by Jane Merkley
Miraha sighed, coming from a heart that knew it had already failed before its mission had begun.
Priest Herten tilted his head slightly at her. “Why do you despair? There are more impossible things.”
“No one has ever seen a god. Gods are mostly a symbol to keep our faith for better things on fire. No one really can testify to their actual existence.”
“And so says my faithful priestess! Be watchful of blindness. It can also blind a heart. Must you see something to believe it is there? The vision you saw, the thunder that pounded in your chest when you bore testimony of the god to the temple crowd, is this still not enough for you to believe that he exists? Is it just sight alone you need, or will you have to touch and taste it to convince you?” said the priest who had no sight. “Ponder these things, for you will go no farther in your journey if you have no faith to carry you.”
Miraha bowed her head humbly. “I am ashamed of my heart, Good Priest. It was made by mortals.”
“But given life because of a god.” He put his hand over his heart. “To start our search, it would be beneficial to visit the other sects of religion to see if they have secrets we do not.”
Miraha lifted her head suddenly. “Other sects of religion? Are you saying there are more religions out there than just our own? Do they believe in gods other than Gildeon?”
“I forget your intense seclusion to our temple in your youth. Most religions worship Gildeon as being the only god, and others make up gods and shape them to their liking. But yes, there are many other religions out there. Hundreds even.”
“But…” Miraha felt momentarily cheated out of a knowledge she did not know was available, but then it was because of her own choosing she was secluded into the temple, because to live a good, righteous life was all that mattered to her. Worldly treasures turned kings into tyrants. The Old Wars proved that. “But why are there so many? Do they not believe the teachings of our temples?”
“Religion is taught about god in many different ways to find that way in which we may not know him, Good Priestess. We don’t have all the answers. God is so vast and eternal we can only hope to know even a particle of understanding about him. We might be focused too much on Gildeon’s heart, but another religion might be focused on his mind. There is some truth in most all religions, if they are taught with the honest intent to encourage every mortal to better themselves. They might have received insight that we were too engrossed in other sights to see. So our search will begin with them. Maybe we can even share our own understandings with the other religions and give them truths they may not have already. Perhaps this is Gildeon’s intent, to bring all these religions together to combine our individual truths and unit everyone under the same faith, to piece together a full understanding of him.”
Miraha put a hand to her forehead. “So much work.”
“Good thing you are not doing it alone.” Herten stood slowly, grabbing the arm of his chair to aid him. Miraha almost reached out to help, but she didn’t want to intrude if the priest chose to keep himself strong by doing it himself. “Well,” he said with a tired sigh once he was upright, “I retire. I must wake with the sun to see Good Priest Chalyn in Ryre. I feel he will have more insight on this matter as well.”
“You’ve spoken very highly of this priest. I’ve had ample opportunities but have never gotten around to actually meeting him.”
“Ah,” said the priest with a shine in his blind eyes. “If you’ve never seen him, then how do you know he is there?” The priest turned away into the dark room adjacent to the common area, satisfied that no response came from the priestess he left in a very humble stupor.
Lotus and Belldew
She tried to sleep with her eyes open. It wasn’t hard because it had been a while since she slept on the ground in the service of the army, and her back and shoulders were screaming murder. She faced Torren. His back was to her and appeared to be having the best sleep of his life. Being a soldier still, he was probably brainwashed to believe the ground might be more pleasant a surface than a cotton-stuffed mattress.
Torren seemed genteel enough. But that could be a very well painted façade for darker things beneath. If there was one thing more dangerous than three bandits that threatened her openly, it was a gentle man whom could be trusted enough to turn your back to and then comes in with a knife to kill. She would use him for protection on the road and to glean what she could out of him about Byrone. So she would tolerate him, but she would figure out how to sleep with her eyes open.
She occupied the night silently reviewing her petition to the King of Luthsinia. She’d read it, think about something else for thirty minutes, and then read it again to see if it still sounded satisfactory. Her petition she had confidents in; it was trying to convince the neutral province why they should be swayed her way that worried her.
She read her petition again and made some changes.
She doubted Torren was following her just out of the goodness of his heart. The men she knew that were actually that way she could count on one hand. He was likely going to ask for payment for his services at the end. The few short relationships she’d had proved that men only wanted one thing. Two things if you were in a position of power. Her adding steps on her stairwell would only feed the pomp of someone who couldn’t climb that high. The first two men she had dated since she’d been Lady wanted a status that being personally close to her title would give them. Jessom was still painful to think about so she didn’t linger on him. She’d be sure to be gone when the Ruid was no longer useful to her.
He rolled over. She couldn’t trust that he wouldn’t take advantage of her while she slept. From her discoveries, men usually took everything they could get.
She read it again.
Jessom… She tried to shut out the blond haired man and his kind smile, but it entered her heart anyway with a sharp stab. It was only a reminder now that she could not secure a good man as long as she was Head of State.
It was one thing for a Lord to find a woman, it was another for a Lady to find a man. Most men hated having females in positions above them. She wasn’t sure if that was their nature or what society expected of them. The men she had dated she had found to be semi tolerable members of politics who were as equal to her own position as she could get. But there seemed to be no good man in the game of empty promises and self gain. Her only hope for a healthy relationship was to finish her session as Lady and get a low key job that most men could tolerate her having. Her loneliness reminded her of how long that would be.
Torren groaned and shifted toward her. She closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep, keeping them cracked just enough so she could spy his movements. Torren rolled quietly to his feet and walked around her. She listened intently to his footsteps as they faded into the trees. She rolled so she was facing his exit, still feigning sleep. He was gone for what she thought was too long for anything not to be mischievous. Could he be communing with a band of men to disadvantage her? She stood and followed to where she had thought he had gone, making up an excuse in case she ran into him on his way back.
After a short moment, she heard male voices speaking very softly and her heart rose in her throat. Torren was communing with other men in secret!
She followed the voices and prepared herself to demand his real purpose. She passed through the trees and came on top of a knoll rising above a small lake reflecting the light from the two half moons. Dark mountains rose up around it, and the water made whispers as it gently rolled onto shore.
The voices had stopped and she wondered if she had mistaken it for the moaning of the gentle waves, but then where was Torren?
She almost blacked out from panic as two large arms wrapped around her middle. She was lifted off the ground and, despite her angry shrieks, she was deposited into the cold water.
Even louder than her angry cursing as she leapt out of the water as if she had been a cat, was Torren’s raucous laughter.
She stomped over to him, her boot
s making squelching noises, and lifted her fist to break his nose. Torren, still laughing, caught her fist inside his large hand and marched her right back into the water, stepping into it with her.
“I didn’t know you were a cat.” Torren laughed again. “Meow.”
She kicked him in the shin, but standing in water, her intended infliction of pain did little to even make him notice. She pushed forward with her arms in anger. He relented and stepped backward so she could stomp passed him back to the camp site.
Wet and cold, she shivered as she threw sticks into a pile to make a fire. They had agreed to forgo a fire so as not to attract unwanted attention from anyone on the road, but it was almost morning anyway. She’d let Torren fight them off so she could get warm. Building a quick fire was not lost from her from her days in the army and soon it was blazing and march larger than is recommended for an area enclosed so tightly by trees. She scooted as close to the fire as she could get without actually sitting in it and moldered angrily as she watched Torren finally arrive. It chagrined her that he still had the audacity to still be laughing.
“I forgot those of you in the Lady’s house don’t like to have fun.”
She thought frantically to comment on that, but nothing came to her. It didn’t matter what he thought of her anyway. She was not trying to earn his favor. She was more concerned about getting warm.
By now, the horizon had begun its cold blue glow but Altarn was too livid to feel how tired she was because she stayed up all night.
“You’re up early,” Torren said with a slobbering yawn as he sat across from her fire. “Since you decided to build a fire against better judgment, you could at least do something useful with it. Like, make us breakfast.”
“At no point did I agree to feed you. I’m soaking up all the heat anyway to dry so there is none left to cook anything.”
He dug through his bag. “Then I’ll have to cook the eggs on your face. But then, you are always so heated anyway that we could cook every meal on your face.”
She was too overwhelmed with anger already to feel anymore. “You are welcome to leave,” Altarn offered with chattering teeth. “By all means, don’t let my temper burn you to death.”
“I don’t think you want me to.” Torren produced a small cast iron pan and put it over the edge of the fire, since the rest of the fire was too large to get his hand anywhere close. “Why else would you spy on me? If you’d wanted to see me naked you had only to ask.”
“I was not –!” The angry words stuck in her throat and her cheeks warmed in embarrassment. “I didn’t know where you went. I don’t trust you.”
“I’m sorry. Next time I’ll let you hold my hand as I relieve my bladder.”
“I heard voices.”
Torren cracked two eggs onto his small pan. They began to sizzle violently. “Did you? What were they saying?”
“I… I didn’t hear what they were saying, but I definitely heard voices.”
“You’ve caught me! I was communing with wild hermits to discover the secret of why women act the way they do. Apparently, they were hoping I had the answer.”
“You’re intolerable!”
“You’re the one who asked.”
Altarn shut her eyes and hid her face in the palm of her dirty hand. She hadn’t even been on the road for a full day and already she had lost all of her calm.
“It’s a good thing you are going on a holiday,” said a calm voice from across the fire. “Sounds like Altarn’s joyless life is wearing on you.”
Altarn didn’t respond. Torren finished the eggs and scrapped half of them onto a palm sized tin plate and handed it to her. Altarn took it without a word and ate slowly. She shivered and noted the temperature dropped just before the sun broke over the horizon. The sun’s glow was glorious and she stopped shivering so bad.
“I haven’t had a good year,” she finally admitted after the minute she had given herself to digress. “Lady Altarn’s bad tempers do wear off on those around her. I’m sure it’s the same for your Lord.”
Torren shrugged.
“I don’t know why you want to travel with this bad temper anyway. I’m finding it hard to travel with myself.”
He didn’t look up but she saw his lips purse. “My parents were taken by robbers when I was very young. I never saw them again.”
This sudden turn into a personal topic shocked her. She watched him and he was concentrating on finishing eating his egg.
So this is why he wants to travel with me, she thought, angry at herself for how rude she had reacted to his offer. She wasn’t very good at empathies, but she managed a, “I’m sorry for your loss,” in as sincere a tone as she knew how to do.
He nodded, and began to scrape clean his small cookware. As he began to pack up his other items, shake them free of dirt, and pack them into his bag, Altarn rolled achingly to her feet. Weariness slammed into her and her legs assaulted her with saddle-sore pain as she hefted the saddle into her arms and threw it across her horse’s back. Dirt quickly clung to her wet skirt but she was too tired to feel any more anger.
Torren left the fire and came back with a plump water skin. He dumped the water out onto the fire and kicked at the ashes to spread them out.
Saddling his horse with soldier swiftness, he mounted and the two of them left the tree line.
The road cut through a heavily forested spit of land. The wind rushed the scent of pine around them and Altarn’s heart lifted at the free spirit of it all, despite her wet clothing that chaffed angrily against her. She’d joined the army when she was eighteen, was in school for eight years after that, and now a Lady for a year. She’d been enclosed behind walls for a long time and hadn’t realized it till now. She used to love climbing trees…
“Kyree!”
Torren’s bark snapped her out of her sudden flash of unconsciousness and she scrambled for the saddle’s horn to prevent her sliding off any further.
“What?” she snapped back.
“You fell asleep,” he said. “You were falling out of your saddle.”
“Nonsense. I’m fine.”
He stared at her before he spun back around, though he did slow his horse to ride more even with her.
Sleep tugged at the back of her brain and she pushed it away, but it became more demanding.
“KYREE!”
She almost didn’t grab the horn in time. There was no denying she had fallen asleep this time and Torren knew it.
“Did you get any sleep last night?” he demanded.
She cleared her throat. “I’m fine.” Her sleep was not his concern.
Even though the scare of almost falling off the horse bolstered her resolve to stay awake, the smooth amble of the horse and the warm sun beating down her back was creating a fight she was losing.
She began to slide off again. Torren reined his horse equal to hers and unceremoniously upended her from the saddle and into his. She woke and fought at the confusion.
“What are you doing?” Her cheeks blazed with the awkwardness at sharing his saddle. “Let go of me! I’m fine!”
He wrapped an arm around her middle. “As fine as a one legged man on a tight rope. You obviously didn’t sleep well – if at all – and you are slowing us down by not staying coherent. You will break your neck if you fall off. You would have already had I not caught you.”
She didn’t want to share his saddle. He was a Ruid and it was far too comforting to be held against him with his arm around her. She was angry that her solid resolve was so easily tickled.
“Would you like to make camp again so you can sleep some more?”
No, she didn’t want to stop. She had to reach Athenya, like, yesterday.
“I don’t mind holding you so you can sleep. It’s up to you.”
She sighed because she knew she was defeated. Her own lies weren’t fooling her, either. He was already tying her horse’s reins to the back of his saddle so her horse could follow along.
She fell asleep far more easily
than she wanted while his arm held her upright. She woke some unknown time later to find they had left the pine forest and into another of maples and aspens. The leaves spun in the gentle breeze and airborne traffic chattered noisily on all sides. His chestnut snorted and tossed his head, scaring away a swarm of flies.
“Feel better?” His voice rumbled in his chest against her back.
“Yes. Thank you.” She cleared her throat, remembering the awkwardness of the situation. “I’ll get off now.”
He stopped his horse and she dismounted, suddenly cold despite the bright sun, though she was mostly dry.
They made it to Gaynord earlier than expected. The city was large but not gated like Niesh was. Perhaps they didn’t have the same problems with mountain lions and bears that Niesh did in the mountain region.
The road that cut through Gaynord was brick paved to negate the dust from so manner travelers. Their horses clattered onto the brick and the jostling became much stiffer. Torren adjusted to the new ride easily, but Altarn just hoped the road didn’t go on forever. She was so sore from the saddle already and her back from laying on the hard ground that she couldn’t tell if her adjusting to the harsher jolt of her horse made any difference.
“How far is the next town, do you think?” she asked.
“Another five hours.”
“Let’s keep going. We’ve been making good time.”
“What’s the hurry?” Torren reined his horse to a stop in front of a roadhouse. A sign blazed with the name The Singing Mare hung above the door. “You’re on holiday, right? Holidays only work if you have fun along the way. This tavern makes the best sweet pork soup and sandwich in all Endendre. And I’m hungry, and I doubt you want me cooking my next meal on your face.”
She shot him a look but he had already looked away.
“Fine,” she said, too tired and irritated for a retort. “But I need an aviary first.”
Torren pointed down the road. “I’ll meet you inside.” He swung off his horse, his leg making a graceful arch as it left the saddle. Altarn turned her horse and trotted stiffly away.