Sekali, "The Sister City"
Chapter 23
At night, he would sit cross-legged within his bedroll, keeping watch over his charge. Through all this, he slept little. One night Sekali sat staring into the fire's light, thinking to himself. This world is new and wondrous. Yet it softens the soul, and this cannot be good. Yet, it would have its strong points if my people came and dwelt here.
He did not miss the Wastelands. The longer he dwelt in this Living World, the more difficult it would be to go back. Here, it was peaceful and easy to live. He compared the two worlds. As he did so, he recalled again, the undesirable -- his eyes widened in fear as he stared into the dancing flames of the night's fire . . .
. . . The shadow grew intense and threatening all around him. He struck out against the shadow, listening to the shrieks of his brothers who fell to that unnatural blade. Their cries seemed deafening, and grew louder and louder, then faded, as if he had been hurled down into a bottomless well, until all became deathly silent, still. Sweat coursed down every inch of his body. His vision blurred, yet did not completely fade, and the hope for a swift death shattered as he beheld plainly his enemy. Out of the darkness it came, deeper than the night which shrouded it in silence. He tried to find blackness, fall into his own shadow, but it was as if something would not let him recede into the peaceful blackness he sought.
Voiceless utterance pressed in upon his mind, not unlike the feeling of a falling boulder crushing down upon him:
Deep within, your heart desires
Wandering Sardakk Elf
Alone, yet not solitaire
Your desires . . .
Cast off, denounced, yet . . . exalted
When in a time of great pain, I bid you come
From death, life; from life -- death
The darkness had grown so intense, hateful, and bitter that Sekali screamed without sound. Fleeing back into the darkest corner of his mind, he sought to will his spirit to depart from him; to fly upon the eternal winds of The Beyond . . . and failed. He relived every waking moment of the last thirty years in one dream . . . the suffering.
The pain of loss; utter loss and devastation. He tried to awaken, but could not. He was forced, as if by some other power than his own to relive the last thirty years of devastation.
Sekali leapt from his bedroll, unsheathing his sword. With a cry of despair, he staggered and stepped into the center of the fire. Instantly, Uther and Finyat were on their feet, weapons ready. Uther was swearing most offensively. Mabuhi sat up, eyes wide, staring at Sekali, who seemed undaunted by the flames dancing dangerously about his legs.
"Ech shrakkeen thresk Morgel! (Begone, foul Death).” Sekali called out hoarsely, and swung once, twice, three times at an unseen foe before him.
Finyat froze in fear, and, after a moment of witnessing this outburst, erupted in laughter, Uther instantly joined in. Mabuhi had a shocked look of disbelief etched upon her face as she watched Sekali. And as she watched him, she began to tremble.
A few moments passed in this manner, then Sekali froze, sword pointed directly out in front of him. His eyes focused down into the fire in which he was standing. He cursed loudly as he leapt out of it, quickly slapping some small flames that had set afire the hem of his cloak. His eyes then slid to Finyat and Uther, laughing and wiping tears from their eyes. Realizing what they had beheld, and what he had let happen, he let his weapon fall to the ground. He spread his hands out before him, looking at them as though they themselves had let him down. Pain filled his eyes as the Shallant and the dwarf roared on, delighted for the show. He grimaced and clenched his fists, staring into the fire for a short while, ignoring the remarks of the other two. Afraid to look at Mabuhi, he turned and departed from them into the darkness. Finyat shrugged as he caught the narrowing eyes of the Aldarian Elf upon him.
"Everyone has a nightmare or two now and then, Uther."
The dwarf grumbled and fell onto his bedroll, regaining unconsciousness almost instantly. With a sheepish grin at Mabuhi, Finyat walked over to Sekali's sword and looked at it curiously. After a moment he, too, returned to his bedroll, chuckling to himself.
Mabuhi turned her attention from Finyat and peered out into the darkness after Sekali, troubled. She waited for a while, and when she knew Uther and Finyat were asleep, crept quietly out of camp. She found him not far out, sitting upon a large, round, half-sunken boulder in a sea of green grasses. His head hung to his chest and he made no sound.
She called softly to him, "Sekali."
He slowly turned his head towards her. "I do not wish to explain myself. There is no need. Some things are better left unsaid."
She nodded. "Yet, I would have my escort always close at hand . . . if I were to need his aid. You cried out loudly, and I dare say that we are not the only travelers in these lands."
Sekali sprang to his feet, quickly coming to her side. In a tight voice, that cracked with emotion, he beseeched her, "Forgive me."
He trembled as he looked at her, as if she now had the power to simply gesture, and he would be put to death. As she looked down at his hands, she smiled, compassion filling her eyes.
"I understand your native tongue, Sekali. What you said . . . it chills my soul." She placed a gentle hand on his arm, genuinely concerned, as she looked up into his black eyes, so hard and stonelike; so chilled.
With some hesitation, he pulled back from her touch, half turning. "We should be back in camp." With a trembling hand, Sekali motioned the way. Worried, she turned and led the way back in silence.
As the two entered camp, Sekali stopped, critically spying out the other two. Simpletons. Had they faced a tithe of my life, they would never step outdoors merely to smell the freshness of morning within the safety of well-guarded castle walls. Sekali retrieved his sword and stepped up to the fire, Mabuhi watching him. He took the burnt hem of his cloak and began polishing his blade, pridefully erasing every hint of dust from his sword. Satisfied at its cleanness, he returned it to its sheath.
Mabuhi came to him and nodded, "You take good care of your sword."
Sekali nodded, staring into the fire, as if suddenly far away. Mabuhi put her hands out, warming them, and sighed. She couldn't think of any small talk, and so inquired straight to the point the meaning of his words. He looked at her and glared, almost hatefully. Yet so determined, she seemed not to be unanswered, and he wavered for the space of a heartbeat. He looked back at the fire and clenched his teeth. His jaw muscles twitched as he thought of that accursed night. He did not want to speak of an incident ever present in his dreams, and in his waking thoughts. Mabuhi froze his blood with her next words. It shocked him to his core.
"Ech shrakkeen thresk Morgala." She looked up at him.
Sekali remained silent, almost deathlike, as he stared into the flames. How they danced and writhed before him. His vision blurred, taking him back to the Wastelands, back to where he once stood upon the Tower of the Watch. His shaking hand snaked over to the hilt of his sword. Then he spoke in a dull, almost lifeless, tone.
"I was honored to perform The Watch for my people. It is a deadly task, yet most profitable at times. The need to protect the borders of Sardakahn, my citadel, is not merely an honor, it is necessary. Those who perform this sacred duty are protecting the lives of others. On the first day of The Watch, I and my brothers were standing sentinel upon the top. I . . . I . . . by the fires that rage!" Sekali stiffened and his voice stilled in horror and revulsion.
Mabuhi found herself caught up in the horror, unable to speak. Sekali's tone chilled her. She edged closer to the fire in silence, watching him intensely, as if she had lived this very nightmare herself.
“The darkness crept upon us . . . unnatural. She unleashed the fullness of her sorcery, but it was not enough. Terrible . . . and now, in my dreams, I hear these words every time I sleep” Sekali’s body convulsed, as if he was choking, but Mabuhi did not raise a hand to steady him. She wanted to know more.
Suddenly, he sat erect and tense, rigid. His body seemed to straighten to the point of snapping. In a low chant, he spoke, forcing out words through tightly clenched teeth, chilling Mabuhi through. It was almost as if he were on his deathbed, speaking the last words of the living after receiving some terrible wound in a battle.
“Deep within, your heart desires, Wandering Sardakk Elf. Alone, yet not solitaire.
Your desires . . . cast off, denounced, yet . . . exalted. When in a time of great pain, I bid you come. From life, death. From death, life.”
As if talking to himself, Sekali whispered faintly. “I do not know what it means.”
Faltering, Sekali became silent. He dropped his hands to his knees, vehemently staring into the flames, as if he could sear holes into them with his eyes.
Mabuhi pulled her cloak tightly around her thin frame. Gently she raised her hand up and brushed back his long black hair, tears welling up in her eyes. She said nothing, suddenly lost in deep in concern. After nearly an hour, Sekali turned to her and broke the silence.
"For decades, this is all I have dreamt; mostly what I think and meditate upon. It is my food and my water; my punishment for my weaknesses." He placed his hands very near the flames, as she watched him.
His eyes widened with the conception of a thought: Mabuhi, Aldarian Elf; she is the opposite of my nightmare. Sekali looked at her again. Tears streaked her face as she wept silently. He felt a sudden weariness wash over him; he was tired; so very weary. Deeply he gazed into her eyes . . . and hardened his senses.
"Mabuhi, speak not of this thing. It is full of pain and misery. You know, and it is enough." His last words were stern and imposing.
She nodded, yet the look on her face abided with such sympathy that it seemed she would gladly take his place, just to relieve him of his suffering. She was strange. It comforted him to behold her. But it angered him as well. To think that he, Sekali of The Watch, born and raised in the Wastelands, should need her help; the help of an Aldarian. He attempted to be angry with her. Yet could not bring up any such feelings.
She is kindness. He thought to himself, as he looked upon her.
"Aldarian, I am your attendant only. I ask forgiveness for my behavior; I will not leave you again. In my land, I would have been brought before judgment for my crime . . . banishment would have been dealt out swiftly, had I no excuse for my departure. I had none." His words trailed off like the smoke of the fire, trailing up into the night air, vanishing into the night sky. He turned to the fire, feeling himself being pulled back to the time when it had happened. Shaking his head, he looked away, out into the darkness.
A wolf howled. He had never heard the sound of a wolf in all his life. It seemed sad to him; forlorn. He became curious.
Looking back at Mabuhi, he noticed she was staring at him intently, studying him again. Without blinking, he returned her gaze. The two froze, as if time stood still.
The moon slid up over the horizon, into the night's sky, and still the two sat unmoving, as if both were sculpted of solid ice. The piercing stare of the Sardakk Elf met her green eyes searching for something . . . something he could not set his thoughts upon. She was a creature different from what he had ever imagined; not cold and heartless, but sincere and real. He noted the slender curves of her facial features, and the slant of her eyes. Her eyes seemed to be crafted from flawless emeralds, cut almond-shaped.
For the first time he realized that she was beautiful, even for an Aldarian Elf. Surely this could not be of the line of traitors that had driven them into the Wastelands. Certainly she, Mabuhi, the gentle, would not, could not, conceive of such a thing. She seemed to be ever giving, never taking. Of course, history had shown time and time again that it was always people such as this that could cause the most damage. Reflected on simply, looks could be deceiving, and good will was always the sheep's skin which almost all wolves donned. His vision blurred and he found himself somewhere else . . . the last thing he remembered was all the world about him fading from view, and he was lost to his natural senses. But the light from her eyes reflecting in the fire did not fade, burning emerald-green in the darkness.