Illumination

One expects heavy rains in the spring, not the summer, the tall mystic decided from his seat by an open window. The sheets of water gliding off the tavern awning made an impressive cascade. Tir'shan shivered slightly under his blue linen robe. A unseasonably cool breeze had arisen which prompted the lynx bartender to stoke the fire in the hearth.

The white tiger left several coins on the round table to pay for the mug of hot cider he had quaffed. A pleasant fuzziness behind his sky blue eyes suggested that the alcoholic content of the drink had been higher than he had anticipated. Outside, under the protection of the awning, Tir'shan stretched. I am not on duty today, so a little blunting of my senses can only help my mood. He filled his lungs deeply. If he could just settle the anxiety that had plagued him since dawn, the day might not be wasted.

Although close to noon, the wet streets were deserted. It appeared that the whole city had taken the day to relax, not work. He looked across the lane to the dwelling of the Li'am'ra. His anxiety flared. No matter the urging of Cori, or the recently departed Sarad, he had avoided the snow leopard priest. He wanted no further surprises for awhile, just the blessings of routine and boredom.

Footsteps kicked up water. Few people in the city possessed a parasol oiled to keep out the rain. Ryndi stopped before him in a shocking state of casual dress, the hem of his linen trousers darkened by water and mud.

The Li'am'ra offered the mystic the additional parasol he carried. He narrowed his grey-green eyes in consternation. "Come for tea! It is time you came out of the rain, Ri'sar'ri!"

"An offer of hospitality should be made in a more cheerful manner, Ryn."

The snow leopard looked down on the cobblestones. When he returned the mystic's gaze, tears had filmed his eyes. "I have need of your wisdom, compassion and forgiveness, Tir'shan. Please, come for tea."

Sarad and Cori had suggested that the priest carried a burden that he should investigate. That it certainly involved him had fueled his reluctance to move forward on the matter. Maybe it was Ryndi's plain clothing, or perhaps the dreariness of the day. The o'lathi shifted annoyingly from male to female in his perception, but the hurt on his face was fixed.

The suffering of others.... Tir'shan did not complete the thought. The Mystics' Oath allowed no room for personal comfort. The white tiger accepted the parasol, then gestured for Ryndi to lead the way back to the temple of V'sri'sar.

*****

A small crystal orb floated gently above a square of red silk set upon a marble table. Its black surface appeared to be dotted with starlight which lent it a silvery radiance.

"What wonder is this?" Tir'shan asked, intrigued. He shifted from his perch on the edge of Ryndi's bed. For a fleeting moment, he thought he saw movement within the orb.

Sitting on a teak campaign chair, Ryndi took a sip of tea from a porcelain cup brought from shores far to the east of Lion-o's City. A red dragon coiled about the vessel, its head barely visible through the Li'am'ra's slender grey-white fingers. "Do you recall the crystal horse?" he asked, setting his cup down on the table.

"Yes." The mystic looked to a high shelf. "But I see it is missing from your collection. Did you lose it?"

Ryndi pointed to the orb. "See what it has become."

Tir'shan frowned. "I do not understand."

"I wish I had never taken you to listen to the tiger drums."

The mystic made a sweeping gesture with his left arm. "What does my dance have to do with this? Out of concern for me, Sarad and Cori suggested that you could enlighten me. So, for the love of all Thundera, just tell me what you know!" the mystic snapped, his patience finally worn too thin.

Ryndi's face became a canvass painted with many emotions. "The day you danced, you were possessed," he said softly.

Tir'shan gave a low growl.

"You know."

"I suspected."

"It was--"

"Sartren, my father," Tir'shan answered.

Ryndi's eyes widened in amazement. "He told me your connection when I confronted him. I found it difficult to believe. To hear you say it so bluntly...."

The mystic raised a dark brown eyebrow in vexation.

Ryndi shrugged in defeat. "When I held you, my spirit was drawn to another place. There, I saw that your spirit was bound. Sartren desired your life." The priest looked to the mural of flowers and vines decorating the ceiling of his bed chamber. "All I could think of to save you against such unrepentant evil was to call upon my gift." His gaze drifted back to the orb. "I had the little crystal horse in my pouch that day because I could not reach the shelf. By the use of my power, that malevolent soul became trapped in it, something I had not intended."

"Your power is never predictable,"Tir'shan said, his voice softening with sympathy.

"Such is the nature of love," Ryndi responded with a shake of his black spotted mane. "I had caused it to happen, but I had no idea what to do. So I did the only thing I could do: I prayed."

Judging from the snow leopard's frown, he suspected that the answer Ryndi had received had troubled him.

Ryndi studied his hands. "I gave the Li'am'ra's Light to the crystal. The shadow within seemed to suffer under my touch. How could I be comfortable with that."

"But you did it anyway because that is what divine guidance offered."

"The crystal retained the shape of a horse, and the shadow seemed to lighten over time. But two nights ago, my room sounded as if it had been invaded by a thousand bees. I had kept the horse in a silver box. The box exploded, and this orb emerged, for what reason, I cannot comprehend!"

Tir'shan stood, then approached the orb. "You wish to be rid of it and what it contains."

Jumping up, Ryndi blocked his path. "Yes, but not by your intercession. It poses too much danger for you."

"You trusted to V'sri'sar," Tir'shan replied. He smiled warmly at his trembling friend. He put his hands on the priest's shoulders. "You forget sometimes that as a mystic of the violet ray, I myself am a priest."

"But, Tir'shan--"

"Now I must trust in Mrísena's will."

"No!" Ryndi shouted too late. Surprise colored his eyes before he lost consciousness, and slumped against the mystic's tall body.

Tir'shan lifted up his friend, then laid him gently upon his bed. He despised exploiting the pressure points that had rendered Ryndi helpless, but it was the only way to finish the matter on his own.

An image of his daughter flitted across his mind. "Mrísena protect Ameera; Mrísena protect me,"Tir'shan prayed as he grabbed the orb.

*****

Tir'shan found himself in the desert under a black sky pulsing with stars. Am I still in Ryndi's room? Has only my mind travelled to this place, he wondered? A hot wind blew, kicking up the sand. The mystic shielded his eyes. It is real enough in any case, he decided.

The wind lessened. There was nothing to limit the endless horizon except for a naked form that suddenly lay upon the sands. The being moaned deliriously, hands grasping the air as if repelling an attacker.

The mystic whispered. A ball of light appeared over his left hand. Tir'shan raced toward the stricken figure whose blood darkened the sand. As he approached, an invisible wall of force threw him onto his back.

Tir'shan righted himself. He crawled slowly forward, the ball of light floating over his head, a radiant sentinel. The stricken male was clearly of the race of northern tigers, and barely past the age of awakening. Multiple wounds sliced his red fur. Empty eye sockets stared skyward.

"In Mrísena's name, what has happened here," the mystic intoned as he called forth his healing power. He sent violet light toward the tiger, but all it did was illuminate the force field that surrounded the victim. Tir'shan sat back on his legs, perplexed.

The youngster let out a cry, then stilled. He faded into nothingness. In a breath, another figure replaced the one that had found release. Breathing deeply, Sartren, King of the North, stood before him.

Fury augmented by the suffering he had witnessed propelled Tir'shan toward his sire. The force field threw him back once more. The mystic leapt to his feet and roared in frustration and rage.

"Be not like me," Sartren said in a voice as deep as the plunging mountain rivers of Thundera.

"What gives you the right to advise me!" Tir'shan howled.

"You are my son."

"Born of anguish and rape!"

"And I will endure it in turn in this place beyond time."

Sorrowful words. Under the dim light of the sphere, Tir'shan studied his father. Anger and judgement had clouded his vision. Sartren had changed from the demon that had appeared to him in dreams. His naked body no longer bore battle scars; his teeth were not filed to points in the custom of his clan. But it was in his long amber eyes that he marked not only regret, but sanity.

"What does all this mean?" Tir'shan asked.

"Redemption and rebirth."

The air hummed sharply. Sartren reached out toward his son, but disappeared. A young tigress materialized in his place, her brown eyes brimming with terror. Crying, she vaulted toward the mystic. An unseen ax cut her in half. Fountains made of her blood sprayed the sands. Her broken body fell without a sound, then vanished.

Sartren reappeared, and gasped, "You see now how it is, mystic." The King of the North dropped to his knees, and clawed the sand like a wounded beast.

To ease the suffering of others, I have always devoted myself, Tir'shan thought finally understanding. He does not deserve mercy for all the atrocities he had committed, but Mrísena does not condemn. She heals the good, the evil, and all who are in between.

Tir'shan raised his hands. The barren landscape swirled about him in a vortex of sand, night and stars.

A ray of sunshine unexpectedly crossed the bedchamber of the Li'am'ra, signaling the end of the summer storm. The crystal sphere was warm in Tir'shan's hand. The contained world remained unchanged.

.

*****

Tir'shan sat before the granite statue of Mrísena. During his time of prayer, the crystal sphere that floated above Her head had not changed in appearance. The cold stone floor of his healing chamber had finally stiffened his muscles. Tir'shan uncrossed his legs, and rose with a grunt. Judgement has been rendered, he decided. Mrísena might offer healing, but the universe demands justice, Tir'shan thought sadly. My father must endure all that he has inflicted on others during his life before he can be completely purified, and be allowed to cross into the Silence, he decided.

With a respectful bow to the Goddess of Healing, he retrieved the orb, then wrapped it in its square of red silk. He opened the chest that rested in his healing chamber. He slipped the orb into a wooden box, and returned it to the chest. The crystal with his father's soul would be safe there. Ryndi had agreed with his plan, although still rankled by his earlier subterfuge. All that remained now was to inform Te'sara and Sri'rin of everything that had occurred, and his actions. "But first I need a moment in the garden to comfort my heart," he murmured.

He quietly crossed through the mystics' compound. The few people he met he gave a smile and slight nod that belied the turmoil that still gripped him.

He made his way into the heart of the labyrinthine garden. The damp grass cooled his sandaled feet. The bright sunlight lifted his mood. When he reached the smallest garden, he found it occupied.

Cori waved in greeting, then indicated the bench by the stone pool. The silver trim on her green caftan sparkled cheerily.

Tir'shan sighed. Clearly there was no polite way to decline the invitation of the plump white tigress.

As he sat down, she gave his thigh a gentle pat, but said nothing.

For a span of time he sat in silence with Cori, and watched the sinuous movement of the fish in the pool. The tension drained from his body with the simple exercise until a pleasant drowsiness settled upon him. His empty stomach unexpectedly rumbled loud enough to make Cori laugh, and broke the summery spell.

"Time for an early dinner, I think," she remarked.

"Agreed," Tir'shan said with a chuckle.

As they made their way toward the garden gate, Cori slipped her hand into his. A gentle frisson of mystic power passed between them in friendship, but it had taken on some new nuances. It had an odd quality as if an essential ingredient had been added to a soup that had been lacking.

"What is your pleasure?" Tir'shan asked, still savoring the delicate touch.

"Can you go into the city for a meal? I have the night duty at the annex."

He had to inform the council of the days events; he needed to free his daughter from Shaktar'ri's indulgent care.

The mystic shook his head. "I am sorry, Cori. I must fetch Ameera before Sri'rin and Shaktar'ri decide to keep her," he said, leaving the other obligation out of the conversation. "I have imposed upon them too much in recent days."

"They love her, as we all do, but soon another will secure their attention."

"Have they conceived with a female?" he asked with surprise, knowing that the mystic couple desired a cub of their own to raise.

"They have not, although they still wish to do so, despite being o'ril. One day that duty will fall to Shaktar'ri, who has intimately known both sexes."

"Then who brings new life to the temple of Mrísena?"

The female mystic halted, and stared at the giant. He saw the answer to his question in her cobalt eyes, and his heart broke.

"Please tell me I am wrong, by Mrísena's holy name!"

Cori sighed. "As unexpected a pregnancy as many that has occurred in the city since we arrived on this world. I believe the gods wish us to be...fruitful."

The goodness of the late afternoon drifted away as the day with twilight. "We are both ri'sar'ri. The cub must carry the potential to be ri'sar'ri. A pregnancy such as this has a great chance of being fatal to you if it reaches term! How can you--"

She stopped the words before he could give them voice. "I will never return this gift!" Cori snarled, then stormed from the garden.

The white tigress left him alone with thoughts that a mystic should not entertain. "Mrísena protect her. I cannot," he said, praying that the Goddess herself would reclaim what they had created.

He stood unhappily alone for some time. As the shadows of the day lengthened, other sounds drifted over the tall hedges. A tenor voice rose and fell in song. Tir'shan found himself humming the simple melody, a favorite of his daughter's. The silly tune was about the playful antics of a mischievous cub. "Shaktar'ri, you know my daughter too well. That is her favorite song," he noted.

Ameera's laughter reached his ears. Whatever trials stood before him could wait. Beyond the garden was the peace the presence of his daughter offered. With a smile he could not contain, Tir'shan walked in the direction of the one being who loved him unconditionally.