Healed by Hope

by Jim Melvin

  “Why offer this gift?”

  “Because you are my friend.”

  Bonny smiled. “You know what? I believe you . . . and I like you. But there’s one problem. I love Lucius—and I don’t want to lose him.”

  “If you stay with him, in some ways you’ll lose him, and in some ways you won’t.” Then he ran his fingers through his lush black hair. “But you asked me to speak plainly. I believe that every Daasa knows the thoughts of all other Daasa. Yet you might find it encouraging that they seem to retain at least a portion of individuality. This must be necessary in order for them to avoid stagnancy.”

  “And what about when they turn into monsters?”

  “The Daasa are not so naïve as to believe that they live in a world without dangers. As Lucius said before, they use their pain and anger as a form of defense. It hurts them immeasurably to do this, but it’s their way of not wallowing in helplessness. In truth, I believe the Daasa to be highly realized beings.”

  Bonny stared at Nīsa adoringly. “If I stay with Lucius, will he still love me?”

  Nīsa leaned down and stroked her cheek. “I believe he would continue to love you—but not just you. He would love all the Daasa. Does this mean his love for you would be ‘watered down,’ as my Vasi master likes to say? From our current perception, maybe so. But who knows how it will feel to you once you join the pack?”

  “And Ekadeva? If I do this thing, will he view me as a sinner?”

  Nīsa shrugged. “I’m a Tugar and know nothing of your god. But I would think little of him, if he were to hold someone of your caliber in low regard.”

  38

  “SO MANY BIRDS. What does it mean?” Nīsa said to Iron Flint, the big-bellied crewman who fancied himself the Death-Knower’s personal attendant. Flint had been begging nonstop to be able to join Nīsa on his “walk around the world.”

  “Master, even a Death-Knower can use another sword,” Flint had said several times a day since Nīsa had ascended. “If you let me come with you, you won’t be disappointed, I promise.”

  “We shall see what we shall see,” had been Nīsa’s only answer. Now he stood on the forecastle on a bright, windy morning, leaning against his newly hewn staff. The whale ivory was whiter than the clouds and glowed so brightly it seemed to hurt Flint to look at it.

  Nīsa watched a mass of gulls swarming on the western horizon. It was the twenty-third day of their voyage.

  “What does it mean?” he repeated.

  “It means we’ll reach land today, master. Probably in the late afternoon.”

  “So soon? Surely the coast is several days hence.”

  “Our voyage has been blessed by the One God,” said Flint, his blubbery lips spread into a broad grin. “Never before have I seen such friendly winds and so few storms. Ekadeva must like you—’cause I know it isn’t me he’s being nice to.” Then Flint grabbed his round stomach, threw back his head, and exploded in a fit of laughter.

  Nīsa also laughed. “I doubt I have his favor, either.” Then he grew serious. “What do you call this land? Does it have a name?”

  Flint wiped spittle off his lips with a sullied forearm. “We call it Pacchima Dala (Western Land). Being working men, we didn’t have time to think of anything fancier.”

  Nīsa smirked. “I’m surprised you know the ancient tongue even that well, though it’s pronounced Thala, not Dala.”

  Flint seemed put off. “We are working men, but we aren’t stupid men.” Then his face grew sheepish. “Sorry . . . I didn’t mean to offend you, master. Compared to someone like you, we are stupid men.”

  Nīsa patted the pirate on his fleshy shoulder. “Pacchima Dala it is. Tell me, Flint, what is the western shore like? In my dreams, it is beautiful.”

  “Oh, yes, master . . . very beautiful. The sand is wide and as white as the peak of Catu. And beyond the beach lie wondrous trees with fruit that is hard on the outside but sweet within. And there are Daasa—lots and lots of them. We used to anchor near shore and throw down a ramp, and they would walk onboard without a struggle. But that was in the days of the Mahanta pEpa. Who knows what they will do now? Maybe they will be very angry and kill us all. That’s one of the reasons I am glad you are around. Perhaps you will protect us with your mighty staff.”

  “I doubt you will need such protection, Flint. But whether now or later, you will be punished for whatever transgressions you have committed. The odds are high you will be reborn as a pirate and have to live this kind of life all over again.”

  This made Flint ecstatic. “That would be the best news ever! I’d rather do that than join the One God in heaven. All those clouds and the pretty music seem kind of boring to a working man like me.”

  Nīsa rolled his eyes. “Like my Vasi master likes to say, ignorance is bliss.”

  By late afternoon, land almost as flat as the sea was visible on the western horizon. As the galleon approached, Nīsa could see a wall of trees lining the beach, but the trees sat back a far ways from the water. In between the blue and green was a blanket of white sand.

  Aboard the galleon, the Daasa chittered. Many already had leapt over the rails and were swimming excitedly toward shore, which still was half-a-mile distant.

  “They will come soon, master,” Flint said in a serious tone.

  Nīsa arched an eyebrow. “Many?”

  “So many, the white sand will become pink.”

  39

  LUCIUS LEANED OVER the starboard rail and stared at the beach with wide eyes. It surprised him to find that he was laughing in a high-pitched manner that resembled the Daasa’s joyous chittering. He had never witnessed such beauty or smelled such sweet air, but now he was seeing it not just from his vantage point but from the vantage point of fifty thousand score. The Daasa were everywhere, spread throughout a lush, tropical landscape, and they were rushing toward the sea. They filled the beach and swarmed into the water, a single mind composed of a million minds.

  Joy entered the firstborn from every angle, magnified by a psychic connection he now fully shared with these wonderful beings. He saw too their anger and pain, which the Daasa were able to funnel and store. When the need arose to defend themselves, they used the anger like fuel for fire.

  But now there was little anger or pain. The demise of the Mahanta pEpa had freed the Daasa from the worst enemy they had ever encountered. Perhaps nowhere in the world were there creatures so naturally inclined to be loving, gentle, and playful.

  Lucius discovered that joy was contagious. It felt so wonderful, he thought he might swoon.

  Nīsa stared at his back. Lucius knew this through the eyes of the Daasa that stood behind the Death-Knower. Bonny was approaching him gingerly. Lucius felt a wave of love for her, generated not just from his own mind but from the minds of the Daasa still aboard their namesake. They loved Bonny too, so very much. They not only wanted him to be their king; they wanted her as their queen. She was one of them, after all. Acceptance was a foregone conclusion.

  I can hear your thoughts.

  This startled Lucius. Bonny was at least a stone’s throw away, yet it had felt as if she had whispered in his ear. What do you hear? he said without speaking.

  That you love me.

  Oh, yes! And so do they.

  I can hear that too. Then: If I do this thing, will you keep on loving me?

  I think you already know the answer.

  Finally she joined him and pressed against his side.

  Lucius laughed some more.

  “I am their king!” he bellowed. And then he pushed away from her, leapt upon the rail, and dove into the warm water. Would Bonny follow?

  He hoped so.

  As did a million others.

  40

  BONNY COULD FEEL it too. The community beckoned her. The Daasa were like the ocean: one body of water wi
th countless waves. The Daasa were like the forest: a single canopy composed of countless trees. The Daasa were like the beach: a blanket of white made up of countless grains of sand.

  Bonny watched Lucius dive into the water, sink deep, and then burst above the surface. The firstborn flipped in the air, pierced the water again, and then swam with strong strokes toward the beach, where a spectacular gathering of pink-skinned creatures awaited.

  “Like my Vasi master likes to say, it’s now or never,” came a powerful voice from above her. Bonny looked up at Nīsa, who stared down at her from the forecastle.

  “Am I still welcome to come with you instead of staying with Lucius?”

  “You are . . .”

  A Daasa nuzzled one of her hands and then jumped into the water. More came to her, wagging their tails and rubbing against her before jumping into the sea. Again Bonny looked up at Nīsa. “If you ever come this away again, please stop by and say hello!” she said. Then she laughed. And jumped.

  When she reached the beach, the Daasa swarmed around her. Their love smote her heart. Bonny stood among them and laughed. The Daasa mimicked her. She laughed some more.

  “I love you, Bonny Calico,” Lucius said. “But I love them too. Is that okay?”

  The voice was loud and clear.

  He took her in his arms and held her tight.

  Bonny surrendered . . . entirely.

  King and queen, they stood together in their new kingdom.

  Who’s in charge?

  41

  WHILE EATING A light breakfast in their chambers, Torg and Laylah revisited their previous night’s conversation about the baby. It relieved Torg that Laylah seemed to have returned to her old self, but neither he nor she believed that the change was guaranteed to be permanent.

  “It . . . he . . . is growing so fast it’s starting to hurt,” Laylah said with a grimace. “I can feel his power, Torg. It’s like I’ve swallowed a cinder. And I can sense his . . . will. There’s a part of me that loves him dearly, but another part that’s afraid.”

  Torg arched an eyebrow. “Afraid? In what way?”

  “Of what he might do to us . . . what he has already done to us. What if he becomes as powerful as his father? This time, we might not be able to stop him.”

  Torg put his arm around her and kissed her on the cheek. “You and I will return to Anna as soon as possible. I will lay my hands on you then—and we shall see what we shall see.”

  Laylah kissed him back. “If I become cruel or do something strange, you’ll understand why? You’ll remember that I love you beyond all else?”

  “I will understand—and remember. I love you too, beyond all else.”

  Afterward Torg and Laylah left their chambers and entered the city to meet with Podhana. The chieftain reported that most of Senasana had been cleansed. Then he asked Torg if he wanted patrols sent beyond the city’s borders to search for rogues. Torg nodded.

  “Arrange for twenty-five score Tugars to remain behind and assign an Asēkha to lead them,” Torg said. “It will be their responsibility to hunt down any fiends who might have wandered into the Gray Plains.”

  “And the rest of us?”

  “You shall return to Anna.”

  Podhana smiled. “With you and the queen? It shall be joyous, my lord.”

  Torg shook his head. “She and I will arrive before you.”

  Burly the enchanter heard this and was dismayed. “What are you saying, Torgon?”

  Elu also was there. “You’re leaving us, again?”

  Torg’s response was stern. “I answer to none among you. It is my desire to return to Anna with Laylah as quickly as possible. We do not have time for a long march. I hope to find Bhojja and ask her to carry us to the Tent City with haste—and she can’t carry all of us.”

  Burly tapped Torg on the knee. “Allow me to come with you. Bhojja can carry two and a quarter, I’m sure—and I can be of service.”

  The sorceress smiled and looked at Torg. “I’d like that.”

  “It shall be so,” Torg said. Then he placed his hand on Elu’s shoulder. “It is my desire that you and Essīkka continue to march with the Tugars to Anna.”

  The Svakaran seemed relieved. “It would be my honor, great one. As always, your word is my command.”

  Torg turned back to Podhana. “It will take you more than a week to accomplish what will take Bhojja but a day. But if all goes well, the Tugars will finally be reunited in full force—with their king and queen to lead them.”

  The chieftain glanced at Laylah’s stomach. “And a prince or princess as well, it appears.”

  Torg grunted. “That is none of your business.”

  Podhana sensed his discomfort. “I’m sorry, lord . . . I meant no offense.”

  “Speak no more of it,” Torg said brusquely.

  Just then, Rati trotted forward. “Lord! The white-haired lady awaits you in the plains east of the city. She says that you wish to meet with her.”

  Torg and Laylah gave each other knowing glances. “Lead us,” Torg said.

  Burly held his wand in the air and cast a tornadic swirl of sparkles. “Don’t forget me!”

  “We have not,” Laylah said.

  When they passed from Senasana into the Gray Plains, Jord was nowhere to be seen. But Bhojja stood in her stead, and their arrival seemed to please the great mare, who snorted and then stomped her hooves. She knelt and encouraged them to mount.

  “The last time we rode her, we really had some fun,” Burly said to Torg before bounding onto Bhojja’s back. Then his face turned even redder than usual, and he looked at Laylah with embarrassment. “I was referring to our assault on the druid queen, of course.”

  The sorceress laughed, and the sound filled Torg with joy. If he could get her to Anna quickly, perhaps the worst could be averted.

  Podhana and Rati were there to say goodbye. “We will join you as quickly as we can,” the chieftain said. “Though many lives have been lost, it will still be a joyous time when the Tugars are together again.”

  “Agreed,” Torg said. “Kālakatānam sammānessāma ca jīvamānakānam pākatikarissāma. (We will honor the dead and celebrate the living.)”

  “Ema! Ema!” the Asēkhas responded in unison.

  Soon after, Bhojja carried Torg, Laylah, and Burly in the direction of Anna, her hooves a blur of grace and power. A huge cloud of dust formed in their wake, and from a distance it appeared that a herd of elephants was thundering across the Gray Plains, not a lone horse with three riders.

  Though it would take the Tugars more than two days to march from Senasana to the outer border of Barranca, the great mare reached the rocky wasteland that encircled the Great Desert by early evening. The gibbous moon hung above them like a glowing eye, ever watchful and judgmental. Without prompting, Bhojja halted and knelt.

  When they dismounted, Laylah’s legs were wobbly, and she unexpectedly swooned, banging the side of her head against a rock when she fell. Torg cursed himself for his lack of watchfulness, and he lifted her semi-conscious body and laid her on a nearby patch of grass. There was a small cut near her temple that was bleeding more than it should have. Torg used Obhasa to cauterize the wound, but not before angry yellow sparkles sizzled on the cut, as if attempting to repulse Torg’s blue-green magic.

  “Laylah!” Torg said, attempting to wake her. “Are you all right?” But the sorceress remained incoherent. Torg turned to Burly. “Her fall was not this severe, especially for someone of her strength.”

  Burly gestured toward Laylah’s bulging stomach. “Do you not sense the evil? Her body could not be in more peril if she had been forced to drink a jug of poison.”

  Torg felt a gentle touch on his shoulder. Jord knelt behind him, her magical gown aglow.

  “We should go no farther this nigh
t,” she said softly.

  “No farther? What do you mean? Can’t you see that she’s ill? We must get her to Anna as soon as possible.”

  “The moon is once again her enemy,” the Faerie said. “Peta told me it would be thus. But it is not just the moon. We are harming her, as well.”

  In one swift movement, Torg grasped Jord’s thin arms and stood, lifting her off the ground so that her feet dangled in midair. “I am not harming her,” he snapped, though even as he said it he knew his words were false.

  “Torg,” Burly said from far below. “You do not comprehend the Faerie’s words.”

  “And you do?” Torg said.

  “Put her down . . . and listen to her,” the enchanter pleaded.

  Torg hesitated but then lowered Jord to the ground.

  The Faerie stepped back. “You continue to doubt me,” she said. “Will you never trust me again?”

  Torg sighed. Then he tried to speak more calmly. “How are we harming her?”

  “The child within cannot abide our presence,” Jord said. “He is purposefully sickening the mother in order to quicken his escape.”

  “Escape?” Burly said.

  “To the unborn child, Laylah’s womb is a prison,” Jord said.

  “But if he were born so soon, surely he would not survive,” the enchanter said.

  “Perhaps not yet, but he is closer to being ready for birth than you might think.” Then she leaned toward Torg and whispered, “And he fears what the two of you might do to him while he remains helpless inside her.”

  Burly shook his little fist. “What we must do to him,” he said to Torg. “And now . . . while Laylah sleeps!”