by Ayre, Janice
As the first soft light of morning filtered through the curtains, Saniyah walked to where Zebulon sat.
“When do you think Karmen will arrive?” she asked softly.
“Not until later in the morning, for she would be unable to travel at night. But I know she will make haste.”
“Will he get better?”
“I am not a healer. I do not know. But he is young and strong and Kareem set upon him a protection spell. And he has the power from the pendant. I know without these things he would have been killed.”
“Why did you place him at such risk? He is so young.” As soon as these words were uttered, Saniyah regretted it. She noticed a muscle working in the wizards strong jaw, and his mouth formed a hard line. He remained silent for some minutes. She wished to reach out and touch him, but held back for fear of rejection.
“It was not meant to happen like that,” he said finally.
To her questioning look he added. “I should have realised his tender heart would not let him wait any longer for my signal, which he was supposed to do. The sign of your distress caused him to act prematurely.”
Saniyah wanted to ask him if he was touched by her pain, but she felt it wise to say no more and moved back to her position at the further end of the room. After all, he had come. She moved to the window and let the gentle breeze caress her face.
Zebulon watched as she moved away. He was pleased she had left, for her nearness drove him to distraction and his words seemed to stick in his throat, choking him. He drew his gaze from her and let it move around the once familiar room. On the wall opposite the bed, a large portrait of him, which she had painted in happier days, hung on the wall. At least she had left it there. But he observed grimly, the features could not be seen, for the image had turned so that only the back could be viewed. Saniyah had a particular magic which was part of her artistic skills. Her emotions affected how her art was portrayed. It reflected her joy, sadness, or confusion. Her paintings remained always connected to her and mirrored her moods.
In her hands the colours became living things and some individuals could actually smell the fragrances from the flowers she painted. Brock would be able to smell the scents mused Zebulon. With the thought of the elf, he looked once more at the still form. Brock lay as if in death, his breath barely perceptible. He looked so young that the wizard felt pangs of guilt at the thought of what he had asked, really demanded of him. He had been a faithful little apprentice. He should have treated him better.
The couple's separate musing was interrupted by the entrance of a servant announcing the arrival of Karmen. She appeared immediately behind him, her bag in hand, and went directly to the elf's bedside.
Zebulon and Saniyah hovered beside her until she instructed them to move away. Another person entered the room and Zebulon was surprised to see Kareem there.
“How did you get here so quickly? I didn't expect you for hours.”
“Karmen gave me one of her wonderful concoctions and I was able to transport us here. I believe I am in better shape than you.”
After completing her examination, Karmen set about mixing a tincture. Having done that she placed a few drops of it under Brock's tongue.
“Is it bitter?” Zebulon asked.
“Yes, but I think that is the least of his worries for now.” She stood, medicine in hand, watching for a change in the elf's condition. The others gathered around to see. After some minutes had passed, a slight tinge of colour came into Brock's cheeks and his breathing became a little deeper. “I'll administer more in one hour.”
Karmen now turned her attention to Zebulon. “You look terrible. I will mix you some tea and you can rest. There is nothing you need do for now.”
“No, I don't want any of your confounded teas,” Zebulon said testily. “They will make me sleep and I don't wish to sleep.”
“I will give you one that will relax and refresh you.”
“Very well then!” He was too exhausted to really resist her.
While he drank the tea Karmen went to Saniyah and wrapping comforting arms around her, led her to another room to sleep. “You will have some tea too?” she asked as they left.
When Karmen returned after tending to Saniyah she found that Kareem had requested a servant bring light refreshments for them and that Zebulon was fast asleep in the big comfortable chair.
“I thought you said the tea wouldn't make him sleep.” Kareem smiled knowingly at her. “You tricked him.”
“I told him that it would relax him and refresh him. If sleep is what he needed to be refreshed then so be it! My tea simply facilitated the inevitable. He'd be a really nice person if he wasn't so stubborn.”
Brock was in a dark pit. He felt a presence beside him and without seeing he knew it was Mustafa. The wizard said nothing but began pricking him all over his body. He felt fire burn at the site of the pricks and he felt a terrible fear. He thrashed about and his breathing became rapid. Strong arms held him and a vile potion was forced into his mouth. He thought he was being poisoned and he fought bravely. A voice he didn't recognise came into his mind.
“What's happening to him? Will he die?” It was Saniyah who had just entered the room and saw the frightening drama.
“His body is fighting Mustafa's poison.” Karmen had just finished giving him a dose of the bitter herbs.
Zebulon slowly relaxed his grip as he felt the young elf grow limp as the medicine took its healing effect.
Most of Karmen's efforts and attention were taken up with caring for Brock but she fretted for Saniyah as the young woman seemed to be fading away in her private grief. She was concerned for Zebulon also for he appeared in another world, distant from everyone. Even Kareem was unable to penetrate the wall he had built around himself. Karmen could not understand why he would not go to Saniyah and end both their doubts and agony of spirit. Kareem, who understood better, comforted her and explained that Zebulon was in the grip of a terrible remorse that would destroy or rebuild him. “The process he will go through must be done alone, for so is his temperament that he will not share his private agony with anyone. When he is ready he will seek relief from his torment and once more communicate with us.”
There were times when Brock's life was held in the balance, but gradually the shivering, the tremors and the pain began to subside. Karmen had set him on a new course of treatment. This time it was a pleasant liquid that travelled down his throat and spread its soothing powers to every place that hurt, bringing him a sense of peace and safety. The dreams of Mustafa had gone and in their place he saw gardens with bright flowers and he could smell heavenly perfumes. Karmen had encouraged Saniyah to bring flowers, which were known for their healing aromas, to the room. Knowing Brock, she reasoned that these would be particularly effective for him.
Over the following days, the two women took walks in the garden and spoke of many things. Until now they had not known each other very well, but their relationship quickly developed into one of deep friendship. Saniyah expressed her uncertainty about Zebulon to Karmen, and she, having known him most of her life was able to give Saniyah a greater understanding of the perplexities of his character, at least as far as one could express in words. Karmen was pleased to see that these walks were bringing a healthier blush to the young woman's cheeks.
The gardens gave Saniyah some peace and she drank deeply of the visual beauty surrounding her. Karmen's strong, compassionate character was the company she most needed at this time. Never had she felt so comfortable with another person.
“ I love Zebulon so much and yet I am unable to speak to him of how I feel. There seems to be a barrier that is too thick for either of us to penetrate. Perhaps we don't love each other enough. What should I do?”
Karmen was silent for a time, then she said, “You need to be patient. Many strong emotions surround you. The terrifying experience with that evil Mustafa, the near death of our dear young elf, and the meeting of the two of you after so long. Zebulon is very passionate and he has a t
rue and strong character. He will hold himself responsible for everything that has gone wrong. He will not give himself forgiveness easily.”
“But I forgave him long ago, I just want to tell him so. I want to comfort him, but always something stays my hand.”
“Give a little more time. Zebulon's temper is terrible but his love is stronger.”
“I could not live through this without your friendship. I am so thankful for that.”
Karmen smiled and put her arm around Saniyah's shoulders, giving her a gentle hug.
Zebulon and Kareem took turns in watching over Brock while the ladies walked. The servants were good but not one of the four felt inclined to leave him to their charge, even for a short duration. Sometimes the two wizards would sit together and although there was little conversation, Zebulon could feel the calm and the care emitting from Kareem, and he was grateful.
The day came when the friends could know with certainty that Brock would live. When he first opened his eyes to the consciousness of his surroundings he saw Saniyah and smiled.
“You are safe,” he whispered.
He remembered nothing of what had happened after he had freed her, other than nightmares and terrible pain, but gradually with the help of the others he began piecing some of the events together.
“I'm sorry,” he told Zebulon.
“What have you to be sorry for? You saved Saniyah's life.”
“I didn't wait for your signal.”
“It was a hard thing I asked of you. Be still now, and do not let these things concern you.”
With Brock out of danger, Zebulon began taking long walks alone while the days took on a more relaxed and comfortable rhythm for the others. They were nevertheless distressed by Zebulon's lack of communication. Saniyah was distracted by his apparent lack of interest but the company of Kareem and Karmen sustained her through the lonely hours. Karmen suspected that at night many a tear dampened Saniyah's pillow but she said nothing other than to encourage Saniyah to return to her art and other occupations which gave her pleasure. Zebulon still spent time with Brock but the elf found the wizard's attentions too serious and lacking the humour he would have expected from him.
Zebulon, with the recovery of Brock, now allowed himself to answer to the inner burden of recrimination which had been growing stronger with each passing day. As he walked alone, his thoughts focused inward and he saw only blackness ahead. The wondrous surroundings did nothing to dispel the inner gloom and loneliness, and darkness engulfed him.
After many days he began to feel he could bare the weight no longer. As he made his customary walk one evening he looked for a source which could ease his pain. He had come to a small stream and chose to settle beside it, hoping the sound of the water bouncing over the rocks would make soothing music for his troubled soul. It did not. The endless bubbling water simply seemed to mock him, to incite him to rage. He placed his hands over his ears to block out the sounds both of the water and his thoughts and fled from the spot. Saniyah was safe, but so sad. How could he hope to ever make her happy again? Brock would gain health and strength, not because of him, but rather owing his recovery to the goodness of others. All he had done was endanger the young life in his keeping. He had won victory over Mustafa but this only underlined the futility of his endeavours. In his torment he released cry after cry from the depths of his being. The sound came back to him as the anguished bellows of a wounded beast. Dropping to his knees, he beat his fist upon the ground, causing sparks of brilliant white flames to leap from them. He felt as if his very soul was being dragged from him. Small creatures, in fear, ran from this fearsome encounter. Kareem, sitting in quiet meditation, felt the power and dared to hope that a victory was being won. Brock, lying in his bed, felt the disturbed energy, shivered with the memory of the battle with Mustafa, and thought it only the imaginings of his befuddled mind.
In this state of abandonment Zebulon felt as though he was both the sufferer and the audience. As though standing beside himself he witnessed the terrible scene with compassion and understanding. Finally all was quiet and he bent lower to the ground, to rest his head on his arms. Then he heard a calm voice speak to him. Whether it was the quiet voice of reason or from another being, he could not tell, but he came to realise that temper was his weakness and his strength. Just as the great power of magic must be controlled and channelled for good, so must his strongest passions. The voice came clearly, “Why should those you loved be robbed of the giving and receiving of love because you are too proud, too stubborn to forgive yourself? Learn from your errors but do not use them as weapons against yourself or others. You cannot truly love and forgive another until you can do this also for yourself.”
He lay a long time on the ground knowing the demons of self-accusation had finally spent their power and he turned at last from the dark pit of despair, with the knowledge that in his trials he had the ability to develop self-mastery.
As he raised himself upon his feet, he let the cooling evening breeze wrap around him, offering its gentle touch to soothe his wounded being. He breathed deeply of the faintly scented air and turned his thoughts to his beloved. His heart longed for an answering response of love from Saniyah and to once more hold her in his arms. He could not tell how she felt for his internal conflicts had blinded him to her desires. He returned to the stream to bathe his face in the cool water, this time finding healing in its music as well as refreshment in its soothing coolness. Turning from his solitary state he made his way to the lounge where he knew the others would be sitting. Each night he had passed directly to his rooms after his evening walk, so when he entered the wide glass doors, three pairs of eyes looked at him in surprise and anticipation. Frankly he returned each inquiring look, noticing that Saniyah could not long hold his gaze before looking downwards. He observed with quickening hope that the cheeks below her thick dark lashes had coloured slightly, and with lighter heart he went to the harp which sat in one corner of the room. Zebulon's skilled fingers began to pluck the strings, and a melody rose that was both bitter and sweet. The music mingled with the senses of the listeners, telling them of pain and sadness. Then, there arose other strains which began to weave around the first sobbing intonations, and out of its sadness was heard songs of hope and love and joy.
Conversation had ceased when Zebulon had entered the room but now each one sat back fully absorbed in the music while it told tales that words could not express. Teas grew cold and books lay open and forgotten. While he played, Zebulon studied his fair sweetheart, and though she did not look at him again, he knew that she heard the music speak to her of his love. A single tears glistened on her cheek.
Chapter Twenty-two
Healing
Though Brock's health was improved it would take more time before he would be completely healed. Sometimes he still had bad dreams.
Early in the morning, Zebulon, on hearing moaning coming from Brock's room, quietly slipped into the room to check on him. Saniyah was there moments before him. They stood close by each other. The soft light entering the room tipped the red highlights of Saniyah’s hair. The feel of her so close and her lovely fragrance unnerved Zebulon. Glancing over the top of her head towards his portrait, he observed that the image was half turned towards the front. His lips curled at the corners and as he looked down at Saniyah, found her studying him with wide expectant eyes. He looked at her delectable lips, so exquisitely formed and he felt a great longing swelling within him. In the quietness of the moment their heads, as if drawn by some invisible force, drew closer. With perfect timing, Brock gave a low groan and they froze, their lips a hair's breath from touching. Brock woke but was so sleepy he was unaware of the momentous event he had just interrupted. The opportunity was lost, but the time significant, for as Saniyah turned to leave, Zebulon looked up at his picture and found himself looking full face into his own likeness. He felt a smile spread across his face and a great weight lifted from his shoulders.
“Why are you smiling? Did I say somethi
ng amusing in my sleep? Brock looked at him sleepily.
“You don't need to be asleep to say amusing things, young lad!” He ruffled Brock's hair.
“I feel as though much has been going on while I've been asleep. What has everyone been doing?”
“Watching over you. But take it easy now, and soon you will be stronger and can enter into all the activities around you.”
“I'm strong now. I'm ready to get up and do whatever you need me to do!”
Zebulon stood smiling down at the elf and then quietly left the room. Brock had fallen back asleep as soon as he had uttered the last sentence.
Zebulon believed he knew where Saniyah had gone. She had a private garden at the back of the castle accessed by a track which wound around some small elegant trees and a natural lake. He made haste, mostly ignoring the surroundings, but breathing deeply of the crisp morning air. The path ended at some soft shrubs which easily obscured the view of the gardens from the rest of the estate. There he found her, seated on a plain wooden seat. Her hands were folded on her lap and her face tilted downwards. It seemed that she may be trying to quieten the excited expectations of her heart. Zebulon paused at the entrance to regain his own composure and to savour in the vision of her, whom he loved so dearly. She was framed by a vine with a profusion of rich pink flowers. The pale morning light filtered through the lacy foliage creating highlights on her features and touching strands of her hair, bringing them alive with a soft red-gold light. He caught his breath as he looked on her loveliness. He was ready to take her into his arms and he knew she was ready to submit to his caresses, but he yet had one thing which troubled him and this left him standing mute and idle. Now that he had time to think of his desires he was hesitant to enact them.
Becoming aware of his presence, Saniyah lifted her head and gazed directly at him. Zebulon was awakened to action and with quick strides he stood before her as she rose from the seat in anticipation.