by Amy Sumida
“Ayla, you told me that Rannulf has claimed him. What do you expect him to do if you refuse his suit and choose me? Do you expect him to live here with the tribe and share Akara with you while you're married to another? I don't think the Christian will be able to accept that.”
Ayla frowned and realized what Durukan said was true. She hadn’t thought about sharing Akara with his father if she chose Durukan. Rannulf couldn't live here amongst them and not be with her. He'd want to take Akara back with him and she couldn't allow that. Rannulf would have to leave alone and Akara would be raised without him.
“Ayla,” Durukan brought her out of her musings, “I love you. I'll do anything to be with you. I'll help you care for your child if you ask me to or I'll stand aside while his father raises him. The decision is yours and I will accept anything to have you.”
Ayla frowned at Durukan. His passionate vows should seem romantic but they disturbed her. She didn’t want him to do things just because she wanted him to. She wanted him to want both her and her child. Maybe that was too much to ask. Maybe the only one who truly wanted both her and Akara was Rannulf.
“I need to be alone, Durukan,” Ayla said wearily and turned around.
“Ayla,” Durukan cried in dismay. “I’m sorry if I've said something to upset you.”
“No,” she kept walking. “You've only told me how you feel and there is nothing wrong with that but I can't make this decision if I am around either of you. I need to be alone.”
“But, Ayla…”
“Please just let me be, Durukan.” Ayla didn’t look back but she sensed that he stopped following.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Rannulf had walked away from Ayla and Durukan as happily as he could. He had smiled at his son and was truly happy to be with him but it took all the strength he had to leave her alone with his rival. He kept thinking about what Faruk had said, he needed to be patient.
He'd gone straight to Faruk’s tent, where the man was sitting outside reading a book. He appeared to be completely engrossed in the words but when Rannulf sat down with Akara, he looked up with a bright smile.
“What did I tell you?” Faruk said as he closed the book. “It's already working.”
Rannulf looked back towards Ayla and saw that she seemed to be fighting with Durukan. After a few moments she walked away and Durukan left in the opposite direction.
“You're brilliant!” Rannulf exclaimed.
“I know my daughter,” Faruk beamed. “Following her about like a puppy will only annoy her. You must show her you're still the man she fell in love with and you must show her the father you can be.”
Faruk patted Akara’s head and the baby looked up at him as if he'd been listening attentively.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Ayla sat by her little pool all day, trying to sort out her feelings. She weighed her options over and over. She considered all the possibilities. She forced herself to remember every detail of Rannulf’s treachery but she also forced herself to consider his repentance. She thought about Durukan and what kind of father he would be to Akara. She thought about their stupid fight yesterday.
When night came, she looked about her, startled that she'd so completely lost track of time. She sighed and looked down into the reflective surface of the pool. She saw her own face there for a moment before the water was rippled by the wind. When the surface smoothed again it was not her reflection that stared back at her but the face of the Goddess Umai.
“Mother?” Ayla whispered in reverence.
The vision laughed a little before answering.
“Haven’t you made him suffer enough, Ayla?” Umai said playfully.
“Rannulf?”
“Yes, the father of your child, the man you love above all others,” the Goddess’s voice was gentle but there was still an underlying current of laughter. “There really is no decision for you to make. Stop tormenting yourself and go to him, he's waiting.”
The face blurred and her reflection returned. Ayla starred at the water in amazement. The Goddess had just spoken to her; she had appeared to her without the ritual calling. Chills went down her arms and she looked back toward the village. There were lights glowing there, calling her back, and in one of those tents was her son and the man she loved.
Ayla jumped to her feet and ran back to the village. She didn’t see the tribeswomen gathered around their cooking fires. She didn’t see the children playing games at their fathers’ feet. She didn’t notice that the moon was out shining brightly or that its light illuminated the disappointment etched across Durukan’s face as he watched her rush into her father’s yurt. All she could see was Rannulf’s face as he knelt before her, pleading for her forgiveness.
He'd gone through his Christian Hell to find her and she had tortured him more. How could she be so cruel to the man she loved? How could she have even considered taking another in his place?
Rannulf was sitting around a small fire with Faruk and Akara, when Ayla burst in. Rannulf and Faruk looked up in surprise but Akara seemed to have been expecting her. They baby gurgled and threw himself suddenly into Faruk’s arms. As Faruk was distracted with catching his grandson, Ayla threw herself into Rannulf’s lap.
“I won’t have you unless I can be sure you’ll never betray me again,” Ayla said seriously as she wrapped her arms around his neck
“I will never…” Rannulf started but Ayla waved a hand and stopped him.
“I don’t want your promises,” she said. “I want you to know yourself.”
“I do know myself,” Rannulf was puzzled.
“There's a ritual,” Ayla continued. “It clears the mind and illuminates the soul. Once you've undertaken the passage, you will know yourself completely. You will know if you truly love me and you will never doubt our love again.”
“Ayla, I don’t think…,” Faruk started but Ayla silenced him with a wave of her hand.
“I will explain it to him, Father,” Ayla looked over her shoulder and saw Faruk frowning at her.
“And if I do this,” Rannulf said slowly, “you'll marry me?”
“If you still want me,” Ayla was deadly serious and it scared Rannulf.
What could possibly change his feelings for her? Nothing, he suddenly knew, and he felt a surge of confidence. He’d do her little Pagan ritual, if that’s what it would take.
“When can we begin?”
Ayla took a steadying breath and searched his face. He had no idea of the huge step he was making or the importance of it. He had no idea of the risks either. She could lose him, in so many ways.
“Rannulf,” Ayla took his hand in hers. “There's some risk that you should know of.”
“What do you mean ‘risk’?” Rannulf frowned a little. How risky could a simple ritual be?
“The ritual will bare everything to you,” Ayla fumbled for the words to explain. “Every dark secret of your soul, Rannulf. You will not be able to hide from any part of it. You will not be able to reason things away. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes,” Rannulf frowned. “I just don’t understand why that makes a difference. I already know my secrets.”
“No, my love,” Ayla sighed. “You know very little.”
“Some men,” Faruk’s somber voice interrupted, “great warriors even, have undergone the ritual and never returned to themselves. They saw things that stole their sanity. Are you sure you have the strength for this, Christian?”
“Have you done it?” Rannulf looked back at Ayla.
“Yes,” Ayla nodded.
“And what happened?”
“Each finds something different beyond the veil, Rannulf.” She looked to her father for help.
“Her experience will not prepare you.” Faruk said solemnly, even Akara seemed to have gone deathly quiet.
“The veil?” Rannulf was trying hard to understand it all.
“The veil between our world and the beyond,” she explained. “You must cross over into a scared place w
here everything will become clear.”
“You speak in riddles,” Rannulf shook his head.
“There's no other way to explain it,” Ayla laid her hand against his face. “You must go through it to know.”
Rannulf’s skin tingled to life beneath her touch, his body sang with joy at being able to hold her again. He'd told Faruk that he would do anything to win her back and he'd spoken true. He looked deep into the darkness of her eyes and knew he'd face a thousand hells for her.
“So when can we begin?”
Chapter Sixty
Rannulf looked around the sleepy village as he stretched his arms over his head. He'd spent another lonely night in Faruk’s tent at Ayla’s insistence. She had one more trial for him before she would welcome him back into her life and her bed.
He was anxious to get on with it and had tried to coerce Ayla and her father into allowing him to try last night but they insisted he needed a good night’s rest and a day of preparation before beginning the ritual.
“Awake already?” Faruk poked his head out of his yurt.
“I’m looking forward to the end of this day,” Rannulf smiled at the Turk.
“I too would like to see the end of this,” Faruk agreed. “But nothing can be done on an empty stomach. Come inside and eat with me and we’ll begin your preparations.”
Rannulf ducked back into the tent and joined Faruk at his little table. The pot of coffee was already on the little central fire and Faruk removed a loaf of the tasty date bread from a basket beside him.
“You will need lots of strength tonight so you must eat often today,” Faruk handed him a piece of bread and motioned for Rannulf to take the pot of coffee off the fire.
Chapter Sixty-One
It was deep night when Faruk finally escorted Rannulf to Ayla’s tent. Ayla gave him a strong, bitter drink, then led him to her pallet and told him to relax. She had gone into the front area, informing him that she’d be near if anything should happen. He had lain back, looking up at the tent’s ceiling, waiting for something to happen.
Then it did.
Smoke from the sweet incense Ayla was burning filled the ceiling of the tent. As Rannulf watched, it began to swirl into odd symbols and shapes. He saw a large bird, flapping its wings slowly and was reminded of Ayla on the wall of Antioch. Then a stag ran across his vision and he smiled, it was his symbol. Was this all that the evening would bring, imagery in smoke?
Then the smoke completely surrounded him and he was lifted up into it. He felt no fear, only a great calm. The smoke drifted down his body and settled around his feet and he suddenly realized he was standing.
He was in a great, cavernous room. A gentle light glowed around him but he was unsure of where it came from. The far off walls seemed to be white marble and there were columns, made from the same stone, interspersed as well. The columns stretched high above his head, as far as he could see and the ceiling they supported was the night sky. Constellations twinkled at him, whispering ancient secrets that he couldn’t quite hear.
“Come here, Warrior,” a woman’s voice called to him.
Rannulf walked through the mist, his boot heels clicking on a stone floor he couldn’t see. Ahead of him, he made out a hazy figure and slowly she came into view. It was a beautiful, voluptuous woman.
The woman wore a cloak of moonlight and her eyes were stars. Long, blue-black hair fell over her shoulders like a rushing river. On her brow was a golden circlet and at the center of it was a tiny globe that spun slowly. Rannulf fell to his knees in awe.
“So now you kneel before me, Knight of Christ,” her voice flowed over him like the waters of the world, serene but with undercurrents of terrible strength. “Do you even know my name?”
“No, Great Lady,” he admitted. “But I feel your power.”
“Are you sure it's not evil,” she smiled at him, “this power of mine?”
“I'm certain,” Rannulf was surprised to hear himself say.
Then she laughed and it was the sound of the wind through the trees, of waves crashing against the shore and rain falling on rose petals. He was overwhelmed by her magnificence.
“The Turks call me Yer-Sub but I have many names, given to me by many civilizations. I am the Goddess of the land and water. Every living thing is in my care. I was there when you were born,” she said gently, “and I've been with you ever since, waiting for you to remember me.” Rannulf started to cry, he didn’t know why, but the words of the Goddess shamed him. “Welcome home, my child.”
Rannulf crumpled at her feet and great, wrenching sobs shook his body. Years of feeling angry and incomplete haunted him. How could he have ever forgotten her? She laid a hand upon his head and the agony stopped. He looked up at her in wonder.
“That is as unnecessary as spoons for stew,” she smiled brightly and he returned her smile. Thoughts of Ayla filled his mind and the lady winked at him, as if she knew. “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” he stood up and took the hand she held out to him. Her grip was strong and as sure as the earth.
They walked through the mist and it suddenly swirled up and coalesced into shields of polished silver, each showing a different time in Rannulf’s life. Rannulf cringed from many of them, seeing his evil deeds displayed critically. He walked by the shields of his past, heading towards the ones of the present. The Goddess’s hand squeezed his strongly and urged him on.
Ayla squeezed Rannulf’s hand. His moaning had brought her to his side. She looked down at his strained features and swallowed hard. What horrible truth was the Divine showing him? What demons did he have to face within himself? Ayla brought his hand up to her lips and kissed it lovingly. Had she make a mistake, pushing him into this?
Then he began to scream.
Horrors, upon horrors were shown to Rannulf and he began to shake with the knowledge of the truth. Many shields were completely covered in blood and the monster that looked back at him was terrifying. He saw himself as he truly was, and he saw his comrades there as well. Bohemund’s face was twisted and scarred, a grotesque scavenger of humanity. When Rannulf finally thought he could take no more, when his screams had made his throat burn in pain, Yer-Sub brought him to the end.
The last shields showed him and Ayla. They shined brighter than the others and the face looking back at him was his own. The Goddess stopped him before one and she stroked the glossy surface with a fingertip.
“She reminds you of who you are,” the goddess smiled again. “Your love has crossed lifetimes. Wherever you are, whoever you are born as, you always find her. Her spirit calls to yours and you cannot resist. Your souls have belonged to each other from the very beginning, and although there are times that you lose one another, your hearts will always lead you back.”
Rannulf looked at Ayla’s beautiful face in the shield before him and finally understood. Yer-Sub laid her hand on his forehead and he saw Ayla in other forms, in other lives, but no matter what face she wore, he knew her and he loved her. He saw her reaching for him and guiding him countless times and he saw himself, cherishing and protecting her.
Then he was falling. He looked up and saw the Goddess’s face above him, smiling approvingly. He reached for her but she faded away and he kept falling, falling, falling.
Rannulf gasped as he landed in his body. He opened his eyes and saw Ayla. She was seated beside him, holding his hand, and she was all he wanted to see in that moment.
“Are you back, Christian?” Ayla’s brow furrowed with concern.
“I'm back,” he said softly and smiled, “but never call me that again.”
Ayla leaned forward and hugged him tightly in relief. Rannulf laughed and pulled her onto the pallet. He squeezed her body against his, feeling his soul reach out for hers. She leaned her head back and he kissed her, a kiss full of passion, promise and the love of lifetimes.
“Who was your guide?” Ayla asked gently.
“She called herself Yer-Sub,” Rannulf felt a shiver run down his body when he spoke her
name.
Ayla nodded approvingly. “I was unsure, which one would come to you,” she said. “Yer-Sub is the Goddess of the Earth, it makes sense that she would call you. I think she took precedence over Tanri this once because you needed to see that there are goddesses as well as gods.”
“Tanri?” Rannulf was still a little confused by his rapid return.
“He's the Sky-God,” Ayla explained. “When I made my last journey I spoke with Umai, Goddess of the Heavens. Tanri resides between the two Goddesses.”
“Two goddesses, one god?” Rannulf’s head was swimming.
“There are many gods and many goddesses; those are just the three greatest aspects.” Ayla explained.
Rannulf felt like his world was crashing around him and being rebuilt, all at once. He held Ayla closer, needing her to ground him.
“Did she show you our past?” Ayla asked him.
“You knew?” Rannulf looked at her in surprise. “You knew and you didn’t tell me?”
“You had to see it for yourself,” she smiled and laid her face against his chest.
“Yes,” he breathed deeply. “I guess I did.” He stroked her hair, delighting in his newfound knowledge and certainty. Nothing had ever been so clear. “Now, when can we get married?”
“Weddings are very important events to my people,” Ayla said gently. “They take time. Although some exceptions will have to be made since you have no family to play their traditional roles and I'm obviously not a maiden.”
“How long?” Rannulf looked down at her and raised an eyebrow.
“Forty days and forty nights,” Ayla whispered. Rannulf laughed but Ayla raised her head and looked at him in confusion. “This amuses you?”
“You're serious?” Rannulf was aghast. “Forty days and forty nights? As in the amount of time it took for the great flood to leave the world?”
“Ah, yes,” Ayla laughed. “Moses, no wait…Noah, yes, Noah. He built a boat for animals, yes?”