183) The Salvation of Eden, Chapter 18 -- The Seat of the Will

Kohra awoke to bright sky-light beaming in from the open flap, illuminating dust motes that swooped like fireflies. She remembered how much she loved, as a little kid, sitting in a dark closet or an old shed, watching the shiny specks dancing in shafts of soft light coming through a crack in the door.

         I hope we never get rid of dusty places. I think that’s maybe why I still believe in fairies. How could dust motes could be anything other than some form of sentience?

         I don’t know what beauty is for, but it must be for something.

         A muted voice, although not muted enough to hide the notes of frustration, washed in from the front. Dominic.

         “It’s ridiculous, warring between the Races. History is nothing but people who look a certain way or believe a certain thing, slaughtering some other people. And as often as not, a while later, the others go slaughter them right back. It’s just plain stupid.”

         “But….” Devona paused. Although she was sure she was right, was it worth all the work this was going to be? She sighed. “But people do have to defend themselves, Dom. And besides, your framing is entirely wrong. It’s not about Race; it’s about resources. Almost all of the violence in history has been because there simply aren’t enough resources to go around.”

         “No! THAT’S the wrong framing!” Dominic shot right back. “We’ve all been fed these lies for so long that we believe they are true. Eden is not scarce in resources. It’s abundant! There are no shortages of riches, food, precious minerals, land — whatever we have EVER gone to war over, actually exists in ABUNDANCE!”

         “That’s just not tr—” Devona began but he interrupted her.

         “Yes it is true, Dev! You name me one war, EVER, fought over resources, and I guarantee you that if we took a look at the larger world, at the estates of the wealthy for one,” (at this Devona’s eyes visibly narrowed), “those resources are practically endless. They’re just hoarded.” 

         He paused, letting his point sink in. Then, his voice lower, he concluded with “Wars aren’t fought over scarce resources, Dev. They’re fought over greed and hate. That’s it.”

         She was silent. Uncharacteristically silent.

         Dom took advantage of the moment to keep going, his hopeful self re-emerging as it always did. This was Dom shifting into his “no doors” mode. “Just imagine — imagine how different our histories would be if, instead of fighting each other, we helped each other. We literally shared resources across communities, across kingdoms.  Would we even need kingdoms? What if people with abundance in something, simply SHARED it with the people scarce in that same thing. And they, in turn, would no doubt pay them back when they could and with whatever they could share in return.  This would work. I just know it. And instead of war, Eden would be paradise!”

         Devona replied coolly, “That’s the problem with you Anthorrians.”

         Kohra smirked, listening secretly. Isn’t Devona Anthorrian, too? Her family isn’t, but she was born and raised here, errr, there, just like the rest of us.

         “You think society can all live harmoniously, like one big happy family. You imagine that everybody will be satisfied living one sort of way, which is YOUR way. You expect that we should all share, but you never pause to think about whether we’ll all be happy doing things your way, adapting to your culture, eating your food, speaking your language. But, there ARE Races, and deep cultural differences between peoples! You have to acknowledge that!”

         Dominic raised his voice. “That’s not what I’m saying at all! You’re putting words in my mouth. Look, just because I think we should share has NOTHING TO DO with thinking that we should all be the same! You’re talking about, uh….” He faltered.

         “Cultural hegemony?” Lenny chimed in from somewhere.

         “Yeah! You have this crazy belief that people can’t simply coexist peacefully without always trying to impose themselves on each other! But that’s, that’s crazy, Dev!”

         “No, YOU have a crazy belief that people can sit around in the dirt sharing fruit with each other and singing songs while they hold hands. Reality just isn’t like that!”

         “Yeah, it’s not like that because of people like YOU!” Dom shouted.

         “There you go again, imposing your beliefs. What, are you just going to shout louder now?” Then, under her breath, “Typical Anthorrian.”

         “WHAT??!!??” Dom shouted even louder. “What do you mean ‘typical Anthorrian?’ YOU are the one always saying that you can’t judge individuals based on their group. Until YOU turn around and judge MY group!”

         There was a momentary pause, then Devona stated flatly. “I know how this goes, Dominic. You argue these beautiful values of tolerance and sharing and all that, but it’s only because you, and your group, are at the top of the heap. Your people have all the resources, all the power, hold all the reins of government. And from this position of incredible privilege, you argue for ‘sharing’? Give me a break. And in a minute, you’re going to accuse me of being ‘emotional’, and tell me you’re just trying to have a rational discussion.” Devona looked smug, like she knew she had won this argument.

         But Dominic simply did not see things the same way. And he didn’t understand why all this Race stuff was so important to her. She clearly was trying to make some larger point, and he’d seen her do this before. Devona, being of the Tendairn Riders by blood (even though she was raised in a wealthier family than any of the rest of them), felt that she, more than they, was one of the underclass, and if you challenged her it was because you simply “didn’t get it.”

         He tried again. “All I’m saying is that if we stopped wasting all our resources destroying everything through war, and focused on making life better, this could be paradise. That’s it. It’s as simple as that. All that’s holding us back is selfishness and distrust.”

         He turned to Lenny, who was sitting cross-legged on Beacon’s broad back, staring at a candle she nestled between her legs. “Don’t you see what I’m trying to say?”

         Lenny nodded. “War is a huge waste. Cooperation is self-evidently the better way.”

         Dominic nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly!”  And besides, the whole idea of Race doesn’t even make sense.”
         “What?!!?” Devona retorted incredulously. “Just look at a Klliik and an Elf! You’re going to tell me Lenny and Gorb are ‘the same’? Give me a break.”

         “But we don’t even know what Races are!” he protested. “Don’t some say that we were originally One People? Maybe the whole idea of Races is wrong to begin with.”

         Lenny sat, still staring at the candle, which she was now lighting and extinguishing with, it seemed, the power of her mind. Light. Extinguish. Light. Extinguish. She tapped her foot to the rhythm, then looked up, still tapping, the candle still lighting and extinguishing. “Lenny is fire.”

         Gorb, sitting impassively through the argument while he guided Beacon along, noticed Kohra’s head poking out of the flap, and passed her his mug, reaching back to pat her on the shoulder. She took a swig and felt the warmth seep into her bones. Oh yeah, that’s the stuff.
         “KOHRA!” Dominic shouted, his anger at Dev carrying over. “Are you drinking? In the MORNING? And YOU!!” He pointed at Gorb, who looked shocked, feigning innocence. “What are you doing giving a sixteen-year-old girl your…whatever it is that you’re drinking all the time!??” He grabbed the mug and sniffed at it, thrusting it violently away from his nose. “Accch! Smells like piss!”

         “Language…” Lenny admonished in mock dismay, but under her breath. Her eyes slid over, catching Kohra’s. They both grinned, covering their mouths with their hands.

         “What happened to you?” Lenny inquired matter-of-fact. Kohra’s hand was a little less swollen but still many shades of purple, running halfway up her forearm.

         “What the Hells!!??” Dominic shouted even louder than before, getting right in Gorb’s face. “What did you DO to her??” Kohra had never seen him so angry. It was kind of touching, actually.

         Gorb stood tall on the platform to meet Dominic eye-to-eye (or rather, eye-to-chest). “Who arrre ye t’question d’will o’ d’Light?!”

         “The Light!! Pahh!” Dom spat onto the ground, uncowed by Gorb’s whole “LightSinger” act. He looked like he wanted to punch the old Klliik right in the nose. “That’s a LOAD, Gorb. What did you do to her?”

         “Dominic—” Kohra tried to interject, but he ignored her.

          “C’mon Gorb, what did you do? Or maybe you were drunk? Do you even remember?”

         “Dominic, back off,” Kohra warned.

         “Kohra, I’m not going t—” he began.
         “BACK OFF!” she yelled, angry, angrier than she could ever remember being in her life. She was pulsing with energy, so much power, like she could DESTROY—

         Then something snapped inside. It felt like heartbreak. So much sadness, so much sorrow, so much anger between these people she loved.

         She was unraveling.

         What is happening to me?

         All of this went through her mind in a flash and she Shaped, without thinking, twisting the Flux that flowed through Dominic. No fire this time. Instead, she somehow…flew…directly into his mind. She could feel him. She WAS him. His anger first — hot, righteous. Then, more subtly, his self-consciousness, his uncertainty and self-doubt. Then, his very Will. It happened so fast, so intuitively, she didn’t even have time to be surprised or think about how weird it was. She just WAS Dominic. “Go to sleep,” she whispered into his mind.

         Dominic promptly climbed through the flap, lay down on the grain sacks and without another word, fell asleep.

         Her mind flew back to her own “self.” She realized Gorb was holding her body up, grasping her under each armpit. Her legs were limp. She straightened them, and he let go. She collapsed immediately, legs buckling like she had lost the ability to flex her own muscles.

         Gorb tried to help further but she waved him off. “It’s okay; I’ll just sit here for a minute and catch my breath. What, what happened?”
         “Ye Shaped.” Gorb’s voice sounded different, no longer the reassuring wise elder he had been last night.

         “But you said….”
         “I didna’ t’ink t’was possible so soon.” He nudged her playfully on the shoulder, although it seemed contrived, a transparent attempt to cheer her up. “Just be ‘appy ye took overrr ‘is mind instead o’ lightin’ ‘im on fire!”

         “That’s not funny!”

         ”Sorrrry,” Gorb grumbled. “But yes, Kohrrra, we kinna wait. D’Light’s rrrisin’ in ye quickly. Today, ye learn contrrrol. I’ll ‘elp ye.” He looked up at the sky for a moment. “If ’tis d’will o’ d’Light.”

         Lenny and Devona watched silently, eyes wide, although Lenny was smirking, evidently finding humour in this that eluded her. Dev looked unreadable, with concern and hardness both in her gaze.

         Kohra closed her eyes. She was in no state to figure out the complexities of Dev right now.   

         Maybe I’m just jealous. Maybe Dev’s being genuine, and she really is just concerned. Or interested. In me? I don’t know. I can never tell. She makes me doubt myself. She always seems to know more, to know what to do, what to say. People notice her, whether she’s trying to attract attention or not. She—

         Devona interjected at that moment, in a singsong voice. “Hellooo? Can you let us in on this little secret, or whatever’s going on here? Lenny? Wouldn’t you like to know too?”

         Lenny shrugged. “Sure.”

         “Okay, let me explain,” Kohra began. “Oh wait, let’s wake up Dom first.” She reached over, shaking Dominic’s shoulder and gently calling him. “Dom! You fell asleep. Dom! Wake up, we need to talk.”

         Groggily, he sat up, rubbing his eyes. His eyes narrowed as he squinted at Kohr. “I have this feeling, like I’m angry, but I don’t know why.” He looked around at each of them, like he was hoping for some clues.

         Kohra cleared her throat. “Dom, let me explain, okay? Everybody, last night I, uh…okay, so me and Gorb were, um. It’s hard to explain.”

         “She Shaped,” Gorb stated.

         “Yeah! I Shaped. But not like anything I’ve done before. That was like, a teaspoonful compared to the, the river that, uh, happened last night. It was, it was crazy.”

         Dominic glanced suspiciously at Gorb, who was beaming at Kohra with pride.

Kohra put her right hand on Dom’s arm, displaying her scars, still raw and inflamed. He winced, jaw clenching.

         “Gorb saved my life last night, Dom. Actually saved my life. You would have woken up to a pile of ashes once known as Kohra if he hadn’t helped me. So, please. It wasn’t his fault; it really wasn’t. I learned things last night. So much, about myself, about the Flux. I can’t tell you it all, certainly not right now, just like you can’t tell me how to shoot a bow like you do.”

         “Yeah, but you FIRST learn not to shoot your bloody eye out!” Dominic growled.

         “D’way d’Light flows t’rrrough a person, ‘tis a livin’ t’ing, Dominic. ’Tis like ‘avin’ a wee bairn and ye dinna ken what dat bairn’s gon’ t’ be. Ye ‘ave t’ git t’know it, ‘ave a rrrrelationship.”

         Dominic glowered. But he said nothing, so the old Klliik continued. “Dis was Kohrrra’s way o’ comin’ into a rrrelationship wit’ d’Light. I dinna understand, son, any better’n ye. But ye can’t contrrrol when it ‘appens. So, ’tis best t’ be kind. ’Tis a difficult t’ing t’ go t’rrrough.”

         At that, Kohra stood, clambered up to Gorb’s seat, and leaned against him, her legs shaking. “I didn’t know you understood. I never know…that I’m just enough. But I touched it, or it touched me. I don’t know what “It” is. I just know….”  Her eyes widened and she looked straight into Dominic’s.

         “It’s about beauty, Dom. I feel like I saw a glimpse of what’s possible.”
         She wasn’t making any sense to him at all. Her eyes were so wide, so clear, green, with brown flecks, like the freckles on her nose. He reached forward to hold her hand, gingerly. She winced.

         “I know.” She nodded. “Not very beautiful eh? I don’t know, Dom. Maybe you have to pay a price, and this is mine. I guess I don’t care, really. I know what I felt last night, what happened to me, and someday I’ll try to put it all into words. But I can’t right now. It’s too much. I’m way too…I feel raw, Dom. I need you to just understand that. Please?”

         “Of course,” he soothed. He sounded odd, half like he was showing her how much he cared about her, and half like he had changed in how he saw her, that everything was going to be different now. Or was that just her own insecurity?

         “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

         Gorb cleared his throat. “Kohrrra, today we prrractice! An’ ye won’ ‘ave accidents like dis again. Dom, can ye take de rrrreins?”

         Dominic slid into the driver’s seat. Beacon seemed to pretty much know where she was going anyway.

* * * * *

         They practiced all day, as the wagon jolted along the rough roadway. Gorb kept the lessons simple, although Kohra kept trying to hurry them into DOING something specific, like lighting a candle, or entering someone’s mind. She still thought of the Flux as kind of like “magic,” like it was a power you could learn to tap into and “cast spells.” So he worked with her on sharpening her awareness, controlling her breathing, stabilizing her concentration. He knew that the Flux wasn’t some external power you could learn to control. In truth, the Flux was…it was Who You Really Are. The important work was not about understanding, controlling, or anything like that. It was about Being.

         Late in the evening, far out in the field, away from the prying eyes of the caravan, Kohra and Gorb sat across from each other, cross-legged in the scrub grass. This seemed very easy for Gorb, like Klliiks’ bodies were designed for sitting.

         Maybe he uses his beard for balance.

         She wondered if Dom was right. Is the whole concept of “Race” just a big misunderstanding? Surely that’s impossible.

         “Kohrrra?”

         Her eyes snapped open. “Sorry. Mind wandering.”
         He smiled. “’appens.”

         He led her, again, through some simple meditation exercises to calm and focus the mind. They talked about emotions, and explored exactly where, in Kohra’s own body, she felt different emotions. Eventually, they ended up at the emotions of Shame and Anger. Kohra had her eyes closed, feeling “inward,” trying to capture in words her subtle, visceral feelings. This was more difficult. Shame and anger seemed to be where Kohra felt particularly vulnerable.

         “What do dey feel like?” Gorb asked, once she was sure she could attune to them.

         “They’re very different!” Kohra felt totally certain about that. Although upon a moment’s reflection, she realized she wasn’t sure at all. “But, they’re kind of the same too. They have…similarities?”

         “How’re dey sim’lar?” Gorb asked.

         She thought hard, scrunching her face in concentration. “There’s a…hate in each of them. The desire to destroy, to do violence. When I feel shame, it’s like…like I hate myself. Like I’m terrible. Like I shouldn’t exist.” She stopped, her body sinking.

         “An’ anger?” he prodded.

         She looked up. “Right. Okay.” She took a deep breath. “Anger, well….” She smiled, bending her fingers into pretend-claws. “RRRRRAAAAAAHHHH!” She laughed.

         “’Tis good,” Gorb assured her. “Now, how’re dey diff’rrrent?”

         “Oh, they’re different in so many ways!” she replied immediately. “Shame is like, blaahhhhhhh, but anger is like, RRRRRAAAAAAHHH!” She laughed again. “I think the biggest difference is shame is kind of, pointed inward, at, well, at me. And anger is pointed outward, at the other person.”

         “’Tis good.” He nodded slowly. “Can ye be angrrrry t’wards yerself?”

         “Uh…yes? Yes! Of course!”

         “Is dis sim’lar or diff’rrrent frrrom shame?”

         Long pause.

         “I think I’m done for tonight, Gorb.” She looked down. “Sorry. I’m just…tired.”

         “Yerrr close, lass. So, no. Just a wee bit longer. Tell me, is dis self-anger sim’lar to, orrr diff’rrrent frrrom shame?”

         “Gorb, c’mon—”

         “Tell me!”

         She closed her eyes. “Different?”        

         “’Ow?” he pressed, poking her in the ribs with his finger. “Don’t t’ink! Just tell me!”

         “OW!! What the—”

         He poked her again, hard.

         “OWWWW!!” she yelled. “Gorb!! Stop th—”

         “Anger!” he bellowed, then slapped her right across the face.

         She blinked, cheek stinging, then promptly rose to her knees, fist raised to slug him. The old LightSinger caught her wrist easily in his much-stronger grip, and forced her, applying only as much pressure as he needed to neutralize her own struggles, to sit down.

         He whispered, “Can ye feel ‘ow weak ye are?”

         Tears filled her eyes. He let go and she wrapped her arms around herself protectively. “Rot in the Hells.”

         He nodded, bowing his head like he was in prayer. When he looked up, tears were freely flowing down her cheeks, but she was glaring at him with rage.

         But he knew this wasn’t enough. She didn’t understand yet. She wasn’t going to change; she was just going to think a little bit more about what he had told her, and then she would be exactly the same as she was before.

         He prayed silently for guidance, believing with all his heart that the Light would illuminate the right path.

         “Kohrrra—” he began, but her voice cut him off like a boot kicking an icicle.

         “Do not speak to me.”

         He hesitated, uncertain. He knew what he was called to do, but he didn’t want to. It didn’t feel right. But…follow d’Light.

         “No.” He leaned in close, then closer, completely invading her personal space.

         Her body coiled back as her hands clenched into fists. “What is WRONG with you?!!”

         “No!” he repeated.

         “Go AWAY!” she yelled.

         “MAKE ME!” he yelled right back.

         Then he spit. Right in her face.

         Her eyes widened. Chest froze.

         She looked at the ground, fists still clenched, knees quivering.

         “Focus, Kohrrra.”

         “Don’t. Speak. To me.”

         Memories tumbled past. Warm spit — laughter — singsong voices — “diseeeease, diseeeease.” She would cry, begging them to stop. But they didn’t. They never stopped.

         The scream didn’t come from “Kohra.” It came through her. Gorb raised his shield just in time, but was still blasted into the air like he had been kicked by a horse. Sprawled on his back, shield in front, he squinted up as Kohra sank to her knees. She was staring at her hands, jaw clenched. .

         “Kohrrra, ’tis overrr,” he whispered.

         Her eyes flitted from her hands to stare at him, wide-eyed like she had never seen a person before. “Yeah.” Her voice was flat. She stood up stiffly, and walked away, arms crossed, hands on her elbows.

         Gorb knelt in the dirt, looking after her. “I ‘ave t’ follow d’Light. I ‘AVE to, Kohrrra. I’m sorrrry!”

         She kept walking, back to the wagon.

         Gorb slumped foward, forehead in the dirt, chesting shaking as he sobbed. It WAS the way of his Order. It wasn’t “nice,” but neither were one’s enemies, whether outer or inner.

         He watched her silhouette disappear as she climbed in with the others. This was why he’d never taken students. It’s why he ended up leaving. He wasn’t supposed to be attached. Hardening steel takes a lot of hammering. Hadn’t he always said the Order was wrong? But here he was, following the Teachings, when it came right down to life-and-death.

         “Ye’ll ne’errr explode yerself now,” he whispered into the night. “Follow d’light.”