Universe: Battle Fields AU
Rating: PG13 (some language and violence)
Characters: All and then some!
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of The Magnificent Seven. This is just for fun. This is just fan fiction and I will be making no money off of this story. And as usual, this is just a story. Please do not imitate any of the events in real life. It will most likely put you in jail.
Comments: This story follows The Blessing Cups (please read first!). What happened to Ezra after he received the blessing of Sluaghan?
The Zuriel God Family Tree:
WAERHEALL God of ALL, Father of Sluaghan, Galataeh and Pacis.
Chasity Goddess of Home and Family, wife of WAERHEALL, Mother of Sluaghan, Galataeh and Pacis.
Sluaghan God of Battlefields and War, Patron God of the Peoples of Matox.
Pacis Goddess of Peace.
Galataeh Goddess of Luck.
Ancient text in the Temple of WAERHEALL:
Af lyu suxaffafx, A xomu qui Noj.
Ok ladu gokkuv, A ocke xomu qui Guotu.
Lyak nok fel ufeixy le ludguj Dof'k lyajkl waj sollcu.
Ke, af lyu ufv, A xomu qei Citb.
Doq qei iku lyud nucc ofv su nyol qei nuju duofl le su.
Translation:
In the beginning, I gave you War.
As time passed, I also gave you Peace.
This was not enough to temper Man's thirst for battle.
So, in the end, I gave you Luck.
May you use them well and be what you were meant to be.
Ezra loved his mother. Really, he did. But ever since the blessing at the cliff, she was different in every way possible. Gone was her seeming bottomless well spring of schemes and ideas to get rich.
All she could dwell on was that Ezra received the blessing of Sluaghan.
Ezra snorted at that thought. He knew that she had counted on him being the one damned at the cliff and it didn't bother him in the least. He was well aware of the odds when he stepped before Sluaghan, the God of Battlefields and War. Besides, he knew his mother loved him. She just couldn't help herself when riches of any kind were involved. This was a fact he learned many years ago.
Ezra shook himself. Now was not the time to be distracted by such thoughts. Now was the time to put what his mother's teachings to use.
He quietly picked up his traveling packs and walked quietly to his horse. The horse made a move to greet him but Ezra placed a hand over its nostrils and rubbed the side of the velvet muzzle with a thumb in a quieting gesture. Ezra quickly stowed his packs and checked himself over for any loose armor that might rattle and give him away during his escape to freedom. Finding none, he untied his horse and led it away from camp until he could no longer see the bright glow of the fire that warmed his mother's back as she slept.
He paused one final time and sent a silent prayer up to WAERHEALL to protect the camp until daylight and his mother had her faculties about her once again. She probably wouldn't need the extra protection since the camp was well hidden in the forest. His mother never liked to stand guard and always chose her camp with that in mind.
The forest was silent as he turned away. There were no calls from his mother to show himself in the gloom of the night.
Freedom.
He swung carefully into his saddle and rode away, never looking back.
On High, the hall was quiet and the light was dimmer in difference to the dark that now loomed on this side of Zuriel. What light that did filter in was from the two moons, Gaenna, and her smaller sister, Melantha. The columns of marble threw dark shadows across the matching walk.
The starkness of the stone did little to muffle sounds. Once a word was spoken it would ring from end to end.
A white robed Pacis smiled as her little sister, Galataeh, tried to sneak up on her as she sat at the edge of the Grotto looking into the Mists. "Sister, I do not think even you can slip up on me having to travel over the walk to get to my back."
Galataeh shrugged and stood up from her slinking and walked normally the rest of the way to her sister's seat at the Grotto's edge. "It was worth a try. I have to keep in practice." Her eyes shifted from her white-clad sister to the Mists. "What or who are you watching?"
"Ezra."
Galataeh sighed to herself. Even though she knew that there were exactly six hundred and forty-five 'Ezras' living on Zuriel, she knew which one Pacis was talking about. "You know he's mine."
Pacis giggled. "He will soon be mine as well." She waived her delicate hand at the Mists and Ezra's actions were acted out in front of the two goddesses. "He has left his mother."
Galataeh made a face. "Uhhh. You can have her."
Pacis laughed again. "No, dear sister, you already claimed her years ago."
"Well, I didn't know she would turn out so . . . so filled with avarice."
Pacis, Goddess of Peace, turned to her little sister. "Then isn't it better that Ezra is out of her clutches? He will be better off."
Galataeh, Goddess of Luck, narrowed her eyes. "Remember, he's mine, even if Sluaghan blessed him. Just what are you up to, anyway?"
Pacis just smiled and returned her gaze to the Mists.
Ezra was away from his mother all of two weeks before he was forced to bet his horse in a game. After leaving Maude, he had traveled from Matox back to his native Wyke and tried to resume his life of gambling and conning. Luck seemed to have a different plan in mind.
He was down to his last gold piece and his horse and the bone dice were about to take both away from him.
"Galataeh, I thought you were on my side," he mumbled under his breath as he picked up the dice and held them briefly before closing his eyes and throwing them. Everything rode on this toss. If he lost, he would be broke with no transportation except for walking and he hated walking.
"Melantha's eyes!"
Ezra's eyes popped open to stare at the dice. The dice stared back with the deep purple matching eyes of the fabled Moon Maid. He showed no surprise on the outside but his heart was jumping up and down in joy. He would not walk today!
As he reached down to pluck up his winnings a foot covered in iron stomped down to cover the gold pieces.
Ezra looked up to see a dark skinned man wearing the traditional armor of the neighboring country of Onida. The historical enemy of Wyke and Tamarad, Onida had longed waged war against its neighbors. The war stemmed from the old slave practice that the predominately light skinned peoples of Wyke and Tamarad used to run large farms and estates. Though the practice was abandoned years ago, Onida still claimed that thousands of its citizens were still being held.
What a single Onidan was doing in Wyke was a mystery to Ezra, but one to be pondered at a later time when he wasn't about to be sliced up by a very large knife.
"Ain't I seen you before?"
Ezra slowly stood up and casually scratched his neck so his hand would be near the hilt of his sword. It was possible the Onidan had seen him before. Ezra and Maude conned and gambled up and down the common border many times.
"I do not know you. Perhaps you are mistaken."
The Onidan shook his head, his dark eyes searching Ezra's. "No. I know you from somewhere. Maybe in Zovin?"
Ezra breathed a sign of relief. He had never traveled to Zovin and was never likely to due to the tension in Onida toward people from Wyke.
"In all honesty, I can say that I have never been to that particular village."
The Onidan snorted. "I bet you honest." The dark skinned man looked down at the game of dice in disgust. "You have such an honest trade."
Ezra didn't like that comment. He tried to be as honest as he could in his gambling and conning. That was just an affront to his dignity. After all, what was a small lie here or there to sweeten a deal?
"Do we have a problem? If not, stand aside, sir."
The Onidan stood aside reluctantly with his eyes boring into Ezra soul. "I am Nathan of Zovin. Maybe we'll see each other again."
Ezra raised a shoulder as he gathered up his winnings and put them out of sight. His right hand never strayed too far from his sword. "Perhaps we shall."
Nathan's eyes were still boring into him. "Maybe you can tell me how to get to Ke-ist?"
Ezra contemplated. Why was an Onidan going to the capital city of his enemy? Whatever it was, he didn't want to be involved.
"I don't know how to get there from here. Maybe if you talked to the town council?"
Ezra didn't look back to see how his words were taken by the Onidan. He was getting out of the village while the path was clear.
Chris of Pallo was in a pit of an inn called The Butchered Hog. The only redeeming thing about the place was the so-so taste of their mead. He stood against an outside wall in the fresh air with a mug of mead in his left hand and a lit chugut leafstick in his mouth. His right hand was close to his sword.
Ke-ist was turning out to be a bust for the warrior for hire. Chris had hoped to be hired by one of the local lords for the ongoing war, but no one wanted to meet his price. He was down to only two options: lower his working price or leaving town to find other work.
A shadow moved across the rutted street and Chris turned his eyes to his rival warrior. The man possessed shoulder length hair and a visored helmet that just about covered his eyes even when the visor was up. Chris asked around the first time he saw the shadowy figure and some thought that the man's name was Vin. Whatever his name, the man kept to himself and would disappear for days at a time.
Sometimes Chris thought ...
Chris turned his eyes back to the flickering night fires and mentally shrugged off thinking. Thinking too much could get you into trouble.
Buck of Iola stood in the dark of Ke-ist and watched his former friend. Chris looked gaunt, like a man drinking too much and not eating enough food. Maybe a one-year past, Buck would have approached the man and struck up a conversation, but things had changed. Their friendship was no longer an easy one and Buck was uncertain from encounter to encounter how Chris would react to his presence. It was best to stay at a distance and hope Chris didn't notice him in town.
Buck took his eyes off of Chris and looked around. It was not a good idea to stare at Chris too long or he would get that being watched feeling and strike out to find out who was around.
Buck shook his head. Here he was hiding in the dark from his best friend. Even though he knew why he was at this point in his life, it still made him sad.
Pacis was not a happy goddess. Time was passing by and Ezra seemed unwilling to conform to her wishes.
"Oh, curse him!"
She swept from the Grotto and away from the Mists. If she watched him in one more game of chance calling on Galataeh for luck, she would scream.
Of course this Plan was not a short term one. It would take time. But she expected to be further along at this point in time.
For the past 10 cycles of Gaenna and Melantha, the sister moons, Pacis watched patiently as she tried to influence Ezra to make her dream for Zuriel come true. She tried vivid dreams, omens, signs and interference by her loyal priests. Nothing worked with the infuriating man. He just brushed it all to the side and kept right on serving Galataeh.
Pacis looked around. No one was nearby. Maybe it was time to take a more direct path to her ultimate goal.
Ezra wouldn't know what hit him.
Ezra spent the last hour counting up his winnings in his last scheme and then decided that he and his clothing needed a good scrubbing before he moved on to the next village to do business.
He carefully put away his gold and hid his belonging in a thicket before stripping down to his underwear to scrub his clothing and wash out his armor. His boots he left on the bank of the creek with handfuls of crushed new grass to take some of the sweat smell from them.
It was sitting on a rock in his wet underwear and his hair plastered to his head that Pacis found him. In fact, she planned it down to the minute. Just because she was a goddess didn't mean that she didn't admire a human male form a time or two.
Ezra just happened to have a very fine human male form.
For his part, Ezra was not amused. He almost flung himself off the rock and cracked open his skull when the woman in white appeared on the bank of the creek. Once the shock wore off of her sudden arrival it was then he realized his state of dress.
"Madam, I think I need to ... "
Pacis smiled and held up her hand. "Don't mind me. Continue."
Ezra squinted at her and then sighed. It didn't really matter to him. He had never been self-conscious of his body. It was only his pretence of being a 'gentleman' that made him suggest getting clothed in the first place.
Appearances were everything, his Mother always told him.
Ezra went back to washing out his clothing. "Anything I can do for you, Madam?"
The sudden appearance of a goddess was nothing unusual in the life of a human on Zuriel. The family of gods that claimed the world was very hands on when it came to the people. It was many a time that Ezra saw Galataeh fighting with Maude over some hair brained scheme.
Pacis looked around and found a stump to sit on and arranged her white robes to puddle around her feet. "I am Pacis." She eyed him as the sunlight caught the water droplets on his body. "Yes, you can do something for me by answering a question. Why are you so stubborn?"
"Pardon me?"
"Please explain your stubbornness."
Ezra looked up again with soap suds on his hands. He cocked an eyebrow. "I'm sorry. Are you under the delusion that we have some kind of relationship? As far as I know, we've just met."
Pacis sighed loud enough for Ezra to hear it over the running water of the creek. "Yes, I know you, Ezra of Ke-ist. And your Mother who is even now looking for you after you parted ways with her in the middle of the night in Matox."
Ezra was now curious and wiped the soap from his hands. "Really? And you know this how? It is forbidden to watch a follower of another god without permission."
Pacis smiled a smile that would have done credit to a moley-moley flesh eating reptile. "I know many things, Ezra of Ke-ist. I know of your Blessing and your worship of Galataeh."
"My, my, how astonishing, a gambler that worships Galataeh. How ever did you know that?" Ezra went back to his tasks.
Pacis sighed again. "I have my resources," she remarked with a touch of sarcasm. "Now, about your stubbornness . . . "
Ezra didn't mind being in his underwear in front of a beautiful goddess but the conversation was beginning to get on his nerves. "And this is your business because?"
Pacis had known that Ezra was like this for many years. It was a struggle to get anything out of the man. He was as bad as his Mother in this regard. With his many exposures to Galataeh, the shock of suddenly being in front of a goddess was dulled.
"You have a part to play in history, Ezra of Ke-ist."
Ezra snorted and went back to his wash. If he had a gold piece every time he heard that phrase, he would be a lord by now. Maude liked to drop that every time she hit on a new get rich plan. So far, he didn't see how a gambler could do much to touch on history.
"Peace needs to spread on this planet. Too many have died just for the sake of fighting."
"I think Sluaghan might have a few thoughts on that subject, Madam."
Pacis shook her head. "He may, but his martial spirit can be put to better use than killing on the battle field."
Ezra finished his wash and picked up the wet material and waded to the bank to lay the items over bushes to dry in the sun. When he was finished with that task he moved to take his bath and remembered that a female was present.
"If you will excuse me, Madam?"
Pacis stood and put on her most commanding demeanor. It wasn't very convincing since Ezra knew she was the Goddess of Peace.
"I have Seven Rules that need to be passed along to the warriors of this world."
Ezra crossed his arms and quietly dripped water on the grass.
"It is imperative that my Plan works. Many lives will be saved."
More dripping.
"All you have to do is spread the word."
Ezra sighed in frustration. "Madam, you have priests. I am not one of them. Have them spread word of this 'Plan' for you. As for ending War, I wish you well since it has been on Zuriel for as long as man can remember. Now, if you will excuse me." He turned from her and located his soap and new underwear and a square of cloth to dry himself after his bath.
"But I need you, someone that has been blessed by Luck, Peace and War to make it work. All you need to do is-"
Ezra turned back to her. "I've been what?"
Pacis almost smacked herself on the forehead. Of course he didn't know what happened during his Blessing. "When you were Blessed by Sluaghan I Blessed you as well."
He glared at her with angry green eyes for a moment. "Well, isn't that great? And who came up with this brilliant idea? I know it wasn't Galataeh. She a jealous goddess and shares her followers with no one." His body was tensed as if to fling himself at her in a rage. "Do you know what you have done? She'll forsake me as soon as she finds out you're trying to recruit me into your Ways."
"She wouldn't ... "
"Are you stupid? She is your sister. Don't you know anything about the way she deals with her subjects?" He ran a hand through his brown hair, the sun catching the auburn highlights. "She'll forsake me."
"She wouldn't," stated Pacis more forcefully. "My sister is a loving goddess, she will not forsake you. I promise."
"It doesn't matter what she will do. I'm not joining your 'Plan.'" Ezra turned back to his bathing items and picked them up. As far as he was concerned, the matter was over.
Pacis opened her mouth to speak when he waded back into the water and slung his items on the rocks and then followed them with his waterlogged underwear. Pacis closed her mouth and lightly tapped her foot on the grassy ground.
He would not listen to her now.
She would wait a little longer.
J.D. of Osbeen was fresh from his stable hand job and looking for adventure in the wild town of Ke-ist. This village of wood and thatch was twice the size of any village in his native country of Platt. To get to this legendary place, he had traveled to the Horn of Platt and caught a ship to the Island of Cove. From there was an arduous trip from Cove to Wyke covering hundreds of miles of blue water.
If he hadn't realized before that his stomach didn't like rough waters then he knew now. Next time, he would take a shorter ship passage and do more traveling by land.
Within Ke-ist he saw many a hardened man with all types of weapons strapped to their bodies. J.D. noticed that most of the proper ladies kept to the outskirts of the settlement to stay away from the bad element. As that last thought crossed his mind he saw the personification of 'bad element.'
A darkly dressed man with blond hair stood on the wooden walkway with a leafstick in his mouth. Smoke curled up and floated away as the man's narrowed eyes scanned the rutted roads.
Feeling eyes on him, Chris shifted his gaze from the roads to the boy with the energy oozing from his pores. It made Chris tired just to watch the boy in the hooded cloak fidget around. Chris sized him up and judged him to be no threat and allowed his eyes to wander away. No, the boy's eyes were not the ones that set off his internal warnings. Someone else was watching him.
His eyes just missed seeing Buck slink away.
Once he saw Chris become agitated, Buck decided to call it a day and head back to his lodgings in the huge two story inn down the street. As much as he longed to talk to his friend, he didn't want to test the waters today. Perhaps he could find a lady to pass the time with at the inn.
It wasn't too long after Buck went back to the inn that J.D. was directed to the same inn to seek a bed for the night.
J.D. was in awe when he saw the building. Made of timber and thatch, the building was as long as the eye could see down the length of the dirt road. The number of weary travelers that graced its halls must be huge. A number that would rival what he was used to being in just a village back home.
He paid for his space at the front bar, removed his travel cloak and was lugging his stuff to the second floor when he heard a voice behind him.
"Well, looky here. Can I help you with that, ma'am?"
J.D. turned to see a tall man with weathered features and a mustache. The man's suggestive grin turned into a frown.
"What? Oh, you must be Plattian."
J.D. looked down and realized by taking off his traveling cloak he revealed his long brown and black hair. Most of his countrymen and countrywomen wore their hair as long as they could maintain it. A lot of emphasis was placed on physical health and beauty in Platt.
J.D.'s own hair just happened to fall between his knees and his calves. It was both a tribute to his land's traditions and his mother. Her hair was also black and brown and she had worn it with pride and encouraged him to do the same before her death.
"Yeah, I'm Plattian." He put out his hand but dropped it when the taller man didn't make a move to do the same.
Buck studied the slim boy in front of him. The kid just radiated innocence. "Look, Kid, I think you might be in the wrong place."
J.D. just shrugged and readjusted his pack. "I can hold my own. I can handle a sword, I can ride-"
Buck waived him off. "I'm sure, Kid." He turned on his heal and left.
J.D. just shrugged again and went up to his shared room.
Ezra traveled hard to reach Ke-ist, his home village. Since his talk with Pacis, he was met and talked to by every Priest of Peace in the area. Longing to be one of a crowd that would hide his movements, he pressed his horse to make the journey in good time.
As he swung down at the nearest stable a deep voice boomed from behind him. Ezra just laid his tired head on the saddle and wished himself to the barren desert. At least he would get some quiet.
"Brother! Greetings from Pacis. I thought that we might have a little talk while-"
Ezra straightened up and took his animal hide saddle off of his horse and led it into a slat stall. He passed the stable man a coin and then shouldered his pack. The man that was following him was still rambling about Pacis and her precious 'Plan' when he left the stable in search of his old stomping grounds.
Well, he tried to search, but the thick set man with a beard was blocking his way.
"Pardon me, sir, you are obstructing my view of the village."
The large man didn't look contrite. "I'm so sorry, Brother Ezra. Let us continue with our talk while we walk the road."
"Let's not and tell Pacis that we did."
"Now, how can I lie to Pacis, that beauty of On High? She might take exception to that and arrange for me to serve her purpose in the cold tundra of Ad. Can you imagine what a punishment that would be to a man used to this warm climate of southern Wyke?"
"Yes, dreadful," muttered Ezra as he tried to find a way around the larger man.
The man with the graying beard studied him. "You know, if you just stop being so stubborn, she would leave you alone."
"How astonishing; your powers of observation have struck me speechless."
Ezra finally stopped trying to get away and faced the man to have a better look. The man was of a sturdy build with graying hair on his scalp and face. His face was long and his eyes were a piercing blue that seemed to see your soul.
But most interesting was that the man was not wearing the robes of a Priest of Peace. The man was rustically dressed with the beads that honored WAERHEALL around his neck.
"You astonish me again. I see no signs of you being a Priest of Peace."
"True, the Peaceful One and I parted ways years ago. I'm just doing her a favor for old times. I had a little trouble turning the other cheek when it came to my fellow man." The man held out his hand and Ezra took it. "My name is Josiah of Za-lou."
"You seem to know me. No use for introduction on my part."
Ezra started walking again. He could just see the entrance to The Butchered Hog. He could probably catch a game and something to drink after his travels.
"If you would just listen to her there would be no need for all of this."
Ezra stopped again. "This has been fun. Really, it has. But I have a standing invitation for that tavern over there." Ezra nodded and stepped off of the walkway and crossed the road to his objective.
Josiah just put his hands on his hips. "Well, I did try Pacis."
The man in the street was quickly forgotten as Ezra stowed his pack in the back room and made his rounds of the tables. The marks were good today.
Maybe this Son of Ke-ist should have returned sooner.
It was early morning in Ke-ist, not even dawn. The third candle was done and the fourth was being lit when the Nightman smelled a familiar odor.
Smoke.
Looking down the deserted road his eyes landed on the huge inn. A small flicker of flame came from the servant entrance that faced the man. As he moved forward, three figures in Onidan armor fled, leaving behind a torch and some hay.
The Nightman quickly stormed the door and tried to stomp the burning hay before it caught the wood walls on fire. He quickly realized that it was a lost cause by himself and went to alert the people in the inn and recruit help.
As he raised the alarm, people woke with screams and terror. Many that stayed in the inn on this night were not locals and were not familiar with the ways of escape in case of fire or attack. The panicked people in various states of dress stampeded the halls with little care for others.
The crush of people soon gave away to pushing and shoving. That soon degenerated into the slower ones being knocked to the floor to struggle to protect themselves from pounding feet.
Ezra woke to find his roommates screaming in absolute terror. They wore the rough fabric worn by farmers and were probably not familiar with gatherings larger than fifteen people at a time. This was far out of their comprehension.
He tried to settle them down and help them to an escape window that would lead to a rough hewn ladder, but he quickly loss control of them and lost them to the boiling mass of hysterical people in the halls.
Village Guards roamed the halls trying to sort the people out and water was being lugged from the outside well to stop the growing fire.
Ezra quickly turned back to his room and gathered what he could. In a wooden structure this big, it was doubtful that a few buckets of water would save much of the inn.
In the hall he passed a confused looking kid with long, dark hair. Ezra grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him along.
He finally found the window he was looking for and pushed the kid out and started him down the ladder. Ezra looked up just in time to see a man dressed in tanned hides and chain mail with a visored helmet coming his way.
Ezra jumped to the side and allowed the man to get to the ladder.
He was about to call out and try to get more to the ladder when the floor beside the widow began to smoke. Retreating, he quickly climbed down to ground level.
The boy and the man in hides were standing in the road watching the flames as they methodically crawled up the outside wall.
All three could hear screams from the first floor.
In a short amount of time, most of the building was a smoking hulk and the people were lining the road in various states of shock and pain from burns and inhaling the harsh smoke.
A man, sobbing over his dead wife, suddenly stood as the Village Guards come toward him. "What happened? Who did this?"
The Nightman, still in shock, stumbled from the crowd and rushed up to the Guards. "I saw them! Onidans! They set the fire!"
Shouts of pain of fury filled the air. The sky began to turn a fiery shade of red-gold that almost matched the color of the deadly fire. Dawn was coming.
It was when the crowd was primed with yelled remarks about their enemy that eyes fell on Nathan of Zovin trying to help out the injured the best he could with some water and some Oiuberry powder to ease the pain.
"There's one! Get the Onidan!"
The crowd lunged forward only to be met with a man in black. The soot that covered his face attested to the fact that he had tried to help in putting out the fire. His eyes were strained but his defiance was unmistakable.
"This man had nothing to do with the fire. He was in the Hog until the alarm was raised. I was there."
Ezra was sure the mob growled. He readied his sword because a group this size didn't care who they took when in the search of mob justice. Near him, the man in the hides also readied his blade.
In the middle of the crowd was Buck. He was trying as hard as he could to get to the front to stand by his estranged friend, if nothing else but to help him through this night of fire and pain. Buck could tell by Chris' posture that old memories were taking turns eating away at his soul.
Nathan was now standing just behind his champion, his dark hands filled with foot long blades that could cut the thickest hide armor.
Josiah came out of the shadows from across the street. "Is this another test, Pacis?" He pulled out a large sword and a knife. "If it is, I'm ready for it." Josiah was about to move forward when a strange thing happened.
In the lingering dawn, six souls suddenly shined before him.
The man in black, the Onidan, a lanky man in the crowd, a long haired boy, a visored man in hides and the man named Ezra. As Josiah pondered this he happened to look down to check his blades when he noticed that he was awash with a glow himself.
"Pacis, I do hope you know what you are doing." He readied himself and then plunged across the street to stand by Ezra.
At the front of the mob, Chris seemed to be enough to hold back the angry people. He didn't know the man that stood behind him. He only knew that the man was Onidan from his short history lesson to get employment in the ongoing war between Onida, Tamarad and Wyke.
This moment of defiance served two purposes for the man in black. The first was to stop an innocent from being hanged by an angry mob. The second was that after the fire he was spoiling for a good fight. It was usually the only way he could get that dark shadow of grief to lift for a few moments.
Chris just stood in front of the mob. He made no move to draw his sword.
In the middle of the crowd Chris was tracking a familiar face. As soon as he saw Buck in the mass he knew whose eyes had been watching him while he was in Ke-ist. It was just like Buck to lay low and keep an eye on a friend.
But for some reason his eyes were also drawn to other faces. The boy he saw getting into the village earlier and the warrior named Vin. At their side stood a man with chestnut hair and a sturdy man with a beard.
Without a doubt he knew that he could depend on Buck, even with their long separation. And for some reason, he felt that the others would also back his play.
"Go home, folks. Offer your homes to those who have no where to sleep tonight. Justice would be better served than killing an innocent man." Chris didn't know if words would work at this point. He was facing a wall of armed men and women.
Silence dragged by. Just when Chris was sure the crowd would lunge for them, two of the Village Guards came by dragging a bound and gagged man with dark skin. "We caught one of them! One of the Onidans! The other two are being chased down on the north side."
Like dust in a strong wind, the crowd dissipated to either run after the two Guards or to go chase the two free enemy warriors.
The only ones left on the dirt road were the dead, a few mourners and seven men.
They drifted together to shake hands all around and then go their own ways.
But the links were made.
History would have its say in the end.
Ezra dragged himself into his horse's stall when everything was done. He carefully laid out a blanket and tried to catch some sleep before the morning was completely gone.
"They came to kill their enemies, three men who will be considered heroes to their people no matter what happens to them now. Is this what you want to continue when you can change it?"
Ezra squeezed his eyes and hoped for sleep. Just ignore the goddess and maybe she would go away.
"Or are you a coward?"
"What are you attempting to suggest, your Goddessness." He tone was not friendly. What was it with this goddess and her followers? In one breath they begged for his help and with the next they insulted him.
She saw his anger in every line of his body as he lay on the straw trying to get some rest. Pacis hoped that he would open his eyes at her jab. The eyes told a lot about someone. But being the stubborn man that he was, he kept them closed.
"I suggest that you would rather let people die because you don't want to put yourself out for anyone or anything."
He turned on his side and pillowed his head on his arm. It just so happened that his back was turned to her. "There are many . . ."
Ezra stopped short and breathed deeply. "I was born to Galataeh, blessed by Sluaghan and now hounded by Pacis. What is it that makes me such a central figure to the gods?"
"You are a Key, a person that will unlock a new future for this planet."
"Lucky me," he muttered under his breath.
Pacis smirked. "Yes, you are lucky. I can't think of another person that has ever lived that was Blessed by three of the dwellers of On High."
He was silent for a moment as he digested that. "But I'm just a gambler."
"Yes, a gambler for now, much more later on." She moved closer to the stall. "Besides, I need someone willing to take chances to make this Plan work."
He sighed and she knew she was wearing him down.
"What of Galataeh? She will not like this."
"I'll handle my sister."
Ezra shuddered. "There are two kinds of luck, Goddess. Good luck and bad luck. And don't forget Sluaghan. He Blessed me to become a great warrior. So far, I have not lived up to his standards."
"It will be fine," she soothed. "My Plan will stop this wanton killing. This world will be a better place."
"Promise," he whispered, suddenly scared at the possibilities before him.
"I promise."
Ezra turned to face her, his green eyes huge and his face pinched. He studied every line of her face, every hair on her head to try to catch a lie.
In the end he couldn't tell.
He closed his eyes again. "All right, tell me the Plan."
Pacis smiled.
End
Next: Does the Magnificent Seven finally ride together? Will Ezra face consequences for following Pacis and her Plan? Read A Matter of Luck and Skill to find out.
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