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 Comforts Chapter 97: Heroes Chapter 98: Fire, Water, and Wax Chapter 99: Beneath the Temple Chapter 100: The Way of Eagles Chapter 101: The Gallu Chapter 102: The Cast Off Chapter 103: The Empty Bed Chapter 104: If It Is Her Will Chapter 105: Hunger Chapter 106: The Strigoi-Viu's Gift Chapter 107: Pennyroyal Chapter 108: Forgiveness Chapter 109: Fragile Chapter 110: Another Lord Prince Chapter 111: Divine Intervention Chapter 112: Chance to Live Chapter 113: Accusations Chapter 114: Negotiations Chapter 115: Dark Memories Chapter 116: Forgotten Chapter 117: Questions and Obedience Chapter 118: Twisted Ways Chapter 119: New Eyes Chapter 120: Justice and Mercy Chapter 121: Changing Waters Chapter 122: Council of Grandmothers Chapter 123: Rising Tides Chapter 124: Dawn of Longest Night Chapter 125: One Blood Chapter 126: Winter Flowers Chapter 127: Trust Chapter 128: Bearer of SorrowsChapter 125: One Blood
Takri paced the floor of his chambers as the sound of war horns greeted the dawn of Longest Night and the arrival of the supply caravan bearing food for the famine-stricken country. The previous night’s sleep eluded him, chased away by guilt and the fleeting images of those hurt while he stood by and watched. Zayaan’s face blistering under a ladle of boiling water; the Zora’s charred bones in the equinox fire; Lilua’s song of lamentation; and Nasreen… Nasreen in her golden finery, hips swaying gracefully, demeaned by both King and priest alive. Nasreen lying in a pool of her own blood before the fireplace. Nasreen whispering his name as she lost their unborn child.
Nasreen.
Longest Night was the time they would slip away to the tunnels, fleeing the Swarm and the city, far beyond the reach of Mahleck’s bloodstained hands. Today was to be the beginning of their life as a family. No more palaces, no more temples. Only life, together.
By spring she will recover, and we shall flee. We must only wait and keep safe until then.
He fastened his sword and dagger at his belt, and thew his cloak over his shoulders before leaving his chambers. Mahleck would already be astride his horse in the courtyard below, and he did not wish to keep a god waiting.
Only a few more months of playing the role of Lord Prince. Only a little more waiting. And then freedom.
Zayaan rode into the temple alongside Radu, the caravan following behind as soldiers pushed the hungry mob back into the street. As the gate swung shut behind him, a stillness fell over the temple. Not the stillness of awe within a sacred place, but the stillness of death and fear. No songs or chants from worshippers, no sound of children’s lessons or scholarly argument could be heard alongside the clip-clop of hooves on cobblestones and the strike of the high priest’s golden staff as he led the procession to the steps of the sanctuary.
The stone Goddess carved in bas relief on the wall above was no more, chipped away by the stonemason’s chisel. Her crown, where High Priestess and Queen would address the people, stood alone, its points still forming the rails of the balcony above a faceless head.
Below Her defaced form the priesthood assembled in ranks around their leader holding flails and censers that wreathed the courtyard in low hanging smoke. In the center stood the priest with the drooping face leaning heavily on his golden staff while a young boy stood beside him holding a golden chalice.
This was a far cry from the temple Zayaan knew from his childhood.
Radu dismounted his horse and motioned for Zayaan to do the same, handing the reins to a waiting stableboy.
“Follow my lead,” whispered Radu. “The priest with the golden staff is Baraz, High Priest of the Locust. You would do well to befriend him if you can, pompous though he may be. He will be a powerful ally in the future, although he may not appear so now.”
“He is the one who took poison, is he not?” whispered Zayaan.
“Good memory, Tea Maker.” Radu clapped him on the shoulder as they made their way to the priests waiting on the sanctuary steps. “I may make a successful courtier out of you yet.”
A few steps away from the high priest, Radu knelt, pulling Zayaan down with him while the rest of the caravan followed suit.
“May the God-King Mahleck heap blessings and mercy upon these two righteous men,” intoned the high priest’s assistant.
The rest of the assemblage responded in unison, “For their strength is virtue to all who behold them.”
The high priest struck the end of his rod against the stone steps three times signalling the cantor to continue.
“May their lives bring glory to the Locust in all things.”
“May they die for the glory of the One True God.”
Again, Baraz struck his staff against the steps, and the young boy at his side stepped forward, offering him the chalice.
“By blood we are freed from the womb’s prison,” slurred Baraz, taking the blade from the priest on his left.
“By blood we are redeemed,” intoned the cantor, holding the boy’s hand above the chalice.
The assemblage responded in one voice, “By the shedding of blood we are made one!”
With a trembling grip, Baraz ran the edge of the blade across the boy’s hand, causing the boy to cry out and blood to pour slowly into the waiting cup.
The cantor began the familiar call and response of the Swarm as Baraz released the child and brought the chalice to the waiting Zayaan and Radu.
“One!”
“God!”
“One!”
“Man!”
“One!”
“Lord!”
“One!”
“King!”
“One!”
“Swarm!”
“One!”
“LOCUST!”
Baraz stood between the two princes, face drooping to one side, chalice held tightly in both hands as another tremor seized him. Zayaan stared at the cup; his stomach knotted in disgust and horror. Radu stared silently at the high priest, a half-smile snaking across his lips as if the ceremony playing out before him was simply for his own amusement.
Baraz dipped his index and middle fingers into the chalice and pulled them out, covered in the child’s blood which he drew across Radu’s lips. “By blood all men are made one, Radu of the First Men, Lord Prince, and Hero of Uruq.” He turned to Zayaan and repeated the ritual, this time intoning another blessing.
“By blood all men are made one, Zayaan of the Narim, blessed brother of the God-King’s Beloved, and Hero of Adyll.”
The blood on his lips felt momentarily warm under the high priest’s fingers, then sticky and cold. Vomit rose in the back of his throat as the metallic smell hit his nostrils, a stark reminder of the slaughter of his own people. He watched the high priest return to his place on the sanctuary steps where a waiting cantor held bowl of steaming water. Baraz quickly dunked the bloody chalice beneath its surface as once again the chant went up around them.
“One!”
“God!”
“One!”
“Man!”
“One!”
“Lord!”
“One!”
“King!”
“One!”
“Swarm!”
“One!”
“LOCUST!”
Baraz left the chalice in the in the water and raised his hands above it in blessing, his lips moving in a silent prayer over the water before retrieving the chalice, this time full to the brim. He pressed it to his own lips and drank deeply before turning to address the other priests. “Come and sanctify yourselves by the shedding of blood. Make yourselves acceptable in the God King’s sight, and prepare to serve his feast, for Longest Night is at hand, and he is the light that comes from darkness.”
One by one, starting with the cantor, the priests dipped their fingers in the ceremonial bowl and pressed them first to their eyes and then their mouths.
Baraz once again struck his rod against the steps, the sound echoing off the temple walls. “Go forth and purify this righteous offering. Make it acceptable and holy.” Each priest holding a flail stepped forward and submerged their weapon’s cords in the bloody water before walking the short distance to the rest of the caravan to fling their holy blessings upon both man, animal, and cart alike.
Zayaan resisted the urge to wipe the blood from his face as he watched the spectacle before him. Instead, he turned his attention back to the high priest who was now leaning heavily on his golden staff as he walked up the steps to the sanctuary and disappeared inside.
Suddenly Radu was directly in front of him. “Come with me, Hero of Adyll and brother-in-law to the God King. I wonder if Baraz knows about your legendary tea making abilities as well? Certainly he would have mentioned those first! We certainly do not look the part of heroes or princes worthy to stand at the God King’s side. Come, you and I must make ourselves presentable before he and your cousin arrive.”
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