by Cara Violet
“I’d still like to go, mam.”
Dersji observed the young boy tug on the Queen’s dress robes in optimism.
“Oh, hush child, we must be getting you cleaned up.” The Queen returned to her royal voice and slapped his grubby hand away from her robe. “We can’t have you running around in the mud. No, no, no, not for a boy who lives in the royal Manor.”
Dersji frowned at the exchange. “Polite young man you’ve got there.”
“Oh, I haven’t introduced you … I forget you see … maiden’s job normally … this is Xandou,” the Queen used her free hand to embrace the filthy child, “and this is Kaianan.” The younger girl, her face covered in dark hair, made some illogical noise and then switched her attention to her mother’s hair, which was being pulled on by the infant’s saliva covered fingers.
Dersji looked to the three of them and felt slight nausea. Did the Felrin really order him to be here, in a menagerie? He was a Liege, a notorious immortal warrior, and he was sent to babysit? When would it be okay to ask for a preform drink? Would they even stock it in this Manor?
“Any drinks?”
“Oh yes, didn’t Seran ask?” The Queen was removing her daughter’s fingers from her tangled strands. “We’ve got fresh Vera juice? A delicacy of the Valley Woods Vera bushes.”
Dersji felt anxiety latch onto his chest. He couldn’t drink Vera juice. Retreat beckoned in his mind, to the rum in his teacup on the mantel piece back home.
“I’ll pass, madam,” he said in his most controlled voice.
“Would you mind, staying here for tonight?” The Queen asked swiftly. “We have some quarters set up for you.”
“Good gracious, no.” Dersji stepped backward; he didn’t care if it would take him another hour to travel home, he just had to leave, there was no possible reason he could give himself for staying, even if it was almost the middle of night, even if he would end up completely drenched and his sleep would be lessened. These were archaea infected crossbreeds, the further from them he was, the better. He’d carry out the orders for the Felrin, but do it during the normal working hours of the day. “I’ll return bright and early in the morning, Your Highness, good evening.”
She didn’t object, not to a Liege, but her face held contempt. He ignored her snarky attitude as she called for the maiden.
Dersji bowed and with the maiden as an escort, exited the Manor; running quicker than he ever had; back through the deserted streets of small timber and bluestone houses, out of the Layos capital and back to his lone shack that was waiting for him, deep in the Valley Woods. A drink, the only thing on his mind.
Squawk! Squawk! Squawk!
“Shut up you.” Dersji snapped at his bird, Saffie, in the dark.
He slammed his cabin door shut and searched for the box of wood to feed the fire, to feed the only light in his one-bedroom cabin which had nearly died out. He threw two more logs on and then used his prodder to poke it. After several pokes and a while of just standing there and staring at it, the flames finally spilled over.
He turned back around to the room glowing from the firelight. The place was still as he left it; his liquor cabinet was full, his plate which he could see in his kitchen was clean from lunch, and all his scattered belongings, from his beloved scriptures on his overcrowded desk to his dovelet’s untidy birdcage, were still in their place. Good.
He snatched the teacup full of rum from the timber mantel and zigzagging his way through several small, various-upholstered stools piled high with books, three tiny wooden tables full of bobs and trinkets, and two white fluffy Clee sofas, made it to the other side of the room—to his kitchen.
He sipped on his rum, placed the teacup back down on the timber benchtop, next to the sink, and then went about collecting the onion seeds he’d dropped all over the timber floor before he left for the Manor.
“This was your fault, you know.”
Saffie squawked in reply, but with Dersji bent over facing the kitchen floorboards and gathering seeds, he found it difficult to pinpoint the purple feathered critter’s location. Was she hanging on the cabin beams in the ceiling? On the wall shelves? Or somewhere below him picking at the seeds? He’d kill her.
After he picked up all the visible onion seeds and restrung the mesh bag, he decidedly made his way to his bedroom and pulled out some fresh night clothes from an overflowing basket. He ran a shower in the small conjoined bathroom and slowly undid his white chestplate, tunic and remaining wet clothes, throwing it all in the empty clothes basket for his laundry. The only thing he left on was the ring hanging from the silver chain around his neck. He hopped in the shower and let the warm water run over his head and body, soaking his long brown mane, for several minutes.
He dressed in thick warm garbs and headed back to the living area.
Refilling his teacup with rum and gathering up his most recent manuscript, he sat on one of the fluffy Clee sofas and sighed. He wanted to take his mind off the day’s events; the memo from the Felrin, attempting to finish planting his new fruit trees in his garden, how he was unkempt for the Layos meeting, encountering the snobby Layos Queen, the filthy children…
His mind drifted to the orders. He shook his head, pulled out the memo, the one with the Felrin dovelet crest on it and read it again:
Dersji Brikin,
This is a notice to advise, you have been reinstated to active duty effective immediately.
You are to visit the city of Layos, meet with the King and Queen of the Gorgon tonight and see to the protection of the child with the Rivalex Mark. This has something to do with the Necromancer King Warlowes and his death at the Hunted Gorge a thousand years ago. There is a plaque that has forewarned us of a child with a ‘BI’ mark.
Parameters of the Gorgon: Homo captiosus species with hybrid Archaea cells. After maturity can physically transform into half reptilian beings. No known trained aura users.
Please stay vigilant. Monitor everything you see, and ensure you wait for our next command.
Good luck Liege Brikin.
Principal Liege Prudence
Board of Principals
Felrin Congress of the Felrin Congress Estate
Dersji’s fingers went over the stained purple crest in the top right-hand corner. The dovelet was the Felrin bird of purity and peace. Dersji knew Saffie put that sentiment to shame.
He crushed the memo in his hand—curse their stupid technology and whoever they sent to leave this letter at his doorstep! Didn’t the Principals know he had given up that life? That he didn’t want to go back to days as a Liege and work for the Felrin ever again?
Yet after over a thousand years of dealing with these people, Dersji knew any direct order they gave wasn’t to be taken lightly. That as much as he didn’t want to return to the Manor tomorrow, to even speak to the Gorgon ever again, he had to. The seven Liege, the other seven immortals that were still working for the Felrin Congress could detain and possibly execute him if he declined.
The last time he did decline, he was incarcerated. The memory of the night his family had broken apart, the night the blood had dried on his Felrin whites, the day they punished him for his failure, besieged him. That night, he had lost one of the most important people in his entire life …. In the beginning, Dersji had contemplated suicide. He’d drink Mercury, the poison that could actually kill an immortal, and put himself out of his misery.
But the Felrin Congress wanted to keep him alive. They needed all eight Liege to maintain the universe. Dersji refused working ever again. He’d turned to preform drink. He’d asked for exile, away from Felrin, away from the reminders of the past, and after two years of being held against his will, he finally got it. Out of six planets to choose from, he chose the one with the most internal havoc, so the Felrin, seemingly pompous people most of the time, would never visit him. He was currently regretting that decision.
He rubbed his eyelids outward with his thumb and forefinger, and instead of going back to his writing, he simply kept
drinking … and kept drinking. Until the drink overcame him; his eyes wandered and he was sprawled, long-legged out on the couch; manuscript, memo and remaining rum all over him, and he was out cold.
Somehow through his intoxication, Dersji had returned to the Layos Manor the next morning—not that he wasn’t used to working through the feeling. He’d rose early to a crooked neck and sticky skin, and after a quick shower and re-suiting in his Felrin whites which out of disinterest were the only clothes Dersji had, headed straight here.
He stood gingerly. Was he in the best state of mind right now after a night of heavy drinking? As usual, no. Were his eyes burning and bloodshot? Yes. Had it been bright on his early morning journey in like he said it would be? Absolutely not.
Just like his evening visit, the Swamp was unkind, but it was the Layos locals that were awake, filling the streets of the stinky and busy Layos Markets, that disrupted him the most. He took several alternate streets just to bypass the conglomeration of preform Gorgon bickering along Diggers Gap Road.
“Sir,” the young boy was pulling on his robes in the painted glitter gold ballroom Guest Hall.
“What is it?” Dersji hissed, snatching the thick white material from the young boy’s cleaner hand. He had obviously been washed and re-suited in a bright azure ensemble; tunic and slacks, leather boots, under a white-caped robe.
“Can I come with you?” His pleading blue eyes under his long blonde hair looked up at him in anticipation.
Dersji opened his mouth and wanted to say: ‘I’m an angry, intoxicated man, who doesn’t want to be here, or do anything for you or your family, but unfortunately, the Felrin, and their employed Liege would sever my head from my body if I ignored the orders.’
Instead he smiled. “You can’t—”
“Ah, Liege Brikin!” The Queen was shouting. Dersji lifted his head, watching Agantha pitter patter down the white steps of the staircase. She seemed disjointed. Dersji eyed her outfit. She couldn’t move properly in it because it seemed the huge peachy fabric, especially from the waist out, was heavier than Dersji’s armour, and the top part of it was so tight to her neck and wrists, Agantha looked almost stiff. But she got to him. Somehow.
“Thank-you for returning as promised,” she said, looking flushed. Dersji watched the way the strands of her auburn hair were pulled back into a tight bun, and how her lips were the only thing glossed on her face. “Are you – okay?”
Dersji bowed, drifting his eyes downward.
“I think it might be worth taking Xandou with you to the Hunted Gorge.”
Dersji’s head was up and he glowered. “The boy? With me?”
“Why yes, Xandou may have a point. He does know the area, and he will need extra information himself on the Rivalex prophecy.”
Dersji was in overdrive, arguing with his brain to take over and think of a thousand possible reasons why this would be a silly idea: how the alcohol was still running through his body and how the boy would most definitely give him a migraine. But at the conclusion, if this prophecy was about this boy, then, perhaps it was best he did accompany him.
Did he just lose his own internal debate?
“Fine.” Dersji snapped. “We’re leaving.”
The Queen smiled, sent Xandou a kiss through the air, and walked back up the stairs to the distant infant cries and out of view.
It’s just an ordinary day. Dersji had to keep reminding himself.
“Sir, sir!”
Dersji felt his jaw clench; if this boy was not going to keep up, he’d have to clobber him to shut up at least.
“We’ve only been walking a measly five hundred metres outside the city and now we’re in the Swamp Lands, I told you, no talking until—”
A loud burst of exploding air shot out near them as they walked through the green gunge and bubbling sludge of the notorious Swamp Lands. The Swamp, home of the Ebel, the thick, long green scaled sea serpents, was reasonably quiet during the day. In contrast, at night, the Ebel were hunting, screeching, killing and making the walk through the Swamp that much more difficult. Dersji didn’t mind doing it on his own at night, but a noisy sod like Xandou would get them killed.
Nevertheless the late morning sun, and the tired Ebel won out over Xandou’s loud voice and kept a clear path for them to walk along the worn Swamp trails in relative ease; and even though it was awful mould-sprouting scenery and the humidity and steamy air gave their bodies reason to perspire, it wasn’t as bad as the strong repugnant smell of dead fish guts and holom-knows what kind of animal carcasses that were wafting stink through the place.
“Sorry, sir.” Xandou mumbled out in a nasally sound, holding his nose and pulling his boot from the sludge.
“You’ll be sorry in a minute if we get stuck in here, just stay close.”
That put silence between them. They continued along the worn paths until they reached grassland.
“Can I talk now, s—”
“No.” Dersji cut him off, shaking his robe and boots of excess mire.
“I thought Liege could do tricks, sir,” Xandou also shook his boots of slush, “couldn’t you get us there faster?”
Dersji rolled his eyes, the two suns above warming his face.
“Don’t you have a Kan’Ging aura—”
Dersji pummelled the little boy in the gut. Not hard, but hard enough to wind him. “You need pay better attention if you want to survive this prophecy, boy.”
Xandou was wheezing, rolling around on the grass, dirtying his white robe. “Wot was dat fo?” he eventually breathed out, bits of grass sticking to his blonde hair as he sat up.
“Your training.”
“I, is – er – already going to school, sir, with the Gorgon kids, sir.” Xandou lifted himself up and brushed his robe down. “I want to train my aura. Be like you.”
“How do you know about …” Dersji stopped. “Never mind.”
“About Kan’Ging, sir? My people, the Giliou back home, we get taught it.”
“The Giliou.” Dersji muttered.
He had met Giliou before, in the Feldara System, on Felderin. The Giliou were a Homo Captiosus species almost entirely identical to the Felrin. Protestant in only their belief in a historical figure, Giliou the Wise. Giliou the Wise, the man who left the Felrin world in the hope of establishing a society that protected those with no aura power, was well-known in the galaxy. He named the species ‘G-iliou’ as they had become the Guild of Siliou Protectors.
The Giliou were exceptionally well-trained aura users.
Dersji also knew there were three species living on Rivalex, all in some sort of conflict, but he had never run into any of them. Only because he didn’t want them to know about him living here and he, himself, definitely didn’t want to know anything about them. “Did you come from the south?”
Xandou laughed. “Sir, my city Forsda is a few short hours to the east of Layos, above the gold mine, sir.”
“The Giliou mine gold here?”
“Yes sir, we mine gold for trade, that’s how my parents died …”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dersji found his civility despite Xandou not looking upset, “is that why you are living with the Gorgon royal family then?”
“Once I lost my parents, sir, I swore my life to become a Giliou Shielder. Boku Jove had been helping me first but now I’m in Layos for protection.”
“Boku Jove, the Giliou foreseer? How old is that chap now?”
“Yes, sir. He would be old, sir.”
Dersji nodded and huffed knowing ‘old’ was not a good answer. He’d overheard a conversation when he was on Felderin; Boku Jove was able, like one other Liege, to see the future. The Felrin never liked it, but the Giliou weren’t susceptible to Felrin’s laws and Boku Jove kept his gift without persecution. What was he doing on Rivalex, that was the question? To look after this boy?
“How did your parents die?” Dersji said.
Xandou scrunched his lips in and out. “It was an accident, sir, but – you know –
Giliou the Wise does these things for a reason. I can’t be mad at him … he gave me the gift to ‘port, sir.”
“Ah, yes,” Dersji assessed Xandou jutting his teeth out in a smile. Dersji remembered the Giliou Shielders on Felderin telling him portation was common for almost all Giliou Shielders. Dersji had the gift also but no other Felrin had ever been known to ‘port. “I was blessed with ‘portation also.”
“You’re not Giliou!” Xandou’s outburst was loud and aggressive.
Dersji rolled his eyes; it was time for one of his party tricks.
Having not gone back to his abilities in over a year, he had some difficulty at first, but with the close of his eyes and the clearing of his mind, Dersji fired up in ‘portation and purple sparks of light flickered over his body, spinning him around and reforming his figure on the other side of Xandou. The sensation sparked a small ticking thud in Dersji’s head and he had to exhale loudly to catch his breath.
“Wow,” Xandou’s mouth was stuck open. “You can do it. How? I’ve only done it once. The Giliou Shielders say I need training to get better. Why did it go purple? Why isn’t your aura blue? Why is it different? Why did Giliou the Wise give you our gift?”
Xandou said all this so fast, Dersji had to stop walking and bend down to his knees to look the boy in the eyes. “Haven’t you learnt anything about the Siliou and the auras?”
“Not much yet, sir, no.”
The migraine had formed in the back of Dersji’s brain and again he debated with himself if he should even care about this child. Xandou wiped his long blonde hair aside and Dersji noticed half a dozen silver earrings running down his right ear, then the boy’s big blue eyes saddened.
“Blast … fine, just listen. Now, the Siliou … the Siliou is the gravitational force between, say, you and me … between you and the planet … you see,” Dersji stuck his hand into the air, “you can’t actually see it or touch it, but it’s there.” Dersji regarded Xandou in apparent deep thought. “Do you understand?”
