Four

by Archer Kay Leah

  Tash pulled Mayr's hands away. "Just the last two trials, that's all."

  "That's not all," Mayr argued quietly to keep his temper from rising. "Tell me about the next one. These first two… they hurt me, too. I can't imagine what the last two are like, but if these are any indication, I'm definitely not looking forward to them. You need to tell me about the next one."

  Averting his gaze, Tash stared across the room. "I told you already."

  "No, you didn't. You said something about confession, but that was it. So tell me the truth. What is it really?"

  For a long moment, Tash was silent, still focused on the wall as he hugged his raised knees. Whatever the truth was, he did not want to say it.

  All the more reason I need to know. How many other ways can he suffer?

  "Navara," Tash said at last. "It's Her trial. It requires a sacred sacrifice in the name of justice."

  "Meaning what?"

  The immediate reply was a shaky breath and clenched jaws. Quiet words followed. "I have to go to the people I wronged the most and apologize. I must accept whatever punishment or reaction they deem fit. Honesty and humility are the gifts I must offer."

  A chill raced through Mayr. The sombre tone fueled his worst thoughts, driving his anger to the surface. He would hate the answer to his next question, he knew it. "And who is that? What's the apology?"

  "My village, Araveena. I have to confess my part in the Shar-denn."

  Mayr leapt from the bed. "Absolutely not!" He spun around and pointed at Tash. "Do it and they'll kill you! Do you understand that? If you tell them what you told me, they could kill you. You haven't been pardoned by Council. You aren't an Uldana priest. You have no immunity. No protection. Tell people you were involved—what you did—and they can do anything they want to you as punishment. Anything!" Hands up, palms out, he prayed he could make Tash hear him. "Just wait a little longer. Get Council to pardon you then confess. You'll be safer."

  "No. It's what I have to do, and I have to do it now. Once the Trials start, they cannot be put off, and certainly not so I can be a coward," Tash whispered. "I have to do this for myself. It's been a long time coming, and I have to do it. Strength, courage, and honour. And forgiveness. Faith. That's what the last two trials test the most. How much do I believe in the Four? How much do I value my life so They'll value it just as much?"

  "And I don't care!" Mayr threw his arms open wide. "No gods are worth that! The Four might as well just come here and stab you a hundred times. That'd do the same damage. Torturing you into such good graces," he sneered. "Because isn't that what these trials are really for? To beat you into submission?"

  Tash's glare froze Mayr where he stood. It was cold, supported by restrained rage. "Stop it. You don't have any right to speak of Them or what you do not know, especially not here. Not in our home. Here, you speak with reverence or not at all." He pointed at the door. "If you feel that strongly, you can leave. Insulting Them insults me."

  Swallowing hard, Mayr watched Tash's pointed finger. It did not waver. Tash was sure about that much. Too far, Mayr. Too far.

  "I'm sorry," Mayr apologized, "but I just…" He jammed his palms against his closed eyes and shook his head. What if the confession got the attention of the Shar-denn? What if they lashed out because of it? Had Tash thought of any of that? "It's too dangerous. I can't do this. I can't."

  And the request I've made of Severn might as well be thrown out. There's no way she can get him pardoned before the next trial starts. Everything with the Council takes forever. He'll die and she'll just shrug it off and I'll be left here cursing the Goddesses until I die. No village will just pardon him for letting people die and hurting them; destroying lives. They wouldn't forget the things that happened. They won't let him go. They won't thank him for being honest. They'll want revenge. They'll want blood. And they'll get it. They'll prove the only way out is dead.

  Unless someone gets in their way.

  "I'm going with you." Mayr dropped his hands. "You're not going alone."

  "Mayr, you can't just—"

  "No, this time I'm coming along. I'll ask Ae for leave. Doesn't matter what you say, I'm coming with you. I wasn't there before, but that ends now." Mayr leaned forward, his eyes level with Tash's. "Besides, if you survive, you'll probably just call for me afterwards. May as well make it easy for both of us and have me right there. Say yes and I'll drop it. You're not the only one who's stubborn."

  They remained still in their positions until Mayr's back ached from the awkward angle.

  Tash broke the silence with a weary sigh. "I yield, but," he held up his hand, "only if you don't interfere. Do not get involved. You have to let things go. You have to let me get through this. It is my decision. Mine. If the Goddesses want me, They'll have me." A solemn stare pinned Mayr. "Do not interfere."

  If only Mayr had as much faith as Tash.

  Chapter Eight

  He was dumping everything on her shoulders in a way he never had before.

  Standing beside Aeley in front of the estate, Mayr caressed Hetlan's head absentmindedly and stared at the cart hitched to Hetlan. Two days since his recovery from the second trial, Tash had wasted no time advancing to the third. They would take the cart, Mayr had insisted, to carry their things to Araveena Ford.

  He intentionally left out the part that worried he would need it to bring Tash's dead body home.

  "You're sure you don't want me to go with you?" Aeley asked for the umpteenth time. "Because I will." She pointed to the house. "Won't take me long to get my things. We could be there and back within the day."

  Had it been up to him, he would have accepted her offer. But the decision was Tash's no matter what Mayr thought was best. "Thanks, I know you would." Mayr sighed, disgruntled and irritated. "I'm not the one in charge, though. He wants to do things on his own. It was hard enough to get him to agree to me coming. He doesn't want you there. You'll just ruin his big day."

  Aeley eyed him with an expression that shouted sarcasm. "Sure I would. I have that effect on people."

  An awkward silence fell between them.

  "Look, Ae." Mayr exhaled with a grimace. "I'm sorry. I know you granted me leave like you don't mind, but I can't help but think I'm letting you down. First with this Shar-denn business, which I'm not helping you handle like I should, and now I'm running out on you for I don't know how long. There's stuff I'm supposed to do here, but I can't let him do this without me. I can't be in two places at once. I keep spending time taking care of him and not you."

  "And yet the days carry on, the sky has yet to fall, and I'm poking fun at you at your expense."

  Lips pursed, Mayr tilted his head. "Ae."

  She hugged him tightly. "It's all right. You have a life, too. And you need to do this, I understand that." Aeley pulled back to cup his face with both hands. "You do whatever you have to. If it's for someone who makes you happy, even better."

  Mayr narrowed his eyes at the smile spreading across her lips.

  "Don't bother denying it." She tapped his chest with one gentle finger. "Whenever a woman's left you, I've had to restrain myself from locking them up. It's not been any fun keeping myself from kicking in their faces and lodging their stomachs in their throat. Though I won't lie and say I haven't had words with a couple." Aeley's lips twisted as she tilted her head and stared past him. "But this one, every time you mention his name, your voice goes a little softer; your eyes a little brighter. I remember another time when you were like that over the woman I wanted to kill for the damage she did to you."

  Stifling a groan, Mayr shifted and pushed Aeley back. Not the Betta argument. Not now.

  "No, listen," Aeley argued, grasping his arms. "I understand. I have Lira, remember? I wouldn't give her up for anything, and I'd do absolutely anything for her. So I understand this. Not to say I understand him, but I kind of do. Maybe. I don't know. But I know you. I know this is more than just a quick grab under the sheets. We haven't talked about what's going on between you two,
but we should, because I want you to have someone. I always have."

  "So you're not angry at me?"

  "You have stupid hearing."

  "I know." Mayr drew her into a tight embrace. "Only happens with you." He kissed her cheek. "Thanks."

  Aeley shrugged. "You owe me answers when you get back. And I mean answers, like which one of you takes it and how hard."

  Mayr shoved her back. "And that's where this lovely little moment ends, thank you very much."

  "I had to try." Aeley nodded toward the gated edge of the circular carriage path. "He's here."

  As he turned to look, Mayr expected to see a red robe. Instead, Tash wore everything but his robe, a single pack slung over his shoulder.

  "Morning," Tash greeted. He dropped his pack into the cart and stopped, distanced from Mayr by several paces. The dark circles under his eyes betrayed his lack of sleep. "Steward Dahe. Mayr. Are we ready?"

  "I don't know. Are we?" Mayr cringed at the sharp words. Bitter thoughts he could not express seeped into his tone, although not on purpose. Still, the trip would be longer than expected if he continued to snap. If only it were a dream. If only the trial could end before it started.

  Tash's brow lifted, but he said nothing. He climbed onto the front seat of the cart.

  "Guess we are," Mayr muttered, kissing Aeley's cheek again. "Hopefully we'll be back soon." Without another word, he got into the cart and seized Hetlan's reins. There was no point in delaying the day further. He just wished they could have left on better terms. Tash was still annoyed with Mayr's doubts and insistence; Mayr was still angry with Tash's blind faith. The silence was deafening with all of the words they dared not say.

  Their journey south was no better. Regardless of Mayr's attempts to lighten the mood with small jokes and the occasional question, they discussed little. There were no intimate conversations about what they felt. No explanations as to why Tash had called upon Mayr during the Trials when he should have avoided contact with anyone outside the priesthood. Tash's thoughts were elsewhere. Even though he glanced at Mayr, he seemed not to see him.

  The moment Araveena Ford came into view, Mayr slid his gaze to Tash, troubled by the way Tash curled into himself. Just tell me something. Any thought, any feeling. Tell me whatever it is you really want to say. He wanted to say the words out loud, but they would have been useless. At least four times during the trip, he had asked Tash the same thing only to receive a vague reply that amounted to little more than "no."

  He wanted the old Tash back. His Tash, the sweet, considerate man who set Mayr's lust on fire with the gentlest touch and led Mayr to believe the impossible could be overcome. Not this—the painfully quiet, duty-bound man whose resignation to fate left him with misery and nothing to say.

  Stupid Goddesses. Stupid priests. Stupid everything. I don't care who's responsible, I just want someone to fix this.

  They entered Araveena Ford without incident, tracked by curious stares of villagers going about their business. If anyone recognized Tash, it was difficult to tell. Just as well, Mayr decided. They did not need the extra attention. Maybe it meant Tash could confess and leave without befalling retribution. Maybe the people would prove Mayr wrong.

  Once Mayr stopped Hetlan in the centre of the village, Tash hopped from the cart and strode toward the shops along the edge, searching for the magistrate, Galosa. Mayr jumped down and guided Hetlan through the village by the bridle, watching the villagers. Similar to other villages in Kattal, wood and stone buildings in various states of repair circled the village square and spread outwards toward the fields. Carts and tables buried under wares formed a spacious marketplace to his left. Metal gleamed, colourful fabrics fluttered, and merchants chatted loudly, bragging and teasing each other and their customers, bringing life to the otherwise simple space of dry red dirt, dark wood, and grey stone. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted on the air from the baker's shop to his right, followed by bitter ale and roasted meats from the tavern several steps away. Villagers sauntered through the square, peering at him with amusement. Women grasped their baskets and whispered to one another, their excited stares unsettling him. The way they flipped their dark skirts and straightened to display their partially-revealed chests and tight bodices made him want to leave. His reason for being there was morbid, far from pleasant. The expectation of more wracked his nerves.

  Squeals and laughter filled the air, followed by a group of children that ran past him. Four boys in dark, dirt-soiled clothes and a girl in an almost-pristine orange dress charged toward the shops behind him before disappearing into a narrow alley. Mayr smiled, reminded of when he used to be like them. In some ways, neither he nor his siblings had grown out of it. They just played adult games instead, the childlike innocence cast aside.

  Still looking behind him, Mayr's smile faded. Beyond the alley, Tash reappeared, walking stiffly beside a tall, lanky man with grey hair. Dressed in a knee-length black tunic with dark pants and a sleeveless black and gold robe, the man's long face was drawn. The bronze chain of a Magistrate dangled from his belt. Half a dozen villagers followed, their glowers trained on Tash.

  Some people remember. Mayr's stomach churned, worsened by the growing number of villagers who joined the group. Some bounded up, seeming to inquire about the issue, only to have joy ripped from their faces and replaced with sneers. Others stopped and stared at Tash before they followed Galosa, their expressions dark.

  One woman ran up to Tash, stopping him cold. Loose auburn hair trailed down her back, bright against her white dress. Tiny in comparison to him, she stood in a defiant pose, her fists clenched.

  She slapped him before he could speak, hard enough for Mayr to hear it despite the distance.

  "You should've been rotting by now!" she yelled. "Everything you put us through. You should be dead! That's what you deserve."

  As she raised her hand to slap Tash again, a slender man with short, dark hair and a pronounced limp hurried around her, catching her wrists. She struggled to get free, jerking on the man without mercy. When the man yanked her back and wrapped his arms around her, she burst into tears and slumped into him. They dragged their feet as they moved away.

  Face flushed, Tash remained still. His saddened gaze followed the couple. He gripped one forearm and grimaced. Only when Galosa grabbed his elbow did Tash continue walking.

  Mayr guided Hetlan toward the middle of the village, anticipating Galosa's destination from his deliberate steps. The instant Galosa and Tash stepped onto the red stone dais in the centre of the square, the marketplace quieted. Villagers paused and looked to one another as they gathered. Murmurs of confusion and excitement kept the silence at bay until Galosa raised his hand.

  A dozen paces behind the dais, Mayr tied Hetlan's reins to the thick wooden pole bearing the green and gold flag of Kattal. Hesitant, Mayr neared Tash and reached for his hand. "I'm here," he whispered, squeezing Tash's fingers.

  Tash squeezed back, the tight touch lingering.

  "Listen here, citizens," Galosa called, his booming voice carrying through the square. "We have a matter to tend to, set upon us by the ever gracious Lady of Justice, Navara. Blessed are we to receive such a gift." Brown eyes narrowed, Galosa regarded Tash with disgust, his lip curled. "A gift that is long overdue, I may add. One this village has deserved for a great many years. And here you are, walking in as if Navara led you by the hand. How kind of you to finally acknowledge us and the blood we have shed on your behalf, coward."

  Tash paled.

  From the back of the assembled group, a young woman with thick blonde curls and a bright red dress raced toward an alley at the furthest end of the market. The villagers grew loud and stared at Tash with frowns of disapproval.

  Galosa elbowed Tash in the ribs. "I give it over to you, Taldris. May Navara find your confession bearable and true. I can't say the rest of us will," he said, stepping down from the dais.

  "Thanks," Tash muttered. He pushed Mayr back and straightened before taking a deep b
reath. "In the name of Navara, most virtuous and magnanimous of the Four, I offer you this confession, freely and without restraint." His voice carried across the silent square, wavering despite the confidence he projected. Even if no one else noticed it, Mayr recognized Tash's struggle to remain composed. Muscles strained in Tash's back, and his fingers trembled as he clenched and unclenched his fists. Faith had not ripped fear from his heart and steadied his nerves, no matter how much he said it could.

  "Some of you remember me, and I've been counting on that," Tash admitted. "I stand before you as Halataldris, son of Parase and Kilienn. They are your friends, honest citizens, innocents, and law abiders. What I say now cannot be attributed to them; the blame is not their burden. I take that completely upon myself. Navara knows this to be true." He glanced over his shoulder to Mayr before turning back to the crowd. "I hereby confess that I, Halataldris, willingly participated in the Shar-denn as a fully-inducted member and sworn guard. Ten years worth of blood passed through my hands. Only a small portion was my own."

  Loud gasps were only one of the responses to his words, scattered and staggered throughout the crowd. Several villagers grunted; disgust apparent on their faces. Retorts and shouts for justice followed.

  At the front of the crowd, the woman who had slapped Tash glowered at him. Her nails dug into the arm of the man still holding her. The man's face, slender like the rest of him, was worn and discoloured by a long, puckered scar along his right jaw. Focused on Tash, his dark eyes narrowed with spite. As he shifted his hold around the woman's waist, the man's long sleeve rose to reveal a dark tattoo on his forearm. A skull perched on a fist.

  A gang brother.

  Mayr gripped his knife and neared Tash. He splayed his other hand over the middle of Tash's back, ignoring Tash's shudder. The confession was problem enough without the presence of gang members and how they might react. If you so much as step toward him, I'll—