Andy 3.12 - Philosophical Musings (Patreon)

Hi folks! I'd really appreciate some feedback on this chapter. I tried to imagine how someone like Omar would feel in a situation like the one I've created for him, but my goal here is to raise questions that make people think without offending anyone. If you happen to be a religious person, would you please let me know if I handled this okay? I just think it's an interesting topic and something I wonder about sometimes in stories like this one.

Thanks! Enjoy :)

-Plum

12 – Philosophical Musings

Andy stood back, watching as Omar drew his lines in the dirt around the pyre. Pyre might have been too strong a word; it was mostly a pile of dry mesquite branches gathered from beneath nearby trees. Omar said not to worry, though. He said his magic would make up for the lack of fuel and structure. A blanket-wrapped figure lay across the top of the piled branches. It was Bree; they’d put her there after Andy and Omar hauled her up the hill.

Madi stood close, arms around Cheechee, holding him close to her body in a way Andy had never seen Bree hold him. It was almost eerie the way the owl had taken to her, and she to it. He knew it had to be something to do with her new class. Madi said the System had called the class “uncommon” and she’d gained automatic skill-levels in her companion ability when she took it on. All that aside, when Andy looked at her and the owl, he swore the bird looked remorseful, staring with his big round eyes at the body on the pyre.

Madi’s face was an open book, too. Andy could see the emotions warring behind her gaze, and he had no doubt that some of them mirrored his own—plenty of guilt mixed in with the sadness of losing a new friend. Of course she didn’t deserve to feel guilty, but he knew too well how surviving something when others didn’t could make those unwelcome feelings rear up. It wasn’t the first time for Madi, either. He could still picture her standing quietly behind Bella when he’d rescued their group from Construction City. How many times had she pulled through when those around her hadn’t?

“You okay?” he asked, his voice a near-whisper as they both watched Omar finish his work.

“I am. Thanks, Andy.” She smiled at him, and he felt guilty for making her make the effort.

“All right.” He turned back to Omar and watched as he finished drawing another rune in the dirt using the butt of Madi’s short spear—she’d lent it to him without question.

“I’m ready,” the Pyre Sentinel said, walking over to hand Madi the spear. She didn’t take it; both her arms were still occupied with Cheechee. Instead, she nodded to the ground by her shield, and Omar set the spear there. When he straightened, he said, “Please, just bear witness.” He hesitated, then looked from Madi to Andy. “Unless either of you would like to say something?”

“Um…” Andy cleared his throat, but before he could say more, Madi spoke up.

“I’d like to.” When Omar nodded and stepped aside, she moved closer to the pyre, careful not to step on any of the lines Omar had scrawled in the dirt. They were atop the ridge, more than a hundred feet above the road where Bree had died, and the midnight breeze was picking up. It ruffled Madi’s hair as she shifted her arms, moving Cheechee away from her body a little. She glanced at Andy, and he nodded encouragingly.

“Bree,” Madi said, turning back to the blanket-wrapped figure atop the pile of branches, “I’ve never been good at making friends, but you were easy to talk to. You were always ready to smile, and I loved the way you loved your owl. I’m so sorry that you’re gone, but I want you to know that I’ve got Cheechee now, and I’ll make sure he has a good life. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry my magic wasn’t anywhere close to strong enough to help. I promise I’ll get stronger.”

Cheechee hooted softly, spread his wings and launched himself into the night sky, circling the air above the pyre before descending toward a nearby saguaro. He perched on its single, up-turned arm, watching. When Andy looked away from the owl and back to Madi, he saw she was crying, wiping her eyes, and when she walked back to stand beside him, he put an arm over her shoulders, squeezing her to his side.

“That was nice.”

She sniffed, nodding, and Andy realized she’d needed to say something. It had released something in her, and he felt a little envious.

Omar didn’t ask if Andy wanted to add anything—maybe his body language gave him the answer. The Pyre Sentinel approached the pile of branches, raised both arms high, and Andy felt a rush of mana. Orange embers appeared in the air around Omar’s hands, drifting into the air on a sudden gust of wind. They fell in their hundreds, like drifting fireflies, toward the pyre, and where they touched the wood, flames erupted. In no time, the fire was roaring, and Andy and Madi had to step back in the face of the heat.

Omar remained close to the fire, his arms raised, and Andy thought maybe that was it; maybe his spell had simply ignited the fire, but then a strange thing happened. A sound like a song, but wordless, drifted out of the night, carried by the breeze, and then the fire’s flames shifted in color. Orange became green, and red became blue. The music, something like wind blowing through impossibly tuned reeds, ethereal and stirring, rose in a crescendo, and then the tips of the green-blue flames became white. They surged with a crackling roar as a stiff current of air tore over the ridge-top from every direction, fanning the flames into a white tower that rose into the black sky.

In seconds it was over; the wind faded, the music was gone, and the fire nearly died—just embers left to lick at the ashes and coals. All the wood was burned; Bree’s body was gone, and Andy stood there wondering if he’d really heard that song, if he’d really seen the fire erupt into the heavens.

“Wow,” Madi whispered.

Omar fell to his knees, staring into the space where the pyre had been, and Andy approached, wondering if he was okay. He took one look at the man’s face and understood: he was reading System messages. He went back to Madi, leaving Omar in peace, and whispered, “You saw all that, right?”

“Did you hear it?” Her cheeks were moist, and he could see unshed tears still pooled in her eyes.

Andy nodded. “Yeah.” He smiled. “Glad you did, too.”

“When he’s done, can we start heading back? I know you want to keep working on the quest, but I think I should visit the, um, grove as soon as possible.” She held a palm against the center of her chest. “It’s a feeling.”

“Yeah, I think we should check in with everyone. Depending on what happens with your Druid quest, we might want to reconsider who heads back out with me.”

“I want—” Madi started to say, but she shook her head, cutting herself off. “Never mind. You’re right. We should wait and see what happens.”

“I’m ready,” Omar said, clambering to his feet and dusting off his knees.

After the pyre burning, and the strange otherworldly nature of the magic, the mood had shifted, and when they packed up and started the trek back to the mesa, Andy’s steps were light, and when he glanced Madi’s way, she smiled and pointed. He looked and saw Cheechee, wings wide, gliding past. His distinctive silhouette was backlit by the stars and moon, and Andy couldn’t help thinking the imagery was almost symbolic. He felt like Bree was still with them somehow.

They hiked down into the ravine, and, as Bree had done before, Madi used Cheechee to keep an eye out for threats. Maybe it was the huge battle with the goblins, or maybe it was the aftereffects of Omar’s ritual, but for some reason, the nearby desert seemed very restful; the usual prowling predators were absent, at least in their vicinity, and the trek down out of the foothills was uneventful.

As the ground leveled out and they began the leg of the journey through the desert back to the mesa, Omar walked forward, moving closer to Andy. He cleared his throat and said, “You think I could run something by you?”

Andy looked at him sharply, an eyebrow raised. “Of course!”

“It’s about that pyre. The spell I used was new to me, something I got when I leveled, and part of a quest for a, uh, legendary class. The System called it that and then explained it meant the class was literally based on legends—from a civilization that died out on a distant System world.”

“Shit, that’s badass, Omar.”

“Well, yeah, except…” He trailed off, and Andy could see he was trying to find the right words. “I’m not sure it’s right, you know?”

Andy glanced at Madi behind them, but her eyes were distant; he had a feeling she was checking in with Cheechee. He looked back at Omar. “Actually, I don’t. What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s the class description. Hang on—” Omar slowed his steps, and his eyes focused on the empty space between them as he read, apparently from a System message he had yet to dismiss. “—Warden of Cinerath: You are the guardian of the final flame, the light in the dark, the beacon that guides spirits home and kindles hope in the hearts of the living. Go forth into the unknown, carrying Cinerath’s blessing. She is your patron and will grant you strength and knowledge so long as you perform her good work.” Omar’s eyes refocused on Andy’s as he picked up the pace again. “You see?”

Andy tilted his head, once again struggling to understand what Omar seemed to think was obvious. “I think it sounds awesome…”

“Andy, I’m a Catholic, man!”

Sudden understanding dawned on Andy, and his eyes flew wide. “Oh! You think it might be, like, blasphemous?”

“You shall have no other gods before me.” Omar shrugged.

“Is a patron the same as a god? It doesn’t say anything about worshipping this, uh, Cinerath, does it?”

“No, but it talks about doing her bidding…”

“Her good work,” Madi said, apparently having been listening the whole time. “I don’t think God would mind something like that.”

“But it really sounds like—” Omar shook his head, lost for words.

Andy felt like he was out of his depth, but he tried to look at Omar’s struggle objectively. “When the Bible was written, we didn’t know about other worlds. I mean, if you believe in God, don’t you think he knows about these other worlds and people? I’m not an expert on Catholicism, but maybe you should think of Cinerath as, like, a saint or something. Or maybe she was just a good person who understood a lot of magic and did good things with it. Guiding spirits home and giving people hope? Those aren’t things anyone should feel bad about.”

“Pray on it, Omar,” Madi suggested.

He nodded. “I will.” After a few steps, he clapped Andy on the shoulder. “I appreciate you two listening to me. I haven’t accepted the class, obviously, but I feel better about the idea of it already.”

Andy returned the gesture, thumping him on the shoulder. “It doesn’t matter to me what class you have, Omar. You’re a good person and you have the heart of a lion. I’d welcome you by my side no matter what.”

“Me too!” Madi said, hurrying around to Omar’s other side and putting a hand on his shoulder. They walked like that for a while until the brush grew too thick and they had to separate to skirt a massive cholla cactus.

“Look at the size of those spines,” Omar said, gesturing to the little field of cholla pads on the ground beneath the big cactus.

Andy nodded, pointing with his spear toward the distant silhouette of a saguaro. “Everything’s getting bigger.”

“Hey!” Madi said, slowing her steps and staring where Andy had pointed. “Look at the sky!”

Andy smiled, inhaling deeply as he took a minute to appreciate what she’d pointed out. The sky was brightening in the east, and even as he watched, the bands of pink and orange grew broader, climbing up from the horizon and getting brighter as the sun slowly approached. “Sunrise, soon.”

“Gosh, it’s been so long since I watched a sunrise,” Madi said, her voice getting soft. “My mom used to sit on the patio and watch them while she drank coffee. She’d try to get me up to join her on Saturdays, but I never wanted to get out of bed.”

Omar stepped closer to her and nudged her with his elbow. “Your mom would be glad to know you’re watching this one.”

Madi sniffed, nodding. “Yeah. Can we pause a minute? Until the sun’s up?” She glanced at Andy.

“Was gonna ask you guys the same thing,” he replied, planting the butt of his spear on the ground and leaning on it.

Together, the three of them watched as the pink, yellow, and ochre bands of color spread over the eastern sky, and when the ball of bright fiery light finally appeared, it looked just like a postcard the way it lit up the hazy clouds like cotton candy. Madi sniffed; Omar sighed, folding his arms on his chest; Andy just soaked it in, wondering if he’d ever noticed something so beautiful before.