Chapter 9 #2
He had then raised his staff to the sky and cast a spell of restoration upon the village, repairing its roads, fixing the broken houses, and laying an asphalt road that led down the twisting slope toward the plains, one that would make transportation and travel easy.
He proclaimed that he had blessed Horrow’s Heap with his faith and magic, and that its effects would be evident soon enough.
He had given the village enough cause to celebrate, and left in the wake of fireworks and dance and music as Horrow’s Heap got an opportunity to celebrate the Harvest Festival with the rest of the country. They had enough food and coin for the first time in fifty years.
And the benevolent hand of the Grath Nomad upon them.
Miles had come to town that same day, hoping to shake off the trauma of being nearly murdered at the hands of Elias.
And after listening to the Grath Nomad’s speech, he was not sure what to believe in.
Neither was Sid. They had sat together at the inn, drinking a far more expensive beer than they would have expected Horrow’s Heap to have, but the Grath Nomad had been plentiful in his provisions, and had promised more to come.
“Suppose this is too good to be true,” Miles had said.
“To be true?” Sid had whispered. There were smiles on the faces of the inn visitors.
Smiles had once been an alien concept to the people of Horrow’s Heap.
How strange it had felt to see them smiling.
“Brother, our people are fed. There is several months’ worth of food.
We have coin in our coffers. The Grath Nomad hasn’t even asked anyone to join his army.
I think that the whole thing was blown out of proportion by the Solignis Covenant.
I think it’s about time the way of this world changes, and someone more sympathetic is put in charge. ”
“He addressed the murder of Vincent Crenshaw,” Miles had responded, cold beer in hand. “It was blood for blood and nothing more.”
“An announcement,” Sid chuckled. “I mean, you gotta give it to the Nomad, he knows how to announce himself. He wanted the world to notice he was back, and he blew up a pub filled with important officials. He wanted our village to notice him, and he gave us food and coin.”
“Not just that,” Miles said. “He talked of the old religion with respect. That’s big in my book. My mother…”
“How is she?”
“She grows frail day by day,” Miles said, shaking his head.
“But she’s always believed in Aeterna. Even though the books were burned and the temples destroyed.
She still prays to her, asking for her blessings, asking for easy passage into the next world.
My mother was glad to hear that someone talked of Aeterna so boldly and out in the open without any fear. ”
“Not thinking of joining his cause, are we?” Sid asked.
“As opposed to keeping our heads down and being mocked and derided for who we are?” Miles scoffed.
“The students of House Solaris look upon us as third-class citizens. We struggle to find jobs after graduation. People don’t care about people like us.
But now someone does. I’ll see what else this Grath Nomad does, and then I might make a decision. ”
“Same,” Sid said and clinked his beer with Miles’s. They drank together in silence, and then bid each other goodbye.
It had been two days since then. Today was the final day of the Harvest Festival Holidays. Coincidentally also a Sunday.
Miles could not believe that he was walking through the streets of the same village where he’d grown up fatherless.
It was not the same place at all. Cobbled streets, neat houses, and not a sign of misery on the face of the villagers.
He could smell delicious hot food, the smells of roast and bread traveling out of windows.
He could hear the sound of children’s laughter.
Miles smiled. His mother had sat up today after several days.
The attendant who took care of her said it was miraculous.
She was still weak and still old, but the fact that she had sat up, brushed her teeth, eaten her meal with her own hands, and had talked to Miles—that had been enough to melt his heart.
“I feel my sense of taste returning,” she said. Was this the effect that the Grath Nomad was talking about? “Mangoes are in season, yes?”
“Yes, Mother. And we have all kinds of them,” Miles had said. “I shall bring you some.”
“You’re a good son, Miles,” she had said, and then she touched his face with her hand. It had been years since she had been able to do that. To his surprise, and to the attendant’s, his mother then heaved herself slowly out of bed, standing there on her own two feet.
“Maria, I think I would very much like for you to draw me a bath,” she’d said to her attendant. “There’s something in the air. I feel…better. I may want to go for a walk later.”
Miles could not believe that that was happening.
His mother was in her late seventies. She had been a follower of Mortandagh, and had enjoyed the boon of long life as a result of following his principles and beliefs.
On top of that, she was a celebrated witch in her own regard.
But the disease that she had been suffering from of late, there had been no cure for that, rendering her bedridden. Until now.
Could the Nomad’s blessing be more powerful than Miles had initially thought?
And what was this magic? It certainly did not seem like dark magic.
Dark magic made things wither. This magic, however…
it made things bloom. There were flowers in the flowerbeds along the length of each house, and grass was beginning to poke out from underneath the cobbles.
He was now standing in the market square where stalls were filled with summer fruits, including six different kinds of mangoes.
He smelled them, felt them in his hands, and put them in his basket, and when he took out coin to pay the merchant, the merchant shook his head and smiled.
“Your coin’s no good, Miles. Nomad’s blessing be upon you. ”
Miles had wanted to cry, but that was not fitting his stature. So he just thanked the man, shook his hand, and walked back to his house with a basketful of fruit.
What he didn’t know was that from behind a corner, wearing ordinary garbs and concealing hoods, Elias Solwyn, Theo Cohen, and Freya Drummond were watching him. And as he walked back toward his house at the edge of the village, they followed him.
They followed him with the intent to murder.