The Sword

by Bryan M. Litfin

  He reached the crest of the ridge, having passed no one but a dairyman coming down from the alp. The ridge formed a wall above Vingin, separating the village from the precinct of the High Priestess’s temple on the other side. Teo had circled around the end of this ridge when he visited Lewth several months ago, but now he had climbed directly up its side to stand on top. The crest was open, providing an all-encompassing view of the mountainous heart of Chiveis. To the south lay the jagged snowy peaks that receded one after the other into the Beyond. The biggest and most foreboding of them were the three summits of Vulkain, Pon, and Elzebul, which towered nearby and mocked Teo’s puny insignificance.

  He stumbled through the open meadows to the highest point of the ridge, then fell to his knees in the grass. At the edge of Vulkain’s north face stood the temple of the great High Priestess. An intervening peak obscured Teo’s view of the temple except for the white tower that projected into the sky. He recalled the bad smell that lingered there, the dank mist, the aura of secrecy and power. The High Priestess only had to utter a single incantation from her unholy spire, and the dawn god would rain down fire and thunder on a man’s home. That was true dominion.

  An object was in Teo’s hands, and he stared at it without processing what it was. Gradually he realized it was the Sacred Writing of Deu. What am I supposed to do with this now? The wind stirred its cloth wrapping.

  An idea occurred to him, and he glanced toward the temple of Astrebril. What if he were to surrender the book to the High Priestess? Surely that would be a meritorious action! Although Teo had little regard for Astrebril, he knew he needed a heavy dose of divine power to blot out his bloodguilt. What could be a more worthy penance than to hand over the book to the High Priestess? It would certainly earn the god’s favor. With this deed, perhaps the great scales of justice would be returned to balance.

  Of course, to do so would utterly betray the house community. Yet did that matter anymore? Teo was a murderer, and more or less an adulterer as well. The community would no longer want his translations of the holy book. I’m the only one who can read it, and now I’m unworthy to touch it! The Sacred Writing had become useless to those who loved it most. Deu wouldn’t come to Chiveis after all. Teo had murdered him too.

  Scrambling to his feet, Teo walked to a trail junction. A rough path led down the far side of the ridge to the temple precincts. No shepherds or cow herders would dare to use it, but it was navigable enough, and Teo could reach the High Priestess’s temple in a couple of hours. He clutched the book under his arm and paused on the edge of the abyss.

  One step, and you’re committed. If you do this, you’ll never speak to Ana again.

  Indecision tore at Teo’s soul. Part of him wanted to take the radical step that would earn divine favor, yet an invisible hand seemed to hold him back. His legs felt like lead weights. He couldn’t go forward, but he couldn’t remain still either, so he tottered on the brink of madness. Curse it all! So what if I never speak to Ana again? Stratetix won’t let me near his daughter anyway! He’ll chase me out of his sight! For that matter, so will Ana! Once she discovers what’s happened, she’ll revile me and walk away. Teo gripped his forehead in despair as the full weight of his choices descended upon him. The unthinkable was happening. His bond with Ana—forged by so much adversity, strengthened by so much intimacy—was about to be severed forever.

  A black chough landed on the trail. It cocked its head and blinked its beady eyes. Teo watched as it opened its yellow bill and uttered its distinctive call. “Alright, I’m coming,” Teo said as he started down the trail toward the temple of Astrebril.

  From behind him, a voice cried out, “Wait!”

  As Maurice reined up in front of Valent’s chalet, Ana leaped from the saddle and ran to the house. The front door hung open. Everything was still.

  “Valent? Sucula?” Maurice shouted the names, but no one answered.

  Ana noticed something on the porch. Bending to examine it, she sucked in her breath when she realized it was a bloody footprint. The tread was from the boot of a Royal Guard. She backed away and leaned against Maurice.

  “I’ll go inside,” he said. “You might want to wait here.”

  “No, I’ll come too. I need to know.”

  The living room looked normal. Two half-drunk cups of mead sat on a table, and a few embers smoldered in the fireplace. A peg on the wall held the bearskin cloak Ana had given Teo. The sight of it caused anger and hurt to flare in her heart. “Deu, give me strength,” she whispered.

  Maurice knelt before another bloody footprint outside the bedroom. Ana came to his side. “It’s Teo’s,” she said. “I’ve seen it many times.”

  Maurice straightened and put his hand on Ana’s shoulder. “The bedroom will contain a scene you won’t quickly forget. Are you sure you wish to look?”

  Ana considered it. Though she wanted to know what had happened, she decided she didn’t need to sear her mind with violent images. Shaking her head, she asked, “Would you be willing to bear that burden for me?”

  “Of course.”

  Maurice turned toward the bedroom, but Ana pulled his sleeve. “Let me pray for you first.” Quietly she invoked Deu’s protection over Maurice’s eyes as well as her own heart.

  When she had finished, Maurice entered the room and returned a few moments later. The smell of vomit was on his clothes. His face was pale, but he was composed. “Valent and Sucula are both dead,” he reported. “There was a fight. Valent died of a wound to the chest from his own knife. Sucula struck her head on a wooden box and died from the blow. Teofil’s footprints are in the room.”

  Ana hung her head. “I feel sorry for them. They were kind people, though misguided. Evil is rising, and they were caught in its snare.”

  “Yes. I feel powerful forces stirring against us. The traditional gods do not want to see Deu come to Chiveis. But it was you, Anastasia, who taught us to hope for the serpent’s defeat. We must cling to that promise.”

  “What’s next, Master Maurice?”

  “I’ll bury the bodies. You must find Teofil and say to him whatever words Deu gives you. The main thing is to pursue him—to reach out your hand to him in spite of his failure.”

  “It’s hard,” Ana admitted as she stared at the bloody footprint. “I’m so angry at him.”

  “As you should be. He has sinned grievously.”

  Ana glanced up. “And yet?”

  “And yet you remain loyal. That is Deu’s character, made real through you.”

  Ana nodded as Maurice escorted her outside the accursed chalet. As she was about to step into the saddle, she noticed the little barn across the yard. Quickly she entered and returned with a bundle in a burlap sack. She tied it to the saddle, mounted, and turned toward the wise professor.

  “Go in peace, daughter,” he said.

  “Pray that I would have it.” She goaded the horse down the path.

  Although Ana found no more bloody footprints, she had hunted enough game to be able to follow Teo’s trail. She arrived at an intersection and scanned the ground, looking for his tracks. Just then a mountain dairyman came hiking around a bend in the trail.

  Ana waved to him. “Greetings, sir! I’m trying to find my friend. Have you passed anyone on the way?”

  “Aye! A guardsman rushed past me less than an hour ago. Didn’t even bother to give me a grützi!”

  “Deu be with you!” Ana cried. The dairyman threw her a funny look as she galloped up the trail.

  After a long uphill ride with several steep switchbacks, she topped out on the ridgecrest, and a wide vista opened before her. The warm wind stirred her hair, and bells tinkled as cows grazed in the meadow. The bright blue sky was spangled with puffy clouds. To the south, the sawtooth summits of Chiveis gleamed in the sun. A man stood on the far side of the ridge, looking down. Ana dismounted and began to walk toward him. He did not see her.

  Halfway there, she stopped.

  Ana could feel her heart beating rapidly. Wha
t am I doing? Perhaps it isn’t my place? What if he gets angry? What if he rejects me? She felt the urge to run to her horse before she was noticed and then flee down the trail. With her eyes closed, she staggered backward, terrified by the cruciality of the moment. A panicky feeling took hold of her—the same dizzy sensation she felt whenever she looked down from a height. The raw fear in her gut reminded her of that day on the roof of the ancient temple when Teo had asked her to go over the wall. No! I can’t do this! Help me, Deu!

  Teo started to walk down the trail.

  “Wait!” she cried.

  He spun, and Ana ran to him.

  Teo watched Ana run across the meadow, her hair streaming behind her in a golden cascade. Often when she appeared unexpectedly, Teo’s heart would skip a beat, but not today. Shame held his heart in a vise grip. He bowed his head and refused to look at the most beautiful woman in Chiveis.

  She stopped a few paces away. Silence hung between them. Don’t speak. You have nothing to say.

  “Teo—”

  He kept his eyes on the ground.

  “Teo, I’ve come to you.”

  “How did you find me?” he asked bitterly. “You wouldn’t be here if you knew all that had happened.”

  “I do know, yet here I am.”

  Hope flooded Teo’s soul. He raised his eyes for the first time and looked at Ana. She was radiant—more like an angel than a human being. The sunlight was in her hair, her blue-green eyes were bright, her face glowed with overpowering beauty. Beyond this, a divine radiance now shone from Ana, as if she were lit from within by a heavenly flame.

  She stepped closer, reaching out a hand to touch him.

  “Stop!” Teo barked. Shame at his own foulness welled up. He was untouchable, unworthy, undeserving.

  “I didn’t come all this way to be kept apart from you,” she said softly. “I won’t have that anymore. I want you with me again.”

  “No, you don’t! You don’t know the whole story! There’s more to it than the lost book!” He held up the Sacred Writing.

  “You found it! Praise Deu! How did you get it back?”

  “I got it from—” He grimaced. “It doesn’t matter. Just leave me alone.” The burning disgrace was too much for Teo. He covered his face with his hand and turned away. The hot wind blew across the meadow as he fought to keep tears from coming to his eyes. He hoped Ana would go, but at the same time it was the last thing in the world he wanted.

  A hand touched him. He flinched.

  “I know you went to Sucula,” Ana said. “I know she’s dead, and also Valent. But I’m still here, Teo, and I always will be, no matter what.”

  How can she say that? It’s impossible!

  Teo faced Ana and sank to his knees. She stood over him, and he grasped her by the waist, burying his face in her dress. He couldn’t hold back his tears any longer. “I’m sorry!” he sobbed. “Ana, I’ve hurt you, and I’m so sorry!” He said it over and over as she stroked his hair.

  “I won’t deny it or pretend otherwise. It’s true. You—” Ana’s voice caught for a moment, but she gathered herself and continued. “You hurt me more than Rothgar or Dirk ever did.”

  The pain in her words was obvious. Teo felt it deeply, acknowledged it, and owned it.

  “Forgive me,” he said.

  “I forgive you, Teofil.”

  He looked up at her. She was smiling at him. What grace is in this woman! “I’ll make it up to you,” he promised.

  “It doesn’t work like that. My forgiveness is already granted. There’s nothing more between us.”

  “Just like that? It’s over?”

  “No, there’s one more thing. Remember the paintings we saw in the temple of the Ancients? There was a man with a boy and a ram. Deu is a God of sacrifice.”

  “I know. I was reading ahead, and I found that story in the book of Beginning, the twenty-second chapter. The man’s name was Abraham. Deu commanded him to sacrifice his only son, but in the end he didn’t let Abraham go through with it. Deu provided a ram instead. ‘On the mountain of the Eternal One it will be provided.’ That’s what the book said.”

  “See? When you confess your sins, sacrifice is Deu’s provision to remove them.”

  Teo nodded, though he felt unsure. “I don’t know how to confess. Will you help me?”

  “Yes. Wait here.” Ana walked to her horse and returned with a sack in her hand. She knelt in the grass across from Teo. Opening the sack, she removed something white—a new lamb, its legs bound. It bleated as Ana laid it on the ground and held it down.

  “Give me your sword,” she said, “the sword of my grandfather Armand.”

  “Wait—I’m not sure we should do this. We don’t know what to do. We don’t have a priest.”

  “I’ll be your priest. Deu is a God who abhors sin and requires sacrifice. Until we know how to do it properly, we’ll offer this to him in faith.”

  Teo drew his sword and handed the hilt to Ana. She sacrificed the lamb, its lifeblood bleeding out beneath the blue sky of Chiveis. Teo swallowed, awed and humbled by the sight.

  “Should I say some words?” he asked.

  “Deu has given us the right words already, I think. Do you remember translating the hymn of David when he went in to Bath-Schéba?”

  “Vaguely. Was it the one with the hyssop plant?”

  “Yes. I’ve set it to music. Just make the words your own.”

  As Teo knelt in the meadow, Ana stood over him and began to sing. The tune was a mournful dirge, brimming with sorrow and regret.

  O Deu!

  Have pity on me in your goodness.

  According to your great mercy,

  erase my transgressions!

  Wash me completely from my iniquity,

  and purify me from my sin.

  For I recognize my transgressions,

  and my sin is constantly before me.

  I have sinned against you alone,

  and have done what is evil in your eyes,

  so that you will be just in your sentence,

  and without reproach in your judgment.

  See! I have been born in sin,

  and in transgression my mother has conceived me.

  But you wish that truth might be deep in my heart.

  Therefore make wisdom penetrate inside me.

  Purify me with hyssop, and I will be pure.

  Wash me, and I will be whiter than snow!

  Ana’s sweet voice conveyed a mystical quality, as if she had opened a portal to another world. With gladness, Teo let each verse wash over him. As Ana’s voice swelled to the hymn’s climax, a more hopeful sound replaced her earlier dirge. Her holy song became like a balm to Teo, accomplishing in his soul the very things of which she sang:

  O Deu! Create in me a pure heart!

  Renew in me a well-disposed spirit!

  Cast me not from your face,

  nor remove your holy spirit from me!

  Give me back the joy of your salvation,

  and sustain in me a spirit that wills the good!

  The final stanza of the hymn spoke about the sacrifices Deu desires—not meaningless offerings, but a broken heart. Only then could animal sacrifices delight him. Teo gazed at the lifeless lamb. “I’ll never again deny I’m a sinner,” he whispered.

  As the song’s final notes echoed away on the peaks, Teo stood up, dumbstruck by what had just occurred. Ana faced him a short distance away. They remained like that for a long time, each staring at the other, delighting in the holy aura that had descended upon them.

  Ana finally broke the spell. “Let’s go home,” she said with a smile.

  Teo nodded, but as Ana turned to go, he hesitated. “Hold on. Before we go, there’s one more thing. I, uh . . .” Ana waited for him to collect his thoughts. “I want to tell you something about Sucula.”

  Ana waved her hands and shook her head. “No, Teo, don’t.”

  “I need to tell you! I want you to know!”

  “Please, no! I do
n’t need to hear it.”

  “You do!” Teo approached Ana and grabbed her two hands in his. His voice became urgent. “I want you to know, I was tempted at her house, but I didn’t go through with it! Nothing happened! The truth is, I couldn’t because . . .” She looked up at him with her long-lashed eyes. “Because of you,” he finished.

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you! I’m not exactly sure what that means. All I know is, I couldn’t betray you. Not after all we’ve been through.”

  She smiled mischievously. “Well, you know, I have saved your life two times.”

  Teo returned the smile. “Actually, it’s three times now.” Ana cocked her head and thought about what Teo’d said but didn’t reply.

  They walked to the horse. Ana mounted while Teo put the Sacred Writing in the saddlebag. He gathered the reins to lead the horse down the trail.

  “Ride with me,” she invited.

  Teo climbed into the saddle in front of her. He felt Ana’s arms slip around his chest.

  “It’s nice to have you back, Captain,” she whispered in his ear.

  Maurice threw a final scoop of soil onto the grave, then planted the shovel in the ground to rest against it with two hands. The exertion had winded him, so he stood for a while and caught his breath, wiping the sweat from his forehead. It had taken him all morning to scrub the floors, prepare the bodies, and dig the grave. He buried Valent and Sucula behind the house, wrapped in linen sheets, their arms folded across their chests. A flat stone incised with a cross served as a marker. He didn’t know what the symbol meant, but he knew it was important to Deu.

  Maurice shook his head at the tragic events, pained that Teo was involved. He would have to find out exactly what had happened and deal with the authorities if necessary. Perhaps it was a case of self-defense against an enraged husband. That wouldn’t be considered murder in the magistrates’ eyes. In the eyes of Deu, however, Teo was guilty. Maurice resolved to have a long conversation with Teo about the spiritual implications of his actions.

  The aroma of wood smoke reached Maurice’s nostrils. Smoke? That’s strange, he thought. This house is far from anyone else’s. The gusty wind must be carrying smells farther than usual.