In His Name

Chapter 1 - A job

The sights and smells of spring are thick in the air. The warm sun is melting off the chill that had seeped deep into the earth over the long winter, filling the dirt with life and heat. Soft scents of fresh grass and flowers are brought along by warm breezes. Every tree is wearing a mantle of bright greenery, boldly displaying their leaves for the new season. Color pushed its way onto the land, laying claim and growing over everything that had been.

The tomb of the old temple lay at what was once the heart of the city, on ash and blood-soaked dirt. Nothing grew over its carcass. No vines or moss covered the burned and melted stones. A strip of grass surrounded the temple grounds on every side. Few dared build a home near this barrier between the living and the monument to the dead. Only the poorest of the poor chose to reside near the boundary. While the rest of the ever-changing world shifted and clawed into the new season, the scarred patch of land remained. Perpetually frozen in the aftermath of its god's anger, trapped in the moment of its destruction, and utterly unaffected by the passage of time.

A figure moved across the edge of Rosco's vision. He squinted at the ruins. Could it have been an animal, maybe? Everyone knew the god's anger still burned so an animal would have been odd. He had never seen any living creature willingly venture there, not even ghosts wandered the cursed grounds.

Curiosity pulled at him. His eyes flickered between the space where he had seen the figure and the pile of wood he was meant to chop down to size. He tightened his hands around the worn axe handle and pinned his lower lip between his teeth. Maybe it was a traveler? A person from far away, who did not know it would anger the god to tread there. A smile twitched at his lips, having found an excuse to abandon his work and venture closer to the ruins.

Rosco slowly crossed the grass to the edge of the temple grounds with his axe in hand (in case it was some kind of animal). His eyes searched for the movement he'd seen before, and his dry tongue worked nervously in his mouth. Curiosity was a strong force, especially for him, but fear could always dwarf it in comparison.

"Hello?" the boy called, nervously gripping tighter at his axe, "Is someone there?" The wind blew pulling some of his dark curls into his eyes momentarily blocking his sight. When he managed to clear his vision, a man stood outside one of the blasted holes in the temple walls, as if he had just stepped out of the ruined building.

Rosco dropped his axe with a yelp jumping back to keep the blade from slicing up his feet.

"You, uh," bending to pick up his axe, "you should get away from there," he warned the stranger, "the god usually kills anyone who gets too close."

The dry earth crunched under the stranger's boots as he strode closer. While looking Rosco over, he stopped before him, making Rosco squirm. The boy suddenly conscious of his sweaty, dirt covered skin, and his ratty worn-out clothes. The strange man was a good deal taller than Rosco, and broader in the shoulders. His short gray hair clashed with his unlined face, leaving his age a mystery. He carried no bag but had a long black coat that covered a set of plain black clothes, and a pair of heavy soled boots on his feet.

Rosco dropped his eyes; this man had the air of nobility around him, and he did not want to be accused of being disrespectful.

"Is there a temple here?" the man asked, crossing over onto the grass. He framed his words in a way Rosco had never heard before, further cementing the idea that the man must be a foreigner passing through the area.

"Of course, sir," Rosco answered, surprised by the strange question. Did they not worship the gods wherever he was from? "The temple here is for Ocyrin."

The man's brow furrowed.

"The god of the Lake," Rosco clarified, in case the man was unaware of the name. But, his look of confusion did not subside.