walls or ceiling. It wasn’t too late to turn back, but that was unthinkable. Her lungs screamed for air, but she continued on. Anything less would be unworthy of a spirit sage.

Her hand scraped against rock, lancing pain through her arm as she tried to wince without opening her mouth. Summoning the last of her strength, Camille pushed off of the bottom and swam for the top.

The relief of the air once she reached the surface was greater than any feeling Camille had ever known, like her body had been drained of its life and was only now getting it back.

She tipped over onto her back, breathing heavily. Above her, a glass dome showed the bay from the underside, the summer sun shining above the surface far in the distance. She could even see the boats from the underside, though the shadows made it impossible to tell which type was which.

The damp stones underneath her were slick with algae, getting thicker and thicker towards the far end of the chamber, where a window in the glass opened up out to the ocean. Camille’s ancestor, Mathille Leclaire, had spent decades of her life in a single instant to empower the magic making the chamber stable, a gift to future generations that would hold the water at bay for the next six centuries.

Curious, Camille stuck her hand out into the ocean before pulling it quickly back in. The water was even colder than the tunnel had been, sending a chill all the way up her arm.

This was it.

“Great Spirit Levian, Lord of the Lyrion Sea, Guardian of Raging Waves, Torrent of the Deep, I call you forth to receive my offering,” Camille shouted to the water, a slight tremor in her voice. “I call you forth to honor my family’s contract.”

For a terrifying moment, nothing happened. Had she made a mistake? Was this the end?

A deep growl filled the air, blowing Camille’s wet hair and clothes back as it sent a shiver down her spine.

Before she could even blink, a dark shape appeared in front of the window. Scaly, twisted, and serpentine, the spirit grinned at her with long rows of sharp teeth under slitted blue eyes. “Speak, human.”

“M––my welcome to you, Great Levian. I offer you my hospitality in this modest abode, provided you agree not to harm me and speak only truth during your stay.”

“I accept your offer.” Levian’s head darted to the side in an instant, slithering into a new position without even blinking. “Careless human-spawn. By the terms of your deal, I could still destroy this dwelling with a mere thought, provided I did not harm you. Such an impetuous encroachment on my domain, ridding the waters of it would be cleansing. Though its architect does provide good company, captive in my lair. Perhaps you would like to join her.”

“I––” Camille took a deep breath, centering herself. If the spirit broke the glass, there would be nothing she could do. He had no reason to, now, so all she could was ensure that she didn’t give him one. “I have called you to bargain, in accordance with my family’s contract with you.”

Levian’s head snaked around her shoulder, scarily close to her face. “Do you offer me your soul? It smells so innocent. I could give you power beyond reckoning, to bring this world to heel.”

Could he really? Spirits had to honor their deals; they were incapable of breaking them. Which meant he was telling the truth, unless she had missed something. Not that the offer was very tempting. Camille had been warned about this.

“I do not,” she spoke clearly, beginning the words of the family contract. “In exchange for the same share of dominion over water that you granted my mother, Sarille Leclaire, and her mother, Mireille Leclaire, and her mother… “ The names went on and on, each committed perfectly to memory, an unbroken chain of spirit sages stretching back centuries. “…And your original sage, Ybille Leclaire, I offer you my service. I offer you the power of human souls, drowned in the sea to add their lifeforce to yours. I promise that each time I call you forth, I will provide a human whose energy you may consume as they die. I vow to head the Temple of Levian as its High Priestess from the moment my mother’s service ends until the day I die, or I appoint a worthy successor to take my place.”

Levian’s curled his massive body around her, uncomfortably tight, as his head pulled back to face her, only inches away. “And should you fail to honor your word?”

Camille gulped. This was the part she had practiced the most, because it was the most difficult to imagine. “Conditional on that failure, I offer you my soul. Not merely the power from extinguishing it, but fully and without resistance, to serve you in your watery halls until the end of time.”

The spirit grinned even wider, showing more teeth than should have been able to fit even in his enormous mouth. “I accept.”

A dull rumble accompanied his words, like rolling thunder. Another followed shortly after, then another.

“Dreadful.” Levian’s eyes narrowed. “Must you humans always make such a racket?”

“What?” Camille’s eyes widened. “That wasn’t you? Wasn’t it a spirit thing?”

Levian laughed, a strange hiss as Camille stared into the deep rows of teeth. “Goodbye, child.” He uncurled himself from around her, darting back into the water before Camille could process what had happened.

But now she was a spirit sage! Officially the next High Priestess of Levian, just like Mother. And…

Camille lifted her hand, focusing on the pool of water leading back down into the tunnel. A small tendril of water spiralled up tentatively. It worked!

The water broke and fell back as Camille jumped up into the air, a wide smile on her face. Now that she was a sage, Mother could help train her better, but no matter what, she had the power. It was hers!

Swimming back through the tunnel was no effort at all, the water effortlessly moving in tandem with her hands. As she made her way back up the stairs, another loud rumble sounded, no longer muted by the water.

When Camille emerged, the Temple was empty. The front gates were wide open, the path to the castle filled with divots and footprints beyond it. The sun had traveled far enough in the sky to mark hours since she had descended. It didn’t feel like it had taken that long, but the temple had already cleared out. And the castle…

A massive hole had been torn in the north wall of the city, smoke filling the air near the gap. Every moment, loud popping noises would sound with a crack.

As Camille approached, she noticed a large party making its way down. Nobles, servants, guards, all walking hurriedly next to a long wagon train making its way down the path. Lucien was near the front, his face red with tears. Mother walked near him, a solemn look across her face.

Camille ran up past the yelling guards at the front and hugged Mother as tightly as she could manage. Mother’s eyes widened. “Camille! Where were you?”

“Seeing Levian.” Camille smiled. “I’m a spirit sage now.”

Mother took a deep breath, then smiled back and patted Camille’s head. “I’m so proud of you. I knew you could do it.” Her face darkened. ”But never run off like that again. This day was almost even worse.”

Worse? “Where’s Father?” Camille asked hesitantly.

Mother bit her lip. “He stayed with Fouchand’s sons and the Guerron forces to hold the gap. He’s giving us time to escape, Camille.”

“Oh.” Camille looked back at the smoking gap in the wall. “And then he’ll meet us later?”

“I don’t know, sweetie.”

As the caravan reached the harbor, the servants began unloading the wagons onto a few of the ships.

Now that Avalon’s ships were closer, it was easier to see what set them apart from Malin’s. The ones in the harbor were larger, wider, while even the wooden ships out in the deeper water were newer looking, narrow, with more sails above them. The shiny boats were clearer too, metal covering their sides with little holes poking out. They didn’t have sails; instead a stream of smoke flowed up from them in a trail to the sky.

“Mother?” Camille asked. “How are we going to get past those ships?”

She bit her lip, wrapping her arm around Camille. “I love you, my little sea serpent. Never forget that.”

“What?” Camille stared as her mother began walking across the dock, stepping onto the water without missing a step. “No! Don’t go! You can’t!”

Sarille Leclaire didn’t turn back. As she moved, the water grew higher underneath her, cascading down on the front row of ships. Moving past the wreckage, she summoned another wave, and another. By the time the party was ready to depart, not a single ship of the Avalon navy remained above water.

Nor was there any sign of her mother amidst the wreckage.