The War of the Isles

12. Mila

Mr Mooncanter was the finest horse in all of the Isles. It was as if he could read my mind. When I desired to gallop, he galloped, when I wanted to trot, he trotted. I did not even have to nudge him with my legs. He understood me well enough. Better than most human beings did. 

I was nearing the outskirts of Ravenburg when my eyes fell upon the town. Smoke seemed to be upwards from houses. Was the town on fire? I wondered. 

It was upon reaching the city that I became privy to everything that was happening around me.  There was rubble all around me such such Mr. Mooncanter's pace slowed. The townsfolk were running about hurriedly trying to rescue as many people from the fallen houses. Injured people lying in makeshift stretchers were screaming for help, as healers attended to them with desperation.

What has happened? 

Mr Mooncanter sneezed and then snorted in disapproval.

"Tu Qas, my friend," said I blessing him for his sneeze in Smahan. Mr. Mooncanter shook his head as if to acknowledge the same.

We approach a crowd circling something. As we neared it, I saw a frail old man holding a cane, standing by his daughter, no older than Forty. Next to him was someone who appeared to be a Priest. The priest wore a bell around his neck indicating his faith in the Divine Mother. The father and the daughter were dressed in rags and appeared poor.

"... it does not matter! The woman must die! It is against the Divine Mother's will. She is an abomination!"

My curiosity piqued. The crowd however seemed divided in their opinion.

"She saved the town!" said a man in the crowd. "She closed the crack!"

Half the crowd cheered in approval. The other half were not pleased.

"She is a Seymon!" said another man. 

"So what?" said a third person. "It is no secret that Seymons exist among the common folk. Why is it, that the Aristocratic Seymons get to keep their lives, but being a Seymon among the common folk is a crime? This is not the way of the Divine Mother. Her way is for peace. By closing the crack, this woman saved this town!"

The priest looked at that man enraged. "She is no Seymon! Seymons radiate white light, it is known! She is a witch! Her light was Red!"

It was the lady's aged father who then spoke, "Please, Your Holiness! My daughter has always been kind and gentle! I beg you, please!" 

The first man spoke again, "Your Holiness, I ask for Mercy! She has killed every single dark bird that burst into flames over our houses. No unselfish person would choose to save us, at the cost of her own ridicule."

I was getting more and more confused with every sentence. Crack? Birds bursting into flames? 

The priest continued with vigour. "Saved us? She willed the dark crack to appear over this town! It is because of her that the birds that passed through it became dark and burst into flames over our roofs!"

Something about those words ticked an old memory of a story, Aunt Ida had once told me. 

Everything in this universe exists in duality Mila.

Of course, they were just folktales passed from generation to generation in our tribe. I remember her telling me and other children stories of how the Ancient Fairies fought against various evil that seemed to appear from another dimension. "Rynok" she called it. Translation - a Dark Crack. 

The priest continued to state his case, "Do you not see that this is an insult to Our Divine Mother! She weeps for us! Her children destroying the very world she created!"

A voice came from behind me, "She would weep even if her children were merciless!"

Everyone including me, turned to face the direction of the voice. He was a boy, no older than sixteen. His hair, trimmed short, was blond. He wore Medinian attire, long pants that widened the in middle of the knees and narrowed down as they reached his legs. His shirt was bright orange, covered in a red shawl. 

The priest's countenance reflected anger.

"Who are you to make an opinion about our Divine Mother?"

"The Divine Mother is neither yours nor mine, she belongs to all of us, and neither of us," the boy replied calmly.

"You have no place here, boy! Go back to Medini and serve your false Gods."

"No God requires service, they only need love and devotion to everyone around us, your Holiness. Let the lady go."

The priest shook his head. "I have had enough of this! Take this woman to the Mother's Hearth! She will be burnt there!"

To my utter dismay, I saw half the crowd grab the woman and lift her over their shoulders. The woman began to wail and kick in the air as she was being taken down the street. People who had voiced their support for the lady began to protest frantically as she was being taken away. In a rush, I observed the father being knocked over by the mob. 

I immediately dismounted Mr. Mooncanter and cut my way through the mob to the place where he stood earlier. When I found him, the old man lay groaning in pain. I knelt in desperation. A closer examination ensued with him spitting out blood violently, before his eyes that ceased to see anything, a few seconds later. The old man had passed into the realm of the deceased.

By now the crowd had cleared. Mr. Mooncanter gave a soft snort indicating his disapproval. I could hear the faint protests and the disapproval of many as the woman was being taken away. But nobody had remained for the old man. Nobody but the Medinian boy. I turned to look at him distressed at the situation. The boy, however, appeared calm and stoic.

"There is nothing that can be done. His energy is now one with the Universe."

"Nothing that can be done?" I barked. "Perhaps had you been more careful with your words, the Priest would not have let his ego take the woman. That man would still be alive! The fuck is wrong with you? Are you not aware that Islanders do not like their faith being challenged by a puny Medinian like you?"

The boy chucked, "Words have power, Khizirana Mila. You must be more careful."

I froze. I could taste salt in my mouth. No one outside my tribe knew my title.

"There is no time for contemplation Khizirana," said the boy now in an urgent tone. "If we have to save her, we must hurry."

I got up and walked towards Mr. Mooncanter. As I mounted him, I lent my hand to the boy. He swiftly grabbed it and sat behind me. 

Mr. Mooncanter galloped until we found the mob. They had stopped in front of the Mother's Hearth and had tied the woman onto a large wooden cross.  Beneath her, lay a stack of hay that was about to be set on fire by the priest. 

The boy dismounted and walked towards the mob. Upon eyeing the priest, he folded his and closed his eyes chanting an invocation. His hands immediately began to glow white. After he had accumulated what he thought was enough energy, he hurled the light onto the woman. The light divulged into two, each path reaching for either hand. The energy then split the rope on either side, thereby freeing her from the cross. The crowd gasped in shock. 

"Walk towards me Jenna Becker," the boy called.

Jenna, hastened her pace as she approached the boy, her face radiating distress. 

"My father!"

"There is no time," said the boy. "You must come with us."

The crowd didn't move a muscle. The priest stood abashed and dumbfounded, but I think he too was afraid. 

The boy turned to me. "Walk with me Khizirana. This is the call of destiny. Our near future demands to be shared."

"I do not even know who you are?" I shrieked. 

"I am the Messenger."

I did not bother to demand any further explanation. The four of us hurried until we could no longer see Ravenburg behind us.