Remnants Of The Sun

by J. A. Day

  ***

  Manang slowly sunk into the horizon, painting the sky red and purple. Sonja gazed over the field and marveled at its transformation. There were hundreds of tables of various shapes and sizes dotted about, with chairs arrayed around them. In between the seating were roaring bonfires. At the far end there were three roasting spits, spinning beef, lamb, and pork, and these were next to a metal oven – donated kindly by Yael Hoademaker. Sigmund was currently using the oven to roast veg, and fry sausages.

  Everything looked perfect. Yes the meats were slightly small and would probably go within the first hour, but she felt that people would be impressed that they even had some.

  The only thing that marred the work on the field, was the fact that Britta and her handful of Priests and Priestesses were standing in the middle of it. They were shouting scripture from Priest Robin’s Account. They told the faithful the festival was a grave shadow and how they should all be ashamed of themselves for participating in it.

  Most faithful looked over to Britta and her crew with some embarrassment. One Priest even went up to Sonja and asked whether he could get rid of her. Sonja thought about it for a bit, but in the end said no.

  She very much would like to get rid of Britta, but physically dragging her away would do more damage than she was currently causing. Everyone could ignore her at the moment. The one worry was what the wider wagon train would think of Britta. Would they be disappointed, feel this was typical of the faithful, and go somewhere else, or would they ignore it like the faithful were, and try to have a good time to spite her. There wasn’t really much Sonja could do about it, as she guessed Britta wanted to be manhandled to show them how evil her path was. She just had to hope that the festival goers would find the allure of the party more powerful.

  The faithful sat on the yellow wood pews, waiting for Manang to disappear under the horizon. There was a nervous energy crackling about the Priests, Priestesses, and Acolytes. Everyone was waiting for a throng of people to come in, and the festivities to begin.

  Sonja felt now was the best time to tell them the ground rules of the festival. She slapped her hands, and everyone turned. The pews quickly became quiet, except for the shouts of Britta in the background.

  “I know we are all excited about this harvest festival. But this will be a strange experience for all of you. You won’t have experienced this much food being eaten or drink being consumed, and a part of you is going to feel that it’s all wrong. I understand that, but you must let the party continue. But that doesn’t mean everything you see is ok. If you see people are too drunk, or are starting to do lewd things, you have my permission to stop them.

  “Now, you have to be delicate about how you do that. I don’t want people to feel we are being like the old faith, demanding they do things our way. I think you can be gentle and quietly push them out. Try to convince them that what they are doing is better in some other party.”

  “The other thing I ask, nay demand, is that you join in on this feast. I don’t want any Priest, Priestess, or Acolyte standing at the side of the field watching the people as they have fun. You need to join in on the fun, talk to people at the tables, dance with people around the fireplace, maybe Priests and Priestesses have a bit of a drink yourself. This party is all about bringing us and the wagon train together. That can’t be done unless you actually get together.”

  Everyone clapped and cheered, and the buzz of energy electrified everyone anew. Most faithful talked about how fun that evening’s festivities were going to be, and how excited they were to talk to new people.

  Sonja smiled as she heard all of this, feeling the warmth in the air. She watched as Manang dipped lower and lower in the horizon. The sky turned inky black, and the stars twinkled into life.

  ***

  The party atmosphere was in full swing, and Sigrun was the life of it. She stood next to tables, eating food, chatting and laughing with the guests. She danced around the bonfires, inhaling the heady smoke and spinning around with men and women. She kept going back to the barrels of mead, taking out another pint, and was still surprised she was drinking in the middle of the faith’s encampment.

  Sigrun didn’t just stick around worker groups. After all this was supposed to be a party of unity - Sonja had made a speech about it being such at the start of the festivities - so she made sure to hang around the groups of yellow robed Priests and Priestesses as well. She drank more and more. The stars streaked across the sky, and the orange of the bonfires were getting fuzzy.

  Around the faithful she asked more and more questions. Why did they think that Sol was coming back, what was the Mission really all about, what did they think about all this partying when they had put their nose down on it just a few months ago? Unfortunately, she was a little too drunk to remember the answers.

  Still, she nodded, smiled, and laughed. It seemed to do the trick. Soon a gaggle of yellow robed men and women followed her over to the bonfire, and danced around. Some of them were cute women, but she had eyes for only one woman now.

  It was a shame. Sigrun could probably have some fun with these women, and open some eyes to alternative ways of love, but she didn’t want to hurt Sonja and risk losing her. So she made sure the dances were always at a respectable distance, and the conversations never got too flirty.

  In outward appearance Sigrun was like her old self: confident, cocky, and always drunk. But as the night went on, inwardly she felt a little lonely and lost. She had fun with these priests, priestesses, and wagon train workers, but it always felt like something was missing.

  Sigrun kept glancing towards the tables, in the hopes of seeing Sonja. Whenever she did, she felt a little boost of confidence and happiness, which allowed her to go on. But when she didn’t see her, she felt sad, and her chat or dance fell a little flat. Socializing with all these people was important, but near the end Sigrun just wanted to find a quiet little corner with Sonja to talk.

  As the evening went on, the party became more wild. Workers danced a little closer to one another, their bodies gyrating in time to the music. The faithful looked at this with shock, and rushed over to gently steer them away from the party. Some people found this unacceptable, and shouted at the faithful they were taking away their freedoms, but they were soon pushed out into the darkness.

  Seeing this, Sigrun stopped drinking. Usually at this point of the party she would have been close to blacking out, but her heart wasn’t into drinking excessively anymore. Eventually, after visiting every bonfire and sitting down at every table, her heart wasn’t in being sociable either. All her thoughts were on talking to Sonja alone. She checked her pocket to see if the windmill flower was still there, and went to find her.

  As she got closer to the center of the field, she heard the shouts of the curly haired Priestess. One bizarre thing about the festival was that a group of faithful had shouted throughout how the party was an abomination, and how every participant was full of shadow for participating. Most people in the wagon train had expected this from the faithful, but had been surprised when others in the faith told them that what the woman shouted wasn’t what they thought, and that the workers should ignore it. Once the music started, this wasn’t too hard.

  Yet the woman was still here while the sky was dark purple and the stars were twinkling. She still shouted about shadow, while men and women staggered out of the field being sick. It felt like if the party was still here in the morning then the woman would be as well. The curly haired woman gave Sigrun an evil look when she passed, which she ignored.

  Sigrun snaked through tables, searching the darkness for any sign of Sonja. She saw her flame robes by the empty spit roast. Sonja stood alone.

  “The meat didn’t last too long,” Sigrun said, feeling it was a lame thing to say to someone you hadn’t seen for a few days.

  However, Sonja still smiled, which boosted Sigrun’s mood.

  “But the people ate it gratefully anyway and didn’t complain when it was gone,” Sonja said, noddin
g. “I thank you for getting it for me.”

  “Least I could do.”

  She stared at Sonja’s dark hair and narrow face, which she found beautiful. God she wanted to kiss her right now. Sigrun glanced behind, all she could see was the inky black sky with a few dots of blazing orange. The only sounds were the crackle of the fire, and the distant shouts from the curly haired woman. Would anyone see the two of them kiss?

  “I got you a present,” she said, carefully taking out the windmill flower from her pocket.

  “You really didn’t need to get me anything. Obtaining the meat for me was enough,” Sonja said, but her face looked delighted and curious.

  Sigrun spun the windmill flower around, the yellow glinting in the firelight. Sonja’s face lit up. She took the flower, and grabbed Sigrun for a hug.

  They broke their embrace, too soon in Sigrun’s eyes. They were very close but acted awkward. Sigrun glanced around the field. However her desire to kiss Sonja was too great and she threw caution to the wind. She grabbed Sonja’s hand, and kissed her.

  The kiss was as joyous and explosive as any other, but much too brief. Sonja pushed Sigrun away and glanced around the field in terror.

  “We can’t, someone might see.”

  Sigrun stepped forwards. “I don’t care. I want you. I don’t want to wait anymore.”

  “This festival will be seen as a success, the path will be laid for the faithful to change. We will be together soon.”

  “How long is soon, months, years? There’s a woman in the middle shouting about how partying is a shadow. If she is shouting about partying she would never accept you being gay. The faithful aren’t going to change anytime soon.”

  “I disagree. And if you want to be with me, you’ll wait,” Sonja said, voice stern.

  “What would happen if they knew, if they saw me kissing you now?” she asked.

  “It wouldn’t just be a woman shouting, it would be them throwing stones, dragging me out of the Sol Shards protection, and watching me freeze to death.”

  Sigrun raised her eyebrows. “And you are saying you can change them from that reaction to acceptance?”

  Sonja bit her lip. “That's all I can hope for.”

  “Why are you putting the effort in? Why do you care so much about these people? Who would rather have you killed than be happily in love with another woman.”

  “Because, like it or not, this is my home. I consider these people my family. I love them and I love Sol. And I have seen them and the wagon train come together with our love. So trust me, and wait.”

  “What do you mean you have seen them and the wagon train come together with our love?” she asked.

  Sonja sighed, and said, “When I was near to it I felt the Sol Shard call to me. I held it in my hands, and saw a vision. In it the wagon train was divided in the middle. There were two sides: the faithful and the non faithful, and they were ready to go to war. But I walked between them with my friends, and they stopped to look. You were there at the Keeper’s podium, and we were both dressed in white. The two of us shared union vows. We kissed, causing a bright light to be cast out. That light made the people in the wagon train drop their swords and cheer. What the vision was telling me was clear: our union will bring the wagon train together.”

  Sigrun didn’t know whether Sonja was crazy, seeing visions of a bright light coming from a kiss definitely fit the bill, but the idea of the two of them sharing union vows was definitely very appealing. At the thought of it, Sigrun felt warmth in her heart.

  “You don’t believe me, do you?” Sonja said, stepping back.

  Sigrun stepped forwards. “I’ve never believed in visions, and I don’t know if I believe in Sol, but I believe in you. It feels like you are taking this vision seriously, so I guess I have to believe that you saw it. I won’t deny the things you said sound lovely. I wouldn’t mind it if they came true.”

  “So you’ll wait?”

  She sighed. “I can wait.”

  Sigrun felt a stab in her heart at the idea of waiting, but she didn’t want to hurt Sonja or risk losing her. If it was between feeling sad but having the occasional joy versus feeling sad all the time, she would pick the former all the time.

  “But can we still find somewhere private, so I can properly kiss you?” she asked.

  Sonja grabbed her hand, and pulled her away. They ran through the inky blackness, laughing as they went. The two of them rushed through the warm air, staring into each other’s eyes.

  “I think I love you,” Sigrun said, as natural as the stars twinkling above.

  Sonja grinned. “I think I love you too.”

  Part Three

  Sharp Enough To Stab

  THERE WAS ONE TIME I HAD TO HIDE IN A WHOLE CART OF FISH TO AVOID THE GUARDS

  ‘The Heroic Exploits Of Thomasina’ by Bacchus Vinay

  Sonja woke up, her arm numb. Sigrun’s bed wasn’t big enough for two people, not to mention the fact that it was lumpy and uncomfortable. She had to sleep sideways while Sigrun hogged the bed, being pushed to the edges of the bed and onto the wall. It was good that she loved Sigrun, otherwise she probably would have hit her for making her uncomfortable.

  Sonja’s mouth was dry. She had a headache, and felt a little ill. She had drunk too much last night. Only in her teenage years had she drunk that much.

  Feeling Sigrun’s naked skin with the back of her hand made her feel better. She felt she could stay cuddled up to Sigrun, staring at her messy blond hair and knotted braid forever. Unfortunately, someone banged on the door.

  The bang was violent enough to judder the whole wagon. She feared that the door would burst open. Sigrun groaned and stirred, but she wasn’t getting up. Sonja sat up and was going to go to the door to see who it was but then realized that she wasn’t meant to be in this wagon, and if she was seen people would know about her and Sigrun’s relationship. So instead of going to the door, Sonja shook Sigrun until she groaned some more.

  “What is it?” Sigrun said.

  “Someone really wants to see you,” she replied.

  Sigrun groaned again, and slowly put her feet onto the floor below. She yawned and stretched, allowing Sonja to appreciate her naked body

  The person behind the door kept banging on and on. Sigrun furrowed her brow. “I’m coming.”

  Sigrun quickly dressed in the clothes she wore at the party. Sonja put the covers over her to hide, but left a small gap so she could see who was at the door. Her stomach dropped when Sigrun opened the door and it was revealed to be Britta.

  “What are you doing here?” Sigrun asked.

  Britta narrowed her eyes. “Where is the Keeper?”

  “How should I know, probably in her wagon sleeping off the party last night.”

  “Don’t lie, I saw you two running off together,” Britta said, trying to peer into the wagon.

  Sonja cursed not being careful when they ran off. They had been at a party, of course someone could have seen them. But as soon as she had cursed herself another part of her chided herself for doing so. Why couldn’t she just be together with another woman? Why did she have to keep hiding who she was? She had vowed not to do that anymore, but here she was doing exactly that. Maybe Sigrun had been right last night, maybe she would be waiting forever for the faith to be ready for the truth.

  Sigrun stepped in front of Britta. “I think the darkness and the craziness of the party has gotten you confused. Maybe you saw some other women running away, it’s been known to happen.”

  Britta raised your voice. “I know you’re in there Sonja, stop being a coward and face your shadow head on. Maybe Sol might just forgive you.”

  “Right, if you're done shouting can you kindly go back to your encampment,” Sigrun said, annoyance clear in her voice.

  Britta pushed Sigrun, and scrambled around, getting into the wagon for a brief second. Sonja’s heart pounded, and she stopped moving. Sigrun forcefully wrapped her arm around Britta’s side and pushed her back through the door. Britta
stumbled backwards, but righted herself.

  “Ok, you can seriously fuck off now,” Sigrun shouted.

  Britta gave her another narrowed eyed stare, shook her head, and walked off into the faith encampment. Sigrun sighed, and shut the door.

  Sonja threw off her covers. “This is not good.”

  “I got rid of her.”

  “Yes, but the problem is I’m still here.”

  Sigrun looked at her confused.

  Sonja quickly got up from the bed, and slipped on her flame robe. “The faithful are going to expect me to come out of the Keeper’s wagon this morning. If instead I am seen coming from the edges of the faith encampment, that gives credence to what Britta is going to shout to them. She might even convince a lot of them that I slept with you last night.”

  “Ah,” Sigrun said, grimacing.

  “So how do I go from here to my wagon, which is in the middle of the faith encampment and can be seen by many people, without being seen?” she asked, feeling frustrated that she had to be in this position.

  Sigrun walked around her wagon for any answers, and then put a finger on the wheelbarrow that was under the shelf of books. “We will use this.”

  Sonja walked over to inspect it. The wheelbarrow was long enough to fit in, if she bent her legs a little. They would just have to put something over it so she would be hidden. She climbed in, and Sigrun put her bed cover over it.

  “Is it any good?” Sonja asked.

  “I can’t see you, but I’m sure the faith will be suspicious. I'm bringing a wheelbarrow into their place with a bed cover on,” Sigrun said, shaking her head.

  Sonja sighed. It really wasn’t a great plan, but it seemed to be all they had. She wanted the faith to change, to be able to accept her as she truly was, but she didn’t feel springing in onto them now would be a good thing. If she was going to change them and be herself then she had to do it in the right way.