Soul Fire

Soul Fire - Chapter 40

"A plague of locusts."

"No, an army after a forced march."

Dathion turned to Ellishan next on instinct. His brother just watched Dathion and Jerodai, with a look of anticipation on his face.

"A pack of starving wolves."

Jerodai remained silent. They had given too many descriptions of Gergan's hunger. Now, Jerodai was unsure whether his next comparison would be a repeat of one he had said earlier, thereby forfeiting the game. Jerodai breathed a long, pained sigh, before digging through his pockets for a copper coin to pass to Dathion.

"You look disappointed."

Dathion could see that Jerodai looked precariously close to leaping at him. He tried to tempt him, by brandishing a smug smile like a banner of victory. Unfortunately, the proximity of Shanisha gave the son of Malithas pause.

"I told you I would win."

Jerodai threw caution to the wind, bearing the prince of Asillia to the ground with a flying tackle. The explosion of air from Dathion's lungs, coupled with his look of shock, proved a small price to pay for a single copper coin. Much to Jerodai's relief, Shanisha did nothing.

*****

Dathion found it hard to enjoy the food and hospitality of the river valley on his second visit. His thoughts always bent toward home. He had become obsessed with it. Every passing moment fueled an increasingly unbearable need to return to Asillia. As this grew, he became frightened of losing his temper.

Malithas approached, his sorcerous arts as a reader of minds all but confirmed.

"Patience, Dathion. The greatest achievements and victories are earned through it. No impetuous commander has ever spent his twilight years inking his memoirs."

Dathion was unsure how many more times he could bear advice. He did not want to hear it. He did not want to consider, or pay attention to, the fact that everyone else cautioned him - prescribing moderation. Even Gergan had suggested it prudent for Dathion to make his next decision carefully. Admittedly, he had appeared a little drunk at the time ... and had also told Dathion that he loved him ...

"And you, Shanisha? What course of action do you counsel?"

Shanisha smiled at Dathion, though the corners of the monk's eyes were tinged with sadness.

"Dathion, I feel your journey is long and you have much wisdom to guide you. Even wrong decisions are practice for making the right ones. If you are open to learning from your errors, you will make a sufficient number of mistakes, that there are no more left to make."

"So ... you feel I am wrong? My judgment? The course of action I have chosen?"

"The words and experiences of others are the canvas on which you must paint your own future. You can copy works of the past, or use your heart as the brush for something new. No matter your choice, however ugly or beautiful your creation, hang it with pride on your wall, for you have participated in the miracle of creation. Any idea or decision can be just as unique, and far reaching."

"So, there is no wrong choice?"

Dathion would have torn at his hair until he became bald, if he could be sure that Shanisha wouldn't stop him. The monk had turned away to gaze across the fields. Dusk's wind swayed the long grass around Shanisha's feet, yet did not touch the monk, nor ruffle the Masan's robes. Dathion shook his head in astonishment and prepared to greet the evening.

*****

For only the second time on their journey, Dathion rose first. Dawn was still just a rumor on the eastern horizon. Even Malithas and Salidon slept. Shanisha sat cross-legged, fingers pinched together, head drooped forward. Dathion watched the monk carefully, searching for movement, trying to see Shanisha's eyes - to determine if they were open. The monk remained still. He quietly took his sword, rose from his blankets, then slipped across the dirt floor of the hall in which they had been housed. He was thankful there were no floorboards to creak under his weight. Around him, played the sounds of sleep. The breathing of his companions sounded peaceful and even, apart from Gergan's wall-jarring snoring. Everyone was tired, for it had been a late night.