A few days ago, before the fight with the goblin slavers...

A bright full moon was rising at the end of the second day of travelling. The party of six, and the dog Ellyn, decided to stop and set up camp. Once all the tents had been erected and a fire started, Coren and Li-eira would take first watch. But right now, everyone was busy settling down for the evening.

Coren looked across and saw that Li-eira was seeing to her horse, giving her a few oats after removing the bit and bridle. The Moon Mother, Aislinn, walked past and said something to Li-eira. The two women smiled to one another and Aislinn continued towards the fire, probably getting ready to cook the meal of the evening.

They'd been on the road for a couple of days now, and Coren hadn't had a real chance to talk to the cleric. Yesterday they had been trying to get used to one another and this morning Coren had been busy trying to get his head around Yahim's revelation the night before. He still couldn't believe he... she was a woman!

But ever since they'd started journeying, Coren had wanted to talk to the cleric. He wasn't sure why. There was something about Aislinn that seemed to attract him, a familiarity with her looks and attitude. Like a number of the Northwomen, she had pale blonde hair, ivory skin and sparkling blue eyes. In fact, she was just like his own mother...

Coren shook his head, trying to dislodge the memory from his mind. He tugged on his plaited beard and headed over to the unlit fire and Aislinn.

"Mother Aislinn, do you need a hand starting the fire?" he asked, though he knew she did not require his assistance. It was simply a way to start a conversation. Not that he knew where the conversation was headed.

Aislinn looked up at the large man and smiled. It seemed she smiled a lot, despite the gravity of their situation. “I won’t turn it down, Coren. Thank you.” With the innate sense of mothers everywhere, she waited for him to start the conversation he wanted to have. The priestess started pulling together the pots, pans and other utensils she’d need to prepare their meal.

With his eyes looking down at the pile of unlit wood and one of his boots shuffling the dirt in front of him, Coren then asked quietly, "If I may ask, what is it like? Being a holy one that is? Being a channel for your god's power?"

Blue eyes blink at him for a second, surprised at the question. No one had ever asked it of her, apparently. “Sit Coren, please,” she said, gesturing to the log beside her. As she fiddled with lighting the fire, she gathered her words. “I’m honestly not sure how to answer your question, but I’ll try. Just forgive me if I stumble, all right?” she chuckled.

Coren nodded his agreement and grunted as he sat down on the log. Once settled, he gazed at Aislinn waiting for her to answer his query.

“Things are rather complex when I, at least, channel Mathern’s power,” she said after a moment. “I’m sure it’s a little different for everyone, but I could be wrong. No one’s ever asked me about it, before and I never thought to ask my mother how it is for her. It’s… soothing, exhilarating, frightening and even,” she might have blushed slightly, but that could be the light of the fire she had going, “a bit sensual as the power courses through you. Afterwards, those emotions linger and I have gratitude and humble pride added to the mix, as well as a little depression and regret that I couldn’t hold onto it longer.”

Coren blinked for a moment whilst considering this. When he spoke up his voice was quiet and subdued. “No, that’s not quite what I meant. I don’t think. I mean…”, he thought for a moment again and continued. “Maybe it was. But what is it like knowing that your god is always there?” He waved his hand in the air, indicating the sky, the earth and finally the moon. “Does it make you feel complete? Does She protect you? Can you feel Her presence?”

Coren wasn’t sure what he wanted to know nor how best to ask the questions. Perhaps just talking to the cleric was enough.

Surprise and sudden understanding shine in Aislinn’s eyes. “Ah! I did misunderstand and I took you a bit literally, I’m afraid,” she chuckled softly and shook her head at herself. Quickly and efficiently, she sliced and chopped vegetables for the stew. Not a movement was wasted, he noted.

“My experience with this may not be the best example, Coren,” she said after another moment. “I was raised by a Child of Mathern, thus I’ve never not felt Her presence in my life. I feel complete, but not just because I’m devoted to Holy Mathern,” she smiled at him, then turned her face to the full moon and her smile softened. “I’m complete because I am… Aislinn,” she smiled. “Mathern is part of that, as much as that bear pelt helps make you Coren.”

Coren picked at his white bear cloak. “This?” he mumbled. “It keeps me warm even on the coldest of nights and it’s a trophy of my fight against the great white ravager. It isn’t a part of me…”. But he wondered. Many of the folk in Freehold called him the Great White Bear. Even the Oracle had noticed him and had given him his prophecies because of it. Was it a part of what made him Coren dan Balor? He scratched his beard, wondering, and looked up to the moon.

What he was going to say might incur the goddess’ wrath, which was something Coren wanted to avoid. But still, he was not afraid and voiced his concerns anyway.

“You work for Her, yes?” he asked. “You spread Mathern’s word and do Her bidding, whatever. If you and the Moon goddess herself will pardon me saying, to me it all sounds like another form of slavery. You have to do whatever She tells you whether it seems right or wrong to you. In a way, Mathern also tells you how to think”.

He looked away from the moon and over at Aislinn, gazed directly into those eyes full of warmth and glee. “How do you cope?”

“No, Coren,” she answered firmly. Her blue eyes taking on a gravity and a determination he’d not seen in her since their meeting. “I am not enslaved. I choose to follow Her precepts and tenets.” She sighed and dumped the last of the ingredients into the pot of stew. The lid placed securely on the pot, she could now give her full attention to her new friend. Which she did and Coren felt that attention all the way down to his toes.

“Most everyone will say that the gods have a direct hand in our lives, and are guiding us like pieces on a game board,” she said quietly. “Even those who are not devoted to one god or another. I’ve always felt differently. I don’t believe Mathern or any other god wants a puppet on a string, Coren. They give us choices and allow us to make them.

Nodding, Coren realised what the cleric said made a certain sort of sense. But still, it wasn’t quite the truth was it? He picked up his faintly gleaming axe, another trophy from another skirmish, and studied its edge with a rough, callused thumb for knocks and imperfections whilst still listening to Aislinn.

“I could have stayed in Portsdale, or gone back to Banamyr when I found out that Goentryx was unavailable. Instead, I heard Janus’s dream and I heard Yahim’s mission and I chose to accompany them on their quest. I didn’t feel a nudge in the back of my mind or have my own prophetic dream that night I met them. This is just something that I felt needs to be done and my own questions can wait.

“There have been and will be times when we all have to take a step back and look at how our choices will affect those around us,” she said. “We have our individual needs and desires, but sometimes to affect the greater whole for the better, we need to set those individual needs and desires aside. To do that, though, we have to look deep within our hearts and souls for that answer and to be completely honest with ourselves. That last is the most difficult thing to do, sometimes,” she finished quietly, still holding his gaze.

Momentarily, Coren looked up from gazing at his axe and glanced across at Li-eira rummaging through her things. He grunted and shifted his gaze back to Aislinn. In the dim light, the woman he saw looked so much like a younger version of his mother it was unsettling. Or maybe Coren only wanted to see that in his new companion?

“Aye, I understand what you say, Mother Aislinn” he said grimly. “But if you go against your god, won’t She abandon you? If you suddenly decided to no longer heal the sick or to fight for the forces of darkness, she would leave you. She won’t love you unconditionally”

“There are certain precepts set down that I should follow,” Aislinn allowed. “Such as, I cannot turn my back on anyone that needs healing… friend or foe. “But that is something I wouldn’t do in the first place, so it’s no hardship for me to follow it. I couldn’t leave anyone in prolonged pain if there was something I could do to alleviate it. We aren’t constrained about taking a life in defense, but I find it difficult to do so. Even in the few skirmishes I’ve been in, I always try to subdue or incapacitate.” She paused again, thinking about his other question and statement.

“But you’re wrong in that She wouldn’t love me unconditionally,” she smiled. “It’s what Mothers do, my friend. At least so far as our children are concerned and I am Her Child. If I strayed or … disappointed Her in some way, she would be there when I found my way back to Her.”

Coren put down his axe and pulled his bear cloak around himself. Sighing, he tilted his head down, his face pointing directly towards the dusty ground. It took him several moments to get the words out that he wanted to speak.

“My… mother worshipped the good gods - Mathern especially”, Coren finally whispered. “She used to pray to the Moon Mother every day. She was no priestess or holy one, just a mother”.

Coren was still gazing at the ground. A smile had appeared within his white beard at the memory of his mother. But that smile began to waver as he continued.

“She always said that Mathern would keep us safe in our own home”, he said quietly, “That Her silvery light would forever shine on our home and in our hearts and keep the darkness at bay”.

Coren suddenly looked up at Aislinn. He found the priestess listening with the whole of her being, silently encouraging him and supporting him.

“She was wrong”, he stated with no emotion, the smile now gone from his lips.

“What happened, Coren?” she inquired gently. There was no gentle smile on her lips, but there was support, encouragement and a willingness to listen if he wished to speak of things kept buried.

Coren huffed a little and, stalling for time, picked up a couple of pieces of wood near his booted foot. The smaller of these he tossed onto the fire. He gripped the other and stared at the flames for a moment before answering.

“What happened? She was killed” he replied, seemingly matter-of-factly. The light from the fire danced in his moist eyes as he reluctantly continued. “One night whilst we were asleep some… slavers came into our home, took me prisoner and slaughtered her. That’s what happened”.

He closed his eyes tight, trying to shut out the memory of his mother’s agonizing scream calling out his name as he was dragged away, down the stairs and out into the night air. He could still hear his mother’s cries as he was being tied with the other prisoners. In his mind the cries seemed to go on for hours.

“I’m sorry, Coren,” the priestess replied, laying a hand on his forearm for emphasis. There was just that simple statement. Yet it held very profound and sincere sorrow for his loss. She didn’t ask him to elaborate, nor did she belittle the experience with that lack of curiosity.

“Why don’t the gods do something?” Coren asked, his voice a harsh whisper. “They’re all-powerful. Mathern could ease the suffering of people. She could fill the bellies of all the hungry and find homes for those lost. Verengaard could destroy the darkness and put an end to this blasted war. Aye, it helps bring gold to a mercenary like meself but that doesn’t stop all o’ the killing and dying. Why don’t they”, he pointed an accusing finger at the moon, “make the world a better place?”

“Ah…. More big questions,” she remarked with a nod. Carefully, she took the lid off the pot of stew, gave it a stir and added some dried herbs and spices to the mix. She stirred it again and replaced the lid before turning her attention to those questions.

“Some of the answer goes back to my earlier statement about we mortals not being pieces on a game board. Our choices… how we act, think and react to situations presented to us shape our lives.

“Things like what happened to your family… I don’t know what how to answer that, except to say that there are some really bad people in the world, Coren. Just as there are some really good people. Janus could explain all about balance better than I could. And I know that’s no comfort,” she sighed softly, sadly.

“As to why they don’t do anything… They are. Just on a much higher level than we are. It’s up to us to do what we can on this mortal plane to make it a better place. It’s like….” She paused, fishing for an analogy they could both understand. “Guiding a child into adulthood. You give them love, support and boundaries”.

“If my mother warned me and even showed me why climbing a certain tree was dangerous, yet I climbed the tree anyway and got hurt as a result, who’s fault is it?” she asked. “Some people are like that all their lives, Coren. They continue making choices that will keep them from improving their lives. Sometimes, it may not seem like we have any choice at all, but we do. We always have a choice,” she said with firm conviction.

“For the question you’ve not asked directly: Why didn’t Mathern protect your mother, who was so devoted to Her? Perhaps She couldn’t? Imagine if every god made that much of a presence in everyone’s life? If Mathern could do that, so could every other god, from Verengaard to The Bright One. Even the lesser deific spirits could get that intimately involved in our lives.”

Coren sniffed at the pleasing smells coming from the pot of stew and grunted his satisfaction. Taking a knife from his belt, he started whittling away at the piece of wood in his hand, beginning to shape the timber to something in his mind’s eye.

“*Sigh* Aye, I s’pose I know the gods can’t save everyone” agreed Coren, somewhat reluctantly. “We all die sooner or later, often sooner in times of war. Expecting a god to save your life, especially some simple northwoman whose prayers must be like a whisper amongst the roar of voices, is perhaps expecting too much. Still…” He shrugged and repositioned himself on his log.

He continued hacking at the piece of wood, talking whilst he cut away. Aislinn watched him silently, letting him process his own thoughts on the matter. Mathern knew she’d needed to do the same thing after such hefty conversations.

“Part of me sees the good that the Mothers of Mathern and other white robed priests do and I wish they could do more”, Coren continued. “But another part of me wonders whether we’d be better or worse off without all the gods. With no good and no evil, I sometimes wonder what would be left…?”

Coren looked up from his whittling and across at Janus. The fair-haired young man walked past Li-eira who was busy carrying some things to her tent. She, in turn, had smiled at the druid but the young man seemed intent on something else and did not acknowledge the beautiful sorceress. Coren noticed that the young woman continued to watch Janus with a dreamy look on her face as the handsome man made his way through the camp.

Coren sighed. “Probably just nature - the beasts, the forests and the weather. And we humans would be no different from the animals”, he said, answering his own question. “The druid’s notion of balance would fully come to pass and the All Father would finally have won”.

“I don’t know about that, Coren,” his new friend replied with a soft chuckle. “The gods do help us shape our lives. They are the ultimate parents, I suppose. We’re always trying to please them and win approval from them. I ask myself, sometimes, if that’s what they want, or if they’d rather we were more independent?” she mused. “Then I start looking for that bolt out of the blue,” she laughed outright at that.

“Now Mother”, Coren asked, “yer mentioned that you had always been a child of Mathern. But surely there was a time when you decided to become a priestess of Mathern and wear those fancy robes. As I said, my own mother worshipped Mathern but she never took an oath or whatever you people do. When did you decide to be a priestess? And how did you go about doing it? Was that also your mother’s calling?”

“I only wear the robes on the High Holidays,” she teased gently. “But you’re right. Mathern has always been a presence in my life due to my foster mother, who couldn’t have been more a mother to me than one of blood,” she smiled. “She is a Child of Mathern as well.” Aislinn paused again to stir the stew, noting things were just about done. She began putting together batter for pan-fried bread.

“I suppose I was fifteen or sixteen when I decided to follow in Mother’s footsteps,” she continued thoughtfully. “I often went with her on her house-calls to those people too sick, too old or that otherwise needed her to go to them, instead of them coming to her. I saw how much good she did, how she helped those people – even if they were close to death, she helped ease their way. I just felt that that was what I was meant to do. I was blessed that way, I suppose,” she smiled and shrugged.

Coren stopped his poor attempt at carving for a moment. “So, no bolt out of the blue then?” he asked. “No voice from on high? You just… fell into it?” He sighed, his shoulders drooping. He had hoped for something more definite, an obvious choice or some sort of godly selection. But, as Coren had known for some time, things were never that clear cut.

“Should I have had a holy vision of Mathern standing in silvery moonlight, decreeing I was one of Hers and no other path would be allowed?” she asked, her blue eyes twinkling softly. She wasn’t teasing so much as trying to get him to see the humor in that idea. “I know some people do have visions like that. Janus’s dreams, for instance. I suppose that I am, as Tob puts it, blessed by Mathern’s silence on the matter. I’m freer to follow my own path as it melds with Hers.”

“Most people find their callings by just ‘falling into it,’ as you say,” she continued. Aislinn poured the batter into the hot pan and now those aromas mixed with those of the stew. “They find out what makes them happy and allows them to provide for themselves and whatever family they wish to have.”

“Aye. I guess yer right” conceded Coren as he finished off his woodcutting. Holding the finished piece aloft, he looked at the result. It appeared to be a crude figure, tall and broad of shoulder. The figure appeared to hold a circular shield in one hand, some sort of weapon in the other and, just about visible, appeared to be bearded. He studied it for a moment and then grunted his disapproval.

Coren stood up and, as he did so, tossed the figure into the fire whilst turning to face Aislinn.

“Thank you, M… Aislinn”, he said smiling and, bending down, placed one of his large hands on the slender woman’s shoulder. He had been about to call her Mother Aislinn but now it felt wrong. She was not his mother, which Coren accepted now. She was a friend.

“Our talk has left me lots to think about but it has also helped answer many questions” he continued. “I’m glad we had this conversation. And, hopefully, we can talk more on our journey and you can tell me more about Mathern?”

“I look forward to that, certainly.”

Coren again looked across at Li-eira and smiled. “Now I need to go and help Li-eira with her things. But I’ll be back to have a helping or two of that tasty stew of yours”. He smiled again, bowed his head and, picking up his axe, headed off away from the fire.

Aislinn watched him go, a thoughtful look on her face. She used a bit of wood and retrieved the carved figure. Using her hotpads, she wiped it off, noting that it had smoldered and already turned black in spots. Rather like the man himself, she thought. She tucked the figure in her pocket and continued tending to dinner.