Updated 8/25/24

Part 9

Chapter 17

Jonathan

Jonathan scanned the crowd as he walked through another small market west of Locke Castle. The marketplace buzzed with life as farmers and villagers from the outskirts converged on the square, their carts creaking under the weight of produce, handmade goods, and livestock. The air was thick with the earthy scent of soil clinging to freshly harvested carrots, radishes, and beets, mingling with the sharp tang of leather and the sweet, smoky aroma of roasting meat. Children darted between stalls, their laughter mingling with the haggling voices of merchants and customers.

He had worked his way through all the southern towns, large and small, seeking whoever kept his daughter safe for they would surely stay far away from Lorness and the reach of Melazera. Lexandria was the safest place in that regard.

Farmers and those living on the outskirts came to buy, sell, or both. Tinkers, clothiers, saddle makers, and others had their carts of wares open, attracting people with shouts and clever melodies. The smell of freshly baked bread, lamb braising on a spit, and sweet delicacies laced the air.

But now, standing in the shadows, he felt the weight of distance between where he stood and life he’d once had. The homesickness settled in his chest like a stone, heavy and unyielding, as he took in the scene around him, each detail pulling him further into the past. A blonde girl ran past. Her similarly colored mother gave chase, calling her name and threatening a paddling if she didn’t behave.

The youngster was the about same age as Sarah, fifteen.

It had been nine years since he’d lost his daughter. No, since they took her. She’d have grown up without him, without her mother. Would he even recognize her?

He’d know her bright eyes, her dimple, and her laugh. But…

Sarah’s grandmother was a Locke, with fine-boned frame, full lips, and high, rosy cheekbones. Sarah favored her. Yet here in the south, there were many blonde girls. He counted six on the street and another two hanging out of windows, yelling down to friends, any of whom could be Sarah.

A carriage drawn by four horses approached, surrounded by well-armed men. Jonathan backed into a shaded alley. As it passed, he recognized the Locke’s crest on its side, a white wolf on a purple field.

A shower of silver coins tinkled to the ground, flashing in the sunlight as they scattered across the cobblestones, tossed from the roof of a grand carriage by four blonde children. Their laughter rang out like bells, adding to the joyous chaos as they flung the bits with gleeful abandon, their small hands diving into velvet pouches for more. The coins spun and twirled in the air, catching the light before clinking onto the ground, where eager hands scrambled to catch them.

Jonathan watched as the crowd surged forward, hands outstretched, eyes wide with anticipation. He had heard of this Lexandrian custom—how, on the day of one’s birth, a family would distribute the smallest coin, a bit, to each of their friends, a gesture of goodwill to commemorate the good fortune of a new life. Each name day thereafter, the tradition was repeated, a continuous thread of generosity woven into the fabric of their lives.

The carriage was a grand affair, lacquered in deep green and trimmed with gold, its wheels humming over the cobblestones. The horses, sleek and well-bred, tossed their heads, their polished bridles gleaming in the sunlight. The driver, perched high on the front seat, snapped the reins, guiding the team with expert precision. He called out, his voice booming above the din of the crowd, “Make way! Make way for the Duchess of Lexandria and the midwife who attended the birth of a Locke boy!”

Another handful of bits sailed through the air, raining down on the throng below. The children on the carriage roof cheered, their golden hair flying in the breeze as they leaned over the edge to watch the spectacle. The people on the street, their faces alight with excitement, rushed toward the carriage, some kneeling to snatch up the scattered coins while others trailed behind, singing songs of blessing for the newborn Locke boy.

The melody of their voices filled the air, a jubilant chorus that seemed to lift the spirits of all who heard it. The words, ancient and well-worn, spoke of health, wealth, and happiness for the child, a blessing passed down through generations. As the carriage rolled forward, it left a trail of joy in its wake, the people’s voices rising to a crescendo that echoed through the streets.

Jonathan found himself caught up in the moment, the tradition that was so foreign to him now alive and vivid before his eyes. As the carriage passed by, he could see several women and a blonde girl through the carriage window. Straining to get a better look—“oof”.

Something smashed into the back of Jon’s knees, dropping him to the ground.

He reached for his sword.

But another drew it as hands dragged him deeper into the alley.

He thrashed to free himself, pulling a hidden dagger from his boot. About to swipe at the closest neck, he glimpsed red hair and a familiar ear bending over him. “Eikhan?”

The hands let him go.

“You couldn’t just tap me on the shoulder?”

Magistrate Gorum’s son shrugged. The three men accompanying him released the knight but stood ready.

“Apologies, Sir Otual. I warned them.” Eikhan grinned sheepishly, nodding toward his men. “But they were worried you might react rashly. Your notorious legend of being a wild man is well known in Esthlanis.” Eikhan offered his hand.

Jonathan took it and stood, shaking his head. “Wild man—another falsehood. There are safer ways to get my attention.”

Eikhan shot a glare at his men. “Father sent me to find you. A suspicious man came to the estate seeking you. He’s not the first, but this one…”

“What?”

“The man was loitering about town for some moons. An untrustworthy type, he spent too many hours watching people he shouldn’t know. He knew who David was.

“Is David safe?”

Eikhan gave Jonathan’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Yes, he never got close. Some of the other estate owners wanted to run the spy off. Father insisted on surveillance. A good thing too.”

“Why?”

“When your wife came to take David to the Knights’ School, the man attempted to follow them. Our men intercepted him. Rather forcefully, I’m told. Before being allowed to—eventually—go on his way, he became most forthcoming. He knew too much about too many, had too many baden. There’s a royal bounty on your head. Not merely the false charges made against you—this is prize money for any who can capture you, dead or alive. Five hundred baden dead, One thousand, alive.”

Jonathan slumped. “I had hoped to keep searching for Sarah. How can I find her now?”

Eikhan shook his head. “You must take the most extreme care. Father offers you sanctuary should you ever need it. However, for everyone’s sake, he said not to come directly to the estate. Instead, go to the abandoned mine-works southeast of town.”

Jonathan frowned. He knew the place, a deep cave containing dozens of manmade tunnels. It was many miles from the Gorum Estate, closer to the Freislicht border and the sea. “How would you know I was there?”

“The mine is being put to…new uses. Storing weapons and materials for when the Esthlani come to your country’s aid. A group called Licht Gegen oversees it, although Father refuses to discuss it with me.”

“All are interesting developments, yet I do not understand how you found me. If you can do so, others might as well.”

“Father sent me because, of all his sons, I hear J’shua’s voice most clearly. The path took more than a moon.” Eikhan lifted an overstuffed saddlebag. “He’s sent you provisions, some baden, as he was sure you’d lack for funds, and two horses.” He nodded toward two horses tied to a post.

“That is far too generous—”

“Do not refuse these minor gifts. David brought us good fortune. And great prosperity. This is the merest token of the blessings granted to us since your son’s arrival. And…” Eikhan glanced down at his feet.

“And what?”

“I want to ride with you, but Father forbids it. He said that you do not need a bodyguard, but when you need an army, we’ll be there.”

“He is right. Having someone with me will just make traveling unnoticed more difficult.” Jonathan held Eikhan’s arm firmly and accepted Agon’s package, “Thank your father. And thank you too.”

He was overwhelmed by the risks his friend and his friend’s son were willing to take for him. “I want to share a meal with you, but I fear, that it would be unwise to remain in the open.”

Chapter 18

Sarah

[Ages- Sarah 15   David 18   BH 25   J,Sg,Dr, Ga 37   38th year reign of]

Sarah emerged from the woods, her steps light despite the weight of the woven reed basket balanced on her hip. The basket brimmed with purple coneflowers, goldenseal roots, and strips of birch bark, each one carefully selected. The woods had always been a quiet place, without distractions. Although she could pray anywhere and anytime, the conversation was easy there. The earthy scent of the forest clung to her, mingling with the faint sweetness of the herbs she had gathered.

She missed this—the simple act of gathering what nature offered, the rhythm of keeping house, the quiet anticipation of preparing for the next birth. In Lexandria, there were merchants who sold herbs, seeds, and roots, but it wasn’t the same. There, everything felt distant, disconnected from the source. Here, in the woods, she could feel the life pulsing in the plants she harvested, a silent communion between her and the earth.

She was fifteen now, but the wooden training sword still hung at her side, swaying with her movements as she climbed the hill toward Ma’s workshop. It was a relic of a childhood that felt both close and impossibly distant. Not her original practice sword, but it carried the same weight, the same balance. Her dagger, sharp and well-kept, rested on the other hip. It was a practical tool, but also a comfort—a reminder that she was capable of more than just gathering herbs.

Last night, she had dreamed. A bright, glowing sword, unlike any she had ever seen, had appeared in her hand. In the dream, it was no weapon of war, but a tool of healing. She had touched people with it, and wherever it touched, wounds closed, and pain melted away. She had woken with a sense of peace, though she knew it was just a dream. Swords weren’t for healing, and yet the feeling lingered, as if the dream held a truth she couldn’t quite grasp.

In five days, she would return to Lexandria. The thought twisted her stomach into knots. She had learned everything they could teach her, had been molded into a lady as expected. Soon, men would begin asking the duke to court her, and she would be expected to choose. If she married a man of means, she could use his influence to search for her real parents, to send out messengers and scour the lands. But the idea of it all felt odd, like wearing clothes that didn’t fit.

The large basket swayed, nearly tipping her off balance as she trudged up the hill. The path was familiar, but today it felt steeper, more challenging. She rubbed her eyes, trying to pull forth the image of her first ma and da. Her memories of them were fading, the details slipping away like sand through her fingers. She remembered First Da’s wild scent, the way he smelled of long hunts and fierce battles. His sword, massive and heavy, had always hung high on a hook by the door, a sign that he was home. His hair had been as blond as a pale moon.

First Ma was harder to recall. Slim and graceful, she had worn an apron that day, but whenever Sarah tried to picture her face, it blurred. All that came clear were the tears in Ma’s eyes as she dropped Sarah out the window, the desperate urgency in her voice. Running through the tall grass, the blades slapping against her legs, she had hidden under leaves in the woods, just as Da had shown her. She remembered praying, her heart pounding in her chest, as J’shua whispered to her the passage:

[Let the peace of God rule in your heart.]

She’d never forget them. But she had. Bit by bit, the details had eroded, leaving only the hollow ache of their absence. They never found her. And so, she prayed.

The workshop was in sight now, the familiar sight of its stone walls and wooden roof a comfort. But the emptiness in her heart remained, a void that no amount of prayer or dreaming could fill.

They never found me.

***

The sun dipped low, casting an orange glow over the yard. Ned appeared, when she came out of the house with the last bundle of her things. Placing them on the wagon, she turned toward him. She yelled into the cottage, “Ma, I’m going for a walk with Ned. I won’t be long.”

“That’s fine dear.”

Ned’s head hung low, looking at his feet.

She took his hand and pulled. “Let’s walk to the tree.”

They walked toward the village, the tall grass brushing against their legs. The air carried a hint of smoke from distant evening fires. The path they followed led to a small hill overlooking the village where their favorite climbing tree stood. It was a place where they had shared countless hours, secrets, and dreams.

Sarah's usually bright eyes were clouded with worry as she glanced at Ned. He walked beside her, his hand warm in hers, his thumb rhythmically brushing her skin, his face set in a grim expression.

“Ned, say something,” Sarah pleaded, breaking the silence that had stretched between them since they left the yard.

Ned stopped and turned to face her, his brown eyes locking onto hers. “What do you want me to say, Sarah? That I'm happy you're leaving again? That I won't miss you every single day?”

She reached out and took his hand, her grip firm but trembling. “You know I don't want to go. But this is my chance, Ned. A chance to become something more than just a girl from a small village. A chance to find my real parents.”

“I know,” he replied, his voice softening. “I know it's what's best for you. I want that for you. But that doesn't make it any easier.”

They continued up the hill in silence. At the top, they sat down on the grass, at the foot of their tree. The sky above was a canvas of pinks and purples, the first stars beginning to shine.

“Do you remember the first time we came up here?” Sarah asked, her voice filled with nostalgia.

Ned smiled faintly. “Yeah. You insisted we climb up here to see the 'castle.' All we found was this old tree.”

Sarah laughed, the sound a mix of joy and sadness. “But we had adventures, saving the kingdom and fighting off the attacking hordes.”

Ned's smile faded as he turned serious. “What if the man the duke and duchess give you to isn't kind to you? What if you don't like him?”

Sarah squeezed his hand tighter. “I'll be fine, Ned. They're good people. I will have a say. I promise to only marry someone as good as you. And it's not forever. I'll come back to visit.”

Ned looked away, staring at the horizon. “It's just—you're my best friend, Sarah. I don't know what I'll do without you.”

Tears welled up in Sarah's eyes, but she blinked them away. “You'll be fine. You're strong and smart. And you'll always have a place in my heart, no matter where I am.” She lifted the wooden flower he'd carved for her it lay on a necklace with her seashell buttons from long ago. “I'll always have this with me.”

They sat in silence for a while, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them. Finally, Ned broke the silence.

“When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Sarah whispered. “At dawn.”

Ned nodded, his jaw clenched. “Then we should make this night count.”

They stayed on the hill until the stars filled the sky, sharing stories and memories, laughing and crying together. When the moon was high, they made their way back to the cottage, walking slowly as if trying to stretch out every moment.

At Sarah's doorstep, they paused, neither wanting to say the final goodbye.

“Ned, promise me something,” Sarah said, her voice trembling.

“Anything.”

“Promise me you'll follow your dreams, just like I'm following mine. Don't let anything hold you back.”

Ned nodded, tears glistening in his eyes. “I promise.”

She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, a gesture filled with love and sorrow. “Goodbye, Ned.”

“Goodbye, Sarah,” he replied, his voice barely a whisper. “Until we meet again, Sarah.”

She turned and walked into her house, the door closing softly behind her. She cried.

Owakar

Owakar strolled through the field deep in the wilderness, waiting for Alocrin, who trailed behind inspecting each wild flower.

The Density is amazing.

The brush of Alocrin’s steps approached. “Remember when the God of Truth created the earth? Long before the Serpent destroyed it, making it without form and void?”

“Uh-huh.”

He could hear that his friend had stopped again and turned to observe him bending down over an anthill.

Owakar shook his head and looking at the ground, he noticed all the tiny insects and the even smaller microbes all working, working, working to perfect the whole, never knowing their purpose, instinctually obedient to the will of God.

“I'm so glad he remade it, aren't you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“It was magnificent, is magnificent.” Owakar spun in a slow circle arms wide. “The air carries a multitude of fragrances from plants of all shapes and sizes. The animals multiply to keep it full of life. The rain rises from oceans and falls to water it all. Just magnificent.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Is that all you have to say, Alocrin.”

“Uh-huh.”

Owakar stared at him.

Noticing the quiet, Alocrin said, “What? Why'd you stop?”

“Because you're not contributing.” Owakar scowled, hands on his hips. “Why can't we hear it groaning, like Father said.”

[For we know that the whole creation groans and travails in pain together until now.]

“We're all groaning Owakar, waiting for this cold war to end. Waiting for the revealing of the sons of God.”

“Isn't that us?”

“It can't be. We are already a known entity. It must be the humans he made this world for. And the work that J'shua did—”Both their luach’s chirruped.

[Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is.]

Owakar sighed, “Why weren’t we enough?”

His friend smiled. “Why are we standing here in this field, Owakar?”

“Well, I guess it’s because God made it to be enjoyed.” Alocrin remained silent. “And I like to see it.” He moved his head to cast his eyes in a wide arc. He inhaled a deep breath. “And smell it.” He picked a blackberry and popped it in his mouth. “And taste it.”

Finally, Alocrin asked, “And what does our Father enjoy?”

“Well, he enjoys this, too. He says he is well pleased with us, when we do good. And them, as well, I suppose.” Owakar furrowed his brow. “He made them so he could enjoy more sons. Sons that chose him.”