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Authors: Maxwell Alexander Drake
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grin spread across the High Priest’s puffy lips. “Why do you think that she was trained in more than just killing?”
The urge to reach out and slap his fat, splotchy face took hold of her. Never before had she desired to strike out at one of her masters, yet this time his words cut deep. The shock over her desire to hit him stayed her hand as much as her self-control did, and she sat there staring at him.
Continuing to chuckle, he set his goblet back onto the tray the young girl held and returned to petting her hair. The girl gazed up at the priest with a look of pure reverence. “The Mah’Sukai is power. More power than anyone has wielded in millennia. Only the Father knows how to tap into this power. And only with an unspoiled Mah’Sukai.” Noticing the red stain on the floor in front of him, the priest frowned. “Once you find this Mah’Sukai, you must ensure he is safe and unharmed. His future lies with the Priesthood.” The priest waved a hand, and the boy who opened the door ran up with a towel. Dropping to his knees, the boy started sopping up the spilled wine. The Highest’s eye lingered on the bent over form of the young boy while he continued to speak. “You may convince him of this, my child. Or, you may need to bring him along without his consent. Either way, you will see that he reaches us unharmed.”
When the boy finished cleaning the floor, the priest gave him a tender smile and the boy glowed. The Highest waved a hand for him to leave, though his eyes followed the boy across the floor with a look more lewd than a man should give any child. “The Father’s time with us may be eternal…Mine is not.” When he returned his gaze to Elith, a faraway, zealous look had taken hold of the priest. “Yet, of the hundreds of my predecessors who desired to be with the Father during this time, it is I who hold this position now. I, who will help him rise and walk with the gods!”
Little of what the priest said made sense to Elith. Though she trained her entire life with a single goal—a goal driven deep within her—she had never been told the why of it. Why was this Mah’Sukai needed? Why must he be brought back here? Why did not the Father—the Revered Father, with all his knowledge and power— why did he not snatch up the Mah’Sukai and bring him here himself?
Why are these questions plaguing her mind? She is a tool! A tool to be used as her master wills. Where do these doubts come from?
With her mind in turmoil, Elith found it hard to concentrate on the Highest’s words. The man stood and walked to the far side of the room, returning with a small box. Reseating himself across from her, he set the box in his lap and opened the lid. “The Father has seen fit to bestow another item from the last Age of Power to you—like the Ratave staff you wield so well.”
Looking down at the black staff, she ran her slim gray fingers over it, feeling the power tingle into her hands. “She is honored.”
The priest withdrew a piece of black cloth folded into a neat square, and held it out to her. “This is a Shadow Cloak. As long as you have this around you, and you are not in direct light, you will be almost invisible.”
Reaching out, Elith took the folded cloth and let it fall open. It was indeed a cloak—ties ran up the front, a hood capped the top, and two long sleeves draped down the sides—yet the material was nothing like any she had ever seen. It felt as soft and thin as silk, yet with the strength of steel.
As she stretched it, the Highest tsked. “Do not handle it so, child! The Shadow Cloak is designed to protect you from sight, not harm. It is irreplaceable. If you rip it, it may no longer work as intended.” Folding the cloak, she set it onto her lap over her Ratave staff. “Use that wisely, child. Once you leave the Temple, you will be in the lands of men. We priests have protected you. Nurtured and educated you, aye. Still, we have hid you and kept you safe from the other
The urge to reach out and slap his fat, splotchy face took hold of her. Never before had she desired to strike out at one of her masters, yet this time his words cut deep. The shock over her desire to hit him stayed her hand as much as her self-control did, and she sat there staring at him.
Continuing to chuckle, he set his goblet back onto the tray the young girl held and returned to petting her hair. The girl gazed up at the priest with a look of pure reverence. “The Mah’Sukai is power. More power than anyone has wielded in millennia. Only the Father knows how to tap into this power. And only with an unspoiled Mah’Sukai.” Noticing the red stain on the floor in front of him, the priest frowned. “Once you find this Mah’Sukai, you must ensure he is safe and unharmed. His future lies with the Priesthood.” The priest waved a hand, and the boy who opened the door ran up with a towel. Dropping to his knees, the boy started sopping up the spilled wine. The Highest’s eye lingered on the bent over form of the young boy while he continued to speak. “You may convince him of this, my child. Or, you may need to bring him along without his consent. Either way, you will see that he reaches us unharmed.”
When the boy finished cleaning the floor, the priest gave him a tender smile and the boy glowed. The Highest waved a hand for him to leave, though his eyes followed the boy across the floor with a look more lewd than a man should give any child. “The Father’s time with us may be eternal…Mine is not.” When he returned his gaze to Elith, a faraway, zealous look had taken hold of the priest. “Yet, of the hundreds of my predecessors who desired to be with the Father during this time, it is I who hold this position now. I, who will help him rise and walk with the gods!”
Little of what the priest said made sense to Elith. Though she trained her entire life with a single goal—a goal driven deep within her—she had never been told the why of it. Why was this Mah’Sukai needed? Why must he be brought back here? Why did not the Father—the Revered Father, with all his knowledge and power— why did he not snatch up the Mah’Sukai and bring him here himself?
Why are these questions plaguing her mind? She is a tool! A tool to be used as her master wills. Where do these doubts come from?
With her mind in turmoil, Elith found it hard to concentrate on the Highest’s words. The man stood and walked to the far side of the room, returning with a small box. Reseating himself across from her, he set the box in his lap and opened the lid. “The Father has seen fit to bestow another item from the last Age of Power to you—like the Ratave staff you wield so well.”
Looking down at the black staff, she ran her slim gray fingers over it, feeling the power tingle into her hands. “She is honored.”
The priest withdrew a piece of black cloth folded into a neat square, and held it out to her. “This is a Shadow Cloak. As long as you have this around you, and you are not in direct light, you will be almost invisible.”
Reaching out, Elith took the folded cloth and let it fall open. It was indeed a cloak—ties ran up the front, a hood capped the top, and two long sleeves draped down the sides—yet the material was nothing like any she had ever seen. It felt as soft and thin as silk, yet with the strength of steel.
As she stretched it, the Highest tsked. “Do not handle it so, child! The Shadow Cloak is designed to protect you from sight, not harm. It is irreplaceable. If you rip it, it may no longer work as intended.” Folding the cloak, she set it onto her lap over her Ratave staff. “Use that wisely, child. Once you leave the Temple, you will be in the lands of men. We priests have protected you. Nurtured and educated you, aye. Still, we have hid you and kept you safe from the other
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