Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 161535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Behind the altar, high on a dais, is what looks like a throne carved out of stone. It’s empty.
I study the people, who haven’t noticed me yet. They’re dressed like medieval peasants, in simple clothing of muted colors. Everyone has long hair, and the men have beards, the women braids. I see lots of blondes and redheads, and everyone has very pale skin. Nothing about them screams swamp people, except for maybe the long beards on the men. Swamp Vikings? Are these people swamp Vikings? Is that a thing in this world?
As I stand there, pondering these strangers, a woman goes to the altar. She’s got long, shock-white hair and wears a moss-green gown that trails along the floor. In her arms is a baby goat, and it bleats as she sets it atop the altar.
Oh, oh no.
“Don’t do that,” I blurt out just as she brandishes a knife.
Everyone turns to stare at me.
Chapter
Four
Interrupting a ritual sacrifice isn’t the way I wanted to introduce myself to anyone in this world, but here we are. I’ve chosen this path, and as they all stare at me, agog, I stride through the room to the altar and take the baby goat in my arms. It bleats and kicks, trying to get away, but I hold onto it, because I just saved the little shit’s life. “Hi everyone,” I say. “I realize this makes me a jerk, but if you’re sacrificing to the god to make him show up, it’s not necessary. He’s going to be here any day now.”
They continue to stare at me, mouths open. I glance down at myself and, okay, I do look a bit strange. I’m covered in swamp mud from head to toe, and my work clothes are clinging to my body and probably seem alien to them.
“Did you…come from the swamp?” the woman with the sacrificial knife asks.
“I mean, temporarily, yes. But I was sent to come here. This is where the god of disease is showing up, right?” I beam at her since I was sent here to be sunshine and get-shit-done.
Immediately, my words elicit a response. Someone moans and spits on the floor. People make flicking gestures over each shoulder, muttering what sound like prayers.
“The…dark brother? He is coming, then?”
I juggle the goat in my arms. “Yes. I thought everyone knew.”
The priestess steps forward. “Kalos only arrives here when there is an Anticipation. The portents have spoken truly. The threads spoke of an Anticipation, but we did not realize it would be so soon.”
“Totally soon,” I agree, even though I’m dying to ask what she means by “threads” and “anticipation.” I pat the goat’s hind quarters awkwardly. “No need to sacrifice the little buddy here.”
“But Kalos the Destroyer is the most terrible of all the gods. We must appease him so he does not wither our crops or sicken our children. We must flatter him with sacrifices and offerings if he is truly arriving.” Her expression is desperate.
Behind her, someone starts weeping loudly.
“Oh, gosh, there’s no need to cry,” I say, turning around and giving them my best, most confident expression. “I’m going to make sure Kalos isn’t like that this time. I’m here to take care of everything. It’ll be fine.”
The priestess—at least, I assume she’s a priestess—gives me a strange look. “You were…sent here? By whom?”
“Does it sound weird if I say it was one of the Fates?”
A ripple of gasps moves through the audience. Okay, maybe it doesn’t sound weird to them.
“Is this true? Can you prove it?”
How do I possibly prove that a goddess showed up at my work and pulled me through to another world? “Ummm…”
A wild breeze rushes into the temple, and just like that, all the braziers go out. Every single one. The temple is plunged into darkness.
I hear the sound of more spitting.
“There you go,” I say brightly, hoping that was a sign from Lachesis and not something far more terrible. “Does this mean I can keep the goat?”
“If you were sent by the gods, you can keep whatever you like,” the priestess says in a hushed voice. “You were truly sent to defeat Kalos?”
Oh boy. “So… defeat is a strong word. I was thinking more like…be his friend?” I wince. “I was told he needed a caretaker of sorts.”
Her eyes widen. “His Anchor.”
“That’s it, yes.” I juggle the goat, who’s getting heavier by the moment. “I’m sorry I don’t remember everything. I’m just really tired. I’ve spent the last day in the swamp.”
“Of course, honored one. Let us help you.” The priestess waves at the others, and two more people—a man and a woman—jump to their feet. “My attendants will escort you back to our village, where you can rest and refresh yourself.”
Resting and refreshing sounds pretty wonderful at the moment. There’s no sign of the god I’m supposed to babysit, either, so I’m guessing it’s safe to take a break. “That would honestly be lovely. Thank you.”