AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Ursa. Bear in the old tongue. Well, Ursa, this is Demos.” She turned to her side, where Demos stood. “He is a Servant of the Owl. Will you show him where the apothecary is? We’ll start there. And you…” She looked at the young woman whose black hair was peeking out of her maiden’s cap. She had a black eye and a torn sleeve. “What’s your name?”
“Diliah, m’lady.”
“Diliah, can you gather a few of the women who can bring the injured to the apothecary?”
“Yes, madame.”
Sierra turned to Demos and nodded, and he and Ursa walked away, the children following. The blacksmith stepped closer and bowed to her.
“My lady, anything you need, just ask. We are most grateful.” The man looked at Lucius then and put out a hand. “I’m Tomas.”
Lucius accepted and shook Tomas’ hand. “Lucius Dega, and my wife, Lady Sierra. Looks like you all have had quite an ordeal. When did this occur?”
“A few hours ago. They just rode in and… and…” Tomas shook his head, sorrow bowing his neck. “If you can help us, that would be mighty fine.”
“We’d be honored,” Sierra said.
So the next few hours were spent delegating and working in teams. Debris was picked up, doors and windows repaired, the injured taken to a makeshift infirmary, and food found and distributed, along with setting things to right as much as they could be.
All throughout, the snow fell softly, and the temperature dropped. More wood was chopped and brought in for fire. Sierra, Demos, and Ander spoke to every villager, offering comfort and making sure everyone had something to eat, somewhere warm to sleep, while Fadon was in charge of seeing that the village men had decent weapons and enough manpower to defend their people in case something like this struck again.
By the time evening had set in, Tarma’s people had things underhand, and all there was left to do was for Fadon and his party to bunker down for the night and ready themselves to ride out yet again in the morning.
It had been nice helping the people, Fadon thought as he settled himself on the floor of one of the empty cabins. He shared the space with six others, too exhausted to be picky. Lately he’d been so into his problems that it was rewarding to be able to help others with theirs. He had never heard so many “thank yous” before, especially not from the common people of Titus. It made Fadon realize, for the first time, how the Ongahri had become so removed from the rest of the world—always had been, honestly. It was good that the outside could see his people in a different light and not just a group to be feared but one to be respected and counted on.
He humbly had to give the credit to Lucius, who hadn’t batted an eyelash at helping these villagers. Fadon had seen that same quality in him at Ordelpho as well. The House Dega chieftain was born to leadership, and Fadon couldn’t help but contrast his reign with Mari’s.
The Ongahri as a whole had wasted so much of what made them warriors. Longevity, strength, resilience. At some point in time, they had decided they were better off sequestering themselves, whether out of indifference or arrogance. What they really needed to do, he thought as he rolled over, was expand their reach. Use their strengths to help all of Titus, not just themselves, something Fadon had never in his life contemplated, yet alone considered as a possibility. Things like today just never occurred, and for that alone he was humbled.
Before the day’s excursion caught up with him, he spent the rest of his night talking to Ongar, the Original Warrior, the first Ongahri of Titus. He prayed for peace, for forbearance, for clarity, and a pure heart.
But especially forgiveness.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Demos
Demos was tired but it was a good tired. He had no idea how much he had missed serving the people of Titus, how rewarding it was to use his knowledge and talents to make a difference in the lives of others. To facilitate healing, to mend, to give succor to those who needed aid. It was a part of him, this ability, an ability that couldn’t be hidden away within himself, stifled in darkness. It was meant to be used on the outside, in the light. It was one of the many reasons being a Servant had called to him, his gift that could only be shared and spread, not used for himself alone.
He sat in front of the fire, his knees drawn up, arms resting atop them. He stared at his hands, marveling at their significance. Tools, hands were. Whether for destruction or creation. Comfort or pain. Healing or killing. He had put his hands to good use today, and he sent a prayer of thanksgiving to the Mother for Her guidance. Long ago he had stopped asking Her why She allowed such atrocities in the world, like what had occurred here in this village of such hardworking, humble people, people whose only crime was that they weren’t wealthy enough to have prevented what had befallen them.
The life of Man was an unfair, unbalanced thing. But we still had choices, Demos said to himself. All of us had a choice, had a will, and because we were powerless to the tides of circumstance and Nature, our best selves could only choose the best course.
“…you hungry?”
Demos shook himself and turned his head. Sierra was standing beside him, a plate of food in her hand in offering. “My apologies, I was…”
“Deep in thought?” she offered with an amused smile.
“Something like that.” He took the plate and patted the floor. “Come sit. You need to rest.”
With a lovely sigh, she sat down at his side and leaned against him. “I am tired. But the good kind, you know?”
“I do indeed. Was just thinking that myself. It was good to get back to my duties as Servant. Thank you for assigning me that role today.”
“And thank you for accepting. We did some good here, but not enough, I am afraid. I don’t understand how someone could do this. I’ve read about such things in books, history and literature, of course, but I had no idea it happens.”
Those marauders had done so much damage. Raping, pillaging, stealing, killing. Sierra had learned a lot today about the world. “The majority of people are good, though, Sierra. But sadly, knowing that small handful of evildoers isn’t the norm doesn’t help us feel better, I know.”
