The Jestivan (Erafeen, #1)

by David F. Farris

  Vistas crouched behind a rocky outcrop as he watched the battle. Himitsu had successfully taken out two of the Dev officers, but he had collapsed from exhaustion. Toshik was bleeding from multiple wounds and his opponents were harrying him toward the crater rim as he tried to keep Jilly from the fray. Then a Dev officer knocked Toshik to the ground and drew a knife. Vistas ground his teeth, but he couldn’t do anything. He was no soldier.

  Then a sudden blast of wind knocked him clear off his feet. He scrambled onto his back, prepared to die. But the figure standing over him wasn’t an enemy.

  Intimidatingly tall with a face drenched with sheer fury, Debo loomed over Vistas with a young girl by his side. Vistas remembered her from the hospital.

  Debo knelt down and lifted the man by his armpits. “Can you do something for me?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Are you capable of memory transfer?” Debo asked.

  “It’s been a while, but yes.”

  “I have a memory for you to take. I ask for you to hold onto it until Bryson figures out the truth about his parents. That could happen in two months or ten years … It may never happen. Can I trust you with this?”

  Vistas hesitated.

  “Can I?!”

  “Of course. Bring the memory to the forefront of your mind. Do not think of anything else until I remove my finger from your temple.”

  Debo closed his eyes and did as he was told.

  Once the memory transfer concluded, Vistas opened his eyes and glared at Debo with furrowed brows. The emotion on his face was out of place for the phlegmatic man.

  Debo’s ear piercings jangled as he grabbed Vistas’s shoulders, slightly squatting to make eye contact. “I just trusted you with information that will get you killed by beings like me if they were to find out you have it. Keep it to yourself until the time comes for you to tell Bryson, and only Bryson.”

  With that, Debo scooped up Rhyparia and bolted toward Necrosis Valley. Vistas, meanwhile, backed against a tree and slid down to the patchy grass, mind running at a hundred miles an hour …

  ***

  Within a spacious room of golden floors, walls, and ceiling, a lone coffin of matching gold rested at the center.

  An elderly man walked down the stairs. His white eyebrows hung down the sides of his face. Streaks of red stained his cheeks. Blood soaked his burgundy robes, and his breathing was ragged.

  The Dev soldiers had discovered who he was. They were growing suspicious through the last leg of their journey from Rence to the capital, and they finally figured it out several days after their arrival when he asked too many questions about their king’s grave.

  Poicus had slain more than a hundred guards off as he forced his way down into this tomb, leaving a breadcrumb trail of lifeless bodies behind him.

  He placed his hands on the coffin and pushed its heavy gold lid to the side. His eyebrows arched as he gazed inside. The body was wrapped heavily in layers of fine linen bandages.

  How was he supposed to know if this was actually Dev King Rehn?

  He was given his answer as a voice from behind made him jump. “I had planned on visiting my father’s grave and returning his crown today. I’ve had it for entirely too long. Being greeted by Phesaw’s Grand Director was not something that I had foreseen.”

  Poicus turned to see a young Dev Prince Storshae standing at the doorway. Storshae was playfully twirling his father’s chocolate cosmos–entwined crown around his finger.

  “Have you come to pay your respects to my father?” the prince asked.

  Poicus didn’t reply.

  Storshae’s eyes narrowed. “Something tells me that would be a silly assumption.”

  31

  Her Darkest Secret

  At the head of a polished mahogany table, a brawny man sat hunched over with his finger and thumb pressed into his eyes. King Vitio’s hand dragged down his face and began impatiently tugging at his blond beard. His frustration was growing by the second. Not requesting Vistas’s presence was starting to seem like more of a mistake.

  But he didn’t want to ask anything of Vistas. His Dev servant had been through enough and deserved his rest. So Vitio simply bit his tongue and continued waiting, trying to ignore the fact that he was several minutes late for his broadcast meeting.

  Finally, the doors slowly opened as a pale, skinny man with long black hair waltzed in with a lackadaisical stride.

  Vitio gave his guest a hardnosed stare. “No need to rush on my account.”

  Flen smirked as he took a seat at the opposite end of the table. “No refreshments?” he asked. “I’m starving.”

  “And no longer breathing if you don’t connect me right now.”

  Flen rolled his eyes, then one colored burgundy while the other dilated. A holographic projection sat in the air.

  “It’s about time,” said the deep voice of the Adren King.

  “I’m sorry, Supido,” Vitio said.

  The display cut from Supido’s face to that of a beautiful young lady. “We decided to go on without you since there isn’t much time. A four-way broadcast quickly depletes the Dev Energy of our servants.”

  Vitio nodded. “I understand, Apsa. Damian is connected with us, correct?”

  He was answered by the broadcast cutting to a plump, bald man smiling quietly at the screen. “Alright, what are we discussing?” Vitio asked.

  “Rhyparia,” Supido immediately replied.

  “I’m not locking her up again,” Vitio fired back.

  “She is responsible for the murder of 24 people. Children died when she flattened that restaurant.”

  “I get that. But it was an accident. A loss of control. She has a power that is difficult to tame.”

  Supido shook his head. “That makes it even worse.”

  “It’s hard for me to agree with you here, Vitio,” Spirit Queen Apsa said. “The act of taking even one life is enough to send someone to the gallows.”

  Damian gravely nodded his head in agreement.

  “She’s a Jestivan … and one of the more talented ones,” Vitio pleaded. “We need her.”

  Supido tapped his finger on the table. “If I recall correctly, one of the Diatia was assassinated last week. So we could afford to lose her. Numbers would stay even.”

  “Half the Jestivan would be dead if it wasn’t for Rhyparia!” Vitio shouted.

  A short pause followed before Apsa spoke up. “Archaic Director Senex needs to do his job. He’s the one who’s supposed to be developing her … teaching her control. Perhaps we give her another chance—a final chance. After all, she’s only fifteen. But if it happens again, both of them will receive the strictest of punishments.”

  Hope flashed onto Vitio’s face. “That’s all I ask.”

  Supido’s face remained rigid as he debated it in his mind. “What do you think, Damian?” he asked.

  The Passion King stared at the ceiling. One side of his mouth crinkled at the edge as he stroked his chin. Then he returned his gaze to the broadcast and gave a thumbs-up. A sigh of relief escaped Vitio as he realized that was the majority.

  “I will send a letter to Senex about our discussion today,” Supido said. “Inform him that Rhyparia has one more chance, and we will come down hard if she screws it up.”

  “This is a wise decision,” Vitio reassured him. “After the Grand Director’s warnings of a higher war, we need all the talent we can get.”

  ***

  Children and adults of all ages were flowing out of Phesaw’s many exits. It was a sea of black, as everyone was dressed to mourn the great man who had died ten days prior. To them, he was Phesaw’s Intel Director—a man named Debo. In reality, he was a Pogu of the Light Empire’s Bozani—Ataway Debonicus Kawi. And to Bryson, he was the closest thing to a father he would ever have in his life.

  The ten Jestivan, who found themselves together for the first time since October, headed toward Phesaw Park. Thusia also accompanied them, relieved that she could finall
y remove her black hat and veil. Bryson had introduced her to the Jestivan, but no one else—not even the directors knew.

  Separate groups formed and walked at their own pace. Yama and Jilly walked as a pair. It turned out that Yama exerted an even greater pull on the irrepressible girl than Thusia did.

  Jilly was humming the tune that she had sung at Debo’s funeral. She said it was a song her nanny always sung to her when she had nightmares as a little girl:

  Evil bleeds,

  Including its leader,

  We fight for Good,

  So we will not fail,

  And even though,

  Our hearts are aching,

  For you, we will prevail.

  Olivia was still recovering, but she had insisted on coming to the funeral. She had regained some of the meat on her bones and her wounds had begun to heal over—although the scars were a livid purple. She walked next to Tashami, Agnos, and Lilu. Needless to say, her team was excited to have her back and refused to let her leave their side.

  Himitsu and Rhyparia walked side by side. Toshik, meanwhile, kept off to the side. His expression was glum, and he would occasionally throw a glance at Jilly from afar.

  Then there were the two stragglers from the pack—Bryson and Thusia. Bryson looked at his Branian, who was smiling reminiscently and stuffing her face with a very generous portion of apple pie. If there was one thing he had learned about Thusia over the past week and a half, it was that she had an appetite unrivaled by anyone’s he knew. And each time he watched her shovel down a five-course meal, he’d stare at her flat stomach in search of where it all went.

  “Do you want to talk about anything?” Bryson asked.

  “Nope,” Thusia said happily through a mouthful of pie.

  Bryson’s frustration was apparent. “How long are you going to avoid this?”

  “What do you want me to say? Mendac was a great man and was wrongfully murdered? Frankly, even if that was the case, I don’t think you’d want to hear that because, well … that would mean Debonicus was a bad man.” She spun her pie plate into the woods. “But let’s say Mendac was a very bad man, which—let’s face it—is not improbable, then that would imply you’ve been lied to about him your whole entire life; your dad, who is revered around the realm, was a psychopath. Would you rather hear that? That Debonicus was right to kill your father? Maybe you would; I don’t know.”

  She paused for air before looking at Bryson with a serious stare. “Either way, you’ll still end up disgusted by one—if not both—of the men you think you could call your father.”

  She was right, Bryson thought. He would end up hating either Debo or Mendac—maybe both.

  Thusia’s face crumpled. “I’m sorry, Bryson. This has been a lot for me to take in too. I’ll say this—I fell in love with a part of Mendac. Unfortunately, there were many parts to him. He was a complex man, and that complexity only worsened after I died.”

  That was an answer, and Bryson knew that would be the best one he’d get from her, at least for now.

  The Jestivan stopped at a grassy clearing in the park. Students milled in the distance, some curious for a first look at the young elites, others curious to see how they were handling Debo’s death.

  It was still cool outside, and the trees were bare. Bryson found himself sandwiched between two girls while sitting at the base of one of the trees. He was leaning on Olivia’s shoulder to his right while Lilu rested her head on his left shoulder.

  They were happy—or it seemed so. One could never tell with Olivia. Even after all that she had experienced, her face was as rigid as stone.

  Playfully blowing strands of Olivia’s purple hair from in front of his face, Bryson watched the blond-headed duo of Jilly and Thusia spar with fallen tree branches against Yama and her actual sword. Despite herself, Yama couldn’t hold back. She would disappear and reappear, and each time she did so, Thusia and Jilly’s sticks would be an inch shorter as a sliced section fell to the grass.

  Lilu, who had a black petunia pinned to her hair, adjusted her head on Bryson’s shoulder. A beautiful scent curled into his nose. There wasn’t a word to describe what he was feeling. He had his best friend back, and the girl of his dreams was snuggled against him. Although he wasn’t sure how or why, he had a Branian now, and he would be lying if he tried to tell himself that the thought of her becoming some kind of mother-figure hadn’t crossed his mind. But of course, his happy thoughts were interrupted.

  “Ahchoo!” went Meow Meow, and it may have been the most fabricated sneeze of all time.

  “Ah, damn, Bryson. I’m sorry,” the kitten lied. “Maybe you should—I don’t know—get away.”

  Lilu snorted. Bryson frowned as he felt the mucus sprinkle in his hair, but he kept quiet. He wasn’t going to allow the kitten to ruin his peace. “How long until you leave to the Cyn Kingdom?” he asked Lilu.

  “Two months,” she replied. “They’re going to train us hard. Make sure we’re ready.”

  “Directors Neaneuma and Buredo?”

  “Yes, but no Olivia. It was decided today … Not after what she’s been through.”

  “Dumb,” Olivia cut in plainly.

  Bryson smirked as he tilted his head toward his friend. “That’s my friend. Always ready.”

  Olivia returned his gaze for a moment, then abruptly stood up. “I need to head home.”

  “I wonder what it’s like living in your household,” Bryson said. “It seems to have such strict rules.”

  “It does,” she said. Meow Meow frowned.

  Bryson decided it was time to ask the question that he’d been curious about throughout the entirety of their friendship. “When will I ever get to visit?”

  Olivia gave him her all-too-familiar empty blue-eyed stare.

  “You can’t,” she said. “You are my darkest secret.”

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  The 2nd book in the Erafeen series will release between Dec 2017 and Feb 2018.