The Education of Saidy

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Saidy was paler than normal. Yrden watched as her head darted around. The sand was rougher than it was on their journey in, courtesy of a strong headwind.

She grimaced, kissing the back of her hand before her body lurched forward like she'd been struck in the gut. Yrden chuckled.

"Here, this will quell your stomach," he said, handing her his pipe.

"No..." She paused to belch, shaking her head after. "Thanks. I don't like the smell."

"Would you rather feed the contents of your stomach to the sand?"

Saidy looked at him, then to the pipe before reaching for it. She shuffled closer so Yrden could light it for her, taking a few puffs. The smoke set fire to her lungs once more, and she hacked as the smoke vacated her lungs.

Much to her surprise, her stomach settled quite fast, and she puffed a good deal more, spitting the smoke in gratitude instead of distaste.

"Slow down, girl. I didn't offer you all of my smoke."

"Sorry." Saidy handed the pipe back to Yrden who took his usual drags.

Saidy turned over to stare off the starboard side of the skiff, crossing her arms into a pillow for her chin. Some arakbal had found a scorpion to torment off in the distance, and the sight of the ghostly creatures reminded Saidy of the illusion she almost became trapped in.

"Master, when we were attacked by the arakbal, the one that took interest in me showed me a vision of my brother."

"Arakbal commonly pray on our desires, girl."

"Yes, so you said, but how would they have known what my brother looked like now? Why wouldn't the illusion have shown me my memory of my brother?" Saidy brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear.

"Clearly you have a different vision of your brother than what he looked like when you were children. The arakbal can use more than your memory to construct their illusions; they can also use fantasy." Yrden took another drag from his pipe. "Where's that book I gave you? We've nothing to do but sail. The least you could do to make yourself useful since you can't use magic is learn to read."

Saidy flopped back onto her back, slumping further into the curve of the hull. She reached inside her pack which lay next to her, digging around until she felt the rectangular object bound in treated leather. She traced the gold lettering once more before handing it to Yrden.

Yrden shook his head. Although his face was concealed by the veil, Saidy could feel his stern gaze telling her what his words did not—she was to do the reading.

"See the first letter on the left there on the cover?" Yrden pointed poorly as the book as the skiff bobbed and bounced. "That is called a T."

"T," Saidy echoed.

"Right, the next one is and H, followed by E." Yrden continued to tell Saidy each letter on cover.

"The Valkyrie," Saidy said, her eyes wide as she memorized the arrangement of letters.

"Good, now open it."

Saidy cracked the book open to the first page and squealed at its contents. "There's a picture!" She traced the picture with her finger, marveling at the artistry on the page.

The picture illustrated a woman. She wore silver plate mail and carried a sturdy sword and shield. Blonde hair trailed behind her from under a winged helm as she peered off a cliff toward a castle.

"Yes, The Valkyrie is a children's book, filled with pictures to help you understand the story the words are telling. It will be a good one for you to learn."

Yrden instructed Saidy on the contents of the book. Why certain things were said one way, and why others were said another despite the word being the same. They read from the book every morning and evening and sometimes on the road if the journey was smooth. Eventually, the sand turned to rock, and the rock to grass as the finally reached the highlands that were the Garden of Life.

Saidy fell in love with the story. It reminded her of the stories her father used to tell her of dragons and heroes, brave knights that saved the land, and dastardly villains that sought to overthrow peace and order. She loved more that The Valkyrie was about a heroine instead of a brave knight.

However, as she neared the end, she became furious.

"Why does she have to kill the necromancer?" she screamed, slamming the book shut. A flock of doves scattered into wind from the sudden sound. "He's bringing dead back to life; that's not evil!"

"And certainly causing undeath," Yrden sighed. "Most people view raising the dead as a vile act," Yrden mused, "Also, you have to look at his motives-"

"But, you're not evil."

"That depends on who you ask, girl. True, I want to save this land from the poison that the druids have sewn into it, end suffering and death unfair, but many would view my methods as acts of evil either because they do not agree with them, or they don't understand them." Yrden paused, and Saidy watched him intently. "Think of how the fox hunts." He pointed off into the distance.

On a grassy knoll, amongst the dusting of snow orchids, was a rabbit standing on its hind legs, watching for predators while it feasted on the bounty of grass and flowers. The poor creature was unaware of the red-furred death that hunted it from behind as it crept over the hill.

"To the rabbit, the fox would appear evil because it seeks to end its life; however, to the pups..." He shifted his hand to the right where three fox pups sat, focused on their mother, that is, until one pounce on the other and a quick play erupted before they regained attention. "Their mother is good because she brings them food to stave off hunger and death."

Saidy watched as intently as the pups. Her lips slightly separated as the fox sunk its teeth into the rabbit's neck and jerked its head to give it a merciful death.

"You have to look at the motives of the hero and the villain. Many books meant for adults leave much up to the reader's interpretation. Was the villain really all that evil? Maybe the hero could've saved them? It's one of the joys of reading—to read what was written and decide for yourself."

"I understand now." Saidy opened the book again with renewed curiosity for the ending.

For a long while, the only sound that broke the silence was the wind hissing through the blades of grass and the crunch of rock and dirt beneath Saidy and Yrden's boots. It wasn't until the sun sunk low into the sky, turning it a familiar shade of red that Yrden's tower finally availed itself. It was a black spire erected from the sea of green, perfectly smooth and translucent like glass—an obsidian tower.

Yrden sighed as they neared their home. "Another storm is coming."

"How can you tell?"

"Only when the sun paints the sky red in the evening does it rain here."

He waived his hand over the wall of the tower as a portal whirred itself to life and stepped through. Saidy paused, gazing at the blazing sky. The warm wind of spring blew across the highland, sweeping her fiery red hair like a silken scarf fluttering on gales.

"You're out here somewhere, Dante. I'll find you."

"Get some rest," Yrden said as Saidy appeared in the foyer. "we'll begin your education tomorrow."

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