Twelve Realms

Chapter 13

Lucia

I kick another rock into the river. This trip has been nothing but frustration. 

If I'm going to find the Thief, I need information. Any information. Where he was seen last, or a place he likes to hang around, even a description of his appearance would work. But all I've learned is that half of the people of this realm are way too overprotective, and the other half are snobby jerks. 

I can't help but feel like I've been set up to fail. When I set out on this mission, I knew it wouldn't be easy, but I didn't think it would be this hard. I've always been led to believe that we servants of the Temple of the Winter River were treated with the utmost respect, and that no one would dare be rude enough to impersonate one of us. So it was a logical conclusion that I would never have to prove my identity. 

Gods, what is the matter with this Realm? What happened to make the citizens so skittish, the nobility so opposed to outsiders? Was this all the Thief's doing? Or is there something more happening that I don't know about?

I've decided that I'm going to walk along the river, since it more or less circles the entire Realm, and gather as much evidence as I can. Strange footprints, unusual signs, the accounts of as many people who will talk to me. If that doesn't lead me anywhere, my only other option is to pray that Dea sends me another sign. 

I wish she would. I think she's placed too much trust in me. I'm used to the professional, respectful environment of the Temple, and people who are willing to treat you as an equal. I don't have any special skills, and I really have nothing to help me here. Maybe I'm not cut out for this job. Maybe Dea has overestimated me. Maybe I should go back to being a simple temple maid. It would certainly be a whole lot easier.

I pull down my sleeve, looking at the mark of Dea inked into my skin. Dea gave me this for a reason. I swore that I would follow her until I was sent to the River. So I can't just quit. I need to keep on going, whatever it takes. I can't let her down. 

Once again, I find myself slightly lost. There's nothing I see around me to tell me where I am, but I'm still following the river, so if I keep going I'll end up somewhere. 

This part of the Realm, though, seems much different than anywhere else I've been. It's much quieter. I hear significantly less birdsong, and what I do here is different. Muted somehow, and more melodic. I hear less rustling in the bushes, see fewer animals. 

Even the ground here feels different, crumblier and drier than the soft, moist soil I've grown accustomed to walking on. 

I'm starting to get hungry, and I still want to save the food I've packed from home, so I decide to walk a bit deeper into the woods in hopes of finding an animal to hunt, or perhaps a plant that's edible. 

But this place is foreign to me, and I want to make sure I can find my way back to the river, so I grab a handful of mud from the riverbank and, every few trees, smear some of it on a trunk so that I have a trail to follow back. 

I'm mostly looking at the ground around the trees, where shrubs tend to grow, to see if I can find anything, when I notice something strange. 

A pair of boot prints, sunken into the ground to an impressive depth, like the person had come down from a great height. 

All thoughts of a possible meal leave my head. This could be it, the sign I've been waiting for. I could be staring at the footprints of the very Thief that all of the Twelve Realms have been looking for. I hold my breath and try to make as little noise as possible as I follow the footprints. 

They lead me to a giant ruin of a building, made of stone and cement and rotting wood covered in moss. The perfect place for the Thief to hide. 

I find what looks like it could have once been a doorframe. I peer inside, but it's too dark for me to see. I step forward to get a closer look, but as I do, someone leaps out of the house and tackles me. 

Whoever it is, I can't get a good look, but before I know it, we're fighting each other. Self-defense is not something I'm unfamiliar with-- it isn't uncommon to have people try and break into the Temple of the Winter River to steal the eternia flower so they can put their enemies into an eternal sleep. Therefore, all of us who serve the Temple are taught how to fight. 

This boy-- I can tell at the very least it's a boy-- has quite poor fighting skills, but he caught me off guard, and now he's actually winning. At least, he is, until I almost trip on something-- a long, slender stick. A stick just like the staffs we used to train with. 

I hook the tip of my boot under the stick and kick it up into my hands. I hit the boy in places that will disarm him but not hurt him-- I'm trying to stop him from attacking me, not steal his segment. He tries to pry the stick from my hands but isn't quite quick enough to get the necessary force. 

I use the staff to sweep his feet out from under him, and he falls on the forest floor with a wince. I hold the tip of the staff inches away from his face, intending to scare him into staying still. He could probably easily escape from the shaky hold I have him in, but for some reason I doubt he knows that. 

He stares at the stick, then up at me. What surprises me isn't that he's not trying to fight back anymore. It's the genuine fear in his eyes.