"And no man is an island, of this I know..."


ii.

"Focus, Talia! Learn control,"

Our father barked over my sister, Talia's, head. She pulled a face and flourished her wrist to parry a heavy blow from her adversary. I watched carefully and saw her growing more and more impatient with the delicate footwork and precision that was warranted from such battle. I was shaken from my thoughts by a thud as Talia fell back on her bottom with a grunt, her wooden stick slid away from her noisily. Father stood over her, looking down on her with his hands behind his back; his robe was tied loosely about his lean tummy.

With a cock of one of his bushy eyebrows he sighed as she scowled up at him impudently; we both knew what he'd say;

"You must learn control. Don't grow impatient; you must flow, like a snake you must slither out of the way. When you become irritated you're judgement becomes overruled by your emotion. Keep it in check."

He ended flatly and turned away. Talia got up roundly annoyed and watched as our father held out her stick to her and nodded, "Now. Try again."

"But Father!" She complained and he shook his head, slightly waving the stick.

"You will learn this, Talia. Here." He ruled sternly, offering her the stick.

I smothered a giggle as Talia snatched her weapon from his hand and threw me a murderous look which told me to keep my laughing mouth shut. Father, seeing this, smirked too. At first I thought he was joining in with me and my grin widened in my confidence while he slipped round the room quietly to stand behind me and rest an affectionate hand on my head,

"I wouldn't cluck if I were you, Algol." He counselled good-naturedly, "You too will be learning this soon."

I frowned up at him and he was smiling down on me, his expression amused at my confusion. "What, did you think Talia was the only one who'd need to train?" He asked with a chuckle and I nodded,

"No, you will learn too, in time. Now, watch Talia. Learn from her." He said sagely and his eyes looked past me to Talia and he nodded, "Now, you; again. This time try and curb your frustration. Take a breath, and let go."


Walking back to my room, my shoulder brushed Talia's arm. She was rolling her wrist and grimacing,

"What's the matter?" I asked her in Arabic and she looked at me. Her keen blue eyes narrow, "My wrist. I must have hurt it during training." She replied in her heavily accented English. I frowned uncomprehending.

Her own brow knitted together as she explained the language swap, "Algo, Father says we have to learn our languages. So you had better start practicing."

"I know," I said. "I'm just not very good at it. It doesn't stick up here." I lamented and pointed to my head. At that my sister giggled and ran on ahead. "Don't worry; you'll soon pick it up. Father says English is one of the easiest languages to grasp. Much easier than Arabic anyway." She assured me in our native language.

I smiled, "I hope you're right...Tal, where are you going?"

She turned back; her dark hair had grown out now. It was down past her shoulders, unkempt and untamed; just like her nature. Seeing her bright face, I knew where she was going now; out into the cold courtyard to see him. I sighed and jogged up alongside her and said earnestly, "Father says you were to go back to your room after training tonight, he said-"

"Oh, shush." She silenced me with a grin, "D'you always do what you're told?"

Yes. Yes I did. Especially if it was our father who was doing the telling. "Talia," I began frankly making her look at me. "Father says you weren't to speak to him so much...He's worried for you."

"Bane was there for me more than Father ever was." Talia snapped nastily and rounded on me,

"And I don't know why you're so keen to do what he says. He's not your real father."

That silenced me. Looking away from her, I could see from the corner of my eye her sulky expression; she was sorry for what she'd said, but I knew my sister's pride would never allow her to apologise for that piece of spite. I nodded, "I know it." I responded through cold lips and fell back allowing her to continue on her way, leaving me behind. Watching her go, I sighed and turned my attention to one of the grand windows that looked out at the mountains.

We were in Nepal for a spell; Father said we were to be here for some time. I liked it here, it was crisp and refreshing and so different from the Middle East where I was born. Where all the bad memories were. I was warm wrapped up in my robe, I caressed the fabric that draped over my thin arms; it was so fine, so different from the rough material I had worn beneath the ground. I shook my head and put it from my mind; I never think of it, I never even spoke of it. Talia had tried again and again to speak to me of our ordeal but I always pretended that I didn't remember anything. Father thought that was good, he thought me blessed, but I did remember.

I do remember.

My eyes climbed the lonely mountains, I ached to explore them but Father had ruled that Talia and I were not to leave the confines of the great house; more a temple than a house actually. A very beautiful old monk's temple. The monks still floated around the place, the peace of their order seemed to descend around us, it was a comfort to me and I often enjoyed the meditation tasks our father set myself and Talia. She was too restless for that though, she fidgeted and complained that she wanted to go outside and run around. How aimless I thought, why would you run around in a circle just for the sake of it? Talia always shrugged and said 'because' because? Really? What was the point? I'd press and she'd laugh out loud and say I was too serious.

I probably was. For a child of eight I was quite serious for my age. Talia, all grown up; a child of ten was learning the pleasures of life; running around for no reason, gulping down her food as though it was the last she'd ever consume, laughing, playing and hopping around the place. Just watching her was exhausting...and endearing.

"Algol?" I heard my name and looked over my shoulder.

My father's outline was framed in the door of the training room me and Talia had just come from. I smiled weakly; seeing my expression, my father made his way over and leant up against the window frame and peered down at me as I resumed my vigil out of the window, so small in comparison to him – I barely came up to his hip.

"When will my training start?" I asked ponderously without looking at him. I heard his chuckle, "Eager? I thought you weren't keen for it." He said in English and I grimaced as I fumbled for the correct response, aware that his eyes were on me.

"I am like to start?" I looked up sheepishly and my father was smiling warmly at me, his arms folded over his chest. "You would like to start?" He queried with a small frown and I nodded, looking back out the window.

"I your daughter am. Have to be strong, right?"

He nodded slowly and leaned down to be eye level with me. I watched him as he also looked out of the window, the bright light making his eyes become electric blue;

"Have to be strong, yes." He looked at me, "You are already very strong, Algo."

I turned to eye him; he was looking out of the window and he gave me a sidelong look; "So you would like to begin your training like your sister?" I bobbed my head, "Yes...I want to be stronger."

"Why?" He frowned puzzled. "Why would you need more strength, sweetheart?"

"To be more like Talia..." I confessed in a small voice. It was no secret that Talia could pin me down and hold me there. As siblings we were partial to our squabbles. My father smiled at me as if I were very naive and said,

"To be more like Talia? Sweetheart, you don't need to be more like someone else. You're you and you're perfect. But if you want to begin your training then I will allow it." I beamed and grinned broadly. My father's face was a picture of sternness as he warned,

"But only if you understand the seriousness of your decision. I would rather you wait another year, but if you're certain that you want to begin then we shall. Do you understand, Algol? You can't just abandon your training because it's too hard. You have to be committed."

"I understand, Father." I vowed with a smile. Unable to resist, a smile broke out along his face too and he held me close, nuzzling my neck making me squeal. When he abated, a smile still played on his face while I hung from his arm. "Where is your sister anyway?" He asked me and I immediately sobered,

"I don't know." I lied quickly. Too quickly for him and he looked at me closer.

It was written all over my face, my father knew where Talia was and who she was with. I dislodged myself from his arm and lowered my gaze, unwilling to meet his accusing glare; he sighed heavily and said almost exasperated; "You girls..." I looked up and he was searching the floor, his face blank. As if he felt my eyes, he turned to me and waved a hand,

"Go to your room, Algo. I'll see you at dinner." He said before sweeping off, assuming I would go to my room.

I gazed after him as he went, his gait was rigid, his robes swished around his legs furiously as he strode away to find my sister.


There was a storm rung over my poor father's head that night. Talia, in her anger threw books at him, cursed him in broken English and in fluent Arabic. I sat mum and watched from the sidelines, my sister's ugly displeasure with our father.

"Talia!" He boomed, "You will control yourself-"

"No!" She countered, "You cannot tell me what to do! You barely know me! You were never there! Never!"

That was like a physical blow to Father and I watched his expression soften into one of utter sadness at what his daughter had just said. She knew she had him right where she wanted him; at her mercy, his affection was so great for her that I think she knew he would crumble. My father was a solid man; but his love for Talia often blinded him. She smirked knowingly and spat, "You left us in there to die."

She didn't mean me and her. She meant our mother and herself and I saw my father's face fold and age at least twenty years. His pain at her, my mother's, that is, loss was still very poignant.

"You have no knowledge of what you speak, girl." He growled in warning. I heard the warning chime in his tone; Talia did not and carried on regardless to the bear she was bating;

"You let her take your place. You let her be raped and killed! You are the reason she's dead and the reason I am the way I am. The reason Algol's the way she is!"

I wondered how long before I was dragged into her mess. I sighed and saw my father eye me; he wouldn't stoop so low as to say what was going through all of our minds; that he was in no way responsible for me. The man that was, was most likely dead of plague and my mother...well.

I looked away, not willing to meet his eyes as I silently gave my ascent for him to disown me before Talia to cool her rage.

"I am not the reason for Algol." He finally said with a sigh, his eyes closed momentarily, silently begging my forgiveness at his chilly dismissal of me. I forgave him utterly. Wholly.

"You're right though, I am however responsible for the spoilt nature you seem to have developed" He said with a dark glint in his usually bright eyes, moving closer to Talia, he bent down, their same eyes level and he rumbled,

"Well, no more, Talia, my daughter."

She stepped back, fearful of his power. As was I, but even I could see that Talia needed guidance; a hand to lead her through this fire that burned so hot in her soul, blinding her to reason and respect. "I will have to send you somewhere, somewhere to calm that spirit."

Talia gaped. Father's face was stoic, his ears un-hearing to her pleas when she spoke them; crying and wailing like some crazed thing. My father watched silently until she wailed herself into a screaming fit; red-faced, her voice hoarse. I watched and listened too, to my sister's unbridled fury until she slaked herself into slumber, tear marks still tracked her cheeks. It was a long moment before my father gathered her up and looked down on her peaceful sleeping face; he knew she needed this, she had to learn.

He peered back at me and nodded, very, very slightly and I nodded back at him; understanding completely. His eyes trailed away from me for a moment as though a thought was striking him, a thought which he did not wish to think but is realising that this is just the way things are. He said no more, nor looked back at me again as he left the room; Talia's sleeping form in his arms. He left me alone in his big study curled up on one of the big armchairs to fall asleep myself. Fatigued as I was from watching Talia's episode.


Drawing inspiration from my own father's misery and the many, many temper tantrums he had rung over his unfortunate head during my own adolescence I truly do apologise for those storms, ha, but...need's must, right? I love my dad, he's a sweetie.

=3