Rising of Tides

[Lion]

Sarebin was mad.  He had to be.  It was the only reasoning Mercuxio could see to keep himself grounded, to keep from screaming in rage and striking down the man where he stood.  But from where did that anger stem?  And toward whom was it truly directed?  At the Saint, or himself?

Merric stood, as he watched Olive pulled to her feet once again.  "Exile you?  As if the would should suffer your defiance, mage," Sarebin growled and then looked to Merric.  "You will do your duty and take the dregs of this camp to Karth.  A patrol will follow along.  I will expect no less from you than perfection, Templar Merric."

Mercuxio huffed, feeling as if the life had been drained from him, feeling the burning hatred that stemmed from Olive's expression, and the pangs of guilt as if they were the tearing vollies of musket fire.  He was empty, and staring Sarebin for what seemed an eternity before bowing his head.  "Yes, Saint Sarebin," he said and moved to prepare for departure.

[kleineklementine]

When she'd come to Valinarus, Olive had been escorted politely by an Adhara. She'd been brought back to her quarters in Uthlyn, allowed to pack whatever possessions she desiered and could carry. She'd been allowed to bring her dog. She'd traveled with the Adhara in a coach. Now she had no possessions left to bring. Her dog had gone with the twins in the failed escaped and had been killed trying to protect them. And for the journey, the Confessors hauled her into the back of a supply wagon. She felt the slam of the doors and heard the loud click of the lock in the back of the wagon. Gloomy light seeped into wagon, but there was little to see. Olive was locked up with the scraps of whatever petty supplies the Confessors brought with them. But nothing she could use.

And what would she use it for now?

Olive's body shook as she let out a long exhale. It was too surreal. Of all the souls at Valinarus, only sh survived. Only Olive. How could it be possible? Curling up against a sack of flour, Olive squeezed her eyes shut, the faces of the dead flashing before her eyes as she tried to force herself to sleep.

[Lion]

The hours passed in solemn silence and Mercuxio felt that emptiness inside take home, reverting to the cold reasoning he'd always possessed.  He knew he would answer for what he had done in that camp.  God was watching that day, and had done nothing.  He'd been watching him...and offered no guidance.  Mercuxio could not blink away the horror of that slaughter, and he wouldn't allow himself.

Those images would stay with him until the end of his days.  He had tried to make a difference.  But one thing was for certain, he had no tried hard enough.  Where reason could not take control, blood reigned.  And it was his fault.  It was a mistake he would not make twice.

Was there any relief in saving one lone mage?  Was there any reprieve from the weight that made his shoulders heavy?  How could the horse beneath him carry him along with the rest of the Confessors?  Mercuxio felt himself slipping gradually back, allowing Sarebin's lieutenant to take the lead and he rode alongside the squeaking wheels of the supply cart, and listened to the faint breathing that came from within.

It wasn't long before the patrol came to a stop.  A moment of rest for the otherwise restless.  It was clear that the other Confessors wish to be on their way.  But for now, it was enough time to water the horses and eat a small meal.  Mercuxio had taken his own blanket from the saddle, and carefully unlocked the door to the supply cart, stepping within as quietly as he could.

He said nothing, hoping not to wake Olive as she slept, and placed the blanket over her.  The night would only get colder.

[kleineklementine]

Olive had eventually fallen into an exhausted sleep made heavy by the physical and emotional traumas of the last few days. But the movement of the blanket being drawn over her pulled her abruptly out of her sleep.

She came to with a start, clamoring backwards to face whoever had come into the cart. It took her another moment to realize: it was Mercuxio. Olive was bleary with exhaustion and she stared at him now with less malice than before. If anything, in that moment, she looked more small, helpless, than she looked fiery or defiant.

But there was no mistaking the wary frown on her face. She was neither happy or relieved to see him.

"What do you want?"

[Lion]

Merric knelt back on his knees, resting an elbow on his thigh and observing her features in the obscure dark.  Already night was falling again.  "Nothing," he said, eyes flickering to the blanket.  "I don't want anything. I think I've taken enough.  But I can't imagine this supply cart is any more comfortable."

[kleineklementine]

"Yes," she answered slowly, still thick with sleep, "I think you have."

He'd taken everything. Every one of those souls. All gone. All dead.

Olive shifted, shuffling upwards so she was sitting up more. She stared for a long time at Mercuxio, pale and dirty, with an odd calmness. "What are you doing back here, Mercuxio? If you're here to congratulate yourself on keeping me alive..." She couldn't quite finish that sentence. Instead she looked away. For the first time since the slaughter, she felt hot tears filling her eyes. "I wish you hadn't."

[Lion]

"I know," he said, tone heavy, yet with a solemnity behind it.  "I guess I just wanted to see how you were...  I don't think anyone would congratulate themselves for what happened.  Except perhaps Sarebin...  This was all mistake.  I should have never cosme to Valinarus.  But, perhaps, it is too late for regret."

He brushed his hair from his face.  "I was not prepared to find someone I knew in a place like this...  I haven't seen my family in over a year...  I had forgotten about you.  About the lives of those that I cared about.  I'm...sorry.  For whatever little it is worth."

[kleineklementine]

That made Olive angry. She looked back at Mercuxio again, her eyes wide and expression tight. "Then go see them!" she nearly spit the words out. Disgust was plain on her face. In truth, before being sent away, she probably also hadn't spent as much time with her family as she ought to have. She'd been eighteen. But now... if she could see them. Or even send word to them... But Mercuxio could go see his family. Mercuxio could still do whatever he wanted.

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry if my presence made your mission uncomfortable. I'm sure it would have been much easier to slaughter all those people without your kid sister's mage friend there to muddy the waters for you."

[Lion]

Still Merric stolid.  He frowned at her.  "I wish I could," he said gently, looking down at his hands.

"But it was inevitable, anyway," he said after a time. 

[kleineklementine]

It was inevitable? Olive could be sick. Even with as low as her opinion of Mercuxio had become, the way he tried to excuse his responsibility hit her like a blow to the stomach.

"'Inevitable?'" she repeated incredulously. "You owe those people more than that! Senseless, meaningless death..." Her voice tightened again. She felt tears returning to her eyes, remembering the pile of the dead. "That should never be called... inevitable."

[Lion]

"This was never my intention.  You know that.  But you refuse to believe it because you want a scapegoat upon which you hoist the blame.  I know what I have done, what I am responsible for.  I will not let myself forget all that was lost.  And I know you won't either."

He felt sick just thinking about it.  "I didn't do what I should have done, and for that I take the blame.  People died that didn't deserve to.  And for that I will take the blame.  But you cannot believe that Bromlin would have allowed the mages to escape.  But neither he nor I is better than the other."

[kleineklementine]

"You're right," Olive agreed, "you're no better than Bromlin." She looked levelly at him, jaw set, eyes bright with unshed tears. "And if you hadn't killed him," she said in a hissed whisper - it seemed even with her animosity towards him, she didn't want the other Confessors to hear that - "there wouldn't have been an attempted escape. If you hadn't called the rest of these snakes." She paused for a moment, expression hard, but faltering. She felt her throat tighten before she finally managed to get out, voice thick, "You could have let them go!"

[Lion]

"I do not believe that.  I don't think you would have honestly stayed in that camp if you saw the opportunity to escape.  And Bromlin would have ordered a recapture.  Dead, preferred than alive.  I failed because I did not try enough.  Bromlin failed because he was content to let things get as bad as they were before I arrived.

"I sincerely wished to help your people, Constance.  What I did do, the last rites, the Brynstones.  Those I meant.  But this wholesale slaughter...was not what I wished.  But I failed you.  But I ask this, what would have happened to the mages that remained?"

He frowned and shook his head.  It was no use speaking of what-ifs.  There was no justification, no peace, no remorse that would fix what happened.  It happened.  And she was all that remained.

[kleineklementine]

Olive looked away as Mercuxio tried to explain himself. Her tears, previously unshed, slipped silently down her cheeks. She couldn't keep out the images of the things she spoke of. And a wave of exhaustion swept over her.

"Who are you trying to convince, Mercuxio?" Olive asked wearily, turning back to the priest. "You sound like you're trying very hard to convince someone. But I'm not sure it's me."

She didn't answer his question. What was the point? These games of 'what if' could go in any direction. She could tell him that he could have helped Fawley from the beginning, as soon as Bromlin had died. And maybe some of them would have escaped. Had survived. What would it matter what might have happened to the rest, left in the camp? Those people were already dead.

Even now, he was trying to convince himself that he hadn't stoked the flames yourself. Was she supposed to think back to the Byrnstones and believe that had been a harmless action? Perhaps if he hadn't done that, honoring those who had fought against the guards and died, the rest of the riots never would have happened. Perhaps they would have remained cowed and meek and frightened and hopeless, and alive.

"I want no part in helping you feel better about what you've done, or haven't done, father," she told him levelly, coldly. "Is there anything else you want from me?"

[Lion]

She was right, he knew.  Still, Merric looked at her.  Somehow he knew she wouldn't let herself die here.  She'd come too far, suffered to much to give up now. He needn't worry.  Did he ever have to?

"No," he said gently.  "I'll leave you alone now."  He looked down and rubbed his hands together.  "Dinner will be served soon."

[kleineklementine]

Dinner was a bleak affair. Olive was fed little, and she had little appetite. She had to convince herself to eat at all. But the survival instinct was still strong enough that she was able to make herself eat however much they gave her. She made a point not to look at Mercuxio any time they stopped. If she needed to communicate anything, she spoke to one of the other Confessors. But she had little to communicate. When they weren't stopped, she curled up in the back of the wagon, wrapping the blanket Mercuxio had draped over her tightly around herself.

The other Confessors also spoke little to Mercuxio; no more than they needed to. Their glances lingered on him; full of unspoken curiosity and, in many cases, judgement. It went on like this for several days until they arrived at the northern border of Connlaoth. There was no camp here, but on the hard, frozen rocky road leading into the Kilanthro mountains and out of Connlaoth, there was a caravan of grim-looking Mordecai, some soldiers, and locked wagons. Hidden in those wagons, presumably, were mages.

This was as far as they would go. Continuing on would be a waste of the Confessors' times.

"Get the girl," the head Confessor said to one of the younger members of their party. "We hand her over here."

[Lion]

Mercuxio kept his distance from the rest of them.  He paid no heed to their lingering stares for they proved a waste of his precious time.  All of this was a mess, and he did not allow himself to linger on it any longer.  The sooner he was back south the better.

He watched in quietness as the other Confessor pulled Constance from the cart and led her off to the Mordecai, where they waited patiently beside the caravan.

[kleineklementine]

It was colder here than it had been in Valinarus, and Olive felt stiff and numb when the Confessor came to drag her out of the wagon. She blinked back from the light out here in the open, quickly taking in her surroundings. The cold wind, the looming mountains, the locked wagons that Olive immediately surmised were full of people. People like her. And were eerily silent.

The mountains were great here and snow was just beginning to fall, floating slowly and gracefully down from the sky. She shivered. Her warm clothes had been given to the twins and to Orchid and had, afterwards, burned with them. Her breath was white and frosty before her. She understood that they were at the borders of Connlaoth. And while Mercuxio and the other Confessors were going south, back into their homeland, Olive understood that she was not. She, and the unseen mages in the closed wagons, were leaving Connlaoth. Leaving their homeland. Leaving the sight of any eyes that might still guard over them. What would happen there, she wondered, beyond the mountains? Beyond her country, her homeland? The question put an icy, sinking feeling in her stomach. Mercuxio might be heading south, but Olive began to fear that she never would.

"Come on," the Confessor grumbled, breaking her reverie and pulling her over to the Mordecai. They handed her roughly over, though she gave no resistance. She didn't struggle. Olive felt oddly calm. "This one's a trouble maker," the Confessor warned the Mordecai as he handed her over.

The Mordecai didn't say anything. He just glanced down at Olive, then nodded curtly to the Confessor. Even the Mordecai, it seemed, were intimidated by the Order of St Agratha. He led her to one of the wagons, and a soldier unlocked the door. Before she entered, she glanced over her shoulder back at Mercuxio. This time, it wasn't a look filled with anger or hatred or indictment. It was just a look, clear-eyed and calm. Then the soldier gave her a shove, and she disappeared into the wagon.

The door to the wagon shut heavily, and the lock clicked.

[Lion]

Wherever they were going, it was out of his hands now.  The folly of it all would stay with him, that much he knew, a sifting memory that would arise when he least wished it so.  A fleeting memory to the other Confessors that had marched here.  How dare they judge him, but judge him they would.

Nothing would remain of Valinarus. Merric had smelled the smoke in the hour of their departure.  It was of flesh, and what wood remained.  Valinarus would become nothing more than a black patch of scorched earth, bones to be buried in an unmarked grave.

Mercuxio bowed his head, saying a silent prayer for those that died.  For all of them, soldiers, Mordecai, and mages alike. 

He mounted the horse, the procession of Confessors ahead of him.  And he watched the caravan pull away.  When they all but vanished, only then did he turn away, following back the way they camr.