She burst through the overgrown vegetation out into the clearing. Free of the restriction plant life she sprinted towards the village.
"I denounce the Goddess and her false family," Rhian heard Ewald whimper. She stopped dead in her
tracks, unseen in the shadows beyond the scaffolding. Her dagger drawn was teetering dangerously in her
hand.
"I beg of you, my life. The life of your humble servant."
The dagger tilted to the right but didn't fall. Rhian couldn't move. Vomit was rising in the back of
her throat. Her brain was jumbled, everything was swimming. Her own thoughts were incomprehensible to
her.
And the axe fell mercilessly and relieved Ewald's shoulders of his head.
The dagger slid sideways and out of her hand. Rhian fell to her knees as the vomit rushed forth full force to her gaping mouth.
When her stomach finally stopped heaving, she took up her dagger. Tears from the violent emptying of her stomach mixed in with those of betrayal and splashed down into the puddle of stomach acid and that evenings stew. Shakily she climbed to her feet, anger and
sickness clinging to her. Her mind was a mass of swirling thoughts and maddening circles of despair.
Ewald was dead. He had renounced everything in the end. His death was not that of a hero but that of a coward. Hope had died with him. What was left?
She stumbled back towards the woods, unable to digest what had just happened. And suddenly, as she stepped back into the shelter of the trees, it hit her. And the anger that she felt was like nothing
other. Aside from the death of her father, nothing had brought up so much disgust and revulsion. This bastard, this coward had led her people, and then when it came time to die for what he believed in, he
rejected it. And it sickened her that no one had come to his aide. Had everyone known that he was betray them ere he died?
Cahira shook, whether from rage or nervousness even she was unsure, as her mother primped at her hair and clothes. �I wish you would put on something a little more pleasing,� her mother sad as she began to braid another strand of hair.
�This is pleasing� to me,� said Cahira. Her father had forbidden leather but knew a man was a man One God or Many and had allowed traditional summer female clothing. It had been Cahira that picked out a flattering dark russet red cotton garb consisting of a short skirt and sleeveless blouse. Although, supposedly geared for hand to hand combat the outfit gave a sharply sexual undertone. There was even black leather cording to tie up the front of the blouse tightly and a thick black leather belt around the waist that held the shirt tucked into the skirt. The knives had been removed, of course, from the belt.
�I don�t see why you have to be so difficult. Can you just act civil to these people for one night?� she asked annoyed as she finished the last bit of hair up into a small twisting braid.
�No, more importantly, why should I?� demanded Cahira.
�Because they are the ones who put food on the table and a roof over your head. This tavern is known throughout the One Gods. May men stop here and even men more important then the
Chief Commander in Arms. Is that something you understand?� her mother asked.
�Why? Why? Why do you still let them in after what they did to Ailis! Look what they did to her! What they reduced her to!� demanded Cahira.
SMACK! The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed in the tavern�s back. Cahira winced and stepped back. Her hand fell to her face, her eyes wide, as a
big red mark appeared where her mother�s hand struck.
�Ailis� Worse things have happened to people then Ailis and they did not become like Ailis. And Ailis� my daughter had her faults, although, no one can blame her now for what became of her,� said her mother sadly.
�You horrible..!� shrieked Cahira.
�ENOUGH!� yelled her father.
Cahira dropped her eyes and watched from beneath long lashes her mother quickly scurry from the room like a cockroach to the shadows. She rubbed her cheek in an attempt to sooth the stinging and to comfort the tears back inside her skull as they welled in her eyes. How could her mother say that about Ailis?
Badir wasn�t sure if he regretted not going to the execution. He had never fully believed in the hype surrounding Ewald. Something about him didn�t seem right. He looked like a sheep herder who had stolen the royal
gowns in the fable. He was almost too confident in his position. He wore it with arrogance not pride.
When Cahira�s mother had offered to give him extra money if he watched Ailis he had seen his excuse. He was grateful for it. It wasn�t that he didn�t believe, for he believed in the Many Gods. He believed in their guidance and was comforted by their presence more then many for he had so few others to turn to for those things.
Badir watched as he picked the weeds from the garden as Ailis carried her wicker basket in the wooden chicken pen and filled it with eggs. It was a simple task and it made Ailis smile to be helpful. Badir also knew she liked little animals and the chickens were friendly. They had to be, when his mother died and his uncle took him in, he first lived in the chicken coop before he built his own home for winter.
Ailis giggled as she finished her task and placed the basket on the ground. Careful not to strike her head on the low top of the cage she picked up one of the white fat hens at her feet and pulled up her skirt so that she cradled it in its folds. She waved at Badir when she noticed him watching her and pointed at him when he waved back at her. �Badir,� she told the hen confidentially.