Read Online Sorrow's Peak (Serpent of Time Book 2) by Jennifer Melzer - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jennifer Melzer
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before swinging the gate forward.
“And those statues?”
“We bury the ashes of those who’ve died beneath them so we might revisit and remember them while we yet live.”
Her thoughts immediately turned to Yovenna, the seer who’d welcomed her into Dunvarak and shared details of her destiny with her just the day before. It felt like weeks passed since she and Finn burst into the old woman’s cottage and found her dead in her chair, the light gone from her unseeing eyes, but it had been only hours.
They’d taken her body to the pyre beyond the city walls and set the ashes of her spirit free upon the wind. Would someone see to those ashes when the last ember shuddered out, collect all that remained of the woman and bury her there in front of the temple? Though the time she’d known Yovenna was short, she would never forget the seer, or the visions she’d shared with her. She wanted to have a place to go when she returned from her journey, a place where she could honor the woman who sent her into the unknown with a purpose.
“Will they bring Yovenna here?” she asked, voice hitching through the tightness of her throat like a hiccup. “Her ashes, I mean?”
“They will.”
She only nodded, her head moving in short, quick bobs Logren didn’t even notice. He swung the gate open and it screamed on rusted hinges, the sound echoing through the night like a keening spirit on the wind.
“Good.”
“Come on.”
He edged her forward with a jerk of his head and she followed through the gate, along the pathway to the temple. Eyes scanned the plots, the statues, trying to count how many dead lay buried beneath the cold earth of Dunvarak, but it was dark and her mind was fuzzy even though the night air slapped some of the sense back into her mind. Once more she stood behind him while he fiddled with the lock to the temple, using the keys he still held in his hand. Benefits of being a city-guard, she guessed, ducking back as he grabbed the low-burning torch from the sconce outside and then reached for her hand to tug her inside.
That dim torchlight ate away at the darkness, bite by bite spreading a dirty orange glow to reveal the room to her. Lorelei lifted her head to the ceiling, which the light had yet to reach, and saw beams of moonlight streaming through the stained glass moons positioned overhead. They were just like the moons in the temple in Drekne, though far more glorious to behold in the darkness.
Kierda and Friegla’s light did not reach the windows, as they were hidden behind the clouds above, but Madra’s silver glow spread through them all, illuminating the interior of the temple as her eyes began to adjust to the myriad of soft colors and shapes forming in the darkness.
In the center of the temple was a statue, not unlike the stag in the temple at Drekne, and circles of pews wound around it, enough of them to seat every person in Dunvarak. As she stood at the edge of those pews looking toward the middle of the temple, she felt so small and insignificant, just a single being with so little knowledge and understanding of how the world worked, what the gods expected from her.
She’d been brought up paying homage to Foreln, the father of men, and honoring his divine wives: the Three Ladies who mothered all of humanity. They respected the All-Creator, but Lorelei always felt something more was required of her, she believed other gods demanded her attention. Llorveth haunted her dreams as a child, the moons chasing her through each night as if she were a villain, but she understood those dreams in ways she never had before.
The moons of her nightmares weren’t trying to run her down, they were alerting her to the dormant wolf beneath her skin, and the older she got the more feverish those dreams became. If only she’d understood them better at the time, if someone told her the truth about who she was before her life fell apart, things might have been different.
Only her mother knew, she guessed,
“And those statues?”
“We bury the ashes of those who’ve died beneath them so we might revisit and remember them while we yet live.”
Her thoughts immediately turned to Yovenna, the seer who’d welcomed her into Dunvarak and shared details of her destiny with her just the day before. It felt like weeks passed since she and Finn burst into the old woman’s cottage and found her dead in her chair, the light gone from her unseeing eyes, but it had been only hours.
They’d taken her body to the pyre beyond the city walls and set the ashes of her spirit free upon the wind. Would someone see to those ashes when the last ember shuddered out, collect all that remained of the woman and bury her there in front of the temple? Though the time she’d known Yovenna was short, she would never forget the seer, or the visions she’d shared with her. She wanted to have a place to go when she returned from her journey, a place where she could honor the woman who sent her into the unknown with a purpose.
“Will they bring Yovenna here?” she asked, voice hitching through the tightness of her throat like a hiccup. “Her ashes, I mean?”
“They will.”
She only nodded, her head moving in short, quick bobs Logren didn’t even notice. He swung the gate open and it screamed on rusted hinges, the sound echoing through the night like a keening spirit on the wind.
“Good.”
“Come on.”
He edged her forward with a jerk of his head and she followed through the gate, along the pathway to the temple. Eyes scanned the plots, the statues, trying to count how many dead lay buried beneath the cold earth of Dunvarak, but it was dark and her mind was fuzzy even though the night air slapped some of the sense back into her mind. Once more she stood behind him while he fiddled with the lock to the temple, using the keys he still held in his hand. Benefits of being a city-guard, she guessed, ducking back as he grabbed the low-burning torch from the sconce outside and then reached for her hand to tug her inside.
That dim torchlight ate away at the darkness, bite by bite spreading a dirty orange glow to reveal the room to her. Lorelei lifted her head to the ceiling, which the light had yet to reach, and saw beams of moonlight streaming through the stained glass moons positioned overhead. They were just like the moons in the temple in Drekne, though far more glorious to behold in the darkness.
Kierda and Friegla’s light did not reach the windows, as they were hidden behind the clouds above, but Madra’s silver glow spread through them all, illuminating the interior of the temple as her eyes began to adjust to the myriad of soft colors and shapes forming in the darkness.
In the center of the temple was a statue, not unlike the stag in the temple at Drekne, and circles of pews wound around it, enough of them to seat every person in Dunvarak. As she stood at the edge of those pews looking toward the middle of the temple, she felt so small and insignificant, just a single being with so little knowledge and understanding of how the world worked, what the gods expected from her.
She’d been brought up paying homage to Foreln, the father of men, and honoring his divine wives: the Three Ladies who mothered all of humanity. They respected the All-Creator, but Lorelei always felt something more was required of her, she believed other gods demanded her attention. Llorveth haunted her dreams as a child, the moons chasing her through each night as if she were a villain, but she understood those dreams in ways she never had before.
The moons of her nightmares weren’t trying to run her down, they were alerting her to the dormant wolf beneath her skin, and the older she got the more feverish those dreams became. If only she’d understood them better at the time, if someone told her the truth about who she was before her life fell apart, things might have been different.
Only her mother knew, she guessed,
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