"Arise my child," the being said.
Although softly and gently spoken, its voice sounded like a billion different voices speaking in harmony.
"Thee needs never kneel to me."
The being reached a massive hand down towards Narami who lifted his own for assistance. It looked like an adult helping a toddler who had tripped and sprawled on the ground.
"Dawa, my God," the Polstice breathed in awe. "Have you come to guide me home?"
Sadnesstwinged in Dumar's chest as he heard the old man's pleading tone.
He's done. He wants to go with this thing he calls his god.
A sinking feeling grabbed Dumar and he would have gone to Narami if not for being immobile.
Ah, poor Narami, I don't think it's gonna let you die today, mate. Where is this sadness coming from? As soon as the thought had crossed his mind, he knew with certainty it came from the lake borne giant.
"Alas, my child, I cannot bring you home for the nonce."
A broken sob escaped Narami's frail chest and the huge form actually hugged the old churchman, gently stroking his back as if soothing a child. "I have needs of you here, child, my followers have need of your guidance and wisdom," Narami clung to Dawa as he absorbed this news. "They are in need of your strength, your faith."
Dumar saw the old man's head nod into the chest of the supposed god.
"I will do as you command, Holy One."
Dawa gently pushed Narami from him but left his vast hands on the old man's shoulders.
"I feel thy pain, son, and it pains me to ask this of thee after so many years of faithful service."
"I am just so tired, Lord, my bones ache with weariness."
Dawa's massive head nodded.
"And I shall aid thee in this," the voice of multitudes added.
Narami straightened as Dumar watched in awe.
New hair sprouted from his old scalp, still white but thick and lustrous. His robe seemed to fill from inside and Dumar could see muscles building up underneath the skin that was visible.
Still frozen in place, the big man could only guess as to what was going on inside Narami's body. From his perspective, it looked as if the Polstice was getting younger before his very eyes.
It's not possible. But I can see it happening!
A few seconds later, Narami took a deep breath and sighed it out.
"I have not been able to breathe so easily in years," he cried in a powerful voice.
Dumar watched as the tears rolled down his younger face.
"Praise be to Dawa!"
While still not young, Narami's voice was clear and held no trace of the ancient he had been ten heartbeats earlier.
"Go with my blessings, child. I have need to speak to your companion."
The vast form turned to Dumar
"Walk with me for a while?"
How? I can' move.
As if the thought released him Dumar was free, his motor functions fully restored.
Dawa moved a few paces onto the grass and threw out his massive arm, inviting Dumar to walk.
Well, not every day you get to walk with God. He thought.
The big man followed.
***
Messengers had been sent with hastily yet carefully worded missives for the queen's brother.
Fultard and Fashzhamina had taken their animosity and left the map room, Prince Warval had left, saying there were some things he needed to attend to which left Grethron and the queen alone with Alystra and a single pair of guards.
"I am going to retire to my rooms, there is much to think on," the queen turned to walk away.
Alystra stood also, following her mother out of the door and leaving Grethron alone at the large map table.
Once the brief stroll had brought Celouise and her daughter to the gilded door which led to the royal apartments, she turned.
"I will see you later, Aly," she dismissed her daughter.
The younger woman looked into her mother's eyes and spoke in her flat tone of voice.
"I must tell you something," she pushed past and into her mother's living space.
Celouise muttered a few words to Pillsor and Derane who saluted and flanked the entrance to the suite, standing to attention until the queen had gone inside.
Celouise entered her bedchamber to find the much simpler clothing she preferred had already been laid out and her handmaiden, Linure, wordlessly began to help her take off the heavy robes of state she had been wearing for the council.
A few minutes later she returned in a green cotton dress, plain and unadorned, to slump in to a cushioned sofa. She sighed deeply as the weight of her sorrow pressed down on her. Saruline. Dead. Something wrenched in her chest and she hunched over as if she could squeeze it from her body.
"Uncle Grethron is frightened," Alystra said with no regard for her mother's sorrow and loss.
Celouise's head came up.
"What?" She asked, puzzled. "Grethron, why?"
"I cannot say why, mother, I can only feel the fear coming from him in waves."
Celouise shook her head.
"And what do you want me to do with this information?" She enquired of her daughter.
"Be aware of it," the princess stated flatly. "If he is to kill his brother, this fear might stop him from doing so or give him pause which may make him fail," her assessment was clinically stated.
Celouise ran a hand across her forehead.
"He might be frightened, Aly, but so are we all and we will have to deal with it as best we can."
"I am aware of the many feelings people have. However if he is to defeat Malthrom, Grethron must not have any doubts or he will fail and we will all die."
"Alystra," Celouise sighed. "My son lies dead after trying to usurp the throne. We were imprisoned, would have been killed and my obtuse old brother-in-law reappeared after an eighty year absence. After stealing the soul of a man from another planet thereby denying him access to the afterlife!" The queen looked at her daughter angrily. "Just what am I expected to do about his fears?"
"Allay them, mother." Alystra said bluntly. "Your love for each other should make the discussion simple."
"What?" Celouise almost shouted
Alystra looked directly into her mother's eyes.
"You are in love with him and he with you," the princess said. "Do not pretend you do not know..." She hesitated. "You did not, I see. Well, now you are aware of both your and his feelings, you can speak with him."
Celouise looked at her daughter with astonishment on her face.
"Alystra, I am the queen. There is no possible way I can form any kind of relationship with Grethron. He is your father's brother, girl, can you not see how that would look?"
"I am fully aware of his relationship to my father. I am not suggesting you marry him, merely allay his fears so he might be of use to the people."
The queen stood and made her way over to the large window which offered a view across the city.
"Alystra, I forbid you to mention this again. Also whatever failings your uncle may have, whatever fears, he is still your uncle and not just some resource to be used to save the kingdom."
The princess stared blankly at the queen for a few seconds before responding.
"As you command, mother. However, you are incorrect in your assertion Grethron is not just an asset to be used in the forthcoming conflict. He is probably the only asset you have able to stand against Malthrom and he needs to be viewed as such."
"And what if he is to die, this asset who remains your uncle?"
"It is an inevitable result some people will die in any conflict, if Grethron's life ends in order to save hundreds of thousands of others, surely that is an acceptable loss?"
The queen stared at her daughter with something close to hatred. Her hate not aimed at her daughter but at the lack of emotions she felt.
Of course, logically it would be better to lose one person than thousands but her little family was getting smaller by the year and she would do anything in her power to hold the few last vestiges together.
"What if it was you, Aly? What if you were the one we had to sacrifice in order to save the rest?"
"If the outcome was the saving of lives it would be the sensible choice."
"Yes, well that is easy to say when you have no fear, no sense of loss, no cares in the world," Celouise sighed again.
"Leave me, Alystra, I wish to have some time alone."
The princess turned and left without saying another word while the queen of the Rothmury kingdom wished again her husband had not been killed.
Cruelly, her mind conjured the image of him, astride his mighty Palta, Frenot, sword held high as he charged at the Dal.
Her heart swelled with love and pride at the memory of the image, then skipped a beat, splintering as a well of despair carved a chunk of her chest out when the massive beast snatched him from Frenot's back.
Celouise squeezed her eyes closed, forcing the flow of tears to stop.
Why do people say grief gets easier to bear with time? Oh Jarhine, what am I to do? I miss you so much and now our baby boy is dead too. Is he with you?
Taking a seat once more, Queen Celouise sobbed into her hands.
As so often happened at inappropriate times like these, Celouise's mind took her back to her youth and her first dealings with Jarhine.