Blood of the Goddess Book I: The Locust King
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Locusts at the Gate Chapter 2: A New Name Chapter 3: The Capital Prepares Chapter 4: The Princess is Dead, Long Live the Princess Chapter 5: Outside the Gates Chapter 6: Inside the Black Tent Chapter 7: Surrender at the Temple Chapter 8: The Cult of the Locust Chapter 9: The Locust's Tenets of Faith Chapter 10: Mourners on the Cliff Chapter 11: The Eye of Betrayal Chapter 12: The Dead King's Bedchamber Chapter 13: The Arms of the Goddess Chapter 14: Zayaan of the Narim Chapter 15: The Eyes of the Priestess Chapter 16: A More Permanent Disguise Chapter 17: Tribute Chapter 18: Sacrifice of the New Moon Chapter 19: The Lost Bird Chapter 20: Manah and the Priestess Chapter 21: Desert Creatures Chapter 22: Become the Swarm Chapter 23 The Price of Betrayal Chapter 24: Life Under the Locust Chapter 25: Wild Rose Chapter 26: The Lady Wren Chapter 27: Thought and Desire Chapter 28: The Lady's Captivity Chapter 29: The Wine Maiden Chapter 30: End of Childhood Chapter 31: The Children of Aisha Chapter 32: The Forest Runner Chapter 33: Three Sisters Chapter 34: The Hunt Chapter 35: Bones in the Forest Chapter 36: Lullaby Chapter 37: The Hunter's Horn Chapter 38: Ways Between Ways Chapter 39: Morning Star Chapter 40: A Prophecy for Baraz Chapter 41: Equinox Fires Chapter 42: The Lord Prince Takri Chapter 43: Evening Star Sets Chapter 44: Chaos in the Courtyard Chapter 45: Dasha Chapter 46: Memories Chapter 47: The Body Slave Chapter 48: Caged Beasts Chapter 49: Message from the Capital Chapter 50: Heresiarch Chapter 51: The Color of Blood Chapter 52: Winter Winds Chapter 53: The Bookmaker's Closet Chapter 54: Wrapped in Dignity and Beauty Chapter 55: Vessel of the Goddess Chapter 56: Cracks in the Walls Chapter 57: Two Brothers Chapter 58: The Court of Women Chapter 59: Favored of the King Chapter 60: The Sweetest Fruit Chapter 61: Daughter of the Temple Chapter 62: A Nation of Bastards Chapter 63: The Lute Player Chapter 64: Aisha's Prayer Chapter 65: Promises Chapter 66: Lives Lost Chapter 67: The Tea Maker Chapter 68: Object of Desire Chapter 69: Empty Shelves Chapter 70: Darkness and Light Chapter 71: The Love of Men Chapter 72: The Cursed Ones Chapter 73: Hiding Places Chapter 74: Old Men's Tales Chapter 75: False Prophecies Chapter 76: The Lord Prince Radu Chapter 77: Love Becomes Life Chapter 78: Mistress and Mother Chapter 79: A Test of Strength Chapter 80: The Strigoi-Viu Cometh Chapter 81: Scraps from the Table Chapter 82: A Fool's Errand Chapter 83: The Little Ghost Chapter 84: Stolen Honeycakes Chapter 85: Breathe Chapter 86: Beneath the Palace Chapter 87: Red Pebbles Chapter 88: Common Men Chapter 89: Love and Duty Chapter 90: Nightmares Chapter 91: Earth and Sun Chapter 92: Love and Creation Chapter 93: Until My Last Breath Chapter 94: Fruit and Flower Chapter 95: Two Days Chapter 96: Small ComfortsChapter 41: Equinox Fires
Deep in the bowels of the palace, Takri stood as the sole guard outside the oracle's cell. Mahleck had granted him the honor of guarding the prisoner, though it was hardly necessary. The eldest oracle sat in her cell bruised, battered, and covered in filth. Her interrogation by Baraz had ended in violence, leaving her unable to walk on her own. The other cells remained empty. Prisoners were not held for long under the Swarm. Most were put to death immediately without ceremony. But Mahleck desired to make a spectacle of this execution to discourage dissent among the populace.
"Young Narim,” said the old woman huddled on the straw covered floor. “I am glad you will be the one to escort me to my final equinox fire.”
"I am sorry, Grandmother," said Takri.
"No need to apologize. You did as you were told by Zarinya. She is very persuasive," said Zora. "And you continue to follow our task to the end."
"I should have fought," said Takri.
The oracle laughed. "Fought? Fought a dozen trained men? For what? To die? Don't be silly. Dying is for the old, not the young. And you have another young person to save, do you not?"
"Lilua."
"Yes. She lives a half-life in between this world and the next, caught in the strigoi-viu's grip. She needs you. And she needs her brother," said the oracle. "She is alone now except for her music. In another life, she may have been the Morning Star."
"What should I do?" asked Takri.
"You should live. Survive. It is all anyone can do in a time like this. Our Lady is life and She is hope. Do not lose either, young Narim."
"They plan on burning you in the Temple, grandmother. You will lose your life on an unholy mockery of the equinox fire."
"But by losing my life, I shall provide hope to many. Besides, I am old. The strigoi-viu wishes to make a mockery of the Lady through destroying Her voice. But he does not know it will only make Her voice louder," she laughed. "Don't be so long-faced, handsome boy! If they see you saddled with guilt as you walk me to the pyre you may never have a chance to help your little cousin. All three young Narim still have a part to play."
"A part to play?" asked Takri.
"All of you. Now, stop all this talk. Berate me a bit," said the old woman. "For they are coming. Come on now, insult me!"
"Grandmother... I..."
"You can do better than that. 'Grandmother' just means I'm old. That isn't an insult! If you wish to survive among the Locusts, you must act like one. Call me a disgusting shit covered witch or a foul-smelling crone. Use your imagination, boy!"
Takri heard footsteps echoing from around the corner. The guards, coming to fetch them both for the celebratory burning of a helpless old woman. Loudly, he yelled, "I won't hear any more heresies from your filthy mouth, old witch! Do you hear the footfalls of the executioners coming for you? You shall burn for your disrespect of the God-Among-Men!"
Zora winked at him mischievously before whispering to him, "That's much better. Give it a little profanity."
"Did you hear me, bitch? Keep your mouth shut!"
Zora crawled to the far corner of the cell. "Oh, please don't hurt me! I am only a poor old woman!"
Three guards and a captain rounded the corner. Takri brought himself to attention.
"Prince Takri, you are excused. His Majesty wishes you to proceed to your quarters and prepare yourself to escort the prisoner to the temple,” said the captain of the guard. “Wash the filth of the dungeon from yourself, and garb yourself according to your new rank as member of the royal household. Be quick. God-Emperor Mahleck wishes to burn the witch as the sun sets."
Both the capital's nobility and common folk alike crowded the temple. Those who could not fit in the open courtyard surrounding the sanctuary jostled each other on the walkways atop the temple walls. Others lined the streets outside the temple obediently waiting for the appearance of the Locust King and his captured Zorya.
Aisha and the other temple women sat in the classroom where they had watched Mahleck's coronation day months ago. Now a cold chill descended upon the mountain city. Dark grey clouds hung low in the sky, a harbinger of the first snowstorm of winter. This would not be the first equinox Adyll had witnessed with snowfall, but the afternoon darkness left everyone feeling anxious about the events about to unfold before them.
Nasreen and Aisha huddled together for warmth under a blanket from the dormitory thrown over their shoulders. The classroom was built for use during summer when cooling breezes came through the open arches. Now as winter approached those same winds brought frigid cold to the women inside.
Aisha looked around the room. "Where is the Holy Mother?"
"Why should we care?" answered Nasreen, dropping her voice. "She is a mean old woman. It is hard to believe she was ever chosen to be the Lady's representative for all of us. She hates me for volunteering to serve as she asked. And she just hates you for no reason."
"Maybe she is trying to protect us?" whispered Aisha.
"I think she wants to protect herself," grumbled Nasreen. "Look! Are they building a bonfire down there?"
Soldiers had cleared the populace from the area in front of the sanctuary, pushing the people back with drawn staves. If a citizen did not move quickly enough, they would be bludgeoned. Behind them, priests of the Locust had erected a tall pole made from the trunk of a mountain pine from which the branches had been removed. Now, they were bringing wood and piling it around the base. Even from their place in the classroom, the two girls could smell the sticky sap that covered the logs.
"Do you smell that pitch? That fire will burn fast and hot. This isn't our equinox fire, Aisha." Nasreen shuddered. "I think they mean that for the oracle. They will burn her before our eyes."
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