quarters, holy rooms, and even the ancient crypt that the temple is said to have been built above. Our town’s, Virfith’s, greatest heroes are said to have been buried there.
At the end of the hall, under the enormous window, the altar glows. It’s a tiered table shaped like a semicircle. Rows of candles flicker on the outermost tier. Coins glitter underneath their light, generous donations from charitable townspeople. Some books lie closed on the altar.
Statues of other gods stand up above each doorway on a pedestal. Pheogg, god of the agriculture. Na’az, goddess of the harvest. Oklir, god of war. Frejjl, goddess of fertility and womanhood. Rilir, god of healing and life. There are others, and many more whose statues are not included inside the temple.
One of the doors creaks open and a few priests step out. Only one of them looks up at me, but he quickly runs over and shakes my hand. “Kadmus! How good to see you!”
“How are you, Frederick?”
“Same old, Kadmus. He has a small smile on underneath his old, somewhat hooked nose. His eyes are aged and tired, but very kind. He’s bald, but at the moment his dark hood is up. He’s a little hunched over, which makes him appear smaller than he already is. His eyebrows are light and unaccented. “Have you heard from Gunther lately?”
“No, not for the past week. Last I heard though, he was quite successfully running his own forge in Terrace. He’s built his own home and he’s happy. Ethan and I are going to go see him tomorrow.”
“Good!” he nods vigorously. “Good! I look forward to your report!” He punches me in the shoulder much harder than I would have thought possible for a man his age. “Give that to your brother for me, would you?” His smile has become slightly mischievous. “For keeping your mother waiting for grandchildren!” He chuckles as he turns away. “Got to go! Send my regards to your parents!”
His form shuffles quickly away and into another door, but he winks at me before he disappears.
The sun has already begun to disappear behind the mountains to the west. The air starts to lose some of the little warmth it has, and the sky turns orange, spotted with clouds of dark grey and blue. The mountains have become dark silhouettes, ominous shadows in the sky.
I hurry back up the road. My home sits at the top of the hill, at the root of one of the closest mountains, so it will take a few minutes to walk. I pass the forge and check the door. It’s locked, which means my father has already left.
A guard passes by. No words are exchanged; we simply nod to each other. There are only a few of them here. The recent events in the war have made us take precautions, and one of those precautions is the guard. It’s a small company of trained men, headed by Captain Ruger, who take turns patrolling the roads that lead in and out of the small city. I’ve only seen the Captain out and about on rare occasions; usually he wanes time away in the guardhouse drinking wine or doing who-knows-what. One of them always stays in the top of the watch tower to the north, where there sits a large war horn built into the tower. Most people, the guards included, think the whole ordeal unnecessary because we have been left out of the war for the few months it’s been going on.
I pass a small house, round a corner, and find my ears pleased to recognize the sound of rushing water: the Fravora River. Within minutes I am walking beside the river, staring into its churning depths. Various rocks and boulders bar the water’s way, but it blasts over them in waves with power I haven’t seen matched. As I walk farther upstream, I find small eddies and pools where the water is calmer and many small fish are taking shelter. They wriggle away as my shadow crosses the rippling water. Color waves across their small panicking bodies until they hide under a protruding rock, where they become dull.
Not far ahead of the pool, the large river crashes down a series of waterfalls. Evanescent mists spray from the rocks and curl from the falls themselves, creating a fantastic feeling that I’m in some sort of magical forest. My attention must turn to the road, however, as the path winds up a steep incline next to the waterfalls.