by Cara Violet
Kaianan was under the blanket on Chituma’s bed; a massive wooden four-post frame, hung with elegant cream lace curtains, closing in on her. Kaianan remembered being here, but it was an odd feeling. Something about the way she judged all the furniture in the room made her start counting.
“So … why am I here?” she said, Chituma still sitting in front of her, draped in a thin back silk robe.
“Ka,” Chituma gushed, trying to suppress her laughter. “Xandou carried you back to me so we can begin getting suited for your transformation ceremony. Layos has never been so intoxicated by such an event.”
Kaianan felt an anxiety build up within her. She held her younger sister by the shoulders in fleeting alarm. “Chituma, did I fall asleep without knowing it? What is this about my ceremony? Tonight?”
“Good Heavens, Ka, have you bumped your head and forgotten everything?” Chituma said, breaking Kaianan’s hold. “Your transformation ceremony is tonight—when you become of age? That ceremony? You celebrate your eighteenth year and transform. Layos has been anticipating this moment since your birth, the period of enlightenment is to commence!”
“Bumped my head?” Kaianan’s mind had gone completely blank. “No. When did I turn sixteen? Let alone seventeen? Wait, what happened to celebrating any of my birthdays?”
Chituma frowned and then giggled. “You crack me up.”
Kaianan smiled, although she was sure it was a mechanical action, there was no humour or happiness to it. “I crack myself up.” She replied flatly.
“That you do.” Chituma, got up off the bed and moved to the seat at the dresser. She began brushing her long hair, staring into her wooden framed dresser mirror and caught Kaianan staring back at her. “Oh, will you cheer up, Ka.”
Kaianan noticed how mature and beautiful her sister appeared, her facial features were so much softer than her own. “Since when am I not cheery—”
The door opened; startling Kaianan. It was only Chituma’s maiden, Abigail. She bowed to them both and then walked over to Chituma at the dresser with an assortment of what looked like fabrics.
Chituma was jumping around like an animal about to receive dinner. “Oh, Abigail. How exciting.”
Kaianan rolled her eyes. “Does holom have more substance or must I be subjected to such pointless banter for all eternity?” she muttered under her breath.
Chituma frowned. “Did you say something?”
“No.”
Kaianan watched her sister step up to the small dress stand and drop her silk robe, revealing tight undergarments of a beige bodice and panties set, and sheer silk pantyhose.
“Ow! Watch the zip, Abigail.” She glared at the maid. The strapless black lace dress flurried out like a meringue from her waist, and to Kaianan’s dismay left little to the imagination.
“What are you wearing?” Kaianan said incredulously.
Chituma looked at her sister in perplexity. “A dress. It’s from Fabric Haus,” her voice high like a little girl.
“Have you got any dish rags in that pile, Abigail?” Kaianan said condescendingly. “Chituma is in dire need. Didn’t know she signed up as a hussy.”
Chituma widened her eyes. “Kaianan.”
“What?”
“Your Vernacular is atrocious. You know, looking like this and pursuing men is not something that should be labelled. Women should be able to do as they please. Dish rag, hussy or not.”
“My Vernacular? My native tongue speaks truth. But you should know, I absolutely agree with you. I also agree that wiping several dishes can make a rag dirtier than it should be.”
Chituma’s mouth fell open. “At least I have dirty dishes waiting for me to clean. I don’t think you even have one, smart-mouthed Seevaar.”
Kaianan almost smiled. Chituma was right, no-one was waiting on her. She kept people at a distance and that included protecting her heart.
“How are you feeling, anyway?”
Kaianan shrugged. “Apart from feeling like a squeaky-clean rag, I’m exhausted.”
“How could you still be fatigued, my dear sister? You’ve been motionless in my bed for over four hours,” Chituma said, busy repositioning the dress on her body to reveal more skin. “And don’t be so gloomy. You will find a dish, I promise.”
“Are you honestly going to broadcast your features to the entire ceremony?”
Chituma raised her eyebrows and curved her bottom lip down, shrugging her shoulders. “I might as well revel in being a dish rag.”
Kaianan sniggered. Chituma was too intelligent for her own good. “You can wear what you like, Chituma. You know I only worry.”
“I know … I also know deep down you want to be as open and suggestive, Kaianan. You should see what I have selected for you.”
Kaianan’s face dropped.
“Don’t be so sullen; this is the worthiest night of your life. I could not be any more enlivened for my own coming of age. You even get to go through Euclidean Vectors. You can system and galaxy travel and I am envious.” Chituma made her way back to her bed to sit next to Kaianan. “This is what you have been waiting for, Ka. The whole of Rivalex waits for you on this night. You are receiving another Guardian. I mean, I don’t even have one yet.”
Plans of action starting forming in Kaianan’s mind; forming tactics and strategies to keep her sister safe, though she was not sure how she was devising any of it. “Listen to me, Chituma; promise me you will stay close to me tonight.”
Chituma almost immediately turned away. “There will be drink and delicacies, Kaia. There will be Gorgon and Giliou rife in the Manor. Father said Jahzara had guests arriving from Hyravane. You asking me to stay close to you is absurd; I desire to meet new people.”
“Just promise me,” Kaianan said sternly.
Chituma stared at her for a long moment. “If it is what you wish. I do not see the need for the protection though. The whole party will be swarming with Giliou Shielders, and Master Xandou would never let anything happen to us. The Necromancers would know better than to start anything tonight.”
“Thank you, Chituma. Now let’s get this over with.”
Chituma smiled and waved over Abigail who was showing her accessories and hair pins that matched her dress. Kaianan was concentrating on her preparation for tonight. She scanned her left inner wrist, the area throbbed. She touched her forehead—slight fever and bruised left wrist, running at approximately ninety per cent efficiency. This was untrained territory, analysing her physical condition as if it second nature—was it second nature? Surely not. Surely there was a reasonable explanation for the way in which she was scrutinising every inch of the room she was in, working out exits, best places to disappear, and best places to … she gulped at the thought she had.
“Ka, I like my hair this way.” Chituma’s voice wailed over the top of her thoughts. “What do you think?”
Kaianan nodded dully while Abigail waved a dress in front of her.
“I can ask the seamstresses to alter it, madam—” Abagail began.
“No.” Kaianan shot back and put on a gracious face for the two ladies making a fuss of her undergarments. It was enough of talking fabric …
There was a tremor. Kaianan looked up to the walls slightly vibrating. There was a loud sound coming from outside. “Can you hear that?”
The ladies disregarded her and kept talking. She stalked off to the window, and pulling the velvet curtain back, she stuck her upper body outside of the bluestone castle and timber window frame. Her eyes landed on the silver steel body and black wings of a Felrin cruiser sparkling in the sky.
Kaianan had never seen one in her entire life. This was a technological masterpiece; the balance of the cruiser’s wingspan equalled its body length and height. The smaller class cruiser, which this was, could fit approximately thirty Felrin on board, with full quarters and cafeteria. It didn’t hinder it in terms of agility either. Most rogue ships would be destroyed before they had a chance to get away.
But what was it doing her
e? This was definitely not a usual sighting. Cruisers were mandated only for Felrin, and Rivalex had yet to see any Felrin since the war one thousand years ago. Add to that the fact space was prohibited to all other ships outside of the Felrin fleet, it made the significance of the sighting even more mysterious. The reasons for which space was solely owned and occupied by the Felrin and why they only visited at war, was unbeknown to Kaianan.
And glancing down further toward the city, curious Layos locals pointing in the cruiser direction also thought the same. She’d only ever seen one in her school books.
“Do you guys know why a Felrin cruiser is here? I mean I’ve never met—”
Chituma had got a hold of Kaianan and pulled her from the window back inside, to her bathroom.
“Come on, Kaianan,” she said, Abigail on her heels, “we are running out of time, the guests will be here any minute.”
Kaianan nodded hollowly and exhaled, begging her brain would come back to her soon.
The vibrating metal floor awoke Dersji. His cheek had caved in and he groaned in lethargy as he lifted himself upright. He reached his head with his hand. A lump had formed at the top of his forehead.
He breathed out and slowly took his eyes to the place. He observed he was in some kind of ship. His vision eventually stabilised and he was able to discern that he was in some sort of cell. And then it dawned on him, this was a cruiser. He was being detained by the Felrin. Great, he thought, another lovely situation to add to the list of unknown situations.
It had been a long day. From sparring with the hopeless Kaianan, and fighting against the Liege who simply had the upper hand over his semi-consciousness, to ending up a Felrin hostage, annoyed him. Irritated him to no end.
He thought about Saffie, alone his cabin. Hopefully someone was going to look after her in his absence. She, for one, would not be happy the Felrin had cut off her food supply.
First things first, he needed to assess the situation.
He moved around the small cell space, feeling the bars, only to find them beamed with aura destabilisers. This meant he was unable to ‘port out of the cell. He tried anyway, evaporating to velvet purple dust, spinning tornado-like, only to have his body reform back in the cell. His head throbbed from the effort.
No luck. He took an onion from inside his robe and began to eat it. Well, he could swallow it now; still fuming, he had let his emotions get the better of him.
“How inspiring it is,” he mumbled in between chews.
“What is inspiring, my Liege, is that in your one thousand, two hundred and ninety-two years you still have not learnt your place among your own people.” The husky voice waffled through the air. Dersji couldn’t hide his smile. Shiek General Aradar stood almost seven-foot-tall in front of Dersji. His dark eyebrows lowered and wrinkled below his bald head. The thick and solid man gave Dersji a scolding look as he stood outside his cell. Aradar was a pompous Mugadeer. He always had been. His arrogance, for his lowly position on the aura hierarchy was uncalled for.
“General, it’s only been twenty years … how lovely of you to drop by.” Dersji beamed, his mouth full of onion. “Did you fancy a drink? I really wish I could offer …” He threw his hands about like a gracious queen.
Aradar’s face worsened. “You are out of your depth, Liege.” His voice more like a grunt than actual speech. “You may hold the highest rank in all of Felrin, but you forget you are a part of a people of order. The Felrin are built around this order and you break it haphazardly.”
Dersji snorted. “I have done shit, Aradar, and you know it. Why in Holom’s sake am I being detained?”
“You cannot be trusted,” the General said. “Your bond to the girl is broken but you still seethe over her departure and long to salvage her from her fate. We can’t have that now, can we? She has a prophecy to fulfil and you have a new mission.”
Dersji stared into the black eyes of the Felrin General and continued savagely eating his onion. The Felrin honour badges across Aradar’s white crystal cape meant little to Dersji; it was Aradar’s orchid chestplate that levelled him. A Shiek was no challenge for a white chestplated Liege. The bars were there for the General’s protection, not for Dersji’s imprisonment. And that was the only reason Dersji allowed this conversation to take place.
“I’m listening,” he answered while small pieces of onion were flying out of the corners of his mouth.
Aradar grimaced and pressed on. “You have been chosen to join a conquest. A missing Relic has been reported on planet Croone and the Daem-Raal have requested assistance from the Liege. Accompanying you will be Liege Shiek Maki Ryhad and Liege Shiek Garen Lofar.”
Dersji chuckled. “I think I’m hearing incorrectly. Are you giving me another order, another mission? Because you see, I’ve retired.”
“You’ve been out of retirement for years, Dersji. Besides, you’re a Liege, an immortal, you don’t get to retire unless the Felrin Congress let you.”
“Aradar, I do believe though there are another four Liege that actually report to the Felrin Congress to take on these missions.”
“Yes,” he agreed.
“Why are you confusing me with those on the payroll of Congress?”
“Your name came up for a reason, Brikin,” Aradar said matter-of-factly, arching his thick eyebrows.
Dersji was not sure if he wanted to find out the answer if he couldn’t use his Kan’Ging to dismantle Aradar’s face after. “What is the reasoning, General?”
“The missing Relic is a boy who has been held captive by the Daem-Raal.” Aradar seemed to speak carefully, more carefully than usual. “He has sacred markings all over his body.” He paused to step closer and lowered his face to Dersji. “When we asked the Daem-Raal about this boy, they said he repeated the name of Arlise and claimed his Liege Shiek was coming to kill them all.”
“LIES, ARADAR!” Dersji raged madly, the pounding in his chest loud in his ears and the blood pumping fast through his veins. “Nothing but lies! I saw the boy die. He bled to death in my arms. Do not bring such evil words to my ears. I should cut your throat for it!”
“Dersji, Dersji, Dersji. What will we do with you?”
“Kill me and be done with it. Enough of this detainment. You know you cannot hold me forever.”
“Who is to say we can’t?” The General turned his back. “The markings on the boy were of a ring he carved into his own flesh. Apparently, he claimed someone had stolen it from him before he became a captive Relic. Quite a strange story, wouldn’t you say, Brikin? Perhaps we will recruit another Liege to find him …” Aradar sniggered, before adding: “… and fix your hair. Can’t have an unkempt Liege without his perfect top knot.”
Aradar departed; Dersji stopped chewing. He frantically scoped up his hair and redid the Liege knot at the top of his head. His head hurt from the action. He shut his eyes tightly and placed his hand over his chest to the silver chain that hung around his neck; the ring rested heavy on the skin under his white Felrin tunic and white chestplate.
Stolen it? Dersji had taken the ring from Arlise as a memory. Arlise was the only one who was worthy of the Liege status, until he met Kaianan. Was it wrong to think Arlise alive? Was the general lying? He’d kill him. What about Kaianan? The girl was about to become a full Gorgon and she’d just lost her Kan’Ging aura. What was he to do?
Thoughts flooded his mind becoming confused and unwarranted; his brain spoke back to him in riddles. Did he have a choice to let Kaianan, who was on the cusp of fulfilling this prophecy, go and instead save the boy, who meant more to Dersji than his own life?
Aradar had left Dersji alone, he knew, to let him meditate. This was cheated madness. Not once but twice he was stripped of his Menial and now they were both alive. Confusion was an understatement. He had to start by breathing right. After a few minutes his heart rate steadied.
Finally. His mind went blank and he breathed out.
Footsteps grew louder; Dersji could smell her coming from a mile away. He sw
ore under his breath. Sweat began dripping down his forehead, and all the anger that had possessed him disappeared. It had been twenty years since this moment. Every inch of Dersji didn’t want to believe it was her.
The female Felrin Liege Shiek finally came into view, strolling past his cell and she was just as he recollected—long legs, olive complexion, wavy chocolate brown hair to her waist, and the greenest eyes he had ever seen. Her crystal white tunic and slacks under her white chestplate did not do justice to her beauty.
“Hello, Dersji. What a bump on your head you have … Where did your friends go?” she asked, through soft parting lips. The cell door swung open, Dersji found himself tied to the spot. The Liege Shiek strolled in and placed her hands around his neck, forcing her intoxication upon him. Dersji had forgot just what exquisiteness was, this woman, she was it. She was everything.
“Sachin,” Dersji whispered, centimetres from her approaching mouth. He was frozen. He tried to back away but only succeeded in tilting slightly.
She smirked at his sudden look of torment. “You never did learn how to stop my scent, did you? Trying the onion and ginger thing again? It won’t work.”
Dersji stared into her malice-filled pupils and she stared right back. Memories of their secluded rendezvous besieged him. Times at the Elixir waterfall when he could stare at her glistening skin and body in the moonlight and casually admire that vulnerable and beautiful smile of hers; times when he could sit with her at home and open up and be himself away from the responsibilities of the Felrin.
Then his visions of his old sre’shi, his former wife, turned into black nothingness.
It was all too much; the nostalgia had hit him so hard, he erupted in an angry fit and shook himself from the immobility. He closed his hand around her neck and spun them both around, shoving her back into the electrifying bars and forcefully pressing his body against her. She struggled to break free from him and breathe.
“Sachindra, my sre’shi, where is Arlise?” he said forcefully in her ear, “Where is our son?”
