Chapter 17:
Beyond the Pages
With all of their knowledge of the world put into question, there was no doubt that, if all the old gods were real, all of the monsters and evil spirits would be, as well. Mathew was unaware of what dangers lurked between the pages and breaths of the old legends from the ancient Persians, Meira was somewhat familiar with the folktales she had heard in Dimasq, but Thomas, on the other hand, seemed to be prepared.
He tapped his nose as he read back over the entry with the beasts attacking during the sand storm. "Could the beasts be the khrafstra?" he asked of Prince Pacorus and Quaden.
It had been so long since any person had reported an encounter with the malicious spirits that the two couldn't fathom these creatures returning. "No, they shouldn't be here. They and the Djinn were all locked away with the old gods," Quaden explained. "Think of how much havoc they would reap if they had nobody to keep them subdued."
"The same goes for all the other godly and demonic creatures of the world," Prince Pacorus added. "Peri, manticore, al, simurgh, dragons," he ran through a short, incomplete list, "anything that held powers beyond what humans could fight was locked away in the spirit world."
"That brings me to my next question," Thomas continued, "could the woman, the one seeking truth, could she be Daena?"
The prince narrowed his eyes and took a long look at Thomas. "Who are you, again?" he asked, his gaze scanning the man for any clue as to his origins.
"He drinks and knows things," Quaden shrugged, answering his friend's curiosity only slightly. "Don't bother asking any further. What he tells me is that he simply drinks and listens to the stories of the people around him." Unnoticeable to the others, the two shared a small message in that brief moment. Being in a constant search for knowledge and an even greater ceaseless lookout for other ancient gods, be they allies or foes, neither were very familiar with the idea of ending a curiosity so quickly. No, what Atlas was saying to Gibil in that moment was, "I'm hearing what you're hearing, but he won't tell you anymore."
Receiving Atlas' message, Prince Pacorus' eyelid twitched in annoyance before he returned to the question at hand. "Why would you ask about Daena?" he asked. "She is one of the Lords of Death: an usher between this world and the next. Since that passage way was more sealed off by Atlas and Pleione's sacrifice, the duty of the Lords of Death is to briefly open a way for the spirits of the dying to pass through."
"So," Meira tilted her head, "the gods are not truly locked away?"
"What do you mean?" Quaden asked in all seriousness.
"If there are gods that can open a pathway," she explained, "between this world and the next, then they are not completely locked away, am I right?"
Prince Pacorus leaned back in relief. "I see where the confusion is," he said with a gentle sigh. "You made me very concerned for a moment.There is a thin place of existence between this world and the spirit world where souls can sometimes be lost if there is no one there to bring them through. If a soul should become lost in that between space, they would wander through this world, seeing everything before them, but not being able to interact. Many souls of lovers, family ancestors, lost children, and the wrongfully killed wander that space for sometimes centuries before they find the strength to let go and move on to the next world."
"What if a god were to be there?" Mathew asked.
"Like Daena," Thomas added, "who is known for showing a person's conscious before crossing the Chinvat Bridge? Could there be a place where the veil between the two worlds, this space between this world and the next, has weakened? A place where men could unknowingly wander in and out of this between space and where some creatures from the spirit world have accidentally wandered into, as well?"
Quaden jerked to attention and shot a glance of certainty to Prince Pacorus. "Then it is my responsibility to correct that," he said. "Whichever path you choose to take, know that I must follow the path this caravan did," he said as he tapped the ledger. "This is the reason why I am here in this life: to make sure that the walls remain securely in place."
The other three shared glances of concerns mixed with nods of agreement. "Then," Meira said, "we know which path we are taking, too."
Mathew grinned widely, "We're not about to let you have all the fun."
"We're brothers, after all," Thomas said as he extended his hand to Quaden, who received it with vigor. "Which leads us to the next question: when do we leave?"
"I must give my men the choice," Quaden responded. "Prince Pacorus,would you allow me to share this with my men?" he asked, lifting up the ledger. "Not to take, but to let them read it, so they can makeup their own minds."
"I was already planning on transcribing it for you," Prince Pacorus declared. "It is short enough. Give me a half an hour and you will have your own to take with you into the desert. In the mean time," he said as Quaden passed him the ledger, "might I suggest you four inspect the armory for anything you might feel would give you the upper hand in your travels to come."
Quaden's excitement burst from him. "You won't find a better deal!" he said as he danced at the prospect of showing off the stores of the ancient castle. "Let me put this into words you'll understand: You were just offered your choice of weapons and armor forged and crafted by Vulcan, himself."
The three men couldn't run fast enough to see the armory in its full glory, but Meira was hesitant. While the others giggled, awed, and gawked over the beautiful and deadly weapons they had to choose from, Meira casually meandered, poking and feigning interest in random items, but was troubled by the prospect of carrying a weapon. Even the armor, to her, begged of violence.
"What's wrong, Meiri?" Mathew asked as he passed her along an isle of spears and shields. "Something looks to be troubling you."
She tilted her head in thought as she, uninterested, fidgeted with along, golden staff. "Don't you feel," she struggled to begin, trying to find the right words to express herself, "that all of this will simply ask for more attacks?"
"What do you mean?" Mathew replied, setting his own excitement aside to hear her wisdom.
"If you carry a sword," she explored her thoughts aloud for him to hear, "won't others with swords try to test your skill? The more you're known for your skill with a sword the more others will come to challenge. If you live by the sword, you will eventually die by the sword." She then gently flicked the shield. "The same with armor, I suppose," she continued. "Wear the best armor and everyone will want to test their weapons against it. Carry a shield and, immediately, people will wonder what you have that is so important to protect. Should we so grandiosely display," she said as she lifted a spear so beautiful that Mathew paused to wonder if Minerva, herself, had held it, "that we are willing to fight or that we have something that others may feel the need to take?"
Mathew heard her words, but was too taken by the spear to respond right away. As she set the weapon back onto the wrack, the spell was slightly broken and he addressed her concerns. "I can't disagree with you," he said as his eyes remained locked on the spear, "but you know, just as well as the rest of us, that there are those who would try to take what little you have. Not having a sword or a means to defend yourself often only makes them feel more empowered to do so. Audaces fortuna iuvat," he said in Latin, "Fortune favors the bold."
Meira didn't like that last point. "Fortune favors the bold," she repeated in a growl. "That sounds more like an excuse to be reckless," she argued. "Boldness leads you screaming into conflict." She lifted the shield she had flicked earlier and then a sword from another wrack. She then turned to Mathew and began banging the sword against the shield as she slowly approached him, her eyes narrowed and her will flooded out. With each step forward, he took a step in retreat. With each step forward, she clanged the shield even louder. With each step forward, he began to fear for his life.
It didn't take long before Mathew was scrambling for a weapon to defend himself as Thomas and Quaden rushed to intervene. When they arrived, Mathew was trembling as he held an ax, ready to swing. With her full audience present, Meira let out a blood curdling scream and then lowered her guard, releasing Mathew from her forceful gaze.
"See what your boldness accomplished?" she asked as Quaden and Thomas looked upon them, bewildered. As she replaced the shield and sword she said, "If I hadn't been bold, you wouldn't have raised a weapon in defense. If I hadn't been bold, I wouldn't have drawn so much attention." The suddenness of her actions still held the man frozen with the ax raised for battle even though she had already disarmed herself. She then walked softly towards him with a loving smile and reached out for his his arms, moving them downward. "If your sword brings more swords and your armor brings more thieves," she askedas he calmed down, "what will mercy bring?"
The weight of the truth behind her words rang loudly over the past battles he had fought. The blood he had spilled for the sake of"boldness" and the nearsightedness of the victory of battle, when the delusions were removed, swept his legs out from beneath him as he fell to the floor in a deep, sorrowful regret. Thomas, too, was hit heavily by the simple question, "what will mercy bring?" The last of the spectators, however, was more intrigued by her words than anything else.
The impact of Meira's insight was most certainly felt by Quaden, but how she delivered the message, what she said, how she said it, all of it begged his continuing question: "who was she?" There were many gods and goddesses who possessed such levels of wisdom, but which one also carried the powers she had displayed, he wondered, which of the gods could heal a man's bodily and spiritual wounds. It was at this point that he, as well as the others, had lost all interest in the magnificent weapons at their disposal, and he left them to wander the armory in silence.
They were all taken back by Meira's lesson, so it was no surprise that nobody noticed Quaden walk away. He quickly removed himself to seek the assistance of the prince, who was, in that moment, surrounded by information that might help them identify just who their friend might be.
Returning to the library, Quaden's face was twisted in thought as he searched his own memory of all the gods he had encountered. "Prince Pacorus," he said, his eyes still distant with the search, "do you have any suspicions as to who our friend, Meiri, is?"
"I was just wondering the same thing," he admitted. "What other details could you tell me about her? Surely, there's more than just control over the waters and healing. What other clues are there?"
"Her wisdom," Quaden answered, "but that doesn't narrow it down at all. My first thought is Mímir, but he was also known for his ability to see the future."
"Mímir is very wise," Prince Pacorus agreed, "but just because he didn't display other capabilities, it doesn't mean that he didn't have them."
"That's true," Quaden replied as he rubbed his chin. "There's also Minerva, which would explain Meiri's natural gift for fighting."
"She can fight?" Prince Pacorus asked, lifting his eyes from his work in surprise.
"Oh, aye," Quaden smiled. "She thrashed my entire crew the first time we met, but something didn't seem right about it."
"What do you mean?" the prince asked.
"Her emotions in the fight grabbed at my heart," he answered. "She wasn't fighting my men, but something from her past. I nearly wept when I saw the poor lass' face, but, at the same time, she also hates violence," he added, her words still echoing in his mind. "She just asked us all, after scaring the carp out of Mathew, 'If we bring swords and find swords, what will we find if we bring mercy,' or something to that effect."
"Words like that," Prince Pacorus said with a deep sigh, "make every war, every battle a regrettable funeral procession. Do you know if she studied under anyone or if these are her own thoughts?"
"I know that General Marcus Agrippa had taken her under his wing in As-Shaam," Quaden said. "They talked of philosophy and politics. It's hard for me to believe that a general would have taught her this, though. If he had, it...," his words trailed off.
Prince Pacorus' hand had stilled. The thought of a general regretting each and every bloody battle fought, every life taken, and every life lost, yet continuing, was confounding to the two of them. How much strength it would take to pursue such a life without letting it make one cold and hardened, without letting it steal away their very humanity and compassion, neither of the two could even begin to fathom the regular internal turmoil of such a life. "I would very much like to meet this general," Prince Pacorus said as he broke his frozen gaze. "Perhaps he would be a potential ally in finding peaceful solutions. There is a war with Rome emerging along the Euphrates that I would rather avoid. Thank you for this information. As soon as I am done here, I will send a messenger to him, inviting him here and requesting a peace treaty."
"That's good," Quaden nodded. "I'm glad I could help, but could we focus back on Meiri?"
"You feel that if she knew who she was," Prince Pacorus said as he studied Quaden's face, "that her inner conflict might come to an end."
"I do," Quaden answered.
"Then let's not search through the pebbles just yet," the prince suggested. "Let us look at the obvious and move from there. While I continue this transcription, look through the books on that stack," he said as he pointed directly at a large book case without looking. "I've specifically collected those as a means to learn about all of the gods. Create a list, first, of all the gods who could control the waters. I guess that you could leave out Pleione, since we have already ruled her out."
"What about," Quaden was hesitant to ask, "Venus?"
"Oh, I'm sure she's not Venus," Prince Pacorus answered sadly. "Our search for each other continues."
"There is something else," Quaden said as he began fingering through the books and parchment on the stack. "Meiri told me of an encounter she had. A beast that changed shape saved her from some men and she claims this same beast granted her the powers."
A rustling came from behind Quaden as the prince dropped his quill and knocked over his stool rushing to get to the bookshelf. "Why didn't you mention that before?" he asked in a serious tone. His hand smoved like lighting to pull specific books and loose pages. He was so forceful that he nearly shoved Quaden out of the way.
"Do you know what beast she was talking about?" Quaden asked as he stepped back, surprised by the speed and determination of his friend.
Prince Pacorus paused in his actions, Quaden's words causing some reflection. "No," he answered, "not entirely." He returned to retrieving all of what he thought was pertinent as he continued to speak. "I've never encountered such a creature, in life or any life from before." He stalled for a moment to show that his past selves had continued regular notes included in the transcriptions of the ancient documents. "Apparently, none of us had ever encountered the creature even before the great war, but there were rumors, legends among the gods, of the early, eternal beings. Here," he said as he passed Quaden his own journal, a notebook full of entries on thatsubject alone that he had collected over many of his lifetimes. "That is volume one," he identified the book. "Please, be careful with it."
Taking the tome over to one of the tables, Quaden began to look through its entries. Remarkably, Vulcan had managed to draw on the accounts of hundreds of other gods. Some were short entries with nothing more than a note that the particular god didn't know of the beings in question, but others were a bit more in depth. One entry, when Vulcan had the fortune to meet with a god from the continents far to the west, the god named Pecala claimed that she was a direct child of Imater.
"Pecala, reborn as a Chu man named Ban Fuling in this life, described her mother as the first being of the waters. The name she gave me was Imater. When I pressed for more defining characteristics, all Pecala could offer me was Imater's abilities and that she, with the help of the first being of earth, Ipitar, and the sun, Surya, were the origins of all the gods and life of this world. When I tried to inquire further, she offered me this wisdom:
'From the formless came form.
Learn of the form, but seek the formless.
When you meet it, you will not
see its origins.
If you follow it, you will not
find its end.
Keep with the ancient ways and
you will master what is present.
Learning the primeval beginnings
is the essence of the Way.'
Quaden leaned back and away from the entry, his head spinning from confusion. To be sure, he read over it three more times, but each time came with the same curious emptiness that flooded his mind. He could have easily left it and read other entries in his search, but, for reasons beyond his understanding, his mind was locked on understanding what this particular entry meant.
Finally, in frustration over if he was translating the ancient text correctly, he yelled out, "What is this supposed to mean?!?" He was breathing heavily as a sweeping anxiety took control.
"Calm down, my friend," Prince Pacorus responded with a soft chuckle. "What is what supposed to mean?" he asked as he, again, stopped his own work to assist his guest. Upon looking at the entry, he began to chuckle more loudly. "Fuling spoke in almost constant riddles outside of direct conversation. Here," he said as he retrieved two small books from a different shelf, "these were gifts he offered meas payment for my hospitality. Naturally, I only asked to transcribe them. He acquired one from an old man from his own home before he left and the other was his own notes of a supposed holy man living in Kushinagar along his travels here."
Quaden looked back and forth between the entry and the two books lying on the desk. "Why would I want to read those?!?" he blurted out. "What does that have to do with Imater, Ipitar, or Surya?!?"
"Everything," Prince Pacorus smiled. "While I believe that the origins of your friend's blessings might relate to Imater, even the three who had created all the gods and life here had origins beyond their knowledge. In this book," he said, lifting up the transcriptions of the lectures, "a prince denounced all of his worldly possessions and reached a place of enlightenment that allowed him to look beyond this world, beyond the next, and beyond the gods." He then lifted the other and said, "In this, an old wise man was asked to share his parting wisdom on the Way."
"WHAT WAY?!?" Quaden was near hysteria.
Prince Pacorus laughed heartily as he opened the book to the first page:
"The way that can be named
is not the eternal way.
The name that can be named
is not the eternal name."
"Fuling was very fond of philosophical discussion," Prince Pacorus continued. "While he enjoyed learning what he could from Prince Siddhartha Gautama, he was more fond of the old man's perceptions, which included the drinking of wine."
Quaden tightly clenched his fist and held it up to the prince's chin. "Is wear by Thor's war hammer," he said as he turned a dark read as he shook, "if you pass me any more books on philosophy while I'm searching for facts, you'll be shitting out their pages for the next week. I don't need to know what some grandfather 'thought' was going on. I need to know the details. Who gave Meiri her gifts?!?"
With a gentle smile and a soft touch, Prince Pacorus pushed Quaden's fist downward and away from his chin. "That's what I'm trying to tell you: nobody really knows. This is the closest I got to any real information to answer that question. If there is anything that might hold the key, it might be on the other continents. Otherwise, we're left to the philosophers who have managed to see past the veil, well,see past YOU, and their gifts of sight are muddled and confusing to even them, I believe, so pick your poison."
The two looked back at the entry and came to the same conclusion. "Do these words look like Sanskrit to you?" Quaden asked, looking at the names of the supposed three originating creators.
"Yes, they do," Prince Pacorus answered. "I had that same thought along while ago. Perhaps there is something to be learned from the Eastern philosophies. Since Prince Siddhartha's passing, there has been a growing movement: practitioners of his methods have been coming forward with claims to have seen as he had seen. They're calling themselves 'bodhis' and 'bodhisattvas.'" Quaden looked at him blankly. "It means, 'enlightened one or someone who has reached nirvana.' Perhaps your friend could learn from them and search for greater answers than these books might hold. You are traveling in that direction, aren't you?"
Chapter 18:
A Slip of the Silver Tongue
As beautiful as the weapons were, as sharp as their blades may have been, as powerful as they would make any who wielded them, Mathew couldn't bring himself to lift another, even in inspections. Meira's demonstration and words cut deeply into him, leaving him doubtful of his entire life, but that, as he began to realize, was the point of the mystic's guidance and his choice to renounce the life of Mateus and be reborn as Mathew. While sitting and awaiting for Quaden and Prince Pacorus' return, this epiphany came over him like the sensation of warm liquor on a cool day.
"What are you smiling about?" Thomas asked him, happy to see his friend coming out of a moment of existential crisis.
"Meira was right," he answered, his grin showing a tinge of sadness. "I was falling into the old thinking of Mateus and I'm grateful to her for reminding me of my choice."
Thomas was conflicted over the whole exchange. "Does that mean that you're really not going to take a weapon?" he asked in speculation.
"Why would I?" Mathew asked. "If I live by one, I will die by one."
"Then don't live by it," Thomas responded as he sat next to his friend."Don't let it be your life. Don't let it be the first thing you reach for and don't let it speak for you. Roman soldiers cry,'fortune favors the bold,' but I disagree. I say, 'fortune favors the prepared.'" He stood up with a fine sword he had chosen and concealed it beneath his tunic. "Boldness is the war cry of the young, but caution is the wise man's use of experience." He reached down to help his friend back to his feet. "I have no intention of letting anything happen to Meiri, regardless of how she looks at me.Can I count on you to have her back if things get messy? Besides, we're about to walk through a monster infested desert. If you don't want your weapon afterwards, I'll be happy to take it off your hands."
Meira overheard the entire conversation and, although she was a bit annoyed by Thomas' argument, she understood his addition to the debate. She appreciated his agreement with her point of not always reaching for a weapon when a peaceful resolution could be an option. It was also a momentary blind spot for her: forgetting the supernatural dangers they were to face that didn't care if they carried weapons or not. After being reminded of this, she, too, chose a weapon that she hid beneath her robes without anyone's notice.
The appearances of the weapons could have been described as anything but modest, but the three chose them for their ease of concealment. Mathew and Thomas both chose swords that they could keep wrapped in cloth until needed while Meira chose what she thought to be a long dagger, but was really a spear head that had yet to be fastened to a shaft.
Hours passed before Quaden and Prince Pacorus returned. Quaden was carrying the transcription of the caravan's ledger while the prince carried an intense look as he studied Meira more closely than before. He followed the guests out to assure they would not be burdened by the guards and then informed everyone that he would return to the library to transcribe two more gifts. After he left to return to the work, Meira tried to ask Quaden about the gifts, but he was still struggling to understand what little he had read of them.
"They are both works of philosophy," he tried to explain, "which are supposed to point you in the right direction. One is supposed to be a gift for the hosts of our final destination, but you are encouraged to read it and, when you do," he turned to her in all sincerity, "please explain it to me. I nearly went into a rage over a piece of parchment!"
Meira's confusion and curiosity over the texts aside, the four of them returned to the others where Mathew gathered the centurions and Quaden gathered his smugglers. Together, they presented the information of the caravan's ledger to everyone. There were mere mixed emotions from both groups. Some believed the ledger at face value and their responses ranged from shaking with chills to steadfast decrees of following wherever their leaders would go. There were some who were unsure of what to believe as they had only ever heard of monsters from ancient stories both written and spoken. Then, there were those who didn't believe a word. These were the minority of the group. They responded with laughter and jokes as Patricius, Lucius, and Justus mocked the ledger as nothing more than the sun-baked, delirious ramblings of someone who had been lost in the desert.
"These entries are possible," Thomas addressed the three jokers," considering what we've seen." Quaden grew tense, expecting him to start telling the men about the hidden fortress beneath the city, but Thomas was not about to break his trust. "Remember what we saw in Mari, remember what Meiri can do, and..." he stopped speaking as he saw Mathew reaching for the godly sword he had acquired. "So quickly," he said as he turned, placing his hand upon Mathew's sword arm and whispering into his ear, "do I need to remind you NOT to let the sword speak for you. Use your reason."
He then returned to addressing the group. "I was just telling the commander that I never agreed with the Roman motto of 'fortune favors the bold.' I say, 'fortune favors the prepared,' so be prepared for the worst. If nothing happens and we travel through the desert without issue, we'll all drink and sleep well before we know it, but," he glared at Patricius, Lucius, and Justus, "if you don't take this seriously and there ARE such beasts and demons wandering the sands, you will be held responsible for your own and any others deaths due to your laziness."
"Better to have and not need," Mathew added, "than to need and not have. We are Romans, are we not?" he asked in a tone to rile his men up. "We are centurions, are we not?" he asked as he pounded his chest. "Then take this seriously! Get off your asses. If you're staying behind, you're duty will be to protect Prince Pacorus and we will need one of you to take a message back to General Agrippa. If you're coming with us, I want a full inventory on arrows, bows, shields, armor, swords, spears, and rations. Even if we don't meet these sharks and demons of the dunes, we are marching into a war zone. Let's be prepared for it all."
Even those who were rightfully fearful of what they might encounter along the drive through the desert decided to follow the others. Nobody could bear the guilt of feeling like they had abandoned Meira. They felt that it was their individual and collective duty to make sure she reached her destination safely and at any cost.
Prince Pacorus delivered the two philosophical texts and requested the mark of the commander, Mateus or "Mathew," on a document that was going to be sent to Marcus Agrippa about potential peace treaties.Upon reading the document, Mathew emphatically gave his mark of approval, saying, "It would be a wonderful thing if we could all travel and learn freely of each other."
Quaden went about securing provisions and arms for his men while finding anymore up to date star charts to help navigate the long desert trek ahead of them. Tents were bought so that they could all sleep during the day and plans were made to travel by night to reduce the risk of heat exhaustion and unnecessary over consumption of water. The centurions hadn't even considered these elements in their preparations and all agreed by the first night that they would have all perished from ignorance.
The squelching 44C heat of the day made the 26C at night feel chilling by comparison. There was still the city of Qom along their trek east, where they would procure the rest of their necessities before crossing into Dasht-e Kavir: The Great Salt Desert, the largest and most dangerous desert in the Parthian empire.
Along the six day journey to Qom, with the weight of the discoveries of the ancient gods still heavily weighing on Meira's shoulders, the internal conflict over her own faith and personal identity continued to swell. She became distant and morose regardless of Thomas'attempts to keep her focused on her search for her one true God. Thinking that some answers might lie in the philosophical texts from the east, Quaden encouraged her to read the two books in her possession, but his attempts were fruitless. Her melancholy was only growing, driving out any desire to do anything more than to watch the passing ground beneath them or sleeping until it was time to move,again.
With a letter of protection from the prince, their passage through the already ancient city of Qom was only stalled by two nights of rest and final preparations. Both Mathew and Quaden worked in unison, checking and double checking every item on their lists and in their inventories to make sure that nothing was forgotten. Meanwhile, Meira's depression became so noticeable to the other that their concerns grew, as well. Thomas tuck by her side day in and day out and acted as a buffer for anyone who attempted to approach their beloved Meiri.
Concerned over their friend's emotional decline, the ever lighthearted trio, Patricius, Lucius, and Justus, attempted to softly tease the Meira and Thomas. They hoped to bring up their spirits before they embarked for, possibly, their most dangerous challenge any of them had ever faced.
"Are you still worried about the sandy pups?" Justus asked Thomas, who was sitting next to Meira. Thomas grimaced in annoyance of the centurion's seemingly reluctance to take the matter seriously."Nothing to worry about. We have a secret weapon?" he said with a big, comical smile.
"Oh," Meira engaged, looking slightly hopeful and taking his comment as a matter of fact, "what's that?"
"Lucius' scrotum sweat!" he answered, bellowing with laughter and reaching for the man's tunic. "One waft," he cackled as he began flapping Lucius' tunic about, "and those beasts will bury their heads in the sand." This got at a least a chuckle from the two as they cracked smiles and released some of the tension in their shoulders.
"What about the sirenas?" Patricius asked. "Don't you think that will get their attention. Better bring an extra bag to cover your crotch."
"Nah," Lucius laughed, "I welcome them! It's been too long since I've had a good tug."
Meira nearly gagged on the vulgarity, but still mustered an uncomfortable laugh. "My God," she gasped as she looked to Thomas with a painful smile. "Are they always like this?"
"For as long as I've known them," Thomas said as he shook his head in embarrassment. "If patterns continue," he tried to whisper to her, "you're likely to receive a demonstration of the cordax soon."
"THE CORDAX!!!" the three of them cheered together as they began to shuffle their feet, thrusting their pelvises to a rhythm and making obscene gestures between them.
"We need music!" Lucius called out. "The cordax demands music!"
Their gross displays evolved into a final night's celebration as their demonstrations of the cordax grew in vulgarity. They mockingly humped each other's legs, played exaggerated feminine and masculine roles as they faked various sex acts, slapped each others backsides, and even went as far as to hit each other in the testicles. Finally, as more centurions joined in with the bizarre acts, Meira's sensibilities became so challenged that she needed to ask Thomas what exactly the "cordax" was.
Answering through tears of laughter, Thomas said, "It's a Greek dance of comedy. The Greeks have a much more liberal view of sex and think of it largely as a joke. It really doesn't even have to be to any particular music, just to get people laughing." Just then, Lucius did a handstand, his tunic dropping down, exposing his bare rear end to everyone as he walked on his hands towards Meira. Without hesitation, Meira leaped to her feet, wound an arm far back, and swung out a slap to the man's buttocks that had him rolling on the ground from the sting as everyone burst into greater laughter.
The sheer surprise of Meira's action left everyone speechless. Their fits of hysteria stealing every bit of air they could use to say a single word and bringing aches to their sides. Before they could catch their breaths, Meira grabbed her robes and wadded them up to look like a phallus as she cried out, "Be happy I spanked you with my hand!"
Not a single person could breathe from the hilarity of the moment. Not one single person except for Thomas, who stared at Meira with his mouth agape. "Meiri," he gasped as he watched her yank a cup of wine from someone's hand and gulp down every last drop. He knew something was wrong. Before he could get to his feet, she had moved to a bottle and had taken four large gulps.
"Meiri," he said, again, "are you alright?" While he was growing more concerned by the second, the others were cheering her on. "Meiri, slow down," he said as he reached for the bottle.
"Why should I slow down?" she laughed as she held the bottle away fromhim. "I am free now. Free like the rest of you!" she cheered, holding up the bottle triumphantly to the chorus of the others who encouraged her.
She then took two more massive gulps of the wine before Thomas' hand reached up and caught the neck. "Oh, yes, I know what's going on," he said as he smiled and tried to take the bottle from her. They wrestled for it for a moment, spilling the contents about, before Meira pulled it in close and then down to between her legs. "CORDAX!" she cried as she began thrusting the bottle about like it was her member, splashing the others with the wine. "CORDAX, CORDAX, CORDAX!" she and the others began to chant.
Before that night, Meira had only ever had sips of wine during celebrations and rituals, but never enough to bring about even the slightest tipsiness. Within four minutes, she had already drank the equivalence of four glasses and she was not quite done.
She let loose of the bottle quickly as Thomas swung away with it, but then turned to another free bottle and continued to drink. "Tonight, we drink The King of Beverages!" she called out and everyone roared with cheers. "Tonight, I will find my God at the bottom of the bottle or die trying!"
"Oh, no," Thomas sighed as he passed the then empty bottle to Patricius." Meiri, please slow down or your night will be over more quickly and your morning will be...."
"Blessed are You, Lord our God," she interrupted him as she began to recite the Hagafen blessing of the Yehudhi with some rather agitated additions. "King of the universe, who might not exist, Who creates the fruit of the vine that we will soon piss out. Listen to this blessing, you false piece of...."
"Okay, that's enough," Thomas interrupted her. "You're not even drunk yet and you are," he paused, seeing her eyelids begin to open and close independently from each other. "Well, maybe you ARE drunk. That was fast." He looked to the others. "What kind of wine is this?!?" He smelled the new bottle she had grabbed. "Liquor?!? Oh, dear Meiri, you're in for a ride. Let's get you some water and to a bed."
"I'm fine!" she growled as she lashed out at him with a wildly swinging open palm, and that was when the night went blank for her.
The next morning, Meira was awoken by a splash of cold water as she lied in a pile of hay next to one of the horses. Above her stood Quaden, Mathew, and Thomas who all smiled warmly. "Come along, lass," Quaden chuckled as he reached down to help her up. "You're alright," he said softly. "Everyone's first night of the deep drink is bound to be a tossy ride on open waters. Do you need a bucket?"
"A bucket for what?" she asked in confusion, but, as she stood up,with all the movement and dizziness, she turned quickly and relieved her stomach contents over the side of the wall behind her.
"For that," Quaden laughed. "You'll be alright," he repeated. "You just need some bread and water. That'll fix you right up."
The sun was too bright, the sounds to loud, the smells too pungent, and heat too abrasive. "Why does anyone ever drink?" she grumbled as they made their way to meet the men.
"I only drink to be merry," Quaden smiled. "What were you drinking for last night?"
"I wanted to find my God," she answered, still partially drunk.
The three of them laughed. "So," Mathew joined the conversation, "you were drinking to die. Well, it's good to see everyone in one piece, so to speak."
"What do you mean?" she asked, running her hands through her messed hair of knots and burrs.
There were exchanged, uncomfortable coughs between the three of them as Quaden and Mathew looked at Thomas. "Apparently," Quaden looked back and forth between her and Thomas, "you tried to take a piece of him."
"Oh, no," Meira's memory returned to that last moment before she blacked out. "Did I hurt you?"
"No," Thomas answered with a strange smile. Something was different that Meira couldn't quite understand. He was being quite, soft spoken, and even a little bashful. His head was hung low and his arms were crossed over his chest. He looked like he was ashamed of something,like he was in trouble for something.
"Wh-what happened?" she asked, worried that something had gone incredibly wrong. Quaden and Mathew exchanged a glance before looking seriously at Thomas. "It couldn't have been that bad. Your jaw isn't broken and I'm fine," she argued. "Why are you all acting so strangely?"
"Do you want to start before or after the kiss?" Quaden snickered.
"WHAT?!?" Meira screamed. "NO!!!"
"Yes," Thomas laughed nervously, "you tried to kiss me after you tried to knock my head off my shoulders."
"Oh, no," she shook her aching head. "You didn't kiss me back, did you?"
"I said you 'tried' to kiss me," he responded. "I never said you succeeded."
"Malaka!" she cursed at herself. "That's embarrassing."
"Oh, it get's worse," Quaden could barely contain his amusement.
"Quaden," Mathew turned to him with frustration, "please don't make him feel any more uncomfortable. It's fine and it should be dropped. We don't need to talk about it any further at his expense."
"What are you two talking about?" Meira asked.
"Well," Thomas answered for them, "when I didn't kiss you, you got a bit upset and let it loose that I had feelings for someone else."
Meira's face turned beat red from the embarrassment. She couldn't believe that she had so easily betrayed his trust. "I am so sorry, Thomas," she said as she rushed to grab a hold of his arm, feeling a stinging sensation as her forearm pressed against his. "I will never drink, again," she announced. "That was unforgivable of me to do. I am so ashamed of my actions."
"Meiri, Meiri, Meiri," he smiled, softly squeezing her arm as they then walked together. As soft as the squeeze was, it shot a searing pain up her arm, which she almost pulled away from, but he held her there. "I'm not mad and you have nothing to be ashamed of, well, maybe a little to be ashamed of. You tried to drink half a bottle of liquor within a minute!" he laughed. "That was shameful. That's wasting spirits! Next time, just take it slow. If you drink too fast, you pass out too soon and all that drinking was for nothing."
"But I embarrassed you and betrayed your trust," she argued on the verge of tears over her actions.
"And I'm a little embarrassed," he said with a smile. "I'll survive and maybe have more opportunities to make the commander squirm," he said with a wink.
"That's more like it," Quaden laughed.
The two of them slowed their pace to allow Quaden and Mathew to move further along their path and a little out of earshot. "I do need to talk to you before you say anything else," Thomas whispered to Meira. Quaden and Mathew easily picked up on the cue and moved along to meet the others. "I know your arm is hurting and I have a feeling you're going to remember everything the moment you see it."
"See what?" Meira asked as she pulled her arm away and rolled up her sleeve. A bright red hand print, like she had been touched by a scolding glove, remained on her forearm. At first, the memories of the night seemed like an echo of a call from miles away, but her mind was reeling and Thomas could tell.
Meira's memory replayed the moment before she had lashed out at Thomas, but continued. "I'm fine!" her mind started as she remembered swinging out at him. Her memory slowed down and she saw her own hand,covered in an icy gauntlet moving dangerously towards his face.
If he wasn't standing before her as she had this flashback, she would have thought she had killed him, but the memory continued. She saw a spark of crimson, fiery electricity from his eye as his hand moved inhumanly fast. He caught her by the wrist in a slap so loud it rang in everyone's ears like a thunder clap from directly overhead. Quickly, Thomas hid her hand and yelled out, "Why would you tell everyone that I love the commander?" The sudden revelation of his feelings was shocking enough to distract the drunken audience away from what had just transpired.
From there, Meira's memories grew more hazy as the spirits set in, but she knew it was Thomas who had helped her to the stables to sleep among the horses. "How did you do that?" she asked him.
"You do remember?" he asked to make sure.
"Yes,I remember your eyes and how...," she trailed off. "A-are you...?"
"Yes,"he answered solemnly.
"Which one?" she asked.
He sighed heavily, wondering just how much he should tell. His very origin was also the same being Meira's religion renamed as the king of demons. "I had a strange feeling when I saw Quaden's coin," he answered hesitantly, "but the murals in the castle, those are what jogged my memories."