Amber and Iron - Margaret Weis [120]
“You have my blessing, both of you, and Rhys Mason has my blessing. He has faith and he has courage, and he has the love of true friends. Go back to him. He needs your help. My duty lies elsewhere this night, but know that I am with you.”
Majere stood up and looked toward the castle, its walls bathed in the eerie, lurid glow. He began to walk toward it.
Nightshade leaped to his feet. He felt refreshed, as though he’d slept for a week and eaten fourteen enormous dinners into the bargain. His body hummed with renewed strength and energy. He cast a glance down the ridgeline in the direction of the cave, and his joy slipped.
“Brother God!” Nightshade cried. “I’m sorry to bother you again, after everything you’ve done for us. Thank you for the hoppers, by the way, and for your blessing. I feel lots better. There’s just one more thing.”
He waved his hand. “These boulders are difficult to climb over and they’re awfully hard, sir,” he said meekly, “and sharp.”
The monk smiled, and as he smiled, the boulders disappeared and the hillside was awash in lush green grass.
“Wahoo!” Nightshade cried. Waving his arms and shouting, he dashed down the hill. “Rhys, Rhys, hold on! We’re coming to save you! Majere blessed us, Rhys! He blessed me, a kender!”
Atta, glad to be finally heading the right direction, skimmed over the ground, passing the whooping kender with ease and soon leaving him far behind.
hys sat in the darkness of the grotto, and as death approached, he thought about life. His life. He thought about fear and about cowardice, about arrogance and pride, and, holding fast to the splinter of wood that had cut his flesh, he knelt to Majere and humbly asked his forgiveness.
Majere asks each of his monks to leave his cloistered life and journey into the world at least once in a lifetime. The undertaking of this journey is voluntary—it is not mandatory. No monk is forced to make it, just as no monk is ever forced to do anything. All vows the monks take are taken out of love and are kept because they are worth the keeping. The god wisely teaches that promises made under duress or from fear of punishment are empty of meaning.
Rhys had chosen not to leave the monastery. He would never have admitted this at the time, but he realized now the reason why. He had thought, in his pride and arrogance, that he had attained spiritual perfection. The world had nothing more to teach him. Majere had nothing more to teach him.
“I knew it all,” said Rhys softly to the darkness. “I was happy and content. The path I walked was smooth and easy and went round and round in a circle. I had walked it so long I no longer saw it. I could have walked it blind. I had only to keep going and it would always be there for me.
“I told myself the path circled Majere. In truth, it circled nothing. The center was empty. Unknowing, I walked the edge of a precipice, and when disaster struck and the path shattered beneath my feet, I had nowhere to go. I fell into darkness.
“Even then, Majere tried to save me. He reached out to me, but I rebuffed him. I was afraid. My sunlit, comfortable life had been snatched away from me. I blamed the god, when I should have blamed myself. Perhaps I could not have prevented Lleu from killing my parents if I had been there, but I should have been more understanding of my parents’ pain. I should have reached out to them when they came to me for help. Instead, I repulsed them. I resented them for intruding their pain and their fear into my life. I had no feelings for them. Only for myself.”
Rhys raised his eyes to the heavens he could not see. “It was only when I lost my faith that I found it. How can such a miracle happen? Because you, my god, never lost faith in me. I walk the darkness unafraid, because I have within me your light—”
A chill, pale radiance illuminated the cave, like the light called corpse-candle—the lambent flame that can sometimes be seen burning above a grave and is believed by the superstitious to be an omen presaging death.
The man materialized