by Guy Antibes
The Council tent was a disheveled mess. Bellia rummaged around and lifted up a flap. There lay King Rollack’s body with Astun’s close by. Bellia’s short sword was still plunged in the King’s body. Astun’s body showed evidence of many piercings. The brilliant red hair wasn’t from Togolath, but from Roanoka. He looked much younger in death. Now that she looked at her erstwhile friend, the gangliness could have come from being taller that the normal Kokotan.
Bellia was sorely tempted to take her sword from the scene. She stood there warring with himself. In the end, she removed the blade from the King’s body. She plunged the weapon into the muddy ground and pulled it out. The sword could be evidence of her complicity.
As she left camp, the short sword still in her hand, she took the flap of a fallen tent and wiped the bloody mud off the blade and put it back in its scabbard.
She gave the city a wide berth as she set out southeast for Tuathua and the Temple of the Blind God.
~
“Can you tell me which road to take to the Temple of the Blind God?” Bellia asked the tavern keeper. The establishment was empty at this time of day. The rushes on the floor stank from spilled ale and worse things from the night before.
The man laughed. “Those crazies? Reading all day and all night to a statue.”
“Reading all day and night?”
“You don’t know about that?” The tavern keeper put Bellia’s bowl of lukewarm stew down in front of her. He pulled a small loaf of bread from his apron as well as big spoon. “You’ll be wanting ale with that?”
“Yes to the ale.I don’t know anything about the reading.”
“The point of the order is to read everything that’s written about the world to the Blind God who helps whom he pleases.”
“How do they get all that’s written?”
“Agents. Monks, priests of various gods or their agents live all over the world and send them in. I get a lot of ‘em coming right through here, a lot like you. Good for business. Steady paying traffic.”
“So which way?” Bellia said with her mouth full of her first and only meal of the day. She had just entered Tuathua from her escape from the Kokotans. Luckily, Roanoka was far from her path.
“Take the left fork out of the village heading south. Your road leads up through a high plains area. The Temple is just on the other side. You’re better off hitching along with a group taking books and scrolls to the monks. There’ll be someone through in the next few days. I get a group through here two or three times a week. I’ll get your ale.”
Bellia ate in silence. Everything to do with the Blind God was crazy. Look where it got King Rollack. And the weapon that did it sat in her scabbard. She cringed.
Perhaps the Temple would allow her to become invisible again. Reading to a statue? Bellia had spoken to the Blind God. She just realized that he didn’t seem blind to her. If he needed reading to, then who was she to tell a god what his monks should or shouldn’t do?
At least she felt safer now that she had crossed the border. At that thought, a group of Kokotans entered the tavern. Bellia pulled her oilcloth coat tighter and moved her chair closer to the wall.
“Hail, Blut!” one of the men said as the four of them sat down at a table. The short blond men were at ease in the tavern in stark contrast to Bellia. She reached under her coat and loosened the restraining loops on her swords.
“What brings you across the border this time, Poinichi?”
“We’re on the lookout for Wansuan deserters.” The man spoke with the now-recognizable accent of Kokota.
“I’d hardly call them deserters. I’ve seen a few pass by.”
“The High Wizard Shibito wants a certain deserter killed who carries a long knife or short sword. It’s a thumb knuckle or so wide. The man who carries it killed his King.”
Bellia did all she could to keep eating her stew. She took a long drink from his mug.
“What about you, fellow?” Poinichi looked over at Bellia.
“He’s a she. A pilgrim, Poinichi,” the tavern keeper said.
“I’ll be the judge of that.” He kicked his chair aside as he stood up. “You there, let’s see what you’ve got under that oilcloth.”
The door opened and a monk walked in. “Sister Bellia, it’s time to go. I hope you’ve had your fill of Blut’s food. We’ll forgive you this time for not wanting to share our travel gruel.”
The search parties she worried about had just now reached her. She shivered at the thought of being caught on the open road. Now a monk knew her name and offered her a way out. She wasn’t so confused that she didn’t recognize help when offered.
Bellia rose. “How much?”
“I didn’t know you were with these scoundrels. It’s on the house.” Blut grinned at Bellia.
Bellia walked past the Kokotan, who swept Bellia’s coat aside to reveal her short sword. They rose, pulling out their weapons. Bellia shrugged off her coat and moved back, drawing both swords.
“This sword killed the King, but these hands didn’t do the killing. I don’t want to shed blood in this tavern, but if forced, I will.”
Everyone froze.
“Bring my coat outside and we will fight in the street.” She nodded to Blut and backed out. The monk followed her.
“A woman after my own heart, Lady Bellia.” The monk pulled a sword of his own from underneath his robes. “In your case, the Blind God gave us information. We’ve been waiting for you.” He grinned at Bellia.
The Kokotans walked out, swords drawn. Poinichi threw Bellia’s coat to the ground and walked over it.
“Two against four hardly seems fair, Kokotan,” the monk said. He whistled. Bellia jerked away from the shrill sound. Three other monks walked out of the shadows, swords in hand.
“So now it’s five against four.” Poinichi smiled. “It still isn’t fair. But it is you who will die, here and now.”
The Kokotans closed on Bellia’s group. Bellia backed up. She needed room to take advantage of her two weapons. Poinichi took on Bellia.
“Put down your weapon now, and I will grant you life. If you wish to fight me, I can’t guarantee you will survive,” Bellia said.
The Kokotan pressed Bellia with a fighting style she’d never seen before. She looked at the Kokotan’s sword, a long single-edge heavy blade, but with better balance that a cavalry saber. It was more of a match to her short sword. Poinichi slashed across one way then another, then a plunge. Bellia recognized it as a form and Poinichi used it in variations as Bellia backed up.
The Kokotan’s downward blow on top of Bellia’s short sword, just about knocked it from her hand. Something had to change or Poinichi would prevail. Bellia switched blade hands as Poinichi paused to breathe.
Again, the downward slash. This time it descended on Bellia’s long sword. Bellia picked her attacker’s blade up with the short sword and lifted her double-edged Pock sword upward between Poinichi’s unprotected crotch.
Her opponent’s eyes went wide, followed by a wail. He dropped his sword and fell to the ground clutching his bleeding groin.
Bellia plunged her short sword down. Perhaps Shibito might detect a rim of magic in the dead man’s chest, but her own life was more than worth it.
The other Kokotans fared no better. All lay on the ground. One monk sat holding his shoulder. Bellia was only now feeling pain on her forearm. She looked down and found her uniform coat sliced open to her skin. She sheathed her weapons as the monk who joined her in the tavern walked up.
“I thank you. Do you think we might borrow some linen from Blut to bind up our wounds?” Bellia finished her sentence through clenched teeth as the gash began to pulsate with intense pain.
“Not to worry, I am a healer. Sit on these steps,” one of the monks said.
Bellia grabbed her coat off of the ground and sat on Blut’s steps She felt the presence of magic in the healing process. This man didn’t hide his magical gestures as Uddo had.
“Does it have to hurt so much?�
� Bellia choked down a scream as a magic spell cleaned the wound.
“The more the wound requires purity, the more it hurts. The Kokotan sliced you with drug-laced blade. You wouldn’t have stayed awake for much longer. He only sought to drug you, despite his words.”
“What about your other man?”
“Poisoned as well, but a killing formulation. I will clean the poison out of his wound, but I would like you to hold my arm while I do it. I will need your strength.”
“What strength? I am exhausted from the fight and your healing.” Bellia could fall asleep on the steps. It has been so when Uddo healed her leg.
“You have great power, Bellia. That’s why the Kokotan wizard wanted you alive. We don’t know what he planned for you, but rest assured it would not be nice.”
“You can have what little strength I can muster.” Bellia needed help to get up. They walked into the middle of the street where the monk sat up, supported by the last monk. Snow began to fall, beginning to collect on the dead Kokotans.
“Just hold onto my upper arm.”
Bellia knelt and put one hand on the monk’s back and the other on his upper arm.
“Very good, both hands will help quite a bit.” The monk began his codework, punching with both hands the forms of the spell. Bellia felt a vague strain inside her body, but she couldn’t detect any other evidence of the healer using her power. The injured man moaned and then yelled out in pain, filling the street with his cries.
“Is he all right?”
“He should be. We’ll have to leave him behind. He will be too weak to travel with us. Blut has rooms in the back of his tavern.” The monk began to punch the air. He closed the wound with his hands. The sides of the wound stuck together. He made more gestures and the flesh finished closing by itself.
The injured man’s eyes rolled up in his head and he fell sideways on the snow. The other two monks dragged the Kokotan bodies around to the side of tavern and returned to lift their compatriot up Blut’s steps and through his door.
Bellia and the healer helped each other up and followed. Who were these men? They handled their swords far too skillfully to be monks. She pushed her wonder towards the back of her mind as fatigue grabbed her body again. Maybe giving her power took more out of her than she thought.
The stew still sat on her table. “I’m still hungry.” She said as they both collapsed on their chairs.
Ale had never tasted so good. A monk came up to Bellia carrying her mud and snow encrusted coat.
Blut came over with stew and ale for the healer. “Thank you ma’am for taking the fight outside. I liked Poinichi’s custom from time to time, but it always came with a price.”
Bellia had no idea how to accept the compliment. “I needed more room to maneuver. Given the chance my saviors gave me, I am more than happy to be of service.”
The other two monks joined them at the table bringing their own bowls of stew and ale.
“You said you ate trail gruel.”
“Ha! Not if we can possibly help it. I needed an excuse for you to be here and for us not to. We expected you a few days from now or we would have been waiting in Blut’s tavern to escort you to the Temple. I’m Wully,” the healer said.
“I’m Punty,” a tall bald monk gave his name.
“And I am Zeerok.” This monk had dark skin and silky black hair hanging down over his shoulders.
“Bellia is mine,” she said, but then remembered that they called her by name. “How did you know my name?” Questions about the encounter began to populate her mind, now that she had some food in her stomach.
“Well actually we didn’t. Glad to meet you Bellia. My speaking your name was a spell that made you insert your name when I spoke. It was intended to show you we were on your side.”
“So you could have been my enemies.”
“We still could be—” Zeerok said, grinning.
“But we’re not,” Punty said.
“We work the borders of Tuathua on behalf of the Blind God. We’re not really monks, but sometimes dress like them. Blut knows us well enough. Yesterday we received a message that a single blonde female soldier coming from Kokota needed an escort to the Temple in a few days.”
“But how did you know I was here?”
Wully laughed. “There are about ten teams all along the border at any time. We all got the same message. Sometimes we have gatherers bringing rare and valuable books. Tuathua is ruled by a good king, but a poor one. The kingdom is generally peaceful, but the internal police force is weak beyond the towns. The Temple helps the King out and we get a few special privileges—like getting you to the Temple without any questions.”
“But they think I killed the King. I didn’t. I told the truth.” And who would believe a simple soldier?
“We know you didn’t. Roanoka has ties to the Blind God. They never adopted the blood sacrifice practiced by the Piwati. They had an agent traveling with the army who was ready at any time to stop King Rollack should he align himself with the Piwati. The wizards in Roanoka knew the minute their man died and why. The Blind God knew not long after it happened.”
“But Astun wore the same tattoo as the wizard-priest.”
“You knew the agent?” Wully leaned forward, an incredulous look on his face.
“I did, but I didn’t know the significance of his tattoo until Shibito arrived. His was red and Shibito’s was black.” Bellia felt as if she were drowning in a lake. What was real? Could she trust these men? Yet they saved her life.
“All we know is that the Piwati enchanted King Rollack. The Blind God’s book gave the King specific instructions not to ally himself with wizards. It would mean his death.”
“But the wizard rained death on our camp.”
“I doubt that. Perhaps what you saw and thought what happened weren’t quite the same things.” Wully patted Bellia’s hand.
She drew it away. “I know what my eyes saw. A man described the carnage. Lightning and fire rained down and destroyed the camp.”
“You saw it?”
“No, Astun put me out. I came to after the camp was demolished.” Bellia thought. The only eyewitness was a looter who came from the city. She put her head in her hands as the facts suddenly became cloudy. “Oh, I don’t know.” Perhaps Astun didn’t destroy the camp.
“Don’t worry about it, lass,” Punty said putting his hand on Bellia’s shoulder. “You’re here and in a week or two, you’ll be safe in the Temple of the Blind God.”
~~~
Chapter Thirteen
Temple of the Blind God
~
The four travelers walked over a hill after traveling through a wide plain that sat between two low mountain ranges. On another hill surrounded by green trees and a modest town stood a massive white edifice.
Where the temple in the Kokota city was stark and blocky, this one was tall and airy looking. Spires reached up from every peaked roof. A cylindrical central nave reached a hundred feet up in the sky. Extensions angled out on to the roofs of lower outbuildings. Windows, rising nearly to the edges of the roofs ended with triangular points. It seemed larger than life.
Mist roiled around the small plain in the midwinter sun, but the hill around the Temple rose up from the fog and shined with the green of midsummer.
“Is the ground enchanted? It’s beautiful.”
“This is the home of the Blind God. It is by his decree that winter never sets foot in his holy place.”
“Why would you leave here to patrol the borders?”
“You haven’t lived a full set of seasons in the Blind God’s domain. Ask us the question in a year from now.”
A year, thought Bellia. It had nearly been a year ago when she left Pock. Instead of four seasons it seemed four years—perhaps four decades. The army didn’t provide her with the cover she thought she’d have. Now she had the forces of Kokota looking for her and perhaps the rest of Wansua as well.
“Perhaps I will ask your question, then. I cert
ainly need the Blind God’s protection for a while.”
As they walked closer, the ground began to warm. Grass poked out from thinning snow. They passed under the shade of trees with green leaves and fruit hanging from their boughs. The people looked content. To Bellia’s eyes, they looked too content. Perhaps she knew why Wully would choose to travel.
They shed their winter robes before they reached the Temple. Bellia looked up at the white stone. The wordsheaven on earth ran through her head. Was she ready for heaven? She wasn’t so sure, but she knew she wasn’t ready for any kind of hell.
A monk stood at the gate to the temple. His three companions pulled out tokens and showed them to the monk. He let them pass.
Bellia pulled off her sword belt and began removing coins. The golden coin given her by the Blind God reflected the sunlight into her eyes. The rest of the coins now jangled in her pocket.
“Here, will this work?”
The monk’s eye grew round as he held the coin. “Wait here, I will get the Prior.”
Bellia didn’t have long to wait. A short old man, with thin white hair and a wispy beard appeared at the door. “Bellia? You have indeed made it. Come in, we have much to discuss. Wully, take your band of ruffians and get something to eat. I have my own business to conduct with this young lady.”
The warmth of the steps and the sun instantly stopped as she walked through the door. A certain crispness filled the air. The temperature was lower. It was by no means cold, but just on the side of cool. Her mind seemed to sharpen; her senses expanded, as she followed the old man.
The Prior opened a door, “Please come into my office.”
The office was large and bright. The lower part of the temple’s tall windows extended to the ceiling bringing the golden light of perpetual summer into the Prior’s office. His desk seemed overwhelmed with papers, books and scrolls.
“Your presence with us has been foretold months ago. Here take your token back.”
“How did you know about me?”
“You don’t have to be so coy here, Bellia. The Blind God told me. He is a god and he is not blind as the believers think he is. You’ve met him.”
