Chapter 9: Chapter 9

Indenuel didn’t sleep that night. He tossed and turned, his thoughts plagued with all the horrible things that were bound to happen. He was supposed to be the one to fight in a great battle, but he didn’t know anything about fighting. He could hardly handle being in a large group without wanting to leave immediately. Was he expected to be a leader? He seriously hoped not.

The lonely son, the only star farthest away from the three other stars, began to dip farther toward the east, indicating dawn was fast approaching. Indenuel grabbed his clothes and snuck out of the room to get dressed. Martin was still asleep, and he didn’t want to bother him. Indenuel added some sticks to the fireplace before getting dressed by the dim light. He didn’t feel like eating this morning.

As the sky began to lighten, Indenuel couldn’t handle the wait. He wrote a hasty note to Martin that he was going to Hugo’s before he left, hoping to get Martin’s horse so he could hook it up to the cart. Now that he had said goodbye to the children, there was no reason to stay in Mountain Pass any longer.

The wind whistled through the trees. There were a few broken branches as the trees couldn’t handle the blizzard. The more he walked, the more he realized how much cleaning up there was still left to do. A part of him felt guilty, but another part realized the villagers were probably happy to see him leave.

Indenuel wrapped his cloak around him tighter as he walked the well-worn dirt path to Hugo’s house. He quietly knocked on the door, expecting Hugo to be asleep. He was in the process of trying to find something to write a note with when the door opened and Hugo stood at the door all dressed.

“Indenuel, good morning,” Hugo said.

“Forgive me, Hugo, if I woke you,” Indenuel said. “I’ve come to retrieve Martin’s horse for his cart.”

“Martin mentioned he would need it early. I was expecting you before dawn, though. I’m not sure you’ll make it to the main road now,” Hugo said.

“Martin told me he doesn’t want to push the horse. We’ll split it between two days,” Indenuel said.

Hugo nodded as he grabbed his wooden key. “That should give you plenty of time to get settled in Tavi tomorrow before the sabbath. No doubt Martin will give the sermon there.”

“Better Martin than me,” Indenuel mumbled.

Hugo smiled. “Well, I shall pray for your safe travels, then. There are a lot of war deserters hiding in the stretch of land between Mountain Pass and Tavi.”

“Thank you.”

Hugo and Indenuel walked to the stables by Hugo’s home. Hugo unlocked the small shed and they heard Martin’s horse moving about inside.

“It’s a fine horse,” Hugo said as he opened the door. “It should get you to Tavi with no trouble.”

“Hugo,” Indenuel started to say. Hugo turned, waiting for Indenuel to continue. Indenuel had a hard time keeping Hugo’s gaze. “Matteo, Emilia, and Isla are-” Indenuel paused, trying to get his thoughts in order. “Yes, Andres and Lola are their legal guardians, but can you keep an eye on them too? Make sure they’re safe.”

“I’m certain they will raise them-”

“If one of them comes to you and says they’re being bullied, will you listen to them?” Indenuel said instead.

Hugo looked at Indenuel, something flickering across his eyes. “Good heavens, Indenuel. This village has hurt you.”

Indenuel frowned. “Why are you surprised?”

Hugo sighed as he walked inside and picked up the bit. “When Lucia came twenty years ago, I suspected she wouldn’t last long here. The vile gossip of the village has broken people of stronger standing than her. I was far more surprised when she stayed. And for how long.” Indenuel didn’t know what to say. Obviously gossip wasn’t the only crime this village had committed, but maybe admitting the abuse they had received was still too much for Hugo to admit. “Our village is poor, but instead of coming together, we find the poorer among us and use them as a target so we can ignore our own problems.”

Indenuel looked away, staring at his feet. “My mother kept a secret from this village and from me. She could have stopped it before it even began, but she didn’t.”

“Did Lucia tell you why she kept it a secret?” Hugo asked. Indenuel shook his head. Hugo watched Indenuel before taking the reins. “Let’s take a walk, Indenuel. I’ll help you hitch the cart.”

Indenuel nodded. Hugo didn’t make it sound like he was giving Indenuel a choice. The black night began to give way to a deep blue. They walked, the horse walking obediently behind them.

“Thanks for not being one of the bad ones, Hugo,” Indenuel said.

Hugo shook his head. “I didn’t do anything to stop the others. I just waited for Lucia to move on to a different village. I’m not proud of what happened here, or the part I played in it.”

Indenuel frowned, the silence descending between them. He hadn’t thought about living in another town in ages. Not since Matteo came to them almost four years ago. And the twins the year after that. He remembered older orphans in his mother’s care, but they left when they turned fourteen to work the farms and start their own lives.

“I never got the opportunity to thank you for saving my mother’s life two years ago,” Indenuel said quietly. “On that day, you did do something.”

Hugo had a frown on his face. “I followed the law, yes, which happened to save Lucia. But somehow things got worse for your family.”

“No, Hugo. It would have been far worse if you found her guilty of murder,” Indenuel said.

Hugo sighed before glancing up at the sky. “Then it’s a good thing she was innocent.”

Indenuel said nothing. He shouldn’t have brought the incident up. There were still far too many things about it that didn’t make sense for the villagers. The reason he mentioned it now was because he’d never return to Mountain Pass, and he felt obligated to thank Hugo.

“With you being the Warrior, you’re incredibly skilled in all four gifts, yes?” Hugo asked.

Indenuel’s heart quickened. “Yes, but… but I’m not as strong as you might think.”

It was a lie to keep Hugo off his tracks. Indenuel was trying to think of a way to change the subject when Hugo changed it himself. “Don’t harbor ill feelings toward your mother, Indenuel. She must have had her reasons for staying here.”

“Probably to keep hiding me. Allowing everyone else to believe she was a witch. But why keep me hidden at all?” Indenuel asked.

Hugo shrugged. “You are asking the wrong person. I’m a humble postman. I don’t have the ability to communicate with the dead.”

“We don’t have one of those in Mountain Pass,” Indenuel said.

Hugo smiled. “Certainly not strong enough to hold a position in our village. Though we had you, whether we realized it or not.”

Indenuel stared at the dirt path. He tried to imagine what it would be like to live in Santollia City, but it was something he simply could not comprehend.

“The answers will come, Indenuel. I’m sure your mother will have much to tell you in a year’s time. Just be patient,” Hugo said as they approached Indenuel’s house. It seemed so much bigger with the children away, even though it was still one of the smallest in village. Martin walked out with a bundle, placing it in the cart before waving at Hugo and Indenuel, who waved back. Martin buckled a sword around his waist before throwing an older, tattered robe around himself. It was probably for safety from the war deserters.

“I will check on the children as much as I am able,” Hugo said. “I promise.”

Indenuel tried to smile. “I will send word to them every day, so you have a reason to check on them often.”

Hugo smiled. “That sounds like an excellent plan.”

“Thank you, Hugo. One day I might be able to forgive Mountain Pass for what it did to us, but that, among other things, will need some time,” Indenuel said.

“I can’t speak for the entire village, but I will say I think you’ll make a great warrior,” Hugo said.

Indenuel’s throat caught in a bought of emotion. How would Hugo know? Wasn’t a warrior someone who was beloved by all? Someone who could lead an army? A battle-ready individual? He wasn’t any of those things. In a way, he was running away from his village because he couldn’t stand being here a moment longer.

Martin and Hugo hitched the horse to the carriage as Indenuel looked at the home he grew up in. It was an empty house now. How quickly before it was given to someone else?

Martin placed a hand on Indenuel’s shoulder. “Ready, my boy?”

“Ready,” Indenuel said. He climbed into the cart next to Martin. It was easier than he imagined to turn his back on Mountain Pass.

***

Indenuel looked lost in his own thoughts, and Martin didn’t wish to intrude on them. It was a lot to go through as an almost twenty-year-old, and he was taking the revelation quiet well. However, in the brief time Martin had known Indenuel, sometimes the boy needed some time with his thoughts. He found excuses to touch Indenuel’s shoulder every so often to make sure the anxiety levels weren’t too high.

Martin passed small streams that hadn’t been there before. There were trees with broken branches and the ground still looked soaking wet. Indenuel saw these indications of melting snow and shuddered, burrowing deeper into his thoughts.

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“Mourning can cause that in a weather controller,” Martin said. “Especially in one as powerful as you.”

Indenuel said nothing, just nodded. It was now starting to concern Martin.

After a silent lunch, Indenuel mumbled something about not sleeping well the night before and went in the back of the cart and slept. Martin did his best to make sure the horse avoided bumpier places on the dirt road. Martin found himself enjoying the scenery. On the way to Mountain Pass he was too focused on getting the heavy cart through this road as quickly as possible without pushing the horse. But now that his mission was done, he found himself enjoying the view of the mountains stretching far through the land. The mountains in Santollia City were too far away for Martin to appreciate. Up close, these mountains looked almost intimidating. Like their own sort of gate, keeping the smaller villages and farmlands away from the main road. It was no wonder the smaller villages on the other side seemed mostly untouched by the war. Certainly they had some scares, but the King and Queen wouldn’t recruit from Mountain Pass or the other surrounding farmlands. The men were needed to farm far more than fight. There might come a time when recruitment was needed from the farmers, but Martin hoped they would never become that desperate.

The ground got drier. He couldn’t see the tracks in the cart from his trip from before. Indenuel’s snowstorm was small, but intense. In another while, they wouldn’t see any sign of it at all except for the occasional fuller stream or river.

As the sun descended lower, Martin stopped the horse. Indenuel sat up in the back, looking around with a nervous eye. “Here seems as good a spot as any to set up camp,” Martin said.

Indenuel nodded, rubbing his eyes. Martin hadn’t seen Indenuel smile since they left Mountain Pass. The more Martin thought about it, he realized Indenuel hadn’t smiled in Mountain Pass except for when he was around the children.

Indenuel went off to gather things for a fire as Martin assessed what they had for dinner. They had enough for a soup tonight. A warm soup would taste good in the autumn chill this far north.

Martin watched again as Indenuel started the fire, only talking to offer his assistance in making the meal. Once Indenuel finished cutting the potatoes, he went back to his silence. Martin was concerned at how quiet Indenuel had become.

“Almost ready,” Martin said, breaking the silence between the two.

Indenuel glanced up at Martin as though remembering he was there. Indenuel nodded, looking back at the fire above the pot, pulling his knees closer around him. Martin picked up the ladle and stirred the soup. Maybe he had made a mistake letting Indenuel alone with his own thoughts for so long.

“Would you like to say the meal prayer, Indenuel?” Martin asked.

Indenuel tore his gaze from the fire and focused on Martin. “Right. Of course.” He gave the memorized prayer quickly.

“May God be with us,” Martin said at the end. He stirred the soup again. As he suspected, it wasn’t quite done yet, but he needed to get Indenuel talking. “I might have been too hasty. Not quite warm yet.”

Indenuel nodded again, looking as though he was sinking back into his thoughts.

“Will it be a cold night?” Martin asked.

Indenuel stared at his hands. “A storm isn’t coming.”

Martin nodded, finding it quite useful to have a weather controller.

“We’ve made it quite far, today,” Martin said as the soup began to bubble. He stirred it again. “It’s bittersweet that this will be our only night under the stars. I find them quite beautiful.” Martin looked up at the four stars above them.

Indenuel nodded, not saying anything. He broke a stick in half before tossing it into the fire, his mind far from here.

“You know, the Kiamese people call the stars Gods’ eyes,” Martin said.

Indenuel looked at Martin, then craned his head back to see the stars. “Do they believe in two Gods? Or do they believe God has four eyes?”

Martin gave a tiny smile. “It’s one of those traditions where no one quite knows how it started, but it persists, because they definitely believe in more than two Gods. I honestly can’t keep track how many they believe in. Maybe their sky god has four eyes, though.”

“Well, don’t we believe in two Gods?” Indenuel asked.

Martin stirred the soup and poured it in a bowl. “What do you mean?”

“We pray to God, but also pray to the Savior,” Indenuel said.

Martin smiled as he finished pouring the soup in a bowl. “We pray to God about the Savior, but we do not worship the Savior the same way we worship God. I don’t want to downplay the incredible responsibility he will have to sanctify the world at the end of times. The Savior will be a gift from God, just as you are. But we don’t worship you, either.” Indenuel about reached for the bowl but paused as Martin said that last part. Again, the troubled look passed his forehead before he accepted the bowl.

Martin dished himself up, then waited for Indenuel to start eating. Indenuel himself was waiting for Martin to start before realization dawned on his face. He slowly picked up his spoon and took a bite. Once Indenuel was finished with the first bite, Martin began eating his soup. He couldn’t help but notice Indenuel had only taken that one bite, stirring the soup around, his thoughts threatening to take him over again.

“Too hot?” Martin asked, even though he knew that was not the case at all.

Indenuel swallowed. “May I confirm something you might have already figured out?” Martin waited for him to continue. Indenuel sighed, dropping his gaze. “I was never treated with any sort of respect in my village. We were charity cases who took on more charity cases. We were never invited to village gatherings, whether they be parties or discussions of the war efforts. I guess what I’m trying to say is I have no idea how to… to be treated with respect.”

Martin nodded as the fire gave a pop. Martin reached out and stirred the soup, trying to gather his thoughts. Whatever Indenuel had been thinking all day, this had to be just a small aspect of it. “I don’t know why your mother hid you, but she did. And because of it, you grew up not knowing who you are. Often when an individual understands their worth, it is easier for them to receive the respect they deserve.”

“And if this individual is instead just left empty and confused after learning who they are?” Indenuel asked.

Martin studied Indenuel carefully. There was a lot of pain there. “I felt the same way when I finally became High Elder.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I studied for years at the finest universities, pushed my powers to its limit, and when I became High Elder, I felt unworthy of it all. Terrified I was going to fail,” Martin said.

“Yes,” Indenuel said, nodding. “I don’t know how I’ll ever live up to anyone’s expectations.”

“Well, you have something that I never had,” Martin said.

“What?” Indenuel’s voice was quiet. Martin noticed tears in Indenuel’s eyes, reflecting the firelight.

“A powerful prophet saw your life, Indenuel. He saw you win. He saw it. You will not fail,” Martin said.

Indenuel didn’t look as comforted as Martin hoped. Indenuel’s hand shook as he took another bite of soup. “I’m trying to believe, sir. I really am.”

Martin nodded. “That is a good start.” He finished the last of his soup before adding more to his bowl. As he suspected, the soup tasted glorious on this chilly autumn night. “After a year of traveling, I’m still not used to how cold it gets at night during the autumn and winter,” Martin said as he held the bowl in his hands for a moment to warm his fingers.

Indenuel nodded absently. Martin was losing him again. Indenuel had barely taken three bites of soup. Martin stirred his soup around, much hotter being over the fire longer.

“You’re afraid of expectations?” Martin asked.

Indenuel continued to stir his soup. “I’m afraid the Santollians will expect a perfect individual.”

“It’s been preached the Warrior will come from humble beginnings,” Martin said. “I doubt the Santollians will expect a religious scholar.”

“I’m no leader. I don’t have the qualities,” Indenuel said.

“Those things take time, Indenuel. No one will expect you to be perfect the second you step into the city,” Martin said.

“I don’t have any sword training,” Indenuel said, his voice growing in anxiety.

“Again, practice,” Martin said.

“What if… what if there’s a weight on my soul, but only because of…”

Martin met Indenuel’s eyes. He had seen that timid look before in others. “Indenuel? Do you need to confess something?”  

Indenuel let out a shaky breath before looking away. “No. Not me. But… my mother. She did kill Efano, but on accident.”

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