by J. A. Day
The scale of the task seemed overwhelming. There were tables and chairs to put back, burnt bonfire wood to dispose of, cooking implements to put away, and the detritus of the party to clear up, including bones, mugs, and in a weird case some clothes. It was a hard and hot job, especially with the red glow of Manang casting down on them and the warm wind blowing through. But by working together as a group, chatting, and singing songs, they were able to complete the tasks quickly.
During this work, Sonja had a rare chance to be with the faithful without them focusing on her. She had a chance to listen in on their conversations, understand what they truly thought about everything. The main topic of conversation was about the harvest festival.
One Priest and Priestess were surprised how fun dancing had been, and how they became friends with the others around the bonfire. A group of Priests had a deep conversation with some farmers about Sol and what would need to happen to bring her back into the sky. Some Acolytes played games with other kids, pretending to be duelists and attacking each other with sticks or jumping on tables. And a group of Priestess caught a couple kissing passionately - one woman thought they would have sex right there on the grass - but they had been surprised that the couple weren’t violent when the Priestess tried to push them out the party, in fact they were very apologetic.
All these conversations buoyed Sonja’s mood as the day went on. Her gamble had paid off. The faith was on the right track to change. Were they ready now for her secret? The positivity of the festival, and the fact that she was the one that organized it, could mean that the people wouldn’t find her secret too damaging for the faith. They could see that someone that loved the same sex also brought happiness and positivity to their faith.
The only thing that stopped her was the fact that Britta still stood in the middle of the field shouting about shadow and the destruction of the faith. This time the arguments were about how she and Sigrun secretly loved each other.
“How can any of you accept someone that has a shadow that black to be your leader?” She shouted.
Many that were with Sonja told her that they didn’t believe Britta anymore, and felt that Britta’s path was a dead end for the faith. But even with these compliments, and even with the positivity of the festival going well, hearing Britta’s accusation felt frustrating. Britta had been one of her best friends, the closest thing that she had to a sister, and now Britta saw her as a monster, almost as bad as Manang.
She tried to ignore the shouting, tried to ignore the little dagger in her heart every time Britta said that Sonja would cause the destruction of the faith because of her shadow filled ways, but eventually the protest burrowed into her brain enough. She couldn’t allow Britta to have power in the faith anymore, to go against the changes she was making to the faith. If Britta was able to convince people that her methods would cause the destruction of the faith then Sonja would never be allowed to be her true self, and she was done hiding who she was. Britta had to be fired from her Head Teacher role.
But Sonja had to do it in a clever way. Even though many were on her side and didn’t listen to Britta, it would still feel like she was getting rid of her because she didn’t like what she said. Even if the suspicion wasn’t that big it would put doubt in people’s minds about how Sonja used her power, and if there were more Britta’s in the future and she fired them as well her abuse of power would start to look like a pattern. She had to find a way for Britta’s firing to look reasonable, like Sonja was getting rid of her for something else other than the opinion.
After she had gathered the burnt bits of firewood and put it in the wheelbarrow. She straightened herself up, breathed in a little, preparing herself for the conversation with her former friend, and strode up to Britta.
Britta shouted louder. “Here comes the shadow filled Keeper. I wonder whether she will want to kill me or kiss me.”
Sonja rolled her eyes at that. “Britta, I have a change I need you to make. We can talk about this privately in my wagon.”
“No, the conversation will happen here, in front of everyone,” Britta said, holding up her hands and smiling.
Britta obviously understood she was going to fire her, wanting the crowd to see her being attacked for her views. But Britta would not get what she wanted.
“Ok then, I’ll say it here,” she said, breathing in and out a little. “I want you to change the lessons you teach to the Acolytes. We are not going to teach Priest Robin’s account anymore. Instead I will find a scroll to teach about people being brought together with parties, and stories that instill a sense of community.”
“I will not teach your filthy lies. I will not teach the Acolytes to embrace shadow. As long as I’m Head Teacher they will be taught the real path of the Mission.”
“And you’re definitely sure of that,” she said, raising her voice to make sure people heard.
Britta narrowed her eyes and pointed at her. “I will defend the faith with my life if I have to.”
“Then I’m afraid I’m going to have to let you go as Head Teacher,” she said, sadly. Despite the anger towards Britta she still felt sad that she was going to lose one of her closest friends. Why did it have to be like this? Why was Britta so stubborn?
Britta laughed and put up her hands. “You see faithful, you see how our shadow filled Keeper is firing me because of my views. You should all be worried about this. If you step out of line you will be next.”
Sonja was a little bemused about that argument. Her mother had forced many faithful to quit because of their indiscretions or evidence of shadow. But apparently to Britta, it was her that was the tyrant.
“It has nothing to do with your views Britta. I accept that you have a different view than mine and I even accept your right to shout those views on my field. But teaching the Acolytes the right lessons is my job as the Keeper. Last night we had a very successful festival that brought people together. I want the Acolytes to learn a lesson from that, but you have told me you refuse to teach it. If you accept teaching it, I will keep you in your post.”
But of course Britta never would teach it, and she said as much. “You are perverting the future of our children. Be aware people. If you find your faith collapsing around you, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Britta gave Sonja one last sneer, turned around, and stomped off. Sonja watched her go. Her heart thumped, and she breathed like she had just ran from one end of the wagon train to another.
As she watched Britta disappear out of the encampment, the weight of sadness grew heavy. Why couldn’t Britta accept her changes to the faith, why couldn’t she accept that the festival last night had been a success, and why couldn’t she accept someone loving the same sex as them? But Sonja knew she would never get any truly thought out answers from her. It would all just be what the texts said and how they needed to be pure. The words of their mother living on after death.
The faithful on the field had been trying to appear like they had not been eavesdropping on their loud conversation. They shook their heads at Britta, and some muttered good riddance. After Sonja joined back with them a few did say that she made the right choice in firing Britta.
Sonja breathed a sigh of relief. Her cleverness had paid off, and no one thought at the moment she was a tyrant. She basked in the glow of making another right decision, putting away the sadness of Britta leaving out of her mind. But it wasn’t long until she had another worry to obsess over, and that was when to tell the faithful her secret.
YOU’RE ALWAYS IN THE SHADOW OF HEROES, ALWAYS TRYING TO MATCH AN OLD IDEAL THAT YOU NEVER TRULY CAN
‘In The Shadow Of Heroes’ by Katrina Caradog
It felt like the wagon train had perched upon the top of this hill forever. It had only been about a month, but with being named Jarl, finding out about Hannes’ army, and participating in the harvest festival, it had felt like a whole lifetime to Sigrun. But things were coming to an end amongst the workers. They were displaying signs that it was time to move on. It wasn
’t that they wouldn’t like to settle if they could, it was just they had gotten so used to traveling that it felt weird to be in one location for so long. It was time to figure out where the wagon train’s next destination would be.
Usually this would be chosen solely by the Keeper, but Sonja was new to the role, Sigrun wanted to prove to the workers that she would make decisions, and they both wanted to foster union between the two sides, so the two of them decided to pick the destination together. However, before Sigrun talked to Sonja she wanted to understand the choices and what she would pick on her own.
Sigrun sat in the corner of her wagon, her desk covered with various detailed maps of the surrounding area. Her door was open. Bright red light streamed in, and a cool wind rustled her tunic, with the occasional sounds of people going about their day, horses trotting, and the gentle creak of the wagon wafting in.
She really should be outside, enjoying the late spring light, but instead she had to be squirreled away in her wagon picking out destinations. No one understood how the life of a Jarl was so hard sometimes.
There were a few paths on the map open to the wagon train: to the west there was the Glass Forest, they could follow the river north east to the city of Munn, or they could go south across the grass plain where they wouldn’t meet any form of civilization for a few months until they hit the merchant cities on the coast.
None of the paths felt right. Her preference would be to go into the Glass Forest and find out about the ancient tribe that had constructed the glass. But that would mean having to go to Eik, which as the map - and Gregor and Yael - indicated was a no go. Also she doubted that the wagon train as a whole would be as interested as her in knowing where the glass came from. Unfortunately, going across the plain would be risky, if their food or water ran low there would be no town or trade for miles. She guessed that left Munn, but what would they be going there for? They could pick up some extra food and have a few days of experiencing a new place, but that didn’t feel like it would truly satisfy people.
So what would truly satisfy people? The only answer Sigrun could think of was to settle down somewhere.
Would the faith ever accept that? After all, it was their Mission to go out into the world and spread the message that Sol was going to appear in the sky again, but only if the people changed their ways for good. Sigrun didn’t totally believe in that message but Sonja and the faithful did, and it was their wagon train as much as it was her people's. Would the faith ever abandon their Mission?
But then again it truly felt like Sonja was changing the faith. Sonja was much more focused on bringing the greater wagon train into the faithful’s fold. The harvest festival was a great success when it came to that. Could Sigrun persuade her that the best way to bring the two sides together was to accept the workers' desire to stop traveling and to settle down.
It would be a hard sell, but Sigrun felt positive that she could be the one to sell it. The relationship she had with Sonja was excellent at the moment, she could say with all honesty that she loved Sonja. Sigrun knew Sonja to be the type of person to hear out her argument and see the bigger picture. She felt that she could convince Sonja that a unified wagon train in harmony with the faith of Sol was more reachable than trying to bring good to the whole world.
At the thought of the wagon train changing, Sigrun got a thrill. She gathered up her maps and put them under her arm. But when she turned around she found Sven standing in the doorway.
Sven didn’t display any of his usual jolliness. Instead he had a hard stare, like the weight of the world had crashed onto him all of a sudden. Sigrun froze, frightened about what he was here for.
“My father wants to see you,” Sven said, voice low.
He didn’t say anymore, and Sigrun felt like now wasn’t a good time to question what it was about. Though she had a feeling it had to do with Gregor Baldur’s illness. She put down her maps, and followed him out of the wagon.
The smell inside Gregor Baldur’s wagon was horribly memorable for Sigrun. The same rotten smell had permeated her family's wagon when her mother had been sick. Back then they had tried to mask it with the smell of squeezed peaches or oranges, but the horrible smell still lingered. It was the same in Gregor’s wagon, despite the smell of lavender and other strong flowers, every time she took a step down the long wagon the smell got more and more putrid.
The sight of Gregor Baldur was similar to her mother as well. He had been thick armed and well built, but now he looked thin and tired, like he had aged thirty years in the time Sigrun had seen him last. He sat up in the bed, but it looked like it took all his effort to do so. His eyes were a little glassy, and every moment or so he grimaced in pain.
Sigrun wanted to turn around and walk right out of the door. Everyday in her later childhood see her sick mother, those thin arms, that raspy voice, and that look of pain. Seeing Gregor like that made her see her mother in the same place, like a ghostly image. Like back then she didn’t want to face up to the reality that Gregor was sick and was going to die.
But she wasn’t here for her, she was here because he had requested it. And even though it frightened her to be here, she pushed out those feelings of running away. She stepped towards him. Gregor smiled weakly, and waved his son out of the wagon.
“As you can see the rumors about my health are true,” he said, voice soft, so she had to lean closer to hear.
“You look absolutely fit to me, I can see you running around the wagon a few times,” she said.
Gregor laughed at that, which turned into a cough. Sigrun felt a little guilty about that.
“My sons and nephews always said you were entertaining, I can see what they mean now,” he said, struggling to straighten up more. “But come, sit, I’ve got something important to tell you.”
She sat in the chair next to the bed. It felt warm, like someone had sat in it not too long ago. She guessed it had been Joan. She wondered how she was taking all of this. Sigrun’s father had definitely not taken his wife’s sickness very well, but Sigrun didn’t see Joan as being the type to be away from home, drinking all day, and staggering back to sleep it off. Joan was made of sterner stuff.
“What did you want to tell me?” she asked.
“I am feeling the end, so I feel I need to get things off my chest and stop the lies I have told. Me and Yael didn’t vote Hannes out of the Jarl position just because of the food problem, we also found out that he had been recruiting an army to go against the faith.”
Sigrun tried to act like she hadn’t known this information, but her acting ability must not have been great, because Gregor exclaimed, “You knew?”
“I may have discovered it while taking a night time stroll. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know why you hadn’t told me, and was worried about what would happen if you knew I knew.”
Gregor grimaced, and shook his head. “You were the new Jarl, we should have told you, but we didn’t know where your loyalties lied.”
“My loyalty,” she said, confused. “What do you mean?”
“You know for sometime now the three families have drifted away from the faith - well the Mattsons were never with the faith, but you know what I mean. The old Keeper was way too strict on what she was allowing in the wagon, proselytizing her holier than thou attitude, and turning up her nose at us. Even our family, who have defended the faith through thick and thin, saw the tides turn. So when Jarl Matteus decided to abandon the wagon train to live in Tro, we had to decide on a new Jarl. And all three families decided on Hannes.”
Gregor sighed, which turned into a hiss. “The reason we picked Hannes was to find some way to get rid of the faith’s power.” He weakly put up his hand, almost like he was expecting an objection. “Now this was meant to be peaceful, we just wanted to find some way to legally get us in power so we could decide what happened with the wagon train. But obviously Hannes pursued it in non-peaceful means.”
“Rita Mattson obviously knew about the army stuff, but me and Yael
hadn’t. But I would have expected Yael to have let it go, if it wasn’t for me who felt uncomfortable about it. I didn’t want bloodshed against the faith. I didn’t agree with what they had become, but they were still, in a sense, family. Hell some of my nephews are married to the Priestesses. Killing them would be killing our own. So I brought in the vote against Hannes, begging Yael to follow suit. It was only after I revealed that I was dying that he agreed, as a gift for me.”
“This doesn’t explain why you had to hide it from the council, or from me,” Sigrun said.
“We didn’t tell the faith because Hannes was our creation. If we told the faith they would have known that we brought him in for the sole purpose of getting rid of them. The Keeper would have punished the whole wagon train for that, we’d be under her purity tyranny forever. And we didn’t tell you because we didn’t know whether you would tell the faith. You were an unknown, so we didn’t know where your loyalties lied.”
“So why are you telling me now?”
“Because we were completely wrong,” he said, coughing. “Me and Yael were completely wrong to doubt you, and we were completely wrong to bring in Hannes. From what I’ve heard this new Keeper is making the effort to bring the people together again. She is getting rid of the whole purity drive, and wanting to connect with us.”
He slapped his hands hard on the cover. “But Hannes is still building up his army. He is still waiting for the chance to rise up. I wanted to tell you because I wanted to warn you, but it looks like you were already warned. But it’s still good to get it off my chest, to tell you the true reason why we didn’t tell you. It was a bad reason, but there you are.”
Sigrun sat in the chair, absorbing everything Gregor had just said. It all felt like political maneuvering to her, something she didn’t really understand. Why couldn’t they just live with the faith in peace? Why did they have to jostle with them for supremacy and power? It truly felt like this wagon train was divided right in the middle.