Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part one

"What are you doing?" asked Azrael, watching as his brother placed a pair of candles on the exposed chunk of limestone that had come loose from the hillside behind it. It was well back from their mother's hidden forge, which was already isolated from almost everything. 

"It's a shrine," Tybalt told him. He was the middle child and the most thoughtful of the siblings. He was also the most slender of the three, closer to a typical True Elf than either of his siblings. "For our father."

"Not the Highwaymen?" asked Ash, curious. She was the oldest, dark-haired and stocky, already practiced at arms and eager to learn everything their mother could teach her.

"Not yet," said Tybalt. "Just Ruin. If we get more worshipers, we can add rites for the others."

"We?" asked Azrael. He was solidly built too, like their parents, and spent most of his time assisting their mother at the forge. 

"We," Tybalt confirmed. "Our father helped defeat Galvera twice: once here in Midgard, and again in Asgard. He deserves to have his own clergy--" Tybalt looked at Ash. "--And his own martial order. You up for that, big sister?"

Azrael leaned back against a tree and watched Ash consider that. His sister loved combat, and she'd taken to the falchion in honor of their father. "You think I should become a paladin in service to our father," she said slowly. 

"I think our father deserves to have an order of paladins devoted to him. It can't be me -- I've sparred with you, and by comparison, well, I suck. Azrael's devoted to the forge -- and our mother's craft -- and  while I'd like to see him become the first lay member of of our father's church, I don't see him becoming a paladin."

"You've been thinking about this," Ash observed, studying Tybalt's face. "What would you say our father should be the god of...?"

"Battle, and Travel, and Justice," Tybalt replied. "That's what I've got so far."

"Outcasts," suggested Azrael. "Found families."

"Good," admitted Tybalt. 

"Revenge?" suggested Ash. "No, that's not quite right. But... Endurance, maybe? Like, all those things that happened and he just kept going."

"Endurance is good," Tybalt affirmed. 

There was a moment of shared silence. "Yes," said Ash. "I could pledge myself to that."

"Good," said Tybalt. "Because I'm going to become his first cleric." 

"All right," said Azrael. "You're going to need lay worshipers too, and I'll be the first."

Tybalt pulled the tinder box from his belt, opened it, and touched a dried reed to the ember inside. He used the burning reed to light the candles. "Sister, we'll need your blade on the altar."

Ash nodded, unbuckled her baldric, and laid it and the falchion it held atop the chunk of limestone. Tybalt had brought along a bow; he strung it and placed it across the falchion. 

"No," said Ash. "That's not right. Bow on the bottom, Falchion on top."

Tybalt nodded and reversed them. 

"Oh!" said Azrael. "Just a minute." He hurried back down to his room beside the forge, and returned with a small ruby. "For the gem he got from the Druid Hierophant, and returned to the next."

"Yes," Tybalt said firmly. "A contribution from each of us, to complete the connection. Step up and touch the altar."

They came forward and put their hands on the rectangular chunk of limestone, regarded the candles. It was almost dark, that liminal time when day gave way to night. "I pledge myself as a Priest of Ruin the Defender, who in his life was Oathkeeper, Warrior, and Traveler."

Ash said, "I pledge myself as a Paladin of Ruin the Endurer, who in his life was a survivor, an explorer, and a warrior."

Azrael nodded thoughtfully. "I pledge myself as a simple worshiper of Ruin the Father, who in his life was protector, outcast, and family-builder."

There was a long moment of silence. 

Then a silent voice echoed through the trees. MY CHILDREN, it said, I AM SO VERY GRATEFUL.