CHAPTER 14: THE WAYWARD SHEEP


A/N: Ayyy! Early chapter because it's the festival of Lights!


Sparhawk ran up to Adelaide, his glasses securely held in place by an elastic band he'd tied to the frame and looped around his head. The couple of weeks he had been with her had done wonders for his body. Where before he'd been scrawny, pale, and undernourished, now he'd started filling out, a healthy glow beginning to radiate from him. She caught sight of him, her face breaking into a huge grin, and quick as a cat she stooped and scooped him up, ignoring his protests. God, she was pretty strong for a woman her age!

He squirmed and she relented, putting him down. "Have you been in the basement again?" she asked picking some cobwebs out of his unruly black hair. He just grinned. After a few days of Adelaide taunting him about acting like an old man, he'd decided to give in to his inner child, for nothing more than the sake of decent acting anyhow, and he'd found it tremendously enjoyable. "Most boys your age don't like basements, you know"

Well, the dank, dark place reminded him too much of the Pandion chapterhouse at Cimmura to not like it. He showed her a book he'd found. It was bound in black leather with a cross of gold thread on it. "I found this down there, and I went through it a bit." Her eyes widened. "And what did you think of it?" she challenged.

"Interesting stuff."

Adelaide waited to see if Sparhawk would elaborate, but the boy just stared at her with those beautiful green eyes of his. Well, she noticed he was often like that. Quiet. Reticent. At first, she thought that it might have been an effect of the abuse he had so clearly endured, but then she'd realized that that was just how he was. He was sparse with his words, but when he needed to, he spoke up, asked questions, seemed to enjoy himself and all in all was the picture of a healthy child. Except when he acted like an old man sometimes. Maybe there was reason to be thankful for the amnesia. Giving up, she asked, somewhat hesitantly, "Would you like to come with me to church this Sunday, Sparhawk?"

At hearing that, he went very still. "Church?" he asked, half to himself it seemed. "Yes, church. Or do you pray to some other God, Sparhawk? Can you remember anything about it? Whether you went to church, or a temple or a mosque or someplace else?"

"What's a mosque?"

That devolved into a brief introduction to the religions of the world and their Gods and their places of worship. Sparhawk listened to it all with a serious face. His old man's face, she liked to call it, just to tease him. "So, you're a Christian?" he asked. She nodded. "But you worship the same God as the Jews?"

"Technically, yes?"

"And the Hindus, they have this whole plethora of..."

She sighed, cutting him off. She would love to keep teaching him, his mind was a delight, but they were veering off-topic. "We can discuss that later, dear. For now, would you like to come with me to church this Sunday? You don't have to if you don't want to. And even if you do come and aren't into it, I won't force you to go again. It's your choice."

Sparhawk thought about it a bit. He wasn't supposed to remember which God he prayed to, so it would make sense that he try this out. And really, it was a no-brainer if you consider that he used to be a church knight. But then, the sheep had been a bit wayward as of late and the Shepherd might take offense. And you don't get off lightly with offending a God.

Adelaide watched him patiently, not prompting him or prodding him on. Well, he mentally shrugged, the Elene God wasn't big on interfering directly in the lives of mortals even back in the day, so he might yet come out of this unscathed. And you wouldn't really know until you went ahead and tried, right?

"I'll come," he said and Adelaide's face broke into a smile. "Well then," she declared, "We'd better get you something nice to wear for your first time in church!" Sparhawk winced. He was not going to like this.


Sparhawk thought he looked rather dapper in his new clothes, which explored the colour spectrum from black to lighter shades of black, maybe hitting on darkest blue and green a little bit, before jumping back to black. Adelaide had sighed mightily when they exited the clothes shop. A dressing sense like some kind of medieval monk, she'd said. Which wasn't that far off the mark.

But as he picked at his breakfast, he couldn't help but be worried for the encounter that was to come. From what little Aphrael had told him, he could only surmise that this Christian God, to whose church they would be going to, was the Elene God. Late into the night he'd tried to contact the child Goddess but to no avail. Her silence of the last few days was not broken.

Adelaide had noticed his listless behaviour and asked him if he was feeling alright. Sparhawk, Pandion knight that he was, would sooner bite his tongue and die than confess to feeling unwell. And unwell he was, though it was more of the mind than body. The impending meeting with his, ostensibly, former God was weighing heavily on him.

Sparhawk had been a church knight and by the job description itself, he was a devout man. Well, his manner of prayer mostly consisted of being a general nuisance for the forces of evil, and yes, he tended to skimp on certain religious practices that seemed to prick his moral conscience, but he was sure God hadn't minded the technicalities. But in light of recent events, where he had prayed to Aphrael first in times of trouble, and he had been informed by a smug Goddess that his soul was most definitely hers, he was feeling apprehensive about his former Employer. After all, fallen champions of faith weren't exactly His favourite subjects.

But some part of Sparhawk that was still a churchman needed what this meeting would bring. The soul of man is a sensitive thing and it does not take changing hands like a prize horse as well as it could. Sparhawk might love Aphrael with all his heart, but he was also indoctrinated in the ways of the church and this left him feeling distinctly self contrary and most conflicted. Maybe his God would denounce him with some lightning and leave him a smoking husk; maybe he would be acknowledged and snatched back into the fold; maybe, as had always been the case with the Elene God, he would be ignored. Whatever it was, he needed this closure. And besides, it wasn't as if he had pressing matters to attend to.

And so it was he found himself at the gates of the magnificent cathedral that called Surrey its home. There were soaring towers and arching arches, great wooden doors, and stained glass windows. But mostly there was a sense of familiarity that seeped into Sparhawk, and he found himself forgetting his misgivings and walking along with Adelaide to seat himself in one of the benches in front of the altar.

On the wall in front of him, there was a great statue of Christ, the son of God, who had been skewered on the Cross to atone for the sins of mankind. Sparhawk stared at it in wonder, lost in thought at what had pushed his God to sacrifice His own son for them. Sure, the Elene God was a merciful God the priests had always insisted, but he'd been a bit too free with the lightning and plagues in the stories for Sparhawk to believe that. Given his track record, you'd have expected a great flood or flames to engulf the world to cleanse mankind's sins, but he'd gone and killed his Son. How uncharacteristic.

But Sparhawk recognized he was ranging close to heresy, questioning the actions of God, and that wasn't a good idea considering where he was. So far, he hadn't been struck down when he stepped foot into this Holy place, for it was holy, that much he could sense, but he didn't want to push his luck. There was a lot of sermonising through which Sparhawk slept as was his norm, and awoke just in time for the strange ritual of bread and wine.

When it came to his turn, the priest, a kindly old man, dipped the piece of bread in the wine and handed it to him. Sparhawk took it with all the solemnity the occasion entailed and chewed on the divine provenance. Nothing happened. He sighed in disappointment and turned away to head to where Adelaide was waiting for him. Sure he wasn't ashes and cinders, but there hadn't been any big divine moment as he'd been secretly expecting.

He was almost near the door when it hit him. A strange, vast consciousness flooded his mind, and he distantly felt himself sit down on one of the nearby benches. Adelaide was next to him saying something, but he couldn't hear. All he could feel was the enormous weight that threatened to break his mind. Foreign, yet familiar. Just as he was about to shatter, it withdrew, leaving a lingering sense of amusement.

Sparhawk came to his senses. Adelaide was kneeling by him, looking very worried indeed. "What happened?" she asked, "You just sat there and didn't say a word. Almost like you didn't hear me."

Sparhawk was at a loss for words. What should he say?

Adelaide must have noted his discomfort. "Stay here," she said, "I'm going to get you a glass of water." And she was off before he could stop her.

"Alright there, laddie?" came a kindly voice next to him. He turned to see an old man, bent and wizened, in his eyes a kindly glow.

He nodded, still lost in his thoughts.

"A penny for your thoughts, sir Knight."

Sparhawk was tuning out the old man when suddenly he shot up ramrod straight in his seat. His heart pounded in his chest and he couldn't quite bring himself to turn his eyes on the old man whose identity he was beginning to have doubts about.

"As you should, child. Curious. Most curious. A relic of the past" once again that sense of amusement, this time tinged with just a hint of anger, "But the sheep has strayed far off the path, has it not?"

Sparhawk's throat had run dry. He couldn't quite bring himself to speak. He tensed, waiting for the inevitable bolt that would leave him a smoking ruin, but it never came. Instead, he heard a receding chuckle. "Run along now, Sir Knight"

"Are you feeling alright?" came Adelaide's voice from in front of him. He looked up. "You look like you've seen a ghost," she said, pushing a glass of water into his hands, which he gratefully gulped down. He wiped his mouth and nodded. "I'm fine."

She looked as if she doubted it.

Sparhawk hesitated. "Just... a sense of familiarity" Well, it wasn't entirely a lie.

Adelaide immediately perked up. "Do you remember anything?" she asked, almost hesitant.

Sparhawk shook his head. "No...it just felt...familiar." And as he stood up to leave, he risked a peek at the seat next to his. It was empty.


During the ride home, Sparhawk was his usual silent self. But on the inside, the former church knight was in turmoil. He was officially not of the fold, according to God himself. While a few years earlier, he might have tried to make amends, he was feeling rather conflicted now.

The Elenian religion had been the one in which he had been born and brought up. It was the religion of his father and his forefathers before him. He had been, in fact, a champion of said religion for the vast majority of his life. In a strictly official capacity, but nonetheless. On the other hand, his acquaintance with Aphrael had only been since his novitiate, but he loved the little deity with more heart than he had ever done the Elene God. When he really thought about it, ever since that day at Gherwig's cave, he had been a heretic.

And did he want to leave it behind, atone, be taken back under the graces of his God? Decades of being a church knight screamed at him that his duty was to God first and God only, but the human part of him remembered, remembered when he had chosen to remain silent, despite witnessing that his preceptor Vanion bore an affection for their styric tutor Sephrenia that went beyond what was customary because the church would frown upon it. Remembered that he had spent the majority of his life thwarting the machinations of greedy churchmen. Remembered that all Aphrael had ever demanded of him was her love.

Some of the most life-changing decisions are taken but in a single instant. And this was that instant for Sparhawk. He bore the Elene God no ill will. But he loved Aphrael far more than he had ever done the former. As the acceptance settled in him, he felt some strange tenuous thing within him break and the world felt just a little bit brighter.


A/N: There. Just wanted to put to rest that little part of the storyline. Sparhawk has his big religious moment and all. As always, read and review. I await your critique with breathless anticipation.