Ascalla's Daughter

by M. C. Elam

  “Walk, humph,” he grumbled.

  “You’ll find a bit of aloe in my pack for that blister.”

  Hawk jumped. He hadn’t heard the priest approach. Stark naked Wryth walked from the shadows into the firelight. He carried a tree branch, one end whittled to a point. Two fish, pierced through the middle, hung from the makeshift spear. He took in Hawk’s expression.

  “You didn’t expect me to dive for fish in my robes, did you?” he asked.

  “I, uh, I didn’t uh,” Hawk babbled. He knew he must sound ridiculous and clamped his mouth shut.

  “Think you can spit these for a bit of supper while I dress?”

  Hawk nodded, still staring. He took the fish from the priest and gutted them. His first attempt at the spit resulted in a miserable failure. Wryth eyed the procedure, twitched his eyebrows and rubbed his chin whiskers, but kept silent. Eventually, the fish were ready and they ate in silence.

  “Father,” said Hawk. “How did you know about the stones?”

  Wryth tamped his pipe and lit it. “Ah, so you tried them. I wondered if you had.”

  “Aye, I didn’t believe they would work, but they did.”

  “An old woman told me. You knew her.”

  “I did?”

  “Aye, Granny Stone told me when I was a young man. Like you, I doubted until I had reason to test it.”

  “Evan’s, Gram?”

  He took a long draw on his pipe and nodded. “Aye, lad, the same. Now get some rest.”

  ***

  Passage through the mountains marked the most arduous leg of their journey. The Southern Range was part of the Blue Mountain chain where Knight Marcus had found Evan after the raid on Baline. Hawk’s father, wary of another raid from Lawrenzia, ordered that area patrolled on a regular basis. But, as far as he knew, the Royal Guard never sent brigades across the desert because the Southern Range posed an impenetrable boundary. At least he had believed that before Father Wryth began unraveling the maze. The rugged trails they traveled crept along miles and miles of sheer, rock ledges. Each time they came up short in a blind canyon, Wryth paused, eyed the land and moved on revealing hidden trails.

  At the top of the range, the mountains wore a crown of giant trees that stood as reminders of the Earth’s grandeur. Hawk forgot his weariness and ran from one to another. He gazed into the canopy of the largest, and grew dizzy. Its branches must surely touch heaven, he thought. Here, nature loaded her pallet with the subtle hues of wildflower and tree, rock and sky, images that painted his imagination with incredible beauty. Father Wryth made their camp inside the hollow trunk of the smallest, and Hawk thought it was not a great stretch to picture a cottage built there.

  “Magnificent, are they not, my son?” Wryth commented.

  “Splendid, Father. What are they?”

  “They come from the beginning of time, great monarchs of the land. If we knew all that they have witnessed of the world, we would be wise indeed. Each tree you see here is many hundreds of years old. Look, Prince Hawk, see where their roots hold the earth. Each grows upon the remains of its ancestor, fallen a thousand years ago.”

  Hawk stroked the limber trunk of a sapling that had sprouted between the protective roots of their camp tree. “Like people. We grow from ancestral heritage as well. Do you think they know what has come before them?” Hawk said.

  Wryth shrugged. “Some tell of folk who talk with the trees. I cannot say, but when I see the beauty and nobility of one of these old warriors of time, I believe. Our Father in Heaven provides many mysteries for us to solve.”

  Hawk looked at Father Wryth, a man new to him. Always before, he considered the priest a weak-kneed old beggar who did the bidding of the king, but in past days on the trail, he saw a different man. Of course, Father Wryth pledged loyalty to King Ian, but on the trail, all his concern focused upon Hawk's safety. His ability when reading the land and confidence in choosing the safest mountain paths with no indecision demonstrated a mastery of leadership skills. Now, talking about the trees, Hawk saw yet another side.

  “Will we solve God’s mysteries, Father?”

  “Perhaps not you or I, my son, but one day.”

  Evangeline spoke the same way sometimes. He wondered how she grew so wise when he floundered. He did love her so. “You will read the bans for Evangeline and I when you return to the Cathedral, won't you, Father?”

  “You have my word.”

  Hawk poked at the fire, and a spray of embers exploded like fireflies on a summer night.

  “I must tell you something, Father, something I have done that will cause difficulty when you return.”

  The priest came up on one elbow. “Reading the bans will cause a stir. I know not the outcome, to be honest. What more is there?”

  “Father, on the same night you married us, the king attested to my betrothal. My marriage to Evan breaks that promise. I could not let my life come to marriage with any but Evan.”

  “What did you do? What? Hawk, do you know what you have done?” Father Wryth rose to his feet, any idea of sleep banished. “High treason, you, Evangeline, all three of us have committed a crime against Ascalla.” He paced, his robes swishing so close to the fire that the hem caught an ember and rolled it across the ground. “Nothing can fix this, Hawk, save destroying the vows you signed.” He faced the prince, his palms turned outward in a kind of supplication. “Read the bans? No, I can never read the bans now. I must face your father and admit guilt for my part. I will surely hang or, at the least, face prison and excommunication.”

  “But I did not mean… I did not know.” Hawk’s head dropped to his chest. “Father would not harm you or Evan.”

  “Foolish boy, he has no choice. His council is strong, and they have his sworn loyalty. Treason, Hawk, do you know the word?”

  “I didn’t think of it as treason.”

  “You did not think at all. You especially did not think of Evangeline.” He wanted to thrash the boy, but knew it would do no good.

  “I just wanted a way to make her mine. I love her.”

  “Both of us told you that marriage between you was wrong. You would not listen. I don’t blame you for the whole of it.” He paced back and forth wringing his hands. “I am party as well. Now we have a muddle that may never be right.”

  “Then let us turn for home. I cannot let you and Evan stand alone when the fault is mine. I should have begged him to dissolve my betrothal. I don’t know this Allison or anything about her. I want Evan”

  “Nay, we continue. If you return now, you compound the problem by disobeying. I have the marriage decree, no one else. Perhaps I can reach Evangeline in time to stop the damage.”

  “But I do not want our marriage set aside as though it never existed. What of our wedding night?”

  “For that, Prince Hawk, you must pray the girl can make more sense of what you have done than you did when you failed to consider the outcome.”

  “Father?”

  “Speak not to me just now. Anger rages in my heart, and I must pray for guidance.”

  “Father, I must speak. I must tell you.”

  Wryth wheeled around, his arm raised, his face livid.

  “Tell me what? Some other ill you bring upon that girl?”

  “Strike me if you must, Father, but I must tell you.” He took a long ragged breath. “Before we left, I wrote a note for Evangeline. I asked her to tell my father about our marriage. He must know already.”

  “By God’s own hand, Hawk, your crescendo of revelation astounds me. You left that girl to face the wrath of your father’s anger, and yet you claim to love her. I do not think you know the meaning.”

  “Father will not hurt Evan. He loves her well.”

  “And would you hurt her? For you surely have. Now leave me to ponder a solution. I must think.”

  ***

  The next day they crossed the top of the range and began the descent. Father Wryth did not chide him or even mention a word about Evan or his betrothal. The fear that clutc
hed his belly eased, and his boyish naiveté forged a feeling of invincibility. He put his faith in the priest. Wryth must know a way to mend things.

  His concentration turned to the journey. The trail grew easier here, and in a fortnight, they reached the flatlands at the base of the mountains. After days of bitter cold and relentless wind, the air turned spring like. When they made camp at the foot of a waterfall that cascaded into a small pool, Hawk, eager for a bath, shed his clothing and plunged into the water. He discovered that it tasted of salt. Later, warming beside the fire he mentioned the salty taste to Father Wryth.

  “The salt comes from the great sea,” said Wryth.

  “Is Shadall nearby then?” asked Hawk.

  “A few miles further and you will see it. For a time you will pass along the shoreline on your way to the Caves of Shadall. Griffin's village is beside the sea. Such wonders will be yours to behold in the next days. An ocean, so mighty, so broad you cannot see the far shore, and so deep no one knows the bottom; what a wondrous joy to swim in those waters, Prince Hawk. One soars high upon the crest of each wave as it churns toward shore. Try as you may to dive deeply, the water carries you to the surface. And the great fish, bigger than a man they are, giant monsters of the deep. Oh, to stand on that shore once again.”

  “Soon you will have your wish.”

  “No, Hawk, my journey ends here. Soon Griffin and Terill will join us. In the morning, you ride with them while I return to Ascalla.”

  “But to come so far and not see the ocean? Why, Father?”

  “It’s a thing for young men. My youth is spent. I return to Ascalla in the morning. I must attend there before it is too late to mend what is broken.”

  “You mean correct what I bungled. I love Evan, Father. I will have no other.”

  Wryth’s expression turned dark, and he turned away. No matter how Hawk probed, he refused further talk. Instead, he stared into the fire until he fell asleep.

  Sleep eluded Hawk. He lay back, his hands behind his head, and gazed up at a sky brilliant with stars. He wondered if Evangeline might be looking up just then at the same stars. Would she turn from him when she knew the truth? A band tightened around his chest at the thought of losing her. Their happiness seemed so fragile. How would she view him when she knew? He remembered thinking her talk of treason foolish, but she was correct and he in error. Surprising how much more she knew of politics than he. How could marrying the woman he loved above a betrothal agreement made by old men be treason? Treason meant betrayal of country. He did not see how one could begin to be the same as the other.

  ***

  The sun burned high in the sky when Hawk awoke. He sat up rubbed his eyes and looked toward the place where Father Wryth slept. The sluggishness of hard sleep disappeared, and he threw back his trail blanket, coming to his feet with a jolt. The priest was gone. Nearby a horse whinnied softly, Hawk's horse, but no sign of the old priest anywhere. Sometime in the early morning, Father Wryth had packed his gear and turned for home. Why would he do so without a word? His anger, Hawk supposed, though last night when they spoke about the sea, Wryth no longer seemed angry. Before he could spend more time wondering about the priest’s departure the sound of approaching horses alerted him. Nervous about being alone, he reached for his sword.

  Two men entered the clearing. The older man, dressed in a fur tunic and leggings, carried a spear and wore a bow slung across his back. Graying hair, tied at the back of his head with a leather thong, contrasted against his bronze skin, deepening the color. The younger man, dressed in a similar garb, carried a spear as well. His fair hair hung free, well below the curve of his shoulders. Hawk knew that these two men must be Griffin and his son Terill. Still, where was Father Wryth?

  The young man leaned closer to the older one and spoke in a tongue that Hawk did not recognize. The older man shook his head and the young one laughed. Hawk was apparently the brunt of some joke between them, and he did not appreciate the slight. Sword raised, he took a warriors stance.

  “Good,” said the gray-haired one. “Good. You show no fear son of Ian Hawkins. I am Griffin, friend of your father.”

  Suddenly, from behind Griffin the younger man lunged toward Hawk with his spear. The spear came neatly under the point of Hawk's sword and flipped it high into the air away from him. Before he could recover, the spear snaked forward again, and the shaft caught him in the back of the knees. He went down hard and found the same spear pointed at his throat.

  “And the young man who so deftly wields the spear is my son, Terill. He has just mastered that trick from me and insists on demonstrating his prowess to everyone he meets.”

  Terill put aside the spear and extended his hand.

  “Forgive me, Prince Hawk. My father is correct. I should save my skills for defense.”

  Hawk smiled and took a firm grip on the hand Terill offered. With a snap of his arm and a well-placed knee, Terill flew over his head and came to rest a few feet away, stunned and blinking.

  Griffin laughed. “Your father and I pledged this meeting long years ago before either of you were born. You come together now as we did then, intent upon besting each other. The fire of spirit will seal the bond between you.” He looked pleased with the encounter.

  Hawk stood and, this time, offered a hand to Terill. “I am James Ian Hawkins called Hawk by those who know me. Here let me offer a hand.

  “I will take your hand, Prince Hawk, with the assurance that I will not fly overhead this time.”

  “No, Terill. I only mean to raise you to your feet,” Hawk laughed.

  “Did you bring the documents of passage from your father?” asked Griffin.

  “Indeed. Father Wryth carried them. I know not what has become of him.”

  “I’ll warrant he placed them in your pack before he left but plenty of time for that later. Come let us build up the fire a bit and spit this fish caught fresh in yonder stream. We will talk while it cooks, and I shall try and answer your questions.”

  They stirred the fire to new life and spitted the fish. Before long, a tantalizing aroma filled the air. Hawk's mouth watered. While filling, dried fruit and grain left little in the way of satisfaction when the stomach craved hot food. The fish, along with a sweet bread Griffin produced from a travel pouch, made a fine breakfast.

  “Now about Father Wryth,” Griffin leaned back against a sapling. “Rest your mind. He met no ill. By now I warrant he travels far from here on his way back to Ascalla.”

  “Without taking leave of me? Why not wait until you found our fire?”

  “There was never any doubt that I would find you, Hawk. I first met your father here. I must tell you something about my people. Then perhaps you will understand why Wryth left as he did.”

  “I don't understand. I thought…” Hawk bit his tongue. He had been about to say that he presumed the priest left him at the earliest moment because he broke his betrothal vow, but Griffin and Terill would know nothing about that.

  “It’s really quite simple. We do not follow Christian teachings. We are men of the South and the Great Sea of Shadall gives us life. Our god dwells far beneath the waves. In her goodness, she provides in great abundance all that we need. The very fish that fills your belly comes from the larder of our god. When I met your father, I spent many hours hoping to convince him that our god was true. In turn, he pressed hard for me to see the erring of my ways and repent. Oh, the heated discussions we had together.” Griffin smiled. “Many a blow we struck in the name of faith.”

  “Not Christian? Yet my father calls you friend?”

  “Between the two of us we made a bargain. I would accept the good in the faith of your father, and he would honor those things in my faith that spoke true in his heart. No man knows me like your father. He is my spirit brother. A rare thing in the physical world that we should find each other.”

  “What is a spirit brother?”

  “We believe that a part of us reaches beyond this world to a place where the spirit dwells befor
e its earth-bound time. In that place, your father and I walked as brothers. Then upon the wings of a great bird, our spirits came to the world of man, mine freed to find the people of Shadall. Your father's spirit soared over the mountains to the world of Christian kings and in particular, Ascalla. Your father and I are fortunate. We arrived in the world of man together. Some spirit brothers and sisters are separated forever.”

  “I don't understand,” said Hawk. “According to what father told me, the quest he sends me to complete is ancient and the duty of every Prince of Ascalla.”

  “Your father speaks true. But we were the first to travel together and unite our people through the quest. Not all spirit brothers and sisters make the journey at the same time. Another, a woman, whose friendship we shared, did not travel with us. Her time of birth was not yet ripe. I believe she walks the earth now, apart from us in memory.”

  “And my father believes as you do?”

  “Your father opened his mind and remembered the time before his birth. A special ceremony of my people opens the old memories. Come. We have far to travel before reaching my village.”

  Still Hawk held back, his eyes alive with questions. “Father Wryth did not stay because he is Christian?”

  “Father Wryth lived with us for a time many years past. He chose a path that offers little tolerance for the duality of thinking that developed in your father and me. He could not stay with you. To accompany you to my village would be painful for him.”

  “Painful? What do you mean? Many pagan folk travel through Ascalla, and they do not pain Father Wryth. Our own villages and countryside are full of people who believe in the old ways.”

  “One thing more you do not know. My bride of more than twenty-five years, my sweet Selene, she is the younger sister of your priest. When we married, she embraced my faith. He fears for her soul, and that does cause him pain. He has not looked upon her face in all these many years.”

  Speech failed him. Father Wryth had a sister. Funny he never thought of the priest in terms of a family, never thought of him as anything but an ever-faithful aging man of God who tended to the spiritual well-being of Ascalla’s common folk. Never once before their journey did he look at Father Wryth with anything but a superficial eye. Wryth was there, part of the furnishings. He saw the old priest walking among the people nearly every day of his life and totally disregarded any personal side of the man. Not very perceptive, he thought. A king must look beneath the surface in all matters. His father had tried to tell him that.