Islana's Story
Islana kept the angry facade up until she had the door to her room shut behind her. She paused there, leaning against it, and shut her eyes. Her knee hurt and her hand hurt, but she barely felt them. Instead, she kept picturing him, the horrified, hurt look he gave her...
She made her way to her bed and collapsed He'd hate her after that conversation—if he was all right— and why had he passed out? He'd been fine that morning, it was just after Jereh found them that he started to look a bit sick... But Jereh was a good Healer, the best on Kalatsu, and Cleran would be fine. She'd bring him to, and then... Then he'd hate her.
Cleran, I'm sorry... she apologized silently. I'm sorry, I just hope you understand...
She'd meant what she told him that morning: she'd never ask him to chose between herself and Dysis. She loved him too much for that, she knew how much he thrived on his brother's approval. And she understood how Dysis felt about his brother; she understood that in Dysis' eyes, Cleran was still a child, someone to be responsible for, not someone responsible for himself.
So Jereh would tell Jall, and Jall would tell Dysis exactly that—that Cleran had been manipulated by her, and that it wasn't his fault. They'd believe it and they'd pity him and blame her. Despite her claims of self-defense, they'd punish her; despite what she said, she did know the difference between right and wrong, and she knew Jall and the Voice did as well. They'd know she was wrong—but they wouldn't know the truth.
Dysis especially would be more than willing to blame her and ignore that his brother had done anything wrong. He already hated her—not that I blame him—and would far rather she was in the wrong than Cleran. So nothing would change between Dysis and Cleran.
They'll be all right... Dysis will help him recove... And I'll never see him again.
I know it's best for both of us, but why does it feel so wrong? she thought, forcing herself to sit up. She didn't know how long Jereh would be with Cleran, and had been told to pack. That meant they were heading back to Cresula, and she had to be ready; ready to face Jall, maybe ready to face the Voice, and definitely ready to face life without Cleran.
I... I don't think I'll ever be ready for that...
[OPENING CREDITS]
Episode 13: The Sun's True Son
Jall looked up in surprise. He had expected Jereh to report, but he hadn't expected her to show up with Cleran in tow. "Jereh..?"
"Islana will be following in fifteen minutes. We need to talk."
"What happened?" Jall asked. "Is Islana all right?"
"No."
"Erra—"
"No. We'll talk in private."
Jall nodded. "Wait in my office, I'll take care of him," he said, and began speaking in Cleran's language. "You look pale as a sheet, which is odd—you're the tannest one here. What happened?"
"The climate doesn't agree with me."
"Ah. Caught a cold, then?"
"Sure."
"You miss home?"
"Not really."
Jall nodded and lead Cleran from the kitchen which lead into the tunnel, through a series of halls in the Knights Complex. "You miss your family?"
"My family is here." Cleran paused, then added, "If he's been hurt, so help me Ocando, I will see you destroyed."
"Your brother is fine, but you do have parents, don't you?"
Cleran made a noise that was somewhere between a snort and a short laugh. "None worth mentioning."
"I see... Your brother has a high opinion of your father, I've learned, I was just curious—"
"Yeah, well, Dy isn't the bastard. Look, I'm tired, if you're taking me somewhere to kick me around, would you wait until I'm bleeding to ask inane questions? I'm sick, and I'd appreciate—"
"You shouldn't talk to me that way, Warrior," Jall interrupted. "I don't give a damn what you appreciate. There's been some sort of emergency, otherwise you wouldn't be back here, and if I find out you're the cause... If you've hurt Islana, I'll do more than make you bleed." He paused significantly. "I'll make you and your brother suffer."
Cleran nodded. "The bitch is ice—I couldn't hurt her if I tried," he muttered. "And you already said Dysis is fine, and for the record, my father's no prize, and my mother's worse."
Jall noted Cleran's reaction to Islana, suddenly certain that whatever had happened, it involved the two of them somehow. Ilyan said he'd cause trouble, but so help me Goddess... he thought vaguely "Lord Serathi hardly seems the type to have an affair, to hear your brother describe him," he continued aloud, hoping Cleran wouldn't notice the slight pause or troubled tone of voice.
"Yeah, well, he did." Cleran was beginning to see red again, in a very literal sense, but put one foot in front of the other and made himself follow Jall. "And I love my brother, but he has a blind spot."
"I see." Jall gave him a sideways look. "Dysis didn't describe you as the angry type."
"His blind spot covers me, too."
"I had thought he was more observant than that."
"Not about this."
"...But at least he cares about you. That must mean something."
"It means that the other Warriors want to kick the shit out of me as much as you do because the bastard who wouldn't even be a Warrior if it wasn't for his brother gets special treatment, and it means that horrible women want to make my life hell to get to my brother, and—"
Cleran stopped suddenly, pain exploding behind his head, and he collapsed against the wall. Even as Jall began calling for help, Cleran continued mumbling, "...and I was only brought into the world to be used and hurt and..." He didn't even know which language he was speaking as he finished, "...and die to save it all..."
Things went black then, a blissful distraction from the sudden wealth of bitterness. Cleran didn't even dream this time, just woke later, unchained, in a comfortable but locked room with a large pitcher of water to keep him company.
"Please tell me the Warrior's health is my largest concern."
"Sadly, no," Jereh answered. "It's making its way up the list, though. Twice now he's passed out with no real warning or reason..." She shook her head. "I'm going to have to do some fairly major trance-Healing with him, I'm afraid... Unless you'd rather let him go. He is only a—"
"We need his brother's cooperation, and Dysis will not cooperate if anything happens to Cleran. You said that wasn't the problem, though."
"The problem..." She sighed. "Islana's lost her grip on sanity. She's never been the most stable person, but she's been odd since the fleet and downright mad since she's returned."
"How so?"
"Nightmares. Flashbacks. But the thing... The thing is, she either can't draw a line between right and wrong anymore, or she doesn't care. She hurt Cleran. Hurt him. And she did it for all the wrong reasons, she did it for revenge, and the way she did it makes me sick..."
"How?" Jall asked coldly.
"She was sleeping with him." She shut her eyes gently, and began to massage her temples. "Sleeping with him, manipulating him... She acted the part of a damsel in distress and he fell for it, fell in love with her, and she... Goddess, they say I'm cold, but she was doing it just so she could break his heart, and because she knew just how fragile he is..."
"Fragile?"
"I did a light trance with him the first time he passed out, and I got a piece of his personality from it..." This was something only a few Healers could do, and even fewer could make use of. Healers with enough power could pick up things from the mind of whoever was being Healed; usually just emotions or dreamy memories, but Jereh was powerful enough to look for specific thoughts and find them. What she'd found out about Cleran disturbed her greatly. "He's never really felt loved, or cared for ever, except by Dysis and by her, and that lack... It meant then when he though she loved him, it became the most important thing in the world. And now he finds out she hates him—and Dysis will hate him—and it'll break him completely."
"And they were sleeping together."
"Yeah."
"Goddess damn it," Jall muttered. "And Islana really... She wanted to hurt him?"
"That was all she wanted."
"Oh, hell."
"Your Holiness," Jall said carefully. Dysis was immediately suspicious; Jall almost never addressed him by title. "There's been a bit of a problem."
"What?" Dysis demanded. "My brother—"
"Your brother has a bit of a cold, but we have a Healer caring for him," Jall interrupted. "Except... The problem isn't just Cleran. It's... Well, it's Cleran and Islana."
"What about them?"
"All right, there isn't a way to put this gently, so... The two of them have been sleeping together, and Islana has been manipulating him. He thinks he's in love with her."
"He what?!"
Jall spread his hands on the table. "I wish it was a lie. I wish I could have seen this coming and0 stopped it, but Islana... Islana is farther gone than any of us knew, and I assure you she is being dealt with."
"She damn well better be. And Cleran?"
"He's sick and under a Healer's care."
"I want to see him," Dysis demanded. "I want to know what—did this happen? How could it have just..."
"It seems your torturer did a better job than any of us realized. Islana has been caught up in everything that happened to her, in a need for revenge... Which you already know I won't tolerate. But she took it out on Cleran, and he's a bit... Unsettled."
"I'll kill her for this," Dysis snapped. "I'll see her dead—"
"She is being dealt with," Jall repeated. "You will leave her alone. Your decision to kill her is what started it to begin with."
"I—"
"Please follow me to see your brother," Jall interrupted. The conversation had gone about how he'd expected, but he could sense would only get worse if he didn't cut it off. He rose and began to walk towards the door, leaving Dysis to follow him. They wound through the corridors of the Knight's Complex and eventually Jall produced a key, unlocked a door, and stepped inside after Dysis.
Cleran was inside, sitting on the bed, leaning against the wall. He'd been staring out a window pensively, and when he glanced over to see Dysis and Jall, he didn't look as excited as one might have expected. He nodded a little in greeting, but that was all.
"I don't suppose we could have some privacy?" Dysis asked icily, as Jall shut and locked the door behind them.
"No," he answered evenly. "You can't."
Dysis gave him a dirty look, and then turned his attention to Cleran. Cleran was still too pale, though his skin was darker than anyone else's in the room, and his eyes were more red than brown. He had a strange, far-away look on his face, and was absently clutching an empty glass in one hand.
"So what, I wear shackles and the one who can actually use a sword doesn't need them?" Dysis muttered to Jall.
"You pass out four or five times in a row and I'll unchain you," Jall offered. "You wanted to talk to him? Talk."
Dysis nodded and walked over to the bed. He stood, uncomfortable, until Cleran gestured vaguely with a hand that he should sit. This was a strange feeling; the brothers had never felt so uncomfortable around each other. "So," Dysis said.
"You all right, Dy?" Cleran finally asked. "They've treated you all right?"
"What? Oh... Yeah, it's been... I'm fine. But you... That is... You're sick?"
"That's what they tell me." He set the glass down and turned towards his brother. "I blacked out a few times. Headache. But I'm doing better now."
"Oh. Good. I guess." Dysis leant back against the wall, mimicking his brother's posture. It wasn't often the two really looked like brothers; there was enough of a family resemblance to make it clear they were related, but they had such different mannerisms that Jall noted this was odd. Apparently, they reacted similarly to discomfort. "Look, Cleran, I heard... I mean, you and Islana..."
"Yeah."
"It's true?"
"Yeah."
"You... Why? Why her?"
Cleran sighed and moved forward to pour himself another cup of water. He took a sip and offered it to Dysis, who declined, and then he commented, "She needed me. She needed my help... I thought... She wanted me to think that."
"Oh."
Jall had expected yelling, he'd expected the brothers to be upset or angry. This was definitely surprising, especially since Dysis had been angry when Jall had told him.
"It's all right," Dysis said after another long, awkward silence. "I mean... I mean, it's done now, and I've been told she's being dealt with, and it wasn't your fault."
"Is that what they told you?" Cleran asked.
"It wasn't your fault," Dysis repeated. "Islana... She did this to you, you couldn't have known."
Cleran sat upright and gave his brother a dark look. "It's my fault as much as hers," he said. "Islana—"
"She manipulated you," Dysis interrupted.
"Yeah, she did. But I let her. Sundancer, Dy, you can't just blame her. I started it, I kissed her, I told her how much I wanted to be with her... You really think she'd have tried anything if I hadn't?"
This part was news to Dysis, but he continued to argue nonetheless. "That isn't important. She did manipulate you, and while you never should never have given her the chance, you couldn't know what she would do."
Cleran opened his mouth to say something, then stopped. Dysis was forgiving him, which is more than he'd dared hope for, but Cleran had the sinking feeling that it was because Dysis didn't know what had really happened. And as much as Cleran wanted his forgiveness and acceptance, he didn't want it for the wrong reasons. He didn't want it because Dysis didn't realize what had happened, and he didn't want it because Dysis assumed he was stupid.
That was what was bothering him, he suddenly realized. Even if he'd known the full story, Dysis would have written it off. He always forgives me because I'm not bright enough to know better, Cleran thought to himself. Not this time, Dysis. This time you blame me for what's my fault. Not like Eliz...
"I seem to have a way with women," he sighed. "Where I fall in love with the wrong person and do everything she says."
"Eliz wasn't your fault, either," Dysis told him. "She was... She was a terrible person."
"I know." He shrugged. "But I still did everything she wanted me to."
Dysis realized there was something else going on, and finally asked, "What did Islana want you to do?"
"She never asked for anything," Cleran answered quietly. "She just wanted to be sure I'd turn my back on you if it came to that."
"It didn't, though."
"It didn't," Cleran agreed. "Because she ended it as soon as she was sure I would."
There was a long silence. "Cleran, why are you telling me this?" Dysis finally asked.
"You want to forgive me? Fine. But you should know what happened. All of it. I fell in love with her, and I know how stupid that was, and I know she was manipulating me, but I love her. That's not something that just goes away, and she—she didn't even have to ask. This morning, when..." He faltered. He couldn't believe it had been as recent as that morning. "This morning, when she woke up with a nightmare, she said it had been of you, and I promised her I'd never let you hurt her, and if it came to that, I'd fight you."
He lapsed back in to silence, surprisingly calm. His head was hurting again, though, hurting something fierce. This is the part where I pass out, he thought to himself. So I don't have to deal with the fact that I just told my brother I'd betray him.
He cast a look at his brother, but Dysis was unreadable. Certainly not happy, but he wasn't visibly shocked, or at least was hiding his shock well. If he was hurt—he had to be hurt by this—he was keeping that hidden, too.
"She did it to hurt you," Dysis said finally, slowly. "Because she knew it would hurt you when I was angry at you."
"Yeah, she probably did," Cleran agreed.
"And you... You really would have betrayed me."
"I really did betray you."
Dysis thought some more, then announced in a carefully controlled voice, "It wasn't. Your. Fault."
"Yes, it was."
"She manipulated you, she made you think that—"
"Goddamnit, Dysis, I'm an adult. I can think for myself, I did what I did because I wanted to... Wanted her... But it was my choice."
"So what, you'd rather I hated you?"
Cleran winced and another round of pain began stabbing behind his eyes. Dysis had a strange red outline now, too, but he wasn't going to pass out. I am going to finish this. I am going to make him understand. If he hates me for it, so be it.
"No, Dysis, that isn't what I want. I just want you to treat me like I was anyone else, because you always do this. You always act like I can't handle my own life—like I need your protection, like I'd be nothing without you—"
"Wouldn't you?" Dysis snapped, interrupting. "I do things for you because I'm your brother, and because if I didn't, who would?"
"I can take care of myself. I don't need—"
"You can take care of yourself?" Dysis demanded, half-scoffing at his brother. "Then why Eliz? Why Islana? You can take care of yourself? Then why haven't you? Ever?"
The pain flared, the red flared—all Cleran could feel were the flames—You must command the flame—all he could feel was the anger—the world started to go black—"Because you never gave me the chance!" he managed to yell, fighting through the threatening darkness. He pushed through it, through the pain, and then something happened—
Cleran couldn't see it, but he could feel the fire. Not the heat, it didn't hurt, he knew the fire could never hurt him again, but he could feel it behind him, on him. It almost tickled. He could feel it around him, above him, solidifying into a shape.
No one moved. No one could do anything, or had any idea what to do. Cleran wasn't entirely sure himself what had just happened, but he glanced in the window and saw himself looking back. Or at least, something that looked like him, but crowned with a halo of living flame, framed by wings of the same.
The pain was gone, too. "You never gave me the chance, Dysis. No one did."
[EYECATCH]
And all of a sudden, Cleran felt weak. The fire surged around him, but he wasn't sure he could control it. There was no pain, but the world was swimming and he couldn't find something to grab on to, to hold him upright, even the walls were falling away—he saw Dysis, his face a mask of terror and fire dancing around him. He could hear his brother coughing through a veil of smoke, screaming as the flames got too near... Cleran struggled to stay conscious, to0 regain control of the fire that he'd called up. He'd been so angry at Dysis, but he hadn't wanted this...
"I knew it!" a new voice crowed, as a flare of silver light sprang up around and within the flames. Cleran stayed awake just long enough to see it, to see Ilyan appear, then knew it was safe to let go and stop fighting. The fire flared outward, but was consumed by the silver barrier and dwindled suddenly. Cleran collapsed forward and the silver caught him as well.
"Ilyan?" Jall asked.
The angel held up a hand for quiet, closed his eyes in concentration, and the silver light brightened to the point where Jall had to shut his eyes against it. When it faded, Cleran was leaning against the wall, unconscious but without the fire around him, looking peaceful for the first time that day. Whatever burns Dysis had suffered had been Healed; he was still coughing, scared, but would be fine.
"Ilyan..."
The angel nodded. "Get him," he said to Jall, then turned to Dysis, and smiled slightly. "It's not your fault, Dysis, he needed to get it out of his system. There was no way for you to know." He paused, then, "And he never meant to hurt you."
And then he disappeared from sight.
Dysis swallowed hard, and looked at Jall. "Let's get you back to your room," Jall said, in a hushed voice. "I think Cleran will be all right now. Ilyan will watch him."
Dysis nodded and silently slipped from the bed and followed Jall. He was too much in shock to even remember he was angry.
For the second time that day, Islana was sitting in an office, telling her story. This time, she didn't have Cleran by her for support; this time, she was sitting across from Jall. His arms were crossed, and he clearly was not at ease, but he was being careful not to interrupt her or let on what was truly on his mind.
She finally finished, the same version she'd told Jereh, and waited expectantly. He rested his hands on the table and leant forward slightly. "You know what you did is wrong, don't you?"
"I did what I had to."
"No, you did what you wanted to and justified it—to yourself, and you're trying to do the same to me." He paused, a thought striking him. "Seeing you wearing that necklace... If I had any doubts, I don't any more. You're a Kelanister, through and through. Temper and all."
"I'm not. Anymore."
"You know, I stood on the shores of Arpiar with your grandfather, once, on a missionˆâ He said the same thing. He wasn't the prince, anymore. He was a Knight."
"I am not—"
"Your father did the same thing. He ran away from home to become a Knight. He tried to leave it behind, but there's something about you Kelanisters I don't understand. You all want so badly to be right when you make mistakes... You convince yourselves that you're right, and not the Goddess Herself can convince you you're not."
"Jall—"
"Islana. You were wrong. We don't work for revenge, we work for freedom. We're trying to win a war, but we're doing it the right way. We choose morality, not pain."
"You choose morality. I spent a week in the torture chamber."
"And you want to do the same thing to Cleran? Or Dysis? You think you'll feel better making them hurt?"
"I'm feeling pretty good right now," Islana lied.
Jall shook his head in disgust. "You and your grandfather," he muttered.
"He's not my—"
"He is. You don't have to like your past, Galiera. You can hate him as much as you want. But don't you dare forget who you were, don't you dare forget everything that happened so you could be here. People died so you could live. People have died to protect you and your secret. You won't turn your back on them, not as long as I live."
"I am not a Kelanister."
"Oh, but you are. Mind, heart, soul—you can't help it. You were born into that family, not by choice, but you were. I don't know how Erra could ever have thought that saying a few words, making a declaration could change it." He paused for a deep breath. "You'll have to return the necklace, though."
"No." Islana crossed her arms and tried to glare Jall down, but knew it wasn't going to work.
"Yes, you will. Or rather, I will; I need to speak to Erra anyway. But at the moment, the most important thing is peace—and it was almost within my grasp. Dysis was listening to me, he was learning, he—never mind that. Now I just need to make sure that nothing else happens to jeopardize things. Nothing worse than what you already did. And I can only deal with one crisis at a time; that necklace will pacify your grandfather and keep him out of my way."
"It's the only thing I have of my father's," Islana said. "I can't—I won't give it up."
"What makes you think you have a choice?" Jall asked, almost sadly. "Islana. Please. Don't fight me about this; you're already in enough trouble. And we both know I'll win."
"Jall, please, I can't—I—"
"Islana."
She bit back all of the emotions rising within her. She wouldn't let Jall see how upset she was; she needed to at least appear strong. "Fine," she spat, her voice full of acid, and she unfastened the necklace, then dropped it on Jall's desk.
"Thank you. Now, for a time at least, you are suspended from duty—return to the inn in Kal'Ishka, consider yourself under house arrest until I tell you otherwise. We will talk of this again."
She glared a little, nodded, stood and walked out the door. He watched her go impassively, suddenly glad to have discovered Cleran's identity. It meant the Voice would be taking over the situation, and while Jall knew he could handle Dysis, and he could handle the Kelanisters, he had no idea how to deal with the sudden arrival of a prophet. The Voice would know, though. The Voice knew those sort of things.
"Help me, please... I can't do this alone," Cleran begged. The ring of fire was gone. He'd willed it to go, forced it to disappear, give him his freedom. "I made a mess of things with Dysis..."
"Dysis will understand."
"I don't think he will. Please, Father, I need someone to guide me. I want to do what's right. I want to learn to command the flame, to do what you need me to. But I can't do it on my own! I almost killed him!"
He could feel the halo and the wings, but they weren't comfortable. He knew he was learning, slowly, but that if Ilyan hadn't put up some sort of guard, he'd have lost control earlier. He'd have let the flames consume the world around him, scorch the stone walls, hurt his brotherˆâ He knew how important it was for him to learn control and do it quickly.
"Very well. I will send you her."
A shimmering form appeared in front of him. It was a woman, he knew, though he couldn't make out more than that. She had the wings and halo too, though, she knew what Cleran did not. She would help.
"Hello, Cleran," she greeted him. "I'm glad you're finally here."
He knew who she was. "Hello, Analla. Sundancer. I wish I was glad to be here..."
Dysis wished he had something to take his mind off of everything. It had been hours since Jall had left him in his room, and he was hungry, but that wasn't enough. All he could think about was Cleran. Cleran and the flames... Cleran as a prophet. The Sun's True Son. Cleran.
His head was swimming. He would feel angry one moment, then remorseful the next. He was almost scared, and part of him—a part he had never felt before, a part he was ashamed of—was jealous. And why not? I dedicate my life to Ocando, and He chooses my younger brother. Who had just betrayed me.
He was lying on the bed in his room, alternately staring up at the ceiling or staring at one of the walls. Sometimes he'd close his eyes and pray for sleep, but it never came. There was too much to deal with. Just... Just too much.
Someone knocked on his door. "Yes?" he called, expecting it to be Jall, hoping it would be Jall with a meal.
The door opened, and Dysis rolled over to see who it was. He could tell without looking it wasn't Jall after all, this man moved much more quietly, and as soon as he'd stepped in to the room, Dysis had felt him. The man was average height, perhaps even a bit short, with hair that was pure white and fell neatly down to his shoulders. His eyes were deep blue, and clouded—Dysis didn't know why, but he knew that the clouding had to do with the overwhelming sense of presence.
Even from across the room, the man's presence was staggering, though he didn't look particularly intimidating. He was clad in deep blue with silver lining and was around middle-age. Though clearly not a Knight, he bore faded scars from earlier in life; aside from marks on his skin, the man's left hand was missing from the wrist down.
He shut the door behind him, and stepped over to the bed. As he walked, the sense of presence lightened and lifted almost entirely, and the man smiled brightly. His eyes twinkled now that the cloudiness was gone, and they appeared almost too young for a middle aged man.
Dysis stood, not sure who this was or what to expect.
"Given the day's events," the man started, "I thought you might like someone to talk to. And I certainly wanted to meet you."
"Uh..." Dysis said, then forced himself to clear his head. "I'm sorry, I don't believe I recognize you."
"You wouldn't at that, would you?" The man mused, mostly to himself. He offered his good hand—his only hand&151;to Dysis, who shook it hesitantly. "My name is Kalin Malistar, but more likely you've heard people call me Voice of Kaleal."
[CLOSING CREDITS]