Chasing The Wind

Year of the Lilies, Torrid Season The throne room, Altsas King Tus III:

I SIT COMFORTABLY on my throne made of polished gold and adorned with precious stones, but my heart is disturbed. I haven't slept well in the past few nights, and I haven't eaten properly either. How can I be happy when something threatens the very stability of my household?

I dismount the throne and pace to the balcony of the stone throne room. Looking down, I'm faced with the marvelous sight of the orchard, the stream that flows across it and the bridge that looms over it. I catch a glimpse of the horses that race past under the supervision of the stable attendants and grooms.

Why can't I be as carefree as the mares and ponies and stallions that populate my stable? Why can't I be free of worry and the burden of overthinking?

I'm distracted by the soft sounds of footsteps against the stone floors. Whirling, I catch sight of Queen Elunia—my graceful wife. I bow slightly and return my gaze to the horses.

"Beautiful creatures, aren't they?" she sings out. The scent of myrrh wafting from her tickles my nose.

"Indeed," I say. She glances at me with a worried look on her flawless face.

"What's wrong, my Lord?" She moves closer and lays a dainty hand on my shoulder. "Is this still about our son?"

It is, unfortunately, but I don't want to admit it. I shake my head, not taking my eyes off the orchard. Why would the heir to the powerful throne of Altsas refuse to take a bride? He has reached maturity, and most of his friends are already fathers. I don't understand his reluctance; he'll be married before the end of the year, whether he wants it or not.

"It's about Kyan, isn't it?" my queen asks in her melodious sing-song voice. Her words are laced with worry, and I don't want to upset her any more.

I take her hand from my shoulder, facing her and looking into her hazel eyes, which still hold me captive even after all these years. I kiss her slender hand. "Yes, you know I only want what is best for him."

"My lord, if our son refuses wed, why insist? Maybe he has good reasons for refusing."

"And what reasons would those be?" I ask.

She sighs. "I don't know. But I do know we shouldn't force him. Maybe we can give him more time—"

"More time?" I drop her hand and struggle to keep the anger out of my voice. "Surely you are joking, my queen. He turned sixteen a year and a half ago! I've given him too long already."

"Please, listen to me; if we force him into marriage, he might do something outrageous. Believe me, I've heard stories."

"Nothing outrageous will happen in my castle, my queen." I turn and stare at the orchard again. "Everything needs balance, a steadying other half. Don't you think so?"

"Yes, my lord." I can hear the humility in her voice.

"Our children, my queen, are unpaired. What do you think the subjects are thinking? I will not be a source of mockery," I spit out.

My queen remains silent, and together, we stare out into the orchard and watch the stream of roaring water flow past. I can almost hear it, almost smell it.

"What do you suggest we do, then?" Her voice wakes me from my brief reverie.

"We must find him a bride." I take my time to reply.

She remains silent, considering my answer. "What if he does not like her?" she whispers, her voice like a breeze.

"He will. He'll grow to love her." Turning, I face my beloved wife. "It is sad he can't find love like we did."

"I do wish it for him." She looks away.

"Hopefully," I reach out and touch her arm, "our daughter will be lucky."

"Hopefully," my queen echoes.

Just then, the sharp thuds of boots echo across the vast room. My wife and I turn in the direction of the interruption.

"Kyan," my wife gasps, "you're back!" She flutters across the room like a dove and throws herself into the arms of the defiant son of mine.

Kyan leaves the walls of the kingdom frequently for his hikes, which can last weeks. Personally, I can't care less, but my softhearted wife doesn't stop worrying whenever he's gone.

Kyan hugs his mother back and kisses both her cheeks before sinking onto one knee with his head bowed. "Mother," he says, "Father."

My queen wastes no time in touching his head and muttering the words of greeting. I stare at him, then meet the soulful eyes of my wife. She frowns back. "Greet him," she mouths.

I nod. I cross the distance in three strides and rest my big hand on his head of flaxen locks. "Alihim safir mi."

My wife gives me a warm smile and taps Kyan on the shoulder—an indication that he may rise.

"I've missed you," my queen says. "How was your hike?"

"Beautiful," he breathes. "I left the borders of Altsas completely. I climbed mountains and lived in caves."

"You know you can still do all that as a married prince," I can't help cutting into his gushing about his aimless hikes.

My wife sends me a displeased look. "Take pity on our son; he must be exhausted from all that hiking!"

And truly, he looks exhausted: bruises, cuts—some bleeding, some healed—eye bags, scrapes on his skin, and tattered clothing.

"It's alright, Mother,'' Kyan says. He turns to me. "Father, I will respect your wishes and get married."

My wife shrieks in happiness and throws her hands around him. They beam at each other, and I do all I can not to roll my eyes at the excessive display.

"I'm glad," I say to him.

"But under one condition." His eyes don't leave mine.

"What are you talking about, Kyan?" my wife asks him with pinched brows.

He gives her a fleeting glance. "I have a simple condition: I want to marry a woman whose thoughts move the Earth."

"What does that mean?" my queen asks. She grabs him and turns him to face her.

He stares at her but gives her no response.

I have no idea what that means. Move the Earth? Like magic? I shake my head. I'll have to consult my sages. I'm happy he's finally agreed to get married. Whatever his condition means will be up to my sages to decipher.

"But how do we find such a woman?" I wonder out loud.

"I don't know," Kyan replies.

"We have to find her, my lord," my wife tells me with desperation in her voice.

I nod. "Indeed."

"You may go." I nod to Kyan, who bows lowly to us before leaving.

"How are we going to find such a woman for our son?" My queen grabs my wrists and stares right at me.

"I don't know," I say truthfully. Then, an idea creeps into my head. I consider it, viewing it from all angles, weighing the advantages and disadvantages, if any.

"I've got an idea, my queen," I say to her with a grin. "We'll hunt down this woman for our son, even if it means conquering every other Kingdom."

I've made my decision.

Year of the Lilies, Torrid Season The meadow, Kintil Isla:

I'M IMMERSED TO MY KNEES IN WATER. The soothing currents of the cold river massage my calves and send pulsating impulses up my legs and through my whole body.

It encourages me.

Lifting my dress so it won't get soaked with water, I wade my way through the river one step at a time till I feel the smooth pebbles against the soles of my feet as I get to my favorite spot.

I throw a few glances over my shoulders to make sure I'm alone, then closing my eyes, I concentrate. I clear my thoughts of everything except the musky green of the now shallow water (due to the Torrid season), the mild tickle of the breeze, and the scent of trees in the air.

In the void of my mind, I command the water. I imagine it forming waves and splashing skittishly against my shin.

Almost immediately, I feel the cold tickle of the water against my legs. Giddy, I open my eyes and don't make any effort to suppress my laughter. I lose concentration and the water rises too high, wetting the skirt of my dress.

Oops.

Sighing, I close my eyes and try again. I clear my mind of everything except my goal. This time, I picture my hair flying in the wind. I imagine a small gentle whirlwind surrounding me.

The breeze picks up and becomes stronger. I try not to lose concentration as the breeze quickly turns into a strong wind that rolls over my body and tousles my hair. Lifting my hands up, I let the wind take control.

Yes!

I can't help the feeling of excitement as the wind, stronger than any other I have ever created, carries me out of the river so slowly I fear I'm only imagining it and keeps me suspended in mid-air as it whispers and whirls violently around me.

I throw my hands high above my head and let myself be consumed wholly. I can feel my power vibrate in my veins with so much force it's almost painful.

And I grow stronger.

My possibilities multiply by the minute, and suddenly, I don't want to hide anymore. I don't want to conceal the strange abilities I was born or cursed with.

So, suspended in the whirling cocoon of wind I've created, I promise myself I won't hide anymore. I will let the power inside me run free. I will—

"Isla!" It's a shriek I would know anywhere.

I'm in huge trouble.

•

My father towers over me like a giant as I kneel on the ground, eyes looking up to him pleadingly.

"What if someone had seen you?" He growled with fury in his eyes. "Do you know what would have happened to you? You'd be taken away from us! Do you really want to give your mother and me heart attacks?"

I don't say a word. Of course I wouldn't ever want to give my dear parents heart attacks, but I'm tired of limiting myself. I'm tired of hiding.

"No one saw me," I summon my voice to reply.

My parents exchange looks, and my dad turns to me with an expression I can't name.

"How are you so sure?" His voice is stern and blunt. "Do you think anyone who saw you would announce their presence?"

"No," I blurt. "But no one saw me. I'd know."

"Al," my mother says softly, "I know you'd rather let yourself free, but…" She sighs. "You have to compromise. If anyone ever saw you, you'd be killed on allegations of witchcraft."

I shake my head. She fails to understand that a few moments of being myself is a thousand times better than an entire lifetime of locking up my powers.

"Ok, Mother," I say. "I'll try." The words get caught in my throat.

My mother helps me to my feet and pulls me to her in a hug. She is very small compared to me, so she ends up burying her face in my shoulder.

"We love you so much, Al," my father says. "We just don't want to lose you."

"I don't want to lose you either."

•

Mavli spreads the woven mat on the floor just outside our hut. It's almost sunset, and we are getting ready to eat dinner. I sit on a stool and watch my fifteen-year-old sister arrange the mat with stools around it for our parents in preparation for dinner.

"Why were you looking for me?" I ask her. She does a good job of schooling her features so they don't give away what's going through her mind.

She lets my question hang in the air for a few heartbeats before straightening up and staring right at me. "I won't let you do anything stupid. You may not care about yourself, but I care about our parents. If someone had seen you—"

"No one saw me, Mavli." My fists clench in fury. "Why don't you just mind your own business?" It's irksome how she spies on me. Doesn't she have better things to do with her time?

"You are my business, Isla. We're family. I'd kill myself if anything ever happened to you." Her words manage to irk me even more. She's playing parent now.

"Thanks for your concern, Mavli. But I don't need it. I'm older than you anyway; I can take care of myself." I fear I'm being too harsh, but if I am, she doesn't show it. She ignores me and walks back into the hut.

I sigh and watch her retreating back. Twilight has spilled over the sky, scattering its vibrant hues like spreading fingers.

I don't want to hurt my sister, but she has to understand that I'm totally capable of looking out for myself. The fact that I've survived almost seventeen years in a magic-hating kingdom like Kintil means I can survive anywhere and anytime.

My thoughts are rudely interrupted by the approach of my parents and sister, who bear bowls of our dinner. I'm hit with the aroma of expertly broiled mackerel, tomato and carrot sauce, and freshly baked bread. My father carries a huge jug, which I assume holds wine, and Mavli balances a bowl on her head, which I know holds boiled brown rice.

I help place the various bowls of food on the mat, and we all sit, forming a small circle. My mother leaves to fetch an oil lamp; we sit and wait in complete silence. When she returns, we hold hands and bow our heads as Mavli is given the honor of praying over our meal, blessing it.

We wash our hands in a wooden bowl and pick out small loaves of rye bread. I tear off a piece and dip it into the tomato sauce. Mavli and my mother pour out some sauce into the rice and begin eating it with their fingers while dad starts out with the broiled fish. I'm happy my sin isn't mentioned, and we eat in familiar silence and appreciation for our meal.

Usually, we don't have this much to eat, but today, my parents made some extra money at the market, so we are able to enjoy this scrumptious meal.

In no time, we are done eating. Mavli and I clear the bowls.

"Thank you, mother and father," Mavli and I chorus as we take the dishes to the back of our hut to wash them.

I feel Mavli's stare as we get to the back of the hut and place them on the rocky red ground just in front of the big cans of water. I turn to look at her, but she turns her eyes away. I try to ignore it, and we begin washing the bowls. The only sounds I hear are the ever-loyal crickets and the soft hooting of a distant bird.

I'm wet to my elbows by the time we're done washing. When I make to carry the dishes away, Mavli swoops in and carries them. I shrug my shoulders. If she wants to give me the silent treatment, then I'll leave her be.