Storm of Divine Light
Page 30
The monk raised his cup and gulped down the last remnants. “Yes, if you don’t mind. I’ll get my things.” He dashed up the stairs and puttered about overhead.
“And where shall you go, my friend?” Cyril placed a hand on Dagorat’s shoulder.
“Am I so easy to read?”
The mage smiled sadly. “You have more reasons to leave than you have to stay.”
“True.” He plopped into a seat, placed his elbows on the table and cradled his face in his hands. “You and your new bride will need the space, and I don’t want to put you or Lilly in danger.”
“I know. It won’t be long before some Easterlain comes looking for you,” Cyril said. “You could go and live among the Elves. I’ll write a letter in Elvish imploring Lhinthel for aid.”
“I have a better idea. But go ahead and write your letter just in case.”
Cyril arched an eyebrow. “Where will you go?”
“You shouldn’t know,” Dagorat said. “Perhaps I’ll send word to you. After a time.”
The mage bit his lower lip, but nodded his acceptance. With a definite sniffle, he asked, “Will I ever see you again?”
“Trust me. I’ll contact you.”
***
The wagon rolled to a stop at the doors of Farmstead Abbey. “I almost feel like a visitor,” Liberon said. They climbed down, grabbed their bags and headed in; the young monk led the way to the bustling central courtyard that held the spice garden and craft niches. At first, no one noticed them, being absorbed in their various tasks. Then one glanced up. He did a double-take, dropped his hoe and exclaimed, “Brother! We thought you must be dead.”
Liberon laughed and embraced his fellow monk. All around the yard, the others put down their work and ran over. Excited cheers and chatter filled the air as everyone maneuvered in for a hug.
Soon Brothers Maynard and Felix arrived, no doubt to investigate the commotion. “What’s all this fuss about?” the abbot demanded.
The group of monks separated to reveal a grinning Liberon standing among them.
Brother Felix ran up to Liberon and cried, “You’re back, my son! You must tell us all about your adventure!”
Liberon’s eyes teared up as he grabbed Felix in a great hug. Dagorat caught Brother Maynard’s attention and motioned toward his study with a flick of his chin. They left the happy faces behind and strolled into the cluttered room.
“How good of you to come by for a visit,” Maynard said.
Dagorat tossed his bags onto a chair.
The abbot stared at the bundles. “Going somewhere?”
“Hopefully not,” Dagorat said. He took a deep breath. How to make the kindly brother understand? Maybe it’d be best to speak plainly. “I witnessed the power of the Orb.”
Maynard sank deep into the chair and raised a hand to his mouth. “Truly?”
“The light from the Orb killed many servants of the Golgent. Orcs, goblins, men, and dark mages all fell before it.”
A gasp escaped Maynard. “You’ve seen the storm of divine light.”
“Seen it? I stood in its path and was unharmed.” Dagorat took a seat. “At the time I was consumed with rage, bloodlust, and vengeance. In some ways, I still am. Maybe I always will be. Yet, the Light spared me. Why?”
Maynard leaned forward and studied him intently. He must have read something of Dagorat’s trials in his face, for a great sadness, tinged with sympathy, filled the abbot’s eyes. “War and loss can produce terrible feelings. Feelings that don’t seem like our own. They pass in time, though not as soon as we would like. In any case, the Light beheld your heart and knew you as an ally.” The abbot tapped a finger on his desk. “I don’t think you came all this way just to ask me a simple question.” He paused, yielding the conversation. But Dagorat stayed lost in thought, leaving Maynard to try a different tack. “Did the Grand Abbot pay you and Cyril for your services?”
“Hm? Oh, yes. A more than generous sum.”
“Is there something else I can do for you?” Maynard prompted.
He’d rehearsed this moment many times since leaving Easterly. The moment that would alter his course for good. Here at the decision point, a great weight lifted from his shoulders. Dagorat astonished himself with a small smile. “A room, please.”
Maynard stared at him in confusion. “This isn’t a hostel or a traveler’s inn. There are plenty of those in the city if you need a place to stay.”
“I mean a permanent room. I wish to join the Order and live out my days as a brother of the Light.”
Understanding bloomed in Brother Maynard’s eyes. The abbot rose and rushed around the table to pull Dagorat up into a brotherly embrace. “In that case, welcome home.”
+++ The End +++
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To the Treasure Valley/ Mountain Home Writer’s Guild for their critiques and NaNoWriMo events.
To the San Antonio Writer’s Guild for their critiques of the early chapters.
Special Thanks to Darren Hatch, Florence Wall, Charles Tate, Suzanne Daniels, Jim Lambert, Deena Trouten, Janis Woodruff, Marilyn Hudson Tucker (R.I.P.) and Jan Jennings (R.I.P.).
To Ghislain Viau for his expertise and patience.