ALDÉRIS' HOME

Zyra had been up since dawn, trying to prepare something for breakfast. She had already finished serving the fresh bread, and all that was missing was the sweet wine in the pitcher to be brought to the table. There, in the middle of the table, was a basket of fruit with a fruit knife buried in it.

The smell of the sweet wine as Zyra poured it from the jug into the cup, brought Castar back to consciousness. His face was buried in the pillow, but that did not stop the smell of the wine from reaching his nose. It was his favourite, and so there was no way he could not smell it, even when he was outside the house.

"Fatras!" He muttered into his pillow. He sat up the moment he realised breakfast was being served. The floor was cold against his feet, having absorbed the chill of the previous rainy night. He could hear the plates being moved on the dining table.

The door disengaged from its lock, and Castar raised his head. His gaze met Isher's as he entered.

"Castar, breakfast is served, mother has made your wine," he said to Castar from the doorway.

His mood was not as Castar remembered it from last night. He noticed that something about Isher was different, the way he spoke had changed slightly. His face was so serious when he came in to talk to Castar.

"I'll be with you in a moment," he answered, and Isher left the room, closing the door behind him, startling Castar.

Isher closed the door with some ferocity, and Castar was not only startled but, after Isher left, had to think about it. Something was troubling Isher, he could not put his finger on it, but he knew he was somehow connected to it, whatever it was.

His hair was a mess. It was in a chignon, but while he slept, it had come free. He had to put it back in the shiny chignon. He had to go by his mirror, apply some fresh oil, and brush down his hair. He wasted no time putting his hair back into the style he always preferred, as he joined the others in the dining room.

Cautiously, he approached the dining room, not knowing exactly what was going on. Finding no reason that could have upset his brother, he had concluded that it was probably because Era had spent a night in the house. Since Isher had never liked her and they had never gotten along, he thought that might be the reason. Isher had always been a person for whom food always brought a smile to his face, but this morning he acted as if he was mourning the loss of his bread or something else.

"Good morning, mother," Castar greeted, receiving a kiss on the top of his head from Zyra. 

Zyra had made this a routine. She had grown accustomed to the morning kisses as Castar grew up, and now that he was no longer a child but a man, she could not stop treating him like the little child he once was. Every time he greeted her, she kissed him on the head, and Castar smiled in return. All of this irritated Isher. He saw how Zyra could not refrain from paying too much attention to Castar, even when he had become a man in his own right.

Isher's gaze fell on his bread. He was questioning something. As usual, he had not received a kiss from his mother. The last time he had received a kiss on the head was when he was only 6years old, and he had received nothing since. Anyone would consider this a small thing and not give it a second thought, but Isher never overlooked it, it meant more to him than just a greeting. To him it was a great bond, a strong bond between mother and child, and he found that the bond between Zyra and Castar had become too strong and his attachment to her was weakening day by day.

 

"We have Fatras on the table," Zyra said to Castar, and he grinned.

"You did so well. The smell brought me back to consciousness," he said to her, and she giggled.

Isher stared at them as they talked and laughed, wondering why he had no place in the family. No one ever talked about him or did the things he cared about. He wondered why Fatras was still called Castar's favourite when Zyra always made him whatever he wanted for breakfast.

Castar had not stopped to think about the conversation with Era the previous night. He had hoped to continue the conversation and clear up his confusion. He wanted to talk to her about what she thought she saw at the top of the hill.

"Where is she, Era?" asked Castar. He was so intent on taking a slice of his bread that he paid no attention to anything else. He was famished, he had not finished his meal last night because he had to sit with Era.

"Will not she join us for breakfast?" he added. He spoke to them without looking up to see their faces as he sliced his bread.

"She's gone. She left at dawn," Zyra answered him. Her brows drew together. She couldn't believe that Castar did not know. After all, she was closer to him than any of them, and if anyone deserved to know of her departure, it was him.

Era could lose no more time. She was eager to start her journey last night and failed because Zyra would not let her. Staying in that house until dawn was something she had to do to show that she was grateful for the hospitality. She could barely sleep through the night and was partially conscious the entire time.

Castar's fruit knife slipped from his hand and fell to the table, causing Isher to raise his brows. Isher wondered why he seemed so hurt when he learned of her departure.

"I thought she saw you before she left. She came into the kitchen and said she was grateful for the hospitality. I gave her my blessing and she left," Zyra said.

"No, she did not inform me. It was wrong of me to expect such a thing from her," Castar said. His face wrinkled. He was not even sure why. Was it because she had failed to inform him, or because she had left? He couldn't even answer his own questions.

Castar could not hide his disappointment. He stabbed his fruit knife into an apple and sighed. With a loss of appetite, he stood up.

"I just remembered I promised Garissa I'd help clean the stable," he muttered, wanting to spend some time alone.

"Son, I ran into Garissa yesterday. She did not talk about anything like that. Even if you promised her, at least you can finish your food before you leave," Zyra told him and he walked up to her and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"I'll come back for the wine, I promise," he whispered to her and she nodded. She froze, and her eyes followed him as he walked out of the dining room

He threw on a grey cotton shirt that fit and had a pair of long sleeves. He was still putting on his trousers from the day before, so he pulled on his boots and left the house.

His path led him to Garissa's stall in no time. He did not bother knocking on her door to let her know he was around, because he was not there because she had asked. He wanted to clear his head and thought it would help him get out for a bit.

Garissa heard the neigh of a horse, and she woke up. She grabbed the broom hanging on the wall and peeked through the window to see if everything was all right out there. She did not see anyone at the door, so she went out of the house to check on the horses.

When she got to her door, she saw that the door to the stable was wide open. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw Castar cleaning up the stable.

Garissa dropped the broom, and the sound caused Castar to turn around.

"Castarius, what are you doing here so early?" She asked, and Castar walked down to her and hugged her.

"I just wanted to help you with the stall. I know you did not ask for it, but I think I need it too," he said to her and she broke away from the embrace.

"Is my friend okay?" she asked.

"My mother is fine. I assure you there is no problem," he said to her and she nodded.

"I thank you for your help. I will be in my room. Let me know if you need anything," Garissa said to him and went back to her room.

DIGAR

A land that lay to the south, a home for fishers and a land that was surrounded by a great ocean, an island. The villagers of Digar had only one option if they wished to leave the land. They were not a land to walk or ride a horse on. Their border was the great ocean. Those who wished to travel in or out had only to cross the ocean.

The colour of the sky had turned into a brilliant mixture of red and orange. The sand at the edge of the body of water was coarse and was worth beholding.

Some fishers still had not retired. They always thought they would miss so many fish if they retreated to their homes, so they kept taking turns to make sure nothing went off their hooks.

There were five men. Although so many others retired, these men were more than willing to stay until the moon came up. They talked and laughed. Three of them sat on the sand and the other two stood on the shore, holding their hooks under the water.

"I think I caught something!"

"Me too!"

They both grinned as their hooks hardened. From that moment on, they knew it was a big catch. Every Fisher wished for this feeling.

"I think we hooked the same fish," one on the right called out to the other. They called for help, and the others joined in.

They wondered why five men had to pull out only one fish. It was enough to send them off, but their greed would not let them think straight.

"Pull!" they all shouted at the same time as they strained and mustered the strength to pull out the so-called fish.

What they saw made their mouths drop open. What had latched onto their hooks was not a fish. It was a man. The man whose hands had held the hooks crawled to shore, and the fishers ran away without their belongings.

"Arvà begu kataf reg, dú yi ka, dú ka yi, eta re reva nu reva!"

[Not only today, but forever shall it be remembered].

A man who crawled to shore from the sea would have been wet. The water of the ocean would have dripped from his hair and he would have been pale, but none of these features were seen on him. Perhaps that was why the fishers ran away when they caught sight of him.

He looked like someone in his mid 30s. His hair was cut, brown, and looked as if it had been oiled, for it had a slight sheen to it.

He was completely out of clothes. He was tall, muscular, and had a stern expression on his face. Everything about him reminded of a normal man, only the bright blue flashes in his eyes suggested otherwise.

He knelt on one knee and recited a spell. His voice was audible, raspy, and it trembled as he spoke.

Bàsras dicai unt caros michahi,

As I stride to my course,

Dûr legàn airos dro ta kera catea posesus tahadi niko taro mé dugan,

May the air of this world not be poison to my lungs.

Dûr legàn trahe noka dicai clu'un abertá,

Let the earth on which I kneel feel my presence,

Dûr legàn retà cataga dicai kindrà hiqo mé sco'età,

Let the water from which I drink reflect my intention.

Dûr legàn erfé mri bantà agaron lito, 

Let the fire in my hand be a light,

Dûr legàn roú yitra gi hukè kera, daku watafi muzaka al weté mri K'huke kera,

May the four elements of this world abide with me during my days in this world.

He stood up and stretched his left arm out to the side. The wind was indeed with him as he forged a golden spear from the sand. The spear emerged from beneath the sand and clasped his left hand. And as the wind swirled around his naked body, it brought fabrics from different parts of the world to embrace him. He was clad in black leather pants and a robe with a hood covering his face.

He was barefoot, though he had been clothed by the wind, and so the sand on which he stood reached to his shins and became boots that covered his feet and revealed themselves to the eye as the fabric that clothed him. The sea was churned by the strong wind.

The blue light of his eyes shone even brighter under the hood than in the sun.

"What cannot be hidden will not remain forever in the dark!" He muttered, this time not in Kraì but in Earthín.

R I T O R À

The moon had proved its dominance over the sun by rising over the earth. People had gone into their houses and Castar was the only one walking around the village. Castar had been out all day with Garissa. He didn't want to go home. He knew his mother would ask him questions about his reaction to what she had told him about Era leaving.

Isher would have asked, even if Zyra had forgotten to ask, and he knew Isher would not stop trying until he got him to talk.

He did not want to talk about it. Maybe it was because he was not even sure why he reacted in that manner. He never thought he'd pass up a glass of Fatras.

The path he followed out of the forest led closer to the mountain, and he made it back to the house sooner than he thought. After climbing the terraces, he planned to sneak in through the window so he would not be seen by Isher or Zyra. So he went around the house. That was the reason he had stayed away so long. He had wanted to return when they had all gone to bed.

He heard Isher's voice behind him, even before he could put his hand on the window to push it.

"The door to the house is this way. If I did not know you so well, I would have attacked you with an axe because I thought you were a thief," Isher told him.

Castar froze for a moment. His plan had failed. He exhaled and turned to Isher.

Isher crossed his arms in front of his chest, spread his legs, and demanded an explanation. Not just an explanation for what happened in the dining room, but why Castar would have gone through the window into his room.

Castar sighed as he considered what to say. He stroked his forehead and Isher raised his brows. He knew what was going on. He knew his brother too well to know he was looking for some sort of excuse.

"I know what's going on in there!" said Isher, pointing his finger at Castar's head.

"You are looking for a perfect lie. Perhaps something that will prevent me from getting the answers to the questions that deny me peace," added Isher.

"Look, I would have gone in through the door, but I did not want to wake you," Castar told him.

Isher's expression was of strong disbelief. But it was the truth. Maybe Castar did not want to wake him, but for another reason, and not because he did not want to disturb his sleep. That was what Isher thought.

"Why did you leave the table?" asked Isher. His chin had tightened.

Castar shook his head and chuckled. He wondered why it was so important to Isher. Isher had tightened his right fist.

"Do you even know what she passed through to make you that wine?" Isher said. Castar wondered what brought the wine into the situation. He wasn't sure what was going on anymore.

"Just leave me alone, Isher. It's none of your business. Mother didn't complain," Castar whispered to him.

"You are right! It's none of my business, but Mother was worried about you, you were so reckless!" Isher yelled at him.

He looked his brother in the eye and could not tell what really made him act the way he did. Was it because he had spent the whole day outside and left them worrying, or something else?

"I'll apologise to her tomorrow. I know she's already asleep," Castar said.

"You think an apology will undo everything?" asked Isher. His expression betrayed an extraordinary bitterness.

"That's for her to decide," Castar replied.

"There is a saying... Taste the stain of a red wine, and you know that its redness does not make it blood," Isher said. His voice was low and his eyes looked Castar straight in the eye, as if they held all the secrets in the world.

"What are you talking about?" asked Castar. His brows drew together, for what Isher said would not leave his mind.

Isher ignored him. His countenance expressed regret. He wished he could swallow his words. He wanted it to be over, but Castar wanted him to keep talking.

Isher turned to go back into the house, but before he could take a step forward, Castar's hand encircled his arm.

"Isher, please tell me what you meant by that," Castar said, and instead of getting an answer, he got punched in the face. His blood splattered onto his own cheek as he was forced to move backwards by the force of the blow. He spat it out and moved forward again.

"There are so many things you do not know!" cried Isher.

"You know nothing!" he added, lowering his voice.

Isher's heart raced. His voice and grim expression made Castar's eyebrows draw together. He still wanted to know what Isher meant by what he said, even as he tended to his jaw, which was nearly broken by isher's fist.

"Mother has never shown me even half the love she has shown you, and it breaks my heart to see you do not even deserve that," Isher said. It was as if he was on the verge of tears.

"Isher, I am sorry. I just..." Castar only said before he was hit for the second time.

"I do not want you in the house. You wanted to get out of our way... I am going to help you do that. You are lucky the moon is still smiling at you, you do not even deserve its light," Isher told Castar.

Castar's heart was far more broken than his face. He had never heard such harsh words from his brother. He knew they were worried about him, but he never thought it would come to this.

Isher tried to walk inside and when Castar followed him, he grabbed the axe that was on the ground and threatened to hit him.

"Do not do that!" said Isher. That was a warning. Castar knew his brother too well. He knew Isher would not be afraid to use the axe in his hand.