Book of Water

Chapter 22

22

Bradamante galloped on Egalite along the long firm stretch of sandy beach. The gray mare’s hooves splashed occasionally in the thin layer of waves that pushed their way onto shore.

The sky was deep blue, dotted with a few puffy white clouds. White gulls swooped and dove over the gentle surface of the blue-green bay. The sun shone golden, never too bright in the visions, nor too hot. Pleasantly warm, always, no matter the true conditions wherever Bradamante’s body currently slept.

Inside a cold tent now, with her tentmate working by candlelight to finish mending a pile of clothes.

Bradamante had recognized the clothes.

She froze for a moment when she first entered the tent and saw them, but then pretended she was too tired to notice. She sat on the edge of her blankets and began unlacing her leather chestpiece.

“I’ll be finished soon,” Jara said apologetically.

“Doesn’t matter,” Bradamante mumbled. She pulled off her muddy calf-high boots and stretched out between her blankets.

She tugged the top one higher over her eyes to block out the irritating light from the candle.

Naldo asked her to help them, she reminded herself.

It wasn’t Jara’s fault.

As Bradamante lay there, fighting fatigue along with the persistent anger she couldn’t seem to escape, she knew she had a choice to make.

Go to the white house or not?

She could resist it if she tried.

She had told Rinaldo earlier that she wanted to ask Manat about Michaela.

But up on the pass she had changed her mind. Now the last thing she wanted to talk about or think about in the peaceful sanctuary of her vision was the red-headed stranger that Astolpho loved.

Bradamante also had no desire to answer her teacher’s questions about why she felt the way she did.

Go to the white house or not?

She could feel herself slipping into sleep. The day and night had been so long.

The white house is mine. It’s for me. Why should I let her take that away from me, too?

In the next instant Bradamante awoke inside the bright, pretty cottage. Sunshine streamed into the room from the large windows on all four sides. Shelves filled with books filled every free space of wall.

Bradamante’s sword, the one Manat had made especially for her, rested on hooks just above the door. Bradamante had been carrying that sword in her real life ever since the fight against the men in Gibeah. Yet it remained here, too, always available to practice her sword fighting with Manat.

Bradamante sat in the white rocking chair beside the fire, wearing her long white robe and thick woolen socks. She could feel her thick braid pressing between the back of the chair and her spine.

Manat sat in her customary place, cross-legged on top of a cushion in front of the fire. A thick, leather-bound book lay open on the floor beside her. Bradamante could smell its musty pages. An open kettle hung over the flames, its liquid contents steaming.

“Redleaf fire tea,” Manat said as she ladled it from the pot into two stoneware mugs.

Bradamante had never had that one before. She accepted the tea, then closed her eyes and breathed in the scent.

“Mint…” she guessed. “Cinnamon… and…” She opened her eyes and laughed. “Garlic?”

“Redleaf garlic,” Manat said. “You never knew it when you were there. We’ve started growing it again.”

It was the first time Manat had even hinted at what might be happening at the White Temple. Bradamante knew that Manat and the other survivors of the fire were rebuilding it, but that was as much as she had learned.

She wasn’t sure how much she should ask now.

Or truly, how much she wanted to know.

She had been there the day the temple burned to the ground. She didn’t realize it was on fire until Manat pounded on the door of the heated chamber where Bradamante was deep in the middle of a vision.

A vision of Astolpho. After they had been apart for two years. A vision Astolpho joined her in as soon as he realized she was there.

A vision interrupted as flames engulfed the temple.

Bradamante joined Manat, running from room to room, choking on smoke as they searched for any children who might still be trapped.

They were too late to save some of them.

The memory still haunted Bradamante’s mind.

Just as she knew Manat must still wonder if she could have saved Samual, her lifelong friend and the high priest, if only she had reached him in time.

Bradamante sipped her tea and decided not to ask any questions.

But Manat continued the matter on her own. “We completed the rebuilding today.”

Bradamante’s face broke into a smile. “You did? Manat, that’s wonderful.”

Her teacher looked wistful. “It was… more difficult than we expected.” She sat up straighter on her cushion. “But now whenever you return I think you’ll be pleased by what you see.”

“I’m sure I will,” Bradamante said. “I hope I do go back there some day.”

Manat nodded. “You will.”

There was a brief moment of silence. Bradamante knew better than to ask for more information. But she stored the prediction away and wondered when it might prove true.

“Does it look the same?” Bradamante asked.

She remembered the first time she saw it, coming over a hillside and looking down. It was just as Manat had described it: like a garden in the midst of a desert. A white rabbit sleeping on a patch of grass.

“In some ways,” Manat said. “Still made of white wood and white stone. But we made many changes. Some of us… needed that.”

Manat cleared her throat. “Which brings us to tonight’s lesson.”

Bradamante leaned forward in her chair, ready to leap up and go outside. “Good. I could use a hard training session.” It was always the easiest way to improve her mood and clear her head.

“Not tonight,” Manat said. “I have something else in mind.”

“Oh.” Bradamante leaned back again and tried to hide her disappointment. She so rarely saw Manat anymore. She preferred to spend their time together improving her fighting skills.

Especially with Rogero and his army still lurking somewhere close to Monarch Pass.

Manat lifted the book that sat open next to her on the floor and passed it up to Bradamante. She pointed to the top of the page on the right side. “Read this. Then we’ll discuss it.”

Bradamante inwardly groaned. She accepted the book. It felt heavy on her lap. This was not how she wanted to spend her precious time within the vision. Her right heel began to tap against the runner of the rocking chair.

Manat sipped her tea and waited. Bradamante stared at the words.

The passage was by Master Waymon, whose writing Bradamante always struggled to understand. He didn’t write plainly, the way Samual and some of the more recent Masters did.

Bradamante tried to focus on the passage. Her eyes skipped along the words.

“As the seeker seeks from the soul, beyond the contemplation of those aspects of the heart which rest within the mind…. One finds in the water’s essence the strength and protection of sanctuary within…”

The words blurred. Bradamante’s foot tapped faster against the chair.

“… to create a water chamber… other chambers within the mind…”

Manat’s voice broke through. “Where are you?”

Bradamante looked up from the book and sighed. “Not here.” There was no use pretending. Her teacher always seemed to know.

“Go ride,” Manat said. “Come back when your mind is fresh. This lesson is important. I want you to learn it.”

Bradamante bounded out of the chair. As she hurried past the threshold of the house, out onto the white wooden porch, her long robe transformed into her brown thigh-length tunic and loose brown trousers that skimmed the top of her ankles. Her socks disappeared. She hopped from the porch onto the beach and dug her toes into the warm white sand.

She ran up the narrow trail behind the house to the meadow above it and to the right. Egalite was grazing there, but now she lifted her head.

Bradamante sprinted the rest of the distance. She used the momentum of her last few strides to leap upon the horse’s back. She threaded her fingers through Egalite’s mane, and turned her from the meadow down the slight incline onto the beach.

Then, as though she had been waiting to do it, too, the mare took off into her gallop.

Bradamante closed her eyes and held tightly to Egalite’s mane. She let her body absorb the pounding rhythm of the Egalite’s powerful legs.

Golden sunshine warmed her face. Wind tugged at her long, loose hair and brought with it the salty taste of the sea.

To simply ride and ride…

Not to think. Not to worry. Not remember…

She could hear Egalite exhale every time her front hooves landed on the wet beach. The sound created its own calming rhythm. Thud, thud, breathe… thud, thud, breathe… Bradamante let her eyes remain closed. She trusted Egalite to keep her safe. The further they galloped, the more she could feel herself relaxing.

“Now, Bradamante,” she heard Manat say inside her head, “send your mind to me.

Ride on, but also come sit with me on the sand. I have something to teach you.”

Bradamante’s eyes sprang open. She thrilled at the suggestion. She had never tried that before, splitting her mind into three places. Sleeping in the tent, riding Egalite, and now, without any deliberate effort beyond understanding that it was possible, she felt herself kneeling next to Manat on the beach in front of the house.

The sand was softer here where it was dry above the water line. Bradamante scooped up a handful and let it trickle through her fingers. She needed the sensation, she realized, some proof to herself that she was really inside this body, too, when she could also feel herself still riding bareback on her horse.

Bradamante lifted her hands to touch her own cheeks. She reached back and tugged her braid to make certain she felt that, too.

Then, as though flipping the page of a book, she instantly returned to galloping along the shoreline. She remained there for a moment, smelling the salt breeze, feeling the rhythmic thud of Egalite’s hooves, feeling the horse’s rough mane threaded between her fingers.

Then turn the page, and back to kneeling beside Manat on the sand.

Bradamante smiled. She loved it whenever Manat taught her how to access some new and unknown power of her own mind.

“Where are you?” Manat asked.

Bradamante let out a contented sigh. “Here.”

All of the anger and agitation she had brought with her were gone now. Her mind felt clear, her heart light once again.

“Good,” Manat said. “Now watch me.”