Read The Last Canticle: Summoner's Dirge Online

Authors: Evelyn Shepherd

Tags: #LGBT; Epic Fantasy

The Last Canticle: Summoner's Dirge (39 page)

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and tried to stand. His knees buckled when his feet touched the floor. The bed hit the wall, rattled the wooden sun overhead. The kindly woman let out a panicked squawk and rushed to place the tray on the nightstand. She grabbed Damir by the armpits and hauled him up, plopping him down in the twin-size bed.

“I don’t think so. You need your rest. We may have been able to heal your wounds, but you still depleted your energy source!” she admonished. Her ample chest puffed out as she swung her buxom hips and pivoted around to grab the tray. She set it in Damir’s lap before he could rise, and added, “My name is Garima, and you’re in the village of Methuselah. You still have a minor wound we could not completely seal; it was far too deep. So you’ll need plenty of rest to rebuild your strength.”

Damir looked at the tray in his lap. A bowl of stew sat on it, chunks of delicious-smelling meat floating in a clear broth with parsnips and potatoes. He picked up the spoon and poked at some turnip greens. His stomach growled in approval, but he set the spoon down with a shake of his head.

“No, I must see Balin. Where is he? Where are the others?” Damir asked, his eyes locked on Garima’s soft brown ones. They were the color of warm clay, kindly eyes. The wrinkles around her eyes crinkled as she drew her thick brows together in confusion.

“Balin?”

“Yes, he’s tall and thickly built. He has hair of a raven’s feather and yellow eyes.” He balled his hand in the blanket until his fist trembled.

“Oh!” Her eyes lit with recognition. “The Terrasolian. He is in another room, resting. Eat, and perhaps if you have some strength, I will show you to him. But first you must rest.”

Damir dropped his eyes and swallowed thickly. His throat was sore. He drank from the provided cup of water. Garima watched with a motherly gaze as Damir finally took the spoon and began to eat.

She clucked in approval and swiveled around. “I shall return for the tray. I must check on the other patients.”

Garima closed the door before Damir could ask what was going on. He sighed heavily and continued to eat in silence, observing the room he had been placed in. It was simple. The walls were insulated with the leathery hide of an unknown animal. There was a dresser pressed against the opposite wall of the bed. On top of the dresser was a clay basin and bowl. A wooden chair was tucked in one corner.

Damir finished his stew and set the tray aside. He slipped under the covers. As much as he tried to tell himself to get up, to find Balin, he found he couldn’t move his weighted limbs. Sleep seized him quickly.

When he woke again, Garima had taken the tray away. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. He looked around at his surroundings. A bandage had been wrapped around his stomach. Damir cautiously pressed his fingers to his left side. He winced at the sharp pain.

Persondra.

It wasn’t just Persondra that had done damage, though.

What was that light? Gaius had had it before.

Damir shook his head to clear his thoughts. He pressed a foot to the floor and tested his weight against it. When his knee didn’t buckle, he swung the other foot around. He stood and padded over to the dresser and searched for some clothes. The dresser drawers were empty. He grabbed the wolf pelt and wrapped it around his body.

He had to find Balin. He staggered out of the room and into the hall. His body still felt weak, as if someone had sucked all the aether from him. There were four other rooms and what he suspected was a door that led out of the hall.

He chose the first door on the right. The room was empty.

Damir closed the door and reached the second one.

“What are you doing? Get back to bed!” Garima huffed indignantly. She held a pile of clothes in her hands.

“I have to find Balin,” Damir said stubbornly.

Garima pursed her lips together thinly. Her shoulders heaved in a heavy sigh. “Fine, come along.”

She led Damir into the room opposite the one Damir was about to enter. Damir pushed past her eagerly, murmuring a thank you as he did.

Balin glanced up from where he sat on the bed, his brows drawn together in frustration.

Relief swelled inside Damir. He nearly dropped the blanket around his naked waist as he flung himself onto Balin.

Balin grunted and wrapped his arms securely around Damir and held him close. He buried his face in Damir’s golden hair and inhaled deeply.

“I thought…I thought…” Damir bit down on his lower lip to lock the words in. He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. You’re here.”

Balin pressed a kiss to Damir’s forehead, his eyelids, and finally his lips.

Damir clutched Balin’s shoulders tightly. He ignored the pain in his side. Nothing mattered in that moment but Balin in front of him. Damir opened his mouth to Balin and tasted Balin’s tongue as it snaked in.

Garima coughed in her hand. Damir pulled away and looked at the homely woman, whose cheeks had turned bright red. A knowing smile twitched at the corners of her mouth.

“I see that you are feeling better. I will leave these clothes for you two. Please hurry and get dressed. Elder Judaea wishes to speak with you.”

Damir untangled himself from Balin’s strong arms. Garima set the clothes in a chair and left the room to deliver the rest of the clothes she carried. Damir remained on the bed, one hand loosely clasped around Balin’s.

The battle felt distant, a memory that was more fantasy than reality. Twice now, he had transformed into a mighty beast. Twice now, he had taken lives without a thought.

“What is wrong?” Balin asked. He nudged Damir’s chin up so their eyes were level.

Damir studied Balin’s face, the hard line of his jaw, the crook of his nose, and the hidden warmth of his eyes. He would do it again if he had to, if it meant protecting what he loved. He would always do it again.

“Nothing. Let’s get dressed.” Damir leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Balin’s lips.

They changed into pale buckskin pants and shirts. Fur-trimmed hoods draped down their backs. Fur-lined moccasins were laid out for them, made of the same buttery-soft buckskin. Colorful beads were sewn intricately into each article of clothing. Damir slipped his bare feet into the moccasins, sighing as his cold toes warmed.

Outside the door, they found the others waiting, dressed similarly in the native clothing. Elma stared pointedly at a corner of the hall. Israel remained close to Zephyr’s side, his expression neutral, and the sky captain glared fiercely at Garima.

“What’s going on?” Balin asked as he pulled the door shut.

“This woman is cock blocking me!” Zephyr grumbled.

Garima huffed and said furiously, “He is too weak! He needs to rest!”

“Yada, yada, yada.” Zephyr rolled his eyes skyward.

Israel smacked him in the shoulder and said to Garima, “I’m sorry. He often doesn’t think before he opens his mouth. You have been so kind to us. We truly appreciate it.”

Garima glared at Zephyr, but her expression softened when she turned her gaze to Israel. “Well, we couldn’t leave you to die out there. Come. Elder Judaea waits.”

They walked through a great room to a flight of stairs that spiraled down a tower. Garima led them past doors, taking them to the middle of the tower until they came to an opening that led out to a bridge. The bridge was covered lightly in snow and swung gently in a passing breeze. Damir drew his hood up, tucking strands of hair behind his ears.

Halfway down the bridge a second one extended to the great tree in the center. Garima led them to the temple. Hidden beneath the snow-topped canopy were fluted pillars. Carvings depicting saints long past were wrapped around the pillars and the entrance of the temple. Two long banners ran down the walls, emblazoned with the sacred sun.

Mighty oak doors with massive brass knockers shut them out from the temple. Two sentinels nodded their heads at Garima. Each carried a staff decorated with colorful beads and feathers. Their clothes stretched over their broad shoulders, stitched together with straining threads. Fur-lined gauntlets hugged their bulging arms.

The guard on the left grabbed the door and pulled it open. Damir watched as his triceps and biceps tightened.

“Thank you, Kanno,” Garima said. She entered the temple. Damir followed with the others.

 

THE COLD STONE antechamber of the temple was vast. Two grand limestone staircases swept up to a balcony. On either side of the stairs were a set of doors, as well as a double set of doors at the top of the balcony. A giant mosaic of a golden sun proudly hung above the doors. In alcoves along the walls, candles flickered, the only light in the dim room. Between each alcove, bright tapestries hung, each illustrating the Scions in the sky.

Stone pews were arranged in the center of the antechamber. At the top of the balcony, a set of guards stood beside a fragile man. He looked down at them, his eyes milky. His face was weathered with time, resembling the melting candles that filled the temple. He wiped at his hooked nose and drew in a struggled breath. Wisps of white hair clung to his speckled scalp. A gnarled hand clutched firmly to a wooden staff.

“You caused quite a stir,” the man called down. His mouth crinkled into a smile. “It has been over five hundred years since the last Animas Stellas walked Zoria. I was but a young man then. How times change.”

History carried on his voice, the hum of evolution. He swayed in a way that reminded Balin of Councillor Phyrrus. Elder Judaea closed his blind eyes and sighed softly. The long robes he wore were draped over his petite body, seeming to weigh him down into the stone floor.

“I prayed Lar would allow me to pass before the time arose once more when the Staff of Metatron was called upon. But I see that Lar wishes are different. Garima, have Arcanus summoned. It is time for him.”

“Yes, Elder,” Garima said and quickly bustled out.

Damir stepped away from Balin and called up to Elder Judaea. “We have come to seek out the final Anima Stella. We wish to ask for his aid in the name of King Auric of Kalrune and all of Zoria.”

“I know why you are here, child. You will need more than Arcanus to defeat your enemy,” Elder Judaea said. He set a trembling hand on the stone banister. “But that can wait. Arcanus will be here shortly, and then all will be revealed.”

Garima returned, chest heaving as she nudged in a small boy. He was no older than ten, possibly eleven. His hood was pulled over his head, shrouding his eyes in shadows. Mutely he stepped toward the crowd, petite hands clutched in front of him.

“Thank you, Garima. You may go,” Elder Judaea said. Garima left without a word.

“He’s the final Anima Stella? A kid? Is he even potty trained?” Zephyr quipped.

Arcanus jerked his head up. His hood fell away. Strands of deep red hair fluttered around his ebony face. Fierce steel-colored eyes pinned Zephyr to the ground. Zephyr snapped his mouth shut.

“I assure you I can handle my own. I may be young, but I am still twice as old as your mentality. I believe if they can make an exception for you, then I shall work just fine,” Arcanus stated eloquently. His tiny voice held a depth to it that many men could never achieve.

Elma let out a shriek of laughter. Zephyr shot her a silencing glare and grumbled under his breath, “Fucking brats.”

“If you are done,” Elder Judaea said. His voice echoed in the antechamber and bounced off the vaulted ceiling. Silence fell over them in a hush. Elder Judaea straightened his shoulders, but it still left him hunched, his back as gnarled as an ancient oak.

“Five hundred years ago, Saint Cyril, with the aid of Saint Taevon and Saint Ceda, vanquished the daemon Marchosias. Zoria, brought to her knees at Marchosias’s hands, was restored once more to her glory. Now, that solace that blessed our land has been disrupted by a daemon far more powerful than Marchosias.”

“King Vasilis has been possessed by a daemon?” Damir queried.

“Yes. His Majesty has been taken under by the Crowned Prince of Malltod, Belial. Pheor has a long history of falling in surrender to the Goddess of the Morning Star, and once more Zoria trembles on the brink of despair.”

“And what is it you would have us do?” Balin asked. They were going up against a daemon? He glanced at Damir, who watched Elder Judaea. Would Damir have the strength to defeat a daemon?

“They seek to do what all daemons do, to return home. To take what does not belong to them. Belial builds a legion to devour not only Zoria but nefl. We are not only on the brink of mortal war, but on the verge of celestial genocide. He will collect his power, and then he will unlock the passage to nefl.”

Elder Judaea turned his head, his blind eyes settling on Damir. If Balin didn’t know better, he would have sworn the elder could see Damir. “You, my son, bear the weight of the world. Draco, King of Dragons, Sire of the Universe, you must see past your rage for the salvation of this world and the next. We will not find solace otherwise.”

Elder Judaea waved his hand for them to follow. “Come. There is much to show. The key to nefl lies beyond this door. It is your burden to protect.”

One by one they mounted the stairs.

The guards opened the double set of ornate doors. Elder Judaea entered the sealed-off chamber. A crystal pool lined the perimeter, just below a curved wall of stained-glass windows. At the north end of the room, opposite the doors, on a small island of marble, was an angelic statue.

The sexless angel’s wings were spread wide in flight. One slim leg was drawn up to the angel’s body, the knee bent, while the other was slightly outstretched. The angel’s lovely face was tipped down, its marble curls spilling over narrow shoulders. A giant diamond of iridescent blue was clutched in its long hands.

Elder Judaea stopped at the center of the room. The floor was a spiraling mosaic of a great tree, with majestic limbs that bore ripe fruit made of precious gems.

“What the bleeding malltod?” Zephyr snapped as he looked around with hungry eyes.

Israel slapped his shoulder. Zephyr grunted and grumbled, “Never mind.”

Elder Judaea ignored the exchange and once more began to speak. “Lar created life. He made the land and its mountains, the ocean and its sandy floors. He placed the moon and stars in the night sky. He gave light to the darkness, created day to parallel the night. From his touch, forests flourished, trees sprouted and grew tall.

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