The Ascenditure by Robyn Dabney

Author:Robyn Dabney
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Regal House Publishing
Published: 2024-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

15

On the journey from base camp back to where our boats are docked in Kaiwa, Veit and I are kept separate from the rest of the Ascenditures—forced to ride upon horses at the front of the wagon train so workers in the vineyards and merchants in the street might lay eyes upon their newest heroes. Veit grins and waves, bowing his head and blowing kisses. I glare sullenly at the road, feeling as much a victress as the men in the fields with mud up to their knees. I keep reminding myself I am still alive. The thought only frightens me more.

Nine päters draped in black lead the procession in lockstep. Their legs move together almost as if they are one giant insect. Eerie white masks lead us onward. Incense burns from the cooper bowls they carry. Sweet spice fills the air. The two on the ends wield long wooden poles. My pink banner billows from one, Veit’s red from the other. I wonder which päter packed my offering bundle with ash and bone. I wonder if they are all minions of the king or if some aspects of our religion remain pure.

A man rushes up to where we canter. My horse steps back and whinnies. I lift my head as he waves a scythe in my face.

“They’re dead because of you!” Veins ripple and bulge across his forehead. “My Petrus—” With a sobbing gasp, he falls forward onto his knees in the dirt, dropping the scythe to the ground. His fists clench into mud-stained balls. “Orna did this because of you. We’re all missing our sons today because of you.”

Gulping down sickness and guilt, I turn away, meeting Veit’s gaze. He looks at the figure on the ground with disdain.

“Be gone, old man.” Veit waves his hand in a rapid, swatting gesture. “Your son was weak. Weakness can only be blamed on those who wield it for themselves.”

“No.” I shake my head and turn to the grieving father. “Petrus was not weak. He was strong. So strong. I am so sorry for what happened to him. I wish I could have done more.”

“Pft.” Veit shakes his head and rolls his eyes at me. “You’re weak too. Weakness all around. It shrouds this land like the mist.”

The man on his knees glares with tear-stained eyes but says no more. A woman comes up behind him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Together they weep. Mount Bonen rises as an impressive backdrop to their grief.

I want to hug someone in this way. To share the burden of my pain with another. I haven’t yet been able to speak with Kiel. The team stayed up on the mountain recovering bodies until late last night. I was able to wave from afar, but he has been kept from me. Intentionally, I assume.

When we reach the boats, I dismount from my horse, preparing to haul my gear back to the ship. Instead, a young man stumbles forward beneath the weight of my pack, his feet crisscrossing as he tries to stay upright.

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