Leap of Faith

[Chance]

This is the start of a story, not my characters story, but one that wants me to write it. I hope you will enjoy it.

Part One: A Dark Meeting

He didn't like it one bit, but business is business they say, "Are you sure child?" He looked down into a girls eyes, no more than twelve or thirteen years of age, but in those eyes was much more grief than
a dying grandmother's who was last of her line, everything taken from her, all her dreams shattered, all her memories dead. He had seen it all before. Time and time again. He had a gift, they said, of reading souls and could tell when one was spent.

Young blue eyes searched out the dark man's eyes. Dirty blond bangs fell across her forehead, the rest of her shoulder length hair pulled back into a ponytail tied with a bright red ribbon. She wore a sleeveless grey dress that had been lovingly patched many times but that patching had been done years ago, and now the dress was fraying at the ankle length hem with three slashes from an animal's claws at her right thigh, and a small tear at her left shoulder. Her face was stained with splotches of dirt, but her crying had caused that dirt to run like some dark war paint of the dead from the inside of her eyes, down beside the nose, and fading at her thin, pale lips. She looked to the ground for a moment in thought. Absently she traced a sign with her right toe into the sludge of the dark alley. As if she had decided, she looked back into the dark man's grey eyes and opened up her right hand to display two bright coins.

He looked at the coins and responded to the girl, "Yes, it is enough. It will suffice. But that is not the question I have asked. I asked if you were ready. If you feel this is your path. That you have prayed for an answer and this is the answer that the Nameless One has given you. That you will test your faith and his love for you so you will forever be in his arms of love." A small noise distracted his attention and he looked up and down to alley to make sure they were alone.

A small voice trembled, "Will you pray with me Father?"

He looked suddenly back at her, his right hand falling to rest on a dagger's pommel. His voice was sharp and too quick betraying his surprise, "What! Why do you call me that?" He then bent over the girl and in a voice that sounded darker than the alley quietly accused, "Who told you this lie?"

Panic blossomed suddenly in the blue eyes and the trembling became more pronounced. "I,I,I saw it. The mark. On your arm. In the tavern. I asked a man what it meant and he said that it meant you were chosen. A Disciple. That you knew the path. I saw it."

His index finger fell across the girls lips as his composure reasserted itself, "It's ok girl. It's ok." He avoided the request for prayer, "What did this man look like, that told you these things?" His voice was calm again, a practiced calm that made you want to trust the person behind the voice. "I will have to speak with him."

A moment's hesitation and then the girl said, "A scar, bright and pink, on his left jaw. Jake. His name was Jake."

He didn't ask how she came to know his name, but he knew of this Jake and his dark lusts. And then he remembered that in the girls hand was two silver coins. He decided then he would go and speak with this Jake once the night bell rang. He just nodded to the girl and then gave her a soft, warm smile. "The Path of Roses, you know? That's what they call it." He reached into a small pouch at his right side and took out a vial of some dark liquid. The stopper that held the liquid in was made of pale porcelain and inscribed with a pink rose. The finger tips of his right hand that held the vial were stained indigo blue. He mused at the staining and wondered how many dreamings would that hand make before he himself took the potion. He took her small hands into his and squatted so that he was looking up into her eyes. "You must take it all, and by noon on the morrow, else the strength of the magic will fade. You must take it all to show your faith. Will you walk this path? Will you take it all?"

The girl pulled back her hands from his and nodded solemnly. She looked down into her hands at the dark vial. He looked down into his hands at the two shining coins.The girl nodded again and then turned and walked slowly from the dark alley, clutching her faith in her right hand.

He stood and walked further into the alley. When he was certain no one was watching he slipped into a doorway that was not easily discerned. He had work to do for he had another customer to see this night. One that didn't know he was coming. One that would forever remember his smile.

[Dario]

Very nice. I am usualy too lazy to read such stuff, but this one intrigued me, keep it coming

[Chance]

Trying to push through the busy market place was a struggle some days. It was easy to flow with the crowd like a leaf on a slow moving river, but try to make any headway against that flow and one often became tangled. It was harder moving against the crowd carrying a large bird cage that would block your sight, or get snagged on another person's clothing that was moving in the opposite direction. "Make way! Make way!" he cried out, hoping his pleas would allow him to move a step or two faster. Beads of perspiration formed across his forehead on the cool fall day not from his hurried efforts but from the thought that he might not make it on time.

Inside the cage were twelve pigeons, messenger pigeons. A small colored band on the bird's right leg indicated to where it would travel. Each of the birds wore a different color. He often wondered why the Disciples needed messenger birds to communicate with the other temples. Certainly He Who Does Not Speak can communicate with all his children at once. At that thought he looked to his right wrist where a faded green tattoo had been inscribed and newer black ink design overtop to try and hide the mark. Many had paid with their lives to wear that mark; others had offered their hands to show their conversion. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and mumbled a small prayer to guard his mind and his steps. He finally broke through the market place crowd as he turned onto Temple Street.

Temple Street once housed nine major temples and some thirty other shrines. A smile came to his lips as thoughts of the old days flooded his memories. He pushed those aside and bowed his head in reverence the best he could as he made his way past the burnt out temples. The Disciples of the Nameless left the ruins as a reminder of who was the most powerful god, the only true god. He recalled the Day of Repentance but it was more of a bloodbath than some holy crusade. That too he pushed from his mind as he entered into the temple square of theNameless.

It was nearing the midday hour as he carried in his cage of birds. The temple square was more of a triangle then a square as high stone walls protected the sides of the courtyard. The base of the triangle faced Temple Street and held great iron gates that stood open for all to enter on days of worship and smaller iron gates beside guard houses that would allow people to come and go the rest of the days. The square was a mosaic of tiles, statues, fountains, flowers, and trees.

It was a delight to walk amongst the artesian works as lifetimes of effort were devoted to crafting the square. He remembered coming here often as a boy to admire the fountains. Large basins were carved out of different colored stone, or adorned with inlays of colored tiles and crystals. It was a magical sight to capture one's imagination. His favorite was the Fountain of Whispers. It was one of the largest fountains in the square. Looted from another temple, it was crafted from gold flaked marble and rainbow glass beads. It is rumored that there are stories written in the inlayed patterns if one knew how to decipher them, stories from the first of days that have been long forgotten by most and ignored by those that know of them. He would sit at the fountains edge and watch the sun trace its path across the sky, and as light fell on the rainbow beads, different things could be made out of the patterns of glass. Ancient creatures, old symbols, maps of the heavens, cloaked people walking along a mountain pass, many things and more could be imagined as one looked through the cool waters into the whispering patterns of stone.

At the apex of the triangle were the large, wide temple steps that lead onto the platform before the reinforced, oaken temple doors. Here the priest would come and deliver the guidance of the Nameless to all that would listen. Not all were admitted into the temple proper. Only those that had proven their obedience and faith were welcomed within. In the courtyard were the masses that would try and show the Nameless and his Disciples that they were true worshipers and deserved admittance. People prayed, sang, shouted their faith, cried, tore their clothing, prostrated themselves, and gave donations and sacrifices.

Weaving his way through the crowds he passed one of the statues of the Nameless. It was crafted out of grey streaked marble, a hooded faceless man leaning on a simple staff. Its message was simple; he could be anyone, anywhere. Being one of the more ominous statues, most people avoided it and the area around it, which made it easier to carry the pigeon cage without running into anyone. He paused then as a sound caught his ear.

Amongst all the chaos of shouting, praying, banging of cymbals, jingling of bells, he could make out the simple song of a girl who stood at the foot of the statue. She stood there gazing up into the hood of the Nameless statue and sang her song.


Calling,calling, I am calling, calling to the Nameless One.
Listen,listen, I am calling, hear my prayer oh Wondrous One.
Falling, falling, I am falling, falling for the Nameless One.
Does he love me, will he catch me, and name me as his chosen one?

Father, mother, sister, brother, all have burned and passed away.
All I have I freely offer, take my sacrifice this day.
Falling, falling, I am falling, falling for the Nameless One.
Does he love me, will he catch me, and name me as his chosen one?

Let me show you my love for you, let you prove your love for me.
Falling, falling, will you catch me, or will I fall for eternity.
Falling, falling, I am falling, falling forthe Nameless One.
Does he love me, will he catch me, and name me as his chosen one?

[Chance]

It was then that her right hand fell to her side and falling from that hand a blackened vial. As the vial shattered on the mosaic patterns of the square, the girl collapsed to the ground. At that he dropped his precious cargo and ran a few steps over to the child to scoop her up in his arms. With a wail of a cry, he noticed her blackened lips and watched as her eyes rolled back into her head so that the glimpse of the blue eyes were gone and replaced with lifeless whites. He ran toward the platform steps shouting, "Father! Disciple! Help! Help me father!" And all about him a silence fell as he passed, cymbals stopped their clanging, bells stopped their jingling, songs stifled to silence, and prayers became whispers.

Atop the steps were three cloaked figures all in white. The central figure took a stepforward as he ran up the steps. He stopped before them with the child in his outstretched arms. "She was singing the widow's song. Just a child. Help her father!" There was no response from the cloaked figure except to pull the child from the man's arms into his. The celebration of the squared quieted so that the only thing to be heard was from the whispering waters of the fountain as all watched on to see what was going to happen. Near the statue of the Nameless One, the pigeons became free of their cage and took to flight. They circled about it as they gained their sense of direction. The priest looked down at the child and then out at the crowd. A deep anger filled his voice ashe shouted, "One does not test the Nameless!" He quickly turned and headed inside the temple. The other two disciples turned and followed the first.

Perhaps they were expecting some miracle. Perhaps they were expecting a healing and for the girl to awaken from her poisoned dream and jump up and praise the Nameless One. The man who had brought the pigeons had expected more. With tears for the girl, he turned and walked down the steps, past the glimmering fountains, flowers, statues, and trees, while above him pigeons circled and then finding their direction flew off to deliver their empty messages.

[Bull]

That's quality, really good Chance!

[Chance]

Thanks Dario and Bull,

Stay tuned for the rest of the story.....

[Chance]

Part Three: In Out Stretched Arms

As he reached the gates to the street he stopped. He gripped the bars of the gate and looked through them at the ruined places of worship along Temple Street. Behind him bells started jingling, someone shouted a praise to the Nameless, and prayers became louder. His grip on the bars became so tight that his knuckles started turning white. Someone's hand was placed comfortingly on his left shoulder and a tearful female voice said, "I'm so sorry for your loss." He turned at that to see that he had drawn a crowd of twelve. He looked at each of them and sought out their eyes. With a quiet nod to himself he made his way through them and started back toward the temple doors. "She is not lost. She is falling."


Nothing but darkness, silence, and peace. No dreams, shouting, or grief. No pain, for all those memories had been washed away. Nothing but the sensation of falling. There is no breeze or sensation of weight, there is only that feeling of falling. Some have told me it feels like they are floating, floating up to the heavens. Not me. Me, I am falling.'


The three of them looked down on her. She had been placed on the floor just inside the temple doors and the trio stood about her blocking others from interfering. It made a curious sight to the temple guards, other priest, and worshipers as they came and went about their business.


One of the priest humbly offered, "She is not beyond our help."


To which another replied, "I have already declared that we would not help one who tries to test the Nameless." His voice was full of authority as one use to making decisions. "This is the same as all the other cases. Look what happened when we tried to help the first of those that took the poison." He shook his head sadly. "How many now have done this act publicly? Twenty? Twenty-five? I am sure there are many more that have done so quietly and passed away."


The third wrestled with a quiet anger that grew in him the more he thought on the matter. "This time it is different! Ferrion, this time it is a mere child just coming into womanhood." He spat his anger out with a raised voice and a pointed finger at the other priest that drew startled looks from those that could hear the malice in his voice, "We need to find this poisoner and make an example of him!"


Ferrion held up both his hands and said, "We have tried. We have tried, but he eludes us. This foul brew that they take not only kills the body, but the mind as well. Those that we helped live through the process were nothing more than lifeless zombies. We do not understand this poison. Darious, if you think you will have better luck uncovering this murderer take what temple guard as you need and go with my blessings."


Darious nodded to Ferrion and declared, "I will find him." He departed the group barking orders at a few of the temple guards that quickly followed him out the doors.


Ferrion turned to the third priest and ordered, "Simon, get rid of this corpse." The girl seemed to turn paler by the moment and shuddered softly as the poison slowly killed her. Ferrion shook his head in disgust and turned his head away.


Simon scooped up the girl into his arms and said, "Hang in there little sister, He-Who-Does-Not-Speak-Often has not passed his judgement on you." Simon took her into the temple proper. The wealth of many lifetimes adorned the temple. From the stained glass windows depicting great battles and miracles to the marble floors streaked with veins of gold. From the oaken crafted pews each said to be carved from one of the great trees of the Stained Forest to the 12 foot carved marble statue depicting the hooded Nameless with out stretched arms, each item crafted to show honor to the god from the finest craftsmen in the world.

Simon walked down the isle carrying the girl. His steps were slow and meaningful. The priest had reached some decision that he was at peace with for his face was no longer etched in hard lines of anger or worry. He approached the alter of the Nameless which was piled with the past few days of offerings of coins, fruits, gems, jewelry, and garments of different makes and value from pilgrims that travelled from across the continent and placed their finest on a small table at the feet of the The-One-Who-Purifies.


With some effort Simon stepped up on the low table, coins and various fruits scattering across the floor, still cradling the girl in his arms. Heads turned to see what was happening. Prayers mumbled to silence as worshipers looked up from kneeling positions to see what was disturbing their prayers. The hustle and bustle along the outer corridors came to stillness as a hurried whispering was replaced with hurried footsteps to see the spectacle. He kicked precious offerings aside as he secured safe footing. He slowly raised the girl above his head and called out, "Hear my prayers, hear my voice, accept this offering in the spirit she gave it. More precious than gold, more valuable than Narrian steel, she has given her very life as her offering to you." Stretching higher he placed the dying girl in the outstretched arms of the statue.


As whisperings became mummers, and mummerings became excited voices, words reached Ferrion's ear. Out in the hallway one could hear the high priest's anger with his words that echoed in the great temple, "He did what!"

[Dortorea]

Glorious ... I love it!! Keep it up!

[Midnitember]

Really enjoying this one, I want more