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THE WICKED LIVE WITHIN us alongside the righteous.
—Brother Ramirez, Cathuran monk
* * *
MOTHER GWENDOLIN OVERSAW Ohmahold with concern as the comets, which the ancient tomes predicted would appear in the night skies, indeed took their places high above. Only a year before, Brother Vaughn’s communication network had brought news that the Zjhon had sailed with the largest armada ever assembled. With each passing day, Gwen could feel the land on the verge of a dangerous transition.
The first snow had fallen when Gustad and Milo, two monks who had requested permission to journey in search of items needed for an experiment, returned to Ohmahold with unexpected visitors in tow.
Captain Longarm had brought word to Gwen that one of the visitors, a man named Benjin Hawk, had requested an audience with her.
Gwen caught her breath when she heard the name.
“He didn’t know you’re the leader of the order. I’m not sure we can even trust this fellow. You should’ve seen the amount of weapons he and the others were carrying. I can send him away.”
“No. Please bring him to me first thing tomorrow. Escort him to one of the side chambers in the outer temple. I’ll meet him there.”
“As you wish, Mother.”
After Captain Longarm left her apartments, Gwen felt short of breath. Why would he want to see her now after so many years? She had left thoughts of him behind. The pain she’d once felt had faded when she took her vows. What could be so important that fate would so cruelly bring him back into her life? She had worked herself into a frenzy of questions by the time Brother Vaughn arrived at her apartments.
He wasted no time in getting to the point. “I heard Benjin is in the city and wants to see you.”
“It’s true. But I can’t imagine what he wants.”
“Mother . . .” His face flushed with agony.
“What is it, Brother Vaughn?”
“Forgive me for what I’m about to say, but please hear me out. I know how you once felt about Benjin. I saw it when you were in the barn with him that night. This must be very painful for you, I’m sure. But you are Cathuran, and you must remember and honor that above all else. I’m here, Gwendolin. I’m here to support you. I and the others, we cherish you. You’ve supported and guided us these many years, but please, just this once, let us do the same for you. Let me silence the questions in your busy mind. For your own good. For the good of Ohmahold. For the good of the Greatland.”
She hadn’t heard her name spoken without “Sister” or “Mother” before it for so many years she’d forgotten what it sounded like. Her eyes filled with tears, and she held out her arms to the monk. Brother Vaughn stepped forward and gave her a comforting hug, and when he released her, she thanked him for his kindness and honesty.
“The past is in the past, and if Benjin Hawk was ever my destiny, he was but a driving force to confirm my path among the Cathuran. I’ll always love Benjin, but not in the same way I once did.”
“And you’ll stop questioning yourself?”
She laughed. “Yes. I’ll clear away the questions in my busy mind.” She made a face and muttered, “Why does everyone know that?”
Brother Vaughn chuckled then left her alone in her apartments.
What little sleep she got that night was restful only because she’d meditated and reassured herself everything happened for a reason. If Benjin had come all the way from the Godfist to see her, it must be for something important, something only she could help him with.
In the morning, she bathed, dressed, and had her breakfast alone. Shortly after she’d finished eating, her guard rapped on the door and called out, “Mother Gwendolin. Your guests have arrived.”
She took a deep breath and refocused her energy on moving with grace. She’d always enjoyed the feeling of gliding, as the Cathurans called the resulting effect, and she’d become more than adept. That was the posture she struck when she entered the temple and first laid eyes on the man who had stolen her youthful heart.
After a brief incident in which the girl with Benjin slipped and bumped her head, Gwen settled everyone into a sitting room. Benjin introduced what seemed a slew of young men, and when he got to the girl, his introduction was unnecessary, though he gave it anyway. Gwen recognized Catrin Volker as the daughter of Wendel and Elsa because the girl looked just like the young woman she had seen in the vision of Benjin and Wendel fighting. In short order, it became clear they needed more privacy to discuss the matter that had brought them all to Ohmahold, so Gwen led them to a room deeper in the temple.
“I apologize, Mother, but our tale must be kept in confidence. I fear anyone who learns of it will be in danger. I’m hesitant to place such a burden on you, and I’m prepared to tell you pleasant lies if you decide that is best. I would ask your preference,” Benjin said.
She smiled, nodding in acknowledgment of his warning. “First, I must ask you to address me as Gwendolin while we’re in a private setting. It will lighten my heart to enjoy your company as equals. Second, I wish to hear your tale, no matter how dangerous the information may be. I sense this is no minor matter, and I’ll do what I can to assist you.”
Benjin then told her about Catrin, referring to her as the Herald of Istra, and he explained they’d come hoping Catrin might learn more about the power she wielded. He added that they knew she was in danger because the Zjhon would like nothing more than to capture and destroy her, as they’d already attempted to do.
Gwen found the tale bewildering, but she didn’t doubt its truth. So she stuck to her promise to help them and sent Benjin and the others, all except Catrin, back to the inn in the city so she might learn more about Catrin’s power and help the girl learn whatever she needed to know.
Once alone, she questioned the girl about the specifics of events in which Catrin had wielded the power, and she discovered, much to her dismay and Catrin’s that the girl had accidentally destroyed an ancient relic of power known as Imeteri’s Fish. That discovery had sent the poor child into fitful crying, and she’d fallen asleep in Gwen’s arms.
When the girl was deep in sleep, Gwen got up and asked the guard outside the door to send word to Benjin that Catrin would be staying the night. “There’s no need to worry him, so please tell him she’s just very tired after all my questions. I’ll send word to him again once I know what course we’ll take.”
Gwen lay down again on a cushion not far from Catrin, thoughts swirling in her head as she watched the girl sleep. Catrin Volker, the Herald of Istra, had come to Ohmahold seeking refuge. Gwendolin hadn’t been able to stop the thought from forming when she’d first learned who and what Catrin was. How ironic that the child of Elsa Mangst, the beautiful girl who’d stolen Benjin Hawk’s heart and broken Gwen’s, had grown up to need Gwendolin’s guidance and protection. But Gwen had let the thought go, had sent its negativity back into the darkness of a past she’d let go of when she had taken her vows. She had forgiven Benjin and Wendel for falling in love with Elsa, and she had forgiven Elsa for being so lovely and lovable. She’d even forgiven herself for the petty jealousy and bitterness that had sent her to Ohmahold to live a life so very different from the one she’d imagined as the wife of Benjin, the mother of a brood of children who would have looked like him.
And now Catrin, so very like her mother in so many ways, had pierced Gwen’s heart as deeply as Elsa had. The child, clearly loved deeply by Benjin, had suffered because she didn’t understand the power she came by so naturally, and she had inadvertently destroyed something precious and sacred. That the girl felt deeply sorrowful and regretted having done so spoke to the courage and honor she held inside. Gwen felt determined to soften the blow the girl had delivered because of her ignorance. She’d find a way to help her overcome it.
When morning came, Gwen slipped from the room before the girl woke up and arranged to have breakfast delivered to her. Then she went in search of Brother Vaughn.
“Good morning, Mother,” he said when he saw her.
“Good morning, Brother Vaughn. I’m sure to be busy with my guest. It’s a very long story but one I know you’ll want to hear, and I promise to share it, but I need to ask you to retrieve something from the archives for me.”
“Of course, Mother.”
“There’s a little box, a wooden one with filigree corners and a serpent-shaped clasp. It’s in the collection of artifacts Brother Ramirez left us, may his spirit feed the earth. Do you know it?”
Brother Vaughn rubbed his chin. “Hmm. I think so. I’m sure I can find it.”
“It contains two small noonstones. I’d like to give them to Catrin, the girl who is with Benjin. If you could find them for me, I’d appreciate it.”
“Yes, Mother. I’m happy to do it.” He gave her a questioning look.
“I’m fine, Brother Vaughn. I promise.” She kissed his cheek and returned to the chamber where she’d left Catrin.
Gwen found Catrin awake and disturbed because Benjin had expected her to return and she’d fallen asleep, so Gwen let her know she’d sent word about Catrin’s staying for the night and had invited Benjin and her friends to join them for dinner that evening. With the girl more at ease, the two walked in the gardens and chatted. She’d thought about Catrin’s situation, and she’d concluded the girl needed more clarity before the monks could help her most effectively, so she suggested Catrin undergo the month-long purification ritual. To her delight, Catrin agreed, and after a long evening meal, during which Gwen listened to Benjin and his companions and made mental notes about details of their journey to later parse with the information she and the other monks had about the Zjhon, she helped the girl settle in for the night then excused herself.
Realizing the situation Catrin faced was dire, Gwen called together her most experienced and diversely knowledgeable monks. After hearing her explanation, they agreed Catrin’s case was special, and it called for extreme measures. All of them would undergo the purification ritual along with the girl so they, too, would have clarity when the time came to answer her questions and assist her in moving forward in whatever direction her quest might go.
Gwen had forgotten how the ritual challenged perceptions, and several times during the experience, she found herself pondering uncertainties she’d long thought set aside, such as what had become of Brother Jacques and the other Varic monks and whether any of the Vasterberg boys in Sutherhold had made it home. By the end of the month’s activities, however, she had once again gained control of her thoughts and had attained a state of fresh clarity. The other monks expressed the same effect when they convened under the great tree in the courtyard of the Inner Sanctuary, where they waited until Catrin’s escort brought her to them.
Their conversation was enlightening. Gwen discovered Catrin had a bright mind full of curiosity and a genuine desire not just to gain knowledge, but also to apply it in dispelling dangerous and deadly misinformation. After hearing more of her story, Gwen and the others concluded the Zjhon had targeted Catrin because their narrow-mindedness prevented them from seeing the truth about her: she, like many others under the influence of the Istran comet cycle, experienced an elevated affinity for energy. The girl seemed relieved to separate fact from fairy tales, and her willingness to consider truths given in answer to her questions gave Gwen hope the girl might survive an almost guaranteed attack by the Zjhon.
Hoping to give Catrin some respite from the depressing and overwhelming options the monks’ answers opened up for her, Gwen proposed a change in subject, a focus on the potential of an inherited ability to control energy. “Perhaps this would be a good time for you to tell us a bit more of your story. It may answer some of our questions and raise new ones in your mind. I know it may be painful, but would you tell us of your mother and the circumstances of her death?” Apprehension tugged at Gwen when she asked for the details of something so painful for Catrin. Opening old wounds was not her intent.
As Catrin described the meal her mother had eaten and the symptoms she suffered afterward, symptoms leading to her death, Gwendolin felt ill. She forced herself to sit with her hand covering her mouth while mentally checking off each of the characteristics of the only substance she knew that could have caused such a death and still remained undetected: mother’s root. She recoiled in horror as she remembered the night in the barn in the Southland and pictured the transcribed notes she’d made for Benjin.
“Oh, Catrin,” she sobbed, pounding the soil with her fists. “I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry. I could have saved them; I should have. How could I have been so selfish and blind?”
The girl’s face bore total confusion, but she went to Gwen and tried to console her.
After a long moment and some water brought by a young monk, Gwen managed to pull herself together. With deep shame, she explained what had happened on the night she and Benjin had sat in the barn, how she had fallen in love with him but he had been so in love with Catrin’s mother that he hadn’t even seen it. She’d felt jealous and hurt by his indifference toward her, and she’d angrily scribbled down only the most basic details about mother’s root when he’d asked for her help. “I remember omitting the information on the effects of an overdose simply because I didn’t feel like doing it.”