The Curse of Cal'Riel

Against the Odds with Fickle Gods

15 Claeg '22
Not the Answers I was Looking For (continued)

Moxie's frightened whinny assured Erevel that she was still alive. He dashed to her side to calm her, as much as he could calm her. He was as shaken as the rest of us.

"We have to return to Eldath," Tempist cried, clutching Bud's bony hand. "She's in danger!"

The trip to the temple went a lot quicker when adrenaline fueled one's sprint. Leaves crunched beneath our feet, dried and dead like winter. A freezing wind cut through us from every angle, cruel, taunting and unpredictable. Whenever we reached a clearing, the wind would force leaves into spelling out rigid, hovering messages. The first one read "death follows her."

"What the fuck is going on?!" Astra shouted. I couldn't tell if she was shouting at her god or what.

The message disintegrated as we tore past it and the wind continued to pursue us. At the next clearing, the second message read "the goddess's necklace can't save you now."

"These are merely taunts!" Erevel stated. He and Moxie galloped ahead to look out for danger. We were nearly upon the temple.

"Why did the leaves say 'goddess'?" Eiris spoke up, breathlessly. "And not 'lady'?

That was a damned fine observation.

We got to the temple and it was just as dead as everything else, brown and dried and reeking of death. Moxie couldn't hold still, agitation backing her up against Erevel's command. "Easy girl," he soothed, without effect.

The pool was dried to slimy clay and soiled coins, yet something at its center was moving. Tempist was drawn to it, moving ahead without fear, anger flashing in her eyes. Erevel dismounted, letting his horse flee back to the trail, then he joined the rest of us as we got Tempist's back.

"I prayed to Claeg," the druid called out, reaching the pool's edge. "He answered me. He said we needed to confront the champion of Osen."

That must be nice, getting your prayers answered. I remembered from Tempist's talks the day before that Claeg was the reaper of the pantheon, only he wasn't spooky like a lot of folklore depicted him to be. He simply carted souls to his sister, Khalida, who judged what their afterlife would be. I assumed it was Claeg who Tempist had been praying to back at the treehouse, while she clutched Bud's bones and muttered a language I didn't understand.

Why she didn't relay to us that Claeg had responded was beyond me. The kid was like Gale with that whole need-to-know-basis thing.

A mound grew from the center of the pool, summoning a ring of muck bubbles around it. It grew taller until it became a humanoid form, mud oozing down it, bubbles increasing in frequency and popping erratically. Raising its arms, the figure dispelled the mud from it, revealing her identity. At first, I'd expected to see Eldath, the nature goddess from yesterday, but this woman had skin like Charcyrl's, only darker. She was clothed in draping purple robes and adorned in golden accessories. At her core, she clutched wilted long-stemmed flowers, their petals a dark strangled shade from the red they once were.

"That's Eris!" Tempist cried. "Goddess of chaos, believed to be long banished."

"It can't be..." Erevel said, looking on in wonder.

Eris (not to be confused with our ranger, Eiris) parted her blackened lips. "It isn't," she taunted. Her voice was deep, distorted, and echoing around the courtyard. She then cackled an unearthly sound that split and crescendoed and rang sharply in my head.

Charcyrl stepped up next to Tempist who stood frightened but unmoving. "What's going on?" she said, placing her hand on the kid's shoulder.

"I don't know," Tempist said, beholding the false avatar with wild eyes.