Warlord (3 page)

Finally, the mist felt the surges of power as the six other forms readied their own planes for the challenges. Of the seven mortals selected this time, this mist sensed something in its female mortal that gave it a small sense of hope she might actually succeed. Then again, it had sensed all manner of qualities such as strength, bravery, loyalty and altruism in others and not one had ever survived. Well, it would find out soon enough about this one.

At first, Sara saw nothing except a lightly glowing pool of water, the stone walls reflected on its surface. Then the pool seemed to grow brighter as it did when the mist had emerged except that the light became dazzling and quickly blinded her with its brilliance.

She felt a strange sensation as if she was being drawn through jelly and then the brightness receded.

She was standing in a manicured yard outside of a large, white house with columns on either side of the front entrance. She looked around and saw that there were many similar houses up and down the street. She saw no one moving about. The front door to the house was open and Sara felt that she should enter. She walked up the steps and hesitated at the fancy, glass door.

It did not occur to her that this was a dream. It seemed very real, as if she had simply walked down the street and casually decided to enter the house. She did not even think of the chamber or the warnings the mist had spoken as she pushed the door open and stepped inside. She did not recognize the house although it was elaborately and obviously, expensively, furnished.

She crossed the empty foyer and walked through a large open doorway into what looked to be a study. There behind a large, mahogany desk sat . . . Sara. What? Then Sara suddenly recalled where she was. The Pool of Fear. Her greatest fear was . . . herself?

She recalled what the mist had said about weapons. Was she supposed to face off with herself? Was she dangerous? Did she need a gun, a butcher knife, a taser perhaps? She shook her head. She could not think of what she might possibly need and so did not summon anything.

She watched herself closely. She was older, possibly around fifty. The woman did not seem to notice Sara standing just inside the entrance to the study. She studied herself.

On closer look, she thought she looked terrible. The older woman had her hair drawn up into a tight bun, dark circles under her eyes, and a defeated look about her. Her eyes looked vacant and drawn.

The phone rang. Sara watched as the woman answered it.

“Hello, mother. . . . Yes, mother. . . . Of course, mother. . . . No, John’s not here. He had to stay overnight for his job again. . . . What? Oh yes, I’m fine. Just a little tired.

I’ve been up since five this morning grading papers and working on the grant applications. . . . All right, I’ll see you and dad here at six this evening. . . . Yes, the housekeeper cleaned your bedroom. . . . . Yes, I spoke to her about your toiletries.

Everything should be arranged in your bathroom just the way you like it this time. . . .

Minced pie sounds fine for dinner. . . . I love you too. I’ll see you tonight. Bye.”

The woman hung up the phone and sighed, resting her forehead in her hands. Sara walked up to the desk and moved behind it. A stack of what looked like class assignments were piled in front of the older woman, a thick, stapled group of papers on her left. Sara glanced at the top sheet of the stapled papers. Below the typewritten title for the grant application, it read “Sara Aster, Professor, Ph.D. Anthropology, Ph.D.

Archaeology, Ph.D. Geography.”

Wow, Sara thought. Three doctoral degrees? So, she had actually studied geography also, just like her parents were always pushing for her to do. “With more degrees, you are more marketable,” they would say. “Just think of the job security.” That was a lot of schooling. No wonder the woman looked tired. Judging from the look of things, she certainly didn’t do much fieldwork, if any.

The phone rang again. Sara noticed that there was a caller ID window on the phone and watched her older self glance at it. It read “Bella Rose.” The older woman simply watched the phone ring and listened numbly to the answering machine.

“Hi, John. It’s Bella.” There was an unmistakable purr in the woman’s voice. “I know you don’t like me to call you at home, but I can’t reach you on your cell. I’m in San Fran this weekend. I know you are too. Let’s get together tonight. Check your messages and call me. You know the number. Ciao.”

Sara understood immediately the implications of the message – her husband, or at least her dream-husband, seemed to be having an affair. What Sara noticed immediately was that the older Sara did not seem the least bit surprised or disturbed by the message.

Instead she had a tired, resigned look on her face. The woman reached over, pressed the delete on the machine and then left the study.

Sara followed her up a sweeping flight of stairs and down a wide hallway. The older woman paused at the second door on the right and walked in. Sara followed. The room was spacious with a king size four-poster bed covered by a pretty bedspread, a sofa, two armchairs, and an antique bureau. Sara walked to the bureau and looked over the framed photos resting on it. There was one from her wedding day. She didn’t look much older in the photo than she was now. She had married John. She looked at several other photos over the course of the years. They didn’t appear to have any children. Her parents were in every single photo with them, even on their vacations.

Sara glanced across the room. Her older self had opened a door in the middle of the wall and was stepping into another room. Sara walked to the door and looked through. The room was slightly smaller with an identical four-poster bed and matching bedspread.

Over the bed hung a framed, embroidered stitching with the names Gina and Fred in a heart with an arrow through it. Her parents? With a room right next to hers and John’s?

With a door connecting them? Sara thought she might be sick.

Without warning, the scene dissolved and she was sitting on a quilt spread over the grass in a downtown park. The day was warm and sunny and there were other people in the distance enjoying the park. She looked down at herself. She was wearing the same white sundress and white sandals she had been wearing in Dushanbe. Someone was coming toward her, waving and smiling. It was John.

“Sara!” he said, with delight. John always sounded delighted. She smiled at him.

“Thanks for meeting me. I know it’s hard to take time off with your schedule. A half-hour is all I need. I brought lunch for us.” He shook the bag, rattling the plastic containers inside. “Sushi. Your favorite,” he said delightedly as he sat down next to her.

“Sara, I know you like me to be direct so I’ll just come right out and say it. I’ve already asked your father’s permission. I’d like you to marry me. Your mother gave me your grandmother’s ring.” He fished in his pocket for a small box and opened it. Inside was a tarnished, silver ring with a beautiful inset opal. It was on a chain. “I haven’t had a chance to get it re-sized, but you can wear it as a necklace until I do.” He took it out of the box and hung it around Sara’s neck.

He looked satisfied and opened the bag, handing Sara a container with two sushi rolls inside. He opened his sushi and began to eat with relish, as if he hadn’t eaten in days.

Then he looked up her, frowning. She hadn’t touched her food.

“What’s wrong?”

Sara just stared at him. This didn’t feel like a dream. This felt real. She knew this scenario was truly and actually waiting for her when she returned from Tajikistan. This was not a preview of her life – this was her life.

“I – I didn’t give you an answer, John.”

He looked at her, still chewing. “Oh,” he said, relieved. “I thought something was wrong with the sushi. I bought it from Tony’s. Your favorite.”

He continued eating thoughtfully for a few moments more and then said, “We should get married right away. I know you have a few classes to finish up for your master’s degrees and then will want to start your doctoral programs right away. Knowing you, Sara, you’ll probably enroll in two, maybe even three, at the same time. You’re so over-achieving, just like your parents always tell me.” He grinned at her, his green eyes mirthful.

“But John, I haven’t given you an answer.”

“What?” he asked, his mouth full of sushi.

“An answer. About marrying you.”

John’s cell phone rang. “Sorry. Just a minute, dear.” He flipped it open and looked at the name. He winked at Sara and then turned away from her slightly. “Hello? . . . Hi, uh

. . . No, it’s not really a good time. . . . . No, I can’t really talk. Not right now. I’m uh, with someone. . . .” He glanced over at Sara a bit furtively, his mouth in a frown. “Uh, all right. That sounds good. . . . Tonight? . . . Er, yes. . . . I’m looking forward to it too.”

He flipped the phone shut and gave Sara a tight smile. “Business. That’s the nature of being an entrepreneur. I have a dinner appointment tonight with a potential client. It might go late – it’s an important account. You and I will have to have our celebratory dinner tomorrow night.”

He noticed her look of disapproval. “Sara, stop worrying. I’m only working hard to make us successful and wealthy, beyond our wildest dreams. My business is already going well. I’ll be able to put you through as much school as you want. No loans. I know you’ve thought of doing fieldwork, but there’s no need. You can continue with school as long as you want. Earn a degree in every subject. You’re suited for it. It will be better that way, anyway. Your life is your oyster, dear.”

John replaced his empty plastic container in the paper bag and got up from the blanket.

“I know you only had a half-hour between classes so I’ll let you get back to it. Listen, don’t let the wedding plans worry you – your parents practically have the entire event planned out to the last detail. In fact, the invitations are ready to go to the printer this week – as soon as we choose from two dates your parents selected. Whichever one matches your course schedule the best. We shouldn’t have to do anything but show up.”

He grinned and made to leave, but then turned at the last second, bent down and gave Sara a kiss on the cheek.

He straightened. “Ciao, dear.”

Sara sat there numbly, watching John walk away. She looked down at the still-opened jewelry box resting next to her unopened container of sushi and then her eyes flew to the ring around her neck. She fingered it. It was old, delicate, beautiful. The silver was tarnished, almost black, but she could see the inlaid filigree. The opal was nearly incandescent, a swirl of colors within the whiteness of the stone.

Sara felt like she was suffocating. John hadn’t waited for an answer. Her parents had approved and that was as good as “yes” to him. They could give him an answer for her.

Her parents had probably decided when she and John would marry and exactly when John would propose. He and her parents got along famously. They enthusiastically invested in his new business, bankrolling it for the most part, confident it would pay off in riches for their daughter.

Being proposed to was nothing like Sara had imagined. But the marriage did make sense.

She would marry John, continue with her degrees, probably end up teaching. She did like learning and his business was doing well. He could support them, they could buy a nice house. She had wanted to do fieldwork, her first academic love, but John was right. She couldn’t really spend time in the field while pursuing all those degrees. And her parents didn’t approve of her traveling overseas. They felt it was dangerous and didn’t want her to be gone for too long at one time.

She looked down at the ring again. So, this was it. Her life. All planned out from start to finish, to the detail, as always. And she was getting married. Why then, did she feel like crying?

The tears came before she could stop them, like pressure built up behind a stuck faucet.

She bent her head and let them fall onto her knees, spattering over her white dress. She looked down at the sushi container. John hadn’t noticed that she hadn’t touched it. Had he even noticed her? Ugh. Did he even love her? Did she love him?

The last time they had had sex was nearly three months ago. True, she was busy with studies and he was busy with his work, but three months? And he didn’t even seem to have been all that interested, taking about two minutes to climax, roll off of her and fall asleep, oblivious that she had barely participated. He had never been the world’s greatest lover before, but he certainly wasn’t hot in the sack now. It was ridiculous to want something more in life than security, wasn’t it?

Sara became more and more upset. She looked up and saw John just as he disappeared into the throng of pedestrians at the sidewalk, waiting to cross back to the row of office buildings across from the park. Dare she say anything and disrupt what she had worked so hard to achieve with her life? If she refused to marry John, it would upset the balance of her entire future. She could hardly breathe, thinking of how bitterly disappointed her parents would be. They would never come to terms with it.

The light changed and the pedestrians started to cross the street. Sara started to choke.

Really choke, as if she was dying. In fact, she was.

“John!” Sara called out. Her voice seemed supernaturally loud, carrying across the park.

Several people turned and looked in her direction. “John!” she called again, watching the crowd of people in the intersection.

Her shoulders started to droop. It was too late. Too late to keep the pendulum from swinging, the invitations from going out, the ball of her life set in motion.

Then, she looked up and saw John in his turtleneck and tan sports coat, standing on the corner of the park intersection, looking toward her. She held up her hand, shading the sun from her eyes. The light changed again and cars drove past. John waited by the crosswalk, still staring at her.