The River of Time (The Shiva XIV Series Book 4)

by Lyra Shanti

  Srah didn’t want to laugh; she knew it would anger her wild Sarax of a husband even more, but she just couldn’t help it.

  Axis, whose pride was already sore from hearing her say he was jealous, huffed and began changing shape uncontrollably.

  “Axis! What are you doing?” she said, standing up with a worried expression.

  “Oh, no! I’m sorry, Srah!”

  “Axis, this is the fourth time this week you’ve changed without meaning to.”

  I know, I’m sorry, it’s just...”

  “Well, if you’re going to be a huge Sarax soon, you better go outside,” she ordered while opening the large window-doors to the gardens.

  “I’m sorry, Srah! I’ll be back soon, I promise. Let me just fly around for a while and… oh Gods, this time it kinda hurts!”

  “That’s because you’re holding it back. Go fly or do whatever you need. I may be asleep when you get back though.”

  “I love you!” he yelped as he jumped outside.

  As soon as his feet hit the grass, he transformed from Sirini to Sarax in a matter of seconds. It stunned Srah as she watched him fly into the sky with his giant, golden wings.

  Sometimes, she could barely believe she was married to such a creature. Often, he could seem, not exactly normal, but tame and typically Sirini. Yet, there were also moments when he would say or do something wild and animalistic. He could be so gentle, especially with the twins, but when provoked, Axis would lash out, sounding more like an untamed beast than a civilized leader.

  Sighing, she picked up his clothing, which had broken free just before his flight. She fondly remembered the first time they had joined, and how he had the ability to change his clothing into his fur, as if he could meld matter itself. These days, Axis seemed to forget how to do such intricate techniques. If only he had a Sarax to teach and guide him, she thought as she sighed once again, lovingly folding his red shirt and placing it inside their dresser.

  They often stayed with Ayn and Ona at the palace in The Holy City. This time, however, they couldn’t stay as long as she would have liked. Their home planet, Sirin, was doing well enough, but many were having a hard time farming their Ohrian ravaged lands. Without the use of plasma-machines, their planet was in the dark.

  They were still using tribal methods that Srah wanted to respect, but she also wanted to replace those old methods with modern technology. She was scheduled to meet soon with her personal adviser, and Sirin Army leader, Kren. They were planning to come up with a solution, not only for farming growth, but to do it in a way that was environmentally safe. She had been hoping to talk to Ona and Ayn about any ideas they might have, but there never seemed to be the right time to bring Sirini matters to the forefront.

  Sighing a third time, she felt like taking a walk. Her kids were sound asleep, and sensed they would be safe. I’ll only go as far as the river, she thought, putting on a purple robe while walking out the door toward the gardens.

  She felt good there. The wind was mild, but blew her robe, causing it to sway against her legs as she walked. Something called her. Was it Axis? No… it was someone else, someone who felt lost.

  “Ayn?” she whispered aloud when she saw a figure by the river bed, kneeling over the water, looking like they were crying.

  As she walked closer to the figure, she knew it was indeed her dear friend. “Ayn? What’s wrong?” she asked, bending down to sit by him.

  “Oh, Srah…” he softly replied, wiping away his tears. “I really messed up.”

  Immediately affected, her heart swelled. She wrapped her arm around his shoulder and gently said, “It’s alright, my dearest friend. Tell me what happened.”

  Catching his breath and composure, he sat up and looked into Srah’s lavender eyes. He quietly laughed at himself. “I’m always so pathetic, aren’t I?”

  “No, you’re not pathetic,” she said with a smile, petting his hand. “Come on now, tell me what happened.”

  “It’s everything, Srah. I’m failing at everything.”

  “No, you’re not, Ayn. You’re doing wonderfully. Why do you feel that way? Did something happen between you and Ona?”

  “You can feel it from me, I guess, huh?” he said, sniffing.

  “Yes,” she said, brushing back his long, black bangs, “it’s all over your aura.”

  Taking a deep sigh, he nodded and said, “Ona wants kids… badly.”

  “I know,” she replied with a nod. “She’s mentioned it to me quite often. Even when she talked to me this morning about my twins, I could hear the longing in her voice.”

  Ayn turned his head to the river and sighed. “Yeah…” he mumbled as he threw a small rock into the water.

  “But… you don’t want children?”

  “No, I do! It’s just… I don’t think now is the time. If we ever do have them, it will be when the Gods deem it right - no sooner. I just don’t know what her rush is.”

  “Ayn…” said Srah.

  “I mean, we already have Inda,” he continued, interrupting Srah, “and even though he’s almost a young man, he’s like a son to me. Well, maybe more of a little brother, but still! Why can’t that be enough?” Throwing another rock into the river, he added, “Why does she have to push me into this?”

  “Ayn,” she said, taking his hand, “you have to try and see things from her point of view.”

  “I’ve tried that, Srah! I try to do that all the time, but she never sees things from my point of view.”

  Srah took a deep breath and rubbed Ayn’s back. She wasn’t sure what to say, and had a feeling Ayn needed to vent more than take her advice. She resigned to simply listen unconditionally.

  “My wife is so demanding!” he continued. “But she doesn’t think she is. And I love her, Srah, more than I can even put into words, but… she has no clue how hard I work to please her, and to please everyone! I just…”

  “Ayn, honey, you need to breath. Just take a deep breath and close your eyes. Can you do that for me?”

  Ayn looked at her with sad, tired eyes. He nodded and took a deep, long breath, and then exhaled even longer. It had felt like forever since he properly meditated, and he sensed his body and mind needed it.

  “Focus on the sound of my voice,” she softly advised, “and the vibrations of the river and the wind. Do you hear their spirits?”

  “Yes,” Ayn whispered.

  “Can you feel how connected everything is in nature: the water, the air, the trees, the grass, and the sky?”

  “Yes,” he said with a smile, reminded of how Meddhi and Pei used to ask him such questions during their meditation classes.

  “Does it calm you?” she asked. “It always calms me to hear the spirits speak, especially at night like this.”

  Ayn opened his eyes and watched her for a moment. Her eyes were closed, and her long, graceful legs extended forward; her bare toes slightly curled into the ground, as if she were a plant being watered by the moisture in the grass. Her silvery lavender hair was blowing gently in the wind. He was instantly reminded of why he had fallen so hard for her when they were younger.

  “Srah?” he quietly asked, not wanting to disturb her own meditation.

  “Hmm?” she said, opening her eyes.

  “Have I ever told you how much you remind me of my mother?”

  “Really?” she asked with a smile. “What a wonderful thing to say, Ayn. I know you loved her very much, and history tells she was a wonderful woman, and queen.”

  “Yes, well… I didn’t know her for very long. But I feel her spirit, especially at this river. Though lately… I haven’t been able to feel her very well. I’m not sure why.”

  “You’ve had a lot on your mind, that’s all,” she said, laying her head against his right shoulder.

  “Srah?”

  “Yes?” she asked before giving an uncontrollable yawn.

  “Can I ask you something a bit embarrassing?”

  She slightly giggled, then said, “When did that ever stop you be
fore?”

  “Yeah… well…”

  “Go on, silly.”

  “Well,” he began, gathering his courage, “I was wondering if, back when we were stuck as slaves… you know, when we were kids…”

  “Yeah?” she said, sitting up to look at him.

  “Did you ever… think of me as more than just a friend? I know I was young, but… I’m just curious.”

  She smiled, then nodded. “Yes, Ayn, I sort of thought of you as my boyfriend, if that’s what you mean… but also kind of a younger brother. I know that sounds odd, but… well, it’s true. Somehow, you were both. We were young, though, and in a very difficult situation. Plus, back then, to be honest, I wasn’t sure I was even worthy of being with you in that way.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, unable to imagine Srah as lesser in any way.

  “Well, you were The Bodanya.”

  “And you were a Goddess!”

  “Oh, stop,” she said, blushing.

  “And you still are,” he added, nudging her with his elbow.

  “Ayn, stop. I’m just… me. So, why are you asking me this now? Shouldn’t you have asked me these things years ago, before you were married to Ona, and before I was married to your best friend?”

  “Isn’t Ona your best friend as well?” he said with a slight frown.

  “Well, yes, we’re very good friends, but I sense she holds a lot back with me still. I’m not sure why. It may just be Ona’s way. Whatever the reason, I try not to take it personally.”

  “Yeah, she can be rather mysterious when she wants to be,” he said, stretching his arms.

  “Your wife adores you, Ayn. You must know that. She’s just been through so much - between her father dying of Plasma Sickness a few years ago and her mother’s regenerated body, still in a state of unconscious sleep. It must be so strange for her. She must feel as though she needs to start her own family, for a sense of safety and reassurance. I can completely understand that. And to be honest, I don’t blame her for being excited to have your children.”

  “Thank you,” he smiled, giving her a hug. “I do know that she loves me, and I definitely feel for what she’s been through. It’s just…”

  “She pushes you too hard?”

  “Oh, Gods, Srah, you have no idea!” he said with a laugh.

  “But that’s what we’re supposed to do, Ayn. If we didn’t push our husbands, they’d do nothing but whine and laze around.” Half joking, she gave him a knowing smirk, which made Ayn snicker. “Do you feel better now?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye.

  “Yes, I do,” he replied, kissing her forehead. “I told you, you’re a Goddess.”

  “No, I’m not,” she said, shaking her head, “but my daughter, Thali, thinks she is. She’s already told me several times she’s the reincarnation of the original Goddess, Thali, and that she’s going to save Sirin from all future evils.”

  “Ha! That’s wonderful!” Ayn exclaimed, clapping his hands.

  “Oh, yes, you can imagine how easy it is to convince the Goddess to take a bath.”

  Laughing, Ayn said, “That’s how I was as a child. I hated baths!”

  Srah sleepily smiled, thinking about her silly, adorable daughter. She hoped both her children were fast asleep, dreaming of happy, comforting things. She knew she ought to return to them, and hoped Axis would return soon too. She hated when he took off to who-knows-where, and he was doing it more frequently these days.

  “Ayn, I should check on the children, and sleep,” she said while standing up, “but before I go, I just want to say that I don’t think it’s as impossible as you believe.”

  “What?” he asked while getting on his feet. “What are you talking about, Srah?”

  “You and Ona having children. Don’t give up on it just yet. You’re right to say that you will have them when you’re ready, but I don’t think you should be so down on your chances. With or without medical help, I have a feeling it will be possible.”

  “Is that feeling based on anything scientific?” he asked with a raised brow.

  “No, not whatsoever,” she replied with a knowing grin, “but I never needed science to tell me what my heart already knows. Trust your own heart, Ayn,” she said as she hugged him goodnight. “It will guide you the right way… every single time.”

  Watching her leave the gardens, Ayn smiled, feeling as though his mother’s spirit were still alive, if not in the flesh, then at least within Srah’s wisdom and love.

  Chapter 4: Awakening

  She was the miracle of my life. Of course, I couldn’t truly have her, for she was like a rare gem; sacred and pure, and out of my grasp. But she was in my every thought, and kept me going, even when I thought I could stand no more. So much isolation… so much pain… so much confusion. How did I survive? It was my gloriously beautiful queen who silently carried me through my years of doubt and loneliness.

  Meddhi had been writing in his journal for most of the night. In fact, he had been writing his thoughts and feelings in the same journal for nearly three years. It was his only method of expression as he had been living in complete isolation in the Quay-Karah Mountains.

  When he first left the Holy City, he spent a few months with Weema, the kind young woman who ran the public temple in the city. He tried to find his identity inside her warmth, and even in her bed. Unfortunately, as the months passed, Meddhi’s heart and soul became restless. Despite her disapproval, he soon found himself headed for the unknown of the mountains, as if called there by the spirits.

  The first year was hard, physically and mentally. He had heard from the ice fishermen how the wind could whip your face at night and how the snow might fall at any moment in thick, bone crushing clumps. Hearing such things, however, only made him thirst for the challenge. He brought the essentials: blubber-sealed tent, blankets, thick rope, knife, plasma-candles, and two pairs of sweaters, pants, and coats - all packed tight inside a large backpack, which became his lifeline. He soon learned how to fish, hunt, and make a fire from scratch. As time passed by, Meddhi began to feel himself changing - into what, he wasn’t sure… but it felt tough, rugged, and right.

  Unfortunately, he wasn’t quite prepared for just how demanding the forests of the mountains on Deius could be. By the third month of his mountain existence, the wind broke his tent. The next night, he nearly froze when a giant Dooka bear stole his backpack. Suddenly, he was lost, alone, and without shelter or provisions.

  Determined to survive, Meddhi fashioned a new tent and covers made of bear hide, though not from the same Dooka that had attacked his belongings. He felt no sense of personal vengeance against the animal. He merely wanted to live. He then made new clothes, as well as new tools, all from the hides and furs of the mountain animals who gave their lives for his. He was thankful, and began to see life in a new way; it was precious, miraculous, and extremely fragile.

  There was a new spirituality flowing through his soul. It was different from before when he lived as a priest. This new mentality was fresh, free, and connected to the natural world around him. His memories of his time with The Dei were still a bit foggy, but he remembered enough to know how frightened of the outside world he had been.

  It wasn’t always that way, however. Meddhi recalled being a child who loved trees, flowers, rivers, and everything to do with nature. His mother and father were musicians, and they had taken him around the countryside quite often, as well as toured the city, as they played for anyone who payed to hear them. Sometimes, they would play for free, and Meddhi would join them. He remembered his cousins there too, singing along to their songs about freedom and love.

  He remembered how happy they were as he visualized their appearance while looking into the campfire. They had tan, happy faces with dark hair like his. He vaguely remembered that his mother had more reddish, light-brown hair, like Pira had. Amya and her sister had lighter skin, though, as it was a trait passed down the Shiva line. Most commoners on Deius had dark hair and tan skin, but his mother
looked different. He wondered if his mother had royal blood in her somewhere. It was a mystery he’d never solve.

  When his parents were killed by rebels in the first Tah rebellion, Meddhi was left terrified and lost. He was only nine years old, and had no choice but to beg on the streets. He didn’t know how to fend for himself, and if it hadn’t been for Yol, who was three years older and quite used to street life, Meddhi may not have lasted much longer on his own. Yol became like a tough older brother to Meddhi, protecting him from bullies and street thugs, always finding ways to scavenge food and shelter. During that time, Yol was his best friend, his protector, and his only hope for survival.

  When Meddhi and Yol were taken by The Dei - a fate they had initially hoped would save them - they were slowly brainwashed into fearing the streets they had come from. They were also trained to fear nature itself, taught the untamed world was on the brink of disaster and doom. Meddhi didn’t truly believe it, but when his beloved Amya had contracted Plasma Sickness, he was told by High Priest Amun-Lan that it was The Un to blame. Meddhi, too filled with grief to think logically, succumbed to Amun-Lan’s paranoia.

  Such lies… thought Meddhi as he scratched his forehead with the end of a makeshift pen he made from fish oil and twine. They wanted to keep us in the dark to control our every move, he wrote in his journal. They wanted us to be like sleeping sheep so they could lie about what they had done to our beautiful Mother Universe. So many lies I endured as a child… so many hardships. I was so blind by the time Yol told me about what our High Priest had done to him. I was too scared to help my brother, my friend. And I was too terrified to let myself love Amya freely, the way the Gods meant us to be. Such regret… I can hardly let myself remember it all without hating my very soul. But I am here for a reason… and I survived. There must be a greater purpose. I only need to find out what it is! Here in the cold of the sacred mountains, I will be reborn.

  Enough writing for today, he thought as he closed his journal, then stretched. Yawning, Meddhi looked at the flickering firelight. It was the dead of night - his favorite time - when the spirits within nature come out to dance and sing. It was his parents who first taught him about the spiritual world. They were followers of the old religion… before Adin, and before The Dei had taken control. Now, free from The Dei, Meddhi could let himself remember his family’s old songs and poems. He began to softly sing into the quiet of night.