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As they reached the river, Brent’s chest tightened and he slowed his walk towards the water. The scene was just as he had seen in the water, and the same disappointment he’d had in Meg washed over him again. As though all the trust he’d had in her—all the hope—had evaporated in that one moment he thought she held magic. And she had looked so sad as he turned his back on her.
What did he hope she would be? She was the princess she had always been. Some sword work in the yard didn’t change that, no matter how good she was. No matter how well he thought he knew her.
“Commander,” one of the men called from the river, and he took a deep breath and stepped forward.
He looked into the desperate eyes of the man before him and then into the boat rocking gently against the grassy bank beneath the naked willow trees. The lump formed quickly in his throat, and he stepped forward and into the boat without hesitation.
He had seen men die before, but this was different. This was murder, not war.
Rainger lay at an uncomfortable angle, his skin pale, and snow had settled on his body. Brent put a hand to his throat, and he was as cold as he looked. He gently took his chin and turned his head to get a better view of the open wound on the side of the head. He stepped back and looked around the small boat. A bloody oar lay half beneath Rainger’s body. Brent rubbed a hand over his eyes, but when he looked again, his friend was still dead.
Raf held the boat as close to the shore as he could, kneeling in the wet grass, his gaze on the water.
“Let’s get him out,” Brent said, giving his shoulder a squeeze as he stepped out onto the shore.
Raf remained motionless. Two other men stepped forward, but it was not easy to lift the large man, get him out of the swaying boat and onto the shore. Brent looked away, unable to watch the way they manhandled him.
How was he going to explain this to Meg? Or Kellin, if they ever found her? But Meg was sure she was nearby, that she had been in the boat. He looked into the trees along the waterway and then up into the sky, but there was no sign of a raven at all. Did she leave when he died? he wondered.
The men had finally lifted Rainger onto the grass, then placed their shields down to create a stretcher to carry him back to the castle. Someone should have gone for a cart.
“We can do it,” Raf said.
Brent nodded and took a corner of the makeshift stretcher himself. At least he wasn’t staring up at them. On the long walk back to the castle, Brent tried to reconcile the situation. What they would do, what they could do. Was there a killer out there? He would have to discuss it with the queen and the royal commander. And despite his reservations, Meg might have an idea as well. Although he wasn’t sure now where her ideas came from.
She had said that Queen Elalia had something to do with Kellin being a raven. She had to be mistaken. There had to be a mistake.
When they reached the barracks, the men swarmed towards them.
“The Temple,” he said with a nod. His arm was heavy and his shoulder ached, and he was ready to put him down. He had told Meg to go to the Brothers this morning; she may still be there and he could talk to her, apologise to her before he went to the queen.
“What is this?” the royal commander’s voice boomed across the yard.
The men stopped and the crowd that had formed around them opened up to allow the man through.
He placed an old hand gently on Rainger’s armoured chest. “How?”
“He appears to have been hit with some force,” Brent said.
“Deliberately?”
Brent nodded.
“Take him to the Temple and we will talk when you return. Do not go to the queen yet. We need to know what happened first.”
Brent nodded again, and the men moved forward.
There were too many people standing by the door of the Temple when they approached, and Brent slowed his walk. He nodded to a young soldier, who pushed his way through the people and banged on the door.
When nothing happened, Brent indicated the young man try again, and he banged his fist loudly. “Open for the dead,” he called through the door, and Brent’s stomach twisted.
A Brother’s head appeared briefly. “Wait,” he said, and disappeared back inside.
“What is going on?” Raf asked.
“The Temple is closed,” a young woman said, glancing at the man held between them.
“It is never closed,” Brent said, just as Brother Erasmus came to the door.
“We shall take him,” he said, and six Brothers emerged from the darkness behind him to take the stretcher.
“What’s going on?” Brent asked.
“There has been an accident,” he said quietly.
Brent’s mouth dried, and a coppery taste filled his senses.
“Come, but it is not safe. The roof is unstable.”
He nodded to the men to wait and followed the Brother into the darkness. Had the Temple ever been this dark before? He was directed to follow behind the Brothers carrying Rainger, through to the Brotherhood beyond the Temple. They laid him carefully onto the stone table in the centre of a small room, and a Sister entered.
“It can wait,” Brother Erasmus said, and she disappeared again quickly. “Tell me what happened,” he said to Brent.
“I don’t know,” Brent sighed. “The roof? Do you need help?”
“Come with me,” the Brother said quietly. “It has been a strange day.”
Brent patted Rainger’s shoulder before he followed the Brother into the main part of the Temple. Brothers stood by the doors, and then he realised that the small group of people at the front of the Temple didn’t seem right.
The platform was empty.
How by the gods had this happened? “Where are the gods?” he asked, his voice bouncing off the walls, louder than he intended.
Brother Erasmus motioned to the group, and he realised slowly that the gods were standing where the people usually stood. Only as tall as he was himself, as though they had stepped down from the heavens and become men. He moved closer, slowly moving his eyes over each one.
They had surrounded one as though to protect her. He remembered the chapel at the Keep and how they had changed. He had told himself so many times that he must have been mistaken, that it was the strange light of the chapel.
He walked around them and realised that all of the gods were standing around another, and the metallic taste returned. “Meg?”
“They appear to be keeping her safe.”
“Oh, Meg.” He moved closer to the statue of her standing so still, her hands covering her face. He dropped to his knees and ran his hand over the feet of Kion, then reached past Fire to do the same to Kira. And then he reached and touched Meg’s skirt, the long, smooth material apparent, but now stone.
He sat back quickly, his hand over his mouth.
“She is safe,” Brother Erasmus said, taking his shoulder and scaring him.
“How is this safe?” His scratchy voice betrayed his fear.
“They would not have stepped from the platform if they did not think her worthy.”
“What do we do? We can’t leave her like this.”
“We must wait.”
“What do we tell people?”
“It is in hand,” Brother Peras said, stepping forward.
“The roof,” Brent said, pointing to the perfect ceiling.
“We shall take care of Commander Rainger.”
Brent nodded mutely.
“Perhaps you could have someone assist with watching the doors.”
“Of course,” he said, standing slowly and brushing himself off. He could only look at Meg. He had been so hard on her this morning, and she had only been trying to tell him what he needed to know.
He blew out a long breath and marched towards the doors.
When Brent came out of the doors, he walked straight into Raf.
“What is it?” Raf asked, taking him by the shoulders.
He could only shake his head, but as he made to push past, Raf wouldn’t release him.
“Stand back, man,” he muttered.
“What has happened?” Raf asked, his grip still tight, and Brent stopped and focused on his worried face.
“There is a problem in the Temple.”
“I can see as much,” Raf said. “But what trouble would prevent the people entering? Illness?”
Brent shook his head. Even during the Plague of Nights that had struck the kingdom during his childhood, the Temple had remained open as a place of solace and refuge for both the ill and those seeking respite. He could still see the image of Meg frozen in stone, and he shivered before he could stop himself.
“What has occurred?” Raf insisted.
“A problem with the roof,” Brent said.
Raf let him go and stepped back. “You jest,” he said.
Brent shook his head. “The Brotherhood worries for the safety of those entering the Temple. Stone has already fallen to the ground.”
Raf looked over his shoulder. “Do they require assistance?”
Brent shook his head. “They do not want to endanger anyone else. You could assist by keeping people away. They have their ways, and it will be repaired before you know it.”
Raf nodded.
“Take a couple of others with you; people will become restless.”
“They are already restless,” Raf said, and Brent looked at the crowd he had marched through as he left the Temple. “Is there not another way?”
Brent shook his head again. He could feel the uncertainty growing in the crowd. “Talk to the Brothers by the door,” he suggested. “They may have an option for people to pray.”
“The people pray all the time,” he said. “It is the feet they need to touch.”
“I am sure the gods still listen.”
Raf reluctantly walked towards the door, indicating one of the others join him. People always visited the Temple. If only there were somewhere else where the gods still stood upon their platform for the people to reach their feet. Brother Erasmus was right—they could not see the gods as they were now, nor their princess.
He shivered again as he left Raf directing people away from the Temple door, and he headed for the barracks. The royal commander would need to be made aware of the situation, even if it was only part of it. As he approached the man’s quarters, he wondered if he should mention that Meg had not been seen, or that she was missing. But he was sure the man would see though him easily, and he did not want to lie to him. First Rainger and now this. He could taste the bile at the back of his throat as he knocked on the door.
“Enter,” the familiar voice boomed on the other side.
“Sir,” Brent said as he opened the door, “there is a problem with the Temple.”
The royal commander was standing at the small square window. “I can see that,” he said. “Do you want to tell me what has occurred? Or will you tell me what the Brothers want you to say?”
Brent gulped down the burning sensation in his throat and sighed.
“Have a drink,” he said, pointing to the table, but without taking his eyes from the window.
“The Brothers are reporting a problem with the roof. That it is not safe and may collapse. They do not want people hurt.”
The royal commander nodded but did not turn from this position. “Noble. Do they have an alternative for the people to pray?”
Brent shook his head, sat heavily at the table and poured wine into a cup.
“And what did you see that would shake a man so?”
Brent looked deep into the wine, searching for a simple answer, or an indication that what he had seen was something other than what it was.
The royal commander sat at the table with him, poured himself a cup of wine, and then linked his fingers around the cup. He sat and watched Brent until the struggle in his mind gave way.
“Meg,” he finally whispered.
“What about her?”
“She’s gone,” he said.
The royal commander took a long sip of his wine, then sat the cup down gently on the table. “But you know where she is,” he said.
“I am not sure,” Brent said, lifting his eyes for the first time to look at his commander. “I could see her, but it was as though she was not there.”
The royal commander looked at him seriously. “She is in the Temple?”
Brent nodded.
“Do the Brothers think they can help?”
“They are not sure, but it seems the gods themselves watch over her closely.”
“You had best tell me all,” he said softly.
“I don’t think I understand it,” Brent said slowly. “She is there, but not.” He took a shaky breath. “It appears that she has been turned to stone. They don’t know how it happened, but the gods themselves...” He took another sip of his wine as the royal commander leaned forward. “The gods have stepped from the platform to protect her.”
The royal commander leaned back and took a gulp of wine himself, and then, leaning forward, topped up both cups. They sat in silence for some time.
“Off the platform,” Brent muttered. “They stand where the people would stand, their arms around her to keep her safe.”
“Which ones?”
“All of them,” Brent said, downing the contents of his cup, which the royal commander was quick to refill. “All six have surrounded her, looking sad and angry, and her frail and lost amongst them.”
“That could be the safest place for her then,” the royal commander said.
“But she is stone,” he said loudly, thumping his cup down heavily on the table and sloshing the contents over the sides.
“It seems we have entered strange times,” the royal commander mused. “First Rainger, and now this. And all in one morning.”
Brent nodded and downed what remained in his cup in one gulp.
The older man sighed. “Is there any news on the other princess?”
Brent shook his head. He couldn’t even begin to explain what may have happened to her.
“I wonder how she will fare with this news. Let us keep the Brothers” secret for now; they know best. We shall help protect the Temple until they tell us it is safe for the people to enter. Has anyone discussed this with the queen?”
“I know not,” Brent said, pushing his chair out and standing shakily.
“Sit down, man. I am sure Brother Erasmus will offer her some advice around the Temple roof. Let us continue the search for the princess, and perhaps not mention the second one. We would not want to scare the people.”
Brent nodded again.
“I suggest you rest here for the moment. It has been a difficult day for the men, with Rainger’s death so unexplained.”
Brent nodded again. “They are not as used to death as soldiers should be.”
“No, and not for such a man in such a way.”
Brent filled his cup again, uninvited, and the royal commander held his cup up to him. “Rainger,” he said as they touched. “A good man.”
“The best,” Brent said, and downed the contents in one go.
“May the gods keep him in their light,” the royal commander said.
And Meg, thought Brent.