Against All Gods

Chapter 6

Sage walked west, towards the burned orange glow on the horizon that marked the dying embers of the day. West, towards Violet's magnetic pull.

Not that there was anywhere else for him to go. When he first left his house, he considered begging for shelter at one of the temples, but the road to town was too long to walk on under the darkening blanket of nightfall.

If only the scorching anger in his chest could light the way. He was sure there was enough heat built up in his chest to fuel several torches.

Xanthus had finished his chariot ride, and with his absence, the temperature was dropping quickly. Dressed only in his linen tunic and wool trousers, Sage squeezed his hastily packed satchel tight to his chest and was reluctantly grateful for the extra insulation that his bindings offered.

As he walked, the first stars of the night blinked into existence, pinpricks of memory on a lavender expanse. The gods immortalized great men in the stars. Told of heroic adventures and of sacrifices made for love. If Sage confronted the gods and proved himself worthy, would his story be written into the celestial record?

He was sure that no one had ever loved as deeply as he did for Violet.

The horizon dulled from a fiery blaze to a blush of pink, and then faded rapidly into tones of coral, sea foam, and cobalt. By the time he reached the land owned by Violet's family, the twilight had given way to the coming night. He hoped Hawkeye wouldn't mind sharing the barn with him.

Walking down through the fields, Sage saw a large figure standing near the sheep pen. Timaeus.

Maybe he should wait until the man left before sneaking into the barn.

But it was too late. He'd been spotted. Timaeus's posture changed, and he hollered a greeting.

"Good evening, Timaeus," Sage responded, continuing to walk towards the pen.

"Is it good, Sage? Is it?"

In the encroaching darkness, Sage couldn't make out the man's features, but all he needed was to hear the anger in Timaeus's voice to know he was in trouble. That he didn't even ask why he was there was also a bad sign.

"No, sir. It was a terrible day indeed." Sage looked down, awash in shame.

"Four sheep lost: a lamb and three ewes." Timaeus shook his head, the loose strands of his shoulder-length hair emphasizing the movement.

"I've never seen a wolf on the bluff before. They don't normally stray that far from the forest." It was a weak defense, but it was all that he had.

Timaeus turned his body away from Sage and placed both hands on the wooden fence that penned in the sheep. "It's a shepherd's job to keep a keen eye for predators."

"I know, sir."

The man took a deep, ominous breath. "Were you distracted?"

The question held weight. It meant he knew his daughter had been there. Had witnessed the attack. Was he accusing Sage of being too familiar with Violet? Had he found out how often they spent time alone? Suspected that they weren't chaste? Think that Sage had violated her before they were wed? Or was he expressing worry that Sage wouldn't be a good husband? That he could not keep Violet protected?

If it was the first, how could he prove his innocence without also revealing his secret? And, if his worry was the second, how could Sage assure him when he was harboring the same doubts?

Sage had failed. Knew he had failed. And the mark against him was deeper than the rivers carved into his skin by the wolf's teeth and could cost him more than the price of four sheep. Yet, despite this, he kept his chin held high, knowing he had reacted quickly. "No sir. I charged the beast as soon as he stepped from the brush."