Carmine

I raised my head and the strands of my now frazzled hair bounded with the tender movements of my prayer. My eyes regarded the kaleidoscope of red and blue triangles that rounded the white circle. This was the symbol of my god, Ashuor.

The room was dimly lit with candles on high rods surrounding the wall. The lines in my palms dimmed under the dropped tears, yet quivered side by side, as it turned outward like a cup.

We Asconians have worshipped the father of tranquility and strength for so long and, yet here I was sitting on the ground before his image.

A humble servant, for I have not prayed in a while. I should be ashamed.

Beside me sat two other nobles, in their finely weaved silk and long gold chains. They prostrated themselves by his simple image.

Ashuor was a God that had been a part of my life since birth. I was blessed within his waters, for the corporal and capital ranks of Ascus held him as their highest deity.

But his name lost relevance elsewhere. He faltered before gods like Erot and Omson, who have more prosperous gifts and dreams to give out than our fair father.

I was okay with that. Ashuor always decreed that success comes with time and those that stay true to themselves will be rewarded.

I do not need wealth, power, or any such things. What I needed was to survive.

“Carmine,” her softened voice called out to me. I got up from the raised altar and stepped down into Para’s space. She held my hand and guided me down. We left into lines of royal soldiers and walked out of that temple.

It was smaller and when I glanced up across the divide of the open roof corridor into the city below us; a higher temple raised. That was the temple of Erot. It stood taller than the city, yet flatter than a true bulwark with its lower internal wall against the tower in the center.

A strange construction, for it lacked sense, but who needed commonality when the tower's opal-layered wall shined? That stone was made in the fire dunes of the Eastern islands, but only the bravest of men went to that place.

Witches were prevalent there, yet the Erot temple bought their constructions?

I struggled to understand it, but if it was pretty why not throw away thy beliefs and values to sparkle in the daylight?

That vague memory of what that murdered assassin said tickled me raw.

Erot ordered my death.

It sounded like it was someone inside the temple's rank and file. Kello? The high bishop? That mysterious girl?

There were too many suspects and not enough proof. We came down the last stairwell and walked down a new narrower corridor. The window panes gleamed from the sun.

It was an uneventful march until a guard turned toward me. I drifted back when a scorching pain pierced my shoulder. He stabbed me and fell on my back.

Para screamed out as she spun away. The assassin kicked a guard and pushed over three men next to him. They toppled over each other.

My pain was insidious as it traveled through me, but I leaned off the floor. What blood I left behind stayed there, especially when I ripped out the knife from my shoulder.

It should have entered my heart, but thankfully, I moved too quickly.

I was not dying here.

The assassin reached for me.

I drifted back. A guard swung his sword. The assassin swerved his body away from the swinging of swords.

I dropped to the ground and scrunched up against the wall. My heart was threatening to break with its shattering beat. I feared it broke through my chest walls.

The assassin kicked over one guard, ducked another, and punched the next one. This man had not even drawn his sword and he was winning.

The assassin grabbed my wrist and tugged me fiercely upward. I drew the dagger Valor gave me and swung it at his wrist. It bit flesh and spewed blood onto me.

His hand rotated around mine. He fidgeted, for he stepped backward. His glare widened and I froze.

That hand wasn't bleeding or cut. Didn't I just slice it? I looked down at the blood dripping from the knife onto the floor.

A grunt made me look up and realize the assassin lunged forward from the swinging swords. He pushed aside the men as a sword rammed into his stomach.

He jumped over Para, while her screaming pierced the walls. He swerved right and rushed out of the window. The crash was sonorous.

Guards and many men ran to us. When all was said and done we were surrounded by many men, but I was still shivering in fear.

Para and I were shaking with Para’s eyes sunken in fear. It never left the ground. As my head pained immensely with the agony of the situation, it gave me solace knowing I was alive right now only to worry about dying later.

I hated this.

My eyes closed and my stomach seized up as I leaned against the wall. The King arrived and was next to his wife whispering to her tender words as she sat on the ground.

I looked around and noted the crowd of nosey nobles. He tried to have her stand, but she did not move.

She gave up.

Her legs were water never to stand firm.

Tears leaked from Para. I looked away as I saw from the corner of my eyes him lifting her in his arms.

“Carmine,” he called my name. I exhaled and turned with some semblance of pride left in me. “Please leave my country," the King said.

Deflated, I would have taken that as an insult, but as I surveyed her broken form in his arms I knew I harbored no right to disobey him.

That assassin’s blood soaked into the fabric of my dress arm, for I guessed I needed consideration of the angst I went through.

I was dangerous to anyone around me.

He left and his retainer told me that they were taking me to the chapel. It was disorientating, for the rest of my travel there was a blur.

We met the priests in the poorly-lit opening hall. We took off our shoes and followed them.

The candles crackling sparks of fire down this hall were far apart. We were led by a torch ourselves.

They led us down the path through the winding corridor, so we found ourselves inside a dark room that was lit with a furor of a blaze over a stone table.

Two yellow stone counters that opposed each other surrounded it. It was said a priest gained their power from a God. A priest that served Erot was different from a priest that served Ashuor.

Most priests healed using the power of a God, but such services were mostly afforded to the nobles. A peasant only got a prayer.

I have seen it once. This healing, I remembered I cut the back of my foot pretty badly, I think I was eight then, anyway, I was sent to an Ashuor Bishop.

He healed it by hovering his hands over my foot. A ray of light blasted out from his palms and removed the pain with its once-dripping blood.

I was so shocked I told him I wanted to learn it. The bishop was angry and my retainer needed to apologize on my behalf.

Needless to say, I got a verbal scolding from that bishop about holy power and devil power.

That holy power remained for the chosen ones and I was not chosen. Being self-centered back then I never understood that.

Well, I was definitely chosen now. Chosen to die, I looked around at the three royal guards by my side. Something was nagging at me ever since I came here. The priests stood motionless.

I asked, “Are we leaving or are we…”

One priest uttered. “They will come soon.”

They?

One of the royal guards said slyly, “I wonder who is that then…”

I replied to that. “Good question. Hey, is that Terison still here? I want to see him.”

The priest shifted in stance as he said, “You can ask the men when they come.”

A loud clank. I asked ignoring it, “Who are we waiting on?”

The priests averted their eyes from our gaze. A scream stiffened me into a tundra. I looked around.

The royal guards were being attacked by heavily armored men suited in chainmail.

I got to do something. My legs froze, so I couldn't run!

Run…

I looked around and the two entrances to the room got covered by men with many sharp instruments of killing potential.

The priests stood by and said nothing. They were shaking. I turned. The fight was now left to two royal guards against six men.

A blistering pain rebounded in the back of my head. Falling over, I hit the ground, hard. I squealed in my mind. My throat became dead as my vision blurred.

I cowered and squirmed trying to find understanding. My eyes tried to wrestle open, but my frail body failed me.

Life left me.

What…just…happened?

Voices.

A female voice cut through the whole of them and chilled my very bones. I could move, so my eyes finally drooped absently without my permission. They closed, and released me from the pain.