Private Song of Souls - ii - Mercy in Fourths

[Anepithymitos of Idridri]

“I worry for you. The plan cares for me, but for you there is no such security.”
- Corsae Palenquin​

I am but Androcles reborn.

His foot didn’t hurt. His right foot. Everything else did. Everything else hurt so much that Pithy was unsure if he hadn’t somehow looped back around to no longer being in pain. He was going numb. The blood loss had been stemmed, but he felt weak still.

A sharp jarring in his side indicated that the cart he had stowed away on had just gone over another divot in the road. How long had he been back here? A day? Three? The merchant had not looked over his wears in sometime. This had to be the case, for surely, they would have noticed a dishevelled and bloodied Pithy lying under one of the covers. Or perhaps they had seen him? Was that worse? Could they be taking him some place he did not want to go?

He gasped, a sharp unexpected pain shooting through his sternum. That was new.

It had been over his month since his departure from Idridri, and a couple of weeks since his departure from the path he had determined to follow. Since the decision to deviate from the path, he had been robbed…twice. The second time left him with bruises on his bruises. He was pretty confident he no longer had fully intact ribs. Breathing was hard. It had taken him what felt like hours to crawl out of the ditch. And it had taken all his willpower to not scream in agony as he stood and rolled into the covered wagon as its owner stopped for a brief nature break behind a tree. Then it was just time.

He lay in something damp. Something damp that had grown cold over the hours since he came to his resting place.

He had had only one goal in his departure from the path. He refused to endanger Corsae, his family or anyone for whom he cared. His departure had made him a target. Powerful people wished him not to speak, not to enliven any resistance. His ability to determine his own direction had taken many painful knocks.

---

Railos was almost home. He could taste the soup already, assuming his dear wife had kept her tradition up. She knew today was the day he was scheduled to return, though it was some time later in the day than he had planned. His extra cargo in the back had delayed him a few times. The young man was familiar to him, known around Idridri as he was, but Railos only knew Anepithymitos by name and reputation. To find him trying to jump into the back of the cart was unexpected, but no so much his physical state. Railos had tried to clean him up, tried to treat his wounds, but the delirious young man would always fight back. It was probable that infection was beginning to set in causing an increasing delirium.

From what he knew of the young man, his family would not be pleased to see his return, but there was a young woman with whom he had been friends. Perhaps she would be willing to take him. The path to her farm took him over many a hill, but he now approached the farm house as the sun set behind it.

“Gaia?” Railos called out, “Gaia!”

Gaiatrie of Idridri

 

[Gaiatrie of Idridri]

She did not realize who called out at first, or what it was that they said, as she stood from the shearing stool and set down her razor tool. “I will finish soon,” she promised her sheep with hand to a shorn portion of her flank before rushing out of the shed. Her name became clear as she neared the back courtyard of the farmhouse. “Yes?!” she answered it. “I am here, Railos! What is wrong?” She met him just as he came upon the home's threshold.

“Anepithymytos is in my cart,” the man replied.

Relief washed over Gaia's face. “Nonsense. He must be across the star-s—”

“He bleeds in my cart,” Railos asserted again.

Her features contorted to worry once more. “Show me,” she said even as she began to show herself down the path.

---

Railos’ wife was, at first, furious to see her husband return home late, but, after learning what had kept him away, she bade him return to Gaia's farm with one and a half portions of soup. He did not mind that it meant his family had less this night—not after seeing the state Pithy found himself in, as well as the state that had put the young woman into.

No, she must not be expected to cook like that; not for herself but definitely not for a guest.

After receiving the generous gift and seeing the gifter back home for good, Gaia turned from the door to where Pithy lay near the hearth on a stone bench made with her most plush sheep's wool. “Our Lady has a cruel sense of humor,” she said dryly before coming to kneel on the floor beside him. “Say you are hungry,” a hint of a smile broke her tired, worried countenance, “even if you are not.”

When they had the more delicate palates of young children, Jestrista used to say as much to them every time she prepared something they were not fond of.

Anepithymitos of Idridri

 

[Anepithymitos of Idridri]

He saw the flames. Wisps of light and heat. Engines? He was flying. He was in the ship taking him beyond the confines of his beloved home. His heart sunk. He would never see her again.

He fell asleep. Or did he die? Was he whisked away to parts ethereal? The words of an angel broke through his trembling stupor.

"Say you are hungry, even if you are not."

His mind sought wit. For whatever he thought wit to be, it seemed he attained it with his words. Pride in his response swelled.

"The bell tolls once for food...but Corsae brings none on Taungsday..."

His heart sunk as he realized his words meant nothing. Just a mess of nothing. He had thought it wit only to find himself clutching for coherence.

As if by habit he leaned forward and opened his mouth. Food had been offered, and he knew this was the correct way to respond. But was it really? He didn't know if he was even leaning very far forward. It hurt, so he guessed he was moving something.

"Speak of me of this place...it is Orius...yes?" He said, in a loop, breaking only to stare at the flames again. He could not make much out, faces, details, all were still so cloudy. Despite his lack of vision, a pit formed in his stomach. It was not the soup. It was sent of the gods. It was the voice. Familiar. It was familiar.

Gaiatrie of Idridri

 

[Gaiatrie of Idridri]

His poor, tired muscles did not move and so he did not lean forward much despite the pain.

Gaia did not frown, not at the effort of physical response nor the nonsensity of his verbal one. Behind her eyes, she acknowledged that both bode badly, but, lest he be able to see her features, she would not let herself take on any quality of a mirror, for that would bode badly as well. Still, she wished not to lie to him, but neither to excite. "This is a safe, warm place," she replied. "You shall heal here."

Anepithymitos of Idridri

 

[Anepithymitos of Idridri]

“Is it you?”

He opened glazed eyes and looked past Gaia trying to focus in on her person. She appeared only as a lifeform…a mass of blurry life…but not as a recognisable person.

”Say it is Orius…say not that it is Gaia…”

With all he had, he swung his leg over the side of his perch and tried to stand. It was hopeless, he had no strength, and fell to all fours. Despite his lack of awareness, his heart told him the worst was true. He had been brought to the home of his dearest Gaiatrie. This was his nightmare made real.

”…I do not wish to be in your presence…”

He worded things poorly in his stupor.

“…your presence brings pain…pain will come…”

He began to crawl towards the door. What he felt like was a determined effort was actually a flailing mess of limbs that took him nowhere. He began to weep, not for the pain that shot through his body, but for the realization that no ever delerium could mask. He had brought danger to the home of his beloved…friend.

”…not safe…not safe…cannot stay…please…let me leave…not safe…”

He slumped to the floor, the last words dying on his lips.

”…must…be far…from Gaia…she cannot know…safer…”

Gaiatrie of Idridri

 

[Gaiatrie of Idridri]

When he swung his legs from the bed, she jerked somewhat back herself, spilling a good bit of soup before she could set it down of the part of the bench he had just vacated. As she did so, he collapsed to the floor. Her attention rushed back to him.

"…I do not wish to be in your presence…"

Suddenly, tears came to her eyes. "See?" a memory echoed in her head. "I am the villain. You like me no longer."

He then tried to crawl.

The movement brought her back to reality. For the next moments, she forgot the sting of his chosen words. She extended her arms for both of his, seeking to stop their movements—this confusion. When anchored, she pulled herself over the floor to be in front of him. "Shhh shh sh..." Her hands found their way to his back, her chin to his shoulder, and she held him to her. "I am Pylaris, remember? You are very, very safe with me."

Anepithymitos of Idridri

 

[Anepithymitos of Idridri]

“Pylaris? Praise be…” He cried pitiful tears.

“Tell me of my Gaia…is she well?” He said, looking up towards the origin of the voice, in his delirious state he thought to see the face of a goddess looking upon him.

“She must not know…not safe…must…”

His hand attempted to reach out, a feeling of familiarity washing over him, and he sought to confirm his fears. He had not strength.

“…speak words of truth, goddess…I may die…but Gaia may live...yes?”

And with those strained words falling from his mouth, his eyes rolled back and he passed out on the floor.

Gaiatrie of Idridri

 

[Gaiatrie of Idridri]

Gaia found that she could not speak. With each of Pithy's words, she fell deeper into confusion. With each word, fear also mounted, for whatever was she to say?

Relief washed over her first when he fainted—at the sudden silence that broke through all expectation of her—before another bout of worry followed. She grasped the hand that he had tried to move and used it to pull him close. She lowered an ear to his chest, where the fibers of his tunic tickled her skin but through which she heard the steady beat of his heart. Its cadence told her that she did not need to call for the healer, at least not yet, but just to get him back into his makeshift bed.

She threw his arm over her shoulder, struggled only a little to pull him up, and placed him back on the furs.

Whenever he woke, he would find cinders keeping the hearth warm. A note addressed to his full first name was tucked halfway under his pillow.

Anepithymitos:​

​

I apologize for misleading you last night. I did not think you would take me for literal. I should have known better given the state you were in.​

​

It is Gaiatrie. If you do not wish to see me, that is your right, but I pray that you do not yet go. I hope that you feel better in some way today but you are still not well. Be as still as possible until I return.​

​

I left at dawn for a small lake near Phasekion to collect some skunea for secretions for an ointment. I plan to return by midday.​

Anepithymitos of Idridri

 

[Anepithymitos of Idridri]

Waking took several minutes and even as Pithy came to completely he still found himself wondering if he were dreaming. He was back in Gaia’s home. Had he heard her voice? Felt her closeness? His heart leapt and sunk at the thought. A sort of emotional whiplash saw him drive heaving over the side of his little cot. It was only when he recovered from the initial understanding of his circumstance that he felt the brush of paper against his upper arm.

He tugged at it, and it tore slightly as his shoulder pressed his weight upon the hidden edge of the paper. Pithy felt immediately sick again, before pulling the parchment before his wearied eyes. “Midday…”

Eyes, through a mop of blonde curls, took in his surroundings. They paid careful attention to the windows. There was only a slight angle to the light, and varied shades due to the duel stars around which they did orbit. It was close to noon. Pithy sunk into his cot. Even if he could manage it, he could not depart with enough haste as to avoid Gaia crossing his path.

His mind raced. How many knew of his return to Idridri? How many knew of his presence in her home? It was not for moral decencies sake that he worried. It was life. Or it was death. He ran for his own life, and put his dearest one’s life in jeopardy.

---

“You do not love me. I know this. But…could you learn to?”

Corde appeared haggard. A night left worrying about Pithy’s declaration had left her beauty blemished by bloodshot eyes, deep furrows in her otherwise wrinkleless brow and an over all air of the destitute.

”Before…perhaps.”

His heart ached. He had no desire to hurt nor jeopardize Corde’s safety, but he knew too that he could not live the lie for long. Better the lie be shattered now than it be when they were married, or even more so when she were potentially with child.

“Before…Gaiatrie?”

Pithy started. Eye looking at his betrothed with surprise, before replying quickly. “No…no,” he said, but he words felt in many ways as false as the lie he was running from now. “Before seeing my people scattered and losing faith in who they are…in who they were born to be.”

She looked annoyed now. Her expression said, “This again?” She didn’t need to speak the words. “See it as a job then…”

”I cannot, Corde,” he said. His words were not harsh, or loud, but they stopped Corde in mid-sentence nonetheless. She fell silent, and looked away for some time. Pithy allowed her the time to think, but he watched those thoughts play out on her face. He counted all seven stages of the grief that she was enduring.

“What will you do?”

Her words were soft, grief-ladden, but as close to a statement of true love that he had ever heard from her. Pithy looked to the floor, eyes dropping tears of confusion and worry.

”I will run.”

“They will hunt you.”

“I will hide.”

“They will go to Idridri first.” Pithy understood her meaning. Do not risk the woman you love.

She looked sad, but it was for him. Pithy understood why. He was running from a lie he could not live and from a wife-to-be that he did not love, but he could not go home and to the hearth that would welcome him, nor the woman that…he shut his thoughts down.

”I will go the opposite way. And I will go now.” He stood, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“You will do as we discussed?”

Corde nodded, tears were now hers. She had not liked the idea of the plan, of her being the one to alert to their superiors to his escape and playing the role of embittered, jilted lover. Less was it that she considered it beneath her, and more that she considered much of it to be a lie. She had to live a lie, so he could be free to not. Pithy seemed not to understand this though.

”I will.”

“Find peace, dear Corde.”

”Go well, dear Pithy.”

---

 

[Gaiatrie of Idridri]

While she was gone, she tried not to think about what she would do if he was gone by the time she returned. She was able to push the possibility from her mind as she fished, preoccupied with catching the leeches without letting them latch onto her, but, as she walked back to the farmhouse with her amphora and net, she couldn't help but worry. What if he had somehow found the strength to leave?

No, he can barely stand, she reminded herself, and the comfort that the fact gave her was embarrassing. Of course she wanted him to be well again, just not now.

Not until she knew what in the Underworld was going on.

She was tired of being pushed from his life, first before university and now after as well. As far as she could see, he was only being selfish all over again. Her pace home quickened twofold, fueled by not concern any longer but a rising resentment.

By the time she opened the backdoor to the main house, her new emotion had calmed without ebbing. She walked through the few rooms and into the living area where Pithy's cot was. Her heart both swelled and sunk upon seeing him as she had left him, which created a very uncomfortable sensation in her chest. "A..." she began before her words caught in her throat. "A not particularly good morrow, yet not a bad one either I would say."

Anepithymitos of Idridri​

 

[Anepithymitos of Idridri]

Pithy started, having been lost in thought. “Gaia…greetings…ambivalent are our days indeed…”

…for I both long for your presence but fear for your safety.

He pushed himself up on his elbows. It was a futile attempt to readjust. He winced in pain, and slouched further into his coat. It was not all his intention.

”I am sorry for any undue stress I have caused you…but I must ask…why would you think I not wish to see you?” He said, referring to the note she had left. It had plagued his thoughts. What had he said? While he wished not to be here for her sake, it was most definitely not for his heart’s longing that he wished be gone.

He tried to prop himself up again, this time only partially succeeding.

”I suspect I shall be here some time…so the distance between us…that I deduce from your letter…should be addressed soon rather than after days of torturous double speak.”

Gaiatrie of Idridri

 

[Gaiatrie of Idridri]

As he spoke, she had crossed the room, picked up a stirring stick, and put it into the hearth. The intensity of her gaze implied her focus on the task at hand, keeping the fire alive. She didn't reply to his thoughts at first, giving the impression, perhaps, that she had somehow not heard him before she finally spoke.

"Addressed?" she repeated. "I think not, dear guest."

Removing the stick from the hearth after shaking the ashes off its end, she placed it back in its place. "Are you hungry?" she asked, not allowing him to reply to her refusal first.

Anepithymitos of Idridri​

 

[Anepithymitos of Idridri]

“Hunger escapes me.”

Pithy leaned back in his chair, hurt by her refusal to talk. The dismissal was one that stung, taring at the scars of old. He felt emotions of yestertime threaten to resurface. His eyes closed as he leaned back into his cot. “I have played the fool,” he whispered.

Turning towards the newly stoked fire, he opened his moistening eyes to look into the flame. “I have insulated the Pithy of today…from the Pithy of the past…but not spared a thought to those who had not done similarly.”

He had come back into Gaiatrie’s life as if it had not happened. With ne’er a mention of the past, or his failed wooing of her. He had become different. He had become other to Idridri, to Gaiatrie, to his home. He had explained little. Assumed much. And despite his best efforts to not put her in danger, his subconscious had still lead him back to her midst his fevered stupor.

“I tried so desperately to stay away this time. Knowing that those who mean me harm will be in pursuit. Of all the grievances I should bare in this life…the greatest that could be…would be for they whom I hold most dear to suffer for my decisions.“

He spoke more to himself, with hopes that she might eavesdrop on his quiet confessions.

“My betrothal to Corsae was a facade. One I could no longer uphold. My handlers…as I call them now…arranged the union so as to bring more allegiance to the ways of the Force. But I did not believe it. I felt only fear for a woman similarly cornered by circumstance…but she assured me…with our plan to make me look the criminal…that she would be spared. And so I fled. But I carried a wound that was soon infected. And in my state of delirium…my very soul...took me where I most longed to be, but where I feared to go…”

His eyes moved slightly to see if she had moved, or looked his way.

”…to you.”

Gaiatrie of Idridri

 

[Gaiatrie of Idridri]

Even if he was not hungry, she was. From where she went to stand in the kitchen, beginning to fix herself a flatbread, she did overhear his musings. She listened quietly, not intending to pretend she was not but simply so shocked at his monologue than she knew not how to interrupt him with anything intelligent on her part to say.

Finally, half of a silent minute after he had finished speaking, she came back through the doorway. She stood watching him for another few moments with a knit brow before asking, "Just how cruel can you possibly be?" Her brow smoothing as her curiosity vanished. "Do not answer. I wish not to know." She scoffed. When she spoke again, her relatively steady tone had given way to an accusatory one. "Gods above, if I had known how ultimately painful befriending a man outside of my family would be, I would not have done it.

"You were close," she added, "I will concede though you do not deserve to know. You almost, almost pulled me into your heart this time. Chandrila taught you rhetoric well."

Anepithymitos of Idridri​

 

[Anepithymitos of Idridri]

"Only a friend, could know how to wound more than the soldier's blade."

In the shadowed aftermath of Gaiatrie's poignant lament, Pithy stayed like a statue wrought in thought, his visage awash with a tempest of emotions. Her words, sharp as a dagger's edge, cut through the air and into the recesses of his soul, stirring memories long veiled by the mists of time and distance.

"My dearest Gaiatrie," he began, his voice a somber echo in the quiet chamber, "why do you answer me so? Have I but addressed issues unsaid, only now to our mutual chagrin." His eyes, pools of sincerity, sought hers with a fervent intensity, as if to plead for understanding amidst the tumult of their shared history.

"In youth's folly, I dared aspire to a union that fate had not ordained," Pithy continued, his words measured yet fraught with the weight of rueful hindsight. "I offered my heart upon the altar of our friendship, praying for it to be crowned with the laurels of reciprocity. But alas, the gods decreed otherwise, and in their caprice, ordained our paths divergent."

He leaned back in his perch, his breathing echoing the cadence of his recollections. "Of a truth, depart I did, from my beloved home, seeking solace in the halls of distant knowledge. I cowered behind education and wanton aspiration."

With a wistful smile tinged with regret, he turned to face her once more. "To hear your words now, Gaiatrie, is to uncover wounds I had thought healed. For what is friendship if not a bond woven with the threads of affection and tempered by the forge of shared trials?" His gaze softened, brimming with a blend of admiration and longing.

Pithy looked to her with a reverence akin to reverence one might show a sacred relic. "Know this, beloved friend of yore: though years and leagues have sundered our paths, my heart has remained tethered to the bond we once shared. To deny such feelings would be to deny the very essence of my being. You may trample them now, but they shall not go unsaid."

"If my honesty offends, let it be known that it springs not from cruelty but from a desire laid bare, in the hope that honesty may forge a bridge across the chasm of time."

Silence descended upon them like the hush before a storm, pregnant with unspoken truths and unresolved emotions. Pithy held her gaze steadfastly, his heart laid bare in the quietude of their reunion.

"Forgive me, Gaia," he murmured, his voice a soft entreaty, "if in my candor I have brought you pain anew. Yet, in this moment, I cannot but confess that my heart still beats to the rhythm of memories untamed."

His expression was a portrait of vulnerability and steadfast resolve, awaiting her response with bated breath. He stood poised on the precipice of hope and regret.

Gaiatrie of Idridri

 

[Gaiatrie of Idridri]

Gaia drew a step closer and opened her mouth.

Then, she closed it. She turned her intended words inward.

He has unbalanced humors, she reminded herself. That is all.

"We shall revisit this after I milk the skunea," she said though she wished very much not to do the former. With any luck, he would be asleep when the time for her to redress his wounds, and then after the ointment she was fixing to make began to work he would be in a better state of mind.

With that, she took her leave from the living room, and the farmhouse itself, to her shed.

Anepithymitos of Idridri​

 

[Anepithymitos of Idridri]

She left. She walked out. Without an answer. Pithy felt as though his heart were dangling above a chasm, gravity yet to take its victim, and wondering if he could fly. It left him more devastated than he would have imagined.

He felt himself shrink down in the cot. His heart closed over with bitterness. He had played the fool, and been made worse than their master. No heed was given to the unfairness of his petition, instead only the sadness of his delayed rejection.

He knew she did not love him. Once and for all.

By the time Gaiatrie had returned, Pithy had retreated within himself, even to the point of feigning sleep to avoid conversation.

---

A month or so had passed. The conversation had returned. The weather was discussed at great length. Compliments were given on the cooking, and the care of himself. No attempt was made to bridge the divide, to grow beyond that of acquaintances.

Banal cordiality was the order of the day. Depth had been forgone for polite small talk.

Pithy was getting stronger. He was able now to get up and care for most of the house hold chores. This was providential. It meant Gaiatrie could spend more time out on the land, out of the house. She seemed not to mind.

He had not ventured outside. The risk was too great. He had attempted to explain the circumstance to Gaiatrie, but she seemed to simply accept that he could not, but would leave when he was capable of doing so. Given the awkwardness of their interactions, it was hard to imagine anyone prolonging it unnecessarily.

It was after lunch, and the normal time that Pithy felt his energy reserves depleted. This was when he spent time on his knees, in devotion to the deity he had chosen for the day. The next few hours would be spent quietly reciting the knowledge he remembered from his studies of the old ways. It was his penance for indulging in the Force worship that he so loathed now.

Part way through his prayers, Pithy heard the door open. It was an odd time for Gaiatrie to have returned. She had only just recently left from her midday meal. Curiosity overwhelmed his fatigue, and he pushed himself to his feet. He felt the heavy weight of his tiredness pull down over his head like an invisible blanket. His shoulders drooped, his eyelids grew heavy and he felt the invisible hand of fatigue squeezing the back of his neck.

Pithy put a hand against the door frame. “Gaia?”

The footsteps that approached were not the light, graceful steps of his friend. “Gaia?” He said, knowing full well it was not her.

His fingers curled around a nearby candlestick, but he was not fast enough. The figure that came into view was a large, burly man, and his fist was already flying at Pithy’s face. The young man’s head cracked back with a jolt and his eyes went instantly blurry. He fell to the floor, fatigue, pain and shock removing any fight.

He was being dragged across the floor. His arm hurt from the towing. The large man was holding his wrist, and with little care for Pithy’s well being, dragging him towards the front door. “Gaia…Gaia,” Pithy said, voice straining to yell but letting out only a whimper.

Despite how much he hurt, the greatest hurt was not knowing where she was and if she was aright. His question as to her location was quickly answered. She was outside, kneeling, and surrounded by thugs. Pithy stumbled to his feet, groaning half words. He tried to tell them to get away from her, but his face was already back in the dirt. The ache left from the blow that sent him there was already setting in.

”Aiding and abetting a criminal,” said a calm, eery voice, “this cannot be allowed to go unpunished…woman…we will take him. But that is not enough.”

Pithy’s eyes cleared, he looked in the direction he thought Gaia to be, but instead saw the lifeless eyes of old Railos staring back at him. “I forced her to secrecy!” Pithy said, trying to plea for mercy, “I am the one you want…she is my victim!”

They were going to kill her. He had brought this. He had done this.

His eyes watered, obscuring the sight before him, but it was impossible to miss the sight of torches being lit.

Gaiatrie of Idridri

 

[Gaiatrie of Idridri]

She was outside, kneeling, and surrounded by thugs, clinging to a pelt. The beige fur stippled in black covered her lap and spilled onto the soil below in front of her. It was Kolumbao. Surely, Pithy would not be able to tell through blurry vision and over distance that he yet breathed shallowly. Sleep through this, my boy, she thought. Even if the inside of her throat had not felt as raw and constricted as it did now, she would not have dared to say any word to the lynx-dog's unconscious form.

Neither did she dare to speak similar comfort to Pithy, nor talk back to the thugish leader, nor make an appeal to Railos. What would any of it accomplish?

No words would be able to unwind the emotions that had taken Pithy from his heart—not now, and perhaps not ever.

Those who had come to arrest him had certainly decided on Gaia's sentencing some time ago; these torches were not implements of opportunity but agents of premeditation. They may not understand the full weight of their actions, but this was their declaration of dedication to Iamus, god of sadistic violence.

And old Railos. Well, he was in no place to defend anyone but his family. This was the only way in which he could do it. Gaia did not blame him. In contrast to the thugs, Agathonice smiled on the elder man. This allowance of violence was permissible in the Old Ways.

What she did was look on in shock, gaze tracking the thugs' movement as one took torches from the saddlebags of one of their horses, passed them around, and began to light them. Some of the flames reflected off her earthen-colored eyes, and then flickered away for a moment as the torches were cast into the archway of her house and into her personal garden, just to return to return as the fire caught. It grew hungrily, tearing across the closely-packed vegetables and climbing the olive tree that she had harvested from just this afternoon. Soon enough, fire spread into another field to lap at the wooden sides of her farming shed.

She had let her flock out into a paddock to graze early that morning. It was a small mercy that Pithy had not sought refuge here in the winter, when they would have been kept inside. One sheep rose her head from the grass to appraise the fire, brayed, and turned tail to lead the others to freedom in the unknown hills.

As she watched the ongoing destruction, she missed the thugs dragging Pithy away.

After they had gone, the accumulating scent of smoke roused Kolumbao. He remained there with Gaia in the middle of the dirt path to watch until the last ear of wheat in the furthest field burned to the ground.

What would her father call her now? Surely not his ear of grain, not anymore.

Anepithymitos of Idridri​

 

[Anepithymitos of Idridri]

Music​

Grief. Unbearable grief.

Pithy's heart shattered for her. Even through the haze of his returning vision, he knew what was happening. They were destroying the farm with flame. He muttered his apologies through grief torn sobs. He was of the ten fools. When his mind had failed him on his attempt to escape, his heart had brought him back to Gaia. Destruction had followed in his wake.

Pithy struggled to free himself of his captors grasp. It was a foolish attempt. He was still dazed, and the thugs only saw to it that his fast was shoved into the dirt. Pithy coughed, gagging on the dust that filled his mouth and lungs. "Gaia!" Her name was all he could think to say.

He felt his hands being bound by coarse, fibrous rope. Then his legs. He was lifted by the ropes, his arms straining at an unnatural angle behind his back. His groan was met with a silencing swipe across his face.

He felt the impact of being tossed carelessly into the back of a wagon. He kicked out with his feet, trying to find any one of the thugs to hurt. His eyes, red with irritation from the dust he had just been shoved into, were wide with anger. "By the gods...I will not rest...until you all..."

"The gods are dead, deist."

Pithy felt one final blow to his face. And all went black.

The End
of
Part II​