A Prim and a Prophet - Cover

A Prim and a Prophet

Copyright© 2019 by Christopher Podhola

Chapter 25: A Circle in the Water

“The veils are not walls—they are draperies and like all draperies, they can be pulled back. They can be crossed.”

Excerpts from the diaries of Panpar

Whitney finally cried out with the pain as Jim and Decker drug her into the copse from the portal. A distant part of her mind recognized the difference in the air. It was a distinct change in the smell, hitting her nostrils the same way the smell of bread hits as you walk into a bakery. Even though they weren’t living in an actual city, they were still in a part of the world more citified than the lake was. If where they lived was the country, where hicks rested their heads, then Amicolola was isolated, separated from the rest of the world not only by miles and distance, but by its lack of modernization as well, and Whitney was thankful for that. Even through all of her pain, she was glad to be back there and she was going to hate leaving it behind again.

Everyone stood around her, taking turns encouraging her, as her finger dance began to do its work, but it was a slow process and she spent most of it in and out of a daze.

You are the warrior I always knew you to be and I’m sorry for tricking you into that, Jo-Laina. This is the way it had to be! I love you!

Her heart was splitting in two. She couldn’t and wouldn’t deny that she had feelings for Micahai’an on the other side of the veils. They spent quite a few years, she, watching him grow into a man, respecting him more and more with every passing season, earning and gaining more trust and becoming closer. Micahai’an was a man like no other. The Shooktah were crafty, but they were nothing compared to Micahai’an. He was a natural at confusing their strategies, often saving many Messolin lives.

She wasn’t about to completely forget Kam and what he was beginning to mean to her. She didn’t have years with him, but he was an important part of her life, and she wouldn’t deny that her feelings were growing for him. Feelings that were more than just feelings you gave to a friend.

Whitney sat up angrily. “How well did you know John?” she asked Jo-Karna.

“I’m surprised you are making this connection,” she answered.

“You were in that bunker for years, Jo. It’s not a difficult conclusion.”

“I knew him well. It was through him, I was able to escape the bunker so many times. We met in secret for planning.”

“What did he mean when he said he tricked me?”

Jo-Karna stood quietly for a long time before she answered. “He was never mad at you, Jo-Laina. The chances of our escape were very slim. He sacrificed himself because it was the only way to get us out of there alive. He tried desperately to conceive another plan, and I tried my best to help him, but this was the only way he could come up with that would work. It was getting you to kill him and forcing Margraves to attack with the other twins close enough to escape with us.”

Whitney got to her feet. “You knew these things and didn’t tell me?” she yelled.

“I did what was necessary. If you’d known, you would never have done it.”

“NO! I wouldn’t have!”

“I’m sorry, Jo-Laina, but that is why we didn’t tell you. It was the only way!”

“I should have had a choice in that!”

“And what would you have done differently?” Jo-Karna demanded.

“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t have killed him. I couldn’t have!”

“And there would have been consequences for that. Not killing him would lead to the deaths of others you cared about. The Queen...”

“Shut up about the queen. I’ve heard her name used as an excuse too many times.”

Jo-Karna walked up and faced her directly. She placed a hand on Whitney’s shoulder and spoke softly. “He loved you very much and was honored to die by your hand, Jo-Laina.”

“And to add the weight of his death to my shoulders,” Whitney spat.

“There is that. But he thought you would understand why that was fitting.”

Fitting? Whitney’s mind screamed, but she couldn’t stand pursuing the conversation any further. The memory of her sword entering his chest burned inside of her like a sun in her chest; the surprised look in his eyes. He hadn’t expected it so suddenly, but she saw that he respected it.

There weren’t many shadows left on any part of the campgrounds. She could sense the shadow of Mr. Margraves, heading up from the lake, going back toward his office. They would probably end up passing him on their way down, because Little John’s shadow wasn’t far from the lake. It wasn’t alone. There were many shadows with him. She counted more than a dozen, and Erik’s was one of them.

Whitney began to head down the almost non-existent path that lead from the copse to the main trails. Everyone followed behind her, and as soon as her feet hit the main path, Blake filed in next to her on one side and Carol came in on the other. They each took one of her hands and walked next to her. She had enough sense to know they were doing their best to be with her for as long as they could before she and Tommy left. They both knew what was about to happen and there was no time frame for how long they’d be gone. As far as they knew, it would be forever.

They did pass Mr. Margraves on the way down to the lake. He walked, with his head down to the ground, watching his feet take turns extending in front of him, barely aware of anything around, as he made his way back toward his office. He stopped in front of them, surprised at seeing them again, but not as surprised as he was embarrassed.

His eyes twitched a little in their sockets. “I’m sorry,” he said; barely moving his lips. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I should have left my brother and my nephew out of it.”

“Yeah, you should have,” Whitney answered.

“It was the will of the grey and the desire of the circles themselves,” Jo-Karna commented. “If he hadn’t called his brother, then you would not have been brought to me.”

Whitney did her best to forgive Mr. Margraves’ stupidity, but found it difficult. The best she could manage was to leave him to stare at his feet as he continued to make his way back to his office.

There was a circle of Cherokee just off to the side of the atoll. All of them dressed in ceremonial attire, singing their prayers, Little John highlighted in the middle, chanting, first to the sky, following by turning his head toward the water, continuing in song. Tommy recognized Little John’s wife, as she stood with her hands joined to two other members. They all sang with Little John, and the more they sang, the more turbulent the water became in the center of the lake.

Erik was waiting for them along the beach as they walked up to it.

“Time is short,” he said. “We don’t have time for proper goodbyes.”

Eric was not dressed as Whitney was used to seeing him dressed. He was wearing nothing more than a loincloth, war paint on his face, chest and arms, a single feather dancing above his head, strapped there with a leather band, and a quiver and bow perched upon his back. A sack sat by his side and his face was solemn and serious.

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