It wasn’t at all where Martin expected the conversation to go. Was this part of why Indenuel had been so quiet? If this was something weighing on Indenuel’s mind, they might as well talk about it.
“I know Andres said something about it,” Indenuel whispered. “I just… I’m afraid if this story gets out, it will put me and my mother in a negative light with the people. But if they understood, if they knew it was an accident…” Indenuel shook his head. “They might still think badly of my upbringing.”
“Nonsense.” Martin bundled up an extra shirt and grabbed the handle of the pot, moving it away from the fire. “It sounds like you went through the correct order of law, and therefore the confession Lucia gave will not be known to the general public.”
It did not comfort Indenuel. “But… but you and the other High Elders?”
Martin added a little more soup to his bowl to warm his fingers again. “It is of course our concern in order to know what kind of environment the Warrior was raised in, but we wouldn’t share it with the public. There is a story, I assume?”
Indenuel let out a tiny, nervous breath. “Two and a half years ago I was hurt. Badly. I was pushed from a cart and caught my fall wrong. The bone was sticking out and everything, but I couldn’t fix it.”
Martin gave a wince for sympathy. He had seen his fair share of injuries being a healer, but it still hurt to think of that situation. “An interesting limitation of the healing power. If you aren’t in a life-or-death situation, you cannot use it on yourself.”
Indenuel’s soup was practically forgotten. “My mother took me to Andres. Andres wanted nothing to do with her, like usual, but she begged him to heal my arm. Since we didn’t…” Indenuel dropped his eyes. “Since that month we couldn’t go to church, Andres demanded a sum of money in order to heal me.”
That was news to Martin. “He shouldn’t have asked for that.”
“He showed us the village healer’s guidebook, sir,” Indenuel said.
Martin let out a long sigh, shaking his head. “It must have been the guidebook from three decades ago.”
A bitter autumn night wind picked up as Martin set his bowl aside and moved his hands closer to the fire. Indenuel looked at his soup, still not eating it. “Most likely. It takes a while for policies to change in Mountain Pass.”
“That is how Lucia ran out of money, then?” Once Martin’s fingers were warmer, he drank some of the broth.
Indenuel absently stirred his soup. “Not at first. It was an expense my mother paid because she had to. But then there was a huge battle in one of the towns on the main road that disrupted everything. Prices for food went up and people weren’t as willing to give to charity. My mother found herself with no money to buy us food.”
“And your mother’s usual income hadn’t come in?” Martin asked.
It was the first time listing to the story that confusion filled Indenuel’s face. “What?”
Martin gave a shrug. “Andres said Lucia was waiting on some money to come from somewhere.”
Indenuel continued to stare at Martin. “She never told me about any of that. Andres… Andres must have been lying.”
Without trying to seem like he was, Martin studied Indenuel carefully. Indenuel didn’t seem like he was lying. Lucia must not have told him anything. Martin turned his attention back to his soup. “How odd.”
“Anyway, my mother stopped eating all together in order to feed us but pretended to not be hungry. Once I saw through her ploy, I stopped too. When Matteo started claiming he was full and sliding his barely touched dinner to the twins, my mother begged Efano, the head farmer, for some food. I didn’t know he was Andres’ sister’s husband until later. He agreed, and we ate again.”
The reminder of food made Indenuel pause as he ate a few more spoonsful of soup. Martin waited, seeing the distress on Indenuel’s face. This story was painful for him to tell. Possibly because of how much he wasn’t believed. His heart ached for the boy, but he also knew he had to tread carefully here. This was Indenuel’s story to tell. “Months later, hardly anyone was giving. As much as the villagers didn’t like us, they usually scrap together enough for us to survive on. Especially when the traveling minister visited for sabbath. But for months, it just wasn’t enough.”
Indenuel’s hands visibly shook. Martin wanted to reach over and calm his anxieties, but remained where he was. “Efano demanded money from us. Everyone was desperate, and debts needed to be paid. My mother she--she invited him over to dinner to try and talk some compassion into him.” Indenuel’s head was bowed so low Martin could hardly see his eyes. “We foraged for mushrooms among other things to use for dinner. Efano had an allergy of a particular mushroom we weren’t aware of. It was an accident.” Indenuel finally looked at Martin, blinking back tears. “She didn’t do it on purpose. She didn’t know.” Indenuel wiped away the tears before realizing they were coming too fast. He set the bowl of soup down to cover his eyes. “We were never invited to anything. We didn’t know Efano as well as the others. Had no idea it would slowly close his throat as he went to sleep. We didn’t know he’d-” Indenuel let out a choked sob.
Martin stroked his chin as he watched the pain clear on Indenuel’s face even with it half covered. Indenuel took another breath that still wasn’t calm, and Martin got up to sit next to him, placing his hand on his shoulder. He couldn’t cure sadness, but he could let his healing power trickle in to make the emotional hurt not as sharp. Indenuel’s breathing calmed.
“It was an accident,” Indenuel repeated.
“I believe you,” Martin said.
Indenuel didn’t smile, but it looked as though a huge burden was lifted from his shoulders at Martin’s words.
“Your mother was tried?”
Indenuel nodded, rubbing the sides of his eyes. “Since my mother was accused of a serious crime, her rights to privacy had been stripped. Hugo dug through my mother’s memories with the help of the tree. His wife claimed Efano could only die if the mushroom had been enhanced by corruptive powers, and my mother swore she never did. The truth about the accident came to light. In Mountain Pass we only have the three representatives of the powers as our governing body instead of four. And since it involved a relative of Andres, he was asked off the council for being too close to the victim.” Indenuel dried his eyes. “The weather controller representative found her guilty. Hugo took compassion on her and deemed her innocent of intent. With the draw, Hugo’s opinion held more validity since he was the one going through her memories. Hugo’s the only reason my mother didn’t die two years ago instead of-” Indenuel stopped talking. Martin watched him carefully. Indenuel looked away.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Instead of a month ago, Martin finished for Indenuel in his mind.
The silence stretched on. The story must have hung heavily on the boy’s conscience. With trembling fingers Indenuel picked up his bowl and began eating.
Martin had no idea what to say. The story, as he suspected, was far more complicated than a simple right or wrong answer. “If it’s alright with you, sir, I’d rather not talk about the trial and what lead up to it again.” Indenuel was quiet, the pain obvious in his voice. “I don’t want to retell it to the other High Elders.”
“Understood. Lucia was given a proper trial and found innocent. I don’t believe the High Elders will have any more pressing questions about it.”
The pain grew more obvious on Indenuel’s face now. He was reliving a hurtful chapter of the past.
“Is this what caused the village to turn on you?” Martin asked.
Indenuel didn’t look at Martin. “It’s what made it worse, because Andres and Lola took an active part in the bullying.” Indenuel stared at the bottom of his bowl. “There were times I honestly think the only reason we weren’t killed was because of Matteo, Emilia, and Isla. The villagers hated my mother and me, but they wouldn’t set fire to our house with the orphans inside as well.”
Martin frowned. “You really think they would murder you and your mother?”
Indenuel nodded, looking at Martin. “I do.”
“And not just react because they, too, were scared?” Martin asked.
Indenuel remained quiet, tearing his gaze from Martin. “Doesn’t excuse them for what they did.”
Martin looked toward the fire, trying to move his hands closer to the flames to keep them warm. “I didn’t say that. But there is a lot of hurt in that village. A little forgiveness and compassion will go a long way." Indenuel said nothing as he started to sink into his thoughts again. “And what of Lucia’s debt to Efano?” Martin asked.
Indenuel was in the process of lifting the spoon when he paused. The longer the silence lasted between them, the more Indenuel’s eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t… I’m not sure. It must have been paid.”
“Your mother wasn’t sent to a debtor’s prison?” Martin asked.
The thoughts churned as Indenuel shook his head. “With everything else that went on, I didn’t think about the debt. It must have been paid. Somehow. But my mother never told me.”
Martin said nothing, feeling like it wasn’t his place. Indenuel had a deep frown on his face. “I’m… I’m starting to think that despite living with her my whole life, I didn’t actually know my mother.”
***
The morning was crisp as they loaded their belongings into the cart. Their breakfast was relaxed.
“We should arrive in Tavi after lunch,” Martin said. “It will give us plenty of time to settle and prepare ourselves for the sabbath day tomorrow.”
The horse moved along the dirt road. Indenuel looked around the scenery he was vaguely familiar with.
“As the suspected Warrior, you will of course be given a seat of high honor in the worship service,” Martin said.
Indenuel frowned before glancing down at his hands. “Have the rumors escaped Mountain Pass. Does anyone suspect me of being the Warrior on the main road?”
“Possibly.” Martin gave Indenuel a curious look. “You don’t want people to know?”
Indenuel sighed, then leaned forward. “The High Elders haven’t confirmed it.”
“You have proven two of the four gifts. I haven’t seen your tree talking, but you must have it if you can produce the corrupted version. And speaking to the dead is always a difficult one to prove, since dreams and whispers of the dead are always harder to prove without another person of that same power to confirm it.” Martin gave Indenuel a smile.
“Could we possibly keep this quiet?” Indenuel asked.
“You don’t want the Santollians to know you’re the Warrior?” Martin asked.
“I’m not ready for everyone to know yet,” Indenuel said quietly.
“That’s fine. I will introduce you as my honored guest. It will still give you a good seat in the worship service.” The only sound was the horse making its way on the dirt road. Indenuel stayed quiet. Martin sat on the carriage, his back straight, his posture clearly showing an upperclassman. Indenuel, on the other hand, had his elbows resting on his knees, his shoulders slumped. He watched the scenery go by as the chilly breeze blew through the trees. The mountains were slowly receding in the background. He had only traveled this road in the summer. It was strange to see it in the cooler months. The mountains were covered in pine trees and at the very top Indenuel could see snow.
Indenuel started to wonder when it would get warmer. He had heard of the climate in Santollia City. Dry and hot all year round. As someone who had grown up in a place that had a drop in weather in autumn and winter, he wondered what it would be like for it to just always stay warm. He simply couldn’t wrap his mind around it.
“You have family in Santollia city?” Indenuel asked.
“I do,” Martin said.
Indenuel finally tore his eyes from the scenery and looked at Martin. “I guess whenever I thought about High Elders, I never imagined them to have a family.”
Martin chuckled. “I’m sure with the image of holy, sacred men it might be strange, but yes. My wife’s name is Sara and we’ve been married forty-two glorious years. I have five children. Two boys, three girls in that order. I have fifteen grandchildren, and one great-grandchild, who was born while I was away traveling. It has been well over a year since I’ve seen any of them.” There was a longing in Martin’s voice that was unmistakable.
“I didn’t know you had such a large family,” Indenuel said.
“I do. I love them all dearly,” Martin said, his voice dropping and a sadness coming to his voice. “My oldest son, Carlos, died in battle about seven years ago.”
“I’m sorry.” Indenuel didn’t know what else to say.
Martin gave a tiny smile. “It’s best you know, as I’m sure you will be visiting my family a lot while in Santollia City. He left behind three children and his widow, Ana. Sara and I have been taking care of them since. Carlos’ children are practically grown now. I will be excited to meet Little Carlos when I return home.”
Silence settled between them again. It was clear Martin wanted to return home. There was a longing for it, a satisfied smile on his face as they were making their journey closer to Santollia City.
“How long until you felt like you could not… miss your son so much?” Indenuel asked. It was probably a selfish question, but Indenuel needed to know. Lucia’s death still pained him far more than he was willing to admit.
Martin gave Indenuel a knowing smile. “The first year is the hardest. But I still miss him every single day.” Indenuel nodded, not the comforting message he’d hoped. He shifted back to looking at the scenery.
“As a High Elder, you’d think it’d be easy. High Elder Cristoval, one of the most powerful speakers to those who had passed on, at one point was giving me messages from Carlos every day for a month. I know Carlos is peacefully on the other side, resting from the heartaches of this world. I’ve been able to give him messages. Ana, his wife, has been able to talk to him. His children have all felt their father’s love from the other side, but it still hurts that he isn’t here.” Martin set a hand on Indenuel’s shoulder, and Indenuel didn’t jump like he had before. “It’s not selfish to want her back, Indenuel. But it does get easier when you can communicate again.”
Indenuel nodded, not at all expecting the tears to prick his eyes as he used the scenery as an excuse not to look at Martin. Martin had been incredibly kind to him. Not only that, but Martin treated him like an equal, and there was something refreshing about it all.
Something stirred. Indenuel sat up, straightening his shoulders as he looked around.
“Indenuel?” Martin asked.
Indenuel didn’t know what to say to him. He couldn’t explain what he felt. It was somehow the feeling of an animal stalking him from behind.
“Can the horse go any faster?” Indenuel asked.
Martin gave the horse a tap with the reins, and the horse picked up the pace. “Describe what you feel.”
“I don’t know. Like someone or something is stalking us,” Indenuel said. “Wait. Wait, stop the cart. I think it’s in front of us now.”
Martin obeyed. “Close your eyes. Tell me what you sense.”
Indenuel closed his eyes trying to sort through what he was feeling. “It’s a dark feeling. I don’t like it. It makes my skin crawl.”
“Corruptive powers. That’s what you’re feeling. Someone is getting ready to use them,” Martin whispered. “It’s not pain, or I’d have sensed that.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know how to sort it out,” Indenuel said.
“Reach out to the sky. Do you sense it in turmoil?” Martin asked.
Indenuel reached out. The sky was fine. The weather wasn’t being disrupted in a dangerous way. Indenuel shook his head.
“Sense any demons?” Martin asked quietly.
It was Indenuel’s least favorite power. He almost didn’t want to check. He didn’t want to hear the demonic whispers, but as he reached out, he sensed nothing. Which meant it had to be tree talking. The moment he thought about it, it aligned with what he felt.
“Tree talking,” Indenuel whispered.
He barely had time to finish before a branch wrapped around his wrist and jerked him out of the cart.