Lightblessed

The candle light

It shines so bright

To keep darkness at bay

The darkness steals

What Light reveals

To all at top of day

When light does fade

All debts are paid

And fate takes all away

Now darkness comes

To blot the suns

And nothing shall remain

-Child’s limerick

***

Deputy Frant Ells and his conscripted assistant Evar Gress took custody of the friend’s meager possessions, then led Trynneia and Ditan through the village. Both were apologetic but stern, taking their task seriously. Frant’s piercing hawk eyes noticed everything, and everyone knew he was the magistrate’s favored deputy, if ever a time came to retire. Evar Gress was only a few years older than the two captives, and he chafed at bringing them in on such charges. He’d known them his whole life.

Trynneia couldn’t help but goggle at the damage that had been inflicted. Hearing Ditan’s description had not prepared her. Rendrys’ rectory had been boarded up, with a guard stationed, as the magistrate hadn’t completed his crime investigation there, and it had been the most heinous attack. Most of the trees at the Chapel of Light had lost their entire upper branch section, and two of them had split from the heat. Those were in the process of being cut down as they passed.

Once in the town proper, she saw some homes had been gutted, burned down much as Driver’s home had been, though with less intense fire damage. Where his had been burned down to the foundation, the buildings here still had some frames remaining. Still, many people had lost their homes, and Trynneia despaired at thinking she’d dealt with the only two. Clearly, they’d had help.

A makeshift mass grave had been added to the graveyard. All told over fifty people had died in the attack. Most perished in their sleep, and some died fighting the fires that had been lit haphazardly through town. Chaos had reigned, and it appeared there was no reason for any of the targets.

Deputy Frant remained quiet, but Evar spoke in hushed tones with his captives. Both went along of their own free will, though with an unspoken acceptance that technically Ditan was probably guilty of some small petty thefts of which he’d been accused.

“It’s a shame what happened to yer ma, Tryn,” Evar said. “She was a nice lady. I’d spoken with her a few times here and there for assistance. She never shirked her duties. For my part I hope you’re innocent,” he offered.

“Thanks, Evar,” she said, looking off in shame. Even though hardly anyone was out despite the time of day, to her it felt like all eyes were on her. They might as well have been. Whether guilty or not, the embarrassment of being treated as a criminal made her want to shrivel up and hide.

Taking a page from his parent’s playbook, the usually reserved Ditan fell into goblin accusatory defensiveness. “I know you know who my parents are, Deputy Frant, and don’t think they won’t forget what you’ve done here! Don’t be surprised if some of your pay goes missing. You won’t even notice until you realize you can’t afford to buy smaller clothes for all the weight you’ll be losing because you won’t be eating as much. And you, Evar-”

“Shut your mouth, or it will be shut for you, goblin. I tolerate your parents. I’m not required to tolerate you,” Frant growled at him. The menace in the deputy’s voice alone shocked Ditan, but not nearly as much as the pain he felt when the deputy yanked up sharply on his bonded hands.

Trynneia cast him a bit of a warning glance, mouthing “no” at him. The last thing the two of them needed was for Ditan to actually follow through with her tease last night of throwing some lightning bolts around for effect. He looked down, defeated.

The deputy station bore evidence of damage as well. One wall had scorch marks and several thin boarded up windows. Its solid brick and mortar construction protected it better than some of the businesses and homes that had been lost.

Two cells occupied one third of the building, and the rest served as an office and make-shift courtroom when deemed necessary. Over larger cases, the magistrate would preside, allowing involved parties to present their cases. Ultimately, his decision was law, and this magistrate had presided over the village for almost thirty years.

Neither cell had any occupants, but Deputy Fant decided to keep the friends separate on account of Trynneia’s potential to use the Light. Upon both he cast his mistrust, unsure what to make of these two children in his charge. They hadn’t been there long before Ohla and Master Coinlock entered the building. Trynneia immediately guessed where the other patrol had gone then.

They strode straight to her cell, ignoring Ditan’s entirely. Her first instinct of being protective for her friend faded as she mentally switched her expectations to preparing for a tongue lashing. True to form, Ohla did not disappoint.

“What would your mother think, Trynneia? No sooner is she in the ground - Light bless her - then you up and destroy the home you shared. And murder! How could you drag him into this? Have you no shame? You’ve destroyed us, him, and this village. I know you will be proven the murderer, I’ve seen it in your eyes how much you hate me. You didn’t even bother to hide the body! Left it out for the birds! And you’ve cajoled him to steal for you. I see you, Trynneia. You are lower than low. The worst of temptations. Your mother did you no favors. I don’t know how you tempted him but I know there’s nothing chaste about all the time you spend with him. You’re as dead to me as your mother is, but I hope they treat you like you treated that man you killed. I hope the birds eat you and gag. I-”

“That’s enough Mrs. Coinlock,” Deputy Fant interrupted. His dispassionate statement silenced her, but he had a knowing look and a dark sneer. Trynneia understood his malign intent in letting the goblin rant far longer than appropriate. She could barely contain her own rage, and her runes left no shade in her cell. It took all her focus to bite back the retorts she so wanted to give.

Master Coinlock remained silent, simply glaring at her. She’d noted he also spared no glance at the neighboring cell. Trynneia didn’t quite understand goblins, but now she fully believed Ditan when he said he was dead to his parents. Perhaps he needn’t have worried about encountering them after all, for the exclusive attention they’d given her. Now his wife had spoken, and Trynneia knew who really ran the business.

They departed, never having looked at Ditan, passing the incoming magistrate. Deputy Fant took out the box into which he’d deposited his captive’s possessions, and spoke with hushed tones to his superior. Trynneia watched as they made several gestures at both of their prisoners. The magistrate pulled the totem free, and Fant pointed her way. There was unwarranted malice in his gesture, and she wondered for not the first time now about his antagonism towards her.

The magistrate approached her cell slowly, turning the totem over in his hand and looking it over. He nodded to himself, satisfied with what he was looking at. Only once he reached the bars locking her in did he look at her with sadness in his eyes.

His weight had grown with the years, though most of it was muscle under a layer of fat. He owned one of the larger farms, and in truth preferred to be there rather than in the village. Trynneia never rightly knew his name, as everyone just called him “the magistrate.” Coming face to face with him though, she knew that he knew everything about everyone in his village. Now though, he struggled with the idea that the daughter of the recently deceased Priestess of Light could have accomplished murder.

“Where did you get this item?” he asked, holding up the totem. “Until fairly recently I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Trynneia felt that something was amiss with such an innocuous question. She’d only had it a day or so fully in her possession, and knew scant more than the magistrate. The way he held it made it seem like he knew more about it than she did.

“I received it as a gift recently,” she hedged, unsure and unwilling to provide more details.

“Did you, now?” the magistrate mused. “Very odd gift to receive.” Trynneia remained silent. He looked from the totem, to her face, and back to the totem again as her runes dimmed slightly. “I’ve seen this before, and I’m curious about how it came into your possession.”

She didn’t know what he was asking for, and certainly didn’t want to reveal it had come to her from Driver. “Someone thought it would help me clear my thoughts after what happened to my mother.”

“Do you know what it is, Trynneia? Surely they told you.” The magistrate watched her face, looking for any visual clues in her expression. Only her confusion rewarded him.

“A totem of some sort, that is all,” she explained. Keep it simple, don’t let him bait you. She knew him to be a fair and honorable man, but wanted to avoid the possibility he’d twist her words to confirm her suspected guilt. Deputy Fant remained nearby to corroborate anything she said.

“Hmph,” he uttered, tapping the totem and its four twigs against his lower lip. “Totems like this aren’t common in the least, you know. Different people, different beliefs. People who don’t believe in the Light,” he offered, looking at her to gauge her reactions. “Pagans.”

“It was just a gift,” she repeated.

“Oh, Trynneia, these aren’t gifted to anyone. I’m honestly surprised you didn’t burn in flames when your Light touched this witchery.” The magistrate paced back and forth in front of the cells. “What do you know of this, young Coinlock?” he said, shifting to her ‘accomplice.’ She could see him holding the totem out near the adjacent cage.

Trynneia wondered how Ditan would react. Unable to see him, she couldn’t tell if he’d avert his gaze or already be transfixed by it. She assumed either was possible. Hopefully her friend would keep similarly quiet. Deputy Fant glared at her, the implied feeling that she was responsible for it all oozing off of him made her almost feel like it were true.

“It’s a gift she received from a shaman,” he replied. Her heart sank.

“Ah, so old Driver is involved in all this somehow,” the magistrate mused. “I never did trust him near my fields. Something unclean about his ways. For his part I supposed, he left me alone to tend mine as I will.”

“You mistake me sir,” Ditan continued. “I’m the one that gave it to her.”

“Pretty quick to change that story there, goblin!” Deputy Fant yelled at him accusingly. “There’s only one shaman around here anyhow, and you ain’t it!” Bitter venom punctuated his denunciation.

“Come over here and say it to my face, Fant!” Ditan spat back, grabbing the bars. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

The magistrate motioned for Deputy Fant to back down, but now his glowers shifted between the two prisoners. Leaning forward, the magistrate spoke lower and more conspiratorially to the goblin. Trynneia could only barely make out what he said.

“Not sure what he’s got against goblins, but he sure seems to want to take it out on you. I watched you put out the fire at the Chapel, but I don’t think that’s enough to call you a shaman yet, boy. Just humor me,” he said, putting up his hand to dispel a protest Trynneia expected her friend to give. “What does this totem do?” He wiggled the bundle of sticks in front of the cage, watching her friend.

Amazingly, Ditan remained silent. Trynneia wasn’t sure how this was going to go. She could only barely see the magistrate from her angle, but he was looking into Ditan’s cell, studying his captive. Hoping to divert the magistrate’s attention, she spoke up again.

“It helps me focus on things. I get distracted easily.”

The magistrate looked her way. “Your friend here seems pretty well focused on it. I’m curious why he’s the only one of the four of us affected. I don’t think it’s something he’d give you willingly, judging by his reaction,” he replied. Her heart dropped. “What are the two of you hiding, I wonder?

He turned back to his deputy, handing the totem back over. “Keep this in evidence and hold them for now. There’s a few other things I want to check on first.”

Trynneia sat down on the thin brick slab, trying to hold back the flood of tears at her humiliation, her anger, her sadness and her frustration. This was not how this trip was to go at all.