by Kyrja
Jarles sat down, feeling his clothing billow out from the sides of his legs as he moved, intimately familiar with the fruitless track of questions he’d asked many times before. He knew there were more questions he should be asking, not the same ones to which he had no answers. But there was simply no one else to ask. Nor would they be able to tell him what was hidden behind the masks the gods wore. They did things for their own purposes without remorse nor consideration of the human tools they used against each other. That much was painfully clear. His mother was an obvious case of the consequences of being used by the gods. She’d done everything they asked and she was still dead. Long before her time. Her lifewater had been drained from her body, the husk left to rot in the sand. It was unimaginable that she was dead, and horrific that she’d been murdered. Nothing had been done about that either. Everyone just shook their heads, not all that terribly surprised. Nobody ever said she’d deserved her fate within his hearing, but Jarles understood, as he grew older, that he was the only one to mourn her passing. Most had been more afraid of her than they’d cared to admit. He supposed, in the one or two moments when he’d felt charitable, that he might feel more fear than sympathy, or even simple empathy, if someone else who’d had direct dealings with the Serpent Goddess had died such a shocking death. He’d probably want as little as possible to do with that person, so as not to call himself to her attention. But those moments of compassion and understanding were few and far between.
Much like his tolerance for the dozens of people who were following him around the desert these past months. He so very much wanted them to just go away and leave him alone. If he was right, and some foul deed would result from his finally giving in to Amphidea’s obvious desire for him to make his way to her, then he would rather face it alone, than to be responsible for whatever nasty end might result from all these people following him. He didn’t want to be the one who lead them to their deaths. He grimaced then, knowing that many thought total destruction was imminent unless he did go to Amphedia. They would probably have long ago dragged him there by his heels, behind a camel, maybe, just to make sure he went to the sea – if not for the fact that they would all run out of water and die before they ever got to the mountains without him.
Exhaling again, he watched as the bubbles made their way past his face, disappearing above him. He let his anxiety go with the small spheres of air, feeling the muscles in his shoulders relax. He shivered a little then, finally aware the water was cooler than the sun had been when he’d been striding back towards the herd of people his grandfather insisted on calling a caravan. He looked around then, for the first time seeing where it was Amphedia had deposited him this time. It truly was beautiful here, he knew. And quiet. If he just let himself be still, instead of engaging in such useless and bitter banter in the depths of his mind, then he usually found plenty to keep himself occupied until his wretched benefactor released him. While chilly, the water was clean. And healthy. He liked it best when he was in a warmer place. Perhaps a lagoon, with the sun shining through the waves overhead. He felt himself smile a bit then, knowing there were plenty of people who would wish themselves capable of standing exactly where he was now, just to surround themselves with the wonder and beauty of the ocean without having to trouble themselves with something so trivial as breathing air.
He reached out to a passing fish, its fins and scales a strange mixture of yellow and blue, with small bits of white and black accenting its sleek body. He certainly wouldn’t expect to find such vivid hues in the desert, where life meant blending in with the sand. The colors this fish, a female he knew without knowing how he knew, displayed were used for the same purpose. She was merely making her way from one coral reef to another in search of more to eat. Her thoughts were on survival, not on the strange human who was so fascinated with her beautiful array of colors. Jarles allowed himself a smile then, a real one. He could feel the contours of his face lift as the smile filled his face and reached out his hands towards the fish. He didn’t mean to actually do anything to it, but the allure of simply affecting its intended path was too much for him not to be tempted. Here, in the depths of the sea, all alone, he was free to be silly, even if only for a moment or two. He could enjoy the lifting of burdens and the all the responsibilities that went along with fulfilling or failing to fulfill everyone else’s expectations of him. He closed his eyes at the thought, inhaling deeply as if he could physically feel the hundreds of eyes always watching his every move suddenly disappear. He was free! It was an exhilarating moment in time he knew to be rare and appreciated.
Jarles put his hands out in front of him, as if he intended to try to catch it, wiggling them for a moment, getting the fish’s attention, then smiled again as it swam away from him. She, too, was free and could go happily on her way. For this moment in time, he was content and felt relaxed. He could feel the weight of the water as it washed over and through and around his body, his clothing billowing and then hugging against his skin, in an almost caressing motion. The word “serene” moved through his mind and he had to admit that he felt exactly that way. Serene. He started to close his eyes, intending to savor the moment just a little longer, and then maybe go in search of something new while he waited to be let go of the water, when he heard a splash.
Never before had he seen another human while he was under water. Plenty of everything else that lived in the sea or river or lake, but never another person. And this one was in trouble. For the moment, it didn’t matter where she came from, all that mattered was that he get her to some air. Right now. He wasn’t the least bit certain he’d be able to get her to the surface, because he didn’t know how far down he was. He’d never been able to find the surface any other time he’d tried, and he had no idea just what Amphidea would or would not let him do, now that someone else was involved. For all he knew, this young woman wasn’t even real. She could be nothing more than an illusion the Sea Hag had created in order to test him. To see what he would do. The thought almost made him pause. He almost slowed to reconsider what course of action he should take. But in the small moment in time in which he had to make a decision, he already knew he had no decision to make at all. In just a few strokes he was at her side and had her in his arms. Her qatyeh had come off when she’d ... entered? fallen? in the water, so her face was wrapped in her long hair. To her credit, she wasn’t thrashing about or making it more difficult to rescue her by fighting him. That much, he could be thankful for, he supposed, but the fact that she was so calm set off alarms in his mind. She really should be thrashing about and scared out of her mind, afraid to die. Why wasn’t she? He told himself it made no difference whatsoever as he pushed off from the sandy bottom towards the surface above them. He knew he should not, for a moment, assume that just because the water surrounding them was filled with light and was so beautifully clear that they really were anywhere near the surface. He might swim for three days and never breathe air. He knew, because he’d done his level-best to get the surface on many occasions. Even when it should have taken no more effort than to raise his head. When he could see birds sitting on the surface and should have been able to touch them, or even raise a hand out of the water, he had never been able to do so before. That was his biggest concern, that this girl would die for lack of air, and they might not even be a hand’s span from the surface in reality.
His thoughts were racing; there were so many possibilities! This whole scenario could be nothing at all, or the girl he was racing to the surface with might die. If this was nothing more than some stupid test the Sea Hag was pulling on him, what would be the purpose? He’d never really understood what she’d been doing all this time, dropping him into one body of water after another. His first thought had been that she’d just wanted to exert her influence over him, to let him know he had no say in the matter at all. Another thought was she was preparing him for the day when he truly did come face to face with her. He would have been a poor “heir” indeed, to have never known water other than the preci
ous amount found in the desert. Perhaps this girl was nothing more than the next step in his training. He sincerely hoped that’s all this was, and that if the girl died, it would turn out to be nothing more than an illusion. But ... there’s was always the “but.” But she might be real. And she might really die if he didn’t do something about it.
Was that it? Was that the test? Was this somehow supposed to make things more intimate? More real? He’d long ago dismissed the hordes of people following him around as nothing more than a burden. He rarely talked to any of them, and then only grudgingly and mostly only to the elders. He’d found that most people simply didn’t know what to talk about when he finally did try to mingle, and he had no idea what to say to them. So was this girl, then, a ploy to get him to feel something for a single person, so it would seem more real? So he would understand that each person was worth saving, even if it didn’t seem like he could? He could feel his teeth gritting in frustration and wanted to howl. How would he ever know what was real and what wasn’t when his entire life was nothing more than a guessing game?
Right now, it didn’t matter. If she was an illusion, then he had done nothing more than what most people would have done in his place. Nothing more, he resolutely decided. He’d given nothing away, had made no promises nor vows. Nothing had changed, other than he had revealed how he would react in this one particular situation. If, however, every time he found himself suddenly in a body of water and girls started drowning right in front of him, then he might have to just let one or two drown to see exactly what Amphedia did about that. But this felt right. He would have hated to have been responsible for someone drowning just because he thought the Sea Hag was playing some kind of trick on him.
If he wasn’t careful, he just might find out what would happen if someone drown no matter how he felt about it though, as the girl’s weight was becoming heavier. She wasn’t helping any more. She was nothing more than dead weight. How was he supposed to know what to do? He could feel his heart beating faster in his chest now. This was just plain stupid! He was from the desert! He should never have even seen the sea in his lifetime! This was ludicrous. He rarely felt as though he had much control over his life, let alone his daily activities, but this – this was worse than anything else he’d encountered, besides his mother’s death. What was he supposed to do?
Then a stray thought entered his mind. What if the answer to that question was a trap? What if Amphedia was just waiting for him to ask her for help? What if the only way to save the girl’s life was by asking for help from the Goddess of the Seas? Jarles felt thoroughly sickened by the thought. That just couldn’t be the price. This girl’s life was worth more than being used as some pawn in a divine trick! Why did everything have to be so damned hard?
Think! What should I do? He asked the question, even though he continued racing towards the surface. What was the worst thing that could happen if he did ask Amphedia for help? The problem with that question was that he had no idea. None at all. He’d been avoiding her and fighting against everything she ever put in his path for the whole of his life so he would never have to find out what the consequences were to refusing her. Did it really matter if this one girl died? If he asked for help, Amphedia might still refuse, and then what? This was stupid! He stopped then, finally, and looked at the girl. Really looked at her. Her eyes were closed, no bubbles were escaping from her mouth, she wasn’t struggling. Was she already dead when he first noticed her? No. He was sure she’d been alive. Every instinct told him she’d been alive, everything he’d come to trust in this place. He might arrive by unnatural means, but the surrounding environment was real. He always knew when everything was healthy and when it wasn’t. And now it wasn’t.
Everything else was still healthy and alive and breathing, but the girl was slipping away. She’d stopped breathing. Wait! Everything else was still healthy and alive! Yes, it was! He immediately reached out with his mind, not daring to think of the possibility of failure. He’d done it a few times before, but had stopped, worried it was part of the grooming process. He held no illusions that every time he was submerged, Amphidea gained something. If nothing else, he had become accustomed to being in water of all kinds. But he’d learned much and more through the years, no matter his hatred of the Sea Hag, her methods or what she might be trying to do with or to him. Along with the ability to feel life and its myriad of names and forms and functions, he’d also discovered he could affect changes in all the life forms in any kind of water. He could make a plant grow or a reef to shrink in size. He could cause the water to become less cloudy, or darker. He could both give health and take it away, while he was under water.
He immediately encountered a vast array of life forms and faltered for the smallest of moments. How to choose? What did he really need to do? He’d never really tried to direct even the smallest of fish to do a particular thing; he’d purposefully avoided doing exactly that. He felt utterly stupid, angry at himself for feeling stupid, and a dizzying number of emotions. Closing his eyes, he cleared his mind, picturing himself back in the desert with his boots off and his bare feet deep in the sand. He could feel Sov’s embrace warming his skin and his clothing strangely heavy where it simply hung on his body, instead of moving with the current.
To the surface. He needed to get the girl to the surface. He knew that. He also knew he’d never been allowed to find his way to the surface before, no matter how he’d tried. Stilling himself, he allowed his anger to fill him. He was no longer confused. No longer the least bit worried. He was mad. Enraged. If this girl was real and if she died, he would find a way to make Amphedia pay for her death.
Do you hear me? he sent his thoughts outward, envisioning the energy of his thoughts as some physical force, echoing throughout the land and sand and mountains and to the sea. I will make you pay if she dies!
Then he called a pod of dolphins to him, willing them to respond. He refused to question whether they would do his bidding. He’d been told all his life he was the heir to the Goddess of the Seas, and now he would put that terrible truth to the test. Nor was he disappointed when he felt the four of them turn in his direction. He could feel each and every life coursing through his own body, through his own life force, as if even the smallest of creatures buried in the silt of this sea was an intricate part of his own being. He could feel the worms and plants and tiny, unseen things in the coral and clinging to plants. He could feel the texture and grain of each moss and weed and flower. He felt the water flow through gills he did not possess and the swish of tails, fins, and scales not of his own body.
The dolphins approached, slowing as they drew near. He pictured in his mind how he wanted each of them to move and they did exactly as he asked. In very short order, he had the girl – her name was Aidena! How did he know that? Never mind. It wasn’t important now. Still, as he draped her body over the back of one of the dolphins, his mind was flooded with impressions of her life. It was as if she was shouting out her life’s story directly into his mind. It was almost painful; he couldn’t make it stop. He closed his eyes against the flow of information, but could feel and see more images as they continued to fill his mind. He could feel the dolphins start to turn away from him. They didn’t understand what was happening. They weren’t really cognizant of what they were doing in aiding him in the first place, but being distracted made them nervous. They wanted to flee, as all wild creatures do when confronted with such an unfamiliar scenario, but were uncertain what to do.
Jarles opened his eyes, squinting against the onslaught of images, feeling as though his head might literally explode. Picturing the surface – the air – above, he commanded the dolphins to take him and the girl there. He wasn’t altogether certain whether he really commanded them, or just asked them. Or if they would even really understand. He’d chosen them instead of the rays he knew were just underneath the surface because he thought the dolphins might have a better idea of what images of “air” and “surface” might mean; they were in and out of th
e water all the time, whereas most sea-dwelling creatures rarely concerned themselves with anything out of the water.
He’d meant to swim on his own, but now felt weak and disoriented. There was just too much information pounding into his head. He felt as though he was losing his own mind as he learned more and more about this girl, this Aidena. He felt the dolphins move under him, felt the water rushing past his face, felt his clothing tugging at him, resistant against the movement. He had the fleeting thought he was glad he was able to survive under the water without breathing, because the amount of water being forced up his nose by the rapid movement of the dolphins was overwhelming. He wouldn’t have been able to open his eyes if he tried. He hoped the girl was all right, but wondered what he’d be able to do for her once the reached air. His own mind was shutting down.
Chapter Seven – Chared’s Lesson
Chared leaned his left shoulder against the cool stones of the building at the edge of the square, crossing his arms in front of him. He’d done this kind of thing many times before with no hesitation; speaking on behalf of Amphidea and what messages she had to bring to her people was a thing which came easily to him. It had always filled him with a sense of wellbeing and even a taste of power. These were some of the gifts the goddess often gave to those who did her bidding. There had been a time when he’d commanded the largest audiences. Once he appeared in the square, people sent their children scurrying to bring their friends, neighbors and spouses to hear what he had to say.
But today was different. He had rarely known what he was going to talk about until he began, then had always found the words smoothly flowing, telling the tales and lore and commands of she whom he served. Today, though, he had his own agenda. His own message. He wondered if he would be allowed to share it, or if Amphidea would truly strike him dead this time.