[AU] Samsara, the Eternal Cycle (Last edited August 18th, 2003)

[Tuerny]

Naja's Thoughts on the Waiting

The guards had left the room, presumably to fetch the Brahmin Evatrya Ellama Visantra. The giant stood in the doorway. Anvar and Sanjay stood between Naja and the doorway defensively; her back was to the corner. This was not how she'd expected her evening to progress. Hindsight told her that perhaps revealing the 'secret' she carried within her to these new strangers was a mistake. Anvar had taken it well; she was impressed with this man while still a little wary, but his friend had not. Being a priest, the Nishavan felt it his duty to have Naja purified. He was in the right, by the laws of the Empire. And thus the group found themselves defending Naja - something she had not expected. She never did.

Standing there, her fate balanced on a razor's edge, her mind whirled with a thousand thoughts. Sanjay had helped in convincing her to submit to the purification. He might be blindly obedient and trusting, but he was well-intentioned and would never suggest anything that he thought would harm one of his companions - even a companion as foul as Naja'd been. Anvar shared her views of taking circumstances into consideration. Naja was fairly certain that they all agreed that one's blood was not the determining factor in the direction one's life would take - of course this thought in and of itself defied Matayanism.

Naja had only lived for her sister until she came to Sudarsha. And even then, Naja had gone to lengths to protect her sister from deeds that might alter Shukri's form in the next life. If Shukri could be given a better life on her next turn on the wheel, Naja was willing to forfeit her own. Now Naja had a child growing within her. True, it was not created in love - as Naja'd always imagined it should be - but it was hers nonetheless. Now she was faced with the fact that, because of the blood that flowed in its veins, the child was to be killed. This would possibly kill her, as well. She was not prepared to end this turn on the wheel. No "purification" or "cleansing" would save her from the fate she'd forged for her next life. There were things she had yet to resolve, and no ritual could grant her spirit the absolution it would need to move on to something better.

The tension in the air was thick as they stood there, waiting. Different scenarios played themselves out in Naja's mind as she stood there. On one hand, the Brahmin Visantra may find a way to shuffle the companions out of the temple and away without the purification being performed. On the other, she could order the purification done immediately. The secret was no longer so "secret". The Nishavan priest and six of the temple guardians knew about it. While less scrupilous politicians could "deal with" this, Naja did not expect this to be the case in Anjeeti's temple.

But then, what Justice was it that a child's life be forfeit simply because of the blood in its veins? Naja knew that not all Asura-born were "evil". No more so than the Nishavans of the Empire's history. No more so than the foul men who served unknown foul purposes within the Empire itself. There was no "Justice" in this, in Naja's mind. Ah, the ironies of life. Now she understood more clearly why the Rangsten kept outsiders away...

 

[Tuerny]

Mesios and the Matyanists

The giant Jaypreesh still towered in the doorway to the meeting hall, his enormous hammer still at the ready, but for the moment at least he seemed willing to wait as the situation developed. Suddenly left without the squadron of temple guards he had summoned, the giant seemed much less of a threat.

Let him try to take Naja again, Mesios thought silently. Resolutely he stood, feet planted firmly among the ruined bits of the table Jaypreesh had shattered in the earlier struggle, his staff gripped firmly. He gazed up to the giant's face, nearly as high above Mesios' as the mage himself was tall, and calmly watched those eyes for any sign that the giant might attempt to begin the combat anew before the brahmin Visantra could arrive. He considered as he waited the most effective manifestation of eldritch power to unleash upon the Matyanist should he make any further actions towards Naja. The curse be damned.

Sanjay stood to his right at the ready, clutching a morningstar he had conjured from somewhere and focusing on a psionic tattoo which gradually erased the bruises he had suffered from the giant's hammer. Beyond Sanjay stood Anvar—Anvar who, surprisingly, had been willing to join in Naja's defense despite his apparent friendship with Jaypreesh; a consequence of his loyalty to her caste, or a sign that he understood the true nature of justice better than most in this moral wasteland?—the authority with which he had dismissed the guards still in his eyes as he faced Jaypressh. And Amesh, his light weapons at the ready. The moral strength Amesh had evinced in his defense of Naja was perhaps the most surprising of all; Mesios found himself reevaluating his opinion of the man.

Naja herself stood behind the line they formed, watching stoically the tableau before her. Though Mesios could not take his eyes from Jaypreesh to look at her directly, he felt her presence psionically. For her, it seemed there was no justice to be found anywhere—not from Fateh, the brutal general of Shansana; not from the indolent governor of Taith nor the single-minded Akarupe; certainly not from the asura-born of the Black Sky who had kidnapped her and used her; not even, it seemed, in the very temple of justice in the capital of this empire. And—in defiance of any rational moral premise—she seemed to believe the lies of the mad philosophy of Samsara that would condemn her for choosing not to endanger her life, her precious, wondrous life, in order to undergo some mystical “cleansing” of body and soul—or, for that matter, the life of the child which, for all any of them knew, might be every bit as precious. That acceptance, perhaps, was the greatest injustice of all.

The argument and later combat with Jaypreesh had been an outlet for the frustration which had been building in Mesios since Taith. More and more, events seemed to be spiraling beyond his control; too much of life spent waiting for the sanction of men of power. Mesios' life was his own, as Naja's was hers, as were all of theirs; they were not pawns in the politics of Usharad, nor in Dasani's mysterious private crusade against the Black Sky, nor in the mystical conflict of Day and Night which the Matyanas held as the ultimate purpose of life, nor of the giant Yennek's infathomable purposes. And the curse that now required Mesios to act well before he judged prudent. Could it be the same that some of the old myths hinted had been lain by Torvallis of the All when the mobs had stormed Ishandar? Did even that ancient conflict reach out of the dim past to deny Mesios the right to live his life? But already it had. The mages in the guild at Taitosa had immolated their minds for a thousand years in fear that the fall of Ishantum would be repeated. The seeming reality of the curse was but one more way for the envy of Torvallis and the mobs to ensure that a shattered civilization remain buried.

Mesios' steel gaze remained on Jaypreesh. The giant was a concrete foe at last; his Matyanist dogma a familiar evil. The words were the same that had confronted Mesios at every step of life—his father saying that the name and honor of House Idyasan were more important than the dreams of any one boy—the priests of Torvallis who preached service to the community over personal ambition—the decree of the self-styled Archmage and all his predecessors that history and tradition superceded progress—why rock the boat; why risk the uncertanties of change?—why strive for something better, when all men knew that life was a fixed game, possible only by the mercy of fate and the gods and the Wheel—when the only hope was to pray for a place in the distant, phantasmal, hypothetical next world?—to which only we can guide you, if you but abandon the crutch of your mind and give us your faith and your heart. Always the same words, all across Naranjan, back across the sea in the ruins of a culture that had once rejected them, and surely repeated even on continents yet beyond the reach of spell and ship. Old lies, old evils, older than Sudarsha or Ishantum, as old as the first men at the dawn of time who found it easier to grant supremacy to the gods than to study the world with their minds, who preferred to attribute the success of their neighbors to fate and the unfairness of the world than to the power of the mind they had rejected.

In their own ways, Mesios had come to realize, each of his companions sought to secure their sacred, inviolable right to live, free from politics or irrational prejudice, or whatever demons of the mind haunted Amesh, or the more corporeal demons that now haunted Naja, to pursue by their own choices all the wonder and beauty that was possible in life, for that is the font of all that is good, and whatever would deny that to them, be it the mob or the brahmins or the Matyanas or the gods themselves, evil. He would not give his sanction to that evil by standing idle while the giant would deny that right to Naja. Her life would be hers. That, he thought, is justice.

She would find life amid the dead faces and minds, as would he, as had Senveras, as could any man who refused to sanction the evil that would lay claim to his soul. Hear me! he cast his challenge to the giant, to the demons of the Black Sky, to the sky itself, to the world. My life and my mind are sacrosanct and inviolate! You will have neither mine, nor that of my friends, save from my blood on the ground! This I vow, for I am Mesios the Living!

The sound of footsteps came from the corridor, and Jaypreesh bowed his head and stepped aside. The mage lowered his eyes and, secure in the power of his chosen name, prepared to confront the brahmin Visantra and the world.

 

[Tuerny]

Damn These Rooms With No Windows!

After nearly two months of bickering, in-fighting, and awkward silences, we were finally united in a singular cause.

Why did it have to be picking a fight with the giant?

At least the guards were gone, thanks to Anwar. I was a little surprised that the brown-noser had it in him to shout down six armed men, but he did outrank them all, even if he hadn't acted like it at first.

I scanned the room to check on my other compatriots. Sanjay was still alive despite being smashed pretty hard. He somehow managed to get a weapon, but I hope he doesn't think that little club will really be any help against the giant's big fricking hammer. Maybe next time, he'll remember to bring his equipment even for the most apparently mundane of tasks.

Mesios, having finished curing Sanjay of some wounds, stood his ground on top of the table. Or what was left of it, anyway. As he gripped his staff in his hands, I finally got a good look at his arm. It hadn't yet started to change dramatically, but it was already starting to look really freaky. (Wrists are not meant to bend like that, dammit!) And yet, for Naja's sake, Mesios seemed to be willing to cast spells until he turned into a giant squid...thing.

And then there was Naja.

She didn't just seem to be reluctant to undergo the ceremony--hell, any sane person would be, if they knew what it entailed--she sounded like actually wanted to keep the baby. The spawn of that bastard, the thing that--

It made my blood boil just to think about it. And worse, she didn't say anything until now. I suppose she didn't trust me to keep my mouth shut, and I don't blame her for that, but if she told me earlier I might have been able to help her. I could have introduced her to some acquaintance who knew less deadly methods of dealing with an unwanted pregnancy.

But Naja was willing to give birth to it.

If Shukri, who had supposedly been born from two human parents, acted the way she did, then what would a child who was genuinely half Asura be like? Even if this whole Samsara thing is the biggest sham anybody's ever pulled, didn't she think that having that sort of baby wouldn't be a good thing? Why doesn't Miss Diplomacy realize that this sort of social stigma--not to mention total and complete humiliation--can't be pretended away?

The giant continued to block our only means of escape, and he showed no signs of budging. He seemed to be as intent on making Naja endure the purification right now as we were intent on keeping it hopefully never. I had a sinking feeling that if he really wanted to kill us, we wouldn't stand a chance, especially not if those guards changed their minds, or worse, ran off to get reinforcements. And while I might be able to make a break for it, there was probably no way that I could somehow get away with Naja in tow.

Some hero you are, Amesh, I thought to myself bitterly. A moment ago you were all ready to die for her.

But it wasn't easy fighting years of ingrained instincts. At the moment, every fiber of my being was screaming at me to run, run, run away from the twice-my-size giant and never look back. I could feel my stance shifting to the defensive, ready to break into a sprint the moment I had an opening.

And then what? Go back to Dasani? That was a one-way ticket to death as surely as standing my ground against this fanatic of a giant. And if Naja did somehow manage to survive the ritual, she would definitely never speak to me again. She might have forgiven me for what happened in Taith, but I'm sure she was wondering if I could ever be trusted to not ditch her at the first sign of danger now that I had no automatic obligation to protect her. And if I went down fighting but Naja were taken anyway, then at least I wouldn't have to live with failing her again.

But dammit, why in the name of whatever gods that might exist did it have to be a giant?