Cleansing Fire

Triman ran his hand across the nearest rock, feeling the texture. He still remembered when he had come here to pledge his life service to Persidies, joining the hundreds of stewards before him who had lived their lives for a God who no longer answered their prayers.

His hand brushed over the rock where his blood had joined theirs, a sacrifice from so many years ago. The surface was black with the spilled blood of others – many stewards had stood exactly where he was now. It seemed an appropriate place to start. He would have to be quick if he wanted to escape the notice of the Observers. Nothing else moved out here – this area had been shunned by both man and beast for as long as the barrier had been in place, something which the Stewards had gone out of their way to encourage.

A little further down the track was where he had decided to make his hole. The small hole that would buy Vala’s life. He sank to his knees beside the path, the picture of a penitent Steward praying for the safety of his family. Inside, his heart was dust. He had no illusions about his own soul. The gods would curse him for what he did today but he would burn a thousand times if it saved her.

No man could judge him for what he did today – they would all have done the same. After his daughter had disappeared more than thirty years ago, he and Vala had tried for months to find her; frantically following every lead and every rumour. Eventually even hope had faded and they had clung together to drown out the pain they felt, brought closer than ever before. His ascension to Steward had helped to distract him for a time – there was just so much to do, so many tasks every day that absolutely had to be carried out that he didn’t have time to worry about Lura being gone.

Eventually, he had stopped thinking about her all the time and the pain had become a dull ache, something he only really noticed when he saw her picture or talked about her with Vala.

And then, just when he thought he would be given time to enjoy his life, Vala had fallen ill. Now nothing helped and nobody could stop him from losing the only part of his family left. Once the healers had given up, everything else had been tried. Mystics had been sent to read her aura, potions and cures fed to her by the dozen. Eventually she had had enough, had screamed at him to stop, to let her die quietly and in peace. Seeing her feverish, thrashing on the bed and delirious had steeled his resolve. This wasn’t dying in peace; it was living in a hell where death seemed like a wonderful end.

Now he was being forced to tear a little of his life’s work apart, break one of the most solemn promises a man could make. Even as he brought his mind to bear on the barrier though, a smile played across his face and he suppressed a chuckle. No mention had been made of the size the hole should be. Let the Darklings try to make some use of a hole the size of a pebble. Besides, as soon as Vala was well he would find a way to seal the breach again. This was just a temporary measure to ensure he got what he needed to help her.

As he worked, the barrier seemed to shimmer and shake in the place he was concentrating. He knew that only he would be able to see what was happening, that to anyone else watching, he would still seem to be simply praying but even so, he shifted his eyes nervously, checking that there was still nobody near. Very slowly, a ripple began to form right at the point he wanted. He knew, with time, it would become the hole he needed, the hole only he could make in his life’s work.

All that was left was to wait.