Chapter 8

Kalen spent a restless night, his newly treated shoulder bulkily bandaged and throbbing mercilessly. Their strange new friends--clearly old friends to Eldan--had brought them to a rough cave, little more than a hole in the ground, then Eldan and two of the others had left, leaving the bearded man with Kalen and Jaened. Jaened would not speak or even look at anyone, but sat with his back to them. Their companion introduced himself as Aevin but made no further attempt at conversation.
Morning brought Eldan with a green cloak and sword belt with a short blade over her old clothes and her hair wet and bound up. Jaened was on his side, facing the wall, so she spoke to Kalen.
"It's time to go. They'll be tracking us, and my people can't afford to be found. Thalla and Skaev are still out confusing the trail, but I have a feeling that witch will burn the whole forest down to find us if she needs to."
"Let her." Jaened's voice had a bitter edge. "She has Erissa. We failed."
"Then you are in good company," Aevin put in softly. "We are the Tassin. All of us have failed, but we have redeemed ourselves."
Kalen started. "Tassin? But the Tassin are traitors!"
Eldan turned on him sharply. "What do you know of us? Fellyre fears us more than your petty city-states with their feeble armies." She shook her head. "Get up. We're leaving." She turned on her heel and exited the cave.
Kalen stumbled to his feet while Aevin quietly coaxed Jaened up. As they left the cave, Aevin whispered to Kalen, "Some of us have redeemed ourselves. Eldan has in all eyes but her own. Do not judge her harshly."

Outside the cave, the morning light was still faint, revealing little of their surroundings. Kalen looked back only to find that Aevin had vanished, leaving them to Eldn's charge. She led them quickly by unseen paths--so quickly they nearly lost her at every turn. Either she was in a desperate hurry or still angry. The evidence was strongly in favor of the latter.
"Where are we going?" Jaened gasped as they hauled themselves out of a waist-deep stream.
"East." Eldan pointed with her sword, not pausing her stride.
"What's east?" Kalen asked.
"Nothing that I know of. Clearly, you have never been tracked before." She glanced around, then added, "We'll stop here. Sleep if you can. There'll be no rest tonight."
Kalen lay down against a tree, only to be ordered up and informed that they would rest under the embankment on the side of the stream. It was damp and earthy, but Kalen was too tired to care.

The cold woke him. The sky had turned grey with a coming storm and the damp in the ground had soaked through his clothing. Sitting up, he saw Eldan crouched a few feet away, her sword resting in a loose grip. She turned sharply at the sound of his movement. She relaxed when she saw it only him.
"Is your bandage wet?" Kalen's hand went to his shoulder and he shook his head. "Good. Infection is a miserable way to die." She resumed her silent vigil. Kalen came over to sit beside her, but she paid him no attention.
"So, what brought you to join the Tassin?"
"That is none of your concern." Eldan replied flatly without looking at him.
"Look, I'm sorry about what I said back in the cave. You saved my life. I owe you respect for that. I'm just wondering."
"Well, you can keep wondering. I'll help you get back to Elni, then we need never cross paths again."
"No--I can't go back to Elni. The king wants me dead."
Eldan glanced at him curiously, then smirked. "That is how I became one of the Tassin. How can you hate us for what we are when you are the exact same thing?"
"I don't hate you--I only know what people say about the Tassin. You're the first one I ever met."
"And what do they say about us--that we are traitors?" Kalen's shrug was answer enough. "It's convenient for them. Calling us traitors when they are the ones who turned on us. Treachery is all about perspective. I betrayed no one. I took no lives. But they killed my friends and drove me from their city.  All I ever did was write."
"What did you write?"
"I wrote against the draft. They called men and women alike to join the army, giving no regard to youth, young couples, nursing mothers, and elderly. They filled the city with orphans. They sent my brother to his death. So I wrote my protest and another took it and read it before the crowds. The Elders would have none of it, but when they struck, we struck back. They would not listen. They thought themselves stronger, so they fought their own people. I never called for it, but the people attempted revenge. The rebellion was crushed within a few hours. Survivors were publicly beheaded. I had no choice but to leave. The Tassin took me in. They are my family and my nation now."
Kalen was silent for a moment, imagining what Eldan bitterly described. "So," he began hesitantly, "do you think the Tassin would have a place for me?"
"You would have to change your opinion of us. And we have no use for idle hands. Once you join us, you can never leave. We have no tolerance for desertion. Our secrets would be too dangerous if they fell into enemy hands."
"I am as capable as any other man. And I'm not a deserter."
"Do you really think you could live like this--hunted, hiding, spending nights on the move, knowing everyone to be your enemy? It is not an easy or pleasant life, and none would choose it if they had any other option."
"I don't think I have a choice. Syxel is destroyed and Elni is no longer home."
"Is there room for me too?" Jaened's voice broke in.
"This isn't a recruiting party. You have already demonstrated your uselessness. I am not taking you near my people until you prove yourself. All you want is to get your sister out of Terraphel. I have no doubt you would gladly sell our secrets for her freedom."
Jaened's silence was response enough. Eldan abruptly ordered them to their feet and led the way on, keeping to the edge of the stream. A light rain quickly grew to a drenching torrent, in which Eldan forced them across the stream. Their boots were heavy with mud and rocks as they dragged themselves up the bank on the other side. To their dismay, Eldan led them on a short dash into the woods, then made them walk backwards back to the stream to cross again.
Night fell quickly, but still they pressed on, keeping ankle-deep in the water after the rain died away, leaving no risk of tracks. Fatigue quickly combined with the chill to slow them down. It was hours before Eldan let them leave the stream and start into the woods again. The clouds slowly dispersed to reveal the brilliant night sky. Kalen fought to keep his eyes open as the white light blurred the trees with heavy shadows. Beside him, Jaened loudly collided with a tree, earning him a sharp rebuke from their self-appointed leader. With her fierce pace and confident stride, Kalen found himself forgetting who he was following. It felt like he was back with Taldyr on a night training exercise.

Ichabod: A Lament

Mighty was the fallen!
The fire burned so bright,
But it will burn no more.
The city on the hill has crumbled:
The basket hides the light.
Love was sweet.
Love was strong.
Love is cold.
Love is gone.
The glory is departed.
Richness of the gospel,
Power of the Spirit,
Lost treasures.
Doctrine,
Law,
Pillars of the church.
Exulted,
Praised;
Not followed.
No.
Rich, you call yourselves:
Rich in truth,
Rich in righteousness.
But you are poor.
You choose your truth;
You do not see the greater truth.
You speak of truth,
You do not follow it.
Your righteousness will fail.
Are you so blind?
Wrapped in filthy garments,
Raiment of your own making,
You call them robes.
White robes.
But they are shredded;
They are putrid.
They will not save you.
You name yourself "Philippi"
But you are Sardis.
You say you are alive
But you are dead.
Fallen.
The glory is gone.
The church is no more.

The Experiment

"I will destroy you, Martin Fanter, if it is the last thing I do." Kay whispered over their handshake. She meant it. The crowd was with her--scientists, sponsors, and religious leaders--all of them had been there that the day the experiment was proposed. They all wanted nothing more than to see their time and money bring results, and this man was the only thing in the way.
The betrayal still smarted. He had been by her side every step of the way--he had donated funds and promised more, he had helped find the children--he had even been a teacher. And now...
"Kayla Everett, you may begin."
Kay took the mic from the podium and turned to face her opponent.
"Martin, we are not here to waste these people's precious time, so I will cut it short. We are all wanting to ask the same question: Why would you denounce an experiment that could save humanity? Our world is on the brink of collapse--socially, economically, and religiously. We have little hope for this generation, but we can give hope to the next. Transcendence could save them all. These children will grow up free of all social constructs, free thinkers with original ideas and no knowledge of evil--you, as one who reads the Bible, can look on it as taking the tree of the knowledge of good and evil out of the picture. We are raising a new Eden." She lowered her mic and looked expectantly at the grey-haired man across from her.
"I am withdrawing my support because the experiment is going to fail. It has a fundamental flaw: It is based on the assumption that people are naturally good. But we have already seen the early evidence of selfishness and anger in these children, and, unchecked, it will only get worse. Leave them to themselves and these children will kill each other. It's child abuse and unethical to experiment on humans."
"Ah." Kay's sarcastic tone elicited a chuckle from the audience. "So you would site your antiquated worldview as proof of a problem. Have you considered that, maybe, you might be wrong? As for the children, this experiment is completely legal. They are not being experimented on like lab rats, but rather snatched from the streets of third world countries and troubled homes to be raised in paradise. There is nothing they need or want that is denied them. The ethics committee have cleared everything ten times over. And as for their behavior, they are toddlers. They are spirited and curious as any other children. And, as in other children, this will pass with time. Little Lord Fauntleroy doesn't exist."
"But what is I am right, Kayla? What if the evil of society comes from within individuals rather than a collective ideology? We began this experiment to create perfection. What if the end result is a monster?"
"Have you been reading Frankenstein again? I warned you that it would give you nightmares." Kay relished the burst of laughter from the crowd. "At worst, we may end up with influences breaking through and rendering this experiment ineffective. Martin Fanter, you called us here. If you have nothing better to say, we have full right to ask you to pay us for wasted time."
"I do have more to say--and I am paying for this event." Martin turned to the audience. "You all need to know what changed my mind on all this. Last summer, my daughter, after all these years, finally contacted me again. The mess she made of her life was what first got me involved in this experiment. She told me she had found a cure for society that she swore would work. I was skeptical, but I am no longer.
"Jesus Christ is the only answer." A scoffing murmur ran through the crowd. "Please hear me out--I know it sounds cliche, but He turned my drug addict daughter around completely. Then He changed me. Two thousand years ago, the God who created heaven and earth sent Jesus Christ, God in human--" The murmur rose to a roar as people stood to their feet. "Friends--colleagues--listen for a moment. Jesus said that murders and hate and lies come from within the heart, not social pressures--that we are born with a nature bent on evil. That is why the experiment will fail. All good comes only from God--and this God sent His Son," Martin was speaking faster and faster as people began to walk out. "Christ Jesus was the only man who ever lived without that sinful nature, but He died our death for us so that all who turn to Him can be freed from that sin nature and given a new nature. This is our world's only hope. Please, I am begging you to listen."
Kay smiled patronizingly. "If that is the best you can do, Fanter, you are no great loss to our experiment." She paused for a second, then raised her mic again. "The experiment goes on. Goodbye, Martin." She dropped her mic to the ground with a boom, then left the stage and followed the scattering crowd out of the hall. She hadn't even needed to say anything. Martin had ruined his credibility on his own.

Eleven years later, 1,000 miles from Hawaii, on Transcendence Island, formerly known as Palmyra Atoll, a young teen strolled the beach. His name was Tyson Vrede. And this was his kingdom. He smiled at the setting sun. The day had been well spent. The tide gently rose and fell, distant shapes still visible, floating away to be lost forever. They had taught him well. He knew he was accountable to none but himself. This was freedom. This was his purpose. They had the ship. They had the world before them. Tomorrow, they would see if any could stand against them. The professors couldn't. Ms. Everett lay  on the sand, where she had finally fled. She had almost reached the ship. It was a close call. They could have been left stranded. Tyson knelt down and picked up a handful of blood-caked sand. He liked the smell. He turned to the pristine complex they had been imprisoned in. The other teens stood on the walls, splattered with red from the night's play. It was time to change the world. They had tasted what they were capable of. And now they wanted more.

Chapter 7

The servant had spoken true. The temple was unmistakable. It rose in a single spire of black stone, set with red crystal, shining like fresh blood running down its sides. The great double doors were white maple, set with gold, facing the North-East--toward Fellyre. Jaened strode up to the door.
"What are you doing?" Eldan demanded in a sharp whisper.
Jaened stared back at her. "I am getting my sister." With that, he seized both door handles and flung the door open. A blast of foul-smelling smoke poured out into the courtyard, choking and momentarily blinding them. Through the haze, they saw two figures standing before a low-burning fire.
One turned while the other remained still as a statue. Kalen scarcely recognized the woman who had entrapped them. Her hair was bound up with gold and her neck and face, above her flowing scarlet robe, were painted with curling black designs. Her right hand clutched a long, ornate knife. Jaened started forward, a murderous hate in his eyes, only to be stopped in his tracks by Symorkhel's mocking laugh.
"Are you three so eager for death? I would have come for you presently."
"The only one who will die here is you, witch. You are alone against us all. What chance do you think you have?" Jaened demanded
"Foolish boy. You underestimate my power. I serve Lord Zerak, of whom you all have doubtless heard much."
"Zerak is not here," Eldan spoke up, "But you can still live. Give us his sister and we will not kill you."
"Sheela!" At Symorkhel's word, the other figure stiffened and turned sharply to stand beside the priestess. Blank, depth-less light brown eyes stared out of a face so white it seemed inhuman.
"Erissa?" Jaened's voice was barely above a whisper. If the pale woman even heard him, she gave no sign of it.
"Sheela, do you know this man?" Symorkhel asked softly. Erissa, if it really was her, shook her head. "They have come to desecrate our temple. What shall we do to them?"
"They must die." It was said indifferently, with no hint of concern or malice. Symorkhel let out a low laugh that sent shivers up the back of Kalen's neck. Erissa turned her back and silently returned to face the flames as the shadows beyond the fire began to stir. A low, unearthly growl shook the ground. Kalen took an uncertain step back, and Eldan grabbed his arm.
"Run! It's Naresh!" Eldan's voice was almost drowned out by Symorkhel's laughter as two great dark shapes slunk into the light. The death-wolves were as large as horses, their blind white eyes only strengthening their sharp sense of smell. Kalen turned to run and almost collided with Jaened who just stood, staring at the long fangs and mangy brown bodies.
"I won't leave without Erissa." Kalen saw the creature crouch to spring and, on instinct, slammed into Jaened, knocking him to the ground. The Naresh leapt harmlessly over them and, in the moment it paused in confusion, Eldan pulled them to their feet and they took off into the courtyard, not daring to look back as the Naresh's claws grated on the flagstones in pursuit.
Eldan reached the steps to the parapet first and paused just long enough for Jaened and Kalen to pass her, then followed, almost shoving them in her haste. Below them, the first Naresh checked its pace to late and slammed into the wall. The other sniffed around, then began pacing by the base of the stairs, snarling and slavering. As they reached the top of the wall, Kalen's adrenaline gave out. He sank to his knees, clutching the bandage, feeling fresh blood leaking through. Eldan and Jaened hauled him to his feet between them.
"Leave me. I can't make it." It wasn't heroics. It was simply the truth.
"Can't make it where?" Jaened gave a despairing laugh. "We're trapped." Symorkhel had stepped out into the courtyard, watching them with an amused smile. It crossed Kalen's mind that he would rather have died on the battle field.
Eldan turned to them. "We have to jump."
Jaened glanced over the wall. "We can't--we'll kill ourselves!" In answer, Eldan lept nimbly up on the edge and let herself drop. Kalen did not see her land, but Jaened hauled him to his feet as Symorkhel began calling out orders to her guards. Before he even knew what was happening, he was on the ground trying to catch his breath from the impact. Eldan was standing over him, yelling for Jaened to follow. Just as the gates began to creak open far down the wall, he landed in an awkward half-roll beside them.
Kalen was still gasping as they hauled him to his feet again and set off at a run. The terrain was rough with the broken stones and rubble of an ancient village. Kalen could scarcely gain his footing before he would lose it again. The sound of pursuit was ever growing, but Eldan kept saying over and over again, "We are almost there."
Finally they stopped, though the Naresh's howls were close behind. Kalen fell to his knees as the world reeled around him. Eldan and Jaened seemed to be arguing, but he could not hear them over the high pitched ringing in his ears. Then they had him up again, forcing him up a nearby tree. He made it to the fourth branch before fatigue won out. But the others were up before he could fall. Eldan climbed past them as nimbly as a squirrel and disappeared into the higher branches.
Seconds later, the whole tree swayed as the Naresh jumped at the lower branches. Jaened dragged Kalen up a little farther, beyond the beasts' reach. Eldan swung down to a branch just above them and, hooking one elbow around another branch for balance, knelt and drew back a bow. At least, that was what Kalen thought he saw. He was so light-headed that he did not dare to trust his eyes. And He knew she didn't have a bow, yet she set and reset until finally, she found her spot and released the arrow. The Naresh dropped like a stone without even a yelp. The other, ignoring its fallen comrade, renewed its attack. Eldan leaned back, her bow slack in her hands.
A scuffle and a snarl from below brought their attention downward. Three hooded figures in dull brown and green were attacking the furious beast with spears, nimbly dodging its claws and fangs. Finally, two distracted it as the third backed up to throw his spear. Then it was over. The Naresh lay on its side weakly writhing through its death throws, and the spearmen were reaching up to help them down from the tree.
A man with a ragged blond beard set against a darkly weathered face leaned Kalen against the tree and began silently unwrapping the bandage from his shoulder. Eldan was brandishing the bow in one of their faces.
"Who is in charge of this post? One arrow--I'd be dead if you hadn't come. When was it last stocked?" She continued her angry tirade for a few moments, but, when she stopped for a breath, the third newcomer, a tall, big-boned woman with braided iron grey hair, enveloped her in a hug. Then the renewed pain in his shoulder tore Kalen's attention away again.

Chapter 6

What's wrong with the sky? Kalen stared upwards at the pale, silvery blue above him. He felt sick and dizzy. Maybe he was seeing wrong. He closed his eyes then looked again. It looked the same.
"That's not the sky." He said aloud as if that made it official.
"No. It's not." Kalen turned to see Eldan crouched a few feet away. Seeing her clearly for the first time, he realized that she was about his own age. Also, she was chained hand and foot to the white stone wall behind her. He looked back up. It was glass--or crystal. What kind of prison has a crystal roof?
"Did the army catch us? Is this Fellyre?"
"No. This is Terraphel. And our captor isn't Fellyrian, whatever she may be."
"She? You mean that woman we met in the forest?"
"Yes. Right after you fainted, she set her men on us. They locked us in here. At least we've got company, though all he seems able to do is tell us how hopeless our situation is."
"It's just the truth." A voice came from behind Kalen and he turned to see a ragged, bearded man with a mane of shaggy rust-colored hair. "It's just the way things are. You are both going to die. I've seen sixty-four people through here and not one got out alive. There is no escape. I've been here for eight years."
"Eight people a year?" Kalen did the math quickly in his head. "So then we're here for something--not just prisoners, but two of this year's eight."
"You're smart. It's a shame you'll never be able to put that mind to any great cause. But yes--there are eight a year. Two each solstice, and one every third month. You're sacrifices. Your captor is Symorkhel, High Priestess of Zerak. And, before you ask, if there was any chance of escape, I would not be here any more."
"There is always a way out." Eldan said calmly. "Tell me which ways you have tried."
"I have tried every way. I've tried the guards--fighting, bribing, appealing to their humanity--I've tried the door from every angle. I've tried every stone in this room and none will come loose. I've tried to climb up to the glass roof a thousand times. The walls are sheer. You can't climb them."
"Have any of the girls who have been through here tried to get at the guards?" Eldan asked casually.
"If you try it, you'll be sorry. They have a  way with women. Besides, you wouldn't be enough to tempt them. This castle is teaming with women."
"Tell me, do you do this to everyone who comes into here?" Eldan asked.
"Do what?"
"Give your little talk. Tell them how hopeless it is. Tell them not to try. If I didn't know better, I would think that you wanted us to give up--to simply resign ourselves to our fate."
"No--I merely want to discourage false hope." Kalen caught a slight betraying falter in his voice.
"Why have you been here eight years when everyone else is sacrificed? Are you here to prevent our escape?" Kalen demanded
"Do I look like a friend of the Priestess? Ive been rotting in here for a quarter of my life. Death would be welcome."
"They have someone, don't they?" Eldan asked. "Who?"
He turned pale. "They have my sister."
"And if any of us escapes, they kill her?"
He nodded miserably.
"What if we all escape? We could take her with us. Where are they holding her?"
"No--it would never work. She serves Symorkhel as a handmaid and sleeps in an adjoining chamber--we could only get to her if we got past Symorkhel."
"Then we just need to kill this Symorkhel," Kalen put in. "With her gone, we're all free and this hideous practice is put to an end."
"She is a priestess--trained in black arts by Zerak himself. I've seen her power. She can sense threats before they even get close. She sleeps with a Naresh on either side of her bed. She tamed dozens of the beasts. I would almost say she's fond of them, if a witch like her can be fond of anything."
"She is but human. No one is invincible. Besides, what power can Zerak's sorcery hold over us who follow Ithien? And Naresh are just beasts. I've killed Naresh before." Eldan stood. "Our first problem is how to get me out of these chains. When is the next sacrifice, Jaened?"
The bearded man--Jaened--sighed. "It's too late. You have only two days. We couldn't possibly get out in that time even if we had a plan."
"We do have a plan. And that plan is to get out of here. We also have a deadline: two days from now, because we are all getting out--your sister included." Kalen tried to sound encouraging. "Now, please, tell us honestly, what is our best chance to get out of here?"
"I really don't know. What I told you is true."
"If there's no chance of escape, then why would they need you to prevent people from escaping?" Eldan demanded.
"The guards are our best chance, but it's a slim chance."
"Better a slim chance than just sitting here and waiting to die."
"The guards only come into the cell if they're bringing a prisoner in or if it's time for a sacrifice."
"Two days then. We have two days to plan our attack, and then we cannot fail." Eldan sat down. "Now, I imagine you know almost everything there is to know about this place."
"My sister knows it better than me, and I won't help you unless you swear by Ithien that she will get out of here alive. Symorkhel has said that if any prisoners escape, she'll sacrifice my sister in their place."
"I don't dare to swear by Ithien, but I swear on my honor I will do all that is in my power to save her."
"Not good enough."
"I swear on the grave of my mother, Hallise" Kalen tried.
"The dead won't hold you to your oath."
"Look, Jaened, all we can give you is our word. If we fail in getting her out, you can kill me, okay?" Eldan half-shouted. "Is that good enough?"
"Don't be daft! I couldn't kill you."
"But you could keep us locked in here to ensure our deaths? Is that so very different?"
Jaened dragged his hands across his face. "It is different. But I will help you get out. Ask what you will." Eldan sat back thinking, so Kalen asked the first question on his mind.
"If Symorkhel is a priestess, why isn't she in Fellyre? What does she hope to accomplish by hiding out here and killing a handful of people a year? I doubt it would do much for their war effort."
"She seeks to be made High Priestess. Zerak has promised her that position when she has made two hundred sacrifices."
Eldan coughed. "And she hopes to get there at this rate? At eight a year, it would take over twenty years!"
"Twenty-five years. She has only two days left. You are the last."
"What? Did she start as an infant? That woman could not be a day past thirty."
"It's witchcraft. She doesn't age. I've been here eight years, and she hasn't aged an hour. Even her hair doesn't grow. It's like she's frozen in time. She has a daughter--I caught a glimpse of her once--who looks older than her."
"So what will Zerak do if she fails to give him these last two sacrifices?" Kalen asked.
"I couldn't say--maybe she'll just have to get some others. Or maybe Zerak will have her start over."
"Well, that's a lovely thought." Eldan gave a nervously sarcastic laugh. "So she needs us to become priestess--or, rather, needs to kill us--so she'd want to make doubly sure that we won't escape."
"Say, didn't you mention that she has you and your sister prisoner here?" Jaened nodded and Kalen went on, "So why didn't she just sacrifice you two? Why did she go to so much trouble to capture us?"
"Well, how am I supposed to know? I've told you all that I do know--and it's quite a bit, considering I haven't been outside these four walls in eight years. Just before they threw you in, Symorkhel came in and told me that you were the last two--exactly those words--the last two, for summer solstice."
"But there are still two months left in the year. I doubt you and your sister are safe from their temple."
That silenced Jaened for a while.

When the guards finally came for them, they were ready. Jaened stood by the door when the men opened it, but they paid him little enough attention. The head of the guard stood in the doorway as the other two fastened chains to Eldan and Kalen's wrists.
Eldan let out a short, sharp whistle through her teeth, and, before the captain had a chance to wonder what she was doing, the iron door slammed full force into his face. Kalen was on one guard's back, the chain between his hands around the man's neck, gritting his teeth against the throbbing of his shoulder. Eldan was wrestling with the third guard; he was at least twice her size, but she had speed and agility on her side. As Kalen's man finally sank to the ground, she sent her's reeling back with a swift kick to the face. Jaened was yelling for them to follow him. As soon as they were out of the cell, he locked the guards in with a key  he had stolen from the man who was slumped dead at his feet.
"What's the quickest way out?" Eldan demanded.
"We're not taking the quickest way" Jaened shot back. "We're going nowhere without my sister." He started towards the stairs. "This way."
"Where is she?" Kalen asked
"Either the servant's quarters or Symorkhel's chambers. Hopefully not the latter. And even if she isn't there, we'll get servant's dress from their quarters which will make it easier to get around the great hall undetected."
Kalen barely dared to breathe as they ran on their toes down the hall. They were insane. They would never get out alive. Rounding a corner, they almost collided with a thin, grey haired serving woman. Before she could cry out, Eldan had her in a choke-hold against the wall.
"Do you want to live?" The woman nodded as best she could, eyes wide with terror. "Then come with us. Take us to the servants chamber and you'll be a free woman."
Within minutes, the maid had them in the servants chamber, rifling through piles of rags and old clothes. Eldan quickly donned an old grey dress with a white and tan head rag to hide her conspicuous black hair and Jaened found a simple white tunic and jacket. Kalen had to settle for a long vest that stank of many days hard work without wash.
Jaened turned to the serving woman. "Where is Lassina?" The woman stared back blankly. "Where is my sister? Where is she?" Her only response was to shrink against the wall, hands in loose fists, protecting her face. Jaened soften hs tone marginally. "Where is Symorkhel's peronal servant?  Tall, brown hair?"
"The Sheela is in the temple." The woman said slowly, pausing as if to take a breath between each word. When Jaened demanded to know where that was, she pointed a pale, trembling hand down the hallway. "Across the courtyard. You will know it when you see it." She whispered, eyes on the floor.
Jaened was down the hallway before she finished speaking. When Kalen  and Eldan moved to follow him, the woman saw her chance and disappeared.

Ladies, we have a problem

Here, I shall take a break from my typical writing for a little rant.

It was inspired by something I saw on Facebook today:

It is hard to be a woman. If this came from a Muslim country or India or somewhere else where women are genuinely oppressed, I would agree, But this is a bad case of Modern, Western, White People's Problems. Here, we have women taking a victim mentality in a culture where they are as far from victims as is humanly possible. 

For years, I have seen post after post complaining about how hard our world is on women. The first and most obvious problem with this can be seen in the fact that I, as a woman, can make this post while a man could not.

If I were to write on how men are better off than women, my article would be embraced. In fact, that is what most of the posts I have seen were: Women saying that men have it way easier than we do.

Now if a man were to assert that women have better lives than men, he would be called a chauvinist pig and unceremoniously blocked from several portions of social media. Far be it from a man to be anti-women, yet society insist that a woman ought to be anti-men.
And if you are rising up in arm saying "To be pro-women is not anti-men!", I must ask what war you are fighting. Why do you need to be pro-women if you have no enemy?
The direst manifestation of this anti-men sentiment is the pillaging of masculinity. Gender roles, an essential for the survival of society as a whole, are being broken down and destroyed. Women expect men to be the tender, delicate ones. The whole idea of fatherhood is viciously assaulted as a thing of time past. The bread-winner and the protector are demonized in preference of the gamer and the sissified mommy's-boy. The woman fights to be the boss, the tough one, and the head of the family while the man quietly sinks into the background.
Thus, I would argue that being a woman is easy. A woman can speak her mind. A woman can pull the oppression card whenever things don't go her way. A woman can manipulate without being seen as evil. A woman can be whatever she wants to be, at home and at work.
It's the men who are in trouble. Men must filter their speech for the feminists' sake. A man is always the one labeled the oppressor. A manipulative man is the evil of all evils. A man must watch his words and moves wherever he goes.

Thus, though I have no experience, I suspect it is considerably harder to be a man today--a real man, who stands up when others fall, who protects and provides, who leads by example. This is not the oppressive patriarchy. This is what we need today--this may be society's only hope.

So, ladies, do not look at yourself as oppressed and a victim of chivalry. You are a woman. Embrace that--you do not have to strive to be the "empowered woman".
Secondly, challenge the men in your life. Don't push them down and let them fall. Be the helper you were designed to be and help them rise. End this assault on manhood.

And if this made you mad, please take a deep breath and count to ten before commenting.

WAR: The Spirit and the Flesh

“Hey, girl, listen, it’s me, your friend
I know that I just saw you bend.
So I thought I’d come to call
I’d come to see you fail and fall.”

“You are my friend no more—I’m free
Sin, you are my enemy.
I have stumbled, yet I stand.
I’m upheld by my Saviour’s hand.”

“Enemy? What’s wrong with you?
You know that this, at least is true:
You’ve failed your Lord every day,
You’ve broke His law in every way.”

“You’re right—I admit this freely—
But though I fail, He will not fail me.
Accuser, tempter, child of hell
You are the king He came to fell.”

“I will not stop, I will not leave
I will fight what you believe.
I will revive the sin you slew
I will win, for I am you.”

“You were me, but you are dead.
Christ has crushed your master’s head.
Christ has come in and locked the door;
You are finished—this is war.”

“So you think you’re really strong?
You may stand, but for how long?
I’ll pull you down—you know I can
I’ll break your grasp on your God’s hand.”

“Ah, foolish sin, don’t play with me
Christ’s blood has bought my victory
No plot of hell, no mighty foe
Can ever make Him let me go.”

You have not yet resisted to bloodshed, striving against sin. 
-Hebrews 12:4