Whispers Of Peace And War

7

7

Over the next couple of hours, Mythrd alternated between clearing away the dirt from the monoliths and swinging the axe. If truth be told, he preferred cleaning the monoliths. With each wipe of the clumps of grass, it opened up more and more of the carvings and each one became a fascinating series of lines and circles that he prayed that he could read.

He also prayed that he could see the effects of the Aura. At least once more. That feeling that had erupted within him as he watched the colours and ribbons of light, that had appeared to emanate and radiate from everything, had caught his imagination like nothing before. He had felt a strength, a power within that light. He had also felt a peace and a feeling of welcome. Of belonging.

It wasn't something he could really describe, though he had tried to tell Gythryn. She had listened, asked questions, frowned at some parts, shook her head at others. To tell her that he had seen, and felt, the life in everything, even the stones and the soil beneath their feet, felt like the kind of nonsense story they would tell each other as children.

After telling her about the Aura, she had shrugged, returning to her practice with the sword. Mythrd didn't like that sword. Of all the things that had sent out the rainbow ribbons of the Aura, that sword had shown nothing. A pit of darkness among such beautiful light. Not that it felt evil, or anything dark and fearful like that, it only felt ... empty. As though the world had abandoned that one piece of it.

A sudden thought took him and he stopped cleaning the last monolith. Taking the axe from his belt, he raised it to take a closer look. The axe, like the sword, had belonged to a Gaeradine. Agarang, a Gaeradine himself, had had the Aura emanating from him, so it was not the invaders, themselves, that were devoid of the Aura. Could it, he pondered, have something to do with how objects are then used?

A sword, and a battle axe, were only made to take life. To remove the life from people and creatures. Did the Aura reject life-taking? A thing that ended the life of other things, a sword did not contribute to life, it only took life. If nothing else, Mythrd felt certain that the Aura was life, or, perhaps, existence. People and animals existed. Trees and stones and soil existed.

Even attempting to work through these ideas made his head pound. He had never had any schooling, other than a few written words in the Common Tongue. Gythryn had had a far greater education than him, part and parcel of living in the Monastery. She had had little choice in the matter. Yet, he had always wanted to learn. He didn't know what he wanted to learn, only that he knew there were a great many things that he could never understand. He had never learned how to think things through.

"So, this is where you've been hiding." Dragged from his thoughts, Mythrd snapped around to find Abbot Llwnthrn stood at the edge of the middle ring of standing stones. She tapped her cane against her leg, scowling. "Still playing games when danger is abroad. Fools and idiots, the both of you."

Her piercing grey eyes travelled from Mythrd to Gythryn and then fell upon the resting form of Agarang. Those eyes narrowed as she lifted her ochre robes, striding towards the Gaeradine. Crouching down, she gripped the man's jaw in her hand, turning his face one way and then the other before releasing him. She turned to Gythryn, first, fury upon her face.

"We can explain!" Sliding the axe back into his belt, Mythrd almost ran to stand between the Abbot and Gythryn. "He's badly injured. Don't the Patrons say we should help those who need it?"

"They also say not to suffer your enemies to live." Rising to her feet, the Abbot reached for the battle axe in Mythrd's belt, taking it out and shaking it before his face. "And you carry their weapons? If the Constable saw this, she'd arrest you as traitors!"