The Forsaken Hero

The morning sun was bright and clear, breaking through the soft, billowy clouds and casting a golden glow upon the bustling streets of High Valley. Townsfolk drifted through the various markets and shops, talking, laughing, and haggling. Alone, I slipped through the thin crowds, keeping my hood low and avoiding conversation. Soltair and Trithe were back at the inn, taking advantage of the lazy morning to sleep in, but I couldn’t afford that luxury. If I was to catch up with the other heroes, I needed all the practice I could get.

After almost a half hour of searching the town, I caved in and looked around for a guard. They patrolled the streets regularly, traveling in groups of four with a mounted captain. The bright flash of armor caught my attention, and I found a group taking a break at the mouth of an alley.

”Excuse me,” I called, approaching, but not too close. I didn’t want them to catch on to my identity, after all.

The captain, identified by the blue crest on his breastplate, looked up curiously. His eyes narrowed as he took in my deep cowl, and grew even tighter when they fell on my chest. I self-consciously crossed my arms, but knew it was all but impossible to hide the slave crest.

”Could you help me find a clinic or temple?” I asked, shifting on my feet nervously.

He raised an eyebrow. ”The temple?” As I nodded, his gaze flitted around the street. ”I don’t see your master anywhere. What business do you have with the priests?”

”He’s back at the inn. I just need to visit a temple.” As he stroked his chin thoughtfully, I carefully scripted my response to his next question.

He chuckled and relaxed, leaning up against the alley wall. ”No need to be nervous, miss. Just so you know, it’s illegal to break the curse of a slave. Even if the priests are strong enough to do it, they won’t.”

”Well, I just want to...what?” Breaking the slave crest? My mouth parted slightly, but no words came. Was breaking a slave crest even possible?

”Ah, I knew it,” he said, smiling knowingly. ”What’s got you running so scared? A young Beastkin girl like you can’t be treated too badly...” I stepped as his hand dropped to his sword, a slight scowl marring his features. ”Tell me girl, does your master take advantage of you? I don’t expect you to know this, but that’s illegal, even for slaves, when your so young. Tch. To think there’s still scum like that in this city.”

My slight frame and large eyes made me appear a lot younger than I was, but wasn’t this an irrational jump of logic? ”Um, sir? That’s not it at all. My master’s very kind and hardly ever forces me to do things. I’m not looking to break the curse, either. I just wanted to watch the priests work.”

”Huh?” The fire in the captain’s eyes flowed into his cheeks and he coughed, covering his face in embarrassment. ”I-I see. Forgive my presumptions. Boron, get over here. Show this girl to the temple.”

One of his soldiers smartly saluted, then extended a friendly hand to me. ”Come along, little one. It’s not far, but stay close so you don’t get lost.”

My fingers twitched awkwardly, and I looked up into his face. The soldier was young, perhaps twenty, with a strong cheek line and dark eyes. I was already fifteen, an adult in this world, but was I really so small?

He retracted his hand after a moment and gave the rest of his squad a shrug. ”Guess she’s a little shy,” he said, causing them all to chuckle.

With the status of my escort, breaking through the busy streets became a simple task, and we arrived at the temple in a matter of minutes. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but the grandeur of the simple stone building was underwhelming. I had pictured in my mind an elegant structure with soaring spires and stained glass windows, similar to the architecture characterizing the Divine Throne. Instead, we stood before a slightly dilapidated church with a single steeple. Dust and cobwebs collected in the windows, and the eaves were slightly bowed with age.

”Whose temple is this?” I asked curiously.

The guard looked down at me and smiled. ”We don’t have a particular patron in High Valley, but most folks seem to worship the Sun God. How about you?”

”Fate,” I murmured.

He leaned over, eyes filled with curiosity. ”And what’s a little Beastkin like you doing worshiping the Fate Goddess?”

I looked down, clasping my hands together in a childish display of shyness. ”I-I...” I stammered, willing a spray of red across my face.

”Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said quickly, waving his hands in appeasement.

I sniffed, pretending to brush a tear from my eye. ”Can I go now?”

”Hey, don’t cry. I didn’t mean anything by it. You can worship whoever you want!”

The door to the chapel opened with enough force to dislodge some of the dust from the frame and a middle-aged man strode out. ”What’s the meaning of this? Making a child cry in front of my church?”

”Shit,” the guard muttered. ”Of course not. It was just a misunderstanding! She got lost, so I was escorting her to see you.”

”Hah. A likely story, but it won’t fool me. How could a slave get lost from their master? More like you were checking to see if such a cute girl had any obedience commands on her, eh?”

The blood drained from his face and the guard took stumbled back several steps. ”I’d never!” he exclaimed indignantly. ”I swear I was just bringing her over here.”

The priest grunted and made shooing motions with his hands. ”Whatever. Don’t expect me to overlook something like this again.”

”Thank you, sir!” the guard almost shouted, then frantically retreated.

The priest watched after him for a moment, then walked out and extended a hand. ”As for you, young one, why don’t you come with me? We don’t have much, but I’m willing to share that which we do.”

I took a deep breath, and once again rejected the extended hand. I’d grown used to Soltair and Trithe’s touch, but from a stranger, not to mention a priest, was asking too much. Besides, I was hardly the child they thought they were, and I’m sure they’d get embarrassed if they learned I was an adult.

The priest frowned slightly and gave up with a sigh before leading me into the church. The doors led directly into a small chapel, with several rows of pews and a lectern at the front. Dust billowed in the long shafts of sunlight let in through the windows, and I relaxed as the musty scent of paper tickled my nose. It reminded me of the upper layers of the library, possessing the same familiar warmth and comfort.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, a pained groan rolled through the room, originating behind one of the several doors on the back wall. The priest’s mouth clapped shut and he stood, giving me an apologetic bow. ”I’m sorry, but I must attend that. Please, wait here.”

After saying as much, he strode hastily to the door, disappearing inside as a muffled scream shattered the peaceful air. Unable to restrain my morbid curiosity, I followed him, timidly peeking around the corner. My eyes widened in shock, an unrestrained gasp escaping my lips.

More than a dozen individuals lay within, each bearing the weight of grievous injuries or agonizing illnesses. Their collective sighs of discomfort formed a somber chorus that hung heavily in the air, broken by the occasional whimper or cry of pain. Another priest, this one an older woman, moved between the beds, whispering words of comfort and adjusting bandages as best she could. Both she and the other priest looked completely exhausted, yet their ministrations were tender.

The figure nearest to me, a brawny man, writhed in torment, his voice rising to split the air with agonized screams. Blood-stained linen bandages clung to his form, encircling his eyes and winding around the remnants of his arm, now reduced to a mere stump. I fell back, eyes locked on his gore-ridden figure, and bumped into the wall. His mouth gaped open as he turned toward the noise, his voice falling to a whisper.

”Please...help me...”