***This chapter was one of those chapters that flowed quickly as I wrote it but may not be fleshed out as well as I'd like. I'm posting because I need to move forward and don't quite know what to change in this chapter yet. Anyway, please comment and give me feedback! I appreciate it.

<3libby

Chapter 6: Prejudice

Fog amassed and looped through openings between low brush, condensing where it collided until it was forced to swirl up and blur into the trees and sky. The morning was clear and cool, but the mist diffused the light of the sun so that only a grey void could be seen ahead, moving ever so slowly through the air it dispossessed. The moist particles were hitting her face and condensing into droplets that grew until their weight forced their decline down her cheeks.

Ilara turned her face and found the fog was covering all, both brush and tree, near and far. All was encompassed in the grey wafts of liquid light. All that is, but the throbbing she felt in her head. The cool water on her face was relieving that, but not erasing it. She reached up and felt the back of her head where the pain was emanating, feeling the halo of ringlets that were forming on the top of her hair as it was drenched in the humid air. Then something warm and rough brushed her fingertips and she turned abruptly to find her hand being held by a man… a familiar man. His dark eyes were clear and sharp but the rest of him was faded like her surroundings, hidden in fog.

“…Ilara,” he whispered. “Ilara.”

“Father?” she replied soundlessly. “Father!” she tried again and again, but her throat could produce no more than painful rasping.

He looked at her for a moment and then slipped his hand away. His eyes looked down and were hid behind their lids and blended with the faintness of the rest of his face… and he was gone.

“Father! Father!” she kept calling with no effect, running through the mists in desperation. She slipped and fell on a rock obscured in the veil of cursed mist and she succumbed to it without a fight, falling on her side and curling up like a child. Her head felt like bursting now for all the blood that seemed to be coursing through it.

And another voice came through the mists; a soft, matronly voice saying, “Child? Child, awaken. You are safe.”

~~*~~

Xavier sat feeling helpless and frustrated on the cot in his chamber as he awaited Ferran and Gojzia. The latter was the self-imposed healer of the three villages, and she did her job well. She had walked in first, her previously clean apron soaked in the crimson stain of blood. She was smiling in her usual irritating way, as if she knew something no one else could understand and it was a little joke for her enjoyment alone. Xavier gave her a sardonic look but it softened as she approached to check his bandage. He couldn’t get mad at the woman, no matter how condescending she tended to be. She had saved his life too many times to count, and besides, he was fond of her despite her rough spots.

“Well, the stitches are holding and you haven’t got a fever, so get some rest, don’t walk when you can help it and don’t run at all, and you’ll be right as rain in a few weeks.”

“A few weeks of being an invalid will kill me faster than a fever would have,” he grumbled, earning a light smack across the back of his head from Gojzia. Ferran muffled a laugh as best he could at the sight of a middle-aged woman putting Xavier in his place. He needed that from time to time, though few would say so openly.

“You’ll be an invalid and worse if you don’t do as I say and rest; lay off climbing and such until your wound closes up. Don’t make things worse for yourself. Now what’s the story—the whole story?” Gojzia sent her questioning look between Ferran and Xavier as she waited for somebody to speak up. Neither did. “What? Can’t admit a woman had the better of you?” She laughed in that mocking way she only used with those close to her.

Xavier kept silent and just looked at Ferran until the man was forced into a corner by the glares of his two companions. “What? Could you expect me to sit around and wait for you? I knew you were tired, and I knew you’d need me.” Ferran pulled his shoulders back and smiled with pride. “I followed you. And if I hadn’t done it, that little fireball would have killed you.”

“The little ‘fireball’ has been tormented in her sleep,” Gojzia cut in, true concern etched across her wise face. “Show her mercy, Ferran. You know nothing of her.”

“I know she tried to kill Xavier, and she would have if I hadn’t butted her good with my Shreika!”

“No grace, all force, you brute,” Xavier shook his head not disapprovingly. “Still, I could have defended myself.”

“I beg your pardon sir, but you would not have defended yourself.” Ferran looked at Gojzia for support and she smiled and looked at Xavier, waiting to hear him admit it or lie.

“I could never kill a woman, but to stop her from killing me I’ll do what I must,” Xavier replied.

“Only if that means asking nicely and offering her your cloak,” said Gojzia, smiling and putting her equipment in a leather pouch.

“Gojz, are we finished?” he replied, slightly annoyed once more. “Why don’t you go see about the girl and make sure she hasn’t run off with murderous intent toward yet another hapless male.”

Gojzia bowed and left the wooden hut with a smirk remaining on her face. “I can’t see why she finds this amusing,” Xavier mumbled, leaning back against the wall behind his cot. “Well, now this girl is here and there’s no keeping her from knowing our every secret. She could be anyone. Corillion could have sent her, or worse.” He motioned with his arm as he emphasized his words and clapped his hand against his bandaged thigh without thinking, cringing in regret upon impact. He breathed through clenched teeth until the pain subsided.

“I doubt there’s worse than Corillion,” said Ferran. “But really, you don’t think he would hire a girl like her, do you?”

“No. You’re right. Any woman in his employ would not be so by choice, or for compensation. I can’t imagine a woman willing to serve him without her life being threatened.”

“Then there’s no need to fear.”

“Maybe not, but we don’t know anything yet. Where is she, anyway?”

“She’s in Gojzia’s hut on my bedroll. Gojz said I had to bring it in for the fireball to make up for knocking her out. I can’t see why I have to be punished for helping.”

“I’m just glad you didn’t kill the girl. None of us quite trust you with that she-sword of yours; Gojz is trying to carve some chivalry into you, if not restraint. So… does the girl still sleep? Is she all right? Gojzia!” he called, wishing he hadn’t sent her away so fast.

Gojzia was back inside the hut in a moment, having not gone far after she had been dismissed. She answered his thoughts immediately, since she had been waiting outside for his inevitable summoning and heard everything. “She awoke for a moment, but no more, and faded back to sleep. Like I said, she sleeps fitfully. Her dreams are not peaceful.”

Xavier nodded in thought. “And what has been done with the leoptera bull?”

Ferran answered this time. “Oh, I took care of that beautiful beasty.” Xavier closed his eyes in anticipation of a boastful telling of how the beast was subdued after he had returned to the village to have the arrow in his leg removed—otherwise he would have seen to the matter himself. “He was unconscious for a good while and Gojzia made sure he stayed that way so I… well, a few of us… could hoist him on a cart and drag him back here. He’s in the pit I’ve been digging between the Weeping Rock and Renscha Face. His wing’s busted so he’s not coming out of there anytime soon.” Xavier was slightly surprised by the lack of adornment to the account.

“Has his wing been seen to?”

“Both wings, sir; a rope net has been fastened. He won’t be able to do any flapping, so that should set and heal in the next… well, I don’t know how long for sure, ‘cause I’ve never done this on a creature so big before.”

“And that pit will hold him?”

“Beasty’s never been stuck in a pit he couldn’t get out of, I’m sure, but he can’t fly now can he? Still, I posted Heath on guard of him to be safe. Better to take precautions.”

Xavier nodded approval of the report and gestured for Ferran to take his leave. He lay back down and closed his eyes at an encroaching headache. He could hear Gojzia falling in step behind Ferran and sat up quickly. “Gojz, wait. Would you wake me when the girl is conscious?”

“Of course. I’ll be wanting to witness the reunion,” she replied as she stepped backwards out the door and shut it softly.

~~*~~

Ilara felt the weight of her eyelids as they struggled open. She strained to blink until her vision cleared and she took in her surroundings—a small room lit by the light of the afternoon filtered through threadbare curtains over the window and covering the otherwise naked doorframe. She was on something soft and low to the packed-dirt floor. The cool damp of her dreams seemed to remain, which she soon realized was due to a moist cloth resting on her brow. The weathered face of a woman, black-haired, with dark eyes intense but softened around the edges stared down at her with questioning kindness.

“I am Gojzia,” she said, and her voice was rough yet gentle, as if worn from years of yelling but tempered by equal years of whispering to sleeping babes. It was the voice of a warrior; mother; angel. Whether she knew it yet or not, Ilara liked this voice. “How do you feel?”

Ilara closed her eyes briefly, trying to find the vision of mist and phantom but failing to grasp even a remnant. She opened her eyes again and tried to adjust to this reality, finding it almost as far from grasp as her dream.

“Child, can you speak?” the woman asked, removing the wet cloth to soak it again in fresh water and replace it on Ilara’s brow.

“Where am I?” she asked, comforted to hear Gojzia’s voice just speaking, lulling her out of the world of fog.

Gojzia smiled. “You are in my home. You are safe. Tell me how your head feels and I’ll try to answer any other questions you may have.”

Ilara just wanted to listen. She paused until she realized she had to find an answer. “It hurts… but the cloth is nice. Thank you.”

“Can you sit up for me?” Gojzia asked, as her hands gently supported Ilara’s back. Ilara acquiesced. “How does your head feel now?”

Ilara closed her eyes and put a hand on her temple as it throbbed anew. The pain slowly subsided and she opened her eyes again to answer. “I am fine. A little dizzy. It’s nothing.”

“You took a heavy blow. You were knocked unconscious for several hours. Can you remember what happened right before you passed out?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me?”

Ilara just stared at the woman. She knew what had happened. She had shot the man called Sa’Celim. She had seen that look on his face… that uncanny look she wished she didn’t remember. And then there had been a span of darkness before the dream. She looked past Gojzia at the curtain blowing softly with the breeze in the doorframe, wafts of dust moving in swells beneath it over the floor like dry waves over a dirt sea. It was calming, like Gojzia’s voice. But it was not enough. “I need not tell you,” she finally replied. “I know I remember, and that is enough.” She surprised even herself with her curt answer.

“I only ask so I can treat you. I am a healer.”

Ilara did not respond but looked up at the woman with unfathomable eyes. They shifted and glimmered with unknown depths.

“Alright. I’ll go get Xavier and we can figure all of this out together.”

“Who is Xavier?” Ilara was unnerved by the name without knowing why.

“Perhaps you have forgotten more than you realize. Do not worry, we wish you no harm. Xavier will explain much and put you at ease.” Gojzia stood and passed under the thin curtain at the door.

She was gone only long enough for Ilara to realize her head throbbed too fiercely for her to stand up, and she lay back down resignedly. She had only closed her eyes for a moment when she heard the rustling of cloth and the sliding of feet over the dirt floor. When she opened her eyes and took in the tall, dark form of the man she had recently made her adversary, her heart leapt and she went with it, rising from the bed with no regard for the pain it renewed in her skull. Her knife had been removed, which she realized too late as she reached for the vacant space for it at the back of her boot.

“Lie down! What are you doing? Lie down!” Gojzia was saying, getting between her and Sa’Celim and helping her unstable self back into the bed.

“What have you done with Anthem?” Ilara asked, looking through fiery eyes up at Sa’Celim, who stood rigid at the foot of her bed. She no longer noticed Gojzia’s presence, nor what the woman was doing.

“My men have tended to your beast. He will heal. And the wound you inflicted on my leg will heal as well, which should come as a relief to you, I am sure,” said Xavier resentfully.

“I hope it festers,” she replied, keeping her gaze firmly on him.

“Who are you?” he asked, ignoring her insult.

“Maybe I don’t remember,” she replied, the sarcasm in her voice increasing with each slowly spoken word.

“Fine. You can have your anonymity—for now. I am Xavier Sa’Celim, guardian of this village. What were you doing so near this place, and with such a creature?”

Xavier; it was his first name and she had not been quick enough to realize it. The thunderstorm taking place under her skull should have been excuse enough to lag in mental acuity, but she was silently chiding herself all the same. It just bolstered her attitude of contrary stubbornness. “I don’t have to give my reasons to anyone,” she said.

Gojzia stared between the two of them, waiting. Silence had descended and it did not appear that anyone would break it. “Xavier, what are you going to do?” Gojzia finally asked, seeing the wall the two had been erecting with their eyes to keep the other at a distance.

It took Xavier a few moments to respond. Ilara refused to release his eyes while he stood silent watching her. He was like a dark statue looming over her, oppressive in quiet judgment, and she would stare through him until she felt no more of his power.

“She can stay here until she is well, but she is to stay in this room,” he instructed Gojzia without giving her his glance. “I’ll post a guard. When she wants to leave, summon me. Without my permission she is not to go anywhere.”

“So I am a prisoner?” Ilara asked.

“Until you choose to be otherwise,” Xavier responded.

A slow and faint constriction in her chest had begun when Xavier had entered the room. Now it had increased and her breathing was regulated by mere will. She was a prisoner, and no matter what this man said or would say, she could not remain here free. He was not to be trusted. To stay here would be to subject herself under another Duard. The only choice she could foresee making was further confirmed for her; with or without his permission, she would leave. The only thing keeping her there was that she could not abandon her beast, but when he could travel, she would do whatever it took to take him with her and never return.

“Where is Anthem? Will he be freed when he has recovered?” she asked. She found it more difficult now to hold his eyes and await a response. They were unwavering as he replied, “I will do what is best for my village and the other two I protect. You may have some sway over the matter; that is up to you. I will not set loose a threat to these villages. So then, rest. And choose well your place here.” With that he turned to say something to Gojzia too quietly for Ilara to hear, and left the small dwelling.

Ilara watched the curtain over the door flutter in his wake and settle again as quiet settled within the hut. Gojzia’s gentle face sent sympathy to Ilara. “Do yourself a favor, child, and trust him,” she said, her tone and expression belying calm assurance. But the advice was not received. It was well meant—Ilara could perceive as much in the older woman’s face—but she could not heed it.

~~*~~

Xavier walked out of Gojzia’s dwelling as mystified by the pale creature within as when she had first attacked him. He wondered how he could keep her here without endangering the village. She was uncontrollable, uncooperative, and as volatile as a mother bear whose cub has been killed before her eyes. It was as if she was without reason. And those eyes… But he pushed that thought away. She was an anomaly of humankind. He’d never encountered such a woman.

A subtle pang of conscience edged at his mind as he thought about her. He was walking quickly—more quickly than his wounded leg could stand without protest, each painful, limping step lending to the memory of the incident. She had attacked him. She deserved to be a captive. Yet that was somehow rankling to Xavier’s sensibilities. She was alone, his heart whispered. She was afraid for her life and the life of the creature she loves. Why should her act of protection be taken against her? If one of his fellow villagers had been attacked in the woods, he would have done as much to protect them. Still, this was different, he told himself. She was a stranger and her intentions or reasons for being in the woods in the first place could not be assumed. He would be naive to bestow trust to such as she so easily, especially under the current circumstances of his people. They were in refuge, struggling to form into a body strong and united.

They had to survive.

Xavier stopped where he stood and looked over the town square. People he knew and cared for were busy with their daily lives; daily toil; rest; love. Fellowship was deep here. It was core and it was prized. Every soul was well acquainted with the next. For Xavier perhaps more than anyone, these people were his family in every reality but the flow of blood. The elders were his parents. The soldiers were his brothers and the women his sisters. The few children kept within the gates of this village were as precious to him as his own life, and he felt that every time one caught his eye. He knew them each well: Yara, Dan’yal, Jeym, and little Hajz. These were the only children in Caelta, the least fortified of the triune villages—the one that was open to the plains that led east to Luria, and to the forces there that every villager feared.

Yara passed as Xavier stood in thought, the young girl shooting him the smile that melted his heart every time. And there it was again: his conscience. Yara disappeared and the stranger invaded her place in his mind. Who was this girl whom he kept prisoner, with eyes like the moors and skin like the snow? Who was this wild beast contained in the frame of a girl? She was someone’s daughter, perhaps someone’s sister, like Yara. He wondered what a smile from her might look like. He couldn’t keep her here as a prisoner. If he treated her as an enemy, that is what she would surely become.

A sigh of resignation escaped his lungs as he realized he would have to show the girl more grace than he had before. Give me your perspective, Deus, he prayed silently as he began to turn back to Gojzia’s dwelling to speak to the girl.

He had not made it ten paces when Gyan Ramoth, elder of Caelta, appeared to his right from inside his dwelling. Approaching slowly, the elder’s face made clear his wish to address Xavier. It was a heavy look the older man wore on his face, which was not typical for the leader of the village. He was obviously not coming for a casual chat.

Stopping mid-stride, Xavier turned and bowed in respect to the elder’s authority and watched him make the last few steps between them. “Master Ramoth, what can I do for you?” he asked and could not help taking a quick glance in the direction of Gojzia’s hut.

“I was told about your injury. You seem to be managing,” said Ramoth.

“It is merely an annoyance, sir,” Xavier replied, shifting his injured leg as he said it.

“And your other annoyance, commander—you’ve taken your attacker captive?”

“I felt it necessary to spare her. She and the leoptera I was hunting seem to have a bond of some kind. The beast has been tended to and secured for safety, and the girl has been seen to by Gojzia.”

“So the rumor is true,” replied Ramoth. “A woman attacked you… very strange. Corillion does not employ women, as far as we know.”

“No sir. She can’t be one of his.” He was surprised by his words, even as he said them. They were aligned in every respect with what he now knew he truly believed. “At this point I suspect she is more likely a vagabond or escaped slave than a mercenary. I believe her attack was an act of protection for the leoptera, but no other motives are clear. Still, that does not answer for why she was on Mt. Renscha in the first place. She is no Lurian refugee.” The elder nodded deferentially as he listened, appearing to think over the matter. “I was on my way to speak with her,” Xavier continued. “I believe her hostility will not be renewed if I can show her that the beast will not be harmed and that she is safe here.”

“What are you going to do with the beast?” asked Ramoth in a rote, protocol manner and tone. He was not addressing what was behind his eyes.

“For now, we will contain him and feed him. Until he can fly again, there is no danger in keeping him captive. Perhaps the girl will show me how to tame him. I did not think it possible, but as I said, I have much to discuss with her.” Xavier respectfully finished his account, impatient beneath his calm for the real matter at hand.

“A mysterious personage, I am sure. I wish to speak with her myself, but that is for another time,” said Ramoth. “An emergency council has been called. You are summoned. We assemble as soon as possible.”

“With Reirq and Sheia?” Xavier had been waiting for this summons.

“Indeed.” They started walking together toward the gathering hall in Caelta’s circle of buildings. Xavier glanced briefly behind him toward Gojzia’s dwelling, wondering how long he would have to wait to speak with the girl. “The three villages must be united now more than ever,” the elder continued. “I hope you’re ready for the position you may be required to take.” Ramoth held open the heavy wood door of the gathering hall as Xavier stepped under its shadow.

“My readiness will be supplied according to need,” Xavier replied. “Deus will ready me as He sees fit.”

Ramoth’s heavy glance eased momentarily and he smiled at the younger man in quiet acknowledgement. But the worry crept back into his eyes to reveal the doubt he was not giving a voice.

Xavier turned to survey the room and suddenly felt the weight of more than Ramoth’s tension alone. All the elders from the three villages were present, and each wore a face as grim as a plague.