Eight of Hearts: The Rift Blade - Book 1

Chapter 17

The villagers carried their priestess in their center, holding her over their heads on a large copper panel. She was younger than Bryce had imagined, maybe only sixteen years old, but she knelt with a grace that made her seem much older. Judging by her rough appearance, she had been treated poorly by her captors, but the gentle smile on her face showed no discomfort. She was very plain looking to him, her Asian features lacking the characteristics he typically considered pretty in a girl. But still he found her graceful demeanor stunning. He couldn't tear his eyes away as she came near.

The parade halted before it reached Bryce where he stood next to Shyla's downed machine. The four villagers carrying the priestess came forward, setting her to the ground a few meters away. Bryce recognized the village elder among them, the old man still smiling in his usual cheerful way as he waved. But his eyes never left the priestess as she rose to her feet and walked straight toward him.

She stopped, gently placing a hand on the fallen machine as she spoke, not in the Weufouru language, but in English.

"I thank you, heroes, for protecting my home and people," she said. Her voice was youthful, almost immature. Yet he didn't find it annoying at all; just soft and delicate.

Just how old is she? Bryce wondered.

Flywheel bowed his head respectfully to the priestess. "It was our honor to help, priestess. Are you hurt?"

Bryce turned to gape at the man who until now had done nothing but insult him. Where was the sharp wit that had tormented him? Colonel, King, and Truthseeker took place next to Flywheel, each bowing their heads with their friend.

"What, she gets respect without having to work for it?!" Bryce's voice cut across the gathering, but his four companions didn't react.

The priestess turned, her pale blue eyes probing intently until he took a step backward and fell to one knee. "Your works speak to your honor, my friend, but do not think honor comes from your position as the Showru's companion." She said before turning back to Flywheel with a gentle smile. "I have no wounds that will not heal, either in body or mind. Thank you, Flywheel."

Bryce was overwhelmed by the power of her presence, unable to lift his head as he continued to kneel before the priestess. He felt numb, though it wasn't a bad feeling. It felt like all of his pain and fatigue had been replaced with a gentle sense of peace and tranquility.

"Please, if you have the strength, would you bring the life back to the village?" Colonel asked. His voice creaked, sounding fragile for the first time since Bryce met him.

The priestess shook her head. "That right belongs to the heir to the goddess now that she has come." Her hand stroked the metal surface of the mech, as she spoke, and for a brief moment it emitted a low hum. "Where is she?"

King straightened, gesturing to the elder's house. "I brought her inside to rest after her fight," he said. "Shall I take you to her?"

The priestess shook her head, stepping away in the direction of the house. "Forgive me, but I wish to meet the Showru alone. She is my life's purpose." She paused a moment, looking across the village where many more machines lay scattered about, still burning from their destruction. "Please see that those men receive a proper burial," she said quietly, her soft voice pained. "My people have no desire to show our attackers respect, but it must be done. The goddess would wish it."

Jonas saw the approaching wall of fog and instinctively backed away until he was pressed firmly against the door to Holmes' flat. There were strange shapes flitting about in that strange mist, each giving off a feeling of malice and madness.