Andòrax, the return of the nahysmi Vol.1 - The mark of the prophecy

18 - THE DEPARTURE

Dawn was still only a thin pink stripe in the black horizon, a light rising at the back of the mountains, whose outline was their only visible part, slowly pushing darkness aside. Long ribbons of clouds covered the east from side to side, gloomy and faded if compared to the dazzling color of the breaking morning. That day's dawn was glowing and silent for those already awake.

Stenn and his companions, as well as General Liam and Wernen, watched the mountains give birth to the sun through their rocky womb, while they picked up their few belongings.

Armin wrapped her traveling clothes tightly around herself and started walking along the path that led to the isolated hill where Mita lived. She had woken up very early to pack her baggage with some changes of clothes. Once she had finished, she had sat on a chair near the bed for some moments and watched Sener sleep, studying the relaxed lines of his face, intimately relieved not to have to speak with him, to explain, to look at his grieved expression while she was leaving. She imagined the young man waking alone in the empty bed. She had waited until the first rays of dawn had appeared, then she had left. After all, that night she had said goodbye to him in her own way.

The most difficult goodbye awaited her now. These and other thoughts troubled her as she walked. The dew that covered the grass carpet wet her boots like the tears that she felt were filling her eyes. Her breath condensed around her face in the cold air. In a hand she held the sohlohst helm without a visor. Arriving close to the house, Armin went round it and stopped. As every morning, Mita was not sitting far away, on the border of the hill that proudly overlooked the Land of the Hills. He was wrapped in a heavy woolen blanket and was facing the east, the breaking day.

"Mita," she called to him softly.

The monk moved his head, partially turning in her direction; he did not turn completely. Armin came closer. She stood beside him, saying nothing. A painful anguish gripped her throat and the words she had prepared to say and repeated over and over failed her, leaving an empty mind, a lost spirit.

"I cannot do that," she said to herself. "How can I tell him farewell? How can I leave this place?"

"Are you ready to leave, mait'ăn?" His question hurt her violently despite the tenderness in Mita's voice, that was sweet, harmonious, affectionate.

The woman nodded and stood silent, then realized that since the man had his back turned to her, he could not have seen her movement. Mita finally turned towards her. She smiled and the monk returned her smile.

"You are doing the right thing, my dear. I can feel that God is with you, with all of you," he said.

The woman's eyes filled with unstoppable tears that began to roll down her cheeks, hot against the skin that the cold air had turned numb. She had intended not to cry, but she broke like a child. Mita stood up, went close to her and wrapped her in a huge hug and in the warm blanket that defended him from the cold. Armin proudly fought to wriggle free and push him away: she did not want to say him goodbye in such a way; she did not want him to see her crying. Nonetheless, she could not stop crying nor free herself from the man's arms. Mita held her close to himself, sweet but steady. He kept her head against his shoulder with a hand, while with the other he stroked her back as he had done so many times when as a child she had come to him crying, in search of comfort.

"It is great when God calls us to the task He has prepared for us," he whispered. "Not so many people can hear His voice. Let go, follow Him and it will be less painful. I am sure you are up to it. You will not disappoint your master."

Armin wondered for a moment which master he was referring to, whether to himself, to God,or to Élian. She did not bother. "I cannot bid you farewell," the woman whispered in a voice broken from sobbing.