Islana's Story
"You called?" Ilyan asked, surprisingly nervous. Talking to Jall had been hard enough, feeling all of Jall's guilt from his death, but that had been necessary. It was odd, though, talking to someone alive, someone who had known him while he was alive, and furthermore, someone who had outranked him while he was alive. But talking to his father...
Well, I'll see how much perspective death really gave me, I guess, he thought to himself, as his father spun around to see him. Erra's eyes went wide.
He'd been standing in the Kelanister Hall, a corridor that ran through their fortress—castle, technically, though it looked nothing like most castles—and housed the wall where the various necklaces of deceased Kelanisters hung behind glass. It was an awing sight, they could be counted back generations... Ilyan never had bothered to see just how many generations were actually countable, but judging from the size of the hall, there had been a Kelanister in power since the Rift, if not before. And Ilyan could feel them all, now, and if he faded from his physical form, he could see a web of silver energy connecting all of the necklaces to him and his father. Another train of energy, a very faint one, ran off towards Islana, but she'd been out of the family for so long that it was hard to follow.
That was why Ilyan had wanted her to keep his necklace; it gave her a stronger connection to the family, and the power that went with the Kelanister bloodline.
Erra had been hanging up the necklace when he'd murmured his son's name, and now that he actually saw Ilyan standing behind him, silver light from his halo bathing his features and his wings folded neatly behind him, he dropped the necklace.
"Ilyan?" Erra gasped, his voice strangled.
"H'lo, Dad," Ilyan greeted Erra.
There was a long silence. "You're an Angel."
Ilyan shrugged. "You think I'd really leave Gali to fend for herself?"
"She does an all right job," Erra said nonchalantly.
Ilyan crossed his arms over his chest. "To tell the truth, Dad," Ilyan said carefully, "she'd do better if she had a family."
"Then she shouldn't have walked out on me."
"You shouldn't have driven her to it."
"I didn't drive her any more than I drove you," Erra pointed out.
"Well, you did drive me, but that's ancient history at this point. I died, Galiera lived, and the two of you should be clinging to each other."
"And why's that?" Erra asked, trying not to let Ilyan's casual reference to his own death startle him.
"You're family."
"No, we're—"
"Do the math, Dad. You're my father, she's my daughter, and I don't care that they two of you fought, or that she ran away, or that you had her arrested—she's my daughter."
"Islana walked out on me."
"Yeah, so did I, and yet here we are, arguing like always. And I'm not even alive and we're back to the same place we always were."
"I always won those fights," he said. Or would have if my best friend hadn't interfered.
"If you had won those fights, I wouldn't be a Knight right now."
"You're not a Knight, you're an Angel. You're an Angel because you're dead, you're dead because you were a Knight, you were a Knight because you didn't listen to me. Did it ever occur to you for just one second of your... Your afterlife... that maybe, having seen it happen once, I didn't want that same thing to happen to your daughter? That I didn't want to meet her again, as an Angel?"
"Dad—"
"Ilyan." Erra sighed. "I don't hate Islana. I'm angry at her, yes, but no matter what she thinks, what you think, and what the rest of the world thinks, I'm not angry because she left me to join Kaleal. I don't give a damn about her Goddess. I didn't want her to become a Knight because I didn't want her to become a target."
Ilyan stared. "Oh," he finally managed.
Erra smiled. "You may be dead," he said nonchalantly, "but you still aren't very bright."
[OPENING CREDITS]
Episode 15: Blood Runs Thicker
There was a knock on his door. "'M'in," Cleran called tiredly. He had finally gotten some sleep, which helped keep him feel less like death, but since waking up he'd been unable to think coherently. Every time he'd almost picked a topic to concentrate on, his mind rebelled, and pulled away to one of the other topics that was eating him from the inside out. There was the mess with Islana and how much he loved her and how much she hated him. There was everything he had yelled at Dysis, all the ways he'd betrayed his brother and how much his brother must hate him. And then, hanging over everything else, were the flames and the prophesy and his apparent elevation in status.
The door to his room opened—he wondered why whoever had bothered with a knock, as he couldn't open it itself from the inside. He didn't recognize the man who entered his room, but could tell who he was easily enough. That was something else he and Analla had spoken about. He would start noticing things, not visible, but he'd learn to tell what a person was feeling, if people were lying, and for some people, what they were thinking.
He hadn't expected anything like this. He looked at the man—average height, white hair, Priest's robes, one hand—and knew instantly he was face to face with the Voice of Kaleal. The feelings from the man ranged from general worry to a deep inner peace, but most of all this man was kind. Cleran could sense that he wanted nothing but peace and that he harbored no ill will towards anyone—or rather, that anger he did feel was an old wound, and not something he'd ever allow to effect him.
It was almost staggering to see someone who didn't harbor any hatred, when, judging by the man's lack of a limb, he had cause to.
"Hi," Cleran greeted him.
"Good morning, Cleran. My name is Kalin Malistar, I'm the High Priest of Kaleal."
"I can tell."
Kalin smiled. "I suppose you can, at that. I was able to feel your... Appearance... Half way across Kalatsu."
"Oh."
"You want breakfast?"
"I guess."
"C'mon," he offered, nodding towards the door. "Let's talk."
"No chains?"
"Do you need them?" he asked.
"You aren't afraid I'll accidentally set you, the building, and everything around me on fire?"
"No. But it sounds like you are."
"Were you reading my mind?"
"No. I tend not to do that unless necessary."
"But... You can?"
"So can you."
Cleran and Kalin walked in silence. "How come Dysis can't, and he's the High Priest?"
"He has a different sort of relationship with Ocando that you do, or than I do with Kaleal."
"Yeah. I know. I mean..." He sighed. "Can I talk to you? I mean, really talk to you?" "You can talk to me about anything you want," Kalin offered.
"But can I..." he trailed off.
"You can trust me."
"You read my mind?"
"Didn't have to. You're a nervous wreck and you want someone to help you sort them out, and you don't know who to turn to because you think that Dysis is unspeakably angry at you. I promise that you can trust me. I will hold whatever you tell me confidential. Absolutely."
Cleran stared at him. What was truly amazing was that he believed him.
"I don't know what I'm doing. I mean... I've heard the prophesy before and everyone who knows it has been waiting for the Holy Son to show up, and now... I'm supposed to do God only knows what, and whatever it is, I have to do it without my brother and my lover—that is—"
"It's all right. I know about you and Islana."
"It wasn't her fault," Cleran said, suddenly worried for her. "It was my fault, I was trying to escape, I shouldn't have been—shouldn't have kissed—please, you can't punish Islana for this." "Don't worry about Islana."
"I think I will worry about her."
"You have more important things to worry about, Cleran."
"Nothing is more important to me than Islana," he said. "I mean... Hell, there are things that should be, there's... I'm supposed to end this Goddamn war, and my brother, and my Father and all of the people on Arpiar need me to... To do whatever it is I'm supposed to do right, and I... All I want is her."
"I know." Kalin smiled faintly and Cleran felt a flicker in his emotions, though he couldn't tell what they were. "If there's anything in this world I understand, it's being forced to put aside love to do what you must."
"How?" Cleran asked.
"Oh it's... It's a long story. I'll tell you someday, but... Well, let's just say this job doesn't leave a lot of room for friends. You spend so much time, so much energy... The only people you keep contact with are the ones you're closest to, and there aren't enough of them. There are never enough people to support you when you fall."
"What are you telling me?"
"I'm saying that the people you're close to are the most valuable and you need to talk to them. Him."
"I can't talk to Dysis. He must hate me..."
"You'll never know until you talk."
"I said awful things to him. I nearly killed him."
"And you don't think he feels at all guilty? He said some horrible things as well, Cleran."
"Yes, but I... He's my brother. I never should have fought with him. I never should have betrayed him."
"I'll tell you what I told him. You can't choose who you fall in love with. Do you love Islana?"
Cleran couldn't quite bring himself to say it aloud, but nodded.
"Talk to Dysis. Trust me. If nothing else, you'll know where he stands, and you can start working on whatever you have to work on next. One crisis at a time."
"Is that how you live?"
"It's how I've lived for years now."
"Do you have... Friends to catch you when you fall?"
"I have Jall. I have Jereh and Islana."
"Do you have family?"
As he answered, Cleran could feel a deep loneliness from Kalin. "I used to. Talk to Dysis. Trust me, you don't want to lose your brother, not like I lost mine. You don't know how valuable he is."
Kalin had taken up temporary residence in Jall's office, but was happy enough to give it up when Jall returned around noon. "I did it," Jall sighed. "I talked to Erra, I gave him an ultimatum, I did the best I could. I don't think it did any good..."
Kalin shrugged slightly. "Once he makes up his mind he... He doesn't change it easily."
Jall nodded. "I know. I know how much it hurt you when he told you..."
"I'd rather not think about it." If anything had hurt Kalin since he'd stepped up to the role of High Priest, it was Erra's betrayal. They had been close friend for so long, and when Kalin's greatest misery was isolation and Erra had lost his parents, they'd come together even closer and made themselves blood brothers. But when Erra had turned his back on Kaleal, he'd turned his back on Kalin, and the loss of the only real family he'd known had hurt Kalin more than anything since he'd escaped from slavery.
"I told him I wouldn't put up with it anymore. That until he comes to his senses, I won't have anything to do with him. I just wish..."
"Yeah." Kalin gave him a half-smile. "I'm going to head to Kal'Ishka. I need to talk to Islana. And I need to talk to Erra."
"Will you be all right?"
Kalin shrugged. "Can you handle Dysis and Cleran?" Jall nodded. "Then I'll be fine." He sighed. "I miss him."
"I know you do. And I think he misses you and Islana."
"Yeah. But he'll never... Look, I'm fine. Have your office back. I'll be back tomorrow sometime, I think."
[EYECATCH]
This time, they were in Dysis' room. Dysis sat at the chair in front of the small desk and Cleran was standing awkwardly. Jall stood right inside the doorway, as unobtrusive as possible. Neither brother spoke for a long minute. Cleran started to reach out, to try and figure out what Dysis was feeling, but stopped himself.
He closed his eyes and pulled the blackness back. Dysis was there, too, though a very different version of him. He concentrated and pulled up a wall of flame around him, though not one that would translate into anything physical. This would block off his sense of feeling, force him to really talk to Dysis instead of using his newfound senses to read him.
It took only a moment to do. He was rather proud of that, and after a full night's sleep could feel a much higher level of control.
"So," Dysis said eventually. The word hung between them for a moment. "Are you... Are you feeling well? Fainting spells?"
"Not since... Not since it happened. I'm fine."
"Good."
"Are you? I mean... When I came to yesterday I didn't know if you were all right after everything."
"Yeah, the Angel... the Kelanister... He took care of everything."
"Good. Good, I... I was worried."
"I'm all right."
There was more silence.
"I met the Voice," Dysis offered. "He's... Not what I expected."
"He talked to me this morning."
Silence.
"We need to talk, Dy," Cleran said. "Calmly. I promise, this time I'm not going to... Burst in to flame."
"All right." Dysis glanced at Jall. "I know what you're going to say, Jall, but could we possibly get some privacy?"
Jall hesitated. He knew he shouldn't leave them alone together, but was equally certain they weren't going to try and escape or anything that ridiculous. And the Voice wanted them talking again, so... "I'll be outside. The first raised voice and I'm back, though," he warned.
"Thanks," Cleran said, as Jall let himself out.
There was a longer silence, then, "I'm sorry, Dy. I'm sorry for everything, I've fucked everything up and there's no reason why you should forgive me, but you have to believe that I'm sorry."
Dysis didn't know where to start. "You... You betrayed me," he said finally. "With Islana."
Cleran nodded.
"And would you do it again? For her?"
He was silent for a long time, then finally replied, "I love her. But I'm not stupid. I won't be manipulated any more. She doesn't love me, and I'm not so pathetic I'd give up my brother for a woman who would only be using me."
It wasn't what Dysis was hoping to hear, but it was more than he expected. He took a deep breath. "We can work from there," he promised, the motioned to the bed. "Sit. If you want."
Cleran did. There was a slight pause, though less tense; neither brother was happy with himself or with the other, but they were no longer afraid of each other.
"Did you know?" Dysis asked.
"Know what?"
"About..." He half-laughed. "I don't know why I'm so afraid to say it. Did you know you were the Prophet?"
"No. I knew there was something just out of my reach, and every time I passed out I could feel it escaping my grasp until... Until it happened."
"How does it feel?"
Cleran closed his eyes and leant back against the wall. "I'm scared witless."
"You are?" Dysis asked. That hadn't been what he'd been expecting. "I mean..."
"I could have killed you, Dy. For so long, you were the only one who cared if I lived or died, and I almost killed you. I... I have so much power now, that I don't even know what it is or what it does or what it means, and I'm ages away from knowing any of that, and I have no idea how far I am from being able to control it, and if I can't control it, people might die. You might die and I..." He trailed off.
"Cleran?"
"And I'm going to die, Dysis."
"What?"
"You know the Prophesy. Probably better than I do."
"Yes, but..."
"'You shall know the Son's True Sun by his Halo and Wings of Flame, and with his Blood...'"
"'With his blood shall the Rift be Ended,'" Dysis quoted. "Oh, God, Cleran. I... I'm..."
"Yeah." He took a long breath. "So I'm scared. I'll do whatever's asked of me. I doubt I have a choice, but even if I did, I'd do whatever was asked of me. I'm... I'm not that important in the long run."
"Of course you are. You're the Sun's True Son."
Cleran fought the urge to bury his head in his hands. "I'm the Sun's True Son because I'm not that important. My life—Dysis, my life isn't important. I can do this because when I die... It won't be a problem."
"Yes it will," Dysis insisted. "Your friends—family."
"That's just you. You and Him."
"Father."
"Who, Lord Serathi? I've never called the man 'Father,' in my life. That's the upside to this; I get a family. I have Ocando as my father and that's... It's a heady feeling."
"I think I can understand that." Dysis smiled vaguely. "I remember when I first decided to become a Priest, when I first realized what being with Him felt like. It was... It was pretty amazing."
Another pause, but again, it was friendlier.
"I'm sorry you and Dad never got on. I never understood it."
"I know. It's all right. He... Yeah, we just don't get along."
"He does care about you, though."
Cleran said nothing; he refused to lie to his brother and he didn't want to argue with him, either. He felt he owed that much to him, after everything.
"So," Dysis finally said. "Are you really all right?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, are you really all right? We... We've never fought before. And... I don't like it. I mean, you're my brother and we shouldn't fight."
"We shouldn't," Cleran agreed.
"I'm sorry we did. I mean... We said things and we shouldn't have."
Cleran nodded.
"I... I mean about you and taking care of yourself. You've been taking care of yourself since you were a kid. I just... I wanted to be important to you. You were always so important to me, and when I moved out, I wanted things to stay the same. I wanted to still be important."
"Dy, you're the High Priest. You're important to everyone."
"Yeah, but not everyone is my little brother. And... I mean, I know people needed me. But there was so much I couldn't do, and so much of the time, when I could help, I didn't get to see it. But I could help you. I didn't want that to go away." He stared down at the ground for a few seconds. "It sounds ridiculous. It is ridiculous. I'm sorry."
"It's not. It's... The reason I..." He swallowed hard. "The reason Islana could trick me so easily," he said, wording it carefully, "is because she said she needed me. I never felt like that, I wanted to. I understand if that's how you felt about me. And Sundancer knows, I needed the help."
"No you didn't. You were fine."
Cleran sighed. "Everything I said about no one ever giving me a chance... I meant it. But it's not anyone else's fault. It's mine. I never gave myself a chance, I never worked for anything, never tried anything. I let people treat me however they wanted."
"That's going to change," Dysis commented.
"It is?"
"Of course. You're the Sun's True Son, and that makes you more important that I am. No one is going to fight with you. No one is going to treat you like..."
"...Like your bastard brother," Cleran finished, when Dysis didn't want to. "I just hope it's that easy. Hell, right now I just hope we get home so I can find out if it'll be that easy."
"Me too," Dysis sighed, then, "Cleran? We still have a lot to talk about."
"We... We do?"
"Not.. Not about the fight. We're done with that. I hope?"
"I am. If... If you can forgive me for having almost—"
"You never meant to hurt me," Dysis interrupted, echoing Kalin's words. "I know that. I can't say I'm not angry or that I don't feel betrayed because of that Knight, but as for the other... You didn't mean it. You were angry. You said yourself, you're learning to control your powers. Learn fast." He smiled weakly. "You didn't mean to hurt me with either one. I know that."
"Thank God," Cleran murmured. "Then what else do we talk about?"
"Politics."
"I know you were trying to protect her, Dad. Thank you for that. But the truth is, you can't protect her by ignoring her!"
"I made up my mind, Ilyan. I told her that if she left, she shouldn't bother coming back. She left. It was her choice."
"Yeah, well, you were wrong."
"It made her a target. I was right and you know it."
"She was a target because she was a Kelanister. She was a target to begin with. I didn't die because I was a Knight, I died because I was your son."
"You wouldn't have wanted her to become a Knight."
"You're right. But that's different, I'm her father. And I'd have fought with her. She'd have run away. And I would have taken her back!"
"Ilyan—"
"No, Dad, you took me back. I was four times the pain in the ass she was, and you still took me back after I ran away."
"It was different with you." Erra sighed tiredly. They'd been running in circles through this conversation. "It was different with you; you were my son."
"She's your granddaughter."
"Yes, she is. As Jall so pointedly said earlier, she's my last piece of you. Do you think I need a daily reminder that I let my son die?"
"Dad," Ilyan said, taken slightly aback. "Dad, it had nothing to do with you. It wasn't your fault."
"I know." Erra folded his arms in front of him. "But there's a difference between knowing and—never mind. I disowned Islana and will not change my mind."
"Yes," Ilyan said stubbornly. "You will. Her reminding you of me is not a good enough reason. In fact, it's a stupid reason. And since you are obviously wrong about protecting her—because it didn't do a damn bit of good and you know it—what's stopping you, other than your pride?"
"I. Am. Right!" Erra snapped.
"No, Dad, you're not." Ilyan sighed. "Look at me. I'm the Angel of Sacrifice, do you have any idea why? Do you?" Erra clearly didn't, so Ilyan continued, "I made the choice. I was given the choice by the Goddess; if I died, I could come back as an Angel and help Gali, or I could live and see her die. I wouldn't let that happen, no more than you would have let it happen to me. I died so she could live. She's my daughter. And you are damn well going to take her back."
"Ilyan—" Erra started, then stopped. "What kind of Goddess plays games like that? Makes a father choose between himself and his daughter?"
"Take that up with Her, Dad. I made my choice on my own, I made it to help Galiera, and the only thing I'd ask of you is to honor that. To let her be your granddaughter again."
There was a long silence. "I'll think about it."
"Thank you."
"...But I am going to take it up with your Goddess."
Ilyan rolled his eyes. "Good luck, Dad. Now go see her, she's in the Knight's Inn and she's completely broken up right now. Make her feel better."
"I said I'd think about it, not that I'd do it."
"Sure, Dad."
"You may be dead," Erra muttered, "but you're still a pain in the ass."
"And while we're at it, you should apologize to Kalin."
"Go away now," Erra said.
Ilyan grinned. "I've missed you, Dad." And with that, he disappeared.
Islana sat on her bed, lost in unhappy thoughts when her door swung open. She saw who it was—the Voice—and started to stand, but he waved to her not to, and took the chair from her desk and sat facing her. "We have much to discuss, Islana," he said.
"I'd rather not."
He smiled slightly. "Unfortunately, you don't have much of a choice. You do know what I'm here about, don't you?"
She nodded miserably. "Cleran," she said.
"Do you want to tell me the whole story?"
"Not really."
"Islana—"
"You already know. Jall or Jereh must have told you—"
"Jall told me what you told him. I want to know the truth."
"What makes you think I didn't tell him the truth?" she demanded.
"Because I know you better than that." Kalin sighed. "I didn't want to believe the worst of you, Islana; no matter what you told Jall, I know it wasn't the truth—or at least, not the whole truth. And I want the whole truth."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why does it matter? I told Jall what happened. Why does the rest matter?"
"Because there's a difference between intentionally breaking a man's heart out of revenge and..." He trailed off.
"And what?"
"You haven't told me yet."
She pulled her knees up to her chest. "Kalin, please. Don't make me do this... I've had to tell the story twice and I—I don't know if I can handle it again." She buried her face in a hand.
"Islana," Kalin sighed. "Don't lie to me."
"I'm not—"
He sighed and inhaled deeply. "I can feel your emotions from here. I can tell when you aren't being honest, even if it isn't a direct lie. I'm a very patient man, Islana, and I'm not leaving until I have answers to my questions."
"You can read my thoughts?"
"No, I can read your emotions. Or rather, I could read your thoughts—with Her help—but I won't."
"Why not?"
"It's a total invasion of privacy. It's immoral. I would never do that unless it was a life-or-death situation and this... It may be important, but no one is in danger at this point."
Islana ran a hand through her hair. "Is he all right?" she asked. "Last I knew, he passed out..."
"He's fine," Kalin said, deciding it would be best not to tell her about Cleran's status change for the moment. "Jereh was able to help him."
Islana paused for a moment, then, "He asked me if I was all right. The first time he saw me after we got back here... I didn't know why."
"He asked Jall about you, too. He's actually a very nice young man."
"He's a Warrior."
"Everyone has faults."
"He's the High Priest's brother."
"Islana, it sounds to me like you're making excuses. Naming reasons why you shouldn't like him."
"I don't like him."
"You're lying to me again."
"I'm not—I—" she stopped. "I can't talk about it, Kalin. I respect you and I'd like to do as you say, but I can't."
He nodded. "Why not?"
"What?"
"You think you can't tell me, and that's the truth. You do want to tell me. What do you think is going to happen?"
She shook her head vaguely.
"You're not afraid of me, either; I can tell that much. What is it?"
She shifted so she was sitting cross legged and looked at him for the first time. "You have to swear you won't tell anyone," she said.
"You've already told Jall and Jereh."
"Not—not everything. It's just... I don't care about myself, I messed up and I'll live with it. It's not the first time." Thoughts of her grandfather flickered through her mind, but she ignored them. "If Dysis knew the truth, he would never forgive Cleran. And Cleran would kill himself if he ever lost Dysis' approval."
"You really think so?"
"Cleran would do anything for his brother. I know it. The night I almost killed Dysis, he said so—I swear it wasn't a lie. He said Dysis was the only one who'd ever cared if he lived or died; he said he was loyal to Dysis because he didn't have anything else to be loyal to. He can't... I can't come between them."
"You're not talking like someone who only wanted revenge."
"Reading my emotions again?"
"Just listening to your words. What really happened?"
Islana took a deep breath. There was no reason to hide it, she knew she could trust Kalin. "I think..." she said hesitantly. "I think I love him."
Kalin smiled. "That," he said, "is exactly what I thought had happened."
"Finally," he sighed, and let the meadow slip away.
[CLOSING CREDITS]