A thick smoky fog hung low across the waves as the rowers quietly pushed their small boat deeper into the drifting wreckage. Squinting, their navigator scrutinized the refuse searching for any survivors perhaps clinging to driftwood and hoped that they reached these travelers before the sharks did.
"Hello!" he yelled out. His voice seemingly muffled by the lapping of the waves and contained within this cloud stinking of burned wood. Echoing into the distance, he listened intently for any answer.
"Arthur," the nearest soldier to him called out, sweat soaking his shirt and tanned face. "It's getting late. Had Archantael wished for us to rescue anyone else, they'd have cried out by now."
Hope sank with the fisherman's shoulders as he gazed out one last time into the dim surroundings. "The Sea Sprite has to be out here somewhere," he thought aloud, a comment that met with a tired chuckle from his cousin, Martin.
"You've been saying that for the whole day," the carpenter pushed out as he pulled once more on the oar. "There's not out here but chum now." Angry glares and a shove from his other oar mates immediately erupted around him.
"Be respectful to those that died out here today, boy," a haggard man at the bow of the small vessel angrily chided. "Archantael nestled the crew and passengers in her bosom not long after this ship went down. She'll claim you too if you're not careful," he stated then turned and gazed out into the murk.
"I don't mean to sound that way, friend," Martin replied. "It's just that we've been out here all day and heard not a soul's plea for help. I'm as tired as the rest of you and I say...."
"There," Arthur interrupted as he perked up, gazing over their shoulders to a brightening in the fog that soon revealed dying embers and the source of the thick cloud around them. As they neared the wreckage which seemed to jut from the waves like broken ribs, other forms could be seen bobbing in the sea as well. Sharks picked at the remains of several bodies and he realized they had finally found proof of the merchantman's demise. He sank back onto the bench seat and pushed the rudder to starboard. "Alright fellas, we should be back home now. It's getting late." A collective sigh rose from the crew as they pushed their tired muscles onward.
* * *
As the sky brightened the next morning, a low fog still hung over the water and drifted lazily with the gentle southern breeze which carried the mist along the sandy beach and up to the low, grassy bluff. To Amphelice, the scene reminded her of why she loved the Valga Sea which had become her home. Long black hair hung loosely and gently waved behind the lean framed pirate as she quietly stroked her pet rabbit cradled in her left arm.
"Looks like the Lady had an eventful night," she mused aloud. Quietly lapping upon the shoreline, she quietened her breathing and could almost feel an odd mood to the sea today. A subtle emotion that few could detect if they didn't understand the wide blue expanse like she did. She leaned over and kissed the white furry ball in her arm, turned and headed back to her small hovel nestled in a large stand of hickory and spruce. Well hidden from prying eyes of the small dock not far east of her. Tanned hand pushed open the thick oaken door and she stepped into her modestly appointed home now alight by a cookfire in the hearth.
"You keep an eye on the place for me while I bathe, alright," she said and placed the warm bundle onto her bed, then turned and headed back outside, then closed the door. Cool air carried the scents of kelp to her nostrils and she smiled as memories of her previous plundering expedition on Kuzomen ships came to mind as she unbuckled her swordbelt. Waves lapped upon the sandy beach and she heard what sounded like the cooing of a baby. A sound that stopped her in her tracks. Again, it's voice quietly called from the waterline and grabbed her attention as Amphelice noticed something beneath the misty layer. Cautiously, she approached and soon recognized a child wrapped in a wet bundle. Her eyes went wide and she immediately crouched to pick up the gift from the sea. Amazed, brown eyes gazed up to her from the tiny child and smiled as the pirate stood there dumbfounded.
Amber eyes quickly scanned to either side of her and down the beach. There had to be someone nearby that had abandoned the child to die. Golden rays of sunlight revealed no one within eyesight and she figured the young one had been here for a while. Perhaps one of the barmaids at the inn decided to give back what some sailor had left her with. Amphelice gazed back to the child who studied her in wonder and she felt an odd sensation wash over her as she drew him in closer.
She soon chuckled in disbelief at the situation. "Hi there."
The dock and cluster of buildings housed the merchants and their families who had become wealthy tending to the maritime arm of the baron's holdings. Ships from Davos and Fletcher's Point farther west had visited the small port for years and amazingly survived the wars with the Kuzomen navy nearly a hundred years ago, though at that time the dot on the map would've gone unnoticed for those looking for fat plunder. Amphelice's father and uncles had made their name in these waters but, smartly as privateers for the kingdom.
As far as anyone else knew the Roberts family were a strong line of sailors loyal to the crown. This daughter had found other pursuits more entertaining and far more lucrative however.
Now, instead of as a conquering pirate, she was entering the small hamlet on a fact finding mission. Instead of a sword and dagger in hand, she held a small boy who's identity was unknown and she had to find out who he was and why such a lovely gift was abandoned like this.
As she passed sweaty men unloading cargo from three caravels into wagons and carts, all eyes gazed to the woman with the baby in her arms with passing curiousity.
"Roberts," one of them called out and she glanced to the lanky sailor as he stood from the back of a cart. "Where did you get that," he chuckled in amusement.
Amber eyes scanned those around them as most went back to work under the scrutinizing eyes of wealthy captains and merchants just wishing to get their wares and supplies to Milford. "I found him this morning on the beach. Just wanted to find his mother."
A quiet nod as the first mate smiled. "Never thought I'd ever see you cradling a child, that's all."
"Yeah, well," she grinned. "I'm heading to the White Gull to question the wenches there. I'll probably see you there later."
"Alright." He shook his head and chuckled as she continued on to the two story building just beyond the large warehouse. Now full of bartering businessmen and their prospective clients, the agile woman entering the establishment barely gained a second glance as she walked between the lines of tables, most of them empty until their crewmen finished their chores.
"Leese," the heavyset, balding man whose grey hair barely masked his rounded head greeted warmly. "What have you there?"
"I was curious if any of your girls had given birth recently," she motioned with her eyes to the quiet boy in her arms. "I found him this morning on the beach."
A heavy, calloused hand rubbed his stubbled chin. "No," he shook his head. "No one here. Perhaps someone from Milford that had something to hide," he suggested and shrugged his broad shoulders.
She sighed. "Perhaps." Amber eyes glanced to the attentive pair of men sitting at the nearest table to her right and knew them well having grown up in the area also. "Arthur, Martin, you happen to know anyone wishing to lose a son within the past day or so?"
They both shook their heads, tankards in hand. "No," Arthur replied. "We've been out to sea all yesterday looking for survivors of the Sea Sprite." A fact that piqued her curiousity.
"How far out was it?"
"Several leagues," he straightened. "I seriously doubt that child would've survived drifting that long without being taken by the Lady herself. Probably some young girl ashamed of her state."
"Or perhaps one that offered him to the Lady in thanks of some vow," Martin added.
Amphelice thought on all those possibilities long and hard then shook her head. "I saw no footprints on the beach in either direction, so," she drifted off for a moment. "Though, he could've been left there during the night and high tide washed any evidence of the person's travel before I found him."
"If you don't wish to care for him," Lyle continued. "Take him to the church in Milford. Maybe they can find out who his mother is."
She agreed. "That was my last stop actually." He certainly had no business growing up with someone like her. "Thanks fellas."
Arthur lifted his tankard, "Best of fortunes to you".
Once gaining her horse, Amphelice rode the short distance to Milford along the sole, well beaten pathway which had been widened by frequent traffic over the years. Not only heavy laden carts from the various ships which visited the port, but also from the many farms that dotted the northern side of the walled town.
Her faster, chocolate covered mount easily caught up to the small wagon ahead and the longer she lingered behind them the more she took in the scene. Mother, father, and three children in the back who all eyed her from the safety of the low walled vehicle. She had never thought about family until now and the sight sobered the young woman. One of the young girls - probably no more than eight - waved to her and smiled. Amphelice found herself grinning back uncontrollably and nodded back. Perhaps it was time to settle down, she was already twenty-five now. It sounded odd to her herself say that, as if she was missing out on something. Amber eyes gazed back to the young boy in her arms. He could be hers. Archantael had sent her this gift for.....
No.
She sighed, looked back to the road and spurred her mount to approach the wagon to the left and ignored the approaching convoy of wagons from town. As they nervously watched her near, the lead driver pulled on the reins and she steered between both they and the family's horse.
"What's the rush," the driver's passenger angrily yelled as she kicked in both heels into the horse's muscles and they were off in a thunderous shower of kicked up dirt and pounding hooves.
Her eyes misted, eager to reach the church and rid herself of this package. The sooner the better, she surmised as tears welled in desperation. As if Milford was on the other side of the kingdom instead of just a short distance away.
Through the busy, packed streets of town the pirate soon wound her way down a few side alleys to avoid the market's normal chaos and arrive at the back of the modest stone building dedicated to Arhus. She climbed out of the saddle and approached the stables as her mount quickly moved to the nearby trough and drank. Two male voices could be heard at the far end as the stench of horses, manure, and the gods knew what else assaulted her nose. How she hated the city.
Beyond the last stall, she spotted the source of the activity and rounded the wooden stall to see both teenage boys rise as they turned to her.
"How can I...," one of them began.
"Here," she shoved the little boy at him, still wrapped in the white cloth she had found him in. "Take this to the priest." Without further commentary, she turned and headed back through the shadowed aisleway towards the entrance.
"What's their name?"
"Not mine, how in Nurmes should I know?!" Once back out into the daylight, she wrenched the reins towards her and climbed back into the saddle, then turned her horse around and headed for the nearest tavern.
* * *
Eight years came and went as the little boy grew under the tutelage of the church's few patrons. Days filled with chores before and after he learned his lessons were accepted along with the growing number of others just like him.
Mason carried the heavy bucket full of water to Father Andrew as the priest comforted the husband at the table in the main room.
"...And you must allow yourself this moment, Patrick. For everything, there is a season," he grinned sympathetically and patted the grieving man on the shoulder.
Brown eyes took in the scene that was becoming all too familiar lately as he stood near the hearth and gained the cleric's attention.
"Place that there, Mason. Thank you, son."
"Yes, sir." He set the bucket atop the low, stone base of the hearth and watched as the broken man soon wept. Another would be buried in the town's cemetery tomorrow, one among many claimed by the mysterious sickness that seemed to take young and old alike. He sighed, helplessly watching as another home was broken apart by loss.
"Why don't you wait outside for me," Father Andrew quietly directed and Mason turned and headed back out into the street as most passed by on the opposite side. Were they afraid that the house was cursed? His eyes soon drifted up to the gathering clouds and suddenly his spirit lifted as it usually did with the promise of rain. Days like today, he wished that he was one of those birds as he watched a group of pigeons flutter through the air between house tops and ignored the approaching footsteps and closing door.
"Mason, let's head back now," the middle aged priest interrupted.
He nodded and followed towards the marketplace. "Is the sickness in the air?"
Andrew's kind, blue eyes turned and looked down at him. "I don't think so, but it's possible."
"Hmm," brown eyes rose to the sky once again to the puffy, white towers which slowly seemed to approach Milford and he smiled.
Following his attention, the priest chuckled. "I don't think I'll ever understand you, son." The young attendant's joy soon turned to apprehension as the cleric glanced back to him. "Though, I guess we all have our havens of retreat." Mason's brow furrowed in confusion and Andrew motioned back into the sky. "I used to wish I could fly when I was your age too."
"Really?"
"Indeed," he nodded, then greeted a couple who passed them.
"Does Arhus ride in the clouds?"
"No. But, his champions fly to us with his wishes and I imagine they can sit upon one of those while they wait for his answer." A reply that made Mason smile again as he tried to imagine an army of beautiful, winged females sitting and resting in the embrace of the immense puffs of wool.
"I want to go up there one day..," his voice trailed off, knowing that Ghevond was never explained in that manner during the sermons.
Andrew chuckled as he lay a comforting hand on Mason's shoulder. "Perhaps one day you'll get that chance."
Brilliant sunlight showered the surrounding forest with warmth as Father Andrew and Raulin Dunham drove the large wagons towards their 'surprise'. Full of kids of all ages, Mason perched on the side wall as the heavy wheels rumbled towards their destination which wasn't too far south of town. These orphans had all lost at least one family member and the cleric had grabbed the gravedigger to help him on this special day.
Steel-grey eyes turned as the large, older man whose red hair was fading in streaks of grey. "Son, sit down with the others before you get jolted out." Being much larger the man's intimidating gaze demanded respect and Mason complied as he crouched back into the crowd of young faces around him.
"Where do you think they're taking us," Amelia asked, her blonde curls bouncing with the wagon's motions.
"Not sure, but I saw the large baskets that the Father put under their seats," Bron, an older son of a tailor informed. He was always trying to get into things he shouldn't and Mason knew one day that would get him into trouble.
Amelia's brown eyes brightened, "A picnic?"
Bron shrugged his shoulders. "I guess." Many others peered over each other and it didn't take long for Mason to feel something in the air. An excitement that grew with each passing moment and he suddenly felt more alive than he had in a long time as the shadow of the large trees around them gave way to a large open area. He nearly stood and noticed the large lake that opened up before them.
"He told you to sit down," Bron reached for his leg and tried to pull Mason back into the hunched group, but the agile boy leaped from over the low wall and landed nimbly as Raulin reined the horses to the right and pulled on them to park the wagon behind the first that Father Andrew drove. "Hey," the boy yelled as Mason sprinted towards the inviting water, shedding his clothes as he ran.
"Mason, wait," Father Andrew yelled.
Diving off of the low sloped, grassy bank he flew into the lake as if finally coming home after a long journey. Into the murky water, he swam ever deeper. Overjoyed at the feeling that the large body gave him, he felt the pulse of the life within and immersed himself in it. He found himself laughing, but that joy soon turned to alarm as his lungs quickly filled. Suddenly, survival kicked in and the young boy struggled for air as he pushed his body towards the surface. It was so far away, he thought as he struggled for the light.
Soon, he couldn't push any longer as his body just stopped.
Oddly, he didn't feel any different as his eyes watched the brighter surface slowly fade from view. Was this the end, he thought?
'No.' Her voice was so soothing. Like the mother he had never known. 'I could be throught of that way, I guess,' she chuckled.
Brown eyes turned to look as the darkness around him slowly brightened. Bluish light surrounded the female whose long, dark hair swirled and pirouetted around the beautiful face and kind, blue eyes. 'Am I dead?'
She shook her head and smiled, her white, silky dress flowed around her and reminded him of the large clouds that he loved to watch so much. 'Far from it, my darling.'
'Are you one of Arhus's champions?'
'No, but I know him well.' She chuckled, neared him as she placed his head softly in her hands and kissed him on the forehead, then backed. 'I look forward to our moments together though. Not many in these lands talk to me.' She winked and drifted backwards from him and soon, her brilliance evanesced into black.
* * *
He awoke to the warmth of the sun as he lay underneath a scratchy, woolen robe. Brown eyes squinted in the bright light as they focused and noticed Father Andrew sitting to his right, face in his hands.
"What happened," he asked quietly and prompted the older priest to lower his hands and gaze at him in surprise, then scoop up Mason into his embrace.
"I thought we lost you, boy," the priest sobbed.
"No, sir." He nervously glanced to the other children who quietly mulled around the wagons, then look at them as Mister Dunham's large body straightened. He was a bit embarrassed suddenly and wondered where the lady in the water went.
Andrew backed, still keeping Mason near. "Don't ever do that again. Do you understand me?" Mason wasn't sure what it was he was promising, but promptly nodded his agreement. "You've never learned how to swim. You..." Tears streamed down the ruddy cheeks as the priest swallowed hard and sniffed. "Stay near the bank next time. Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
The next few days had been quietly lived as Mason continued his daily life in the small church. He stood holding the snuffer for the candles as Father Andrew finished his message on the grace of their patron deity as his brown eyes drifted through the crowd to finally notice the most recent victim of the plague. Dillon Kandliss sat next to his father farther back in the thinning crowd, his head dipped in silence. Mason suddenly wished that the life that the lady in the water had given him could be done for everyone else too. Perhaps they had done something wrong. Was the baron being judged and the town had to pay the price? Arhus was a god of justice after all.
That was stupid, he thought. People get sick all the time; it's just a fact of life.
He pushed the line of thinking out of his mind as Father Andrew finished. "Let us pray," Mason dipped his head and closed his eyes with the rest of the congregation. "Great Father, we humbly beseech your grace for your servants here and their families. Bless the coming days and years with joy instead of sorrow. Help your servants remember all the goodness you've brought us, the safety from harm for many years from our enemies. Bless those brave men in the kingdom who daily carry out your wishes to keep our homes secure. Help them hunt down your enemies, guide their hands and minds to find justice in this world. Rid us of those who would take our freedoms from us and have us live in darkness." Mason opened his eyes and raised his head as did the nobles in the forefront of the crowd. "Go with Arhus, my friends."
As everyone stood and began filtering out through the main doors at the far end of the chapel, he moved to extinguish the many candles lit for the service. All of them made by Dillon and his father, he thought to himself. He moved towards the raised dais as Father Andrew neared Sir Alyson Stokys that reached into his leather jacket and pulled out a letter.
"Father, this is for you," the quiet herald's voice always gave Mason the chills. Serious green eyes narrowed by the sun had a darkness to them too. Or was he just imagining things?
"Thank you, sir." Andrew accepted the letter and placed it atop his bible, then shook the man's gloved hand. "Arhus go with you."
Nodding, the noble's courier turned and walked out with the rest of the crowd as Mason continued his chore.
Once done, he placed the utensils for the service into the storeroom and stepped into the kitchen to notice Father Andrew sitting at the head of the table reading the letter while the others prepared lunch. He allowed the priest his privacy while helping set the table and then sat with the rest of the orphans to eat. Quietly, the group consumed their food and once finished, Father Andrew retrieved his bible and the letter and stood to leave.
"Mason, come with me, please."
"Yes, sir." He handed the dirty plates to Amelia and then followed. Once they reached the study whose musty, book-filled shelves lined both walls to either side, he noticed Father Andrew quietly lay the book onto the small table.
"I'm being called away for an inquest," blue eyes turned to him. Mason had no idea what that meant, but he could tell it wasn't good. "I want you to help Bron keep things in order here while I'm away, alright?"
Mason nodded quietly.
Father Andrew smiled warmly. "You're a good boy." He turned and began removing his vestment. "I also wanted to ask you something about that day at the lake." Mason nervously waited, hands at his side. "What happened to you," blue eyes turned as the priest eyed him directly.
He shrugged. "I went into the water and...went too deep, I guess." Sweat began beading on his forehead and back.
"And?"
Brow furrowed in confusion. "Nothing. That was it," he lied.
Andrew studied his face for a long moment and Mason suddenly became uncomfortable with the subject. "I felt something...in the air that day. That's all." He turned and sighed as he hung the white lined, red gown within his armoire, revealing simple tunic and pants. "I just wanted to know if you noticed anything in the water," he turned to eye the young boy again. "That wasn't natural."
Mason shook his head. "Just fish."
Nodding, the priest relented as he moved to a thickly padded couch and sat down. "I leave in the morning and shouldn't be more than a week or so. Raulin Dunham and Mister De Cobham will be keeping and eye on things while I'm away." He smiled. "Make sure the rabbits stay out of his garden. You know how he hates that."
"Are you in trouble?" A query that washed the smile from the cleric's face and Mason suddenly became nervous for the only stable person in his life.
"No. Don't worry, you have enough to keep you busy while I'm away."
Various other servants of Arhus came and went during that week as Mason continued with the mundane. He found ways to amuse himself, now helping Cecily Wake expand the church's forge. They had been spending most of their time removing the clutter in the far corner that had gained all the things that Father Andrew and the other brother's thought could be used one day. The armorsmith didn't normally live and work here, but the diversion was a welcome one.
As he carried another armload of broken wooden slats towards the open entryway to the stables, a rider approached and stopped. The large, older man wore simple brown robes and his balding head seemed soaked with perspiration.
"You there, boy. Tend to my horse," the priest demanded as he tiredly dismounted, then began untying the pack from the saddle.
"Yes, sir." Mason quickly dumped his load into the cart parked to the left of the door, then moved to retrieve the reins as the priest huffed with his gear towards the chapel's rear door, beyond the well. Willem and Brady both watched the portly man head inside, then glance to him as Mason began removing the reins and saddle. He carried the heavy gear into the stables as Cecily wiped his forehead with his hand.
"Who was that?"
"I'm not sure. Probably just another visiting priest from Sarkad or something."
"Huh. Okay, well now that we've gotten most of that junk out of the way we can start blocking in the forge in the corner." His aqua colored eyes motioned to the cleared area, then back to him. "I'll go talk to my brother and find out what's taking him so long to bring the bricks."
"Okay."
Once he finally stabled the newly arrived mount, Mason headed back into the kitchen and noticed their visitor stuffing his face with quite a meal. Must have been a long ride, he thought to himself. As he moved to pass the chair that Father Andrew normally sat in, he realized the priest had claimed it for himself. A fact that normally wouldn't have caught his attention until a goblet was shoved in his path.
"I require more wine, boy. Go fetch it."
Mason eyed the guest for a long moment, then took the pewter cup and started to head for the cellar.
"What's your name, boy?"
He turned to face the priest. "Mason, sir."
A nod. "You're a faithful servant of Arhus, I take it?"
"Yes, sir."
Between bites, the priest nodded again as he studied the young orphan. "From now on, we're going to all train like it," he scanned the others in the kitchen each tending to their individual duties. "I'm bringing in a master of arms that's going to teach all of you how to fight like a true servant of Arhus should." Indignantly, Mason felt his defenses rise at the proclamation. He knew the basics of swordplay, he'd seen various templar practising over the years in the back yard. He glanced to Mason again. "Bring a pitcher along with the cup, I've had a long road."
He turned and carried out the order and once downstairs, he moved to the large storeroom that housed the many casks and barrels of wines and other drinks. Brown eyes noticed Amelia as she reached into the barrel of vegetables and turned to notice him also.
"He's mean," she commented in hushed tones.
Mason nodded in agreement and lowered the cup underneath the faucet to one of the barrels and turned the handle. "He won't be here long, don't worry."
"I hope not."
He realized how dangerous this line of thinking was. "He's a servant of Arhus though. And he's a priest, don't forget."
A long pause as he closed the handle and set the cup on a long table which housed and covered more supplies. "I know." He finally turned to eye her as he reached for an empty pitcher. "Why, what happened?"
Being his age, he considered her his sister as well as friend. "Just the way he is, I guess. Bossing everyone around." She replaced the lid to the barrel and turned to him as she moved to leave. "When do you think Father Andrew will be back?"
"He said he'd only be gone a week, so. Not long now, I think."
* * *
That night, once dinner was done and everything cleaned up, Mason found himself standing in the sanctuary with everyone else as the visiting priest stood quietly on the dais, eyeing them all. "I'm Father George," he informed and glanced to Brothers Alfred and Howard who stood with the three nurses that tended to the babies the church had inherited. "I'm the new priest here in Milford," he informed and looked back to the orphans. "And things are going to change around here. Starting tomorrow, you're all going to start exercising and training in the way of arms. Except the girls, obviously. We are a haven of justice that supports and represents those things in the world that are right and true. We need to start living like it."
Mason couldn't believe his ears.
Long days followed as chores interrupted training. His whole body ached as Mason carried the next load of bricks for the forge on a balance across his shoulders into the stables. Finding new muscles that seemed to bulge as he moved scared him that they would suddenly burst from his body at any moment if he wasn't careful. Soaked in sweat, he glanced to Bron whose face grimaced as the bigger boy crouched and set his load onto the packed earthen floor.
"That's fine," Cecily stated as the blacksmith helped his brother and cousin arrange the newly arrived bricks into place. "You boys get some water and take a moment. We have enough for right now."
"They'll do no such thing," Father George's voice echoed from the far end of the stable as the priest entered. "Your job was to build the forge, allow me to govern my boys."
"Sorry, Father." The older commoner turned his attention back to the task at hand as Mason then lowered the bricks to the ground, lost his balance from fatigue and dropped them across Bron's stack. He immediately glanced up to the priest in nervousness who glared at him, hands on hips. Quickly repiling them, he stood and picked up the rod and rope suspended plates of wood and headed towards the door.
"We'll talk about this later, boy," the sinister voice promised as he passed. "I hope none of those bricks are damaged."
"Yes, sir."
"No, they're fine," Cecily promised from behind him as Mason continued outside.
* * *
Strolling around him, whip in hand, Father George paced as Mason stood rigid facing the large cask in the cellar. "Why do you think we need discipline here?"
Mason knew the right answer, but was beginning to hate the man asking it. "To make us better."
Father George sighed as he walked around behind the accused. "If you know these things, why don't you live by them?" Crack. Mason's body convulsed as the stripe across his back and right shoulder suddenly burned hotly. "Our great father has deemed that we be the examples to the world. How can we show everyone else outside these walls how much better this world would be if everyone followed his tenants if we don't practise those things?" Mason sniffed, trying to bite back the tears as the priest leaned over his shoulder to stare at him. Hot breath stank of wine and an assortment of daily meals. "I see a great deal of potential in you, boy. But, you have to see that for yourself." He straightened and moved back. Another crack resounded in the cluttered room, then another. Soon, Mason dropped to his knees unable to endure another as the last pierced his lower back, causing the victim to arch backwards and cry out.
Father George neared and crouched. "I do these things to purge you, my son, of rebellion. You will come to thank me for it one day, I promise you."
Mason didn't thank the priest that day, or any of the following as he lay in the infirmary under the care of Brother Howard's magic and herbal remedies. He closed his eyes and daydreamed of the lady in the lake and wished that she had taken him far from this place after Father Andrew left. Tears streamed as he recalled her smile and the gentle, motherly touch.
* * *
Brown eyes awoke to quiet footsteps and Mason turned his eyes downward to notice Amelia approach with a plate of food. As she neared the nightstand and set it down, she smiled at him sympathetically. "How are you feeling?"
He nodded. "I'll be okay." He watched as her hazel eyes scanned his back, now wrapped in soaked cloth and then returned. "How have things been going?"
Narrow shoulders shrugged. "Fewer people came to the service this morning." Apprehensively, she glanced to the door at the far end of the room, then leaned down. "Some are saying that Father Andrew's never coming back. I heard Brother Alfred talking to the herald earlier and he said that Father Andrew was in trouble."
"For what?"
She shook her head, then eyes widened as Amelia straightened and turned to face someone entering the room. "If you're done here," Father George began. "Then return to the kitchen and help the other girls finish cleaning up."
"Yes, Father," Amelia replied immediately and nearly ran from the room. Mason wanted to pretend he was asleep but, knew it was too late for that. He glanced up and watched as the priest plopped down onto the bed opposite his, then study him for a long moment.
"Brother Howard says that you'll be back to work in another day or so," he smiled. "I'm glad to hear that, we need your strong back for another project I'm working on." He leaned forward, arms propped atop his thighs. "I never wished for you to hate me the way you do. I only wanted you to be better than you are now. I know you are still young but, our Father states that the young hold our future. I embrace that truth and I want you to as well."
Mason nodded quietly. The man's words were so confusing sometimes.
"There's another boy that's decided to insult my authority as well as that of the church. He's spit in the face of Arhus today and I never want you or any of the other boys to end up like him. You are the stars in the night sky that men will be guided by in those days of darkness to come. Our Father will do great things through you if you let him." He stood and smiled, "Rest well, my son. Eat up before it gets cold," he motioned to the plate, then walked out.
Now fifteen, Mason's body was honed by years of training, chores and the iron fist of Father George's principles. He had become fearless as well and displayed that quality often which had become entertaining for the kids at the church as well as some of the young maidens in Milford.
Standing on his hands, the agile teenager walked along the rail of a second story patio as a growing crowd below gawked in amazement. Calloused from years of work, the splinters were barely felt any more as he reached the corner, then prepared for the dismount as a gentle wind drifted in from the north and cooled the sweat on his bare chest and arms. Legs straight and feet together, he dropped to the ground amidst a collective gasp and landed beside a stack of barrels.
Smiling to himself, he turned and bowed to the crowd who all clapped.
Amelia approached and handed him his shirt. "One of these days you're going to get hurt and Father George is going to have your hide tacked to the church doors." A name that washed his enthusiasm quickly as he pulled the tunic over himself.
"I've been wanting to talk to you about that, actually."
"Oh," brow raised in interest as his audience began dispersing. "Are you finally going to admit your feelings for her then?"
He grinned coyly. "I have no idea who 'her' is but, I can assure you there is no one else."
She nodded skeptically, turned and he followed her down the street towards the marketplace. "One of the few in Milford that doesn't."
"Come on. We've grown up together," his sarcasm waned as he looked into her maturing face, smooth and tanned under the veil of long, curly blonde hair. "There is no one I care for more than you, Amelia."
Hazel eyes turned to him as they dodged a mounted patrol. "I know that. As a sister and friend, but nothing else. And that's fine," she sighed and returned her attention to the growing crowd at the edge of the nearest stalls commanding the market. "He would never allow such a union anyway," she nearly whispered.
Mason grew anxious as his brown eyes took in the crowd of merchants and nobles amidst commoners all looking for the best deal for their silver. There had to be a way to escape this place and take her with him. "It's not up to him." His voice now lost in the cacophony of shouts, conversation, shuffling feet on cobblestone and occasional laugh of some maiden.
They eventually found the crowd part on the opposite side as they continued heading towards the one place he didn't wish to be right now.
Suddenly, he grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him. "Let's keep going. Out the northern gate and to the port. I could work aboard a ship for our passage and we could go to Davos and have a life of our own."
Amelia smiled warmly at him. "I love how romantic you are," a comfort that seemed to be genuine, until her joy faded. "I've been promised to someone else." A revelation that hit him like a ton of bricks.
"Who?"
Hazel eyes sank as she turned and continued as she let go of his hand, prompting him to follow. Desperation soon grew to anger as the thought of her living with someone else flashed in his mind.
"Amelia. Who?"
She glanced at him as they walked. "Bishop Lawrence of Sarkad," she replied and he could see her eyes mist.
"He's older than Father George," Mason nearly yelled and gained the attention of many others who passed by. "Who arranged that?"
She continued walking and sighed. "During his last visit, he and Father George talked at length about such a union."
He had to do something. This couldn't be allowed to happen. "When do you leave?"
"In the morning. Sir Archibald is escorting me." The paladin and his glaive had arrived two days prior from the duchy's capitol and Mason had thought for a routine mission. Now the truth had come out and it made him sick. As they approached the low stone wall that closed in the small yard to the church, he plopped down upon it and blankly stared at the street. "Mason," she called and walked to his side, then sat down. "It's not the end. Arhus will see us together in Ghevond when that day comes. Don't fear."
He turned to her and tried to take solace in that thought but, hoped that day would be a long way off. Pushing out a grin, he kissed her. A moment he didn't want to end as she returned it. Something he had never done with her before, yet had always wanted to.
Ecstasy that was abruptly interrupted by a familiar throat clearing as they broke their embrace and turned to notice Father George glaring at them from the stone path which bridged the front doors to the main sanctuary to the street. "Amelia, you should be packing for your journey."
"Yes, sir." She glanced to him longlingly as she rose and headed into the chapel. Mason's brown eyes followed her the whole way.
"Mason, we need to talk," the priest stated disapprovingly. A trait that seemed to be a constant between them.
"I have nothing more to say, sir." Anger welled again as Mason rose and turned towards the cleric whose body went rigid.
"You listen here, boy. I'm still the priest here and you'll obey my wishes," green eyes grew dark with each moment as Mason moved to pass the heavyset servant of Arhus. A strong hand gripped Mason by the arm and wrenched him closer. "Do you understand me? Get inside and finish your chores that you pawned off on Roger and the others and don't ever let me catch you doing those stunts on rooftops again. I don't want to even hear about you doing such. Your whoring has also reached my ears and that will stop today," the priest seethed as his jaw tightened.
"I'm old enough to strike out on my own," Mason ripped his arm free as he backed. "I'll gather my things and I'm gone from this place."
Father George turned to face him squarely. "All you think you own belongs to the church and thus, me. You own nothing more than what you're wearing now. Out of my sight, whoremonger." The air between them grew hotter than the sun's warmth. "One day you'll come to regret this decision and I hope that Arhus reclaims you from your days of evil."
"The only thing I regret is that you're here and Father Andrew isn't."
"Never, ever mention that man's name here again! Do you understand me! Do you!" For the first time in his life, Mason suddenly grew afraid of this priest and backed further as people passing by took notice and quietened. He made his way towards the safety of the street as the cleric's rage threatened to erupt on them all. "I banish you, Mason! Never come to Milford again! I'll have your head on a pike if you disobey my wishes," the priest continued to scream as Mason jogged backwards, ignoring the others who also tried to retreat from the one place in the town that was the symbol for safety. Soon, he turned and ran towards the northern gate and down the highway towards the port on the far shores of the Valga.
A place that he had never been before.
Tiredly, Mason walked towards the distant port of Milford and with each step pondered some grand scheme to free Amelia from her fate. He soon realized that the paladin and his pair of veterans would easily overpower the teenager and send him on his way. If he was lucky.
His freedom had come with a cost, he mused. Yet, the sight of seagulls floating on the wind to the north renewed his spirit somehow and his frown soon became a grin. Thinking of the Lady in the lake that day sped his journey towards the Valga, a sea that he had heard several men in church speak of from time to time. Those who had served on various ships answered his eager questions for hours, until Father George found something else for him to do. Now he could finally fulfill his dream and be a part of a crew. Sail the wide expanse and be near her forever.
Soon, the small cluster of homes and warehouses gave way to the widened docks and the busy thoroughfare bustled with men working to unload or load the pair of vessels anchored in the deep harbor. Large trees and the village soon opened up to the blue line that stretched to the horizon and in both directions and Mason realized how happy he was as tears welled.
"Beautiful, isn't it," an older male voice interrupted from behind and to his right. "Reminds me of the first time I stood here about your age with my father."
Mason turned and wiped his cheeks to notice the haggard, white haired man whose tanned, leathery face that smiled at him. Hazel green eyes held a youth that his worn and slightly overweight body disagreed with. "It is," he nodded.
"You looking to gain passage or wanting to be a crewman?"
Brown eyes turned back to the sea as waves gently lapped on the sandy beach that bordered the wooden planks and stretched to his left as far as the eye could see. "Not sure yet." But, he knew the one person he wished to see again and began undressing.
Chuckling, the old man backed. "I took a dip this morning, so I'll let you be son. I'll be in the White Gull if you want to talk later."
"I'll do that, thanks," Mason eagerly kicked off his boots and ran into the cool water, then dove into the inviting expanse. He wanted to scream for joy but, remembered the last time he did that and refrained. Pushing ever deeper, he felt like he belonged finally. Fish lazily drifted with the current and paid him no mind as he enjoyed the moment, then rose to the surface to refill his lungs.
Suddenly, a chill rose up his body and he immediately dipped back into the water and gazed into the darkness around him. Was she here? Soon, a light blue spark rose from the depths and grew larger and took on a form as it neared him. The charge in the water scattered the fish quickly and he watched as he soon beheld a strong man in bright scalemail armor holding a brilliant spear that also glowed as brightly as his helmet.
"She sent me to guide you in the next phase of your life, Mason," his mature voice stated.
"Where is she?"
He smiled, "All around you". They both hovered in place as Mason quickly glanced around, then realized what the knight meant and smiled. "She is the mother of all water. Seas, oceans, lakes, rivers and the rain that falls from the sky. The Lifegiver, some call her and she shows herself to very few. You are one of the fortunate ones that has ever laid eyes on her grace and beauty. Men have prayed for her help in storms or low tide. Even for a wind to speed them home," he grinned. "I'm one of her champions and I will be your guide and advisor when you need me."
Mason smiled and nodded, giving no thought to how long he had been under the waves. "Pleased to meet you, sir."
"The pleasure is mine." The mithril clad champion backed from him. "Now, to train you how to navigate the seas like a veteran."
They spent the next weeks together and Mason learned more than he had ever thought possible on the currents, tides and navigating through all types of weather aboard a ship. Abilities that he soon surmised would be a dream to sailors above. Once he had mastered those things, he fell asleep on the beach not far from the port, feet still within the waves.
A cool wind awakened Mason to another morning and caused him to stretch, letting his arms fall above his head and on the sandy beach. Exhaling, he smiled at the sounds of the waves quietly lapping around him.
"You're going to catch cold laying there like that," an unfamiliar female voice stated beyond his vision. He arched his neck upward and noticed the greying, long hair that drifted with the breeze behind the lithe, older frame and kind eyes.
"I'm fine, actually," he smiled. "I haven't been sick in years."
She nodded and continued buttoning her simple, tan blouse, then turned and walked up the beach. He finally sat up and followed her into the treeline and noticed the small hovel within. With a perfect view of the Valga, he couldn't think of anywhere better to build a home.
Gathering his clothes, he dressed and made his way towards the secluded home. A light grey smoke rose lazily from the chimney which protruded from the cabin built strongly of thick logs. He knocked lightly and waited until the weathered door opened to reveal the woman.
"I see you finally heeded my warning," she grinned.
"I did," he nodded, dark brown hair disheveled. "My name's Mason, by the way. Forgot to introduce myself earlier."
"Okay." An uncomfortable silence lingered between them.
"I, um. I was just wondering...how long have you lived here?"
"A while." Her impatience grew more apparent as time went on.
"I'm sorry for disturbing you," brown eyes glanced to the sea beyond the line of trees and wide stretch of sand. "It's just that you have picked the perfect place to build a home."
"Agreed." She sighed loudly. "You hungry?"
Mason turned back to her. "If it's not too much trouble, yes."
"If it was trouble, I wouldn't have asked." She turned and walked deeper into the modestly appointed home and he followed, closing the door behind him. It's warmth was apparent, making up for the chill of his hostess which must've found a way to balance somehow. Perhaps she didn't notice any more.
"I thank you. Do you need any help with anything?"
Amber eyes turned to him as she pulled two plates from a small shelf. "I'm fine." Nodding, he decided to keep his mouth shut for now and found a spot on the bench seat at the table and watched as she spooned out some light colored beans and meat in a thick sauce, pouring it over bread. Once done, she walked over and placed one in front of him and rounded the table and sat down.
The air was scented with the sea, drifting from her as she moved and he could smell it like a perfume. Realizing there were no utensils, he mimicked her and sopped up the meal with his fingers.
"This is delicious. What do you call it?"
Her eyes rose to his as she ate, sunlight picking out the creases around her mouth and eyes. "Farayn. Never had it before?"
"No, actually."
She shook her head in disgust, "Must be from Milford then".
"Yes, ma'am. First time to the sea. I had always heard of it from some of the sailors that came to the church. Talking of maidens that lived in it, saving some during bad storms. Navigators talked about the Lady's guidance through breaks in the stormclouds to guide them home." His smile grew wider as he spoke, in between bites. "Pretty amazing."
For the first time, he noticed her grin. "You looking to get on a ship?"
"I'm not sure yet," he shrugged. Amelia's face still haunted his dreams, wishing there was some way to save her from an older man. Thoughts of what she would have to endure in their private moments still made him sick.
"Certainly have the spark in your eyes when you talk about the Blue."
Mason looked at her from his nearly empty plate. "Yours too. How long have you been a sailor?"
"I was born to it, boy. My father and grandfather, uncles and cousins were all sailors. If you're not careful, it'll draw you in too and you'll never want to leave it. Mark me."
Not sure how much to reveal of what he had just recently done in the Valga; training under his new champion may not be something that everyone should be aware of, he grinned. "Is your ship at the port now?"
"No," she rose and headed to the darkened pot hanging over the fire for another helping. "The Jann have employed Kuzin mercenaries to burn most of them. I guess you hadn't heard of the invasion going on to the south."
"What," his immediate alarm spun him in on the hard wooden bench. "When?"
"They arrived two weeks ago and have taken Larkhall."
"I'm sure the king and his army will take care of this problem." His ignorance made her chuckle as she turned and walked back around the table to sit.
"You aren't well informed at all, are you? The king lost most of his army when they invaded the Macau Empire two years ago. There is little left beyond younger sons that were left behind, and the old."
"Arhus will help us defeat them," his resolve welled, knowing what had been drilled into his mind since he could remember.
She nodded and resumed eating. "No doubt. But at what cost? The Jann are here for revenge and they're not going to stop with just a town or two. I'm sure their leader has his eyes on Davos itself and we have little to stop them."
"I can help," though he would ignore Father George's warning if he went back to town. Many others would need to be saved from these barbarians.
"If you want to throw your life away, sure." His initial admiration for her soon turned to disdain.
"You've been a recluse for too long," he rose and carried his plate to the wash barrel and dipped it in.
"Excuse me?! Boy, I've seen more of this world than you'll ever know. I know what these people are capable of, I've seen it firsthand. Who do you think the Saqiran pirates got their tactics from? Or ship building techniques? Don't think for a second that just because they don't follow our gods that they're ignorant of warfare or knowledge. Most of their cities are better organized and cleaner than ours." The lively commentary grabbed his attention immediately and made him realize how little he knew of the world at large. "They're the ones that developed sailing by the stars at night. One of them can walk out and look up and tell you the time more accurately than an hourglass."
"Hmm," his moment of clarity was becoming a bit embarrassing. "I had no idea, you're right."
Straightening, she stood with the cleaned plate and walked towards him. "You've still got a lot of life ahead of you. Don't go charging into a fight that's not yours. Pick your battles and ensure you have at least one way out before committing to the sword."
Mason nodded and backed, allowing her to clean her own plate. "Good advice, thanks."
"That was free." Her mood softened as he replaced his dish on the shelf, standing it on end and against several more. Most of which he had a feeling had never been used.
"I really appreciate your hospitality. I should probably go."
"Go where," she asked as she dried her plate and replaced it next to his.
"Back to Milford. Father George won't be happy, but I've made a lot of friends there and he's an evil man."
"Thinking of a rescue then," she grinned, hands on hips.
Mason shook his head. "No, she's already gone and I can't fight a paladin."
Her brow furrowed. "Paladin's don't kidnap. What in the world are you talking about?"
"Amelia was chosen as a bride for the bishop of Sarkad. He's old enough to be her grandfather," his disgust fueled misting eyes.
Another grin supported sympathy. "Heart aches for a love lost. That's one of the oldest stories in the book." Amber eyes drifted away from him. "I know how that feels."
Wanting a diversion, he relaxed his fears and turned them to empathy instead. "What happened to him?"
Amber eyes rose again and she shook her head. "Nothing. You should get going, long road on foot."
"Okay," he acquiesced. "Thank you again for breakfast. Can I come see you again?"
A shrug, but he could see her interest in company. "Sure, I guess." Mason turned and headed for the door, opening it before glancing back to the older woman.
"I never did get your name."
"I know."
He grinned and walked out, leaving the door open as the smells of salty air mixed with pine as the breeze shifted. She followed him to the doorway and he could feel her eyes on him as he headed towards the port.
"Mason," she called, prompting to turn. "It's Amphelice."