Blessings and Trials (Exiles and Sojourners Book 1)

by Thomas Davidsmeier

  One dark, perfectly curved eyebrow raised up into an arch on the Prince’s face. “An interesting choice of examples, Bishop. Have you ever read those Scriptures?”

  Ärlig flushed crimson and nearly choked out, “Of course not, oh Most Exalted of the Exiles. They are heretical and divisive, encouraging hate and rebellion, utterly foolish and vile from beginning to end.”

  “I have.”

  The blood that had just rushed to Ärlig’s cheeks rapidly drain back out. He felt like his eyes were about to jump out of his head.

  “So have Princept Gronston and Cerulean Fokolo. You were lucky that there were two such advanced servants of mine to assess the truth of your observations. Those ‘Scriptures’ are required reading beyond a certain point of advancement in the Church.” Here, the Prince’s eyes took on a terrifying look of hatred and disgust, “If you are going to defeat and destroy an enemy, you need to know them and know yourself.” The look passed. “Since you are still young in the Faith, though promising, I will tell you the relevant passage instead of letting you alone with such potentially destructive works.”

  “Certainly, you must know that the Sojourners claim to follow the teachings of a man that they say was the son of the Creator of all the Heavens and the Earth.” There was another flicker of burning hatred at the word ‘Creator.’ “While this man lived, he had a group of followers who went everywhere with him, as he travelled and studied on the southern reaches of the Kaladarian Empire and the lands of the Sea Princes. Just that alone should be evidence enough of the idiocy of this. What kind of stupid, egotistical Creator would send his special emissary to that wretched stretch of land at that time of strife and civil war? Like he knew better than everyone else how that would be just the perfect place and moment. Not that it...”

  These words and the way the Prince’s mouth tore into a sneer to say them terrified Ärlig. Perhaps that look of terror caught the Prince’s attention, because his face relaxed back into the placid look of a historian repeating a lesson almost instantly.

  “One of these followers of the man observed something on the day that the man was killed by Kaladarian legionnaires for trying to foment another civil war. The man had been led out of the provincial capital city by a particular gate. The follower in question, a Waterwright from the lands of the Sea Princes named Ditomas, was hanging back far from the site of the execution because he was a coward. In fact, he was all the way back by the city gate. This Ditomas was gifted with the ouranic sight, which some of the Talented are known to still possess. These are his words about what he saw.

  ‘Then our Lord cried out in a great voice from where He hung on the tree, “It is finished.” When he had said this, I saw a strange silver being come through the gate beside me, though he did not seem to come from behind the gate. It went up the hill to where the body of our Lord hung upon the tree, and then I saw that it was joined by another Light, golden and as bright as the noonday sun, nay brighter still. The silver light was small beside it, and indeed, I was sure that the sun had come down from the sky to mourn with us beside the body of our Lord. But, then the silver light and the Light like the sun, only more beautiful and pure, began to move back toward me beside the gate. The lights passed beside me and through the gate, but they did not go into the city, instead they disappeared at the threshold of the gate. The golden Light was too great in size to go through the gate of the city, yet it did so without being diminished in any way.’

  Ärlig sat with his mouth agape. Uncertain what to say in response.

  “This, Bishop Ärlig Ullwitt, is why we must fight and destroy the Sojourners wherever we find them. Not only are they heretics and hate-filled deceivers, they possess knowledge of mysteries that they have no right to know about. Who knows what kind of damage they could do, if they unravelled the mystery of the Door, or the mystery of the Diminished Blessings, or any of the other Forbidden Mysteries?”

  Ärlig nodded as sagely as he could and agreed heartily with his Lord and Master. When the Prince stood up, Ärlig did as well and then kneeled down and put his nose to the floor before his towering Lord.

  “Bishop Ärlig Ullwit, I hope to see you again some day, as a Princept acolyte, and then as one of my Living Eyes. You have talent and ability, that much is clear from these observations. Not just anyone could have seen and so thoroughly recorded this event. There have been other observations of this sort of event, though they have been hidden away. Few of them are as complete or detailed as yours. Keep up your good works, but guard yourself against the insidious infection of the Sojourners. Do not dwell overmuch on the passage that I shared with you. Be patient and continue to fight my enemies wherever you find them, my loyal Bishop, and you will progress quickly and far within the Church.”

  The last words of the Prince of the Air to Ärlig were burned onto his heart. So, when he came back to his room in the College of Bishops later that night, they were one of the first things come to mind.

  Fionna was there, and so was another woman that Ärlig had never seen before, but the streaks of red hair among the stranger’s grey gave him an idea. “I’m sorry, Ärlig, please don’t be upset. She came to see me and was so sick, I didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t even trying to get help, she was just trying to give me a book and convince me again to leave the Church and join her and Daddy’s stupid cult. Just let me get her back on her feet again. You know the initiates all have to sleep in those big dormers together with the bunks, I didn’t have anyplace else to take her.” Tears were streaming down Fionna’s face from red, puffy eyes. Maybe if she hadn’t looked so terrible at that moment, Ärlig might have made a different choice.

  “Stay here and keep an eye on her,” he said in a calm reassuring voice, and he backed out the door quietly.

  Then, Ärlig Ullwit went and found the nearest member of the Prince’s Guards and led them back to his room. “I have no idea why she chose my room to hide out in, perhaps because I was gone all day, and it was empty,” was all he said to the Guard. The Guard didn’t really care.

  Fionna screamed hysterically at first when she saw the Guard, throwing herself across her mother. Then, when she realized that she was being arrested as well, for aiding a Sojourner and having a banned book in her possession, she became startlingly placid. She looked back at Ärlig with a hollow, caved-in stare, as she was lead down the passageway.

  Ärlig was called to testify at the trial. Because Fionna was an initiate in the Church, the Prince himself sat in judgement. The trial was held in a huge amphitheater on a lower level of the Temple complex, with nearly three thousand clergy members and monastics from up and down the Pillar of Heaven and even some from other cities. When called, Ärlig explained briefly that he’d found the two women in his room, recognized the tree pendant around the older woman’s neck and gone to get the Guard. Fionna didn’t object to his testimony, didn’t try to correct it, didn’t call him the liar that he was. She sat silently next to her mother who had been nursed back to health by the Church for the specific purpose of this trial and what was to follow.

  The prosecutor, an Inquirer that Ärlig had never seen before, suddenly turned toward the huge semicircular audience and bellowed out a question loudly enough that it had to wake any of the older members who may have fallen asleep. “Bishop Ullwitt, was the initiate in question also your lover at the time you discovered her with the heretic?”

  Ärlig blanched, and his mind locked up. All he could think to do was to answer, he whispered, “Yes.”

  “I don’t believe the assembly heard you, Bishop. Could you repeat your answer?” commanded the prosecutor.

  Louder this time, Ärlig managed to say, “Yes, she was.” It wasn’t that uncommon of an offense, especially if one counted the number of altar boys and priests. But, it was never admitted, certainly not in public.

  The Prince of the Air’s own melodious voice echoed out in response, “Yet you still went to get the Guards, when you discovered this situation? I only hope all of the assembly wou
ld be as loyal and faithful as you, Bishop. May his response be a lesson to you all!” Then under his breath toward Ärlig, “Though not his wisdom in selecting a lover.”

  Of course, Fionna and her mother were found guilty. The site and method of the execution chilled Ärlig to the core when he heard the Prince’s voice pronounce it. Then, he heard the last few words in that melodious voice, “... to be carried out by Bishop Ärlig Ullwitt.”

  The wind was cold as it whistled past them on the end of the skyship pier. It was the same pier where Fionna had first met Ärlig only a few months ago. The two women had their hands bound behind their backs. They both stood surprisingly resolutely, though the mother’s shoulders were a little higher and her eyes were looking at the sky around them. Fionna’s eyes were staring at Ärlig with an empty resignation.

  It was surprisingly easy for Ärlig, all he had to do was push. Two hands firmly in the back of the old woman, and then two hands firmly in the back of his lover. She cried, “Father!” all the way down.

  Ouron 11-25ε-30ξς

  College of Bishops, Acropolis, The Pillar of Heaven

  Dear Brothers,

  Stark, your position is waiting for you in Swordforge according to my contact. You need only travel there to accept it and begin training. I will try to make arrangements for transport on one of the Church’s skyships, but it will almost certainly be a cargo ship. I know the trip will be slower and colder, but that is all I can arrange through my friends here with my gains from my shifts in the Customs House V. The windfall from that assignment was just getting good when I was switched to a different house. House III is mostly just passengers and pilgrims. I don’t know how many opportunities I’ll find there.

  You know Stark, you could pay for a faster and warmer passage yourself if you hadn’t gambled all your earnings away. I don’t mean to seem harsh, but it is true. Your pay as captain in the Skysend guards should be more than enough to entertain you and salt some away for later, if you showed any self-restraint. You could probably be riding to Swordforge in style if you’d planned a little.

  Begåvad, I have tried with all the skyship companies that I come across in my work. None have need of any large numbers of coats or cloaks, at least that is what they tell me when I ask. They are picking up only small numbers of them as they need. Perhaps I should switch and try with clothiers or merchants who supply sundry items to skyships. There are more than a few of them here in the Pillar of Heaven. I would even be willing to venture down into the Lower City, or even the Column, if you were willing to sell to a supplier. Our price seems a little steep, if I am reading the skyshippers reactions correctly. Perhaps we should look into selling raw or dyed cloth like the other Skysenders still do and not these newfangled completed pieces you have your heart set on? I know the profits are higher for the completed pieces, especially given we don’t pay our seamstresses in the Petty Kingdoms anything since they’re thralls. But still, we make no money if we sell nothing.

  If I play things correctly here, I may soon get invited to join the Princepts. That will turn our fortunes up for certain.

  Yours, Ärlig

  CHAPTER 11 - SURVIVORS

  24th of Sorun, 2nd Year, 31st Aion

  “Lord, you are my Rock and strong tower.”

  -Book of Psalms, a collection of Sojourner scripture

  “We’ve got to make it to the Standing Rock as soon as possible. That’s where my father told everyone to meet the next day after anything like this happened.”

  Litharus was staring across the swollen stream as it rushed past the three children. The rain was pattering down with a dismal constancy. The grey light was more than enough for Litharus to see the trailhead on the other side of the torrent. It was difficult to tell if it was morning or evening.

  Ingrid guessed, “It must have been raining even harder while we were in the tunnel. And, by the looks of that stream, it’s been raining for quite a long time as well. How long were we hiding?” She cast a questioning glance up at the dim sky. “Surely it is just morning and not evening already…”

  Their original plan, indeed Litharus’s father’s plan for anyone escaping through the tunnels after another attack, was to cross the stream west toward the forest. If they could have crossed right there, they would have been able to get to the trailhead Litharus was staring at. It was the start of a winding path that lead almost three leagues into the forest, to a little clearing atop a hill. In the middle of the clearing was a huge, natural granite pillar they called the Standing Rock. Despite its size and visibility from the air, the forest blocked it from distant view. Sojourner survivors were to meet there in hopes of a rendezvous with one of the monthly skyships they had contracted for their piecemeal evacuation.

  They’ll be meeting there if everyone remembers the plans Dad told them at the meetings, thought Litharus. And, if there is anybody still alive. I hope the skyship that came last night is still around, trying to pick up survivors.

  The stonewright surveyed their surroundings. They needed to get moving and cross the swollen stream somehow. This side of the stream seemed to be nothing but steep rock wall and piles of wet rocks. If he had not still been exhausted from the previous night, he might have stoneshaped some of the rock into a little bridge across. But, that would have taken more energy and effort than he could not even imagine using at the moment. Looking for a more mundane solution, he gave a little start. He pointed to a spot in the cleft wall a little upstream from them.

  “What’s that there? I think they might be steps!” He was relieved that something might actually be going right. He began scrambling over the slippery rocks, talking over his shoulder.

  “I never explored this side of the stream with my father. We just crossed the stream practicing the escape route. It was barely big enough to wet our ankles then. Dad’s wise enough to practice things ahead of time, but he couldn’t plan for a storm like last night...”

  All three children stumbled and slipped up to the south wall of the cleft. Indeed, there were some steps there that had long ago been disguised as natural parts of the stone. They were probably stoneshaped when whoever it was that put in the escape tunnel, Litharus thought to himself. And they did such a good job. They look almost perfectly natural from far away. Thank you, Lord, for letting me spot them!

  The steps doubled back once, but they made it more of a stroll and less of a climb up the steep stone. Since they had repacked them, their packs did not bother any of the children, but they still went slowly, struggling through the slippery rain.

  “That wasn’t nearly as hard as I thought it would be,” said Ingrid, encouragingly. The children were standing on the gentle downslope of a high rocky ridge that ran roughly away to the southeast.

  “Unfortunately, that’s only about a twentieth of how far we’ve got to go.” Litharus’s mood matched the weather.

  The rain continued to fall, though they had not heard any thunder recently. The ridge behind them ran parallel to the rushing stream in front of them, and there were also two much lower ridges beyond the stream, making the land look like folds of rough fabric.

  The inky outline of the forest sat about three hundred yards on the other side of the stream, over those two low ridges and atop a high bank. Like an enemy army, the trees were keeping silent watch on them in dripping shadow.

  Litharus crouched by a large rock. He tucked himself up under a clump of long, wet grass. He wordlessly tugged the two girls close to him. Gwyndolyn raised her hand with the thumb pointing up over her head, then came close to the others.

  Whispering, Litharus began to explain, “We need to be quiet and careful out here. Who knows if they have watches or patrols out looking for survivors. We’re going to have to go upstream a bit to cross. With this little stream so full, the rain must have been coming down hard. Speaking of which, is it letting up?” He looked around and glanced up at the low, dark clouds.

  “No, I still hear it all around us... But I don’t feel it,” whispered a puzzled
Ingrid.

  Gwyndolyn stifled a giggle and whispered, “Do you like my rain shadow?”

  “What are you up to? We don’t have time for silliness,” hissed Litharus impatiently.

  “What’s a rain shadow, Gwyndolyn?” ventured Ingrid, humoring the younger girl and genuinely a little curious.

  “My father taught me how to put up a little wall of force shaped like an upside-down saucer over my head when it rains. I quite like it. I’m totally dry.” They did not even need to look at her. Despite being a whisper, Gwyndolyn’s voice carried the clear message that she was grinning.

  “Don’t waste your energy and concentration on something so trivial. We might need you to launch a lead bullet or arrows at food or enemies or our Lord only knows what. And, if you’re too tired because of your little rain shadow, what are we going to do?” Litharus was forcing his whispers out through clenched teeth.

  A silent moment passed, then with a little whoosh and splash a miniature deluge drenched the trio. Gwyndolyn had willed her rain shadow out of existence.

  Wiping his face with his hand, Litharus managed a curt, “Thank you.”

  Then looking through the gloom toward them, he pointed south and waved his pointer finger back and forth. It was the sign his father always gave for, “Head out!” when they were out hiking. The girls did not understand the hand gesture, but when he got up and started moving, they followed him. They all headed off upstream, making their way along the rushing brook, picking their way over the slippery rocks and muddy patches.