by Kyrja
She felt both of her arms suddenly fall to the ground, her muscles screaming in protest at the abuse they’d suffered while held away from her body behind her by the priests. Her neck snapped sharply as the knees of the man holding her head captive with her face in his lap shifted. She felt dizzy and disoriented. She felt like she was falling. Hurry! she whispered in her mind, praying the last of Jonath’s lifewater would be hers before she was forced to return completely to her body. Then it was done. Drena could feel the difference in the texture of Jonath’s face. There was nothing left of the man she’d loved other than a dried up sack of flesh and her memories. If she’d been in the desert, there would be celebrating to applaud her accomplishment at having performed the ritual. And friends to console her. Family to hold her close. Tears too. She would have cried and mourned and shouted to Sov and Lumas for hours, drunk on wine and ale and whatever her closest friends brought her, beseeching their favor for her lover’s next life. And stories. There would have been stories told of all the good and wonderful and funny things Jonath had done. There would be no enemies. No rancor or jealousies. Everyone would have been at peace for the traditional three days of mourning.
Instead, she felt herself suddenly jolted back into her body, her face still pressed at an awkward angle against the thighs of the man who’d held her head, her arms aching, her hands numb, naked and alone. Not quite alone, she thought, rolling to one side. She felt herself bump up against something warm and soft, but didn’t bother to look at what it might be. She could guess well enough it was the body of one of the priests. The other two were laying still, their bodies having fallen to the stone floor as they died. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them , looking to where the man who’d raped her had fallen, feeling her eyes narrow with a grim sense of satisfaction at seeing his naked body laying spread-eagle some distance away from where he’d knelt behind her. It looked as though he’d been shoved violently away from her by some giant hand. His eyes were open, but he was obviously not seeing anything in this world any longer. There was a small question Drena could feel niggling her consciousness in some small corner of her mind; some small inquiry as to what had happened to these men. How had they died? And what had caused the man to be thrown so far away from her? But she didn’t ask those questions. She was absolutely certain she didn’t want to know the answers. Somewhere inside her, she already knew this was a purposeful punishment to those who failed to heed Amphidea’s directives, but Drena didn’t really care. She just wanted to leave, to scour herself with the hottest water she could find, and then leave this place and all it’s strange ways behind. Far, far behind.
Closing her eyes, she drew a steadying breath, welcoming the numbness into her soul. She still had a long way to go before she would be free of this place. She could feel the difference Jonath’s water made in her own weight and wondered how her skin didn’t simply give way to the pressure, like an overripe melon. The way she felt, her fingers fat and clumsy, her feet and ankles plump, and especially her face; she felt like she must look like some very round ball, as wide as she was tall. She was, she had to admit, a bit disappointed that she couldn’t actually feel Jonath’s heartbeat pulsing inside of her now that she held his life’s essence. She’d known it was nothing more than a story; still, she had harbored a small hope within her heart and dreams that she would truly feel a separate beat reverberating through her skin. Or at least hear it in her mind, if she was very still and listened very carefully, like she was doing now. Foolish to feel disappointment, she knew. Still, there were stories of others who had; probably no more true than the silly bedtime tales her mother used to tell her so long ago. Drena exhaled again, wishing she was already back in the desert, surrounded by sun and sand and the stillness there. Even here, in this small stone room, surrounded by dead men, there were odd sounds and smells she knew she would never get used to.
She wondered how Chared had fared in his life among his insane brethren, then dismissed the thought. He was probably kept so drugged, or whatever it was these Puj’hom did to the young men who came to them out of desperation at trying to keep their sanity, that he probably didn’t even know where he was. Still, there was that strange vision they’d shared. If not for her brother, she never would have been able to claim Jonath’s water. For a brief moment, she wondered if Chared had escaped whatever had happened to the other Merlarns. There was a part of her that hoped he’d survived, but another that wondered if he wouldn’t be better off dead anyway. After all she’d seen in her time among these strange people, she was grateful she wouldn’t be required to live her life among them.
Drena opened her eyes then, deciding she’d spent enough time in this awful room. If she’d been born among the Puj’hom, or even the Midbar – the people of the mountains who lived neither along the shores of the sea, nor in the depths of the desert – she thought she might feel some empathy for the very stones themselves. The events of this day would resonate with wickedness for a very, very long time to come; shaped and mortared for the use of the people who’d made this building of them, they would be unable to move, or even reach their spirits out to the earth beneath themselves for decades. The stones would be polluted with the evilness of the Merlarns; much like she would be.
She let go of her knees, putting both hands on the floor, ready to leave. Jonath’s body meant nothing to her any more. She had, in fact, refused to look at him after claiming his water. She wanted to always remember the way he looked while he was alive, looking into her eyes with that mischievous, crooked smile on his face. As she put her hands on the stone, she suddenly felt the floor shift beneath her.
Jarles awoke with a start, as the sand beneath him suddenly gave way, just as it had in the dream? vision? of his mother. As his mother? Then there was no time to think or wonder anything at all, as he was sucked under the water and into the earth beneath the sea.
Chapter Eighteen – Secrets and a Tear
Standing at the crest of a dune, gazing at the stars to determine how much further they had to travel, Aidena spoke into the stillness of the night. “I am tired of him.”
Knowing Aidena couldn’t be speaking of anyone other than her own former mate, Kerr, Denit made a small noise of amused agreement before she turned towards the younger woman. “He didn’t used to be quite so pompous or annoying.” She could feel the sarcastic retort ready on Aidena’s lips, amending her statement with, “When he was younger,” then chuckled, adding, “much younger.”
That, at least, had earned her a short bark of amusement, and she smiled to herself. They’d been traveling together for more than three weeks and had another month to go before they reached the city. She wondered if the young woman would be able to keep all of her questions and concerns bottled up inside of her all that time, without exploding.
Aidena had shared the story of her upbringing and how her own daughter was being raised by her parents, to which she had merely shrugged, saying such an arrangement wasn’t so unusual. That seemed to put her more at ease, and so had her enthusiastic questions about what it had been like to have been able to ride such a monstrous beast across the desert. Aidena had not, however, remarked on the fact that her companions who had ridden the sea creature with her were unusual in any regard. Nor had she been able to explain how she’d been able to breach the invisible barrier surrounding Jarles when she’d fallen into the sea, nearly drowning. Kerr had all but had a heart attack when she had asked Aidena about that experience; he, apparently, thought he was one of only a very select handful who was aware of what had been happening to Jarles for most of his life. While her grandson’s immersion into a variety of water-filled locations wasn’t what she would call “common knowledge,” there were those who had been watching him for a long time making sure she knew about his welfare, especially when it came to any interactions with Amphedia.
“It’s starting to get chilly,” she said, “would you like to go back to the fire with me, or have you had enough of my company f
or today?” Denit made sure to keep staring out into the distance, giving the girl as much space as she wanted.
“I’m not too cold yet, but you can go if you want.” A first. Usually she preferred to remain by herself, making sure Denit knew it. Perhaps it was time.
“Have you ever seen an alqamar flower?” she asked ever so-casually, now turning to look at her.
“A moon flower?” she asked, her eyes wide. “No. I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never seen one.”
“Watch then,” Denit told her, lowering herself to the sand on one knee. Although her attention was on the sand, she knew Aidena remained where she was, only following her with her eyes, not yet ready to commit to being friendly enough to come any closer.
There was only a sliver of a moon in the sky above them, but she knew Aidena would be able to see the flower rising from the bare sand without her having done anything other than to have passed her hand over a small space.
“It’s beautiful!” she exclaimed, now on her own knees across from Denit. “I’ve never seen this color of orange before, or is it a light red?” She turned her face fully towards Denit now, so caught up in her enthusiasm, she’d forgotten to be angry, or to keep her at an arm’s length.
It wasn’t often that Aidena relaxed her features into anything more than a scowl, so it was a delight for Denit to see her smile. She’d held her eyes a beat too long though, so quickly lowered them back down to the flower saying, “This color is called coral, and if you look,” she said pointing at the still-growing flower, “you can see a few thin lines of purple on the petals, too. Isn’t it lovely?”
“Oh!” Aidena laughed, wrinkling her nose, “it smells a little bit like pepper! I guess I thought it would smell sweeter or something.”
“Here’s another,” Denit said, moving her fingers in a way that made it look like she was pulling the flower up from the sand on an invisible string.
“It’s white! No, purple. What color is it?” Aidena asked, obviously enchanted.
“I think it’s a little bit of both!” Denit laughed, reaching for the flower. “Would you like to have it?”
“Oh no!” Aidena protested right away, “Let’s leave it where it is, so it can grow.”
“Are you sure? It will be gone by morning.” She held her hand over the flower, waiting for Aidena’s decision. Instead of answering, though, Aidena abruptly sat down in the sand, lowering her head. Denit waited, watching the girl struggle with the thoughts and emotions she knew were pouring through her, wondering which question would come first.
“Why do you act so different when you’re around everyone else, but you act so … I don’t know … just nice” she said, exasperated “when we’re alone?” Now Aidena did look at her, to gauge whether she was telling the truth or not, she knew.
Denit sat down slowly, and began drawing nonsensical patterns in the sand with her finger, her own head lowered. Aidena waited quietly, not speaking into the silence Denit needed to decide what she would tell her. Taking a deep breath, she looked at her saying, “I’ve been different my whole life, Aidena, which is much longer than you might think. And, to tell you the truth, it gets tiring always having to explain myself to everyone, or being the subject of discussion everywhere I go. It’s not everyone who can make flowers grow out of the sand, you know,” she smiled softly. “So I decided to give them something to talk about. Something that would distract them from being afraid of me.” She looked directly into the girl’s eyes. “If they’re always joking and making fun of me, then they’re not as likely to run away, or be afraid to talk to me,” she finished with a shrug.
Aidena turned her head away and huffed in return. “I can feel the water under the sand,” she said quietly. “But nobody knows it.”
Denit raised her eyebrows in surprise, glad it was dark so Aidena didn’t see her, giving her a moment to compose a reply. “Well I’m not going to tell anyone,” she said after a moment. “You’ve seen the life my grandson, Jarles, lives. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”
“He has a nice smile when he isn’t frowning,” she laughed. Then her smile widened as she continued, “But I still don’t like Kerr. He’s always so nosey and suspicious.” Her smile faded into a frown.
“Ah, my dear, he’s just afraid he will no longer be important. Still,” she cautioned, “I wouldn’t be telling him your deepest, darkest secrets if I were you. If he can find a way to turn them to his advantage, he will.”
“Then I suppose I shouldn’t tell him I’m Siri Ventus’ daughter?” she asked, her eyes wide with what Denit knew to be sincere fear.
“Oh Aidena!” she exclaimed quietly, unable to help herself from holding out her arms to offer an embrace. To her surprise, the girl leaned into her, allowing her to hold and rock her as she cried. Through her tears, Aidena told Denit about the owl waiting for her when she woke up after the simoon. She’d spent the last three weeks trying to understand how she could be the daughter of the Goddess of Air if she could feel the water beneath the sand, and just how she could truly be her daughter if the goddess had used her mother’s body to conceive her. None of it made any sense, and she couldn’t even remember having been inside the storm, let alone stopping it. She was tired, angry, and confused, and tired of being all those things.
“A talking owl?” Denit asked, after the worst of the tears had passed.
“It wasn’t a dream,” Aidena stated flatly, her voice warning Denit not to dismiss her.
“Oh no, my friend, it most certainly was not,” she assured her. “That had to have been Oculis. The Goddess uses him to see, since she’s blind. Did he mention who your father is?”
“I … I never thought to ask!” Aidena realized, wiping away the last of her tears. “How stupid.” Now she was angry.
“I think you can be forgiven for not thinking of every detail after all you’d been through, Aidena, but I am going to take a guess that is either very educated, or very wild, and say you’ve just met your father.” She smirked, not unkindly, hoping her young companion would smile with her. “Not many people know he can also take human form. In fact, he has quite the reputation, although I can’t say whether he’s earn it or not.”
“Oh! Well, he did say he had a lot to tell me!” she shook her head, saying, “This just gets stranger and stranger! How am I supposed to even know who I am?”
“To be honest,” Denit said, patting her leg, “I’d say you are whoever you decide you want to be, just like the rest of us. And,” she shrugged, “if you can do some odd or interesting things along the way that the rest of your friends can’t, so what? Would you rather one of them was the daughter of a goddess?”
“Maybe,” she responded, but without conviction or anger.
“I know what you mean,” Denit told her. “There were a few years, when I was younger, when I sometimes wished someone else could have done the things I could instead of me.” She sighed, “But you’ll get used to it. And,” she paused for emphasis, “if you’re smart, you’ll figure out what you can do because of your … special parents … and figure out how to make the best of it.” With that, Denit leaned over, plucking the flowers from the sand, handing one to Aidena and fastening the other one behind her own ear.
Aidena looked at the flower, twirling it in her fingers, then looked at Denit, her face at war with which expression she should wear. In the end, simple curiosity won out over fear and she asked, “And what about these flowers?”
“You mean you want to know why I can do this odd and interesting thing?” she smiled.
Aidena pursed her lips, nodding.
“I don’t suppose it would really be fair to say I can’t tell you after all you’ve shared with me, now would it?”
“Not really, no,” she replied, and Denit could see her tensing, deciding it had been wrong to trust her.
“There are many things I can do that almost nobody else can because of who I am, including this small, but wonderful gift,” she nodded at the flower the girl still held in her h
and.
“Who you are?” Aidena asked the obvious question.
“Well, yes, I suppose that’s the right question to ask, but!” she held up a cautionary finger, “not because of who my parents were. Although,” she reconsidered, “I would imagine if I’d had parents other than the ones I did, I would never have become who I am now.”
“What do you mean by that?” She was becoming irritated.
“Be patient with me, Aidena. This isn’t something I’ve told anyone for a very long time, and it’s not easy to tell it now.” She paused again, not at all eager to continue. It seemed odd to be considering telling someone else the truth after such a long silence. She wondered at her own motivation, having always replied with a flippant remark about being a freak of nature or some such whenever confronted about something strange she’d done. At least those times when she had been asked about it instead of being accused of being willfully destructive, out of control, or a menace.
It would have been entirely possible to have simply been empathetic enough to help Aidena get to the point where she trusted her enough to share her own secret. Denit knew she didn’t have to share her story, and was on the verge of not doing so, when she felt that familiar sensation burning somewhere in between her chest and stomach and knew she was going to. That she had to.
“I’m not like you, the daughter of a goddess or god, so my … so the interesting things I can do aren’t because my parents were powerful.” She shook her head a little, as if remembering. “No, my parents were afraid of me when I was born.”
“Afraid?” Aidena screwed up her face in disbelief. “How can anyone be afraid of a baby? An infant? That doesn’t make any sense.”
