20 Calay
Since it was nearly time to leave, Criston sought out Prester Hannes, whom he had rescued and befriended in a high mountain meadow so many years ago. Fully aware of the tribulations the prester had endured, and how his faith remained a bright candle throughout the most furious storms of suffering, Criston knew the measure of the man. He did not doubt Hannes's strength.
The Dyscovera needed a man like him.
In Calay's main kirk, as the soldiers continued to come home from the Ishalem battlefield, Prester-Marshall Rudio had changed the usual droning tone of his sermons, replacing it with real anger. A fire of indignation had been lit under the old church leader as he now realized—as did all Aidenists—that the enemy would continue to hold and desecrate the holy city.
Trying to rally the faithful, the prester-marshall assigned groups of young presters to pray in shifts around the clock, constantly begging Ondun to help the faithful against the heretics that had infested Ishalem. They beseeched God to swoop down with His holy sword and exterminate all the followers of Urec.
But Criston had other business at the kirk.
The presters and scholars were surprised when he asked to see Hannes, but they invited him through the echoing stone halls to the seminary quarters. “He has few visitors, sir,” said the skinny young man who escorted him. “In fact, he has few friends even among the presters.”
Criston gave a sharp answer. “Hannes has endured more tribulations than you can imagine. Do not judge him so harshly.”
The young man looked abashed. “I am sorry, sir. I will ponder that during this evening's devotions.”
When the door opened, Criston saw that his friend's cell was small, dim, and austere—perfectly suited to a solitary man's tastes. By the glow of a stubby candle, the prester hunched over two large books, the Book of Aiden and a weathered copy of Urec's Log, in which he furiously wrote comments and refutations. In recent years, Hannes had become an expert in the opposing faith, using his knowledge to point out the rival book's numerous flaws and contradictions.
When Hannes glanced up with a scowl at the interruption, Criston instantly remembered how close the man had come to death before being coaxed back from the brink. Though the prester remained gaunt and haunted-looking, the hollows were not so dark around his eyes, and his flesh had filled out, but his tense posture still showed a ready combativeness to defend his beliefs.
Hannes's expression changed to one of surprised recognition. “It's… you!” He stood, showing a genuine smile. “I haven't seen you in years.”
Smiling warmly, Criston stepped into the cell. “We've both changed a lot since those hard days.”
“These are still hard days.” Hannes closed the book, as Criston caught a glimpse of the extensive scribblings in the margins. “Have you heard? I just found a way through the Corag mountains. I went back, retraced my steps, and came back with my faith stronger than ever.”
Criston could never forget finding the man, dressed in tatters, frostbitten and starving, in one of the high mountain meadows. Criston had nursed him back to health, heard his tale, and delivered him safely to civilization again.
Floating in the wreckage of the Luminara, Criston had endured an ordeal as horrific as this man's. Lost far out at sea, he had never truly believed he would be rescued, and yet Prester Jerard had helped him cling to hope. Few others could understand adversity, and salvation, the way he and Hannes could. They shared a bond.
“That's why I came. You survived where anyone else would have died. You achieved the impossible.”
Exactly what the Dyscovera hoped to do.
Hannes showed no pride. “I had to. Aiden kept me alive for a purpose.”
“That's why I need you. I don't doubt that you stayed alive for a reason—and now that reason is clear to me.”
Now the prester was interested. “Ondun speaks to you as well?”
“Doesn't He speak to everyone, in His own way?” Criston sat down on a wooden stool, the only piece of furniture besides the narrow sleeping pallet. “When I heard that you had just returned to Calay, I knew it was a sign from Ondun. The Dyscovera will sail shortly, and we need you.”
Hannes seemed distracted. “The new ship? Yes… I heard about that.” It was obvious the prester had been paying little attention to the outside world.
“I am her captain. And I require someone familiar with the Book of Aiden. Someone I know… someone whose faith I need not question.”
Hannes was astonished. The last they'd seen of each other, Criston had lived alone, tending sheep in the isolated mountains. “You're the captain of the Dyscovera? But you were just a… hermit. A shepherd.”
“I'm a different man now. I've emerged from the darkness, and the king has given me the mission of finding Holy Joron. I want you to join my crew. Sail with me to the edge of the world.”
Hannes scarcely knew what to say. “But the Gremurr mines, the path through Corag. Nothing can stop the armies of Aiden now.”
“You have already shown them the way. But if we rediscover Terravitae, if we stand before Holy Joron—isn't that a greater victory against the enemy? Ask yourself, which is the better use of your abilities?”
Hannes's eyes shone with a different light now. “Yes, if Joron still has the powers that Ondun gave him, and if we tell him all the atrocities committed by the Urecari, he will surely rise up and ally himself with us!”
The stubby candle flickered from a stray breeze that crept through a loose casing in the window. “Yes, I will go with you to Terravitae. I'll be your crew's spiritual guide, and I will be Aiden's emissary to Joron. After all the tribulations in my life, I've earned it.”