Page 22 of Sanctuary

“Apology accepted.”

Roman marched forward. Farhang hung next to him, keeping pace.

“The woods are a nice change,” Farhang said after a while. “There is something about the scent of fir trees and pines that touches the soul.”

“It’s primeval,” Roman said.

“Yes. That’s what it feels like.”

“Pines are ancient. They evolved before flowers did, almost 200 million years ago. Flower aromas are layered and complex, while the scent of pine is a simple fragrance. Yet every human responds to it. We know it by some forgotten instinct.”

Scents and memories were intertwined. It wasn’t the pines’ fault that the memories they conjured set his teeth on edge. He couldn’t sink into that dark hole right now. He had company.

“Where do you usually float?” Roman asked.

“Over a grassy plain with distant snowcapped peaks in the background. I believe it’s the landscape of Northern Iran. Somewhere near Sareyn, perhaps.”

“Sounds picturesque.”

“Oh, it is,” Farhang nodded. “A grand landscape, very vast. Feels almost infinite. And very lonely.”

“How long has it been since you spoke to another human?”

Farhang pondered it. “Three years? I think.”

All gods were assholes.

“What happened?”

Farhang sighed. “I swore a holy oath to defeat someone in the name of my god. I was warned against swearing it, but things got dramatic, and I swore it anyway. There was a woman involved.”

“Happens to the best of us,” Roman said. A woman was the reason he was dragging this cursed tree. Morena and Chernobog rarely fought, but they must have clashed over something this time, because the tree was clearly an apology gift.

Farhang smiled. “I failed to keep my pledge. The oath splintered me in two. My body, with a sliver of my consciousness, is in the physical world. The rest of me is here, locked out.”

Three years floating in solitude, without any idea what was happening to his body. Yes, I get it, Dark One, point made. It could always be worse. I don’t care. I’m still quitting.

“Have you attempted to appeal?” Roman asked. “Three years is a long time.”

“Unfortunately, the Triad is of the opinion that since I ignored the explicit warning and got myself into this predicament, it is up to me to pull myself out of it. So far, I haven’t been successful.”

Many years had passed since his divinity classes. Roman raked his brain, trying to remember the particulars of the Ahuric Triad. There was Ahura Mazda and two others… He was pretty sure one of them was the god of covenants. An oath was a covenant, a contract. As a magav, Farhang would be held to the strictest of standards.

“I couldn’t help but overhear that you are angry with your patron deity,” Farhang said.

“That’s one way to put it.”

“In my experience, gods are selfish. They don’t always explain things, but they do love us, for we are their chosen.”

“Love is too strong a word,” Roman said. “They use us. We are the instruments of their will. They have a vested interest in keeping us alive, but should we perish, they will simply find another.”

“True. Such is the nature of the job. My teacher told me once that for a person to become what we are, they must have the Servant’s Heart. We are similar to physicians and soldiers. We seek to serve a greater good and to belong to something meaningful and grand, and we dedicate our lives to putting ourselves between others and danger.”

“That is a noble way to look at it. The reality is dirtier and grimmer.” Roman jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the tree.

Farhang looked mournful. “Indeed.” He opened his mouth to say something else but closed it instead.

“What?”

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