XXI. AWAY WITH WORDS
The Sea of Sorrow was an oddly placid body of water, particularly given it gruesome history as a cursed sea. For miles, it spread out, in a seemingly infinite carpet of blue around the Xanavien Fleet. In the middle of this watery desert, a lone vessel of a faraway land, devoid of the sons from the Mariner State that legend and practice dictated would serve as ward against the curse. Yet days had passed uneventfully, and Renata’s hopes for the vengeful waves to claim her and her captors ebbed like the retreating tides.
The ship gently rolled upon the waves as Renata sat in silence, bathed in moonlight; the sight made her oddly homesick for Nassica. Her captor had spared no expense when it came to compounding her misery, but as they drew further from the island chain; his demeanor seemed to shift drastically. While he still verbally assaulted her on occasion, he had not struck her since they loaded the boats and set sail. What was most uncomfortable were the long bouts of silence and isolation.
He spent more and more time locked in the cabin with her, pouring over books, which meant that she, saw less and less of Maleah and her attendants. Renata was subject to his gruesome concoctions and days without hearing another human voice between. She often was relieved when he spoke to her, even if it were only to curse her very being in his native tongue. It was something to break the monotony.
“Tell me.”
Osric’s voice caused Renata to nearly jump from her skin. It was soft, as if it were a human being speaking to her and not some monster. It was disorienting.
“Who was the father?”
Renata clutched her ragged gown in her fists and turned her gaze to the deck. It had been two days since she had eaten last, and over a day since her last drink of water. She could not have answered him even if she wanted to.
“Do you not know? Are there so many candidates that you cannot be certain which planted the seed?”
“You starve and brutalize me, now ask questions?” Renata rasped as well as her parched throat would allow.
“Hmm.” Osric leaned back in his chair. “I was under the impression that my sister was attending to your needs.”
The calmness and humanity in his voice frightened her, as did his presence. He sat silently for several moments and stared at her from the shadows. Renata strained to make out his face, to try to catch a glimmer of what fresh hell he had in store for her, but it was far too obscured. She swallowed a dry hard lump in her throat as she struggled to remember her own voice.
She flinched as he abruptly stood and crossed the cabin towards a desk. He placed a decanter under a spigot and filled it with fresh, cold water. Renata watched with pleading eyes, hoping against hope that he would not just drink the whole thing by himself in front of her.
To her surprise however, he grabbed a cup from a shelf and placed the two items at her feet before returning to his seat. Renata ignored the cup as she snatched up the carafe and thirstily gulped the refreshing liquid; spilling most onto her gown in her haste to finish it. From the shadows, Osric chuckled at her animalistic behaviors.
“Does my suffering amuse you fiend?” Renata defiantly wiped her mouth on the back of her hand.
“Yes.” Osric derisively rolled his hand in her direction. “Now, who was the father?”
Renata cradled the empty vessel close to her chest, desperately craving more. “I am under no obligation to answer you anything.”
Osric leaned forward and held out his hands. “I am merely curious, the curse of the academic. You have information I would like, and I have the basic necessities for life you require. Quid pro Quo.”
Renata snatched up the cup and flung it at him. “You go to hell!”
Osric effortlessly halted the cup in mid-air with a twitch of his fingers, and held it tumbling in place before him. “I am trying to be personable. If this is not to your liking, we can return to our previous relationship. It matters very little to me.”
“Aichlan.” Renata blurted, her eyes wet and wide. “His name was Aichlan, my guard.”
Osric released his hold on the cup and it clattered against the deck before rolling away. Renata flinched and clutched the decanter close, anticipating violence in the still silence that hung between them.
“That wasn’t so difficult, now was it?”
His smile caused her stomach to knot and she was overcome with an urge to both vomit and punch him in the face. With no food in her stomach and no strength to even stand let alone throw a punch, Renata shook her head as she began to sob.
“Aichlan…” Osric leaned back in his seat and crossed his leg over his knee. “Was he at Therion?”
Renata shook her head more forcefully as she doubled over, sobs wracking her weakened body.
“Hmm.” Osric tapped his chin with his index finger as he contemplated the ceiling. “Why would your guardian not be with you at your last stand? Unless of course, he died before then.”
Osric waved his hand and the decanter flew out of Renata’s grasp to refill itself at the spigot. Renata reached out weakly for it before collapsing face first onto the deck, now bawling uncontrollably.
Osric curled his lip in disgust at her pitiful display. “Everyone dies eventually Priestess, something you should be well accustomed to by now.”
The carafe of water floated back over to Renata and she held up her hands to take it, tears and snot running down her face. Abruptly, Osric caused the pitcher to hover just out of her reach, and she fell over, sobbing anew.
Osric clucked his tongue and wagged his finger at her. “Now, now Renata, you can have your water, once you clean that mess off your face.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” Renata blubbered.
“Intellectual curiosity.” Osric said flatly. “Now wipe your face and cease this sniveling. It’s so unbecoming.”
Renata acquiesced in wiping her face off on the tattered hem of her gown but was unable to quell her sobbing. After several moments, Osric muttered something in Xanavien and lowered the pitcher into her hands.
“How long were you and this Aichlan together?”
Renata downed half of the pitcher before answering. “A couple of years.”
“And this was your first?”
“First what?” Renata snapped.
The air in the cabin suddenly grew thick as waves of energy wafted off of Osric. “Any and all. First lover? First child? First abortion? Take your pick.”
Renata wiped her eyes and took another sip of water. His nice was awfully similar to his nasty.
“All of the above.” Renata murmured.
Osric laughed. “That’s a very disingenuous answer Priestess.”
“What about you then? How many puppies have you killed? Am I the first woman you’ve brutalized? Or one of many?”
Osric silently watched with his golden eyes simmering.
“Why were you exiled?” Renata asked as an afterthought.
For the first time, he showed genuine emotion. His face contorted into a mask of shame and regret before he retreated to the shadows once more.
“Quid pro quo.” Renata pressured.
“You wouldn’t understand.” He growled with a flippant wave of the hand.
“Try me.”
Silence hung thick between them for several moments.
“For attempting to wrest life from death and bring back a woman wrongfully taken from this world.”
Renata glared warily at him, unsure of his angle of trickery or abuse. His tone seemed genuinely mournful. She opened her mouth to curse him for toying with her, but to her surprise, he levitated a peeled orange and floated it to her.
“What do you know of your position Renata?” Osric asked abruptly.
“What?” She croaked between mouthfuls.
He chuckled; his voice filled with an unwarranted note of whimsy. “I assume you have been well indoctrinated, but what do you really know?”
Renata greedily ate the sweet fruit, still wary of her tormentor’s intentions. He continued to stare at her with his bestial eyes; golden and glowing in the dim light like a predator contemplating prey.
“Tell me, do you know why you are Renata?”
Renata ceased licking the juice from her fingers to look up at him, perplexed by the odd question. She knew it was a name given to the High Priestess, but little else. Osric laughed again and nodded as if she had just validated some point or another.
“A great sorceress found the secret, but it was too late. She went by the name of Morana.”
Osric idly played with a pen in its inkwell on his desk. The beastly look in his eyes was gone, replaced by the look of a weary scholar, burdened by his knowledge. She had seen his type before, many men of Asketill were troubled by their craft, the constant pursuit of knowledge, and nights spent awake pouring over some dead language in one ancient text or another. The mysteries chased and secrets better left unknown. It had driven quite a few to the brink of insanity. This single mindedness could have led to the change Maleah spoke of, though Renata was prone to believe it was likely an evil he held all along. Still, there was something sad about him. Renata remained cautious and refused to neither loosen her jaw set in a scowl nor acknowledge him with words or gestures.
“It’s not your fault necessarily, but you are the same person. The same broken delusional woman who brought our species to this pathetic state when the world first came to an end.”
“What do you want from me?” Renata’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“I want nothing from you; you are merely,” Osric churned the air with his hand as one does when searching for a lost word or thought, “a bargaining chip.”
She lowered her eyes, but abruptly jerked her head back up upon noticing a tray of half-eaten dinner upon the table. Osric, catching her longing gaze, tossed her the ends of a loaf of bread. She swore she saw a look of remorse in his eyes but could not be sure that it was not just wishful thinking or some trick he was playing. This brief act of humanity and kindness was likely just some game for him, some new way to torture her. She was tempted to toss back his scraps of bread but was dismayed to find she had already eaten them.
“There is no Elysium Priestess, or should I say, there is no Elysium for those who reside upon Silex. What we receive is a limbo of sorts, a world between life and death, which is represented by total oblivion. This is the one ‘luxury’ that the Eloi granted us, that our soul should not die with the flesh but wander aimlessly instead.”
“I have suffered enough at your hands as it is Osric, I will not tolerate blasphemy as well. For your deeds, you have a seat of honor in Abigor’s great maw, to be masticated endlessly for all eternity.”
Osric smiled sadly. “And in a way, it would be fitting, I suppose…”
He rose and absently flipped through a book. “The ancient civilization destroyed by Abigor’s malice and the Eloi’s fear wrote several laws regarding the world around them and even the heavens above. They filed them away under various tomes of magic; one such magical art was called ‘physics.’ A special branch of this art was called ‘astrophysics.’ ‘Astro’ being anything that relates to the stars. Unfortunately, we presently have nothing to compare this too. Alchemy, maybe, but my understanding is that the laws of alchemy are often at odds with those of physics, but I digress.”
She could not shake the feeling that he was lecturing her, as if she were one of his former students. He struck her as a shy, humble individual, who spent his time in books to escape the harshness of reality. His tone was confident however, possibly due to his knowledge of the subject matter, or maybe his teaching experiences at Asketill.
“These laws and magics gave order and meaning to our mortal plane, they explained what was once unexplainable. That which the gods deigned not to share in their arrogance. One such law is the law of conservation of energy, one of several empirical law of physics.”
“These magics formed empires?” Renata found herself genuinely interested in the odd direction the conversation had taken.
Osric smiled, though his annoyance was evident in his twitching eyebrow and tight smile. “No, empirical is anything that can be consistently tested and observed.”
“Energy can’t be observed.” She said obstinately.
“No, not exactly, but its effects can. As I was saying however, this law states that the total amount of energy in an isolated system—”
“A what?”
“An isolated system.” He sighed, irritated by her constant interruptions. “It’s a bit hard to explain, as they don’t really exist, a purely hypothetical concept—”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Renata hoped she had not awakened any ire with her tone, though secretly she did want to rattle him, if only a little.
Osric clasped his hands into a fist under his chin as he paced the deck, searching the wood grain for either patience or an epiphany. “I suppose it is rather abstract, suffice it to say, isolated systems remain constant over time, said to be conserved overtime. A consequence of this law is that energy can neither be created nor destroyed, it can only be transformed from one state to another.”
“I think you don’t know what you’re talking about. I think you found some old book and are trying to make sense of it by sounding knowledgeable.”
Osric paused; the flash of irritation at her words was quickly replaced with a smirk. “Hmm. Perhaps I am, perhaps I am not. I won’t profess to understand every intricacy of this lost science, but neither will I say that I am completely ignorant to the meaning behind what I have learned.”
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“So where does it come from? How did it get here if it can neither be created nor destroyed?” Renata’s brows knitted in frustration and confusion. “Such a law is self-defeating as it doesn’t address key flaws.”
“And The Order is no different?” He challenged.
“Yes, it is different! We don’t try and tell our followers that something is law even though it makes no sense! We admit that we cannot answer all questions, and some questions are better off left unanswered. What we do teach is how to make one’s life meaningful for its relatively short duration, to discard the taint of our—”
“Bah!” Osric swiped at the air as if to dispel her words. “You are missing the point Renata.”
The sternness of his tone and severity of expression stopped her in mid-sentence.
“A finite amount of energy was released in the creation of the universe to be infinitely re-cycled, which is what the law of conservation states.” Osric hammered each word with his fist into an open palm. “Say you have a reaction, say you were to throw that cup at me,”
“I’d very much like too…”
“The act of throwing imparts energy,” In his fervor, Osric did not catch her snide remark, “the bending of your arm et cetera, that energy transfers into the cup as kinetic energy, or motion, in layman’s terms.”
“But what is energy?” Renata snapped impatiently. “And what does it have to do with the soul?”
“That is the question I have been awaiting.” Osric said with an oddly charming smile.
“It is a quantity that can be assigned to every particle, every object and every system of objects.” He held up a hand as if he anticipated her question. “Please, just let me finish my main argument, and I promise to address your concerns. As I was saying, energy is a consequence of the state of a particle, object or system of objects. There are many forms of energy, and I could go on for hours, but I’ll spare you for the time being.
“But what does this all mean you may ask? Take this as an example: a man dies and is buried in the dirt. His body decays and feeds the worms which gives nourishment to the plants as he is broken down to his mineral essence and releases gasses that become fossil fuels—”
“Become what?”
“Combustibles Renata, oil, swamp gasses, and peat.” He replied hurriedly and continued his lecture without pause. “He eventually becomes soil to grow plants that man and beast alike eat to fuel their own existence. He goes from a solid state of flesh and blood, to a gaseous state, turning to liquid oil and the various fluids of decay and eventually back into a solid. Thus, man is recycled into the circle of life and we have conservation. There are many conservation laws, but I will soon get to why I chose the law of energy.”
He licked his lips and took a sip of wine, the fire in his eyes seemed to burn anew as he looked upon his great tomes and scrolls sprawled out before him, and back to his captive audience upon the deck. Renata squirmed, suddenly more uncomfortable than she had been previously. She shifted her weight and caught a glimpse of the fruit bowl on the table. Her stomach growled again more audibly than the last time. Osric laughed to himself and tossed her a pear.
“So, what of the soul?” He continued as he paced the deck. “When its host returns to the elements, does some transmigration of the soul occur? It would seem logical given the various laws of conservation. But what is the soul?”
“It is the very essence, it dictates who we are, and when we die, it is the soul that ascends to Elysium.”
Osric offered a mocking grin. “Very good Priestess, but this is not a religious studies course I’m afraid. So again, I ask, what is the soul? Is it not energy? Yes, albeit in a transcendent form, but does it not possess several characteristics of energy by its definition?”
“I wouldn’t know, your explanation was quite difficult to follow, and utterly preposterous.” Renata scoffed through mouthfuls of pear.
“That is what we call a rhetorical question.”
Though he was not violent as before, he was still a smart ass.
“If we were to follow physics’ law, a soul cannot be destroyed. That is widely accepted as fact in The Order is it not?”
Renata remained silent except for the slow chewing of her pear, which was little more than seeds and stem by this point.
“But what happens to it if it does not die when the body does? And new soul, energy, cannot be created, so what does that leave?” Osric paused as if he awaited an answer but continued at Renata’s continued reticence. “Conservation.”
“Morana was able to commune with the dead in their land of mist and shadow. She noticed that many would disappear periodically, some returned during her lifetime, but had no recollection of their previous life; instead, they spoke of a new set of memories and family, new life experiences. Being a clairvoyant, this was not conducive for business as many thought her a fraud and she was driven from every residence.”
“The point of this story Osric?”
Coldness flashed briefly in his eyes; perhaps she was trying her luck.
“Morana lived during the period of reconstruction after the collapse, from six hundred twenty-eight to six hundred sixty-three ATC. It was around this time that Saint Cecily the blind cleansed the world of demons in six hundred sixty-six ATC. Before Morana embarked on her quest to resurrect the great demon, she was a medium. She traveled to the realm of mist that time forgot, the place where the dead reside. Renata the Benevolent founded the Order of the Dawn five years after the collapse, as you may well already know. Since that time, she discovered that there has only been one Renata between the periods of one’s death and the other’s ascension.”
“Reincarnation?” Renata exclaimed with an incredulous chortle. “That’s what this is about? If that is the case, why have I no recollection of my previous incarnations? Such an idea is absurd! I was born in Renoir! The stories of reincarnation may be accepted facets of The Order’s lore, but I for one believe it to be nothing more than a clever ruse disguised as tradition.”
Osric smiled smugly and offered her a glass of wine. “You are wise, perhaps I misjudged you. Incorrect, but wise nonetheless.”
“Why do you keep me here?” Renata’s raised her hands to feebly take the offered wine. “You have opened the Black Gate; I’m of no further use to you. Just, let me die…”
Osric laughed, sending a chill down Renata’s spine. “You are worthless Priestess, but I don’t keep you here for my own amusements, I assure you. There is a kindred spirit tied to your own that I must draw out to feed to Abigor. If it were my choice, I would have left you to bleed out in the temple.”
Maleah entered the cabin with her two attendants. Upon seeing her brother, she was ready to usher them back out. Osric held out his hand and halted the door from closing. Maleah tugged at the door with increasing frustration before stepping forward to glare at her brother.
“Stay sister, I was just on my way out.”
Renata thought she saw a glimmer of humanity in the man’s eyes, but if it were there, it was short lived.
“The priestess complains of hunger, be sure to keep her well-fed. Don’t want to see her dead before we reach our destination.”
“Yeah, sure…” Maleah responded, equally apprehensive regarding her brother’s change in demeanor.
“We reach port in an hour Maleah, I suggest you go ashore, take that horse of yours, I’m sure it could use the exercise.”
“So, you decided to be human today, is that it?” Maleah snorted back.
“No, it is completely involuntary. I have enjoyed our little discussion Renata; I look forward to more like it.” Osric smiled and made his exit.
* * *
The mare with the chocolate mane hoofed the deck and let out an irritated snort. The stream of treats was halted once more by Maleah’s daydreaming. Maleah cooed an apology and reached into the bag to hand the horse another salt cube as she patted the beast’s neck. The horse eagerly ate from its master’s hand as she sung gentle lullabies and folk tunes of her native Xanavene, more to calm herself than the horse. The ship had made port at Blithe upon Woe on the Sorn Peninsula some at mid-morning; Maleah had spent the rest of the afternoon gathering supplies before she headed ashore.
“Captain Miroshnik,”
Maleah turned to see the second in command at the door. She wiped her hand off on her jacket and nodded for the man to commence with his report.
“We are ready when you are ma’am.”
Maleah had told her company she planned to desert, to her surprise they were relieved and quite comfortable with the idea, only becoming anxious when they thought she meant to leave without them. That had indeed been her intent, but she reconsidered after that meeting. Her group was a loyal company of enlisted men, whereas the bulk of the army was made of unwilling conscripts and criminals. They feared for their homeland, left virtually defenseless amongst a sea of nations scorned and not too crippled to mount a counterattack.
“You are aware of the penalty for treason and desertion, no?”
“My captain, it would be treason to continue on.”
Maleah nodded, she had already found her resolve, but had they? It went beyond patriotism; she knew this well enough. Most, if not all, had left families behind or property that they did not want to have trampled by the treads of war. She knew they had reason to fight, but would they trust her? Many in Xanavene knew of Rhode in name only. There were rumors and stories of course, of poison bogs worse than the Hinterlands and treacherous terrain. Who would be willing to follow her through such hellish landscapes?
“Ma’am?”
“Ready the boats Arkona. I’ll join you shortly.”
“And, what of the general—”
“I will deal with Osric.” Her jewel like eyes narrowed in annoyance as she cut him off, she hated to hear rank attributed to her brother.
“Yes ma’am.” The lieutenant saluted smartly and turned to leave.
Maleah patted her horse and sighed. Getting to shore and disappearing would be easy; freeing Renata and the captive clergy however would not.
“What are we going to do Cookie?” She sighed.
“If you want the beast to respond, I will gladly oblige,”
Maleah jumped with a start and spun around to see her brother leaning against the doorframe.
“However, I doubt it’d have much to say.” Osric uncrossed his arms and pushed himself off the doorframe. “At least, nothing of any consequence.”
“I’ll have no such thing done to her.” Maleah said hotly. “Who knows what other deviations you’d throw in.”
“Hmm. A pity.”
Osric frowned as he made his way leisurely to the stable. Cookie shied away with a snort as Osric outstretched a ringed hand. He quickly withdrew it and adjusted his sash in a transparent attempt to hide his awkwardness.
“I’d be interested to find out what she thinks of that ridiculous name you’ve given her.”
“Is that all?” Maleah asked curtly with an irritated huff.
“No, actually I…”
Maleah glared at her brother, first in anger, then her eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms in suspicion. She could not be sure, but she was certain she saw a trace of the man he once was in his golden eyes. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking. Her brother Osric was dead and gone; she had no idea who this madman that stood before her was.
“Here.” He finally said, thrusting a hand out to her.
When she did not take what was offered, he took her hand and placed a silver chain necklace into it. The pendent was a diamond the size of a peach pit set in silver. It had the luster of a diamond, but beneath the facets and shine appeared to be swirling black smoke. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but it seemed that there was actually something swirling within the stone.
The jewel began to emit a faint glow, and Maleah could not tear her eyes away from it. “What the hell is this?”
“You’re welcome Maleah.” Maleah could hear her brother’s eyeroll in the reply.
“No, seriously, what the hell is this?” Maleah looked up from the jewel and she thrust it back to him. “Your ‘sorry for being an asshole’ present? I don’t want this.”
“No sister,” Osric chuckled humorlessly. “It is another ward, much like the one you tote upon your lance. And if you do not want to wear it for my sake, then do so for our brother, Séverin’s.”
Maleah was even more perplexed by his response. She hesitated, but eventually acquiesced and put on the necklace. It pulsed once then became frigid. She looked up to Osric for some explanation but was met by his distant gaze as he stared off into space.
“Light! What is this? Ice?” Maleah asked as she looked at the stone, met with a reflection of her own puzzled expression.
“Et nolite timene eos qui—”
“In a language I can easily comprehend Osric.” She blew at a stray strand of hair as she cut her eyes in her brother’s direction.
“—occident corpus animam et corpus perdere in primis tenebris.” Osric finished, ignoring his sisters rolling eyes and exasperated sighs.
“More rubbish from your books?”
“Come now Maleah,” Osric began with a frown. “Books are not rubbish. Be they good or bad, it causes one to think and formulate opinions, to later express those opinions and extend the gift of knowledge to another.”
Cookie sneezed and sprayed Osric’s robes with snot and saliva. Maleah could not help but to laugh, though feared he may decide to retaliate against the poor animal. To her surprise, he withdrew a handkerchief and did his best to wipe it away, though not without a look of utter disgust. A sergeant entered, ready to address Maleah, and froze upon seeing Osric standing beside her. The color drained from his face as Osric turned his gaze upon him.
“General—!” He exclaimed and snapped to attention.
“At ease sergeant.” Osric said coolly. “Return to the boats, your captain shall join you shortly.”
The sergeant looked to Maleah, unsure if they had been compromised or not.
“I will be with you in a moment sergeant;” Maleah said as reassuringly as possible, “make sure everyone’s gear is squared away.”
“Yes ma—sir.” He finally stammered as he rendered a salute and made a hasty retreat.
Maleah was sure he wondered how much Osric knew, as did she. Hopefully, he did not suspect any deception or betrayal.
“So, what does it all mean?”
“Pardon?” Osric continued to angrily wipe away Cookies snot.
“All that stuff you just said! What the hell does it all mean?”
Osric contemplated returning the soiled cloth to his pocket but dropped it disgustedly instead.
“I never figured you for one to be interested in such things.”
Maleah huffed and grabbed Cookies bit and saddle from the wall and angrily tried to push her way past Osric.
“Fine, whatever. I’ve got to go.” Maleah tried to bridle Cookie, but Osric barred her path.
“I don’t have time nor patience for games Osric. I’m about fed up with your malicious attitude, this damned boat, the sea, nausea, all of it!”
“And fear not them which kill the body but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in dusk.” Osric finished calmly. “The book you brought me, the one with the message on the cover. That was the rest of it.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Maleah asked and pushed her way past him.
“The language predates the first civilization; the same language many consider to be the language of the gods.” Osric continued, seeming to ignore her query.
“Osric!” Maleah shouted. “I swear, not everyone is one of your students.” Her expression softened with her brother’s return to familiar habits.
Osric ignored her and began to pace, chewing on his thumb.
“Self-realization is spiritual; it has nothing to do with one’s soul. When a soul enters the body, we have birth; when it leaves, we have death. But what if when the soul left the body, it ceased to exist?”
He was muttering to himself. Maleah had seen this before; this ruminating could go on for days.
“See the soul as a vessel for one’s conscious, that one-day decays and sinks beneath the sea. All that it ever was and ever will be disappears along with it on that day, only its memory remains with those left behind, but that too fades with time. So long as that soul remains; death, true death, shall be forever averted.”
“Speaking nothing of quality of said life.” Maleah sneered.
“True,” he nodded absently as he began to pace. “But should it suddenly cease to exist, would, nay could, one truly have an opinion either way? Just as a sailor lost at sea cannot mourn the loss of his vessel after he is drowned, we cannot mourn the loss of the soul as it is a vessel for our sailor that is consciousness. In a sense, death, true death is bliss. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I prefer not to dwell on such complex and morbid thoughts regarding death and the afterlife brother,” Maleah hurriedly finished saddling Cookie, eager to be away from Osric and the sea, “I find it becomes a distraction from living.”
“Very true Maleah, did you think that up on your own?” Osric chuckled snidely.
“By your leave then Osric.” Maleah said with a mocking flourish.
“It is infinitely better than the alternative.” Osric gained a far-off expression, as he seemed to be convincing himself rather than Maleah, regarding whatever it was he was mulling over. “Yes, infinitely better…”
“Osric?”
Osric turned his golden eyes towards her and she was struck by the sadness they held. He smiled wanly and took her hand in his own.
“You’ve been my best friend and staunchest ally throughout. I would do anything for you, to make our fathers dream come true, to make his death worthwhile. While my behavior has not reflected that of late, just know that I love you, and wish that you remember the fond times we’ve had, for this will likely be the last time you speak to me as your brother.”
“What the hell are you talking about Osric?” She laughed awkwardly and attempted to pull her hand from his. “You’ll always be my brother, even when you’re being an asshole.”
Osric smiled and kissed her on the forehead, holding her close for several moments. When he broke off the embrace, all sadness had left his face, leaving only determination. Maleah was equally confused and worried for her brother, he rarely was so open with his emotions. She feared what he had planned. He held her at arm’s length for several moments, as he looked her up and down, his gaze lingering upon the jewel about her neck. He forced a trembling smile once more and turned to leave her alone with her horse.
“We set sail promptly Maleah, if you are not here back by dawn, I will leave without you. I am on a strict schedule.” His tone and eyes were less threatening than before, almost understanding.
She felt uncomfortable and began to squirm under his gaze, as she did her best to lead Cookie past Osric and join her fellow deserters. There was little doubt in her mind that he knew her plans, she was just unsure of why he was being so accommodating. She recalled her conversation with Séverin, his accusations and resolve, and aggressively shook her head to dislodge the thoughts.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Osric looked as if he wanted to say more to her but thought better. Maleah was overcome with a sense of grief and longing for what once was. She felt that she might be able to appeal to the man she grew up with, the one she played hide and seek with, the same one who always found her no matter what she did or where she hid. It was as if she had just found her brother again and was reluctant to leave his side. She wondered how Séverin had managed.
“Is there something else sister?”
“Let me take the woman Osric,” She blurted. “She serves no purpose for you any longer, just let her go or kill her. But this, this has gone on long enough.”
Her brother cackled a mirthless laugh, the look of a wolf had returned to his golden eyes. “That it has, but unfortunate for her, it has just begun. You may do as you wish with the captives from Therion; I would have thrown them overboard sooner but have been lethargic of late. But the priestess Renata, she shall remain in my care.”
She let out a sigh of relief; a partial victory was better than no victory, given the circumstances. It was likely that Renata would not leave even if she were given permission; the woman seemed to be waiting for death, having no will or desire to live or escape. Maleah felt a knot form in her stomach. She had played a hand in breaking the woman. She would ask if any of the clergy would be willing to remain in captivity to look after their Priestess, but the rest would be on their own once they made land. Her only goal was to find Séverin, and hopefully get some answers to this madness.
“I do not blame you for hating me sister, in fact I encouraged it, but do not stand against me. It would wound me immensely if I were to have to destroy you.”
With his last cryptic threat, he left the stables, leaving Maleah trembling with a sudden dread. In light of his recent actions and behaviors, there was no doubt he would make good on his threat. Maleah quickly shook off her feelings of trepidation and led Cookie by the reins. She would travel to Rhode and either seek out or wait for her brother Séverin’s arrival, as Osric sailed around to the port of Vergas, the only other route to the capitol besides the treacherous Death Marsh. Hopefully, they would not cross paths again for quite some time.