Blessings and Trials (Exiles and Sojourners Book 1)

by Thomas Davidsmeier

  “We can’t stop,” said Litharus resolutely.

  “Nice of you to say so,” snapped Gwyndolyn. “But, I’ve almost slipped and broken my neck three or four times. At this rate, we’ll all be dead by the time we get to the Standing Rock.”

  Litharus was about to correct her, when he felt Ingrid’s hand on his arm. He waited for the more sensitive and polite girl to correct their youngest friend.

  Instead, Ingrid offered, “Maybe I can help with my blessing a little. I haven’t used mine much and I’m certainly not as spent as you two are. Just a minute.”

  Ingrid sat on a wet stone and bent over. She untied her boots and pulled them off. Standing up, she squished mud between her toes with a little giggle.

  “This is going to feel weird,” she admitted.

  She stepped to the middle of the path, and the water streamed up to her foot. When she stepped again, she left a relatively dry spot behind. The water that had come to her foot went flying off to the side as she sent it out with another little flick of Blessing. When she touched a rock or a flat stretch of stone, she set little rivers running in reverse over the surfaces. The water went up to her hands or feet, and then with the next step she would send it off, out of the way.

  “You looked like a crazy mechanical fountain I saw in the Stormhold!” laughed Gwyndolyn. “Or maybe it was Baymuth. It could have been Channelguard. They had lots of machines there next to the Metal Coast...” Gwyndolyn gave up. She had lived in a lot of skyship cities in her short life.

  After a few minutes of much easier going, Gwyndolyn cheerfully chirped, “Now. I bet none of us are dead when we get to the Standing Rock.”

  Litharus stifled a groan. He had to admit, it was much easier getting along with Ingrid clearing the path.

  After almost an hour of slow but drier going, they had reached the head of the valley made by the large ridge. The ground was easier here, and Ingrid stopped using her Blessing. They clambered up over the last little bit of rise. All three of the children knew that they should have been able to see familiar sights from there. The tower, walled village, bridge, and Boreal farmhouses across the river would be visible to the east. This had been their home for a large part of their young lives.

  Litharus was the last one up, and as he picked his way over wet stones he asked, “What can we see from here? We’re more than a mile from the tower. No one there will spot us, and we should be able to see everything. I hope that filthy Exile was just lying through his teeth to scare us.”

  Even in the rain soaked dreary morning light, they could see the damage was great. At least it was in the walled village and the hilltop tower. No warm yellow lights shone from the tower where Ingrid’s grandfather had been killed. Cheery watchmen’s lanterns or a few uncovered St. Petros lights were usually brightening dismal mornings like this one. Instead, the only light glowing was at the top of the tower. One night, far in the future, Anya would fall from almost exactly the spot the children were staring at. But now, the wooden skyship dock burned with the low, dull orange of an old fire.

  The children knew that Litharus’s mother and Gwyndolyn’s father had been in the walled village at the base of the hill. The four watchtowers at the corners of the wall were dark. The buildings on three sides of the village square had a faint red glow on them; the chapel seemed to be missing from the fourth side.

  “There were more than a hundred of us here last night,” whispered Litharus.

  “I’d really like to know were just one of them is,” whispered back Gwyndolyn with the excessive honesty of youth. “Well, alright, I guess I’d like to know about my dad and your mom both. Oh, and your grandfather...” Gwyndolyn’s voice trailed off as she tried to stop putting her foot in her mouth.

  At that moment, Gwyndolyn’s father, Wyddol, was ransacking the already ransacked underground complex beneath the tower. Litharus’s mother, Lythia, was running through the forest. Ingrid’s grandfather, Vänlig, was singing a new song he had just learned to the King of Kings.

  “There were over three hundred of us when the trouble started,” whispered Ingrid, thinking of Jarl Bjorn Flametooth and his contingent of Skullguards in the village marketplace.

  After the incident with the flamewright, Ingrid, and Wyddol Tollonyn, the local villagers had called a meeting of all the Boreal clans. They had not invited any Sojourners. At the meeting, they cast lots to choose five families. Each family picked one of their young people, all older than Litharus but not yet of age. Those were the children to be sent off with the Jarl and given to the Pale Lady for ‘thralls.’ They were considered no better than cattle under the law once they had become thralls.

  Or, the Pale Lady might have planned to use them like actual cattle. She was a Blood Drinker after all, a Corrupted born of The One Who Thirsts. Either way, legal or actual cattle, it was unconscionable to the Sojourners. But, it seemed the Boreal villagers considered the tribute a normal cost of living in this part of the Northlands.

  The children had been driven by the curiosity that can only be inspired by hearing parents’ speaking in hushed tones. Litharus, Ingrid, and Gwyndolyn had pieced together the details of what had happened and debated it on their own many times.

  The Jarl and the villagers had called the Sojourner leaders to another meeting. Wyddol Tollonyn had been specifically forbidden from attending. The Sojourners had hoped to find some solution to the problem, perhaps even save the selected village children.

  “One youth for every three score and six of your people, including thralls. But the given cannot be from among your thralls,” was the repeated stern admonishment from the Boreal village headman. He had seemed to think them incredibly ignorant for not knowing how the tribute worked. The Sojourners had managed not to shout again that they did not keep thralls. It was a point they had made over and over.

  Bjorn Flametooth had again suggested, “I would take the little waterwright in place of three others.”

  The Sojourner contingent had barely acknowledged that statement. They had asked if silver or gold or goods or livestock could be taken in place of the children. The headman’s stony stare and the Jarl’s too toothy grin were the only responses they received. The Sojourners had headed back across the bridge to the walled village in somber silence.

  In every discussion they had, Litharus, Ingrid, and Gwyndolyn had all agreed. The Sojourners refusing to ‘pay’ this tribute was the only acceptable choice. They had all moved here precisely to get as far away from abominations and Chosen, and Exiles as possible. They had all thought it was an independent frontier settlement.

  The Pale Lady’s flamewright jarl had promised dire consequences and rode off down the river, with the selected villagers’ children bound in tow. And then less than a month later, the massive attack on the Sojourner settlement happened. The same soldiers and jarl returned with Wildmen mercenaries. Three Faithful Servants had joined with Dargar and the more martial Sojourners to easily defeat that assault as Pyter would so eagerly watch in the future.

  As Litharus stared out at the destruction of his home, a particularly logical part of his mind concluded, I guess the Pale Lady really didn’t known about the Faithful before the first attack. She was able to send actual Exiles the second time. If she had known, she wouldn’t have wasted those men and Wildmen in that first attack. After the first attack, the children had debated this very point.

  A more emotional part of Litharus questioned, Why did the Wandering Isle have to send Kael and Agrael away? I wish we’d still had all three instead of just Haliel.

  Litharus thought sadly about Haliel. All three of the Faithful had always been distant and a little aloof. But, Haliel had been a little less so, even smiling once in a while. And, he was a Faithful Servant of God. Haliel had been in the presence of the Lord God Almighty before the beginning of the world; what more can any of us hope for?

  That first attack had completely ignored the obedient Boreal village on the other side of the bridge. Judging by the looks of the buildings
across the river, Litharus thought to himself, This second attack passed them over as well. Their village looks untouched. It seems people are up and about more than usual for a rainy day like today. They should all be inside under their nice dry thatched rooves.

  The children watched with dawning dread as they saw a group of little figures gathering in the center of the Boreal village. Sure enough, they came marching over the bridge. For a few minutes, they were hidden by the walled village. But then, a part of the group came around the corner of the village wall and started making their way through the orchard there.

  The three children slid back down behind the ridge, with sinking stomachs. “Do you think they’re coming to look for us or anybody else who made it out?” peeped Gwyndolyn.

  “Do you think anybody else made it out?” whispered Ingrid. The Sojourner settlement looked completely overrun.

  “At least everyone who is already in Fireheart is all right. My mom is there waiting for my dad and me,” whispered back Gwyndolyn.

  “My family is all in Fireheart except for me,” whispered back Ingrid.

  “My father is there, too,” Litharus’s voice was tight, even in the whisper. He did not say anything about his mother. All of them knew she had been in the village along with Gwyndolyn’s dad.

  Many Sojourners had left in the previous months. The elders knew that one of the Corrupted like the Pale Lady, with their shard of an Exile Lord’s soul, was no small power to cross. Defeating the first attack had guaranteed a second. Arrangements for an evacuation had been costly and slow to make. The settlement could not afford a ship big enough to evacuate everyone at once, but they managed to arrange for four monthly flights on a smaller ship with a sympathetic captain.

  Thank you, God, that the first two flights already took most of us away, prayed Litharus. Looking at the destruction of the settlement and the little groups of Boreal villagers wandering around outside the walls, he wondered again why the Lord of Hosts had called away Kael and Agrael. Why leave us only Haliel when there were going to be two Exiles attacking us?

  He banished the doubt as quickly as he could. “My ways are higher than your ways,” says that very Lord of Hosts, doesn’t he?

  Litharus swallowed it all down and prayed that his mother was alive and well, waiting at the Standing Rock.

  The children looked over to the forest. The rain was still pattering down all around. It turned the normally dusty earth into sloppy, slippery mud. It would take them longer than it should to get to the trees.

  “We need to get to the Standing Rock. The meeting was at dawn, and who knows how soon the skyship will be able to come and pick us up? I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to miss our ride to Fireheart and our families. It’s a long walk from what I hear,” whispered Litharus.

  That was all the encouragement Gwyndolyn needed. She jauntily popped up, turned around, and started off down the top of the ridge.

  “What are you doing?” hissed Litharus as he raced over to her. He grabbed her and pulled her down to the ground. They splashed into the mud together.

  Litharus whispered at the little girl , “They are out looking for survivors. We’re out of the valley now. Someone could see us easier up here. We could get captured, or even worse, lead the attackers right to the Standing Rock. That would be a disaster.”

  Gwyndolyn’s mud spattered face dropped as she nodded in understanding. It was not going to be as simple as just walking to the Standing Rock.

  Litharus pointed down the backside of the ridge to the little valley below. They scrambled down into the concealing fold of land and headed west. Ingrid took the lead, casting water out of their path as she went.

  They stayed low as long as they could, but they needed to get over the little fold of land that was between them and the forest. So, when they had found a spot where the fold was lower, they headed up past tufts of yellowing grass and weathered stone. Litharus had them pause at the top as he looked back toward the tower and the villages. Then he made a little signal, and both the girls went up and over, trying to stay low. He followed behind them.

  “I didn’t see any search parties anywhere nearby,” he whispered as they made their way down the backside. “But, I think I still saw some back by the base of the tower. I couldn’t see all the way to the villages. The ridge was in the way. That’s a good thing, I think.”

  Ingrid pointed ahead of them.

  She commented pessimistically, “Climbing the bluff will put us in full view of anybody looking this direction.”

  Litharus reassured her, “We’ll be careful and try to stay out of sight. Besides, we’re almost two miles from the tower.”

  The ground rose and became more and more rocky as they approached the base of the bluff. At least the rain began to peter out and finally stop as they approached. There were sparse bushes and shrubs growing in pockets of soil on the steep slope. The bluff was twenty-five feet of water-worn stone and muddy dirt. Gullies cut down its face in many places.

  Litharus pointed to one of these channels a few yards from them.

  “That one should work, let’s get up it as quick as possible.” He started off in the lead. “I’m still pretty tired, but I’ll go first and try to make some quick hand and footholds. Give me your ropes and I’ll tie them all together. When I get up to the top, I’ll toss it back down for you.”

  Ingrid and Gwyndolyn nodded and started fishing in their packs. They soon joined the lengths of rope, and Litharus hefted it up over his shoulder. He set out up the gulley as the girls watched him.

  True to his word, Litharus worked his way up the gulley and left a trail of cups in spots where the stone surface was solid enough to hold. After a little less than half an hour, the girls watched the circle of their ropes come tumbling down the gulley, getting smaller with each turn.

  “I was watching the search parties while you were coming up. They didn’t seem to react or notice us. I think there might be a few more out than there were earlier.” Litharus was coiling up their ropes, untying them as he came to the knots.

  “That’s good,” puffed Gwyndolyn, still a little winded from the climb.

  Over the rumbles of her empty stomach, Ingrid wondered, “Are the clouds going to form another storm? Or do you think they’ll just spread apart?”

  Gwyndolyn gladly speculated, “Oh, they are going to run away and hide, join the heathens in their dissipation and all that! It will be a beautiful autumn day, like the ones we hunted mushrooms on last year. Look at the trees, they’re on fire for the glory of God.” She giggled at the pun of a verse from Sojourner scripture.

  Meanwhile, Litharus just grunted as he handed their bundled ropes back to each of the girls. Ingrid touched each of them briefly and water came out of them in a little trickle.

  “That’s a pretty useful trick, isn’t it?” said Gwyndolyn appreciatively.

  Litharus was forced to admit his admiration as well.

  They paused as they edged into the trees. Soon, there would be too many trunks, and they would block their view. The children looked back down at the villages and tower.

  There were still pairs and trios of people walking around on this side of the river. None were closer than half a mile, but that was still close enough to make all the children a little uncomfortable.

  “Litharus,” asked Ingrid quietly as they finally ducked all the way into the imposing forest. “Should we go back down to where the path comes out? You know, the one you said was right across from the tunnel.”

  “We don’t have time and I don’t want to risk any of those people out there seeing us walking along the edge of the forest here. We should have been at the Standing Rock at dawn, that’s when the meeting would have been. We’re just late, there’s no two ways about it. We’ll just cut straight through, the underbrush probably isn’t that bad in there.”

  “Surely we’ve got time for breakfast,” Gwyndolyn weedled. “I’m still starving from before. I feel like I was hollowed out like a drinking gourd
and I’m still not halfway full again.”

  Despite his better judgment, Litharus’s own empty stomach muscled its way into his thoughts. “I guess we can stop for just a little bit, I’m pretty hungry too. It is way past dawn, and we’ve missed the meeting any way you look at it. Everybody is probably just setting up camp to wait for the skyship to come pick them up, right?”

  Neither of the girls really knew anything about what any other survivors would be doing. They had not been involved in family discussions about evacuation plans like Litharus had. They had not been out on camping trips to try out different routes and locations like Litharus had. They just nodded and went along with what he said.

  It was an odd turn of being Blessed. Using a Blessing was much like physical exertion. This effect was amplified by extreme use, youth and inexperience. Litharus and Gwyndolyn were dealing with all three of those amplifiers, and Ingrid with the last two. Their thinking was poorly ordered and confused, just like a normal person who was exhausted.

  As soon as they clambered a little deeper into the still-wet woods, they began looking for a pine tree or high-branched bush that would provide sufficient cover. It was not hard, as the forest was made up of a mix of oak, maple, and plenty of evergreens. The children knew that pines were common enough that Dargar’s tribe collected the cones for the little seeds before winter. But Dargar’s tribe lived many leagues to the south and were not nearly as friendly as Dargar.

  Settling in the dry hollow under a thick-branched fir tree, they made the best of their provisions.

  “Do we really need to save some for later?” asked Gwyndolyn, looking longingly at pouch of raisins.

  Ingrid fought with a mouthful of mutton jerky and gained enough of an advantage to reply, “We should be meeting up with the others in no time, shouldn’t we? Won’t they have supplies?”

  Litharus took a long drink to wash down the last of his mutton jerky. “I’m not sure. We had to go a long way out of the way to get across the stream this morning. In fact now that we’ve eaten, we probably ought to get going and try to move as quickly as we can. I don’t know how long our parents will be able to wait at the Standing Rock for us, or even what the plan will be from there. With the Boreal villagers siding with the Pale Lady and actually out doing their dirty work looking for survivors, this might be a lot more difficult than we think.”