Wraith Walker

Chapter 23

      Tamsin wrapped herself in the wool blanket and peeked out the tent flap. The fires had all but died out across the camp, and while some voices could be heard across the way, they were muffled and low in tone. It was late, so late it was almost early, judging by the way the sky darkened at one end.

     After Iola had been tucked in, they'd gone for a walk around the grounds. A quick tactical stroll to get her bearings. Back in the tent, smelling of campfire smoke and tobacco, she lay in bed, listening to Sasha breaths steady in sleep and tried not to think of the fox before she finally drifted off.

     Tamsin slipped from the tent and headed towards the temple, pebbles and twigs shifting in the dirt beneath her feet. There were few out on this side of the temple grounds. Small candles still burned in front of the wooden tree carvings and the path was littered with bowls and plates holding various food or coins or other small trinkets. It was cold, the trees dark and towering on either side of her. She pulled the blanket tighter around her neck and when she came to the small wooden worship buildings, she would have bypassed them and gone straight to the temple if her magic had not perked up.

      She paused, casting a look down the row of buildings. The buildings were dark, a few candles still flickering in the night, doors shut tightly against the cool air of the night. But further down, a small sliver of light peeked through a cracked door like a beacon. Casting a quick glance at the temple, she turned down the trail towards the bit of light.

      She knew Sasha was in there before she even reached the door. The candles they had carved with witchrunes and bought in the marketplace a few weeks ago were burning, the rich scent of amber in the air. Sasha was inside, eyes closed, kneeling in front of three statues with his hands on his knees.

     Tamsin dropped the blanket to the ground with a soft hiss and slipped inside, latching the door behind her. She knelt next to Sasha. He was in his sleep pants, a bowl of herbs smoldering in front of him. Her nose twitched at the smell. Tamsin looked up at the statues in front of her.

      "The Lagu Gods," She said in quiet amusement. "Not your usual haunts."

      Indeed, the Lagus were a group of three gods, each representing a different stage of the law. Nehotl, Goddess of Justice, on the left, depicted holding a large sword. Tytdohr, God of Judgement in the center, burning candles threaded through is long braid, and the right, Phemera, Goddess of Penance, a ball of flame burning in her outstretched hand.

     "Need all the help I can get." His mouth twitched. "So do you."

     "I don't know if there's much help for me, up there." Tamsin said, looking up at the statues. "I burned those bridges."

     "There's always help for those who ask for it." Sasha's voice was even, soft. "It was another God who helped you, after all."

     Tamsin chewed her lip. Countless times Sasha had not so subtly suggested she should return to the Gods she had been raised with. Countless times Tamsin had argued that the Gods were unlikely to be kind to someone who killed one of their own. And Sasha had always come back like this—pointing out the hand the goddess Branera had played.

     He was right, of course. Over the years there had been signs that Branera was reaching out to her. Cypress trees and asphodel peppered her dreams. A raven had followed her one day in the market, hopping from stall to stall until she gave a wave of her hand and the resulting gust of wind knocked it off balance. It had flapped away, squawking angrily over the market as a hag next to her laughed.