Eleven Hundred Sand Dunes

by Helena Phillips

  “No one else here thinks it’s strange, do they?”

  “Sandro had a warm and loving mother. His early years were full of physical attention. Where his Dad comes from, it’s expected that there will be close physical relationships with children. Here people are often scared of it; scared of their feelings. It’s all become messy. She smiled to herself, “That’s why I’m sorting you out. Enjoy it. It’s a gift, and you’re growing as a woman. Every day you become more comfortable with your body and what it likes.”

  “Why won’t Sandro let you give him massages or heal his leg and arm?”

  “That’s none of your business, and I don’t know the answer, but I’m sure we’ll find out before too long.” She bent over Bridey giving her a hug with her body and kissing her between the shoulder blades. Holding her firmly in place she said, “You are about to get a dose of what you most fear. Hang on tight.”

  “Enjoying that?” a voice said from behind them, and Bridey reared up in horror, but Homarta held her immobile.

  “Let her up, Homarta. Don’t humiliate her in front of guests.”

  “Are you feeling humiliated, Bridey?” The beloved voice was filled with tender affection.

  “No.” Her own small voice was unconvincing.

  “Of course she is. Let her go.”

  “What do you want Bridey?”

  “I want her to go away.”

  “Bridey,” Ravesh said kindly. “You don’t have to put up with this. Say something, anything, and you will be freed from it.” The words dug deep into Bridey’s soul.

  “Homarta?”

  “Yes dear?”

  “Can you do my front now please?”

  Homarta turned her over. They grinned at each other, and Bridey had won an important battle with herself.

  Disgusted, Ravesh said, “I don’t know what you think you’ve got going on here Homarta, but there’s something really off about this. I don’t like it at all.” She shook her head. “Bridey, I’m telling you it’s not good for you to get caught up in Homarta’s earthy stuff. It’ll do you damage. If you were to take that back to civilization, you could get yourself into real difficulties; strange practices. Very strange indeed.”

  Because there were echoes of her mother in this, Bridey, despite the fact that she’d begun to squirm, was able to look up. “You’re so wonderful, Homarta.”

  “It’s a good thing we got here when we did. No wonder the Source was keen for us to join you. And while the two of you have been caught up like this, have either of you thought about where Sandro is?” She was scornful. “No. I thought not.”

  Torrenclar’s return with Josh, dripping wet, was timely. He disappeared to grab a towel and head for the showers ignoring Ravesh completely. “He looks upset, too,” she said, unable to hide her glee. “What have you done to him?”

  Raising an eyebrow at her, Torrenclar turned to the others. “Where are they?”

  ***

  Sandro

  He lay on his back in the grass after Flagran left, feeling like he’d made a huge mess of his rehabilitation. Flagran had treated him harshly, and he was angry and desperate for him to come back. One thing was certain. There would be no more distance between them. If he wanted Sandro to face up to stuff, he could bloody well stick around and demonstrate it. He was not sure what he was going to do about it though. That was the trouble with Flagran. He hung back a lot, and then just sprang at you. When his arm was healed, and Flagran was least expecting it, he would deal with him somehow. The problem was, the only way you could attack a Caretaker was if they let you, which wasn’t satisfying. Why was it all being blamed on him? She was making this hard. Instead of concentrating on their relationship, she was receiving all sorts of attention and distraction from wherever she could, and not even thinking of him. When he most needed her, she was angry.

  The thoughts whirled around for an hour or more, and as they grew in self-pity, he began to picture Flagran coming back to sort him out again. Not a pleasant picture. Actually, he did totally agree with his problem about calling himself a cripple. It was lame. There was something missing, and he didn’t get it. Attempting to picture himself asking each of the Caretakers for enlightenment, he just couldn’t see it. Torrenclar, a good bloke generally, was a rival. Flagran required too much handling, and Homarta was definitely on Bridey’s side. Well, maybe not completely, but then she would expect him to lie in her lap and put her hands all over him, so that was out. Maybe he should just ask Josh. He was the only one he felt comfortable with.

  “Hello, Sandro.”

  His eyes shot open from a doze to see Irri-tat gazing down at him with her eager face. Could life get any worse? He sat up, embarrassed.

  “Are you alright? Can I help?” The words were gentle and genuine

  What might have happened with her if she’d let us all help her when she first came to us? At least then she wouldn’t be trailing around after that awful spirit.

  “Thank you Irri. I’m okay.”

  “You don’t seem okay. You look ruffled.” She sat down. How do you get rid of these Caretakers? When you want them to care for you, they disappear, and when you’re least up to it, they appear out of nowhere.

  “Sandro, do you think I could come back and work with all of you?” she asked wistfully.

  “I don’t know Irri. You should ask the Source.”

  “It was the Source who sent me here.”

  “Well, can you ask ku if you can stay?”

  “No.” The tone was sad and hopeless. It was easy to feel sorry for her. But, how would that help them in any way. She was jealous of Bridey; she’d attacked her for goodness sake. It made no sense how the Source worked things out. Why on earth were they here? He wished she would leave him alone. Then it got worse.

  “Sandro, you screamed out. Was Flagran hurting you? Because if he was, he’s not allowed to do that. Ravesh told me you can complain. You don’t have to put up with it. Did he hit you?”

  This had to be the most embarrassing conversation ever. Feeling foolish and uncomfortable was only the beginning, and she wouldn’t go away. Didn’t anyone teach her you don’t point out things like that? Oh, God. That meant everyone heard me.

  “Irri. Talking’s not what’s needed here.”

  “But you can tell me, Sandro. It can help.”

  “How?”

  “Ravesh could do something. She’s strong.”

  “Yes, but she’s also dangerous. Don’t let her tell you what to think. Mostly she’s wrong. I yelled because I was frustrated.”

  “So he didn’t hit you? He can’t do things like that.”

  “No, he can’t.” Ravesh appeared from behind Irri-tat who jumped, looking around guiltily. “The idea was to cheer him. Not upset him more.”

  Struggling to his feet in front of her, arms akimbo he invited the challenge. This was what was needed. “Ravesh, leave her alone. You’ve got no idea what you’re talking about. Take off. Go back to where you belong.” It felt good to stand up to her. But, one of the rules of life is that things can always get worse.

  “Now, now Sandro,” she said. “You don’t need to worry about us along with all the other worries you have to think about. Let us do our job, and we’ll soon have you out of this mess.”

  His groan was interrupted by the sight of three who had become vital to his existence. They gathered around them forming a triangle, saying nothing, but their power was intense. The three stood, eyes closed and concentrating. The tableau was frozen for about five minutes. Then, there was a click, and Ravesh and Irri-tat disappeared.

  They opened their eyes taking him in.

  He hung his head, shuffling his feet and wishing they would go away now since their purpose in coming over had been completed. But, they all stepped forward instead, closing him in. His hands flew out in front of him to fend them off, but it was like holding up a piece of tissue in the wind. Another step closer, and fear and suffocation flooded him. Flagran reached out, and he ducked to avoid him, but
it was useless. There’d been too much in this day. Too much to contend with and too much emotion. Soon, he was going to break again.

  Flagran caught him and held on, Sandro facing the air above his head. His arms were locked around Sandro’s thighs. Giving him a shake, he growled. “Now, listen carefully. Our expectation is that you will behave in such a way that those guys don’t get to bother us again. Do you get my message?”

  “Put me down!”

  But instead, he shifted his hold and handed him on to Homarta where he found himself up against her chest, and she held him in that position. Panic grew, and his breath, already shallow, was coming in rapid pants. Instead of increasing the tension as Flagran had done, she passed him to Torrenclar whose hold meant their eyes met. It was all Sandro could do to stare into them because the edge of breaking point was dangerously close. “You’re okay, Sandro,” Torrenclar whispered. “You’re safe here with us.” Then he placed his feet onto the ground, and they closed the circle again. Weak and helpless, he flopped and sat cross legged still panting with a fear which had sprung from nowhere again. All he wanted was reassurance. Unaware of his movements, he scrambled onto his hands and knees and crawled over to Flagran who squatted down to meet him.

  “What is it?” Torrenclar was asking. “What’s happening?”

  “Come on mate,” Flagran coaxed. “You’re okay. What’s going on in there?” He tapped the side of Sandro’s head where the ground had risen to meet it two months back. He rolled onto his side and put his hands over his head. Pictures of woman flesh were choking him. He rolled from side to side but couldn’t speak. Distress rose, and he began to keen, the disembodied sound reverberated terrifying him. Flagran reached out, and he ducked as though he was about to be hit, but the Caretaker tossed that aside and grabbed hold pulling him to sit between his legs. He held on firmly and pressed his face against Sandro’s, whispering tenderly. Again, Sandro cried as though his heart would break, but it made no sense. Homarta put her hand on his thigh, and the warmth spread up his body like a hot bath. With Flagran holding him, it was safe; only from there was the touch bearable. Torrenclar sat with them on the ground, and Sandro knew without doubt that he was loved. Now, they were with him. His heart broke open and all the fear flowed out.

  Flagran kissed the side of his face and said, “Sorry bro, I need to get to Josh, now.” He lifted Sandro into the same position with Torrenclar where strong, safe arms held him. Homarta sending warmth up his legs, all through his body, he began to recover.

  “What would you like to do now, Sandro?”

  “Bed, I think.” They nodded. “Can you do that without Bridey?” The question came with shame, “It’s too much to face now.”

  “Good plan,” Torrenclar said. “Let’s get you home.” He was lifted, and, in a heartbeat they were at the side of the tent furthest from the campsite, Homarta following. Between them, they tucked him in like a baby leaving him to a deep, dark sleep filled with strange women and frightening images of breasts.

  ***

  Bridey

  Sandro’s wails fill the air resounding over the whole camping ground. Josh returns from the shower, and the two of us stand, listening. I put my arm around his waist. He’s trembling and it goes through me. The intense noise is extremely hard to bear; and it goes on too long. None of the Caretakers are with us, so there’s no one to ask. We stand locked together until Flagran returns, appearing suddenly which accentuates the fear.

  “What are you doing to him?” Josh cannot contain his anxiety, and he’s determined, brave in the face of the Caretaker.

  This time Flagran, instead of keeping it to himself, decides to explain. Good decision! “We’ve been challenging Sandro to face himself.” Josh sneers. “No Josh, you’ve got it wrong. Caretakers challenge people in many different ways according to their needs. We haven’t been hurting him. Ravesh and Irri-tat have now left.”

  If he thinks it’s an adequate explanation, he’s wrong.

  “But why was he crying out like that. It was like listening to a dog howling. It was terrible. Flagran, I want to be with him,” I say.

  “No. Sandro wouldn’t want that just now. He doesn’t feel safe enough with you at the moment for you to be able to help.”

  “Why, what’s she done? She hasn’t been hurting him?” The belligerence comes from being unable to make sense of those who seem to be in charge. Again Flagran attempts to explain.

  “Sandro is facing something here which none of us can explain to you because he doesn’t know himself. You know what it’s like when you have stuff tearing you apart inside, and you just can’t sort it.”

  This seems to make a difference. “I’d like to help him.”

  “I know you would. You can’t help at the moment. He needs to sleep it off first. You’re a good man. I know this is hard for you, but you have to trust us, otherwise we’ll all get into a mess here.”

  In the corner of my vision movement around our tent makes me leap towards it without thinking, and Flagran flashes out his hand to stop me. “Listen to me, now!” His voice is beginning to take on a hard edge. “Don’t move!” Homarta and Torrenclar join us, but they say nothing about Sandro.

  “Bridey, come for a walk with me, please.” Torrenclar’s asking but not really offering a choice. His long hand with slender beautiful fingers reaches out to me as the sleeve of his loose top falls back revealing muscled forearm. When I ignore it, he turns the hand palm up and beckons. His authority is unquestionable. A jolt of excitement mixed with fear flashes through me as I wrestle between the desire to run away with him and guilt.

  “Not while Sandro’s like this,” I say. “It wouldn’t be right.”

  “Bridey,” Flagran says, “you will go with Torrenclar now.” He’s angry.

  I seek support from Homarta, but she declines to intervene. Josh’s eyes plead for me to stay, and that’s difficult to ignore, but Flagran commands, “Now!” and jumps at me. It’s clear he’s had all he can take this afternoon, and he isn’t up for resistance. Staggered, I fall back a few steps.

  Homarta says, as though nothing unusual’s taking place, “I’m cooking dinner tonight with Josh. Sandro will sleep until then. Go!”

  As I turn towards the tent to grab a jacket, Flagran lets out a deep growl and snatches my arm yanking me back. I freeze. He’s close to an edge. How is this my fault? Is he blaming me? He yanks at my arm pulling my body against his chest and glares into my face daring me to resist. Torrenclar, cool and aloof hangs back watching. Before he can take his frustration or whatever it is, out on me more, I say, half frightened and half angry and ready to fight him, “Just want my jacket.”

  “I’ll get it,” Homarta says. What is this? Do they think I’m going to fight with Sandro or something? Flagran holds my chin in one hand and hisses at me. “Can’t you ever just do what you’re told without fighting it? Can’t you tell we’ve had big things going on here and could do with your support? And you,” he says turning on Josh who’s coming to my defense, “keep out of my way. I’m feeling dangerous and would love to thrash someone right now.”

  Torrenclar takes me from him then, and when I go to pull away, he gives me a look which I don’t like at all and tightens his hold. He marches me along the road beside the camp site. I’m not usually frightened of him, but this is truly scary. He is so angry. The road stretches beside the beach for hundreds of meters. Then, he cuts across a large open stretch of park and heads into a track which leads through one of the most beautiful stretches of bush in the area, all different habitats. Homarta spends lots of time in here. Surely she won’t let him hurt me. I don’t want him to take me into a place where no one knows where we are. He’s so angry he’s hurting my arm by tugging on it. We enter the space, and I begin to feel better. Instead of Torrenclar having to pull me along, I walk beside him. Up to this point, he hasn’t said a word. I get brave because I can’t stand the anger any longer, and I just want it over. So I stop. He looks at me with that completely in charge, and I�
�ve been around for hundreds of years look, and my legs turn to jelly. What would Torrenclar be like if he lost it with me?

  Twelve

  We wait.

  I try to stare him down, but he’s not fazed. I start thrashing around inside trying to remember what I’ve done. All I did was go for my jacket. This is one of those moments where I could swear he can read my mind. I’m starting to read his too. He’s thinking, Calm down, Torrenclar, or you’ll regret this. He closes his eyes and waits until he’s settled, then he walks over to a log and sits. He doesn’t ask me to join him. Just talk. Get it over with. But he says nothing.

  “I didn’t do anything!” He starts to rise but thinks better of it. That look is back. “All I did was go to get my jacket.” There are times when I just can’t stop from causing trouble for myself. “Don’t take it out on me!” My chest starts to heave and my breathing gets shallow as I watch him get to his feet. He steps towards me, but the worst is the way he’s looking. His eyes are blazing. I am completely helpless, and I still want to fight him. It’s craziness. “Tell me. What did I do?” He reaches out to a nearby bush and tears off a thin stick. “No way. No, you don’t!”

  I back up and try to remember where the path is. I’m trapped. So I fight. “What’s up with you? You’re attacking me for nothing. How was I supposed to know what was going on. I waited. I looked after Josh. We need to know. You can’t expect us not to ask questions.” The words keep tumbling out when I want them to stop because his face is tightening, and he’s definitely going to lose it. The last time I was this scared, I was underneath Irri-tat. There’s something about Me. I take some deep breaths, and then I hold out my hands in front of me, palms facing him, and say, “No Torrenclar. Stop.” Then I sink to the floor of the fairyland scrub and drop my head. Suddenly I see that it’s more than fear I’m feeling. Part of me wants him to attack me; to do something to get rid of this intense excitement between us. But that wouldn’t help.