Blood Memories [Last of Elves book 1] (NaNoWriMo 2014)

Four: Panthera

Panthera

She didn’t seem surprised. She held up a hand, keeping her eyes on him, and a warrior appeared at her shoulder.

“Take him,” she said quietly.

He went unresistingly, but they still bound his wrists in front of him. His life was no longer his own, and he knew it. After all this time running from that, trying to be his own master, he’d voluntarily given up his freedom.

Surprisingly, he was taken not to a cell, but to a comfortable room. The door was shut tight behind him – not locked – but he knew that there would be a couple of guards outside, just in case.

He looked around, studying the room. As with the rest of the temple, all the furniture was richly made. He guessed that a lot of it had been offerings from the wealthy nobles of the town. He knew that the ordinary townspeople, like himself, offered food or animals, or objects of their trade. Not the useless trappings that the wealthy surrounded themselves with. As he took in the room he began to have the sense that all the objects had been discarded, not particularly wanted.

He frowned, not understanding. It was strange. The priestess gave the impression that she was haughty, deserving of all her wealth and status. But the impression he got here, in this small room, was that she didn’t want it, and he couldn’t understand why.

He spied a window, and went closer, curious. It was built into a door, and opened out onto a small balcony overlooking the majestic river that flowed alongside the brick wall of the city. He was amazed. He’d never, not in his uncountable number of explorations of the town, realised that this balcony was part of the temple. He’d always assumed that it was just another noble’s house.

He stayed where he was for a long time, long enough to watch the shadows lengthen, and then the sun disappear behind the hills. The dusk lingered, the sky a deep purple, almost the colour of the priestess’ dress. The temperature dropped enough for him to feel cold, and a breeze whipped around him. Still, though, he didn’t go inside. He wanted to take as much of his lost freedom as he could before it was truly taken from him.

“Come inside.”

As before, her voice startled him, sliding over him and dancing on the breeze. He turned to look at her, not moving from his spot.

“It was my freedom,” he said quietly, even his voice marking him as a foreigner.

“Come.”

He knew it was an order, and after one last look at the darkening sky, he obeyed. She led him through the torch lit hallways of the temple, almost ignoring him. He could hear the two warriors following them, their leather boots echoing through the hallways. His own footsteps were the same. He looked down at her feet, wondering why he could only hear three sets of footsteps, and lifted his eyebrows in shock.

She was barefoot.

He didn’t comment on it, not wanting to get on the wrong side of the guards. They soon stopped, and she dismissed the warriors. A chill went down his spine. If she was confident enough to be alone with him, he didn’t want to know where he was.

The large room was dark; only the torch held by the priestess was the source of light. He swallowed nervously, feeling his heartbeat quicken, and sent a quick prayer to his gods, hoping for their protection.

“You wished to know who you are, dark one.” She waved a hand into the darkness. “This is your answer.”

He stared at her, the jewellery that covering her arms flickering in the torchlight. Golden snakes, their eyes made of semi-precious stones, twined around her, and vines trailed down over her shoulders, golden leaves paper thin. “I’m darkness?”

“Take it how you will.” She stepped closer, a jewelled dagger appearing in her hand. She cut his bonds, and gave him the torch. “Explore yourself, dark one. You will need to know exactly who you are for the trials to come.”

He took the torch cautiously. “What do I do?”

She gave him no answer, no hint of what he had to do. He swallowed again, nervous, and lifted the torch slightly. The light caught the shine of a pair of eyes, and he gasped, nearly dropping it. The dark cat came closer, revealing itself with the same grace and litheness that he recognised in himself. Just when it was about to touch him, it vanished in the light. He looked around, trying to see the priestess, but she’d also vanished. He was alone in the darkness.

Nothing happened for a long time, and he began to grow weary. As his eyes began to close, though, a haunting howl came through the dark, jolting him awake. There was danger in the sound. Danger, and power. He waved the torch in front of him, searching for the source of the sound, but he never found it. After a while, he gave up, and stood still, wondering what else he would find.

The next thing he saw by the light of the torch was a bird’s nest. There was a single egg in it, and as he watched, it began to wobble. Cracks appeared in the fragile shell, but before it could split in half, there was a flurry of wings, and the mother bird arrived, settling near the egg before it, too, faded into the darkness. He waved the torch around, but nothing else came, and so he turned in a circle, looking for the priestess.

He eventually found her, waiting with another torch, watching him. He walked up to her, lowering his eyes in respect.

“You found yourself, dark one.”

He made to speak, to ask her what the visions meant, but she’d started walking again, moving too quickly for him to stop her. With a sigh, he followed her.

Again, he was taken to the room. His wrists were bound, and guards placed at the door. He made no protest, knowing that it would be useless. He stood at the balcony door, not going outside, and just stared at the stars. He had no idea what to expect from the priestess.