At dawn on the tenth day of battle, King Hembla entered the temple as he had on every other morning of battle.

 

The heat of the sun had not yet arrived, yet he was already sweating in anticipation. He had hardly slept the night before. Over nine days he had led his men toward victory, each day gaining ground on the army of Tithes, each day Hembla himself slaughtering more of the enemy than the day before, and more than any other single soldier save his son.

 

He professed to Shebsam the priestess on his knee, “I fight this battle for god and for god only. Lord, may our victories be by your hand and may our spoils be granted by your word only.” To himself he whispered the prayer of his people of Lahem. “The Lord himself and none other is the decider of fates. I am clay in your hands my God.”

 

Shebsam began the hissing and shaking of her trance.

“What words has Lord to guide me, priestess?”

“You have fought bravely and fiercely for me my child. You demonstrate your faith in me in your actions. Your enemy is disgraced and all but defeated. Today will be the decisive day, as you have perceived. So I shall test your faith against the greatest of your enemies.”

“Shall I follow my Lord’s particular wishes on the battlefield on this day?”

“Today you shall not fight on the battlefield. Today you shall sleep.”

“My Lord, excuse me? I cannot sleep—” King Hembla collapsed onto his side in deepest slumber.

 

When he awoke it was night time, the only light the fire in the temple centre. He found the priestess nowhere within the temple. Outside on the steps of the temple she sat overlooking the city as it burned. King Hembla could scarcely breathe.

 

“You are safe here for now,” said the priestess. “The enemy will not approach the temple yet.”

“What is this? Am I dreaming?” asked the king.

“Are you?” inquired Shebsam.

“I am awake,” said the king. “But how can my city burn? The enemy was broken.”

“You slept. The enemy rallied.”

“This is the work of the Devil!”

“It is the Will of God.”

The king drew his sword. “How can you say that??”

“The Lord wanted you to understand sleeping and dreaming.”

“Sleeping and dreaming?? How can that help my people??”

“Do you understand sleeping and dreaming now?”

“This is all a dream! This cannot be real!”

“So you understand.”

“I understand nothing!”

“Then the Lord is still testing you.”

“Where is my son? My queen? My men?”

 

“Gone most likely.”

“Gone? Dead?”

“Maybe they are alive and you are dead.”

“You speak in riddles??”

“It is the Lord who speaks in riddles, not I.”

“Tell me I am still sleeping.”

“The Lord has tasked you with determining this. I can no longer help you here. The Lord poses riddles of his own to me. In the darkness of night, look for the fire of the Lord within you, the fire of all understanding.”

 

Acrid smoke on the still night air drew a curtain of silence over King Hembla’s senses, and he could hear only his own beating heart.