The Endless Solvent

“Again!”

Bette’s shout rang out and another Somas boy disappeared then reappeared beside Ral under the scorching desert heat at the height of noon. They didn’t have the same training grounds as Dalsk had with a ring of stones to observe from and an even flat ground for the area itself. Bette had them right in the middle of the Ivassk desert with dry shrubs and spiky rocks everywhere. There was barely shade to stash their water skins in an attempt to keep them cool.

The one approaching him was slow enough for Ral to grapple an arm and fling him away. The young Somas flipped in the air and landed deftly on his feet, face scrunched in annoyance. They repeated this exercise, each time Ral managed to throw him away.

“Next!”

This signaled another Somas to approach. This time, it was a young female a good five years younger than Ral. She was much faster than the boy and she knew where to strike where it hurt. He couldn’t deflect or grapple her and she landed a heel strike to his shoulder, flipping back away from him. She was only able to do this once, however, as Ral mustered up enough energy to grab her foot the second time around to flick her towards the ground. She missed the landing and stumbled down hard onto the dirt.

“Sorry,” he tried to help her up but the girl snarled at him and backed away from his outstretched hands. She immediately retaliated, blinking out of sight again and reappearing behind him and landed an elbow strike painfully on his back. He stumbled to the ground, groaning.

“I’m counting that as a loss for you,” Bette said dryly to him as the girl retreated back to the other observers.

“I was trying to help,” Ral muttered.

“None here wants your kindness,” Bette retorted. “They are here to fight.”

Ral sighed and scanned the observers, each taking turns to be his sparring partner. All of them (with the exception of Mikol crouched at the side) were younger than the trainees under Dalsk, about a handful of years younger than himself. That was the extent his ‘achievement’ of defeating Calkin got him: a reluctant following of young and idealistic Somas who only want to defeat him for bragging rights. It was also a punishment because Dalsk no longer allows him or Mikol to observe on his lessons.

Some definitely wanted to avenge Calkin. Others just want to be able to say they beat up a Gaian, or rather the Gaian that everyone hates. Ral shook his head and prepared for his next opponent. He should be grateful he has this. It was a boon, he reminded himself. It was practice.

He had complained to Bette right when this arrangement took place. If anything he didn’t feel like being the red headed punching bag for a bunch of teenagers.

“Can’t I just practice with Mikol?” he asked her exasperatedly.

“Is the world just filled with Mikols?” she asked. “Are you just going to fight Mikol for the rest of your life?”

No and no. So he shut up and sparred with children who had barely seen fifteen cycles and prayed to the sun that this was going to help somehow.

When he wasn’t beating up kids and feeling bad about it, he was helping with any manual labor around camp. It wasn’t anything new but the amount of tasks he was assigned mysteriously increased after his incident with Calkin, the things he’s had to lift increasingly large and heavy.

Once he carried a stack of dry wood planks typically used for shielding open gaps of the canyon up and down a ravine. Someone apparently needed it stacked at the entrance for a project but when Ral arrived with the material over his shoulder, the Somas there shook her head and denied ever needing it. He then laboriously carried all of it back down four stories into the canyon, only to be called back up with the exact same stack of wood. It was an ‘honest mistake’ but he did not miss the smirks behind his back.

He had thought defeating Calkin would change something. It simply made matters worse and more complicated. He had given the Somas a reason to openly dislike him. Mikol was right: it was stupid to challenge Calkin.

The group of young Somas disbanded and Ral was dismissed to run laps over a predetermined course around camp. Mikol, as usual, joined him. It was miserable doing the laps under the hot sun, especially over the section of rocks where they had to scale up to go over. The rocks burned in Ral’s hands and there was no escape from the persistent fury of desert heat. Sweat dripped down his face and body. His body moved as if another controlled his limbs and he finished his laps in a daze.

Exhausted, Ral was finally able to rest under a makeshift shelter after three laps. He stretched out in the shade and hoped a stray breeze would make its way through as Mikol sat beside him, drinking from his water skin.

“You are full of thoughts,” Mikol commented.

“Yeah, just thinking about how you’re always right,” Ral grumbled. Mikol raised his eyebrows at him. “I mean about Calkin. You were right that it was stupid to fight him.”

“Ah.”

“I just made life harder for everybody.”

Mikol’s mouth twitched. “True.”

“Thank you for the sympathy.”

“I will not sit in sadness with you,” Mikol said but with a grin on his face. “But I understand you did that thing for me. I am thankful. That's why I’m here with you.”

“Right, not because Dalsk also kicked you out of his training group.”

“Of course not.”

They sat in amicable silence for a while. “Why do you let Calkin mistreat you?” Ral finally asked. “That wasn’t the first time. I know he doesn’t say kind things to you either.”

“When we were younger, we were friends. Good friends,” Mikol said hesitantly. “But things changed.”

“What changed?”

“He did. I did.” Mikol gestured vaguely. “I don’t know. We were no longer friends one day.”

“That doesn’t mean he should be able to treat you like that.”

“No,” Mikol agreed. “But we were good friends. What we had died but I still remember.”

The way Mikol spoke about it made Ral think it meant more to him than friendship, but the pained look on his friend’s face prevented him from prodding further. He fought the unease in his chest and told himself that it wasn’t any of his business. They all had memories that followed them. Even if it was better for them to forget, they still clung to them.

That kind of foolishness wasn’t strictly a Gaian nor Yscian trait. Perhaps all living things suffered from it.

When Ral was finally rested enough to move again, they made their way back to camp inside the canyons. Dinner that day was bread with a side of cured meats and a handful of nuts and dried berries. Yet again, Ral found himself relegated to a distant spot from the rest of the tribe, squatting on a precarious ledge with the main seating area visible. There wasn’t anything interesting happening that night anyway, no storytelling nor singing or dancing. Ral also found that the more remote spots yielded a decent view of the sky through the canyons. He could eat dinner while watching the sun bleed out as it set, painting the sky red and orange.

Ral wished his mother and father could see the sun rise and set on Ivassk, and wished Aris could see the full moon on a clear desert night. The sweet dried berries turned sour in his mouth as he thought of his family. His hand stalled as the familiar wave of homesickness washed over him. What would they think of him, this failure of a man who didn’t know what to do with his life? A man who only stumbles and falls flat on his with every step he takes?

He forced himself to finish his meal even though he was no longer hungry. It was important for him to eat as the lack of food meant he would suffer the next day. Ral almost choked when Mikol elbowed him a little too hard.

“Look,” Mikol said, gesturing towards the mean seating area. The Leaders, the elderly and little groups of children sat on the flat ground with more than enough food on their plates. There was the usual gaggle of children unable to sit still and they were hastily called down to sit respectfully. A hush fell over the tribe without any prompting. From the back of the main area, a wizened Somas stepped out.

The Wisdom was a frail looking elderly man with gray-blue skin sagging over a skeletal frame. Snow white hair cascaded down in waves along with a thick white beard that covered half his face. Bushy white eyebrows sat low over heavily bagged eyes. He rarely engaged with the rest of the tribe, preferring to sit by himself in the room he shared with Melette the Healer or off in a corner ignoring everyone. The Wisdom was the one that dictated when the tribe moved camp and he always led them to places where they could thrive. The locations he picked always either had an abundant water source and access to food and prey. He also warned them when a major storm would approach, or when a dangerous animal was in the area - all of this he knew without ever stepping foot out of camp. Mikol once explained that the Wisdom was blessed with ‘holy knowledge’ and that he simply knew of these things.

Of course, Ral suspected it was some kind of Inner Eye ability. It only made sense that it existed with Yscians, however he found that the majority of Somas had manus abilities. The Wisdom was the only Somas Ral knew that seemed to strictly have Inner Eye powers. He also seemed to be the reason why the Somas were attentive to random occurrences and found meaning in ordinary things like the shape of clouds or the direction of the breeze - his ‘holy knowledge’ was said to be derived by such ordinary things. Ral didn’t know much more about how the Wisdom knew the things he did: as an outsider, he was not welcomed to question it.

The Wisdom looked lost. He stepped hesitantly into the communal space while facing upward a little as if he was following a moth in the air. His beard moved and a mouth appeared to open and close but no sound came out. The entire tribe watched with rapt attention.

He had done this for several nights already. Each time, the old man simply wandered out looking lost while trying to communicate something. Each time, words failed him and he seemed to deflate and return to his room. It was strange behavior from a strange man - usually when the Wisdom had something to say, he would simply call over one of the Leaders and tell them. There was no ceremony or mysticism to his ways normally, he simply told Bette and the others when to move or prepare for a storm. But for the past few nights he had acted like he had an important announcement to make but seemed to forget his words.

The way the Wisdom had acted caused concern for many Somas - Mikol mentioned the Leaders were worried that age had finally caught up to him.

“What happens if that’s true?” Ral asked Mikol. “What happens if he can’t be the Wisdom anymore?”

“A new one is to be appointed by the previous,” Mikol told him. “However our Wisdom has not yet named a successor. Nobody has shown they have holy knowledge. One must be born with it.”

Ral, Mikol and the rest of the tribe watched as the Wisdom appeared to become crestfallen with something. He then turned slowly and shuffled back into his room much like he had for the past few nights. People muttered to each other, trying to ascertain just what it all meant. The Leaders looked at each other and Bette rose to go after the Wisdom to see if he was alright.

The unease permeated through the people and persisted even as everyone prepared to rest for the night. They each found a quiet spot in the caverns accompanied by a thin sleeping mat and settled in the darkness. Strangely, Ral was allowed to sleep close to the rest of the tribe at night even if he was shunned from eating with them. It seemed they didn’t care about sleeping arrangements.

But Ral couldn’t sleep that night and silently left the caver to scale the wall up to the surface. He perched on a rock jutting over the canyon and lay in the cool night breeze to watch the moon and stars, as was his habit when he couldn’t sleep. He found himself thinking of the Wisdom and his unspoken words.

He, too, had much to say that he couldn’t put into words. There was something wrong with his life and he couldn’t figure out what it was, couldn’t tell others nor make others understand his plight. Like a milyssk jor, he closed his eyes and tried to think on the question under the comforting glow of the moon but he came up empty.