by Laura Kaighn
So busy was she contrasting the then with the now that, when she accidentally passed the nearly concealed trail turnoff, Dorinda huffed. “Crap. Went too far.” She slowed the hover searching for a convenient place to turn around. The road was still the narrow passage she remembered, however, with no convenient shoulder or driveway to assist in a U-turn. Part of Dorinda’s consciousness understood she didn’t need the extra space. Her hovercraft was nearly able to pivot on a point.
Then the gliding vehicle neared a particular kilometer marker. Dorinda’s bashing heart and fluttering lungs froze her hands about the joystick. The accelerator pulsed beneath her twitching foot. She caught sight of a slim, slotted mailbox perched on a post just hover height from the side of the road. Beside it was a gravel-laden pathway. Now Dorinda’s jerking foot smashed the brake pedal.
Digging his paws into the hover’s carpet, Tundra barked in annoyance. The vehicle coasted to a stop a mere eleven meters from the mailbox. Surprised at her own response to the property marker, Dorinda gasped an anxious lungful of charged air. “Sorry, guys. I don’t know what came over me.” Catching her breath, Dorinda tried to settle her heart as well. Noah’s concerned gaze caught hers and she explained, “It’s human curiosity. You should understand that, Slink. I need to see it, know it’s still there. Maybe the Vesar will let me look around.” When Tundra groaned in apprehension, sensing her unease, Dori reasoned, “If Casey’s buried there I want to find the grave. Please try to understand. It’s important to me.” Dorinda realized, then, that she was arguing with herself. Her Kin would follow her, whatever she decided.
Suddenly Dorinda was grateful for their trust. She smiled. “Come on. If he says anything, we’ll tell him our hover stalled when I swerved to avoid a deer.” Shutting off the vehicle’s engine, Dorinda pulled the door open. Tundra bounded out sniffing the air for the alleged ruminant. Dorinda’s grin widened. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”
But as she stepped away from the hovercraft, her heart was pounding again. Noah kept close to her side chittering nervously as Tundra led them back to the mailbox and the dirt and gravel path that would take them down to her former pocket of peace in the wilderness.
Dorinda’s eyes searched the trees for birds, sighting an eastern bluebird, two cardinals and an American redstart almost immediately. “They’re still here,” she murmured identifying yet another forest inhabitant, a late goldfinch high in a sparse fir. While Dorinda followed close behind her malamute Kin, she soon spied the collapsed lines of a manmade object among nature’s convolutions, the decaying remains of the Dunning Hermitage. She froze. Tundra lifted his head to regard her. “I ... I’m all right. It’s just hard to comprehend that it’s really been a hundred years. This isn’t my home anymore.” Swallowing, Dorinda forced her feet forward. “It’s like this’s all been a dream, except I can’t tell whether my past life was the dream, or this is.” Tundra’s eyes drifted back to the trail as Dorinda picked up the pace again.
Suddenly the dog’s nose smacked the ground in an urgent sniff. Pricking his ears forward the malamute’s paws fidgeted about the pebbly path. “What’s wrong, boy? What do you -?” With a sharp yip, Tundra coursed down the path like a greyhound after a rabbit. “Tundra! Come back!” Dorinda unconsciously reached for Noah in case the otter decided to bolt as well. “Stay here, Slink. Tundra’s going to get himself in trouble.” Straightening, Dorinda increased her walk to a trot. She could hear the dog barking sharply in the distance. “Tundra!” Then Noah chittered excitedly imaging splashing water. He bounded forward, a furry slinky on his squatty, web-footed legs. “Damn it, you two. We’re trespassing!” Smacking her thighs, Dorinda knew she now had a legitimate excuse for her intrusion: two headstrong Kin Companions. She sprinted after them.
Down the winding path the otter bounced, toward the tree-lined lake, through a row of stately spruce and into oblivion. “Noah, come back here!” Pursuing, Dori was barely aware that she was nearing a white obliqueness in the arching greenery, the cottage on her left. Hearing splashing, Dorinda knew Noah had found his element. Tundra was there also, yipping joyfully. “You’re not an Alaskan malamute,” Dorinda panted of her Kin. “You’re a water spaniel.”
The sun had risen to just over the trees along the opposite bank from the point. Through the thickly branched spruce barrier, Dorinda could see the lake’s diamond ripples. It was as she remembered it. Then she stalled her descent. Tundra and Noah were not alone. Another, taller figure was in the water as well, his body silhouette dark and broad. “The Vesar.” Dorinda took another tentative step toward the trees when the man straightened and turned toward her. Something about the controlled power of his swinging arms, the wideness of his crested shoulders, the ebony length of his hair made Dori’s heart somersault once more. Her throat constricted as she watched the man splash through the sparkling liquid toward her. Reaching out to clutch a slate-needled branch, Dorinda’s legs were as rooted as the tree beside her.
The man glistened in fluid sunlight. Obsidian tendrils dripped like stalactites from his head. Liquid glitter danced about the mahogany pillars that were the Vesar’s muscular legs. He exited the water, came nearer. Dorinda noticed the man’s shadowed eyes, glowing with an intensity so fervid her voice cracked as she spoke his name. “Vesarius?”
“Hello, Green Eyes,” he rumbled deeply. The warrior spread his arms to catch her when Dorinda launched herself through the evergreen barrier and into his embrace. He grunted at the impact. “It is good to see you again.”
“Oh, Vesarius, you’re alive.” Her face buried in his ebony strands, Dorinda laughed and sobbed. Her salty drops mingled with the lake water. “You’re alive,” she murmured again clinging to his heated, hard bulk.
“It is all right. I am here,” Vesarius consoled rocking her gently. “I have been waiting for you.”
Finally her body relaxed, and Dorinda let him set her down on the grass. Swiping at her cheeks, she fought to voice her feelings. “… How?” was all she managed.
“I leaped through the Orthop’s time Arch to the Mytoki city over a thousand years past.” When Dorinda only nodded at the obvious, the Vesar grimaced before continuing. “I spoke to the Mytoki, Dorinda. They agreed to append their history. They assured me their descendants would not repeat their mistakes, would instead agree to peace.”
“You succeeded,” she realized aloud. “Oh, you’re alive!” Dorinda hugged him again knocking her head against the warrior’s hard chest ridges. Gasping, she recoiled to touch the bare skin. “I’m sorry. I keep doing that. I never knew it hurt you.” Dorinda’s fingers traced the vertical, bumpy row of his crest.
Vesarius shivered visibly and gently towed her hand away. “Do not touch it. I am not damaged.”
Dorinda’s eyes averted his intense stare. Quickly she changed the subject. “If you were a thousand years into the past, how did you get here?” She’d already guessed the answer.
“The Mytoki sent me through their Arch. When they could not track the Pompeii, I requested Earth. Once in New York, I asked Gen. Chan to order the Pompeii home. He arranged to see Coty.”
“But why didn’t the general say anything? I was in his office. He said nothing about you.” Dorinda watched Vesarius inhale deeply and turn back toward the lake.
His answer was hesitantly gruff. “I … was not ready. I … needed time to think.”
“To think about us?” Dorinda stepped around him trying to catch the Vesar’s faraway gaze. “Coty said your honor was threatened by your parents’ deaths. Please, Vesarius, tell me about it. Explain it, so I can understand.”
The warrior pivoted away from her again, rubbing his side with a shadowy scowl. “I did not want to face you again. Yet I came here, where I knew you would come.” Vesarius exhaled deeply, as if a great weight were pressing upon his spirit. Then he straightened to regard her with a pained expression. “I cannot stay here, Dorinda. You know that I live. Now I must go.” He started toward the house. “I have reserved the cottage for you-”
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nbsp; “Wait!” Dorinda stomped to block his path. “Go? Go where?” With his stony silence, she placed her hand on the man’s mahogany abdomen. “You let me think you’re dead ... for almost a month now? You say ‘Hello, Green Eyes’, then you leave?” Dorinda’s gaze flashed emerald fire; her auburn brow creased in smoky rage. “Just where are you slinking off to? I thought Vesar were supposed to be brave. Honorable.” When Vesarius tried to step around her slighter frame, Dorinda pushed back angrily. “You’re just going to walk away? Leave me here?”
“I must.” Avoiding her stare, Vesarius moved to circumvent the woman once more.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Dorinda planted herself in his path again her fists clenched. “Stop hiding. Be honest, or admit your cowardice.” Dorinda watched his scowl darken. Vesarius’ jaw clenched, and he sidestepped to her left. “Hey!” She jack-hammered his ribs with all her indignant might. “I’m talking to you.”
Grunting, Vesarius folded. He clutched his left side then sank to his knees on the needle-strewn ground. The warrior raised his arm to fend off another attack and groaned, “Stop.”
Dorinda’s eyes widened in concern then contracted. “Don’t play weakling, Commander. Don’t insult my – how’d you put it – ‘my impassioned bravery’?” She glowered at his pained grimace. “How dare you. J.J. was right. You Vesar play with our feelings. Well, I’m not in a gaming mood. You hurt me again, Mr. Warrior. So much for promises. Proud of yourself?” When Vesarius simply shook his bowed head, Dorinda took it as his answer. “Get up, then. Apologize, and level with me, because I’m tired of your weasely side-stepping.”
Mountainous quiet, then Vesarius croaked, “Are you through?” He raised constricted eyes to consider her reply.
Tapping her foot, Dorinda popped her fists onto her slender hips. “Not in the least, Iron Man.”
Vesarius grabbed another ragged breath. With his hand as support over his side, he pushed himself to stand. “You do deserve an explanation, Dorinda. But a warrior does not share private matters of family honor.” He tried to straighten and flinched. “I am chilled from the soaking. May I clothe myself?”
Dorinda’s anger faltered. “Yes. Yes, of course. Let’s go up to the cottage.” With his simple nod of thanks, frosty doubt clutched her stomach. “You are hurt,” she muttered in realization as he trudged stiffly through the line of spruce trees. The Vesar’s ridged shoulders were stooped in discomfort.
“Yes,” he answered gruffly. “My ribs were broken when I landed through the Mytoki time machine. To a warrior, it means death to be so hindered.”
Marching to his side, Dorinda blurted her regret. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to -”
Vesarius raised a hand to silence her. “Do not apologize. Your feelings are as genuine as are my obligations to my family. You have every right to be cross with me.” Silently they climbed the steps to the home’s porch. Vesarius sank onto the edge of an Adirondack chair and slid his clothes from a side table to his lap. Standing by the railing, Dorinda watched the Vesar slip a blue, striped sweater over his head tugging his loose hair from the crewneck collar. To her quizzical gawp, he explained, “Your autumn here is cooler than I expected. A young man in town offered clothes.” With care Vesarius bent to pull on his leather trousers, then stood with a grunt to haul them up over his hide briefs.
“They’re wet,” Dorinda observed. One of the Vesar’s thick eyebrows rose in question as he twisted slowly to lace up the hip fasteners. “Your underwear is wet. They’ll soak your leggings and you’ll still be cold. You should change them.”
“You will turn your back?” Vesarius’s challenging brow was joined by his skewed chin.
“Ye ... yes.” Pivoting jerkily, Dorinda asked, “You won’t sneak off?”
“I already agreed to give you an explanation. A warrior’s word is his honor.”
Dorinda listened as the Vesar strained, removing the pants then peeling the soaked briefs from his buttocks. She almost turned back to apologize for Vesarius’ obvious discomfort. Instead she considered her own boots. “What have you done to heal your injury?”
The Vesar paused in his dressing to grumble an answer. “The lake water is cold. I have daily sat in it. I have healing herbs. They are boiled during meditation. The ribs stay wrapped during the day.”
“And it’s been almost a month since you hurt yourself?”
“I do not desire a debate,” snapped his terse reply.
Dorinda rolled her eyes and spun on him. “Why not? Why is your life so full of secrets?” Her sight unintentionally inclined to the warrior’s half exposed loins. Instantly she averted her gaze, cheeks flushing. “Vesar hide behind their honor like it’s some kind of shield.” Huffing Dorinda glared at his determined face and glistening hair. “Look, Vesarius. I just want to understand ... what a Vesar is. Who you are. Is that some kind of crime?”
Now the man’s obsidian orbs flashed sinister as he finished lacing his pants. “A warrior does not discuss certain subjects with those who are not also warriors.”
Dorinda’s head jerked back. She shoved a finger at Tundra who sat beside her. “He said I was. I’m just not a Vesar warrior. I guess that makes it different. I suppose some warriors are better than others.”
“Dorinda,” Vesarius started slowly sitting down to draw on his boots. “A Vesar warrior is ... is embarrassed by his own inadequacies. Weakness is frowned upon. We do not discuss our flaws.”
Dorinda swung an arm his way. “Then that’s another weakness.”
Now Vesarius glowered at her. With a wincing grimace, he tugged on his second boot. Then, tying the lacings in the back, Vesarius lurched erect visibly forcing his hand from cradling his side. The warrior’s taut lips betrayed his discomfort, however. His next words were brusque. “When a Vesar shows weakness in battle, his opponent seizes the opening, and the Vesar dies.”
“You look rather lively to me,” Dorinda assured tilting her jaw at him. “Besides, I had no idea you saw me as an enemy.” Her voice softened. “I thought we were friends.”
“I did as well,” Vesarius countered. “But you question my honor.”
“Honor?” Dorinda wrinkled her nose. “I don’t understand.” Supporting his entire race and his own soul upon his shoulders, Vesarius remained an unmoving mahogany timber. Dorinda sighed at his obstinacy. “Let’s go inside. I want to take a look at those ribs. Then I’ll bind them for you. You can explain yourself while I work.” Waving the Vesar toward the door, she watched him strut like a tin soldier past her and into the cottage. Tundra and Noah followed close behind while Dori took up the rear. As she tramped over the threshold, however, she froze. Her eyes drifted about the kitchen with its white floor and cabinets. The change to her home was minimal.
Catching the Vesar’s expectant gaze, Dorinda cleared her throat and shadowed him into the living room. “Sit down here,” she instructed pointing to a cushioned ottoman. “Now relax, and let me have your sweater.”
Tundra was content to settle onto the floor nearby and watch the proceedings. Noah, on the other hand, sniffed about the room wriggling around the furniture in his investigation.
“You’re going to catch dust bunnies, Slink,” Dorinda warned, tossing the proffered sweater onto the chair beside her. “They’ll make you snitz.” Next, kneeling behind the stoic Vesar, Dori gently pushed his arms away from his sides. “This may hurt. Just holler if I press too hard.” Her fingers probed the warrior’s sides as Dorinda concentrated on sensing the differences there. When she pressed along his lower three ribs, Vesarius grunted and recoiled from her ministries. “Sorry,” she murmured and returned her fingers to his mahogany skin. “Your left side is swollen and hotter than the right. Have you been resting? Kept them wrapped?”
“Yes, Doctor,” Vesarius answered condescendingly.
“Have you avoided heavy lifting?”
“Besides lifting you?” Vesarius queried over his shoulder.
“Oh, dear.” Dorinda swallowed her shame. “Guilty as charge
d.” She climbed back to her feet. “And you’ve been soaking in the lake?” Vesarius nodded; Dorinda shivered in sympathy. “You’re tougher than I am. I never could spend more than a few minutes in that water after August. It must be nearly fifty degrees.” Walking around in front of him, Dorinda knelt and regarded his rigid demeanor. “Vesarius, I don’t know why this injury’s giving you such trouble. You told me Vesar heal quickly. Is there an exception here?”
The warrior continued to avoid her stare. When she leaned closer, however, Vesarius mumbled an answer. “The ribs were broken before, when I was nine and again two months ago, just before we met.”
“An old injury. And that embarrasses you.”
“Yes.” His stoic gaze was upon the short-piled carpet beside them. “It shows weakness.”
Dorinda harrumphed without humor. “I’d say it shows misfortune, maybe clumsiness. Certainly not weakness.”
Now Vesarius raised simmering eyes to her. “You do not understand.”
Frowning, Dorinda smacked her hands atop his bent knees. “No. I guess I don’t, Vesarius. Make me understand.” Shoving herself vertical, Dorinda huffed and waved down at him. “You’re the one who told me the Vesar are no longer at war, but you are. Every single one of you is at war with yourself.” With that said, Dorinda marched past him and into the bedroom. There, her gaze floated about the space then fell upon an old dresser set along the far wall. A slow smile spread across her ivory face. The dresser was her own. Striding forward, she tugged at the bottom drawer and was rewarded with the poly-cotton bed linens for which she was searching.
With a folded flat sheet in arm, Dorinda returned to the living room. There the silent Vesar sat hugging his former Kin Companion. For a moment she watched the cheerful reunion. “Tundra never told me you were alive.”
“He did not know I was,” Vesarius explained ruffling the malamute’s mane. “To spare him my second death, I broke my bond with him before I left the Pompeii.” The Vesar glanced over his shoulder at her. “I told him to stay with you, knowing a new bond would form between you once I was gone.” Vesarius’ eyes softened slightly. “I am grateful for your kindness, Dorinda. Tundra is content and in good health.”
