Chapter 21: Silence and Turmoil

As the sun began to set the crew of 5 mounted and rode again. They were now only a few days from Chiff and all of them were very eager to reach the city. It seemed odd, but tensions among the small band were rising at an extreme rate. As the days had progressed Peace’s tolerance of Strife has lessened and everyone had sensed it. Peace couldn’t hardly look at the man without a seemingly unwarranted shiver shooting down her spine, and her dreams: her dreams had been getting increasingly worse. Perhaps a better way to put it would be to say that her memories were becoming clearer: too clear. It seemed as if every motion Strife preformed, every word he said, every mannerism he held, reminded Peace more and more of some nightmare from her past. She had tried to make some sensical connection with him, some reason, but nothing. She had searched elsewhere too, trying to recall if she knew Erlfag or if she recalled the symbol of his warlord, but nothing there made sense either. She had seen the men of many warlords in her younger days, but none that matched Erlfag’s. The one in her memories certainly didn’t. He had born the symbol of the king, not one of the warlords. That had been when the kings still had power. Yet despite all her searches, her questions, nothing seemed to connect with her troubled past. Something at the back of her mind kept nagging though, telling her that everything ought to connect, but nothing seemed to make sense together.

Peace leaned forward and clung tighter to Yevish as the sun fully set and the chill winds picked up. She derived a great deal of comfort from being able to guard her young ward, her little brother. It wasn’t just human comfort though: the comfort of being able to care for another human being. It was God’s comfort, the deep comfort which came only from the Father, the Creator of the universe, and Peace was infinitely glad for it. During this time of deep trouble in her soul she wasn’t sure if she’d have been able to survive without this comfort from Yeshua, from God. Despite everything that was going on within her, Yeshua was telling her that he was still there, always there, protecting her, holding her, loving her. She would never be alone, she would never have need to fear, she could never be touched beyond the earthly things…

 Yes, it was true, nothing could touch her beyond her earthly being, and yet being touched to the depths of the earthly was still painful enough. Ah, the pain, she was glad for those who never had to experience such depth of emotion, either good or bad. For even such a deep emotion, when of good, can cause a great deal of pain. Peace knew though that the depths of humanity which many believed could only be touched by love and all things good, could also be touched by evil, hate, and all things wrong in this world. There was a reason God warned so much about sexual sins in his word, for truly all other sins were without the body, but these entered into the depths of the human heart and soul. Peace knew, Peace knew firsthand and forever she had only wished that she had never known. Peace shook her head unsuccessfully trying to clear the thought. Those dreams, those memories…

Suddenly she was there again: in that simple inn room. He was there too, his strong and hated hands having just ripped away her thin dress top. ‘Father God on high she couldn’t live through this again, not even in her mind.’ “Please don’t” Peace pleaded with the man.

“Don’t challenge me, girl. I paid for this night, and I will enjoy it.” A rough chuckle escaped his strong jaw and sent a defeated shiver down Peace’s backbone. No, she wasn’t defeated yet. Last time she’d been taken by surprise, unknowing of the ways of vulgar men, in particular of her boss the innkeeper, but this time… this time she would fight back. Peace reached behind her to the small table where she had formerly placed a broken table leg (the only weapon available to her on short notice). The warrior snorted, turned, and went to inspect the pitiful bed that the room had to offer. Peace threw caution to the wind and charged, aiming the hefty table leg for the back of the man’s head. She had almost made contact when the man suddenly whirled and caught the leg. Peace’s strength was no match for his, so she knew she’d have to rely on training and cunning. She quickly spun to the right, shifting her and her weapon out of the man’s grip, and then as quickly as she could she did her best attempt at a distracted double-strike. She swung fixedly towards the man’s head with the table leg, the distraction, while firmly kicking at his mostly unprotected knee with her right foot, the double-strike. Peace may not have had a great deal of strength, but her kick likely would have damaged the knee had not the man worn hidden knee bracers. Peace released the table leg and stumbled back in surprise, desiring to nurse her now wounded and bare foot, but knowing that such would only harm her more.

The King’s soldier scowled a bit and threw the table leg aside like a twig. “They didn’t tell me you were a feisty one. A bit of training to your name as well I’d say.”

Peace would have liked to respond, save that she was unable to manage words due to the fear in her heart. She quickly scanned the room for anything which could help her out, but failed to find anything. The man took a step forward and Peace stumbled back, tripping on the hard wood floor. She gasped and tried to push herself up on her elbows. The man grinned, and reached down towards her throat…

Peace sat up with a jolt, and then gently leaned forward again, encompassing Yevish in her armored and weather protected arms. That was the difference between dreams and memories. Dreams required a state of sleep or near sleep: memories could take over the mind whenever they wanted. Peace shivered a bit and hugged Yevish tighter, while reaching down and gently stroking Darkstar. She could hear the hoof beats of her brother’s and the Stranger’s horse. It was difficult to see them in the low light, but the moon would rise soon and provide light for their small party.

Peace focused herself on Yeshua and began to settle. The world seemed quite peaceful right now. It seemed odd how everything could seem to be going all right and all wrong all at the same time. Somehow it would all work out though. In the end, no matter how long away that was, it would all work out for the better: for the goodness of the created by the will of their divine Creator.

Organization

Dear readers, sorry for the break in chapters. I wrote chapter 17 a little later than chapter 18 and 19, hence why it is posted later. It does come before 18 and 19 chronologically, however you will not be confused if you do not read it before them. Thank you for your patience. Enjoy and God bless!

Chapter 20: Memories of Another Home

Peace looked out across the landscape. It was obvious they were heading back towards the outerlands as everything was becoming more barren. Chiff was in the Eastern parts of the Northern desert, a good ways from the Arthean border. It was the second of three cities in the country which had managed to survive in the harsh deserts. Many more cities managed in the wastes and along the deserts borders, but only three had managed to sustain themselves in the center of the desert.

It was around noon and the small band had just settled down to rest during the hot afternoon. Zeal was preparing for the study of God’s guidebook; while Yevish and Justice were attending to the horses. Peace had finished caring for Darkstar already. The Stranger had set up his tent (which served to protect him from the sun) and was already resting inside. Peace noted to herself that Strife had been true and generous since he’d been traveling with them; though perhaps a bit hard and offish as well. Such hardness was not odd however and was commonly viewed as necessary for survival in the life of a warrior.

Peace and her brothers had prayed hard and searched God’s word for council and had been assured that Strife was the one God had sent to help them, and yet… his presence still made something deep within Peace revolt. Every fiber of her being screamed in protest when he came near… but it was without reason. Why did this stranger bother her so? In all her life only one other person had made her feel in such a way. Peace had searched her memories. She had prodded her brothers’ memories. She had even gone so far as to ask the Stranger if he recognized her. There seemed to be no former connection between them at all, much less one which would elicit such strong feelings inside of her. Strife had also proven himself to be a true warrior and had given them no reason for worry or suspicion. Peace shook her head: she’d just have to learn to live with it she guessed. Hopefully her natural response would fade in time.

Her thoughts drifted towards home: towards Arthea. She’d been gone more than a month now and she was deeply worried about how her people were faring. She remembered a special place in Arthea, a little sanctuary up in the Mountains called the Peace of God. There was a large lake up there surrounded by little villages and monasteries. It was like a paradise, though generally a little cold for some people’s tastes. She had learned much of God there in her younger days and had gone back as often as she could to settle her heart. She remembered going there some with Flieshiv when the monks had offered a few nights stay to the army. It was the way that the monks chose to show their support of their country: by caring for the soldiers and giving them a place of peace and rest on their wearying patrols. It was always good to visit there, especially with Flieshiv. Peace sighed a bit at the thought. It was both a happy sigh at the pleasant memories and a sad one at not having seen Flieshiv in so long. Joson Flieshiv, her dear friend for all her years and trial in the army. He was the one who had helped her into the military academy, and it had been him and his friend Bern who had kept her secret those first few years. It was also Joson who had visited her those years she was in prison and he who had eventually managed to get her free and back into the army. He, God, and Bern truthfully, but Peace had felt God’s blessings the most through Joson’s constant friendship. As she looked back at the last 20 years she realized that she wouldn’t have gotten anywhere that she was without Joson. She wouldn’t have had a clue about how to achieve her desire to serve in the army without him, and she wouldn’t have made it through all those years in the military without him. He had helped her through everything. God had helped her more, as always, though she sometimes forgot such, but God had often used Joson to help and guide her. Peace shook her head again. Flieshiv would be alright: he was in God’s hands, and that was enough.

Peace turned as she heard her name called and then walked over to her brothers and Yevish. She sat down and joined them as they prepared to study God’s guidebook. They would read and discuss and pray… and draw together as they drew closer to their God and Savior.

Chapter 17: A Different Character

       It had been nearly a month. Flieshiv looked around at his torn tent and sighed as he heard the cries of wounded soldiers. Arthea was rapidly falling to the hands of the Kreton invaders. These invaders had no respect for the legacy of Arthea: for the kindness which it had always shown its neighbors, nor for the refuge it had always provided to any who needed it. No other nation had ever dared to truly launch an attack here, and especially not a full scale invasion. The other nations, even those far away, had all heard of Arthea’s compassionate reputation and had often wished just to preserve the beauty and safe borders that that reputation brought. Not these Kreton though. Flieshiv slammed his fist down on his travel desk. These monsters called men had nearly burnt the whole land: only pockets of safety and refuge remained. They’d killed thousands on thousands, dragged others into slavery, and left the remainder to rot without food, shelter, or anything else. They seemed invincible. Nothing Flieshiv nor the other commanders had done seemed to even slow the invaders. Everyone prayed and begged God for help, but nothing seemed to change. This nation, which had so long depended on and worshiped its creator, was now wondering what it had done to deserve this fate. Many were losing their faith.

The truth was that there wasn’t hardly anyone left to help the people keep faith. Many of the monks, nuns, and others set apart to God were dead or enslaved. Several of those left were beginning to lose their faith. Nearly all of the monasteries, churches, and other places of worship were destroyed and along with them the copies of God’s book. Flieshiv shook his head sadly: there had been few enough of them to start with and now there was only a handful of copies which the monks had managed to save.  Why was God allowing this happen? What had the Arthean people done… or not done to deserve this? What could God possibly need to show them that called for such a monstrous event to occur? Or did it have anything to do with them at all?

Flieshiv stared blankly ahead for a moment and then sat back in his chair with a sigh. It had been almost a month, and there was no sign of Peace. He worried for her and never ceased praying for her safe return. He knew she had said three months, but he was starting to wonder if Arthea had that long. The land was burning away so fast. The people were dying. Everything was being destroyed. Flieshiv shook himself again and stared back at the torn tent wall. Slowly his thoughts drifted back to Peace. He knew God would guide and protect Peace. Flieshiv wondered what or who God would guide her to. How would God choose to use Peace, and would he allow their salvation to come that way? Would He allow it to come from a foreign land, or would He send help some other way?

Flieshiv shook his head again: he missed her. He missed her warm, though sometimes sparse, smiles… and laughs. Her gentle heart and courageous soul. Her tanned and worn complexion, which seemed to him most beautiful. He missed her flowing hair which, though rarely seen down, was breathtaking. After nearly 20 years of battles and trials in the army and who knows what in the 21 years before that her hair had still retained its gentle golden color. Flieshiv smiled a bit to himself as he remembered Peace. She had always been a fierce one, though in a gentle way. She was strong too: always able to hold up to any challenge no matter what it cost her. She could persevere through any trial too, and she always attributed it to God. She understood that she couldn’t have gotten through any of it without Him and her continuous faith had always helped to strengthen Flieshiv’s. He had helped to strengthen her’s as well. When he was weak: she was strong. When she was weak: he was strong. And when they both had no more strength: God was strong. God was always there: lifting them up, showing them the way, drawing them closer to Him, and to each other…

Flieshiv smiled a bit and then shook off the thought. Now was not the time for that. He then leaned forward and bent his head. He depended on this talk with God, this time of prayer, to keep him strong and on track. Tonight though, he needed to let his heart out. He needed to pray for Peace, and for himself, and for their whole world which seemed to be slowly burning away.

Chapter 19: Of Past Dreams

 "Please." Peace looked up at the man pleadingly. He pulled off the heavy cloak as he closed the door. His shoulder pads and breast plate bore the sign of the king. 

 "Don't." Peace felt the hot tears as they began to gather in her eyes. It was just the second time -- how Peace wished it had never happened at all, and yet how clear it was. It'd been almost 27 years and she could see and feel everything as if it was happening. Or was it happening?

 The man reached up and grasped Peace's chin, turning her head this way, then that, to inspect her face. There was no mercy in his eyes; only the burning desire for satisfaction. His rough-gloved hand snapped down pulling Peace's simple dress top along with it: exposing her slender 14-year-old form. Peace gasped and pulled her dress back up, holding it up with her cold and slender fingers -- only to realize the only thing in her hands was her bedroll. The fingers weren't so slender as they had just been, nor was she. 

 Peace sat up, a cold sweat running down her body. A dream. She brought her glove hand to her forehead and wiped away the sweat. No, not a dream, a memory. It had been so many years since she'd had these nightmares, and longer since they'd happened. Yet here she was, waking with fear, hate, and desperation running through her. Why now? After all this time, why was she remembering  now? She had tried so hard to forget, to let go, but she never quite could. Now something had triggered her memory again; a face, a sound, this land in general perhaps…

 Peace pulled her knees close to her and grasped them. She noticed now that the sun was beginning to rise in the east: casting a gray pallor across the land. The dust clouds were rather thin here, which was odd, as the grass was also. There must have been very little wind, sparse traffic, and some moisture recently. Peace looked down at Yevish and stroked the sleeping head. She prayed he would never have to suffer through the horrors she and her brothers had. 

 It was two mornings after their meeting with Strife. They hadn't seen any signs that they had been followed, but they were still cautious. Peace realized now how odd it seemed that she, Peace, should be seeking the man, Strife, to end a war. She supposed though that if one's character followed ones names the world might be an easier place to make sense of. Zeal, Justice, and Strife began to stir. They would all be setting off soon. They would eat as they rode, then rest during the hot afternoon. It was then that Peace, her brothers, and Yevish would study God's guidebook. Despite the fact that Yeshua's name hap peaked the Stranger's (as Peace still called him) interest, he held no belief in their God. After their study they would set off again and ride until late at night. It felt like living two days in one day's time, but it kept them safe from the consequences of too many hard hours under a hot sun. 

 "Sister." Peace turned her head to look at Zeal, who had gently placed his hand on her shoulder. Peace hadn't realized it before but she had wrapped her arms back around her knees and had been slowly rocking back and forth, a distant light clouding her eyes. "What's wrong?" Zeal knew her well enough to see that whatever was playing her mind was not pleasant.

 "Do you remember, during those last years before I left, those nightmares I'd have?"

 "Yes." Zeal nodded as he sat down next to her.

 "After I went to Arthea and was taken in by a family, they faded. I hadn't had one for ages. At least 22 years now..." Peace trailed off, the images from her sleep flashing through her mind. 

 "You had one again?" Zeal asked, deeper concern jumping into his eyes. She had never told him what these dreams were of, but he knew that they had haunted her deeply. Peace nodded distantly in response to his query. "We'll pray over this, but for now we must get going. Are you able?"

 Peace looked back at Zeal. He'd always been considerate. "Yeah, I'll be fine." Zeal nodded and helped Peace to her feet. It was a new day that would continue to draw them towards their goal.

 Strife had decided on a heading: a small city called Chiff. It would take some time to get there however as it was nearly on the other side of Barakdethen. He had said that he had a band of men there that had always been loyal to him. They had served with him under the king and had never doubted or failed him before. They were also well trained and he believed that they would be well-suited for the job. 

Peace walked over and shook Yevish gently. He rolled onto his back and started rubbing the sleepers from his eyes. He smiled up at Peace and sat up; obviously ready for the new day. Peace wished she had woken with his spirit that morning. “Get packed up, we’ll be riding out soon.”

Yevish nodded and started to ramble out of his bedroll. Peace stood and turned; however, her awareness was much lower than it had been in a while, and she found herself tripping over Yevish’s bedroll and falling. Suddenly a pair of hands, firm yet gentle, grasped her arms, catching and supporting her. Peace gasped and drew back. It was the Stranger, simply wishing to assist her. Something about his touch though… it made Peace afraid, as if she’d just fallen into hands… hands strangely vile and unfriendly.

“Peace?” Justice called out with brotherly concern, having noted her abrasive reaction to the Stranger’s help. He and Zeal stepped forward while Strife stared down at Peace in confusion. Yevish stopped rolling up his bedroll and looked up at the scene. He had felt the strangeness of it. Peace rubbed her arms and looked down a bit, turning slightly and shaking her head as she did so. Why did his arms fell that way to her? He was just another warrior. One they’d never met before. She had no reason to feel that strongly towards his touch.

Justice came up behind Peace and held her gently by the shoulders, gazing sideways at Strife with suspicion. “You all right?”

Peace shook her head distractedly. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

“What happened?” Justice had a right to be concerned, but the honest confusion in Strife’s eyes and the strange reaction on Peace’s part gave him reason to believe that Strife was innocent on any wrong.

“I… I don’t know. I tripped on the bedroll, and he caught me and then… I…I…” Peace stopped, how did she convey what she had felt. It had been so strange, so unreasonable. “I just had a rough night… that’s all… that must be all.” She felt like some sort of sick patient who was slowly losing her mind to disease.

“All right.” Justice nodded his thanks to Strife, who nodded back as he came out of his confusion. “Let’s move out, we’ve quite a ways to go and not as long as I’d like to get there.”

The little group started moving again and within a few minutes everyone was packed, saddled, and ready to ride. A thin trail of dust was soon following the five riders across the thin plains, adding a slight dust film to the strangely clear air.