The Earthrin Stones 2 of 3: Trials of Faith

by Douglas Van Dyke

  “Why are you calling me a thief, when it was you that stole from me?” Revwar’s voice carried back to her.

  “What?! How dare you accuse me of theft!”

  Montana went livid at the accusation. Her face reddened to her shade of hair color as Revwar explained. “It was you that confronted us on the deck of that foundering ship, while we merely sought safe evacuation. You charged us and threw a bucket of sand into our faces. ‘Twas not enough that you did that, but you also snatched a bag from our hands. Therefore, I brand you a thief! Cry to your dead mother if you feel you’ve been slighted.”

  The words incited Montanya into a series of angry kicks at the unyielding caleocht wood. Sondra couldn’t disguise her irritation as she tried to calm the woman’s rage. “Can’t you see he is just trying to taunt you into acting stupid? Ignore his words. He’s playing with your emotions.”

  Hateful, greenish-blue eyes scowled back at the cleric of Ganden. “What if you lost the last reminder you had of your dead parents?”

  Sondra’s back straightened at that. “I did lose everything of value when I lost my parents. I got over it and found a new life where I could try to help others…”

  A playful, yet small, voice called out to Montanya. Kemora dangled the locket in the magical, artificial lights the elves had around the wooden cage. It lazily swung over the dreadful distance to the forest floor. The domid’s mischievous eyes looked down her long nose and freckled cheeks at the golden heirloom. She held it for Montanya to witness as she spoke in gleeful tones.

  “Oh, is that where Revwar got me this shiny little present? It looks so pretty! All sparkly and beautiful, I think I’ll try it on…after I see what’s inside.”

  Montanya spit protests as Kemora popped open the small clasp. The halfling mocked the chiaso with her tone. “Oopsie, I think it spilled out. How clumsy!”

  Montanya screamed in rage as she glimpsed the locks of hair drop past the elves’ lights. In an instant they were gone in the darkness, drifting on the wind to find some unknown resting place on the forest floor.

  Kemora smiled in response to the anger stirred up in her pursuer. “Oh well, didn’t look like anything important. Maybe it was some lint or old spider web. If you don’t mind now, I think I’ll try it on.”

  Montanya raged, “I’ll hang you by that locket if I catch you, thief!”

  The chiaso slammed her feet repeatedly into the entrapping wooden branches. Sondra tried to intervene. “Stop that! You’ve just going to break bones, then I’ll have to waste all my energy healing them again under these magic-draining elven spheres, and all of that effort will go without even a ‘thank you’, just like usual.”

  Trestan, Lindon and Katressa watched in uneasy silence as Montanya turned upon the soft-spoken cleric. The chiaso youth vented a number of angry curses loud enough that it brought laughter from Kemora and her allies. Sondra tried to back down, but she had already gone too far in upsetting the volatile redhead once again. The two women continued to shout, though for Sondra it was an attempt to make the younger fighter see reason rather than swing fists. Montanya started to close in on Sondra with hands that continually clenched and relaxed. The worshipper of Ganden backed into a corner, her arms raised protectively. Montanya planned to turn her rage somewhere, and had already picked her sparring target. Cat and Lindon told Montanya to back off.

  Finally, even Trestan reached the end of his considerable patience. He jumped to his feet, shouting as he did so. “I’ve had enough! The two of you can’t keep up this constant arguing. It’s time you had a better understanding of one another.”

  The champion of Abriana forced himself between the two women. “Give me your hands, now!”

  Sondra, wide-eyed and scared, meekly obeyed without thinking. She offered out an arm and Trestan grabbed her gently but firmly by the wrist. Montanya, on the other hand, assumed a fighting stance as she faced him. One fist was cocked for a swing.

  Montanya spat, “Stay out of this. You’re just another religious zealot. She’s the one who insulted me!”

  Trestan glared at her…as serious with anyone as Cat had ever seen. His eyes locked on Montanya with such intensity she almost stepped back in fright as his stern voice spoke. “If your idea of a fight is for an experienced fighter to beat senseless some weaker woman…then by all means swing your fist at me and I’ll give you a lesson in how to do it properly.”

  Montanya’s thin eyebrows raised in uncertainty. Was this paladin actually going to raise a fist against her? Was he simply bluffing?

  She froze long enough that Trestan simply reached out and snatched a hold of her wrist. With a hand on each of them, he began to pray. “Beloved Abriana, Goddess of Love and Healing, help us to understand our brothers and sisters better…”

  In her anger, Montanya tried to pull back her hand. Instead, she felt a pull drawing her to Trestan. It was not a physical tug, but a sensation of her mind falling into a pit. Behind Trestan, Cat and Lindon stood back with uncertainty as they saw both human women go weak in the knees. Montanya heard a scream from Sondra that mirrored her own, before her mind tumbled into darkness.

  CHAPTER 26 “A Little Understanding…”

  Although Trestan still held firmly to the hands of both women, they began to lose all physical sensations. Even the former smith of Troutbrook was so deeply embedded in his miracle that he lost track of the outside world. Montanya and Sondra both endured the sensation of falling. Their conscious minds tumbled through a dizzying jumble of memory fragments, half-remembered conversations, images of places visited long ago…and yet not all were their own. Trestan viewed it all as well, lost in prayer through a similar empathic link as he had used during the challenge of the beast. Within the confines of their link, Sondra and Montanya became less aware of the presence of anyone else, even each other. Their world became a sporadic flash of images, smells, tastes and sounds.

  Montanya recalled one of her oldest memories: waking from a dream as her mother scooped her out of bed. She barely could make out her mother’s form between the smoky room and some blonde hair that covered her own sleepy eyes…blonde hair? Hadn’t her hair had always been red? And who was this unknown woman she thought of as her mother?

  …her mother tried to offer comfort while her father shouted from somewhere near. “I can’t find Joshua. Joshua! Get Sondra to the window, and I’ll look for him.”

  The mother of young Sondra Oskires carried her body to a nearby window. Montanya…or was her name Sondra?...grabbed tightly to her mother’s arm as the elder woman lifted her out of the opening to dangle over the street. She seemed terribly high off the ground.

  Montanya cried for her mom to stop scaring her. Behind her mother, she could see smoke pouring out of the window and flames lighting the roof. People below her cried out, “We have the blanket ready! We’ll catch her!”

  “Don’t let go of me momma!” Montanya heard herself cry.

  “You must let go, Sondra. Let go and live! I’ll be right down when we find your brother.”

  Montanya fell, screaming, only to land in a blanket stretched between a few men. Montanya viewed Sondra’s memories as strangers ushered her away from the burning building. The inn collapsed in flaming ruin, smothering the screams from inside. Little Sondra was orphaned and alone.

  Sondra relived a memory that was not her own. She enjoyed the lavish lifestyle her sire, Troyeal bara Westonhout, had provided for her…

  …she pulled at her red curls of hair as her parents led her to the ball. Father and mother were always invited into the grandest homes, and this time Sondra…or was her name Montanya?...received an invitation and came along. She even wore her latest gift, a locket containing intertwined strands of hair from both her parents. They could have taken the coach, but her father remarked on the beauty of the evening, so they walked.

  The trio did not think it a good decision afterward, when men stepped out of the darkness. The rich family had barely gone to the limits of their estate when several
swordsmen reeking of ale accosted them. The thugs demanded money. When they laid hands on his wife, he drew forth a smallsword from his cane. They killed him before it could make any difference.

  During the attack, they decided there would be more valuables in the house. The estate guards simply ran. Sondra watched through Montanya’s eyes as men seized her mother. The young girl tried to hold on. A strip of her mother’s pink dress ripped off as men pulled her away. Strong arms threw Sondra into a crate in the estate’s garbage. The lid slammed down, and something jammed it into place.

  She screamed and pounded on the hard wood of the crate. It was too strong; she couldn’t break free. She heard her mother scream and the ripping of the dress. Through the open areas, Sondra watched men surround Montanya’s mother. Finally, one of the men became so upset at the noise coming from the crate that he stuck a dagger between the boards. She felt the pain in her abdomen. The child almost bled to death, but a priest and several praetorians found her in time. The guards were too late to save her father and mother.

  Montanya’s consciousness saw through Sondra’s eyes at the Sanctuary for Those in Need…

  …as Sondra stood uncertainly before a woman in long robes. The child was drawn to the smell of good stew, and her neglected stomach rumbled. One tiny hand held forth the lone copper coin she had found partly obscured in the mud. Instead of taking it, the sister of Ganden who worked at the copper pen closed those tiny fingers back over the coin. Without accepting payment, the woman found Sondra a bench, warm stew, and a blanket to ward off any chills. Sondra found a place to cry, sheltered in the arms of this stranger.

  Day in and day out, Sister Evine would not allow the little homeless girl to pay for any of her food and lodging. Montanya felt Sondra’s hunger pains and loneliness fade, as she spent night after night in the same sanctuary. Sister Evine even used her needlework to craft a pretty cap that would keep her head warm on chilly days.

  Sondra felt Montanya’s anger and loss at being turned away from her home…

  …strangers flanked by the local praetorian guard locked the fence after carting away everything valuable. Officials stole her fine jewelry, except the locket which she kept hidden. It was the only tangible thing she had left of her parents. Her red hair grew long and unruly. Instead of cutting it, she used the strip of her mother’s dress to tie it out of the way.

  Sondra watched from Montanya’s eyes as the child walked the streets alone, full of anger at the world. She carried meager belongings in a bag on her back. The sanctuaries would take in the homeless for a copper a night, but she had no coins at all. It was just as well, her father often talked about the false worshippers at the church and how they always demanded money to pay for salvation. The last thing Montanya wanted was to deal with more thieves.

  On a summer morning, when many buildings had their doors open to the air, she heard something curious. A single, loud scream preceded the sound of broken wood. Intrigued more than scared, the red-haired child peeked into the open building. Her jaw dropped as she watched many kids executing fighting maneuvers. The older children broke pieces of wood with their bare hands and feet! Montanya remembered the strong crate that had kept her prisoner while her parents were killed. She stared as the other children did something she had failed to accomplish.

  An older man took an interest in the child at his door. She looked up at him hopefully. Montanya’s voice asked, “Sir, I have nay coin to pay. I have nay home either, but I would like to learn how to be strong like them.”

  The man smiled and took her in.

  Montanya watched Sondra commit all her hours to the study of her religion and helping out at the sanctuary…

  …other kids invited her to play, but shy Sondra would make excuses. She didn’t seem good at any games, so she barely participated. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the other kids; she just didn’t know how to act around them.

  Besides, there was always the poor, the hungry and other homeless. Sondra was no longer homeless; she could sleep in a temple dormitory now that she had taken up the teachings of Ganden. She spent most of her time caring for the poor and sick at the sanctuaries. It felt good to help others. Deep down, however, Montanya could feel the core reasons for her service. Sondra felt indebted to the church. She owed them everything she could give, for they kept her safe and alive when she had nothing.

  Sondra loved others, but she followed Ganden for the sake of obligation. She didn’t develop hobbies, play with other children, or envision a world outside the sanctuaries. Her only luxury seemed to be sneaking peeks at occasional romantic writings that some folks brought into the sanctuary. Within those pages Sondra dreamed about something she felt was beyond her. Instead of following her dreams, she sunk into studying religion and the arts of healing. Sondra’s duty demanded of her to be the best healer she could be, and give back as much as the church had given her.

  Sondra watched Montanya shy away from other children…

  …the student of chiaso made herself an outcast of her own choosing. Others her age jested about the world and laughed about things they could not change, but Montanya trained to make a change. Students chided her for her serious mindset. Their pranks gave birth to her customary scowl.

  Montanya avoided the city, despite its presence right outside the door. She feared where the thieves might lurk, and if they would pounce on her before she was ready. She stayed indoors around the people with whom she trained. With them, the slightest touch didn’t frighten her into a paranoia that a pickpocket was feeling her up. Every sparring match she practiced fighting the men that took away her life. Sondra saw how Montanya lived her life and the similarities with her own existence. Both of them disallowed freedom in favor of some lofty and ultimately endless goal.

  Sondra rifled through Montanya’s pack, looking for her missing heirloom. She couldn’t find it, quickly coming to the conclusion that her fellow student Rayka must have taken it again as a prank. She marched down the hall wearing her scowl, with her long red braid whipping behind her. She found the student with others in the training hall. He had his eyes closed in meditation, standing still and vulnerable to attack. Montanya didn’t give him the chance to defend himself. Her jumping kick sent him stumbling backwards.

  He didn’t fall. Though they had similar muscles and training, this young man had a balance of spirit that Montanya’s tortured soul never achieved. Sondra saw and felt everything as Rayka responded to the attack with more skill and power than Montanya possessed.

  Montanya witnessed her own scarred and bruised body tended by Sondra…

  …the student of Ganden felt sickness enter her own body as she helped Mother Evine draw out the poison from the knee injury. Montanya’s consciousness blended with Sondra’s thoughts and actions as the young cleric sweated to save the unknown, homeless youth. A spiritual link between healers and patient allowed them to feel how perilously close to death the chiaso had drifted. With the poison extracted, and Sondra fighting her own nausea from the sensation, they felt Montanya’s soul pull closer to the world of the living.

  At one point during their toil, Mother Evine asked Sondra’s opinion of the scarred woman recovering on the table. “Rough life,” Sondra replied.

  Montanya watched herself storm out of the copper pen in anger over her salvation at the hands of sanctuary priests. Soon afterward, she relived another phase of Sondra’s life involving her.

  She heard another acolyte of Ganden ask Sondra if she was going up on deck to watch the spell show. Sondra refused, preferring to prepare a meal for the unknown individual held in the Doranil Star’s brig. Deep inside, Sondra wanted to watch the show, yet she chided herself for wanting to indulge such luxury when some poor soul sat in the brig, likely hungry. It was always her duty to care for people in bad spots, so she set about preparing a meal from the best food she could find at hand. She even borrowed a flower from a display and set it alongside the cup of water. Little did she know that cup would get splashed in her face by the a
ngry youth in the cell.

  Montanya’s deepest fears and insecurities were bared for Sondra…

  …Montanya felt that her whole life had been stolen. Since her parents murder, she refused to embrace anything in life except her need for revenge. Will her life become a failure, or even a lie, if she never catches a single thief? Was there any life she could enjoy without first finding a remedy to her heart’s sense of loss? Would the simple aspect of moving on to a different lifestyle belittle the deaths of her parents as nothing? She couldn’t branch her needs beyond her hate. Now, there was one thief out there within reach. Maybe if she caught that halfling, Kemora, she might have her answer.

  Montanya saw a similar reflection in Sondra’s soul…

  …Sondra’s responsibilities to duty and her beliefs in repaying the debt she owed to the church superseded her personal wishes. The needs of others trumped hers. Her dreams smothered under the weight of responsibility borne from the attitude that she owed the church everything.

  Sondra hoped that one day someone would thank her in a way that would make her feel as if she had done more than her duty. Deep inside she wanted freedom from the mantle she had taken upon her shoulders. Time and again her efforts in serving others seemed futile. She had been verbally abused by people seeking refuge in the shelters. Injured patients hit or kicked her as she tried to heal them. Most recently, one particular red-haired chiaso refused to thank her for all the good she attempted to do. For some reason, Sondra wanted more than anything to hear Montanya say ‘thank you’. Sondra desperately craved some acknowledgement that she was accomplishing something and not simply living a life of self-imposed servitude.

  The vision abruptly ended…

  Both women suddenly jerked back into their own bodies in the present time, arms held by Trestan. Montanya and Sondra stared deeply into each other’s eyes, seeing something entirely beyond the walls they had built up around their feelings. Their eyes revealed fear; fear bared by that most intimate sharing of emotions and feelings between two people who would not have consented to it. Montanya and Sondra were so shocked by the sudden experience that they simply stood there locked in their gazes. Both breathed heavily and shivered in the warm night air.