Waxday, Week 74, Month Octus, Year of God 488

  The day began like many others. Eri woke from a deep sleep, refreshed but still partly tired. She had spent the entirety of the previous day gathering clams, and her muscles still ached. She opened her crusty eyes and looked around the room. Her roommates - her parents, aunts, uncles, cousins and a couple of friends with no blood families - were stirring and resting on their mats. Everyone in Mossflower Hold slept on woven reed mats, with a blanket below them to soften the reeds and a blanket above to keep the warmth in. Eri sat up and stretched. The room was dimly lit by Lux-infused spheres whose light fluctuated depending on the time of day in wall sconces. She stood up, shucking off her blankets. She stumbled to the nearest chamber pot and relieved herself, then took a long swig from a pitcher of water.

  Already some of the other household-chambers were bustling, and the sounds of people talking in other rooms and the hallways became louder and louder with each passing second. Eri, who was clad in an undershirt and trousers, began to put on her coat and boots. Her mother and sister Sye were waking up, practicing the time-honored, universal morning rituals of urination and hydration.

  “Morning, rainshine!” called Sye. “I see you’re already up!”

  “Yeah,” Eri groaned groggily as she slipped her left arm into her coat. “Too early to talk.”

  The fact that it was early in the morning did not dissuade Sye’s omnipresent upbeatness. “Never too early to talk, sleepyhead. So, any dreams?”

  That comment sent a shudder of unease flashing through Eri. She had, in fact, had a dream. In the dream, she was standing in a dark room. She was wearing green armor and was carrying an object that looked like a large metal tube with various protrusions on one end. The outline of a glowing green human hovered in the air above Eri. Then, the figure had spoken - or rather, it spoke directly into Eri’s brain with no sound.

  “See, my daughter,” the figure had said in a wise and confident, yet soft feminine voice. Then, images had rapidly passed through Eri’s mind - huge domes suspended on stilts above an ocean. As the image zoomed in on the dome, Eri could see a man clad in green armor carrying the same metal item that Eri held fighting a sword-wielding man made entirely out of pale crystal and a hunched man with bloodshot eyes, furry goat legs and curled ram’s horns wielding a two-pronged, wickedly barbed spear.

  The dream had abruptly ended then, and the rest of Eri’s sleep was dreamless. It was a surreal and probably meaningless dream, but Eri felt some sort of… connection to the green feminine being. It deeply unsettled her. Was that supposed to be God? If so, it was unlike any interpretation of the God of Rain Eri had heard the Rain Caste priests bring up. It would be prudent to not share anything that could be interpreted as blasphemy with anyone, even trusted family.

  “No,” Eri said quickly. “Dreamless sleep.” Her mother, who had been listening, saw in Eri’s eyes that she was lying, but chose not to press. Sye probably took Eri’s statement for the truth. She had trouble reading people’s facial expressions.

  Eri picked up the water jug and swigged another mouthful before stepping out into the hallway. The denizens of Mossflower Hold were up and about, stumbling groggily around the hallways. The smell of soup wafted down the stone-hewed corridors, causing Eri’s stomach to emit a hungry growl. She eagerly hurried down the hallway to the mess hall.

  The cooks had gotten up half an hour ago, and were dishing the clamshell soup into wooden bowls. Eri waited in line for a few minutes, then gratefully picked up a bowl of soup and a chunk of mossbread. She exited the line, and sat down on one of the stone benches lining the room. She dipped her bread in the soup, and began to eat. She shoved the bread in her mouth and slurped down the soup, barely taking time to chew.

  As she feasted, she noticed Alva eating breakfast a few yards away. Eri and Alva hadn’t spoken often since their breakup, but Alva apparently was doing well: she was eating with another young woman, chatting and smiling at each other. Eri didn’t feel exactly jealous, but it made her feel disappointed in herself that Alva had managed to find love so quickly and she had not. Her breakfast done, she stood up and began to pace, waiting for the priest to give instructions.

  A few minutes later, Dale the priest entered the room. He was scrawny and scowling, as usual. In addition to being the village priest, he also led assemblies and gave instructions.

  “All right, listen up!” he called in a harsh, condescending voice. “As usual, the clams are there to harvest. I have been made aware of the fact that there are many clams, and not many of you peasants. Therefore, I want about half of you to get harvesting right now and a further quarter should join them throughout the day. If there are any clams left on Stormday, I’ll be very upset. Get to it!” With that, he turned around and flounced off, entering the door to the Rain Caste chambers.

  At once, the villagers of Mossflower Hold began to call out orders and suggestions to each other. Eri’s mother, father and Sye walked up to her.

  “We’ll harvest the clams today, daughter,” Mother said. “You just rest up.”

  “Yes,” Father said. “You did great yesterday, Eri!”

  Eri smiled at the praise. “I was just doing my job.”

  “You did a great one!” exclaimed Sye. “You gathered more clams than a starving flamingo!”

  “I want to work,” insisted Eri. “If I don’t pitch in and we don’t harvest enough clams, Dale’ll be mad.” The family shuddered at that mention. The last time Dale had been truly mad, several people were injured.

  “I insist not,” her mother said. “I was slacking off yesterday. I’ll pick up the pace today and harvest enough clams for the two of us.”

  Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

  “Thanks, mother,” Eri said, relenting. “I guess I could help in the kitchen.”

  FIVE HOURS LATER

  Eri hustled down the hallway to the stairs, passing other people who were hurrying in the same direction. The news had just come in - there was apparently a convoy coming from the west bearing supplies. This event was extremely uncommon, as an out-of-the-way Yalen village like Mossflower Hold seldom got supplies from anywhere other than Ebar-Anhanvil. The farming village produced its food and got supplies from the nearby forest, so only medicine and textiles came from elsewhere.

  “Did’ja hear?” asked Ozdorian, one of the farmers who was a few years older than Eri. “It seems like they have some new workers for us!”

  “That would be great!” said Eri, albeit not as enthusiastically as she felt. She and the entire Hold were still burned out and recovering from the plague outbreak a few months ago. Many people had died, including Eri’s surviving grandparents. She hadn’t interacted with them much, as they had been vocally against her sexual orientation. It didn’t even make sense - according to the religion, commoners were allowed to love, court and marry anyone they wanted, regardless of gender. The grandparents had seemed to think of themselves as miniature Rain Castemen, and sucked up to the Marquess who ruled the village. It was annoying to all the Fire Castemen involved, and got the grandparents in trouble more than a few times, as Fire Castemen were discouraged from interacting with nobles. She didn’t feel a whole lot of grief at their passing, but still felt just a twinge of sorrow.

  “I hope we can put someone to work the clams,” Ozdorian continued. “We’ve been harvesting all morning, and even if we work overtime, we can’t harvest all the fields in the three days between Stormdays.” True to his statement, many of the villagers were out working. On a normal day, around 40% of Mossflower Hold’s 1,500 or so inhabitants would harvest the clams. The others would either be cooking them, packing them or doing miscellaneous chores and tasks around town. In the past couple months since the plague stopped, around 60-70% of the village farmed, and the Marquess was reported to be considering upping that number. It was long, taxing work, with numerous cases of foot moss being discovered, and tired muscles all around.

  They continued walking, moving along with the crowd. They were in the main central hallway of the underground portion of the village. Hallways to the sleeping chambers and some smaller storage rooms branched off from the main ones, snaking farther and farther into the granite network some 200 feet below the ground. The throng of villagers was moving towards the surface.

  When Eri arrived at the surface, she was jostled around in the crowd that was gathering in the field outside the upper building with the staircase. Since she was tall, she was able to get a vantage despite being in the middle of the crowd.

  Standing in a row in front of the crowd were five cart-turtles. Rain plinked off their shells as they absently munched on weeds. On each one’s back was a large harness. A large storage container was attached to each harness. Eri could see people exiting the storage containers. They appeared to be Fire Castemen wearing the same drabby and dull coats that the denizens of Mossflower Hold preferred.

  Another man, this one clad in the robes of a Rain Casteman priest, stepped out of the box on the turtle in the middle of the row. He was followed by two cloaked figures of untellable gender carrying the flag of the Theocracy. This box was much more opulently designed, with lines of gold embedded in the wood, but the man probably hadn’t spent much time in the box - he could fly using Lux much faster than a cart-turtle could plod. He began to speak in Lowchant.

  “Greetings, peasants of Mossflower Hold!” he cried. Several of the Fire Castemen assembled in front of him gave a halfhearted cheer.

  “We know you have suffered from a grave plague. Rest assured, God purged the sinners among you with His divine diseases, leaving you chosen few open to redemption.”

  This remark was met with much less enthusiasm than the prior one, with the crowd grumbling. Nearly all of them had lost loved ones, and the priest calling the deceased “sinners” did not sit well with anyone.

  The man continued. “We have brought fifty fresh workers from the Yncend and Thael Districts to replenish your ranks. Their homes were ravaged by the plague, and they are the only survivors of Mudvale, Waterlizard, Deephearth, Froglord and Falling Sand villages. Treat these new neighbors like your own brothers and sisters.”

  The Rain Casteman, having finished speaking, levitated into the air. “Also, you get these turtles as a gift!” he called as he flew off into the distance, his robe flapping behind him.

  The new villagers turned to the residents of Mossflower Hold, then began to move towards them. As they got closer, Eri could see their facial expressions. They looked gaunt, sad - like their souls couldn’t cope with the hardships, loss and change their lives had undergone. One man in particular interested Eri. He was too old to be a teenager but too young to be a full adult. He had messy brown hair, and a long beard/moustache combo. His eyes were more sorrowful than most. He looked like the sort of guy that the teenage girls in the village would gush over. Eri admitted to herself that she probably would have done so as well, if she had been attracted to men.

  The villagers moved down into the underground settlement, the old and new alike mingling. The younger man Eri had picked out earlier didn’t seem to want to interact with anyone, though. He just gazed off into the distance, ignorant of the world around him.

  As the villagers - old and new alike - walked down the stairs, Eri caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye. The two cloaked figures who had been bearing the flag were huddled together, talking in hushed tones. As the other villagers moved around her, Eri stood still, focusing on their words.

  “A pity Kane was born without power,” the first one said.

  “Could’ve fulfilled the premonition,” the second one replied. “At least the higher-ups are interpreting the books. They’ll decide whether or not to move on with the sacrifices.”

  “Look at these animals,” the first one said, gesturing to the villagers. Eri flinched, then relaxed. The men didn’t seem to focus on her. “They don’t know they’re about to be slaughtered.”

  “Like lambs!” the second man said, then laughed. His laughter was quickly copied by the other man. They stopped talking, so Eri continued to move with the crowd. The men began to pace about, watching the people. Their eyes darted about, but didn’t land on Eri. Nonetheless, the men’s words worried her. Sacrifice? Premonition? Slaughtered like lambs?

  A sudden chill independent of the one caused by the rain trickled through Eri as she came to a sudden realization. These men were planning to kill everyone in the village!

  Eri looked around, but the two men were nowhere to be seen. They’d probably rejoined the convoy. Everyone else went on with their daily lives, oblivious to the comments the men had made. Well, not everyone. Eri saw the bearded young man staring at her with an uncomfortable, haunted look in his eyes. He had heard too.