Dark Shores of Salvation, page 33
part #3 of Travails of the Dark Mage Series
Jira was out of her bed in a flash and put her ear against the door.
If the outside door opened, he plan was a go.
Excitement nearly got the better of her, but she took a couple deep breaths like her father would say to steady her nerves. It did the trick and she waited.
Time slowly passed and no sound could be heard, neither her mother’s footsteps nor the front door opening and closing.
What would she do if her mother didn’t leave? Would she try another way out? Her window was a possibility but that had its own problems. For one, across the way was another of the guest houses and another family lived there. Who they were she didn’t know, didn’t particularly care. They had a boy a little older than herself whom her mother tried to insinuate into her life, as if she needed another boy to take care of. Kenny was enough. Oh, the other boy was nice but he wanted to do what he wanted to do and not what she wanted. Which always annoyed her in another person.
Take Kenny for instance, she could nearly always get him to do what she wanted whether he realized it or not. But that was the fun part, getting him…
A noise brought her out of her reverie.
“Rat poop!”
Had that been the front door? Was her mother out of the house? Cursing again, she smacked herself along the side of the head. Woolgathering instead of paying attention to the task at hand.
She listened hard and heard nothing. Dare she risk it? If caught, it would only make it harder for her to make it out the next time. She really wanted to see her Little Brother. Taking hold of the door handle, she decided to risk it.
Opening the door slowly, she peered out into the hallway. Across from her stood the door to her mother’s room; it was closed. Down to the left the hallway ended where her aunt and Kenny had their room. They got to share one where she got to have one to herself. She liked that.
The house was quiet and dark but for a light coming from the living room.
She ducked back into her room and grabbed the kerchief holding scraps of food she’d saved over the last two days. Then she was out in the hallway. After closing her door, she tiptoed toward the light. If her mom or her aunt were there, it was over.
Reaching the living room, she peered into it ever so cautiously.
She almost did a dance when she saw it to be empty. The light came from a lantern on the table; the wick was turned low so gave off little light.
Her mom was not home!!!
Racing to the front door, she opened it but a crack and peered through. Not finding anyone, she quickly slipped through and made a mad dash through the dark toward the garden. Though the moon was nearly full, the buildings along her path provided much sheltering darkness.
The garden was sure to be empty this time of night. Plus, there could always be more bits of vegetables she could scavenge to give to her Little Brother.
Twice she had to duck into the shadows as other residents of The Ranch came into view. Each time she would wait until they passed, then continued on.
It felt good to be out and on her own. The night air was a little cool, but nothing that would cause her discomfort. Adventure. How she loved adventure; and sneaking out without her mother knowing, why that was high adventure in her book.
Upon reaching the garden, she made her way to a tall oak tree standing guard proudly at the corner. Shadows hung heavy beneath its heavy leaf-laden boughs. It would be perfect.
Coming to sit against its trunk, she opened her kerchief and laid out her offerings for her Little Brother. She had a whole tuber cut into long strips, half a dried apple and two figs. There were also two strips of jerked pork but she wasn’t too sure that he would go for that. She had found that her Little Brother tended to favor fruits the most, then vegetables. But he’d have to be happy with what she brought. She had done her best.
Arranging them before her at arms’ length, she leaned back against the tree trunk and started humming.
It was a simple tune, one her uncle had sung to her last year when she was a little girl. It had made her laugh. She hummed, but every once in a while found herself singing along.
…hopping through the forest…
…field mice and…
As she hummed, she couldn’t help but feel bad for those field mice being bopped on the head. Poor little guys.
Then there he was; her Little Brother. She knew it was him ‘cause he had a dark patch in the shape of a crescent moon around the outer edge of his left eye.
He stood just outside the shadows formed by the oak tree. He peered in at her.
“Come on,” she said in a soothing voice as one would to a child. “I have treats.” Pointing to them, she continued to hum.
He came forward and took one of the pieces of dried apple.
She almost squealed with delight for she had known that he would take that one. Yup, he likes fruit best!
“So how are you doing?”
Images sprang into her mind. Images of plants and soil and animals of all kinds.
“Too fast,” she complained. The quick-fire series of images had produced a slight headache.
Her Little Brother took another bit of dried apple. He sat cross-legged on the ground before the fruit and smiled up at her.
The images resumed but this time individually and much slower.
…caterpillar crawling along a leaf…
…stone beneath a running brook that fought the current only to be tossed along…
…a big fat tick hanging on the underbelly of some brown-furred creature…
“Ew!” she exclaimed at the tick. “None of that.”
She almost could feel him chuckle at her.
“I miss my father,” she said sadly. “I wish I could have gone with him.”
The current image of wind blowing grass cut off abruptly and one of her father took its place. He sat at a tavern with her uncle and Scar and Potbelly. They were having a meal and drinking ale. Her father laughed.
“Where is he?” she asked excitedly. “Is he close?”
The image blurred and swirled around for some time before going blank. She wasn’t sure what that meant, but it felt like he was a long way off.
As if picking up her thought, her Little Brother nodded.
“Long way?”
Again he nodded.
“Mother will be so happy to know he’s okay.”
Her Little Brother grew agitated and dark images of caves and decaying logs flittered across her mind.
“I shouldn’t tell her?”
The images stopped and her Little Brother nodded.
“Just between us?”
Images came of sunshine, flowers opening their pedals, and a light spring rain.
“Okay,” she said. “I won’t tell.”
He finished the apple then commenced on the tuber.
“Can you show me more?”
Additional images of her father appeared. Images of him and uncle Miko, of him walking down a street, him standing on a balcony watching a pretty light show in the night sky.
“I wish I was there.”
The images faltered then stopped.
Her Little Brother shook his head.
“Why?”
No images came.
“Why not?”
Her Little Brother grew agitated.
“Please tell me,” she begged. “He’s my father.”
Images came again this time accompanied with a feeling of trepidation and ill omen.
…ships full of men heading for a city in the distance…
…walled city with men manning the battlements…
…a man followed by two swordsmen walked along a street…
That last image spawned feelings to rival her worst nightmare. By its end, she was shaking.
“What, what’s going to happen?”
…men locked in battle on the battlement…
…people crying for help…
…ships unleashing waves of siege missiles upon the seawall…
“And father,” she said with a tear running down her cheek. “And father is there?”
Her Little Brother sadly nodded. He came forward and laid his hand on her arm.
“What’s going to happen to him?”
In a most human-like gesture, her Little Brother shrugged.
With that, she wrapped her arms around her middle and laid to the side as sobs wracked her little body.
“So nice of you to come, ladies,” said Brother Nick as he opened the door to his little cabin adjoining the sole temple at The University of All Learning.
He was one of Miko’s priests brought here at Roland’s request. Seemed some of those learning and experimenting at the University were accident prone. Miko was only too happy to agree. For after all, what better place to have a temple to a god whose priests have historically been teachers and scholars than there? So, one day Brother Nick arrived, threw together a small temple and cabin, and been ministering ever since.
“It was nice of you to invite us for tea,” Meliana replied.
She and Aleya found seats on the small two-person sofa before the fireplace. Along one wall was the nearly cot-like bed that Brother Nick used, and on the other side of the sofa was his table with two chairs. He took one of the chairs and pulled it up next to the sofa. A small kettle bubbled upon a hook above the fire and three cups sat on the small coffee table before them
“It gets lonely at times,” he explained as he went to retrieve the kettle. “Everyone wants me around when they hurt themselves, but it would seem the presence of a priest puts a damper on certain forms of merriment.”
Meliana laughed. “That’s for sure.”
Aleya nodded.
He took a short rod and after slipping the rod through the handle at the top of the kettle, lifted it off the hook to bring it to the coffee table. Next, he used a rag to protect his hands from the heated metal as he poured hot water into the cups. Setting the kettle down, he stirred them and then handed them to his guests.
“Would either of you care for shortbread cookies?” he asked. “I made them myself.”
Brother Nick was known for two things, his work as a healer and his total lack of skill in the kitchen. It was rumored he cooked so bad in order for people to get sick which would give him someone to minister to.
“No, thank you,” Aleya quickly said.
“It is a bit too late in the day for that,” chimed in Meliana.
Disappointed, he sat in the chair and took up his tea.
“I understand you know the Reverend Father?” he asked.
“Oh, yes,” Meliana replied. “He has visited us numerous times over the years.”
“Then perhaps you can help with a question whose answer has eluded me.”
Meliana nodded. “If I can.”
“Is it true that he was a boy one day and a man the next?”
James had told her the story of Miko and the Fire and the effects the Fire had on him several times. “That was before I knew him,” she explained. “Though I believe it took longer than a single day.”
“Jiron said it took weeks,” Aleya added. “Dmon-Li’s Fire aged him during combat.”
“Interesting.”
“James has a theory that that may be the way in which Dmon-Li’s Warrior Priests are created,” Meliana said. “That through combat, the taking of lives and inflicting pain and suffering, that the Fire strengthens the bearer, giving the bearer skills beyond that which a man could naturally come by.”
“Now that is an intriguing thought,” Brother Nick mused. “Did the effects diminish once he stopped bearing the Fire? Or when he became High Priest?”
Meliana glanced questioningly to Aleya who shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“So, it is possible that our Reverend Father is also a Warrior Priest of Dmon-li.” He grew thoughtful. “That would pose an interesting theological conundrum would it not?”
“Well, James did conjecture that there had to be more to the creation and sanctification of a Warrior Priest than what Miko went through.”
“Of course, of course,” Brother Nick said. “That would stand to reason.” He sipped his tea for a moment. “I wonder then, if having the Fire in one’s possession is a prerequisite for creating a Warrior Priest, if there have been no new Warrior Priests since it left their possession those many centuries ago.”
“James thought of that too,” Meliana replied. “But he said that the Warrior Priest that he encountered could not have been centuries old.”
“How would he know?” Aleya asked. “Maybe they live forever?”
“Nothing lives forever,” Brother Nick argued. “Not even gods, though I’m sure considering how long their life spans are, we may as well say they live forever.”
“Gods don’t die,” Aleya stated matter-of-factly. “They are, well, gods.”
“You may well be right,” Brother Nick said. Then he chuckled, “It’s not like we are going to live long enough to find out.”
“No we won’t,” Meliana laughed.
She liked this Brother Nick. He had an agile mind and his curiosity was nearly as limitless as her husband’s.
“How has it been for you here?” she asked.
“Many good people,” he replied. “A few have problems with which I can help, others need the assistance only a priest can supply.” Leaning in close he whispered, “Especially one in particular if you know who I’m talking about.”
She didn’t but she nodded and chuckled anyway. A glance to Aleya received a shrug indicating she didn’t know either
“How about yourselves?” he asked. “I understand the time leading up to your arrival here at The University was most adventurous.”
“You could say that,” Aleya agreed.
Meliana grew quiet and thoughtful.
It had been a time that had seen the loss of her ancestral home, the loss and subsequent rediscovering that her husband lived only to be separated from him again, then a wild sea journey to Cardri. Adventurous? She could do with fewer adventures.
“Imagine, the wife of the Dark Mage sipping tea in my humble abode.”
She glanced up.
“Your husband, now, that is someone with whom I would truly enjoy having a dialog,” he beamed. “The tales that have circulated about him, the deeds that he has done. What can’t he do?”
Warm my bed tonight, she thought sadly.
He saw that her mood had shifted and his enthusiasm quickly dwindled.
“Oh, I am sorry,” he said as he leaned forward and laid a hand reassuringly upon her arm. “The last thing I wished was to bring you sorrow.”
She smiled a sad smile at him. “It is okay. He is what he is and the gods have need of him.”
He nodded. “True, true. When the gods call, we mortals can do little but obey.”
“I don’t know,” Aleya said. “If gods are so powerful, why do they need us mortals?”
“Now that is an interesting question. One upon which I have mused many a night. Why do they need us? What do we bring to the table so to speak?” He glanced from one of his guests to the other. “I mean, they do try to get us to pray to them, to visit their temples, and so forth. Why? In the light of their majesty, what is it that they need from us?”
“I figure we won’t know that until, as James says, ‘We reach the other side.’”
“The other side,” Brother Nick grinned. “I like that. But yes, I would agree. Morcyth teaches that we will know much once this mortal shell has been shed. Until that time, we should try to better ourselves and those around us.”
Aleya nodded. She’d heard the same from Miko on more than one occasion. At times he could get preachy during visits. She would just bring out tarts and that tended to end any lengthy discussion in the offing.
“Are you and your children doing okay since your arrival?”
“Just miss my husband,” Meliana replied.
“And learning to shoot a bow,” Aleya chimed in.
“Oh?” he asked. “And how is that going?”
“Much improved,” Aleya replied proudly.
“I am doing better,” Meliana agreed. “I will never be as good as you though, Aleya.”
“Bah!” she exclaimed. “You can hardly compare yourself to me. I’ve had a lifetime with a bow in my hand. You have barely started.” She glared at her friend as if daring her to contradict her. “Give it a few more months and you will be giving most archers a run for their money should you have a mind to.”
She blushed.
“And the children?”
Aleya frowned. “That girl is going to be the death of me.”
Brother Nick laughed. “Aren’t all girls the same at that age?’
She shook her head. “Not this one. She’s got too much of her father in her. Wild, willful and stubborn.”
“You should see her try to get Jira to wear a dress,” Meliana said, then laughed.
“Don’t start that.” She turned to Brother Nick. “All she wants to do is wear her knives and go on adventures.” A short pause, then added, “Just like her father.”
“Ah, well, young girls do tend to idolize their fathers. From what I have heard of your husband, that isn’t such a bad thing.”
“Ha! He’s even more of a handful than she is. Running off with James at the drop of a hat. A quick kiss, ‘Love you,’ and he’s gone for months at a time. Don’t know if he’s alive or dead.”
“I’m sure they are fine,” Meliana said encouragingly. Though whether the encouragement was meant for Aleya or herself, it was hard to tell.
“They are.”
Both women turned their gaze full upon Brother Nick.
“You know this?” Aleya demanded.
“James is well?’ Meliana said at the same time.
“I know with absolute certainty that the Reverend Father is still alive…”
“How,” Aleya said abruptly, interrupting him.
Pausing a moment, he then replied, “Our Reverend Father, or any High Priest for that matter, is connected with the priests he has ordained and the lesser ones such as myself. No, if he were to die, if his life were to end, I would know.”
