Regarding this chapter, I would like to say that "Mr. Avery" is of my concoction, and that he is not an actual character in the book. I intended him to be the pub-owner (does Kartik sleep somewhere behind a pub? Correct me on this.)
I own nothing you recognize. And I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
"Mr. Kartik! Mr. Kartik! Good heavens are you alright?"
"Gemma don't! I swear-I had no choice! I had to! I had-"
"Mr. Kartik!"
My eyelids flutter open shakily at the sound of Mr. Avery's worried voice.
His great watery eyes hover instantly over the planes of my dark face, and I vaguely register the panicked movement of his fat fingers on my forehead as they brush away the great build-up of sweat at the curve of my brow.
"Mr. Avery, it's quite alright really, thank you for your concern," I mumble quickly, past the point of epic embarassment as I gently shoo his fussing hands away, and sit myself up on the bed.
"You gave me right good scare there, Mr. Kartik," Mr. Avery huffed, fetching me an empty water glass from the bar, and clutching at his heart gravely for emphasis. "I thought the devil himself had come to claim you,"
"Just a nasty dream is all," I try to give a wide smile at his kindness, but my mouth merely wobbles at the impossible effort.
"Here," Mr. Avery hands me a tall glass of water, and I take it gladly, finally managing to smile,
"A glass of water ought to do the trick." He winks.
I gulp the cold water down fast. I feel that I will need more than a glass of water to stop this perpetual onslaught of nightmares.
I don't tell Mr. Avery that though.
After a pacifying series of Mr. Avery's best icewaters, I am left quite alone in my room, behind the bead curtain, to slowly savour the sweet beginnings of a massive headache.
A new, decidedly unexpected presence interrupts my moment of solitary agony however, and I am now alarmed to see Emily, one of the Doyle's maids, all worried and fitful by the foot of my bed.
"Oh, Mr. Kartik, I heard of your earlier incident…I do hope I didn't come at a bad time," She begins timidly, biting hard at her bottom lip. "Miss Doyle gave me your present…and I-I, I just wanted to give you yours," For some reason this adds to my shock.
"My present, you say?" I mutter loudly in a tone anticipating a cruel joke.
"Yes," Emily smiles in shy pride over her little surprise, and she gladly hands me a small parcel wrapped in bright, patterned paper.
I am baffled.
"I do not know what to say…" I gently finger the vivid parcel, and in response to Emily's wide, expectant eyes, I quickly tear it open.
It is a cricket ball.
Suddenly I am a mess.
Emily is simply horrified.
"Oh, Mr. Kartik, I am terribly sorry!" She cries, trembling hands moving to cup her open mouth, "I didn't know-I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry my gift is so horrible that you cry over it!"
Her face is a flesh-coloured blur to me, and my gaze burns painfully with the overwhelming appearance of tears.
"It is nothing, Emily. Please," I let my fingers fold over hers firmly as a sign of assurance. She gasps at my forwardness.
"I love the gift." I say, and for a while, none of us speaks. There is a painful lump in my throat that threatens to bulge through my neck, and my nose is running so abysmally, I fear it may produce a river down my shirt.
A few solemn minutes pass, and then Emily finally stands up from her place on my bed. With a regretful sigh, she moves towards the exit to leave.
"Belated Merry Christmas, Mr. Kartik," She says softly by the bead curtain, and I feel like a git for behaving so abominably.
"Thank you for the gift Emily. Belated Christmas to you too."
Emily is about to turn on her heels, when she hesitates again…
Shelooks over her shoulder and flashes me a kind of sad smile.
"It's her isn't it, Mr. Kartik?"
I stare at her through burning eyes. "Who?"
"Miss Doyle. I think she's fond of you too."
And with that, she tearfully makes her way out of the string of beads, moaning to herself as she blindly gropes for the pub exit.
I let myself fall flat on my bed.
I do love the gift.
I just wish it hadn't reminded me too much of Gemma Doyle.
I do not know where I am again.
My last recollections involve faint, yet vivid snatches of Emily's terrible sobbing over me, and Mr. Avery's great harrumphs at my nightly attacks from the devil.
I look up, and my hand moves quickly to shield the blinding sunlight that bathes everything in view in a creamy sort of yellow.
It is rather warm, and I notice, with a silent uttering of a swear word, that I have on too many black garments. I work quickly to discard my black cloak, and note vaguely the rich smell of both curry and saffron that hangs thick in the suffocatingly hot air.
Blue, sparkling rivers beautifully line the green horizon, and my vision stops short at a group of fat mountains looming far into the distance, veiled eerily by a spray of silver mist. A hand claps my shoulder casually and I give a loud cry, swinging my arm around in order to stare at the laughing figure behind me.
My eyes widen greatly in shock.
"Brother?" I stammer the word, and the man nods good-naturedly, still laughing at my apparent discomfort. I note his eyes, golden-brown like mine, and his full lips, and lopsided smile. "How…?"
"Kartik you have grown," He says amiably as he leads us both past a section of wild vegetation and sits us near the rim of a very blue river.
"I don't understand," I repeat weakly when we are both comfortably seated, "What is happening? Am I dreaming again?"
"You most certainly are. But this is not just any dream," Amar explains with the lightest hint of a grave smile, "I am visiting you from the other side. To complete a soul's task."
A soul's task.
I turn my cryptic gaze back over to the hot horizon and a sudden realization hits me.
"India," Amar continues, minding the awe in my face, "Do you remember it? I don't suppose you do…but I chose to take you here," He smiles, again, and the constant sight of it is beginning to break my heart.
"What is it that you need to do?" I ask softly, and he gives a great and quiet sigh.
"There's something I feel I need to tell you…"
I don't say anything.
"During the last months of my life, I was given the task to retrieve vital information about the Order, and the location of the Temple through a woman named Mary Dowd. In order to gain both her friendship and trust, the Rakshanna instructed me to offer her protection from a dangerous evil named Circe. In truth the Rakshanna did not care whether the thing claimed Miss Dowd or not. I fed her lies of how she had to find a way to seal the magic to the Eastern Star in order to keep it safe from Circe. I knew that all reign of the magic in the realms would be given to the Rakshanna if Miss Dowd succeeded in following my instructions. And at first I did not care. But slowly…" Amar seemed unable to speak, and I was only comprehending very little of what he had said.
"Remember when I told you? That I wanted to live an idle life in India, marry and have seven children one day…" Amar turned away with a weak chuckle. "I was beginning to think that Miss Dowd would be the perfect wife for that dream..."
I could scarcely believe what Amar was saying. I closed my eyes hard and dipped my head sadly into a stoop.
"The Rakshanna knew nothing of my growing feelings for her. Until I had to make a choice. The Rakshanna ordered me to provide protection, yes…but only to the extent where my safety was in tact. When that spirit threatened to harm her, I knew I couldn't leave her…even if she didn't feel the same…even if…"
I shook my head.
"You could've been counted amongst the highest ranks of the Rakshanna," I sputtered bitterly, "You chose to throw that all away."
Amar made to defend himself but I wouldn't let him. I was too angry.
"I would still have a brother, some semblance of a family had you not done what you did!" I interjected furiously, my voice cracking dangerously with the onset of tears, and Amar's wise, and pleasant face crumbled into a wistful smile.
"Even you have the ability to fall in love."
I gape up at him, incredulous.
"What are you talking about?"
"Miss Gemma Doyle," He says this simply, and my eyes flash with angry sparks at the absurdity of this suggestion.
"I don't love Miss Doyle, don't delude yourself," I say this in a mad rush, without flinching, and I end up surprising myself considerably. Do I not love Gemma?
"You may not truly love her now, but you know you are well on your way to that path."
I want to tell him that he is wrong, that he is spitting out absolute nonsense... but I am at fault...
And the lies are caught on my throat.
"I can't control my destiny, I trust my soul, my only goal is just to be. There's only now, there's only here. Give in to love or live in fear. No other path, no other way. No day but today." -Anonymous.