The Daughter of the Sea and the Sky

by David Litwack

  She dropped the half-formed earring and tossed the pliers away.

  “Don’t worry,” her mother said. “It took me a while to learn as well.”

  “You’ll run out of pins.”

  “I have plenty.”

  “What if I can’t do it?”

  “You’ll learn. I’ll help you.”

  “Of course you will. You’re so good at helping me.”

  Her mother stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Are you two arguing?” Kailani said.

  “We’re not arguing. Helena and I are just having a discussion.”

  “How could we be arguing?” Helena said. “Miz Martha never gets upset. She’s found an inner peace.”

  Martha sighed. “That’s uncalled for.”

  Kailani pressed her hands to her ears. “Don’t argue. It makes my head hurt.”

  “She doesn’t need to hear us carrying on like this.”

  “But I want to carry on, Mother. I want to have it out once and for all.” She turned to Kailani. “Why don’t you go visit Jason? I’m sure he’d love to take a break.”

  “May I play in the labyrinth instead?”

  “That sounds like a lovely idea, dear,” Miz Martha said.

  Helena held her hand up. “You most certainly may not. The labyrinth’s in the middle of the woods.”

  “This isn’t wilderness,” her mother said. “The farm’s perfectly safe and she knows the way. Go ahead, dear, but be sure to come back when you hear the lunch bell.”

  Before Helena could stop her, Kailani slipped away.

  Helena turned on her mother, the venom coming to a boil. “How dare you contradict me? I’m Kailani’s legal guardian, not you. And I’m the only one here she can count on.”

  Her mother looked like she’d been slapped. The mask of calm dissolved for an instant and then re-formed. “I’m sorry I let you down. I’d... do anything to make it up to you. Just tell me what to do.”

  “How about grieving for my father? How about shedding a single tear?”

  “I’ve shed more tears than you know.”

  “But never with me.”

  Her mother wandered over to the workbench and began gathering the loose beads. “No, never with you.”

  “And why is that?”

  “I was... a different person then.”

  “Different? And now you’re better? Someone who can take over and be a mother to Kailani?”

  Her mother set down the beads. “I’m sorry I contradicted you, Helena. I thought she needed some distance from—”

  “Guess you’d know. You’re the expert on abandoning daughters.”

  The blood drained from her mother’s face; the mask was gone.

  “What’s wrong?” Helena said. “Isn’t the Spirit that Benjamin’s so fond of strong enough for you?”

  Her mother seemed to diminish, shrinking into silence.

  Helena glared at her, hoping for a tear to trickle from her eye. Nothing. Yet for an instant, she could almost see it deep inside—not the Spirit, but a pain as deep as her own. She felt her heart strain, trying to reach through the wall formed by her chest, trying to touch the person her mother was.

  Her mother stretched out a hand to bridge the gap.

  Helena hesitated, unsure how to respond. She’d aimed a viper strike at her mother, and the venom had hit its mark. So why was her own blood burning?

  She turned away and stumbled out of the studio.

  ***

  Benjamin was raking leaves by the entrance to the labyrinth, when he heard the rhythmic crunch of footsteps approaching. It was his job to clear debris and reset the stones that lined the border where careless members had disturbed them—one of the many mindless tasks that Sebastian had assigned him. He tolerated the burden without complaint; his faith sustained him.

  He looked up, surprised to see Kailani coming towards him alone, and froze in place like one of Serena’s statues. The girl’s long hair swished as she skipped down the path, humming to herself, oblivious to him and the rest of the world. Now perhaps, the purpose of his indignity would be revealed. All that he’d suffered may have been for this one moment.

  When she spotted him, she stopped her humming and performed a half pirouette, coming to a stop in a sideways pose, neither proceeding forward nor taking flight.

  He encouraged her, waving with one hand while the other squeezed the handle of the rake so tightly his knuckles throbbed. “It’s all right. I was just finishing up. Have you come to play in the labyrinth?”

  She nodded shyly.

  “Like the labyrinths in the Blessed Lands.”

  Her eyes widened slightly. “How do you know?”

  “I was there once.”

  “What were you doing there?”

  His mind filled with memories—the thrill of arriving in the holy land, the humiliation of being sent back. “I thought that’s where I belonged. I’m a believer, like you.”

  She looked confused, doing a little dance step, first back and then forward. “If you’re a believer, why are you living among the soulless?”

  “I was meant for a different purpose, to help the soulless change their ways.”

  She took a step closer. “I came to help the soulless too.”

  A quiver ran through his body—the girl alone in the labyrinth, and now this. “I knew it. I knew that’s why you were sent to me.”

  “I wasn’t sent to you, Mr. Benjamin. I came to do penance.”

  “Penance for what?”

  “I can’t tell you. It’s a secret between me and the wind.”

  Penance. A lever on the soul. “Penance can be difficult. Have you completed yours?”

  She shuffled her feet and made to go around him to the entrance of the labyrinth. When he blocked her way, she stopped and stared at the ground. As the toe of her shoe dug a hole in the soft dirt, she whispered, “No.”

  “To follow your penance to its end, you need a guide. Since we’re both of the Spirit, perhaps I can show you the way.”

  “I don’t want a guide.”

  “Have you ever heard....” He tried to pay proper respect to the sacred name. “...of a land called Lemuria?”

  She shook her head.

  “Lemuria was once a great nation, a single landmass that included both the Republic and the Blessed Lands, but it was split asunder by the sins of the soulless. If we don’t help them change their ways, their fate is foretold. All will be destroyed.”

  Her eyes widened again. “What will be destroyed?”

  “All of this, everything you see.”

  She glanced behind her, beginning to be frightened.

  He pressed the advantage. “And everyone as well.”

  “Everyone?”

  Benjamin took three steps toward her, careful not to startle her into flight, and squatted low so his face was level with her eyes. “Everyone.”

  “Even Jason and Helena?”

  “Especially Jason and Helena, but you can save them.”

  She drew in a gulp of air. “What would I have to do?”

  “There are others like us, believers in this soulless land. Help me draw them together.”

  The dance step returned. She shifted from side to side, but this time more away than forward. “I don’t understand.”

  “Don’t worry, understanding will come later. For now, if you wish to complete your penance, you must do as I ask.”

  “Do what, Mr. Benjamin?”

  “Speak to the people who come to see you.”

  “What people?”

  “The pilgrims. When they come, you must agree to speak with them, no matter what Miz Martha or Jason or Helena say. You may be saving their lives.”

  “What will I say?”

  “They’ll ask questions. Tell them the answers you learned in the Blessed Lands.”

  She looked at him more puzzled than before. “What kind of questions?”

  “Questions like ‘where do we go when we’re gone?’”
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  “How would I know where you go?”

  His palms began to sweat, and he squeezed the handle of the rake tighter as if trying to wring out the moisture. “I mean the Spirit. What happens when the Spirit leaves us?”

  “Oh, that. The sky told me the answer to that.” She scooted around him and pranced through the labyrinth, hopping over the border whenever she pleased to get to the rock pile. When she arrived, she turned, ready to make a pronouncement. “There’s no difference between us and the Spirit. Can the wind be different from the Spirit of the wind? When the wind stops blowing, is the wind gone? The Spirit of the wind will always be with us.”

  Benjamin edged closer, stumbling over stones he’d meticulously set in place. She looked amused, but when he stretched out a hand, her face clouded.

  Don’t leave. Not now. He dropped to one knee. “Daughter of the Sea and the Sky, don’t forsake us. The people of this land need you to lead us to a better way.”

  She fumbled with the stone that lay at the pinnacle of the rock pile. After a moment, she shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “Understanding will come when the pilgrims arrive.”

  She glanced behind her as if to check if anyone was emerging from the woods, then dissolved into laughter. “You’re joking, Mr. Benjamin. No one’s coming to see me.”

  She replaced the rock on the top of pile and, with no regard for the rules of the labyrinth, jumped over the rows of stone and ran off down the path, leaving him standing like a scarecrow, rake in hand.

  ***

  Jason stood in Sebastian’s office and rolled his eyes while Benjamin pleaded his case once more.

  “I beg you.” Benjamin’s voice was tight and desperate. “Let me publish it.”

  Sebastian had apparently reached his limit, and slapped the flat of his hand on the desk. “Enough! I don’t want to hear about this ever again. Write anything you want that promotes our artists, sells our crafts, or solicits donations. We only have a few days left until the reception. Do something to attract a bigger crowd. But for sweet reason’s sake, leave Kailani alone. Now get back to work, both of you.”

  Jason eyed the little man suspiciously, but like everyone else on the farm, he found it impossible to say no to Sebastian. He turned to go and was relieved to see Benjamin follow.

  Back at the workshop, he slipped on his work gloves and gathered his tools to head outside.

  Benjamin blocked the way. “Sebastian was right, Jason. We have only a few days left.” His voice rose uncomfortably. “All of our days are numbered. We’re being measured and judged.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t—”

  “There’s nothing Sebastian can do to stand in the way of what’s preordained. And nothing you can do, either.”

  He gaped at Benjamin. It had been clear from their first meeting that the man was odd, but now there was something more—something dangerous.

  The little man whirled on him. “The world has two choices, as in the past, but this time, the way of the Spirit will prevail.”

  Jason’s mind raced. Sebastian had worked with Benjamin for years; surely he could get along with him for a few months.

  Before he could say anything, Benjamin surprised him. “Are you happier than you were before you came to the farm?”

  Not a question he’d expected. He pictured himself running along the farm’s pathways in the morning. He thought of Kailani, of Helena.

  “I suppose....” He wavered, then steadied. “Yes, I am.”

  “And why is that?”

  No need to answer. Sebastian’s underling had somehow been transformed, replaced by someone with a more complex mind, one Jason struggled to fathom. Best to let him go, and see where he ended up.

  “Shall I tell you why?” Benjamin said at last. “Because all your reason has led you to a hollow life. Here, you’ve been allowed to thrive. She came into your life and brought you closer to your inner spirit, to the Brewster girl, and to the greater Spirit that surrounds us all. Can you deny it?”

  Jason remained silent.

  Benjamin smiled, the kind of smirk that would have made Jason want to strike him if he’d been a violent man.

  “I didn’t think so.” The smile vanished. “Then why would you deny her to the rest of the world?”

  Finally, he could see where Benjamin was heading, but he refused to help him get there. “Kailani is none of your business, and nothing you say will make me help you publish that story.”

  “Then you haven’t learned.”

  “Learned what?”

  “That we’re insignificant in the scheme of things.” Benjamin tilted his head back and gazed at the ceiling as if he could see to the heavens beyond. “No. The Spirit cannot be constrained. The Spirit will find a way.”

  Jason had no response, nor was any necessary.

  Benjamin’s mind had gone elsewhere, to a place he could not imagine. He was no longer Sebastian’s loyal handyman but a raving zealot.

  ***

  Benjamin knew she was rare, a mix of charisma and innocence, but like most of her ilk, she had no patience for the mundane details of creating a movement. By contrast, he was unappealing, even repulsive. Few would follow him, yet he possessed the discipline and skills to build a following for her. She was the spark that flashed brightly and burned out. He was the rock on which a movement is built—the perfect apostle.

  He logged on to the encomm and created a broadcast list as he’d watched Jason do. Next, he fumbled in his pocket for his scroll of followers, and searched for names that matched. After some experimentation, he managed to find a listing of universities on the network and, within each of these, a directory of subscribers. One by one, he located his disciples and added them to the list. When he finished, he had only an hour left before dawn.

  Time to compose the missive.

  He entered the subject:

  The Daughter and the Spirit.

  He prayed for inspiration, and the words came to him. He worked deliberately, afraid his hands would shake. As he typed, the letters burned in the darkness.

  Today, as I stood alone in the midst of the woods, I encountered the Daughter of the Sea and the Sky, sent to us from the Blessed Lands by the Lord. She flitted between the trees like a sunbeam and came to me as if guided by a vision. I stood before her dumbfounded.

  “I have a message for you,” she said, “and for all those who believe.”

  I bowed my head, unable to look at her directly.

  “I am your servant,” I said. “What do you wish of me?”

  “Say this, Benjamin. The essence of Lemuria lives on in the Blessed Lands. I have come to offer a final chance to the soulless. The Treaty of Separation is null and void. There is no difference between us and the Spirit. Can the wind be different from the Spirit of the wind? When the wind stops blowing, is the wind gone? The Spirit of the wind will always be with us.”

  My brethren, all who receive this message, tell the others. Flood the farm with your presence, and together we’ll build a better world.

  When finished, he wiggled the pointer over the word “Send.” Before clicking, he raised his index finger and dragged it across his brow. When he held it up to the flickering light, it gleamed with sweat. Instead of drying it, he replaced it over the pointing device and let it hover.

  His finger twitched, withdrew, and curled on itself, refusing to commit. He pressed his eyelids shut, trying to see through them all the way to an ancient land. Sebastian and Jason would not stop him. He prayed for a flood of followers, so many that even Sebastian would have to heed the word. He prayed for a deluge.

  Click.

  He opened his eyes. The missive was sent.

  Chapter 22 – Embers

  Jason rested his cheek against his hand and stared at the encomm screen. He’d managed to talk his supervisor into granting him access to the archives, an immense bank of information available online. So far, an army of graduate students had encoded the last few decades of journals, magazines
and newsletters. The dream was to someday have all the knowledge in the world searchable and accessible through the network.

  He’d hoped to shed some light on Kailani—who she was and where she’d come from—but so far he’d turned up more propaganda than fact. Too many walls had been built between races.

  Worse than that, he’d come across strange messages in his search. Most presented a simple idea simply stated—Lemuria was an ancient land of the Spirit that had been despoiled by the experiments of the soulless. Their efforts to control nature had caused the Great Sundering. The people of the Republic should take heed, learn from the past and turn away from their soulless ways.

  More disturbing were stories about a girl with golden hair who had come from the Blessed Lands to spread the word, referred to as the Daughter of the Sea and the Sky. Some carried a grain of truth, complete with dreamy platitudes typical of Kailani, but most offered nothing but myths.

  Jason struggled to put the pieces together.

  Benjamin was the most likely culprit, but he’d been keeping a close eye on him the past few days. Benjamin hadn’t left the farm. No mailings had gone out. How could he be spreading the word? What if the stories came from somewhere else, a secret network of zealots, perhaps even some who had infiltrated the department during Kailani’s incarceration?

  Much as he hated to admit it, Carlson was right: Kailani was safer as far out of the way as possible.

  He recommitted to his research, this time searching for blessed lands and nine-year-old and boat—all three together.

  He found one match, the tale of a family of four—father, mother, and two small children. The father had been persecuted for questioning the ruling clerics. He’d been fired from his job, his children harassed and eventually expelled from school, their house vandalized by hateful slogans. Finally, a firebomb was hurled through a window. The four managed to escape with their lives, but their home burned to the ground. Friends scratched together enough to buy them a small boat with provisions, and they set off for a more enlightened life in the Republic. Only the nine-year-old survived.