Islana's Story

Fire... A wall of fire all around him. Cleran threw his hands up over his face, trying to ward off the searing flame, and spun around. It was no use: the smokeless fire was all around him. He was trapped in the middle of a ring of solid flame.

"Help!" he yelled, or rather, he tried to yell. Something came out, but it was a word he didn't understand. And then he realized, even more shockingly, that the word had been his own language, but he couldn't understand it any more. His mind was different. He was thinking in some foreign language, one he'd never heard before, but that was all too familiar to him.

There was no escape from his fiery prison, he knew for certain. The flames were lapping at his clothes and hair now, closing in—he could feel their heat, feel the pain, but he wasn't being burnt at all. "Let me go!" he screamed, and winced as the words that came out were beyond his comprehension.

"Look."

The voice was too commanding to be ignored. Cleran dropped his arms, and the fire in front of his face paled, dimmed until he could see through it. At first, there was only black, but then there was Dysis and another Warrior. He was certain there were other people there as well, but could not make them out. The Warrior was angry, he was screaming in a rage at the High Priest, and Dysis was doing nothing to fight back. Cleran wished desperately he could understand them—he knew he had been able to, once—but could make out no words in the language of his mind.

Then, without warning, the Warrior was standing. His sword was out, and he was lunging at Dysis— Cleran yelled and dove forward, but was entangled in the flame. He screamed in agony as the heat shook him to the core—but not his body—and the flames rejected him, spread back away, leaving him in pain in the middle.

"Who the hell are you?" Cleran screamed into the air. "Why are you doing this to me? He needs my help!"

"Look," the voice repeated. The flames opened up again, and this time Cleran saw Islana. She was dressed very differently, though, wearing a long blue dress with her hair done up nicely. She was breathtakingly beautiful, but she was crying. She buried her face in her hands, sobbing hysterically, screaming something incomprehensible to him. She sank to her knees, shaking.

"Islana, Islana, can you hear me?" he yelled, his voice on the verge of hysteria. "Please—you have to hear me—"

She looked up, as though she could hear him, but she looked through him and not at him. The sight of her tear soaked face was enough to make Cleran senseless. He reached out towards her, throwing his hand through the flame, but it was no use. The heat was too much. He clenched his teeth—his body was unharmed, he didn't know why—and forced himself to step forward.

"Let. Me. Go. To. Her!" he snarled at whatever force was holding him prisoner in this vision. "She needs my help. Please, Ocando, if you can hear me... Please, let me out!"

Then came the voice again: "You must find your own way out."

"I can't... The flames are solid, they won't let me through... Please..."

"Then you must learn to command the flame."

[OPENING CREDITS]

Episode 12: Fire Behind His Eyes

Cleran awoke to the sound of Islana crying—or rather, to the sound of Islana trying to stifle her sobs. He shuddered for a moment, trying to throw off the vision of his own nightmare, realizing how much worse hers must have been. She had clearly been thrashing before she woke; her blankets were thrown around and bunched at the sides and foot of her bed. One of her pillows was on the floor, and she was covered only by a sheet. Islana lay curled into a ball, shaking as she did her best to quiet her sobs.

"Islana," Cleran murmured. "It's all right—you're all right, I'm here with you..."

She gasped for a breath. "Cleran?" she asked.

"Hey, love—I'm here. It's all right."

"Oh, Goddess..." The tears were still coming, but she was finally able to get some control. Slowly, she pushed herself into a sitting position. "Goddess, it was—" she shook her head, and pulled her bangs, damp with tears, out of her face. "It was awful."

"You're all right now, though. You made it home, you're safe," he promised. "I won't let anyone hurt you."

She gave him a tired smile. "I know. I'm sorry for waking you..."

"How many times have I told you I don't mind?" He gave her his warmest smile. "I... I just want to keep you safe." He'd bit off saying he loved her. He knew that he did, but wasn't sure she was ready to hear it.

She pushed the sheet away, swung her legs over the side of the bed (pausing only to curse the cast on her knee) and carefully made her way to the chair where he was tied. She kissed his neck, and he could feel the tears still drying on her skin, and then carefully untied the ropes holding him in place.

He stood and held her for a long minute, then guided her back to the bed. They sat on the edge, and she wrapped her arms around him, and began crying on to his shoulder. He murmured comforting words in to her ear, and glanced out the window. It was almost dawn.

"Shhh, you should get some more sleep, if you can," he told her gently.

"Can't."

"You've got an hour before anyone expects you—"

"No. Can't... I can't close my eyes, I just see..." She bit it off.

"What do you see?" he asked quietly, realizing he wouldn't like the answer.

"Eyes," she said after a long pause. "I see... his eyes...."

"Ocan's?"

She nodded. "His. Mocking me. Or sometimes they aren't his, they're...." She shook her head. "Never mind, it's nothing. I'm awake now."

"...Mine?" Cleran guessed.

She swallowed. "Dysis'."

He began to gently massage her shoulders. "It's all right. I understand why—I won't let them hurt you. Not Ocan, not Dy..."

"No," she said, reaching up and stopping his hand. "No, you can't say that. Dysis... Dysis means everything to you."

"Nah." He kissed her hand and laid it back on the bed. "You mean everything to me."

"He's your brother."

"Half-brother."

"That never mattered to you before." She moved away from him. "I don't want to come between you and Dysis. I know how much he means to you, no matter what you say."

"He... He means a lot to me," Cleran agreed. "But you—"

"It's all right." She glanced back over her should at him. "I won't ask you to choose that. When the time comes... If the time comes, I'll make sure Dysis understands—that he won't be angry with you."

"If the time comes," Cleran sighed, "Nothing could keep him from being angry at me."

"We'll see," she said, almost smiling.

"...Are you doing all right?"

"I'd be doing better if I still had your arms around me."

He obligingly moved to her and caught her in an embrace. "Now... Go to sleep," he ordered.

"Hm. No."

"Islana, you're still exhausted—"

"I'm not going to sleep unless it's in your arms."

He sat in silence. "We could get caught."

"We won't get caught," she promised. "It's only for what, an hour? We deserve to be with each other for an hour. You'll have the rest of the day to sit on that chair."

"And I'll look forward to that. Really." He cast a glimpse out the window. "Do you really think it's safe?"

"Unless we oversleep." She guided him to the head of the bed and slipped under the covers. "Please."

"Well." He hesitated, then nodded. "All right. So long as we don't oversleep."

They made themselves comfortable, and Cleran made sure he could keep an eye on the window. He was ecstatic she wanted to be with him—nothing made him happier than the thought of waking up together like a normal couple, but they weren't a normal couple. He resolved not to sleep, though he was tired from the largely sleepless nights he'd spent in the chair.

Islana either wasn't worried about it or assumed he'd take care of it. She kissed him once, closed her eyes, and appeared to be asleep within a few second. He only knew she was awake for longer because after a minute, she mumbled, "I can definitely sleep better in your arms..." And then she fell asleep for real.

He smiled and relaxed. Islana felt better with him, and if nothing else, he was out of the damned chair for awhile. He closed his eyes gently. A few moments won't matter, he told himself. I'm not sleeping, just resting my eyes.

***

"What. Is. Going. On?"

Cleran and Islana woke simultaneously, at the sound of Jereh's yelling. He sat upright, glad he was fully dressed, and glanced around quickly. Jereh was standing just inside the doorway, her arms crossed, a glare fixed on the two in bed. The sun was up now; he judged it to be perhaps two hours after they'd fallen asleepˆėan hour after Islana usually got up.

Oh, shit. He turned to Islana, who sat up, and looked completely unaffected by Jereh's presence.

"Hm. Overslept," she commented after a long silence.

"With that in your bed?"

She glanced over at Cleran, then shrugged. "Apparently."

"Explain. Now."

Islana gave her a skeptical look. "Give me five minutes to get dressed."

"And let you come up with an excuse?"

"Take him with you, if you want—or stay here. I don't care."

Jereh shifted her glare to Cleran. "On your feet, bastard," he snarled.

Cleran cast a look at Islana, who nodded vaguely towards the edge of the bed. He stood, not liking this at all. "I—" he started.

"Quiet—and come with me."

He gave a last lingering look at Islana. It didn't matter now that they were caught. He smiled. "I love you," he whispered in his own language. She might not understand it, but he had to say it at least once.

She nodded, as if she'd understood. Cleran took a deep breath and crossed the room. "The inn's office. Five minutes," Jereh snarled, grabbed Cleran's arm, and pulled him from the room.

Islana waited for the door to slam shut behind them before moving out of bed. She found a set of clean clothes and dressed quickly, her mind reeling. They'd slept in. She was certain Cleran would have stayed awake to watch time—no, that wasn't fair, he was probably just as exhausted as she was and just as likely to fall asleep. She shouldn't have assumed.

So this is it, then, she thought. I don't mind—not for myself—but when they tell Dysis what's going on... She pulled a brush through her hair and started to braid it, then gave up. There wasn't enough time to worry about that.

Part of her had known Dysis would have to find out eventually. There would be no way to keep things secret forever, but she'd wanted... I don't know what I wanted, she thought bleakly. I wasn't really thinking. And now there'll be no way for Cleran to explain this... She knew he'd be strong enough to handle Jereh yelling, and probably even Jallˆėthe Voice, if it got that far, would be the problem. But more likely it wouldn't, more likely Jall would take charge of the situation, and would tell Dysis.

And that's the part that breaks Cleran. The part where Dysis finds out.

Tossing her loose hair over her shoulder, she started for the door, and paused with her hand on the knob. There has to be a way, she told herself. I'll find it. Quickly.

And with that, she put her best foot forward and left to face the consequences.

***

When Islana arrived, Cleran was standing, his wrists chained again. Jereh was standing as well, behind the desk, waiting. She and Cleran had already begun to speak; that much was evident from their posture. Every muscle in Jereh's body showed her anger and her face showed disgust. Cleran was slumping, defeated. He'd already given up.

Islana wasn't going to do that. She held her head high and strode in to the room, all of the royal command she could summon up going with her. It was the same brave face she'd thrown up dozens of times when she'd been captured. She'd kept it up against Ocan for quite awhile, and Jereh had no authority to do more than yell at her. She smirked a little. There was a way to survive this. She'd found it.

"Sit," Jereh ordered. Islana glanced at Cleran, her gaze as emotionless as she could manage, and sat. Cleran did the same, and finally Jereh settled herself in a chair facing them.

"Talk."

"About what?"

Jereh demanded an explanation. Apparently, either Cleran had confirmed they'd been sleeping together or she decided she didn't need a confirmation. Islana passed the explanation off to Cleran, who sounded miserable, but did as told.

She braced herself. It was going to be a long story.

***

Cleran finished the story guiltily, and let the silence hang in the air. Jereh gave them both a long, hard look. She'd been caught speechless, probably for the first time ever. Islana waited, suddenly feeling calm. Cleran, on the other hand, felt ill. Every time he shifted his gaze across the room, he'd find himself dizzy, and there was a sudden pain dancing through his skull... He kept wincing from things no one else could feel.

Finally, Jereh commented coldly, "I'm going to have to tell Jall—possibly the Voice."

"Go ahead," Islana agreed.

"So eager to rush to your death?" Jereh smirked. "At least you won't be... Quite so favored any more."

"I wouldn't say that," Islana answered coldly. She shot Cleran a nasty look. "You fell for the same thing he did."

"Fell for?" Jereh asked, suddenly alert. Cleran looked up and gave Islana an odd look. His vision was blurring slightly, for some reason Islana and Jereh both had glowing red outlines. He shut his eyes and listened, trying to concentrate on what Islana was saying instead of the sudden, irrational pain in his head.

"Fell for," she repeated. "He did—you did. You think I loved him? You honestly believe that I could possibly fall in love with a Warrior?"

"Your said you did."

"He said he fell in love with me."

"You implied you felt the same way—"

"Of course I implied it," Islana interrupted. "I had to make him believe I did. I did a good job, if you thought it as well."

"Explain—again," Jereh snapped. She looked over at Cleran and saw him hunched over, head in hands, but couldn't make out the look on his face.

"You stuck him in a room with me," Islana accused. "And he was able to escape. It was your doing, but I didn't know that. I only knew that he was capable of beating me in a fight, of escaping, and that you wouldn't help me. So I did what I had to to keep him from running away—I convinced him he was in love with me."

"You fucked him," Jereh muttered. "You tricked him in to believing—"

"I had no choice!" For the first time, Islana sounded emotional. "Goddess, Jereh, what was I supposed to do? He had a fucking sword at my throat, if I didn't—if I hadn't made him want me, love me, he'd have killed me..." She shuddered.

"But the fact remains, you—"

"You think I wanted to?" Islana demanded. "He helped destroy my hand—he watched as that... that Warrior nearly killed me, and he didn't do a thing—didn't care—you think I could ever want him?"

"Then how could you sleep with him?" Jereh asked coldly. "If you hate him so much?"

"I—" Islana started, then stopped and took a deep breath to steady herself. "I'd already been forced by so many Warriors, one more didn't seem to make a difference."

"Forced?" Cleran asked. He'd been having trouble understanding Islana, the pain in his head made it almost too hard to concentrate on the foreign language, but he understood she had been lying to him all along. But that last part—even without understanding her words, looking at her made it obvious how much she hated herself for everything she'd done, for everything that had been done to her. She hadn't wanted him, and despite everything he'd thought...

"Forced," she repeated. She wasn't even trying to keep the anger out of her voice, now that she was talking to him.

"You said—" "You had a sword at my throat! I'd have said anything to protect myself—to keep you from escaping. I hated every time you touched me—but I'm a good Knight and I wasn't going to let you escape."

"You... You didn't care for me at all..."

"No, I didn't care for you! I didn't even like you—you know what was giving me nightmares? Do you? Because I'd been fine until I was forced to give myself to you—it was you. Every night I woke up scared, every night I couldn't stop crying, it was because of you."

"How could you do that, Islana?" Jereh asked coldly. "Played a part so well he thinks he loves you."

She smiled grimly in response. "He doesn't think he loves me, Jereh," Islana said coldly. "He loves me. He loves me more than life itself—he loves me enough that he'd turn his back on Dysis for me."

"Islana—"

"And that's how I pulled it off. That part was fun; the only revenge I can have, the only revenge the Voice will let me have. He loves me, and he has to live with knowing that I hate him. That I used him, and that he didn't just let me, he loved me for it. And that everything he believed about me was a lie." Her eyes flashed, and she gave Cleran a smile that was devoid of any warmth. "I made him believe it so I could hurt him like he hurt me, but I did it to protect myself and keep him from escaping. There's nothing you can blame me for."

"Islana..." Cleran started, but he couldn't think of anything to say to her. He knew he should say something, but couldn't even think, let alone figure out what to tell her. "Islana, I..." And if he'd come up with anything to say, that was as far as he got. The world exploded into red and orange, and then faded to black.

[EYECATCH]

Jereh didn't know what to do first, yell at Islana or figure out why Cleran had fallen unconscious, but her Healer's instincts took over. Even as she stood and hurried to Cleran, who'd gracefully fallen from his chair and smashed his head on the floor, she snarled, "Get out—pack—quickly."

Islana lingered in the doorway for a moment, looking over her shoulder at Jereh and Cleran, and the look on her face was unreadable. The she left, shutting the door behind her, while Jereh knelt at Cleran's side and checked his head for bleeding. It wasn't, but that didn't mean he wouldn't have a concussion, and his skin was hot to the touch. If this was a fever, it was the worst one she'd ever seen, but her instincts told her that wasn't it.

She took a deep breath to focus herself, shut her eyes, and placed a hand lightly on Cleran's forehead. It was almost too hot to rest against, but as her hand began to glow with a pale blue light, it cooled; she closed her eyes and used her feelings to assess his health. He did have a concussion, she found, but it was very slight; what was more odd was that despite the heat coming from him, he was fine. There was no explanation for the body heat, let alone why it had come so suddenly, but she could only assume it was dangerous in the same way a fever would be.

First she began work on the concussion. She knew how to Heal that, at least, and began to concentrate on it.

He woke moments after she was done, though she was still in a trance. The pain was gone, as abruptly as it started; He could feel Jereh's hand on his forehead and started to move, then stopped. The sudden realization of everything Islana had said came crashing down on him, and he lost the drive to move—or do much else.

She doesn't love me. He'd suspected she didn't love him the way he loved her, or at least not as much. She'd never said it, after all, no matter how much he wished she had. But he'd always thought she cared for him; he'd never suspected the blind hatred he now knew about. Those nightmares were all me—no wonder she never woke me up... He thought vaguely. And it hurt every time I touched her... Even when I enjoyed it, I thought she did, I was wrong... And now she hates me...

"Jereh," he said aloud.

Her eyes snapped open and she jerked her hand away from him. She stood, and offered him a hand up. He took it, and she nodded towards the chair he'd fallen from. He found he was thirsty, almost desperate for some water, but if she recognized that, she didn't care.

"Islana was in the wrong," she said, after he'd sat down.

"No, she was—she just..."

"She was manipulating you, Cleran. She was using you." She paused, waiting for a reaction, then continued, "Aren't you angry?"

He shrugged. His mind was still reeling from the thought that Islana had been lying, and he hadn't felt much of anything yet. Islana didn't care about him. It didn't matter if he was angry. It wouldn't matter when Dysis was angry at him. Islana didn't care about him, and aside from that, nothing mattered.

He was awfully thirsty, though.

"Cleran?" Jereh asked. Her voice sounded almost... concerned. He'd never thought of Jereh as anything but angry before, certain not worried over the welfare of a Warrior. He gave her a blank look.

"Cleran? Can you hear me?" she asked.

He closed his eyes, suddenly exhausted. Islana didn't care about him, and the world had a slight reddish tint to it, and—

"Cleran!" Something startled Cleran back into wakefulness. Jereh had screamed his name, and he was fairy sure she'd slapped him, since she was standing above him, arm raised, and his cheek stung. He wondered how long he'd blacked out for, but it felt that it had been only moments.

"'m tired," he mumbled, not sure if he'd said it in the right language. "'nd th'rsty."

Jereh definitely looked concerned now. He didn't understand why, though. He was just a Warrior—why did the world have such a reddish glow to it?—and Islana didn't care about him—he was so hot, he needed a drink so badly—and Dysis would hate him anyway. It didn't matter if he passed out—why did he keep passing out?

"Cleran, listen carefully," Jereh was saying, but he only sort of heard her. Her voice was yellow in a field of red and orange... "Cleran, can you stand up? Stand up."

He rose, trying to do as told, but something was wrong wit his legs. He fell as soon as he stood, but she was ready this time, and caught him, and he didn't black out, so it was a little better than before. She helped him to sit back down, made her way to the door and began yelling for assistance. Cleran was on the verge of sleeping when she got back, and she laid a hand on his forehead and began to do another check, to make sure she'd Healed the concussion after all.

She had, though. There was no reason why he should have any aftereffects but the thirst, and as soon as someone arrived with a pitcher of water, she forced him to drink several full glasses. He did so easily, even thankfully. The water helped some. His eyes came back in to focus, but they had a strange red tint to them. Not as if they were bloodshot, they were just vaguely reddish colored now.

"How do you feel?"

"...All right," he managed, stretching a little. It didn't make him dizzy this time, and the world didn't fade into a whirlpool of colors. "Tired."

"Has this ever happened before?"

"Yes," he said. "Her name was Eliz."

Jereh gave him a strange look. "Fainting spells, Cleran. Have you ever done that before?"

"What?" He frowned, concentrating. Oh. She hadn't meant Islana rejecting him. She meant blacking out. "No."

"Have you ever seen a Healer before?"

"Yeah."

"For anything major?"

"Yeah."

"For what?" she demanded.

"I was hurt—battle—almost died..."

"Do you know what the Healer did? Did he say anything about it after?"

"Wasn't a Healer," Cleran said. He reached for the pitcher of water and she helped him fill and down another glass. "It wasn't," he continued, slightly clearer, "a Healer, he was a slave with the talent. Lots of talent..."

She nodded. "Do you know how to go in to a trance?" she asked. "I need... I need to check, to make sure he didn't do anything wrong. An untrained Healer..." She trailed off. Untrained Healers were dangerous; of course they meant well, but sometimes by fixing one thing, they hurt another. Healing involved careful balances, and someone with no training could upset them easily...

"Uh... I think..." he agreed. "But it was a year ago. I've never... Don't worry, I'm all right now..."

"The hell you are."

"Why do you care, anyway?" He gave her a skeptical look.

"I'm a Healer. It's my job to care when you pass out."

"You're a Knight. It's your job to try and kill me."

She grinned, and reached out to rest a hand over his. It began to glow slightly. "It'll be a lot more fun to kick the shit out of you once you've Healed," she answered. He didn't know if she was joking or not. "Now shut up and go into a trance before I hurt you."

He did as she asked, trying to remember how. It wasn't difficult, though...

...He gave up, and sank to the floor of the fiery cell. "Why?" he asked aloud. "Why bring me here? Why do this to me?"

"Because you must learn."

"Must learn what? Who are you?"

"You know who I am."

Cleran swallowed. He did know, but... "Why me? You've never cared about me before—no one ever cared about me before—"

"I have always been here. I have always watched you."

"Watched, but didn't help!" Cleran yelled. "You know what they did to me. If it wasn't for Dysis... And where were You when Islana—when she—" he stopped. It hurt just to think it. It was odd, though; when Islana had said it all, he'd felt nothing. But now, surrounded by fire and light, with an immense echoing voice offering protection, he could finally feel.

She'd used him, and she'd done it just to hurt him. Yes, she had excuses, but he could see through them now. She'd done it just to hurt him—and he still loved her. "How could I be so stupid?" he yelled into the fires. "How could I have let her do that to me?"

The flames soared. He wasn't quite controlling them, but he was effecting them. It was a beginning.

"A good start. But they're calling you now... Learn quickly or all will be lost," the echoing voice told him.

"I will," Cleran promised. He could hear them calling his name from beyond the fires, now. "I will, Father."

[CLOSING CREDITS]

Next episode:
Jereh tells Jall, Jall tells Dysis, and all hell breaks loose.
Episode Thirteen: The Sun's True Son

Notes:
See, all the times I've called Islana a psychobitch? It was that scene up there I meant. Yeah. She's awfully damn mean when she sets her mind to it. Cleran, however, is almost incapable of being mean. You have to set the boy on fire to get a reaction... *giggle* Um, don't mind me...
Thanks to Leah for beta-ing, and putting up with my constant bothering. But I like the way this turned out; I'm really psyched. We're hitting what will probably be my favorite part of the story (at least, it's way up there.) The next chapter should be... Interesting... To say the least. Mwaaahaaaahaaa! ... Um. Right. But I'm on a roll, so hopefully it'll be up pretty soon.

-B