It was surprisingly cold.
At least, it felt rather cold to Lang beneath his robe. He shifted a little, trying to make the thing more comfortable. After a two day ride wearing it, the thing still felt odd. It was white and reflected the Sun very well, keeping Her warmth off him. He felt sick.
He glanced longingly at the Sun from under his hood and the hung his head again. He should have picked an easier first promise. The pilgrimage for a young acolyte was not supposed to be easy, but still.
He had to make two promises, one short term and one for the entire journey, to himself and to the Mother. They were entirely up to him, but to choose easy things would have made the experience pointless. So he had decided that he would not let Her light touch him until he reached Essyrn, and that until he reached the temple in Arca he would refuse no one.
They seemed a lot easier when he’d left, now he considered that he might have made a mistake. The urge to vomit distracted him from his musings as he leaned to the side of his camel and fought back the retching.
As he drank the last of his water, Lang looked ahead. There, in the distance, a shimmering blob. Essyrn. Finally.
He kicked his camel into a run, adjusting to the rolling motion of the beast. It could move quite fast, especially when it was only lightly laden as it was now. He hadn’t brought much, some food, water, a couple of changes of clothing. No money. Surely even these heathens would give food and shelter to an acolyte of Solis.
You really are an idiot, you know that?
The voice in his head was that of his brother. He didn’t respond, for fear that if he opened his mouth his breakfast would come out instead of words.
Light he felt dirty. He hadn’t washed since leaving, and the sand encrusted on his skin and through his hair felt gritty and horrible.
He approached the south gate, noting the soldiers posted along the walls, in their shiny armor that didn’t seem to match anything. He looked away as the Sun’s glare caught his eye. And again. And again. Every time he looked back, no matter that he kept moving forwards. Curious.
Stretching his hand down and leaning as far as he could, Lang drew up a thin column of sand until if was in his grasp. He held it and closed his fist, taking a deep breath and summoning fire. Not the easiest thing to do after two days of no Sun, but he managed to produce the intense heat required to melt the sand into crude glass. Opening his fist again he looked at the shape, like a squashed fig. he held it up to the Sun, and looked at how it caught the Light.
Tossing the glass away, he turned away from the gates, and started skirting the city. He had no idea why, but apparently the Mother wanted him to go this way. He…he thought at least. The Mother had never actually spoken to him as She had many of the other acolytes, and he’d never been too confident in reading omens and signs. Still, might as well try.
He rode over dune after dune, seeing nothing that would warrant this path, until suddenly, two people appeared. A man and a woman. He looked hurt!
Lang jumped off the camel, not waiting for the beast to sit so he could dismount properly. He paid for that by falling heavily into the sand and rolling to get back up again. Rushing towards them he yelled out, “Are you alright there?�
Skidding to a halt Lang stopped in front of them, panting from the exertion after his fasting. The long robe was thick and made him look very much like a big white rectangle with a head on top of it, with a rather feminine looking face poking out from under the hood with a look of panic on it.
The panic soon became disgust however, when he saw the man was Solisi, and is forehead was branded. He looked instead at the woman, feeling again like he was going to throw up from looking at the exile. “Leave him,� he said, almost pleading, “Leave him be.� He wrung his hands nervously on the folds of his robe, wishing he could muster a bigger, more commanding voice.
[I also and full of the rambles.]
