Antioch

  He became uneasy, squatting down behind the animal’s mass. She blocked too much of his field of vision. He went to the other side, hoping to be more comfortable there, but the top of the hill was much too close. There could be an army of bauran just over the rise. He’d have to watch that. John’s snore put them in constant danger of attracting attention as well. It took Daniel almost two hours to fill the bucket because he kept poking his head up to look around after every few squeezes of the teats.

  No monsters appeared. The animals grazed in the shrubs. It was still a long time before noon. Daniel drank some milk and started to get bored. Then he went to rummage through the packs.

  “Uncle John, where are those pickles?” He said it absent-mindedly, not intending to wake him.

  John rolled over, the torture in a dream transformed by his grandson’s voice. “No… nooo… it is… a pickled pork chop…”

  Daniel had no idea what that meant and gave it only a moment’s consideration before continuing his search for the apples. Halfway through the first pack, he found one of John’s tabards; not the plain, blank designation of an acolyte, but the high-collared, golden-embroidered standard of a paladin. He felt suddenly like a thief to touch it. He opened it up and traced his fingers through the Circle’s insignias, one on the front and one on the back, each half an inch deep and six inches wide on the inside. This might make a good strainer…

  Inspired, he put it aside and unloaded the rest of the bag to the bottom, discovering it was watertight. I’ll have to put a hole in that. He needed something sharp, like a knife. Daniel’s eyebrows went up and he turned to look at John’s caligan. It lay on the ground next to John.

  Daniel crept over and picked it up. Jacob had replaced the scabbard that John had burned. The weapon felt much more forbidden and valuable than the tabard. It was heavy, like lifting an axe, a spade, a pick and a pitchfork all at the same time. Daniel slid the bright steel out of its sheath and handled it with careful awe. It was beautiful.

  He posed with it and scanned the horizon, thinking he might just kill a bauran if he saw one, rather than wake John. Surely he could destroy anything with such a sword. His eyes narrowed on one of the thorn bushes. Daniel brought the blade back and swung with all of his strength, expecting to cut the bush in half, for branches to fly from a flat cleft. The springy shrub disappointed him, absorbing his attack and twisting the grip in his hands.

  The caligan felt then more like a heavy club than a sword, and Daniel’s arms were getting tired. He dragged it over to the empty pannier bag and used the point to work a hole through the leather. Then he put John’s weapon back and eventually found the pickled apples in another bag.

  Daniel spread out the tabard on the ground next to a bucket of milk, surveyed his work and nodded with satisfaction. Everything was ready. “Me’s in place.” He poured the pickles and their vinegar into the milk, which curdled right away. He poured that into one of the tabard’s golden circles, where it made a lumpy pile of curds and apple wedges. Folding it all up into shape with the tabard’s second circle, he put it into the bottom of the punctured pannier bag and repacked on top of it, to press the whey out of his cheese.

  He woke John at noon and they set out again. An ease developed between the two of them. John was happy Daniel was accepting him. Daniel looked forward to surprising John with what he’d done.

  When they stopped that evening to camp, Daniel brought out his pressed curds. John was taken aback. The old man examined the damage to the bag as the boy bragged about his improvised mise en place and about overcoming all odds to make cheese in the wilderness. The bag and everything in it smelled like apple cider vinegar.

  John didn’t understand how Daniel could have treated their equipment like that. “But, but, you made cheese in our saddle bags!”

  Daniel’s face fell. “I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” He started to fear he’d be punished. He sure didn’t want a wallop from someone stronger than his father.

  “And you’ve used a tabard of the Circle… as a cheese cloth!” John started laughing. “It does make a nice round, doesn’t it?” Daniel didn’t laugh. He was still too nervous. John put a hand on his grandson’s shoulder. “Son, this is the first official cheesecloth of the church of Golgotha. That calls for a celebration. I’ll get the cider.”

  John came back with a cider skin and the cast-iron skillet. “You’ve got to brown a sacred wheel like that. It’s the only way to do it right.”

  “Fergus browns it too!”

  “Well, he’s the one who showed me to eat it that way.” The cheese was two inches thick and the width of the circle across, with pickled apples snug in its shape. “I’ve never seen him put apples in a cheese, though. Was that your idea?”

  “Yes, sir. I thought it might taste good to leave them in.”

  “Mmm, I think it will.”

  John held the pan over the campfire, using his gauntlet as an oven mitt, and gave the cheese a rich, brown crust on each side. Then he turned it out onto his other hand, sat down and broke it into halves. They tasted it at the same time, both to mild disappointment.

  Daniel said, “I forgot the salt!”

  John looked sly. “How could you? It’s the most important thing in the kitchen.”

  Daniel laughed.

  John went on, “Would you say this needs butter or salt?” Daniel rolled his eyes and took another bite of the bland, crusty, sour, apple cheese. It had a pleasant density and meatiness. There were some good things about it. John’s half was gone before Daniel’s.

  John said, “You should make it again tomorrow. I’ve some salt packed. We’ve another three jars of pickles. There’s certainly enough milk to get it right.”

  “When you saw I poked a hole in the bag, I thought I was in for a wallop.”

  John gave him a kind smile. “Never be afraid of that. Are you ready to practice some more?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Daniel lay down stiff with his fists at his sides, concentrating. I won’t fall asleep this time. I won’t fall asleep this time. I won’t… John put his hand on Daniel’s forehead.

  Daniel woke up with the sunrise. “Fwah! What am I doing wrong?”

  John laughed and yawned. “Nothing, you have to get used to it. Did you dream?”

  “No. How long before I can do it?”

  John fell onto his blanket. “Milk the cow. Make cheese.” He left a pouch of salt and a jar of pickled apples on top of the official cheese cloth, which was in a tidy fold. John had assumed the tabard and the bag would start to stink of sour milk, but they didn’t. Everything still smelled of apple cider vinegar.

  That night John fried the cheese and it was perfect. He was impressed. He finished his half first again and then tried to steal some of Daniel’s. The boy laughed, holding it out of the old man’s reach.

  21 The Road to Golgotha

  Andalynn awoke. She sat up from her mat on the church floor. The door was shut. The hearth’s fire was the only light. Michael knelt on the next mat, deep in thought.

  Noticing her, he said, “Did you dream?”

  She spoke blankly, preoccupied. “I did.”

  “This is it then. What do you feel?”

  Andalynn felt a radiating calm and acceptance, its character like the taste of water. The closest she could come to it in a word was, “Nothing.”

  “No… that’s not right. You should be having an overwhelming emotion, one strong enough that it grips in your body. I assure you, it is quite profound.”

  “This is a profound and overwhelming nothing.”

  “But, nothing isn’t an emotion. You can’t open the way with nothing. What sort of things were in your dream?”

  “I was in a tunnel of light, surrounded by images and voices in the walls. They concerned the death of a woman named Sue.” Though it had been a difficult memory before, Andalynn found herself examining the details of it with clarity and without the urge to look away. “She was the first of our crew to be infected a
fter we separated from Ezekiel. I killed her.”

  “I see.”

  Michael could not argue. Awakening, as they referred to it in the Circle, was always the same, a golden tunnel of memories accompanied by a powerful emotion. She’d woken from the dream. From Michael’s explanations of it, she’d expected to dream of that night in the graveyard, when the bauran had raked half of her face away. She now wore a black scarf over the damage. It looked less like a bandage.

  He said, “There is no certainty in the path we’ll choose. Important events from our pasts will shape that choice but it is often unexpected. What do you think it is?”

  “Perhaps I cannot do this. This… nothingness… could mean I am unable.” She seemed wholly unaffected by the prospect.

  “No, I don’t think so. It’s a way that you feel. That’s all that matters. Emotions can be difficult to put into words. Of the six beginnings, which would you say is closest to what you’re feeling now?”

  “Repeat them please.”

  “Hate, love, sadness, anger, fear or joy.”

  Considering each, Andalynn said, “This is not derivative.”

  Michael shrugged. “They’re just words, only helpful in study. The name of what you feel isn’t as important as feeling it.”

  Andalynn sat still, being, without an opinion or a question. Her body functioned and her five original senses provided her with information, none of which interested her attention. A new sense captivated her. She could feel riin.

  Michael studied her for a minute. It certainly was a strong physical expression of nothing. She wasn’t doing anything at all. And, she only spoke when he asked her to. She might sit like this all day if I let her.

  He said, “I wouldn’t worry about not being able to continue. In all the history of the church there’s never been a man who couldn’t do this. The newly ordained are usually concerned about it... Are you concerned about that?”

  “I am remarkably unconcerned.”

  “Ah, of course. If your path is truly nothing, then I suppose you won’t be feeling much of anything for the rest of the day…” He gave her opportunities to converse. “In case you were wondering... how long, of course… you’re going to feel like this.”

  “I was not.”

  Michael chuckled. “This feeling is your path, what you’ll use to open the way. It will always be near to you because of that, but not so strong again as it is now. It’s normal to be overcome by it the day of the dream and then to simply sleep it off. That’s how it happened with me. Mine is a path of anger, but it’s no more vexing to me now than, oh, say, buckling my belt. Well, perhaps that’s a bit of an understatement. However, I can say that I’ve - never - been angrier than the day of my awakening. John found it rather humorous.”

  Andalynn said, “I have never felt more at peace.”

  ***

  Golden images of Daniel’s mother flashed and swirled around him. His favorite bedtime story echoed through him in her voice: But the wizard didn’t drink his blood, because the little boy’s mommy woke him up, just-in-time. She touched him on the nose. Then a shimmering Becca played in the field, a tiny version of their mother, squealing and trying to get Daniel to chase her: Be the horse, Danny, be the horse! Then his father, huge and strong, taught him the importance of responsibility: Never sleep past sunup, Dan. It’s a sin to waste the day. Daniel remembered then that he was supposed to wake up if he’d fallen asleep. He knew he was asleep and he chose to stay that way.

  John was cooking bacon for breakfast when he noticed Daniel stir. “Well, that was the sleep of the dead! I haven’t seen you miss a sunrise before. Did you dream?”

  Daniel said, “Yes, sir,” but something was wrong. Something horrible was swelling inside of him.

  John was delighted. “Oh, that’s good! How did the dream make you feel?” He put his sizzling skillet on the dirt and rubbed his hands together with anticipation.

  Daniel hid his building turmoil by rubbing his eyes but answered John’s question with the truth, “Sad…” Though the contents of his dream had been happy, on awakening, the stark reality of his family’s deaths confronted him, like he’d never felt or understood them before that moment.

  John didn’t notice the boy’s distress and continued brightly. “Really? I use a branch of sadness myself. After the way you put it on Davies, I’d have sworn you’d be one to use anger, like Michael. Oh, you should have seen him wake up. He was hopping mad!” John laughed. “This is exciting! But, we’ll need to narrow it down a little before we can really get going. Would you say it’s more of a grief or a remorse that you’re feeling? I don’t know if you’re aware of the difference between the two.”

  Daniel couldn’t hide his feelings anymore. They came sobbing out of him with tears and shouts. “What are you talking about!? What’s happening to me!?”

  John suddenly understood and hurried over. “Oh! Oh, no… forgive me, son. How careless of me. I forgot to tell you how strong it is the first time. I should have warned you. It’s going to be alright. Don’t worry!”

  “I feel… I feel like they died! They died again and… they’re never coming back! I know they’re nooot!” Daniel wailed and hugged his knees. “They’re gone! No! Nooo!”

  John knelt next to him and held him. “Shh, shh. It’s alright. It’s alright. I’m here, son. I’m here. Don’t worry.” Daniel was inconsolable. John didn’t sleep that day.

  The next, Daniel woke up with the sun. There was a large breakfast ready for him with milk. He needed it. He couldn’t eat or drink at all the day before and had cried so much the muscles in his face were sore. John waited for him to speak.

  Daniel finished eating first. “I don’t want to feel like that ever again. I don’t want to learn the way anymore.”

  John said, “I’m very tired. Give me an extra hour or two today. Ok?”

  Daniel had expected an argument. “Yes, sir.”

  That afternoon they traveled deep into a pine woodland and had little conversation along the way. That evening, before settling down to camp on the dry needles, they noticed the air was hazy and smelled of wood-smoke. It had accumulated gradually but was on the verge of causing them to cough. John feared a forest fire was coming.

  “What is this, Uncle John? What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know. Go ahead and set us out something to eat. The air’s cleaner near the ground.”

  Daniel did as he was told. John left the animals packed. Throughout dinner, as it had been all day, the boy was ready to refuse practicing but the old man never brought it up. John stayed watching the direction of the wind. Their campfire’s light reflected from the haze and turned the trees into tall, glowing sentinels. John felt he could have seen farther in the dark.

  Daniel said, “I’m going to bed now,” assuming that would bring out the argument.

  But, John didn’t even look at him. “Goodnight, son. Get some rest.”

  Daniel lay down, feeling like a complete disappointment, feeling about to cry again. Despite John’s assurance it had been normal, it embarrassed Daniel to have wept a whole day away. He frowned and sat up, fighting back the tears. He didn’t really want to stop learning. “Uncle John, what’s riin?”

  John turned from his vigil to respond. “Oh, well, that’s important. We should talk about that.” He scratched his beard and gave it some thought. “You know, honestly, I don’t know what it is.”

  “Huh?”

  “I know what it does, but I don’t really know what it is. No one does, though they’ll certainly say they do. For instance, Gabriel believes riin is our connection to God. That it is our spirit flowing out of God. Do you believe in God, Daniel?”

  “Pa said Ma wouldn’t have passed on if there was a God. So, I don’t guess there is.” John couldn’t respond to that. Then Daniel said, “What about Michael? He’s pretty smart. What’s he got to say about it?”

  John smiled. “Michael once told me he thought it was time.”

  Daniel’s face
opened and he put his hands on his head. “Because time heals all wounds!” Then his hands came down and he looked as though he held a giant, invisible ball, helpless before its wonder.

  John stared at him for a second. “That’s not… yes, that was why. It’s difficult to discover the truth about a thing when only a handful of men can discuss it. I know this much, when I give you hospital, I’m letting riin into your body, a great deal more than is normally there. You always have riin inside of you, you see, but for some reason, your body’s natural response to a lot of it, is to fall asleep. When you can overcome that response, you can begin learning how to control and channel it by yourself.”

  “Will I always be sad when I do it?”

  “Never like that again, I promise you. But, you will feel sadness more than you did before. Sometimes it’s something you try to avoid feeling that comes forward on awakening.”

  “What do you feel when you do it?”

  “Regret.”

  “About what, Uncle John?”

  John sighed, scratching his chin. “Abandoning your father and your grandmother… honestly, son, did you even have to ask? And please, stop calling me Uncle John. That’s gone on long enough.”

  Daniel frowned but conceded to have been a bit thick. “Sorry.” John nodded pensively, keeping his hand at his mouth; it was his left and it was uncovered. Daniel had been meaning to ask him how he’d lost his ring finger.

  John said, “We’re each of us given a path, only one, never to know what it is until awakening. It becomes a defining influence in our lives. Some even allow for strange abilities, like Abraham’s. His path is contempt. That has its beginning in hatred. It doesn’t make him a bad man, of course… Hatred is something all of us feel. What was I saying? Oh, he discovered that it lets him open the way in others without needing to touch their skin. Oh, that’s important too. When we do that to someone else, that’s actually their riin coming into them. We call that pulling. It’s a more advanced technique.”