A Song of Snow and Ashes by S.J. Drew
couldn't possibly have fetched one in time, and they probably wouldn't have been available anyway. I had no idea you were injured so badly until I started the healing process. Gods, you had me worried there."
"I'm sorry. I guess I owe you my life."
"Well, don't mention it. You should probably go back to sleep. You need your rest and we can talk more in the mornin'."
"There's more?" he blurted, surprised.
"It's not important right now, and it may not be important in the morning. Now go to sleep." He yawned. "I know I'd really like to go back to sleep."
Donnan lay back down. "Alright." His mind was in turmoil, but his body was exhausted, and soon he slept.
Eliora did go to the Temple of Day the next morning. There were no services, but there were a few people in the building saying their own private prayers for the day. She only stayed for about ten minutes, then went to work. When she got home, she had forgotten about both the dream and praying.
"Meorah, Oriel, finish up dinner. I need to talk to Eliora," Adiva said as soon as she entered the house. "Let's go up to your room."
She nodded, and they both went upstairs.
Adiva lowered her voice. "Did you go to temple?"
"Yes, Mother."
"You look a little stunned. Or are you just tired?"
"I worked very hard today. I am tired. And confused."
"Well, what did you pray for?"
"I prayed to the Light One to give me some sort of hint, some insight, as to why I was receiving these visions." She looked at her mother with wide, frightened eyes. "It answered. The god answered me."
"What did It say?"
"I heard it, in my mind. It said just one word. 'Wait.'"
"Wait? Wait for what? Wait for how long?" Adiva pressed.
Eliora shook her head. "I don't know. Mother, I'm scared," she whispered.
She hugged her daughter. "I am too. But we'll work through whatever comes."
"I'm so glad to have such a great family and great friends."
"Yes. Tell no one of this."
"Of course not. Not until I find out what's going on. I guess I shouldn't worry too much. I got a reply from the Light One. How bad could it be?" Eliora pondered.
"My daughter, that's a dangerous assumption to make. What's good for the gods is not necessarily good for the individual. Remember, the Light One calls people into service. Do you want to be a priestess?"
"I see your point," she replied, suddenly feeling a lot more apprehensive.
"Let's get dinner, speak no more of this, and hope for the best."
She nodded.
"Donnan, time to get up," came Blake's voice the next morning.
He sat up with a start. "Oh, right. And I was hopin' last night was a bad dream." Then he remembered his dream. "Never mind that. I don't want bad dreams either."
"I scrounged some toast and jam for you," he said, handing him a small plate.
"Tell me there's also coffee. Please."
Blake handed him a ceramic mug. "Coffee too."
He ate his breakfast quickly and gulped down the coffee. "Hey, this is good stuff."
"Of course it is."
Donnan stood up and stretched. "Gods, am I stiff."
"Don't complain. You got the bed. I had to sleep in that chair all night."
He looked around. "You know, I've never seen your room before." In addition to the soft bed, bedside table, oil lamp, and comfortable looking chair, there was a small bookshelf, a small desk, a small chest of drawers, and a small closet. "This is a lot nicer than my place. It's about as big as the main room, and you have a real closet. Damn."
"Believe me, I've seen better. But I'm not complaining," he replied, retrieving some clothes from the closet. "Your own boots are fine, but the rest of your clothes were a mess. Ripped and bloodied. I don't think those stains are ever coming out."
"More good news." Donnan glanced at Blake, who was changing his own clothes. He shrugged to himself and started to disrobe. "There's nothing I can do about this, is there? That drunken jackass and his moron friends almost kill me, and there's not a godsdamn thing I can do about this, is there?"
"I'm sorry. There were no witnesses."
"I'm sure I heard some else before you came along."
Blake sighed. "We both know better. There won't be any witnesses, not for that part of town. There's me, but my word isn't worth much. They could make up some lame excuse. And more to the point, there's no evidence you were attacked. No broken bones; nothing but ripped and bloodied clothes. There's not a single mark on you."
"Yes, there is," Donnan corrected, stopping in the middle of pulling on a blue button up shirt. He was looking at his left wrist. It bore a scar, a white line about an eighth of an inch wide and three inches long. "Blake, what is this?"
The acolyte sighed. "I've got one too." He pushed up his right sleeve, and there was a matching scar on his wrist.
"Where did this come from?"
"When I told you the Dark One gave me to the power to heal you, this was both true and false."
"Blake, what is this?" he repeated more sternly.
"The Dark One put a spell in my head. A ritual. An ancient and probably forbidden ritual," he answered, his voice dropping in volume.
Donnan walked up to him as he finished dressing. "Blake, I'm only goin' to ask one more time. What is this?"
"The remnant of a healing ritual called the Rite of Blood."
"The what?" he hissed.
"Don't make me repeat it," Blake replied, closing the closet door.
"This was blood magic?"
"Keep your voice down."
"I am keepin' my voice down," he whispered angrily.
"Yes, it's blood magic. I cut the wrists, mingled our blood, and used my own life energy to heal you."
He stared. "You did that for me? Used forbidden magic and your own blood?"
Blake nodded. "You owe me. Remember that," he replied, trying to lighten the mood.
"Why?"
"Why? That's a stupid question. Now come on, I'll walk you to work." They headed out of the temple.
"It's not a stupid question. I thought only Alain would do somethin' like that for me."
"Well, now you know better." He sighed. "Look, since you're determined to get emotional over this, I might as well tell you this now. Our friendship has meant a lot to me. When I joined the Order, I was surprised how many of my friends disappeared. Some have come back, but most keep their distance. It's amazin' how many people prefer the company of a pickpocket over the company of a priest."
"Well, you know what they say."
"I know. 'A thief can only take your money; a Dark priest can take your soul.' Which is, of course, utter nonsense." He sighed again. "You seemed to take it better. You still treat me like a friend. I know you don't like what I do, but I think you accept the existence and need for the Order of Darkness better than most."
"I guess so. I just try not to think about it," Donnan replied.
"Good enough for me. Better than most people."
"Thanks, Blake. I owe you."
"And don't you dare forget it."
"If I repay my debt to you, is that going to be enough for the Dark One?" he asked, lowering his voice cautiously.
"That's not for me to say. The Dark One will let you know if It desires repayment."
"But you've told me the Dark One never does anythin' without a reason."
"That's true, as far as the Order knows. So what? So you have to light some candles or something."
"But Blake, you've also told me that repayment depends on how big the service was, right?"
"Usually," the acolyte answered.
His voice dropped even lower, and Blake had to lean in to hear him. "It helped you save my life. That's about as big a service as they come. Doesn't that bother you?"
"What? That you have a debt?"
"No
, not exactly," he replied worriedly. He stopped and pulled Blake into an alleyway. "Look, I'm a nobody, alright? I'm nothin' to nobody except Alain and you. So why did the Dark One decide to save the life of a nobody? I can't think of any reason except that It will want somethin' big from me. And that bothers me."
"I can see your point. Maybe you'll be called into service. That's not uncommon."
"I don't want to be called into service," he retorted harshly.
"Thanks," he snapped bitterly.
"No, it's not like that. Look, I respect the Order. You're right, I do understand why they do what they do. It's just not what I want. I don't mind owin' you my life. I don't like owin' my life to a god. Especially with these damn dreams."
"Dreams? You've had more dreams? Tell me."
Donnan started walking again at a swift pace that reflected his frustration. "I had one last night. And one a month ago. And the one I told you about, on the solstice."
"Wait, wait. You've had a dream at the same time every month starting on the solstice?"
He nodded. "The first one I was runnin' from an avalanche, and it caught me. The second I was runnin' from a twister, and it caught me. Last night I faced off against a hurricane. But it was weird. There was this thing in my dream. This shadow thing. It was tauntin' me. Heh. Even in my dreams I'm being bullied. It melted, or somethin', and then I got caught by the hurricane."
"And it felt real?" Blake asked.
"Every time. I felt the wind and the rain."
"Donnan, please let me ask at the temple."
"No," he replied firmly.
"Please. This is very strange. You know it, or you wouldn't be so agitated right now just telling me about it."
"Don't ask. Just don't."
"Why not?"
Donnan stopped again in the middle of the street. "Because I'm not sure I want an answer."
He nodded. "I understand." They
"I'm sorry. I guess I owe you my life."
"Well, don't mention it. You should probably go back to sleep. You need your rest and we can talk more in the mornin'."
"There's more?" he blurted, surprised.
"It's not important right now, and it may not be important in the morning. Now go to sleep." He yawned. "I know I'd really like to go back to sleep."
Donnan lay back down. "Alright." His mind was in turmoil, but his body was exhausted, and soon he slept.
Eliora did go to the Temple of Day the next morning. There were no services, but there were a few people in the building saying their own private prayers for the day. She only stayed for about ten minutes, then went to work. When she got home, she had forgotten about both the dream and praying.
"Meorah, Oriel, finish up dinner. I need to talk to Eliora," Adiva said as soon as she entered the house. "Let's go up to your room."
She nodded, and they both went upstairs.
Adiva lowered her voice. "Did you go to temple?"
"Yes, Mother."
"You look a little stunned. Or are you just tired?"
"I worked very hard today. I am tired. And confused."
"Well, what did you pray for?"
"I prayed to the Light One to give me some sort of hint, some insight, as to why I was receiving these visions." She looked at her mother with wide, frightened eyes. "It answered. The god answered me."
"What did It say?"
"I heard it, in my mind. It said just one word. 'Wait.'"
"Wait? Wait for what? Wait for how long?" Adiva pressed.
Eliora shook her head. "I don't know. Mother, I'm scared," she whispered.
She hugged her daughter. "I am too. But we'll work through whatever comes."
"I'm so glad to have such a great family and great friends."
"Yes. Tell no one of this."
"Of course not. Not until I find out what's going on. I guess I shouldn't worry too much. I got a reply from the Light One. How bad could it be?" Eliora pondered.
"My daughter, that's a dangerous assumption to make. What's good for the gods is not necessarily good for the individual. Remember, the Light One calls people into service. Do you want to be a priestess?"
"I see your point," she replied, suddenly feeling a lot more apprehensive.
"Let's get dinner, speak no more of this, and hope for the best."
She nodded.
"Donnan, time to get up," came Blake's voice the next morning.
He sat up with a start. "Oh, right. And I was hopin' last night was a bad dream." Then he remembered his dream. "Never mind that. I don't want bad dreams either."
"I scrounged some toast and jam for you," he said, handing him a small plate.
"Tell me there's also coffee. Please."
Blake handed him a ceramic mug. "Coffee too."
He ate his breakfast quickly and gulped down the coffee. "Hey, this is good stuff."
"Of course it is."
Donnan stood up and stretched. "Gods, am I stiff."
"Don't complain. You got the bed. I had to sleep in that chair all night."
He looked around. "You know, I've never seen your room before." In addition to the soft bed, bedside table, oil lamp, and comfortable looking chair, there was a small bookshelf, a small desk, a small chest of drawers, and a small closet. "This is a lot nicer than my place. It's about as big as the main room, and you have a real closet. Damn."
"Believe me, I've seen better. But I'm not complaining," he replied, retrieving some clothes from the closet. "Your own boots are fine, but the rest of your clothes were a mess. Ripped and bloodied. I don't think those stains are ever coming out."
"More good news." Donnan glanced at Blake, who was changing his own clothes. He shrugged to himself and started to disrobe. "There's nothing I can do about this, is there? That drunken jackass and his moron friends almost kill me, and there's not a godsdamn thing I can do about this, is there?"
"I'm sorry. There were no witnesses."
"I'm sure I heard some else before you came along."
Blake sighed. "We both know better. There won't be any witnesses, not for that part of town. There's me, but my word isn't worth much. They could make up some lame excuse. And more to the point, there's no evidence you were attacked. No broken bones; nothing but ripped and bloodied clothes. There's not a single mark on you."
"Yes, there is," Donnan corrected, stopping in the middle of pulling on a blue button up shirt. He was looking at his left wrist. It bore a scar, a white line about an eighth of an inch wide and three inches long. "Blake, what is this?"
The acolyte sighed. "I've got one too." He pushed up his right sleeve, and there was a matching scar on his wrist.
"Where did this come from?"
"When I told you the Dark One gave me to the power to heal you, this was both true and false."
"Blake, what is this?" he repeated more sternly.
"The Dark One put a spell in my head. A ritual. An ancient and probably forbidden ritual," he answered, his voice dropping in volume.
Donnan walked up to him as he finished dressing. "Blake, I'm only goin' to ask one more time. What is this?"
"The remnant of a healing ritual called the Rite of Blood."
"The what?" he hissed.
"Don't make me repeat it," Blake replied, closing the closet door.
"This was blood magic?"
"Keep your voice down."
"I am keepin' my voice down," he whispered angrily.
"Yes, it's blood magic. I cut the wrists, mingled our blood, and used my own life energy to heal you."
He stared. "You did that for me? Used forbidden magic and your own blood?"
Blake nodded. "You owe me. Remember that," he replied, trying to lighten the mood.
"Why?"
"Why? That's a stupid question. Now come on, I'll walk you to work." They headed out of the temple.
"It's not a stupid question. I thought only Alain would do somethin' like that for me."
"Well, now you know better." He sighed. "Look, since you're determined to get emotional over this, I might as well tell you this now. Our friendship has meant a lot to me. When I joined the Order, I was surprised how many of my friends disappeared. Some have come back, but most keep their distance. It's amazin' how many people prefer the company of a pickpocket over the company of a priest."
"Well, you know what they say."
"I know. 'A thief can only take your money; a Dark priest can take your soul.' Which is, of course, utter nonsense." He sighed again. "You seemed to take it better. You still treat me like a friend. I know you don't like what I do, but I think you accept the existence and need for the Order of Darkness better than most."
"I guess so. I just try not to think about it," Donnan replied.
"Good enough for me. Better than most people."
"Thanks, Blake. I owe you."
"And don't you dare forget it."
"If I repay my debt to you, is that going to be enough for the Dark One?" he asked, lowering his voice cautiously.
"That's not for me to say. The Dark One will let you know if It desires repayment."
"But you've told me the Dark One never does anythin' without a reason."
"That's true, as far as the Order knows. So what? So you have to light some candles or something."
"But Blake, you've also told me that repayment depends on how big the service was, right?"
"Usually," the acolyte answered.
His voice dropped even lower, and Blake had to lean in to hear him. "It helped you save my life. That's about as big a service as they come. Doesn't that bother you?"
"What? That you have a debt?"
"No
"I can see your point. Maybe you'll be called into service. That's not uncommon."
"I don't want to be called into service," he retorted harshly.
"Thanks," he snapped bitterly.
"No, it's not like that. Look, I respect the Order. You're right, I do understand why they do what they do. It's just not what I want. I don't mind owin' you my life. I don't like owin' my life to a god. Especially with these damn dreams."
"Dreams? You've had more dreams? Tell me."
Donnan started walking again at a swift pace that reflected his frustration. "I had one last night. And one a month ago. And the one I told you about, on the solstice."
"Wait, wait. You've had a dream at the same time every month starting on the solstice?"
He nodded. "The first one I was runnin' from an avalanche, and it caught me. The second I was runnin' from a twister, and it caught me. Last night I faced off against a hurricane. But it was weird. There was this thing in my dream. This shadow thing. It was tauntin' me. Heh. Even in my dreams I'm being bullied. It melted, or somethin', and then I got caught by the hurricane."
"And it felt real?" Blake asked.
"Every time. I felt the wind and the rain."
"Donnan, please let me ask at the temple."
"No," he replied firmly.
"Please. This is very strange. You know it, or you wouldn't be so agitated right now just telling me about it."
"Don't ask. Just don't."
"Why not?"
Donnan stopped again in the middle of the street. "Because I'm not sure I want an answer."
He nodded. "I understand." They