Flash Fiction 08 - The Prayers

 The Prayers

This road into the Calli should have been deserted. Who was it then that approached him from his destination? Anton wondered. The man could have but one goal, and there were easier ways to enter Gharans.

"Turn around," Anton called when he was sure the other would not mistake his words. "You do not want to continue this way."

"Nor you," the other said with a sad smile. "I weep that you should have to endure what I have gone through to reach this point."

They stopped within the length of an outstretched hand to one another. "I am Anton of Gharans," Anton announced. "The path you are on leads through the Devil's own garden. No mission can be worth the hardships you face ahead."

"I am Solahd of Calli," the stranger said in his odd accent. "That which is behind you cannot be more arduous than what awaits you if you continue." He motioned to the territory behind Anton. "If that way lies the Devil's garden, behind me stretches the Devil's forgotten back alley."

Solahd's words were an icy dagger  to Anton's chest. Was it possible he had not already passed through the worst of his journey? He would pray the Gharan was lying, but this was not the place he wanted to bring God's focus. "What is your business in Gharans?" Anton asked.

"I wish to pray for peace between our nations," Solhad said, opening his hands to show he concealed nothing.

"That is my mission," Anton said with narrowed eyes. "Come, show me the fabled courtesy of your people and be my guide to your greatest city. There we can set an example to both our peoples and join in calling upon God to end our generations of fighting."

 Solahd smiled with a slight bow of his head. "All of my life, despite the war, I have heard of the beauty of the architecture of Gharans. My last wish is to gaze upon this grandeur with my own eyes. Take me to your capital where we can still play out your excellent plan. Afterwards, if this body still draws breath, I would be proud to show you my city."

The two studied one another in silence. Finally, Anton spoke. "So you, too, hope to draw God's focus."

"If our people agree on anything, it is that no race has ever benefitted from too much of the Divine's attention," Solahd nodded.

Anton stepped to the side. Solahd bowed low and continued past. "I pray you piety," Anton said. "And I for you," Salahd said.

God, observing this exchange, decided these two deserved closer scrutiny.