The Blessed City

"I wondered if you'd come tonight." The Storyteller folded her cloak over a chair near a small kindling fire. "Please, come in."

Hesitating, Maleah stepped inside her home and heard the floor moan under her feet.

"Tea?" the woman offered. "It is a special blend I picked up from my travels."

"Thank you." She took the tea and sipped. She couldn't place the flavor or herbs but it was warm and sweet and it melted her nerves.

"It's a long way from the borstal. You must be tired. You and your friends are welcome to stay the night. I fear they grow colder as the seasons begin to shift and the days wane."

Rhys and Cam appeared in the doorway at that moment. The door ushered them inside before closing itself. The Storyteller handed them each a cup of tea and insisted they drink. Waving her hand, the cabinet under the window sill trembled. From inside, a small platter rose into the air and small treats were offered to each of them as it floated around the room.

"Please, help yourselves."

"Thank you for your kindness, Mistress -"

"Vamirah," she corrected Cam.

"Thank you, Vamirah. But I must decline. My charge was become willy with illusions from your story and had slipped my sights."

"There will be no need for lies, young man." She smiled despite her tone. "Aaurn is no place for three Blessed to hideaway. Albeit hiding underneath the enemy's nose is strategically smart, posing as the very thing you despise does not make for a great mask."

Uncertain, Cam's eyes widened. Disbelief befell Rhys' face as her mouth gaped. Maleah only smiled to herself. Vamirah's quick wit and knowing-ness reminded her of Doc and she found that fact comforting.

"How do you know what we are?" Maleah inquired, attempting to be gentle with her tone.

"One who keeps their eyes and ears open knows many things. Oh, but freight not. Your secrets are safe with me." She waved off their panic with a flick of her wrist. Glancing at their unsatisfied faces, she sighed. "I am a witch if you must know."

Distrust knitted across Cam's brows as he brooded silently against the door and sipped his tea. Shifting to the witch, Maleah sat her cup on the round table between her and Vamirah. Just as she began to ask her question, she was interrupted.

"The story is true. At least the heart of it is."

"The heart?"

"The creation of life. Of the dark and the light. Of the rise and the fall of the Gods of Eight. Though many details are lost in the complexities of time and reality, much of what I said is true."

"Then the king, he is one of them? One of the Gods of Eight?"

Vamirah frowned. "That I cannot say."

"Why not?" Rhys piped in.

Casting an easy glance to the girl, Vamirah simply lifted her shoulders and dropped them. "It is as I said, the truth has been lost with time. Only the Gods themselves know for sure."

"But you live among his followers. Surely there is talk of him."

"Of course, there is," her voice grew hot. "Yet no one dares speak ill of the king unless they wish their tongues to be removed. I have spent a great deal of time among these men. Some of that time with the King himself. I know much of his power and that he possesses the kind I have only ever felt once before. It feels both ancient and new. I know there is a battle that wages inside of him. One he has been fighting for ages and still cannot win. But whether he is one of the Eight, I cannot know for sure."

Rhys shifted uncomfortably from the witch's tone.

"Why do you live among them if you detest them so?" Maleah wondered.

"For my own protection. I was not born with the privilege of freedom. So I created it for myself. Traveling with these men, telling stories of their great god-king, has given me the chance to see the world. It is a freedom women so rarely receive."

"Who do you serve then, if not then king?" Cam pressed.

"Myself. But I give my loyalty to a few." Turning from him, Vamirah looked to Maleah. "Now, I wonder if you'd be so kind as to appease my own curiosities?"

Cam's stern face rejected reciprocity. Not caring, Maleah agreed to answer the woman's questions.

"Where do you travel to?"

"South," Maleah answered. "As far south as the land will take us. Where freedom from the king's hands cannot follow us."

"Does this place of freedom have a name?"

Unsure whether or not to answer, Maleah said. "No. We won't be sure until we find it." This seemingly gained Cam - and Rhys' - approval.

"Well, then I suppose a decent night's sleep will be in all your interests." Spreading her hands out, blankets and pillows appeared next to each of them. "Please, rest. I will see you off in the morning."

When Vamirah had left the room, Cam turned on her. "We cannot stay here. She cannot be trusted."

"I agree with Cam, however, it would be foolish to turn down a warm bed." Maleah could tell Rhys was struggling with the idea of staying but was grateful she had a sense to her.

"Not all strangers are enemies," Maleah added. "We have a long journey ahead of us and Vamirah has shown us nothing but hospitality."

Cam protested even as Maleah and Rhys slipped into the corners of the room. But even he did not have the words to sway them to leave.

. . .

A subtle wave of energy pulled Maleah from her hard sleep. From underneath her blanket, she peered into the faint light of the room. Vamirah's hooded figure crept through the door and into the night. Unable to stop herself, Maleah donned on her cloak to follow.

She waited for her outside, crooking her finger in a gesture Maleah hadn't seen since her mother would scold her for playing in the stream. Obediently, Maleah fell into step.

"Your companions do not trust easily," Vamirah said once they were far from the house. "I cannot blame them, knowing the troubles of their pasts haunt them. But you, you came to me without worry or fear. Why is that?"

Maleah had wondered the same but hadn't been able to give it much thought. "I do not know."

"A wise woman knows to trust her intuition. It will never lead you astray if you allow it to lead you."

Together, they turned into a tunnel where the moonlight was replaced by hanging torches. Vamirah waved her hand and the small flames burned anew.

"Where are we?" Maleah asked, gliding her hand along the rock wall.

"The stables." She looked to the witch as they walked deeper into the tunnels and the soft naying of horses.

. . .

Aaurn still slept when Maleah and Vamirah ambled back to the house. In their wake were three horses, each saddled with sacks of food and blanket that would secure them weeks of travel if they rationed appropriately. They had hardly stepped into view of the house when the door bust open and Rhys rushed out to them.

"Where have you been?" She reprimanded even as she wove her arms tightly around Maleah in a gesture that surprised both of them.

"It is my fault," Vamirah claimed. "I had woken your friend in hopes she would assist me."

Rhys eyed her suspiciously, then looked to the horses. Behind her, Cam folded his arms over his chest.

"I thought the plan was to go inconspicuously?" His hair was tousled from sleep but his face was red with anger.

"This should be enough to get you to your next destination," Vamirah replied calmly.

"It would be wise," Maleah said, cutting his retort off. "to thank Vamirah for the trouble she has gone to secure us these horses."

Bearing the burden of Cam's deadly glare, Maleah turned to the horses and fiddled with the straps. As Rhys ventured back inside to retrieve their packs, Cam surveyed the provisions and grumbled to himself.

"Your journey will be long. During which you will all learn many things about the world and about each other. Secrets will not be kind to you. Trust," Vamirah eyed Cam, "will be as important as the rations you carry with you.

"There are blankets made from hemlocks in your packs. They offer the best shelter from the harsh winds that will blow your way and are the lightest thing to carry. And, I have a parting gift for each of you. Because despite however terse your visit has been, it was exactly as I hoped it would be."

"That won't be necessary," Cam snipped.

"No, but it is my wish for you to have them." She began her succession with Cam. Standing in front of him with a stare so stern even Maleah felt uncomfortable watching. "It is not with a feint heart that one continues to run from his past in a fight for redemption. Your heart is made of steel, boy. It is only befitting that your blade matches it." From inside her cloak, Vamirah pulled a scabbard. The blade reached the length of Cam's arm and glistened a sweet silver. Thick and light, the sword was stunning.

Maleah watched as Cam wrestled with distaste as it morphed into fascination and desire. Rhys stepped forward and ran her fingers along the steel.

"This is steel from the fires of Mount Niaman. Where did you find it?"

Smiling, Vamirah handed Cam the blade who took it gently into his. "From the very fires that spire from its core. The lomades harvested its flames and remade them into swords and axes for the dwarves. It is the hardiest steel known to man and creature and it will not shatter under pressure. Very few of its kind remain in our world."

For the first time since they'd met, Cam was speechless. From gratitude or lust, Cam's eyes glistened.

"I fear I cannot redeem my hostility. I will take good care of it. Thank you."

Vamirah accepted his apology and reached for Rhys' hand. "Your secrets are yours to protect. But there will come a time when even they will become your enemy. Hone your gifts. Practice but do not abuse. Become their master before they master you. And should you find yourself in a position where your secret is no longer a shield and your gift no longer a weapon, use this." Vamirah opened her fist and in it sat a small dark vile.

"What is it?"

"A tincture of my own creation. I have spent years perfecting it. I call it glamour. Keep it close and you will always have the means to escape."

"Thank you." Rhys took the vile and clutched it tightly to her chest.

"My last gift is of the more precarious sort, and I'll admit, more personal." Reaching to her side, she untied the small pouch and held it for Maleah to take.

Turning the gift in her hands, she admired the delicate beauty it possessed. Soft and light; it matched the purple of a waning twilight.

"It is my ganuaim. A witch's right to her title is earned only by the successful weaving of her own pouch. The witch chooses any material she desires and fashions the bag from the magic of the land. Magic is always strongest when sourced from those whom its trusts and who trusts it.

"Many of my sisters from Ehren have made their bags with a purpose, designed for their own use. Mine, however, was made for another reason. The magic I have bound in its fabric is pure and true and anything you find inside is yours to keep."

Maleah stopped to look at her. "I cannot accept something so valuable." She tried to give it back, but Vamirah simply closed her hands over hers.

"I do not give it with a light heart. But I know it will serve you better than it can me."

"What is its purpose?"

Vamirah smiled as if the secret was hers to keep. "You need only to reach inside with a single thought to receive what you seek. As long as it has already been placed inside, of course."

Seeing the sorrow on her face, Vamirah tipped Maleah's chin. "If it is the sentimentality you worry about, don't. If I the need, I can fashion another." Winking, Vamirah released her and turned. Maleah caught the slip of light through her cloak where the fabric had been torn from it.

Tying the bag to her waist, she settled herself by her horse.

"Make me a promise, all of you? Don't ever stop fighting for your freedom."

Nodding with unspoken appreciation and gratitude, the three of them mounted their horses. As they rode away, she heard Vamirah's voice carry on the wind.

"Ride swiftly, young friends. May Kalli light your way."

The tightness in her stomach loosened as she let the woman's words calm her and guide her away from the home of her enemy.