Heretic
Part Two
Chapter 14
Isaand had been raised to be a bard, an educator to children and a teller of tales, half-a-cleric and half-a-historian, preserving knowledge to pass down to the younger generations. Then holy Szet had made a miracle doctor of him. Neither course had given him training to face down multiple foes intent on gutting him on the ends of their spears. Yet it would seem this is to be a recurring hazard of my career, he thought. Would that Hahmn were with me now.
“I can see you’re serious,” Isaand said, while the men continued to hold their spears aloft, ready to throw. “If I might have a moment to confer with my companions? Before I decide whether or not to go along quietly with you?” Somewhere inside Isaand wondered how he was managing to act so casual about the threat of death. It was not as though he thought he could fight these men and live. They were fishermen, not soldiers, but neither was he, and there were over a dozen them. While fishing spears may not be the most impressive of weapons, they would nonetheless punch through his flesh and organs as easily as they did the fish of the lake. And yet, after having faced a gigantic, intelligent, invisible lake monster only hours before, Isaand could hardly work up a sense of fear when faced with this threat. Instead, he mostly felt tired. Why am I even trying to help these people? They don’t want it.
The spokesman fisherman’s face screwed up in uncertainty. He looked at Ratha as if seeing her for the first time, squinting down as though he could see more clearly through the rain. “Who’s that?”
“Just a woman I hired to convey me around the lake,” Isaand said quickly, before Ratha could announce herself. Heretic or not, she lived in this land, at least for the moment, and he had no desire to have her own people turn against her. Hopefully with one obvious heretic at hand they would overlook her if she kept quiet.
“If we let you talk to her, you’ll come with us? You won’t fight?” the man said, more and more uncertain.
“I promise that I will absolutely refrain from resisting so long as it remains the auspicious approach,” Isaand said. As the fisherman seemed to have nothing to say to that, he smiled and turned to Ratha. She was wearing his cloak, which he’d insisted on back at the island where he’d cured her, and had the hood up, making her indistinguishable in the storm. At some point, Vehx had clambered up her and was now draped across her shoulder’s like a noblewoman’s ermine scarf.
“You know these clerics, do you not?” Isaand asked her. “Should I fear them?”
“Guadan is no threat, not personally. He’s earnest and faithful, but he’s not violent. The sacrifices he performs are always voluntary. I think if anyone resisted, he wouldn’t be able to do it,” Ratha said, then shrugged. “Iettaw on the other hand… she’s no Lector, so you don’t have to worry about that. But she’s hard as iron, that one, and she has a way of bending people. These men may be uncertain now, but with Iettaw behind them, they won’t dare refuse her orders. The rest of the village too. If the fisherman don’t succeed, you may find yourself fending off wives and sons next. Iettaw will raise the whole lake against you if she’s certain you’re her enemy. She’d only back down if she knew for certain there was no chance of success.”
“I believe I know the type. Best not give her any extra kindling for her bonfire, then. I’ll surrender, for now. Trying to fight them out here would be a terrible idea anyway, even if I were some swashbuckling bravo. Vehx, you know where Ylla is, correct?”
Vehx opened one eye lazily and lightly flicked his tail. “The cripple’s hut, right across from the altar. The big one with the fancy stones hung all over the door-flap. Unless he’s murdered her already, of course.”
Isaand grimaced at Vehx’s dark humor, but looked back to Ratha. “If I keep them busy, can you get her out? Take her somewhere safe?”
“Well, Iettaw isn’t the sort to hold back, so I doubt she left any men guarding an unconscious girl. Guadan will try to stop me if he’s there though. I’d… rather not hurt him. He’s a fool, but he’s sincere,” Ratha said.
“I know it’s asking a lot, but-”
“No, it’s not.” Ratha sighed. “I was fine helping you try to kill a sendra, I shouldn’t balk at one man with a club-foot. I’ll figure something out. If I can get her free, what then? How are you going to get away?”
“Vehx is well-fed. I avoid releasing his power because it draws attention, but well, they’re already calling me a heretic. They can hardly condemn me doubly. Hopefully it won’t come to that. If you get free, meet me at Hahmn’s island. There won’t be anyone else to endanger there.”
“And then?” Ratha asked. Her offer from before hung between them, palpable. A place where I’d be welcome. I place I wouldn’t have to hide, people who would call me friend. All I have to do is turn my back on my God.
“We made a plan earlier, didn’t we?” He said with a smile. “To stop the Lsetha and save these godsforsaken little rocks. If we’re lucky, maybe Hahmn will meet us there.”
“I hope so,” Ratha said, turning away.
For the look of it, Isaand made as if to press some coins into Ratha’s palms, her hands warm between his fingers. He watched as she climbed back into her boat. None of the fisherman moved forward to stop her, but Isaand watched until she cast off and disappeared around the side of the cliff. He felt a tugging on his tunic as Vehx clambered up his back onto his shoulder.
“So I get to have some fun this time, did I hear that right?” the sendra asked.
“Maybe. I’ll talk it out, first. Don’t act unless I tell you too,” Isaand said as he turned and started slowly up the slick path towards his enemies.
“What if you’re dead?”
“Then you’ll be free. Would you honor a final request?”
“What’s that? You want me to scour this whole ugly island down to the bare stones? I would be honored,” Vehx said, with relish in his voice. Isaand swatted his muzzle.
“I’ll come along,” Isaand told the fisherman. “I have no weapons to surrender, only this staff and my belt-knife. I’m no violent man, whatever your cleric might have told you. I’m a healer, only here to help,” Isaand said, arms spread wide.
“Blessed Iettaw will decide what you are,” the man said gruffly. He conferred quickly with two younger men, little more than boys, and sent them down. Isaand’s staff was snatched away and his knife stolen. Then they roughly patted down the rest of him, looking for any hidden weapons and searching his pouches. Vehx hissed as they neared him, and they pulled away nervously.
“Hold still,” one of the men said, drawing out a thickly woven net. Isaand stood still as the net went around his head, scattering Vehx to vanish across the stones. The webbing was sheer enough for him to see through it, but between its obfuscation, the darkness, and the rain, he was effectively blind. Next they bound his wrists roughly behind his back with wet rope that cut tight against his skin.
The path up was slippery and uneven. Isaand’s feet were numbing badly, and he didn’t make it ten feet before he slipped and fell forward. A jolt of panic ran through him, and he cried out as he realized he couldn’t put his arms out to catch himself. The ground rose up and smacked him in the face. He bit his tongue and tasted blood, his forehead throbbing as if it had grown twice its size. An order was given, and he was pulled to his feet, but no sooner was he standing than his helper pulled away again, as though afraid heresy would rub off on him. Panting, Isaand started forward again, slowly.
He fell twice more, and soon his legs and arms were aching too. After the third fall, he heard feet slapping on the wet ground as someone rushed close, then the men began to shout amongst themselves. Someone grabbed him gently, and slowly helped him back up.
“I have you, don’t worry. Here, I’ll guide you.” The voice echoed in Isaand’s ears, and he realized it was Tokaa, the man he’d healed. Some good has come of this visit, he reminded himself.
“Blessed Iettaw told you to go home!” one of the fisherman shouted.
“I live at the top of the hill. Until we get there, why don’t I help you with your burden, since no one else wants to help the man walk?”
There were no more objections, and Isaand leaned on Tokaa as he climbed the hill, gratefully. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I’m taking you to the cleric. I wish there were something I could do, but…”
Isaand could hear the anguish in his voice. “I understand. You have a family. I did too.”
There was no more sound but footsteps and rainfalls. Wet grass squished under Isaand’s boots, and he found Tokaa pushing lightly down on his head to get him to lower his head as they entered a dwelling. It felt good to get out of the rain. Through the net, Isaand could see the warm glow of a fire, and many moving shadows as people piled into the corners.
“Unmask him,” a woman said.
The net was pulled roughly away, and for a moment Isaand was blinded by the light. A heavy hand pushed down at his shoulder, and he was forced down on his knees. Across the crackling flames, a woman came into view, old but straight-backed and proud, with wrinkled cheeks and a long braid of gray hair hanging over her shoulder. She was dressed in blue and white, her robes festooned with fishbones. Her eyes were pale, nearly as colorless as the lake of the goddess she served.
The fishermen still surrounded Isaand, with half-a-dozen spears leveled at him from every side. Some of the points were only inches away from his skin, and he could almost feel the sharpness of them leaning in. Since he could do nothing about them, Isaand decided to ignore them.
“Cleric Iettaw, I presume. I’ve heard about you,” Isaand said.
“And you are Isaand Laeson, or so you claim. More like it is some lie.” Iettaw’s voice was rough, like the sharpening of a knife on a whetstone. “I ask you in the name of Maesa the Mother of the Lake: are you a heretic?”
The fall of rain was the only sound as the men in the hut held their breaths to hear his response. Isaand took a deep breath, then sighed. “I think I will hold off on answering that for the moment. I have a feeling it would bring this conversation to an end, and we have a few other things to discuss.”
“You are in no position-”
“A few miles east of here, on a rock containing three huts and a small circle of stones, the Lsetha attacked. Everyone who lived there was killed, so far as I can tell, probably eight to ten people. Did your goddess tell you that?” Isaand cut in, snapping his voice like a whip. Iettaw drew back slightly.
“A lie. A poor one. The Lsetha kills sparingly, never more than once in an attack. It is a hunter, it has no need to slaughter wholesale.”
“It has no need to kill men at all, with such a bounty available in the lake, and all clear for the taking. What beast ignores an easy buffet to strike at armed men in boats instead? You know the monster is no natural thing. It kills for sport, not food. The lake is your domain, surely you are not so ignorant as to think this ordinary?”
Fire snapped and popped while Iettaw considered her response, her face a blank mask. “You swear these people are dead? You saw them with your own eyes?”
“I did, and I swear. I swear by Ulm-Etha and Maesa, and by mine own god. May my soul be churned a thousand years if I lie. I saw only five bodies myself, but their homes were empty. If they survived, they may have fled to their neighbors.”
“And why would you have come across this scene? For what purpose do you explore Maesa’s lake?” Iettaw asked. Isaand took a deep breath.
“I have been told of the troubles the Lsetha has brought your people. I had hoped that I could put it to an end,” he said.
“Why? We are not your people. You have no obligation.”
“We were all one people, once, before the gods divided them up.”
“You dare to criticize the gods?”
“Do you not?” Isaand pleaded. He had seen something in her eyes, when he spoke of the dead. She cared for her people, he thought. Somewhere within the shell of her pride, a heart still beat. “Maesa is the goddess of the lake, with full authority of all its waters. Ulm-etha may be weakened, but I have seen no evidence of the same for her. She could stop the Lsetha, end your people’s suffering in an instant! Have you not prayed to her for help?”
“You presume,” Iettaw said defensively. “Mother Maesa is goddess of the lake, not its people. The lake has always held its dangers. I have called upon her for aid, yes but she has not answered. I will accept her divine purpose. That is loyalty. Our people would not exist were it not for her blessings. A mother does what she can for her children, but when they grow they must help themselves. Perhaps this Lsetha is a test, to make us stronger.”
“Fine, then, if your goddess will not help then why not let someone else? I ask for nothing in return. Let me free, and I will remove the Lsetha, then be on my way. I have no desire to test your people’s faith. I’m not some mummer’s-tale villain sowing discord where I go. I only want to help.”
“So you say. Words bear less weight than air,” Iettaw said. She was falling back on old habits, he thought, protecting herself from sense with stalwart faith. Isaand clenched his fists, and couldn’t feel them.
“Then let me show you. I can do nothing from here,” he said.
“What of the girl you brought among us?” Iettaw asked, surprising him with the change of focus. “I suppose you would claim you have no idea what she’s done.”
“I-” Isaand paused. He did know, but only because Vehx had explained it to him, less than an hour ago. “It isn’t what you think. She’s just a child, she did not know-”
“So you admit she interfered with the sacrifice? The very sacrifice that was meant to restore our god to us? You said earlier that Ulm-etha was weakened. How would you know such a thing, unless you were a part of it? Gods do not suffer so for nothing, and no faithful cleric has the power to spread such trouble. Only an Unbound has the power to challenge the gods.”
Iettaw’s words resonated with Isaand, and mixed with what Vehx had told him. A stain on the altar, stealing the power of the sacrifice… and perhaps twisting for some other purpose? A poison, instead of a balm? He shook his head; the cleric would not listen to his half-formed theories. “That is not true. A lector could do it, even if he served those of the Pact. Another god, perhaps a mad spirit… I know not, but-”
“Your feet may be still, but your tongue dances as lively as a festival maiden,” Iettaw said. “Excuses are all I hear, yet you dodge the truth with every word. The girl did nothing, you claim, yet a hundred people watched as she disturbed the sacrifice. She lies in stupor even now, perhaps struck down for her infamy by Father Ulm-etha. And you would have us think you can slay this Lsetha, though you carry no weapon and are clearly no warrior. How? Through miracles, as a lector? Very well then. Tell me what god you serve. I ask again, Isaand Laeson, tell me true: are you a heretic?”
Isaand felt the sharpness of all those spear-points, a web of death surrounding him from all sides. Words of warning ran through his head, memory’s he could only wish he’d heeded sooner. His wrists strained at the ropes, blood slick on his skin, and he could feel a fire burning within him, warming him against Iettaw’s cold. He laughed, a harsh, sharp sound in the close confines of the stone hut, a sound that made one of the spearman draw back as though he’d bared a knife. He fixed his eyes on Iettaw’s and smiled.
“I am Isaand Aislin Laeson, Lector and Cleric of the Great One Szet, one who would save this world from the mess your gods have made of it. He has entrusted me with his mission, and no shrunken old backwater cleric is going to stop me from answering the trust he put in me. Aye, I am a heretic, and proud of it.”
Fear shone on Iettaw’s face, as though she hadn’t truly believed it until now. She began to get to her feet, clumsily, swatting away one of the fisherman’s attempts to help her.
“You all heard his confession. Blind him again, and take him to Guadan’s hut. Ulm-etha will surely be happy with such a sacrifice,” she said.
“I think not, cleric,” Isaand said. “Your gods seem to have abandoned you. Mine has not.” He took a deep breath, and let it out in a shout. “Vehx!”
“Stop him-”
“RELEASE!”
Too late, the spears came forward, but Isaand threw himself backwards, buying a few seconds. One of the spears scratched across his cheek, just beneath his eye, and another on his upper arm. He could feel a hot itch as Szet’s miracle began to seep into his wounds to bind them up. Iettaw was shouting, snatching a spear from one of the men.
Then thunder split the air, and golden lightning flashed.
The stone hut exploded in a spray of rock chips and wood, bodies flying with it. The rain rushed in, washing the blood away from his cuts. Isaand looked up, and saw Vehx hanging in the air above the village, a massive golden serpent of light with long arms and claws, a mane of tangled fur shining around his throat like the sun. Men were screaming, running, lying on the ground clutching their wounds. Another loud crack rang out, the hut beside Iettaw’s exploding with a swipe of Vehx’s tail.
Isaand rolled onto his stomach and began trying to get to his knees, slipping in the rubble. A man was lying a few feet away from him, cringing with his hands clapped over his eyes as if too terrified to look upon the sendra in the sky above. Isaand could see blood leaking from dozens of small injuries where chips of stone had studded his skin. Dully, he could feel the itch of Szet’s healing all over his own body where he had been hit as well. Vehx needs to learn some damn subtlety.
Isaand managed to get to his feet, shakily, though he was still bound. A spear lay abandoned on the ground in front of him, so he lifted it and carefully sawed away at the bonds behind his back. As they snapped open, a burst of pain returned with the feeling of his hands.
A shout drew his attention, though he he could barely hear it over everything else going on. One of the fisherman was hefting a spear at him, bleeding and shaky. He threw it, and Isaand stepped easily to the side. Noticing his bonewood staff lying in the wreckage of the hut, he took it up and leveled it at the spearman, who fled immediately as though it were a loaded crossbow.
Isaand turned back and began to limp, leaning heavily on the staff. Men and women were running in every direction, fleeing the center of the village for the safety of the lake. He saw more than one couple leap straight off of the cliffs to the lake below. Dazed, he stared around at the wreckage, bodies lying under fallen stones, homes destroyed, children crying. Shame flooded in, followed by hot anger. I never wanted this. All you had to do was let me go. I was going to help you stubborn fools!
He found Iettaw crawling across the village green, to the sacrificial altar of Ulm-etha. She leaned against it, eyes wide with terror as he strode up.
“You show your true colors,” she muttered.
“I’ve done only what you forced me to do,” Isaand answered. He raised his eyes to the sky, feeling the rain wash down his face. “That will be enough Vehx. I think we’ve made our point.”
With a frustrated roar, Vehx’s glowing form began to shrink, the night becoming shockingly dark again as his light faded away, until his wet and bedraggled kettha form was perched atop the altar, hissing at cleric Iettaw.
“What are you going to do?” she asked shakily. Isaand ignored her for the moment, looking across the green to the hut where a women had stepped out with a sleeping girl thrown over her shoulder. Ratha met his eyes and nodded, and Isaand nodded back. Only then did he turn back to Iettaw.
“I already told you what I’m going to do. I’m going to do what your gods can’t. I’m going to protect this lake, and all the ungrateful fools on it. Direct your prayers of thanks to Szet.”
Heretic 