Life burgeoned in desert expanses that had lain fallow for years. Auryn the Crazed’s immense physical changes to the landscape hastened its inevitable return. Torn asunder by elemental power, those same energies rejuvenated the land around Praxoenn. As the Illuminari’s power waxed, it drove away those who could best sustain the province, allowing the desert to encroach once more.

Chapter 28

Two days passed as the trio descended into the midst of the Falsyn Oasis. Fed by a wellspring forced to the surface, the valley itself served as a shield for Praxoenn from the Falsyn Desert. Over the years, desert encroachment shrank its boundaries, and it no longer pressed against the edges of the city. Many travellers appreciated its enormity despite the change in size, as it was a welcome respite from the inhospitable desert.

They had stayed just at the lip of Falsyn Oasis after departing the fiery caravan, and despite Modius’ concerns, they encountered no other travelers. After the first night’s decent sleep and more substantial dinner and breakfast she received, her body at least began to recover. Her runes remained black, taking on the almost purple cast of deep bruising to flesh surrounding them. Trynneia managed to muster enough focus to channel her intuition into mending what injuries remained in her shoulder, and she felt almost whole again.

No longer truly a captive, Trynneia’s life should have felt easier, but she could not shake the specter of what she’d seen and felt compelled to do that last night with the caravan. She rode her horse, a gentle dappled mare she called Honey, though it hadn’t a name before. Soreness tensed throughout her legs, back and arms. Riding was a skill she'd never learned, made more difficult by her weakened left shoulder. Trynneia struggled to remain seated as the cramping set in.

Lord Elanreu proved quite amiable, but his overbearing nature squandered his efforts to turn her spirit. She replayed Ditan’s last moments in her mind, unable and indeed quite unwilling to stop the torrent of tears that flowed. The fate of her village weighed on her nearly as much, but she’d had months to put her departure behind her. Instead, the reminder opened up old spiritual and emotional wounds that played havoc with her fresh ones.

Trynneia observed Modius sulking as the rearmost of the trio, dark in his own thoughts. His continued presence stirred the emotional soup she suffered through. In other circumstances, she’d have blessed Elanreu for occupying her time and keeping that cruel man from her. Yet now she also feared she’d merely traded one jailor for another of a different sort. That he was more pleasant overall made it palatable, but she remained a prisoner nonetheless.

Most of the first day, she’d ridden side-by-side with Lord Elanreu, at ease enough with him to ignore the way Modius seethed. Lord Elanreu took things slow, knowing she’d lost a lot of muscle and strength in her captivity. The silence between them remained a gulf Trynneia refused to bridge, and for his part Elanreu accepted it. Occasionally he’d drop back to discuss things with Modius in hushed tones, and Trynneia could hear no part of it. She didn’t try, more focused on staying conscious than anything else while she rode. Their languid pace made it easier to drop her guard, and she strove to maintain her defenses.

What am I becoming, she wondered, that I can be so easily led? I wanted to kill Ditan. I’m still not sure I wouldn’t have. But those heads, all those heads… Trynneia knew she could not trust these men, but for now, she had to rely on them for her own survival, and all of them understood it. The group dynamic depended on this reliance. When it broke, it could prove catastrophic.

Green trees wrapped in vines spanning from limb to limb formed a canopy above them, replacing the sand and desert scrub that had been Trynneia’s landscape for months. Flowering hibiscus in dazzling shades of yellow, purple, and red bloomed, twined through with sturdy veined stalks. As shade grew, the scents of musty earth and frothy loam mixed with fragrant humidity trapped away from the terrible suns.

Each of the atmospheric changes on their own slowly worked their own inevitable magic to cleanse Trynneia’s spirit, if not her soul, of some of her burdens. Sweat dampened her skin, and the dress she’d inherited from Sariam clung to her curves, unable to evaporate as the moisture became very dense. The moisture trickling between her breasts irritated the runes Sariam had drawn upon her, the flesh sensitive and raw. Through the first day, her mood improved from the night before, but all her traumas remained ever-present, tempering her emotions with somber resignation.

Time and again she caught sight of small rodent-like animals flitting amongst the trees and underbrush, as well as larger felines that prowled for them. Snakes with alternating patterns of gray and green, shaded with black, hid patiently amongst the vines to snatch prey of their own. Signs of predation made her slouch as she rode, feeling sympathy for the hunted while dwelling on her sour mood.

And the noise! Leaves rustled gently at the passing of unseen wildlife, and stirred with the coming of wind, a gentle ssshhh above the noise of Honey’s panting. Songbirds chased through the trees, trilling mating calls in a flurry of frenzied feathers. For all that beauty, these all reminded of her home, and her losses too wretched to bear.

Left to her own thoughts, Trynneia pondered what the Light’s Judgement would be. For all the knowledge she had of being born in the Light, she couldn’t conceive that the Light’s Judgement would be anything but one more punishment for her. Even now, she felt justified in attacking Ditan, the logic of her fevered decision battling her weary heart. Beheading Eilic’s corpse, grotesque as her action was, no longer even registered to her conscience as anything other than the appropriate response.

Who am I becoming? Trynneia questioned herself again but had no answer, unable to determine where the girl who idly had watched lightning bugs had morphed into someone whose morality had become suspect and unrecognizable. Rendrys would not recognize her daughter now. But would she want to? Trynneia pondered her own merits with harsh skepticism.

“What do you want to prove to yourself?” Lord Elanreu’s question provoked plenty of consternation and worry. She’d never thought of it in those terms, what her place in the world was to be. Mother had simply told her she would be Lightblessed, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world, and now the lack of elaboration crawled under her skin and made her want to flee.

Being Lightblessed had only brought about her mother’s death and her own exile. Yet what else had she? A word and a promise, that’s all mother had truly given her, and she’d prepared for nothing more. Separated from all she knew or thought she understood, what would she become? What could she become? Was it a matter of proving something to herself, or determining what to prove in the first place that she needed to discover?

Trynneia decided none of the answers mattered until she received the Light’s Judgement. If the result of her journey was death, so be it. If she became a Priestess of the Light, she’d not complain. In her heart, she knew she wanted to live, and believed that her mother’s path shouldn’t be her own. Where to go from there remained a mystery.

Night descended on their second day into the Oasis, and she welcomed the end of their travels for the evening. She dismounted stiffly and removed the small parcel consisting of a bedroll and change of clothes from her horse. Looking at her drab canvas dress, she wished it fit her better, and was more comfortable. Eying the two men setting up a fire, she was thankful she’d been given any extra clothing at all. Her real interest was the blanket, which she spread out on the ground to lay upon and stretch.

“Not used to riding, are you?” Elanreu asked, mirth dancing across his face. “No more than two days, then we’ll reach Praxoenn. How are you feeling?” Trynneia was surprised by the genuine intent behind the words, and tried to match with honesty.

“Exhausted, a bit relieved,” she said, looking over her shoulder at Modius. Elanreu understood. “More than a bit terrified of what’s ahead of me.”

“You have plenty to fear!” shouted Modius, looking back at them from the fire where he cooked. It was the first outburst he’d had in days. She cringed and started shivering, even in the muggy heat of the oasis valley.

“Don’t mind him. He’s just upset I’ve ruined his plans.” Elanreu paused, amused by something he was thinking about. “While I’m here, you’re safe,” he finished.

A lot of good that will do me if he murders you in your sleep, she thought. “Who are you, Elanreu? He addresses you as Lord. Is that how I must address you too?”

He laughed. “I’m a minor noble at best. I work for his employer. Modius works for me,” he explained. “If I die, he doesn’t get paid. Though since he’s been failing at his duties, he may not get paid in any case.” His tone grew more stern and his smile faded.

Trynneia nodded. She had gathered as much through their short journey, but this didn’t give her anything additional to go on. Other words she’d heard caught her up, and she wanted to be circumspect about her questioning. “I see. So you own land?”

“What is it to you? Yes, I own some land east of Praxoenn. I serve at the pleasure of the Illuminari Regency. In their Light, I act.”

Those acts had worked through Modius to break her down so far away from the Light, she couldn’t conceive a way that Elanreu meant those words. If Modius had been the pinnacle of evil she’d experienced so far, well that just meant he worked for even worse. She looked at Elanreu out of the corner of her eyes.

“Tell me of your land, if it pleases you Lord. Have you got a Lady waiting for you at home?” She watched as his body tensed up, as if deciding whether telling the truth or preparing a lie would best suit him. “Any children?” she prompted.

“No, no children,” he said. “No wife either. The Light provides for all my needs,” he continued, glancing sidelong at her. “Looking to become mine?”

Trynneia shuddered at the thought, but the way his eyes lingered made her skin itch and the fine hairs stand on end. “No,” she replied simply.

“Hmph, thank the Light,” Elanreu muttered.

“Your lands though?”

“I rarely see them either. The Regency provides workers for the land. I export grains and rice, if that sort of thing interests you.”

“What’s the point of having that land if you’re never there? Being a Lord sounds confusing. Back home everyone worked their own land. Even mother and I…” she trailed off, choking back an unbidden sob. “We had a small patch where we grew our share for trade. Tomatoes mostly.”

“I provide services of a different sort to the Regency, and they repay me in kind,” he hedged. She clutched at her chest, the tender flesh hidden there burning unseen as a reminder of what services his “Lordship” commanded. That was only the most recent of her wounds, and one that could not be cured by her own power.

Even as they talked, she watched Modius, knowing she wouldn’t be safe with him around. Elanreu quietly put his arm around her, pulling himself closer. Neither of them were safe, and she had to get away. Nonetheless, she leaned into her erstwhile protector, accepting false comfort while she contemplated escape.