Eleven Hundred Sand Dunes

by Helena Phillips

  “I told her how much I love her.”

  Well. That didn’t seem so bad. Everyone knew he loved her. “Why was that so helpful? Surely, she’s well aware of that.”

  “Well. No. When she is under attack everything becomes doubtful, and this unseats her. That’s connected to a childhood of being neglected emotionally.” It was not Sandro’s story. But it made some sense. “This time, instead of saying ‘I love you’, I told her just how intensely I love her and how important she is to my happiness at the moment.” He paused here awaiting Sandro’s reaction. It was hard to swallow.

  “Why can’t you find your own partner? Why do you have to make mine the object of your attention?”

  “Love isn’t as simple as that, Sandro. It’s not about who belongs to who. You don’t own her. I don’t even want to own her. She belongs to herself, and lots of people will be attracted to her.”

  “I’m not interested in sharing the woman in my life.” Even as he said it, it sounded archaic, cave man stuff.

  The Caretaker grinned. “Well, you have asked me to teach you. This is what’s on offer.”

  “If everyone thought like you do, there would be a hell of lot of unfaithfulness around.”

  “How true that is.”

  “What’s to stop her, now, from going to you every time she’s pissed off with me?”

  “Nothing, Sandro.”

  He stared at him, disgusted. “How can anyone compete with that?”

  “You can’t.”

  This was unacceptable. His gore began to rise. The desire to jump him now and beat him senseless seemed like an actual possibility. Torrenclar looked at him in a way that, while it wasn’t threatening, seemed to be challenging him. Beating him senseless might eventuate in him losing exactly that which was at stake. The frustration made him tear at his hair which didn’t help either. Flashes of his mother with men came into his head. Jarrod, the ultimate interloper was there smiling his gentle smile and just taking her over without him being able to do a thing to prevent it.

  Instead of drawing away from his rage, the Caretaker put out his hand and laid it on Sandro’s thigh. Now, he was moving in too close for comfort. He might have to kill him after all. But the next words brought him around instantly.

  “At the moment you can’t compete with me because you don’t have the same skills. How could you? But there is no reason why you can’t learn to make sense of this in a way which would strengthen your relationship with Bridey, rather than deplete it with your jealousy.” He moved his hand down the leg.

  Men don’t let other men run their hands down your leg. Especially men you’re not sure you shouldn’t try to kill. When he came to the broken bones he stopped, and it became clear he was moving on, offering healing. There was less than eagerness about it now, on Sandro’s part at least. But, Homarta was no longer his first choice, and there was no other option. The situation could not continue. This leg had to be sorted, now. Sensing the change of mood towards the positive, Torrenclar marshalled his power sending vibrations through the lower leg and into the two bones. “These are healing nicely,” he announced.

  What does that mean? Does it mean I’ve been complaining about nothing?

  The Caretaker shifted his position until he was sitting in front of Sandro and pulled the leg towards him draping it over his. “Your problem is with all the other elements which ripped apart. They can take much longer to heal. Your muscles are gaining strength, but your ligaments and tendons have been damaged.” Strong fingers found the sorest places and his body cringed away from the pain until warmth began to penetrate the area sending odd electrical impulses pulsing through flesh. X-ray vision would have shown the knitting together of multiple loose ends. How he knew this he couldn’t say, but everything became possible. The process lasted forty minutes, and the position became uncomfortable. Torrenclar suggested he lie back on the sand. As his body let go and relaxed, many other sensations began to accompany the healing. The Caretaker became someone to trust. For the first time it seemed possible to love, rather than just admire him. Hunger to know more about what made him tick and how he saw the world grew. It was all clear. At the same time, sleep drifted over him.

  “Tomorrow, we’ll fix your arm.” Torrenclar said this with the cheerful air of having completed a good job. His arm reached down to pull Sandro to his feet, and although sleep was the more attractive option, he surrendered his good arm and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Weight on the bad leg felt great. It was strong and bent easily.

  To Sandro’s complete surprise, he was holding out his arms to Torrenclar, and when the Caretaker grasped him, pulling him tight against his body, that was even better healing. Warmth and affection flowed between them, and the hug lasted longer than he could ever remember having allowed with another male, except perhaps his father, but that was long ago now. Eventually it came to an end. Torrenclar held him away then offering a deep, wistful smile. Giving him a light shake, he sent Sandro to look out for Bridey.

  He began to walk down the hill breaking almost immediately into a light run. His excitement grew, and he stretched out his arms leaning forward as though he would take off and fly. Watching him, Torrenclar smiled.

  On reaching the tent, he found Bridey lying on their bed looking glum. Obviously it hadn’t gone as well as it could have, should have. When she saw him, she sat up and started to come towards the opening of the tent. “I’m hungry,” she said, “but I just couldn’t get myself to do anything out there on my own.” He pulled her to her feet and they set off towards the food supplies which were all in boxes along the side of the four wheel drive. It took her half the trip to notice. “Sandro,” she exclaimed, delighted. “You’re not limping. Wow!” She stopped and grabbed him. For the first time, he could see her reaction had nothing to do with him having been a cripple, or a dud returned to health. She was excited for him. They danced around on the sandy floor, ecstatic at the freedom. Then, something occurred to her. “Who did this?” It was easy to see where her anxiety was coming from.

  “Torrenclar.”

  Relieved, she said, “Homarta was horrible, Sandro. There’s something not quite right about all this.”

  He was as puzzled as she was.

  ***

  The Source

  Irri-tat was delighted to run into Torrenclar as soon as they reached the camp. She jumped at him, and he patted her, holding her against his chest for a moment. “Hi there. You look happy to see me. Or is it just that you’re glad to be back with us again.”

  Her wide eyes took in the camp, Bridey and Sandro down at the car, no one else around. Her companion was quiet. Ravesh was struggling with memories. Desert experiences of dancing across the top of lines of dunes leaving no footprints. Playing at night with the wind blowing the sand, erasing all marks of life. Bushes everywhere being blown clear of the day’s debris so they would sit up eager to begin another day after absorbing what dew fell on them from the night sky. Then, the peace which descended as all went quiet in the starry universe above.

  The three descended the dunes into the camp in total silence. Torrenclar was filled with dread. He had no idea what had taken place between Bridey and Homarta, but he had his suspicions. The two visitors were of course unwelcome any day, but this one was a nightmare time for them to have arrived. Flagran was on furlough. At least Josh was safe for the moment.

  Bridey looked up from her forages for food, and her heart sank. The bowl of dhal and yoghurt no longer seemed appealing. She forced a spoonful into her mouth and followed the chewing with a determined swallow and another mouthful before she could renege. Eating was essential. This day, and the ones before it, had stripped the life from her, and she needed to recover.

  I went to Homarta. My words were clipped and determined. “You are needed back in the camp in full strength, now. You will not be able to do anything useful unless I am in you and with you. I am determined here, Homarta. You will not destroy this for us all. Go, immediately, and fix your mess b
efore I banish you and you end up like another Ravesh, miserable and lost, fighting over nothing.”

  That did it. Ignoring her pleading look, once more she saw my back. But, she went to do as she was instructed. And she went with relief, because it was not in her nature to detach from me for long. The loss was too great for her to bear. She arrived at the camp to observe Bridey’s third mouthful, and her heart went out to this young woman whom she loved when she saw her distress. Walking up to her, she ignored the visitors and put her arm around Bridey’s shoulders drawing her out of sight by snapping her fingers. When they arrived at the destination, she placed two hands on her shoulders and peered at her intently.

  “Bridey, I have been completely unreasonable with you all day.”

  Mid swallow, her charge stared back at her glumly and nodded.

  “This is not about you. It’s about me not wanting to admit to you that I did the wrong thing. It was atrocious of me to compare you to your mother. You are a very different person from Elaine.”

  “Then why did you say it, Homarta?” Bridey wailed. “How could you hurt me so much? Your opinion is everything to me.” Completely overwrought, she broke down and sobbed again. Tender hearted (almost always), Homarta’s tears now ran down her own brown cheeks, and the two of them stood apart; the Caretaker because she felt guilty at what she had done, and Bridey because it was all too hard.

  Homarta suddenly knelt on the sand. Looking up, she said, “Please forgive me, sweetheart. I’ve made such a mess of this; a much bigger mess than you could possibly imagine.” Bridey stepped towards her then, and wrapping her arms around the head in front of her, she whispered gentle, soothing words. “You are not like your mother, Bridey. She wouldn’t even know the words you are saying to me. I am so sorry. My need to punish you got the better of me, and I will regret it for a long time.” She paused, and before she stood again, she added, “and it was way too difficult for me to admit I’d done wrong. I wanted you to believe it was your fault.”

  “I wish you’d just given me a few slaps. That would have been effective and done no damage.” Bridey truly believed this, but with her anger the way it was at the time, this was doubtful. “I will never speak to you again the way I did. It was atrocious telling you to fuck off when you were just trying to reason with me.”

  “We both have work to do, don’t we?” Homarta stood up.

  “I dunno. You can be scary. But I love you, Homarta. When you hold me, everything seems better. I need you. The thought of us not being friends again was completely unbearable.”

  “It was horrible looking at you and seeing the damage I’d done. I hope I never have to see you in that state again. It held me back from apologising, the results of my petulance, and I just couldn’t face up to it. It seemed easier to blame you.”

  The job was well done, and I was satisfied. But Homarta and I still had some issues to address. For the moment, she was supported by me in her efforts to make amends, but I would not draw her close again until we had met with a purpose. In the meantime, she would have her hands full with her guests.

  ***

  They joined the others back at the campsite. For the first time the two strays had been invited to sit with them and were making some sort of conversation. Ravesh was morose and made little attempt to interrupt, or control. In fact she had nothing to say. Her mind was elsewhere. She let it stray towards me hoping for contact, and I did not reject her but did not invite her in either. Rather than waste her energies attempting to compete and biting at those companions who were clearly doing far better, she began to muse on her future. She listened as they celebrated Sandro’s leg being fixed, and she even raised a slight smile once when he glanced across at her. At that moment Sandro remembered their time on his patio, and as the thoughts danced across his mind, Ravesh remembered the beginning of her downfall. She recalled the bar-b-que and her joy at the party around their first bonfire. Memories of sulking beside the Yarra returned. As her thoughts strayed towards her anger with me for all I had done to bring her down, a bitter smile returned to her face and went unnoticed by the others. Irri-tat was complaining as usual.

  “You guys seem to have all the fun,” she stated inaccurately.

  “What fun is that?” Homarta asked, recalling her temper and how out of step she had been with me that day, with fear and rising panic at the possible, even probable consequences of her stupidity. She glanced at the visitors in dismay thinking about how close she had come to joining them. For what reasons she had allowed it to get so far, she found too hard to comprehend. She began to tremble when she thought of her next encounter with me. Bridey looked across at her with a question in her eyes and tears sprang into Homarta’s who turned away again, ruminating.

  “Where are Flagran and Josh?” Ravesh asked suddenly. A stab of envy shot through her as she imagined them off playing somewhere and not knowing where unless I gave her the information. The others shrugged. “What are your plans?” she asked them.

  Sandro hesitated but decided she seemed friendly enough and didn’t seem able to do them much harm. “We are crossing Big Red in a day or two and then on down to Birdsville.”

  Into her head leapt the task she had been given to ferret out his father’s whereabouts. She recalled being irritated with the task at the time thinking it was beneath her. She pondered on this comparing it with all that had taken place since. The time in isolation in the mountains. The boredom and frustration of Irri-tat’s company. The darkness of her thoughts. The envy of the others who seemed to be getting everything their way. A further wave of rage swept over her and her face closed down again into brooding silence.

  “What are you going to do there?” Irri-tat asked. “It’s a horrible place, I think. We just came back from there. It’s full of drunks and hot, dry dust.” She shuddered comparing it to her place by the lake in the mountains with a fondness she hadn’t felt for some time.

  Sandro surprised himself by answering her. “Hopefully, we will find my father there.” He looked a question, but she shook her head, confused. “Well, we are going to make every effort to ferret him out if he’s there. The last letter his neighbours had from him, was posted in Birdsville.” A wave of fear and loneliness swept over him as he contemplated what would happen if their quest was fruitless. This was followed by another flood of longing accompanied by terror as he imagined success.

  The party was quiet. Torrenclar rose to his feet keen to ease his restless spirit stating he would stay out all night. Ravesh disappeared in another direction. Sandro and Bridey looked at Homarta. “Go on,” she said. “Go catch up with each other. I’d like to spend some time with Irri-tat.” The spirit in question sat up excited and delighted at the attention, and I alone knew just how much of a lie Homarta’s statement had been. The very last thing she desired was to be stuck with Irri-tat when she was longing for me. Perhaps, she imagined, it might help if she put herself out to make this sacrifice. In this she was correct. It shortened the time I would leave her with her fears.

  But, for tonight, it was my plan to recall Flagran and to wrestle once more with Ravesh’s disgruntled desire to see herself as the victim.

  Twenty

  The Source

  The night seemed interminable to Homarta. She passed it waiting, watching, hoping and becoming increasingly filled with dread. If she had known how I spent the time, she may have been less anxious, but the wait was important to her growth. I caught up with Irri-tat, to her initial discomfort, offering her a new chance to challenge herself, and by the end of the night she had decided to join the party for the remainder of their trip. Clear boundaries around her behaviour were accepted, and she knew her place in the group was a trial period which could deeply affect her future. Ravesh was helpless to prevent it in her current state and without my support. She withdrew to wander the desert awaiting some direction. At this point, it had become possible she might choose a new beginning, but with little input from me for quite some time. Homarta, though, was entirely differen
t. Although she had made reparation with Bridey, there were elements in our relationship which had been shaken by her actions.

  It was very early the following morning. She hung her head and trembled. I stood watching, the coolness between us a visible force filled with many emotions. Left unexpressed, they would fester, destroying the dance we had developed between us. When I spoke, my voice was firm leaving her in no doubt that she must explain herself or be dismissed. “You need to help me understand this, Homarta, because to me it seemed you were attempting to stand outside the relationship, again.”

  Her eyes flew up to mine. “No, Love! It was nothing like that.”

  “Explain it to me.” The words were grave. “You were given clear direction in an important and vital situation, yet you refused to take essential steps until I ordered you to obey. I had to threaten you.” She could not meet my eyes, and her words were more space fillers than information.

  “It was difficult for me to humble myself with her. She has been my protégée.”

  “Which, as you well know, makes it all the more important.” While my voice was level, the crisp tone told her much. Anxiety to please me, to make it right, vied with her inability to explain her behaviour in any way I would be willing to accept. And she knew this. “Difficult to understand in the light of our intimacy. Perhaps you might have been eager to operate in a way reflecting our relationship.”

  “It was simply stubbornness.”

  “It’s impossible for me to regard you as foolish, Homarta.” There was nothing she could say. The lengthy silence overwhelmed her. “We have been here too often, my friend. I am weary of your need for power when you reflect so much of it as a natural connection with your own nature. How much power do you need?” The unavoidable challenge left nowhere for her to hide. Blocking her ears would not have prevented her hearing. But the following words dropped her to the ground. “How could you be willing to risk what we have together in order to, what? What was it you thought there was to gain from destroying Bridey’s small progress in self-esteem? What could you possibly need from her that you don’t already have in abundance?”