"I have a confession to make.
I used to hate you."
Dakkoul
A whooping and a hollering came from behind them and a flurry of hoof-beats. Dakkoul spun his horse around, dagger in hand and then relaxed. It was just an unarmed village yokel, a freckled young man with long copper colored hair and a wide grin. He rode up and inserted himself between them, his striking silver stallion slowing down to their pace.
"Keilah," the young man remonstrated. "They told me you were leaving without saying goodbye".
"I am following my mother's funeral procession Jagur."
The corners of Jagur's mouth plunged and his words rushed out. "So sorry to hear that Keilah. She's been sick for so long, but still, such a blow. She was so wise and knew so much about the world."
"She did."
A breeze picked up and ruffled their horse manes as they jogged along together and the rain misting the air promising a heavier downpour ahead. Dakkoul dropped back.
Jagur twisted around on his seat and called out to him, "Sorry, I've interrupted. Keilah's always telling me off for that. I'm Jagur." He held out his freckled hand in greeting.
Dakkoul moved his horse away. "I'm a slave."
"So?" said Jagur keeping his hand outstretched. "The teachings tell us there are no slave or free."
"Your God does not live on this earth then." His tone had stopped being musical and was dull.
Jagur's hand reclaimed the bridle and he cocked his head at Keilah in a question Dakkoul pretended not to see.
"Jagur this is Dakkoul. I think I have told you about him before?"
"Told me about him?" said Jagur his voice eager, as he turned around in his saddle, "Ha! Listen Dakkoul, I have long wanted to meet you. I have a confession to make. I used to hate you."
Dakkoul braced himself for the accusation that was sure to follow, even as he gave Jagur his most intimidating stare.
He expected Jagur to glare back, but instead there was child-like softness in his voice and a gentleness in his eyes as he said, "When I met Keilah here, every time I'd do anything, ride a horse, climb a mountain, spear a fish – she'd tell me how Dakkoul had done it better, his horse was faster, his mountain was higher, his fish bigger. I hated you, I really did."
A small smile ran across Dakkoul's face. He'd always been good, even then.
Keilah tittered. "It was true."
"Then I was supposed to do the ceremony. Does he know about the ceremony?" Jagur asked Keilah.
"No."
"It is a big part of our faith here. We commit our lives to the Christ. You know, I couldn't do it because of you, because I hated you so much."
Dakkoul shifted in his seat, and his horse tried to skitter away but he held him firm. This hate from a stranger admitted so frankly over something so unexpected was disconcerting.
"Then I realized how foolish it was to hate you, someone I had not even met. I decided instead to pray for you, every time Keilah mentioned you. I prayed for you an awful lot those first few years, and then I settled into the habit of praying for you every day."
Dakkoul snorted then asked, "What do you pray?"
"That you will be successful in all you do and that you will find God's joy and peace."
Dakkoul's lips thinned. "He has only answered the first half of your prayers then."
"I must pray harder he will answer the rest," said Jagur with a note of triumph in his voice. "So you see why I am so pleased to meet you. Take my hand, won't you Dakkoul?" and he held it out again.
Dakkoul hesitated then gripped the hand offered to him. "If you must waste your prayers on me, don't pray I am successful at work. Pray that I can do something else."
"I will," said Jagur with a beam that lifted his face, his freckles dancing up. "So Keilah are you really leaving?"
"I must visit my uncle. He wants me dead. I plan to persuade him to change his mind."
"Be careful Keilah. He's Wayvolkan."
"As am I," she said indignation sharpening her tone.
Jagur maintained his concerned expression. "It's a long way to Kallenton. I think I should ride with you, to make sure you get there safely."
"I'll keep her safe," Dakkoul snapped.
"Let me guess," Jagur responded with a grin, "You can do that better than me."
"I can. I've spent the last few years learning the best ways to fight and to kill."
Jagur looked over to Keilah with a yearning in his eyes. "Even so, I think I would like to come. When will I even see you again?"
'I'll come back. I'll give you my answer then, Jagur. I haven't had time to think about it, that's all, with everything that's happened."
"I know," said Jagur, his voice gentle. "I don't want to rush you."
"Are you promised to each other?" Dakkoul asked, his voice casual but the world seemed to still as he waited for them to answer.
Keilah shook her head. "He has offered, but his offer was conditional." She cocked her head to one side. "I hear a large group riding towards us on horseback. More soldiers, Dakkoul?"
He shook his head. "How large?"
"Far more than us," she said, feeling the blood leave her face. "Are they from my uncle? Are they coming to raid the village?"
"I don't think so." He slapped his reins to move his horse forward.
"They don't sound like Wayvolkan soldiers," Keilah said, behind him. Her words jolted him. Not Wayvolkan. That could only mean one thing. He swallowed. Surely not here, not now. They usually kept to the rim.
He came out into a wide clearing about half way up the mountain and ahead, as he feared, was a small group of Enderaii lead by the Sheradith herself, starberries and fox-fur woven into her hair and around her neck a string made of fox bones, arranged so the largest one pointed down towards her ample bosom. If Keilah's hearing was to be trusted, and he'd never known it to fail before, the rest of her warriors were waiting nearby. Deftly, with as little motion as possible, Dakkoul made his horse walk backwards, as he searched for an easy exit for Keilah.
He called out to her softly, but Jagur spoke over the top of him so that she did not hear.
"The Enderaii." Jagur said like they were a breath-taking display of shooting stars. "How I have prayed for this Keilah and here they are." He got off horse and walked towards the Sheradith, past the soldiers who were lowering her mother's body to the ground and clustering together in consternation. Captain Taanach was brandishing his sword and shouting something that the wind muted. The wind carried only the urgency of his proclamation, a contrast to the way Jagur strode forward.
"Look at him go," said Keilah in awe to Dakkoul. "He used to be such a coward you know, which was why I would always compare him unfavorably to you. Then he underwent the ceremony. He's never been the same since."
"He's a fool. Our best chance would have been to try to escape on horseback."
"What do you mean?" Then she saw. The small group of Enderaii in the clearing were now joined by hundreds more – all vicious looking warriors with double handed axes, pointed spears and shiny blades designed for torture and an agonizing death.
Someone's life is about to be radically altered. Guess who!
Thank you for continuing to read this. Comments appreciated.