The TwiceBorn

Sacrifice Is The Passion Of Souls

 Sar stopped and stared at Gareth. To him, the boy had always been a nuisance, a cut-out of every possible annoyance. Here was the boy who'd bragged about having the best crops come harvest then forgot to plow a terrace into the hill. All the water had run off his fields like rain off a rooftop, leaving him high and very dry.

The same boy who'd purchased a massive bull, then proceeded to build a fence that wouldn't hold in a crippled chicken.

The same boy all his daughters had been madly in love with.

Sar saw all of this and found it hard to believe he'd never see it again.  The cocky walk,  the arrogant tilt of his chin, everything that made him Gareth, all that motion and movement gone.  Reduced to being moved only by the will of mindless animals looking for food.  Sar's hold on sanity slipped.  Gareth was right there, a few steps in front of him, but there was something gone, something away in his still posture.  

Sar knew the boy had gone far beyond Gandoura.  

 Gone beyond the reach of Sar's imagination to a place many wouldn't arrive at or think of for countless days, couldn't ride to mounted on the quickest of horses, and couldn't see standing on the highest of mountains, Gareth had gone  from "what is" to "what is not" too fast for Sar's stunned eyes and all he could do was stare and stare and stare.

        Alora watched Sar warily as he took in the sight of Gareth's body. 

"Why?" Sar turned and his haunted eyes burned across her face.  She turned away.

"He came out here and I told him to leave.  He wouldn't."  Alora shrugged. 

 She tossed back hair as she walked over and picked up her leggings and as she pulled them on she felt better able to defend herself against Sar's anger.  Her fingers fumbled over the familiar ties.  Usually she relished this kind of confrontation, it was nothing more than meat and drink for her, but Gandoura had turned into one big giant Pandora's box and she wanted nothing more than to just be done with it.  Sar's indignation at her simple excuse hung heavy in the air.

                     Sar watched Alora dress, horrified by the simple explanation.  It was the type of answer more suited to one of his daughters when asked why she'd slapped an amorous suitor.  It didn't go with this butchery yet blended well with the roar of the fire and the starlit night.  For an instant, he wondered if they were both talking about the same incident.  He studied her as she completed dressing and went to stand by the fire.  "What a pretty animal she is." He thought bleakly.  He walked over to Gareth and knelt down.He took in the glassy eyes and pallor.  Read the years of his life in every drop of blood.  Every smudge of dirt.

"You didn't have to kill him."  He said, his voice low.

"What part of this are you not understanding??"  Alora snapped and glared at him, hot-eyed and contemptuous. Her anger was back and, in that instant, she wanted nothing more than to slap the look of righteous fury off his face.

"He was dead the moment he left the village.  You're the only one guaranteed safety because you asked for my services and paid me the coin!"

Sar had never heard someone go to such lengths to point a finger somewhere else.  He got to his feet, furious, and walked towards her.  Part of him recoiled at the indignant approach but the other side of him, the one that recognized Gareth had simply ceased to exist because of her, reached out and grabbed her arm.  He spun her around until they stood face to face.

"What are you saying?? This isn't your fault??"  He hissed, and gave her a quick shake.  "It's all your fault you lying bitch!  All. Your. Fault."  He emphasized each word with a shake. He hoped she'd struggle.  He wanted her to so he could justify wrapping his fingers around her neck and squeezing out what little bit of life she possessed.