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| Chapter 64. Reunion | |
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aziba led Mog away to receive Ronan’s ministrations while Maeve knelt wearily upon the floor of the sanctum. Akemi was standing nearby, her dark leathers as scorched and battered as Mog’s. It was well past midnight and there was no sound but the soft hiss of the ether well. “You did well. If you continue to please me, I’ll let you see Mog. Would you like that?” Maeve nodded tiredly and did not resist as Akemi gripped her arm and helped her rise stiffly from the stones. They moved slowly in the darkness away from the central camp and down the slope to the lonely site of her prison. Once there, Akemi removed the bonds and helped Maeve step free of the crude dress. She was grateful for the cool night air upon her face and the sweet taste of the water that Akemi poured out into a bowl and shared with her. “Did you always have so little respect for me?” Maeve asked while Akemi perched on a barrel sipping water. “I knew you were always just a spoiled girl in fancy clothing. My mother temple had no such tradition and so it seemed rather odd to me,” Akemi replied. “Then why did you bow and defer to me back then and not now?” “Some people long for pageantry and high ritual, something tangible and beautiful to make their belief meaningful. I wonder if Lyssa did not actually intend for me to take you instead of Mog Ruith.” Maeve’s stomach clenched in disgust. “What do you mean? How did you take Mog?” Akemi snorted disdainfully. “I summoned him. He is my partner, after all, and our vows are for life. The Tenebrae are needed. People do not fear the gods as they once did. It is my duty to change that.” “Go back to Cantha. Surely you are needed there,” Maeve growled at her. “There is nothing for me in Cantha, but here I have an important role to play. I will be hailed as a hero. Fools like Maziba need a hem to kiss and an oracle to question, but it is I who brought you into their midst, and I alone to whom you make your wishes known. As high priestess, that is my due, is it not?” “You vile woman! The high priestess never treated me with such disdain and I did not come here at your whim.” Akemi laughed softly. “Do you never wonder what words the high priestess might have spoken on your behalf? How is this any different? Silence among the uninitiated was part of your role. I am merely enforcing it until you have the sense to embrace it once more.” Maeve glared up at Akemi angrily, hating her for making such a mockery of her sacred duties. But it stung even more that there was truth in what she inferred. High Priestess Vivane had acted as the mouthpiece for Maeve and Radha. When the two of them were present in public, they were forbidden to speak. Even within the confines of the temple their voices were only to be heard raised in song or among their specially anointed attendants. Had Vivane had the same cynical attitude toward Maeve when she had spoken on her behalf? “Rest now,” Akemi said, seeming to sense Maeve’s unease, “In the morning I am sending you away. I will let you see Mog before then.” Grief knotted Maeve’s throat. She did not want to be sent away. She wanted to be with Mog and she wanted to go home with him. It was unbearable being so powerless, being treated like a trained animal. “Please let me stay,” she whispered, “I will not trouble you.” Akemi picked up the lantern and departed, leaving Maeve alone in the complete darkness of the ruined shrine. She lay awake on her bedding curled around her misery and loneliness until exhaustion claimed her and she drifted into an uneasy sleep. In her dream she was barely seven and a much younger High Priestess Vivane had come to talk to her and Radha about their sacred roles. They learned that their careless words could drive the uninitiated to madness. It was just another lie that went along with the dangers of their unveiled faces. Plausible to the mind of a seven year old, but to an adult it seemed ridiculous and thus cast everything else about her role in an undignified light. That was what Akemi known from the start, and what Maeve had discovered once she had been forced out into the world on her own. “Maeve?” came Mog’s voice. She warmed to the sweet timbre of his voice but felt daunted by the pang of sorrow and loss she heard in it. He repeated her name again and the uneasy dream faded. His tall silhouette was barely distinguishable against the canvas door. The air was cool and damp, hinting at the arrival of dawn. She sat up and faced him, afraid to speak for fear of weeping. At last they were together, but it was bittersweet. “I am here,” she said finally, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “May I sit with you?” he asked in a sudden moment of awkwardness. Maeve rose then and went to him, finding his hands in the darkness. He squeezed them fondly and she read in his thoughts that he ached for her, that he wanted so badly to hold her but was afraid to offend her and drive her away. “Hold me,” she said gently, “It is in my heart as well.” He gathered her close to him. She rejoiced in comfort of his arms wrapped around her shoulders but she could no longer contain her sorrow. He stroked her face and kissed her brow. “I have missed you so much,” he said softly. His words trailed off and she sensed that he wept, too, but silently so that he could be the strong one while her sobs pierced the silence. She felt ashamed of herself for not being stronger but she had never imagined it would come to this. All of these years she had thought him dead, perished in the Cataclysm. Now he was here, the man she loved more than life itself, but their love was being used against them. “I’m sorry,” she said finally, pressing her face into his breast, “I’m so sorry.” He gathered her up and guided her to the corner where her bedding resided, urging her to sit with him so that she could rest in his arms like a child. Though he said nothing, she could feel his love for her burning unblemished by their long parting. Mog gently dried the tears from her face and kissed her tenderly on her eyes. “What’s done is done, my love,” he breathed, “There is no need to apologize.” “But I know she uses me against you,” she replied, causing a new flood of tears, “and I would do anything for you. Anything.” “As would I for you.” “I cannot bear to lose you again,” she sobbed. “And I am still here,” he soothed, holding her tightly as if to contain her grief, “As bad as this is, my love, still I rejoice that you are alive and I have found you.” Maeve smiled through her tears, realizing the profound truth of his words. Through all the hardship and fear she had forgotten her moment of joy at realizing her beloved Mog Ruith was still alive. She kissed him then, first on the jaw and then softly as he tilted his head and their lips met. Gods how she had missed him, how many nights she had lain alone remembering the delicate sweetness of his kisses. Then, closing her eyes, she nestled once more against his breast, her head resting beneath the crook of his neck as she listened to the reassuring beat of his heart. He was alive and he was with her. She silently uttered a prayer of gratitude to Lyssa, the first since her heart was broken and her world had fallen apart. “So much sorrow, my goddess,” he whispered, rocking her gently, “I wish I could take it all away.” “One day, my love,” she murmured, kissing his throat, “They cannot keep us parted forever. I will wait for you, and you must come back for me.” “I will,” he said, squeezing her emphatically, “I swear that I will.” |
