Eleven Hundred Sand Dunes

by Helena Phillips

  “What’s up?”

  “You’re not going too well, you and Bridey, are you?

  Flagran never interfered with what went on between them these days. He had occasionally given Sandro firm and unpleasant advice before the couple had managed to connect with conviction, and he flinched at the possibility of what might be on its way now. He screwed up his face. “Is that what the visit is about do you think?”

  “I have a feeling it might be.” The Caretaker measured him gravely. “I’ve been waiting for you to sing out.”

  The bald statement hit the spot. “I know. I suck at that.”

  “You do.” The voice was firm. “Now, you’ve brought trouble on our little party.”

  He winced. “I’m not sure how that works.”

  “You actually know a lot more about how things work than you let on.”

  He felt a quick flash of temper. “Well, you could have come to me.”

  “Yes, I could have. But, I wanted to see how long it would take. Now the party’s been taken over and there’s no time remaining for your petulant behaviour. You need to get this sorted.”

  “What?” His voice was rising. “How is it all my fault?”

  Flagran’s hand clasped his thigh, and the heat flashed through his body making him squirm. “Don’t give me that shit. You know very well you have been revelling in the sulks. You work your muscles and leave all the emotional stuff.”

  Grabbing at the hand burning his leg, he attempted unsuccessfully to remove it. He wanted to stand and walk off, but Flagran held him down. “Don’t you dare,” the Caretaker was uncompromising. “You can’t walk away every time you’re not happy. This constant poor behaviour is unworthy of you. I’ve had enough of it. No wonder Bridey’s over you.”

  The harsh criticism battered him. Many weeks had passed since Flagran had spoken with anything but encouragement and friendly banter. Generally, the Caretakers had been supportive of his rehabilitation efforts. Rather than intervening, they adapted to his pace suggesting new ways of strengthening but not interfering physically. This was how Sandro liked it. He’d had no idea of his friend’s thoughts. “Why didn’t you say something?” His voice choked, surprised at the effect a blast from Flagran could have on him.

  “It’s time you took charge of yourself. The first thing to do would be to use the resources you have been offered. Instead. You sulk. Get jealous. Behave badly. And then blame Bridey when she wants to go off and have a good time elsewhere. Behave yourself now, or we’ll be having a lot more than this talk.”

  Sandro’s impulse to withdraw grew, but the blazing hand wouldn’t give an inch. He’d been having a hard time. The leg in particular was in constant pain, and his arm was pretty useless. He’d had much to be sulky about. His face closed down.

  Flagran’s warning bit into him. “Don’t try that on me. All you’ll get, if you go that way, is a good thumping.”

  “Yeah. Go on. Attack the cripple.”

  Flagran turned on him then and pressed him to the ground kneeling over him and imprisoning his shoulders. “Try that again,” he said. “You’ve got fifteen seconds to tidy it up.”

  Sandro turned his face away. When the time was up, Flagran stood trapping him between his ankles. Sandro began to lose control, his voice rose in an outraged yell. “Get off me!”

  “No. You have ten seconds this time to rephrase it.”

  Stubbornness was Sandro’s strong suit. He held out and flinched as Flagran’s foot rose and descended on him pressing into his chest. “You’re behaving like a baby,” he was told. “Get over yourself. I’m not stopping until you give me a good reason.”

  Sandro’s rage made him buck and kick like a bull. All the strengthening he’d been doing over the past few days, coupled with extreme anger, made him thrash around without the slightest effect. He lifted his right hand and grabbed at Flagran’s calf with a burst of strength trying to squeeze and punch his way out. Without missing a beat, the Caretaker sat forward on Sandro, grabbing the arm. “You will do this.”

  With the hiss of a balloon deflating, the fight vanished. He was spent. “Okay. Okay. Leave me alone, you bastard.” He struggled to remember what the task had been. Flagran reminded him.

  “You suggested I was attacking a cripple.”

  “Well, aren’t you?”

  “You have no idea what being a cripple means, you selfish, arrogant man. Everything always going your way, you get the sooks and cry hurt at the first challenge. I’m disgusted with you.” Sandro tried to duck the words, his efforts focussed on not breaking. Flagran’s glare held no sign of letting up.

  “Stop. Get off me. Give me a chance to think.”

  “What? You’ve had weeks to think. It’s going nowhere. You’re just caught up in your own self-pity. It sickens me.”

  “Okay,” humiliated, he said what was expected. “Okay. I’m a sook. I’m bringing it all on myself.” Flagran leant over him, and Sandro squeezed up his face, but the Caretaker put his hands on either side of it holding it in place. Then, he leant forward and kissed him on the forehead.

  “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  “You bastard.” Sandro’s voice cracked. He stared up into the Caretaker’s face entreating him to let up. Flagran placed his hands on the ground to one side and slipped off him sitting on the grass watching. He rolled onto his stomach to hide his face, his shoulders shaking. When the Caretaker attempted to pull him in, Sandro resisted in every way he could, but Flagran was determined.

  “NO!” he shouted eventually. “You will let me hold you.”

  Sandro collapsed. He turned into Flagran’s belly grabbing both sides of him and clinging with fisted hands while his rage burned. “I hate being crip…” Feeling the Caretaker go rigid under him, he quickly changed his words. “I hate being helpless.” Lifting his head, he let out an anguished scream full of loneliness and grief, shame and frustration. It was heard back at the campsite.

  ***

  Startled from her reverie, Bridey jumped to her feet. She attempted to run, unsure which direction to head in, but Homarta grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “Let them sort it out, Bridey. He needs the tender ministrations of Flagran right now. Definitely not you.” She put her hand on the top of Josh’s head who had crept over to sit up against her leg.

  “What’s he doing to him?” Josh was trembling.

  Her hand began vibrating into his head, and slowly he relaxed. “He’s just helping him to fight his demons,” she said. “He’ll be alright, Joshie. Don’t worry, you two. Flagran knows exactly what Sandro needs.” She then turned to Bridey pushing her to squat between her knees where she contemplated her face, searching. “I think maybe the Source wasn’t as content with you lying this morning, as it may have seemed.”

  Bridey stared at her dismayed. “You mean Sandro is getting this because of me.”

  “Partly, yes.”

  “No.” she said. “You must let me go to them. Flagran needs to work on me. Do something, Homarta.”

  The legs on either side of her tightened. “I’ve already told you this is between Sandro and Flagran. He’s not interested in fixing you. That’s my job. Now let it go before I do just that.” Bridey wished she could curl up on her lap. But, Josh was distressed, so she sank to the ground and leant back against Homarta’s knees.

  Torrenclar returned to the camp calling them together.

  Eleven

  Flagran appeared in response to Torrenclar’s call, but he came alone. A long look passed between the Caretakers.

  “Where is he?” Josh and Bridey asked together. “You can’t just leave him there!”

  “Give him some time.” Flagran appeared unconcerned. “He’ll join us when he can.”

  “But, you’re not going to make him walk?” Josh’s distress was palpable, his agitated steps darting around the campsite, distracted and restless. When Flagran went towards him, he stepped away. “What did you do to him?” Surprised, Flagran pulled up, and Josh stopped. “You
don’t frighten me Flagran. Just because you have special powers doesn’t mean you can hurt us.”

  Bridey put her arm around him. “It’s okay,” she said. “Flagran wouldn’t hurt him, or leave him if he wasn’t up for it. He loves him.” Her words seemed to settle him momentarily, and Flagran, who looked towards Torrenclar for some direction, didn’t respond.

  Homarta held out a hand, and Josh refused her invitation.

  “We are to engage with them the way we normally would. They’re here until the end of the week.” This meant the ruin of their final two days. Flagran groaned, and Bridey felt guilty. If it hadn’t been for her, the Source wouldn’t have foisted these guys on them. She resolved to take on her challenges. Her first plan was to spend less time with Torrenclar. The second was to be nice to Irri-tat, (if she would let her). One thing she was determined about was to hold on to Homarta’s attention. Before she could think this through, their visitors returned to the camp.

  “Where’s Sandro?” Ravesh asked sweetly, her expression making it clear she had a fair idea of the answer.

  “He’s having some time to himself. Leave him be.”

  “You’ve become very bossy since we used to be good friends, Torrenclar.”

  “Have I?” He raised his eyebrows. “Just asking for your respect.”

  “Well, don’t shut me out of what’s going on here. We heard him scream. What’s up?”

  “Frustration with his disabilities. He’s got to get it out. Leave him to it, Ravesh.” Flagran’s voice was quiet, but determined.

  “Go and see if you can do anything for him, Irri-tat. Maybe he needs a friendly face.”

  When Flagran stepped in front of Irri-tat, Ravesh insisted. “She has a right to go where she wills, Flagran. You don’t own him, or her.”

  Torrenclar moved across to Josh who was beginning to shake, distressed now, uncertain what to do. From behind, he threw an arm over one shoulder splaying his fingers, locking him against his body, his warmth spreading while the boy leaned into him. Ravesh sneered, muttering something ugly which was lost to Josh but caused Homarta to rise in her chair and head towards her.

  “If I hear anything like that again from you, you’ll be dealing with me, is that quite clear?”

  “Crystal.” Ravesh sneered again. “You lay a hand on me, and you will regret it.”

  “You think so?”

  Josh squirmed, and Torrenclar spoke quietly into his ear. “That’d be good,” muttered the boy, keen to be off.

  Homarta shrugged cheerfully. “What are your plans, Ravesh?” she asked as Josh went to pick up his wetsuit. “Come sit with me, Bridey!”

  Another ugly sneer and Ravesh left to seek out Irri-tat. Their conversation lasted longer than planned. Irri-tat wanted to discuss everything. She held back from Sandro, unsure of her reception. Eventually, Ravesh gave up on her. She was learning that Irri-tat responded only to her own will.

  Across the lake, water sports began. Mid-week, mid-winter, there were no observers. Picking up Josh, Torrenclar skated to an island of land, densely treed. Unlike the Caretaker, Josh required something to stand on. Between them, they gathered enough debris to weave together a small raft. “Take your shoes off Joshie. You’re likely to get wet.” Torrenclar grinned. Eager to be off, the boy discarded his sneakers on the beach. Over the next hour, the Caretaker taught him to weave rope from hanging vines; enough to fashion hand and foot holds, another for attaching to Torrenclar. His surfing improving each day, he had discovered his natural balance and a dancer’s lightness on the waves. The sunny day beckoned, and the water stretched away leaving only the lightest of ripples.

  Torrenclar began to float across the water allowing the rope to tighten before gaining speed. His movements expertly timed, Josh managed to keep his footing for several rounds of the island. The air whipped crisp into his face, and his chin lifted, his nose and hair welcoming the onslaught. Sun brought the tips of the slight ripples into sharp relief against the dark water. No sound, as they circled setting off across the lake toward an island far away. His prowess was impressive for a beginner. The speed accelerated until Josh sang out in excitement. Torrenclar rounded the new island. A cloud of birds, previously undisturbed, rose to circle above their heads. After an unexpected zip to one side, the boy, taken unawares, crashed into the water. Returning to collect him, the Caretaker found him sitting disconsolate on the raft, staring into nothing. He pulled up and sat down beside him on the water.

  “Given up after the first tumble?”

  Josh shot him a wan look. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m just worried.”

  “About what?”

  “Sandro being stuck with those monsters. It’s such a horrible feeling, and he wasn’t doing so well before they turned up.” He balanced on the tiny perch. The last thing he wanted was for Torrenclar to think he’d turned chicken.

  “Sandro’s quite tough, you know.”

  The gentle voice dispelled any anxiety about being a quitter, but he made no move to begin again. “Not lately he hasn’t been. He used to keep stirring me all the time, and I had to watch out for him. Since the accident that was meant for me, he’s been different.” Torrenclar reached out and tipped the raft pitching Josh into the water. Struggling and spluttering from the unexpected attack, Josh gasped, “What was that for? I wasn’t bagging him.”

  “No, you weren’t.” The relief was short lived. “But, that was for Flagran who would have done worse.”

  “Whaddya mean?”

  “Didn’t you say you caused the accident?”

  Josh attempted to pull himself up onto the little seat. Failing, he fell back, the cold seeping into him. His companion reached out a hand, helping him to scramble into place looking morose. “Sometimes, it still gets to me.”

  “Of course it does.”

  Josh considered this. “But he’s different, and it just feels like it’s my fault.”

  “Yes. It can be like that.” The Caretaker smiled. “You’re doing well, Josh. Are you having a good time?”

  “Mostly.”

  “The fighting upsets you, doesn’t it?”

  “I wish Flagran hadn’t taken Sandro away like that.” Josh hung his head the water deep below the surface offering no answers.

  “You love him. I’m surprised you don’t trust him more.”

  “He’s tough. I’d hate to have him angry with me. It’s scary when he gets that look.”

  “So much that you would shut him out without giving him the benefit of the doubt about what you heard. Do you really think Flagran would attack him, or hurt him enough for him to scream out? That scream was built up pressure. Not pain.

  Josh lifted his head. “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely positive.”

  “Well, why hasn’t Flagran been spending much time with him then?”

  “We often leave you. It’s good for you to nut out stuff. While Bridey and Sandro have been struggling, Flagran’s been holding back not wanting to interfere too quickly.”

  “I’ve been thinking it’s something to do with me.”

  Torrenclar reached out, smiling as the boy ducked, and brought the tiny raft closer. He threw an arm around his shoulders. “How do you work that out?”

  Silence.

  “Come on, tell me.” His arm tightened as Josh’s distress grew. Giving him a slight shake, he said, “Tell me. Don’t hold on to it.”

  “Well…” he was flushed and turned his head into Torrenclar’s chest, surprising them both. The Caretaker gathered in the struggling boy while he wrestled his own feelings. “It’s embarrassing…” Lifting his head to search the face close above him now, he said, “You all seem to be making too much of a fuss of me here, teaching me and everything. I think Sandro’s lonely. No one’s on his side.” He dropped his face to lean into the strong chest again. Torrenclar felt his own distress rise. He leant down whispering, “You are such a beautiful soul.”

  It was quite some time before Josh could recover. Torrenclar lifted his chi
n with one hand. He kissed the face tenderly, brushing his lips against tears and hugging him in. “Thank you, Josh. I think you may be right. Especially now, eh?”

  The boy nodded.

  “Let’s get back then.”

  ***

  At the campsite, Homarta was deep in conversation, Bridey curled up in her mentor’s lap. They’d been discussing the question of what might have brought their visitors; why the Source had decided they needed a jolt. Homarta had done her best to rid her of her guilt. “The Source isn’t punitive like that. Mixing up the blend of things can often bring out the unexpected. We’re doing okay here.”

  “I don’t want them here, Homarta. I want you all to myself.”

  A light smack came with the words, “It’s not all about you Miss.” She lay thinking about this. “Can you keep going, please?” Homarta grinned. “What, this?” and smacked her again. “I like it,” she said in a small embarrassed voice. “You don’t hurt me. It just feels good.”

  “That’s taken you a while to say, hasn’t it?”

  After a couple of moments, Bridey said, “I love it when you touch me, everywhere. It all feels good. Sometimes there’s a message in it, and sometimes I just like to feel you challenging me. Is that okay? Is there anything wrong in that?”

  “What would be wrong with it? Wouldn’t it feel different if it were?” Bridey lay quietly absorbing the feeling of Homarta’s warm and strong fingers. “I hate that they’re here. It will make this less likely.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Everything Ravesh says makes me uncomfortable. I can’t imagine you doing this without her saying something gross.” She sighed. “I also can’t stand Irri-tat’s jealousy.” She waited to hear what Homarta would say. “Are you cross with me about that?” she asked. “It is selfish isn’t it?”

  “Bridey we’re all selfish in some ways.” She placed her warm hand across Bridey’s buttocks and held it there. “But in this case, you’re going to have to give up having what you want for the sake of the group. Irri-tat will require attention, and Ravesh will make it difficult for us all if we give her any. It’s certainly not going to be pleasant. I doubt they’ll stay the full distance.” She patted her. “If you’re up for it, I’ll continue treating you in exactly the same way I have been, but you’ll have to bear the consequences.”