Chapter 17: Capernus and Evandra
Jace “Quickshot” Leál
It was an outdoor theater. From our vantage point, we looked down on the stage where the actors performed. We could see them, and the great eye in the night sky could see us.
The play was about two star-crossed lovers and their perilous journey to escape the evil emperor, Neros. Neros loves Evandra so much that he cannot bear to see her with another man. If he can’t have her, then they both must be killed.
Capernus steals Evandra away in the middle of the night, warned by the virginal Mara—the goddess whose name was shared by a precious Mara I knew long ago. She was sister to the human deity Valens, who sat on a gilded throne watching events unfold—much like the eye in the sky always watches us.
The lovers set out on a perilous journey to find sanctuary in the mythical land of Paradise.
The players were earnest in their interpretation, weeping or celebrating at all the right moments, taking comfort in each other's arms every time their characters narrowly escaped being caught and killed by the emperor’s men.
It didn’t sit well with me how the lovers always seemed to be rescued by Mara, often in direct response to their prayers. Meanwhile, Valens never stirred, silently watching from upon his throne.
In the end, Capernus and Evandra find a modest temple in the mountains. Upon placing their hands together on the stone tablets of the dais there, they ascend to Paradise to live together forever in everlasting bliss.
Ayla watched the play with rapt attention. Her expression was neutral most of the play, though I noticed she sometimes ignored the players in favor of studying Valens. Much like I did.
Contrary to all the excited people around us reliving scenes from the play in excited paraphrasing of their favorite parts, Ayla and I were both silent as we followed the crowd’s slow shuffling out of the theater. I wondered if it was for the same reason I had nothing to say.
The more I thought about it, the more I got the feeling that the actors’ interpretation of the play had been contrary to the author’s intent. Perhaps, only the actor who played Valens truly understood the real meaning. His slight scowl of judgment as he watched events unfold. Even when the rest of the players arranged themselves in a line at the end of the play and bowed, he remained seated, his gaze now fixed upon the audience. Somehow, I was certain he was the author.
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As we walked away, the pieces of the true meaning arranged themselves in my mind and I didn’t even realize that I had spoken out loud until Ayla repeated my statement and asked me what I meant.
“What do you mean ‘It’s ridiculous?’” I wondered what thoughts hid behind her inscrutable expression.
I considered keeping my thoughts to myself. I knew Ayla was a true believer of her goddess Danu. Would she find my thoughts unpleasant? I answered her anyway. “The play is a satire passing itself off as an earnest portrayal of the gods’ involvement in our lives.”
Ayla nodded to herself as if my words were a confirmation of her own thoughts. Her response wasn’t what I expected, and sounds more like musing out loud. “If our gods intervened in such a manner in our lives, perhaps things would not be as they are.”
I followed her gaze upward to the rift, all of its terribly beautiful purples and greens, clearly visible in the cloudless sky, as well as the void at its center that looked so much like a dilated pupil.
Her eyes shone with a liquid radiance, the colors of the rift reflected in what might be eyes on the verge of tears.Hers was a beauty that left me breathless, and I wished I had the courage to wrap an arm around her to comfort her.
“I thought you were a believer.” I tried not to make my comment cynical, but despite my best efforts, I can’t hide the slight edge revealing my own thoughts on the matter.
“I am.” She studies me for a moment, then turns her eyes forward as we continue along the cobblestone streets. A lamp post nearby flickered as whatever magic or runes kept it alight showed signs that it was beginning to fail. “I believe in Danu with all my heart. This is why I must reach the Godtrail, Jace. I must cross it so I can stand before the God Tree and speak with her myself. I need to know why she has been silent all this time, despite my people’s desperate need.”
“Maybe she’s dead.” Me and my big mouth. I wince at Ayla’s scathing glare and instantly regret my words. Not so much for the anger, but for the sadness that follows it.
“She can’t be.” Ayla clasps her hands together to her chest, an unconscious gesture as if in prayer. She shook her head as if to dispel intrusive thoughts, then glared at me again, but her usual intensity faltered. “Please don’t speak blasphemy in my presence.”
“Aye.”
We didn’t speak again that evening. I couldn’t shake the image of Ayla’s tear-filled eyes and how vulnerable she looked. It made me feel like the only thing in the world that mattered was ensuring she never had cause to look that way again.
A foolish ambition for a foolish man. Once I helped her reach her people, I probably would never see her again. As I threw myself on the couch and closed my eyes, I was grateful for the impending oblivion.