Cat nodded. Her smile disappeared just as quickly as she remembered something troubling. “Trestan, where is your sword?”
“Savannah took it.”
The words struck Katressa hard. Trestan’s valuable weapon, a legacy of his mentor and friend, was in the hands of an evil woman whom had partaken in that man’s death.
“I grow concerned,” Lindon admitted, “That the elf wizard and the DeLaris cleric have had ample time to get a head start on us. Did they get away with the relics?”
Trestan nodded, “The guidance spell was still active. The Earthrin Stones were in a bag on Revwar’s belt when he flew away. I don’t sense the stones anymore, so they must be too far away.”
Cat raised an eyebrow at Trestan, “How did you know their name? I only translated that from the scroll last night and didn’t mention them yet.”
“Savannah told me their name, but that won’t be of any help to us at the moment. They have gone beyond the reach of my miracle. Likely Revwar and Savannah are running with their prize, trying to reach their goal…otherwise they could have made more of an attempt to finish us.”
Trestan unsteadily got to his feet for the first time since his injury. “I think our immediate concerns should be reserved for our missing companions. Cassyli and Montanya are around here somewhere, likely in need of help. Be watchful for that halfling rogue, she could be anywhere.”
“And Cassyli’s brother?” Lindon looked about the woods.
Cat wasn’t able to offer an answer, so Trestan offered his. “He was also a casualty.”
CHAPTER 34 “Recovery and Future Plans”
The companions spread out to search for their missing friends. Eventually, Trestan and Cat found where Cassyli lie injured. Trestan once more called forth his healing powers. By this time, the meager healing he could channel served only to get Cassyli mobile and relieve some of the pain. They informed him of the loss of his brother, without going into details. He appeared to be in the process of grieving for his loss already. The scout lamented that Foyren had been gone the moment the mentalist corrupted his reasoning.
Lindon and Sondra had gone off in different directions looking for their missing friends. They even dared to call out names, preferring to find any wounded companions faster despite the risk of being discovered by any hidden enemies.
Sondra, alone, found Montanya propped against a tree next to the beaten rogue. The silence of the scene disturbed her, also the lack of movement from either female. The halfling certainly looked dead. The bloody face and the matching stains on Montanya’s knuckles gave testimony to how brutally she had died.
Montanya looked almost unharmed by comparison, yet gave every outward appearance that death had taken her. Her expression betrayed empty sadness. Her heavy eyelids were almost closed. It sent a chill to Sondra’s heart. Maybe it was the shared memories, but Sondra realized she deeply cared for this youth.
Sondra moved her hands slightly, tracing a form in the air as she spoke a prayer. The minor miracle served clerics when searching a battlefield, trying to sort the dying from the dead, and responding to those in the most need of healing. The miracle confirmed the rogue’s death. Sondra’s hopes lifted when she felt Montanya’s life force still supporting a heartbeat. The miracle revealed the nature of the poison. Sondra had arrived without time to spare, for the young woman was giving up her hold on life.
The hands of the healer went into her leather satchel. She pulled out numerous items to help nullify the poison and give strength to Montanya’s body. Sondra went into a state of prayer, calling for miracles to combat the deadly toxin. It strained her mental exhaustion, but she bore it well. She had rarely healed anyone so close to death, certainly never without Mother Evine by her side. Even as she went through the healing process, Sondra could feel that her talents had improved. She seemed able to accomplish more with her faith since the trials of the journey.
Montanya stirred awake. Greenish-blue eyes peered out from the perspiration-soaked red strands clinging to her face. The chiaso watched Sondra’s hands floating over her body. She noted a soft glow illuminating those same hands as the healing took place. She could see the exhaustion in Sondra’s posture from the toll of the effort.
“I was ready to die. You could have just left me here.”
Sondra peered at Montanya with concerned eyes, but did not lessen her efforts at healing. She weighed the words against the expression in the chiaso’s eyes. The follower of Ganden wondered if Montanya felt remorse for her existence, or was rebuking Sondra’s heals once again.
Sondra tried to give a simple answer. “If you want to die, there are many ways to do so in this world. Today will not be your day.”
Montanya let her eyes slide downward, looking beyond Sondra’s healing hands. She spoke with all honesty. “I died a long time ago, Sondra. I died inside and buried my heart. Only my passion for hatred…my desire for some meaningful revenge…kept my spirit alive.”
Sondra listened to the words. They held a certain meaning for her as well, after giving so many years for others. The blonde woman expected that Montanya had more to say, so she quietly focused on expelling the poison out of the wound.
“There is a memory you have, from a festival long ago…”
Sondra started to blush as Montanya talked. She had come so close to this woman once they exchanged memories and began to understand their differences; however, it was a little embarrassing to have someone intimately exposed to her private thoughts and moments.
Montanya continued, “There was a young man, trying to keep warm from the cold. Music played in the sanctuary. He merely requested that you dance with him, and he whisked you around the room before you could refuse.”
Sondra remembered the memory clearly. She would have refused the dance, yet once the young man held her close all the writings from those romantic books she had read had sparked a longing within her. It had been a wonderful dance, and it had left an impressionable memory on her. When Montanya didn’t continue, Sondra prompted her.
“Please go on. Finish what you were trying to say.”
Montanya shed a tear. “I’ve never danced with any boy. I’ve never been held close like that by anyone since the death of my parents. I’ve never even dreamed of love.”
Sondra had healed to the best of her abilities. No more effort she could expend, yet she continued to look busy as she allowed Montanya to clear her thoughts.
“I feel…empty.” Montanya’s smooth face, normally distorted by her customary sneer, fell to one of the saddest expressions Sondra had ever seen. “The only motivating passion in my life has driven me to a place worse than any I have ever gone. My quest for vengeance hurt me more than any thief could have. The most precious thing they couldn’t directly steal, I gave to them. I robbed myself of my own freedom.”
“Sounds like something I could admit to myself as well.” Sondra shrugged.
Montanya looked up, “You were free to make a choice, and you made a good one. You have helped people, Sondra, more than I have.”
Sondra visibly disagreed, shaking her head. “I made a ‘good’ choice for the wrong reasons. I really felt like my life was not mine to control. I lost everything when my parents died in that fire. The kids I knew helped reinforce that I would never be anyone of importance. I almost died huddled in cold streets. The only ones to show kindness were the clerics of Ganden.”
Sondra paused, unsure how to express her feelings. Montanya waited in silence until the acolyte continued.
“We both made mistakes when we were young. We both deluded ourselves under the guise of selflessness.”
Montanya’s brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of those words. Sondra sat back on her heels as she tried to sort through her meanings. “I didn’t go into the priesthood because I wanted it. Quite the opposite, I felt that I was deserting my life. I wanted to repay the church, and my life was all I had to give. I justified it by all the good done by Ganden’s clergy. That’s what we both did,
you and I, justified the easy decisions by proclaiming we were following a great purpose.
“I figured I could be someone to myself, yet let others around me think what they may, even reinforce their view that I never succeeded. Told myself that I didn’t try to succeed, therefore I didn’t fail. I did accomplish one achievement: helping to feed and clothe people. It was a noble thing, was it not? Yet, I am finding out that my moral path was tread for less-than-noble reasons. I really let go of everything I hoped to be, all for the sake of a debt to others.”
Sondra held her hands before her face. “It was always easier to be someone else’s hands, rather than have only myself to answer. Easier to live thinking I had sacrificed myself to some greater good. I only isolated myself from enjoying the life I still have.”
When Sondra turned her eyes to Montanya, and the chiaso could see the hurt hidden under that look, it made the rest easy to understand. The red-haired youth nodded, “As I misled myself. I justified the good I could do ridding the world of thieves, allowing myself a violent way to fuel my anger. My view should have made it easy to walk the path of revenge without feeling regret.”
Her greenish-blue eyes looked upon the battered rogue. “Yet I do have regrets. The world is a better place without Kemora. As for myself, is the world better off with or without me?”
Sondra gently placed a hand on Montanya’s outstretched leg. “Do not be hard on yourself. Do not long for death either. Our souls were hurt, so we buried our hurts under moral superiority, tucking away most of our humanity in the process. I feel that this discovery will make us better and stronger.”
“What of your relationship to Ganden?”
Sondra tried a weak smile, “It will change, but for reasons beneficial to us both. I won’t turn from the church, for it is my home. What will change is how I go about the rest of my life and duties.”
Sondra stared into Montanya’s eyes, “And you?”
Montanya had looked so despondent earlier, and yet the talk with Sondra seemed to lift some weight from her body. The red-haired youth responded, “I don’t know what I will do, or where I will be a year from now. All I know is that I need to change a number of things about myself. If I don’t, then I might as well have died next to my parents.”
Sondra gave her a reassuring squeeze on the healed leg, and then moved to return several belongings to her satchel. Montanya reached out and grabbed her arm gently to get her attention. “I will start with what I owe you.”
The acolyte glanced up in surprise. She was about to say that Montanya didn’t owe her anything. She stopped short of speaking when she noticed the seriousness in the younger woman’s look.
The young noble-turned-warrior said the words that Sondra longed to hear.
“I thank you, over and over again, for all you have done for me. I thank you for bringing me back from death’s door more than once. I thank you for every healing prayer you have said over my wounds. I thank you for the effort you put into serving me a meal when I was a strange stowaway locked in a brig. I thank you for finding someone who could get me out of that cell. I thank you for helping me see my mistakes in life. Lastly, I thank you for being my friend.”
Sondra didn’t know what to say. She opted to lean forward and give Montanya a big hug, which was returned in earnest. Montanya had never been held in any kind of caring hug since the death of her parents. They stayed in that pose for some time, as each had a lot to think over, yet little that needed to be said.
As they parted the embrace, Montanya’s nose wrinkled slightly. The chiaso spoke before she considered her words. “It smells like you wet yourself or something.”
Sondra went on the defensive immediately. “One of them used a paralysis spell on me. Such spells often have the effect of relaxing the bladder muscles as well.”
“You wet your pants?!”
Sondra gave Montanya a hard stare. The chiaso’s lips were quivering in a visible effort to hold back laughter. The cleric sat back with a sigh as Montanya gave in to a giggling fit.
“I’m sorry,” Montanya tried to speak between fits of laughter, “It sounds terrible…it must have been bad…I’m trying not to laugh!”
Sondra blushed as she waited for the younger woman to get over her amusement. She huffed, “Well, when you’re ready, we should find our way back to the others.”
When the two women rose to leave the spot, Montanya stopped briefly to reclaim her locket. She cradled it close before returning it to her own neck. Montanya also removed the stolen illusionary mask. She was stepping away when Sondra pointed out the seemingly forgotten pink ribbon lying on the ground.
Montanya made no move to retrieve it. She spent a moment staring at that strip from her mother’s dress.
“That torn piece of fabric only served to help bolster my anger all these years. I have better ways of remembering my mother.”
The two went to relocate the others, leaving the pink fabric and Kemora’s corpse behind.
* * * * *
In a sheltered area of the woods, amidst the fallen debris of the ship, a small campfire burned. With the nighttime blanket of stars overhead and no further sign of their adversaries, the companions settled together to rest. Not all of their wounds had been mended. Several bore bruises and scars along with temporary bandages. Those who could heal could do no more without rest. Weariness had settled about them all, yet sleep eluded them.
Sondra Oskires sorted religious relics on a ripped mast laid out on the ground. The holy items of Ganden had been salvaged under the last few rays of sunlight. The blonde woman responded to the conversation at hand even as she cradled a recovered trinket.
“I can’t say that I’ve had much experience with such magic. I heard about teleport circles, but I can’t say that I’ve ever seen one.”
Trestan nodded, glancing to the side where Cassyli sat. The elf had been silent all day. He sat beside the shrouded body of his brother in quiet mourning. Something about that scene encouraged Trestan to move closer to the half-elf at his side. As he snuggled against her lithe form, he turned his attention over to Lindon.
“So, we’re assuming that’s what it was? Arcane sciences happened to be my weak subject at the seminary. If it was their escape, where could they be?”
The red-bearded minstrel was dusting off the wide brim of his hat. Lindon Taleweaver visualized the circular marking they had found on the forest floor after the fight. “I’m very sure that was the design, though I’m nay expert on it either. As far as their escape, they would have gone wherever the circle’s twin waited. Likely, a civilized area back on Quoros…but certainly not on this continent.”
Beneath the golden tiara shining atop her head, Cat raised one eyebrow. Her helmet had been reclaimed, yet it sat abandoned to one side. The half-elf doubted she would ever need the helmet again, for the Taef’ Adorina seemed to offer magical protection that the headgear lacked.
She interrupted, “Why do you presume that? They could have made a similar circle anywhere, correct?”
“Two reasons,” Lindon held up two fingers, tapping them with his other hand as he spoke. “First, you need to build one circle as a twin to the other circle. If you build it in the wild, then anything, like wild animals, could disturb the older circle and render it useless. Second, I’m guessing the circle was their original escape plan if they meant to abandon the divine chariot as it fell from the skies. If so, then they would have made the other circle in a secure location back in Orlaun.”
Cat sighed. She hated the thought that the other band had beaten them to their goal and succeeded in escaping. Her emerald eyes looked around the campfire at her companions. They had all come through intact, so that was a blessing. Some still had unseen injuries. She noted Montanya staring into the fire, saying nothing. The human youth secluded herself in her thoughts. She occasionally fidgeted with a mask in her lap.
Yet despite their efforts, the goal had escaped, and Cat had been forced to slay Foyren in defending herself. Cassyli se
emed to hold no blame against her for her actions. He had been severely beaten by Foyren; savagely attacked by one so disillusioned that he hadn’t recognized his own brother until it was nearly too late.
Cat sighed, “We failed. They have all three relics and they made their escape to gods know where. Who knows what evil will come of this?”
“All is not lost,” Trestan said. “Savannah engaged me in a duel of the minds. I was able to see into her future plans, even as she dug for knowledge in my thoughts.”
The champion of Abriana leaned forward, recalling the images glimpsed in his opponent’s mind. “I saw a fortress at the edge of civilized lands. I know that it resides on the continent of Shard, and that it is simply called Fortress Stone. I saw the coming of winter heralded by the approach of a horde of angry tribes. That is where they plan to strike next, hoping to use that castle as a base to launch a greater invasion.”
Lindon was aghast, “DeLaris means to invade the realm? The lands are only now starting to be fruitful after all the years of peace imposed by the Covenant. I hate to think of the implications another war between gods will bring.”
Cat was considering the miles between them and their goal, for she had once seen the castle of which Trestan spoke. “It is a long trip. We will have to find a trading outpost on the coastline, find passage to Orlaun, and voyage from there.”
“We have some things that need to be done along the way.”
Cat looked to Trestan, “Like?”
Trestan continued. “I have a few stops to make. First, I must get to Petrow and his family. Savannah claimed his life four years ago, but she didn’t finish the job. Since then, Petrow has fathered two children and his wife is carrying their third. Savannah entered my mind to find out where Petrow lives, and she found her answers too.”
Sondra gasped at the news, “A cleric of DeLaris allowed someone to live? The pain on her must be terrible! She will kill the family.”
The Earthrin Stones 2 of 3: Trials of Faith Page 52
