Catrin turned her back to the fire so it would dry the rest of her clothes. The chill had mostly left her, but still she shivered.
Benjin wandered nearby as he gathered bits of wood for the fire.
Brother Vaughn rested. "Will you wake me after two turns of the sand clock?"
"Yes," Benjin said, accepting the sand clock. "I'll keep watch until then."
Catrin's thoughts wandered to Vertook. In all the chaos, she hadn't had time to properly grieve his loss. He'd been a good friend to her, and his death was as unfair as anything Catrin had ever experienced. The pointless waste of life filled her with rage, and she longed to lash out at someone-anyone. Benjin seemed to sense her unrest, and he placed his arm around her shoulders. She shared his warmth but found no solace.
Too much had been taken from her in such a short time, and she began to harden to the cares of the world. Why should she even attempt to save the Zjhon from the Statue of Terhilian when they would kill everyone around her to prevent that very thing? Perhaps she should simply let them suffer the consequences of their folly, but the thought rang discordant, and she knew she could never be so callous; it was simply not her nature. She cared deeply about every living thing, and no amount of hardship could change that, she hoped.
Her thoughts turned to the gods and the origins of her world. She'd heard fanciful stories about gods gambling on the outcome of seemingly random events and cheating each other with their subtle influences on the lives of men. Those tales had never rung true for Catrin; it seemed too petty a pastime for beings capable of creating such a beautiful and amazing place.
Considering what she'd heard about ancient peoples making up stories of gods in order to explain the unknown, she wondered if people in the future would look back on her generation and laugh at their misconceptions. Perhaps they will laugh away many of society's current superstitions and beliefs, and yet they will still probably have their own delusions.
She wondered where the religious pomp and ceremony had come from and who had written the sacred writings. As far as she knew, no one in at least a thousand years had written anything considered sacred, and she wondered why the old writings were sanctified. She began to think the sacred texts had been written by ordinary men and were littered with the opinions of those men, who claimed to have been influenced by the gods.
Catrin had seen what society did to those who claimed anything close to divine inspirations. She had seen Nat Dersinger ostracized for that very reason, and she had been a party to it. She'd held tightly to the beliefs taught by ancient prophets and had cast insults at a living prophet. How could one believe prophets existed in ancient times but somehow could not exist now? The realization shamed her, even if it conflicted with Mother Gwendolin's teachings.
It took time to reconcile herself to many of her feelings, and she had more questions than answers. She imagined what life would be like if she had all of the answers, and she decided it would be much easier but excessively boring. If she always knew what was about to happen, then there would never be any excitement or surprises in life, and though she was weary of surprises and excitement, she could not picture life without them.
Brother Vaughn's snores broke the silence, and Catrin steeled herself from sleep. Someone needed to stay alert, and she was unwilling to ask it of Benjin alone. She stood and walked circles around the fire in an effort to keep her blood moving and the lethargy at bay. Benjin saw the wisdom in her actions and joined her. He walked in the opposite direction, and they smiled at each other every time they passed.
Catrin nearly leaped from her skin when a voice like grating stone bellowed from the trees: "Greetings, landfriends."
A great bear of a man strode from the forest. He stood taller than anyone Catrin had ever seen, and his chest was as big around as a barrel. The furs and skins that adorned him accentuated his fearsome appearance. His hair was dark and coarse, like that of a horse's tail, and the curls of his beard covered much of his face. Still, a wide grin was visible beneath it.
"Barabas, my friend," Brother Vaughn said through a stifled yawn. "It's good to see you well. I'm sorry to call on you, but the need is great."
"Have no fear, landfriend. I come freely and will assist you if I can. Strange powers are afoot. I feel danger encroaching, but we'll face this new challenge together. Yes?"
"I'm sorry, old friend, I cannot join this quest, for I must return to Ohmahold. Our dear Mother Gwendolin was laid down by the Zjhon, and I must attend the ascension of her successor," Brother Vaughn said. A frown crossed Barabas's face, carving deep furrows on his brow.
"This is Catrin Volker of the Godfist," Brother Vaughn said, but Barabas interrupted him.
"She's more than that," he said, his eyes full of Catrin, as if she were a treasure. "Greetings, heart of the land. I've awaited you. And your shield, I see. You are her protector. Yes?" Barabas asked, his eyes on Benjin.
"You are correct. I am Benjin Hawk. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Barabas." He stepped forward and offered his hand to the large man, but Barabas surprised them all by lifting Benjin from the ground in a mighty hug.
"You've done well to get her here alive, Guardian Benjin," he said as he lowered Benjin to the ground. "And you, heart of the land, you've done well to survive the perils of your journey. It pleases me to see you both."
"And it pleases us to see you," Catrin said in an attempt to return the compliment. His words were strange, and she wondered what he meant by her being a heart of the land.
Brother Vaughn stood and spoke quietly with Barabas a moment; then he turned to Catrin. "I must leave you now, while it is still dark, but I wish you a safe and blessed journey. May fate be kinder to you than it has been in the past, and may we meet again under brighter skies."
"You have my most sincere thanks, Brother Vaughn," Catrin said. "I'll never forget what you've done for me, and I'll keep my word. We will meet again, and I'll return what you've left in my keeping. Until then…" She stepped forward to embrace him, and he hugged her warmly.
Benjin stepped toward the monk, his hand outstretched. "I cannot thank you enough, and I know we've asked more from you yet. I hope our requests don't inconvenience you terribly."
Brother Vaughn took the offered hand. "Do not fret. My journey will be a pleasure compared to what you face. Blessings to you all," Brother Vaughn said as he entered the steaming water, and soon he was lost in the depths.
Catrin was sorry to see him go. He was one of the few pillars of strength left in her world, and she cherished him for that, but she knew he had left her in capable hands. The energy that radiated from Barabas was filled with rightness, as if he lived more like a tree than a man.
After removing a tanned skin from his raiment, Barabas used it to carry water to the fire and extinguish it.
"Come, landfriends, we've dallied too long in the light of your fire. We should be gone from here before others respond to the beacon," he said, and he led them into the night. He bore no torch or lantern, and in the shadows of the mighty trees, they followed him by sound more than sight.