The TwiceBorn

Staring Into The Sun

"Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities."--Voltaire

Alora nudged Loki forward and braced herself.  She could have moved along at a much faster gait and gotten the whole scene over with more quickly but her contrary nature prevented her from doing so.    She figured they were going to beat themselves regardless of how fast or slow she passed by so she might as well just take her time.  Loki arched his neck and pranced forward, his attention now on the ragtag bunch by the side of the road.

         Alora approached on the right and watched as they slowly took note of her.  She couldn't help but grin.

“Beautiful day isn’t it?”  She called out as she slowly went by.  She watched, unsurprised, as several stopped, dropped their robes, and took to their knees in the road.  Alora could not figure out why people wanted to make a hard life even harder by being so stupid.  And perhaps she was evil and possessed by imps because she just couldn’t control her mouth.  At times like these, it took on a life of its own.

“Think all of you can bear my sins?  Why don’t you give it a try? “ She remarked, her tone heavy with sarcasm. 

One of the figures stepped out into the road and angrily threw back the cowl of his robe.   His gray hair and beard intermingled in a fierce mane and his piercing green eyes stared unflinchingly at Alora.  She raised a brow. 

This one she knew.  JoHan.  He was the leader  or the “Domyni” of this bunch. His name had travelled the grapevine much like hers did,  through whispered tales of awe and amazement at all him and his band of crazies had accomplished by rendering themselves unconscious. 

The green eyes stared fixedly into her amused black ones. Everyone saw him as a true holy figure, a man who had conversed with Brede in the midnight garden of dreams but he didn't fool Alora. She saw a quiet cunning to his demeanor.  There was no humility, no holiness  in the green depths of his eyes, only a hard and bright awareness.  Just another snake oil salesmen with a new pitch.

“Demon!  You dare to mock us?” JoHan said, his voice strident with devout rage.

“Yes. I do.” Alora replied calmly.  She jerked a chin at the acolytes kneeling in the road.  “I think they want you to beat them. Please, don’t keep them waiting on my account.”

The old man raised a forefinger and pointed at Alora as he tilted his mane of gray hair back to catch the breeze.  She suddenly had the feeling that JoHan knew exactly how he looked as he dramatically confronted The Twiceborn.

  “Cut-rate showman.” She thought and sneered.  JoHan’s eyes shifted. His  self-righteous fury disappeared and was replaced by an expression Alora couldn’t explain.

“Islinn? Is that you?”  JoHan croaked.  The pointing finger that had appeared so mighty only a moment ago lowered.    Alora turned in her saddle to stare at Islinn but the girl avoided her eyes as she slipped off the stag’s back.   JoHan simply held his arms open and Alora watched as he embraced Islinn in a fierce hug.  So.  Islinn did have somewhere to go, after all.  Little by little her realization of no longer being burdened with the girl was replaced with a sense of regret, the basis of which she couldn’t quite put her finger on. 

“JoHan.  It’s been a while.”  Islinn said shakily as she stepped back from the older man.  She glanced at the band of followers, her eyes distant and haunted.

“Islinn.  A while, indeed."  JoHan’s voice was gruff with emotion. “You were my most powerful initiate.  A true believer.  When you were taken from us, I knew it had to have been the power of Amon at work, in an attempt to make us weak.”