3A/N: Thanks to Kenna-Kat11 for reviewing
Chapter 2
"You fool! How could you have let her be taken?"
I winched as the shriek went on echoing through the chapel, and settled my ruffled robes more neatly against the stones where I knelt. Only then did I dared glanced up toward the Moonsgilded Throne, where the wizened Archbishop Sigdurd continued to seethe, his complexion turning an unpleasant grey under the press of his rage. More high pitched wails seconding the Archbishop blasted down from the gallery, seats of the current bishops in power, and a headache started to pound in my temples.
They were playing the blame game, and all the fingers were pointed at me. I was fully prepared to take responsibility, but the way all the wrinkled old men were pointing fingers and screeching were ludicrous, just like a child having a tantrum. Such unseemly behavior coming from men who were supposed to be the leaders of all Mondhilds, 'moon people', was enough to make one lose faith.
I paid attention for awhile, but after the Assistant Archbishop said for the third time to the Archbishop to throw me into an isolation cell and someone intervened to suggest a harsher punishment, I shockingly lost patience.
"Your Excellencies, with all due respect, I am prepared to receive any punishment you deemed fit. However, and I say this with only the best interest of our people in mind, is it not more proper to concentrate on reclaiming Sister Silvre back from the barbarians, rather than to waste time deciding on punishment for a minor bishop such as myself?"
"Silence! I will not have you speak out of turn Bishop Sigdrom! One who has sinned has no right to defend him self!" the Archbishop yelled down even before my last words finished echoing.
To my shame, I colored and looked down as the Archbishop took a deep quavering breath after he had shouted. I recalled the beautiful voice I had heard the once when I was small from behind the door to the Great Altar, and not since. I was regretting my insolent words even though I knew them to be right, because of a wish for things to be as I remembered.
No, I would not give in to this attack of nostalgia. I lifted my head, held it high, and looked him in the eyes.
He was thoughtful now, already stripped of the rage from the moment before. The Archbishop was used to maintaining an appearance of a calm and compelling leader, I could see now. It was admirable and appropriate for our troubled times, but its lost left me disillusioned. From him, the silence rippled out, the yells were gradually hushed, and stillness again descended on the Throne Room.
'At least his complexion has improved,' I thought bitterly as I awaited his verdict.
The bone-chilling cold of the isolation cell seeped through the thin layer of cloth I was wearing as I knelt in absolving prayer, but I took no notice. Beyond a dull throbbing pain from my back, I was too numb to feel anything else.
All I could think of as my legs lost all feeling were Silvre's terrified scream, her slender form thrown carelessly over a shoulder, and rage at the barbarians who dared to fingered her hair as she was carried away. More than once I cursed at my own inane actions in the pauses between prayers. Why did I not ask Sigdre to come with me outside? The raiding party was not even armed with the bane! Our Songs were doom for those who were untrained, but to unleash it and its full powers both of us had to be present, the melody and harmony.
I was supposed to pray to the God and Goddess for forgiveness, may Their light shine forever, but I would not be able to forgive myself if I did bother them with such trifle. The lost of Silvre was entirely from my own blundering, there was no pardon for that. However I gave thanks to them for sparing Sigdre, for ordinarily Pairs had to suffer their errors together. I was glad she was not with me these long months whilst she could still be of help to our brethren, using her healing songs to help ease the wounded.
A clattering on the stairwell distracted me, and I braced myself for what was to come. Whips? The jailer had an indecent fondness for such, almost barbarically so. Already I had several taste of its bite, something to help me more easily 'repent'. The iron key rattled in the hole and the heavy stone door swung open, to revealed the face dearest to my heart.
"Sigdre? What are you doing here?" I exclaimed, horrified, and in fear of the worst, but still my heart soared at the sight of her wonderful form. After so many months being separated, to me her long tresses glowed even brighter in the sputtering torchlight. I eagerly reached for her slim fingers, strong enough to bind the bloodiest of wounds but always, always feather-light and soothingly gentle.
"Oh, Sigdrom!" She grasped my outstretched hand, my other half, and steadied me as I stumbled from trying to get up. Sigdre gasped as she saw my bloodied back and tried to heal it at once, but I turned away from her hand. There were more pressing things I needed to ask.
"What happened? Why are you down here?" I asked as I tried to stand on my stiff legs. With Sigdre's ready shoulder for me to lean on, it was not as daunting an adventure.
She looked into my eyes, searching for signs of fever no doubt, and whispered, "The Archbishop gave the ruling today. I was told…We are to go as soon as possible." her eyelids trembled and dropped from my gaze halfway through the sentence. I could tell she was trying to be strong.
"Why? I do not like this Sigdrom. There have been no signs of the barbarians ever since Silvre was taken. Everyone is talking... there are rumors of us joining the barbarians in their war. Just the thought is horrendous – aiding those who have caused us so much pain with their weapons, who drove so many out of their homes, left children without their mothers or fathers…and we are to leave in the midst of all this, when we can still lend a much needed hand!" Tears choked her, and she buried her face against my neck.
I held her shuddering body and stroke her golden head, my mind in turmoil. Joining the barbarians? It will be terrible if it were true, but somehow not surprising, because now that they have Silvre…
I felt as if lighting had struck me. How did the barbarians know who Silvre was? She was our last hope, our great secret. No Mondhilds would ever give her away willingly.
But there was already no use for me to speculate. We were exiled, Sigdre and I.
I jerked awake and terror washed over me from the darkness I saw before me. Were my eyes still closed? Was I blind? No. I felt a coarse fabric brushed against my cheek and the smell of the infernal sack was back. There was some kind of light where I was and I could see through the crude weave. Relief washed over me and I tugged at the thing to get it off, but my hands were tied to it and together by ropes that cut whenever I tried to wrench them apart. My body was also tied tight, held against a pillar of some kind. I could not move my bound feet without some pain to my knees, probably from where the barbarian kicked me. However, apart from these, my stiff neck, aching head, and sore muscles, I was comparatively whole. I was grudgingly grateful to my captor, but what the gentle treatment suggested filled me with horror. Could it be? Was there a spy inside our haven? I refused to believe it, and yet…
I needed to get away and warn Sigdrom. But where was I? There was dirt under my bare feet, Goddess cursed the barbarians who took my boots, and I did not feel a cold as chilling as my mountain home even though I was still in my thin dress. It did not take much to realized I was already far away from the Caverns. Now that I was fully awake, I recalled in snatches the jostling and the cloying smell of what I recognized now as a sleeping fume.
So they kept me unconscious as they transported me. Wherever this was, it was no doubt farther than I have ever dreamed to go in my entire life.
The irony was painful. I longed to be anywhere but where I was, in a gilded cage and bound down by my loved ones, no choices I could make about my own future and worst, no one to help shoulder the weight of it.
Now I was far away from my home, in the hands of the enemy, and my fate frighteningly undeterminable.
Despair flooded into me and I did not even have the small freedom to wipe away my tears.
Desuun slowed to a walk when we reached the edge of the herd and I guided her to where a small hill undulated up out of the flat plains. It was difficult to tell the difference between real hills of earth and hills of the enormous mufaa's backs unless you were practiced. The natural camouflage was perfect, right down to the small wild flowers which grew from seeds dropped on the mufaas furry backs by the wind and the tiny birds living on the bugs found there.
Speaking of camouflages, even I would not have been certain I was at the right place if the lorkaa had not rose up from where he had been crouching, blended in with his cloak to the hill's bright summer grass.
Mufaas stood still during the day, pretending to be a group of hillocks, and moved during the night to graze or migrate, when most of the predators usually sleep. Dolokaas took turn keeping watch over the herd and following it on its migration route. Therefore, the nighttime watch was always the most important shift, for it would not do to lose the herd during the night with an unprepared camp. Mufaas moved fast despite their bulk. Though more lax, the daybreak shift was also important, for example to take stock of the herd or to receive news of what has happened during the night. It was the shift I failed to wake up for.
'I will be turn to stone if he glares at me any longer,' I thought as I stood facing the Lorkaa Yeh-neth, a man well into his fiftieth season but still filled with the vigor of youth. He would not be joining the malokii's camp of women, children, and the old for a long time yet. I remembered Narl's jest had a ring of truth to it. The lorkaa did single-handedly skin a whole mufaa once. As such, it was infinitely better to stay on his good side and be obedient. I tried to look a little more remorseful.
"You can stop that now Ind-eor," sighed the old man. "I am not angry."
I cringed at the use of my full name. He was definitely angry, whatever else he said. "Lorkaa Yeh-neth, I can explain –"
"Inde." There was a warning now in his voice. I closed my mouth and stood straighter. At least he had reverted back my short name. That was something at least.
He looked at me a few moments more with his sharp eyes and sighed again. My heart started to sink. The lorkaa with his brown, weather-beaten face was not someone with the delicate sentimentalities to sigh needlessly. Something was wrong.
"I think it is time you visit the malokii, Inde." he held a hand up to thwart my protest, "It is not for punishment that I send you. We have need of her wisdom. Many of us also have had unsettling dreams recently, or so the others told me. Ask her what it is these dreams are trying to tell us and if it is not better for us to settle down for a time in Du-edin."
"The others also…?" I bit my lip, perhaps it was I who caused this breakout of nightmares in the camp. For the Nomaddi, it is a very plausible explanation.
The lorkaa continued unperturbed, "The malokii's camp is a few days to the east of us from the latest bird messenger. Head there tomorrow. For today, you will be taking all the watches till the second shift of the night. That will be your punishment, Inde."
Since the mufaas were not likely to move any time soon, this was not so hard a task. He was being lenient. I passed my hand over my eyes and touched my heart. A debt had been witnessed. I would repay him however I can in the future.
The lorkaa acknowledged my gesture and whistled. A handsome stallion trotted up to the base of the rise. He took some running steps downhill, stepped out into the air, landed precisely in the saddle of his horse, and rode away.
I stared, amazed, and then shook my head. Show-off.
A/N: A little longer chapter...