A Final Unity: A Hiereus Story
“Aye, son, it's time to get up,” Hiereus awoke to his father, Pelos' voice. Opening his eyes he surveyed their small one-roomed home. Seeing first his family's empty beds, he realized he was the last to wake. He found his parents and siblings dressed and gathered by the cook stove as his mother tended the Flame.
Growling, he sat up and started putting on trousers.
“So you thought you could sleep in and avoid doing some real work today,” his older brother Rai'Tu'Sai chuckled. “Well we're not going to let you miss on coming to the pit this time,” he added, rubbing in that Hiereus had been sick the last time it was their family's turn to harvest clay.
“Give it a rest, Rai.” Hiereus grumbled, his tail thrashing from annoyance. Soon enough though he was pulling on his robe and threading his horn through the eye in the hood, and he was ready.
“It's cold out,” his mother, Phose said as he came to the door. “Let me look at your clothes.”
“Its always cold in Eluthane,” he protested, as his mother inspected him.
“There was a late snow in the night,” she said checking for holes in his raiment.
He nodded and sighed; he wasn't ready for this today. It wasn't that he didn't do work along with his priestly duties, Eluthanai shared their labor after all, but if it had snowed this late into the summer the clay deposits were going to be a muddy pit of misery, and in his groggy state he already didn't feel up to it.
“Come on,” his sister Moira said, “The sooner we get going the sooner we'll be done. Besides we'll have the harvest festival to look forward to when we get back.”
That at least was true. There would be a feast and the potters would have contests. And of course bonfire songs, Hiereus's favorite part.
“Yeah, lets go,” he said, offering his sister a smile.
Together they pushed and pulled the cart up the stone path. Beasts of burden were uncommon in Eluthane; the climate made growing crops for them difficult, and buying feed for a draft animal was expensive. Hiereus knew of only three work animals in the town they called home, and they were mainly used by their traders whose job it was to take wares into the lands south and bring back supplies that their people couldn't make themselves.
When they arrived at the clay pit, it was as Hiereus feared: melting snow had pooled in the bottom, and the odor of summer mud filled his nostrils.
Pa had seemed to notice his sour expression as he spoke. “Come on son, it's not that bad. Into the pit.”
He slid in with his brother, and after bailing the water from the bottom they began to shovel clay onto the roadside where the others gathered it up into the cart.
After a few shovels of clay, Rai'Tu'Sai broke into song, a familiar tune about a minstrel who lost his life for his people's independence. It wasn't an Eluthanai song, but was still beloved and oft sung.
By the second verse everyone had joined in, and the work went fast as Hiereus's brother continued to lead the family in song.
Before they knew it they were climbing out of the pit, laughing.
Clay harvest complete, they carefully led the cart to the shed where new clay was dried, crushed, and then refined.
“How's the clay this year?” called, Tekton, the tiefling waiting for them.
“A bit wet, I'm afraid,” Pelos said jumping down from the cart.
“To be expected, I suppose, with the snow,” Tekton said. “Still a good looking haul, plenty of reason to celebrate.”
Moira huffed, “You don't need much reason to have a celebration,” she said. Tekton was often holding as many 'celebrations' as he could convince friends to come to for drink and song.
“Aye, but tonight is a tradition, so you all have to come,” Tekton said.
Moira rolled her eyes, and laughed in spite of herself, “Yes, of course.”
The celebration was already underway as the cart was being unloaded. The sun had by now fully melted the snow and Hiereus removed his hood and walked out onto the soggy green, and Moira was shortly behind him.
“I think they're holding a three-legged race in a bit if you'd like to run with me,” she said as they surveyed the festivities.
Hiereus was sore from the morning's work, but his face cracked into a grin. It was probably going to be the last time he was able to participate since his 18th birthday was the following month. Moira was already too old by several months, but it was unlikely anyone would say anything as they always ran together.
Soon they were each standing with a leg tied to the other, and a flag was waved to start the race.
As usual it was an awkward mess as the pairs of racers hopped, ran, and tripped across the green. Moira and Hiereus moved in sync, their rhythm familiar to the other. As they neared the finish, they broke out laughing before slipping in the wet grass and sliding across the line.
They brushed grass and mud from their robes, and continued laughing as they untied their legs.
A bit wet, they made their way to the grill for food and warmth.
As far north as they lived, the summer days were very long, and the festival lasted the whole of it. Yet despite their early start and work, vigor filled Hiereus as he and Moira helped build the pyre for the bonfire, singing their people's liberation songs all the while.
As dusk approached and the evening chill filled the air, more and more of the town gathered. Then together singing the “Prayer of the Eluthanai” each of the priests in turn lit a section of the pyre.
“Our work is shared, we have not master,” Hiereus sang lowering his lamp to light a bundle of kindling.
“The Flame's our keep, and gives us shelter” Moira sang the last line as she lit her kindling.
Soon the bonfire was roaring with a deep Eluthanai red, and drink was shared as the songs continued into the night.
It was late when Moira pulled Hiereus aside as the bonfire dwindled. “I...” Moira hesitated. Something was wrong; he could read it on her face.
“Ma and pa said I should tell you myself,” she frowned, “and they're right. You might be my baby brother, but you're also my closest friend.”
Hiereus's tail sank and lay still, as he looked up into his sister's eyes, “What are you trying to tell me?” he said in a low voice.
“I'm leaving,” she said. “I arranged to leave with a cart the next time we send out wares.” Tears began to run down her face as she finished.
Hiereus trembled, his words lost in his throat. Catching his sister's hand he fell to his knees. “Why?” he said, beginning to sob.
“You know why,” she said bringing her hand to wipe her brother's cheek, “I need to know. Know the truth of who we are, and what we believe about the world. I'll never learn that here. Eluthane is a shelter as much as the Flame is.”
“We could send for books,” Hiereus plead.
Moira chuckled, “O, my dear brother,” she said kneeling down beside him. “It wouldn't be the same. I would never feel sure I learned anything real. I need to know. I'm going to see the world until I find the truth, and when I do, I'll bring it back to you.”
Then drawing her brother into a tight hug she whispered, “May the Flame guard and guide your path.”
“I don't know what home will be without you,” he cried.
“It's our tradition to offer a blessing to travelers before parting ways,” she whispered.
“May the Flame ever guide your path to liberation,” Hiereus whispered embracing his sister. “I'm afraid,” he said.
“I know,” Moira kissed his forehead, “the light of the Flame connects us; as you pray remember your blessing is with me and mine with you.”
He didn't want to let his sister go, but slowly he stood and looked at her. “You only have a week until the cart leaves, what do you want to do in the meantime?” Hiereus said, and Moira smiled.
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