Lucid Waking

Archive for June 26th, 2008

Away from Leeward: Colan 1

        He was supposed to be inside helping his mother with the housework, but it was too tempting and too easy to sneak out of the busy house. He sat down on the ground and stared at the open expanse of the desert he loved. He eyed the sunlit purple mountains covering the horizon longingly, shooting up into the rainbow painted sky as the shadows fell down to the base of the range. The wind rustled his short brown hair lovingly as small cloud of dust flew playfully across the ground several miles from his position. Faintly someone called to him above the usual evening din of the town.
        “Colan!” his worried mother called.
        Colan got up slowly and turned around towards the village. He knew that he shouldn’t have wandered from home, especially with all the trouble that his mother had been having trying to raise a family on her own. But it was more interesting out there than in the village. The expanse of the desert was much more seductive than the daily life of the town.
        He slipped through the marketplace where people bustled to and fro with their last minute shopping before the shops closed. A man held up food to the light and complained of the price. A mother bounced her child on her hip trying to figure out if she could afford cloth for new clothes. He could practically describe what daily life was in his sleep. Every day was cliché and he was tired of living the same basic hour over and over again.
        He entered the residential district and went around the edge. Colan wasn’t in the mood to go down the main street and talk, especially since he was most likely pulled away for chores and needed to get home fairly quickly or else he would punished for dawdling. He slipped through the front door of his house and winced at the noise. It was the typical sight: three screaming children and two playing, his mother preoccupied by cooking and trying to hush the children, and his grandmother meditating on the rocking chair in the corner. His grandfather had probably gone to the pub only to be home at dinner, his aunt was helping the weavers at the small factory, and his uncle worked at building more structures wherever the government saw fit. In any case, the only person to notice his arrival was his mother, who brushed a piece of dark brown hair out of her sweaty face and frowned.
        “Come please, Colan,” his mother whined as she pushed a boiling pot off the stove to keep the fire burning, “Help, with the children and aid grandmother’s head ache.” The house was hot and sticky and the smell wafting out of the kitchen was barely recognizable and most certainly not appetizing.
        Colan sighed and expelled his emotions with his breath. He picked up his baby sister, April, and bounced her up and down on his knee. He recalled the day she was born, the first of April, and he had first seen his baby sister; clean from the bath and rosy pink. He had wanted to name her, but his parents both insisted that they stay with traditions and name her after the month she was born as all the other children were who were born on the first of the month. It was considered lucky and the children who were, often had special festivals hosted by the government in honor of their birthday. Colan sighed and brushed April’s hair out of her wet, tear-stained face. She was almost two years old and knew nothing about her father. But none of them did; Colan didn’t even remember him very well any more.
        Colan’s only true connection to his father was through the ancient meditative hymns that his father had taught him. Every magus had a different requisite for which they can perform magic. Colan’s father could heal through music and Colan was lucky enough to inherit his father’s ability. He knew not every child born to a magus inherited the gift, but gifted though he was, it was not honorable to have to use his ability so often for such menial tasks.
        Colan closed his eyes and cleared his brain, focusing on April’s tired cries. Rule one, he thought, clear your mind. Rule two, focus on your goal. Carefully focusing on sleep, he placed his hand on her forehead and started to hum. He could feel the music came from his soul and exited through his hand. April’s blue eyes closed gently. He placed her down carefully; praying that the remaining noise and heat wouldn’t wake her.
        Next, Colan picked up Sandborn, his brother. Sandborn was always very fussy, but didn’t misbehave. His sister’s fussing was enough to set him screaming and crying for attention. Yet, Colan seemed to be the only one who could quiet him, which caused many problems when Colan was away from home looking for an apprenticeship now that his father was gone. Colan again cleared his mind and tried to use an easy trick to distract Sandborn. He reached over and laid his hand on Sandborn’s forehead slowly manipulating his younger brother’s mind’s eye to see small colors of light flit in and out of his vision. Sandborn was not truly upset, as Colan supposed, so as soon as Colan had him distracted, he was silent.
        Finally, Colan picked up his cousin, Sabra and easily put her to sleep.