CHAPTER 3 - FREEDOM FIGHTERS - Part 2

“This is outrageous!” Sister Shiv shouted. The glare from the three Queens stopped her dead however. Idylls cringed in the corner at the heat from those stares.
In a quieter voice, the Sister tried again, “We can’t let Cullen run free! Not even out in the desert.”
“What can he do? He has no army, no force to be dealt with, and if he hasn’t even come into the city, he’s being cautious,” Queen Simult said arrogantly.
“If he comes into the city, Mabon will tell us. We’ll let him look around a bit, see how hopeless it is to fight us, and when he tires to leave, we’ll close the trap and kill him.”
“With what exactly? He’s more powerful than you accept!” Shiv said with a huff of air.
“We have new champions and Mabon has given them the weapons we had from your little war,” Queen Hrim informed. “I agree, let him run around trying to figure out a way to get to us. He’ll defeat himself when he realizes how hopeless it is.”
Sister Shiv threw up her hands in disbelief. She knew her people were arrogant, but this was too much. Cullen was going to do something unexpected and probably win his first battle if the Queens didn’t do something right away.
The three Queens left the room and moved to quickly return to their cities. Simult ruled in Alumet and it would be on her to find Cullen when he came and defeat him. Sister Shiv turned on the only remaining person in the room.
“You!” she said to Idylls. “You’re Jorinde’s daughter, are you not?”
“I am,” Idylls said hesitantly.
“Have you started building your own Hive yet?” Shiv asked.
Idylls blanched and her skin got darker in her cheeks. That was possibly the most personal question the Sister could have asked and Idylls didn’t know how to answer.
“I – I have not,” she finally said, embarrassed.
“Hell!” Shiv cursed. “Listen to me carefully! Cullen will do something and probably take the first city for his own soon. You need to be ready here for when he comes. Even if you have to command them yourself, you must have him captured the moment he enters your city!”
“I don’t have the authority to command the Hive,” Idylls said, alarmed.
“At some point in your life, you have to take that authority! This is your opportunity to catch the attention of the Master! If you caught Cullen, the Hive would listen to you! You must do this.”
Idylls was almost shaking with fear. Thinking of claiming authority over her mother meant she would have to also kill her mother and she didn’t want to do that. Although she also understood that her mother would attempt to kill her if she didn’t, but she thought she had more time to wait.
“I understand,” was all she could say, hoping that Sister Shiv would stop demanding things from her. Thankfully it worked and the Sister left the room still steaming.
Idylls didn’t know what to do. She wanted to see this Cullen for herself before she made him an enemy. What was he like? Why did he have the courage to battle the Host at all? Would he kill her if he saw her? She dared to fantasize about meeting him, but it brought another flush to her face as she realized what she was doing.
Then she thought, what if I found him and talked to him? Then I would know what to do, if I could only see his face and find out what kind of man he was. She decided to pay close attention to the reports of where he was, and maybe she would find an opportunity to find him.

***

The entire population of the hill was gathered around the circle of Horse Lords and their King. The Dreamweaver had found a place to stand up in front and the Lords seem to be giving him enough room for now. Grimm stood on one side of the circle with his shirt off, bare chested in the dying light of day.
Torches had been lit and placed on poles all around Grimm and his opponent. Bear was also shirtless and waiting calmly on his side of the ring. Grimm was stretching, trying to limber up before wrestling the large man before him.
Emil made his way through the throng of men to reach the Dreamweaver’s side. The two men exchanged glances and a nod and the Dreamweaver was glad to have the older man’s company during the match.
King Nicu stood at the head of the largest group of men, with Hook at his side and the Shaman on his opposite side. All three men were smiling fatalistically at Grimm, thinking him too old for a fight like this.
Bear was obviously the younger man, rippling with too much muscle and standing waiting for the gong to be sounded. Grimm was a big man, but Bear was bigger and things looked bad to the Dreamweaver.
“Don’t worry so much Dreamweaver,” Emil whispered to him. “Grimm’s a tough old bastard. He’ll get through this.”
The old man turned back to the crowd, looking across the faces of the many Horse Lords who were shouting encouragement to Bear and insults to the High King’s man. It was clear who most of them were betting on.
Then the gong sounded and Bear rushed across the yard, straight at Grimm. Grimm met his charge and the two men had hands on each other. They each gripped the other man’s shoulders and pushed at each other.
Bear was moving Grimm back, his feet skidding in the dirt and the crowd of men just got louder. Then Grimm changed his hips and swiveled, using Bear’s strength against him. He shoved Bear away and moved to the center of the ring to face the younger man again.
Bear rushed right back in and they grappled again. The held each other like that for a few moments and the Bear suddenly changed his grip and picked Grimm up off the ground.
The Dreamweaver gasped as Bear threw Grimm to the ground, slamming him into the dirt with a thump. Then he turned back to the crowd and raised his arms in triumph. The crowd cheered as Grimm slowly got back to his feet.
Bear turned before Grimm could rush him and the two men grappled again. This time they struggled for a few minutes, holding each other in a fierce grip. Each of them tried to move the other, suddenly twisting or changing grips but they were both wary now.
Then Bear moved again, pulling Grimm in and then pushing him suddenly so that he faced the other way. Then he grabbed Grimm arm and wrenched it back, pulling as hard as he could. The Dreamweaver stepped forward but the Captain grabbed him and shook his head.
Grimm was in obvious pain as his arm was stretched backwards. He grabbed for the arm holding him but he couldn’t reach. Finally he slammed his head back and caught Bear in the nose with a loud crunch.
The young man let go and fell back and Grimm spun faster as Bear’s hands went to his broken nose. Grimm grabbed his, put one leg around his opponent and pushed, dropping the larger man to the ground.
Grimm fell with Bear, catching his arm between Grimm’s legs and wrenching it backwards when they landed. Grimm’s legs were braced over Bear’s chest and he had both hands gripping the younger man’s arm.
Bear cried out in pain, letting go of his bleeding nose and trying to rip himself free. Grimm held on as tight as he could and Bear finally screamed for it to end, slapping the ground in a tap out.
Grimm let go and stood quickly, holding his own wrenched arm in pain. The gong sounded again, and the crowd got quiet, having new found respect for the old warrior. Hafr the Shaman walked to Grimm and gripped his arm.
“Let me take a look at that arm before you sit down,” he said kindly. Grimm looked in his yes and then nodded. The Dreamweaver and Emil walked over to check on him as well.
The Shaman reached into a pouch and pulled out a tiny sliver of wood. He glanced to see if anyone was paying attention to him and slipped the sliver into Grimm’s shoulder. He mumbled some words of power and then gathered some bandages to wrap Grimm’s arm in.
“You’ll be sore for a few days, but it should pass,” he said, finishing the binding.
“We’ll watch after him,” the Dreamweaver said, suspicious of the Shaman. Hafr nodded and walked back to his King. “You’ve earned the right to be heard then.”
“I have,” Grimm scowled. “I won’t be able to use my axe like this! Dammit! That kid was strong.”
“But you were smarter,” Emil said, smiling. “You’re still the best fighter I know old man.”
Grimm chuckled and the Dreamweaver breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed the warrior would be safe now and they could treat with the King.
“When do we get to talk to him?” the old man asked.
“There will be a feast and then drinking into the night, so I would guess tomorrow will be the first time you can really talk to the King,” Emil explained.
The Dreamweaver looked around and saw the Horse Lords gathering in small groups of clans and headed for a large building where he assumed food would be served.
“Can you stand?” he asked Grimm. Grimm frowned again and stood, shaking off a helping hand.
“Let’s get some food,” he said, walking towards the dining hall.
The entered the building and found food spread out on various platters with plates stacked up and one end. Each of them took a plate, and the Dreamweaver helped Grimm place food on his plate.
There were many new foods that the Dreamweaver had never seen before; including horse meat served different ways. There was a lot of breads and rice, since grains grew so well in the grasslands, but there were only a few vegetables, mostly imported from other lands where the soil was better.
The three men ate together off to the side, away from the many groups of Horse Lords that were drinking, singing and wrestling. They were a lively bunch of men, living life to the fullest, reminding the Dreamweaver of the Rom, but these men were wild and unruly.
“What do you think about the raids Emil,” the Dreamweaver asked.
The Captain glanced around to make sure no one would listen in before he spoke. “I think the King knows more than he says, and I think he’s keeping tribes near the border for a reason. I think Nicu has ambitions.”
Grimm looked up at that. “Any proof?” he asked.
“None,” Emil answered. “It’s just a feeling I get. He says the clans that are raiding having come to him to give fealty yet and he has sent messengers to find them.”
“Do you think he’s come to the tourney?” the Dreamweaver asked next.
“Oh yes, he’ll want to be acknowledged by the other Kings and the High King especially. I’m sure he will arrive with the others.”
“We’ll have to send other men to fill out the Kingsguard in case of any trouble considering all the Kings will be in one place.”
The Dreamweaver nodded, glad he didn’t have to consider the safety of visiting royalty. The three men finished their meals and the Dreamweaver thought they should find out where they would sleep.
Emil offered the barracks and the two visiting men agreed that seemed like the safest place to rest. They walked back out of the small village built around King Nicu and joined the Kingsguard soldiers on cots.
They slept soundly and even had a good morning, eating with the soldiers and drinking tea. The men were all very proud of their Captain of Captains for winning the match, and many of them had even watched it, cheering on their leader from the sidelines.
Mid morning, a Horse Lord came to fetch the two men and they walked back into the wooden village to see the King. Grimm’s arm was still bandaged and held crooked at the elbow as though he had broken it. He said it was most comfortable held like that so the Dreamweaver had bound it hanging.
The two men entered the room of the King and Nicu told the surrounding clan chieftains they could leave. Remaining were Hook, the King and the Shaman.
“How is your arm,” Hafr asked politely.
“Sore,” Grimm answered.
“It was a good match, and you are still the toughest man in the High Kingdom Grimm!” Hook laughed. “I thought you were going to lose in the beginning but you proved me wrong.”
Grimm said nothing to the taunt. He was focused on the King and stood facing him alone. The Dreamweaver stood beside him.
“Your Majesty,” the old man began. “We have come to invite you to a grand tourney, to meet with your High King and your fellow Kings over friendly competition.”
“I am happy to accept your invite, and I will tell you now, I will come.” The King spoke cheerfully, smiling down at the two visitors.
“On our way here however, we had an incident that we would like to tell you of. It concerns your people.” The Dreamweaver kept his stare on the King, ignoring the leering Hook.
“An incident? You mean the attack on King Adrian?” the King asked.
“The same,” the Dreamweaver stated. “We were there, and the arrows the attackers used were clearly Rathian made.”
“Couldn’t anyone use Rathian arrows? They can be bought in Rath and brought anywhere in the known world, to be used for any purpose. It doesn’t mean that Rathians fired them,” the King argued expertly.
“I saw the men who attacked the King’s family Nicu,” Grimm growled. “They were Rathian.”
“You will address the King by his honorific!” Hook demanded.
“King Nicu then,” Grimm snapped.
“Please, we don’t want to argue with you about whether it was a Rathian who attacked or not. We believe that a man from Rath attacked the King’s family. And clearly there are still raids happening on two borders. Something must be done.” The Dreamweaver spoke as confidently as he could, hoping Grimm wouldn’t make things worse.
“I agree that the border raids have become troublesome, and we are sending men to the borders to stop these renegades that are perpetrating these crimes. Trusted men have already left; you can rest assured that they will be stopped.”
“Then we are happy to hear that. The tourney will be held in the month of the Hunter’s Moon. Please bring your best competitors for the games,” the Dreamweaver said after the tense moment.
“We will invite any Horse Lord who wishes to see our Kingdoms united. I believe many Rathians would be interested in seeing the High Kingdom. Many of these men have never left Rath, but I believe they will follow their King when we journey to Holdfast.”
The Dreamweaver nodded and bowed, pulling on Grimm’s sleeve to get him to stop staring at Hook, who was still grinning like a fool. Nicu cuffed him and he finally looked abashed.
Grimm bowed curtly and the two men walked back out of the King’s hall. The Dreamweaver kept silent until they had walked outside the building and down the road.
“Something isn’t right,” he murmured to the warrior next to him. “You had better watch them carefully when they come. Nicu is too cheerful about the tourney.”
“I’ll watch him alright,” Grimm vowed. “And the first move he makes will be his last.”

***

The sky in Durza was vast Cullen thought. The sun climbed high and hung there, burning the ground underneath it. As they approached the city of Alumet, Cullen could see the shadows of clouds that seemed to stay above the city and surrounding farms without moving. They cast shadows over the entire landscape and Cullen could see how it would affect the populace.
Abd, Cullen, Tik, Sonia and Anton were all sneaking into the city. They had applied the dark paste over their faces and hands to darken their skin and they were all wearing traditional Xho outfits of wide bottom pants and robes that wrapped around their upper bodies and faces, leaving only the eyes and nose free.
Many Xho chose to live in the desert tribes and work in the city for the meager pay the Host doled out for that work. The citizens of the city worked for their meals and the right to live there. The farmers who grew the necessary food to feed the populace were guarded by the Host as much as those inside the city limits.
The city had once housed both the rich and the poor and was even now divided between the merchants who lived there or visited, the Host who chose to live above ground in houses they had claimed from the Xho and the poor Xho who were left to live in what had become the slums of the city.
Cullen and the others walked in the west gate of Alumet with a large crowd of Xho that entered the city looking for daily work. Abd led them into the slum however instead of going to line up outside the food hall where most of the Xho would go for their first meal of the day.
Abd brought them to a two story inn that had been kept up by the King and his followers as a base within the city. Abd explained that a cut of all pay went into maintaining the inn as a place to meet and a place the Xho could go to be with their own people in peace.
“Baqi, the manager of the inn, is expecting us,” Abd explained as they approached the building. It was built with mud and sand bricks with a red tile roof. There were many small rooms on the second floor and a large tavern space on the first floor.
This inside of the inn was dark, especially with the black clouds hanging over the city, placing everything in a depressing shadow. Abd waved to a man behind the bar and directed the others to sit at a pair of tables in the corner.
“Welcome my King,” the man said quietly. “These are the one’s you sent word about?”
“Yes, these are our new friends,” Abd said smiling through his black beard. Cullen noticed again just how white his teeth were. Baqi was a short stout man who seemed nervous but Abd said he was as steady as they came.
“We’re glad to meet you and to have a place to stay while we’re in the city,” Cullen said, directing his comment at the tavern keeper.
“I am honored to meet you who would help our people,” Baqi said respectfully. “You are welcome here.”
“We should hide our weapons in our rooms, if you think they will be safe, and then I want to get a look at the city for myself,” Cullen said glancing at Abd.
“Your belonging will be safe here. Your rooms are upstairs, where you are welcome to stay.”
“I think I want to look around too,” Tik said.
“Abd, you mentioned you could bring me to the local church?” Anton asked.
“Ah yes, you wanted to meet our other contact, the Head Curate. I think he will be happy to speak with you as well Anton,” Abd said confidently. “I can take you there directly.”
The others climbed the stairs to take a look at their rooms. Cullen and Sonia took the first room, which was small but enough for two people. Tik took the next room without a word.
Sonia told Cullen she preferred to stay and perhaps help Baqi with his work, since they were staying without paying and Cullen gave her a smile for always thinking of others. He and Tik left quickly, separating outside the door to have a look at the city in their own way.
Sonia asked what she could do and Baqi directed her into the kitchen to help make food that would be available for service later. There were several pots on a iron stove and different foods being prepared. Sonia did whatever Baqi asked, cutting vegetables or stirring the pots, seasoning and tasting.
She thought about the last six months. She had enjoyed learning about a new culture, but she missed Cullen. He was totally immersed in helping the Xho and he had once again become the commander of the allied forces against the Host.
Cullen was driven by deep passions, his whole being caught up in helping those less fortunate. He would be a good King one day, when his father passed away, may that be years from now.
Sonia had learned so much from the Xho and she loved them as a people, but she missed her children back home. They had been away so long that some of the children would be graduated and starting their lives and Sonia wouldn’t be there to see them off. Part of that made her incredibly sad.
She felt like she lost Cullen in times like these and her only recourse was her relationship with Tik. He was always there, just as he had been when they were in the Orphanage together. He had protected her from the older boys that were often cruel and he took her punishments for her.
And now, he was here, in the desert and now inside this city, by her side, always available, always dependable and she loved him for that. He was always good to her. She found herself thinking of his safety before Cullen’s but only because Cullen was so capable. He had magic and his brothers, where Tik just had his wits. She hoped he would be ok in Alumet and wouldn’t fall into any trouble.

Tik followed the main street back into the rest of the city, exploring as much as he could. He found the market quickly, because it was loud and busy, but he had to keep out of sight of the Host guards that wandered through the city, always looking for trouble.
He found a section of the city that was all businesses, like ale brewers, boothmen, costermongers, fruitiers, fishmongers, colliers, poulters, furriers, iron mangers, and more.
Part of the city was a bustling business and another part was simply housing for the successful and the rich. Tik got his first glimpse of the other races from visiting nations as well.
The Zingarians were black and brown, deeper shades than the Xho who were deeply tan colored. The Zingarians had kinky, curly hair that they wore close to the scalp and sometimes dyed various colors. The Xincians were paler than the other with unique eyes. They had a heavy lid and seemed slanted differently than the others. And the Choss were red-skinned, but had the same kinky hair as the Zingarians.
Tik wandered through the market, looking at the different wares for sale and trying to determine how many of the Hive’s soldiers were stationed around the city at one time. He kept to the sides of the street and tried to look like a sick beggar instead of a threat.
He tried to concentrate on the task at hand, but he spent just as much time thinking about Sonia and his sword. Ever since he had used the sword in the mountains, he itched to use it again.
The sword was a power, and it would make him closer to being Cullen’s equal. And maybe if he was equal with Cullen then she would – he stopped that thought before it got any further.
Cullen had been his friend since he was a child. He shouldn’t be thinking about Sonia like that, but he thought there was something there, something between him and Sonia. Sonia always turned to him to talk, even before she would look for Cullen, she would seek out Tik.
And Tik had to admit by this time, having spent six months in the desert training the Xho that he loved her. He loved her in a way that pained him, because he thought he would never have a chance to show her how he felt.
He would never betray Cullen’s friendship. Cullen had freed him from the Orphanage and given him a good life. Cullen had made the relationship between Tik’s people, the Rom and the Crown a relationship that benefited both sides.
He growled to himself and tried to put Sonia out of his mind. He had to support Cullen’s plan to free this city. He had to work towards that goal and free these people like he had been freed. They deserved his full attention.

Cullen made his way to the food hall, a large government building that had been converted into a mess hall to serve the Xho meals to keep them strong enough to do their work for the Host.
He joined the line and waited patiently for his turn to be served. He saw the Xho, who he knew to be a proud people in the desert, waiting on line to be served a meager meal like a servant. Seeing this treatment of other humans made him angry and he had to contain himself so as not to be noticed.
He hung his head like those around him and shuffled forward to receive his bowl of rice and some kind of cast off meat. Mealy vegetables swam in the bottom and he could see that they fed the people just enough to keep them going, but not enough to give them real strength.
Cullen had spent the six month teaching as much as learning. He could speak the language now, at least well enough to understand the Hive soldiers that directed the Xho to different jobs.
Cullen chose to stand on line to be selected to clean the streets. He thought he would get a good feel for the city that way. He shuffled off with the rest of them and spent the day clearing rubbish from the paved roads that crossed the city.
They weren’t expected to clean the slums but Cullen had noticed the Xho community kept the slums as clean as they could. They were poor but they didn’t want to live in filth. Cullen was hot under the extra layers of clothing but he worked hard and was eager to get his second meal of the day when the rest of the workers lined up after the city gong sounded.
He had carefully watched the Hive soldiers walking around confidently and he noticed how many in a group usually patrolled. He would need to have an understanding of how many guarded the outside farms as well, so they could time an attack, confronting every soldier at once. And he thought explosives set up all around the city would be a good distraction as well.

Anton walked with Abd down the main street that was paved with clay bricks. The road was a deep red in color with pale sand drifting around the bricks. Anton noticed that the slums had once been the section of the city where the businesses that were associated with bad smells were, such as the tanner, the slaughterhouse and other jobs that either stank or needed extra room.
Abd explained that when the Host came, they moved many of the wealthier families into the worst sections of the city, taking over their houses. Families with many generations were suddenly displaced and many of them fell into ruin.
Abd took Anton into a better part of the city, where the streets were paved and there were trees growing along the street. And in the center of a huge square was the mosque, the holy place for the Xho religion.
“Hadi is the Curate for this location. Each city has a mosque and it’s directed by a single man, each of them chosen by their peers to be the Head Curate for the religious,” Abd explained.
“I’m very interested to learn more about your religion Abd, it seems similar to my own,” Anton said as he gazed up at the buildings.
The mosque had a series of domes that were decorated with intricate patterns of blue and white tiles, with gold trimming all the way around. Four tall towers were raised at each corner of the building and also brightly decorated.
Abd led Anton through the front gate. “The Host has never stopped us from practicing our religion, and it has become a means for us to communicate with each other, with messages that the Host doesn’t understand.”
“I see,” Anton said, listening intently.
“By the end of the week, the whole city will know that we plan to take the city back from our enemies. Hadi will lead these people into rebellion quietly. It is one of the mistakes the Host have made. They assume we are an ignorant race and they left us a means of worship, faith and hope.”
Anton heard the passion in the man’s voice and he eagerly followed him to meet the religious leader of the city. Abd was King, but all good Kings had a religious guide to help them, and it seemed that Hadi was that man for Abd.
Inside Anton was struck by the beauty of the building. There was a huge prayer room below the domes of the mosque and it was carpeted with a large rug that also was decorated with intricate designs that repeated. There was a sense of peace and calm in the building that Anton felt right away.
Abd led him away from the prayer room and into a small office where a small, thin man sat behind a desk in magnificent robes of blue and gold.
“Peace be with you my brother,” Abd said as they stepped into the room.
“And peace be with you as well brother,” the man said in return. “You have a guest?”
Anton was dressed like a Xho man, but the Curate could see that he was no Xho, his features were of the Kingdom and the paste only got them past quick inspections.
“This man with me is from across the desert. He is a holy man where he is from, and he had come to learn from you what we consider holy,” Abd explained.
“There is more to this than that, is that so?” Hadi asked.
“There is my friend,” Abd began. “This man comes with friends, and those friends come with knowledge and power. They have agreed to help us rid ourselves of our new masters.”
“I see. So it has begun?” Hadi asked, his face betraying no emotion.
“It has begun brother. We are deciding on a plan soon and we will need the city to be ready. This will not be easy, but I have faith that we can finally fight back. These men from so far away are strong!” Abd smiled at his words, showing the Curate how excited he was.
Hadi smiled jus a bit. “Well then I will take this man and teach him what I know. And I will prepare the city as we agreed so long ago. What is your name?” he asked Anton.
“My name is Anton and I am a High Priest in the Church of God. I am willing to listen and learn about your faith, however different it may be,” Anton answered.
“You may find it is not so different after all, my new friend,” Hadi said with another small smile. “We too believe in God.”
Anton grinned. Hadi came from around the desk and put his arm around Anton shoulder and led him into the prayer room to talk. Abd left quietly, knowing Anton would be safe and quite busy for some time. Hadi was a man of strong conviction and deep faith. He would express the importance of religion to the Xho people.
Hadi brought Anton to the front of the hall and asked him to kneel before the grand alter that was before him. It was a simple stand with a book on a smaller stand that held it open to about the middle of the book.
“Tell me of your God brother Anton,” Hadi said quietly.
“Our God, as I was taught,” Anton began, “Is an all knowing, all powerful being that created everything. He made the earth we walk on, the air we breathe, the water we drink, the animals we keep and even we humans. I suppose he made the Faery folk as well, since they are on this land with us.”
“Go on,” Hadi urged.
Anton kneeled there, before the alter in a building devoted to God and he felt a certain peace there. The sun, muted but still sun, was coming in through windows in the dome. He felt blessed to be there and to speak about his faith.
“We believe that God watches over us, and wants for us to join him in Heaven, where he dwells. We believe that he came to earth, to teach us his ways as a man and that man was killed for teaching his beliefs. We believe that he rose from the dead and ascended to Heaven. We believe that learning from him and his guides about how we should live, keeps our souls from a place called Hell, where souls suffer for the sins done when they were alive.”
Anton finished and leaned back a little. He turned to look at Hadi, who was kneeling with his face turned up to the light with a small smile.
“Please tell me about your God,” Anton asked. He felt as though this were almost ritual, as if some greater knowledge was being shared between two men. He took a deep breath.
“We believe that God was an all knowing, all powerful force that created everything, just as you believe. But we believe that to create everything, he used his power by putting a bit of himself into everything.”
Anton turned to watch Hadi speak.
“We believe that you cannot pray to God to help you out of a problem, and He is not responsible for every bad thing that happens. We believe that you have God within you and you are therefore responsible for doing what is right for yourself and for your fellow man. This is God’s gift to us.”
“But a man did live that preached about God,” Anton started to say.
“We also remember that man, but we believe that he was of God, just as you and I are of God. And he did preach about many fine things, ways to live and ways to worship. And we hold some of those teachings to be truth, but when that man died, he died. We don’t believe in resurrection as you believe.”
Anton sat back on his heels and looked at the alter again. He liked this man next to him and together they would inspire a people to fight against their oppressors. But his beliefs were different and seemed wrong to Anton.
But then, there were similarities as well. They did both in fact believe in God, one way or another, and they both believed in God’s teachings. Anton thought he would like to stay a while and learn about this other faith, and listen to the differences.
Anton thought he would learn so much if he just listened.