by Kyrja
* * * * * * * *
“Oculis!” Eruitt shouted, surprised. When he’d seen someone falling out of the sky, he’d thought it was Denit. While he hadn’t, personally, seen her transform into what everyone was saying was the form of a giant Firebird, it had still been easy to imagine just how big “giant” meant from their descriptions. He’d been able to tell the shape falling from the sky had wings, so had assumed she had been affected by the crystal embedded in her flesh, and had been unable to keep her “creature” form. He’d thought for sure he would find her lying on the ground, badly hurt, or worse. Instead, it was Oculis! Obviously, he’d been in human form instead of his owl form, but had been flying with his wings extended.
“What happened? Are you all right?” While he couldn’t say he ever particularly liked nor trusted the man, he wasn’t about to leave him lying injured on the ground. The last time he’d seen him had been when he had taken off after Afdal, hoping to outrace him to Midbar to find the crystal goblet before the other man got it. Thinking about it now, Eruitt felt like that had all happened a very long time ago.
“My arm,” Oculis groaned, trying to lift himself off of the offending appendage. Before Eruitt could reach him, though, two of the Fire Tenders had run ahead of him. Without saying a word, they looked at each other, then the older of the two – damn it, he still didn’t know their names! – laid his hands on Oculis’ arm while the other one held him still.
“No!” Eruitt screamed, running faster, terrified they were going to kill him. But before he could stop them, another of the Fire Tenders grabbed him from behind, holding him by both arms while he struggled to free himself.
“Don’t interrupt!” the man told him. “Setting bones is harder than healing wounds. Masu is helping him. Wait and you will see.”
“Healing?” Eruitt couldn’t believe it. “I didn’t know you could do that!”
“You didn’t ask,” another Fire Tender told him with a smile, walking past him to where the others were working on Oculis. This one was a woman. A small woman, who was older than most of the others he’d seen. He watched, no longer fighting against the man who held him, astonished. Now all three of them had their hands on Oculis, speaking among themselves, occasionally asking him a question or two. He heard the words “magic” and “wings,” and, he thought, the word “owl,” and then the woman actually patted his cheek and Oculis smiled in return. The man holding him let go, clasping his shoulder, saying, “You see? He is better now. There is no need to be afraid.”
Eruitt turned to thank the man with a smile on his own face, relieved that his worst fears hadn’t manifested after all. Instead, he was left with a sense of awe and wonder. These people, these killers, could heal people just by touching them! “Can all of your people do this?” he asked the man.
“No,” he said, his smile fading. “All Kasais, they can heal, but only a few of us,” he said, pointing at the handful surrounding Oculis, “can also heal. Mostly, we heal ourselves and our own families, but it is dangerous to let the Kasais know what we can do, because this is what they do. If we try to do it too, we are punished.”
“Punished? But why?” Eruitt couldn’t imagine being punished for helping someone else.
“You are not from here. This is our way,” the man told him.
“No,” the woman corrected him. “That is the Kasais way. It is Sov’s way,” she emphasized, then looked at Eruitt, explaining. “If a man and a woman both have green eyes, then all of their children should have green eyes too, yes?”
“I suppose so,” Eruitt replied slowly, uncomfortable with not knowing where her question was going to lead. He’d never really thought about it himself, so couldn’t think of a reason it wouldn’t be true.
“You would be wrong,” the woman said with a big smile on her face, as if she knew something delightful he did not. “That is not nature’s way. We are all always evolving,” she told him. “Plants, animals, and people too. So is it true with each of us,” she emphasized by gesturing at everyone standing around them. “Because my great-grandfather had brown eyes, I may too, even though both of my parents had green eyes. Because the mother of my great-grandmother was a Kasais, I might too have the ability to heal, even though my own magic lies in being a Fire Tender. Do you see?”
“If you ask a Kasais,” the man who had been holding him continued, “they would say it was Sov’s will, but if you ask another who is not a Kasais, they might say it was because of nature.”
“Or it may have something more to do with our blood than anything else,” another woman interjected, as two others nodded.
“In the end,” the old woman picked up the thread, “I have brown eyes and I can heal, even though I am a Fire Tender, no matter how or why.”
“Who are these Kasais?” Oculis asked. “And what is a Fire Tender?”
“Why are you here?” Eruitt asked, instead of answering, cutting his eyes to the others, while holding up a staying hand.
“Afdal – he’s here somewhere and is still trying to get the crystal,” Oculis told him.
“And you’re not?” Eruitt scoffed.
He watched as Oculis shook his head for a moment, a look of frustration stealing across his face. “Look, there isn’t anything I can say that will convince you otherwise, so how about if you just assume I am and make sure that I don’t get anywhere near it, while you help me find Afdal?”
“Huh,” Eruitt replied. “I’m not sure whether that’s a reasonable answer, or if you’re just saying that to make me feel at ease so I won’t be watching as closely as I should.”
“That’s on you,” Oculis responded, rubbing his arm
“Fire Tenders,” Eruitt said, looking directly at him, “are people who can kill you – take your life force from you – just by touching you.” He paused, spreading his hands to encompass everyone surrounding the two of them. “These are all Fire Tenders.”
“I see,” Oculis replied quietly, nodding his head. After a moment, he asked, “So where do we go from here? Do you know where he is?”
“If he’s trying to get the crystal, there’s only one place he can be,” Eruitt told him. “We were just going there now. Come on,” he invited, tilting his head forward and to the left. “We have to tell Giya what happened,” he sighed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she already knew, though. Let’s go.”
* * * * * * * *
“Pardon me, my Lady,” Tyran said, a little breathless from having run to catch her before she disappeared, or got busy with someone else. She dipped a small curtsy, determined to start off on a better foot with this goddess than she had with Amphedia. “Do you remember me from Midbar?” She was pleased when she saw Giya smile at her, but noticed that her eyes narrowed when she saw Afdal behind her.
“Tyran, isn’t it?” she asked, tucking her hands into her sleeves.
“Oh!” Tyran exclaimed, more than a little surprised she would remember her name, then realized she might remember her in less than a flattering manner from their last encounter when she had been doing her level best to keep more strangers out of their village. Strangers like Denit, she realized, sadly. She had been arguing with Amphedia, and had been sorely overmatched, too. “Yes, I … I came … well, that is …” she was feeling flustered now that she was finally here, uncertain where to begin.
“Why have you come all the way here?” Giya asked her, a gentle smile returning to her face.
“The crystal!” Tyran practically shouted, anxious now to tell her what she knew. “It has to be shattered.”
“Go on,” she replied calmly.
“I saw a … a vision where children were playing and … oh, it sounds ridiculous now,” she said, angry at herself for not having been better prepared. “The point is that there is this very old song, or chant, really, from here, from Nohoyo, and the children were chanting it in the vision, while they were passing around a “seed” that was supposed to be the crystal.” She stopped, shaking her head, knowing her cheeks were flaming red for
sounding so childish.
“Take your time,” Giya encouraged her.
“It’s really a very clever chant, meant to remind people, I think, about the fact that Sov has to die from time to time, but that he will always rise again, as long as the crystal is shattered.”
“Interesting,” Giya nodded her head, “and why do you think this song comes from Nohoyo?”
“Oh!” Tyran felt herself flushing again. “Because I … well, I interpret dreams, and … and … oh, this is so difficult to make it sound like it makes sense. If you were from Midbar, you would know that I am a Mezhdu …” she paused, looking at the Earth Goddess, wondering if she would know what that meant. When she nodded her understanding, Tyran continued. “Because of this, I have a certain gift. All of us do. That is, there are four of us who are bonded together, and my gift is reading dreams.”
“I would imagine there many people who are eager to learn what their dreams have to say,” she cocked her head, still smiling.
“No,” Tyran countered. “Not really. Or, maybe, it’s just me.” She sighed, exasperated.
“And what did your dreams tell you?” Giya prompted.
“It wasn’t my dream,” Tyran told her, shaking her head. “It was Ordan’s. He’s one of my bondmates. He … reads people’s emotions,” she explained, “but it’s more than that.”
“I understand,” Giya told her, “Go on.”
“A long time ago people from Nohoyo moved to Midbar,” Tyran told her, beginning to feel more comfortable now. “Many of our elders have dreams of … well … of this place,” she said, gesturing around her. “Ordan spent several days with one of them a few months ago, a woman by the name of Yujin. Her dreams were filled with memories of a childhood spent here, but she couldn’t have lived here, because she was born in Midbar, and so were several generations of her family before her. We’ve discovered this is more often normal than not, that our elders have dreams of a place where they couldn’t have lived.”
“You entered Ordan’s dreams,” Giya stated.
“Yes, because he couldn’t get that chant out of his mind, and he was beginning to feel frightened that the world was coming to an end.”
“And so it is,” the goddess sighed, a rueful expression on her face.
“In the dream, I met a child who was doing the ritual by himself, or maybe he could see the other children, but I couldn’t. He paid no attention to me at all. Until I decided I had seen all there was to see, and it was time to leave.”
“What happened?” Giya asked, obviously absorbed in her tale.
“The child, a dark-haired boy, stopped what he was doing and told me to seek out the Tadashi child for the missing verse.” At this, Giya suddenly straightened as her eyes flew open.
“And this vision is what brought you here?”
“Not at first, no,” Tyran shook her head. “It wasn’t until last night, when it happened again. The first time was months ago, but I was trying to connect with Ordan … “ she faltered again. “He was hurt, and I didn’t know how to help him. The others were too. All of them were!” she exclaimed, feeling the fear crowding in again. “All of a sudden, I started saying the chant again. Out loud. It was completely against my will,” she emphasized. “I thought he might be thinking of it again, but this was very different.”
“How was it different?”
“I could actually see the ritual taking place.” Tyran responded, remembering the sight. “Right in front of me, almost as if I was there, myself, taking place in it. I could see all of the children, and what they were doing, and I had a much clearer idea of what they were doing. I mean,” she paused, “I don’t want to say as if I absolutely know why they were doing it, but it seemed pretty obvious to me that they were re-enacting Sov’s death, and the rising of the new Sun Child. It was amazing!” she couldn’t help but to add.
“And why are you here?” Giya turned, looking at Afdal.
“The Tadashi child,” Tyran started.
“Please,” Giya told her, holding up a hand. “Let him tell me,” she said, nodding at Afdal.
“I saw the same thing,” he responded, standing up a little taller. “All of the children in a circle, with the crystal seed, and they were all chanting. Like her,” he nodded at Tyran, “I started reciting the chant as well. It unlocked memories I didn’t know I had. Or maybe,” he conceded, “they were memories of a dream. I don’t know,” he shook his head. “But I could feel everyone else who was affected by the vision too, so I found her, and we decided to come here. Together.”
“And do you know the missing verse?” Giya asked, raising one eyebrow.
“No,” he confessed. “But I am hoping that by touching the crystal, or maybe just seeing it, I will … remember? Or maybe it will tell me what to do. Maybe that’s part of the magic,” he shrugged. “All I know is that I had to come. There was just no choice. I just want to help.”
“I see,” Giya replied, her face neutral. “Well it’s not here.”
“What?” Afdal asked, confused. “But I was sure it had to be!”
“Then Sov will kill us all,” Tyran bowed her head, defeated. She had wanted to badly for Afdal to be right.
“No!” Afdal shouted. “We can’t just give up. We have to find it!”
“Find what?” Eruitt asked, coming around the corner, with Oculis and the Fire Tenders on his heels.
“Afdal!” Oculis cried a heartbeat later, as he saw who was with Giya. “Stop him!” But it was too late, Afdal had vanished in a flurry of Uchawi symbols, causing a bright flash of light to momentarily blind them all.
Chapter Twenty – Crystal Memories
Even though it seemed to take an eternity for him to get there, Siri knew Serat had sought her out with no delays. She could feel his presence as he’d drawn nearer, knowing the precise moment when his feet had touched the roof of the building where she had waited for him to return. And yet, he remained silent.
“I’m not sure I know what to say,” he spoke into the silence between them.
“Are you afraid?” she asked quietly. “I would be,” she paused. “I am. I am afraid.”
“I think I am more angry than afraid right now,” he replied with a sigh, then began to pace. “If you want to know the truth, I had always thought Sov might have been our father.”
“I know,” she replied. And she did. She had long known most of his thoughts. His coherent ones at any rate. He had kept looking for signs that he would one day be transformed into a Firebird. He’d even thought, perhaps, Oculis had been one in disguise and would eventually burst into flames. It was a childhood dream he’d held onto for hundreds of years, hoping he would be an amazing and unique creature in all of the cosmos. While he’d never been exactly jealous, he had often longed to be something more than he was. And now, he would be.
“What do you think they will call me?” he asked. “The people. Do you think they will name me something strange, or hideous?” he tried to laugh, but it came out as a half-strangled sob. “Oh Siri,” he cried, reaching for her. And she was there, right there, in his arms. He had missed her terribly. He’d never been strong enough without her.
“I will ask them to call you Raito,” she answered, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.
“Light?” he asked, his brow furrowed.
“You have always been the light in my life,” she answered, embracing him.
“I will look for you each night then,” he whispered in her ear, “and shine brightly on your dreams.”
“Help me to dream of a way to release you from this burden,” she smiled at him, pulling back a short distance to look at him. “I’ve missed you for so long, and now …”
“I will be nearby. Always,” he smiled back at her, touching her cheek with the back of his hand. “Good-bye Siri,” he whispered, lowering his arms and stepping back from her.
“I’ll see you in my dreams,” she said, feeling her lips tremble, wanting desperately to reach out and hold him tight. And then he was
gone.
* * * * * * * *
The image of her father as a young hatchling simply wouldn’t go away. Denit kept seeing him rise from the fire over and over again, as if time was rewinding itself, then moving a short ways forward, only to suddenly stop and begin over again. It was entirely possible, she had to admit, that it was her own fault she seemed to be stuck on this image. She wanted so desperately to think well of her father that seeing him as a youngling was probably the only image she would be able to conjure that didn’t also include the murder of hundreds – or thousands - of people. How did he go from a life filled with amazing potential to one filled with such fear that he had created an entire race of people just to slaughter so he would live longer? And would she do the same? She wanted to deny it, she did deny it, but was frightened she might end up like him – desperate to keep living. And would she rise again once this life was done, or did that ability only rest with him? She hadn’t been born a Firebird, she had been created.
I only lived one life, and it was a short one, she heard a voice whisper in the back of her mind. Jonath. Her precious, precious Jonath. Was I more precious to you because I died so young? she heard him ask, but couldn’t believe it was his voice asking such a terrible question. “You never had a child to call your own,” she told the voice, “so you can’t know what it’s like to love someone with the whole of your heart.”
I died so Drena would live to have our child, Mother. Of course I know what it’s like to love someone with the whole of my heart.
Even as she continued to soar ever downward, getting closer and closer to the planet, she saw the scene replaying in her mind’s eye with more detail than she would have ever wanted to experience. It was the crystal that was doing this to her, she knew, making her see with her own eyes how tenderly he had held the woman he loved - even knowing as soon as he had made love to her, he would die. The damned crystal! It was embodiment of the entire history of every man, woman, and child as they had lived out their lives since last Sov had risen from the dead. He had created this planet to hide it, and then had forgotten. And now she was reliving every moment of every person who had ever lived on the planet, the smallest of details imprinting themselves in her memories.
