Islana's Story
Erra knelt at the edge of the tunnel, surrounded by darkness, and closed his fingers around his necklace. He didn't wear a sword often anymore, and felt even less comfortable doing so when he knew he was heading to the Knight's Complex on Cresula, where most people would be more than happy to consider him hostile and a threat. The fewer excuses he gave them to do so, the better. He reflected again on how he'd made a mess of things, and focused his energy on the Kelanister charm. He wasn't looking forward to this. It had been years since he'd last traveled through the tunnels, and he was half-afraid he'd forgotten the prayer, and knew that the backlash as he went through would be worse than he remembered. Somehow, it always had been.
I should have asked Islana to do it for me, he thought as he began to speak the prayer. But he hadn't wanted to force her to go to Cresula, so soon after leaving the Knights, and knew he was capable of transporting himself.
Or at least, he had been twenty years ago.
Light began to shine from the necklace's charm. That was a good sign, at least. He was worried about what would happen when he came through, but that would have to wait. He hadn't sent word he'd be arriving; he'd decided it on an impulse and left soon after. He'd go to Kalin, rather than wait for that afternoon's attempt at negotiating and for Kalin to come to him. After all, he was the one apologizing... And if they could be ready for the negotiations, even better. The sooner those were dealt with, the better off everyone would be.
The light stretched and Erra finished the prayer, feeling the heavy weight of the tunnel around him. He stood up and stepped forward into the void, and for a few seconds, felt the odd sensation of having no body, of total disorientation. Then it was over, and the light faded behind him.
Ahead and above was the Knight's Complex, and somewhere in there was Kalin. He merely hoped he'd be able to find Kalin without anyone's interference.
[OPENING CREDITS]
Episode 22: Fractured Pasts
Jereh hated talking about the Massacre. She trusted Kalin entirely, of course, but was less than thrilled with his orders. "Tell him what happened once you arrived," Kalin had instructed her. "But... Be sure he knows that the blame was not yours, that it rests with me and me alone."
Jereh had tried to argue with him, though she knew from past experiences he was remarkably stubborn. She'd reminded him that while it had been his orders that placed the Knights on Arpiar to begin with, he'd also asked them to use the minimum amount of violence possible. What had happened once they arrived... That had been her fault, and her fault alone.
And damned if she would tell Tiernan anything different, or if she'd allow him to blame the Voice for any of it. The Voice would already be enough of a target, without becoming associated with a specific incident... But there was no convincing Kalin of that, so she'd agreed to his orders. She had no plans to actually obey them, but it was easier to let him believe she'd pass off the blame.
She couldn't help being nervous, though. Despite everything, Tiernan Sanasset had seemed like a decent person, and she knew he'd been willing to accept her as equally decent until he'd learned she'd been present at the Massacre... And his opinion would only go downhill when he learned the details. It wasn't that she cared if he hated her for it, she deserved to be hated, it was that she didn't want to hurt him more than necessary. And hearing the details of the whole bloody affair would, without a doubt, hurt.
She let herself into her room and sat down to think. Tiernan would be there as soon as he was finished with Dysis Serathi.
Nervously, he let himself into the hallway and began to pace through the halls, a general idea of where he was going in mind. Jall's office seemed the best place to start, and Jall, at least, wouldn't stone him on sight. And he would probably also know where to find Kalin.
Erra wasn't sure what it was that told him which way to go; tiny things his memory latched on to. The crack in one of the stones he'd noticed while he was in training was still there, a much faded tapestry, the way a shadow played around the corner. He had no idea which halls to take, but his feet seemed to, and the familiar details convinced him he was going in the right direction. Then, there it was, the wooden door with only a sword carved into it as a label. He hesitated, then knocked.
The voice that answered wasn't Jall's, it was Kalin's, and Erra forced himself to take a deep breath and turn the handle anyway. There was no need to fear Kalin. He'd come to apologize. Assuming Kalin would let him get a word in edgewise.
He stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. Kalin looked up from the document he'd been reading on Jall's desk, and paused. Erra knew he was being scrutinized, not just by Kalin but by his greater senses, the ones that came from Kaleal.
He must have found whatever it was he'd been looking for, because he smiled slightly. Not much, but some of the hostility he felt faded. "Can I help you?" Kalin asked. He sounded... Not quite hopeful, but not entirely skeptical, either.
"I hope so," Erra answered. "I..." He froze. He really wasn't good at this. "I'm looking for my brother," he said finally. "He's middle aged, with only one hand; everyone knows you're the one who matches up lost family members. I thought I'd ask if you'd seen him."
Kalin looked bemused, though not amused. "Perhaps your brother doesn't want to be found," he suggested.
Erra nodded. "He might not, at that. Some time ago—quite awhile now, really—we got into a fight. A bad one. I've barely spoken to him since, and I—I haven't treated him well, or fairly. I wanted to apologize to him."
"Really?"
Erra sank into the spare chair. "I'm tired of this, Kalin. I had a revelation of sorts last night—I'm sure you can see that much for yourself." Kalin nodded. "And I came to apologize to you, to try and work things out—things between us, things about the negotiations... Everything."
Kalin nodded again, still silent. Erra waited for him to speak; he'd expected to be welcomed back with a certain amount of ease. He remembered what felt like months before, when he questioned Jereh about Islana's kidnapping, and she'd agreed that Kalin would forgive him in a heartbeat, if he ever asked for it. But it was far longer than a heartbeat before Kalin finally spoke.
"Very well." His voice sounded strained, and he didn't smile, but he took a deep breath and nodded again. "Welcome back, then."
Erra nodded back, surprised but glad that, even if he and Kalin would never be as close as they had before—and judging by Kalin's reaction, they wouldn't be—but relieved that at least politically, they could be allies instead of enemies. It was a start, at least.
"How very... sparse," he commented. He had taken the desk chair and she found a fold-up chair set in the back of the wardrobe and put it out for herself, facing him, then swung the door shut.
"I prefer it that way," she answered flatly.
"You don't find it dull?"
"I find it practical. I go where I'm needed and travel more than I stay here, there's no point in setting up anything elaborate."
"I'd think that would give it a greater point, that it would make it all the sweeter to come home when you're done with your business."
"I'm a Healer and a Knight; my business is never finished."
He shrugged. "Suit yourself."
"I do." She paused. "I've been told to explain the Massacre to you, which I will. But I have to insist that you allow me to... Explain, without interruption. Regardless of what I say. It won't be easy for you to hear, I'm certain."
"I think I can be strong enough."
"We'll see." She leant back in the chair and reflected for a moment. "I don't know how it ultimately began; I know that one of our people was taken prisoner and was being held in the Aleann Manor. How he was caught, what information he had and what his mission had been... I was never told."
"You didn't ask?"
I asked, she thought silently, but was never answered. "I followed orders," she said aloud. "But I wasn't involved, yet. First... First a small rescue mission was sent to find him, a four person squad. When they failed to return with him, let alone report back, it was decided that the situation had become urgent enough to warrant sending a larger force; a full attack group.
"The manor wasn't entirely undefended, but it was hardly a strategic spot, and not built with defense in mind. It was manned by a handful of Warriors, but not hard to capture.
"We fought our way in. I... I hadn't been in charge, but Janin took an arrow in the throat and I had been his Second. We gained entry to the manor."
"That much I already know."
She fixed him with a silent glare, and he hung his head a little, then nodded slightly. He'd promised to remain silent, after all... But Jereh didn't continue, just stared distractedly at one of the blank walls. "Jereh?" he asked finally.
She glanced back at him, then away, and shook her head. "It wasn't a slaughter, yet. It wasn't supposed to be, no one meant for it to be. Please believe that."
"If it wasn't meant to be..." He trailed off. "What happened?"
"The man we were sent to rescue—"
"The Knight?"
"He wasn't even a Knight. He was a Priest; he was unarmed and untrained." She bit her lip. "He was dead by the time we got there."
"You can't be truly surprised by that, though. He may have been untrained, but still an enemy, and—why would your superiors send someone untrained to Arpiar?"
"I don't know." She hated that she didn't know, that she'd never been trusted with the reasons, that she couldn't explain it to Tiernan. She hadn't had rank enough to be trusted at the time, she supposed, but since then... She'd asked Kalin once, after her most recent promotion. And he'd politely but pointedly explained that it was not her business at all.
He insists what happened was never my fault, but he won't explain the truth... she thought vaguely, not for the first time. But Tiernan had fallen silent again, waiting for her to finish her explanation.
"He was dead," she repeated. "He'd been tortured to death."
"Oh," he said softly.
"I... I'd never seen the results of torture so closely before, I had only Healed refugees on Kalatsu, who had already escaped and whose scars were beginning to fade. It wasn't easy for me."
He nodded, and she wondered if it was with understanding or sympathy, or perhaps just to get her to move on with the story. "It got harder quickly, as we found the first group that had been sent in."
"The same condition?"
"Staris was. But the others... Had also been tortured."
"But were alive?"
"Only barely. And they... Their minds were gone, entirely. There was no way to reach them, no way to help them recover. There were so many wounded on both sides to see to, and with just me and the Manor's own Healer to deal with them, I knew I needed to save as much energy as I could... But I'm a Healer. I couldn't leave my comrades suffering, I couldn't help them..."
She forced herself to look back at Tiernan, and her hands were both clenched into tight fists. "I did the only thing I could have done. I had no choice."
"What—"
"I had to end their suffering." She looked away from him, but his gaze stayed on her. "I didn't have a choice."
"You killed them?" he asked softly.
She nodded. "I... I made it as painless as I could. But after having tried to reach them in a trace, knowing how much they'd been through and that all they wanted was for the pain to end... I did what I had to." She sounded stronger than she felt, but Tiernan could tell she was bluffing, that the action had cost her more than she wanted to admit.
"I left them and went to see to those who needed my help, only to discover... While I'd been in the trances, there had been another retaliation, an escape attempt. The in-house Healer had been killed and there was just me left, in charge and with the image of what had been done to my friends still fresh in my mind, with two more dead and another wounded beyond saving, and... Any sympathy I had died then."
Tiernan's eyes were open a little too wide, and he gripped the arms of the chair so tightly his knuckles turned white. But he had no other reaction, just waited for her to finish. He knew what came next, what she must have done.
"I couldn't Heal them all, not all on both sides. And I no longer wanted to, but reasoned that a clean death—that was mercy, in comparison to what my friends had suffered. I gave the order—I supervised the proceedings while I worked to Heal the wounded Knights, and the women and children."
"But the men," Tiernan finally said. He was still speaking quietly, but his voice was like gravel. "They hadn't all been in the fight. They hadn't all been wounded, they didn't need your healing."
"I know." She sounded as grim as he did.
"So that's all, then?" he demanded. "Over half of the deaths with no real reason, not even an excuse?" He didn't wait for her to answer. "Every child on that manor lost a father that day, all of them; every wife lost her husband. Because of you."
"I know," she repeated.
He stared at her silently, the stood abruptly. "Well," he snarled, "at least my questions are answered. I'll be ready to return to Arpiar as soon as you are—" He stopped abruptly, biting off the insult he'd wanted to end the sentence with. He gave her one final glare before turning to leave the room.
Jereh stared after him, then shut her eyes and hunched over slightly in her chair. It's all I deserve, she reminded herself. It's a kinder reaction than I deserve....
[EYECATCH]
Kalin walked the corridors with no real destination in mind, lost in thought. Erra had returned to Kal'Ishka, for the moment, and left him with too much to think about. So there's my mystery answered, and the apology I hoped for but never expected rolled together in one, he thought to himself. So why aren't I happy about it?
He wasn't unhappy about it, really. The thought of having Erra back as a friend and a brother filled him with sudden hope that they really could create a future for their Island and themselves, one where he might at long last have a family to belong to. He wanted it desperately, he had for as long as he could remember. He couldn't recall his parents, even the dim memories of his mother he'd once possessed had given way to time. Through the ten years he'd spent as a slave, only a few people had even shown him kindness, and none had been his family except...
Serissa and I couldn't have been a family. I do understand, now... We dreamed but it was never more than that. It couldn't have been, no matter how much we wished... But she was all the family I could remember having.
Sometimes Kalin wondered if he'd idealized her in his memories, if maybe it wasn't lucky they'd been torn apart. It meant they could never grow apart, never realize that they didn't love each other anymore, that they weren't a perfect match. But still, even wondering that, Kalin dreamt of her nearly every night, and wondered if she dreamed of him. He knew what sort of Lady she'd become, with Kieris to support and protect her... She was amazing, in all she'd accomplished, and Kalin was certain that some of it had to be because of him. She was sympathetic to his cause, she forced Dysis and his supporters in the right direction against their will...
It had to be because of him. But still, they would never have worked together. We could never have created the family I yearned for...
And he'd had it, finally, in Erra and the Kelanisters. He'd attended Erra's wedding and stood where his late brother should have been, had he not died at Kal'Hara; he'd loved Ilyan and had been the Priest who performed Ilyan's wedding to Alira. They'd accepted him as a part of their family, treated him as such... And it had all been ripped from him again in the aftermath of Kal'Harath. But now, he could have that back. After years of calling Erra "brother," and praying to hear it in response, years of mourning not just those who'd died in the city but the relationship he'd lost, he could finally have it back.
Yet somehow, the sight of Erra with pure white hair, practically reeking of the Goddess, smarted as though he'd been slapped, and what ought to have been his happiest moment was tainted by jealousy. Why him? Kalin asked silently, to himself and not to Her, for fear of getting a response. After years of unfaltering service, after giving up everything I had so many times... Why does my beloved brother get to know her completely?
He realized he was stomping in his irritation at Erra and at himself. It wasn't Erra's fault or his idea; I know he'd never have asked Kaleal to come to him. It's my own fault for being petty, for having his jealousy inside me... I call myself a Priest and I'm supposed to be some sort of Angel, but how can I be when all I feel is bitterness?
Kalin sighed and paused to lean against the wall for a moment, to recenter himself. He knew how petty he was being, but also knew it was natural; he would be an Angel eventually, but was still human. It was all right to have human weaknesses, he told himself, and wished he could believe it...
It was only feeling a powerful surge of emotion down the hall that shook him out of his self-involved thoughts and back to the world around him. He paused and extended his mind, feeling outside of himself to discover who was feeling so strongly and why. What came back—anger, disgust, fear, betrayal, hatred—jolted him again, as did the identity; the accidentally kidnapped Warrior who'd accompanied Jereh... And then another surge of emotion—loathing, loneliness, isolation, hatred but directed inwards—followed it. He didn't even have to feel to find the second source's identity; if Tiernan was so unsettled, then Jereh would have to have some sort or response.
He could only deal with one at a time, and followed Tiernan back to the room he'd been given, let himself in without asking permission. Tiernan stared up at him.
"Who are you?" he demanded. "What do you want with me?"
Kalin held up his arms in a gesture of peace, thoughts of Erra and jealousy forgotten. "I'm just a Priest, young Warrior; I mean you no harm."
He took a moment to look over the Warrior in front of him, and was almost shocked by how much the boy resembled Taylin Sanasset. Younger than he remembered Taylin, with lighter hair, but the same cheek bones and sharp nose, the same hazel eyes...
Kalin forced back the wave of emotions and memories that threatened to overtake him.
"What do you want?" Tiernan demanded again.
"I thought you might like to have some of your questions answered."
"I've had quite enough answers for today, thank you."
Kalin nodded and shut the door behind him, his gaze not wavering from Tiernan's. Jereh disobeyed me, he realized with a certainty. I told her to let the blame fall to where it belongs for a reason; I need her to work with him still, I need him to be willing to work with her...
"I think you need at least one more, Lord Sanasset."
"How did you know my name?"
Kalin half-smiled. "I was informed almost immediately upon your arrival."
"Who are you?"
"Just a Priest," he repeated, not quite willing to say his name or station. After all, Tiernan was a Warrior, and incredibly angry; furthermore, Kalin didn't know how much of his story might be remembered around Aleann Manor, and if anyone young knew it, it would probably be a Sanasset.
"Well, Priest, if you'd be so kind as to leave me alone—"
"I won't," Kalin interrupted. "I have a different sort of kindness in mind for you. I want you to understand."
"Understand what?" Tiernan demanded testily.
"The Massacre."
"Then you're too late; I already do."
"No, Sanasset, you don't. You know what happened, I gather, but not why."
"I know enough."
"You can never know enough," Kalin answered. "And you do want to hear me out; I promise it's worth your while."
Tiernan glared at him, but said nothing.
"Jereh must have told you what she believes is the truth about the Massacre as she recounted her actions. The people she found, and the orders she gave. Correct?" He waited for a response, and Tiernan nodded sullenly. "There was more to it—to her actions—than even she knew."
"How is that possible?"
"Have you ever heard of a thing called Healer's Sickness?" he asked gently. Tiernan shook his head no. "I suppose it's no surprise; few Healers on Arpiar are powerful enough to be infected by it. It takes a lot of power to manifest, and a deep bond between Healer and patient. Most trances don't involve so tight a bond, which makes it rarer still."
"What is it?" Tiernan asked, for the first time sounding almost as interested as he did hostile. "When a Healer puts too much power into a trance, forms too tight a bond, he—or she—can develop the symptoms and the sicknesses that he attempts to cure. It happens fairly rarely; about the only time it's observed is when a Healer has too much energy invested in trying to save a patient who can not be saved, and when the patient dies, so does the Healer. Have you heard of that happening?"
Tiernan nodded. "We... Lost a Healer that way, when I was in training..."
"It's the same thing, but few Healers survive it, so few can explain what happens, and fewer still know enough to recognize it when it isn't fatal."
"So what are you saying?"
"When Jereh discovered the torture victims, she entered a trance with them, trying to find their minds and pull them back to sanity... She failed, but had poured enough of her power, enough of herself, into the bond between them to end up with the Sickness. But they didn't die; they were... Insane. Driven that way by pain, wanting only to end pain, and what little remained of their minds probably wanted revenge, to cause the same sort of suffering to those who'd tormented them, but they were beyond telling the difference between innocence and guilt. Their insanity affected Jereh, and no one else knew she was so affected—and I'd imagine, most were caught up enough with their own pain and anger that they may have recognized that her orders were wrong, or too extreme, but wouldn't have countermanded them."
Tiernan nodded with a very slight understanding. "So when Jereh went too far..."
"Exactly. It was a result of the Sickness, and not even she knows it."
"Why haven't you told her?"
Kalin sighed. "I've tried. But she knows what she did, knows how wrong it was, and she won't forgive herself. She won't accept an explanation, not even the truth. She can't forgive herself... I think that first, she'd have to be forgiven by the victims, which would never happen, of course."
"Of course," Tiernan agreed slowly, but his mind was already at work, exactly where Kalin wanted it to be.
"Well, anyway—I thought you would want to know the truth, even though Jereh is unable to tell you herself. I hope it helped."
Tiernan nodded. "Thank you," he said finally, then, "Um, sir Priest? I... I don't mean to be rude, but... What happened to your hand?"
Kalin froze, then relaxed. It was an innocent question, not a hint that Tiernan knew more than he should have. "Madness does terrible things; it lets a man do terrible things to others. It wasn't his fault."
Tiernan raised an eyebrow but didn't answer. Kalin shrugged.
"Or if it was, I forgave him a long time ago. But unfortunately, that story I can't tell any more than Jereh could correctly tell hers. Will you be all right?"
"I think so."
"Good. Perhaps I'll see you again someday, then, Lord Sanasset."
"I..." He trailed off. "I think I'd be honored, Sir Priest.... Sir Voice."
Kalin smiled. "How could you tell?"
"I was only guessing."
"Well, it was a good guess, I suppose. I have business to attend. Good afternoon."
Kalin let himself out with no further discussion, before Tiernan could realize that he still had questions, and that Kalin would actually hold the answers. Some things, Kalin wasn't ready to face yet.
"I think you'll realize it quickly enough."
Dysis shrugged, but began to dread something had changed drastically. Clearly, something was better for Jall; probably that meant also better for Kalin—or Erra. He frowned to himself. Unless they've suddenly allied, maybe I can use it? he wondered. Unless something happened just to Jall, to make him feel better alone, but if that was the case, why would he say I would realize it?
Too soon for his preferences, Kalin and Erra arrived. But for the first time, they arrived together, talking with each other in their own language. From what Dysis could tell by tone of voice, the conversation was a little strained, but oddly not hostile. And Erra's hair was white, the color of Priests and Knights, the color of Kaleal...
The two made themselves comfortable, next to each other. Dysis waited for someone to start. "Your Holiness," Kalin finally said to him. "I think it's time these negotiations begin in earnest, don't you?"
Dysis could only nod. Somehow, he had the sinking feeling that things were about to change entirely.
[CLOSING CREDITS]