47 Windcatch
In the parsonage beside the Windcatch kirk, Ciarlo awoke and sat up in bed with the dream still resounding in his thoughts. Adrea's face had been so vivid, her need calling out to him. Why did the dreams keep haunting his sleep? The rest of Windcatch had moved on, with new lives, new homes, new families in the two decades since the raid.
Ever since Criston Vora had come to say farewell to him, Ciarlo had felt unsettled but determined. Each year, Criston still sent Adrea a letter in a bottle, showing the ache of his love for her. Now Criston had sailed off again, chasing the unknown, in search of something.
Just after his brother-in-law's unexpected farewell visit to Windcatch, Prester Ciarlo began to experience compelling nightmares, flashbacks to that awful time when Urecari raiders had swept into the village. The memories refused to let go.
He had never seen Adrea again, and her body had never been found. Even if the raiders had taken her alive, Ciarlo very much doubted she had survived. A pregnant woman would have been too much of a burden for those evil men.
But the recurring nightmares demanded that he reconsider. Why did he keep dreaming about her? A conviction grew within him, and when at last he understood the reason, it left him breathless.
Adrea might still be alive in some distant, foreign land. Someone had to go after her. His heart pounded as he realized what he must do.
Swinging himself out of bed with a well-practiced move, he rubbed his thigh, stretched… winced. It was a reflex from the pain he had felt all of his adult life. The poorly mended bone had never lost its deep-seated ache, but he couldn't be bothered by that now. Ciarlo hobbled across the wooden floor, reaching the door just as Davic came up the path with his breakfast basket—a warm roll fresh from the village bakery, two boiled eggs, and an apple.
The boy saw him moving stiffly, shook his head in disappointment. “I prayed again last night, Prester Ciarlo. I asked Aiden to bless you and take away your pain. But he doesn't seem to listen.”
“Aiden always listens, young man, but he makes his own decisions. He has given me blessings in many other ways—including your companionship.” Ciarlo swept the boy into a hug and stepped back. Aiden had been speaking to him through dreams for some time now, sending him mystic messages.
Though Adrea might be across the world, she was still alive. Despite the pain in his leg and the potential length and dangers of the arduous journey, he had to go find her himself.
As Ciarlo shared breakfast with Davic, the boy talked about the exciting news of Prince Tomas's impending visit. A mail ship had just brought the announcement of Queen Anjine's betrothal, along with the schedule of the prince's procession, which would stop at the major towns on the west coast of Tierra—including Windcatch.
Ciarlo tried to get the boy to focus on his studies from the night before, the passages he had read in the Book of Aiden. For months now, he had taught Davic how to read scripture, just as Prester Fennan had once taught him. Since the parsonage was so small, Davic preferred to sleep inside the kirk itself, sprawled on one of the wooden benches. Ciarlo gave the poor boy privacy, knowing that he must suffer from nightmares of his own, powerful recollections of the Urecari attack that had killed his family and sent him wandering up the coast as an orphan.
When Davic finished reading aloud the story of Aiden
and the Island of the Sirens, he wore a troubled expression, as
if
a thought had just occurred to him. “Prester, if no one ever told
the followers of Urec these true stories, how are they supposed to
know?”
“That is a sad thing, Davic. But with the war, it's even more difficult for ships to take missionaries to Uraba…” Ciarlo's voice trailed off as the last gear in the clockwork of his thoughts fell into place. Missionaries…
Yes, when he left Windcatch to find Adrea, he would take the word of Aiden with him and make his way overland to Uraba. He would spread the truth to any Urabans he encountered so that they could have a chance for salvation as well. If the quest became too difficult, Aiden would assist him.
As the boy continued jabbering about the impending arrival of Prince Tomas, Ciarlo could not concentrate on lessons or princes or betrothals. He had to think about his own journey. Now that he had made up his mind, he was eager to go. Adrea had waited and suffered so many years already. Had she given up hope? Ciarlo couldn't delay any longer.
He startled the boy. “Davic, I'll be departing from the village as soon as possible. You'll have to take care of the kirk while I'm gone.”
“Where are you going? What do you intend to do?” Davic was both alarmed and confused. “And what will become of me?”
“The villagers will take care of you.” Ciarlo went to his small office and pulled out a clean sheet of paper, mixed his ink, sharpened his pen. Everything moved with swift inevitability now. “This is a letter to Prester-Marshall Rudio, requesting that a new prester be sent here to captain the Windcatch flock. In the meantime, take care of the gardens, open the kirk for services. The people know how to pray by themselves.” He drew a deep breath, feeling giddy. “Can I count on you, Davic? Can I trust you to do what's right?”
Though the boy was uneasy, he gave a vigorous nod. Ciarlo folded the paper and sealed it with wax. “Make certain this is sent aboard the next ship bound for Calay. It's a very important letter.”
“But, Prester Ciarlo, you won't be here when Prince Tomas arrives. Don't you want to stay for that?”
“I can't wait for several weeks. My sister is in the hands of the Urecari. You'll have to greet Prince Tomas without me.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“Until I find what I seek.” Ciarlo tousled the boy's shaggy hair. “You are much too young to be the next prester, but I've asked my replacement to continue your instruction. You are a good, devout boy, Davic. I know I can count on you.”
Still limping, but no longer noticing it, Ciarlo returned to the parsonage. With great care, he set out his clothes, supplies, and a small stash of money, then prepared to depart for the strange and distant continent of Uraba.