Richard Tuttle - Island of Darkness

“Then how will you return to Fakara?” inquired the mage.

“I will walk if I have to,” frowned Mistake.

“Well, you certainly appear to be determined to leave,” sighed Temiker, “but are you sure that your reasons are sound?”

“She feels nothing for me,” pouted Mistake. “I have spent my entire life looking for her, and she couldn’t care less. I feel like such a fool. I just want to run away and hide.”

“I think I can understand your feelings,” sympathized the mage.

“No, you can’t,” retorted Mistake. “You have no idea how terrible this whole thing makes me feel.”

“Do not believe that you are the only person to have a conflict within your family,” countered Temiker. “I have seen enough such woe in my lifetime. My own brother did not talk to me for a decade.”

“What did you do to him?” asked Mistake.

“Nothing,” sighed Temiker. “The whole argument was based upon a misunderstanding. Malafar believed that I was responsible for his son’s death. He shut his mind to any other explanation and shunned me from his family. I was not allowed to speak to his wife, or my nephew and niece. It broke my heart.”

“Did he eventually learn that he was wrong?” asked Mistake.

“Yes, he did,” frowned Temiker, “but he learned too late. His wife, Rhodella, and his son, Alfred, had already died before he realized the error of his ways. Lyra left him to become the Star of Sakova. Even though I am sure that he still loves me, he could not face me after all of that. He finally just left and ran away.”

“And you think that is what I am doing?” asked Mistake. “You think I am judging MistyTrail too harshly and ruining things by running away?”

“I think you would be very wise to dally here for a spell and think about things,” nodded Temiker. “I know MistyTrail. She is a sweet young woman who likes nearly everyone.”

“Oh I think she likes me,” admitted Mistake, “but it is not the same as being sisters. She considers the Sakovans to be her family.”

“And why shouldn’t she?” asked Temiker. “The Sakovans are the only family she has ever known. They rescued her and gave her shelter. They raised her and accepted her as one of their own. How can you expect her to just turn off those feelings?”

“I don’t,” frowned Mistake, “but shouldn’t she feel something special towards me now that she knows I am her sister?”

“Mistake,” Temiker smiled fatherly as he put his arm around the Fakaran, “you have lived your entire life knowing that you had a family somewhere. You have doggedly pursued finding them with the thought of being reunited. In your mind you have built this wonderful paradise called family, and you have finally stepped into reality. To MistyTrail, this must be quite a shock. I am sure that she gave up hope of having a real family years ago. You have to give her more than a couple of days to adjust to this.”

“I don’t see how her attitude will change any,” pouted Mistake. “Sure it is a surprise, but shouldn’t she at least be excited about it?”

“Perhaps,” shrugged the mage. “Maybe someone should have told her that you were coming before you got to the Sakova. It would have given her time to think about it while you traveled.”

“Well that didn’t happen,” scowled Mistake. “We certainly can’t go back and change that now, can we?”

“No you can’t,” agreed Temiker. “Nor will you be able in the future to go back and change the actions that you are taking today. You have spent years searching for MistyTrail. Are you willing to burn your relationship after only a few days? There is a real question that you have to answer before you run any further. After the years have passed you by, will you look back at this moment as the greatest mistake of your life? Will you kick yourself for walking out on your sister because she was confused?”

Mistake sat silently for several minutes as Temiker’s words sank in. Finally, she began to cry. Temiker tried to comfort her, but she pushed him away. He walked to the fire and poured a fresh cup of tea for her. He walked back and handed it to her. She nodded silently and took a sip.

“You are a wise man, Temiker,” Mistake sniffed. “Perhaps I came on too strong and too quick for MistyTrail. I will return with the wagons to StarCity.”

“I have a better idea,” offered the mage. “Another caravan will be coming to Alamar. Spend some time here and think about things. Let MistyTrail do the same. After a week’s time, you can go back and see how things stand. I truly believe she just needs a little time to dwell upon what having a sister means in her life. I am sure that everything will work out just fine.”

“Then that is what I will do,” nodded Mistake. “I really do not want to leave her.”

Marak and Ukaro traveled well past the Golden Gates and the Sacred Lake on an old mountain trail. The trail climbed steadily and eventually the trees fell away below them. Marak began to shiver as he saw last season’s snow still lying in the dark crevices of the mountains. When Ukaro turned into a narrow canyon, Marak felt a numbing cold blow over his body. His teeth chattered and he wrapped his arms about himself in an effort to retain his body’s warmth. The narrow canyon broadened suddenly and Marak stared at the old building in the center of the valley. An ancient temple, much like the one in Angragar, but much smaller, sat in solitude.

The jaguar that Marak was riding suddenly stiffened. Marak calmly ran his hand over the large cat’s shoulder.

“Changragar,” Ukaro announced.

“The cats are fearful of this place,” Marak stated. “Why?”

“Changragar is a place of power,” replied Ukaro. “You are in the presence of Kaltara. Can you not feel it?”

Marak frowned before saying, “All I can feel right now is the need for a good blanket. It is freezing here.”

“It is cold,” shrugged Ukaro as he halted his tiger in front of the temple. “You will get used to it.”

Marak looked at his father as he slid off the jaguar. The Chula was practically naked with only a breechcloth to cover him. His whiskers had a tinge of frost, and his mane was stiff. Marak shook his head and followed Ukaro up the small flight of stairs to the doorway of the ancient temple. There was no door to open; its wood had decayed a thousand years ago.

As Marak entered the temple, he stopped and gazed about the foyer. There were several discarded torches on the floor near the doorway. Ukaro stooped and lit two of them. He handed one to Marak, who held it high above his head as he surveyed the interior of the building.

“It has not weathered the years as well as Angragar,” he said softly.

“It has not been magically preserved as the old Qubari city has been,” replied Ukaro. “You will find no hellsouls here.”

“What will I find here?” asked Marak. “Why have you brought me here?”

“This is Changragar,” shrugged the Chula shaman. “This is where the Torak will be born.”

“I thought I was the Torak,” frowned Marak. “Is that not what the Chula have been calling me?”

“It is,” nodded Ukaro, “but we are only human. We recognize you as the Torak because all of the signs point to the truth of it. Still, only Kaltara can anoint you. That is why you are here.”

“Do you expect me to believe that god lives here?” questioned Marak. “This rundown temple is hardly a fitting mansion for Kaltara.”

“Were it a slave shack,” frowned Ukaro, “it would be holy to the Chula. You need to have more respect for Kaltara.”

“I am sorry, Father,” apologized Marak. “I do have a hard time understanding this god of yours. Why am I supposed to be the Torak? Why not a believing Chula?”