he Fire God’s Sacrifice by Juniper Clarke EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Juniper Clarke
- Language: English
- Genre: Romantic Fantasy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Harsh wind blustered across the beach, bringing with it swirls of
hard, glittering ice. My sacrificial gown, spun of delicate, silvery
threads, was too fine to offer warmth, and I shivered in my place on the
stone slab as the people of the village gathered around me with their gifts
and entreaties to Jaskirra, the God of the Mountain.
A horn blew further down the beach, announcing the arrival of the
priest. I closed my eyes to combat the terror clamoring up inside my chest.
Life as a sacrifice is good until the day comes when Jaskirra awakens,
sending puffs of grey steam into the cold sky. The first augurs had been
spotted three days ago by some low-ranking village guardsman who had
been out on patrol. I was eating dinner when word reached me, delivered by
one of the village acolytes, a scrawny boy who had trembled as he read the
proclamation and refused to gaze upon my face.
Now, standing on the beach, I curled my hands into fists and tried to
pull them up into the flimsy fabric of the gown’s sleeves. Little good it did.
The horn blew again, and then a drumbeat started up, the slow,
sacrificial march of the dead. The villagers, all clad in thick wool and heavy
furs, turned their attention down the beach, their offerings clutched tightly
to their chests. I was the one responsible for ensuring those offerings made
it to the fires of Jaskirra’s mountain. I would drag them by cart up the
lonely path, say the prayers I memorized years ago, and toss them in one by
one.
And then I’d toss myself, the greatest gift the village could offer.
The slow drumbeat jarred with the quickening thump of my heart. I
lifted my gaze to the procession making its way down the beach: The
village priest, clad in a flowing crimson robe stitched with golden threads.
His acolytes, each hoisting up flames from the sacred temple fires. A
platoon of clan guardsman, swords and spears polished like jewels. The
drummer marched along beside them, thumping out the pace of their march.
Behind the platform: my replacements. Four sacrifices, each in their
own sacrificial gowns, probably shivering as badly as I was. Hilla led them
up. She was only a year younger than me but considerably more beautiful,
with long ropes of golden hair and pale, almost translucent skin. She was
also considerably more devout and hadn’t done much to hide her envy as
she helped prepare me for the ritual.
“What an honor,” she’d breathed as she smoothed anointed oil into the
skin of my back. “Like Piia of the Moors.”
Piia of the Moors had been sent to the mountain a hundred years ago.
Ever since then, sacrifices had lived in the luxury of the gardens until they
reached the Age of Decision, twenty-one, when they could either fling
themselves into the sea as a precaution or leave the gardens, return to their
families, and marry, opening another space for a hopeful sacrifice.
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