Men did not rule on Deloran? What about the divine law? Had there been no judgement there like there had been on earth? How were they not punished for defying the divine laws?
I looked at him, knowing he would have the answer.
“This divine law you speak of, what is it?”
“I did not speak of it just now” I said, still smarting from his harsh tone before. “You read my mind again”.
He looked at me, evidently expecting me to go on.
“It’s a law taken from the first chapter of the New World Faith Holy Book; females were created from males as helpmates and servants”
Khalashaya coughed and was then silent again. His expression was impassive. I decided to continue.
“We were crafted from the rib of Adam as an appendage, not as beings in our own right. The Old World had women acting as equal to males; this angered God so much he destroyed the world, leaving only a few behind so that they would follow his way”.
“So that’s the divine law, women are nothing but servants? They’re not people?”
“Essentially…yes”. I felt ashamed all of a sudden. I had never spoken of this before, not even with my father except for the few times the discussion had ended with an argument. I was speaking of the divine law to a man who professed to be from another world as if it were…just a local custom, not the law of God, the sacrosanct truth that governed the lives of all men and women in the New World.
I wasn’t sure I could stomach this talk. Khalashaya gave me a look that suggested he was not about to release me from my discomfort anytime soon. A knot of apprehension twisted my stomach painfully and I shifted uncomfortably.
“I’ve heard things about your God, about love, peace and forgiveness. How do you equate that with what women here are forced to endure?”
I had wondered the same thing through the years of my difficult life and many escapes from certain death. I remembered my mother’s stories about Jesus and his wonderful ministry. Jesus had been full of love, fire and forgiveness. Jesus had been kind to women.
“The divine law is taken from the first chapter of the book; the Holy Lord Jesus does not enter it until halfway through. Our whole society, across the many defender colonies has been built on the laws of this book. It’s Mankind’s desire to avoid the mistakes from leaning on the second half of the book, mistakes that led to the destruction of the sinful Old World. We follow the tenets of the first half, creating a New World that is pure and holy, pleasing to the eyes of God”.
“You…believe this? You sound like you’re reciting from a book”.
“Of course I do. It’s been my whole life, it’s my faith in the goodness and kindness of Jesus that” I broke off, he did not need to know the next thing I had been about to say, that my mother’s stories about Jesus had helped me endure her murder and the unspeakable things that had happened to me afterwards as punishment to my father. I realised I was staring into space at the thought of the old pain.
A hand on my forearm, Khalashaya was looking at me with curiosity on his face.
“You…accept your role in this world?” He then smiled wryly; perhaps knowing of what I had done on the late night excursion he had followed me home from.
I opened my mouth to say what I had repeated to my father my whole life, that I agreed in preserving the laws of the Holy Book and that my place was not even that of a servant. Men could be servants to those higher than them; women were…nothing, less than nothing.
We had no place in the ground to be returned to the earth and the circle of life after we died and we had no place in the stars with menfolk.
I thought about it for a second before coming to my conclusion, women were the shamed empty temptresses that led good and holy men astray and had done so throughout the history depicted in the Holy Book. The only respectable place for a woman in my world was in her husband or father’s home; cloaked in shame and a desire to please and obey.
I had never accepted this; yes I had lived in my father’s house and learned divine law. I had even watched as my mother was murdered. I had been powerless and weak, useless in my shame and subsequent degradation.
But had I not fought back? After the brutal and senseless death of my mother and my father’s compliance in it had destroyed any fleeting sense of security I might have had I had decided to help my fellow untouchables. I had sought forgiveness for my complicity and forgiveness from a God that I had always been told hated and despised women for their equality in the Old World.
I felt Khalashaya’s emotions touch mine and knew he could see what I now saw in my mind.
I was in my father’s house, feeling tears prick my eyes at the emotional and physical pain that eviscerated my insides; tears that I must never shed. My heart had been broken in an irreversible way like my body had been.
In front of me, laid out on a table was the covered corpse of my mother; murdered after my father had had a disagreement with one of the Defenders. To pay him back for his disrespect, the Defender in question had decided that his wife must die.
She had been so beautiful and so loved and now she lay a corpse, resting on the table and covered with a sheet. Only the knowledge of my duty kept me from going mad, from howling my grief at the stars, at a God that had let this happen.
Executing a man’s wife usually meant that compensation was paid so that the man could find another bride and pay the required marriage price to the father.
My father’s punishment was that he was denied this; meaning that his search for a replacement wife would be fruitless until he could raise the funds himself.
To add insult to injury, the defenders – in accordance with tradition – had left the body in the house to collect the next morning; a tradition that was usually adhered to when women died of natural causes at home; not after an execution.
I had cleaned myself up, composed myself and then washed and dressed the corpse of my mother; staying by her side until she was removed and cremated the next morning.
The grief and unspeakable horror of what I had witnessed had scarred me for life.
A touch from Khalashaya brought me back into the present.
“It was, long ago?” his voice swam around me ears and it took me a second to realise what he’d said.
“Three twelvemonths” I replied. An eternity, yet only a week ago as far as my memories were concerned.
He looked at me, emotion in his green eyes that didn’t spread out to his face.
“I’m sorry”.
I felt tears prick my eyelids; I was well and truly alone in the world.
My voice broke as I said:
“Thank you. You should know that I never accepted my position in this world. I never have”.
“I know”.
When he left I fell asleep almost immediately.
The dream was even more vivid and atmospheric than before.
I was standing beside the river like I usually was in the dream; my feet were buried in mud and the reeds that surrounded me poked through the thin material of my dress, a garment I would never ever wear in the waking world. My clothes consisted of serviceable tunics and woollen trousers when I was in the house; far different from the simple dresses worn by most women. I of course had to dress the part when working in the library.
Although I was still alone, the sound of the voices on the far side of the river was even stronger; the melodic singing washing over me like waves of colour in the green inky gloom and touching me. I doubted there was any part of the inner me that wasn’t scarred like the scales of a dragon. However, if there such a soft and pure part did exist, this song would reach it.
I could pick out individual voices, some high and penetrating and others low and booming. I, as always, felt soothed and comforted. I was home.
Deloran
Pain stabbed my body like needles and I knew with a feeling of dread that my mysterious weakness had returned.
I tried to scream but couldn’t even find the strength to open my mouth.
<
br /> An inky black presence draped the air like soot and I could sense something coming, screaming…it was coming through the walls, phasing through each crumb of the stone like acid rain; melting…burning…and I was utterly defenceless against it.
My door burst open, Khalashaya was there.
I was swept up in his arms and knew no more.
I was weightless, feeling myself floating upwards and feeling freer than I had ever felt…oh, it was exhilarating.
It was beautiful. I longed to stay in the dream, away from the horror and pain that had turned my life into a quagmire of blood. Oh what it would be to just ascend, to give up, to not have to feel anymore. To not have to pretend I was stronger than I was.
I was shaken awake quickly and realised I was lying on long grass. Khalashaya stood over me, his expression concerned. I realised we were in the same forest we had visited before; only that somehow I had slept through the night.
“We only just escaped with our lives”
“What”-
“Well we got away. Our dark friend decided to stage an attack last night; I got us away, but at great personal cost”.
His face looked strained, as if one or two more lines had been etched into the skin.
“What happened to me? Did it injure me somehow?” it was a logical conclusion to come to; the other time I had experienced that awful weakness my father had died. Maybe the creature had an energy sapping effect on me.
I noticed Khalashaya had gone quiet.
I sat up and looked around. We were outside Zafiya; I could see the city walls in the distance and see little specs that must be people going about their business. I automatically shrank back, drawing my clothes around myself. except for our forest trip, I had never been out of the city.
I knew that the ancient city, like the others in the Defender colonies, was surrounded by wild, impenetrable forest.
Khalashaya suddenly did a very strange thing. With no word or look to me he manoeuvred himself into a crouching position; stretching his arms before him, he crouched as low to the ground as he could go.
Then the muttering started. At first, I wasn’t sure whether or not the sound was just in my head. Then I realised that Khalashaya was projecting his mind onto mine once more.
Our surroundings disappeared suddenly and we reappeared where we had sat and talked on the fallen tree trunk the day before.
Khalashaya carried on muttering,
“Stop!” The wind picked up and I felt frightened, fear heavy in my stomach. What was he doing? Then I remembered that this was where the ancient rift in the universe was, the original exit point of the ancient Falaira. I was even more frightened at this realisation, was I about to leave the World?
The wind reared up, stoked like a dying fire by the muttering which, I wasn’t sure how I knew, was inciting some sort of magic. It was like I could taste its sparkling tang on my tongue. Something inside me stirred at the words he was using, like they were familiar.
The angry wind picked dust and leaves off the floor and shimmered before them.
“Khalashaya!”
I went over to him and touched his shoulder, no reaction.
“Please…tell me what-”
Then another question came to me.
“Why are you taking me there? We can’t leave the creature here to kill again!”
He whirled on me, looking angry and frightened.
“It only wants you; it’s obsessed with eradicating you. It’s my job to protect you and you’re my priority, what better than taking you away from here? I’m taking you home Auriana”.
He knelt again and started to mutter his unintelligible incantations, he did this for what seemed to be about ten minutes and I kept a nervous eye on the area he had identified to be the weak point the day before; not knowing what was happening. Would it hurt?
Khalashaya then stood and walked over to the area I was observing so keenly; he put the palms of both hands onto what looked like thin air. I then saw that it wasn’t, a black man-sized hole appeared in front of him; as he muttered, I saw white and colourful objects appear within it…wind blew from the hole, whipping my hair back and frightening me more than I had ever been frightened in my life.
However, frightened or not, my curiosity took control of my limbs and made me walk through the long grass and closer to the hole, closer to the edge of reality. I looked into it and realised that the white and colourful objects were stars.
I was looking into a black space, the same space I fancied I could see when looking up at the sky at night, except that these stars were a lot bigger and more deadly than any I had ever seen before.
The muttering stopped and Khalashaya turned to me, the wind giving his face a strange drawn look.
“It has never been more important that you do as I tell you”.
I wasn’t prepared to disobey, I nodded quickly.
“We’re going home”. He grabbed my hand firmly, the pressure hurting.
“Keep hold of my hand. If you let go you will die”.
Die, I became more frightened.
“Do you understand?”
I nodded.
I saw the hole expand so that Khalashaya and I could stand side by side in front of it comfortably.
He looked at me and a small smile played with his mouth softly. His eyes were alight with the reflected gaze of the stars before us and I realised then that I trusted him in a deep, unfathomable way that I had never trusted anyone before. He was going to the other side of space, I was going with him; I was following him out of the world and to a place I did not know, to a people who were part of me that I did not know.
And I trusted him.
“After three, step into the hole”.
He counted:
“One”
Fear tore through me, I had promised to obey him but I was stepping into the unknown.
“Two”
I couldn’t do it, but I had to do it. I had way too many questions about my past and present to let Khalashaya walk away from me now. I also had no life left in Zafiya, I would be dead within the week if I stayed.
Three
Bits of my life flashed before my eyes, the faces of the women I had helped, the nights I had spend sitting in roofs watching the lights of the ancient city and trying to reach the stars, the face of my father. This was it.
I walked into the hole.
# #
I whirl through a kaleidoscope of colour, feeling my body battered and crushed by the onslaught of something that is like wind but not wind.
I stop, suspended in air; just one of the millions of freezing stars in this space, this dream. It feels good, like the starlight that washes over me on one of my late night missions.
I am tiny, miniscule, smaller than I ever knew I was and even more insignificant, but I am important.
I am surrounded by blackness permeated by piercing pricks of light that shoot closer and closer to me.
He is nowhere to be seen, this dazzling man who is part friend, part stranger and complete sorcerer but I can feel his hand in mine. The hand seems to be my anchor to life, I know from his words and also from instinct hard wired into me that I am lost if I let go, not just dead, lost.
The wind that is not wind picks up and just before I am dissolved by the heat emanating from the splendour around me. I am gone.
# #
I wake, lying on my back; a twig digging into my neck, which jolts me, back into reality, or should I say unreality. I know that I have somehow travelled out of my world and into another. It is a world that, according to my strange rescuer, is not physically reachable from mine and possibly in a different universe altogether.
I cannot imagine ever getting my sheltered head around this huge concept. I am from a world of order, religion and pain. It hits me again just how much has changed since I first hid from Khalashaya in the marketplace after sending Herena to her deliverance, to an oblivion I’m not entirely sure I still believe in after what I have experienced.
>
Strange tears prick the backs of my eyes, boiling hot like my heart inside.
Grass pokes me through my cloak and I feel Khalashaya’s rough hand grip mine. He is comforting me, he is telling me that everything will be alright, I find that in the moment, in that second in time in this unknown universe that I believe him. I find that I do not want to let go of his hand.
Warmth seems to flow from his body to mine; telling me that he knows what I am feeling. The transfusion works both ways and I pick up little glittery shards of something from him and realise it is fear. Fear of the place we have landed.
I know that at some point I am going to have to face this strange place and open my eyes. Somehow, lying serenely on the grass with this otherworldly starlight pricking my eyelids I am happy. Happy in the moment in time, and not too afraid of what we are about to face. I know that for the moment, I exist in a vacuum; I am in the eye of the storm that surrounds me and for a minute I do not care.
A slight breeze lifts up a strand of my hair and I realise that the air has a different taste to it. In Zafiya, the air tastes of death and smoke. Here, well, it is simply too strange to describe but I can pick up the scent of what could be flowers.
I open my eyes, and the sight makes them cloud with those strange tears again.
I have cried before, I have felt despair scour my insides. I think back to my mother’s execution and my father’s murder by the black thing and can see a distinct difference between the feelings that made me cry then like I would never stop and the feelings inside me now that incite the same tears.
However I cannot explain it any further.
I just gaze upon the splendour before me.
Stars, massive stars hang in the inky dark sky like the glass shards I saw once scattering the ground when the local church was broken into. The thieves had stolen the collection plate and broken the holy window. I had come across the wreckage on the way home from the library and had injured myself by stepping on a shard of glass that had pierced through my father’s boots.
The Long Lost Page 7
