Rune and Ruin

1 - He is Here

391 B.C. - City of Caere, Coast of the Tasurian Peninsula, Spring, Month of Maius

Thania

I kneel at the altar, folding my hands at my breast and touching my forehead to the cool stone. It brings no relief to the pounding in my head, even though it's dark and quiet in the temple. I push away the agony, the knowledge of the dagger hanging over my head more important than any physical pain. All of the priestesses of the temple mount are gathered together for the Tasuri Warlord's 'inspection,' myself included.

A shudder of fear races through me, making the pounding in my head increase. I gulp down the bile that rises in my throat but can't stop the tears from escaping my eyes and sliding down my cheeks.

He is here.

Here, right now, and all I can do is plead with the gods that I will somehow elude him.

No more running, Thania. Strength.

I am not devout enough. Shame fills me. It is an utter betrayal of the Mother when everything in me quails at her words, but I can't help myself.

I sit back on my heels to look at the tableau carved into the temple stone of the gods at their Mount. My gaze catches on the serene countenance of the goddess Dyen. Reaching out I trace the carvings at the base of the statue with shaking fingers. Young girls, the goddess's handmaidens, chase a stag armed with a bow and arrow. The moon's virgin half - light and beautiful, always brings a sense of shame mingled with awe to me. Maybe the shame is why I look at her now.

It feels like a lifetime since Dyen has had any reason to look on me with favor. I am far from pure or virginal. I once heard a priestess caution her disciples that virginity of the body is not nearly as important as the mind, but my mind's eye is just as tainted with blood and lust and suffering and desire as my body is no longer virginal.

Thinking of what may happen to the young Dyen acolytes brings back my nausea. Will he and his demons respect their innocence? I laugh, a soft scoff that does nothing kind for my head. I know, better than most of the residents of Caere, how his warriors will destroy young girls.

I know, even if other Acera feign ignorance, that Acera slaves for the proud noble Tasuri Houses are worth their weight in gold. Even better if any child from such a union is unquestioned as belonging to its father. Spells and prayers meant nothing. No matter the challenge, he always found his way to victory.

One week ago the Haruspex, High Priest of the Mother Goddess, sacrificed a goat, slicing it apart and reading the liver to divine what the goddess wished to say. It was a beautiful animal, with a soft gray coat, sleek and shiny, its expression peaceful before it was slaughtered. The Haruspex, representing the Father god, bent over the entrails while Nahma, the Hatrencu, the Mother's High Priestess, knelt next to him. They had said nothing, and were still bent over the innards, when the Haruspex's headdress of dark black ox skin slipped, the tie coming loose from under his chin as it nearly fell into the spilled remains of the goat. A bad omen. The absolute worst. The echoing silence from the onlookers in the temple square showed their uneasiness. It was a sign tantamount to the gods turning their backs on our people.

The beautiful city of Caere has been abandoned by the gods. Knowing the fate of resisting, the king of Caere allied his family with the nearby Tasuri town of Tarquinni against the invaders. Tribute and sacrifice came to nothing when Tarquinni fell, leaving the Acera people in Caere at the mercy of the Warlord of Rune.

The Warlord had marched into Caere three days ago through gates open wide. It had stunned the Acera populace, who had been readying themselves for war. They were given no chance to flee the city, part of the terms of the deal the fleeing royalty had struck with the Warlord. Any other terms were kept quiet, the ramifications of Caere becoming a Rune-ruled city not yet completely understood by the teeming masses whom I and the other priestesses watched each day grow more desperate. Gossip, rumors, and innuendos were abundant among the populace; is this a dream or a nightmare?