“But my family worships Diathus. We have always worshipped Diathus.”
“The goddess of land and oceans. That would make sense, coming from … well, I assume you are from around here. On a coastline. But everyone should worship Weysa as well. For without conflict there can be no peace—of the mind, the body, or the soul. We must be conflicted from time to time, so that we may make the best choices and judgments, making us stronger and more sure.”
Jaykun couldn’t believe he was in the grass philosophizing with a naked woman, but it didn’t stop him from doing so.
“You make a very good point. I shall have you speak to my father one day. He is quite learned and enjoys such debates. My mother as well.”
She turned her head suddenly, and looked back toward the beach.
“I have to go now. Will you come back tomorrow night?” she asked.
“You can be certain of it,” Jaykun said wryly.
“Very well, I will see you then! Goodbye!” She waved at him and hurried off. She was fast, moving sleekly into the darkness. All Jaykun could do was watch the line of her bare body until she disappeared into the cove he had come from. Odd, there was nothing down that stretch of beach. It was the very reason he had chosen it. Where could she possibly be going?
Jaykun didn’t have time to dawdle over the matter. It was late and there was the danger of another enemy patrol coming by. Although, he suspected this raggedy band had been soldiers that had fled the thick of the battle, waiting for darkness to hide their presence so they could perhaps escape or, as they had done, cause trouble.
Jaykun went back to their encampment without any further molestation. Which was a good thing because he found himself completely preoccupied by the appearance of Jileana. Not just the baffling question of where she had come from, but so much more. Why had she been naked? There were dangerous men from both armies encamped just a short distance away. It was madness for her to be out and about at all, never mind in such a vulnerable way.
She had been really quite beautiful. As Jaykun thought about it, he could not recall having seen any woman to compare. All the more reason for her to be more cautious. Beauty could be a curse for a woman, drawing unwanted attention. Dangerous attention. And if he had to confess it, he himself had been incredibly drawn to her. Had she actually touched him … there was no telling what his reaction might have been.
No. Not true. He would not have had any reaction, Jaykun told himself sternly. She was just another woman who happened to be pretty. No more no less. And he had no place in his life for women, pretty or otherwise.
He made it back to the command tent, the encampment quiet now in comparison to the activity of earlier. When he entered the tent he found both of his brothers pacing anxiously, still fully dressed in their armor.
“At last!” Dethan cried when he saw Jaykun. “What took you so long?”
“You know why I must go.”
“Yes of course we do,” Garreth said with a manner of impatience. “But you are usually back—Have you been in a fight?” he asked abruptly.
“That is why I was delayed. I was waylaid on the way back.”
“Oh. I see you made it out in one piece,” Dethan said.
“Don’t I always?”
“You know, it is not a given that you will make it back with all your limbs or head attached. You cannot be killed unless you are beheaded with a god-made weapon, but you can still be beheaded by a normal sword and be left on the ground and unable to heal until your body parts are reunited.”
“Yes,” Garreth said. “It is very hard to find one’s head with one’s body when the body cannot see the head for lack of eyes.”
“This is all a moot topic. I am fine,” Jaykun said, impatient with his brothers’ worrying. He did not like to be coddled. He was perfectly capable of handling himself in any situation. “If you wish to discuss something, then let us discuss how we will approach the city walls tomorrow.”
“I was thinking we would send a messenger, offering them one last chance to open their gates peacefully to us. Their army, such as it was, has been decimated. Our taking of the city is only a matter of time. Surely they must realize this at this point.”
“They might. It does not follow they will behave wisely. Would you risk the life of a messenger?”
“Better one life than the lives of many as we embark on this last attempt at the walls.”
“Yes, but the Krizans are very dishonorable,” Jaykun pointed out. “They will be very unlikely to respect parlay.”
“So we don’t try at all?”
“I think not. If they want to parlay or surrender all they have to do is open the gates. They know this. We have already sent messages that we will not harm the citizens of the city if they but lay down their weapons. The rest is up to them. We will take this city one way or another and we will earn the fleet of ships in their harbor. I want those ships. If we are to move on the Isle of Moroun, and then to Shintu we will need those ships.”
“It is said Moroun is heavily protected by the goddess Diathus,” Garreth hedged. “If you plan to lay siege to an island that is protected by a god of Xaxis’s faction—It is unwise. Especially when we are more able as a land army rather than a seafaring one.”
The gods were at war. There were twelve gods in all, and they had been split into two factions. One was lead by their goddess, the goddess of conflict and war, Weysa. The other was lead by Xaxis, the god of the eight hells. Meddling in the affairs of the gods was never a wise thing for a man to do, but they had been sworn by Weysa to do exactly that, for the power of the gods came from the multitude of their worshippers. The more they were worshipped, the more powerful they became. Every temple the brothers raised in Weysa’s name made her and her faction more powerful. Every city they stole from Xaxis’s faction made his weaker.
The only thing that protected them from the wrath of Xaxis at this point was their goddess’s protection. But she only gave that protection if the brothers honored the agreement she had foisted upon them. An agreement they must honor no matter what, else they enrage the goddess and find themselves … well, all three brothers had learned firsthand of the vindictive nature of the gods. They would not court it again for any reason.
“One step at a time. I am not certain I will try to take Moroun. First let us take this city. Then we will worry about the next. Now, I don’t know about you, but I am weary.” He began to take off his clothes, revealing the burn scarring and damage that had been done to him that day. His brothers watched him with troubled eyes for a long moment, but then finally began to follow suit. They were each in their cots shortly after, sleeping the troubled sleep of men at war.
Jacquelyn Frank, Cursed by Ice
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