CHAPTER 47 – To Take Arms

When Saphienne finally resurfaced, she felt warm and caring hands tracing gently across her brow. She lay wherever she was and let herself be soothed, aware that aches and pains awaited her once the moment was passed.

Eventually, curiosity made her eyelids peel back. She was in a dark place, and could barely discern the horns of the woman petting her, finding it difficult to focus her eyes by the light of the smouldering fire. She tried to speak; the aftertaste of bitter vomit made her softly cough, and she needed a moment to pry her tongue from where it stuck in her mouth. “Nelathiel? Where’s…” She closed her eyes in realisation. “…Where’s Holly?”

“Before you I await.”

When Saphienne looked again, Nelathiel was staring down at her — eyes tawny and playful under the influence of the spirit.

“Have you slept well?” Holly’s question was teasing, but she didn’t stop caressing Saphienne. “There is no rush to rise. Let sickness quell.”

Normally, Saphienne would have heard that as a challenge… but she felt utterly exhausted in a way she never had before. Her eyes drifted closed, and she breathed more deeply, inhaling the pleasant scent of smoke and fur, noticing in turn the acrid reek of fearful sweat that clung to her robes. She managed to raise a hand, and felt that her outer robes had been discarded, her inner wrapped more loosely around her than when she had dressed.

“You were too warm,” said Nelathiel, her voice more wholly her own. “Holly said you left your mantle in the passage.”

“…I don’t remember discarding it.” She yawned, feeling aches along her side where she lay — propped on the priest’s lap. Embarrassed, she tried to sit up–

The cave around her spun, her head throbbing as the priest caught her and eased her back down onto the furs. “…Fuck.”

Whether Holly or Nelathiel laughed, she couldn’t say, but the elf was the one who replied. “Not appropriate language for your age, Saphienne, but very appropriate all the same. Water would help — do you think you can drink?”

There was no lingering nausea, and the promise of water was divine. “Please.”

The priest rose and stepped away into the dark, returning with a waterskin which she held to her lips. “Don’t try to sit up. Small sips.”

This time, Saphienne listened to her advice. The cool relief she felt was only mildly dampened by the bitterness that intensified as she slowly swallowed.

After she had drank her fill, her thoughts turned to the riotous memory of the performance. “…That was amazing. I’m never doing that again.”

This second time, she felt confident that both of them were laughing at her.

“You say that now,” mused Nelathiel, “but I think Holly might not have been wrong when she said you’re destined to become a priest. You handled yourself very well. I was worried you wouldn’t make it down the steps.”

A dim memory of the sunlight before her descent made Saphienne wiggle her toes, and her eyebrows lifted. “…I think I know why you don’t wear shoes.”

“One of many reasons.” Nelathiel grinned, and lifted the waterskin.

“You don’t seem as worn out as I am,” Saphienne observed, watching the woman as she drained the rest of the water from the skin. “Are you resistant to the–”

“Gods, no.” She chuckled. “Saphienne, you imbibed a heroic measure. When Holly told you to…” She paused, and when she spoke again it was with Holly’s melody. “Advised did I that you drink deep — not all! To holy heights did you ascend, then fall.”

“I do feel like I’ve landed hard.” Idly, she wondered how Taerelle had felt after she threw herself out of her tree… then blinked, surprised her thoughts were wandering. “Am I still under the influence of the mushrooms?”

“You’re not hallucinating, no…” Nelathiel laid a reassuring hand on her arm. “…But you will feel the benefits for at least another month. Some may stay with you throughout your life.”

The thought of not being herself gave Saphienne the necessary urgency to rise, but she sat up slowly, wincing and taking hold of the priest’s offered hand. Immediately, she hung her head forward and clutched her ears. “…Headache…”

Nelathiel rubbed her back. “It will ease quickly. Your body is adjusting to the shift from sitting up. Drinking more water, and then eating something wholesome will fully restore you.”

Sure enough, the stabbing pain inside her skull diminished to a bearable throb. She sighed as she looked over the embers of the fire. “What are the benefits?”

“Is this the wizard’s apprentice asking,” Nelathiel prodded her, “or Saphienne, the initiate into the mysteries?”

That question implied that the benefits were disputed. She began to nod, winced, then sighed as she replied “What are they, in your personal experience?”

Pleased by her rephrasing of the question, Nelathiel stretched as she answered. “Lightened mood,” she began, “and reduced anxiety. Thoughts come more freely… though are less readily constrained. The rest depends on what you experienced while you were completely gone, together with how you felt during the performance.” She dropped her arms, leaning back on them as she arched her back to stretch her clicking shoulders. “If you felt fearful, and what you encountered inside you was frightening, then you may find yourself prone to brooding over the next few weeks. Alternatively, if the gods were gentle? Then you may know a greater measure of peace.”

Saphienne couldn’t remember anything meaningful. She had hallucinated Kylantha’s voice at the beginning… which gave her pause. “Were those mushrooms magical?”

“No more than sunlight,” smiled Holly. “I prepared the way.”

Unsure what she meant, Saphienne watched as the spirit finished stretching for Nelathiel. “My guess is, you used a spell to shape how they’d affect me. Am I close?”

“Close enough,” Nelathiel answered. “Without magic, the tea takes longer to brew, and the mushrooms are less predictable in what they stir up. With the help of spirits, and a little ritual suggestion…” She inclined her head. “…You know what you experienced better than we do. Whatever you followed here, it came from within you.”

Usually, Saphienne would have felt sad to think about Kylantha. For once, though she still felt the pain of her absence, she found herself more able to think about her friend while holding other feelings in her heart. Whether caused by the fruits of nature, the touch of the divine, or by magic — that change was miraculous.

“You have a lot to think about,” Nelathiel saw. “Can you stand?”

She knew she could; but at what cost? “Let’s see.”

* * *

The cavern spun for a second time as she clung to the priest, but her dizziness was quicker to recede. Saphienne had to relearn the use of her feet, walking around the dying fire as though she stood on stilts; she suddenly empathised with how Hyacinth must have struggled when she first possessed Celaena. Still, she remembered herself as she moved, and soon her attention turned to the cavern…

…Which was not so large as she had first perceived. The space was still impressive, spanning at least thirty feet, the true extent of it entirely hidden behind creamy, gossamer veils that encircled the furs on all sides, veils which she thought were made of paper until she ran her fingertips across one of their taut surfaces. “Parchment?”

“Something like it.” Nelathiel stood patiently, in no hurry. “All that is offered to our Lord should – where practical – be made from what has been hunted.”

She realised the sheets were secured at top and bottom, stretched in place. They were each much taller than any one animal’s skin; Saphienne wondered how many had been killed to furnish the chamber. “You used puppets…”

“And acting, and an enchantment.”

Saphienne wheeled around, delight blossoming on her lips. “At the summer solstice — you performed the show for us! That’s where we met.”

The priest laughed, happy to be recognised. “I wasn’t alone, but yes: that’s where I learned your name, when you went missing. My true art is spiritual service, but much of my daily bread is justified by my work at the crafting hall.” She approached a section of the screen and carefully slipped through the gap it concealed, emerging moments later holding an elaborate, eerily lifelike puppet in the semblance of a camouflaged, primeval elf. “I make ritual pieces like these, when asked by other priests, as well as toys for children… and whatever other amusements are requested.”

Saphienne drew closer, surprised that she couldn’t reconcile what the priest held with the living figures in her memory. “And you also hunt?”

“Animals? When I must.” Her smile was crooked. “I’m not a very skilled hunter… and in fact, I’m always very nervous when I set out. I never find it satisfying — more of a relief when I don’t embarrass myself. I do it because it’s difficult for me,” she confessed, “which is important.”

“I don’t like the idea of killing anything,” Saphienne admitted.

The priest’s eyes turned sombre. “No good person does.” She returned the puppet to its proper place as she spoke, her voice rising to carry back as she stepped out of sight. “Everything that lives a life worth living does so at the expense of other living beings. It’s easy to forget that, but it’s always true. Even plants are alive and know suffering — Holly could tell you all about it.”

Enshrouded by her own silhouette against the fire, Saphienne’s darkening eyes were obscured. “How do you justify it?”

Their conversation paused; when Nelathiel returned, she was carrying the war scythe of her god, and her lips were drawn. “When you ask that question, you’re really asking another: why should you have the right to live, if your life comes at the expense of another who lives? What makes you so special?” She studied the girl as she best she could, reflecting on what she knew about her. “I don’t think you’re conceited… I don’t think you see yourself as better than anyone else as a person. Do you?”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Saphienne shook her head.

“But you know you’re gifted, and you carry yourself plainly, so I expect there are people who think you’re arrogant. Should you become a wizard, less will see you that way… do you know why that is?”

There, she had to think. “…Deference to power, a little…” She felt more was expected, and folded her arms. “…I think it has something to do with proving myself.”

“Isn’t it strange,” Nelathiel remarked, “how our insight struggles when it clashes with our motives? But you’ve shared the most important thing: you’re not seeking wizardry for power and authority.” She leant on the polearm and smirked. “I’d invite you to remember what I’m about to tell you, because it’s a lesson your master is unable to teach you. Saphienne, the heart of arrogance is believing you are superior to others — not merely in ability, but in worth. The conceited often justify that superiority by talking about their abilities, and so over-emphasise and exaggerate their skills.”

Nelathiel clearly knew Almon quite well. “I think I see.”

“Excessive regard for one’s talents implies arrogance.” The priest drummed her fingers on the polearm. “But, it isn’t the same thing. And whether or not we’re actually as capable as we think we are is a matter of judgement… which is the most important thing we’re tasked with learning, when we’re young.”

Saphienne shifted, her lingering headache fraying her patience. “Is this your polite way of telling me that I’m not–”

“No,” Nelathiel cut her off. “Your mind is better than mine. Better in how quickly it functions, and in the insight that it affords you. Perhaps you know exactly how superior your abilities are, or perhaps you’re overestimating them in your youth — but none of that matters.” She exhaled. “I’m telling you that your abilities don’t make you better than anyone else as a person. Even if they are – from your perspective – foolish, gullible, or small-minded.”

Her frown deepened. “I already told you: I don’t see myself that way.”

“For now. But there’ll come a day when others are wrong, when you’ll be frustrated by their ignorance and inability to see what you do. Then,” she prophesied, “you’ll be tempted to see yourself as greater. You’ll have all the justifications you could ever ask for, and perhaps your cause will be selfless, and entirely in the right. You will struggle to find a single reason not to see yourself as better than them, and if you have magic, if you have power…”