by Kyrja
“Good people!” they heard the voice outside the door again.
“That’s Chared.” They both turned to see Abalah sitting in a chair a few rows back from the altar, panting, as though exhausted. Or perhaps injured. Absorbed in her conversation with Sabbah, she hadn’t seen him get up, moving closer to them. Where were her sisters when she needed them?
“Yes! Chared.” That was the name she’d been searching for – the Chained Man.
“He’s quite insane, you know,” the high priest told them.
“Ah,” Kerr said, knowingly. “He’s a Merlarn.”
Batal made her decision then. “Help him,” she told Kerr. “If you can.”
* * * * * * * *
The moment Ramil stopped trying to push Eruitt through the crowd, he stopped moving. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. The man on the steps had just killed Savaar? How was that possible? Wasn’t Savaar a god himself? Maybe not, he reflected. Or, if he was, maybe there was some way to kill gods that he hadn’t heard of. That was certainly a distinct possibility. Now what were they supposed to do? He wondered if Jarles and the rest of their companions were somewhere in this … crowd of people somewhere. If they were, he wasn’t likely to be able to find them. His skills didn’t include finding anything in large groups of people; he was a scout and a hunter. He was used to being alone most of the time, and was way out of his element here.
He considered leaving Eruitt again, but something wouldn’t let him just leave the other man on his own, in this hostile environment. He had to get Eruitt out of here, but couldn’t very well knock him over the head and drag him. Or could he? Eruitt was screaming just as loudly as everyone else around them was. If only he could figure out why he wasn’t affected by the trance like everyone else was, he might be able to get Eruitt to snap out of it.
But what if he didn’t? What if the man on the steps kept Eruitt and all these people in his trance and set them to fighting against each other, or even hurting others who didn’t agree with what the man had done? Ramil closed his eyes, trying to make a decision. When he opened them a moment later, with no better idea in mind, he was surprised to see a woman standing in front of him, looking right at him.
She was obviously from the city, since she wasn’t wearing any of the traditional clothing Tuq’deb wore. If he’d seen her on the streets, he would have guessed she was a vendor of some kind. One that probably sold fruit and vegetables, the kinds of things that were good for you. She had a small smile on her face, but she seemed deadly serious. Earnest was probably the right word, Ramil thought. And determined. She held out her hands saying, “Wipe this on his eyes and he will wake up.”
Ramil had held out his hands by reflex, palms up. She smeared a handful of what looked like mud across his palms. Mud that felt very warm, almost as if it had been baking all day. He looked down at it, and when he looked back up, she was gone. He could see no evidence of her passing; nobody was being pushed out of the way as she moved through the crowd. She was just gone.
Looking at the mud in his hands, he shrugged, then did as she bid him to do.
* * * * * * * *
A scream erupted from Aidena’s mouth the moment Oculis let go of her. There was absolutely no way she could have prevented it. No time to even wish she hadn’t screamed. There was no time at all for any thoughts to go through her mind. No wishes. No regrets. No last moment thoughts of her daughter or of her name. She was thoroughly terrified. Nothing could have prepared her for this. Nothing. She didn’t even have the time to acknowledge she was going to die. Between one heartbeat and the next, she was simply no longer there.
Chapter Twenty-Eight - Transformations
Jarles couldn’t believe his eyes. Oculis was taking Aidena straight up. He had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Oculis wasn’t going to take Aidena anywhere, he was going to drop her. There was no way she would survive that kind of fall unless she figured out how to use her powers. Which, of course, was exactly what he figured Oculis was trying to make her do. Either that, or he had decided she wasn’t ever going to use her powers, so was purposefully trying to kill her.
He wasn’t aware he’d been chanting “Be the air! Be the air!” until Easif said “Why don’t you be the water and catch her?”
And in that one bright, shining moment, everything came together for Jarles in a burst of insight. Not once, in all the times he had been immersed in lakes, rivers, seas, lagoons, and so many other bodies of water had he ever thought to become water. Not once. He’d been so busy denying Amphedia he had failed to see what was his true birthright. Regardless of whether he ever wanted to rule the seas, he could become water. His stumble just a short time ago was adequate proof he could do exactly that. He’d never even tried! Not even when Amphedia had given him such an obvious clue when she had kidnapped him from the desert and taken him to the sea. She had told him how she’d done it, but he hadn’t paid any attention whatsoever, stubbornly refusing to listen to her. He had never wanted to learn anything from her, or acknowledge her in any fashion because he had never trusted her. He didn’t regret not trusting her, only failing to see what was right in front of him all of his life.
He could feel questions and doubts nagging at him already: What if he couldn’t? Or what if he could only do it by accident? Or not all the way? How was he supposed to do it anyway? Why hadn’t Amphedia ever shown him how to do it? Or even Savaar? What if he couldn’t change back? Forcefully pushing those thoughts and fears aside, just as he would counsel Aidena to do if she was the one trying to test her powers, he inhaled deeply through his nose as he lowered his brow with determination. He could do this and he would.
And yes, he could hear Aidena’s scream now, so there was no more time to waste. Holding his hands up, with his palms facing towards him, he willed them to turn to water, as he stretched his arms out towards the sky.
* * * * * * * *
There! After all these long, long years, Amphedia felt the signal she’d been waiting for. Jarles had turned himself into water. She felt a deep sense of relief he had finally proven himself worthy of being her heir. She had begun to despair long ago, but now that the moment had arrived, his true lessons could begin. She allowed herself a moment of sorrow though, for the fact she would even require an heir. A replacement. Someone who would follow after her. Unless, of course, Siri Ventus had lied and she’d never actually seen her death in the crystal goblet. But no, deep in her core, she knew the truth of the matter. If she was smart, she thought yet again, she would simply leave this small world behind before she was too weakened to be able to do so. That time hadn’t yet arrived though. She smiled to herself then, knowing she still had time to create mischief and mayhem before her time was done. As Siri Ventus was about to find out.
* * * * * * * *
Groaning, Eruitt doubled over, holding his head in his hands, the intense headache he felt behind his eyes coming from out of nowhere.
“Are you all right?” he heard a voice ask. A male voice. Wincing from the pain, he tried to remember who the voice belonged to, but was unable to open his eyes for fear of causing more pain.
“Come on, let me help you,” the voice said, laying a hand on his shoulder.
That’s when he became aware of the chanting and shouting around him and felt a cold jolt of fear bathe his body. What was going on? And why was he standing here in the pouring rain? He realized he didn’t even know where he was, or who he was with. Jerking his body away from the man’s hand, he tensed.
“Who are you?” he asked, hating to make himself vulnerable by revealing his ignorance, but failing to see another way to extract the information he needed before he allowed someone to lead him away from what sounded like a violent situation. Had he been injured? With the way his head was hurting, it was impossible to tell if someone had given him the headache by knocking him over the head with something. He wanted to raise his hands to his face to check for blood, but wasn’t sure if that would make him even more vulnerable than h
e already was.
“Who …? Ramil. I am Ramil.” Eruitt noticed he’d raised his voice to be heard over the shouting. “You were taking me to find Savaar. Can we get out of here before something happens? Or, at least get out of the storm?”
Ramil. Savaar. Oh! And Chared – on the steps! Eruitt immediately understood where they were, but not why he had such a terrible headache, or why everyone was shouting. Feeling safer, now that he had a better idea of where he was and who he was with, he relaxed a bit, raising his hands to wipe his face with relief. The cool rain felt good on his cheeks, but what was covering his eyes. Mud?
“What is this?” he asked, panicked. “What did you do to me?”
He rubbed at his eyes, feeling the mud change into dried sand as soon as he touched it. How did it go from wet to dry in this weather? In another moment, the headache lifted, and he could see again. He kept rubbing, gently now, to make sure he got it all off before opening his eyes. Blinking rapidly, he saw Ramil’s face right in front of him, a worried frown creasing his brow. He took a deep breath, then exhaled loudly.
“I’m all right now,” he said with obvious relief, and was pleased when Ramil smiled back at him.
“What happened?” Eruitt asked in bewilderment, unsettled by the sight of everyone around him staring at Chared on the steps to the temple, shouting Amphedia’s name.
“I’ll tell you when we get out of here. Come on!”
This time Eruitt didn’t hesitate when Ramil clapped him on the back.
* * * * * * * *
“No,” Savaar said. At least he tried to say it. He wasn’t sure if he said it loud enough to be heard though. He’d been able to hear everything Batal and Sabbah had said, but had been unable to respond. Sabbah! It had been a long, long time since he’d seen his brother. He couldn’t believe his mother had brought them both back to life in human form, all the time unaware of who they really were. It was cruel, really, and there were still times when he wanted desperately to go back to his life before being awakened. Of course, if he’d been a human man, he wouldn’t have come back to life each time he’d been killed during the war he’d been fighting for the past several years. There was nothing he could do about any of it now, though. He was here, and he was Amphedia’s true son. Which meant, given time, his body would be all right. As an immortal, the only one who could kill him, either temporarily or permanently, was his mother. Perhaps another god could too, he considered, but he’d never had another god successfully kill him. Yet.
And Sabbah should know that. He’d been dead enough times to know he would be all right in just a short time, if left alone. Or maybe he’d forgotten? Savaar tried to think, but there was so much noise, it was hard to hold on to his own thoughts. Maybe Sabbah hadn’t used his tear to transform yet, so didn’t remember everything? He certainly hadn’t understood why he kept coming back to life when he’d died each time during the war. He hadn’t even wanted to think about it, ignoring the shock of being alive when he had known he’d been dead.
Still, Sabbah wasn’t to be trusted until he’d had a chance to get the measure of him in this life time. He didn’t want his brother touching him. Especially not with a Tear in his possession, and not until he was fully healed.
“Stop!” he heard Batal say. Firmly. With command.
“Don’t worry,” he heard his brother tell her in soothing tones, “it won’t take long.”
“I said to stop,” Batal told him, a warning in her voice.
“He’s my brother,” Sabbah protested.
“Do you think me ignorant of history Sabbah?” she asked, her voice rich with anger. “Do you even know how many stories are told of the children of Amphedia?”
“Really?” Sabbah sounded as if he was fascinated to Savaar’s ears.
“Think about where you are, Sabbah. This is Amphedia’s own city, here by the sea. Do you not know how much lore and history each child is required to learn before we can offer ourselves for service in the temples? And those that are accepted go on to learn more about each of you for the rest of our lives.”
“I had no idea,” he answered.
“No,” Savaar said, opening his eyes. He wasn’t yet fully recovered, but would be shortly. He was whole enough to fend for himself now. “But you lived in the desert for a long time in this life time, so it’s understandable why you wouldn’t know,” he said, sitting up under his own power. “What I don’t understand, though, is why Amphedia would tell Chared to kill me, knowing I wouldn’t die.”
“Perhaps mother didn’t tell him to,” Sabbah said. “Maybe it was his own idea.”
“Maybe he really is insane,” Batal suggested. “It is a common occurrence with the Merlarn, you know.”
“Lord Savaar!” Abalah greeted him, standing up, then moved closer to the altar and bowed.
“It looks like we’ve had a change of plans, Abalah,” Savaar said, nodding in Sabbah’s direction.
“Yes my Lord,” Abalah bowed again. “I cannot say I’m not disappointed, but we welcome you Lord Sabbah.”
“Come on,” Savaar told them, “let’s go find out what Chared is up to and find out what we have to do about it.” He stood up, stretching his arms and neck for a moment, feeling much better. “You’d better go get the rest of the priestesses,” he told Batal. Jarles should be here any time now, and we’re going to need them.”
“I would rather stay with you,” she raised her eyebrows meaningfully. Savaar understood her reluctance to leave him alone with his brother, but there wasn’t anything she would be able to do if Sabbah really meant him harm, other than to get herself killed in the process.
“We need those priestesses,” he told her again.
“Yes my Lord,” she said, frowning, but did as she was bid, walking down the steps, then taking a right to leave by the back door instead of the front, where Chared was.
“Shall we?” Savaar smiled, holding out a hand to invite his brother to proceed him down the steps.
“I think not!” Sabbah said, suddenly pressing his Tear to his own chest, instantly transforming his human form into a much larger version of himself made entirely of water. “It’s time for you to die once and for all!” And with that, he shoved the whole of himself into Savaar, causing him to fragment into millions of drops of water, drenching the interior of the temple.
Chapter Twenty- Nine - Broken
Oculis had transformed back into an owl as soon as he dropped Aidena. Maintaining wings large enough to support a human body was much more difficult than being in his natural form, although it had been thrilling to fly as a man instead of as an owl. There were a hundred things that were different between the two experiences, including how to balance each kind of body, and Oculis knew he would be doing it over and over again until it felt natural. For now, he was satisfied with the results of his encounter with Aidena. He hadn’t expected her to disappear, of course, but anything was progress that didn’t include her having fallen all the way to the stones and dying a most-gruesome death. He had every confidence she would be furious with him when next they met, but he would use that anger to mold her into his own ally. He shrugged mentally, and if not, there was always their daughter, Nieva. He would have to remove her from Siri’s influence sooner rather than later though. The child was becoming far too attached to, and enthralled by, her grandmother, and he didn’t like it at all.
Speaking of grandparents, Oculis frowned watching his own grandson, Jarles, as he retracted his arms made of water; his noble rescue no longer necessary, since Aidena was no longer falling from the sky. He would have preferred Jarles had remained ignorant of his ability to transform into water until a later date. Oculis had planned on helping him “discover” that particular talent.
Since he was certain Jarles and his companions would not welcome him among their group at this moment in time, he turned towards the beach and Siri Ventus. He had hoped to be able to endear himself to Jarles once Aidena had embraced her powers, but that was obviously not going to happen no
w. Although Oculis was fairly certain Jarles would probably not have approved of his methods to awaken those powers, he was sure that if Aidena would have sprouted wings, or transformed into a whirlwind, or had demonstrated some other obvious manifestation of her powers, she would have welcomed him into their circle of friends, no matter what the others had to say about it. She was, after all, his daughter, and must have at least some of his own tendencies and attitudes.
He would have preferred to stay with or near Jarles to gain his confidence and friendship, both of which he would need if he was going to influence his grandson in the future. Instead, he flew through the turbulent storm, towards the beach and Siri Ventus. She had, undoubtedly had a hand in Aidena’s disappearance. Although things weren’t turning out as he had hoped – damn that unresponsive crystal goblet! – he was confident he would still come out on top. He had a few more tricks up his sleeve he had yet to play.
* * * * * * * *
With his face turned up to the sky, Chared smiled to himself as he watched Oculis fly away, returned to his owl form once more. He welcomed the feel of the heavy rain against his skin. What was rain, after all, if not water? And what was he, without water? Nothing more than dried bones. He closed his eyes, briefly, willing all those who were gathered around him to turn their faces to the sky with him. They weren’t chanting as loudly now as they had been a short time ago. Indeed, the furious shouts had been reduced to a comfortable murmuring as they all awaited Amphedia. And she was coming, Chared knew, as was Jarles.
Savaar, he was sure, would be recovered to himself by now. He’d been afraid, when he’d seen the blood on the sword turning to water, that it was too soon. That Savaar had recovered too quickly. But he should have known better. Chared knew he should have had more faith. He shouldn’t be so vulnerable to his fears and assumptions. He had worked hard to overcome them, but still allowed himself to give in to his fears far too often. That would change soon though. Savaar needed to be restored to himself at just the right time, and he would be, Chared was certain of that much, at the very least. Savaar would be restored just in time to stand judgement in front of his mother, the Storm Goddess.
