I have, out of necessity, had to make the short novel, a long short story. Life has grabbed me by the hair and is currently dragging me every which way, whether I want to go or not. Most of the time, I want to. So I'm enjoying every single moment instead of fighting it, and this has left me limited time to focus on writing or posting blogs or pretty much keeping up with the internet/laptop/notebook in general. That being said; here is the 'complete' long, short story: Finding the Spirit's Soul.
“Ili! Hurry!” A girl’s young voice echoed through the vaulting halls of the passage, bouncing off the cool marble and rebounding back towards its owner as an identical voice answered.
“You know I can’t run as fast as you, Ari. Wait for me!”
“Hurry!” A frantic hand gesture urged Iliana on as Arianna paused halfway down the corridor to wait, hopping impatiently from one foot to another. Panting as she reached her, Iliana rested a hand against a pillar, glaring at Arianna.
“What’s the big deal? Why are you in such a rush, Ari?” Twin sets of blue eyes met as Arianna leaned forward to whisper something that caused Iliana’s eyes to widen with surprise and then dawning delight.
“Well why didn’t you just say so? Come on!” Grabbing her sister’s hand, Iliana led the way down the passage, dragging her giggling twin after her.
***
A rising crescendo of drums began to build, the sound of marching feet creating a quick counterpoint to them as a yell came from a tower high above.
“The king approaches! Open the gates!” The call echoed from one tower to the next, making its way down to the gate-keepers who made haste to push the carved oak doors wide, allowing access to the main courtyard.
From within a shaded archway, two pairs of eager eyes scanned the gathering crowd of servants and nobles who waited to welcome their monarch home. As the first footmen of the retinue entered, the girls rose on tiptoe trying to see past the adults.
A large bearded man entered next, his bright blue eyes hidden by a frown, one hand resting on the hilt of the jewelled dagger at his side, the other gesticulating widely as he spoke to the smaller man accompanying him.
As voices swelled in welcome and the noise of the drums faded a high-pitched shriek echoed, heads turning in surprise as the girls emerged from their hiding place, racing to be the first to reach the man.
“Daddy!” Dodging between legs, Iliana threw herself into the arms of the laughing king. Arianna held back her eyes fixed on the man next to him; blue irises darkening as her pupils dilated and she began to tremble. Her father; finished greeting his other daughter turned to her, concern creasing his brow, the question on his lips freezing as the younger twin went pale, her knees giving way beneath her as she crumpled to the ground.
***
The soft murmur of voices filled a room that was otherwise occupied by an expectant hush. Purple hangings were pulled back from a wide bed, the small, still form of a child just visible within its depths.
To one side, Iliana stood with her father, her tiny hand clasped gently in his as they anxiously watched the áswín –healer – bathing Arianna’s forehead with a soft cloth. Turning from the bed, the áswín nodded to his assistants, passing one the cloth and lightly touching the other on the shoulder before he walked around the bed towards the king and princess.
“My lord, it seems the princess Arianna has suffered no ill effects from her fainting episode; however, it is most important that she be sent to the Crystal Palace as soon as she is recovered. She has need of guidance and training that her current teachers are unable to provide.” The man spoke quietly, his gaze filled with a kindness that all of his kin possessed as he told another father that he would have to give up his child’s safety and care to strangers.
“No! You can’t! Daddy, you can’t let them take Ari! Please don’t let them take her!” Clutching her father’s hand in both of hers, Iliana stared up at the king, her crystalline eyes filled with tears as she pleaded with him.
Crouching, the king placed both hands gently on his eldest’s shoulders, meeting her drenched gaze with a solemn one of his own.
“Iliana, if there were another way to keep your sister safe, to keep her home with us, you know that I would take that path in a heartbeat. We have no choice ki-lán. Your sister needs to be taught to control herself and no one here can do that.” As Iliana began to sob, he gathered her into his arms, smoothing her bronze curls with a hand that trembled slightly before he released her, turning back to the áswín. Nodding once, he took Iliana’s hand as he led her from the room. “It is done.”
Chapter 2
The two day trek to the Crystal Palace was neither arduous nor difficult, but for the young princess, who had never in her six years of life been beyond the royal gardens, it was the hardest journey she’d ever had to make. The narrow footpaths which traversed the island were made by people who travelled in single file on foot, only the roads in the capital and the harbour towns were designed for transportation by horse or cart. The people of Kirian had a strange relationship with animals, at least, strange to those outsiders who traded with the Island kingdom.
When Arianna was four, a merchant came to trade, riding a horse. She had been standing in a shaded archway, watching with fascination as merchants and diplomats made their way into the palace; some on business, others simply curious about the royal household. When they opened the gates to admit him, she stopped to get a look at the most recent visitor to her home and instead met the weary gaze of his mare. Horrified, she started screaming, running to the horse and beating the merchant's foot with a tiny fist, tears streaming down her face. As embarrassed servants raced to take her away and calm her, all that could be seen was the merchant's blood-red face as her shrill words echoed in the courtyard.
"He beats her!"
Hours later, after Iliana had given up trying to cheer her up and she lay exhausted on her bed, an occasional tear still slipping from closed eyes, her father entered the room, seating himself next to her, a gentle hand resting on her shoulder as he spoke.
"Arianna, I understand your need to protect the horse. I appreciate that need and admire it in my daughter. But there is another need, one that as a princess, you are required to learn early on in life. That is the need for diplomacy. As a future leader of this kingdom, it is up to you to think before you act, listen before you speak and look before you see. Do you understand?"
Opening her eyes, the princess nodded and the king smiled. "Good. I have issued an apology to the Lord Naro on your behalf. I trust that for the remainder of his stay you will behave with the decorum the people expect from a princess?” Lowering her gaze Arianna nodded again, tears threatening to spill from her eyes once more. Hiding a wider grin, her father spoke again.
“I thought that it would interest you to hear that I have bought the mare from the merchant and she will be released into the pasture with the other horses until she chooses her rider. Is that acceptable to you?"
As she looked up in surprise, all tears forgotten the king winked at her and with a delighted laugh Arianna leapt into her father's arms, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.
"Thank you Daddy!"
Now, as they walked the footpath to the northernmost point of Kirian, she wished desperately that a horse would choose her. Her feet ached more than she thought possible, and even though one of the footmen had offered to carry her on his back; she had politely refused, thinking back to the conversation she'd had with her father and that as a princess it was her duty to set the example.
Her father, walking behind her, was grim-faced and quiet though his heart burned with pride in his youngest daughter. She was; even at such a tender age, such a kind-hearted and responsible child, though she had moments where she dragged her sister into so much mischief that he was hard-pressed to remember that even as princesses they were still children.
On the second day, as dusk neared and the cloudless sky turned a soft pink, they crested a rise and before them stood their destination. The Crystal Palace had been named for the room which crowned the tower at the very centre of the seven half-circles which made up the rest of the building. Made from clear crystals which had been mined from the warrens of natural caverns beneath them, the room was the final training place for the students sent to the palace. The rest of the building appeared deceptively simple, made from solid granite which had been smoothed and polished until it shone silvery grey. The circles were cut in half by the edge of the cliff it was built on; the view from the rear of the palace looking out over endless blue oceans; waterfalls from hidden springs within the caves bursting from the rocks and misting the air before plunging hundreds of feet to join the waters below.
The Seven Senses of the palace were named such because within the halls of each half-circle, the seven senses of the students were trained, starting in the outermost circle with Smell and progressing inwards through Touch, Sight, Sound, Taste, Psyche and finally Spirit. For the student who reached Spirit and progressed to the Crystal Room, unimaginable power awaited.
For Arianna; as she followed the path across a wide stretch of yellow grass interspersed with large rocks towards the palace, the only thing her tired body registered was that within those walls would be a bath, a warm bed and hopefully food that didn’t include the dried cakes that were standard trail fare.
Chapter Three
As the sun began to sink below the horizon, the group of ten; eight footmen, the king and his daughter were admitted to the palace through large stone doors that swung silently shut behind them. There were no windows on the exterior wall of the building, but as Arianna looked around the room they waited in, lit by torches and innumerable candles, she noticed that sheer silver curtains decorated the far wall, occasionally fluttering in a gentle breeze. The soft glow of firelight showed a richly furnished room. In the centre, a low table was laden with fresh fruits and warm breads, scattered cushions providing the seating. Tapestries hung from the walls, illuminated by the torches which sat in sconces that seemed to be made from the same granite as the walls themselves. She had expected the rooms to be cold, the stone trapping the heat without warming anything, but as the footmen made themselves comfortable around the table she realized that vents in the high ceiling were blowing gentle gusts of warm air, keeping the room at a comfortable temperature.
As they waited, the footmen ate, one of them offering a perfectly ripe plum to the princess which she refused with a shake of her head. Her stomach was tied in knots and she couldn’t bear the thought of eating anything, not even her favourite fruit.
A door along one of the side walls opened and a man entered, making his way to the king and introducing himself as Sórun, the high priest of the palace. He was a thin, tall man, who looked as silvery grey as the building he ran. His skin was like old grey parchment, always dry and full of wrinkles and he looked to be at least 300 years old. He had washed out grey eyes, and the little bit of hair he had was as silvery grey as the robes he wore. As Arianna stared at him, she fought the urge to run and hide. When he looked at her, she felt that he saw all her secrets and thought she was wicked and deserved to be punished. She did not speak to him at all, and he didn't try to speak to her.
Instead, he spoke to her father, while she sat quietly and listened as they discussed her future at the Palace, how often she’d be allowed to return home, and whether they could, in fact, help her at all. Sórun was certain they could, and so, after settling some more details, he gestured for a novice, dressed in the yellow robes of Smell, to show the princess to her room where she’d be left alone to say her farewells to her father.
Following the novice through the stone corridors with her father next to her, Arianna tried to pretend an interest in the stammered history of the building that their guide gave. Yet the tales of how the Palace had been built to represent the development of the seven senses, and the trials that each was put through in order to advance to having all in perfect harmony once reaching Spirit, could not compete with the thought that in a few short minutes, her father would be leaving her in this strange place. Tears filled her eyes and she swallowed hard, deliberately placing more distance between herself and the king. He made no comment as he watched his daughter move closer to the wall away from him, but King Silaren fought the pain in his chest as he realized that his actions were the cause of the distance between him and the daughter who most reminded him of his wife.
Though Iliana and Arianna were identical in every physical way, their personalities could not have been more different. Iliana was quiet and gentle, always ready with a kind word or a happy smile; whereas Arianna was watchful and alert, keenly intelligent and equally mischievous for it. The king often said that his graying hair was more because of her antics than any trouble the foreigners ever gave him.
Her strong will and independence reminded him every day of her mother, Queen Alanna. The queen had died shortly after their birth, a long labour and severe bleeding had overcome her, though she had lived just long enough to name them and whisper her love to her husband.
As the girls had grown, the king had made a concerted effort to stay at home, leaving only for short trips that were unavoidable. Though Iliana was the oldest and therefore heir to the throne, she showed little interest in being a princess and even less in the idea of becoming queen. It was Arianna who watched with interest as her father played host to a never-ending stream of dignitaries and traders, people who were interested in acquiring the skills and technologies that were unique to the peaceful kingdom.
It was also Arianna who sought out the king when the day was over, who climbed into his lap at the dinner table and made him tell her stories of her mother and the way they met; or what it was like to go to sea on one of the large merchant ships with their billowing sails. While Iliana could calm a room with her songs, Arianna could speak to the soul of any person she encountered.
This, the king reminded himself now as he readied himself to say goodbye, was why she was at the Crystal Palace. Because if his youngest did not soon learn to control the Sense she had been born with, it would soon control – and possibly destroy – not only her, but anyone she used it on.
Chapter Four
The room the novice guided Arianna and her father to, was as richly furnished as the reception hall Sórun had met them in. The boy, who she now noticed was only a few years older than her, stuttered a nervous farewell and left.
Arianna watched as her father circled the room once; running a hand over the surface of the desk, sniffing the delicately scented pale yellow rose which rested in a simple wooden vase on the maple wood end table; twitching aside the lemon-yellow curtains to reveal the closed shutters before circling back to stand behind the chair that was the only seating in the room.
She did not move from the doorway, though her body longed to lower itself to the narrow bed in the corner; not as luxurious as her bed at home, but the many-hued yellow quilt covering it looked warm and comfortable and her exhaustion would have made a stone floor seem cosy.
Silaren cleared his throat, his gaze fixed on the buttercup yellow rug on the floor. His daughter watched him as abruptly the pain of it swept through her, making her tremble. She fought the urge to scream at him, at the unfairness of it all, to scream that it wasn’t her fault and ask how he could send her away, and how Ili wasn’t even interested in being a princess but no one sent her away and she hated them all for doing this to her, but she especially hated Ili because she’d get to have their father with her and how could he just leave her! A sob caught in her throat and Silaren looked up meeting her gaze with a pain-filled one of his own.
Arianna crossed the room at a run, flinging herself into his arms, her tears soaking his shoulder as she cried herself dry, not even noticing when he moved to sit on the bed, cradling her on his lap. She sat still for a few minutes after her tears had dried, breathing in the scent of her father; how he always seemed to smell like he’d spent a day in the forest, the subtle aroma of rain-wet wood coating his skin, the security she felt wrapped in his strong arms. Remembering how he could make her giggle just by pulling a face and how his voice would fill with warmth when he told her stories of her mother. Remembering how much he loved her and gathering the strength she needed to say goodbye.
She pulled away slightly, cupping his face in her two small hands, feeling the stubble of his unshaved beard as she looked deep into his eyes, so like her own. When she spoke, her voice echoed with the maturity of a grown woman.
“Daddy, I want you to tell Ili not to be sad. That I won’t be gone forever and that she needs to practice her words so that she can write to me every day. Tell Raney that I’m going to miss her cooking and her mint tea and I’m sorry for when I tried to free the hens and they wouldn’t lay eggs for a week afterwards and you were so cross. And, Daddy…” her voice caught on more tears. “I don’t want you to be sad. It’s not your fault. I love you.”
Silaren gathered her up for a bear hug, and she felt his tears seeping through the material of her shirt as he whispered in her ear, “I am so very proud of you, ki-lán. I always have been. I love you.”
As he tore himself away and left the room, Arianna curled into a ball on the bed, closing her eyes against the terrible knowledge she carried within. The knowledge her Sense gave her. The knowledge that these last few days with her father had been the last she’d ever have with him.
Chapter Five
When Arianna woke the next morning sunlight was pouring through the open shutters, adding to the feeling of being surrounded by liquid gold in the room. She blinked as she noticed someone sitting in the chair by the desk, his gaze fixed on the view through the windows.
Sensing her gaze he turned his head and she fought the urge to gasp as she saw the long scar running from his left temple, down his cheek, and stopping just short of his jaw. It was still raw, newly healed and a startling red against his pale skin, contrasting sharply with bright green eyes that reminded her of an old feral cat that had often slunk into the kitchen at home to look for scraps.
Clutching the quilt, she sat up on the bed, watching him as warily as he watched her.
“Who are you? And why are you in my room?” Her young voice echoed with a regal command and for a moment the corner of his mouth twitched as though he was trying to stop a smile from spreading.
“I’m Daréis. Sórun asked me to wait for you to wake and then show you around the first Ring.”
“Oh.” A small frown creased her brow. “What ring?” Daréis coughed, swallowing a laugh at her innocent question.
“The half circles that make up the Palace. They’re called Rings. Each Ring has its own colour associated with the Sense that is trained within it. I’m to show you around the Yellow Ring.” He winked at her and touched his nose with a fingertip, causing her eyes to widen with alarm. “Don’t worry. I don’t bite.”
Her eyes flicked to the scar and his smile faded as he traced the line with the same fingertip he’d used to tap his nose. Eyes dark with memories, he stood abruptly.
“I’ll wait outside for you to get dressed. There are some novice robes in the chest. Don’t be long.” As he finished speaking, he closed the door behind him, leaving Arianna staring dazedly at the carved kist sitting on the floor at the foot of her bed.
***
Daréis closed the door behind him and sighed. At fifteen, he often felt older and the child within the room made him feel ancient. Closing his eyes, he leaned his forehead against the polished wood of the door, breathing deeply as his teachers had shown him, focusing on the scents which comforted him. The subtle scent of lavender, the spice of cloves, the citrus of oranges; all of which reminded him of happier times, before the accident.
The door opened abruptly, and he stumbled forward, cursing silently as he had to grab Arianna’s shoulders to stop his fall, making her squeak with surprise, though she didn’t dodge away as he’d expected. Instead, her hands lifted as though to catch him, her huge blue eyes staring into his with surprise and something else. He frowned. Was that sympathy?
He stepped back, clearing his throat. The last thing he wanted was pity from a tiny slip of a princess.
“Sorry, I was, uh…” he tapered off as the sight of her drowning in yellow robes miles too big for her suddenly registered.
She shrugged as she noticed him staring, lifting hands that were hidden in swathes of material.
“I suppose they were expecting someone older. These were the only robes I could stand in without tripping over, and I think they were designed for a Poían. The sleeves are twice as long as the length.”
“A Poían?” his eyebrow rose in question as he started rifling through his own yellow robes, obviously looking for something in hidden pockets. Her head tilted as she regarded him curiously.
“You know, the animals that look like humans but with longer arms and more hair. They’re very cute.”
“Oh, you mean monkeys!” he laughed triumphantly, holding aloft a spool of yellow thread and a large needle. “Found it.”
“You’re not Kirian!” Arianna stared, watching him as though she expected him to grow a horn and once more Daréis found himself trying to stifle a laugh.
“No, I’m not Kirian. Now hold still.” Stepping forward with the threaded needle, he lifted her arms in front of her, folding the sleeves back to a comfortable length, pulling a pair of scissors from another pocket and trimming the excess before he began to stitch a new hem, wielding the needle with practiced skill. Noticing her curious gaze he allowed himself a smile.
“I used to be a tailor’s apprentice. Before I came here.” As she nodded, finally returning his smile with a small one of her own, the sound of a throat being cleared came from the doorway.
“Sórun!” Guiltily, Daréis glanced through the windows, noticing how much time had passed since Arianna had first awoken.
“Daréis, I need to speak with the girl. I will send for you when I’m done.” Sórun turned, gesturing behind him and Daréis hastened to leave the room, throwing Arianna a last cocky wink before Sórun closed it solidly after him and turned to gaze solemnly at the child.
Chapter Six
Sórun stared at the child before him, his heart and mind in turmoil for the first time in seventy years. She looked such a delicate thing, hair the colour of golden straw curled softly about her elfin face, framing softly flushed cheeks and long-lashed eyes that currently watched him with a wisdom belied by her young age.
Burdened as he was by the knowledge of her gift, Sórun felt all of his 120 years as though it was a physical weight on his shoulders. Sighing, he shifted his gaze, gazing at the pale yellow rose where it rested in its vase. Though comparisons of the rose and the child stirred in his mind, he dismissed them, refusing to contemplate such meaningless prose when so much was at stake.
So lost was he in thought that when a small hand slipped into his, he started in surprise. Looking down, he saw Arianna standing next to him, watching him with a small smile that seemed to hint at a forbidden shared secret.
“Come sit down, lárén.” Tugging gently, she urged him onto the chair, waiting until he was seated before she lowered herself cross-legged to the floor in front of him. Observing each other, he felt trapped in her gaze, unable to turn away as he watched her pupils dilate and swirl, her sight turning inward as she began to speak.
“I see patterns, of life and death. Decisions made, choices cast, paths taken. I see what was, what is, and what can be. I see the riddles and the answers and I see the paths that lead from each. I am the Oracle you’ve been waiting for, the Briách-Líjish, and with your teaching, I will take your place. I see your fears, the burdens you have carried for long and lonely years. You were the first, but you are not the last, and your burden has been the heaviest. Now is the time for you to rest, to teach, to allow another to take the weight from you. We are stronger in Spirit than we are in body, and youth is a mask for what lies within. Teach me, I will learn.”
As she stopped speaking, a peal of bells sounded from outside, signaling the end of a teaching period and waking Sórun from his awed reverie. Lighter now than he had been since his path had begun unfolding years before, he reached for Arianna, taking her hands and pulling her into a warm embrace. Holding her close he whispered softly into her ear; “Kirian ki siur jish karán. Myré ashi.”
You are Spirit’s soul. Welcome home.
A lot of people have always considered Friday the 13th to be unlucky. The reasons for this are many and varied, and the origins of the superstition are unknown, though there is much speculation. 
Dragonfly had to dress up for work today (she has an awesome job); so she dug out an old pattern, bought some material and set to work sewing her dress. I offered to do her hair, which she (perhaps unwisely), agreed to, giving me permission to do what I wanted with it. 