The Jestivan (Erafeen, #1)

by David F. Farris

  “Enough pleasantries,” Vitio said. “It’s four o’clock—just two hours left of the Dark Realm’s second-night.” He stepped to the side as a ring of intelights sparked to life behind him. They revealed a teleplatform—a rather makeshift one constructed of wood.

  “This is a secret teleplatform that Mendac built. You can port out, but not back in.” The three Jestivan stepped on. “Perks of once having the Fifth of Five as your general.”

  “We’re ready,” Bryson said, gripping onto one of the support beams. He gave it an uneasy look as it wobbled in his hand.

  “If you need to contact me, go through Vistas,” Vitio said. “We have Flen. Please, be smart and stay safe.”

  “We’ll be great, Mr. King!” Jilly said.

  Vitio smiled as the platform picked up rotational speed. Princess Shelly gave an ironic little wave. Everything became a blur, and Bryson caught a glimpse of a somber Lilu standing at the foot of the staircase.

  Slowly, Bryson regained his bearings. It was night, and the only light came from the stars and moons. The three Jestivan hesitantly stepped off the teleplatform, and not a second passed before Jilly screamed.

  “What is it?” Toshik asked.

  She looked down and gasped. “A body.”

  As Bryson’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized that that was hardly the only one. Corpses—roughly twenty of them—were scattered in the grass. Who had done this?

  “About time.” They all jumped at the sound. They turned and saw a lanky young man with silky black hair casually sitting in the tall grass, staring up at the night sky.

  Jilly jumped on him and gave him the friendliest of hugs. “Himitsu!”

  24

  Pursuit

  It was a little past four p.m., less than two hours until the Dark Realm’s second-day. Jilly and Vistas were outside preparing for their journey. There wasn’t much time, as the teleplatform would reopen at six.

  Bryson, Himitsu, and Toshik were inside Telestation, sitting at the bar. On the other side was a teenager in an apron, his face white with terror.

  “Why didn’t you kill him?” Toshik asked. “He could rat us out.”

  “He’s just a civilian,” Himitsu said. “An unable. He can’t tap into his energy. From what he told me, they are treated quite poorly here.”

  Toshik snorted. “Soft,” he said.

  “Five of the men I killed out there were on their knees as they begged to surrender,” Himitsu said, his voice carefully even. “I will do whatever it takes to complete this mission. If he’s not working when the teleplatform reopens, they’ll quickly figure out that we’ve attacked. Besides, he has information he can tell you.” Himitsu got up from the bar and walked outside. “I’ll be cleaning up out there.”

  The young bartender pointed at the map. “This is the land of the Dev Kingdom. As you can see, there are two routes from the teleplatform to the capital. King Storshae has taken the long way—due west, toward Cosmos. He’s announced a tour of that city, as well as Shreel and Rence.”

  “What’s the Region of Demons?” Toshik asked.

  “Precisely what it implies.”

  Toshik smirked. “So you mean to tell me it’s a region … of demons?”

  “Yes,” the boy said, with a hint of annoyance in his voice. “It will serve you well if the prince is alerted to your presence here.”

  “So if he tries to cross through, he’ll be attacked … by demons?” Toshik mockingly asked.

  “No. You can’t get in and they can’t get out,” the boy explained. “You’ll see what I mean.”

  “So we’ll cut Storshae off at Rence,” Bryson said. “Easy enough.”

  “Maybe not,” the boy said.

  Bryson’s eyes narrowed. “Elaborate.”

  “King Storshae could risk crossing through Necrosis Valley.”

  Toshik laughed. “‘Necrosis’? These names, man.”

  The server’s face became grave. “It’s not a laughing matter.”

  “How many men does he have with him?” Bryson asked.

  “General Ossen, a major, a lieutenant, two corporals, and roughly fifteen lower ranks.”

  And his Bewahr, Bryson thought as he rose from his seat. He looked at the boy and extended his hand. “Thank you.”

  Bryson walked outside and gazed around the field that showed no signs of a battle. “What did you do with the bodies?” he asked Himitsu, who was throwing a sack of supplies over a white horse’s back.

  “Threw ’em off the Edge.”

  Bryson looked beyond the teleplatform, where he could see the ground suddenly stop. Cliffs that fell into the infinity of empty space ran around the perimeter of the floating island. In the Light Realm’s kingdoms, one couldn’t get too close because the Edge was gated off and heavily secured, but it seemed as if the kingdoms of the Dark Realm didn’t bother with such precautions—or at least the Dev Kingdom didn’t.

  Himitsu walked up to the horse and patted the saddle. “Get on,” he said to Jilly.

  She smiled and hopped onto the horse’s back. “Pony!”

  Toshik and Himitsu were still practically eye-level with Jilly, but Bryson had to crane his neck upward.

  “It’s a Hackney—not a pony,” Toshik said.

  She brushed some falling hairs behind her left ear and stuck out her tongue. “Anything that has four legs, hooves, a long hairy tail, and a long nose is a pony.”

  Bryson laughed. “You can’t beat that logic.”

  Himitsu grabbed a few bags and handed them around.

  “I don’t think so.” Toshik rudely pushed the bag into Himitsu’s chest.

  Himitsu shoved it back harder with a cold look. “Either you do or we will leave your ass to rot, and if you choose to follow us, we’ll beat you senseless until you’re unable to follow.”

  Toshik returned his gaze for a few seconds—as if he was sizing him up—before reluctantly throwing the bag over his shoulder.

  They departed from the station and headed southwest toward Rence. The road was a rather narrow trail between the tall prairie grass. Bryson and Himitsu led the way with Jilly and her horse a few yards behind. Vistas walked beside her and Toshik took the rear, instinctively keeping his eyes peeled for any sort of danger to his Charge. The sun had partially risen, and golden rays shone against the tails of Jilly’s blond hair. Most of her head was shaded by her large sunhat.

  “Stop!” she shouted.

  They looked at her as she dangled her feet before jumping to the ground. She reached into the brown sack hanging against the horse’s ribs and pulled out a green apple. She gave it to the horse and caressed its mane before struggling to climb back on the saddle.

  Himitsu scowled. “We’re not stopping every ten minutes for you to feed it an apple.”

  Bryson scanned the ground ahead of them, still seeing nothing but rolling hills of thick grass swaying in the breeze. “I suppose we can jog for a bit. It would cut the trip into only a day or two’s worth of travel time.”

  “Yes, run!” Jilly said. “I don’t want to sleep in a tent.”

  “You’re starting to sound like Lilu,” Himitsu sighed. Bryson smiled at the accurate comparison.

  So they jogged while Jilly shouted “Giddy up!” and “Hee-yaw!” as her horse trotted beneath her.

  Before long, a strikingly tall structure rose into the sky ahead of them. When they got closer, they saw that it was a sturdy black gate with bars too narrow to squeeze through. They slowed their pace to a walk as they looked up, searching for its pinnacle with no success. The clouds swallowed it. Across the gate, the prairie grass had been replaced with scattered shrubbery and trees, but mostly the hard crust of the land.

  Toshik’s voice carried from the back of the pack: “The Region … of Demons! Dun, dun, dunnnn.”

  The moment Toshik’s sarcastic remark concluded, a hair-raising roar scattered birds from the treetops and shook the ground beneath their feet. Jilly fell off her horse from shock.

  “What
would you call that? A rabbit?” Himitsu cracked.

  Bryson would have laughed, but he just wanted to get away. Beyond that fence was where Thusia must have died to save his father’s life some 25 years ago. His stomach was doing flips.

  Vistas hadn’t said much—not that anybody tried to force him to. They understood how difficult this must be for him. One of his identical brothers died and now he was in the kingdom he once called home.

  They made it through the rest of second-day fairly easily—a couple of bathroom breaks, a few friendly hellos to people they passed, and the all-too-frequent hiccups to feed the horse an apple. Jilly had named it Bobuel—a mixture of Bob and Samuel. She thought the fusion was clever, but no matter how many times she said it, it never sounded less silly. Bryson and Himitsu would break into a fit of laughter every time they heard it.

  As midnight passed, second-day ended and first-night began. They camped in a forest a few hundred yards from the trail. While Jilly, Toshik, and Vistas slept inside the tent, Bryson and Himitsu sat next to the dying fire, whose light reflected in the canopy above.

  “It’s truly amazing how she can manage to make us smile at a time like this,” Himitsu said.

  “The directors were right. The first lesson they tried to teach us was that each of us was important in our own special way.” Bryson glanced at the tent. “She’s the one who never needed that lesson in the first place.” He paused for a second before adding, “Much like Thusia was for the original Jestivan.”

  Himitsu grimaced. “But why Toshik? What is his purpose?”

  Bryson’s smile faded. “He’s skillful. However, his main purpose is probably to protect Jilly. The directors realize he’d die for her, and she’s too important to die. She keeps us going.”

  “You’re right. Sounds like Thusia.”

  “That’s exactly what she is.” Bryson poked at the fire with a stick. “When Thusia died, so did the Jestivan. Mendac’s love wasn’t enough to protect her. So the directors took a different track this time, hoping Toshik’s sense of duty is enough to protect Jilly.”

  Himitsu sprawled out on his back and stared at the cloud-covered Earth in the black sky. “What is stronger in holding together the glue of the group—A.K.A. Jilly? They found out it wasn’t love, so now they test out duty.”

  Realizing Toshik’s role, the inky-haired Jestivan rolled on his side to look at his captain. “That’s strange,” Himitsu teased. “You sounded just like Agnos for a second there.”

  Bryson’s appreciative smile flickered in the firelight. “Thank you.”

  Himitsu pushed himself off the matted grass and let out a massive yawn. “I’m gonna try to get some sleep. Wake me when it’s my turn to keep watch.”

  Bryson gave a nod. “Good night.”

  ***

  A dorm room door in the Lilac Suites slammed shut as an aggravated young woman prepared to wind down for the night. Her makeup was flawless and her lips a light pink, which was odd for a girl who always rejected the image of a delicate lady. But it was worth it for what was supposed to be a night of fun with one of her favorite people in the world. Her plans, however, had fallen through. Jilly hadn’t shown.

  She yanked the flowers from her elegant bun, and her violet hair crashed down her back. She undid her bra, pulled it through her sleeve, and angrily tossed it across the room. She followed its path as it landed on her pillow, where a piece of parchment caught her eye. Picking it up and unfolding it, her eyes widened when she saw Jilly’s handwriting.

  Dear beautiful, scary, too serious, alcoholic, voluptuous (Agnos taught me that word), back-talking, feisty (as Toshik always says), and absolutely perfect Yama,

  I’m hoping you won’t read this until you arrive back at the suites late at night after realizing I was going to be a no-show to our little dinner date … And by that time, I should be far away. But I will be back!

  Bryson decided to take our team on a getaway trip. With everything that has happened, we want to rekindle (Agnos is so smart!) our relationships. It should only be a few days over the weekend, which is why we left on a Friday. This way, the directors won’t find our absence disturbing. Oh! Which reminds me …

  Don’t tell the directors. K? K. I miss you already as I write this, so by the time you’re reading this, just know I’m dying of not being able to spend time with you. If you’re wondering why I didn’t just tell you this in person, it’s because I would have cried like a baby, and then you would have called me a clingy, pathetic little girl because you wouldn’t have been drunk enough to say what you’re really feeling.

  And that’s another reason why I hope you’re reading this at the end of the night. I suppose you had a few drinks alone while you waited for me, so I know you’re reading this and thinking, “Oh, I miss you too, silly Jilly!”

  Or you’re completely sober and reading with a scowl … Either way, I’ll see you soon!

  LoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOooove,

  Jilly!

  P.S. I put this on your pillow because, no matter how many times, I know exactly where your bra lands when you toss it away at the end of the night. And I say this with the biggest, most exaggerated wink.

  Yama smiled. She was a bit tipsy.

  ***

  After a couple days of speedy travel, Vistas, Toshik, Jilly, and an exhausted Bryson and Himitsu—who had been alternating shifts of guard duty while the group slept—saw a gap in the trees ahead. They stepped into the sunlight of second-day as they passed the final trees. It was nine p.m. on Sunday, and they had made excellent time.

  The small town of Rence lay in front of them. Buildings reached no higher than two stories and the roads were dirt. Bryson couldn’t help but imagine how many towns of this size could fit into Dunami—probably 40.

  “Hopefully the women aren’t as ugly as the town,” Toshik said as they walked through a street flanked by rickety houses.

  Bryson and Himitsu didn’t react, having learned to ignore his shallow remarks. Jilly, however, pegged him in the back with an apple she was eating. They were looking for the tavern that the young bartender at Telestation had told them about. As they reached an intersection of another dirt road, they turned the corner to see a building with three carriages, several horses, and scattered packs of people outside of it. Rowdy noises carried down the street. It was strange to see such nightlife while the sun was still shining, but it was approaching ten o’clock, so it made a certain sort of sense.

  Toshik smiled for the first time in days. “See ya!” he yelled, bolting toward the tavern at his highest speed percentage.

  “He’s an idiot,” Bryson said flatly. “Does he even realize that those carriages and horses are draped in burgundy? There are Dev soldiers in there … or worse, Storshae.”

  “Storshae can’t be there,” Himitsu said. “One, he couldn’t have made it here yet, and two, I doubt he would be in the mood.”

  Bryson gave it some thought. “I don’t think he knows who we are anyways.” After thinking about it a little while longer, he finally made up his mind. “Alright then, let’s go in and take a look.”

  As Himitsu helped Jilly dismount and tied her horse to a wooden pole, he saw that Bryson was correct. There were soldiers everywhere. Most of them mingled with each other, while others rudely advanced on uninterested women.

  Bryson was expecting to receive judgmental glares as he walked inside, but nobody even took a second glance. Back home, if a sixteen-year-old walked into a bar, it would be frowned upon. But here, no one seemed to care.

  Vulgarity was tossed around like the cheapest whore in a brothel. Men drunkenly laughed in groups as they dug into different meats. Hard liquor sat at every table and lewdly dressed women were scattered throughout. This type of scene would definitely not be approved in Dunami’s taverns.

  Unlike in the Intel Kingdom, there was no steel here. All the architecture was wood. The windows were tiny squares, and the glass inside was almost as filthy as the stone floor they were standing on. A dr
unken band of men in the corner played various string instruments that looked like they had been dragged over rocks for centuries. A few men and women danced in front of them, and one woman’s dress was caught in her knee-high hosiery’s buckle.

  But Toshik stood out most of all. The lanky, 6'6" swordsman circulated among the tables with a mug of beer in his hand, laughing and conversing with people like he had lived in this town his whole life. He was doing a great job of providing a cover—though he surely wasn’t thinking of it that way.

  A server walked past with a tray of beers raised above his head. Himitsu swiped one and took a sip. “One won’t hurt,” he said through a smirk. “Now, let’s do some snooping.”

  Bryson scanned the packed expanse. He needed leads on Storshae. He saw four heads in the far corner behind a low wall. Unlike the rest of the crowd, they appeared to be in control of their actions. An empty booth sat in front of the wall, so Bryson motioned for Himitsu, Jilly, and Vistas to follow him over.

  Before Bryson took a seat, he looked across the divider to see sober faces. One of the men quickly met his eyes. He was young and strong with a perfectly edged goatee of deep black. The man’s eyes widened as he stared at the young Jestivan, but he didn’t say anything. He simply dropped his gaze back to the soldiers he was seated with.

  Bryson slid into the booth, wondering why the soldier reacted that way. Did they know who the Jestivan were and what they looked like? If that were the case, wouldn’t they be fighting for their lives right now.

  “What’s wrong?” Himitsu asked.

  “I think one of them recognized me,” he whispered.

  “Impossible!” Jilly shouted.

  Himitsu snapped his hand over Jilly’s mouth with a look of disbelief. “Careful!”

  A calm voice made itself heard for the first time all night. “I think I’ll go find us a room,” Vistas said.

  Bryson nodded.

  It was hard to hear what the men across the divider were discussing. They seemed to be talking about their families and home. Bryson listened for several minutes before he heard something of value: