Islana's Story
A few people were already milling around the Center Room when Jereh and Tiernan arrived. They walked silently, side by side, lost in their own thoughts until they stepped into the room and saw the unhappy mourners around them. Virtually everyone was wearing a red sun like Tiernan's, and the glares they gave Jereh made her skin crawl.
"Tiernan!" someone called from across the room. He glanced over to look, nervously—common sense dictated nerves when he was with Jereh—and then waved. It was another Warrior, younger than he was, barely out of training. The Warrior, Skereth, had lived on the Keep that had been destroyed, and his three older brothers and father had been killed in the slaughter. Skereth was one of the few who'd been present at the actual site of the Massacre and survived; he'd been too young for any of the attackers to take notice of.
Jereh kept her eyes down at the floor as she followed the path of the carpet to the center, where she knew the trap door was, and as she and Tiernan leant down to move it, Skereth walked over. "So it's true. The passage way is in here," he murmured as Tiernan folded the carpet aside.
Jereh glanced up at him; he looked back down at her and then froze. She went back to work, finding the releases for the trap door, but Skereth grabbed Tiernan's shoulder. He gave his brother Warrior a strange look, and Skereth leant in and hissed in his ear, "She was there."
"What?" Tiernan murmured back quietly, looking down at Jereh, hoping she wasn't listening.
"She was there," he repeated.
Tiernan glanced down at Jereh, then paused. "Jereh, I'll just be a second."
"Fine." She didn't look up as the doors dropped downwards. Tiernan stepped aside with Skereth.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"Just what I said—she—she was there, Tiernan! I remember her so clearly, she was their leader. She was the one who gave the orders for all the executions..." He shuddered. "She was the one responsible."
"Are you serious?" Tiernan demanded. "Are you sure?"
"Positive. I—I see her in my nightmares—"
"Oh, hell. Okay. I'll talk to her, to Cleran... We'll deal with this."
"Deal with?" Skereth demanded. "I want to see her dead."
Tiernan nodded a little. "I'll—I'll see what can be done. Why don't you take a seat?" He somehow knew that letting Skereth anywhere near Jereh would be a bad idea. "I'll be over as soon as she's gone."
Skereth hesitated, then nodded and walked off. Tiernan stepped back to Jereh, who was waiting for him.
"You were at the Massacre?" he demanded quietly.
Jereh nodded.
"You were in charge at the Massacre?"
She hesitated, then nodded. "It wasn't my idea."
"I damn well hope not." His face went cold; all of his usual cheeriness was gone. "How could you—"
"Tiernan, I don't think this is the time or place," she interrupted.
"Then when?" he asked, then a little louder, "When do we get justice for our families?" It was done to attract attention, and it worked. What had been cold stares or people simply avoiding her were now interested looks, still seething with hate.
"When the peace treaty is signed," she snapped back.
"And when do monsters take responsibility for their actions?"
"That's up to Dysis and the Voice, isn't it?" she snarled. "I'm ready to go."
"No." He stepped in her way, between her and the trap door. "How do I know you'll come back?"
"Because I don't have a choice." She crossed her arms. "Orders are orders; I was ordered to deal with you. Get out of my way."
"No."
She narrowed her eyes and wished she had a weapon. "Get. Out. Of my way."
"If you're going anywhere, I'm going with you. I will see that you pay for your actions."
"You have no idea what happened; get out of my way. I won't ask again."
"I know what happened. I was at the funerals, I buried family and friends." He glared back at her, not budging.
She took a step forward; he stayed still.
She smirked, reached forward, and shoved him backwards. He hadn't expected it and stumbled; his heals scraped the edge of the trap door, he lost his footing, and fell. Jereh shot a cold look at the people around her, then hurried after him, down the ladder instead of the freefall he'd taken. She hit the release as soon as they were underground and the doors shut above them.
They were alone in the dark.
[OPENING CREDITS]
Episode 21: Bound By Blood
Islana gripped the sword tightly, awkwardly. Her movements felt slow and clumsy, and she was tempted to drop it, or throw it away from her and run. But no; she took a deep breath and closed her fingers around the hilt carefully.
It was hard, far harder than she'd expected. The muscles didn't want to obey, and convincing them to do so was difficult beyond reason. But she managed. Her grip was off, but she didn't dare adjust it, a motion that would have come naturally before; she was afraid that if she adjusted it, she'd lose her grip entirely and drop the sword.
This was her fourth try at it, and the sword had landed on the ground of the practice room every other time. She took a deep breath and looked into the mirror, then dropped into a guard stance.
Not bad. Her muscles ached and protested; her hand screamed with pain. But the cast was finally off of her arm, and damned if she was going to be useless forever. It might take years to relearn what she'd lost, but she'd do it. They say Kelanisters are stubborn to a fault... she thought vaguely, and slowly advanced forward, then lunged.
Her hand loosened, against her will; the sword slipped from her grip. She bit back a yell of frustration and leant down to pick it up, and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she did so.
Clothes that had once fit her snugly were hanging loose from her frame, she was still too thin after her time in captivity. There were bags under her eyes from not sleeping; she either had nightmares or she thought of him, and either way she couldn't sleep. Scar tissue covered large portions of her exposed skin. She was shaking, slightly.
She slunk to the ground and buried her head in her hands. She wouldn't cry; she wasn't the sort of person who cried. But she was so alone now... Her grandfather had accepted her back, true, but she'd barely seen him since then, and she had no urge to find him. She'd had no contact with Jall or Kalin and didn't even know how the negotiations were going. The few people she considered friends were on Cresula, and likely would feel betrayed by her choice to rejoin her family rather than remain a Knight—there were few crimes worse than siding with Erra Kelanister, as far as the Knights were concerned.
And the one face she truly longed to see, the voice she'd have killed to hear, was gone. More than likely, he was gone forever. And she'd never get to tell him the truth...
She took a few breaths to calm herself, the reached for the sword. Kelanisters don't give up so easily. She stood and tried to get a strong grip, but a correct one this time, so the blade wouldn't slip.
"You should have gotten out of my way," Jereh answered flatly and stepped over to him, nearly falling over him. She focused and one hand began to glow with the Healer's light, and it was just enough illumination for her to see Tiernan and place a hand on his forehead. She concentrated and could sense the pain in Tiernan's leg and lay her other hand over it.
He gasped as her hands came in contact with her skin, they were surprisingly cold. But then the pain faded rapidly, and she released her grip a minute later.
"It wasn't broken."
"It still hurt."
"You should have gotten out of my way," she repeated.
"You should have told me about the Massacre!" he responded.
"Why?" she snapped back. "What's done is done. It wouldn't have helped anything. Talking about it now isn't helping."
"Because I deserve to know! We all deserve to know." He stared across the darkness at her.
"There is nothing to know."
"I don't believe that," he answered. "I don't believe it because—because even Kal'Hara and Kal'Harath had purposes behind them. They were bloody tragedies, don't think I don't know that, but they had reasons. Was the Aleann Manor just a whim, then? Are the Knights really so..."
"So what?"
"Go to hell."
She gave a half-laugh, amused at his inability to frame his statement. "I'm sure I will," she answered. "Now, unless you've got another broken limb, shall I open the door again?"
"No."
"What?" That had caught her by surprise.
"I meant what I said upstairs; how do I know you'll come back?"
"And I meant what I said. Orders are orders."
"But orders change when circumstances change. You were at the Massacre, you were in charge. You admitted as much. And I will hold you responsible—and that would be rather hard to do if someone else returns from Kalatsu."
"You can't stop me from leaving," she reminded him. "I have messages to deliver to your own High Priest, and down here—I'd like to see you try and stop me."
"I have no intentions of stopping you," he answered. "You're right. You have to return to Kalatsu—and that means I'm going to have to go with you."
"That's not a very good idea."
"Oh?"
"Kalatsu isn't exactly welcoming of Warriors."
"Then how do I know it's welcoming of Priests?"
"It isn't."
"Then how do I know Dysis is safe?"
"Because Cleran has promised you that, and I've promised you that."
"Cleran just returned, seemingly from the dead, with no explanation; you are responsible for the death of my grandfather. So you can see how I might not take your word as truth."
"And if you follow me, how will it help? Dead will still be dead, and the negotiations can only be hurt—people will think that I kidnapped you, or—"
"You did shove me through the trap door."
"It was your own fault. I don't want to have to deal with Warriors who already don't trust me when I return; I don't want to have to deal with angry superiors on Kalatsu, either."
"Your headache, not mine. If you go, I will go with you. I'll do my best to stop you, otherwise."
"I thought I proved yesterday that you couldn't stand in my way very long."
"You'll be in a lot more trouble if you kill me."
She crossed her arms and glared, but he had a point. "Fine," she finally decided. "But remember, whatever happens, it was your own decision. Wait where you are."
She took a few steps forward into the tunnel, then paused and knelt. She didn't have a sword to focus her energy, but had been given a small talisman which would work nearly as well. Jereh held the silver chain between her fingers and stared down at the small crescent moon charm and began to murmur the prayer. The talisman lit up from within, and the light spread, forming a wall across the tunnel from the chain and her fingers.
"Go through," she grunted, using her own energy to hold the wall in place and not having much spare to instruct Tiernan with. "Now!"
He stared for a second, then did as told at a run, saying a short prayer of his own as he did so. As soon as he was through, she stood and stumbled through, then collapsed on the other side as the wall of light faded. She panted for breath and as the last of the light disappeared, she glanced up and saw Tiernan leaning against one of the walls of the tunnel, eyes wide, skin pale, and trembling.
She didn't move to stand up until she'd stopped gasping for air. Tiernan heard her move. "What the fuck was that?" he asked, his voice as shaky as his body.
She didn't answer, just walked slowly to end of the tunnel, felt for the release mechanism and pressed it. There was a scraping sound as the door at the top dropped down, and she made began to climb. "Up here," she said finally.
"Yeah..." he said, still dazed, and followed her up into the kitchen of the Knight's Complex on Cresula. "What was that?" he asked again, his voice stronger this time.
"The Tunnel," she said, and found herself and Tiernan water glasses, then filled them from a large tank. "Drink, it'll help you recover."
He accepted the cup and chugged its contents, feeling steadier the more he drank. "Does it always feel like that?"
"Yes. Wait here." She placed her cup in the sink and started towards the door, then stopped. "On second thought, come with me. No telling what would happen if a Knight walked in to see you standing there. And give me your sword belt; I'm not letting you walk around armed while you're here."
"But—"
"Don't argue with me. It was your choice to come here."
He started to speak again, the stopped and did as she'd said. She carried the belt slung over a shoulder, and led him from the kitchen through a series of hallways and up several sets of stairs. "Where is this?" he asked, and shivered from the cold.
"Cresula."
"Sundancer..." He wrapped his arms around himself for warmth and kept following her, but nearly tripped over her when she stopped suddenly and knocked on a door. There was an answer in her own language, and she let herself in, then motioned for Tiernan to follow.
Jall sat behind the desk. "Jereh, who...? Why?"
She switched back into Tiernan's language. "Jall, this is... My bodyguard. Tiernan Sanasset. Tiernan, the Blade of Kaleal."
"What's he doing here?" Jall demanded, still in the language of Kalatsu. Tiernan shifted uncomfortably, hearing the annoyance in Jall's voice. She was right, this probably was a stupid idea. But it's too late now...
"He found out I was at the Massacre and caused a scene. I didn't have a choice."
"Oh?"
"I was in a room of upset Warriors, angry Massacre survivors and even angrier mourners. It was either force him out of my way and risk tangling with all of them or let him come with me. Someone would have been hurt. Probably me."
"Fine." He turned to Tiernan, annoyed. "Welcome to Kalatsu, Warrior," he said to Tiernan.
"Thanks. I—"
"You're going to do as you're told to from here on. It will all be to guarantee your safety, I assure you."
"Thank you," he repeated. "I... I am sorry for causing trouble, I was just... startled to discover Jereh had a hand in the Massacre. She and I had been getting along swimmingly until then."
"Oh?" Jall gave Jereh a vaguely amused look.
"He's exaggerating a bit."
"Of course. Go on, Warrior."
"I... My grandfather was killed in the Massacre, and many close friends of my family. I suppose I was hoping to find out some of what happened—why it happened. Sir."
"And you supposed that by following Jereh without invitation, you'd find out?"
"I hadn't really planned it out, Sir." Tiernan straightened his back and dropped his arms. The room was warm enough that he'd stopped shivering, thanks to the small blaze going in a fireplace in the side of the room.
"That much is obvious." He turned his attention back to Jereh. "Is he likely to cause trouble?"
"I don't think so."
"Fine." Jall nodded a little bit. "Go find him something warmer to wear, and change yourself. Try to avoid people."
"I always do."
"If anyone does ask, he's here for the negotiations. Meet me back here in half an hour, I'll have word sent to the Voice to see what he wants to do. Warrior—Sanasset, was it?" Tiernan nodded. "Sanasset, you'll want to stay close to Jereh and do as she says. For your own safety."
"Of course, Sir."
"Good." He said it with a note of dismissal, and Jereh started towards the door. Tiernen remained still. "Yes?" Jall asked after a minute.
"I was wondering.... That is, if it isn't too much trouble, so long as I'm here anyway, if I might... If I could see His Holiness, perhaps have a word with him."
"I thought you were here to find out about the Massacre?" Jall asked.
"I am. But, so long as I'm here... I have utmost faith in Cleran's word, and yours of course, but no one from Arpiar has actually seen His Holiness since his disappearance."
"So you don't have utmost faith, then."
"I suppose not."
"Go with Jereh. We'll discuss this later."
"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." This time, he followed Jereh out of the room.
[EYECATCH]
He was asleep, and oddly aware that he was dreaming. Still more odd, he was dreaming but seemed to have conscious control over his actions. Erra rose from his bed, as though he'd woken, and pulled on a basic set of clothing and walked into his sitting room, with a view out over the city of Kal'Ishka. He waited.
Erra wasn't kept waiting long. The window opened, but there was no cold draft accompanying it, further proof that he was not awake. Slowly, a figure materialized just inside the room; as he stepped forward, the window shut behind him.
Islan wasn't as imposing as one might expect an archangel to be. He did glisten almost too much to look at, but Erra didn't even squint. "She sent me my son; She sends me you now. When will She face me Herself?"
"You'd demand Kaleal's presence?" Islan asked, amused.
"If She wishes to convince me of something, then yes."
"You don't find that arrogant, to command the presence of a Goddess?"
"I find Her arrogant for murdering my family and still expecting me to bow to Her whims."
Islan shrugged. "That much is up to you, I suppose. I had hoped you'd talk to me; I'm a bit easier to converse with than She. And you are more familiar with me. We have spoken before, if you recall."
"How could I forget?" Erra asked dryly. "You were the one who convinced me to abandon my family and my duties to become a Knight."
"You didn't take much convincing. And if I hadn't, you'd have died in Kal'Hara with your parents."
"What?"
"Just something to think about." Islan smiled. "I'll let her know how you feel."
Erra nodded, and as Islan began to fade from view, asked, "Why now?"
"Because now, for the first time, you need to understand. Necessity drives us all—even Her."
He was gone, and Erra waited.
Again, he was not kept waiting long. Kaleal appeared without even the fanfare of the window opening, but unlike Islan, She was too bright to look at. Erra turned away and held up a hand to shield his eyes. Even across the room, he could feel Her presence.
"So now I get to understand."
Understanding is no easy thing, King who is bound to me by blood. Most do not understand until they enter my presence.
"I'm in Your presence now."
That is not quite what I meant, King who is bound to me by blood.
"My name is Erra."
Erra Kelanister, in fact. It is the cursed Kelanister name which binds you to me, as it bound your parents, and theirs before them, and theirs before them.
"Being bound to You was not my choice."
You bound yourself to me when you chose to become a Knight. I merely offered; that much was your own decision.
"It was my decision to leave the Knights as well, but that one you would not accept.
Necessity drives me, as it drives everything in this universe. I need you; the universe itself needs you.
"And if I hadn't chosen to become a Knight?"
Things would be different—but you would still have been needed to fulfill a different role.
"Why bother giving me a choice if ultimately, there are no choices?"
But there are choices, King who is bound to me. If there were not, there would be no necessity. There would be no need for thought or action. There would be no need of myself, nor Ocando, nor our brothers and sisters. There would be no need for your bloodline—then, Erra, the deaths would have been without meaning. Ilyan and Alira, my beloved children, would have died with no purpose. But necessity allowed you to chose your fate, as they chose theirs—as everyone chooses.
"I don't understand."
Look at me, Erra Kelanister, King who is bound to me by blood. Look into my eyes, and understand.
Erra was not compelled to obey, but at the same time couldn't help himself. He dropped his arm and turned back towards her. The brightness was all encompassing, as soon as he saw Her, he saw nothing but Her. Her eyes were not easy to look into, as Her form seemed to shift and change as he searched it, but as soon as he saw her bright white eyes, it solidified.
In that moment, he saw everything. He saw Her form, and Her necessity; he saw his own necessity. He saw all of the choices he'd made, all of the choices that had been made in longer than the human sphere of existence. He saw himself, his wife, his parents, brother, children, and Galiera; he saw Ocando, Analla Sundancer, Dysis, Cleran.
And at the center of it all, he saw something he could not understand—he could not understand it because Kaleal Herself could not understand it. It was outside of Necessity, fighting it, trying to break it up and destroy it. It was an angry presence, something that had once been human, and then a deity, then a necessity, and was now something like a counter-necessity.
And he saw that he had a choice. But when faced with the angry anti-necessity, his own life, his family's lives, the war and all the havoc it had wreaked became nearly insignificant... But they were significant, the meaning all came from the struggle to save necessity.
He couldn't look away from Her eyes, and didn't know how his dream ended.
Erra woke with a hangover, but he knew it hadn't been from drinking. He could remember... No, he realized, as he sat up—fully clothed, somehow—he couldn't really remember. It had been too much. He was certain, though, that he had understood. There had been a reason, after all of those years of pain and suffering, there had been a reason.
He'd shared a bond with Kaleal that no one else alive had. He realized with a start that that included Kalin, who spoke with Her Voice and was a living Angel. He understands somewhat, Erra thought to himself, as he stood up and made his way to the mirror that lined one of his walls. But not all. He trusts Her word, and I could not. And so She showed me—but not him.
Which is why Kalin is a Priest, and I'm a King.
He looked at himself in the mirror, and tried not to smile, but couldn't quite help it. His hair, which he'd carefully dyed black month after month, had returned to its natural snow white color. Even his bangs, which had remained black before, were now white.
I am a King, and a Kelanister, and a Knight. And it's time for me to be a brother and a grandfather as well.
"You're an Angel," Jall noted, and Kalin was suddenly acutely aware that his wings had appeared.
He took a few deep breaths to clear his head, and was certain that his eyes were also clouded with the Goddess' presence. "What were you saying?"
"You were the one talking, Kalin," Jall reminded him. "Are you all right? What happened?"
"Kaleal—I don't know. She... She made Herself known to someone on the mainland. I'm sure I'll find out what happened soon. We were talking about... Jereh's Warrior?"
"I don't think he's precisely Jereh's, but yes."
"The Massacre..." Kalin said, and trailed off. "Today is the anniversary."
"What should I tell the Warrior?"
Kalin shook his head. "Have Jereh do it."
"Jereh? But she—" He stopped. "Are you sure that's for the best? She may not be obvious about it, but the Massacre scarred her; I've never heard her discuss it, ever. Her original report was hard enough to decipher..."
"I'll speak to her first. She shouldn't have to take the blame for what was my own fault."
"But you'll have her explain what happened, when she doesn't even known the reasons for it—when none of us do."
He nodded. "I can only... I can only assure you that what happened had to remain a secret, that I regret it more than anything else in my life, but that the reasons for it must go to the grave with me."
"Why?"
Kalin shook his head a little. "I wasn't the only one involved, and—the other person was innocent, didn't know what was happening. I will not drag someone innocent into the tragedy; the blame for the Massacre rests solely with me. I'll make sure Jereh understands that before she talks to Tiernan."
"Why not talk to him yourself?"
"Because Jereh can't answer what she doesn't know. I don't trust myself any more, not when it comes to the Sanasset family."
"You mean—the name means something to you?"
Kalin nodded. "Please, Jall, just take my word for it. I'll visit Jereh as soon as I can."
"Of course." Jall paused, then added, "He also requested to see Dysis."
"Allowable—for a short period of time, if you sit in with them."
"Fine. But Kalin—if you ever want to talk to someone, or if I can help..."
"I know, Jall. Thank you."
She remembered her father bringing her out there, one of her few clear memories of him. It had made her mother crazy with worries; Alira was convinced that she'd somehow fall and die on the stones below... As though Ilyan would ever let harm come to his daughter, or bring her somewhere she was unsafe. He'd never let her out of his arms when they sat on the roof together.
It was spring, and unlike on Cresula, it was possible to tell that in Kal'Ishka. There had been no snow for a week or more, and most of the winter's snowfall had melted off. Only a muddy covering of the stuff remained, and that would be gone in another few days, sooner if it rained. The roof was cold and wet, and a stubborn layer of ice coated the top, but Islana's cloak was thick and waterproof, and she didn't feel it any more than the chill in the air around her.
And better the crisp, cold air of Kalatasu than the stifling heat of Arpiar.
She heard the door out onto the tower roof open behind her, and glanced lazily over her shoulder to see who it was. Though life in the palace began early enough that she knew a few dozen people were already awake, there was no reason for anyone else to be out on the roof.
It was Erra. She turned back to the view, then did a double take: it was Erra with white hair. "May I sit?" he asked quietly, though his voice was loud in the near silence of the outside.
"I won't stop you."
He sat next to her gingerly, feeling to cold more than she did. "How've you been? Has the staff been taking care of you?"
"I'm fine."
"You don't have to dress like a Knight anymore, you realize; you're a member of the royal family. I'll have a seamstress sent to you today."
"I'm more comfortable like this."
"But soon you're going to need to look the part."
She wanted to ask about his hair, but couldn't think of a way to broach the subject that wouldn't violate their unspoken rule of having as little contact with each other as possible. They sat in silence for a long minute.
"Your father used to bring you up here."
"I know."
"I used to bring him up here; it was my escape as well, when I was your age. Something of a family tradition."
He sighed.
"I haven't been a grandfather to you, Galiera, and I'm sorry about that. I should have done much more, even as angry as I was... You're Ilyan's daughter, that's all that should have mattered."
She turned towards him, gave him a strange look.
"I had something of a change of heart last night," he explained. "About a lot of things. You, Kaleal..."
"Kalin?"
He nodded.
"How're the negotiations?"
"Terrible. But I aim to fix that, hopefully today. Which, I suppose, means going to Cresula and apologizing."
"Apologizing? You?" she scoffed.
"Why do you think I came out here to talk to you?"
"I haven't heard an apology."
He half-smiled. "You weren't listening hard enough."
"You just don't want to say it. You're terrible at apologies, old man."
"True enough."
"You'd better actually say it to Kalin."
"I'll see what I can do. Shall I leave you to your thoughts, then?"
She shrugged. "You can sit a minute, if you'd like. If you have time."
He smiled, and looked out at the dawn coming up over his country. "I have time," he said softly, and watched the quiet sunrise, wondering when the last time he'd see anything so peaceful.
[CLOSING CREDITS]