(THOB) Chapter 118: Fate (Patreon)

Ezril stroked Lenaria’s hair where it fell from her head rested on his chest, wondering what she was still doing in bed with him four hours past the crack of dawn. On previous days she would have made her exit three hours earlier only after ensuring his breakfast was ready and he wanted for nothing.

“Where do you go every morning?” he asked her, giving life to the thoughts that had always danced in his mind.

Lenaria shrugged. “Out with the girls.”

Out with the girls?Ezril’s head reeled away in shock as if he’d been physically struck. “I thought you don’t like to make friends.”

“I go out with the girls does not mean I’m friends with them, Ezril.”

“If you aren’t friends with them, then why would you go out with them?”

“To pick herbs.”

“Herbs?”

Lenaria moved her head to look at him. “Helva suggested I join them in picking herbs for the tribe, that it could help them feel at ease with me. Help them accept me.” Now she shrugged a shoulder. “I thought it was a good idea at the time.”

“And?” Ezril encouraged.

“And girls here aren’t much different from the sisters at the convent; I don’t like them either. But I think their warming up to me.” She’d said the last sentence with an air of accomplishment and he couldn’t help but be proud of her. “Nidas asked if you could also join them on their hunts.”

“Nidas,” he drawled, stretching the name, trying to recall the face that owned the name.

“Yes,” she drawled, stretching the word, mocking him. “Nidas.”

Ormanu came to mind and he remembered. “Oh, the big guy,” he confirmed. Thinking about it he saw the logic to taking the giant of a man on the offer. It would do well to help assimilate them into the tribe. But you know you will not stay in the tribe… “… Surely. When is the offer for?”… and how do you know Nidas?

Lenaria regarded him with skepticism and he fear she had sensed something in the pause. But she answered without any reference to it. “Tomorrow,” she informed him. “They leave an hour after first light.”

She pecked him, leaving the bed a second time and shrugged on her gown.

“And where are you going?” he asked.

“To get water.”

“What for?”

“You and I need a bath,” she answered, making her way to the entrance where she unclipped one peg at a time, “We certainly can’t walk around today without a bath.”

Ezril smirked. “Who says we have to leave the room?”

True to his words, they spent the entirety of the day within the tent and when their afternoon and evening meals came to them, they were brought by a woman in her late twenties. One Ezril recognized for one of the married women.

The second day found him out of the tribe at the crack of dawn. He walked with eight men accompanied by the women from the tribe. Clad in his war garment he had only been allowed his bow and a quiver of arrows which had been presented to his on his arrival. Lenaria had warned him off carrying his Sunders when they’d been preparing to leave the tent. Apparently, the tribe saw them as abominations.

They had gone a distance into the forest when Nurulla stalked up to his side. “You and the priestess, huh.”

He looked at her but said nothing.

She shrugged. “It won’t last.”

His lids narrowed at the inference and he bit back a retort. Her expression said she wasn’t being an enemy or a terrible person. She had simply said what she had because she believed it.

“I mean no offence,” she continued. “It’s just that I don’t think she’s the one for you. I can see the spark and the emotions. And I really like Lenaria, but I just don’t feel like fate has a hand in it.”

“Fate?”

“Yes.”

“And you would know something about fate.”

She nodded slowly while they walked. “It’s an amazing thing. You could call it the will of Vayla. A will impossible to act against. And if fate doesn’t have a hand in what you and Lenaria have, then I don’t think it will last. If fate hasn’t blessed it, then she’s not the one.”

Ezril turned on her, irritation clear in his voice. “And you are?”

Nurulla cowered under his tone. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?” he prodded. “Do you know what fate chooses? Do you see these things?”

This time she looked away, unable to meet his eyes.

“Don’t you think that to be enough, Ulla?” A voice spoke from ahead of them, drawing Ezril’s attention before he could say more.

Ezril turned to find a man who had been introduced as Aldonar, a man much older than them and the leader of the current expenditure, looking back at them.

“I know what the old lady told you those years ago,” Aldonar continued calmly, “but do not impose what fate has given you upon others.”

Cowered in her silence, Nuralla walked on until she was lost to Ezril’s sight.

They walked a while longer, and Ezril, wondering what had just transpired, found himself next to Nidas.

“Who is this old woman?” he asked.

Nidas grunted. “Small lady who come to us many years ago. She was to be telling little Nurulla about her fate. She could read it well, me thinks.”

“What did she tell Nurulla?”

“Not just Nurulla,” Nidas elucidated. “She was to be telling all of us our fate.”

“And what was hers?”

“About love.” he answered without secrecy. “She is to be falling in love with a strong man. Different man from the rest of us. Very powerful man. This man is to be coming to her bath in blood and she is to be treating him. He is to be being a great man.”

Bathed in blood. Ezril thought. A great man. He sighed. The Nurnal isht Afik. “She has the wrong man.”

Nidas shrugged. “May be…. May be not.”

Ezril’s lids narrowed and Nidas continued. “I am not to be claiming to be knowing the will of Vayla, but you were to be coming to us covered in blood. Nurulla was to be caring for you and rubbing that something on you, and you are Nurnal isht Afik. This is to be saying you is not normal man. I am just saying, but the old woman is to be proving correct.”

Ezril frowned, identifying the misunderstanding, but though he could’ve handled Nurulla better, it did naught to justify her words.

Aldonar raised his hand and the group fell quiet. A wildebeest stood paces from them grazing. Aldorna crouched low, and the others followed. Three men notched arrows and Ezril watched the team with a curiosity. No orders were given, no signals made. Every man seemed to know and understand what was expected from them.

Except him.

Ezril calculated the three hundred paces of leaves, grass, and trees between them and wondered if they should close the distance. However, the team was already spread out; Nidas and Ormanu in front, spears low, shoulders relaxed. And though he’d seen greater hunters than they, he couldn’t help but acknowledge living in the forest had done a good job of molding these men.