Updated 3/15/24

Chapter 36

Jonathan

After days of traveling and sleeping under the heavens, Jonathan passed through Dunis Glen’s tall stone gatehouse with a sigh. His final stop. A cool sea breeze blew.

The sun barely peeking over the red clay rooftops made them glow like fire. He watched as men brought carts full of striped bass and sideways flounder from the East River and dumped them into piles, some still flopping. He smelled the first bread of the day. A carriage rushed by. Hawkers shouted their deals. Well-dressed maids and kitchen boys walked down from the exclusive estates up the hill.

Jonathan hurried to the herald station. He offered the scroll.

The old herald stood, eyes twinkling while he read the parchment, eyebrows rising ever higher. “Astonishing! I’ll announce it immediately. What’s your name, sir?”

“Jonathan Otual. I took a petition about these vile acts to the king.”

“Thank you for bringing this. It’s been a very long time since the king last countermanded a plot of Lord Melazera.”

“A plot of…? Is it widely known that he is behind this?”

“No, not many realize what the steward’s goals are. I was a herald in Lorness Castle when I was younger. His father was a cruel man, but he had no desire for more power. But after his first wife died, his new wife was always pushing him for more. Then as soon as he died, her daughter married Gaelib. He was only fifteen and totally captivated by the daughter. She was much older than him. After Gaelib became the king’s steward, I was moved outside the castle. Soon all the king’s heralds were removed from within the castles and replaced with clerks from the Order of the Black Robe.”

“That would not benefit the king. Why did he allow it?”

“It was said to be a cost saving measure.” The herald laughed. “Everything seems to be about money these days. No thought to the consequences.”

“I don’t trust these black-robed fools. They’re meddlesome. And they have no loyalty to the king.” The old man sighed as he slowly stood.

“I’m too old to fight their intrigues. Mark my words, Gaelib Melazera wants to control the world.”

The herald donned his blue tabard, bearing the king’s crest. “I only tell you because this petition is proof you are on the king’s side. I took this post when the last herald passed so I could die near the sea.”

“I will remember your words, sir.” Jonathan bowed.

Outside, the herald rang a large bell. People poured out of shops and taverns like wine from a press. “Hear ye, hear ye,” his voice boomed like a much younger man’s. “A proclamation by King Edal, the ruler of Freislicht…”

As happened everywhere he had delivered it, people cried, laughed, and hugged each other. Their joy overcame Jonathan. His heart soared like a hawk gliding on the wind.

The herald pointed toward him. “This Knight of J’shua appealed to King Edal for our relief. His Majesty responded. Thank the God of Truth for his faithfulness. He hasn’t left us powerless. Sir Jonathan, please give a word to the people.”

Jonathan stepped forward, trusting the spirit to guide his words. “People of Dunis Glen, we owe thanks to King Edal for his mercy in granting us relief from the excessive acts of some of his nobles. We praise the God of Truth and our king for their blessings.

“Keep the fellowship of your circles. You have strength in numbers. Spread the love and comfort that comes from J’shua. With the spirit of J’shua, you are a conqueror. But we must all stand against the darkness. Together, we will be victorious. Pray without ceasing!”

The crowd cheered.

Jonathan bowed and mounted his horse. But there was no hurry. He’d still found no rumors of his missing wife or daughter.

With the king’s task finished, he headed toward Lorness through a copse of trees that shrouded the road ahead in uncertainty. “Father, where would you have me go? Will you show me where to find Rebekah and Sarah? I miss them so.” He prayed until he was empty of words.

Jonathan thought of his son, David. His son was the apprentice of Agon Gorum in the Republic of Esthlanis. The Gorum horse farm was a good place for a young boy to grow and learn a trade.

Magistrate Gorum might know something. Perhaps Rebekah and Sarah have gone there.

@@@Owakar

It was the last half-moon of summer, the twenty-ninth year in the reign of King Edal, another week and a half to his four-moon mark.

Owakar shook with joy in Jonathan’s triumph. Unlike the knight, he could see its effect throughout Lorness. Could actually see the waves of benefits that would follow, the suffering it would end, and the families it would reunite.

That it would also impede the wicked plans of the Warrior was an added victory. He sighed in satisfaction. Did he have time for a bite before the next appointment? A bakery was a few doors down. He peeked at the luach.

Owakar frowned as Rebekah Otual approached the Sapphire Inn. She was early.

Although she was very entertaining, Rebekah Otual was too spontaneous. She was becoming a fulltime employment. Today, she traveled to River Town, but she prayed fervently so he had to watch her. Reluctantly, he followed her movements, while keeping up with the activities of his other assignments. She actively sought out people to meet so he had yet to see opportunities for useful divine appointments with her. But he had to acknowledge she was faithful to pray for many things she encountered.

37

Rebekah

Rebekah traveled to River Town as Tommas Bekh. It was the last place she’d seen Rosewud. She found an empty crate in an alley where she could watch the Sapphire and wait.

When she’d last seen Sarah, her sweet girl had looked well. No fear in her eyes nor tears on her face. She’d been growing like goose weed and soon, would need a new shift. About to cry, she prayed softly. “Keep her safe, J’shua Ha Mashiach.”

The sun set as a man came out of the inn, walking toward four mounted riders. The torchlight shone on his wavy blond, neatly tied hair. It was him.

Rebekah’s sweaty hand fell to her dagger. Her jaw clenched. She averted her eyes and strolled to her horse. She mounted and matched their gait, lagging. When Rosewud entered Lorness, she backed off even more.

Despite the busy streets, he was easy to spot. His clothes and colorful scarf were expensive, made even more obvious by the sea of drab and withered peasants that scrabbled out of his way. His bobbing blond hair was as good as a flag.

The five riders disappeared into a small, shadowed gate at the rear of the castle.

Entering an inn to watch from, she prayed. And waited. Long after dark, the herald cried, “Second watch!”

Three men dressed in black cloaks emerged, pulling the reins of well-muscled horses that snorted and pawed the ground. The ornate fasteners of their saddles and bridles glinted in the torchlight. Once hidden in shadow, they mounted. None seemed to be Rosewud. It was too late to start a journey.

Rebekah returned to her horse. When the three were almost out of view, she followed. The trail led to the Bloody Rocks.

Why come here after dark? Why come here at all?

When the riders slowed, she became worried. A cliff face loomed, reaching thirty feet into the air, lit by torches and surrounded by woods.

What the…?

Those she’d chased were too wealthy to be bandits. If they commanded some criminal enterprise, why meet here? Surely, a warm room in town, well supplied with wine, would provide all the privacy they’d need.

She slipped farther back, stopping in the dark shadows as they approached the entrance to a cave. Dismounting, she walked her horse far off the trail. After tying it securely, she crept closer, hiding in the brush. The three dismounted and entered.

A cool breeze made her shiver. Why a cave? Contraband? Some nefarious gathering? Rebekah struggled to keep her eyes open as she waited in the silent darkness. Finding and following Rosewud had been taxing enough. This was a bad idea. Barely awake, movement alerted her.

Hooded people trickled out. All wore black. Not three or six…a dozen. Then more. Then many more, like ants pouring forth from a trampled hill. Worse, they walked off in all directions, in large groups and small. Some carried torches. A score of them walked toward her hiding place. 

The Order of the Black Robe.

Rebekah inhaled sharply. She crouched lower, listening to the shuffle of boots passing. Hide me, Lord J’shua.

Then it was quiet. She let out a long sigh.

Eventually, the three she’d followed emerged, mounted their horses, and rode away, back toward Lorness. They were not the last. Another lowered his hood, and stared up at the moon, his face on show—Rosewud.

What was the weasel’s secret?

More appeared. Subordinates, by the way he ordered them about. They carried a roll of cloth on a pole. Others brought wood and started a fire in a shallow pit. They cast the pole and cloth into it.

What were they burning?

The wind changed, carrying the fetid scent of burnt animal flesh. They added more wood, chanting foreign words in low, mournful tones. Rebekah prayed in the spirit, crouching in the brush. When the fire died down, they covered the glowing embers with dirt and slinked away. Daylight wasn’t far off. She returned to her horse, leading it further away from the cave, and then laid her blanket on the ground.

Thank you, Mashiach, for keeping me hidden.

She slept, waking after sunup.

Rebekah hesitated at the cave’s entrance, heart pounding. Inching forward, she clung to the wall. Everyone was gone. Yet the hairs on her neck bristled and she felt cold to the bone.

The cavern was enormous, bigger than the market square. Within, it sounded like raspy breathing, and water dripped, echoing in the depths. The light from the entrance was enough that she could see a large, raised stone table in the center.

It was dark, discolored, casting a long shadow that creeped to the far wall. As she approached, insects swarmed noisily around it. The scent of spilled blood washed over her. Her gut knotted as flies rose from a dark red pool. She retched and wiped her mouth with her sleeve, turning away. Her eyes fell on dark drops that trailed to a buzzing lump on the ground. Crouching, she fanned away the hovering vermin, exposing pale flesh.

She gasped. The palm of a child’s severed hand, its contracted fingers clawed the air. Sarah! No! She knew her girl was safe. Then the peace of J’shua settled over her.

What can I do?

A memory from the Writings stirred within. Her furrowed brow relaxed. She’d do as they’d done to overcome that foe. She marched around the altar singing spiritual psalms of praise: “Righteousness and judgment are the habitation of his throne. A fire goes before him…” She claimed it for the God of Truth, banishing demons in the name of J’shua Ha Mashiach with her inspired words: “He shall cut off the spirit princes: he is terrible to the kings of the earth.”

Seven times she circled the cavern. The spirit of J’shua filled her with warmth as she sang: “You, O God of Truth break the teeth of the princes and cast them away for J’shua’s sake.”

The still, small voice of J’shua whispered to her:

[The joy of the Lord is your strength.]

Rebekah lifted her hands to God. “Father, lead me to the root of this unholy venture.” Then she left, taking the small hand with her to bury.

Owakar

Owakar blew an unpleasant spiritual wind at the men in black approaching Rebekah. He smirked in satisfaction as they frowned, detouring away her hiding place. All quiet, Owakar summoned a guardian to wait with her and left her to attend to others. Every day, the list of people to watch grew. He was honored to support the God of Truth with his reports.

The guardian reported that the last hooded ones left when it was still dark but the woman remained in hiding until morning. Then she  explored the cave. Before Owakar could respond the luach chirped and buzzed. Reports from all over the kingdom said something big had happened in Lorness. Many demons had been routed in provinces surrounding Lorness. What had she done?

Owakar immediately went to the Density to observe. As soon as she stepped into the daylight from the cave, Rebekah opened a cloth. He came closer. What was it?

Her prayer explained it. Rebekah prayed, “Father, God of Truth, please guard this innocent  child’s soul. Keep Sarah safe from evil hands. Help all children to find safety. Show me how to stop this abomination from happening again.”

She wrapped the child’s severed hand again and put it carefully in her pack. Finally, J’shua wrote in the luach that the child had been sacrificed to Ra who demanded blood and then to Molech who demanded burnt offerings.

Owakar was sick. This had happened on his watch. Some watcher he would be. How could he have missed it. And he’d been complaining about the strange woman dressing like a man. She had done more than he. Would he ever choose the correct actions? He resolved to do better. He would follow her more closely.

Despite the ghastly discovery, Owakar smiled, as foul spirits continued to scream, blown helplessly to and fro, Owakar’s chuckles became roars of laughter. “Farewell, tainted ones. Enjoy your wandering in the dry places.” Without the sanctuary Caileagh had kept for them, they lost their hold on her.

The guardian had concealed Rebekah, assuring the demons would not know who had ruined their obscene temple.

That Rebekah could hinder the God of this Age brought pure mirth. So he called Alocrin, “Come celebrate! That woman has destroyed a work of the Serpent.” Joyously, he picked up his luach again and added his details of the incident to the Book as a passage glowed brighter.

[Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast, unmovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye know that your labor is not in vain.]

Then he whistled as he stepped out of a coach and sauntered into the Lion and Tiger Inn. This time he wore a velvet cloak and rings on his fingers. He ordered a pitcher and took a table to wait for his friend. What were they serving today?

Chapter 38

Rebekah

Rebekah hurried to tell her friends about the cave and the child’s hand. Each time she thought of it, she was brought to tears, worried that Sarah might be used in such a way.

At first, Vincent said nothing. He shook his head and scraped his face with his rough hand.

“Say something.” She grabbed his shoulders. “No one prevented the child’s abuse, torture, and death. Sacrificed to a foul spirit, leaving only a hand to mark the babe’s passing. Think of the victim, terrified.”

Finally, he said, “Most likely they are sacrificing orphans. We must adopt them.”

Rebekah’s eyes grew. “Yes, J’shua will help us find them before our enemy can.” She hugged Vincent. “We have another mission. We must be steadfast in our prayers and anointings. And now adopting orphans.”

The others arrived at the fire with inquiring looks all around. They were shocked and afraid when Rebekah shared all that had happened. But no one else wanted to run away. Instead they were more determined to do something than before.

***

Waking with the dawn, Rebekah felt torn. The cluster of tiny huts made by tying saplings together wasn’t much of a settlement. Yet, the Frei had been home for three moons, ever since she’d lost Sarah and her parents.

The deafening blaze that consumed her mother and father was still vivid when she closed her eyes. And that smiling soldier holding her daughter. Many times she woke at night in a panic with her heart pounding, drenched in a cold sweat. This morning it left her numb, but Rebekah shook it off.

Today, the community would depart for separate locations. Frink and his family had left days ago after their first discussion. Everyone else would participate in some capacity. They had worked together to survive, each offering a shoulder for another to cry on. There were tears and laughter as they packed their things into bundles.

When they gathered around the fire circle for the last time, they prayed and shared their hearts. Charles Dugan carved an aspen tree on small coins made of wood for each to keep as a token of their joy and their unity.

Rebekah thanked him, and all of them for their heartwarming words. Then she bowed her head, and all became quiet. “Father, give us wisdom, grant us insight and peace as we oppose evil in the name of J’shua Ha Mashiach.”

“So it shall be,” they all replied.

Rebekah nodded. “To combat this evil, we have agreed on our strategy. We will train with weapons. We must be as crafty as these perpetrators, uncover their dark secrets, and identify those serving the Serpent.” Her eyes landed on each of them. “Evil people seek dominion through violence, lies, and slander.”

She leaned in. “We all sin, but those serving darkness become masters of these.”

She looked up. “We’ve been protected by these ancient trees, as we will be by J’shua’s guardians. We’ll pray in the spirit for both the good and the evil. The good shall be bolstered in their faith, strengthened in times of trial, and aided in their most desperate hours. Our prayers for the evil may cause them to displease their masters and allow J’shua to undermine their foul practices. And, if they hear J’shua, he will lead them to the God of Truth. But before we can cleanse those places used by the Serpent, we must find them.”

She unrolled a map of Freislicht.

Eugen pointed. “We’ve no one here. My family will move to Dunis Glen.”

Rebekah nodded again. “Now we have at least one family in each major town. We must save the orphans. Rescuing children will slow the spread of corruption. Reviving the circles that have been weakened by apathy will reopen the way to the God of Truth. Teaching our neighbors will increase our numbers, and J’shua will bless the work.”

“We will spy,” Vincent Donitoro said.

“As will I,” Rebekah added.

Teress Donitoro stood, tucking a wild curl back under her green headscarf. She’d proven to be a skillful mediator. “I’ll visit each family, posing as a visiting kinswoman, keeping us linked.”

“We’ll pray for all,” Rebekah said, “and learn our enemies’ weaknesses. We fight a mighty spiritual foe—one with no remorse or shame. We must keep our fellowship free. Praying in the spirit will strengthen us.”

“Agreed,” they all responded.

After she watched the last family leave, Rebekah returned to her role as a plow salesman. As she rode, she prayed. She reasoned that finding Rosewud was her only choice.

She would stalk George Rosewud, for he might lead her to the boy-soldier or some other significant find. However, she couldn’t do so as a farmer. After receiving instruction from a merchant she’d met at the Sapphire, she arranged a sales charter to pose as a plow merchant for Franklin and Sons. They had developed a wheeled plow. She would show prospects a detailed drawing and, if they were agreeable, take their deposit back to Franklin and Sons in Lexandria. Then she’d return with the new plow and receive full payment on delivery.

Even with her new disguise, she could not pursue the weasel immediately. She had to establish her new cover, and so began her first circuit through the Province of Lorness.

As she passed through River Town, Lorness, and Dunis Glen, she stayed at the inns used by traveling salesmen. Most were clean and drew no unwanted attention, the latter was most important. She was shocked to make two sales in the first town.

Her travels also permitted regular contact with the families that had left the Frei. She visited each in her guise as a plow merchant, expecting nothing more than a brief few hours amongst friends. She told them of the inn she’d be using nearby. They introduced her to their neighbors, and again, she made more sales.

Chapter 39

Caileagh

Caileagh arrived at the sanctuary to prepare vessels for the evening’s sacrifices. She took the torch from her escort. As she stepped into the silent cave, her gut knotted. Her head throbbed. The pain in her chest was so sharp, she looked for blood.

Dropping the torch, she fell on her face.. “Master, Ruler of the Earth, what’ve I done wrong? Tell me how to serve you.”

The screeches of her lesser spirits filled her mind.

A follower of J’shua has polluted this sanctuary. Find the perpetrator. Reconsecrate this place with their blood.

“How can I find him?” she pleaded. She heard nothing. “How can I do as you ask?” Still no reply. Her mind was voiceless.

She fled the cave, panic in her throat. The silence was a painful void. Never had she been without the guidance of her spirits. Never had she been alone. It was as if the sun was extinguished, leaving her cold to the bone.

Caileagh mounted and galloped away, ignoring her escorts that followed. She had to find the perpetrator. Their blood would flow and she’d kill them slowly.

Gaelib

The heavy oak doors burst open. Gaelib sat straight up in the bed, taking in his frenzied wife. “Why’re you back so early?”

Her eyes blazed. “Get out! Out, all of you!”

Three little blonde girls popped up from under the bedcovers wide-eyed and trembling. Wriggling to the floor, each hooked their clothes and sprinted for the door.

Gaelib sighed loudly, frowning. “Was that necessary? It’s taken so long to get them—”

“I don’t care! They’ve left me. I’m naked.”

“Who’s left you?” Gaelib brightened, cocking his head. He inspected her like a new puzzle, no longer thinking of his young playthings. “You’re not naked…yet.”

“My spirits.” She glared.

His eyebrows came together, almost touching. “Is that possible? Has it happened before? How does it—”

“Don’t treat me like one of your experiments.”

He stood, pulling on a robe. Trying to sound conciliatory, he said, “How’ll I learn without asking questions?”

“HELP ME!”

“Yes, my love.” He encircled her with his arms and held her close. “If they’re gone, they’ll return.”

“I don’t…know.”

“How’d you get them in the beginning?”

She scowled.

“Can you go to a grave to get them back?”

“No, mine are lesser spirits. They’re not like the Warrior who guides you.”

She rubbed her temples. “My mother took me…somewhere. A big man painted symbols on my body.” She pulled up her shift to look at the faint red scars on her torso. They were indecipherable, overwritten many times. I think it was a rite of…Tammuz?”

She fell to her knees, clutching her hair, rocking forward and back, babbling, “I was a child. He raped me…my mother held me,” she wailed. “The wizard tied me down and… My mother was smiling.” Caileagh’s nose ran and her face contorted as she cried louder. “I have to get them back. I’m naked and empty.”

Gaelib struggled to keep his panic from showing, but his heart pounded as he held her tightly. “You were always good to your spirits,” he said gently as if to a child. He hugged her closely, lifting her up. “You observed every ceremony, nurtured them, celebrated them. They will return.” He stroked her hair and held her tight as she rambled. Facts, impressions, and sheer nonsense poured out. One thing was clear, though: she was terrified.

When she finally quieted, Gaelib said, “Tell me what happened.”

“I’ve failed them. Let their sacred place be…be…tainted,” she moaned. “Many years of careful preparation consecrated that sanctuary long before I was born,” She clung to him as if she was drowning. “I can’t be without them! I can’t!” she gasped, her body shook.

“Then—” Gaelib could not think what to do.

Caileagh stared at him, her eyes glassy and unblinking. “We must return to Farr Castle. There, I can search mother’s scrolls and tablets. Perhaps they hold the answer. I have to find the one who did this. I have to get my spirits back. I’m ruined.”

“Shh, shh. Very well. We’ll return to Farr.” Gaelib held her tighter and her body relaxed. “Now, let me help you.” His hands traversed her body.

Once she slept, Gaelib contemplated all she had said, at least the bits he understood. Pacing before the firelight, brooding over all she had revealed. He was angry that her mother had used her so, but even more so that their household servant was really a wizard that forced her to abase herself in sexual rituals against her will. He knew none of it. What else did he not know?

The following morning, Gaelib sent out two black-robes, each with two soldiers. “Don’t return without Caileagh’s mother or the wizard. Find them!”

Caileagh

During the carriage ride to Farr, terrible impressions washed over Caileagh. She twitched, lost in nightmares.

Beatings.

Unspeakable acts.

Bizarre ceremonies.

Unwanted hands touching...

My mother, Farina, bewitching me to forget.

Countless memories resurfaced, brought back as Gaelib’s hands lazily stroked her head while he hummed a melody. Her mother had sung it whenever she brushed Caileagh’s hair.

Anguish flooded through Caileagh in visceral waves. She buried her face into Gaelib’s chest as whispers from the past materialized.

Her mother, Farina, had poisoned the earl’s wife to make room to wed him. And her stepfather, Gaelib’s father, died the same way.

“My guiding spirit has led us to a boy,” her mother had said when they first came to Freislict. “You’ll teach him the ways of the Warrior and marry him. Together, you will rule all.”

Soon after, her mother made her drink a potion and climb upon the stone altar. In a daze she stared as the wizard approached, leering.

How could I have forgotten such things?

Her mind recoiled. It fled into the deepest recesses of her earliest childhood, seeking safety in a time before her abuse.

Gaelib

Gaelib held Caileagh in the rocking coach. That she was so undone worried him. Caileagh was the inspiration for his dream. She’d shown him his destiny. He loved her. But her condition could embolden his uncles to push for his remarriage. They constantly reminded him that he had no heir.

Caileagh was barren. It did not matter why—her age, some womanly complaint, or the potions she used—but she would never give him the son he required. If she could no longer aid him or became a hindrance, it could rip asunder delicate strands of the web he’d woven. It could delay operations.

However, finding a suitable new wife could take moons. Then, distracted by the tedious process of wooing some noble wench and getting the king’s approval for the marriage, his plan might suffer. The latter was little more than a formality, but all of it would be time-consuming.

Plus, Caileagh would have to be removed so that he, Gaelib, was the innocent victim of whatever outrage took her life. Or he could hide her somewhere saying she had run off. She would never stand for that. He smiled. She would slit my throat.

Still, a new wife would also mean a new dowry, potentially a sizeable one. It could also cement alliances that, to date, were not as strong as he’d like them to be. Most important of all, it could provide him with a legitimate heir. No. He loved her more than anything.

If it took time for her to recover, Caileagh could go to the Sea of Glass for nine moons, the length of her confinement. Then she could return with a dark-haired infant. The sea air is supposed to promote healthy children. I think that would please her, as well.

He thought of the different women currently in his dungeons. If any favored Caileagh, he could lie with them. Then he’d send them north to the seaside estate with Caileagh, who would return home with his son and heir. Would that please her? He continued ruminating on all the possibilities.

Throughout the five-day journey, Caileagh vacillated between convulsive sobbing and catatonic stupor. He stroked her hair absentmindedly, eventually deciding it would be better if she recovered—he would be adrift without her.

He would make sure she was restored. Certainly the Warrior could help him do this.

Once through Farr Castle’s inner gate, the Earl of Lorness helped his wife from the coach. Servants took her to his bed chamber, where he drugged her so she would sleep. She meekly drank the decoction and lay down with no protest. Who was this? Her entire demeanor had changed.

Gaelib left her, rushing to the small, abandoned graveyard on the outskirts of the castle. There he and Caileagh had spent many hours when they first met. They’d done anything they wanted. He hoped the Warrior would show him how to get the spirits back.

As he crossed below the stone arch, he remembered how she had taken his hand and led him here. The barely discernible inscription over the entrance read, “Banish the souls that do unspeakable deeds.” It was a place no one else in the world had a reason to go.

The day he met the Warrior had been Gaelib’s thirteenth name day. Caileagh was eighteen and his stepsister. Again, she reminded him he would one day become the most powerful man in the world.

He knew it would be so. A smile grew upon his lips as he stroked a jeweled dagger, the gift from his father that proved he was a man.

Then she said, “To achieve your destiny, you must gain the strength of a great warrior.” She pointed to a grave. “Lie face down there so you may receive his power.”

Every grave bore smooth rocks to keep their spirits from roaming, each painted white so no one would accidentally walk over them. He gave her a sideways glance but humored her. She was his best friend in the entire world. He lay down on the grave.

“Stretch out your arms and say, I receive you, Master of the World.”

He sighed, thinking it a silly game, for he was a man now.

“I have a present for you afterward,” she coaxed. “It is your name day, after all.”

And so he said the words. He didn’t feel like he had received anything. But then Caileagh turned him over and lay upon him. Her warm body smelled like jasmine as she kissed him and caressed him. No one had ever touched him like she did. Not even his mother, who had always made him feel safe—until she died. She had abandoned him to his gloomy father.

He knew he should stop Caileagh, but something whispered to stay. It feels warm and tingly, too good to be wrong. It was the Warrior, leading him from that first moment. Leading him to take what he wanted.

Now, he knelt, prostrating over that grave. “Warrior, tell me how to help Caileagh, whom you’ve given to me.” Gaelib waited. His mood was dark. He couldn’t lose her like this.

The Warrior whispered, Sacrifices will bring new spirits. Her mother and the wizard will show the way.

As Gaelib left the hidden graveyard, an acolyte approached.

“My lord, we have the dowager countess. She awaits her fate in the dungeon.”

“Good. Inform her we seek the wizard that tormented Caileagh as a child. Leave her there in the dark and give her water only once a day until she talks. Then fetch him.”

Gaelib remained by Caileagh’s side, holding her, rocking her when she cried, making sure she ate. In the evening, he gave her a potion to make her sleep soundly to keep away the nightmares. Only then did he pace in his hall, and Gods help any who dared disturb him during those dark days.

Many days later, Gaelib was in his hall arranging new game pieces on the map table when the acolyte returned.

Bowing low, the disciple spoke. “My lord, the hunt for the wizard was quick. They found him praying over a bloody altar in a shack filled with hanging herbs and dead animals. The soldiers instantly beat him unconscious to avoid his curses. A special lock prevents either prisoner from manipulating any guard while they are your guests.” He placed the only key in Gaelib’s hand.

“Keep them alive.”

Late that day, after he’d drugged Caileagh again, he trod down the stone steps to the rank dungeon. As soon as the door scraped open the wizard and his mother-in-law knelt and bowed. “This is the situation, Caileagh needs help. If you help her you will live. If you cannot, you’ll pay for your crimes against her in full.”

Farina looked up. “Of course, my lord. I will help.” She looked at the wizard, motioning for him to say the same.

“My lord, I will gladly help. She has been my best student. What is her complaint?”

Gaelib recounted what he knew, maintaining a grim expression.

The wizard gave his prescription. “First, you must perform a blood sacrifice on her behalf. Then she must be reopened to the spirits through trauma. This normally takes many moons to accomplish. But—”

Gaelib scowled, toying with his dagger hilt. “I don’t have moons.”

The wizard showed his palms. “I understand. Since she is willing, it can be hastened with a certain combination of herbs and the right environment.”

Gaelib grabbed one of his palms. “You have three days to prepare. You will come before us ready to treat this problem. She has remembered all you both have done to her so any failure…” He drew out his dagger and lightly slid it across the wizards trembling hand so that only the thinnest line of blood formed. “and I will sharpen this for your necks. He turned his eyes to Farina as he opened the door wider. “During her rantings, she said that you poisoned my mother. I shall never forgive you for that so you best remain useful to me the rest of your days. And I recommend that you keep Caileagh happy as well.” Then he let them go.

***

Gaelib sat beside his despondent wife, finally calm and in control of herself as her mother and the wizard were brought in. They both knelt before them penitent.

The wizard bowed lower. “Please forgive me lord, we were only doing as our spirits instructed us. It was what they required in order to bring about our usefulness to our master, the Warrior. And he has since chosen you to be his representative over Freislicht.”

“Yes, my lord, I, too, was following the guidance of my spirits. Please tell us how we can make amends to you.” Farina, the dowager countess, dripped pleasing words like a leaky thatched roof.

Gaelib could see her seducing spirit work. “Silence, spirit of enchantment. You can have no effect on me. Enough of your blather. I need you to bring Caileagh’s spirits back.”

“They are gone?” the wizard asked, looking Caileagh up and down. I have never seen this before. May we take a day to meditate and bring you a solution tomorrow?

Gaelib glowered. “Yes, you have until sunrise. This is the only way to save your lives.”

Tears formed in Caileagh’s eyes as she mouthed “Thank you, mama.”

***

At sunrise, Gaelib frowned at them after he read the parchment. “This is the only method?” He let Caileagh read it.

“I will do it my lord. I cannot live like this.”

Following the requirements written in the parchment, Caileagh was taken to a deep dungeon, totally dark, the stench of rotting vermin forced Gaelib to hold his breath. Her mother gave her a potion that caused hallucination and banished sleep. They locked her inside. Do not let her out until she is quiet for an hour.

Gaelib sat outside listening to her rantings and screams. He could not stand it, covering his ears. Keeping watch, he stayed. No one else would see her this way. Finally, after two days, she fell silent.

Gaelib unlocked the door and pulled it open. She had torn her clothes during her torment, filthy from rolling around on the soiled floor.

She stood before him, smiling wickedly, “Send water and fresh clothes. I go to the bathe.” She took his arm and they strode toward their chambers.
He bathed her and dressed her in new clothes. “Thank you, Warrior.”

He bathed her and dressed her in new clothes. “Thank you, Warrior.”

Chapter 40

Rebekah

It took over three weeks to complete each circuit. Rebekah traveled from River Town to Lorness, Dunis Glen, High Keep, Farr Castle, Caswell, Lexandria, and Fairness Crossing. As her second circuit began, four plow orders were waiting for her at the inn, and two sightings of Rosewud. He attacked her home almost three moons ago.

With what seemed to her a vast number of baden, she opened an account with the Lockes. Despite Melazera’s moneychangers being prominent at every market, she didn’t trust them. She also made her first major purchase, a mare with a burled coat. It was the color of the old hickory table her ma had cherished so much. She named it Marly and planned to return the stolen horse.

Filling a large purse with enough baden to rent the horse three times over, she tied the mare to Marly and left for Wooster.

When she rode up to the cottage, smoke rose lazily from the chimney. The open barn door reminded her of the day she’d stolen the horse. She thought she’d be jittery but only felt a buzz of excitement.

She hopped down and approached the door. “Hallo, is anyone home?”

A dark-haired woman appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron. “Hallo, can I help you, sir?” She craned her neck, glancing at the second horse.

“Yes, ma’am. My name is Tommas Bekh. I sell plows. But that’s not why I’m here. I recently gained a horse that was said to belong to you.”

The woman ran to the horse and threw her arms around the mare’s neck. “Friska!” Then, looking back, she asked, “Where’d you find her?” She walked all around the horse, patting her. “She looks well cared for.”

“Well, ma’am, a woman gave her to me and asked me to return her to you. She’s…was very sorry she stole her and wanted to repay you. She filled a purse with what she hoped was recompense enough for your loss.”

“I heard what happened that day. We’re thankful to J’shua to be on the Duke of Wooster’s lands. Melazera is a…” she paused. “I hope that poor woman found her daughter.”

Rebekah wasn’t expecting sympathy and nodded, fearing she’d cry. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Do you have a circle?”

***

Rebekah, as Mister Bekh, entered River Town and headed to the Sapphire. Not only was the food better there than at her lodging, but the weasel visited it often. She poked at the bits of apple in her creamy porridge. The aroma of nutmeg made her smile. Tommas Bekh was a regular now. People waved and tipped their hats in greeting as they passed.

When she stepped into the sunlight, she felt optimistic. After a bit, she noticed a plain, well-groomed man watching her. Was he another like Rosewud?

She entered a variety of shops, curious what he would do. In each, she bought supplies she would need for the next journey. Yet, when she left the fifth establishment, the man hadn’t moved. Was there a new price on her head?

The man still leaned against the hitching post outside the fletcher’s. She considered evading him. Yet, if he’d been watching her for long, he’d have identified her horse. And there could be others.

She squared her shoulders, huffed a sigh. And approached. “Have you bought arrows from this fletcher?”

“No, no, I haven’t.” He blinked.

“I need some, but would like to know if local folks are satisfied with his.”

“That makes sense. This may sound strange. I had a thought that told me to stand there and wait.” He pointed at the hitching post. “Do you know J’shua? I feel utterly foolish.”

“I…do.” Relief flooded through her. “Do you belong to a circle here?”

“My family leads one. I’m Patrik Gonnels.” He offered his hand. “Would you like to join us?”

A surge of hope filled her as she shook his hand. “Have you seen a little girl?” she blurted out. “Her name is Sarah. She’s six years old and about this high.” She balanced her packages against her thigh in order to gesture. Her hand trembled. “She…she’s my daughter…blonde hair and a dimple on her left cheek. She was stolen three moons ago.”

 “No, I’m sorry to hear of this.” Patrik said, his eyes filled with sadness. Then he laid his hand on her shoulder. “I think you’d best come to the farm, so you can tell your story. Our circle meets tonight. They can help. I could take you there once you’re done.”

Rebekah wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Thank you. I’m very grateful. I’m done.” Patrik might not know Sarah’s whereabouts, but J’shua had brought them together. She needed information, and, it seemed, J’shua was providing.

They retrieved their horses and headed down the empty dirt road.

“It is good to know there is an active circle in River Town. I hoped to find one. I will be passing through River Town often and may stay several days at a time.”

“I’m only visiting my family until my new post begins at High Keep. I’ve been promoted to major and that came with my choice of garrison.”

As they rode, they talked of the God of Truth’s marvelous works—of divine appointments and providence. After an hour, Patrik pointed toward a thatched roof and lazy smoke rising from a chimney.

The farm was a goodly spread, with many burgeoning green fields. In the yard was a middle-aged man sharpening an axe and a woman plucking clothes off the line.

The rich aroma of a meaty stew made Rebekah’s belly growl.

“Welcome, visitor.” The woman wore a green shift and a plain muslin apron.

“Mother, this is Tommas Bekh,” Patrik said, “a follower of J’shua from the south. Mr. Bekh, these are my mother, Clarin, and my father, Wenston.”

The elder Gonnels laid aside his axe. “I am pleased to meet you. Come inside.”

They spoke about the Writings and general topics until the spirit said, Tell them your story.

Rebekah recounted the debt collection, the murder of her parents, her daughter’s kidnapping, and her masquerade as Tomas Bekh. “My son, David, is safe in Esthlanis. But I do not know where to seek Sarah or Jonathan.” Her eyes welled up with tears.

Patrik’s mother embraced her. “We feel your burden.”

“We’ll help any way we can,” Wenston said.

Then she told them about the moons she’d spent hiding and her ideas for fighting the evil blight covering the land. As she shared the plan, a vision formed within her mind of all the circles united and, somehow, the Gonnels playing a central role in what was to come.

Patrik trained the circle members in weapons until he left for High Keep. Each anointed places they went with spiritual songs. There were only five families at first. But the circle grew. They met together daily and prayed for wisdom. Only light could dispel darkness so they called it Licht Gegen, “Light Against.” Thus, with fellowship and food, a movement began.

As Rebekah continued her circuit, she shared this news with the dispersed members from the Frei. Each of their circles had grown as well.