Thirteenth of Harvest
As expected, Marshal Berias brought news of the pilgrim the next morning. To his surprise, he was left waiting in an audience chamber. The King’s steward informed him that there would be another party at the briefing, and Berias spent the next few minutes in silent anger as he sat in a leather chair staring at a mural on the wall.
“Milady!”
Berias’ head snapped up when he heard the steward’s call. He leapt to his feet and stood to attention as the Prophetess stepped into the chamber, as always followed by her purple-clad entourage.
“Milady,” Berias echoed, bowing low.
“I am told you have news,” she said once he had straightened.
“I do, but I beg your leave to wait until we are before the King.”
“As it should be,” Siara agreed, and waved for the steward to open the doors. Berias followed the Prophetess and her group into the Throne Room, bowing as he stood next to Siara before the King.
“I came as fast as I could,” Siara said, glancing at Berias. “The Marshal was quite cordial to await my arrival.”
“Of course, Milady.” Berias bowed his head slightly, hiding his anger at not being informed of her presence. What power play was the King attempting? Ever the marshal, Berias had no concept of the King’s fear at the current events. Like many powerful men, Berias could lose sight of the big picture as he focused on criminal threats and conspiracies. So often his purpose was to interact with the greed of the common citizen. Sometimes he forgot that very real people had very real concerns.
“What is your news, Marshal?” Farhad asked. “This traveller of the Silent Order. What is his goal?”
“To begin with, 'he' is a woman. Her name is Belkai, no known family name,” Berias announced. “And she heads for Narandir.”
Farhad’s blood seemed to turn to ice. First the Kingdom suffered assaults from that cursed Forest, and now a mysterious stranger spilt blood on a course for the same?
“What do you fear, my King?” Siara asked softly, understanding the look in his eye.
“The timing gives me concern,” Farhad admitted. “The Silent Order crosses our border as the Aliri strike and as the Forest unleashes monsters upon the southern reaches.” He looked back to the Marshal. “What is this Belkai’s purpose?”
“My scout has yet to discover that,” Berias confessed. “But his orders are to learn that by any means, as you have commanded.”
The lie was accepted at face value, just as he had expected. Farhad was powerful, of that there was no doubt, but he lacked wisdom. Berias had no real way of getting a message to Davos without alerting the mage. He was relying on the scout to use his instincts and follow his training. That would have to be just as good as direct orders in this instance.
Farhad grunted, then turned to Siara. “Will she be headed for the Recluse?”
“Any other goal would be unlikely,” she agreed. “It would be wise to remember that the Order seeks to aid those in need. They do not involve themselves in political processes or common warfare. Perhaps there are greater forces at work than we have understood.”
“The Recluse sends his minions against us,” Farhad said, his voice beginning to rise with anger. “Any who seek to aid him are enemies of Svaleta. They will be treated as such.”
Siara glanced to Berias, who was working hard to hide his frustration. This was madness, she knew. They had no knowledge of this mage’s plans or intentions. A destination was not a determination of guilt. Siara kept her face blank as Farhad paused for a moment, staring at the brick walls, before his face relaxed as he made his decision. “Have your scout continue with this traveller. If she takes him to the Recluse, his orders are to kill him – and Belkai, if she is lending him aid. I will have a military detachment follow them into the Forest. If your scout fails, they will carry out his task.”
“You want him to carry out an assassination,” Berias said, his eyes wide with shock. “That is not how my scouts are trained.”
“Your scouts are trained to follow the orders of the King, are they not?” Siara asked, her voice gentle despite the edge to the words. Forgive me, she thought even as she spoke. Now was not the time to deny the king, even if his rationale was questionable.
Berias straightened, not daring to contradict the Prophetess in front of the king – or at all, for that matter. “Of course. My King, your command will be carried out.”
With a bow to them both, he turned and left the room. When the door was shut, Siara took a deep breath. Her confession was not to be made in front of a larger audience.
“He is right, my lord. It is an untraditional mission for a militia scout.”
“The times are desperate,” Farhad said, rubbing his forehead. “We cannot march on the Forest and win with strength of arms. Every day I get reports of more creatures in our lands. We need a decisive strike to kill the Recluse.”
“We still do not know his purpose,” Siara reminded him. “We could unleash a greater wrath.”
“My loyalty is to this Kingdom, not a mad mage’s forest,” Farhad spat. “His life is second to my citizens’.”
“I have sent a messenger to this scout,” Siara said, hoping that the shift would settle his growing fury. “He will need strengthening for the path ahead.”
"What path?”
“Much remains hidden to my sight,” Siara admitted. “But he faces darkness and confusion. Your orders will not make it easier, though they will give him clarity of mission. My messenger should meet him today.”
“What is happening in this Kingdom, Prophetess?” Farhad sunk in his throne, seeming to age a decade in that moment. “What madness has descended upon us?”
“I have no answer for that.” Siara put her hand on his, and he looked up to meet her gaze. “But if you have faith, you will find strength for what lies ahead, whatever it may be.”
“And if I have none?”
“Then the Kingdom is already lost.”
* * *
The journey through the Quarries had not been without difficulty. Though from a distance the mountain range appeared daunting, there were paths that avoided the toughest climbs. Here Belkai and the others submitted to Loranna’s guidance. She had been given the occasional contract from the militia to find escapees from the labour camps and had become quite familiar with the secret paths. She led them through narrow clefts in the rocks, down steep hills, and across crumbling slopes. They spent the night in the foothills, hidden from the camps’ view by rocky overhangs. When they rose in the morning, the sky was dark with the threat of rain.
“We need to push hard before the rain hits,” Loranna warned as they packed up their camp. “This time of year, you can expect flooding between here and Hirton.”
“That is a two day walk even without rain,” Roulson protested. “If we don’t wait here, we could be stranded for days.”
“If we stay here, the patrols will find us. We’ve been lucky so far,” Loranna snapped. “Get your pack. We are moving.”
Davos pushed past Roulson without a word. Belkai handed the newcomer his pack.
“You’ll be fine, my friend,” she said. “As a positive, you wear no armour, and you have no possessions.”
“All that I own is in King’s Crossing with my wife,” Roulson replied as he walked beside her. She turned, walking backwards as her eyes pierced through him.
“What are you doing here, Roulson? I understand your desertion. But why leave your family?”
Roulson knew that she was a foreigner, her pale skin made that much clear. He hadn’t expected her to know much of Svaletan military law. So there was no judgement in his voice when he answered.
“They don’t just kill deserters, Belkai. They arrest anyone who aided them, and families are either killed or sent to the Quarries.”
Belkai glanced up at the mountains. How many were held there because they felt compassion for those overwhelmed by the harsh realities of military living?
“This land is full of contradiction,” Belkai said, turning back around to face the road ahead of them. “It is beautiful, open, and peaceful. But there is darkness here, and not just from feral orc gangs.”
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Roulson nodded. “No one is truly pure in this land. Don’t misunderstand me, this is a good land. Most of us are good people. But we have faced much over the centuries. We have to live tough.”
“So you wish to save your wife.”
“When the time is right, I will return to her,” Roulson said, his eyes downcast. “But not if they are still hunting me.”
For a moment Belkai felt a twinge of regret. She thought she knew how his story would end, and she did not foresee his return to King’s Crossing, at least not in this life.
“Hold onto that hope when the journey is tough,” she said gently, and truthfully. “It will help you endure.”
“What lies ahead?” he asked, understanding some import of her words.
“I cannot answer that,” Belkai admitted to him. “But I do know that peace has been left far behind.”
He didn’t seem to have an answer to that, but he gave her a wary look. She knew something more than she’d spoken, he knew. He couldn’t imagine what it was, but he found his hand resting on his sword’s hilt as he walked.
* * *
The first drops of rain fell a few hours into their journey. At first it was only a light splattering, cold on their skin. It was almost refreshing, but Davos cursed his luck, knowing that it would only get worse from there. Belkai slung her cloak over her shoulders, glancing over at Roulson, who was already starting to shiver. The rain got more intense as they walked, soon becoming a heavy shower.
“Belkai!” Davos called out. “Can you do something?”
“What, tell the rain to stop?” Belkai yelled back. “Thank you, but I am not a god, Davos.”
Ignoring Loranna’s laughter, Davos was about to respond when Belkai continued,
“A mile ahead on the left. I sense a woman. There may be shelter.”
It was better than nothing in Davos’ mind. “Then lead on!”
With possible shelter a mile away, they broke into a run, eager to get out of the cold rain.
* * *
Sashai had lit a fire near the mouth of the cave earlier that morning. With the overcast sky came a cold breeze that was funnelled into her rocky home. At first the smoke had made her eyes water, but she’d soon adjusted. With nothing to do but wait, she boiled tea over the fire and wrapped herself in her blanket, staring out at the rain shower as she tried to keep warm. The Prophetess’ message was on the dirt beside her, held down by a stone. She had spent her morning prayers with it in front of her, a self-imposed test of her discipline. The Prophetess would have approved, she knew. Throughout her prayers the temptation to read the note had grown ever stronger, but still she kept her curiosity at bay. After two hours she had deemed the test a success and finally made herself breakfast.
As a priestess in training, much of her life was spent in prayer and contemplation, studying the sacred texts and the honoured tradition to learn the Temple’s ways. When she turned eighteen, she would be granted permission to learn their healing arts. Then she could venture into the world at will to serve those in need. Until then, her only forays outside of the Temple were at the Prophetess’ orders, whether to aid a pilgrim or secure provisions. It was a hard life in many ways, but spiritually rewarding. She’d certainly felt more peace than the rich nobles who came to the Temple in distress seeking help.
Sashai drained the last of her tea and set her cup on the stony floor. She sighed as the rain continued to pour down, and began to pray once more. Only moments passed before she heard a voice yell out,
“Hello there? We seek shelter!”
It was a woman’s voice, older than Sashai but still young. Her heart raced. Was this the group that the Prophetess had sent her to find? Before she could respond, four people stepped through the mouth of the cave, cursing at the rain. They were led by a young woman in a cape, her auburn hair flattened by the wet. Behind her was a Svaletan man in militia garb. A peasant stood beside him, and in their rear was a brown-haired woman with an axe hanging from her belt.
“Make yourselves at home,” Sashai said, waving at the ground around the fire. The travellers thanked her and dropped to the dirt, huddling close the warmth of the flames. “Where do you come from?”
“We are headed south,” said the woman with the cape. “We were aiming for Hirton, but this cursed rain struck.”
“It will last the night,” the militia man predicted. He looked to Sashai. “Perhaps we should introduce ourselves. My name is Davos.”
Sashai kept her face neutral as the group introduced themselves. The Prophetess hadn’t said anything about the second man, but she had met them just as predicted. Great things rely on the smallest of encounters, Sashai remembered Siara saying. So it would seem.
“My name is Sashai,” she said once they were finished. “I am a trainee in the Temple of the Sun.”
“You are a long way from home, then,” Davos noted.
“And yet right where I need to be,” Sashai said. They spoke for a while of her journey, though she was silent about her purpose, and she encouraged them to seek the aid of the mages from Lustria should they cross paths. When the conversation went silent, she turned to Davos and said,
“I was sent with a message for you.”
Ignoring the party’s puzzled looks, she picked up the Prophetess’ message and passed it to him. He pocketed it without reading.
“The Prophetess sent you here?” asked the woman named Loranna. Sashai only nodded.
“What else did she say?” Davos asked.
“She feels your burden, Davos,” Sashai told him. “You will find your way.”
She gathered her bedroll and blanket and fitted them into her pack. “That is my message to you. Do with it as you wish.”
She bid farewell, then stepped into the rain to find Snowmane and head back to the Temple. Belkai watched her leave, then asked,
“What was that all about?”
“The Prophetess is the most revered priestess in the Kingdom,” Loranna told her. “Even the King seeks her counsel on a regular basis.”
“Does she often seek people out like this?”
“Nobody would know,” Davos replied. “Many go to the Temple for advice, but only a few see the Prophetess herself. Her disciples wander the Kingdom clothed in purple, but no one knows where they go or for what purpose. Maybe they deliver messages, maybe they have greater purposes.”
“Mages like their mysteries,” Loranna said, and gave Belkai a wink. “Maybe too much so.”
Belkai didn’t respond, just stared at the rain falling outside. She’d sensed something about Sashai, something familiar, a strength that belied her youth. She had been that way once, Belkai realised. Before her craving for knowledge had blinded her to the risks. Before he had come. Sashai had her whole life ahead of her, ripe for the picking. And what hope is there for me? Belkai asked herself. The pouring rain gave no answer.
* * *
While the others were occupied cooking lunch or talking amongst themselves, Davos moved away from the fire and pulled the parchment out of his pocket. He made sure no one was watching, then he opened it and began to read.
Davos, I have seen the path you walk. You have been put on a path that you do not understand. Armies march, and out of the depths of Narandir ancient evils emerge. In the midst of uncertainty you follow one that could decide our fates. You are right to be cautious. This mage has a darkness around her, but she was not always this way. I sense an innocence lost but a peace waiting to be released. Your conflict will only be solved with your action. Do not trust your heart, but nor should you ignore it. The answer will be clear in time.
My prayers are always with you.
It was frustratingly vague, but Davos thought that he discerned the Prophetess’ meaning. He had long believed that a person’s fate was unwritten. It certainly seemed to apply to Belkai, according to this letter. Do not trust your heart, but nor should you ignore it.
“Isn’t that a nice piece of prose,” he whispered as he folded the note away.
“What did she say?” Belkai asked, walking over to him.
“Nothing clear,” Davos told her, and waved for her sit down. She did so, resting against the wall beside him.
“Prophets can be tiresome.” Belkai smiled. “They are the mouthpieces of the gods, but all they ever want to do is speak in riddles.”
“Sometimes I don’t know the difference between what they mean to say and what I want them to say,” Davos admitted. Belkai laughed and patted his leg.
“When you learn that, Davos, you will understand all the mysteries of the universe.”
Davos decided that he liked her laugh. I sense an innocence lost but a peace waiting to be released. She certainly seemed like two people – the happy, almost charming young woman before him and the mage who killed with a power beyond his comprehension. How did she hold that in balance? Did she at all?
“I still owe you a drink,” Davos said. “When we come to Hirton, I will fulfil my debt.”
Belkai’s smile widened a little, and she put her hand on his. “I hope so.”
* * *
It was still raining when they turned in for the night. Loranna took the first watch, settling in at the entrance of the cave with her axe laid across her lap. From her position she could watch her three companions as they slept, as well as have a clear view outside of the cave. She had watched Davos and Belkai earlier as they talked, and couldn’t help but smile. She had known Davos for many years, and hadn’t seen him smile like this, not even for her. It was a nice change to see. Maybe this strange journey would be worth it for him to find some peace.
* * *
Belkai was deep in an unusually good dream when Davos shook her awake. Her hands darted to her daggers, ready to strike at any danger, but he gently took hold of her wrists and held a finger to his lips. He let go when she nodded her understanding. Belkai frowned but followed him as he led her to the mouth of the cave.
“There’s something I want to show you,” he said quietly as they stepped into the night. “It’s the perfect night for them.”
“For what?” Belkai asked, but he held up a hand. He led her a few steps away from the cave, then sat on the grass. She joined him, still frowning as she looked around. There wasn’t any movement that she could see, though she sensed something nearby. It was strange, though, something that she didn’t recognise.
Davos took a deep sniff and smiled as he glanced over at her.
“Here they come.”
There was only one at first, a dull orange light that drifted up out of the nearby trees. At first Belkai thought that it was floating with the wind, but it began to zip around like a finch. More joined it, and soon there were at least three dozen of the lights moving about the night sky. About a hundred feet away she could see a second, larger group floating through the air in a listless trance. She found herself mesmerised by the sight.
“Fairies,” Davos whispered, quietly sliding himself closer to her. “Native to Svaleta, I hear.”
“I’ve heard stories,” Belkai whispered back. “The Aliri hunted them out of their land. They don’t like it anywhere else but here.”
“They say that fairies are good luck,” Davos told her. “Those of pure heart who see them are blessed with safe journeys.”
Belkai didn’t respond. His words held no comfort for her. She was far from pure, she knew that. Her heart held a deeper darkness than he could ever understand or comprehend. She watched as one of the lights drew closer, and she could now make out the barest outline of a humanoid figure in the middle of the glow. It came to within a foot of the two humans, almost as if it were as curious about them as they were of it. Belkai felt a sense of peace run over her as the fairy hung suspended in the air for several long seconds before shooting away to return to its group.
“They also say that fairies seek out new lovers,” Davos whispered. “They delight in anything new.”
Belkai surprised herself as she rested her head on Davos’ shoulder. He didn’t say a word, but he took her hand in his own and laid it in his lap. She didn’t move as they sat together watching the fairies dance about the night sky. For her, this was the closest to perfection that she had felt for a long time.
I can’t promise you a future, Davos, she thought sadly. But I’ll give you tonight. A man like you deserves that much at least.