Chapter 6 – The Memories of Rain
(Thanks to Robinwyn for her review who offered ever so kindly to edit my work for me. I really appreciate the offer, but even if you did have time, I'm afraid I would have to decline, as I like to edit my own work. Even if it is published with a few mistakes, I find I learn more when I do my own personal corrections. I truly do appreciate your offer, I know how kind your intentions are, and I know I have a weird way to show appreciation, but I do appreciate it. Here's the next chapter, written primarily during History Class... Sorry if things are getting a little confusing, bare with me, I want your criticism, it makes me happy :D Please tell me what you like or dislike (and if it's me that's okay too...) Now, time for my Fic. Enjoy.)
Unwanted tears began to stream from his eyes. Taking a seat on a rock, Liam just let it all stream out. He was a failure. He knew it now more than he ever had. He was a child, only four, and he had somehow unknowingly, in four years, failed.
"One day you'll have to leave us Liam. Maybe you will become one of those mages, that would make us proud, but if not, do not fret, you will find other ways to be great."
I may become great, Liam thought glumly, wiping tears from beneath his eyes, but I will never be who you wished. I failed my history, and no one can ever comfort me. Looking around he realized that he had been so enthralled in his story that he hadn't noticed the cramps form in his stomach. The same cramps that made him double over clutching his abdomen.
He was deep in the forest now. As the pain subsided he started to notice his surroundings more and more. The soil beneath his feet was moist, and there were fallen pine needles scattering the ground. There was a smell in the air, one Liam at first could not identify, though he knew he should. Looking about he saw that the trees dripped water, and that the flowers glistened with droplets of water. Sniffing the air again, Liam recognized the smell now.
Rain. One of the scents Liam grew up with. Had he been gone that long? He knew it felt like ages, but really he had not been away from home for more than a week. The scents brought back memories which Liam could now suppress.
BOOM, cracked the sky. The children began to scatter, as if the ear splitting crack had been a war cry from the Kings Own. "Liam! Where are you? Hurry, the house!" came a voice from within a sheltered hut.
"Yes, mother," was the quick reply. A boy ran through the mud towards the shelter he knew as home. It wasn't a palace, not in the least. The walls were made of wood, and were caked together with mud. They had straw stuffed into places where the fit was less than even, and the roof itself was but four supporting beams, and straw caked with mud.
As the boy entered he noticed that the house was beginning to melt. Not like snow melts as spring begins to approach, but instead like a flame, engulfing a tree, only instead of an upward sweep of element, the mud began to seep down. Running to aid his mother the boy tried to move the dry food from beneath the shower of mud, and to move the scarce amounts of furniture that scattered the house to the center so they would not be damaged by the mud sliding down the walls.
It was just as the boy began to push his grandmother's old chair to the center, part of the roof decided to cave in. The boy felt a hand grasped his; warm, strong and reassuring he followed its lead. The boy stood outside in the rain, holding his mothers hand and watching his home cave in.
Abruptly there was a flash, and not even a second after a boom that made the ground shake. The boy grabbed his mother skirts and tried to hide himself inside of them. He felt himself lifted up, and swift paces carrying him to the village storage shelter. Climbing down the stone steps, he held tight to his mother's neck. It was only when she sat down that he loosened his grip. And only after many moments of soothing words, and her gentle hands against the wet hair at the back of his head, for him to release her neck and reach for her hand.
There were many people in the village storage shelter. It was a backup, for anyone whose home did not make it through the storm. These storms were quick and frequent, and though the boy was familiar with their presence, he was all the same frightened.
"Shh," said a soothing voice. "All is well, would a story make you feel better?" It was not the boy who replied
"Yes, please missus. Your words always make these storms pass all the quicker."
"Aye," joined another. "Tell the one of Rose Red and Rose White, for that ones is always makes my daughter smile."
"Alright, I will tell you the tale of the Sisters Rose and the Bear, but I will need much help. You know the tale, who would like to be to Bear?" she asked kindly, and while the boy loved the role of bear, today he felt that he would rather listen than tell.
"I will be the Bear." Said the baker.
"And Rose White? Who shall play the quite sister?"
"Oh, may I miss, I would love to be White." Said a woman the boy had seen a number of times at the butchers.
"Very well, Tyra, you may be Rose White. But what of Rose Red, the final character, the confident sister? Who shall play her?" the woman said.
"I myself am not one of confidence, but what better place than in a tale to play a woman of just that nature? I will be Rose Red, if it is suiting to the others." Remarked, a woman near the back of the shelter, the boy knew her to be serving woman, and wondered why she would be in need of this shelter.
"The let us being our tale, come, stand in the center, and act for us the tale." Watching calmly as the two women, walked to the center of the room, and as the man paced to the corner, the boy began to feel happy. He always loved hearing the tales his mother told, when others acted them, they became real, and instead of just being a story, they were given life.
"Rose Red and Rose White were sisters. Sisters of a loving kind. Never did they fight, never did they argue. The would tell each other that they would never need another, that everything that is and will ever be done, would be done together. They were complete, and in that wholeness they found happiness that few today know exist.
"Rose White was small and thin; her hair was like moonlight on still water, a smooth luring sand color, almost a silvery white. She looked fragile, and delicate beautiful but tender. Rose Red is both stronger and faster. Where Rose White is gentle, Rose Red is outgoing. Her hair is like a fire, a brilliant red that is so strong one would think they could string beads from it. Rose White is quite quiet, Rose Red speaks freely and fast. Rose Red's voice is powerful and commanding like s winter blizzard, or and erupting fire mountain, Rose White listens and smiles. When Rose Red speaks, it seems the world stops to listen. When Rose Red speaks, Rose White can feel her soul balance on the brink of complete understanding.
"Rose Red gives Rose White bravery, while Rose White gives Rose Red harmony. Rose White, will comb the tangles from Rose Red's wild hair, she will make soup and make Rose Red eat. When Rose Red's heart quickens, and he cheeks flush with the crimson color of her hair, Rose White will listen, until Rose Red finishes and then tell her she is right. The world can be terrifying, and insane. It isn't Rose Red who is mad, for she lives in a world where she wants to be.
"It is Rose Red who, when Rose White is quiet, afraid, and hiding deep within herself, places a warm hat upon her head, takes her hand and brings her to a warm sunny place. Though they never travel far, it is Rose Red who makes the traveling a journey.
"One day Rose Red takes Rose White further than they have ever been before. They travel hand in hand deep into the forest depths. They eat barriers, climb trees, roll in pine needles, and bath in the stream. They lose track of time. Rose Red does because she wants time to be lost, Rose White does because she trusts Rose Red." She paused there as the women continue to act out the scene she had just recited. Everyone is paying attention. Even the old blind village crone has leaned forward to listen to the telling of the tale. The boy is lost in a world where he can't remember himself, thinking only of Rose Red and Rose White, in suspense, as if he has never heard th tale before. This is how is always is. The tale is told so well, that those listening forget that it is old and had been told before, the words as they fall from her mouth, envelope the people in the room, as if a fire has been lit and a warm cloak placed over their shoulders. Her stories give the people warmth. And as the girls finished acting that portion, she picked up where she left off, not missing a beat, and holding the attention of all in the room once more.
"The trees gained shadows, the wind became ghosts, and the hoot of an owl was a phantom cry. Rose White is afraid, and Rose Red is becoming afraid, not because she I afraid, but because she fears that she will not have the strength in her words to soothe Rose White into trusting her again."
"We will be all right," says the maid, knowing how the story goes. "We have each other, we are safe."
She began her notation again. "Rose Red knows though, that as the night gets darker that Rose White will not care whom she has. She will be afraid, and want rescue. She will look for someone knew with the strength and light, and Rose Red does not have. Rose White begins to cry, she runs and catches her skits on the low branches. He face is scratched and bleeding, and she is cold. Rose Red gives her, her cloak, but it does not help. Rose White is shivering."
Tyra the butchers daughter came in saying, "How could we have let this happen? Were we not thinking? This is how women die."
Again she came in swiftly so there was no pause in the story "She began to sob. Then Rose Red sees a light coming from the trees ahead. To Rose Red the light is like Rose White, to Rose Red the light is Rose White. She is relieved – not for herself but for Rose White. Rose Red does not mind the forest, she would stay out for the whole night, days even, and she would grow wild forgetting the world she lived in now. But Rose White is more important to Rose Red than freedom, she is more important than becoming who she wants to be. Rose Red needed to raise her voice to be heard, because by now Rose White was shaking with tears, and wailing in fright.
With a nod from her the maid began, "See the light?" she said pointing to the wall, and everyone looked so deep in the story, the hardly noticed that the thundering booms had lessened. "See that light, there, it is for you."
"They begin to walk to the light; holding each other for support. Rose White because she needs it, Rose Red because she doesn't want Rose White to feel alone. They come to a cottage dwelling, and neither are afraid, because there is a garden outside, and smoke coming from the chimney. They knock, and no one answers, and Rose Red opens the door a crack to look inside."
"Come on," the maid said, taking a confident tone the boy had not heard in the maid before. "It's okay, we'll just go inside."
"That is when they see the Bear. Rose White steps back in shock, and Rose Red reaches again for her hand, and the two sisters stand together in silence. Not moving, Rose White in fear, Rose Red because she doesn't know what else to do. The bear blinks at them. His snout shudders and Rose White notices his breathing is awkward."
"He is hurt," the maid said, her voice scared yet confident holding the audiences breath in the air. "Yes, I see it now, there is a large wound on his side, he is bleeding, see the blood?" The maid began to walk slowly towards the baker, cautious, yet with a confident glow, she really did appear to have been transformed into Rose Red. "It's alright," she says "Don't be afraid, we will not hurt you. Let me see you injury."
She starts again, knowing that the attention of everyone in the shelter is on her and the performers. "Rose Red kneels down onto the ground. The bear smells of rain, and forest. Rose Red holds out her hand, and after a moments hesitation, the bear licks it. Rose Red goes and fills a pale with water and gives it to the bear to drink. Rose White takes some barriers from her pocket, and with her hand out stretched offers them to the bear. Rose White tears a strip from the hem of her dress, and with Rose Reds help, cleans and bandages the wound. As the bear lays back Rose White recognizes what it reminds her of. She can't stop thinking about this, but she is not surprised by the thought, but more about the fact that she does not want to share her realization with her sister.
"They eventually fall asleep, and in the morning feed the bear, and head into the woods looking for nuts and barriers. Neither even mentions the thought of going home. They bathe again in the stream and dress, once the sun had dried them. As they dress Rose Red sees that Rose White is taking more care than usual. Rose Red knows, or a part of her does, what is happening. She sees Rose White make a wreath of flowers for her hair, and blush, and stare at her reflection in the water, while scattering flower petals on it's surface.
"That night the bear is better, he eats more and his breathing is better. While Rose White changes the dressings on the wound, the bear looks at her with fire in his eyes. And as Rose Red watches, she feels as she did the first time she and Rose White discovered the bear; as if she were frozen to the spot. Many days go on and Rose White begins to develop a new glow, still neither her nor Rose Red discuss leaving. Every night they watch the bear sleep.
"Once night it is cold, and Rose Red wakes up and looks for Rose White. She walks out to the entrance room, and finds the bead, his wound healed, coat glistening, and Rose White curled up at his side. Rose Red freezes, she knows now that Rose White has been a lie, she turns silently and returns to her bed, staring into the darkness that seems to surround her.
"The next morning Rose Red comes out and sees Rose White at the table with a man. He is tall strong and handsome. His hair is glistening and his eyes seem to hold a fire. He is staring at Rose White, who is wearing her flower wreath, and her dress that is half the length is once was, because most of it turned into bandages. Rose White stands and kisses Rose Reds cheek. Rose Red swallows a trickle of salt, and smiles."
She looks at the maid, who seems to have transformed into Rose Red. The maid smiles and says, "This is what is supposed to happen. I am so happy for you."
She beings for the last times, speaking the words of a bittersweet ending "Rose White wanted to tell Rose Red, that he had friends, that things didn't have to change that much. But instead she stayed silent, knowing that things had changed. And as Rose Red turned to leave, Rose White held his hand and watched her go."
The room was silent, and once by one they all began to leave the shelter, as the storm had been over long before. Taking her hand the boy let her lead him up the stairs, to he home he would help re-build.
Rain. That scent meant so much to Liam. Standing up, noticing that the pain in his abdomen had vanished. Liam turned from the direction he had come and began to walk back to the academy.
"One day you'll have to leave us Liam. Maybe you will become one of those mages, that would make us proud, but if not, do not fret, you will find other ways to be great."
Things were much cleared to him now. He wasn't here because no one wanted him. He was hear because this is how is mother wanted him to become great. He was no mage o great talent, actually Liam admitted to himself that he feared magic very much. Looking at the sky Liam judged it to be nearly time for the evening meal. If he hurried he could arrive at the academy while the others were eating, and slip into his room and forget the day every happened.
He would be at practice tomorrow morning. He would stand in the brook and freeze. He would punch his tree, and balance on his feet. He would lift his bodies' weight, and pull his chest to his knees. He would become great, and not even a big, rough, bark covered tree could change his attitude about that.
Picking up the pace, Liam told himself the tale of Sisters Rose and the Bear. Only he told himself that he was Brother Red, and he was being strong, and letting his family go, so they could be happy. He would become wild, and he would be a Shang, for there was nothing more feral than a Shang Warrior. Not even a mage.
(Okay, I know this isn't exactly a chapter about Shang Training. I wanted to give some more history (I was in history for the planning) The story is actually one from a book called The Rose and the Beast by Francesca Lia Block. It's got lots of fairy tales, and she just retells them in modern day versions. So I took the Beauty and the Beast one and made the modern version, old. Which gave me a whole knew tale. Like I always ask, Please Review, Please be HARSH It makes me happy, and I want to IMPROVE. Hope you liked this chapter. There will be more to come... More training, but I'll keep telling tales, because even if you find them irrelevant I find them interesting, and fun. And because it's my FanFic – ALL POWER TO ME! Next chapter up soon... I'll try to start it tomorrow in checks schedule History again! Remember REVIEW!)