Ceridor (Danubian #4)

23. Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Three

Ceridor

Many tearful hugs were had with Effie and Magnus, and Johann promised over and over that we'd be back in time for Christmas.

The May Day Spring Festival on May first was coming up. Since it had been two years, Johann was dying to see his homeland, so we would cut into West Danube territory before turning back into the mountains and working our way south toward Diana Monastery.

Johann looped his fingers in mine and I sent him a smile. We were traveling light, just our packs and a days' food and water with us so we didn't have to stop much before getting to his former home and capital. We were in no rush and thus chose to walk. We could chat more easily this way, since I needed to fill him in on a lot of things we would be heading into. Security sensitive conversation was harder to do on horseback, especially on forest paths where we'd need to ride single file and constantly be scanning for anyone nearby.

"So tell me about this power," said Johann softly, bumping our shoulders together.

I sighed and scanned the area around us. We were alone on the road. Maybe I could fill him in on some of it before we got to the next town.

"As you've heard, they are seven gods symbolized by seven lanterns, brought here by a mystic who has since died. That mystic befriended Ulbrecht and taught him how to perceive the gods, and now Ulbrecht claims he can feel the gods watching him in battle. Ulbrecht doesn't necessarily think the gods are protecting him, or that they would intervene to save him. Rather, he thinks the gods are watching him, witnessing his struggle, and thus Ulbrecht and his men fight with all their might with the understanding that they have divine eyes on them, in addition to the high stakes of defending their borders against invaders."

Johann squeezed my hand and swallowed, the gears clearly turning in his mind. "The gaze of the divine…that is an important power indeed, especially if they—the gods, or the power—could be convinced to support someone else who might steal the lanterns."

"The gods cannot be convinced of something by mere humans," I countered, but his overall point held true. "I too am afraid that as these rumors spread, competing factions could try to capture the lanterns and attempt to transfer their power. That puts a target on Wren's and Awariye's backs, since they've successfully managed already to bring the power down, and it would put a target on the back of any of the other monks in our group that might try to help, myself included."

"I am all the more grateful to you, then, for getting me started on meditative and spiritual practices. Perhaps I can help with this issue in some small way?" said Johann.

He glanced in my direction, but then seemed to lose his nerve and stammered, "Even if I am unable to do much, I can still use these skills to be wiser as a fighter, or potentially as a ruler. After only two years, I could at least see the creek sprite, and that white ball of lightning you sent out. That's got to count for something."

I squeezed his hand. "It is something, Johann, and I'm proud of you. You've put in the work, and I know you'll work hard at Diana Monastery."

"I will," he concurred.

We fell silent for several moments, deep in thought. I didn't tell him this, but being able to see the subtle planes so clearly after only two years of magical practice was quite unusual. More than likely, he'd practiced magic in a past life, if not in multiple incarnations, so he was actually building upon decades of practice rather than just the two years, but there was no way to confirm that.

"Have you read the Arthurian legends as an adult, outside of when I've sung them to you?" I asked, deciding to pivot.

"Of course," he answered. "Including the Germanic version of Parzifal."

I nodded, satisfied with that answer, then took another moment to gather my thoughts.

"The Arthurian archetype is dangerous," I explained. "Arthur protected his homeland, but remember, he ultimately failed to establish a lasting peace that survived his death. It's too late for Ulbrecht to avoid being associated with the Welsh warlord—I've heard Danubian people call him their Arthurian king—but if he can avoid expressing that archetype fully, then maybe this feeble peace won't be lost when he is."

"He's got us: S?ren, Igor, even me," Johann said with conviction. "He has warriors around him who are strong, who love him and would honor his legacy."

I hummed assent, squeezing his hand. "That, and just because the Britons were overrun by the Saxons after the fall of Arthur does not mean it was all in vain. He gave his people time, precious time to first enjoy the peace, for their culture to have its day in the sun, and then to flee to Wales and survive to the present. In those decades, Welsh bardic stories were sent to monasteries in Ireland, where they were protected from the raids and fires that swept through Briton with the Saxons. Thanks to those Irish Catholic monks that copied and preserved everything, including arguably some pagan pre-Christian texts, those stories survive even to today. In fact I've memorized quite a few of them over the years in my training. By this historical example, I've been sending folk stories to Marit at the monastery library for years."

"So we gather around Ulbrecht and try to keep him from meeting the same fate as Arthur," surmised Johann.

"That's one way to view it," I confirmed.

We walked for several minutes, both of us thinking of what lay ahead.

"I want to do what I can," my lover said. "I'm tired of my life being in a holding pattern. My sister is set up in the life she wants. She's safe, and I don't need to worry about her. She can take care of herself, and there's Magnus nearby should she need something. Now I want to pursue my dreams and goals. Effie never would have wanted me to sacrifice for her, and from that perspective my sticking around wasn't intentional. But now my life is mine."

"You've a role to play in this, Johann," I said, echoing the smile he sent me. "We all do."