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.