Chapter Fifteen: A Dance With The Past

Dull clouds swam through the darkening purple sky over Toolin. Accompanied by a few faint stars, the bright moon of Dendo bathed the town in its grey-green light.

James stood on the roof of Tabetha's house, taking in the warm evening air. He leaned on a railing and looked out at the lights of the town below. On a lower level ahead was the flat roof of the rest of the house, the tops of the houses across the street showing beyond it.

The desert air had a distinct earthy, muddy quality to it, and somehow also felt cleaner than the air in Tyken Town. A melodic music was rising up from the street; a soft tune of bells and harmonic singing from people below. It would have been soothing at any other time, but right now his mind raced with troubling thoughts.

He saw himself as if looking from the outside, seeing an overview of his existence. He strove to comprehend who he was, even if he could hardly understand who he once was. The man that Sam had described sounded so different to the person James was today. He could not even imagine being someone who fought so bravely. Who lead assaults and took charge of situations. The son of someone who sounded so powerful.

What would James do if, or when, the Dark Sorcerer ever found him? Or his father's rival, Doon? Now James had the name of the man responsible for his memory loss, he would have to learn as much as he could about the warlord. A shiver ran through him as he thought about the big forces at work around him. The impossible scope of the galaxy out there, and his possible connections to it all.

He had a lot more to learn, and a lot more training to do.

He still couldn't quite wrap his head around everything that had happened these past few days; how he had got caught up in the investigation into a hidden army that was being formed by thousands of abducted people from all over the galaxy. He hoped that it would be a simple matter of finding the right proof, and sending the authorities to Higero Jaxx. And let them deal with him. All he really wanted was to just be able to move on with his new life, and to start his own search for his father, who was still out there somewhere. Or so James hoped.

The old man who first revealed James's true past to him, Den Keenosh, had once said to him: You don't want to end up a lonely, grumpy old man, and not have the fond memories to know you were truly loved, that you lived your life to the best of your potential.

James shook the thought away. He knew that Den was right. He had to remind himself to be strong and to keep moving forward, and not dwell on the past. Both pasts. His old military life and his two years in Tyken Town. He was his own person now, and he would have to learn to be whoever he was. Only moments earlier he had promised Sam that he would be stronger from here on out. And James had already proven he was still weak when faced with challenging moments. This is what he wanted, though. He wanted to know everything about his past, even if it was a lot to take in.

He cursed himself. He was fed up of continually promising himself that he would try harder and be better, and constantly letting everyone down.

Movement came from behind. He turned to see Tabetha stepping out of the roof hatch that led back into the house. She cleared the last rungs of the ladder and approached him.

James paused at the sight of her. A white gown was wrapped around her body, held tightly in the waist with a wide silk sash. Her hands were lost in voluminous long sleeves, bare legs showing under the flared hemline that reached mid-thigh. Her dark hair was brushed and straightened, bordering her heart-shaped face.

"I thought I will find you here." There was a gravelly undertone to her soft voice. She slid next to him, standing close and watched him with her heavy, sleepy eyes. She smelled like warm honey.

"I just had to get some air," he told her, swallowing a lump in his throat.

She smiled and looked out over the rooftop. "I love it here, especially this time of day. So many people out there, so many lives moving. I like standing on the outside, looking in." Her foreign accent gave her words a thick, throaty tone.

James found himself smiling. "I do too." He searched for a better response. "There's something soothing about being high up. Like, being free."

"It reminds me of my old home, in Victory City. We had big house in the centre, and I would look out the window as a child, see the world go by."

James resisted the urge to ask more about her past. To learn more about her. As close as he felt with Tabetha, he thought it was best not to get too personal with her. He was aware that it was a reflex he had developed while living in Tyken Town–don't get personal with people and they won't respond with too many questions about himself.

As if sensing his thoughts, she turned to him full on. "My father worked there for the government. He was a human. My mother's marriage to him was frowned upon by other Canarrians in her village, both because his job was to reshape Medropon's small towns into big cities, and because he was a foreigner."

Tabetha paused, her eyes tensing with thought. She swallowed and continued. "Sometime after they married, my mother became ill. A terrible illness that slowly ate away at her. The Canarrians called it punishment for marrying my father. I remember... I was very young, but I remember my mother could see things. Things she could not possibly know. My amma–my grandmother–said mother could see visions of the future. No one believed her, of course. When my amma died, my parents lost the only family member that still supported them. The rest of the family wanted nothing to do with the cursed woman who married a foreigner.

"But it was an airship accident that took both my mother and father from me. My mother's sister, Hethenae, had eventually agreed to take me, and I moved to her home here, in Toolin." She smiled to herself. A sad smile with a tense brow. "They say that family are the people who cannot turn you away when you show up at their door."

"It can't have been easy," James said. "Being away from your family like that."

"It has been more than eleven years now. I do not know if they are still to be found in the same towns. I have lost touch with my Canarrian heritage, and it is a loss I hold dearly."

James realised he was frowning. The only family he was aware of was a father who's whereabouts were currently unknown. He had no memory of what it was like to be loved by family. By anyone. He had an idea, and his own opinions, of what family really meant, but it was another one of those things that alluded him.

Tabetha straightened, her expression brightening as her tone lightened. "And so, James, I am glad you have come today. I wish to perform a ceremonial dance. A traditional Canarrian ritual that is believed to calm the winds and wish people safe travels. Something I have been practising again lately. I would like to perform if for you, and for my mother and father."

James held her look for a moment. "Did you say a dance?" He realised how stupid he sounded.

Tabetha smiled, flashing her upper teeth. She blinked very slowly as she turned away. "Just stay here."

She stepped down onto the centre of the flat roof section. When she turned back to James she stood straight and rigid, feet together and shoulders back. The lights of the town behind her bathed her in a rimmed glow. She held her gaze on him for a few heartbeats, before looking ahead and focussing.

James felt his heart flutter as he watched her, although was still unsure of what was happening.

Tabetha's arms moved first, wrists curling as her hands moved up along her body, rising in wide arcs. She side-stepped, lowering her body and rising, while continuing to curl her arms in smaller arcs. Her light steps barely imprinted on the gravelled rooftop, the thin, cream-coloured slippers she wore giving her a barefoot impression.

Rising and twisting, her body curved into powerful shapes and strong silhouettes as she gracefully moved along the roof. Her motions were slow and controlled, and strong, shifting to one leg with the other held high, or ducking low and rising with her arms held high, flowing from one motion to the other.

At some point James realised the soft music from the street below had grown louder, as if in response to her dancing. The rising melody almost felt like it were coming from within him, rather than externally, and he became overwhelmed, wondering if it was all in his head.

Tabetha spread her arms out in a wide arc while spinning. Steps quickening, her movements became stronger and bolder as the music's tempo increased. She now bounced and twirled, her robes flowing around her.

As if the vision before him had taken on a more ethereal and otherworldly form, James noticed faint spots of light gather in the wake of Tabetha's hands. The lights strengthened as her curling wrists continued to move through the air, making it look as though she was summoning firebugs to life. They lingered for a second or two, rising in the air before popping. Each pop produced a dull sound, like a far-off drum beat or chime.

James was still not sure if he was imagining the sounds and the lights, or if it was all really happening.

Tabetha's twists and spins increased, her body moving with the grace and consistency of flowing water. More lights popped, creating a rhythmic beat. They reminded James of bubbles spreading behind a fish's movements.

Tabetha gathered the light spots close together, her hands twirling and revolving around the collective lights. With a flourish, she threw her arms up and sent the lights into the air in long streams, like shooting fireworks. Instead of popping, these lights remained in the air, as if joining the stars in the night sky.

Her head was lowered as she stood there, shoulders heaving. When she looked up, her face glistened with sweat, and the corners of her mouth were raised. James was once again taken aback by her beauty, his heart thudding in his chest as her eyes locked on him. Her tense, focused expression softened as she stepped towards him.

The music in the street below once again became a low melody.

Tabetha reached him and wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. Her gown was soft and silky in his arms, and he could feel the form of her body beneath it.

She held him at arm's length and looked at him with wet eyes. "Thank you," she breathed, sincerity lowering her voice. "For giving me the strength to perform the dance. I am glad to do it."

James wasn't sure how to respond. He swallowed, finding his voice hoarse. "I'm sure your parents saw it, and were pleased." It sounded like something Evan would say, but it came from a heartfelt place, and so he didn't feel uncomfortable saying it.

"You will all find what you seek," she said. "I have this feeling. And as the dance was a success, I know it to be true."

She smiled at him with a mixed expression of sadness and happiness, her hands still on his arms. Several thoughts passed through him, some he was not yet confident enough to act upon. For the moment, he enjoyed holding her, and the sweet, flowery scent of her hair.

"Come on," she eventually said. "Get some sleep. Sam will be waking you early. You must be very tired."

James nodded to her, unsure of what else to say. He didn't want to ruin the moment with something foolish, or to overstep his boundaries.

He waited for her to climb down the ladder back into the house before following. He let out a loud sigh as he climbed down the ladder, leaving the peaceful night air that seemed full of possibilities. When he looked along the carpeted corridor, he saw that Tabetha had disappeared. He had hoped to see her again, maybe exchange a few more words or just to look at her again. A part of him hoped that she would be there waiting for him.

James made his way back to his room at the end of the corridor. Not knowing which room was Tabetha's was a good thing, he decided, and prevented him from doing anything stupid that he would later regret.

With a forlorn sigh, he pushed the door open and entered the dark room.

Sam lay on the sofa between the two beds, his sleeping form highlighted by the dull moonlight coming through the window slats. The back of Evan's small frame could be seen above the covers of his bed.

James slid into the empty bed by the left wall, feeling the grogginess of sleep as he moved. Thoughts of floating lights and soft silk swam through his tired mind. He was asleep within minutes.

***

Evan Goodheart heard James enter the room. Troubling thoughts were keeping him from sleep, though he kept his eyes shut tight. He could feel the tight, pained grimace on his face. An expression he saved only for himself when he was alone.

He couldn't help the alarming thoughts creeping into the forefront of his mind. The danger sense that told him there was something not right with him. Something not right... in him. At times when he thought about it, he couldn't help the uncomfortable feeling that he was being watched. Like someone was listening to his thoughts. Which made thinking about it not an option.

How could he think about something that listened to his thoughts? He was being paranoid, he knew. And he feared it was all some part of his unwanted gift that allowed him to read others. His mind blurred with muddled thoughts.

When sleep eventually took him, he was plunged into the depths of his unconscious mind. A stringed instrument played a harmonious lullaby, taking him to another place.