Viper's Creed (The Cat's Eye Chronicles) (13 page)

“This looks like a rich city,” Sora observed, gazing first left and then right. She wished her head would rotate in a full circle; there was too much to look at.

“A lot of rich families donate to the Temple,” Burn said knowingly, “which pays for the street maintenance.”

“And for the guards who enforce that maintenance,” Crash muttered darkly.

“How do you mean?” Sora asked. She leaned forward, catching his eye as he turned around.

“There's a hefty fine if you don't keep up your property,” Crash explained. “And for littering, too. So don't throw anything on the ground.”

Sora nodded, glad he had said something about littering. She had been seconds away from tossing an apple core over her shoulder. Instead, she glanced around, making sure no one was watching… then shoved the core into a nearby bush.
I'm not putting that sticky thing back in my saddlebag.

“If we go to the Temple, they will certainly give us a warm meal and a bed for the night,” Burn said. They stopped their horses at an intersection and looked around, trying to decide the best route forward. “They are good to travelers here. Then Sora can arrange a meeting with the High Priestess.”

“Will she even want to see me?” Sora asked, glancing at the large Temple in the distance.

Burn chuckled at this. He seemed amused by every question she asked. “She won't have a choice if you request an audience. The Priestess is here to serve us, not the other way around.”

As he spoke, a line of small cloaked figures marched past, hoods pulled low over their heads, eyes directed at the ground. They each held a thick rope with a large ornamental bell at the end.

Sora stared at them skeptically. “Don't tell me those children are part of the clergy....”

“Acolytes of the Goddess,” Burn explained. They watched as the line moved by at a slow, meditative pace. Sora wanted to laugh. Based on the size of the acolytes, they had to be even younger than Laina.

“They are chosen at age five,” Crash explained quietly, as though reading her thoughts. His voice was low and soft. “Farmers and nobles alike bring their children from hundreds of miles around to be accepted into the Order. It’s a lifetime commitment.” His tone turned dry. “And a convenient way to get rid of an extra daughter.”

“Or son,” Laina said.

Sora gave a start; she hadn’t realized the young girl could hear them. Laina was staring at Crash with narrow lavender eyes, but she turned away before he could return her look.

“Where do we go?” Sora asked. “Should we follow them to the Temple?”

“That would make the most sense,” Burn replied.

“Then what are we waiting for? I'm starving,” Laina said. “Let’s go!”

Burn nodded and started forward, guiding his large gray house through the crowded streets. With a slight nudge of his leg, Crash led their horse after the line of acolytes and down the crowded city street toward the distant towers of the Goddess.

The acolytes walked at an irritatingly slow pace, and Sora entertained herself by looking around the city. Men and women rode past in little buggies, each pulled by a single horse. Shopkeepers polished windows and laid out wares. Some nodded respectfully to the line of acolytes, or said small prayers in their wake, but most ignored them as if they saw this sight every day.

Up ahead, she could see men in leather armor strutting back and forth, armed with cudgels and polearms.

“City guards?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Not quite. Street patrol,” Crash replied dryly. “Poorly trained fools in service to the Temple. Good thing they didn't see you throw that apple.”

He was teasing her—had to be. She highly doubted he cared about littering. Sora rolled her eyes. “That's ridiculous, fining someone for throwing an apple core.... It's fertilizing the ground!” Why would rich people make such a law?
Seems like more of an inconvenience.

Laina stuck her tongue out as they passed. The patrol looked up and glared at them, his eyes cold and hard.

Crash stared back as their horse strolled leisurely by. Eventually, the man looked away.

Sora grinned at this.
Not so tough now, are ya?
She stuck her tongue out at the patrol too, then leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Crash's waist.

* * *
 

A commotion became apparent as they approached the Temple. They were a block away from the large chiseled doors, riding in the shadow of the tower, and the streets were packed with people. Suddenly it was impossible to continue on horseback.

A few members of the street patrol milled around, hanging at the back of the crowd, not doing much. Sora and her companions dismounted and continued on foot, pushing their way to the Temple.

When they reached the gates, the crowd opened up to reveal an old farmer and his wife kneeling on the ground. Their faces were tan and leathery from the sun.

A woman stood before them dressed in long, purple robes, the white cowl around her head hiding her hair. From the emblem on her right shoulder, Sora guessed it was one of the minor priestesses, though she wasn't sure of the rank.

The farmer's wife was sobbing, and Sora saw a small child no more than a year old wrapped close to her breast.

The noise from the crowd was considerable, but Sora could overhear the farm wife speak.

“Save her!” the woman cried. “Please, save my daughter! I can't lose another child....”

“Pray over her, at least!” the farmer yelled roughly. “My entire herd has died this past month, possessed by some strange spirit. They attacked and killed each other! There is a curse on my land and we have need of the Goddess' touch!”

The priestess looked on helplessly. Her lips were tight, her eyes large and watery. “I-I'm sorry,” she said, spreading her hands. Her voice was soft and high-pitched, like a cooing dove. “I've done all I can. We have no magic; we can only hope that the grace of the West Wind works through us....”

“Then what's the point of prayer?” the man yelled. “If the Goddess can't save my herd and can't save my child, then who needs a Temple? We should just tear it down!”

The rest of the crowd surged forward, taking up the cry. “Tear it down!” they screamed.

Sora gasped as she was shoved forward. The weight of the crowd rushed up and struck her like an ocean wave. Crash grabbed her arm to steady her.

“I've lost two sons this year to a strange sickness!” a woman called.

“My crops won't grow! The fruit is rotten!” another yelled.

“Aye! And the fish are dying in the rivers!”

“The chickens are losing feathers! Their beaks turn black!”

The priestess was backed up against the gates now, a panicked look on her face. There were no other priestesses in sight, and the crowd looked extremely angry, with red faces and glaring eyes. A few people carried swords or walking staves, and shook them at her threateningly.

“I-I'm sorry,” the young priestess repeated. “Truly... we haven't heard of all this before. We must go to the High Priestess and consult her wisdom. Please, have patience!”

“Patience didn't save my son!” a short, gnarled woman screamed from the crowd. Then she launched forward, whirling a large broom handle over her head.

The woman lunged at the priestess, and Sora lunged too, swinging her staff outward. She caught the broomstick in its upward swing and swept it from the woman's grasp, sending it spinning over the crowd.

The woman turned to stare at her. 

In fact, the entire crowd turned.

Sora stood out clearly in front of the Temple, her heart racing, looking around. Everyone seemed focused on her. In truth, she was a little surprised. She hadn't thought before acting; it had been pure instinct.
Now what?
she wondered. Her eyes traveled helplessly over the stunned crowd, then she signaled Crash and Burn.

At her cue, her companions stepped forward. All four turned to face the crowd. Burn unsheathed his massive greatsword and several people stepped back. It was a bulky blade, wider than an open hand and taller than most men.

“Might as well wave,” Crash muttered next to her. “When Volcrian travels this way, we'll have a hundred people to identify us.”

“Oh, hush,” Burn grunted. “What was she supposed to do? Let the priestess be killed?”

Crash's silence was unnerving.

Sora tried to shrug it off. If the crowd got angry again, she would be stampeded into the ground.

“Wait!” she cried, throwing up her arms and addressing the onlookers. She thought back to her mother's house, to the farmer with the flaky skin and clear bile. “W-wait just a second! I can help!”

The crowd broke into murmurs, whispering amongst each other.

“How?” a young man yelled.

“I... I've seen this sickness before!”

Burn glanced at her, surprised, but she ignored him. Instead she turned to the farmer and his wife, who were still stooped on the ground, hunched over their baby girl.

“Hand her to me,” Sora said, and held out her arms.

The farmer looked highly suspicious, but the mother did as commanded, obviously desperate. She handed the baby over to Sora, who held her, running a hand over her small, chubby face. She recognized the dry rash on the skin, the fever, the shallow, painful breaths.

Briefly, she called upon the Cat's Eye. She closed her eyes, reaching into her mind, asking....

The Cat's Eye's presence surged inside of her, like a gasp of air, as though it had been waiting.
Now.
She jolted, surprised, and heard the dim chiming of a bell.

She touched the baby's nose confidently. With a flash of green light, the Cat's Eye sucked the curse out of the baby, drawing the magic into itself. It was a small pool of magic. There were no worms like before, but a bitter taste came to her mouth, as if she was drinking lemon juice.

Sora staggered, momentarily dizzy, slightly winded by the exchange.

The crowd gasped. The murmur grew to a rumble. Everyone craned their necks to see.

Then the baby started crying.

The little girl looked healthy. No rash, no fever. The farmer's wife scooped her from Sora's arms. It was a hearty wail for such a small baby, not at all the cry of a sick child. The father and mother stared, their mouths hanging open. Then, slowly, they both started crying, tears streaming down their faces.

Finally, Sora turned to the crowd. She paused, her eyes growing wide. The people looked furious.

“Liar!” a man screamed. “She hurt the baby! She's no Healer! She's evil!”

“No!” the farmer's wife yelled. She stepped in front of Sora smoothly, holding up the child as evidence. “My daughter is crying! Her lungs are cured! She can breathe!”

Another murmur passed through the onlookers.

“Cured?”

“A miracle....”

“Who is she? What did she do?”

“Did you see that light?”

“The Goddess! It is a sign from the Goddess!”

Sora turned quickly to the priestess, who stared at her with an unreadable expression. “Please,” she said. “My companions and I must speak to the High Priestess. It's urgent. And it has to do with this sickness....”

The crowd continued to murmur behind them. A few people were already trying to get her attention, shouting out, begging for cures. Sora tried to shut her ears to the noise, tried not to feel the heavy press of bodies behind her. Her heart ached for the people. She wished she could help every single one... but there was no time.

After a long moment, the young woman nodded. She unlocked the front gates. “The High Priestess only holds audiences in the morning,” she said. “But I think she will make an exception.”

Sora turned to her companions. Laina's eyes were wide and confused. Burn kept his sword drawn. Every now and then, he pushed back the crowd with his blade, a reproachful look on his face. Crash watched her silently, expressionlessly, as he always did.

She waved to them. “Come on!” she said. Then she started forward. The four entered the gates, the farmers pushing at their backs, trying to touch Sora. As they entered the Temple grounds, several city guards arrived on the scene, brandishing swords in an attempt to disperse the crowd. Sora watched the gates shut behind them, the mob swirling outside like a dammed river.

Beyond the Temple walls, the four found themselves in a surprisingly serene garden, with citrus trees growing on either side. A stone path led through emerald green grass up to a broad, decorative set of doors. The Temple was constructed of a strange material whose shimmering colors were like that of an opal, or mother-of-pearl. It was truly a majestic building. Sora's eyes followed the spiraling towers up their full length, high into the sky. The monstrous central tower was connected to two smaller ones by arching bridges. She looked away before she got dizzy.

“Please wait here while I alert the High Priestess to your presence,” the young priestess said, then lifted her robes a bit and shuffled off.

As soon as she was gone, Laina turned to look at Sora. “What was that you did for the baby?” she demanded, her face scrunched. “That didn't look like a Healer's touch. That was magic!”