This and That

Stories In the End

She had meticulously planned the day, carefully waited until her husband had returned from his weekly pilgrimage. Strange that he still insisted on making the ride to that small hill with the tree, but Evalin decided to continue encouraging it. Indeed, she considered it a staple in his healing. And now she sat atop her flecked mare, dashing furiously across the open plains with the smattering of trees encircling the city just behind her.

The tiny hill appeared all too quickly. Dismounting as her horse slowed to a light canter, Queen Evalin pulled the mare to the top of the hill. The creature whinnied softly, her breath brushing Evalin's neck. The sun beat down upon the already dying grass on this strangely sweltering spring day. The bluest of blue skies, spotted with clouds--a picturesque world, in her opinion. And there stood that achingly beautiful oak tree, forever reaching towards an impossibly far off place. She wanted to climb it and whack at it with an axe, all at the same time.

"Grew on the grave of a man's young niece..."

The memory of Turiah's words immediately invoked crystalline images of her twins. Strawberry-blonde hair, big, cinnamon eyes, the tiniest pinky toes--Evalin almost collapsed under the weight of love for her small family. She would protect them, all of them, from any and all dangers, would walk through hellfire for them in an instant.

She distantly heard rather than felt her knees crash into the soft dryness of the grass. Seven months, seven glorious, agonizing months: all she had before the end of her story. She was dying, her body decaying. What kind of wife was she, what kind of mother, if she couldn't even defend those closest to her?

"Why would You give this to me, what have I done? I have only ever wanted to watch over the people You've given me, and You would take me away from them?" Thick droplets burned at the corners of her eyes. Evalin blinked hard to clear the haze, but the tears slid persistently down her pale cheek. She scowled, gritting her teeth, and scrunched up her fingers as they slid into her thinning auburn hair. Evalin yanked out small bunches of hair and tossed them aside. Fighting the urge to scream out her frustration and thus alert the whole kingdom, she cupped both hands over her mouth. A metallic sensation slipped over her tongue as she bit down hard on her own fingers.

This is my life, and you would give me such a short time? With Turiah? With Finja and Björn? Am I not worthy of them, then, these beautiful souls you have placed within my care? Have I not spent every moment possible attempting to sew him back together, stand by his side and rebuild a kingdom, raise the heirs of Westmark? You instill me with a desire to heal, and now I cannot even bring myself from the path of death! Almighty, grant me Your sight, for I see no good in this.

--I AM THAT I AM-- came the quiet yet firm reply, strength overflowing from each word. --I HAVE KNOWN YOU BEFORE TIME, AND I AM WITH YOU STILL--

Evalin slowly rose, called on by a force altogether strange and familiar. The wide tree before her drew her gaze and she watched it stand unmoved in a swift wind, and she understood. Rarely had she travelled in any other way than by leaps of faith, almost blindly trusting, waiting, strong in her hope. And never once had she ever asked for an explanation of her Guardian's actions, until now. Now she begged on her grassy knees for answer to her hate-filled questions, and received a rebuke. Who was she to question the Author and His chapters after all this time when they had always been enough? And quite just this once, she knew without fear the beginning of her story; understood with calm the journey; and accepted in loving submission the end.

Wordless, she turned back to her steed, hopped up, and galloped back toward the city.