29. Caspyn
Chapter 29
They had all had gathered on the far end of the camp, the tattered and stained tents had been put away, fires extinguished, wagons packed and animals bridled. A few sheep had wandered away from the herd to eat some tall grass near a few of the wagons, but everyone else had gathered together in a large circle, listening to whatever Ryndle was telling them in some early morning prayer before we were to set off.
I was not going over there, especially with the way they rocked and mumbled in some ritual I had no interest in learning. It turns out that they didn’t actually howl at the moon as I had been led to believe, but this was somehow worse. I was content to watch them from where Lyani had placed me, settled on the hard wooden seat of the wagon I had spent most of my time healing in. Now I was to drive it.
This must have been what Ryndle was talking about with his insistence that I ‘pay my way’. Grumbling, I shifted my weight, and adjusted the ill-fitting clothes I had been given. My leathers and shirt had been soaked with blood and burned from what Lyani said, so now I was stuck with light colored breeches and shirts that wouldn’t hide any amount of blood. I guess that wasn’t really a concern of theirs, but I felt naked and exposed in clothes this light. I needed a cloak, my knives and new leathers.
I pulled at the dirt smudged beige shirt again, watching as a few of the Lightens lifted their hands at whatever Ryndle had said. The intricate swirls that were inked into their skin caught the light of dawn in a golden spark that was as bright as the sun that was only starting to peak over the tops of the trees of the forest that we were traveling by.
After a few moments they all froze, all of their hands lifted to the sky in some unified holler. The horses whose reins I held gave a whinny as though in answer.
“Damn Lightens,” I mumbled in a feral grumble, shifting my weight again as everyone broke apart. The children danced and skipped toward their wagons as the adults followed behind, all of them glittering in the sun. All of them were happy, joyful. It was unnerving seeing so many happy people in one place at one time, as if they didn’t care about what was happening in the world. No, as if they had no idea what was coming. If they knew what was coming for them, they would be as horrified as I.
I gave another scoff, one of the horses pawing at the ground in response.
“Good Morn,” Ryndle said, that same disgusting joy I saw in each of their faces plastered on him. He was grinning broadly as he jumped onto the wagon seat beside me, sending everything rocking. The horses whinnied again, the one on the left kicking his feet as though he was impatient to get going.
I didn’t respond, I just grumbled, shifting again in an attempt to get comfortable on this Goddess forsaken seat. Thanks to the still healing hole in my gut everything ached, every inch of me was sore and uncomfortable and we hadn’t even started moving yet. My fíra magic flared as though in answer, even in its weakened state the warmth of the magic flooded right to the injury as if to soothe it, thankfully it did.
“A pleasure to see you, too, Caspyn light bringer,” Ryndle responded to my growl. He was still grinning.
“Don’t call me that.”
“So nice to see you are as happy as I have come to expect from you,” he continued on as if he hadn’t heard me.
I would have punched him in the face and flattened his pretty little nose if it wouldn’t have caused quite a scene, especially considering what I had learned, what I should have figured out on that first day, or when talking to Lyani and Ziah the day before.
“So, you lead this batch, do you?” I grumbled and shifted my hands against the reins, trying to pass them to Ryndle who lifted his hand in refusal.
“I suppose. Lead is an interesting word, however. I don’t lead them so much as I happen to be where I was told to be. Where I was told to be was with this lot. I do my best to keep them safe, to make sure they don’t get into trouble, and to spread the knowledge that I have.”
“That sounds a lot like leading to me.” I tried again to give him the reins, and again he refused. The heat that was waving over my skin flared as I again fought the need to punch him.
“Perhaps. But they truly do lead themselves.” The muscles in his arms flexed as he sat back, folding them over his chest again.
We clearly had different ideas on what leading meant. Either that or he was in denial of what he was to them all. Even as we sat there, quite a few of his ‘not-followers’ had begun to take their place alongside the wagon in preparation to walk beside it. Nearly all of them were looking up at Ryndle with a love and adoration that should be reserved for the Goddess.
Well, nearly all.
Ziah wasn’t looking at Ryndle. He was looking at me. After the other night I would have expected disappointment, or a hard look of anger, but he fixed me with the same awe and young-boy worship that he had the night before. I gripped the reins harder and turned away, focusing on the horses if only to avoid the way the kid was staring.
“You’ve driven a wagon before, I assume?”
“I’ve ridden a horse,” I answered as though it was the same thing. He laughed in response, the sound loud and boisterous. A few of his devoted followers on the ground laughed alongside as though they had heard, judging by the look on their faces, however, they were clearly afraid of being left behind on some unheard joke.
I had heard that Lightens were crazy, but this level of devotion was bordering on something dangerous. Ryndle, however, didn’t even seem to notice.
“Lucky for you, this pair are tame, you tell them when to go and when to stop and they’ll do the rest.” He gestured forward, giving me my cue to get us moving. Great.
I curled my lip at him in disgust, but he sat there smiling, the muscles in his arms twitching again and sending his tattoos glistening in the golden light of dawn that was now bathing everything.
“Go on.”
Thankfully I had driven in enough pack wagons when traveling from Qit to Qit that I knew the basics of this. Riding in was not the same as riding, but it would have to do.
“Hiya!” I called snapping the reins once. Sure enough, the pair jerked and trotted forward, the old, heavy wagon creaking and moaning as if in protest from being roused from an enjoyable sleep.
Everyone moved as the horses did, conversations popping up as some of the children continued to dance and play alongside the slow moving wagons. One by one the ‘Hya’s of the camp echoed behind us until the long yellow caravan that the Lightens were known for began to move. Each wagon was painted a different shade of yellow, each one with that crest of wings and branches emblazoned on their sides. If that wasn’t enough to alert anyone of their arrival the song that picked up somewhere near the end of the long line of wagons would. The tune was as happy as the rest of them.
“So, if you don’t lead them all, what do you do?” I asked after a minute, if only to drown out the words of ‘The Goddess’s Womb’ that was now being sung on repeat.
“As I said, I spread the knowledge I have and make sure to keep everyone safe. They need that from time to time.”
“How often do you all get attacked?” I asked, thinking of what Lyani had told me about Ziah, which sent a clench through my stomach that I didn’t appreciate. I didn’t like the Lightens as much as the rest of Okivo, but seeing all these children and hearing Ziah’s story…
No one should be attacking them.
“Too often. We have to vary where we travel from. Many villages don’t like us to make an appearance. They seem to think that we are different than we truly are.” His voice was clipped by the end, the tone harsh even if he looked calm from where he leaned against the wagon, eyes closed to the first beams of sun that were blazing through the trees.
“Well, aren't ya?” I narrowed my eyes, but he didn’t open his eyes, just exhaled.
“You are of the same mind I see. But no, I would not say that we are different at all. We all worship the same Goddess, don’t we?” He paused, leaning forward to look at me. Even that small motion sent the wagon swaying and shifting, the old wood creaking as though it would fall apart below us.
He was waiting for a response. I stared straight ahead.
“Everyone in Okivo has a book to commune with the Goddess in their home,” he continued when I didn’t answer. “Most of us will make a pilgrimage to the Temple of the Sister at least once in our lives. The Children of the Light have chosen to devote our lives to that. We have chosen to practice the old teachings that have been forgotten in the book. I don’t see how that makes us wrong, or different.”
“It makes you crazed,” I mumbled, thinking of how they had all put their hands in the air and swayed and not sure how else to put it. Thankfully, Ryndle just laughed.
“Does it? You grew up on a Qit, yes? You lived there?” He leaned in at his question and I stiffened. I had no idea how he knew that, but seeing as he found me near a pier, I guess it made sense. I nodded. “Those on the Qit make fishing their lives, they rise and fall by the tides. They think, breathe, eat fish. We are the same, but with the Goddess.”
It made sense, and I hated that it did. They were odd, I had seen that, But I had been to Turin enough to know that many said the same things about those who lived and worked on the Qits. I had heard the whispers about the dangerous Wave Walkers that bed your daughters and steal your coin.
I stiffened, trying to keep my focus on the horses and their slow, steady gait.
“I don’t see the harm in devoting your life to something, although others do. Others choose to see us as dangerous and tell stories to paint as us such. Clearly, you’ve heard a few of them. I’m sure that you have expected Lyani to snuggle into your bed at some point and convince you to breed her.”
I choked in response, it wasn’t worth saying more than that. He knew he was right.
“People do not like what is different from them. Often, what they deem different is only slightly more inferior than what they do. In some ways, people look at us and assume that we are trying to boast in how we worship, that we are trying to portray their efforts in the religion that we all were raised in as less than. That is not it at all, I do not care how you worship, or even if you do. What I care about is if you are happy, if you are healthy. If you have found a place in your life that brings you joy. That is all the Goddess wants too, it says so in the book.”
“What book?” The question burst out before I could stop it.
“The Book of the Goddess.” He laughed, clearly thinking I was playing. The sound stopped quickly. “Surely you had a copy of the book in your home growing up?” He leaned forward, grabbing one of the tall strands of grass that were brushing up against the wagon as we moved around a divot in the road.
“The Book of the Goddess?” I lifted a brow, remembering the book that I grew up with in my home, and its nearly empty newer version that I had laid hands on in Amari’s home weeks before. Weeks. Days. It felt like a lifetime.
“That book is empty,” I continued, thinking of the pages of histories in the one I had grown up with. “It’s meant to give news and ask for blessings from the Goddess. There is nothing in there to read.”
“That’s where you are wrong.” Ryndle waved the blade of grass forward as if emphasizing his point. “That book is not the Book of the Goddess. The book you are thinking of is a messenger book. It’s blessed by the priestesses who live and worship at the temple, yes, but it is not the book of the Goddess.”
That wild joy of talking about this coming off him in waves.I should have stopped him, I wasn’t some religious fanatic and I would not become one. I knew some of the histories, and the stories of the Goddess and her sister and the break and rebirth of Okivo, but I had never read a holy book, and I didn’t care to start.
There was, however, no stopping him. I was trapped on a perch behind the stinky ass of two horses, Ryndle grinning even as I glared down the long road.
“There is an actual book called The Book of the Goddess that was written by the sister before her banishment. It details not only the history, but also the guidance that the Goddess set down before she left us. I served many years at the altars of the Temple of the Sister. You can find a copy there when we arrive and see it for yourself.” I was still staring straight forward as he rambled, his voice carrying even over the incessant creaking of the wagons. “Although, I do not think you could read it.”
Something prickled at the way he said that, my hands gripping the reins tightly.
“I can read,” I snapped, although many on the Qits could not. It was, however, something I took pride in and I fed right into the trap that he had laid out for me.
“That may be,” he mused, leaning back against the wagon again. “But this book is not in our language.”
“The Book of the Goddess is not in our language?” I almost laughed, the idea was ridiculous. “The divine book at the core of the religion that all of Okivo follows is not written in our language. What language is it in?”
There wasn’t another language that I was aware of, even in the neighboring Kingdoms of Lyran and perhaps Tyral they spoke our tongue. It was one of the first decrees laid down by the First Ramal, long before the battle that had annihilated the Sister and the Fae and had sent the Goddess back to her realm.
Ryndle made a noise as though he himself was trying to figure out the answer to the questions and leaned back, folding his arms again and sending all of those tattoos twinkling.
Tattoos made of words that were also not in our language.
“I take it that language also happens to be the language that you have tattooed all over yourself?” And all over me, I wanted to add, but thinking about it sent waves of furious anger rolling over me again.
“Yes.” He leaned in, his smile replaced by something more serious as he studied me. He was clearly waiting for me to continue, to figure out some mystery about the words. Words that had apparently healed me.
“What language is that?” I was pulling the reins so tightly that one of the horses knickered in protest. I forced my hands to calm, even if the tension in my fingers were still aching with the pressure.
“Now, that I could not tell you. I do know how to read it, however. That knowledge was given to me by my ancestors and I passed that along to the Lightens.”
“Is that why you use it for tattoos then, because it is from the sacred texts?” I wished it was only that, but knowing what the words had done when branded on my skin I highly doubted it.
“Yes and no,” he leaned back again, moving back into his calm demeanor. The man was two sides of a very frustrating coin, mystery and glee. Neither blended well. “Language is powerful, and you know Caspyn light bringer–”
“Don’t call me that,” I growled, but he was already plowing on as if I hadn’t said anything.
“We use the words because the words have power all their own. The words are tied to Okivo, they were part of its creation and part of the magic that this land holds.”
“Are you saying that these words have magic? I thought only Requisites have magic.” I said it, even though I knew how wrong that was. Even saying the lie pulled and tugged at my power, bringing it all forward as though it needed to remind me of its presence. I kept my focus forward in case my eyes had shifted.
“Perhaps.” Ryndle was leading again, his voice low as he leaned in and spoke soft enough that I was sure even his followers who had been listening so intently to every word could not hear. “But perhaps Requisites are the only ones who have learned how to harness the magic. Magic belongs to Okivo. It flows through the air, it bleeds through the soil, it sparks in each fire, it grows in each living thing. Of course, they call those magics different things when pulled through the hands of a wielder. Fíra, w?der, vio, ?r, let, the Requisites, the Catalysts… it's all their own names for something that doesn’t belong to them, isn’t it?”
“So, the Requisites don’t have magic.”
“Who knows. The histories tell us that the Fae stole the magic, that they broke it into three pieces when the Goddess pushed them into exile. But I have seen power in other places, I have read the book of the Goddess and those histories. I believe that all of that power belongs to Okivo. Perhaps, the Requisites have simply found a way to wield that power.”
“The Book of the Goddess doesn’t say the Fae broke the magic?” He knew exactly what game he was playing. That smug all-knowing smile of his was really getting on my nerves.
I wasn’t about to tell him that I had magic running through my veins even without a Requisite, but with what he was saying it was as though I didn’t need one anyway.
I had been labeled a Catalyst. The Catalysts would be killed because it was they who had stolen magic from the Requisites. The Requisites still needed the Catalysts, but that would change with the slaughtering and the Red Wave. What Ryndle was saying, however, didn’t fit into any of those narratives.
He seemed to think the power was in Okivo, or was part of Okivo, and that everyone was stealing it from them. I couldn't make sense of it, there were too many contradicting pieces of information, and not only from him, from what I knew before Lily, and from what I knew after.
It was as though everything I knew was a lie and hidden somewhere inside of it was the truth.
“Perhaps look at it this way,” Ryndle continued after I had spent far too long staring at the slow pace of the horses in my attempt to work through everything. “If all of Okivo is made of magic, if everything that the Requisites and the Catalysts are able to harness is simply something from our realm which had its own magic thrumming through it, would not the words that contain their own magic be able to work the same way? Couldn’t words which hold magic work as the Catalysts do?”
“The Catalysts and your tattoos are the same? That Catalysts are not only those people who hold the magic…” I stopped myself before I said too much, before I revealed what was now rampaging under my skin.
“Perhaps not hold, perhaps only bridge. Perhaps they bridge the magic into their holders. Into those who bare the words, into the Requisites.”
“But wouldn’t that mean the Catalysts could hold the magic on their own, just as the words do?” He shrugged, his posture calm and nonchalant, even as my heart beat rapidly in my chest.
“Of course, I do not know. I am not a royal. I am neither Requisite nor Catalyst and I do not hold my own magic. I only have the words given to me by the Goddess to do good. I only have the teachings that the Goddess left us with in order to create a positive impact on the world we leave behind. I only have my own teachings, my own experiences with which to impart to people to send them down the path that the Goddess has set for them, has set for them all. I wish only to do right to those that I love and care about. That includes you.”
All of my confusion stiffened as he rambled about the Goddess, only to turn into a block of ice as he placed his hand on my arm with his last few words.
“You don’t know me.” I shrugged him off, turning my glare on him. He didn’t shift an inch.
“I know you enough that I chose to love you. To care about you. I know you enough that I chose to save you rather than leave you bleeding on the side of the road.” He paused, staring with a look that I assumed he thought was full of love and caring. It made that desire to invert his nose return.
“The Goddess told me to travel down that side road toward the Qit alone. That rarely happens, and never near the Qits. The Qits are dangerous for my people, but that night the Goddess whispered for me to go down that road alone. So I did, and I found you. I heard the screams first, although I never did find the people who did that to you.”
He was clearly searching for more information. I went back to staring at the long road. He was a fool if he thought I would tell him anything about what happened, if only because that also meant revealing what I was. What I held.
“I took care of it.” I snarled, pushing away any of his interest in case he tried to pursue it further.
“Hmmm. I assume you did. Not that I care either way. All I care about is that the Goddess led me to you, and the Goddess told me to save you. As we did.”
He was clearly proud of himself. But hearing what he saw, remembering the feel of the hole in my gut, the scent and feel of my blood as it poured down my body like a river. I wondered if it was worth the effort, especially with what it had cost me.
“By tattooing those words on me.” I swear I could feel them prickle every time I thought of them.
“Lyani’s knowledge with those words is unmatched only by my own understanding. She did what was needed to save you, to keep you on the path the Goddess has set for you.”
I would ask him more about the words, about whatever mysterious magic the words held, but he had shifted the conversation so quickly before that I was sure I wasn’t going to get any more useful information about it out of him.
It was as though I was talking to a maze, or a puzzle. There were pieces there that I understood, but there were also pieces that were missing, things that were not clicking together as they should.
I gave him one more glance before I turned back toward the reins, and to the horses that were keeping their pace as the wagon creaked along behind them. People were still clogged around the wagon, Lyani and Ziah walking right beside us. Ziah continually glanced up with abhorrent levels of adoration.
“I know what path is set for me. I don’t need a Goddess to tell me what to do,” I grumbled, well aware I had put far too much disdain into the name of his deity. To his credit, he didn’t flinch. He simply sat, that grin still on his face. It was as though everything in Okivo brought him joy.
“Hmmm, I am not sure you do. Everyone has their own journey, but I do not believe that that knowledge is part of yours just yet.”
I gave a humorless laugh at that. If only he knew how wrong he was. He had no idea what was thrumming and humming through my veins, my magic answering to that boiling frustration that talking to this man was causing me.
I gripped the reins, if only to stop my power from rippling over my skin in waves of ice and fire. I stared at the flies hovering over the backend of the horse, sure that my eyes were shifting and changing in color as the magic fought for space. It had been much more volatile since that morning, I was surprised he hadn’t noticed my eyes, or the fact that the reins now held singed marks in the perfect shape of my fingers.
“I will tell you this, Caspyn light bringer,” he continued after a minute. I didn’t even bother to stop him from using that name that time. It wasn’t as though he would listen. “When you read the Book of the Goddess perhaps you will understand. But for now, let’s take things one step at a time. We have many more days before we reach the temple, and I believe that this may be the biggest part of your journey in the realm. You have enough to think on.” He smiled again before descending down the stairs.
The wagon rocked violently again as he dismounted, the crowd parting like waves in a turbulent ocean to allow him in before closing around him as though he was some kind of god and not simply the leader. Several of the women reached out and touched him, their fingers running over the golden tattoos on his arms and his legs, even as the tattoos that covered their own skin glistened.
I looked away, not wanting to see any more of that. The man may claim that he did not lead these people, but he was clearly delusional if he thought that was true. Judging by the smile on his face he didn’t mind it one bit.
The wagon rocked again as someone else hoisted themselves into the seat beside me, Lyani’s smile hitting me only a moment before her scent did.
My magic had been coiled and angry, every muscle in my body tensed as though it was a caged animal ready to strike. But that aroma, the way her eyes sparked in a bright danger, it was as though she herself was the medicine that healed and not the words that she placed on me.
“You look angry,” I probably always did judging by how people reacted to me. But at least this time I had a reason.
“Does he always speak like that?” I asked in lieu of a response, careful to shift my hands over the burn marks in the reins.
“Like what?”
“Like it’s all a game, like everything is a riddle that is up to you to decipher.”
“Not always,” she gave me a sidelong look, the lie clear on her face. It only took one look from me for her to quickly correct herself. “He has for as long as I have known him, however.”
“How long have you known him?” Another glance, that calm demeanor that she usually had faltering to make way for nerves. Odd, she had no problem standing up to me in my rage, but something about that question was clearly causing her discomfort.
“My whole life.” She spoke slowly, as if questioning her answer. The hesitation made something deep in my core twist.
It made sense that he would end up leading these people if he had grown up amongst them. Even more so if he had inherited the title from a father, so why was the way she answered pulling me into an edge as though I was about to be attacked.
“How long has he led you Ligh—The Children of Light,” I quickly amended to use their preferred name.
She gave me another long gaze before exhaling, both of us returning to stare down the long winding road, The path was an endless dusty ribbon as it wound its way beside the forest.
“My whole life.” Again, she was hesitant.
I turned toward the man who was now walking through the still enamored crowd with his arms extended as though they would lift him and together, he and his people would take flight.
He didn’t appear to be any more than a few years older than my twenty-six years. Or rather, the twenty-six years that I appeared to be. I had lived much longer after all, my laugh cut short at that thought alone.
“No, truly. How long has he led you? He’s not that old,” I countered, even as my gut twisted and more of the pieces of the man fell at my feet.
“Well, he is much older than he appears.”
“How old?” I asked the question even as I did the arithmetic into my own age.
“No one knows, and he has not told anyone. He was blessed by the Goddess not to age and was brought here to lead us, and so he does.”
“For how long?” I asked again, her look turning to one of confusion.
“I do not know.” She snapped each word. “That he doesn’t age is a rare blessing indeed, the Goddess only bestows the gift to a divine few.”
A divine few. I would have laughed at the ridiculousness of it. Instead, my jaw clenched as even more pieces all fell into place. I had assumed my ageless life was because of the magic I held, but if Ryndle said he had no magic he was either lying, or that wasn’t why my life and aging was the way it was at all.
“You believe him?” I snarled.
“Yes.” She answered without hesitation and I would have laughed again if my own age and my own life wasn’t buzzing in my ears.
“Why? Because his name means truth?” Everything was suddenly feeling impossible and ridiculous. This man, Truth, he clearly had them all deceived.
“The words only mean so much, you know,” she was so calm, even as I snapped and snarled beside her. “It is the meaning that we put behind them that really matters. His name may mean Truth, but he has shown me that he is truthful, that he is trustworthy, so I trust him.”
A snort escaped me as I still stared at Ryndle, who was now talking with Ziah as they walked beside the wagon. Thankfully everyone had stopped rubbing his tattoos.
“He has shown us all who he is,” Lyani whispered, turning to the boy who was smiling and prancing beside their leader. “Take Ziah for example, he has shown himself a fighter and accepted that title. He is a fighter. Just as Ryndle is truth.”
“And you are a healer.” I continued for her and she nodded.
“And you are–” my head whipped to hers, cutting her off. Thankfully she did not continue, she did not say the words that Ryndle repeated so often and were now flashing in the back of my mind.
Caspyn, light bringer.
Except perhaps that was where these religious zealots and their idea of names was wrong. I could never be anything but dark.
There was too much wickedness in me to ever let light in. I liked it that way.
“You are on a journey to discover your light. To discover who you are,” she finished as though she read my thoughts, but I ignored her. Looking forward, my darkness boiled over as I swore those glittering words on my abdomen grew warm.