Page 23 of Ceridor

My steady footsteps brought me to the creek. As I settled in, I caught sight of a very familiar cluster of rocks. I'd been right here, a couple of months ago, trying to calm my worries about Ceridor, when a small webbed hand reached out of the rushing water with a splash and grabbed my ankle. That was the fateful day Dunu had followed me home to become a fixture for Effie and me at the inn.

I didn't have paper or a writing utensil on me, so I did the exercise aloud, speaking my words to the creek and letting the emotions wash downstream and away from me. I couldn't go on a rant and place blame on everything I wanted to, because there was a specific format I had to follow. Everything needed to be either a fear, or a resentment.

"I am resentful at the fucks who attacked Ceridor," I began, "because I fear that my beloved could have died."

As soon as I touched upon that thought, I felt it all through my body: clenched tummy, tightened chest, and shortened breathing. Though I knew that with a mental push, I could dig deep into everything I'd ever resented or feared, right now I offloaded just what was flying through my mind.

"I fear that my beloved is more injured than he lets on," I continued, "fear that his injuries will be permanent, fear that this could happen again and I won't be there to protect him."

Fuck-fuck-fuck, this was hard.

I didn't let myself dwell on the darkness, just spoke as quickly as I could and released it into the creek. Some thoughts had slipped in on the jog over.

"I am resentful about my situation, because I fear I've been putting off my dreams for no good reason," I admitted, though it was painful.

But as soon as I'd said it, the water swept it away and the underlying fear showed itself.

"I fear that if I take my eyes off my sister, something will happen and she'll be taken from me," I admitted as tears burned my eyes. "I fear that now I'll feel that way about Ceridor too, fear I won't be strong enough to protect them both, or even just be nearby when they might need me. I fear something will happen to them and I won't be able to stop it."

That was the big offloading of fears, and yet my mind then asked me what about Magnus, and wasn't Effie strong also? She could defend herself, and Magnus would likely move in once I left. Plus, once I left, Effie could take on an apprentice to handle the evening shift I usually worked. And as for Ceridor, a possibility presented itself that I filed away to think about on the run back. Slowing my breathing, I uttered the release statement.

"I am now ready and I humbly ask that you, the blessed gods, remove these fears and resentments. I pray to know your will for me this day, and to have the strength to carry it out. Thank you."

I sat and listened to the water flowing and let the sun shine on me, cleansing my spirit of anything that might hold me back.

Ceridor

Johann holding me and coaxing me into a good sleep was so soothing I didn't even notice him get up and leave. An indeterminable length of time later, I slowly rose to awareness and gratefully noted that the nap had done its job and I was both calm and relaxed.

It seemed when I traveled, I managed to function, but every night I slept with one eye open for safety. Then when I got back here, to Effie and Johann's inn, I'd sleep for days, finally able to relinquish control because I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that the twins had me. Johann and Effie did shifts, with Effie up early to bake the bread before breakfast, and Johann up later until the inn closed for the night, so it was always covered.

Before that shift designation, once a drunk guest had come in late and accosted Effie. She'd screamed and Johann had run into the kitchen just in time to witness her clobbering the drunkard with a frying pan and sending him careening to the floor. After that, Johann took the late shift and made sure the guests were aware that they locked their doors at midnight, so any super-late drinking meant they could sleep on the road.

I loved finally surrendering my constant vigilant watch. Even the simple act of Johann coming into the room to check on me before leaving made me feel so warm and cared for. When I wasn't asleep I used this time to sort through my memories and notes from travel, categorizing things into what I would keep for myself, what I would report to Magnus in front of Father, what I would report to Magnus directly, and what I would report to Marit, the librarian warrior monk at Diana Monastery.

There was a lot of that last category these days.

Marit and I had become friends over the years due to our frequent correspondence. I'd send him folktales I heard on the road, and he enthusiastically copied them in order to integrate them into the monastery's library. He and his partner Corbi were people I knew I could trust.

My bardic apprentice Awariye was also trustworthy. He, and the other two, were close friends with the monk—Wren—who had taken over stewardship of the seven lantern gods who were rumored to protect the Danubian high king.

Awariye had experienced the power of the lanterns one fateful night at the side of Wren, and he now felt drawn to sing about the lanterns far and wide. I'd encouraged him to hold off for now. To sing about Ulbrecht the high king everywhere, but to keep this mysterious power a secret.

The ability of the lanterns to funnel some sort of energy into the physical world, to my mind, was indisputably dangerous. Even for someone as theurgically skilled as Wren—able to connect directly to the gods—the risk of being driven to madness was palpable. It had Ulbrecht scared out of his wits that Wren could lose his grip on sanity. At the Monastery, Wren had been viewed as something of a prodigy in terms of his ability to directly connect to the Divine, so if even Wren couldn't handle it, then I worried about Awariye's exposure to such power, and anyone else who might try it.

Since I had been practicing the monastery's magic for much longer than the younger monks, I suspected they might ask me to try being exposed to it and see whether I could handle it, especially since Awariye claimed that certain hymns had helped to funnel the power through. Part of me was insatiably curious, but another part was too cautious to try it. My duty first and foremost was to my little brother—my work as a traveling bard was a cover for the information gathering that I conducted farand wide in order to help Magnus as the future Regent of a border region of Helvetica.

Still, at our meeting a couple of weeks ago, Wren had said something to the High King that had struck a chord with me:

"Yes, the lanterns are changing my consciousness, and will continue to change me. But are you not also changed yourself, after every battle to protect your kingdom? None of us remain stagnant through life—for us humans, change and growth is the whole point of living. And yet, through all the different stages of self that we go through, we remain somehow us. There is a constant that follows us through the entirety of our lives, and for those who turn inward, that constant is likely their immortal soul. For me, I feel in my heart that this consistency of self is the part of me that holds my love for you."

Despite that brave and loving confession, I sympathized with Ulbrecht's worry in witnessing the lanterns changing Wren.

Marit had pulled me aside and asked what I thought, but in truth I didn't know. I'd been practicing magic for longer, sure, but that didn't necessarily make me wiser, especially in this case.

I'd gone looking for the monastery after leaving home at eighteen and had stayed there for five years in order to learn bardic memory techniques. As required at Diana Monastery, I'd also practiced daily ritual magic and fostered a relationship with a pantheon of gods. Such magic helped me to disguise myself and hone my mental capabilities, and a prayerful relationship with loving gods had healed me in very deep and soothing ways.

But even though the mechanism to funnel this protective power from the lantern gods was extremely risky, if word got out that it did indeed work, this was a power neighboring nations would be willing to invade for. Steal the lanterns, line up all the most talented mages in the land and have them try their hand at figuring it out. For the neighboring warlords, there was verylittle risk and only upsides if they could find mages to make it work, even if the attempt left a trail of corpses in its wake.

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