by Davis Ashura
Travail listened quietly, not offering any comments or questions while William explained his dilemma.
“It’s why I’ve been angry all the time,” William said. “I can hear the Overward’s voice or his thoughts. Or something like that. The raha’asras are working on a weave to block him out or maybe get rid of the necrosed part of my blood, but I asked them for help weeks ago.” His shoulders slumped. “I don’t think they know what to do.”
“You’re certain of this?” Travail asked. “About Sapient Dormant?” His mouth curled as if the very name of the necrosed was poison.
“I’m sure. The other raha’asras are certain, too.” William stared at the ocean, trying not to let the glumness of his situation get to him.
Travail clapped him on the shoulder. “All is not lost. You came to me for help in controlling your anger,” he said. “You’ll have it.”
William smiled in gratitude even though he hadn’t expected anything else from Travail.
“Tell me what happens,” Travail said. “How does the anger overcome you?”
“At first, I could control it,” William explained. “All I had to do was imagine something calm, and it would go away. Now it comes on like a motorcycle. Too fast to stop it . . .” He struggled with the words. “I never know when it’s going to wake up and take over.”
“This is how it happens every time?”
“Not every time. Sometimes it’s a slow acceleration.”
“Have you tried to burn it off with your weaves?”
William frowned. “I didn’t know that was possible.”
Travail smiled. “You asrasins, so limited in what you think can be done,” he teased. “Do you not have weaves to change the feelings of others, to make them calmer?”
A slow-kindling hope filled William. “You think I should weave something like that on myself?”
Travail barked laughter. “Certainly not. You can’t weave on your own mind.”
“Why not?”
Travail blinked, obviously not expecting the question. “Because it’s not possible. No one can do that. The strength of will, the elegance of the weave required to accomplish something on that order . . .” He shook his head. “No. I’m saying you should ask someone else to perform that calming braid to burn off Sapient’s hold upon you, his anger. The raha’asras for instance. Ask them to help.”
William wanted to smack himself in the forehead. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
Travail smiled in fondness. “The better question is why did you wait for such a long time before asking for help? Rukh would say you’ve been a jackhole.”
William chuckled. “That word again. Everyone seems to be using it these days.”
“It’s a useful descriptor,” Travail said. He pointed east, to a place behind where they sat and the hills of Janaki Valley that marched north and south in their verdant glory. “Rukh and Jessira live only a few valleys over.”
William viewed the distant hills and considered Rukh and Jessira’s supposed history. “Do you believe them?” he finally asked.
“Believe whom? Rukh and Jessira?”
William nodded. “Do you believe them about Arisa and all those things? That evil goddess, Suwraith, the Sorrow Bringer?” For some reason, upon saying the name, his anger stirred, but rather than the red-eyed beast, this time it reminded him of a lightning-laced, bruised cloud. Alive somehow. It rumbled, and a cackling voice drifted on an unfelt breeze. William’s mouth curled into a furious snarl.
“Be easy,” Travail said softly.
Some of the anger receded.
Travail spoke on, his voice soothing. “Do as Rukh suggested. Let the anger flow through you.”
William closed his eyes and exhaled slowly and controlled. He pretended to breathe away the anger. He didn’t want it. He never had, and he kept his eyes closed. He took more cleansing breaths, thinking of his parents and Landon, their love for him and his for them. He imagined the anger washing through him. Slowly but surely, it flowed out of him. When he opened his eyes, he found Travail staring at him. It worked.
The troll broke into a broad grin. “Well done.”
William broke into a shaky smile. “Thank you.”
Travail nodded gravely.
“You believe them?” William asked, reminding Travail of his original question.
“You don’t?”
William stared aside as he thought about the question. “I do. I always have but I wanted to know what you think. I mean, according to what they say they were essentially gods.”
“No,” Travail said. “They were very powerful beings, but not gods, and although they don’t say it, the war against Shet’s daughter and children nearly defeated them, or at least brought ruin to their world. It was costly, and they lost many whom they loved. Gods would have done better for themselves.”
William had sensed the same when Rukh and Jessira spoke of their home, but the knowledge only made him wonder how they kept going. How they continued to fight despite all the apparent losses and sorrows they’d suffered.
Travail hesitated, and William sensed that something troubled the troll.
“What is it?” William asked.
“I sometimes think I have an unusual connection toward Rukh and Jessira, as if I’ve met them previously. Sometimes visions fill my mind, or I recall a name: Li-Dirge.”
William’s curiosity roused. “Who was he?”
“I don’t know. When I try to visualize him, I see a creature much like myself. A Bael, as Rukh and Jessira described.“ He sat up straighter. “Did you know that the bridge, Chimera Seed, contains images from Arisa?”
William rocked in surprise. “Seriously?”
Travail nodded. “When I gaze upon it, or sometimes when I speak to Rukh and Jessira, I see flashes, fragments of memories, but I can’t retain the visions. They leave as soon as I see them. The name Li-Dirge is the only item I can recall and keep. That and a deep sense of gratitude toward Rukh and Jessira.”
William fell silent and tried to make sense of what Travail had told him. “What do you think it means?” he asked after a few minutes of thought.
Travail shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Did you ask Rukh or Jessira?”
“I did,” Travail said. “They refused to answer, which is an answer of its own.”
William waited for the troll to say more but he didn’t. “Well, if Rukh and Jessira could defeat an insane goddess, maybe they can defeat a cruel god.”
Travail shook his head in disagreement. “We can’t leave it all on them. We must do our part to stop Shet, too. No matter what it takes.”
William smiled. “How do you always see to the heart of the matter?”
“It helps that I’m a vegetarian,” Travail replied. “All that meat inside your belly rots your mind.”
William frowned in confusion. “I always thought ‘vegetarian’ was an ancient slang word for the village idiot who couldn’t hunt, fish, or barbecue.”
“You’re very funny.”
William grinned.
An instant later he screamed in terror. Travail had shoved him. He tumbled forward, threatening to go off the edge of the cliff.
Travail yanked him short, his massive hand all-but enfolding William’s waist.
William scowled, but for once the red-eyed demon didn’t rouse. “That wasn’t nice,” he complained.
Travail chuckled. “No. But it was funny.”
William sat with Fiona and Ms. Sioned at a small, glass-topped table in the enclosed garden behind the latter woman’s house. Azaleas provided shade for low-lying verbenas that were dotted with pink flowers and astilbes, bleeding hearts, and hostas. The plants bordered black boulders settled upon a bed of fine, white stones. A line of water trickled down the cliff-face forming the rear of the property, and the water fed the koi ponds centered like liquid sapphires within the gardens. Like most yards, Ms. Sioned’s was beautiful, but William’s favorite part of her home was the delicious scent of f
resh-baked cookies that she loved to bake. The aroma wafted through the open patio door leading to the kitchen.
The mouth-watering joy of that smell held no interest for William today, though. “Do you think you can do it?” he asked. Desperation and his discussion with Travail had brought him here, and he peered anxiously at Ms. Sioned and Fiona, awaiting their verdict. He couldn’t tell what they were thinking.
The two women wore nearly identical serene expressions and neither responded at once. They shared a long, assessing gaze before returning their attention to him.
“You want us to weave a braid to take away your anger?” Fiona asked.
William nodded. “It’s getting worse. The anger. It’s always there, and if I’m not careful every second of the day, it erupts on its own.” He swallowed. “I don’t know how much longer I can control it.”
“Taking away your anger might also take away some of your drive, your fire,” Ms. Sioned warned.
“I’ll take the chance,” William said. “Besides, I could use less drive and fire. Serena says I spend too much time worried about work anyway.”
Fiona smiled knowingly, and William ground his teeth. Why does everyone think my relationship with Serena is amusing? More importantly, how can I give her anything other than friendship when I have this raging beast dwelling within me? His irritation rose, quickly becoming the all-too familiar anger, and he scowled. Damn it! Not now. He closed his eyes and thought about Lilith at sunset—the orange and red beams streaking the sky, lighting Clifftop, setting the buildings afire, and turning the waterfalls into liquid gold. He also thought of Serena standing by him, the wind catching her raven hair and blowing it about like a flag. All the while, he let the anger rage through him. He let it spend itself empty while he held still.
The fury ebbed, and he opened his eyes.
“The rage again?” Ms. Sioned asked.
William nodded.
The two women shared another assessing gaze along with whispered words he couldn’t make out. After a few seconds of hushed conversation they faced William with somber expressions.
“We’ll study what can be done,” Fiona said, and William’s heart soared. She held up a cautionary finger, and his hope stuttered in its flight. “It will take time,” she continued. “The weave must be perfect. Neither of us have attempted this, and we don’t want to see you harmed.”
William’s heart sank. “The way Travail talked about it, I assumed you already knew how to do it.”
Ms. Sioned shook her head. “Would that it were so simple. Until we have a means to cure your rage, you must practice extreme caution and control your anger as best you can.” Her features took on a sympathetic cast. “I know it won’t be easy.”
A huge understatement.
Fiona’s face became sad, and William wondered why. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve harmed you many times, and by doing what you ask, I fear I’ll harm you again,” Fiona said. “When we first met, do you remember how often I disciplined you? The pain I caused? I never apologized for it.”
William shifted, made uncomfortable by the turn in their conversation. “You never had to. Jake and I understood why you did what you did.”
“Perhaps,” Fiona said with a shake of her head, “but it doesn’t absolve me. I did as I did because you couldn’t afford mercy. It would have weakened you, and we both know that Sinskrill isn’t for the weak. You needed hate to make you sturdy, and the brotherly love you had with Jake to keep you whole. Nevertheless, I’m sorry.”
William took both of her hands in his. Her apology touched him, but it wasn’t necessary. “You’re forgiven. You know that.”
Fiona nodded and wore a wan smile. “Thank you.”
Ms. Sioned leaned forward. “Fiona is correct, though. What you want us to do could be very dangerous. We should talk to Afa.”
Fiona nodded agreement. “Odysseus’s opinion would also be of benefit.”
It took William a moment to realize that ‘Odysseus’ was Mr. Zeus, his real name, and now it was Ms. Sioned who smiled knowingly. William wanted to grin, too. A few months ago Fiona and Mr. Zeus had begun to spend more and more time together, and it quickly became obvious that the two of them had become close in a romantic sort of way. It made William chuckle to think about it, but it also made him happy for the two old people he thought of as grandparents.
Another question, one more pressing, took precedence in William’s thoughts, and he glanced from one woman to the other. “How long do you think it’ll take to get the braid ready?”
Ms. Sioned exhaled heavily. “I don’t know. Give us a few weeks. We should know whether it’s possible by then.”
ELDER ADVICE
April 1990
Serena wove a braid to keep as much of the rain off of herself as possible as she and Ms. Sioned walked Sita’s Song. Wind lashed, and trees bent but didn’t break before the gusts. Gray clouds hid the sun, and the temperature dropped.
Serena shivered. Her braid kept off most of the water but not the wind’s sudden chill. She chided herself an instant later. Arylyn’s tropical ease had made her weak. This supposed coolness would have been considered a warm spell on Sinskrill.
“The rain will pass soon,” Ms. Sioned said in her Irish lilt as she hobbled along, hunched over a cane. She had obviously mistaken Serena’s shiver for true discomfort. “It always does.”
Serena nodded understanding of the unnecessary advice, and kept their pace slow, holding out a hand in case Ms. Sioned slipped on the rain-slick pavers. She glanced up when a sunbeam broke the cloud cover. More sunlight shone down, and within seconds the road steamed as the rain dried.
Ms. Sioned chuckled. “See. It can’t rain all the time.” She shuffled along, her wispy, white hair collected in a bun beneath a broad-brimmed hat, and Serena eyed her in concern. A few months ago Ms. Sioned hadn’t required a cane, but then she’d fallen, and her great age had caught up with her all of a sudden.
Serena frowned in unhappiness at the idea.
At least Ms. Sioned had found a late-in-life friend in Fiona. Over the past year both women had discovered the commonalities they shared, how much they needed one another, and Serena enjoyed watching them travel about the island, thick as thieves and sometimes giggling like school girls. Their friendship was especially fulfilling for Fiona. Other than Travail, Serena’s grandmother had never had a true friend on Sinskrill. Decades of loneliness, without even the comfort of her children to keep her company, had been her lot in life.
“I don’t think Sile needs you to clear his garden. I can take care of it,” Serena said.
Ms. Sioned chuckled. “If I didn’t help him, I’d hardly get to see you. Between your training with the Irregulars and working with my grandson, you’re a busy woman.”
Serena smiled. “I think I serve too many masters.”
Ms. Sioned eyes widened in surprise. “Master? I thought only Sile had that title.”
“He does,” Serena quickly clarified. “But Rukh and Jessira ask a lot of all of us.”
Ms. Sioned frowned. “Those two appear no older than you, but I swear someone ancient peers out from their eyes.”
Now it was Serena who chuckled. “You’re only now noticing?”
Ms. Sioned smiled ruefully. “I noticed a long time ago, but I try not to think about it.” She feigned a shiver. “It’s disconcerting.”
“Yes, it is,” Serena agreed with feeling.
Ms. Sioned smiled for a few seconds more, but then her features grew pinched.
Serena’s lips pursed in worry. “What’s wrong?”
Ms. Sioned didn’t reply at once. Her face remained tight and unreadable. “I fear I owe you an apology,” she eventually said. “I’ve not advised you as you deserve.”
Serena’s brow remained furrowed. She didn’t know what Ms. Sioned was talking about, and she remained quiet, waiting for the other woman to continue.
“When you first came to Arylyn, you and your sister, I didn’t trust y
ou. I asked you to stay away from William and not give him hope for anything more than friendship. I didn’t want his heart broken.”
Serena already knew this, and in some ways, she even agreed with the old raha’asra’s counsel. The advice had been couched as a soft warning from several years ago. She said as much. “Why do you think you need to apologize to me?”
“Because I’ve kept you and William from happiness,” Ms. Sioned. “After you came back from Sinskrill, returning with Fiona and Travail, I should have advised you to pursue William if that’s what you wanted. Instead, I told you to stay focused and dedicated, allow yourself to ease your way into your emotions, to protect your heart. I was wrong. You could have managed all of that on your own.”
Serena remembered their conversation from many months ago when they were tilling Sile’s garden. Part of her wanted to be angry with Ms. Sioned for nosing into her business, but she couldn’t manage it. It wasn’t the old raha’asra’s fault. At least, not entirely. Ms. Sioned’s advice had merely mirrored Serena’s fear about risking her heart to love. As a result, rather than speak with anger, Serena chuckled in bitterness. “You weren’t the reason William and I have remained nothing more than friends.”
“You’re certain about this?”
“I’m sure,” Serena said. “It wasn’t your doing. I could have ignored your advice, but I didn’t. I was afraid of my feelings.”
Ms. Sioned peered at her with a still-troubled mien. “Regardless, I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive an old woman’s supposed guidance, no matter how terrible.”
“It’s already done,” Serena said. She surprised herself when she realized the words were true. “Besides, if you haven’t noticed, William’s not exactly been himself lately. Even if I wanted something more with him, now isn’t the time to pursue it. His anger overwhelms all his senses.”