The Return of Maeve 4
She felt change upon them.
It was a heaviness that settled once more upon her old and weary shoulders. The knowledge that she gathered through the winds of this earth were a tiresome duty, but one she did faithfully while still living.
She was no clairvoyant, but her knowledge was clear and presently needed for Sinbad and the crew's next journey.
She felt the pressure shift slightly off her shoulders and knew Sinbad had arrived. The heaviness always felt different when someone of great importance to the world was near.
Sinbad was one such person.
Maeve was too.
Bryn as well; and even Rumina was one though her importance was more burdening than releasing.
She would tell Sinbad all she knew, and hope that he was clearer of mind and heart so as to succeed in his next challenge. She would have to hope that they all were clear of mind and heart.
This journey wasn't dangerous so much as it was a test of their strength of character, and it would hurt yet help them all.
All she had to do was wait; a job she was unfortunately all to experienced in.
Sinbad sighed and tilted his head up to look unseeingly into the Basra sky. The day was calm, cool, yet sunny and the warmth of the sun rained down upon him in an attempt to hold off the darkness of his mind.
He breathed in the familiar scents of food carts, humans living so close together, and tamed animals and grinned despite himself. Lover of the sea he might be, Master too, but lands of all kinds, Baghdad and Basra especially, held a special place in his heart. He loved to watch people come and go about their personal businesses and lives. It was like looking through a window and seeing how another person lived their life.
Sometimes, when he was a younger man, and the life he had chosen grew to be too much for him to handle, he had, at one time, imagined what life could have been like if he had grown up, married, and had become a noble of Baghdad. Sometimes he liked what he imagined; others had him shaking his head at the silliness of his thoughts. True, it would have been a much gentler and less chaotic life style, but he wouldn't have made all the friends, and yes even the enemies, he had now.
He didn't enjoy the harsh life he had been following as of late; the killing of others had been killing him too, and yet he hadn't stopped himself from taking those lives.
He had grown used to seeing blood licking at the edge of his sword and spattering his face…
He had grown used to hearing the light within their bodies fading as he ended that life…
He had grown used to smelling the blood, flesh, and death as they went about their duty…
He had grown used to tasting the metallic tinge of death that had grown with each sin he made…
He had grown used to feeling the pain, and he had welcomed it for it blocked out the heartache of missing Maeve…
Seeing the demon within the mirror, real or imagined, in Scratch's lair had been the jolt he had needed to stop his downward spiral of death, darkness, and despair. But with his admissions' of guilt, came the newest nightmares he couldn't escape from.
Before he had dreamt of Leah and Talya and other close friends either dying or blaming him for the deaths of their loved ones.
When Maeve vanished, she was added to his nightmares, and she blamed him for not saving her from the waves that drown her.
Now, Maeve still haunted him, but his dreams were filled with the dying cries of those he had thoughtlessly killed whilst fighting them.
He didn't know how to absolve this from his heart and soul, and some part of him didn't feel like he should. A part of him felt like he deserved this pain for the pain he had brought onto others…
He was brought out of his musing by a familiar hand on his shoulder.
He glanced to his left and smiled at the dark moor who patted his shoulder in an attempt to get his attention. Rongar was a good friend, who kept the secrets of the others faithfully, and out of all his friends, Doubar and Dermott on occasion excluded, Rongar was the one he talked too.
Rongar was patient and a wonderful listener.
A skill he had developed when his tongue had been cut out. A jolt of pain hit his heart as he remembered how Rongar had left his sister to sail with them once more. He felt guilty that Rongar left his sibling like he had; he could never imagine life without consistently seeing Doubar every day.
He admired Rongar's ability to stay so far from his sister and still be happy where he was. He was sure he couldn't do it; and in a way their silent moor was stronger than he was.
Rongar smiled at him, waved his hand around to encircle the crew, placed his hand on his heart and then placed his dark hand on Sinbad's own chest.
Sinbad understood and smiled.
Family is where the heart is…
Rongar seemed to understand what he had been thinking about, and he was glad that Rongar understood. Rongar hadn't blamed him for his choice to leave his sister behind, and like Doubar had said, it wasn't his choice to make for the others.
He glanced down at Rongar bandoleer of throwing knives and flinched a little. Rongar's skills were as dangerous as his own, and yet Rongar's knives hadn't seen the amount of blood his sword had seen. Perhaps it was because he had learned not to aim for fatal parts of the body, but parts of the body that would damage and put down instead of killing.
But, at the same time, he knew Rongar wasn't innocent to lives lost due to his actions. None of them were, but he didn't seem to be struggling like he was.
He nodded at Rongar, patted the moor's shoulder and said to the crew who was watching him curiously, "Let's go, Caipra's waiting for us."
As he walked beside the moor, Rongar cast him a sideways glance and smiled at him.
He returned it because the smile was honest and friendly. Rongar was trying to help him in some way, but he didn't understand the moor's silent words. If only he had mental powers to read his mind, perhaps Rongar would have some sort of divine wisdom to impart onto him?
Then he remembered something he had learned from Mustafa about him and Rongar's past….
He had just met the man; he was silent, bland, and zombie-like. He hated to agree with the bratty Prince, but Rongar wasn't quite what he was looking for as a member of his crew. He had just given his awkward farewell, when Doubar had yelled his name. Shocked and a little scared, he had spun around just in time to see a knife fly, but he had felt no pain. Not a second later, and an assassin and or a spy of Turok's lay dead at their feet with one of Rongar's knives' in his chest.
Rongar had killed the man with no feelings on his face at all. He had done it to protect him; at least that's why he thought Rongar had done what he did.
So, Rongar could kill without remorse when it was to protect others.
So could he.
Rongar could kill in self-defense.
He could too.
The difference lay in the fact that Rongar hadn't let his anger cloud his judgment like he had. He had to learn to relax in battle once more.
To do, as Mala had said, "Heart, brain, and then the sword."
And with a smile and another pat on Rongar's chest to show he had grasped what Rongar had wanted him to learn, he said, "Thank you Rongar."
Rongar's smile grew in sincerity and somewhere inside another part of his heart scarred over and another dark spot faded away to let in the light.
Caipra sighed in relief as the pressure on her shoulders decreased just a little bit more.
Sinbad was close and the pains of his heart were slowly but surely being healed thanks to the help of his friends.
Then she glanced up to her window and from outside flew in a hawk very familiar to her.
'Hello Dermott, it's has been a while.' She greeted with a small nod and a soft smile.
Dermott shifted his weight from talon to talon and replied, 'Yes, Madam, it has.'
Caipra rose from her chair and said, 'Sinbad is close.'
Dermott didn't bother with answering the sorceress; she hadn't asked for she knew her words to be true.
Caipra went to stand by her hearth and waited to open the door at the right moment as she said, 'Soon, soon his heart will be whole once more.'
'I dearly hope so Lady.' Dermott whispered into her mind as he screeched and the door opened with a single thought from Caipra, DimDim's wife.
Sinbad walked a bit faster than the others and found that he walking was side by side with Bryn. She too had a nervous tic about her eyes.
He wanted to ask her what was bothering her, but he wasn't sure he could handle the back questions she'd no doubt ask him about his last visit to the old sorceress. He had made some progress, but he wasn't that healed-not yet.
So, he remained silent, but gave his support by quickly grabbing her left hand with his right, gave it a tiny, quick squeeze, a smile and turned back to the busy streets of Basra's magical district.
He didn't see the surprise in her eyes, nor the small smile she gave to him. If he had, he might have jumped in nervousness, for she had the same interested glint in her eyes once more, but it was different too.
As they reached the familiar door of DimDim's wife, the orb upon its wood glowed gold, lit up his face and then without even a knock from them to announce themselves it silently swung open.
Sinbad grinned and entered with a small smile upon his face. Caipra's introduction hadn't changed.
Bryn gasped at the magical workings and gulped as she entered. She could feel the magic within this woman, and knew her to be a formidable opponent even if she was old.
Doubar and Firouz eyed one another in nervousness. It was always the same with them and magic, but they also knew Caipra was a good honest woman, and they entered with smiles on their faces.
Rongar simply gazed about for enemies and calmly walked in. He knew that no one would come for them here, but it never hurt to be prepared.
The door swung silently shut behind him.
Sinbad came to an abrupt stop as he met the wise, darkly warm eyes of the old woman.
She met his gaze without fear and he was delighted about it.
To him, it meant that he hadn't fallen so far from grace that she feared the monster that he had almost became; the monster that still had claws within his heart.
She sent him a smile and said in her low tones voice full of warmth and friendship, "Hello, Sinbad."
He couldn't meet her warm gaze.
He couldn't meet those questions that floated within them for so long.
He dropped his gaze and returned, "Caipra, how have you been my lady?"
The crew watched silently as the old woman, DimDim's wife and by extension a bit of a second mother to Sinbad by way of marriage walked lightly up to their friend and captain and placed her hand under his chin.
She knew he feared her reactions to what he had became.
She knew he feared her anger for not finding DimDim yet.
She had seen the tears and nightmares that plagued him so much in the night.
She knew this and much more, and she cared not that he stumbled into the darkness. What was more important was that he was climbing his way back up into the light.
She waited patiently for the sea blue eyes to meet her own and said softly to him but firmly, "Sinbad, every person has darkness within them. It takes a strong person to hold back the darkness within…"
Sinbad felt a jerk in his throat. She was disappointed in him. He wasn't strong enough to hold back the pulsing darkness of his heart. He knew she blamed him for not finding DimDim yet. How could she not? He was a failure and he knew it. He was weak of heart and now DimDim would probably never be returned to his wife.
Caipra had every reason to be angry and disappointed in him. He couldn't blame her either.
His Adam's apple bobbed up and down in his effort to stop the tears from falling from his eyes.
She smiled at him, for she knew his thoughts.
She softly ran her hand down his stubble cheek and ended with pride in her voice and a soft kiss to his cheek, "…but it takes an even stronger heart to turn away from it's allure once the darkness has grabbed them. Sinbad, you are forgiven for whatever it is you think you've done wrong by me. I place no blame upon you."
Sinbad jerked his head up and stared at her in amazement.
She didn't blame him?
At all?!?
Why ever not?
She smiled and said, "Sinbad, you weren't the one to send DimDim away. He is locked away with powerful magics that only he and I can barely puncture through to feel each other. He is well enough and so am I. I know you'll find him when the time is right."
She ended with an amused smirk, "Everything happens for a reason, Sinbad."
Sinbad stared into her eyes. They weren't the demeaning ones he had seen in his dreams so many times at night. Her eyes were full of warmth and love for him, he who had fallen from grace.
Yet she still seemed to favor him. Could it be that she knew the reason why he fell and understood because she too had felt like he had? But why hadn't she fallen? Why hadn't she given up hope of his return like he had? Was his faith in DimDim's magic so weak that he doesn't believe in magic anymore like the idiots of Baghdad's past?
He looked deep within as he close his eyes.
Alarmed, Doubar made to ask him what was wrong, when Caipra's raised hand warned him off.
Worriedly, Doubar did as she silently ordered him to do.
He waited. He hadn't waiting.
Sinbad looked deep within himself. Did he lose hope in magic and therefore DimDim and Maeve? No, no, he hadn't. What he had done was push it all to the side and ignored the pain that they both have caused him by being gone.
Subconsciously he had placed the blame of their disappearances on them. Like he thought they had wanted to leave him here and in constant pain.
Now that he was challenging his demons, he could see through their illusions.
DimDim and Maeve hadn't left him to harm him; they left him because someone else wanted to hurt him. He understood that now; now he was ready to fight those who had harmed them in an effort to steal his heart and soul.
He met her gaze and said, "I understand now."
She nodded seriously and said, "Good, because your next mission is to save Maeve from her demonic prison built by Rumina, Scratch, and…Turok."