Remnants Of The Sun

by J. A. Day

  “How so?” she asked, bending down so she was face to face with the girl. “And may I ask your name.”

  “Andrea,” the innocent girl said. “And it was important to me because I’ve been feeling like I’ve been full of shadow myself. I always compare myself to the other acolytes and they seem to be purer than me. It just made me feel so horrible and ashamed.”

  “I know what you mean, I felt the same way. And may I ask what shadow you felt you had within you.”

  The little girl looked down at the ground, squirming a little. Sonja put her arm on her shoulder. “You can tell me, I will not judge or exile you. Your secret is safe with me.”

  “I was starting to get noticed for looking at other girls. The other girls said it was to do with being gay and it was the gravest shadow they knew and that I should be exiled for it. I tried to defend myself, but I wondered if they were right. I wondered if I did have that shadow within. I wished I wouldn’t have it if that was the case.”

  Sonja’s heart beat. She had found another person within the faith like her, this was her chance to fix the things that had made her feel so miserable, at least for another child. Forget about the harvest festival and changing the minds of the wider faith, this was her most important action right here.

  “I don’t feel what you did is a shadow. Many girls look at boys the same way and we don’t punish it, because they say that’s more natural. But I would say looking at others in an appreciative or loving way is natural for everyone, no matter what gender they are looking at. Sol wants us to have love in our world, so I don’t see why we should limit it.”

  Andrea widened her eyes, and then she burst into tears. Sonja hugged her, and stroked her back. “There, there, my child, it’s ok.”

  Sonja hugged the child for some time, feeling both sadness and joy. She was sad because she wished her mother could have been like her in this moment, accepting who she was and seeing the good in the love she had for others, but joy because she was able to be the person this girl needed in this moment.

  Andrea sniffed and broke away. She wiped her eyes, and looked at Sonja with awe again. “Thank you so much, Keeper. I know I want to follow you with all my heart now. I was a little lost before, not knowing if my place was here, but now I know if you are here then I should be as well.”

  She patted Andrea on the shoulder again. “I’m glad.” She stood up, and smiled at the girl. “You know, I think I have a job for you.”

  “Anything, Keeper.”

  “I’m looking for people that can be my assistants. I definitely feel you could be one of them, but I think I need a few more. If you have any close friends amongst the acolytes that you know do good work, I would love you to bring them to my wagon.”

  Andrea cried out in excitement. She bowed to Sonja again, and ran towards the Acolyte’s wagon. Sonja watched her go, feeling like she did something important and wondrous. It was one child, but change sometimes started with only one. She could now say to herself that she made someone that was like her feel welcome in the faith and unashamed about who they were. Maybe if that spread to others, another child could feel the same thing, and then maybe all the children would eventually feel it. This shift in thinking could change the teachers' opinions. And when those children became Priests and Priestesses they would teach others the same lesson. Sonja lost herself in that future world where people like her were accepted, which seemed a better of a paradise than even Sol’s garden.

  But she was jolted out of her dream by the sound of Britta’s voice behind her. She turned to the curly haired Head Teacher, sighing. She wondered whether people like Britta would ever accept the vision she had. Not that she could judge Britta at the moment, maybe she just needed the right argument or nudge to see things the way Sonja saw them.

  “We need to speak about your new path,” Britta said.

  “I know,” Sonja said. She glanced around at the other faces around Britta, all as hard nosed and furious. “Why don’t we conduct this in my wagon?”

  The two women sat at the Keeper’s desk. Sonja had asked for it to be a personal meeting between the two of them, and Britta assured the others in her group that she could speak for them all. The desk had been cleared of some of the scrolls, but there were still a few out and they weren’t placed on the desk neatly. Britta looked down at this with a withering stare.

  Sonja sat underneath the Sol Shard. She could feel its warm heat on the back of her neck. She wondered whether Britta held in her hands whether she could be shown the vision of the united caravan. Surely seeing that vision would dispense the need for any argument. But unfortunately not everyone who held the Sol Shard saw a vision, so she would have to try to convince Britta that her way was best the hard way.

  “So, my friend and Head Teacher, what is your issue with the path I have set forth for the faith?”

  “Do I really need to answer that?” Britta said, disdain on her face. “You are literally telling people it is ok to do shadow filled things.”

  “Come now Britta, you have read the scrolls as I have, in fact you have studied them more than I, so you know that what is considered shadow changes with the text and the times. I’m sure you know that in the Scroll of Shadow it talks about how it was once a shadow to have husbands and wives because Aileas’ wanted to maximize the amount of children the tribe would produce. We definitely don’t consider that a shadow now.”

  “Yes I agree not all shadows are equal and that we can cull some. But the ones you have suggested we cull are ones we know time and time again cause us trouble. For example, drink leads to overconfidence, violence, and casual sex. All of these are a danger if you want to bring together a community.”

  “And yet because the wagon train has these parties they have become closer. With their parties they created the Jarl position and a way for that Jarl to get to know what the people want.”

  Britta shook her head and put her finger down on the desk. “You see you're not thinking about the bigger picture here. Our Mission is to bring people together, and we do that by giving them a goal, a pursuit. That pursuit is one of purity. We need to act better than the average person because it will show how great we are to Sol.”

  “I agree, our Mission is to bring people together, but we don’t do that by pursuing purity. That has alienated us from the others. How many times did our mother have to bring down small rebellions from the workers because they wanted to usurp her? How she could not see those rebellions came about because of her rhetoric I do not know.”

  At the mention of her mother, Britta scowled. Sonja was surprised by this. She had always felt Britta had a close relationship with their mother, definitely closer than the one she had with her. And then she understood why, and what Britta was really here about.

  “You feel our mother made a mistake in making me Keeper,” she said.

  Britta banged her fist on her table. “Of course I do. I don’t get it, I was her assistant all those years. You weren’t in the picture in the last decade. I sorted everything out for her, I talked with her, gave her guidance, and yet she picks you.”

  Sonja sat back, shaking her head. “To be honest I do not get why I am Keeper either. I did not expect it nor did I really want it. And I’m sure if she saw the path I’m taking now our mother would surely pick a different person.”

  “Then why are you still in the job?” Britta asked.

  “Do you remember when we were proselytizing around Eik? We used to talk to the farmers that had holes in their tunics and smelt like they hadn’t bathed in weeks. We walked around the streets, chatting to the homeless artists, and sometimes we would even go into the prisons and pray with them. Do you remember how the Queen and the nobles laughed at us, and only gave us permission to do it because they thought it was a joke? Well, what happened a decade later? All those farmers, artists, and prisoners, built themselves a church to Sol. They gathered together and used their new found faith to bring themselves power. They questioned the rule of the Queen and told ev
eryone that people should question it as well. That is why I’m Keeper. I feel a sense that our Mission can change things for the good, bring people together, and take away the corrupt power that sometimes rules over others. If we do that we get closer to Sol’s paradise.”

  “That’s a lovely dream,” Britta said, looking down at the table sadly. “But you have to understand what binds people together. People like being together, but they also like being separate. They like the feeling of being special, that by dedicating yourself to the purer path you can feel that you are higher up in the sky and closer to Sol. Our mother saw that.”

  Sonja was horrified by Britta’s message. It said that the only thing that could bring people together was the sense that they were better than others. “Do you now see that philosophy can only divide people?”

  “It may do, and yet those people who follow the path will enjoy Sol’s paradise. I’ll ask you this, do you really want to live in a paradise full of people that do not follow a pure life? That will get violent every time there is a drink, that will have sex with your husband just because they feel like it, that will steal your things and lord over you. If paradise includes everybody, then it will include the nasty people.”

  “I don’t know how you think this,” Sonja said, looking at Britta with shock. “But you have a warped sense of what people are like. They are much better than you think. Sure some of them can be violent and want power, but most just want to live their lives in peace and quiet, and work together as a community. I feel the faith can provide that.”

  Britta looked at her confused. “I don’t know how someone that lived in a similar way to me can’t see people for the way they are. How many adults in your workhouse just blankly stared at the pain the children were in when they were on the wheel, had no emotion when they dragged the next dead body out of the door?”

  “We are not in the workhouse anymore. The people of the wagon train are not like that,” she said.

  Britta shook her head, and pushed herself up from the desk. “Everyone can be like that. The only way to stop it is to find yourself in a place that rejects those things, and makes you into a better person.”

  Sonja sighed. “It looks like I’m not going to convince you.”

  “No you're not.”

  “Unfortunately you haven’t convinced me either. My new path will go ahead.”

  Britta had a hard look in her eyes. “I thought as much, but you should know this. I will make sure to stop you at every turn. I will protest every action you take, and I will convince others how your plan will ruin the faith.”

  At that Britta turned, and exited the wagon. Sonja sat at the chair, feeling her heart grow heavy. She didn’t feel angry at Britta, more sad. Britta and her shared a similar experience but Britta had learnt a different lesson from it. Sonja had been saved from the darkness by a bright light, and when she looked back at the darkness she could see the light could banish it away. Britta saw the darkness as immovable, and she wanted to carve an area of light it could not penetrate, leaving those within the darkness to their fate. Sonja understood why Britta would feel that staying in the light and not trying to beat the darkness was more comforting, but Sonja saw this went against their morals of saving people. Britta’s path would definitely not bring Sol back into the sky.

  For a brief second Sonja felt she should fire Britta from the role of Head Teacher. Britta having that leadership role would imbue her protest with more potency. She would be more likely to be heard by the faithful, and some Priests and Priestesses were more likely to follow her. Not to mention the fact that Britta controlled what the Acolytes were taught, and the conversation showed that Britta would never change those teachings under any circumstance.

  But Sonja dismissed the thought of firing. It would look petty, and like she was playing politics. No one knew whether her new path could work, whether they could bring the farmers over to their faith again. If she fired Britta it might just amplify her voice even more. No, the only way to go against Britta was to make sure this harvest festival was the best festival the wagon train ever had.

  YOU LOOK BACK AT EVERY SHADOW EXPECTING THE GLINT OF A KNIFE

  ‘The Unhappy King’ by Lysanne Lungbourg

  Manang ascended into the purplish-blue sky. Its evil red eye pierced Sigrun's. She raised her hands to shield her eyes. She rushed down the streets, trying to get away from Hannes and his army. She didn’t care where she was going, the only thing she cared about was trying to understand what she just saw and what it meant.

  Hannes was training an army to attack the faith, probably in the hopes of claiming power for himself and the workers of the wagon train. Gregor and Yael must have known about this, which was why they voted him out as Jarl. However instead of saying that, the Elders had used the empty food stores as the excuse to vote him out.

  But why did they need that excuse? Why hide what Hannes was doing? Surely building an army against the faith would have been a better excuse to be voted out than the food thing? And why didn’t they tell her about this? She was Jarl and this was an important danger to her and the wagon train. What were Gregor and Yael really planning?

  She didn’t know, and it hurt her head to think about the different ways the two Elders had played politics with this. Again, she felt she was a piece on a King’s Game board. The people playing had an idea of what move they were making with her piece, but she had no clue whether she was meant for a maneuver, or a sacrifice.

  Should she confront Yael and Gregor, ask them why they had voted Hannes out but kept any mention of his activities secret? What would they do if she told them she knew their secret? Would they vote her out, put in place one of their lackeys, or was this the kind of knowledge that they would kill to keep secret?

  When Sigrun stumbled into her wagon, she placed one of the armchairs in front of the door. She might have been exaggerating the danger, but in that moment she feared either Hannes’, Gregor’s, or Yael’s men bashing in the door. She just needed time to think and calm down.

  She took the second posh whiskey bottle from the desk drawer, poured a glass, and sat down in the armchair. What should she do?

  She drank the glug of whiskey and poured another shot straight after. Was this really what being a Jarl was? Would she always have to look at everyone with suspicion? Would they always have dark motives that would go against hers? Would she always have to be wary of any knife the important family members were holding just in case they backstabbed her? If that was the case why was she doing the job? The only danger from herding cows had been a potential stampede, other than that it was a slow and boring job. She didn't have to worry about others manipulating or wanting to kill her. Why couldn’t she go back to that?

  Could she go back to that? Could she just say to Yael and Gregor that the job wasn’t for her and she wanted to go back to the old one. Would they get suspicious?

  She downed the shot of whiskey. The strong smoky taste overwhelmed her and made her neck twinge.

  Sigrun dismissed the idea of giving up on the title. She did actually believe the thing she told Yael and Gregor that night, how the people needed a new goal to pursue. Whether she was the right person to enact that, she was unsure, but she felt she should give it a go. She had been miserable as a cattle rancher and had wanted to get this job. Also she probably was the only other who knew about Hannes’ army and could stop it, apart from the Elders. But they had tried to hide that fact, so she was unsure whether they wanted to stop it.

  Even though she wasn’t at all religious, she didn’t want Hannes to attack the faith. She imagined his army rushing at the yellow robed Priests and Priestesses. Sonja at the front being slashed by swords, blood leaking out on the grass below. Hannes smiling as he stepped onto the Keeper’s podium, smashing it to bits.

  How could she stop Hannes? Now her oven idea felt way too slow. They would have to wait a few days for the harvest festival to end, and then it would take about a week to get to Munn. They would then have to bargain for
the ovens, and convince the Mattsons that she was prepared to give them to workers. Her and the Mattsons would then have to sit down and strike a deal. In all this time Hannes would be building and training his army. If he saw the oven thing was a big threat, he would probably strike against the faith early. It wasn’t certain whether Hannes would win against the faith, but even if he lost he would still kill many faithful, maybe even Sonja.

  So what was a faster way to get rid of him? She could get a vote to remove the Administrator from his post, and to try and install one she could trust. But that would piss Hannes and the Mattsons off. The two of them would make sure her life and the lives of Baldurs and Hoademakers would be as horrible as possible. Plus she would need Yael and Gregor on board, and they might be suspicious of why the vote was happening, or not want to vote because of the problems it would cause them.

  Was there a way to limit the parties or the amount of food the parties used? Because that was what Hannes used as his main recruitment method. If she could prevent the weekly parties she could slow down Hannes.

  Yes, that seemed like a sensible path. She would have to get votes for it, but she felt that could be feasible. The point about preventing the overuse of food would be attractive to Gregor, and it would mean she could stop Hannes without Gregor getting suspicious that she knew about the army. She also felt that she could easily get Sonja’s and the faith to vote for it. They had always wanted to moderate the parties, and she could sell this to them as a way to make sure parties were about getting together as a community instead of being hedonistic. She probably would have to experience some wrath from the Mattsons about it, but she felt she could handle that for the period of time it took to truly get rid of Hannes.

  Sigrun smiled as she drank the last glug of whiskey. She screwed the top of the bottle closed, stood up, and pulled the chair away from the door. If Yael and Gregor wanted to do politics, she was fine with that, she would just outplay them in the field.