Kothos (prime)/Always Something There to Remind me
(THERE’S) ALWAYS SOMETHING THERE TO REMIND ME
The swamp at night lost some of the majesty it held at daytime, when the sunlight rippled across the thick canopy, making little misty rainbows in the fog. After dark, Vipershroud became no less beautiful, but the gloom exchanged the rainbow for a caliginous violet. The involute growth kept everything close and veiled, the only light was what they brought with them- and it flickered and reflected in odd ways across the sheen of omnipresent moisture. However, such environs were perfect for them tonight- it offered cover to their journey and goals.
Here and there, Kothos brought them to a halt until their eyes adjusted to the fulsome darkness. It wouldn’t do to have him or Reynai fall in a stretch of quicksand or peat and ruin their timing. Not to mention make them filthy and wet, the latter of which could be gravely uncomfortable, once they crossed over through the elven encampment and skirted the Red Forest. The Landing was in the grip of a merciless winter, terrible even for this region. It was the reason they were doing this at all, or at least, the main one. As for me, the priest mused, it’s certainly preferable to slowly driving myself mad with fear and grief.
Just then, Reynai turned to look at him, her owl-bright green eyes perfectly outlined by the break in the forest, her face contrasted against the silvered line of snow beyond. Her expression made him cringe inwardly; she was worried about him. Ten years old, and after all she had been through and suffered, and now her sweet, lambent eyes were shining with apprehension again, because he- her guardian and foster father- couldn’t pull himself together. He forced himself to smile, socking away his shame below a beatific gaze.
“Are you looking forward to seeing Endymion?” He asked her, forestalling any questions she might have tossed his way. He was ready for none of them. At the mention of the name, her face changed with wistful ease, the gleam in her eyes now claimed by excitement.
“Oh yes, please!” She started toward him, and he quickly tugged a small bundle from one of his many cassock pockets and handed it to her. “In that case, put these on without argument, hm? The sooner we’re dressed for the cold, the sooner I can summon him and Cerannos.” His manipulation worked, she had her fur-lined cloak and woolen scarf and other snug layers out and mostly on by the time he retrieved his own warm garments. Usually convincing a girl who grew up on a tropical island and now lived in a humid bog required a great deal more cajoling to layer up. Just then, he had a little memory of a sylvan woman, chiding him about his sandals while they stood in the snow drifts outside the Nightowl Pub. He shivered again, hiding it with more unpacking- this time retrieving Endymion’s reins from another pocket.
All the girl’s attention turned from him the second the midnight-hued unicorn trotted in front of them, nearly materializing out of the night sky. Reynai and Endymion greeted each other with purloined apples and soft whinnies while he called for his stag. Cerannos was every bit as dramatic as his equine peer, his golden coat a fiery ripple of color in the cold shadows. It was a shame to have to cover him with the plum-hued blanket and mahogany kaajkur, but Kothos worried the shine would draw the eyes of hunters, human or otherwise, desperate for a prize such as the large stag. He knew he could keep such threats away, but it would delay them.
Finally, he and Reynai were ready. The excited girl tolerated him checking over her cloak and hood, making sure she was snug against the chilly evening. He felt his own concerns melt, as soon as he had her mounted upon Endymion’s slender saddle. Upon the mystical equine’s back, she was always safe and secure. Silently he whispered a few prayers of gratitude to Lord Ronan, and turned the small party toward the elven settlement. The shop matron, Sorsha, had agreed to let him store their foraged and purchased goods in one of her vacant outbuildings. “Wouldn’t this be easier with Modig and Trigve?” Reynai asked, still nearly bouncing in the saddle with glee. Endymion, for his part, was busy nuzzling her cloak pocket where he was quite sure there were more apples. Kothos considered wistfully how very much easier this would be with Guarrin’s draft horse and moose, the two animals could haul three or four times what the deer and unicorn could. However… “No, darling. This task is for you and me to accomplish. The larger the party, the greater chance we’ll be discovered.”
“And that would be bad?” She was stubborn, he considered, and in truth, he couldn’t tell her all of the reasons, they wouldn’t make sense to her, just yet, why there would be some in the settlement who would feel very uneasy taking gifts and charity from the Temple of Ivas. “Sir Guarrin tells me that it’s important to practice humility, and this is one way to accomplish it- one of the chivalric virtues, you know.”
Reynai’s eyes gleamed with curiosity, even if she didn’t catch on to why it was important to Kothos and the Silver Gryphons, she at least appreciated the role the protectors had played in her life. Kothos nodded, feeling a little proud despite himself, in his foster daughter and how readily she trusted him. Besides, it was good for her, as well, to be the instrument of generosity and aid, after being so vulnerable herself not so long ago.
“If we leave these supplies with them, they may feel a little suspicious, considering the mixed welcome they have gotten. But at least there won’t be any agenda with them. They will not feel beholden to us for the assistance.”
Kothos realized he was talking to himself, as she was already feeding Endymion another golden apple from her pocket. The priest shook his head, and quickly fetched the various velvet sacks he’d placed in the shed this afternoon. They were all still drawn shut and sealed- occasionally he had found evidence of squirrels helping themselves to some of the contents. And who could blame them, in weather like this? Kothos tethered the heavier containers to the unicorn, Reynai’s weight was so slight he was relatively unburdened. One sack had several pounds of boar jerky within, wrapped in salted wax paper. It was an idea he’d had after Lady Uniana had sent him some as a gift, once, as it would give the settlers a little protein that would stay unspoiled. Other sacks had the bounty of the swamp within it, water chestnuts, cranberries, fox grapes, bunches of wild rice, and persimmons. The two bundles he placed upon Cernonnos’s saddle were the best treats of them all- he’d gone to Mist Harbor and purchased several baskets of fresh strawberries, two sacks of blood oranges, boxes of walnuts, some pots of yogurt, and finally, his own favorite indulgence- three dozen bright red mango fruit. Just to give them something a little diverse, different from their winter fare. Once the two beasts’ panniers were full, Kothos led the stag out by his strap, trusting Endymion to keep pace.
It turned colder with every step closer to the Landing. The snow drifts were little problem for the light-footed steeds, even with their packs bulging. Kothos was normally a graceful man himself, but he struggled here and there to stay as quiet as the mounts. This was simply not his element- he hated the cold, though right now, with Liabo mostly full and Lornon just starting to wane- the luster on the banks and creek beds as they moved toward the Dragonsclaw forests was beautiful to behold. The beauty was deceptively cruel, however. What a terrible winter, to build a new life, for those who have already been through so much loss.
They navigated a route that took them past Quin Telaren’s post unseen-not a terribly difficult task- and up through the logging field to the base of Lord Kai’s shrine. None of the monsters who threatened this part of the forest came up here. He untied the parcels and sacks and placed them at the base of each talisman, with the sack of mangos going to the first and the last- Hope and Faith. When he was done, he turned back to Reynai, giving her a willful smile that she readily returned. In a blink of an eye, she was gone, the unicorn spiriting her away to just the other side of the clearing. In a few moments, she reappeared, nodding enthusiastically as a streak of golden sparks went up in the air behind her. It was a firework he’d gotten from Melikor, and thus far had been their signal to catch the settlers’ attention. He quickly vaulted onto Cernonnos’s back, and the two of them galloped away, gone long before they could be discovered. Kothos admitted that it was sorely tempting, to stay long enough to see the expressions on their faces, just once- but no. It was better this way.
No longer needing silence and discretion, the two of them enjoyed a full-throttle run back through the swamp, Endymion narrowly edging out a victory in their impromptu race to the boulder. Reynai hooted in joy as they crested the rocky barrier, and he congratulated her. They each took a seat on the boulder’s crown, to await the dawn. He reached into another of his cassock pockets, pulling out a mango he’d saved for just this purpose, carefully paring away the peel and handing slices of golden fruit to his foster daughter. Endymion and Cernonnos snorted below, and he tossed down the peels to them both to share. Another successful delivery, and in a few days, they would make another, and another, until the settlers had plentiful crops of their own.
For a few moments, as the sun started its journey over the faraway eastern sea, just a mist of light barely visible from their perch, Kothos was able to forget about the rest, and enjoy the company and the surrounding splendidness of the swamp greeting the dawn. He felt a slither of movement shift in his cassock, and a second later, a dark green serpent with a triangular head and amber-hued eyes extricated herself from him, wrapping herself about his waist as she attempted to reach toward the surrounding canopy. He and Reynai gave Rusalka a few parting strokes as she slid off through the cypress boughs. Home. This was his home.
The mantra burned, reminding him of his coming conflict and the absence in his bed- Xanthium had been gone for weeks now, joining several of his other longtime lovers into the category of people that he used to know. He had thought of her, holding the tattered and blood-stained cloak that Perigourd had recovered from the Imperial ship following Sayilla’s murder. The garment was almost identical to Xanthium’s disciple garb, from the drape of the light, soft fabric to the way it seemed to lift in the air, even rended and soiled as it was. He’d handed it back to his fellow squire, his mind reeling with confirmation and dread. The silhouette and scent of the woman he’d witnessed that night had been telling, but this- the cloak- was revelation. One of the forces working to destabilize the Nations and the North was none other than his Mistress’s avatar. He turned away from Reynai while he was thinking, she was contentedly chatting away about how fast she’d been, in setting up the firework, and asking if next time they shouldn’t get some almonds for the poor fellows, everyone loves almonds…
Kothos didn’t want Reynai to see his distress again, even though sooner or later, he would have to tell her, since it could threaten her place in the Vipershroud, as well. He wasn’t ready for her to know what had been made plain for him just a few nights ago- there were different paths and ways of worship, for his Mistress, and someone with the strength of an avatar…someone that by their very definition, should be his superior and have the authority to command him. To murder, to violate- to sicken and poison. He knew it was his own naivete, but secretly he had always hoped to stay in his little corner of Ivas’s wide world, and let his focus be what it was. Fierce passion, independence for women, the divine inspiration that desire brought- and the cycle of life and rebirth that came with the rot and decomposition of the swamp. It was what he held so dearly and for so long, over the decades the Temple around him had adopted much of his outlook. There was still a great deal of wariness about Her and Her worshippers, of course, but they offered no real threat to the Landing environs, compared to Arachne, in fact, they had sheltered those stricken with irreversible curses in the Children of Ivas ward. They certainly had a better reputation than the Spider Temple, the Den of Rot, or the Temple of Luukos on Teras Isle. Or, he thought bitterly, stroking Reynai’s messy braid, the Lord of Nightmare’s most recent plots to manifest in the material world.
He was no perfect being, there had been many times when he manipulated his lovers and friends for some passionate purpose, when he enjoyed making someone uncomfortable after them betraying some misgivings about him and his Mistress. But it all had a greater purpose, he thought. Just then, a shaft of golden sunlight coursed across some tiered clouds on the horizon, giving the bog a verdant green glow. The beauty of the scene filled him with longing and memory, of a century ago, so far away. The manor house where he had been born, dark and imposing in his mind’s eye, as it had been that day. He and his mother had never been close, his brother had been the one to raise him, but still. She was his mother. That morning, they came to collect her, from where they had bound her to the iron coalbin as a makeshift prison cell. They made him and his brother come along, too, along with all the other servants. She had spoken up for one of the lord’s nephews, a young man she had been dallying with for several seasons. She had objected to the lord of the manor threatening his nephew’s sinecure- the last words she had spoken before being clapped unconscious were- But it’s just not fair!
He'd been barely six years old, watching them strap the iron cage down across her long black hair, locking it into place. Next had come the muzzle- a loathsome thing with a spike in the mouthpiece, girded by sharp edges. Once in place, she was obliged to be silent, or she’d mutilate her lips, jaw and tongue. The scold’s bridle she wore was far from the only one, the rack behind her had others fitted for previous outbursts of the various scullery maids, cooks and housemaids over time. The iron cage had been painted with a mask, an expression of suffering, complete with tears she dared not shed. He could still see her eyes, through the holes left so she could still go about her duties as if nothing had changed. It wasn’t the torment, or at least, not just the pain of the cuts he could see burgeoning across her mouth. It was the terrible humiliation in her dark eyes, the fervid cruelty for briefly speaking her mind. The world had changed in the century since, his mother was long dead- she was more human than he- and he had not heard of such punishments being used for some time. After he was thrown out of the manor for being caught with one of the other groomsmen, he’d born witness to many such cruelties, of women being made into ghoulish scapegoats. He heard the first stories of his Mistress, who was always to blame for a man killing his wife, or his lover, or sometimes accusing Ivas of having a sordid affair with Eorgina. Since Kothos had known great joy with every gender presentation who expressed an interest in him, he came to realize that such associations were intended to be a warning, from people like the manor lord, that desire and fierceness would lead to torture and humiliation. Especially for those already viewed as powerless, he thought, gathering up Reynai to go back to the Temple.
Despite her excitement, she was clearly getting a little sleepy from their early venture, so he let her lounge against his shoulder as he carefully picked through the bog. Ever since that morning with the scold’s bridle, he had promised himself that he would provide inspiration where there was blame, pleasure instead of pain, and where there was pain already- hospitality and care, even for those so deprived they no longer knew their own names. It hadn’t been a singular revelation or vow, but it collected within him with journey through the Empire, for when he had taken his vows at Her shrine in Nydds, and all through his decades of Service since. Now it was a nuanced band of motivation and faith, and not some small amount of hope. He had his vows with the Gryphons, and he meant to keep them- he believed, through their action and their conviction- they were exactly the reason one no longer found scold’s bridles in the Empire. That’s what I’ll have, until the decision has to be made. Hope and faith. If I must fight, I will fight- if I lose my home- The thought of leaving the swamp immediately made him catch his breath, thankfully Reynai was already nodding off- then hope and faith will be my shelter. Mistress, I have faith in you, always.
He left Reynai in her bed close to his own quarters, deciding to go and see if he was needed for greeting the morning pilgrims. He felt a nascent stirring, another sort of hope and passion- that there was someone here for him. For Her. He felt another wave of dread thinking of going back to his sparse quarters and empty, Xanthium-less bed. The morning sun was higher now, bathing the courtyard in an artistic spread of flowers and dark grey stone, and he felt some of his distress ebb away at the welcome sight. The veil of grief fell off even more, as the group of pilgrims revealed one in their midst- a petite woman with steel-and-silver hair, careworn smile and blue eyes.
“Nessa.” He reached down and gathered up both her hands in one of his, she grinned shyly back at him- which was delightful, since she’d been coming to see him for eight years. “Lady Winter could spare us a little bit of rejuvenation and warmth, then?” Her smile broadened, and he coupled the compliment with a soft stroke down her shoulder, flattening out a few wrinkles in her grey acolyte robes.
And then he lifted her up, on his shoulder, grinning at the open “O” on her face as he headed toward the sacristy. “Come. We will find some sunlight of our own. Do you like mangos?”
She chuckled, trying to settle herself while swinging precariously from his palms and collarbone.
“Yes, I do. Why?”
“I have one leftover from earlier. You’re going to eat it.” With that, he whispered a few suggestions of just how and from where this consumption would take place, and her lined face went red as a tomato.
Amen, Mistress. Blessed be.