Nash's tale pt 2
Well, jut for record's sake, I'm posting some more of this thing. This would be the second part of the story, and, as it says, it happens a few years later. Prolly 2 or 3. ^^ Alythar makes another brief appearance, but nothing spectacular. So much for the future Chosen, eh? Well, we all start somewhere.
It was years before Nash had to use the promise of Gigi’s shelter. He had prayed to her often, any time one of his group was sick or too hungry for him to take care of. He had never heard her voice or see her again, but somehow he had always managed to find enough food, and no illness had ever taken one of the wee’uns, not even the black fever that swept the alleys and streets like a fire.
But this was different.
Three of the wee’uns were not getting better, and Nash was old enough to know that the gods only helped those who helped themselves. Off to the apothecary he had gone, all the way to the upper city. He knew roughly what they needed, and it wasn’t hard to swipe the small bottle from one of the shelves, but the old man had sharper eyes that Nash had given him credit for, and the guards had been on him from almost the beginning.
Now Nash was running faster and farther than he ever had before, potion clutched tightly in both his sweating hands. He had fallen more than he cared to admit, but he had kept his hold on the precious bottle. That meant he couldn’t climb the fences back into the lower city, so he was stuck in the wealthier regions.
He had done what he could to evade and hide, and was now running for the palace and temple grounds as fast as he could. If he could just get inside the doors, he would be safe. She had said so.
The guards were right behind him as he entered the gates, and he put on one last burst of speed as he saw the door, forcing himself to run despite the haze in his vision and the burning in his lungs.
He pounded up the steps of the temple as fast as he could. He was going to make it! Everyone knew the rule of Sanctuary. No guard could touch you if you were in the temple and had the Gods on your side. The door was open! He let out an internal cheer and darted through the columns. As he rounded the last one, a priest came through the archway to see what all the commotion was about.
Nash tried to stop, but it was too late. He and the priest collided, and the potion tumbled out of his hands to land with a sickening crunch on the cold stones. There was a frozen moment where the priest and guards stared at the boy, and Nash stared and the broken bottle in disbelief. He dropped to his knees and tried frantically to scoop up the precious green liquid with his bare hands, cutting himself of the broken shards of the bottle in his haste. “No, no, no…” Harsh sobs tore themselves out of his chest as he pawed at the stones.
All that… All of it had been for nothing. All the trouble he was going to be in, all the time he was going to be away from his kids. All of it was useless. The kids weren’t going to make it without some help, and Nash couldn’t very well get back to them right now anyway. He heard one of the guards sigh heavily. “Poor little bugger,” he muttered. Then, louder, he added, “Come one, lad. Let’s get you back where you belong.”
Nash looked up through his ragged bangs. Go back? After that? He felt something harden inside him. No. Not without something for the kids. He couldn’t fail them now. He glanced at the door and then at the guards. One of them must have understood what he was going to do, but he was too quick. He evaded the guard’s lunge and dove through the doorway. As soon as he passed the threshold he called out. “Gigi!”
Instantly, the guards coming through the doorway were thrown back through the air. They yelled in surprise, and the priest gasped, his eyes focused behind Nash. The boy turned slowly to see what was behind him, and saw a cloaked figure standing in the shadows, gloved hand raised in a warding gesture. The priest fell to his knees as the Lady’s crimson eyes gleamed from her within her cloak.
“This child has claimed sanctuary,” the priest called to the guards, and Nash realized she was telling him to say it, to warn them away. “He is no longer your responsibility.”
The guards looked at each other hesitantly. “But he’s just a street rat,” one of them called. “He is of no importance to the Goddess.”
The priest shook his head. “That is not your decision. She has spoken, and Her word in final here. Go back to your stations.”
The guards left reluctantly, and Nash sat down on the hard stones as his legs gave out on him. Giadriana dropped her hand and came closer, gracefully kneeling next to he crying boy. She touched his small hand with her gloved one, and the cuts healed as she spoke. “I promised you safety, and it has been given,” she stated calmly, her voice only a whisper, as always. “But what has made you come here in such distress, child?”
So he told her, his voice as exhausted as the rest of him. She was silent when he finished, her inhuman eyes thoughtful. At last, she stood and gestured to her priest. “It is a holiday today, is it not?”
Nash wasn’t sure what a holiday was, though he had vaguely noticed the noble houses being decorated with strange plants and mage-lights as he ran past them. He also knew, from what he had heard in the market, that it was the shortest day of the year today, but he didn’t know that rich people celebrated those things. The priest, however, smiled and nodded. “Indeed, it is your High Day, Lady,” he murmured respectfully.
The Goddess nodded and motioned toward Nash with a slight quirk of her lips. “One of my worshipers was unable to get to the feast. Can we take it to him?”
Before Nash knew what was happening, he was being escorted back through the city by the priest and two younger priests in simpler robes. Giadriana had called them novices. The Goddess had vanished before the novices had shown up, but Nash still felt her with them as they passed into the lower city and the buildings became more and more desolate. He kept his head high, refusing to be ashamed of his home, no matter how much they might be disgusted if pitying.
But they said nothing, only made thoughtful noises as they saw the occupants of the alleys looking back at them with hungry eyes. One of the younger kids ran up the the older priest and begged for a bit of bread. Nash darted up from behind the man and slapped the girl’s hand away from the unsuspecting man’s robes. “Aye, Penny, git yer own,” he told her stubbornly. “Them’s for me and me brood, and they ain’t for your mits no how. They ain’t reg’lar picks, ya ken?”
“Aye, I ken,” she sighed, darting off with a pouting glare in Nash’s direction.
They arrived at his brood’s him unmolested, and Nash showed them how to crawl through the hole that led to the basement. “Doesn’t it flood in the rain?” one of the Novices asked hesitantly.
Nash nodded shortly. “Aye. That it does. Best place we’ve had though.”
They said no more about it as Nash pushed open the heavy door into the main room. The kids started to run toward him, but stopped as they saw the strangers behind him. “’Ello, lads,” Nash called cheerfully. “I gots a s’prise for ye!”
And that seemed to reassure them all. Most of them ran over curiously, peeking into the baskets and bulging packs the men all carried with excited faces and greedy hands. Nash beat them all back into some semblance of order, laughing all the while. “Lemme explain, ye little buggers,” he called, sitting them all on the piles of rags that seemed to serve as padding and bedding for the whole group.
Once they were quite, he grinned and motioned toward the three men. “Ye ‘member the nice lady I told ye ‘bout long time ago? The one we ask for things we need real bad?” there were a few thoughtful looks, as if some of them still didn’t quite grasp the theory, but the older ones were quick to respond. “Gigi!” they called in a ragged unison, eyes bright.
The novices glanced at each other is surprise. These children worshipped the Dark Lady? And with a nickname? But it was apparent that their belief was as strong as any person’s who came to the temple regularly, despite the fact that they had never seen her before.
“Well, they’s from her,” Nash said with a grin. “She sent us presents for some kind of hol’day they had. They can tell ye all ‘bout that.” He sat down on the piles next to the others, grinning as the smaller ones clambered into his lap and snuggled up against him. The elderly priest looked at them all for a long moment before smiling gently.
“Gigi,” he said, his amusement at the nickname clear, “has a special day of the year that she get to celebrate, like a birthday.” Several of the kids nodded their understanding. They had heard of birthdays before, even if they didn’t really have them. “Well, on Gigi’s birthday, everyone gives presents and gets them, not just her. And Gigi noticed that you all didn’t get presents this year, so she had them brought to you.”
He pulled the pack off of his back and opened it carefully, pulling out a bundle of soft cloth. The kids looked at each other with wide eyes. They were getting presents? That had never happened before, except on the rare occasions Nash had managed to get up enough copper to buy them tiny trinkets with their food.
Before long, the priest was hading out soft blankets from the bundle. There were just enough that every child in the room got one, with a couple extra that Nash set aside with a pained look on his young face. The novices dug through their packs to present tiny coats, made with care for the warmth of the wearer. Nash didn’t question how every child’s fit. He knew that it was all due to the same Lady.
The last sack proved to contain toys. They were utterly useless, but each one made the child it was given to smile so brightly that the old priest had tears in his eyes by the end. The dolls the girls received were made to resemble their owners, with hair and eyes the same colors as the ones they were given to. Each came with ribbons tied around its tiny waist, and many of the older girls wasted no time in putting them in their hair in place of the old fabric scraps that had held it back.
The boys received small wooden men like the ones sold in the market. Each one could bend like a real person, and the boys laughed in amusement as they made them do handstands and flips. The boys also received small belt pouches that, if they were old enough, contained tiny daggers.
Nash watched with a contented look as his brood danced and laughed and gibbered excitedly. The priest waited until the toys were given out, and approached the boy carefully. “I am told there are more children?” he said softly, turning the statement into a question. Nash nodded solemnly and motioned for him to follow. They went through a curtain to another, much smaller room. It contained three tiny little bodies, wrapped in every spare rag in the city, or so it looked like.
“They’s sick,” Nash muttered, eyes sad. “It ain’t fixin’ i’self like last time. I dunno what to do no more. I was tryin’ to get that potion back here for ‘em, but it didn’t really work out.” He shrugged eloquently, and the priest nodded his agreement.
“Let’s see what we can do,” he said softly, bending down to look at the children carefully. He was quiet for a long time before he finally spoke. “I think something can be done,” he said carefully, choosing each word with care. “There is still time.” He held up one hand, clutching the pendant at his neck with the other, and Nash watched in awe as the shadowy figure of Giadriana rose from the shadows and held her hand over his, crimson eyes shining with power.
It was over quickly, only a flash of dark green light marking it. But the three opened their eyes within a minute, and Nash shouted with joy as they blinked up at him.
“Wasit...?” one of the boys muttered, green eyes confused. He sat up slowly, his dirty blonde hair falling in his eyes charmingly. “Nash?”
The older boy laughed and hugged him close, pulling the other two in as well. It was okay. Somehow, it was all going to be okay. “What’s goin’ on?” the biggest of the three, a girl with curly brown hair, asked. “What happenin’, Nash?”
Nash buried his face in her curls and smiled. “A holiday, Chlo,” he said happily. “A holiday is happenin’. And we still ain’t even got to the feast!”
It was years before Nash had to use the promise of Gigi’s shelter. He had prayed to her often, any time one of his group was sick or too hungry for him to take care of. He had never heard her voice or see her again, but somehow he had always managed to find enough food, and no illness had ever taken one of the wee’uns, not even the black fever that swept the alleys and streets like a fire.
But this was different.
Three of the wee’uns were not getting better, and Nash was old enough to know that the gods only helped those who helped themselves. Off to the apothecary he had gone, all the way to the upper city. He knew roughly what they needed, and it wasn’t hard to swipe the small bottle from one of the shelves, but the old man had sharper eyes that Nash had given him credit for, and the guards had been on him from almost the beginning.
Now Nash was running faster and farther than he ever had before, potion clutched tightly in both his sweating hands. He had fallen more than he cared to admit, but he had kept his hold on the precious bottle. That meant he couldn’t climb the fences back into the lower city, so he was stuck in the wealthier regions.
He had done what he could to evade and hide, and was now running for the palace and temple grounds as fast as he could. If he could just get inside the doors, he would be safe. She had said so.
The guards were right behind him as he entered the gates, and he put on one last burst of speed as he saw the door, forcing himself to run despite the haze in his vision and the burning in his lungs.
He pounded up the steps of the temple as fast as he could. He was going to make it! Everyone knew the rule of Sanctuary. No guard could touch you if you were in the temple and had the Gods on your side. The door was open! He let out an internal cheer and darted through the columns. As he rounded the last one, a priest came through the archway to see what all the commotion was about.
Nash tried to stop, but it was too late. He and the priest collided, and the potion tumbled out of his hands to land with a sickening crunch on the cold stones. There was a frozen moment where the priest and guards stared at the boy, and Nash stared and the broken bottle in disbelief. He dropped to his knees and tried frantically to scoop up the precious green liquid with his bare hands, cutting himself of the broken shards of the bottle in his haste. “No, no, no…” Harsh sobs tore themselves out of his chest as he pawed at the stones.
All that… All of it had been for nothing. All the trouble he was going to be in, all the time he was going to be away from his kids. All of it was useless. The kids weren’t going to make it without some help, and Nash couldn’t very well get back to them right now anyway. He heard one of the guards sigh heavily. “Poor little bugger,” he muttered. Then, louder, he added, “Come one, lad. Let’s get you back where you belong.”
Nash looked up through his ragged bangs. Go back? After that? He felt something harden inside him. No. Not without something for the kids. He couldn’t fail them now. He glanced at the door and then at the guards. One of them must have understood what he was going to do, but he was too quick. He evaded the guard’s lunge and dove through the doorway. As soon as he passed the threshold he called out. “Gigi!”
Instantly, the guards coming through the doorway were thrown back through the air. They yelled in surprise, and the priest gasped, his eyes focused behind Nash. The boy turned slowly to see what was behind him, and saw a cloaked figure standing in the shadows, gloved hand raised in a warding gesture. The priest fell to his knees as the Lady’s crimson eyes gleamed from her within her cloak.
“This child has claimed sanctuary,” the priest called to the guards, and Nash realized she was telling him to say it, to warn them away. “He is no longer your responsibility.”
The guards looked at each other hesitantly. “But he’s just a street rat,” one of them called. “He is of no importance to the Goddess.”
The priest shook his head. “That is not your decision. She has spoken, and Her word in final here. Go back to your stations.”
The guards left reluctantly, and Nash sat down on the hard stones as his legs gave out on him. Giadriana dropped her hand and came closer, gracefully kneeling next to he crying boy. She touched his small hand with her gloved one, and the cuts healed as she spoke. “I promised you safety, and it has been given,” she stated calmly, her voice only a whisper, as always. “But what has made you come here in such distress, child?”
So he told her, his voice as exhausted as the rest of him. She was silent when he finished, her inhuman eyes thoughtful. At last, she stood and gestured to her priest. “It is a holiday today, is it not?”
Nash wasn’t sure what a holiday was, though he had vaguely noticed the noble houses being decorated with strange plants and mage-lights as he ran past them. He also knew, from what he had heard in the market, that it was the shortest day of the year today, but he didn’t know that rich people celebrated those things. The priest, however, smiled and nodded. “Indeed, it is your High Day, Lady,” he murmured respectfully.
The Goddess nodded and motioned toward Nash with a slight quirk of her lips. “One of my worshipers was unable to get to the feast. Can we take it to him?”
Before Nash knew what was happening, he was being escorted back through the city by the priest and two younger priests in simpler robes. Giadriana had called them novices. The Goddess had vanished before the novices had shown up, but Nash still felt her with them as they passed into the lower city and the buildings became more and more desolate. He kept his head high, refusing to be ashamed of his home, no matter how much they might be disgusted if pitying.
But they said nothing, only made thoughtful noises as they saw the occupants of the alleys looking back at them with hungry eyes. One of the younger kids ran up the the older priest and begged for a bit of bread. Nash darted up from behind the man and slapped the girl’s hand away from the unsuspecting man’s robes. “Aye, Penny, git yer own,” he told her stubbornly. “Them’s for me and me brood, and they ain’t for your mits no how. They ain’t reg’lar picks, ya ken?”
“Aye, I ken,” she sighed, darting off with a pouting glare in Nash’s direction.
They arrived at his brood’s him unmolested, and Nash showed them how to crawl through the hole that led to the basement. “Doesn’t it flood in the rain?” one of the Novices asked hesitantly.
Nash nodded shortly. “Aye. That it does. Best place we’ve had though.”
They said no more about it as Nash pushed open the heavy door into the main room. The kids started to run toward him, but stopped as they saw the strangers behind him. “’Ello, lads,” Nash called cheerfully. “I gots a s’prise for ye!”
And that seemed to reassure them all. Most of them ran over curiously, peeking into the baskets and bulging packs the men all carried with excited faces and greedy hands. Nash beat them all back into some semblance of order, laughing all the while. “Lemme explain, ye little buggers,” he called, sitting them all on the piles of rags that seemed to serve as padding and bedding for the whole group.
Once they were quite, he grinned and motioned toward the three men. “Ye ‘member the nice lady I told ye ‘bout long time ago? The one we ask for things we need real bad?” there were a few thoughtful looks, as if some of them still didn’t quite grasp the theory, but the older ones were quick to respond. “Gigi!” they called in a ragged unison, eyes bright.
The novices glanced at each other is surprise. These children worshipped the Dark Lady? And with a nickname? But it was apparent that their belief was as strong as any person’s who came to the temple regularly, despite the fact that they had never seen her before.
“Well, they’s from her,” Nash said with a grin. “She sent us presents for some kind of hol’day they had. They can tell ye all ‘bout that.” He sat down on the piles next to the others, grinning as the smaller ones clambered into his lap and snuggled up against him. The elderly priest looked at them all for a long moment before smiling gently.
“Gigi,” he said, his amusement at the nickname clear, “has a special day of the year that she get to celebrate, like a birthday.” Several of the kids nodded their understanding. They had heard of birthdays before, even if they didn’t really have them. “Well, on Gigi’s birthday, everyone gives presents and gets them, not just her. And Gigi noticed that you all didn’t get presents this year, so she had them brought to you.”
He pulled the pack off of his back and opened it carefully, pulling out a bundle of soft cloth. The kids looked at each other with wide eyes. They were getting presents? That had never happened before, except on the rare occasions Nash had managed to get up enough copper to buy them tiny trinkets with their food.
Before long, the priest was hading out soft blankets from the bundle. There were just enough that every child in the room got one, with a couple extra that Nash set aside with a pained look on his young face. The novices dug through their packs to present tiny coats, made with care for the warmth of the wearer. Nash didn’t question how every child’s fit. He knew that it was all due to the same Lady.
The last sack proved to contain toys. They were utterly useless, but each one made the child it was given to smile so brightly that the old priest had tears in his eyes by the end. The dolls the girls received were made to resemble their owners, with hair and eyes the same colors as the ones they were given to. Each came with ribbons tied around its tiny waist, and many of the older girls wasted no time in putting them in their hair in place of the old fabric scraps that had held it back.
The boys received small wooden men like the ones sold in the market. Each one could bend like a real person, and the boys laughed in amusement as they made them do handstands and flips. The boys also received small belt pouches that, if they were old enough, contained tiny daggers.
Nash watched with a contented look as his brood danced and laughed and gibbered excitedly. The priest waited until the toys were given out, and approached the boy carefully. “I am told there are more children?” he said softly, turning the statement into a question. Nash nodded solemnly and motioned for him to follow. They went through a curtain to another, much smaller room. It contained three tiny little bodies, wrapped in every spare rag in the city, or so it looked like.
“They’s sick,” Nash muttered, eyes sad. “It ain’t fixin’ i’self like last time. I dunno what to do no more. I was tryin’ to get that potion back here for ‘em, but it didn’t really work out.” He shrugged eloquently, and the priest nodded his agreement.
“Let’s see what we can do,” he said softly, bending down to look at the children carefully. He was quiet for a long time before he finally spoke. “I think something can be done,” he said carefully, choosing each word with care. “There is still time.” He held up one hand, clutching the pendant at his neck with the other, and Nash watched in awe as the shadowy figure of Giadriana rose from the shadows and held her hand over his, crimson eyes shining with power.
It was over quickly, only a flash of dark green light marking it. But the three opened their eyes within a minute, and Nash shouted with joy as they blinked up at him.
“Wasit...?” one of the boys muttered, green eyes confused. He sat up slowly, his dirty blonde hair falling in his eyes charmingly. “Nash?”
The older boy laughed and hugged him close, pulling the other two in as well. It was okay. Somehow, it was all going to be okay. “What’s goin’ on?” the biggest of the three, a girl with curly brown hair, asked. “What happenin’, Nash?”
Nash buried his face in her curls and smiled. “A holiday, Chlo,” he said happily. “A holiday is happenin’. And we still ain’t even got to the feast!”