Chapter Two
"So let me get this straight. You still believe there's a spirit that visits children and gives them presents. How old are you again?"
Namorn laughed as his reflection caught his eye in the window. He stopped to study himself, brushing his black hair back with his fingers. His tongue flicked to the side of his mouth, and his eyebrows narrowed as he focused on an errant strand of hair. He was of average build and height, but his bronze skin and chiseled features endeared him to many of the village women. Satisfied, he turned to his best friend's wife.
"Don't laugh at me, Namorn," Dalynia replied. She stood on a chair to reach the bench in the Druid Hall, leaning over as far as she could to put away the dishes. It was times like these that she longed for her kitchen, where everything was built for her diminutive size. "And no height jokes, or you and Garos can do this."
Garos looked up at his wife. "Hey, don't bring me into this. Tell you what, if Namorn does make a comment, then he can relieve the babysitter and look after Cravius. I'm sure that would ruin any plans he has for later."
Namorn closed his mouth, the witty comment unspoken. "But it's Reconcilement. You know - forgiveness, presents, family, giving. My nephew shouldn’t be with a sitter tonight, he should be with his family."
"Well, that's my decision not yours. I'm not having my boy anywhere near these sick children. I've already heard this from Dalynia, end of discussion. Cravius will have many more years of Reconcilement, thanks to his overbearing sea-dog of a father. Besides, I'm sure he’ll forget all about it when he sees what's under the tree in the morning."
An uncomfortable silence surrounded the group as the conversation ended. Women went from table to table serving large platters of meat, casting furtive glances at Namorn as they did so. Occasionally, Namorn would reward one of the women with a smile, and she would blush and giggle like a teenager, before scurrying off to continue her work.
Dalynia rolled her eyes, watching the scene play out before her. "Honestly, Namorn, I don’t know what they see in you."
"Ah, Daly, you’re just jealous of my boyish good looks." He winked at her.
"Nam, no winking at my wife."
"Sorry, Gar, I can’t help myself. If only I’m as lucky as you are in finding my soul mate."
Dalynia looked at Garos, and a loving smile passed between them. Although they had been married for years, it always seemed like only yesterday that they had fallen in love.
After a moment, Garos lent across the table. "Tell me, Your Highness, have you heard the tale of the Great Gifter?"
Kayne shook his head. "No. Such tales are strictly prohibited on Methuselah, unless it has something to do with the mighty Ophidia."
John grimaced at the mention of Ophidia as he sat at the end of the table. He watched as young teenagers carried logs to the four fireplaces in the hall. A movement outside the window turned his attention. He peered out to see the smallest flakes of snow starting to fall.
Some of the men sat behind John, uneasy in the presence of an Apothecary. Dalynia's disapproving glance forced them to look away. They picked up their mugs and continued to drink their ale. Children ran up to him to touch his golden armor, which shone in the flickering candle light.
Kayne watched as a small group of women attended children, who lay in wooden beds. Woven bandages stained with blood were wrapped around their injuries. Reminded of his friend, Pierce, who had died before Kayne had left on his pilgrimage, he watched on in sadness. On one bed, a sick, fevered child lay dying.
"Garos, what happened to the children?"
"Rabids flew in and attacked the school before we arrived. They took several of the children. We don’t know why these ones are ill, though. We think it's some kind of new infection from a bat hybrid. We would’ve lost them too, if John hadn't assisted the druids in healing them. With Gaiana away, we needed all the help we could get."
Kayne shook his head sadly. "I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help."
Garos took a gulp of ale and continued. "We all have our duties. Dalynia is acting Druid Mother, Namorn is in charge of the Ranger Guard, I'm fixing the defenses, and Reesus needed your help salvaging the Methuselan ship."
Kayne picked up his glass and took a sip. "I guess you're right. Jack still could have summoned me. I'm sure I could have done something."
Hearing his name, John joined the conversation. "I'm just sorry I couldn't do more. I healed what I could, but my power isn’t strong enough yet to have helped them completely."
"We appreciate what you did, Jack, or John." Garos paused. "Actually, what do we call you now?"
"To my friends, either will do, but everyone else will know me as John."
"Well, John it is. Don’t be so hard on yourself." A familiar glint sparkled in Garos’ eyes. "I imagine one day you'll heal the masses, just as fast as a Bishop can hurt them," he jested. "But seriously, we understand faith magic takes time, but in the end, it's powerful stuff."
"Fortunately, it seems time is one thing I have an abundance of." He laughed at himself as if he’d told a grand joke.
The group turned to see Reesus walking through the door. A small obsidian tablet poked out of his pocket, and a huge grin covered his face.
"How’s the wife?"
He nodded at the group and sat down where Dalynia indicated. "Glad I’m alive. She sends her thanks….again." A large plate of chicken sat before him. He picked up his fork, ready to start, but Garos shook his head. Reesus looked crestfallen. He returned his utensil to the table and looked at John, who stood up, walked to the window, and stared at the snow outside.
"Don't tell me you've never seen snow before?"
"Of course I have," John replied. "I've just never been on this side of the window before."
Dalynia walked over to John and touched his hand tenderly. "And we've never had an Apothecary join us for Reconcilement."
John remarked, "Reconcilement? Yes, I believe it must be that time. A very troublesome time indeed. Gathering in all those people and forgiving each other, only to go back to hating each other a month later."
Namorn folded his arms and looked at John. "Only because you see it that way."
"Namorn!" Dalynia chastised.
Kayne looked uncomfortably at John, while Garos slapped his friend across the back of the head. Dalynia raised an eyebrow. Namorn and Garos looked down at the table and then at each other.
"That was your fault," Garos muttered to Namorn.
"She's your wife."
Dalynia turned back to John. "You wear the golden armor, my dear. There's nothing to be ashamed of, especially here at my table."
John fought back the tears, forcing his face closer to the glass window. His sadness reflected back at him from its smooth surface. "I'm not so sure Raymond would agree," he whispered.
Sensing John's regret, Kayne stood up from the table and walked towards his mentor. "Jack? I mean, John? Are you okay?"
John composed himself. "Yes, yes. I'm fine. Just admiring the snow outside."
"Of course," Kayne replied, hiding the sarcasm in his voice. "Well, old man, this is my first time on another world, so how about you tell me what this Reconcilement thing is all about."
Reesus slammed his mug of ale down on the table. "Yes, old man. I'm eager to hear about Reconcilement from an Apothecary."
"No, you’re not," John replied as he returned to the table.