#94 - As You Will

The winter this year had been short and light.  The snow was gone, except for grubby patches in the shadows of cliffs and under coniferous trees here and there.

The water of the Veil ran freely again, though icy and only the dedicate priestesses and priests meditated on the stones or platforms scattered throughout the whole Vale.

The elephants were beginning to  trek up from their Orangery and little Mwanga wasn’t so small any longer.  Didara and Jagunjagun were beginning to talk of going home and sending other ambassadors.  Innéans were talking about visiting the Elephants’ country.  They would have a faster way to sail home, it seemed, if they took ship all the way down the Innéthel to the sea, though it angled away from their continent.  Overland to that side of the land was still slower.  Perhaps when Mwanga was a full year old they would begin.

Ahrimaz came up the path, scrubbing his hair dry, tying it back with a lace after working with Rutaçyen all morning, since before sun-up.  He wore the priest’s robe comfortably now and paused at the Goddess tree to scatter a handful of seed for the birds and clear away an empty cage or two.  New ribbons fluttered from the branches and he smiled as he imagined people setting their prayers here, on the wind.

Most of his prayers went either to Lyrian herself, or in support of his doppleganger, lost in the Empire of another world.  Who knew if they helped?  Or hindered?  Only She knew.  For now it was enough to continue healing his own damaged soul.

His towel went onto the peg in the shed, hidden just off the path, where the empty bird cages were kept and cleaned before going down to the city to be re-filled with birds so that people could release them.  Some birds had been captured and released so many times they hopped into the cages in the square voluntarily.

He smiled again and picked up one of the rakes. And a basket of wood chips.  The paths were still muddy in spots and he cheerfully went to make up the path.

Once he would have thought that he would be screamingly bored if forced into the life of a priest but he found that once chosen, it was amazingly peaceful.  Sure, who had been clinging close to him for some reason these past days, lay in a patch of sunlight, panting, as he emptied his basket and raked.  Limyé would be up later to have luncheon with him at the waterfall and they would talk about how his book “Nature or Nurture: The Monster Within” was being received.

A class of children giggled by and he nodded at their greetings.  It is possible we need to set a brick or two here.  It is always muddy this time of year.

Several priestesses, staffs and rakes in hand passed him the other way, going out to begin building the new rock garden outside the Vale and he didn’t address them but everyone bowed.  It was very quiet.

The birds went still and Ahrimaz dropped his rake where he stood.  Someone is trying to die. He spun on his heel and ran, Sure on his heels, whistling for healers and assistance.  It was cold still and very practically, few people tried to give themselves to the Goddess this early in the spring.  Ever practical the Innéans, they didn’t want to be uncomfortable as they died.  He smirked to himself and ran faster.  She didn’t want this one dead, he could feel it.  This supplicant truly didn’t wish to die either.  It was the sense of ‘people will be better without me’ cry.

Ahrimaz dove into the pool in a flat, seeking dive, aware that the Vale behind him was suddenly full of urgency, his hands swept through the roiled up foam.  Nothing.  He burst to the surface, gasping with the shock of cold.  Sure had plunged into the water after him.  “Get away, dog!”

He went under again and kicked, feeling Sure set her teeth in his ankle even as he jarred a finger a stone, felt the pounding of the water on his back, on his head, he was dizzy, spinning, light-headed… there!  His hands locked in cloth and he dragged the would-be suicide to the surface.

He found himself clinging to the neck-cloth of gold just under his own face.  Hair draggled across his own face.  Him. Dressed as an Emperor, distraught, grieving, fighting to go under again.  Ahrimaz shook himself once, twice, until his eyes opened and locked, disbelieving, on his own face.   

“Whatever you have done,” Ahrimaz said to himself, “is forgiveable.”

Disorientation, a whirl of light and dark and he found himself standing in the water at the bottom of the Veil.  His priestly robes were gone.  In their place were the bedraggled and hampering court clothes of an Emperor.  His neck was sore, his lungs sore where he’d apparently managed to inhale some water.  Sure surged to the surface, coughing, barking and he gave her a boost toward the rocks behind the waterfall.

The Vale was changed.  There was only one meditation platform.  The rest was wild, as it had been when he was a boy.  There were no healers running to save him.  No mind priests or Imaryans.  He was alone, save for the dog who had followed him.  He was home.

He threw back his head and looked up the waterfall, splashing on his face like tears and would have howled but he knew… he knew that it would not help.  Goddess… ow. Scorch me. Scorch me. It will hurt no less.

Yolend, the Empress, screaming imprecations at him, came sliding down the muddy, untended path to splash her gaudy robes into the water, slosh up to him and begin slapping his face.

He flinched but let her hit him.  This Yolend was trained enough to hurt him but her strikes were open handed.   

“Excuse me, lady, I did not mean to flinch away.”  He turned his head back toward her.  “Please, strike again for I surely deserve it.”

She froze.  “Ahrimaz?”

“Yes.”

Sure scrambled out and around barking at the man coming down the hill who was dressed in a way the Empire hadn’t seen in a dozen decades.  He bore the chain of a Senator-Immaculate, the singular position under the Emperor.  “Ahrimaz, come out.  We can fix this.  You needn’t…” His voice faded as he took in how Yolend was looking at him, the white dog guarding.

“Sure.  Down, dog,” Ahrimaz said mildly and offered Yolend his hand. She took it as though picking up a venomous serpent, and they waded out to the shore.  He handed her up to the stocky man now standing on the edge.  When she was safely clear he followed her, looking down at ruined boots and silks and brocades on his body, loathing every stitch, mourning his homecoming.  Sure pressed against him, whining. He took a deep breath and went to his knees before the Sen-Immac and the Empress who both gazed at him, dumb.

“I am Ahrimaz Kenaçyen, once Emperor.  I…” He pulled open his sodden shirt exposing the brand on his chest, with the Flamen in the centre. He could feel his tears begin and could not stop them. “… I was away for a time.  You are obviously an exceptional man or Ahrimaz, from the other world, would not have appointed you. Knowing this world it is very likely that you shall have to execute me to let the good the other Ahrimaz has done continue. So be it. Do with me as you will.”

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