by Kyrja
Well, that was going to end here and now, she thought. She had a right to know where he was taking her. And maybe someone should be asking just what was going on. Too many questions without enough answers had led her to trouble before, but it simply wasn’t possible to not know any longer. And staying among such a large group of people was truly beginning to get on her nerves. There was a time when she would have thought being in the middle of so many people meant she was safer than when she was by herself. Of course, she’d learned the error of her ways where that thought was concerned and had a daughter to prove it.
She felt her stride falter at that unwelcome thought, then ruthlessly pushed the thought away. No, she told herself for the hundred-millionth time, she did not have a daughter; she had a sister. A sweet, beautiful sister that her parents were raising, just as they had raised so many before. She was safe and had everything she needed right where she was, to include plenty of water. Her sister Aidena thought the word aloud with utter – violent – conviction, didn’t need her interference in her life. What her sister needed was to be left alone. With her two parents. Both a mother and a father. Without interference from her older sister.
As Aidena climbed the dune in front of her, she noted she was almost to the top and wondered if she would be able to see Jarles from the crest of the dune, or if he had managed to outpace her. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been walking away at a pretty fast pace; and she’d been lost in stupid memories that were better off forgotten. Permanently.
“Perhaps you should slow down a little bit.”
The male voice, coming from in front of her, just as she made it to the top of the dune, startled Aidena so violently, she screamed, pulling her knife from her boot with one hand, while raising the other in self-defense across her face. Her heart leapt into her throat, choking off the scream, causing her to cough and her eyes to water. Holding the knife out in front of her at arm’s length, she sought out the man who’d spoken through a watery haze. Still coughing, she waved the blade around in front of her, squinting, determined to keep her assailant at bay.
“It’s all right young miss, it’s just me, Kerr,” the man said. Although she couldn’t be certain, given her initial contact with him, it sounded as though the man had taken a few steps away from where he’d first been. Either he was deterred by her knife and had moved out of her likely range of contact, or else he’d meant to startle her and now he’d moved back as if to deny the fact. Either way, she knew the man was giving her room to recover herself, and so she did, carefully wiping her eyes on her sleeves. She didn’t return the blade to its sheath though; she wasn’t quite ready to trust the grandfather of the heir of Amphedia.
“What do you want?” she asked, prolonging the need to return her knife to its place in her boot by continuing to wipe her eyes, even though she could see clearly again. As long as her hands and arms were still moving, she reasoned, she wouldn’t have to look like she was being suspicious of the man by keeping the weapon in her hand.
“I ask that you leave Jarles to himself for a bit longer, Miss” the man said, spreading his hands as if in apology. His demeanor was one of submission, not threat; his entire body was withdrawn into himself, his eyes downcast. And yet, Aidena felt as though there was some kind of coiled energy lying in wait for her within him. Some kind of dune cat in camel’s clothing, as the saying went. And how had he gotten in between her and Jarles to begin with? He shouldn’t have been able to have passed her without being seen. There was nobody else who had walked this far, this fast. There was rarely a reason to move at any more than a minimal pace, since the entire caravan was constantly instructed never to catch up with Jarles until the end of the day. He preferred to be alone, everyone was told. Or, he needed to have quiet solitude in order to feel the water beneath the sands. Consequently, everyone walked at a most leisurely pace – something else that drove Aidena stark raving mad.
“Look,” she said, spreading her own arms, but aware that with a knife in one hand, the effect wasn’t quite the same as the man’s apparent submissive attitude, “I just need to ask him some questions.” She nodded in the direction she assumed Jarles had gone. She could feel the water snaking beneath her feet as it seemed to follow him.
“No,” the man said, his face still a pleasant mask, but his body had become more alert. Even though he was thicker than most men his age, perhaps might even be considered plump, given that he was of the desert and not a water-fattened Puj’hom, Aidena knew this was a man with whom she was not likely to be able to negotiate. She could feel the power he held rolling off of him, as if his spirit was saturated with energy, kept in check only because he chose to keep it hidden and secret. She felt her internal hackles rise; this non-descript man with a pleasant smile on his face was dangerous. And he had his defenses raised against her. There was some reason he was choosing to keep her away from Amphidea’s heir, but why?
“But why not? Surely there have been plenty of others who had questions before me,” she reasoned, keeping her body language neutral, even though she’d stopped wiping her eyes and still held the knife in her right hand. Choosing her moment carefully, she put the blade back in her boot, as if it was of no consequence. “He must be used to questions by now,” she said, cocking her head at just the right angle so as to appear merely curious, not angry.
“Well of course,” the man Aidena knew was called Kerr said, placing his hands together as if in prayer and smiling far too largely to be sincere, “which is exactly why I must insist you leave him alone. There have been far too many asking far too many questions. Surely you must understand how tiring that can be.”
The smile on the man’s face was so sweet as to be sickening. He was obviously hiding something, Aidena thought. Then again, maybe he was just being a concerned grandfather. She should just walk away and leave Jarles be. She should just go back home and tend to her family. Wait a minute! That couldn’t be right! Did she actually think that? Aidena felt herself blink rapidly several times, processing the thought, then felt her eyes harden at she stared at Kerr. He had put those thoughts into her head. Those were thoughts she would never have had on her own. The wind-withered bastard was trying to control her mind! She felt her anger rise, the blood flash hot in her veins and her attention focus on the man’s eyes. She felt her pulse alter to one of pure fury beating a rhythm of hatred through her heart, and wondered just what she was going to do about any of it. She knew a moment of revulsion that she was helpless to right this wrong, but then let it go. There was no reason she needed to talk to Jarles. She had merely wanted to understand what in the name of Sov he thought he was doing, leading these poor, helpless people around in mindless circles. But it really wasn’t any of her business after all. She could walk away. She didn’t want to, no. That much was certainly clear. But if the only reason she wanted to stay was so she could win against the stupid man standing in front of her, then it was better to just turn away.
Aidena was certain every emotion and thought she’d just experienced had flashed across her face for Kerr to read, because she saw his own eyes soften as she decided she really didn’t have to talk to Jarles after all. She had one last brief thought that perhaps this Kerr had manipulated all of the thoughts she’d just had, but decided that it didn’t truly matter in the end, because knowing what Jarles was up to really, really wasn’t any of her concern; she was free to go and the others were free to do as they wished. She lowered her eyes once, briefly, in acknowledgement of the silent conversation they’d had, then, to pay him back for having invaded the privacy of her thoughts, Aidena sent a stab of energy towards the man, focusing her attention on the center of his forehead, between his eyes. She allowed herself the smallest of smirks as she saw his eyes widen, then turned to go.
As she took a few steps, the sand swishing over the tops of her boots on her way back down the dune, the pull of gravity causing her hips to sway with the burden of her body’s weight, she started wondering which direction she would head, and if s
he should start out immediately, or wait until the morning. She was about to decide she would have a hearty meal and fill her water skin tonight – she was sure Jarles would “find” water tonight – before leaving the caravan in the morning, when she felt an eerie stillness behind her.
It was as if the wind had been blowing forcefully, and then had suddenly stopped dead. She felt the quiet in the air immediately around her, in the lack of life force surrounding her. It was as if all the world suddenly became still, and time had stopped. She heard Kerr utter a strangled groan and then saw a glimpse of his cloak flapping as he swirled away from her, where he’d probably been watching her from the top of the dune. He had obviously abandoned his watch over her in favor of running towards Jarles. Aidena couldn’t imagine anything else that might make the old man run, other than some kind of trouble with his grandson. She stood very, very still, listening, wondering what was going on. She could feel an uncanny texture to the silence, then thought she heard Kerr hollering. Or was that sobbing? She was cresting the dune again before she even realized she’d started running.
The sight that greeted her eyes was strange in the extreme, and made her stop immediately. Jarles was standing in a pool of water – a pool she knew for absolute fact hadn’t been there just moments ago, when she’d had her silent showdown with Kerr. He was standing facing her, as if he’d been coming back from wherever he’d run off to. He was sunk down into the water up to his knees, as if the pool had some kind of depth. Jarles was standing there, with his arms bent at the elbows, his hands poised as if he was holding something between them. A basket perhaps? His head was cocked, as if he was listening to someone, or maybe listening for something on the wind. The expression on his face was one of anger, as if he was displeased with something he was listening to, or maybe something he could see. Whatever he was seeing though, had to be in some kind of vision; it was obvious he was not seeing his grandfather standing directly in front of him.
Kerr had his arms outstretched above his head, touching the air as if there was an invisible barrier in front of him that he wanted to get through in order to get to Jarles. He looked back at her once; maybe he’d felt her presence, or maybe he was just trying to determine if there was anyone around to help. His face registered anger when he saw her, then a kind of strange relaxation. Aidena recognized the look as one of resigned relief. The old man did not welcome her presence, that much was clear. But something about the way he looked at her told Aidena he needed her more than he wanted to admit. She watched as Kerr lowered his arms, opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, shaking his head just a little bit; he couldn’t make up his mind what he wanted her to do. The fact she wasn’t demanding he tell her what was going on, or running away in panic probably gave her a few points in her favor, she knew. But watching Jarles as his chest heaved with effort, his eyes narrowing in what was obviously anger, and being able to clearly see that his vision was focused on some other place was, she had to admit, raising the hair on the back of her neck. Still, it was fascinating to see, and she wondered what he was seeing, and if he even knew he was standing in water in the real world.
“I have to make sure nobody else sees,” Kerr finally told her, his face pinched with distaste at having to share this strange scenario with her. “Stay with him,” he said, his eyes glaring into hers, daring her to defy him.
“I’ll stay,” she said with as much confidence as she could muster, willing the old man to trust her. She wasn’t sure why this needed to stay secret from the others, but she was sure she wouldn’t care to have hundreds of people staring at her while she was having a vision either. At least, she assumed it was some kind of vision. But as she watched Kerr run back towards the great heaving, slow-moving, mass of people who had staked their very lives on the man standing in front of her, she wasn’t so sure. It was clear the old man had seen this kind of scene play out before, or he wouldn’t have reacted the way he had. Aidena wondered just how often Jarles had these kinds of fits. For all she knew, this was some kind of punishment visited on him from his patron goddess, Amphedia. But punishment for what? Or maybe he was going to turn into some kind of sea creature right before her very eyes!
Admonishing herself to at least attempt to remain calm and to keep her speculations somewhere within the realm of reason, she reached out to see if she would be able to feel the same kind of resistance Kerr had felt when he’d flung his arms against whatever unseen force had kept him from getting any closer to Jarles. Holding her hands out in front of her as if she was walking in an unfamiliar environment in the middle of night, she walked slowly forward.
She expected to feel some kind of invisible shield or block, something that probably felt as solid as a wall in a building. Instead, what she felt was a pulsating force running underneath her hand, when she finally encountered the barrier she’d seen Kerr leaning against. She felt her face crease in bewilderment, her lips forming a puzzled frown, when her hand touched the strange, invisible surface in the air. She initially pulled her back in a kind of shocked reflex, but immediately realized it was simply an odd sensation, not pain, so she didn’t pull too far away. She reached out again, feeling a tiny chilled blast of air touch the flesh of her hand; the surface was ice cold. She reached out in an arc with both arms, feeling the same bitter cold on both sides of her as she examined the air in front of her. When she purposefully laid her hand against the cold surface of the air though, she felt the pulse again. Almost as if it was a living thing. She closed her eyes, trying to decide what if felt like. Her eyes flew open again as she realized it felt like a curtain of water.
She’d heard of waterfalls, but had never really been able to understand what they must look like. She’d seen rivers and streams, lakes and the vast sea. But not a waterfall. Someone had tried to explain that they were similar to rapids, but Aidena wasn’t altogether certain she knew exactly what that was either, since most of the time she’d spent in the mountains – the only place she was likely to encounter water flowing quickly over stones - she’d been alone. It was possible she’d encountered rapids while she’d been traveling through Midbar territory, but unless someone who knew what they were talking about went with her, she doubted she’d be able to tell how big or fast a body of water had to be in order to be considered the thing they called rapids. All she knew was that it had to do with big stones and water rushing through them. It hardly seemed to her that a waterfall could be similar to anything she’d seen; a curtain of rushing water falling from the top of a cliff down to the bottom of a mountain didn’t seem like anything she would have been likely to have missed, had she seen it.
Still, the sensation under the palm of her hand had made her think immediately of the description of a waterfall. There was a definite pulse and rush to whatever was keeping Jarles away from the rest of the world. Movement. Power. And, somehow, even though her hand remained dry, Aidena thought it should be wet. Wiping the palms of her hands together, she stole another look at the man so many had named “The Savior.” He didn’t look quite so intimidating at the moment, she thought. No, even though he still looked like he was angry, or at least concentrating very hard, given the solid line of ridges across his forehead, with his eyes so empty, Aidena thought he looked rather lost.
She remembered the first time she saw him. Even though she knew he was near her own age, she had somehow pictured him as being older. A lot older, apparently, because he looked so young in real life. At least at first glance. But there was something in his eyes, when you looked closely, that made him look a lot older. As if he already had a really good idea as to what life was all about, and not much of it was to his liking. She’d thought he was merely arrogant, distaining the company of others during any given day, walking away from everyone else. But now she wasn’t so sure. If this was the kind of thing that happened to him with any kind of regularity – and his grandfather’s reaction was certainly an indication that whatever had happened to him, it happened a bit more often than he would like for it to �
�� then she couldn’t hardly blame the man for wanting to be alone. Who would want to be seen staring off into some vision, their every move scrutinized? And who knows what kind of panic that might cause? Or, Aidena thought, envisioning the entire caravan on their knees, or prostrate before their “Savior,” perhaps they might even start worshipping him as some kind of deity? She rolled her eyes then, at the ridiculous possibility.
It was kind of odd, standing there, looking at the man, with nobody else around. She could just look at him – really see him – without having to talk to him or listen to him or have anyone scrutinizing her while she was looking him over. She realized it wasn’t often anyone really got much of a chance to just look at someone unobserved, and wondered what others might think of her, if given the chance to really see her.
She felt her lips quirk as she realized Jarles really was more handsome than she’d first thought. It was nice not to have to feel embarrassed about the thought. And kind of nice to not feel as though she had to admonish herself thinking the man was handsome! How odd that the absence of anyone else observing her made her feel bolder than usual. It wasn’t often she allowed herself to think of any man without regret, anger, embarrassment or shame. Aidena thought she might actually like being able to think pleasing thoughts without berating herself for the simple fact of having had a nice one! It had been a long, long time since she’d allowed herself to have a kind or decent thought about anyone, or anything – including herself – without some kind of negative notion coming immediately on the heels of it. So, yeah, no matter that this man might be some kind of important person, or maybe even nothing more than a fake – who but the gods really knew for sure? – he was at the very least, pleasing to look at.
She noticed he kept his beard trimmed to a thin line along his jaw, and his eyebrows weren’t the heavy, messy kind with wild strands sticking out all over the place as if he had insects crawling around inside of them, like some men did. He wasn’t overly tall, nor short either, she observed; just kind of in-between everything. And his eyes were a startling blue, just like she’d heard. The blue against his tanned skin was particularly pleasing. Nor were blue eyes a sight one saw every day. She’d heard plenty of versions of his story since joining the caravan. Most would never agree on whether he was actually the son of Jonath or not, because of the fact of his blue eyes. And everyone knew Jarles’ mother, the Priestess S’ray, most certainly didn’t have blue eyes, so it was widely speculated there was no way Jarles could have been the son of Jonath. Not that anyone would dare to argue with his grandfather, Kerr, over the matter, she thought with an unexpected, decidedly loud snort.
