Tempest Rages:First Sightings:Part II - Trena

"It is only in sorrow bad weather masters us; in joy we face the storm and defy it." - Amelia Barr
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Across the plains of Coulo came a storm born of heavenly strife.  It seemed to come from the north, from the mountain border, but no one there had seen it.  It did not start small and grow, it did not sweep down from the summits.  It simply existed now where it had not before.  It was ineluctable, like fate.  It was destiny, prophecy, and doom.

Somewhere, We turned to face that unvoiced cry that tore at our souls, even if We could not see it.  In Couloton, Keraida saw what I could not.  She would ride soon.  The pull was within me to go out and meet her on those distant plains.  I held it in, and kept my pace as I strolled the streets.

<i>Sister mine, be wary on your journey.  You are the Forerunner, and I will be the last on your quest.  Now is the time to prepare.  And soon We will be whole again, together once more.  I know you are not thinking of me right now though.  Even though you are far beyond my sensing, I know your thoughts are with him.</i>  

I did not envy her her love, although I envied the emotion.  I had never been in love before, and she was so far away, by necessity's mandate, that I could not share the sensation.  She was my twin, my othersoul, so far away.  I ached to be near her again, I wanted desperately to see the others.  We had been friends, hadn't We?  We had been brought together for other reasons, by the twists and demands of the gods we had raised, but We had been friends from the outset.  It wasn't all prophetic business that bound Us together.

I focused my thoughts as if the vehemence of my wish could reach my friends.  <i>Velan, Berrett, Myre - I miss you all.  Keraida, I miss you most of all.  Stay safe and come to me, all of you.  Together, We will calm the gods themselves and disperse their fury.</i>

More than anything, I hated waiting.  Waiting, waiting, always waiting.  I was in a city of artisans and craftsmen, lazy and overstuffed with decadence.  I had spent the last several years studying and writing and discouraging drunks from getting too close to me.  I had no course before me except to bide my time, so I did what I wanted with it.  I had enjoyed the years, but they were still years alone, without my friends.  Soon We would be whole.

Still, preparations had to be made, and most were already in place.  I really had had nothing better to do.  And even now, it was still too early.  So what had I to do?  

A light rain dropped upon us.  The sun still shone, and little rainbows flickered along the flagstones.  Children ran past me, laughing.  Kit and I recognized each other and he waved at me.  I smiled and waved quickly as he bolted to catch up with his friends.  They ignored the cries of their mothers to get inside, made full use of their fathers' pardons to "let kids be kids."  Fine ladies hustled off the streets, protected by their gentlemen friends.  The occasional old man took refuge under an awning, content merely to watch the rain fall.

This was how storms should be.  I stood out in the raindrops and watched the life slowly melt away indoors.  Families sheltering each other, safe and dry and loving.  Children enjoying simple pleasures.  

Keraida had often accused me of being an optimist, which wasn't a charge I could deny except to ask why she made it sound like a crime.  She was more battle-ready than I could ever hope to be, despite Our training.  But We did not fight for land, for imaginary markers on a map.  We fought not for money.  We would fight for peace, for life.  I simply could not imagine fighting for something that was unknown to Us.  So I had always sought out peace, tried to live my life and find happiness.  That was my motivation.  That was what would send me out to face down the gods and quell the more unnatural storm that threatened our very existence.

Keraida looked at Our destiny another way: if We were meant to fight, then that was the sum total of Our meaning, Our purpose in life.  Once the fighting was over, We would have no more reason to exist.  This had scared me for so long.  If she still thought this way, I would have dreaded knowing that storm was out there.  

But Velan had changed that, thank the most merciful gods.  Velan was a reason to carry on afterwards for my sister.  Still, a lifetime's viewpoint was never easily changed.  She existed for battle now and when it was over, then she could live.  I wasn't sure how well that would work, but I knew that between Velan and myself, we could help her figure it out.  She was bright enough, after all, even if a tad on the gloomy, melodramatic side.

She took after Father.  He had always been serious, but then, he was where we got it from.  Mom was nicer, softer, rounder, always warm and smelling of fresh baked goods.  It was if she was made to be a mom.  I always considered the concept of "mom" to be different from the concept of "mother".  Any woman visited by man could be a mother, but it took a special spark to be a mom.  The same could be said of men and fatherhood, and we had always most definitely had a Father, and not a Dad.  But Keraida had never minded.  She idolized our father, took his every word as scripture.  

In training, he was hard on both of us, and it was Mom who came to our rescue with cool drinks and wholesome snacks.  But while I ran to enjoy the break from our strenuous workouts, Keraida refused any such motherly ministrations.  She stayed and worked harder.  She'd collapsed once even.  And in a rare show of power, Mom had ordered Father to take it easier on us - and he had.  But Keraida had never taken it easier on herself within her own mind.  She was convinced that otherwise, she'd never be able to complete her destiny.  She'd never save humanity from the darkness that would swallow its souls.  Even as a child, her thoughts were dark, calm, and, as she aged, increasingly deadly.

Even I recognized that a darker side existed.  I wasn't so joybrained that I couldn't realize that all light casts a shadow.  After all, if it didn't, We wouldn't be necessary.  The thought of war and battle and blood and possibly death tainted my dreams sometimes, legacy of Father's bedtime stories and daytime warnings.  But then I remembered the sunshine, the children, the soft breeze on warm days, the sound of birdsong.  I remembered my sister, our Mom, Us.  These were well worth dying for.  And if I was going to die in Our task, I would not let it be said that I had not lived first!  Let Keraida be the dramatic heroine of blood and victory; I was content to simply live and pursue such fleeting moments of happiness as came close enough for me to catch hold.

I knew I might die.  She might die.  Any and all of Us could die.  We could be defeated.  It had happened before, once, long ago.  Humanity had nearly been destroyed; the fact that anyone had any sort of powers at all, outside of Us, was proof of the fighting spirit inherent of our species.  It was this fact that gave me hope.  Even should We lose, humankind had come back from the brink before.  We adapted and changed and grew stronger.  Should We fail, there would be dark times, and there would be death.  But from death, came rebirth.

Even the brief rain was stopping now, and the sun shone brighter than ever.  After every storm, there came the sun.  It was the old optimist motto, but it was repeated into cliche-dom because it was true.  I basked in re-emerging warmth and that brisk, after-rain smell that swirled around me.  Perfect time for some warm bread, fresh butter, and a cup of tea in that cafe up the street with the cute waiters.