Bond Breakers

Island Travels Part 3

Targun in Kava

"Welcome to the Mines of Kava!"

Targun should've been awestruck, overawed, God-struck, however, all he could think about was Merran.

He didn't get her; no one had ever been concerned with him.

Shakur had, was the thought that his mind returned. But the High priest had his own reasons for keeping him close, the Princess of Temis didn't and yet she had helped him enter the tournament, had spoken to him without malice and then she'd waited for him without commenting on his religion or asking the usual why's and what's and getting into an argument about his answers. She had simply waited.

She made no sense.

It irked him, not her actions, but the fact that it endeared her to him. 
He should've asked to be excused to punish himself for these thoughts, but he didn't, not because it hurt; he was used to the pain now, it was her in his mind, he imagined her watching as he beat himself. She wouldn't stop him, he knew that, but there would be an expression in her eyes, he could picture it, desperately wanting to stop him while at the same time puzzled at what kind of God would expect his servants to perform such acts.

He knew he was internalising, his mind asking questions he was too afraid to even think about. But why?

Why... why... why.

It was a deep, dark ambition, to hold the kingdom of Aradia in his hands, just so he had the power to ask that question and demand an answer.

"Rise apprentice."

He lifted his head slowly; afraid the thoughts would show in his eyes. He swallowed, he couldn't let this slide, he would have to go through the rituals, Merran or no Merran, she wasn't worth a lifetime of dedication, worship, and servitude.

Hadn't he proved that when he'd left her in those fake tunnels to wait out her time here while he searched for the monsters that would grant him entrance into the tournament.

That would make him the first Sulphite king of Aradia; the one who would bring his people, and their gods out of the shadows. He met the eyes of the Stone-keeper, slitted light-less orbs regarded him without emotions.

"Thank you for allowing me to enter Stone keeper," he said as respectfully as he could muster. An audience with the Reezard was almost as rare as being allowed passage into the mines.

"It is my honour, I have heard much about you Targun, apprentice to our very own high priest. You followed our laws unflinchingly."

"I," he started and then stopped as the realisation struck.

The Stone-keeper was ancient, his skin almost transparent, but more polished than old. And he had this all-knowing look as he leant in. "Shakur told me how you disobeyed him to come here, what is it that drove you to reject your master, your faith?"

The Stone keeper was close now, his eyes impossible to look away from, the depths of them seemed to go on forever.

"I," he stammered, trying to come up with something better than I want the throne, "the gods," he said thinking on the spot, "they spoke to me. They told me a Sulphite should sit on the throne. That the others would only fail Aradia, and let the spawn back in, let our stones be taken, our religion diluted into trivial beliefs of a broken society."

He was breathing heavily by the end, but the first thing he noticed that the Stone-keeper was no longer looking down on him as if he were a guilty child, instead he stood taller, a presence enforcing his will.

"The gods said that?"

"You question them, the faith?"

"I question you."