Title: And With These Words I Can See
Fandom: Vagrant Story
Rating: G
Length: 1500 words
Content notes: Canon-typical impending doom...? Sydney may be a priest, but he's known as a prophet of the apocalypse.
Summary: Sydney's speech while overshadowed by the gods' presence often inspires wonder in the eyes of those who listen. Far too often, Sydney sees something else along with it.

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When Sydney preached in the town squares and the meeting places, before the poor and oppressed, he did not prepare his words beforehand. He simply opened his heart, and listened for other voices. Sometimes he was not entirely aware of what his own voice was speaking, as the words were simply placed upon him; the message was of the gods, and he merely the messenger by which it arrived. He prayed that he would deliver it accurately.

Yet he remained self-aware, though overshadowed by the gods - for the gods were working in the hearts of those who listened as well, and the Dark brought him the murmurs of their wordless replies. The sudden understanding, the shock of something falling into place, the warmth of being assured that even their humble souls were of great worth... the yearning for more, the desire to approach Sydney afterward and perhaps even...

In Hardin's heart, he had heard it any number of times, and sometimes Hardin had spoken it aloud - even when it was entirely Sydney speaking, and only Sydney, he was an excellent orator. When the gods were guiding him, his speech was an enchantment all its own. This was borne out by the looks upon the faces of many when Sydney looked out over the small assemblage, standing before him in the darkness of evening, lit up with awe. Even Hardin himself, after years of listening to Sydney speak his prophecy and philosophy, still momentarily forgot himself at Sydney's words. In this secret encampment, where they had been welcomed, there was no need for Hardin to keep a watchful eye on those to whom Sydney spoke. Free to listen, Hardin likewise gazed at him in wonder.

For an ordinary man, speaking ordinary words, it might have been gratifying. If it were Sydney himself, the wonder would be all he saw in their eyes. But with the gods so near, the flow of time did not move as it should. Stopped up and coiled in on itself, stretching out into infinity, Sydney saw not only what was and what had been, but what was to come. Sometimes only moments ahead, occasionally many years in the future; oft enough it was difficult to tell.

It was rare nowadays that Sydney should find the chance to speak of the gods and his prophecies among those who were not already his followers. Beyond the harrying by the knights of the church of St. Iocus, there was a tremendous bounty upon his head, only somewhat lesser for those who followed him. It was unfortunate, for in years past, his preaching had been a particularly enjoyable aspect of his ministry. To find those who were lost and without hope, to see that hope come to shine from within as he spoke, to know upon sight of their face that this one and that one and this one as well would come to join the order of Müllenkamp as beloved brothers and sisters. To feel some of the same wonder that they felt, to be a part of the grand mystery...

Yet this time, he thought, after having answered questions and reassured and welcomed those who sought to learn more... This time, it might have been a mistake. It was safe enough for him to preach the ancient gods to a small community of those who, like themselves, lived outside the law, already having been dismissed or even harassed by the church of St. Iocus. Safe, yes - but perhaps it had been selfish of him, for he had missed it. When he had the chance once more, he had thought perhaps it was a sign that he should take it. It may have been, but even so...

Of course Hardin sought him out in the darkness of the woods beyond the small encampment when he noticed that Sydney was no longer beside the fires. Though it was not unusual that Sydney might seek solitude after such a divine occurrence, neither was it unusual that Sydney would welcome Hardin's company. As he tended more towards practicality than spirituality, Hardin had been pleased that so many, most with some experience at evading and even confronting the knights, had expressed an interest in joining them. When Sydney finally looked up, as the familiar footfalls drew near, he found that Hardin's eyes also still held a bit of that residual wonder.

But Hardin knew him well, and something about his mannerisms must have given it away, for Hardin's expression quickly grew more grim at the sight of Sydney's face. "...Someone among those who have chosen to come with us..."

Sydney barely stifled a bitter laugh, for someone would have been enough. "More than one." Never had he been willing to tell Hardin in whose face he had seen death, for Hardin might think to prevent it, and bring about his own demise - or more likely under the circumstances, Sydney acknowledged, that of another - by trying to protect them.

Therefore he could not tell Hardin that every single soul who desired to join their number that evening was fated to die in the service of Müllenkamp.

And what had he expected? These were not farmers and shepherds with difficult but full lives they were leaving behind, not elders who might find peace and wisdom in their remaining years, but fellow fugitives, seeking some purpose to their lives, possibly a measure of vengeance upon the authorities who had driven them into hiding. Besides, Sydney knew the time was drawing near. To add to their fellowship at this point was perhaps foolish when there was so little left beyond the final, fateful confrontation by which their world would be either saved, or destroyed. ...Or perhaps it was given to him to find more soldiers for the battle that awaited. And soldiers knew that some of them, perhaps many of them, would perish - but Sydney was no soldier.

Hardin had settled down beside where Sydney sat upon the ground, resting a hand cautiously on Sydney's back as Sydney let his head sink into his hands. There were many things in Hardin's heart that he considered saying, and did not, for they were the same things Sydney had told him before in similar moments. It must be part of the gods' plan to bring them into the fellowship, even if for only a short time. Perhaps it was better than a meaningless death that awaited them if they remained on their current path. For that brief time, they would come to know the gods, and they would be rewarded for their sacrifice. It was their own choice to follow Sydney, and he would not deny them the wisdom and purpose they sought. Though this time, he was tempted.

He would not interfere with the will of his gods, however - the will of their gods, Sydney reminded himself. "I suppose they must be needed," he stated, trying to reassure himself as much as Hardin, while Hardin lightly rubbed his back. "Else it would not have been laid upon my heart to speak. The gods would have had nothing to say to them - nothing that they needed to hear, nothing that would have moved them to come with us."

"Indeed," Hardin murmured. "Surely you spoke as the gods willed." For I cannot imagine anyone listening to such words as you spoke, Hardin's heart added silently, and not being moved to follow. Admittedly my perspective might be somewhat different, as I cannot imagine not following him...

"They will come to follow me," Sydney agreed, bitter and resigned. "They will come gladly, eagerly. Were I to tell them now to turn back - that in their eyes I see their deaths - I believe they would not change their mind. Their initial awe at my words is stronger yet by far than their faith in my prophesy. But soon, their wonder shall be washed away in blood."

"I am not so sure." Hardin's hand upon his back caressed more deeply. "I have been with you all this time, and still I find myself marveling when the words of the gods come upon you. And even if they were to know... they might yet choose to follow."

Hardin fell silent, but for the unspoken questions that lingered in his heart, drawn forth by the Dark and presented to Sydney. Hardin would not dare to ask aloud, but he had his suspicions of what Sydney might see in his eyes. He had chosen to follow nonetheless.

And indeed, when Sydney turned his head, the nearness of the gods still lingering, he saw Hardin's kind, weary smile stained with blood.

There was to be no sending Hardin away, as he might have tried with their newest kinsmen. He had tried with Hardin in the past, to no avail. Instead, Sydney blotted out the sight by leaning in to kiss him, forcefully, pressing Hardin back to lie upon the ground beneath him - continuing to kiss him thus until an entirely different sort of wonder shone in Hardin's eyes.