Third Day of Striving 1142

King Terrence sat in his tent, staring at the plate that till recently had held a thick, rare steak with gravy and vegetables. His men were eating well, but not this well. Terrence would have been happy to have eaten the same fare as his soldiers, but the gods were having none of it. He was the high king, and he would eat like a high king. That appearances were so important to the gods disturbed him. Though he understood the logic of people having faith in him, it didn’t seem like it should extend to what he was given to eat.

He found it interesting that not even all of his men received the same food. It seemed like food was tailored for the individual needs of each soldier. If there was an allergy, or even a food preference, your plate would be different than the person beside you.

He was thinking this, when a figure entered his tent.

“Am I disturbing you?”

Terrence looked up. Though the sun from outside made her figure dim, there was no mistaking Leata. Despite the dust of the road, Leata always seemed cleaned and pressed, as if the filth of the world would have nothing to do with her. She wore an immaculate gray pants suit, making it easy for her to ride, but could have just as easily been in the palace as on the road. How did she do that?

“Of course not. I was just finishing up. Something I can do for you?”

“Just a few reports.”

“Let’s talk outside. I feel like a walk after that meal.”

As he stood up, the plate vanished behind him, as he knew it would.

“Thank you, Mitra,” he said aloud.

He didn’t receive a reply and didn’t expect one. But showing a bit of gratitude wouldn’t diminish his position as high king.

As they walked about the camp, they discussed logistics. More men were coming in daily, but not in any kind of numbers. That would happen when they got closer to Karmenon. Supplies were holding up as expected. Morale was good. Everything was going to plan.

The sounds of swords clashing drew Terrence up short. He reached for a blade he wasn’t wearing and whirled in the direction of the sound. He relaxed immediately. Just two guards sparring. Nothing to worry about. He stopped to watch them for a while, but decided not to approach. If he walked up, everything would stop. That didn’t used to happen, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

As he watched, he realized one of the two wasn’t a guard at all, but a boy. He was good though. Better than one would expected someone that young. Terrence looked closer.

“Leata, is that Zen?”

“Yes, your highness.”

“Isn’t he a bit young to be here? He hasn’t transitioned yet to my knowledge.”

“That’s correct, your highness. It is my understanding he volunteered to come.”

“His parents allowed that.”

“Apparently.”

“How come I haven’t seen him around before this?”

“He mostly stays with Second Camp.”

“Second Camp?”

Leata studied him. “The followers.”

“What followers?”

“There’s a second group from Rish traveling behind us. Some old vets, some younger people. People who want to fight. They’ve brought their own provisions. I had assumed you knew about them.”

Terrence looked thoughtful. “First I’ve heard.”

He continued to watch until the soldier saluted Zen and lowered his sword. Then he made his way closer.

They didn’t noticed him at first, focused as they were on the sparring session. As soon as the first guard saw him, he pointed and everyone turned. Sometimes Terence felt more like a sideshow than the high king.

“At ease, men.”

Zen had done his best to fade into the background, but the king caught his eye and waved him forward.

“That was some pretty decent sword work,” said Terrence, meeting the boys eyes. To his credit, Zen returned the look. A lot of guards wouldn’t have.

“Thank you, high king.”

“You’re Eric’s friend, aren’t you?”

“We’re friendly, sire.”

Terrence studied him. Thin, with a mop of sandy hair that reminded him of Eric’s but not as short. Green, earnest eyes looking back at him. Hopeful eyes. Hopeful for what?

“Tell me about Second Camp.”

At this a few of the men turned away, as if it were some secret being kept from the king. Cech must have noticed Terrence, because he hurried over to join him. The king watched his approach. He wasn’t fast, but most men his size weren’t.

“It’s just people from Rish, sire, who have something to offer. We want to fight the undead.”

“Do you now?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Cech jogged up. “Morning, my king.”

He said the words, but he had none of the awe that the others had. Probably Cech and Leata were the only ones in camp he could say that about.

“Morning Captain. Tell me, do you know about Second Camp?”

“I do, my king.”

“And you’ve been keeping it from me.”

Cech looked at him curiously. “Not at all. Why would I?”

“You haven’t mentioned it.”

“Because it’s not your problem, my king. For all the time I’ve been in Rish, and it’s been a while now, you’ve done something remarkable. You’ve let a city of people be who they are. You’ve let them make their own decisions when they hurt no one else. You’ve given people the freedom to express themselves, even when what they’re saying would offend other royals.

“I wasn’t hiding this from you, sire. I was follow the road you paved. I honestly didn’t think you’d mind.”

Terrence stared at him astonish. No one spoke. “Very well. Take me. Let’s see this second camp.”

“Very well.”

“You too, Zen, you’re with me.”

Zen looked nervous, but to his credit didn’t hesitate.

“I’ll see you later,” he said to the guards.

Terrence scowled. Not if he had anything to say about it.

They walked in silence back the way they had come. They would be starting off late, but this was important.

During the walk, Terrence glanced at Zen several times. Too young. Younger that Eric. He had no business being here. This wasn’t some kind of game. The danger was real and, as well as he had sparred, he was still just a boy and should not be risking his life to defend Twyl. It wasn’t his job. Not yet.

Second Camp, when they finally reached it, surprised Terrence. It was larger than Terrence had thought it would be. More well provisioned. There were a few people around at first, but they gathered quickly when word spread that the high king had come to visit them. He saw a few people he recognized but there were some. More of them were in armor than he thought there’d be. Many had weapons.

He turned to Kech. “Does second camp have a leader?”

“Not that I know of, Sire.”

Two people had moved through the crowd now and approached, a man and a woman that Terrence did know. Zen’s parents.

“Hello, Osdor…Mai. I’m surprised to find you here.”

The pair were minor nobles. He’d never called them Lord and Lady before, but undoubtly some people did. In another world, one where so many children hadn’t died, Zen would likely not have been a throne room page, the position going to one of the children of more important nobles. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with Zen, but it was protocol.

Everyone wanted their children closer to the king. Perhaps he would notice them one day and bestow favor. Just being a throne room page brought status to a young man. Terrence always thought it was a silly little game, but he played it because it was expected of him.

“Your highness,” both started to kneel, but Terrence caught each arm before they could lower themselves fully. He was getting really good at that.

“I was suprised to find Zen sparring with one of my soldiers. He’s quite good. You should be proud of him.”

At the compliment Zen ducked his head. Both his parents smiled. “Thank you, your highness.”

Terrence raised his head and looked at the faces surrounding him. Curious faces. Hopeful faces. Faces that wanted to be there. Then he pictured each of them dead on a battlefield.

Terrence took a deep breath and spoke loud enough for everyone to hear him.

“People of Rish, you honor me. Your fearlessness and dedication is a credit to your families. The courage in your hearts makes my heart sing…but I need you to turn around and go home.”

There were several groans of disappointment, but no one would gainsay the king. No one except the boy who stood next to him.

“Your highness…can I stay?”

Terrence turned to look at him. Young bright eyes full of hope. Full of life. No, of course he couldn’t stay.

“Zen, you might not understand this now, and this goes for all of you, I need you right now. I need all of you. Not to fight in a war that you’re neither trained nor prepared for. Not to march with me to Xarinos. I left behind a kingdom I eventually plan to return to. There needs to be something there when I return.

Terrence raised his voice now, and used Sheba’s Voice to show that he was speaking as high king. “I applaud all of you, but you have a more important job than merely fighting undead. You need to give me something to go home to. You find people are the heart and soul of Rish. You’re the men and woman that make that city. It’s not me. It’s not Queen Treya. It’s not any noble or royal. It’s you. You people are the heart and blood of Rish. I’m proud and honored to know all of you.”

“The city is going to need people like you, because they’ll be scared. Their sons and daughters are off fighting a war that they might not return from. They’ll need your quiet confidence. Your support. They’ll need you there. Hell, I need you there, because at the end of the day, you ARE Rish. You’re the people I have come to depend on.

“I don’t know most of you, but I see you. I recognize you. I love you. You are the very people I need to be there when I get home, because when we win this war, and we will win it, I need each and every one of you at the gate to great me. I need to share this victory with you. I need you to be the beacon that guides me home.”

It was so silent, Terrence thought he could hear the grass growing. No one spoke, no one moved, not a person so much as blinked. And then a single figured moved forward through the crowd. An older man in worn armor. Terrence studied him and thought he recognized him.

“You fought with me in the first war.”

“I did your highness. My name is Lek. Queen Treya cured me of my soul damage recently.”

Terrence straightened up. Of course a man like Lek would come. The queen herself had healed him. Surely he would feel an obligation. But Lek had continued speaking.

“I can’t speak for anyone else here, your highness. But I would like to speak for myself. Fighting in the Undead War was the greatest thing I’d done in my life. I still think about it every day. I make furniture for a living, but it’s not where my heart is. The days I served under you were the best of my life.”

Terrence blinked. “Lek, you were injured in that war. You carried a dark mark on your soul that has only recently been removed.”

“It’s true, your highness. And perhaps had that mark remained, I wouldn’t have had the strength to come here today. And though I can only speak for myself, I’m sure I’m not alone when I say this. Rish is worth fighting for. It’s worth dying for. What you’ve built here is special.”

Terrence started to speak but his voice caught in his throat. Is that what these people think? Are they truly willing to die for Rish…for him?

When Terrence spoke again, the fire had gone out of his voice. But those his response was subdued, the silence was such that everyone heard his response.

“Please, good people of Rish. Don’t make this harder for me than it already is. I have made a decision. I need something to return to. It’s important. Lek, if you wish you can stay with the army. We can use your experience. The rest of you, go home.”

“Even me?” blurted out Zen.

Terrence looked at his young earnest face. He was about to speak, when suddenly, he started to glow. Annoyed Terrence looked up at the sky. And he knew which god had touched him.

“You stay out of this.”

You’ve never had a squire, Terrence, said Sheba within his mind.

I’ve never needed a squire. I don’t need someone else to be responsible for.

What if Zen needed to be a squire. It would change his life completely. You know this.

If I presented this young man that priviledge, do you know how many nobles would resent it? Why not their sons or daughters.

Do you really care what those nobles think, Terrence?

No, of course not. But to bring one so young into Xarinos. Are you sure?

Give him a chance, Terrence. There are no guarantees in life. He may die, it is true, but if he does it will be in battle. All journeys start somewhere. Let this be the beginning of his.

Are your ordering me to make him my squire.

She sighed in his mind. Of course not. I’m just stating an obvious truth. But I he is touched now, and he had a class and a level.

Terrence frowned. When he looked up, he realized that others had assumed that Sheba had responded to him. He cleared his throat.

“Osdor…Mai, though I am sending the rest of you back to Rish, I am considering making Zen my squire. I won’t do it without your blessing.”

Osdor smiled ruefully. “I’m not sure you know how this high king thing works, your highness. What’s ours is yours, as it has always been.”

“Well that’s not quite true. You have your families holdings.”

“Which you could take. There are plenty of places in the world where that happens. It doesn’t happen here because you’re a fair and just king. We all feel it. It’s why we’re here. We’re aren’t hear to fight for you. We’re fighting for us. Our way of life. Yet if you order us home, we’ll obey, at least Mai and I will. As for Zen, of course he can stay.”

Zen let out a whoop then looked embarrassed. Osdor gave him a tender smile. Mai walked over to where he stood by the king. She smiled at Terrence, but there was sadness behind the smile. She was losing her son to his destiny. She might never see him again. But there were a spark in her eyes, that carried her pride. Her son would be the high king’s squire. There wasn’t anything higher to which he could aspire.

She hugged him as all of Second Camp looked on. It was a moment that none of them would forget. How they remembered it would depend on whether Zen survived the war or not.

“We should be getting back. Good people of Rish, thank you for being here, but I need you back at Rish. Take my blessings with you.”

Sheba’s voice rose like the wind around them. “And mine.”

There were murmurs and there were looks of shock. Most of those people didn’t have levels and had never directly heard from a god before. More than anything else, it was a moment they would never forget.

When Terrence turned back to the main camp, some people had already started packing up. Zen walked beside him as if in a daze. Lek walked on his other side, smiling. Both Cech and Leata walked a couple of steps behind, letting the boy and the older man enjoy their moment in the sun. They would walk back into camp flanking the high king, a moment they would never forget.

As they approached camp, Terrence suddenly stopped and dropped to one knee. Everyone was around him in a second, but the king’s focus was elsewhere.

Somewhere, behind him, back in Rish, something had happened to Treya. Sheba spoke before he could say anything.

It’s all right, Terrence. Well, I think it’s all right.

What just happened?

I’m not entirely sure, but I don’t believe it’s a bad thing. It seems that Treya has…ascended, for lack of a better word.

What does that even mean?

I’m not sure, since it’s not happened before. But she’s more powerful than she was, and she’s no longer just mine.

What does that mean?

She belongs to the five of us now, the Sylinar’s children. Don’t ask me how. Don’t ask me why. I have no answers for you.

But how did this happen?

Didn’t I just tell you not to ask me how. This isn’t a unique event in the history of the world, or at least it’s not just that, it’s something that I did not believe was possible.

Is she okay?

Yes, Terrence. She’s better than she’s ever been. You have nothing to worry about.

Terrence nodded, reassured. Then he stood back up and started walking toward camp.

“Sire, is everything okay?” asked Leata.

“Yes, I think so. But we have a lot to talk about.”

*

Dahr stood on the eastern shore of The Brotherhood, waiting at the pier for the ferry to arrive. He’d woken up with the mother of all headaches. He’d had headaches before of course, but nothing like this. Through the pain he could tell it felt different from anything he’d ever experienced, so he forced up the threads and found an anomaly.

One of the threads was flashing. That was new. He studied it and the thread’s behavior returned to normal, as if it had only been trying to attract his attention. But why?

It didn’t seem to belong to someone he knew…or did it? There was something familiar about it, but it was strange to him. He traced it back, further than he usually went, particularly with a stranger’s thread. Wait, could it be? It seemed at least for a while, that this thread had run beside his. Had he known this person? Why didn’t he remember?

Okay, focus on what you know and what you can learn. This person had been in his orbit for years. Could it have been nearby, but someone he had never met? No, that wasn’t it, they intertwined at several points. And she knew his mother. Wait, she had touched both Queen Treya and Eric too. But not King Terrence…odd. Who was she?

He could tell she was a healer, that much was clear. He went back further, further, to her childhood. She’d been ill. Deathly ill. But she had been healed. Probably why she decided to go into healing. But she wasn’t tethered to Sylinar. Why would a healer not tether to…

Oh. She was reborn. She was tethered to the Undead King while she was still quite young. Sylinar might have been aware of her, but the Undead King had beaten her to the punch…unless there was some other reason Sylinar had not wanted her.

Her distant past seemed foggy to him. Harder to read. He couldn’t really understand what the threads were trying to tell him. Hmmmm, trying to tell him. It did feel a bit like the threads had their own strange sentience. Perhaps not like a person, but hadn’t they tried to attract his attention? Were the threads talking to him, or was his strange class making him more like them? Did it even matter?

And then he realize why he didn’t understand her early life. She hadn’t been born on Thysandrika. She was from the another place. Maybe the same world Eric had been visiting. Weird.

Well, there wasn’t much he could do now but wait for her to arrive and put some questions to her. No guarantee she’d answer of course, but it was worth a try. After all, he had known her, even if he didn’t remember it, and he wanted to know why.

Dahr was about to settle down to wait when, for the second time that day, a thread demanded his attention. This one, however, was different. This wasn’t an alarm that flashed in his mind saying look at me. This was a flow of information and power that overwhelmed him.

He immediate dismissed the thread he’d been looking at and called up the new one. Golden, like Sheba’s thread. One of the gods?

No. Maybe. It felt familiar, but due to its brightness and intensity, he didn’t recognize it at first. It reminded him of level flare, though he’d never seen anyone level up while watching their thread. This had to be more anyway.

Wait, was that Queen Treya’s thread? Why was it golden? It really did remind him of Sheba’s. He could feel the power in it. Earlier, he’d been able to trace the link from Eric back to Sheba. He could do it with Eric there, but could he do it from a thread? Worth a try.

Dahr concentrated, studying the thread and all the threads that touched it. The other gods were there too, not just Sheba. Why was Queen Treya linked to so many gods? I mean if anyone was going to be god touched by multiple gods it was her, but this wasn’t normal…at least he didn’t think it was. He wished he knew more.

It looked to him like Queen Treya was tethered to five different gods. That couldn’t be right. He was probably reading it wrong. He studied it again.

You’re right you know.

What do you do about it?

Queen Treya has ascended to something more than human in a way I’ve never seen.

George, you were here before the gods. Surely this can’t really be the first time.

Oh, but it is. I haven’t seen this before. The gods haven’t seen this before. This is going to cause scholars indigestion for centuries to come. I love it.

Can you tell me what happened?

Honestly? I haven’t the foggiest idea.

*

Se Karn → Mourning
Mitra → Perseverance
Sarith → Tolerance
Iorana → Enchantment
Sheba → Respect

When Sheba first appeared on in Death’s Doorstep, she took a moment to look around. This was something she almost never did. She never had to. Her divine senses took in everything in every direction for as far as the eye could see and further, until they ran into the wall that was the Plains of Xarinos. She wasn’t looking in the direction of the plains, but she knew it was there from the way her mind stopped short, like she’d hit a red light. Damn, she was spending too much time focused on Earth these days.

She looked down at her body and liked what she saw. Unlike her usual avatar, which was a projection, this was a fully formed, newly created body. She’d tweaked it from the last body. Smaller breasts, wider hips, a slightly lighter skin tone. Her blonde hair and blue eyes remained the same however, as did the sword on her belt and the bow on her back, badges of office she could have felt naked without—not that nudity bothered her. But particularly now, for this meeting, symbols were important. She was meeting her siblings to discuss an event that should have never happened. Couldn’t have happened by any universal law she knew. Yet there was no denying it had, and the ramifications needed to be discussed.

It has only been two days since she has gathered with her siblings on the plains. She had not expected to repeat that meeting, much less so soon. She imagined the others probably felt the same way.

Sheba realized she was procrastinating, not actually wanting to set foot on the plains again. She shrugged, though no one was there to see it, and started walking. Had Iorana been there, she’d have chided Sheba for mimicking the humans she loved so much. If only Io knew that Sheba mostly did it to annoy her.

She sensed Mitra appear near where she had originally manifested and stopped walking to wait for the younger goddess to catch up. The baby of the family. Sheba knew less about Mitra that any of the others, but it didn’t matter because Mitra and she were part of the same being. Mitra was what Sheba would have been, had she been created last.

Mitra looked as she usually looked—ordinary. Most of the gods made themselves look if not devine at least above average, but not Mitra. Long brown hair, but not lustrous. Brown eyes, but not lively. Fair skin, but imperfect. Mitra had always downplayed her ability to look better than others, but Sheba had no idea why.

As she drew closer, Sheba realized Mitra looked different this time. Not necessarily physically more beautiful, but there was a spring to her step and a sparkle in her eye. Her appearance was the same as the last time Sheba had seen her, but the effect was different. There was even a hint of a smile on her lips, a thing Sheba had never thought to see.

“You look chipper,” said Sheba, as she began walking toward the border.

Mitra fell into step beside her. “And why shouldn’t I be. You were there. Have you ever seen anything like that?”

“No.”

Mitra’s smile was short lived, but the sparkle never left her eye. “Sheba, I am the goddess of lore. Of learning. Do you now how rare it is to see something completely new? Something I’ve not only never seen before, but never even considered?”

Sheba shook her head. “No, I have no idea. I would imagine it doesn’t happen often.”

“Twice in my entire lifetime. This is only the third time.”

“I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me the other two.”

“The first was when Dammit was born.”

“Dammit?”

“The god of minor annoyances? The very first minor god that escaped from mother.”

“Escaped?”

“Perhaps. It’s the word I use. She’s not pushing them out, they’re leaving. Dammit was the first.”

“Mother named the god of minor annoyances dammit?”

Mitra looked at Sheba. “Of course she didn’t. The minor gods name themselves. He probably did it to annoy her.”

Sheba thought about it. “That makes sense. So the birth of the first minor god caught you completely by surprise. What was the second event?”

“When the Undead King arose on the Plains of Xarinos. Obviously that was not something I would have expected or could have prepared for.”

“No, of course not. I wonder how Arimen became the Undead King.”

“I have a theory.”

“Do tell.”

Mitras lips tightened. “I think not. Not yet. Sharing a theory is different from sharing knowledge. I will continue to investigate.”

“As you wish.”

They had reached the border of Xarinos now and crossed over just as Se Karn appeared.