The Barren Land
The Shepherd, Book I
A Novel by Jeffrey B. Linn
All Rights Reserved

Chapter VI

If it were a dream, I prayed I would never awaken. With my eyes still closed I could sense everything. The air, incredibly fresh, perfumed with alyssum and intoxicating wafts of baking bread. Far off sounds of bovidae livestock grunts and the methodical tink of a smithy's hammer. The squeak of a well winch suddenly nearby. I opened my eyes, and beheld blue within blue.

"Within these walls even the sky looks redeemed," came a thoughtful voice.

I turned to behold a young woman garbed in draped muslin, with brown skin and bare feet. She set her bucket on the rim of the well.

"We put down some hay last night and rolled you on top of it." she giggled, "You so wanted sleep."

"We traveled a night and a day when we heard of your need," I riposted.

"We are grateful of it," she said, suddenly grave. "Our intercessors had almost succumbed until your mentor joined the fray from the hilltop."

"I could stay here forever," I said, scanning the village enclosed within the fortress. Flower gardens graced the courtyards of stone mansions. Hanging vines dripped clusters of grapes off balconies of marble and carved beech. It was a paradise incomparable to any I had ever seen.

"You will certainly not stay." Her aspect was now even more somber. "You will complete the task which the Shepherd gave you."

"Does the whole world know of this!" I spluttered. "Who am I that I should be so called upon! Must it all rush headlong into--into--whatever it is!" I turned away, surprised and embarrassed at my sudden emotion. I struggled to rein it in as my body shook against my will. "I cannot bear the responsibility which has been laid upon me."

"You are not the plan, only a part of it," she pronounced evenly. "The task is not yours, but his to do through you. When you have given up on yourself, then you will be able."

When I turned to look at her her expression had softened. She unhooked the bucket and turned and walked with it down the path. "You cannot escape the call," she said, hefting the bucket onto her shoulder. "I know. I am a prophetess."

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