Whispers Of Peace And War

8

8

Mythrd hesitated before running after Gythryn. He knew how she hated people fussing over her, but he couldn't let her suffer this alone. Upon reaching her, he didn't know what to do. He had suffered cracks from that cane, himself. He knew the pain it could cause. The damage. He couldn't imagine the marks it had caused from the blows of Llwnthrn.

He wanted to place a comforting hand upon her, but he didn't know where he could. Instead, his fingers caught the edge of her sleeve and he moved in front to face her. She tried so hard to hold back the tears, contorting her features, fighting against the pain and her emotions. He had never seen her cry. Her strength had always given him strength.

To see her like this made his stomach twist. He glared at Llwnthrn, over Gythryn's shoulder, but he couldn't hate the Abbot. He wasn't even certain he had the capability to hate anyone. Not the Abbot. Not the Gaeradine invaders that he would one day fight. Not even the Traal. It seemed a worthless emotion. Instead, he wondered what could make someone like the Abbot so cruel. So vicious.

Gythryn touched the hand holding her sleeve and then pushed Mythrd away. She didn't do so in anger, only a gentle prod to leave her be and compose herself. Mythrd understood that. Gythryn hated appearing weak. Not with him, usually, but in front of anyone else. His comfort would show the Abbot that she had affected Gythryn. Even now, Gythryn rebelled.

"And you, boy? What would your parents think? Standing with the enemy?" As though she hadn't beaten Gythryn almost bloody, the Abbot now turned her attention to Mythrd. "In the eyes of the Patrons, you consort with evil. What would your parents say to that?"

"My parents would think me a good man for caring about others, even an enemy." He felt a tear fall upon his cheek. Gythryn couldn't cry, so he cried for her. "Besides, I'm not certain Agarang is the enemy. Not anymore. There must be a reason he came to the Indervold, especially when his kin search for him so."

The Abbot stepped towards him, gripping her cane tight in her palm. Thunder and heavy clouds could not look so dark as her features. He stepped forward, stiffening as he anticipated the strike. Better him than more pain inflicted upon Gythryn. He half-closed his eyes, curling his hands into fists and holding them tight to his sides. The blow did not come.

"Surely you understand that the Patrons demand we turn aside all those who oppose our King? Who invade our lands? Rape and kill with impunity?" The Abbot's voice had softened and she lowered her cane. If anything, this made Mythrd fear her more. "In the Patrons' names, we must destroy these invaders at every opportunity, lest our land becomes theirs."

"You have a strange idea of the Patrons, Llwnthrn." Kaninzir had moved for the first time since he had forced the Abbot back with a step. He tugged down the collar of Gythryn's jacket, looking at her back, and shook his head. "They don't worship the Patrons like this anywhere else. No Priest thinks they speak for their Patron. This island's people have twisted the faith of the Patrons into something unrecognisable."

"You know nothing of the Patrons, old man!" The words almost spat from the Abbots mouth, her lips twisting.

"Neither do you, Llwnthrn." With a sigh, Kaninzir sat beside the fire. Looking at Gythryn, he patted the ground beside him. Then he glanced once more at the Abbot. "Neither do you."

A howl came across the henge's clearing and Mythrd snapped his head around. He hadn't realised how late the day had come. Now, in the silence left from the Abbot's shouting, he saw the Sun beginning to dip down, beyond the trees to the north, clouds giving the fiery ball an eerie haze. The Sun looked like blood set aflame. Another howl echoed the first, and Mythrd could tell what creature made that howl.