A Place To Bloom

Father in Heaven, I have sinned. Sorry, um… hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done…

"You Caleb?"

I turned to look. Standing in the doorway to the altar was a man with a worn face and long, graying hair wearing polished mail armor with a red sash bearing the gold lettering of the Count over one shoulder held by a gold clasp of Falcon with His wings swept in a dive. At his belt he had a sword with a diamond-tree stone in a weighted brass bulb at the end of the handle. He faced me with a small, folded piece of paper in one hand.

For thine is the kingdom, the honor, and the glory. Amen. I stood. "I am he."

"You're called to arms. Take your sword, your bow, and make for Carthia at once."

I took the paper and opened it. "I have neither sword nor bow, and where is Carthia?"

The man took a deep breath and groaned. "I'm the messenger."

He turned and clomped his heavy boots across the wood floor of the church on his way out. As quick as he could pass, a face peeked out from the last doorway. Her simple brown robe bounced spritely as she darted out and flitted over to me. "What was that about?"

"I've been called to arms."

"No!" Sarina's black eyes locked onto mine. "You mustn't!"

I shrugged. "Well, I suppose I'd rather not, but…"

"You can't!" she cried. "No!"

The old man's voice creaked from behind us. "Sarina? What is the matter, darling?"

She froze. She held perfectly still and gazed through me as though seeing something on the other side. Father Yewan shuffled close to her as fast as his years would allow and sought to hold her steady. I explained, "I've been called to arms."

The old man looked me up and down, brought his deep green eyes to my face, and nodded. Then he scrunched his chin and started to whimper. Finally he took a deep breath and built a smile around his lips. "I knew this day would come."

"You did?"

He raised a finger. "I have something for you."

He turned to Sarina, who still hadn't moved. "Sarina?"

She didn't respond. He narrowed his face to hers and called her back once more, "Sarina?"

Her eyes were the first to return. She scowled at Father, "NO! HE CAN'T GO!"

He tried to set his hands about her arms, but she shook him away. "NO!" Then she stormed off.

I called after her, "SARINA!"

But when I stepped to go after her, Father took hold of my hand and said, "she needs time with this. First, I have something for you."

"But…"

"You will see her again shortly. She needs to hear it in her mind until she gets used to it—you will see her soon. Come."

He led me down the narrow, freshly plastered hall at a slow pace, past a scribbled drawing about our knees.

"Tonight," he explained, "we shall have a proper farewell for you in the great hall. I suppose they're sending you to Kulun?"

"No," I shook my head. "Some place called Carthia."

The old man furrowed his brow. We walked past a group of painted handprints of all colors on the wall, each no bigger than my palm and no higher than my hip. Father shook his head. "I can't say I've heard of it; let us see what we can find."

The old friar's private study was a world cast in yellow through amber windows set in a hashed frame. Rows and rows of books and curiosities filled the shelves opposite his desk, a simple wooden plank set atop four legs that wobbled in one corner no matter how much paper you set under them. The old man went for a tome on the top shelf and took it down. 

PLACES WITHIN AND WITHOUT THE EMPIRE, Vol. III

Father Yewan chuckled lightly as he rifled through the pages. "That girl adores you…"

I laughed and shook my head. "We're just friends."

He raised one eyebrow high above the other and gazed at me with a sly grin. Then he shook his head and turned the book to me before stepping away towards his desk. I read it.

Carthia - no further entries. See Vol. II.

I closed the book and brought it back to the shelf, took a moment to wipe the dust away, returned it to its rightful place, and took down the one next to it. Meanwhile, Father hammered against a floorboard behind his desk. He kept at that until it gave, then he lifted the board and reached beneath the floor. I leafed through the book until I found the right page and looked at it.

Carthia - a city south of the Terbulin Ridge under the protection of the Duke of Heralia. Take the road south from Ulum, seven days by foot.

I told that book, "that's not helpful. It just tells you how to get there. That's all."

Father Yewan smiled. "That's more than zero, and no one raindrop makes a flood."

In his hand was a long mass of gray, withered cloth beset with faded red ribbon spiraled about the length of it, and at one end it gave the shape of a cross beneath.

"This belonged to Sir Haltha." He undid the ribbon at one end, slowly unwrapping it as he spoke. "That's his tomb in the garden, the same one you and Sarina used to play around. When I was a young man he gave everything to the orphanage."

When the cloth was finally unwrapped, an instrument appeared with a handle of leather worn to a shine, beset with a tarnished cross guard.

"Take it," he said.

I did. The thing was heavy. I pulled the handle from its scabbard, and a plain, unpretentious blade emerged, as sharp as it was heavy, with nicks and scratches from stories untold. In the tales, a sword was always magical, a shimmering, bejeweled icon of purity that glowed when it met its rightful wielder. This, however, was crass and brutal, devoid of so much as an etching on the blade and given wholly to its true purpose: murder.

"This should suffice for a sword," Father said. "I suggest you begin practice with it immediately. Hone your skills now while you have time, lest you need them and have no time."

That made me smile. "You've told me that a thousand times, Father."

He smiled. "It bears repeating! Now, as for a bow, you may take mine—you always do anyway."

I couldn't muster words. This sword, this blade in my hand, it spoke things to me I didn't like to hear. Things I'd much have preferred to leave alone.

Father must have read my face. "Are you frightened?"

I took a deep breath and let it out, then turned to him. "Yeah."

"This is good," he lowered his eyes. "It is a frightening thing. We will trust in the Lord, because that is the best we have at all times. I would be worried if you were not frightened. Now, go. I need you to tell all your friends that we're planning something for this evening."

I laughed. "OK."

The first thing you saw upon exiting the church through the front door was the massive, twenty-foot totem beside the hot bath bearing the carvings of ancestral spirits—the serpent, mountain goat, the trout, mountain hare, and perched at the apex with His wings spread was Falcon, all freshly painted and facing the church directly.

I started my way across the bridge and heard above the rumbling water the hooting sounds of children playing at being a monster. That brought a smile to my face, and so I knelt beside the edge and thrust my head underneath to get a good look at my tormentors. Of course I added a growl of my own for good measure and was rewarded with peals of laughter. Teryn from the orphanage, Jule and Xander the tanner's children looked back at me. "Where are you off to, Caleb? Have you no chores?"

"Been called to arms. And what about your chores, Teryn?"

"Please don't tell Mother where I'm at?"

"I wouldn't dream of it! Have you done your lessons?"

"No."

"You need to do your lessons."

"They need to do themselves." I wasn't sure if I'd heard her correctly; the water rushing over the rocks may have changed her words before they reached me.

"Teryn!"

"I don't want to!"

"We all must do things we don't want to, Teryn, and you must do your lessons. How's this. You go and get started, I'll come by later and help you finish up. Fair enough?"

She huffed and came out with her arms crossed. The little girl was covered in mud, almost enough to hide the pox scars on the right side of her face.

I added, "you'll have to wash up, too. Father's planning dinner tonight. Maybe if you get through your lessons I could sneak you some maple-cream minicakes."

At that she perked up "OK!" and ran off.

Up ahead was the massive stone foundry with plumes of black smoke reaching into the sky. By the arched stone doorway I saw that man again, the messenger from the Count. He looked up at me, turned, then walked off. I ran. As I came to the archway, Davod was standing there holding that same piece of paper I'd gotten.

A large, burly man he'd become, with muscles rippling across his body. His olive-green skin was drenched in sweat that reflected the red glow of the furnace nearby. A blast of heat met me along with the wretched stench of burning coals as soon as I'd entered, and Davod turned his eyes to me while slicking back his long, dark-green hair with his free hand. "I just got called to arms."

I nodded. "Me too."

"Oh shit!" His face went wide with shock. "Come."

He led me outside and away from that burning stench to where the air smelt of fresh basil in the rain. He was my height, but built much heavier. He stretched his arms out and rolled his neck in all directions. "Shit, man! I can't believe this! And you're going, too?"

"Yeah, man." I breathed in deep, still grappling with the news 

He shook his head and looked off, "gods, this changes everything, doesn't it?"

I nodded and took a deep breath. "Yeah."

He looked at his own summons and read it again. "Are they sending you to this Carthia place? I never heard of that before?"

That made me chuckle. "You neither? There's a book in Father's study, says it's south from Ulum beyond the Terbulin Ridge."

Davod furrowed his brow and looked at me with eyes wide. "There's something out that way?"

I shrugged. "Well, apparently, Carthia is out there."

He huffed. Then he shook his head vigorously. "I still can't believe it, man." He looked at his summons once more.

"Speaking of which," I added, "Father wants me to tell you he's got dinner planned for this evening at the church…"

Davod shook his head. "My mum's not going to like that—you know how she feels about your foreign god."

I scrunched my lips some. "Well, Father Yewan already called dibs on hosting, but lucky for me I won't have to explain that to her." I grinned wide. 

Davod laughed. "Thanks for that, man. What are you going to do?"

I shrugged. "I wonder if Dariana might know something about this place we're headed."

He smirked and chuckled lightly to himself. "You're going to go see Dariana?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He smiled wide. "What the hell do you think it means, man?"

I shook my head. "I was just thinking that if anyone in Gath knew anything about this Carthia, she would know."

Davod grinned hard and laughed. "Sure. Yeah, of course."

I smiled. "Whatever, man! I'll see you this evening."

"Hey," he called out.

I turned. 

"Whatever war they got going on, they better watch out, 'cause they got us coming!"

I smiled wide. "Yeah, man!"

As I left the smoky stench of the foundry, a cold gust of air came off the mountains and brought a drizzle with it. I saw Talys across the cobbled street tending her flowers. I tried to sneak away before she saw me, but then my heart shot a jolt of terror at the melodious sound of her voice, "I see you, Caleb!"

I turned.

Her parents were Goloagi runaway slaves, meaning she had curly hair that fluffed up on its way down her back. She was always scant of height, even when we were little, but she'd blossomed into some generous curves. "Good morning, Talys."

She smiled through plush lips and looked up at me even from ten feet away. She had on a white cotton dress that hugged her figure and cut the hem halfway up her thighs, and on her feet she had dirt-stained canvas sandals that allowed her toes to peek out. She doubled over and giggled, making full use of the musical register as she spoke, "why in God's name are you carrying that ridiculous sword?"

I stood up straight, rested one hand on the hilt, lifted my chest high, and gazed gloriously towards the heavens. "I am called to arms! I shall swear to die for our holy emperor so that he may go on being a cunt… or cunt emperor to be holy… wait, which was it?"

She didn't laugh. She shook her head and couldn't break free from seriousness. Tears fell down her cheeks.

I breathed in. "Alright, what's wrong?"

She wiped her tears and came directly up to me, took hold of my hand, and led me beneath the awning she used as a shelter. She had ramsua, rose, fahrain, flowers of all kinds arranged by color that filled the air with a chorus of fragrances.

There she turned and pulled me close to her body, and threw her arms around my hips, burying her face on my stomach. I rested my hands over her back at first, but then the truth took over me, and I held her tight until the clock ran out of time.

She pulled herself from me and wiped her tears, then directed me to sit with her behind her work counter. "They said it was Geraln and Davod, and the Baron had to choose one more. We all thought…"

My eyes went wide. "Geraln's coming, too?"

She cried again and whimpered, covering her face only to lean forward and cry some more. 

"Talys, come on! Look, you get a solution to your Geraln problem."

She squinted at me and pursed her lips. "I do not have a Geraln problem; he has a he needs to leave me the fuck alone problem. It's actually quite simple."

That made me laugh.

"... If I choose to do something nice for you, that's me being nice. It doesn't mean anything else, it never did, and it never will. If he can't handle that, that's his problem, not mine!"

"Clearly."

Then she settled back down into somber. "But you're going, too. I don't want you to go."

I smirked. "I don't want me to go either, but we leave at daybreak tomorrow. Father has something planned…"

"No," she shook her head, and another stream of tears flowed down her cheek. "I… I don't want you to go."

I shrugged. "Maybe it won't be that bad…"

She sat up. "Listen. I've heard about men who go off to Kulun spouting all manner of nonsense about how God commands them to defend the Holy Land, and those men never come back. Please don't be that man."

"I'm not."

"I know you. You have to promise me you won't get wrapped up in that."

"I won't," I assured her, "because they're not sending us to Kulun."

Talys furrowed her brow and tilted her head to the side. "Where are they sending you?"

"Some place called Carthia."

Her eyes wandered about for a moment before turning back to me. "Where's that?"

"Apparently it's south from Ulum through the Terbulin Ridge."

She raised her eyebrows high. "There's a pass through there?"

I scratched my head. "I was thinking about asking Dariana if she's ever heard of the place."

Talys's eyes went wide and she smiled. "What?"

I sat up straight. "If there's anyone in our little corner of the Empire who's heard of the place, it would be her. You know that."

"Right," Talys giggled as she nodded. "That's not what I'm talking about."

"Nothing's going to happen. There's nothing going on between me and her."

Talys smirked as she sang, "oh, I believe you! Dariana has nothing going on with quite a lot of men. What's it to me if you're one of them?"

With that she stood and reached her hand out for me to take—I'd be a liar not to notice her toned thighs. I stood with her, and the top of her head scarcely reached my chest. She looked up at me through deep, emerald-green eyes, "help me with something before you go?"

"Of course."

She brushed her fingers over some delicate purple flowers, but I struggled to notice anything beyond the way that simple dress hung over her backside. She turned just as I was looking, too, and smirked at me before I could look away.

I followed her through a narrow gap between stalks of long, blue flowers on one side with a bucket crawling of blooming vines on the other. From another shelf, she took down two small ceramic pots and gestured to two others on the shelf behind them. "Grab those for me?"

Each had a delicate, light-green leaf jutting out from what looked like nothing but pebbles. "Sarina found these for me. They're so beautiful when they bloom, but they won't do that for me down here in the valley. They do seem to like the morning mist, though, so I set them outside when it gets like this. Come."

"They sound testy."

Talys turned to face me. "For every flower a place to bloom, isn't that what they say? If I want these to bloom, it falls upon me to create the right place for them. Calling them names won't do any good now, will it?"

"I suppose not."

The mist caught her curly hair and left ephemeral droplets all over. She leaned her neck all the way back to look up at me with her arms about my hips. "Well then, you go and do what you need to do, whatever that is, and I'll go find out what Father has planned."

And so we embraced. I held her tight, and she held me in kind. After at least two minutes, we pulled from one another and spoke our goodbyes.

A gentle drizzle covered the cobbled stones of the main road with a treacherous sheen of water as they led down a steep slope towards the outside of Gath. Across from Makon's still was Yenia's bakery, where fresh rolled cakes drizzled in honey beckoned to passersby such as myself. 

I came in, and a woman with a kind face and long, silver hair tied behind her back wearing an apron smudged all over with flour shot me a wry smile. "Skipping your chores, are you?"

"A little bit," I shrugged. "I was wondering if you could do me a favor."

She'd had a spit made of rolled, hardened cookie-crust that she dipped into a vat of cake batter, then rolled it over hot coals for a minute, before dipping it again, rolling, then dipping, then rolling, until it made a log of deliciousness six inches in diameter. "Anything for you, my love."

"Could you tell Wen that Father Yewan is planning something at the church this evening? Davod, Geraln, and I have been called to arms. He wants to have…"

"Don't play with me, boy."

"Um…"

She shot her eyes up at me and set her roll cake down. "Are you joking? Please tell me this is a joke."

I showed her my summons. She picked up a wet rag hung beside her oven and wiped her fingers clean, then leaned over to look at it, covering her mouth with one hand. "Gods! They're sending you to Carthia!"

"You know of it?"

She shook her head and frowned. "I have a friend who lost both her sons there two years ago. They told her that if she talked about Carthia to anyone, they'd take away her widow's pension."

I pulled my face back and furrowed my brow. "Who told her that and why?"

She shook her head but didn't answer. Then she returned her gaze to me. "Have you thought about Naveris?"

I blushed. "I have not."

She pursed her lips. "I know Guenevieve would be deeply honored. You have no idea."

Wen's mum turned and made her way towards a rack of wooden sticks set beside the outside window. She pulled out a large metal sheet with a dozen roll cakes on it, still steaming and sending out fumes of honey to wrap around my neck like a leash and pull me in.

I shrugged and tried to laugh off the question. "You know that's a… Falcon tradition. I…"

"You're a Falcon, boy, have you looked in the mirror lately? Blood is blood. Anyway…" Yenia took a spatula and stacked two of those covetous treats like wheels in a brown sheet of paper, folded it up, and handed it to me.

I couldn't wait. I sank my teeth into that thing like I needed it. It almost burnt my tongue it was so hot, and I ended up with sticky all over the outside of my lips. "Thank you! I'm so sorry; I should have said that, first."

She laughed and set her hand on my arm. "Don't thank me. Just know that if you do change your mind and you and Guenevieve feel like making me a grandmother this evening, you absolutely have my blessing."

I laughed hard at that.

She raised her eyebrows and smiled at me. "And tell Searnie not to worry about the pastries."

I nodded. Then as I turned to leave, I had an idea. "I'll tell her you're bringing maple-cream minicakes."

She crossed her arms and tilted her head. "I didn't say that."

"Nah," I grinned, "but I'll tell her you did!"

"Get out of here!" she laughed.

Beyond where the cobbled road ended was the final totem with Falcon facing towards visitors with His wings held out wide on both sides, painted in red, white, and black marking the edge of our village. The last building on the right, the only one beyond the totem, was the Flaming Wyvern.

Outside the building, planks of wood bleached by the sun rose up two stories to meet a wood-shingle roof. Inside, the room was dark but for high windows on three sides that were left open and brought in fresh herbs potted just beneath the sill on each. Several tables lined the walls, each with empty chairs, and Dariana crouched low with a broom before one of them. She heard the door open, but didn't look up. "Good morning, stranger. Will you need a room?"

I decided to play along. "Why yes, in fact…"

She snapped her neck towards me at the sound of my voice.

"... I have traveled far in search of a legend. For I have been told that there is an innkeeper here, who is objectively, inarguably, the most beautiful girl in the whole barony."

She stood and laughed at me, gazing at me with those light-green eyes. Dariana liked to wear her sandy-green hair as one thick braid wrapped around her crown and let the rest fall freely behind her. Her voice dripped in sarcasm. "In all of Gath, you say?"

I nodded. "Yup."

She shook her head and smiled. "You never were the ambitious one, but that's pathetic."

"Hmm," I scratched my chin and allowed my eyes to survey her for a moment. She had on a blue apron covered in dust over a white tunic and a long blue skirt with a hem just above her ankles leaving her feet bare. Her generous bosom fought the buttons of her blouse for dominance. "I dare say, perhaps I heard Osenia. All of Osenia."

"Ooh," she popped her eyebrows. Her skin was a light shade darker than the rest of us, and in this light it worked very well for her. She replied, "the whole county! Well that's an improvement."

We stood face to face. She looked up at me and passed her light-green eyes back and forth between mine. I nodded. "In the entire Duchy of Heralia. The most beautiful of all. At least that's what I was told, anyway."

She nodded and smiled wide at me. "That's better!"

"No," I held up a finger, "the whole Empire."

Dariana laughed. "I wouldn't want that kind of attention…"

"Since the dawn of time, and for all eternity, everywhere in all creation and all at once, such that God himself had decreed forever and ever, shall there ever be a girl with such a remarkable arse."

She cracked up laughing and slapped my arm. "What the hell are you doing here, you lout?"

"Have you ever heard of a place called Carthia?"

She pulled her face back and sneered, "Carthia?"

"Have you ever heard of it?"

She turned her face to one side and squinted at me, "what have you heard about Carthia?"

"Well, I…" I shook my head. "I don't know anything about the place."

"No," she shook her head. "Why are you asking about Carthia?"

"Do you know anything…"

"You first," she nodded.

"I was called to arms."

Her eyes went wide and her face froze. The broom fell from her hand and clacked onto the stone floor. She bent over to grab it, but her fingers trembled and she stayed there a moment.

I asked, "do you know anything about the place?"

She looked up at me and locked her gaze onto my face for a moment.

"Um…"

Her voice shuttered. "O… OK, hold on a second."

"OK?"

She took up her broom and stood, turned away from me, and pointed at a table on the right, "sit right there."

I did as instructed and found a solid chair beneath a windowsill planted with sage and dmusu. It took her a few minutes, but she returned with two mugs made of wood slats held fast by rings of iron like miniature barrels, each with a handle and holding a white, foamy mass that made bold promises.

She handed one to me. "You have to drink."

"Uh… why?"

"Because you're not going to like what you're about to hear."

I noticed when she sat that the buttons of her blouse had been undone down past her apron, leaving her full cleavage to my eyes. As for the ale, I lifted through the foam and when that liquid bit down on my tongue, it bit hard and poured down my throat like syrup. I took about as much as I could handle and wiped my cheek.

"Drink it all," she commanded. Then, she took a drink from her own.

I sipped. "Is it really that bad?"

"Caleb," she held her hand up. "You're going to die. Finish your drink."

I took a solid swig, as solid as I could, and made it halfway through my mug before setting it down.

"Finish all of it," she insisted. Then she lifted her own mug and asked, "who's going with you?"

"Me, Davod, and Geraln."

She moved her eyes in an arc as though sifting through numbers in her head. "Ok. Finish your drink."

I tipped it to her, "you finish yours."

She looked down at her own mug before taking a look at mine and smiled. I couldn't raise mine fast enough, but I tried to make up for it by swallowing hard. When I got to the foam, I sucked that in before slapping my mug onto the table in unison with hers. We shared a moment of laughter before I broke away. "Can you please tell me what you know?"

Dariana took a deep breath. "They don't want people talking about this, but that place is a death trap. Men go in, they don't come out. They've been doing this for years, and it's only gotten worse. To my knowledge, no one has ever come back alive."

I shrugged. "Gee, I wonder why they don't want people talking about that?"

"This isn't a joke, Caleb." I felt her leg against mine beneath the table. "Carthia is not Kulun; you will not survive this place."

"What's there?"

"Black magic. Pirates. Monsters in the woods." She shook her head.

I shrugged. "So… weird shit."

Dariana cried through pained laughter. Then she settled her eyes on me with a warm smile. "I so love you."

The door swung open before I could answer, and Sarina stormed in, clomping her boots across the floor. She came right up to where we sat, glanced between me and Dariana, glanced between our beers, and gazed at me with a blank expression. Then she turned to Dariana, "where's mine?"