Remnants Of The Sun Read online

  Sigrun unrolled one of them, and gestured for her to see. “The harvest is over so we are going to have to pick a destination to head off to. I thought we should decide together.”

  Sonja smiled. It felt like a big moment for them to be deciding something for the wagon train together. Not only were they connecting on a personal level but they were also connecting as leaders. Sonja felt her heart beat fast. Would her vision about being in union together, and thus bringing the wagon train together, turn out to be true? This felt like an important step on that journey.

  The two of them stood side by side at the desk. Each time Sigrun moved her arm it brushed up against Sonja’s. Every touch was a little thrill to her. She hated the fact that she couldn’t grab Sigrun right now, kiss her passionately, and pull her onto the bed. That thought made her neck and head heat up, and she had to step away a little from Sigrun and shake her head a little to cool off.

  Sigrun pointed at the map, which showed the hill, river, and Glass Forest, in some detail. “So there are a few paths we can take: follow the river towards Munn, go through the Glass Forest and pass Eik, or go across the grass plains and hope we make it to the merchants without starving to death.”

  “It intrigues me that you don’t say go to Eik, and I see there is a big cross next to it on the map,” she said.

  Sigrun laughed. “That’s because Eik doesn’t like the faith that much. If we choose there I will have a lot of the leaders shouting at me about it being a bad choice.”

  “So the most logical choice then is Munn.”

  “I don’t think we should choose any of the paths,” Sigrun said, picking up another map, this time of the Glass Forest. “There is a spot to the north, near some hills, where a river flows out. It’s on the border between the Glass Forest and a small area of grass. I think we should go there and settle.”

  Sonja was confused. “What do you mean settle? We have already settled for our harvest. We won’t do another for at most six months.”

  Sigrun closed her eyes, breathed in, opened them again. “I mean settle permanently. I think the wagon train should find a good bit of land, which this is, and stay there.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, that goes against what we are, what our Mission is.”

  “I thought you were changing the Mission, bringing us closer together.”

  “Yes, I want to bring the wagon train closer together,” Sonja said, shocked that they were even discussing this. “But that’s because it feels wrong to go out there to proselytize when we haven’t even brought on board our neighbors.”

  “Well, there you go, you’ll have plenty of time to bring the people over if we are in one place,” Sigrun said, smiling.

  Did Sigrun not understand? It confused her that she was saying this with all sincerity and belief. “The whole point of getting the people on board is for them to join us on our Mission. The Mission is still the same. We still need to go out into the world and help it be good so Sol can return to the sky. Just what I feel is good has changed, we need to bring people together and fight the tyranny they face.”

  Sigrun stepped towards her, took her hand. “I don’t want to tell you this, but the people aren’t enthused about your Mission as the faith is. All they want to do is settle down in their own land, raise families, and live a good life. I’ve talked with them, they are sick of traveling.”

  “But that is why we will teach them our Mission, and get them to be enthusiastic about it. If we do it right we can come together on a journey that will fulfill their hearts.”

  “It’s too late,” Sigrun said, softly. “The divide has already happened. A few months ago they went so far as to vote someone in as Jarl that stated to build an army to get rid of you. This is what the people want.”

  Sonja pulled her hand away from her. “I will not give up on our Mission. You may not understand it, but it is the most important thing in my life. Without that we are nothing, we will do nothing. Living our lives happily is not enough, the world out there is an icy wasteland. We have the potential to change that.”

  “And what would you do if the people decided to rise up to get what they wanted?”

  “Is that a threat?”

  Sigrun looked annoyed. “How could you think I would threaten you?”

  “I don’t know, but what came out sounded like one.”

  “I’m just saying what’s true. The people want to settle down and they are frustrated that their wishes aren’t being heard. When people get frustrated enough they start breaking things,” Sigrun said, pacing up and down. “Think about it, you could be the most popular Keeper in our history if you gave them what they wanted. You would have everyone here praising Sol.”

  “We need the world to praise Sol if we are going to save it,” Sonja said.

  “Do you not see how ridiculous that goal is? It will never happen. How many centuries have your faith gone out there to proselytize your message? How many towns or cities have you converted? Has it made any difference to the world?”

  Sonja shook her head. She couldn’t believe that she had fallen in love with someone that didn’t get her or her faith. It wasn’t about whether they would make a difference in her lifetime, that was vanity speaking, it was about getting the small snowball to roll down the hill until it became so big it could change the world around it.

  “This wagon train was founded on our Mission, and it is that Mission we are going to pursue.”

  “So you are going to keep the people prisoner?” Sigrun asked, disgusted.

  “They joined this wagon train by their own choice, they knew what it was, what it was about. Now they complain when it isn’t what they wanted. If they felt so badly they would get off at the next town.”

  Sigrun shook her head. “It was their great, great, great grandparents that chose to be in this wagon train, not them. Their families, friends, and homes are here, and they don’t want to lose them.”

  “Well then, they'll just have to get used to a life on the road all the time and stop complaining about it.”

  Sigrun was probably about to say some more, but Sonja had heard enough. The excitement she felt at the start, feeling like they would come together to make a decision had disappeared. Now Sonja felt angry, hurt, and sad all at the same time.

  How could Sigrun be so obstinate and not give her path a chance? How could she be so dismissive of what she believed? What had happened to the person that seemed to get her. Had she been truly there?

  She opened up the wagon door, feeling hot. Every step outside made the buzz of anger dissipate, turning into a weight of sadness. What did this fight with Sigrun mean for their relationship? What did it mean for her dream of unifying the wagon train? She didn’t totally know, but she did feel the answer wouldn’t be a good one.

  WE PRAY TO LEAD YOUR SOUL INTO THE SKY, AND SO YOU MAY FIND THE HIDDEN RESTING PLACE OF SOL

  Mission Of Sol Funeral Prayer

  Sigrun didn’t see Sonja after the argument. At the start it was mainly because she didn’t want to see her, still angry at the fact that she had dismissed what she had said out of hand. How could Sonja not see that the people wanted something different from their lives than following the Mission? It felt like Sonja just didn’t want to see the truth and would pursue what the faith wanted no matter whether the people of the wagon train wanted that.

  Eventually that anger subsided, and Sigrun began to wonder whether she shared some of the blame for the argument. Could she have been stubborn herself? Could she have tried to understand Sonja’s arguments more instead of being offended they weren’t what she wanted?

  As the days went on Sigrun understood that she probably could have listened and discussed things with Sonja more. This realization led her to slap herself on the forehead. How could she be so stupid? She stroked her braid and worried that she had completely messed up their relationship.

  After that she avoided Sonja deliberately. She didn’t want to see any evidence that Sonja was still mad at her, that she stil
l felt hurt by what she had done. Sigrun didn’t know what she would do if Sonja didn’t want to be with her, even just thinking about that plunged a dagger in her heart and made her cry.

  To distract herself, she dedicated her time to doing her Jarl duties. This meant going out into the wider wagon train, inspecting wagons and testing them to see if they moved when prompted, talking to people and checking to see if they were ok, and exploring the different streets and squares.

  Since she felt she had spent too much time in Bonde Square with the farmers, she paid a visit to the Hoademakers and the Mattsons.

  The Hoademakers were more accommodating to her. They all lived in finely made wagons and dressed in great tailored tunics and cloaks. Sigrun couldn’t deny that she felt a little dirty and grubby in comparison, but she kept reminding herself that the muddy tunic and disheveled look was who she was. She talked to the important family members about her new law limiting parties and why it needed to be brought in. The Hoademakers seemed to understand, but they had concerns about whether the other families would agree and what the tension would do to the wider wagon train. She told them that the law seemed to be popular with the farmers, which changed their tune to one of positivity.

  At the end of her visit, she got the impression that the Hoedemakers calculated things a little too much when it came to politics. They always wanted to be on a neutral footing with everyone, and not be seen to rock the wagon. It never felt like they really had any ambitions or dreams of their own, they just wanted to keep the power they had already.

  The Mattsons were the complete opposite. They definitely had their own ideas of how they wanted things to be run, and they didn’t mind telling Sigrun about them. When she walked through Mattson Square she got a lot of dirty looks from every man or woman that sat at the sides. Some shouted how she was ruining the wagon train by getting rid of the weekly parties, others shouted how Hannes shouldn’t have been voted out. She tried to explain why she was getting rid of the parties, telling them that it was a waste of food and that there was always the worry of starvation. But the Mattsons dismissed the concern, saying that they could trade for food or the farmers could grow more. Sigrun tried to get an audience with Rita Mattson, hoping that she could be persuaded to vote for the new laws, but the guards outside her wagon said she was busy.

  Feeling defeated, Sigrun walked around the Mattsons’ streets, smelling the cooked food from the kitchen wagons, watching the groups of men and women hang around and chat to each other. Unfortunately, she couldn’t do this for long as some of them shouted at her, or strode up and threatened her. Not wanting to start a fight with the whole family, she exited the encampment.

  The rest of her days were spent in her wagon, talking to workers who came to her with problems with the party law. The workers told her they liked the parties because it allowed them to relax and forget about work. She reiterated her promise of giving them a whole day where they could relax and not work. They liked this idea, but replied with how the parties allowed them to be social with their friends and have a good time. She saw their point and said that maybe they could create informal gatherings and parties, but that they could not use any food. When she said this the workers seemed satisfied.

  An important Baldur came around to talk to her about this day off she was promising. It wasn’t Sven, but some younger cousin who had curly black hair and a small nose. He asked how the day off was going to work, and she told him that it would be like the lunch or after harvest breaks just for a whole entire day. He worried about productivity, but she told him having some kind of rest might raise productivity, as his workers wouldn’t be constantly tired. He seemed to be leaning towards favorability, but then said that some work like planting of the crops or harvesting did have to be an everyday thing otherwise they could ruin crops. She said she would look into that and have a meeting with the Baldurs and the farmers so they could come to some sort of arrangement for those times.

  “Of course, the wagon train does need to head off soon,” the young Baldur said. “We have probably been here longer than necessary.”

  Sigrun sighed. She would have to talk to Sonja about that, and they would have to decide something. They could just ignore the argument they had last time and just pick a destination, but she felt that was pushing the problem further down the road. Eventually they would have to talk about the future of the wagon train, and since everything was positive with the people and her new law – well except for Hannes, but he would soon lose his power – now was a good time to have the conversation. But could they have it without arguing again? Was there no solution they could come to?

  The problem was the two sides were so diametrically opposed. One wanted to stay and the other wanted to go, how could you ever find a compromise to that? But she felt they had to, not just for the unity of the wagon rain but also for the unity of their relationship.

  She decided that on the next day she would go to Sonja and they would discuss the problem like adults. She would stop herself from taking it so personally and hear out Sonja’s side of things. Hopefully they could be mature enough to decide something without breaking up.

  Unfortunately the next day Gregor Baldur died.

  The next time Sigrun saw Sonja was at the funeral. But Sonja carried out the ceremony in the middle of Bonde Square, while Sigrun stood with the crowd of farmers on the sidelines. All Sigrun could do was stare at Sonja, wanting the hours to go by quickly so they could actually talk.

  Sonja held a long silver chain with an incense holder at the end. She walked around a pyre that looked like the lower half of a wagon, with flowers arranged on top. Gregor slept in the middle. While Sonja walked around the pyre she waved the incense, wafting a white cloud into the air, smelling like cinnamon and apples.

  “We all pray to lead your soul into the sky,” Sonja shouted.

  Priests, Priestesses, and prominent Baldurs – including Sven – all bowed their heads and echoed the words.

  Sigrun tried to keep her mind on Gregor, tried to think about him and what he meant to her and the wagon train, but her mind kept coming back to Sonja. She should have been grateful for Gregor naming her Jarl, or sad that he was gone, but she hadn’t really known him that much. It just felt like her and Sonja’s relationship getting back on track was much more important than being at this funeral.

  But she knew how it would look if she didn’t seem mournful and upset, so she faked a sad expression and muttered the faithful’s prayers like everyone else.

  Unfortunately, the funeral took a couple of hours. Sonja and the faithful walked around the pyre waving incense, prayers were muttered to lead Gregor towards Sol, and his wife, sons, nephews, and other important Baldurs recited stories about Gregor or talked about how much he meant to them. At the end, Sven walked up to the pyre with a lit torch and set the flowers, the half wagon, and Gregor’s body on fire, while everyone muttered the final prayer.

  Even after the funeral, Sigrun couldn’t find a chance to talk to Sonja. She was never alone, always talking with one of the Baldurs or Joan, and the conversation always sounded like they were discussing Gregor’s life. It wasn’t the type of conversation that you could barge in and say, “Hey Sonja, can we talk about our argument a few days ago?”

  Instead she sampled the beer barrels around the square, and milled about with the farmers and the funeral goers. She naturally found herself in the group that contained Thore, Daniel, and Aina. They were all looking solemn and talking about how Gregor’s death was the end of an era.

  “He was the one who truly knew the struggles of the wagon train.” Thore said, sipping his mead. “I heard that Sven never really wanted to listen to him, just wanted to play lords with his friends.”

  Aina shook her head. “We should never forget the struggles we have had against the faith.”

  Sigrun furrowed her brows, the funeral they had just attended was all about the faith. “I thought the farmers were ok with the faith now? The harvest festival they threw was good.�
��

  Daniel spat on the ground. “Takes more than a harvest festival to make up for their past tyranny.”

  Thore narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, and we know that you want to help them with your new party law.”

  “I’m not helping them, I’m helping you,” she said, surprised this was coming from them. She thought they had been ok with the laws she had been proposing. “I don’t want all your hard work going to waste.”

  “If it’s our hard work, maybe we should have a say where it goes. And I say it goes on partying,” Thore said, with nods of agreement from Daniel and Aina. “Your law sounds too much like banning parties to me, something only the faith wants to do.”

  “Where have you been getting that idea?” she asked.

  They didn’t answer, just shook their heads and ignored her. But it didn’t take a lot of working out to know where they got it from: Hannes. After all, this group had been the one she followed to his secret army. It worried her that he had been able to turn them back to hating the law, but it was too late now and it felt like a lot of other farmers were behind the new law. Hopefully it would pass through the Council and take down Hannes once and for all, which would mean he wouldn’t be able to poison the minds of any more people about the faith. Then this group would be able to appreciate the law again.

  She shook her head, and left the group. She looked around the square at all the people in their various different groups. Even though she was their leader and she felt personable towards them, she felt at that moment like a lost calf. Everyone had people that they were telling stories to, or crying with, or laughing alongside, everyone except her. She stood on the grass in the square alone. There was no one she knew here that she could tell stories to, cry with, or laugh alongside. Except Sonja.

  Sigrun walked towards her flame robes, hoping that she would be alone. But swept back blond hair caught the corner of her eye. She looked, and at the edge of the square she could see Hannes. Curiously enough, he was talking to the curly haired woman that had kept protesting in the middle of the harvest festival. You usually didn’t see a member of the faith talking with someone who hated the faith, so she snuck up to where they stood, in order to hear what they were saying.