To Find a God

by Mary Hamilton

  The Azyrean questioned himself. Was this slaughter justified? Could there have been a better way? He recalled the captain’s charge—no prisoners. And just like that, these lives had been ended, never to return. Was it right? Was it just?

  Virgil sat beside Martin. “I take no offense. And I assure you, good sir, I do give this a second thought. Every life spent, every drop of blood shed causes me sadness. I do not take this loss gladly or lightly. But if blood is to be spilled, let it be that of the king’s men rather than that of peaceful men, women, and children. These are horrid times. And I pray that we come through them with our souls intact.”

  Brother Martin stared at the captain for a moment. “A worthy prayer, indeed.”

  Chapter 67: Jarek

  “You ask a lot of me.” Brother Martin hung his head as he ambled along. “Surely you can appreciate this. The Brotherhood carries no more favor with the king than does your select group. Like you, we survive because we work in the shadows.”

  Jarek, observing the farmer’s wife and children trudging along just ahead of the group, understood. Their home had been burned and the family had been carted away, bound no doubt for the king’s dungeons… or worse. Since the brotherhood was made up of men who lived out in plain view, for the most part, their affiliation could mean life or death, depending on who came by this information.

  The only comforting fact in all of this was that Virgil was there to make decisions. The captain countered the argument, “If you pardon my saying, good sir, the cover of the shadows did not serve your family well enough. By all appearances, the king knows about you. It is only a matter of time until he knows about the others in your order.”

  Martin’s response reflected his skepticism. “And you can change that how?”

  Virgil answered succinctly as he kept pace with the farmer. “The only thing that will change that is the defeat of Wyndred—our common enemy.”

  “Ah yes, but unlike your band, our purpose is not to dethrone the king. In fact, he is irrelevant in our eyes. We exist to preserve the word of Aristan and to await his coming again.”

  “And yet, if the king continues to reign as he is doing, persecuting anyone who mentions the name of your god, there will be no one left alive when Aristan returns.”

  Brother Martin shrugged. “To be clear, Aristan is the god for all humans. He does not belong to the brotherhood.”

  “You’ll excuse me if I don’t share your enthusiasm. If such a god truly existed, would he allow Wyndred free reign among humans? Would he countenance the death and misery that we endure? No, my friend, if such a deity ever was, he is long since departed. If he were going to return, I would hope that he would have made himself known by now.”

  The band moved on silently in the night. Virgil insisted on putting as much distance as possible between the group and the ambush site before daybreak. Once the bodies of the unfortunate king’s men were discovered, the captain predicted a massive hunt by Wyndred’s forces. The despot would not suffer this kind of affront lightly.

  As the deep blue-black of the eastern night sky began to fade into purple, orange, and red, Virgil signaled the group to a halt. “Let’s get something to eat and drink. We rest here for half an hour before moving again.”

  The travelers quickly spread out and retrieved refreshment from their packs. Jarek took meat, nuts, and several pieces of bread over to Martin’s wife and children. “I wish I had more to offer.”

  Rona Satterwhite took the fare and divided it up among her three children. “Thank you.” Her subdued tone seemed to match the mood of the group—something between shock and numbness.

  Brother Martin chewed on a strip of smoked meat as he leaned back against a tree trunk. “I appreciate your desire to move quickly to separate us from….” He paused, as though searching for the right words that wouldn’t come. He turned his head to face Virgil. “But, if I may ask, where are we going?”

  “Unfortunately, we are, as you put it, separating ourselves from the site of the killing, but going nowhere in particular. In truth, there will be few places of safety in this realm once the king learns the events of last evening.”

  “We cannot keep moving aimlessly forever.” The farmer leaned his head back against the trunk and closed his eyes. “Eventually, we must seek a destination, even if it’s not perfect safety.”

  Virgil stared into the breaking dawn, seemingly transfixed by the brightening sky. When he spoke, the words came out soft but without a hint of compromise. “We have few choices. Here is what I will do. I can arrange for your wife and children to find refuge among our group. But, in return, I would have you arrange for some of us to meet with your order at their base.”

  “As I said, you ask a lot of me.”

  Virgil countered quickly, with increased force to his words, “The situation demands much of us. I am willing to do my part, but if we are to resolve this, you must also be willing to help.”

  Martin shook his head. “None of this would have happened if it weren’t for your three thugs and their reckless pursuits.”

  “You are wrong. Our people were a part of this, but you know as well as I, it was only a matter of time. Wyndred has systematically removed any trace of your religion from this realm. He’s not stupid, you know. He undoubtedly knows about you just as we did. He would have come for you eventually. And he has resources and assets that you can only imagine.”

  The brother offered no response.

  Virgil continued, “We are less than a day’s march from the approaches to our camp. I need an answer from you. On your word, I will deliver your family to safety. It is to you, my friend.”

  Martin glanced over at his wife and children, all of whom looked on the edge of collapse, both physically and emotionally. “They will be safe, yes?”

  “I give you my word.”

  Brother Martin bowed his head and nodded, as though in resignation. “So be it.”

  Chapter 68: Marzi

  The larger meeting re-convened and Marzi took her seat with a renewed sense that the worst was behind her. From here forward, someone else would take over—Elondiel, Rintaur, or even Saryn—anyone but her. She reached across the table for the plate of candied fruit and wondered if anything like mabon trees existed in Pangrove.

  Elondiel stood and cleared his throat. “I hope that everyone enjoyed lunch. On reflection, I think we’ve done much work this morning. I propose that we adjourn and allow our guests more time to rest and recuperate. I will send word when we are ready to meet again.”

  A brief murmur swept across the room and the elves stood and filed toward the door. Ran turned and looked longingly at the table. “Maybe we could take some food back to our quarters?”

  Rintaur’s laugh seemed forced, as though his attempt at humor covered a deeper worry. “Fear not. I suspect there will be food available at the evening meal. In any event, none of us are in danger of starving to death.”

  Marzi felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Elondiel standing over her. “If you would indulge me for a moment, I have need of your assistance. Then I will have you escorted to your quarters.”

  The Azyrean turned to her friends for counsel. Ran seemed not to have heard. Elle shrugged. Rys seemed unconcerned. Lord Rintaur looked first at Elondiel and then nodded to Marzi.

  “I guess. Sure.”

  The pair made their way down a narrow set of stairs into a cave-like passageway. Rough-hewn rock walls reflected orange light from torches mounted on the wall. The rocky floor required Marzi to watch her step. “Where are we going?”

  “You wanted to speak with the human prisoners. I am merely accommodating you.”

  “But I didn’t mean that I wanted to talk to them personally. I wouldn’t even know what to ask them. I just figured you would do it, or perhaps Lord Rintaur.” She quickened her step to keep up with Elondiel.

  “Do not worry yourself. Our only purpose in this conversation will be to determine if these beings have any information to offer. If
it turns out that they have nothing or are unwilling, then of course, there is no need for further consideration.”

  Marzi’s sense of well-being evaporated and she found herself back in the middle of events she neither understood nor wanted. But because talking to them had been her idea, she couldn’t think of a good objection, so she kept quiet.

  The nine prisoners occupied four different cells in the lower reaches of the stone passageway. Elondiel stopped at the second space, withdrew a key from his tunic, and opened the door. “You, there, yes, on the end, this way.” He stood to the side of the door and gestured toward the passageway.

  A ragged, harried-looking man stood slowly, his eyes reflecting both fear and fatigue. Once in the hallway, he walked ahead of Elondiel while Marzi walked behind the elf. They turned a corner and entered a larger cell. “Please, have a seat. I would like a word with you.”

  The man sat without responding.

  “This being,” he nodded toward the Azyrean, “is Marzi Gloam. As you can see, she is unlike the elves. She comes to us from another world. We have a few questions for you, but first I need to make some things clear. You have been advised that you and your companions are under a sentence of death. Nothing thus far has changed. But if it turns out that you have information which might prove useful to us and you are willing to share that knowledge without guile, then it is within my power to commute your sentence. Our reason for being here right now is to assess whether there is a purpose for further conversations.”

  The man shrugged, but his eyes conveyed no sense of hope.

  “You were captured as you made your way northward. Earlier bands of humans have attacked the elven people to the south, resulting in a number of deaths. Even as you approached our kingdom, your band killed everything in its path. Why have you come here?”

  The prisoner’s voice came soft and slow. “We didn’t choose this. We are soldiers. We were ordered here. In our world, orders from the king carry two options—compliance or death. It seems that nothing much has changed. Had we refused to come, he would have killed us. Now that we are here, you will kill us.”

  “Who is this king that you speak of?”

  “King Wyndred of Caravast.”

  Elondiel sighed. “And what did this king order you to do once you got here? After all, your band was hardly large enough to mount a full-scale war against the elven people.”

  “Our orders were simply to engage and fight—small pitched battles. Hit and run.”

  “To what end? You end up losing warriors and accomplishing nothing.”

  “The king doesn’t offer explanations—only orders.” He sat on the hard seat, leaning back against the rock wall. “But I can tell you one thing. When we first came through the portal, to the south near the ocean, we all felt strong ties to the king, as though he could read our thoughts and control our actions. But the farther north we came, the less I felt him. By the time we encountered your warriors, I felt nothing of Wyndred at all.”

  “Then why continue killing things?”

  The man smirked and shook his head. “In our world, it usually comes down to kill or be killed. The smaller animals along the way were our sustenance. The larger ones, like the wolves, we believed would kill us unless we killed them.”

  Elondiel looked over at Marzi and then to the prisoner. “What of this portal you mentioned?”

  “I don’t know. It was just a swirling circle of green light, large enough for a single man to walk through. They stayed open long enough for two of us to pass. So, it took five portals to get all of us here. I don’t know where they came from or how they formed.”

  Green portals. Green moonbeams. The color green must be associated with the land of the elves. And Tovi had taken a blue moonbeam. Where did the blue ones go? She injected herself into the conversation. “Did they ever use blue portals?”

  “Once or twice, or so I was told. I never saw any, but a friend said that they sent a bunch of soldiers through one. He said that they went to a desert looking for crystals. That’s all I know.”

  Elondiel resumed the questioning. “What is your name, warrior?”

  “Raymond Whitehouse.”

  “Tell me, Raymond Whitehouse, is this King Wyndred amassing an army to invade our lands?”

  “If he is, it’s nothing I’ve ever heard about. Some of us came here. I guess some went in the blue portal. But a lot of the army stayed behind to fight the rebels.”

  Marzi saw the muscles on Elondiel’s neck grow tense. After a moment, he stood. “Very well, Raymond Whitehouse. I will think on what you have told me. When you return to your men, you should convey to them an account of our visit. I will return in the morning and we will discuss your future. It will be most helpful if all of your companions are of a similar mind.”

  Marzi and Elondiel remained silent as they trudged up the stairs to the main hall. When they reached the top, the frost elf nodded to one of the guards in the passageway. “You may escort her to her quarters.” He turned to Marzi. “Take some time to rest and freshen up. I will send for you before the evening meal and perhaps we can discuss the importance of what we have just learned.”

  Chapter 69: Marzi

  Marzi nibbled on the oat and nut cake sweetened with mabon syrup despite the fact that she remained sated from the sumptuous lunch. Washing it down with talonberry nectar seemed to make room for more cake.

  “Thank you for coming, Marzi. I will discuss this issue at the evening meal, but I wanted your impressions first.” Elondiel toyed with a cup of hot tea as he spoke.

  She had thought much about what the human had said, but only one thing really interested her. “I don’t know much about any of that. But he did say that there were blue portals. My brother, Tovi, took a blue moonbeam and then disappeared.”

  The frost elf nodded. “Our historical records are somewhat rudimentary, but I think we may find them helpful on this subject. I believe the desert to which your brother was sent is called Crystal Sands and is home to the ogres. I know little of them, other than that they are large, fierce beings. As for the crystals the human mentioned, I have heard of such things, although I am far from being well-informed on the subject. So, we have a race of people who send warring parties, small numbers albeit, to other realms. They also fight their own people, these rebels he spoke of, at home. To what end?”

  Marzi shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Elondiel burst out laughing. “I assure you that it was a rhetorical question, the answer to which I am not privy either. But, given what we have seen, I feel it in our best interest to search for these answers.” He leaned back in his chair, his eyes taking on a far-away look. “I will seek counsel this evening. I give you advance warning, Marzi, it will be a spirited discussion with much conflict. Even I do not look forward to it. But the responsibility for the decision on these humans lies with me. I owe it to my people to get as much advice as I can before committing.”

  ◆◆◆

  By the time the party sat down to dinner with the frost elves, Marzi was thoroughly sick, having consumed three pieces of mabon syrup cake as an afternoon snack on top of lunch. It was all she could do to munch lightly on the roasted stag and root vegetables. Never had she been exposed to so much food in such a short period of time. She suddenly saw the logic in her mother’s refusal to let her have sweet snacks in the afternoon.

  She kept silent about the visit to the prisoner, not sure what her companions knew or were supposed to know. They in turn, seemed to keep their thoughts to themselves. Perhaps Rintaur or Saryn had cautioned them about speaking out of turn. Whatever the reasons, dinner started out as a subdued affair.

  And then Elondiel told the assembled group about the prisoner visit. “Marzi and I had a brief conversation with one of the prisoners this afternoon, the one whom I believe to be the leader. The long and short of it is that I believe they have credible information to offer. It is very likely that they may not be aware of just how much they know. It will be up to us to ask the ri
ght questions and to listen carefully. Much depends on us getting this right. According to the laws of our people, the decision on commutation of the death sentence is my responsibility. But as is my preference, I ask your counsel and request that you be as forthcoming as you can.” With that, he fell silent.

  After a brief instant of silence, Corhymin was the first to speak. She brought her fist down on the table, but without force of anger. “I would strenuously offer my disagreement with sparing them. Whatever information they hold, I expect them to lie. If they are even mediocre warriors, they would not so easily betray their people simply to save their own lives. Most likely they would seek to feed us disinformation. Our laws are clear and the penalty for their crimes is death.”

  Elondiel nodded to her. “Thank you for your insights and your candor. Anyone else?”

  Andu’lar offered a different perspective. “We are in uncharted territory here. Nothing we see makes sense. They invade but with miserably small, ill-equipped forces. They traipse through the forest and into Lorrin Pass as though they have no concern for being seen. When captured they offer no resistance despite the near-universal convention of death to such invaders. The key to defining our strategic actions may well be in understanding more about these men and why they are here. I recognize the wisdom of my sister’s concern for their truthfulness. But even if they are lying, we may yet learn something from those lies. It hurts us not to keep them locked up rather than killing them, other than the cost of a little food. Finally, if after we have heard their stories and decide such, we can still carry out the execution. I recommend that we conditionally spare them contingent on their cooperation and truthfulness.”