Fires of Justice
Part 14: Penitent – Spread the Word
The girl – Palenna, her father had called her – ducked behind Naliara, as the young singer pushed her, willingly enough, and exhibited common sense, by moving back far enough that she would not inhibit Naliara’s movements.
Naliara watched, as Palenna’s father came charging out of the brush after her – and immediately became wary.
He was a small man, about fifty, and his bare arms – all that Naliara could see of him, besides his head – were wiry, and corded with muscle. And the reason that she could not see more of his body – and for her wariness – was that he wore the robes that she associated with mages . . . .
“Palenna!” the man snarled, trying to move around Naliara, not even acknowledging her presence, as more than an obstacle. “Girl, you come here right now – or, so help me, I’ll whip you to death, this very night!”
Naliara, furious at the man’s threats, stepped between him and the girl again, planted her hand firmly in the center of the man’s chest – and shoved, as hard as she could.
The man toppled backwards, and lay on the ground, staring up at Naliara, his hate-filled eyes actually seeing her for the first time. “Oh, girl – I will kill you, for that! No one lays hands on a Wizard of the Fifth Circle, and lives!”
Fifth Circle? Naliara
thought, unsure of what that rank meant, trying to compare it to the things she
knew from home. What does that
mean? Is it like the Order of the
Pentacle? Or would it be . . . Bat,
Cat, Serpent, Salamander, Imp? Order
of the Imp?
I hope it’s only Imp! Or I am dead, before I even start living again!
She smiled thinly at the wizard, and motioned him up.
He stood, slowly, trying to recover his shattered dignity. For a moment, he just stared at Naliara – then he spoke, trying very hard – and failing – to keep the anger from his voice.
“Listen, girl – young woman, I suppose,” the wizard said. “I am Rahnoj of Pelinar Forest. The girl you so . . . generously shield, is my daughter, Palenna. And today is her wedding day. She is merely suffering an attack of nerves, and I simply lost my temper. Now, if you will step aside, I will take her back to her groom, and see the happy deed done.”
“Liar!” Palenna cried. “No! I will not wed that . . . that thing!
“Lady, he did not even tell me I was to wed! I thought I dressed well for visitors – nothing was said, because I knew he would flee!”
“Gartovin is a powerful man, Palenna, and he will make you a wealthy woman,” Rahnoj said, trying to sound patient, and reasonable. “You will never have to work, for the servants you will have, and – ”
“He is a priest of Jaranaset!” Palenna cried. “I will die before I wed a follower of the Dark Gods! You know I would have gone to the Temple of Arteneh this summer, to offer my services! You would not let me!”
“You will wed him!” Rahnoj cried. “You will wed him, and Sebek will reward me, as will Jaranaset!
“Now, step aside, woman – and give me my daughter!”
Naliara simply shook her head, her eyes hooded with distaste. She knew little of Sebek, only that those who loved money worshipped him – but of Jaranaset, she knew more than she had ever cared to know. He was the God of Darkness, of Evil – and she would see no woman, and certainly no girl, forced to wed one of his priests.
“Step aside!” Rahnoj cried.
Naliara did not step aside, though she did begin to move, her feet beginning the patterns of the Violent Dance, preparing to attack the Wizard.
Then the man was chanting, a short, simple spell, and Naliara moved, crossing the ten feet or so that separated them in a curious side-to-side lope, moving into a cartwheel, as the last syllable escaped the wizard’s lips, and feeling the heat as an arrow of fire passed close to her hip, which was up in the air.
Then, Naliara relaxed the shoulder of the arm that was supporting her weight, and snapped her legs forward, at the very peak of the cartwheel. Her legs came down and around in a scything motion, and impacted the wizard’s calves, cutting his feet out from under him, and bowling him to the ground.
Naliara let momentum carry her into a sideways roll, on hands and feet, then rose, flowing smoothly back into the steps of the Violent Dance.
Rahnoj was standing, his face purple with anger, and had produced a wand, from somewhere on his person, while he was down.
Naliara never gave him a chance to use it. What she knew of wands was limited, but one thing she was certain of – they were rarely less than dangerous.
“Kezz!” Naliara cried, focusing intently on the wand, which was just beginning to crackle with electricity.
There was a small explosion, and a light so bright that Naliara was blinded, for a moment, though she had closed her eyes, before the light got to its brightest.
Then it was gone, and Naliara saw that Rahnoj was dead.
His corpse was blackened, and the robes had been burned from his body. Apparently, Naliara’s breaking of the wand – obviously a wand of lightning, in retrospect – had released all of its energies at once – and Rahnoj had died.
Then, Naliara heard a choked sob, behind her, and she remembered the girl, Palenna.
Naliara turned to see Palenna staring at the blackened body of the man who had been her father, and weeping, her face a curious mixture of hurt, hate, and relief.
Carefully, unsure of her welcome, Naliara put a hand on Palenna’s shoulder, and turned her away from the sight of her father’s corpse.
Palenna turned willingly enough – then threw herself in Naliara’s arms, and clung to the older girl, sobbing hysterically.
Oh, thank the Gods! Naliara thought, holding the girl, stroking her hair. I was afraid she’d hate me, for killing her father, regardless of what he intended to make her do.
For several minutes, the two young women simply stood there, one crying, the other comforting as best she could, in her silence. Finally, Palenna pulled gently back – and dropped to one knee, in front of a suddenly blushing Naliara.
“Thank you, Lady,” Palenna said, taking one of Naliara’s hands, and pressing her lips to it gently and quickly. “You have saved me from . . . from ending my own life, I suppose. For I could not have lived while married to the Priest Gartovin, for he is . . . is mean, not just bad, but mean, horrid!”
Gently, Naliara tugged her hand free, blushing furiously, and pulled Palenna to her feet. She smiled at the girl, and made a gesture of thanks, bowing slightly at the younger girl.
“May I know your name? That I might ask the Gods to bless you?”
Naliara nodded, and reached into the pocket on her trousers – to find the note she kept there gone.
Well, I suppose that makes sense, Naliara thought, as she walked to get her pack. After all, the note was no longer entirely true. I’ll write another, more accurate one.
She dug parchment, quill, and ink out of her pack, and wrote a short, simple note, which she handed to Palenna.
“ ‘My name is Naliara,’ ” Palenna read. “ ‘I am forbidden to speak by my god, Bragala, Lord of Music, as a punishment for acts I care not to discuss – though I may sing to worship. I am attempting to earn my freedom from this curse. How may I aid you?’ ”
For a long moment, Palenna stared at Naliara, before handing her back the note, and saying, “Then it was you that I heard singing. You have a beautiful voice, Lady Naliara, simply astonishing!
“But . . . I have never heard of your God, this Bragala. Are you from a far place?”
Naliara smiled, and knelt on a bare patch of earth, picking up a stick to write with. She quickly wrote, “No title, please – just Naliara. (Or, I call you Lady Palenna!) And yes, I am from a far place – another world. My God has sent me here, to help make others aware of him.”
Palenna gaped, and said, “Another world? An Outworlder! Oh, Gods above, I’ve never met an Outworlder, there hasn’t been one in Quelannas in a thousand years, I think, and now I get to meet – ”
Naliara gestured for the girl to slow down, and Palenna did so, laughing a little.
“All right, Naliara. Thank you! And . . . I would hear more of your God, if you know songs about him?”
Naliara grinned hugely, and wrote, “Of course, Palenna – I shall sing until you are ill of the sound of my voice, I suspect – or at least until we get you home.”
“No!” Palenna cried. “Naliara, please, I can’t go back! My mother . . . she would make me marry Gartovin, as quickly or more so than my father would!”
Naliara stared. After a moment, Palenna looked at the ground, and said, in a voice that was barely a whisper, “Mother is a Priestess of Jaranaset – and apprentice to Gartovin. If they do not kill me for . . . for what happened to my father, I will still be forced to marry Gartovin.
“Please, Naliara – let me travel with you! Wherever you go, I don’t care – just do not make me go home!”
Naliara hesitated. To take a girl like this, so young, away from her home . . . but home sounded awful. She couldn’t make Palenna go back there.
Naliara nodded, and Palenna hugged her, fiercely.
Naliara bent to the ground again, and wrote in the dirt, “Do you need anything from your home?”
“No!” Palenna said. “And if I did, we would have to go without it. My mother is more powerful than my father was – and Gartovin is her teacher, remember?”
Naliara winced, nodded, and wrote again.
“ ‘Is there a town nearby?’ ” Palenna read. “ ‘You will need some things, and perhaps we can get them from a friendly Temple?’
“Naliara, there are no friendly temples in Pelinar. The worship of the bright gods is forbidden, by decree of the King of Teraam.”
Naliara stared, mouth open, for a long moment.
“It is so,” Palenna said. “Perhaps . . . is that why you are here?”
Naliara spread her hands, in a gesture that plainly said that she did not know.
“I hope so,” Palenna said, softly, rising, and taking the waterskin from Naliara, to carry, as they traveled, relieving the older girl of some of the burden of travel. “I really would have entered the Temple of Arteneh, last summer, before they were driven out, had I been allowed. I love the Gods of Light, and while I felt no specific call to Arteneh, I felt . . . something. A calling, to the service of the Gods. And Arteneh . . . well, His is the greatest of the temples of Light. I am not a warrior, or a judge, to join the Temple of Davanek, or Alethanna.” Palenna hesitated, then hurried on, blushing. “And . . . while I look forward to the pleasures of the marriage bed, someday (with someone other than Gartovin, that is!) . . . I am not so eager for the pleasures of the flesh that I would join Mysarra’s Temple.”
Naliara looked at the girl, raised an eyebrow, and spread her hands in question.
“I don’t – you don’t know who Mysarra is?”
Naliara shook her head.
“But, Davanek, Alethanna . . . you knew them. And I think you knew of Sebek, and Jaranaset.”
Naliara nodded, paused, and scrawled in the dirt of the trail they walked on, “I know of the Lord of Warriors, and the Lady of Justice. And of the Gods of Greed, and Darkness. But, of the twelve Gods and Goddesses of my world, I have never heard of this Mysarra. And you have never heard of Bragala, before today – I think you had best tell me of all your gods.”
Palenna did as Naliara asked, as they walked, and continued, after they had stopped for the night. She finished just before the simple dinner Naliara prepared was through. The young Guardian of the Songs was relieved to discover that Khodanra, the God of Dark Magics, had no influence in this world.
After dinner, Naliara sang another prayer to Bragala, a simple one of thanks, and Palenna listened, spellbound.
When Naliara stopped singing, Palenna said, softly, “Your voice . . . oh, Naliara, your voice is a wonder! I can sing, and well – but not like that!”
Naliara smiled, blushed, and motioned for Palenna to sing. After a bit of convincing, to overcome the innate shyness of a fourteen year old, Palenna did so – and Naliara found, as she had suspected, that the girl underestimated – or understated – her own talent. Her voice was soprano, and as pure as the waters of the first spring thaw.
“Thank you,” Palenna said, blushing darkly, when Naliara applauded hard, after the song was done. “I like to sing. I tried to get lessons on a harp, but my parents would not permit it.”
There was a long, relaxed silence, as Naliara finished putting up her small tent, arranging the blankets to accommodate two.
When she came back out of the tent, Naliara saw that Palenna was looking at her oddly. She again raised an eyebrow in question.
“Your God, Bragala,” Palenna said softly. “He . . . said you could sing to worship him, yes?”
Naliara nodded, smiling so broadly that it hurt her face.
“And he would come here? Stands beside the Gods of the Light, in the war?”
Again, Naliara nodded, now smiling a bit hopefully.
“He will need worshippers,” Palenna said, quietly. “And . . . I love music. I love you, who saved me without thought, took me in, without mind of the problems I could cause you.
“Are there . . . ? Yes, of course there are! He is the God of Music, after all.
“Naliara, would you teach me of Bragala? There must be songs, that tell of him, of his ways – how else would a God of Music spread his teachings?
“Teach me, please.”
Barely able to see, for the delighted tears that welled up in her eyes, Naliara nodded, almost frantically, and began to sing, the first of the teaching songs of her faith.
An hour later, after Palenna had learned that, and three more of the teaching songs, the two retired, both exhausted. Palenna stripped off her dress, and the jewelry she wore (which she had already suggested that they sell, to get her the necessities for travel, and anything that Naliara needed), and laid down next to Naliara, dressed in her slips. Naliara, dressed in an undershirt and short pants for sleeping, gently gathered the younger girl into her arms. Palenna came very willingly, sighing happily.
“I meant what I said, earlier, Naliara,” Palenna said, sleepily. “I do love you. You saved me from a life I could never have borne to lead, and without hesitation, or thought of the grief it might bring you.
“I never had a sister, before. I like it.”
Again leaking tears, Naliara squeezed the younger girl closer, and sang a quiet lullaby, easing them both down into sleep, as the last verse fell from her lips.
_________________________________________________
In the morning, after some consultation, slowed by Naliara’s need to write her half of the conversation, the two young ladies decided to make for Geranett, the capital of the country of Teraam, to equip Palenna for the road. It was larger than the closer city of Pelinar, and there was no one there who was likely to recognize Palenna, or even be looking for her. And by this time, the people in Pelinar most surely would be looking. And Palenna was terrified of being forced to go home.
It took a week, to reach Geranett, and in that week, the two girls became closer, living up to Palenna’s expression of sisterly feelings for the older girl. Naliara had never had a sister, either, and welcomed the emotions that came from the relationship gladly. It was a delight to her, having someone to share her time with – for she had been lonely, these last two years on the road. Between Palenna’s company, and her own ability to sing, Naliara felt as though she would never be lonely again.
In Geranett, they bought road-worthy clothing for Palenna, and extra camping gear, and Naliara bought more parchment, and ink, for those few lessons of Bragala that she would someday need to teach Palenna, that could not be sung. They also refreshed their supplies, and ate a single meal at a decent inn, before moving away from Geranett, without even staying the night.
They city felt bad. Closed off, and dark, even at noon of an autumn day. There were precious few smiles to be seen, on the faces of the inhabitants, and even the children were quiet, and somber.
And there were no temples for the Gods of Light. Here, as in Pelinar, and all of the kingdom of Teraam, worship of those gods had been forbidden.
They left the city shortly after one in the afternoon, and hurried away, by unspoken agreement, not wanting to stop anywhere close to that dark place, that night.
So unsettled were they by their stop in Geranett that neither girls even thought to sing, for more than two hours, after they left the city behind.
That night, when they camped, they decided to head for Khorlan, the first city that was across the border between Teraam, and it’s neighboring country of Gherall – where the worship of the Bright Gods, while failing, was not illegal . . . quite.
There, they hoped to hear news, news of the man Naliara had been told to find – the man who bore the mark of Alethanna.
It was during the “conversation” that led to the decision to go to Khorlan, that Naliara first told Palenna of Bragala’s instructions to find this man – and Palenna was immediately excited.
“A follower of Alethanna?” the girl said, when she had read of Naliara’s conversation with her God. “I wonder if it is the same one that the Dark Priests seek? The one they call the Paladin?”
Naliara’s eyes widened, and she motioned for Palenna to go on.
“I don’t know much more than that,” Palenna said. “I heard my mother and Gartovin discussing it, one night, not long ago. The Paladin . . . he is a part of some prophecy, in Alethanna’s faith. The Dark Ones believe that he is here, or will come soon. And, while they pretend not to fear him . . . I think they do, a little, at least – as they have offered a reward, through all the temples of the Dark, for information as to his whereabouts, when he arrives in this world.”
Naliara thought, for a moment, then nodded.
They would need to move more quickly, now. She had to find this Paladin, not only for herself, to obey Bragala – but to warn him.