'Guards,' Jaerios ordered, raising his voice slightly to be heard above the crackling fire that continued to consume the blackened husk still standing in its midst. 'Dispose of the remains and bring forth the next prisoner.'
Ythnel stumbled over something sticking up out of the ground. It could have been a root or a stone; in the fading light, small pools of shadow obscured most of the ground. She would have sprawled face-first, but Brother Crocodile caught her up by the arm and steadied her.
'Kestus, we have to stop. We're lost, and wandering around in the dark isn't going to change that. When the sun comes up in the morning, we can'
'In the morning, we could all be dead,' Kestus said, his voice strained with frustration.
'We could die tonight by stepping in quicksand because we can't see a foot in front of us.' Brother Crocodile tried to reason with him.
'Or we could trip over a rock and break our necks,' Ythnel chimed in sarcastically.
Kestus sighed and turned back to the others.
'You're right. I'm sorry. It's foolish to push on.' He looked around them for a moment, as though coming to a decision. 'This spot is as good as any. We'll rest around this tree.' He pointed to a thick, gnarled trunk with black, corrugated bark. 'I'll set up a few wards that should give us ample warning if anything comes too close.'
As Kestus strode off to set his alarms, Ythnel plopped down onto the soggy ground and leaned back against the base of the tree. The rough ridges irritated the raw skin around the knife wound on her shoulder. The linen dress she had been wearing was little more than rags now and did nothing to protect her from direct contact with the elements. She shifted so that most of her weight was on the other shoulder, but the position was just as uncomfortable as the bark bit into her bruised muscles.
'Those are some nasty wounds,' Muctos commented as he ungracefully lowered himself next to Ythnel. 'You're a cleric, right. Why don't you heal yourself?'
'Loviatans seek to embrace pain, not avoid it.' Ythnel grunted as she shifted once more. 'The Maiden of Pain doles out mercy sparingly, and frowns upon those who are too quick to seek escape from suffering when endurance will suffice.'
'That sounds like you're reading straight from your creed book.' Muctos raised his hand and smiled wearily at Ythnel. 'Hold on, I'm not trying to start a fight. I was under the impression that Loviatans dealt suffering and pain to others, not themselves.'
'No one is exempt from the torments of this life,' Ythnel replied. 'By understanding pain, I become a better instrument in teaching others how to endure it.'
'Understanding is one thing, but I don't see the point of running yourself into the ground. How is that serving your goddess?'
Muctos's words reverberated in Ythnel's head, echoing back the doubts she had entertained while in the hands of the Karanoks. Why was she subjecting herself to needless suffering? Had she not proven herself able to endure? Would it not be appropriate to let herself heal now?
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Ythnel Wondered if perhaps she should continue to suffer as penance for her earlier lack of faith. However, even Headmistress Yenael had said that there was a time to relent and give kindnesses.
'You're right,' Ythnel said slowly, still unsure of the decision she had reached. One thing she did know was that she needed to be by herself right now. Pushing herself up off the ground, Ythnel walked a few yards away from the tree.
'So, you know my name.'
Ythnel started at Kestus's voice and turned her head to see him approaching. 'Yes. Viulvos told me.' Her voice caught at the dead mage's name, and she saw Kestus's face harden for a moment.
'I suppose it doesn't matter now, anyway,' Kestus said with a shrug. 'Don't go too far. I've set wards about forty feet out, so if you go beyond that, you'll trigger them unless you say 'ssorpa.''
With only the barest nod to acknowledge she had heard the mage, Ythnel changed direction, deciding to go where Kestus had come from. The thick night air closed behind her like a heavy curtain while the chirps and hisses of the swamp rushed in to carry her off to another world. She glanced over her shoulder, suddenly afraid she had wandered too far, but she could still see Kestus's back as he approached the two dark forms of the other mages huddled around a tree.
'Ssorpa' she whispered, just in case.
Feeling sufficiently isolated, Ythnel knelt down on the spongy turf, crossing her arms over her chest and placing her hands on opposite shoulders. She drew a deep breath and released it slowly. With another breath, she closed her eyes and prayed. As the words left her lips, tiny lashes began to sting Ythnel, indication that Loviatar was pouring out the Power to her. The stings flared into a wave of burning, a cleansing fire that scorched away all the aches and pains and soreness in its path. In its wake, Ythnel was renewed.
She opened her eyes with a gasp and was almost surprised not to see burnt husks in the place of trees, with a layer of ash covering everything. Ythnel rubbed her shoulders, trying to get out that last little bit of ache. Her fingertips brushed across a small patch of hard, smooth skin just above her right shoulder blade. Curious, she moved her hand to her cheek and traced two rough lines running down from the corners of her right eye. Loviatar had left her the scars to remember the pain she had endured.
Ythnel stood, ready to return to the others. She was tired, and with the edge taken off her injuries by the healing, perhaps she could get an hour or two of rest before they had to move on. She took a step, and a thought surged from seemingly nowhere to stop her in her tracks.
Pray.
It had likely been days since Ythnel had last performed her nightly ritual of prayer to Loviatar. She had lost all sense time while in Naeros's care and hadn't thought to ask the mages what day it was.
Going more than even a day without praying was unwise. The ritual strengthened the link Ythnel shared with her goddess and bolstered her faith.
Ythnel hesitated for a moment as she realized she didn't have her scourge medallion. The symbol served as the focus of her prayers, and a conduit through which she could channel the Power. It was an integral part of being a Loviatan, and Ythnel, her dress hanging in tatters that barely concealed her flesh, felt naked for the first time, knowing the medallion was not hanging around her neck.
Do not let your medallion become a crutch, Headmistress Yenael's voice called out from Ythnel's memories. It is only one means of focus. Anything can be used as a representation of your faith in the Willing Whip.
Ythnel scanned her surroundings. It didn't take long for her to find what she needed. She strode over to one of the rough-barked trees nearby. Standing on her toes, Ythnel reached up and grabbed one of the bare branches. She tested several of the thin offshoots, bending them this way and that until she found a suitable one of the right length. She twisted the piece off near its base and came away with a switch just shy of a foot long.
Kneeling once more, Ythnel began her chant, the rhythms punctuated with a swat of the stick over her shoulder or around her side. Each small sting brought euphoria, a sense of closeness to her goddess that made her swell inside. The connection continued to grow stronger, and Ythnel felt herself being pulled away somehow, detaching from her physical body and slowly drifting higher and higher.
The sun shone brightly upon the white stones of the courtyard. Ythnel thought she recognized the buildings that surrounded her, crammed together so they looked as though they were simply one expansive unit. The flat roofs reflected the light in such a way that all the edges of the structures were blurred, even when Ythnel squinted.
Gazing at the stairs in front of her that lead to a nondescript wooden door, Ythnel realized she was standing before the entrance to Master Saelis's home. Somehow, she was back in Luthcheq. The thought did not disturb her and quickly flitted away. It seemed as natural as the eerie silence she now noticed: in the center of a bustling city of tens of thousands, not a sound carried in the air or echoed off the buildings.
Ythnel turned the handle, opened the door, and stepped inside without hesitation.
'Master Saelis? Iuna?' Even before the echoes of her call died out, Ythnel new the house was empty except for herself and the furniture. She glanced around the living room. Everything looked as she remembered, except that all the edges seemed fuzzy. Ythnel blinked a few times and rubbed her eyes, thinking they were still adjusting from the brilliance outside. She looked again, but nothing had changed… besides the fact that she was no longer alone in the house.
