“And me too, then. Dead.” The realization was clear, but she felt no panic. No fear. “Kayna won. Mykel will die too. We lost. I had the strength to beat her, but I gave up. I failed.”
“Hold up, not so fast,” Anne said. “You don’t have the whole picture just yet.”
“Tell me.”
“Let’s go for a walk.”
They stepped through the field, Nara looking about but still holding Anne’s hand, the warmth of it providing stability in the peaceful, wondrous confusion of this new place.
“This is heaven, then?” Nara asked.
Anne smiled. “Words. They don’t do the real thing justice.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Heaven is a word that men use to describe what they want to happen after things happen that they don’t want to happen.”
Nara laughed. “I can’t believe I understood that.”
“This is what comes now for you. It’s hard to say more than that.”
“But I’m not on earth anymore?”
“No, you’re not.”
“Is Dei here?”
“The Creator is here, but that’s true of any place. He is everywhere.”
“I don’t understand. And you died just before I did, so how can you know these things?”
“Time doesn’t work in this place as you imagine it should.”
“Oh.”
They came near a creek, its water trickling through the rocks and swirling in little pools where the flow turned. Nara let go of Anne’s hand, kneeling to retrieve a rock in the creek. Its feel was smooth and rough at the same time. Through her fingers, she sensed its strength and its calm. It wasn’t like any other rock she’d ever held. Everything was brighter here, purer. And far more complex.
“Teach me everything,” Nara said.
“There is too much to share. And you don’t have time.”
Nara stood and turned to face Anne. “What do you mean? Don’t I have all the time in the world?”
“Because you have more work to do, my dear. Much more.”
“I’m dead. I saw my body shrivel up. Kayna killed me.”
“Oh, look who knows so much!” Anne said, then chuckled. “Dead for a few seconds, and now she knows everything.”
Nara scrunched her face in confusion. “What work do I have to do?”
“You must rebuild it. All of it.”
“All of what?”
“The Great Land. You showed more restraint than I expected but still caused quite the damage. Cities damaged, many dead. Libraries buried or burned. Knowledge lost. You even brought down a mountain. Never heard of that one before.”
Memories came back to Nara, how she stole the essence of the earth, intent on using it for destruction. She had become far worse than Kayna at that moment. “I am terrible. I did all that.”
“Yes, you did. Now you owe a debt.”
“Okay, but—” She stopped.
“But what?”
“I have a question.”
“Go on.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“I’m not sure. All of it. Why the constant struggle, by everyone? The fear and the pain. All of our lives. Build things only to see them destroyed. Love people only to lose them. Why?”
“That’s the best question of all, isn’t it?”
Nara waited for her answer.
“First, I’ll start with fear and pain. It may not be obvious, but fear is actually pain. They aren’t different things. Fear is pain you choose to suffer in advance. Pain you inflict upon yourself, even if the actual pain never arrives. Silly thing, fear is.”
“I never thought of it like that.”
“So really the question is, ‘why so much pain.’ I’ll try to answer.” Anne paused as if preparing her thoughts. “Nara, have you ever heard a great story?”
“Well, of course I have. You’ve told me some.”
“What do you notice about stories, specifically, how do they go?”
Nara pondered that for a moment. “Well, there is a beginning, where you learn who the people are. Then they get into some trouble and find their way out. If it’s a good story, they do. If it’s a bad story, they die and the bad guy wins. That sort of thing.”
“Very good. Nice summary. Now let me tell you a different sort of story. You have a beginning, you meet some people, but they don’t get into trouble. They are happy. They are challenged by nothing, never strive for anything, never cry, never fight, and never lose anyone they love. They just live. Happily. Peacefully. The End.” Anne clapped her hands as if she had just given an excellent performance. “What do you think of my story?”
“That was terrible.”
“Exactly. There must be challenges.”
“So, Dei allows pain because it makes a good story?”
“In a way, yes. And history is His-story. His. Not ours. But the story grows us as well. And teaches us. We learn that with power comes responsibility, for one. Power affects many people, and this is a great lesson. Your choices as a young girl in a village mattered little to the Great Land, but think of what you became. How your choices affected it in the end.”
“The more you control, the more you can help. Or hurt.”
“Very good. Think also of the stories that tell us of great heroes who struggle against great foes. The tales are better because of the scale that comes with them. Slaying a dragon is far more inspiring than a grand quest to make a stew, wouldn’t you say?”
“Depends on the stew, I think,” Nara said, smiling.
“Ha! Yes, it does.” She smiled in return. “But stories also teach us that without loss, there can be no gain. If it’s easy to do, it possesses no value. On the contrary, valuable things are such because they are rare. Food is more delicious when we are hungry. Companionship is more important to those who are lonely. Love is precious because there is so much hate.”
“Oh.”
“Love is a special one. Real love is sacrifice. Paying a price on behalf of another without receiving a reward. The Creator is like this. Pure love. The source of all strength and goodness, but in your path, He allows hurdles. Obstacles to overcome as you struggle and grow. Your struggles are beautiful to Him. Everyone’s are. They are part of His story.”
“But he could just take them away. In an instant, he could remove all pain. I don’t understand why He won’t do that. To let people struggle and die seems so pointless.”
“Look around you,” Anne said, pointing out at the fields.
Nara saw the many lights again, although the forms were indistinct. The lights skipped through the flowers, and when one came close to another, they almost joined, spinning, dancing with one another. “They are people. Like me?”
“People, yes, but certainly not like you. This isn’t the only place like it, and they don’t have your path. Few do. But do you see any of these in distress right now?”
“No. They are peaceful.”
“They suffered. Just like you. Like everyone. They struggled, and they felt pain. Some died while still children. Others wasted away with pain for years. But look at them now.”
They looked so peaceful.
“A young child whose mother forces her to eat her vegetables might cry and scream,” Anne said. “Lots of drama and lots of pain. Children have a way of feeling everything quite powerfully.”
“And?”
“The child grows and becomes wise about such things. She learns the importance of doing things she doesn’t like. She stops screaming about vegetables. She learns to exercise, run, even when it hurts, in order to become strong. How did this happen? How does a young thing go from screaming about her dinner to working long days in a field to feed her family? How does a warrior grow up to face enemies and fight for his homeland?”
“Pain makes them grow, but I still don’t get it. Pain that kills you can’t make you grow.”
Anne pointed again to the lights in the field. “Do they look dead to you?”
>
Oh. Of course. Like most people, she’d led her life with the assumption everything ended at death. Even when Father Taylor talked about heaven, it was just too far away, and didn’t seem real. But death was real, she’d seen it many times, and the horror of it stuck in her mind long after attending a funeral or seeing someone fall on a battlefield. But now she was here with Anne in some sort of after-place. This wasn’t death at all. Not like she knew it to be, anyway. In fact, that word didn’t seem to work very well. Not anymore. Nara felt vibrant, alive, with senses more alert than she’d ever known and peace more profound than she could have imagined.
“So, if you can see the big picture, death is just vegetables? Exercise? It sounds ridiculous, but I get what you are saying, I think.”
“Exactly!” Anne clapped. “Now take it a step further. Those that can’t see it. Like when you fought against Kayna. You killed to stop the killing. By your own hand, you delivered pain. You weren’t a parent telling your child to eat vegetables; you were a foolish, scared child fighting with other foolish children, trying to prevent pain by causing more. When you buried a soldier in his grave with your magic, it wasn’t just his pain you caused. You caused his wife’s pain because she would be a widow. His children’s pain as they became orphans. His mother would suffer. His friends. One life lost, yet so many suffer. You multiplied your folly, causing echoes through the land.”
“I’m just like her. Every bit of me.”
“Yes, you are. We all are. Every bit of us. We cause pain, we suffer obstacles, we fret, we frown, and we scream at the heavens to save us, angry that the Creator doesn’t seem to care.”
Exasperated, Nara let out a long sigh. “I tried so hard, but I wasn’t good. Not at all. All that work and I was a horrible person.”
Anne put a hand on her shoulder. “Everyone is good, Nara. And everyone is horrible too. We bear the seeds of both extremes within us. Here’s some advice: borrow His perspective in this. Don’t think yourself so wonderful if you deliver a kindness on someone, for the Creator gave you the means to do so, did He not? But also don’t think yourself to be so horrible when you deliver pain. He gave you that power too. He just hoped you wouldn’t use it.”
Nara was searching for what to ask next but felt a tug inside, like when she was rushed away from the battlefield toward the light. “That feeling again. I’m about to go, aren’t I?”
“Yes.”
“To where? Back to the Great Land?”
“Yes.”
A sense of urgency rose in Nara as if she was about to lose an important opportunity. “Hurry, Anne. What else can you tell me? I want to remember so I can teach everyone. So I can help rebuild and fix things.”
“It won’t happen like that. You won’t remember much. Just feelings. But know that He loves you, my sweet girl. He loves us all so much He can’t contain himself. He is the sun, shining on you every day, as befits His nature. He gives you strength, even when you don’t know where it’s coming from. He yearns to ease your suffering but loves you so much that He wants to see you grow, and He won’t rob you of that chance. He is eternal, and He waits for you. Go. Love. Fix what you have broken. And have patience, my dear. You’ll need it.”
Suddenly, the field disappeared. Nara was rushing down a river of speed and sensation, light disappearing then another light growing, her head spinning, her world shaking.
Then the pain. It came in fierce bursts, racking her form from head to toe. Attacks. From Kayna. She couldn’t see her, but she felt her sister’s presence. They battled again, but not like before. No, that battle had been lost. She was fighting Kayna in her mind, now. How could that be?
She sensed Kayna’s presence, her anger and frustration, as she hurled pain at Nara, but this was a different sort of battle. It was a contest of wills, not of skill. A contest of passion, not of magic. They were together, in the same shape, one form but two personalities, clashing in the chaos, locked in a struggle for dominance. But the rules were different here, and Kayna did not have Nara’s strength of will. Nor her passion.
As if it were a rune, Nara flared passion with all her might, overwhelming her sister with pure intention, angry and hot, crushing the dark twin with emotion, ardor, and intensity. Facing a vastly superior enemy, Kayna folded quickly, becoming like a fish hiding under a quiet lake. Not gone, but instead silent. Submissive. That fast, Nara had won. The contest was over.
Nara opened her eyes, but the images were cloudy. Clarity trickled into her muddy thoughts, but her vision remained slightly blurred. She was on her back, her body was in pain, and there was a figure standing over her.
Mykel. His arms were reaching out, but something was wrong. It was his face. So angry. And his hands. They were around her neck, squeezing like a vise. She couldn’t breathe, and her throat was in agony, her head pounding with pain and pressure.
She tried to push him off her, and as she reached toward him, she saw coral bracelets on her forearms. Rings on her fingers. Her spirit had moved. The final battle of wills had taken place in Kayna’s body.
And now, thinking she was the evil Queen, Mykel was killing her.
38
Peace
“You killed her!” Mykel screamed into Nara’s face, his breath hot and wet. “Spawn of Kai!”
The world around her faded, and all Nara could see was Mykel’s face, close, angry, twisted in pain and suffering. She tried to flare strength to push him off but couldn’t find the rune. She tried to flare health to keep from dying but couldn’t find it either. Protection? It was there, but it was fading. She flared it, but her hold on it faltered. Her runes were leaving her.
It’s me, she wanted to say to him. But his strength was too much. In an instant, she would be dead.
“Stop, Mykel. It’s not her!” It was Gwyn’s voice. “Stop!” Gwyn screamed.
Through her blurry vision, Nara saw Gwyn punching Mykel in his face, then in his ribs, but his powerful hands still strangled Nara.
Then a sword impaled Mykel in the right side of his chest. His stranglehold around Nara’s throat immediately relaxed.
“Let go of her!” It was Gwyn again, standing behind Mykel. She had just stabbed him. “That’s not Kayna!” Gwyn screamed.
Mykel let go and stood, while Nara tried to steady her dizzy head. Her throat hurt and her breathing came weakly. She remained on the ground, watching to see when he would attack her next. Mykel was standing face-to-face with Gwyn, a sword still sticking out of his chest.
“What are you doing?” Mykel asked, angrily.
“I know that looks like Kayna, but I was watching. She was draining Nara, then Nara’s light moved. It didn’t drain out like it should have, Mykel. It moved! Into Kayna. Then the lights merged. And changed. It’s one light, solid now, and it doesn’t look like either of them.”
They both looked down at Nara, who struggled for air, but she still couldn’t speak. Not yet. She might have one word, if she tried really hard. But even more horrible was the fact that Mykel still had a sword sticking out of his chest. Nara pointed to it, Gwyn removed the blade, and the wound closed quickly.
“Her eyes are different. White,” Mykel said as he knelt by Nara’s side, an angry expression on his face. “Who are you?”
Tell him. You have the strength.
The voice was familiar. Deep, powerful words that rang in her soul. She now knew where they came from and somehow wasn’t surprised. Summoning all her strength, Nara squeaked out a single word: “Bitty.”
A flash of recognition and shock came upon Mykel’s face. Then worry, and Mykel grabbed her. “I’m so sorry,” he said, embracing her tightly. “But how?” Tears and sweat wet her cheek as he pressed against her, his long hair falling around her face and breast. “How could this be? Oh, Nara, what have I done? I don’t understand. I don’t care. You’re alive!”
He lifted her from the ground, and she put a hand to her throat. So little air entered her lungs, her so breathing raspy and weak.
“Hea
l yourself, Bitty. Do it now. You can’t breathe.”
She tried to flare health, but it was gone. She shook her head.
“Get a knitter. Her throat is damaged,” Mykel yelled to Gwyn, his eyes still focused on Nara.
There was a risk of her airway closing with swelling if she didn’t get a knitter soon. Hopefully, Gwyn could find one among Kayna’s fleeing soldiers. The lack of air made her dizzy, but through the fog she heard the sound of heavy footsteps. A large form coming close. Sammy.
Mykel sighed. “I thought I had you down again. You just keep coming, don’t you, big boy?”
Sammy looked from Mykel to Nara and back again, confused, then scratched his chin. Worrying that there would be another fight between the brothers, Nara held her hand up, motioning Sammy to stop. She pointed to him, then pointed down at the ground.
Sammy took a knee.
Still struggling to breathe but resolved to find peace here, Nara pushed against Mykel’s arm, signaling for him to set her down. When her feet touched the ground, her legs were weak and shaking, but with Mykel’s assistance, she was able to stand. She took several breaths, then motioned for Mykel to help walk forward, approaching Sammy to place her hand on his shoulder. She knew that he was her Beast, and he liked to have his back rubbed. She reached up and massaged his shoulder blade, feeling him relax under her touch.
Her breaths were coming easier now, but there was still a risk of her airway closing if she didn’t get a knitter soon.
“Nara?” Mykel said. “Look.” He pointed at her hair.
She reached back and grabbed it, pulling it forward so she could see.
Her hair was slowly changing from black to silver.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Mykel told Nara, as he gently barring her from standing on the battlefield slope, high above Fairmont. “Not for a while. Sit here some more.”
“They need help down there,” Nara said, eager to be part of the effort to heal the city. Several hours had passed since the earthquake and the victory over Kayna, but she was still so weak. Yet the damage to the city was her fault, and she wanted to be part of the solution.
Finding Kai Page 24