Soul Fire

Soul Fire - Chapter 10

"You are blind!"

The Grand Master merely smiled.

"Yet you seek my vision. I am blind so that I may truly see."

His voice sounded calm, soft, and resonant; though it filled the room. There was a depth and power to it that Dathion could not comprehend.

"It was not my idea to come, Grand Master. I was brought here for your wisdom."

Dathion's lips spoke the truth his mind tried to hide. His restraint and inhibitions were melting to join the strands of smoke spinning above the monk's head.

"Then you seek my wisdom in acquiescence to the will of others. Whose path do you walk, Dathion?"

"I ... I ..."

Dathion's voice trailed away. He realized he replied for no other reason than to match the Grand Master's words with his own. Instead, he joined with the perfect silence already inhabited by the monk.

Why was he here? What significance did the task set by his father hold? What denoted Dathion as special beside his station, or was that sufficient reason for him to be deemed important?

Then, in the corner of his mind, with no sword in his hand, he heard it - the sound that sometimes teased at the edge of his consciousness. He believed he could catch it if he were asleep and dreaming, or if the world were wrapped by the most pure of silences. Surrounded by perfect nothingness, he might understand what it was. Until then it played, just a whisper rippling in the absence of a breeze, or the sound of a bell shivering long after the dying of its sound.

"You hear it, Dathion?"

Dathion's blood froze to ice.

"Yes, I do. What is it?"

"It is your past and your future."

Although the riddle remained cryptic, Dathion was somehow pleased with the response.

"What was my past and what is my future?"

There came a long pause.

"You have two eyes. One may study where you have been, while the other may consider where you have yet to go. However, both should observe the path that is now under your feet, or you may stumble and fall."

"Even if I were blind?" Dathion spat.

The venom in Dathion's own voice jolted him.

"Especially if you were blind."

There was no anger, no change in tone, nor sign of offense. The Grand Master was an ancient rock upon which Dathion's poisoned words broke then failed.

"So what should I do now?"

Dathion's frustration crept into his words, his voice pleading.

"Find your journey. Do not forsake the aid of others, but realize that your path is your own, or else accept that it truly belongs to others."

"And this secret I bear? You cannot tell me what it is or how to use it?"

Then came the most unexpected of answers.

"Dathion, what is the smell of rain?"

Dathion felt mocked and riled. He had spent days scaling mountains for advice such as this? He seethed. Heat rose from his core to flush his skin. He trembled, trapping the pressure that rose inside to stop his outrage from spilling over.

"Rain has no smell. It is water. You can feel it, see it, and hear it, but you cannot smell it!"

The Grand Master's voice became softer, though it still intimidated with its presence. His tone chided Dathion like the child he still was.