by Morgan Rae
“Ay! Who goes there?” A man leans out of the carriage and glares at me. His too-white skin is the color of the moon. When I step closer, I see he’s not alone. In the carriage beside him sit three others, all with the same pale tint to their skin and sharp blue eyes. They’re all unnaturally beautiful, with perfect cheekbones and stylish frocks and dresses. They must be the Selith.
My heart hammers in my chest but I keep my chin high and my voice steady. “I need to see Faron,” I say.
“You hear that?” One man says. “She thinks she’s going to see Faron!”
They laugh at me. The man hanging out the doorway spits on the ground beside me. “His Highness doesn’t have time for the likes of you, beggar,” he sneers.
“I’m no beggar,” I say. “I’m a Kurah Goddess and I need to speak with Faron.”
There’s no more laughter at that. The three of them go stone-cold silent then and exchange looks. I break out in a sweat under my dress and I’m certain that they’re going to kill me, then and there.
The man cocks his head. His jaw goes slack and the blue color in his eyes turns to a vibrant violet. “Yes, your Highness,” he mumbles to himself “Right away, your Highness.”
His irises dim and he turns his gaze back to me. The look on his face is one of grim determination. Finally, the man hops back in the carriage and motions me inside. “Get in,” he says.
I climb inside quickly before they change their mind. My feet are tender and I’m glad to be off of them. Once I get inside I start to wonder if this wasn’t a big mistake after all. The three of them squish on the opposite side of the carriage, and they spend the whole ride staring at me with their large, purple-rimmed eyes. I focus my attention on T-Bone instead, who is glad for the excessive petting, as the carriage jerks and jangles all the way inside.
I peek out the curtained windows to see the thick white stone of the castle as we’re carried into the yawning entrance. We pass by small houses, period houses, houses that look not so different from the ones I would see walking down historical Old Salem. Time capsules, only these are working houses, lived in, with chimneys that billow smoke. The carriage carries us through to the castle entrance and comes to a swift halt there.
The doors fly open and two men dressed in metal armor grab me. I yelp as they tug me wordlessly out of the carriage and set me down on the ground. I hold T-Bone tightly to my chest and he growls protectively as they pull me along. “Let go of me!” I snap, doing my best to balance the dog in one arm while being yanked by the other.
They ignore me and pull me forward. They take me up a staircase of white, ivory steps and my damaged feet leave dirty, bloodied marks as I go forward. I find myself whisked through a long hallway lined with marble busts of affluent looking men and women, some who look human, others who have horns or long necks or too many fingers. I notice a few that look like Kurah’s, but it’s hard to tell since those busts have been destroyed, their faces smashed and chipped away. The guards yank me into a dining room and drop me on the ground. I fall to my knees, grinding my teeth so not to make a noise at the pain. The rug underneath me is red and covered in elegant patterns and it reminds me of the one Garock sleeps on. I dig my fingers into it.
“So you are the one everyone’s been talking about.”
The voice startles me and I yank my head up. There, in front of me, sitting alone at the end of the table, is none other than Faron. I immediately recognize his vibrant eyes, the carefully tossed blond hair, and sharp cheekbones.
Faron eats at a table that looks equipped to feed ten more people and motions towards me. “Leave her with me,” he says. “You’re dismissed.”
I hear chainmail jangle as the guards leave. Warily, I get to my feet.
Faron doesn’t stand. He assesses me, slowly, his eyes scanning me up and down, and then motions to the table. “Sit. Join me. You must be famished after your long journey.”
I am. My stomach knots up at the sight of food, but I restrain myself and take my seat.
Faron watches me and there’s an amused twinkle in his eye. “It’s not poisoned. Here.” He reaches to a plate in front of me with what looks like a large chicken and strips a piece of meat off the bone between his two fingers. He sucks the meat into his mouth and looks back at me, “Happy?”
I decide to take stock of the enemy. He’s decked out in deep black pants, a silk white shirt with billowing sleeves, and an ornate, gold patterned vest. It’s a bit of a culture shock after spending so much time in loose, worn leather. Clearly, the Selith don’t adhere to the Kurah practicality over design code.
But it’s not all perfect. When he turns to me fully, I see a long scar that runs along the side of his face. It looks bruised and fresh. I advert my eyes from it politely. The walls are covered in tapestries woven with images of beautiful castles and lolling green hills. A Selith paradise without Kurah, I imagine. I pluck off a strip of meat and feed it to T-Bone, who gobbles it up and chews loudly. “Did you know I was coming?” I ask.
“Yes,” Faron says. His boyish smile never leaves his lips, not once. “You saw me speak with the traveler on the road. Selith can communicate to one another through our minds. One of our many advantages we have over everyone else.” He stabs a fruit on his plate, plucks it between his teeth, and turns his attention back to me. “But you didn’t come all this way to learn about our communication methods.”
“I want you to call off your war with the Kurah,” I blurt out.
A laugh leaves his lips. “That’s a tall order,” he says. “Even for a Goddess.”
There’s a shimmer in his eyes when they meet mine and, I hear the words: If you can still call yourself a Goddess, that is. I realize he’s in my head and I advert my eyes quickly. My cheeks burn, a red flush rising up my throat.
“I admire your courage, Kennedy,” Faron says, “I will give you that. But I’m afraid until the Kurah bow to my authority, there is no peace to be had between our races.”
“They’re warriors,” I say. Even I’m shocked by the firmness in my voice. “If you don’t call it off, they’ll kill you and every one of your men.”
A shadow falls across Faron’s expression at that. His smile barely budges, even the corners of his eyes barely crinkle, but I can feel the cold wind that blows between the two of us now.
“Do you know why the Kurah hate us?” Faron says. “They call us master manipulators. Hypnotizers. The Dream gift your savages call it, no?” Faron smiles. “It’s hardly quite so spectacular. I look into your mind and I see your truth. Not the comfort blanket of white lies you tell yourself to sleep at night. The cold, honest truth. When people are face to face with their own truth, it becomes hard to see anything else.” He reaches out and his fingers close over my wrists. I notice that even his hands are cold, like everything else in this castle. “I could show you your truth, if you would like.”
“I know my truth,” I say, my voice sharpened defensively.
His eyes never leave mine. “Do you, Kennedy? Or do you let other people tell you who you are?” He lays his hand on the table, palm skyward. An invitation. “Perhaps there is more to this than you know.”
I hesitate. I know I should turn him down, but there’s a prickling at the back of my neck, a burning curiosity. I feel myself pulled forward towards him, like a puppet on a string. Finally, I reach forward and lay my hand in his. His irises burn with purple fire and everything around me falls away. My memories flicker in front of my eyes as though I’m on a carousel ride, spinning around and around.
Suddenly, I’m a little girl again. I’m eating ice cream with my father. He dots chocolate on my nose and laughs when I wiggle my tongue to try to get it.
I’m at the hospital now. I hear the news. I feel the anxiety swell.
Now I’m at a coffee shop. I’m meeting Maya for the first time. She spills her coffee all over my book and plasters me with napkins and apologies. My heart pangs, I miss my friend.
I see Gar
ock now. Garock fills me with warmth and suddenly he’s all I can think about. I can taste his kiss and feel the pulse of him inside of me. His eyes, those big, honest, loyal eyes, never leave mine.
There’s something else, something new in me. I feel one beat, then another, bongo drums in my stomach. A rush of blood, a spark of life, cI feel a sharpness in my lungs as I gasp. It’s a heartbeat. A tiny, child’s heartbeat inside of me.
The images are flickering quicker now. I’ve moved beyond the past, beyond the now, and we’re sliding into the future. I see a future with Garock. We raise a child together. Our son. He looks just like his dad. He’s beautiful. He makes Garock laugh. I love him. I love them.
But the world isn’t safe, the war continues to rage on. The Kurah warriors never stop fighting, Garock never stops fighting, he doesn’t know how to. One day, he meets his match, and a Selith fighter spears Garock through. Our son sets a pyre for his father, it’s the Kurah way.
Our son learns to glorify the fight. When he is old enough, they give him his father’s axe. He bonds with Swing and the Kaul energy lights up the axe and bonds to our son, lighting up his markings. The cycle of violence will never end.
We will never be safe so long as we stay here.
The cloud clears. By time the images have settled and I’m back in the dining room with Faron, I can barely speak. My eyes burn with tears and my throat is dry. T-Bone is standing on the table, taking his share of the meal, while I tremble in my seat.
Faron gives me a second to collect myself before he says, “Congratulations. Creation is a beautiful thing.”
“I’m pregnant,” I whisper. “With a son.”
Faron offers a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure he’ll grow up to be a fierce warrior like his father,” he says. “Garock will be proud.”
My heart shatters in my chest. “The images, the dreams, were they true?”
“They are a truth,” Faron says. “Not the truth. You still have a chance to change your fate.”
My voice shakes when I ask, “How?”
“Wait here,” Faron says. He stands up from the table. His boots click across the polished marble floors as he steps over to the unlit fireplace. There are a dozen or so dark, glassy stones lining the mantle with only a few bare spots in between them. Faron plucks the stone closest to the end and comes back to the table and sits down at his place. He sets the stone down in front of me carefully.
“The Selith are not from this world,” he says. “Our world is in the clouds. We move from world to world, colonizing where we can make improvements. This is how we move through the galaxy. It is an ascension stone. It will transport you to any world you like, you simply have to tell it where you want to go.”
I stare at the stone for a long time. It shimmers on the table as though waiting for me to lift it. I could go home. I could leave this whole place behind me.
“Think about your son,” Faron says. “You don’t want him to grow up without a father, do you?”
Suddenly the blood rushes to my ears and my vision fogs. Without a father. I see myself in the hospital again, clutching the sides of my chair, my knuckles ivory white. I see the anguished look on my son’s face when they lay Garock’s body down.
“No,” I hear myself whisper. I can’t let that be my child’s fate. I won’t let my son watch his father die.
“You’re a good mother, Kennedy,” Faron says as he nudges the stone forward for me to take. My hand trembles as I reach out for it. I wrap my fingers around its cold, smooth surface. For a second, it’s nothing but a simple rock.
“Take me home,” I whisper.
The second I do, I feel the world around me begin to fracture and fall apart. Bright light breaks in through the cracks of reality, blinding me. Faron is the last thing I see, his smug smile echoing light-years away. “Don’t worry about your beloved Garock,” Faron says, his voice stretching out through time and space. “Leave him to me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: GAROCK
Something is wrong. I know this the instant I wake. The candlelight exhausted itself sometime in the night and now there’s nothing but the cold light of dawn to fill my tent. Kennedy is nowhere in sight. I rest my palm on the rug beside me. Her place is cold, she has been gone for some time.
I feel as though I have swallowed a handful of nettles and now they lodge in my chest and send prickles up and down my body. I dress quickly, throw on my leather tunic, and march outside. A few tribesmen stand around large barrels and dish out bowls of thick porridge. Leyana is there, waiting for her bowl, and I take her by the arm and pull her aside.
“Have you seen our Goddess?” I ask.
Leyana’s eyes narrow and flicker over me. “Last I checked, she was with you. Could hear you six tents down, you know.”
“She’s gone.” The Seer’s voice crackles like parchment paper and I turn to face him. He sits on a large stone as he dolls thick globs of porridge into his mouth. “She left this morning.”
I crouch down in front of the Seer so we are eye to eye. “Tell me where she is,” I demand.
He drops into deep thought and porridge sticks to his beard. Finally, his milky eyes turn to me. “Your Goddess is in Faron’s hands now,” he says. “Or she was. He sent her deep into a faraway realm. I can see no more.”
Rage blinds me. I have never felt anger like this before. It is more than bloodlust that fills my veins, more than the fiery passion of a battle. I get to my feet and stumble. There is a hole in my chest. It is an open, gaping wound. Faron has reached into my body and ripped my heart clean out. The world around me blurs as I stumble forward.
“Chief…” I hear Leyana as though she is far away and then my thudding heartbeat blurs all other noise. My blood is pulsing, roaring. My Kaul burns through my skin like hot flame. Nothing makes sense. I have fallen straight from a cliff and I cannot get my footing. She is gone, the words tattoo themselves to my skull. He has taken our land. He has taken our freedoms. And now, he has taken my Goddess from me.
Swing hums at my side. Her song is piercing and, for a moment, it is the only thing that makes sense. I grab Swing, unsheathe her from the leather thong, and raise her up high. With a roar that could break mountains, I slam Swing down in the dirt.
The ground splinters and cracks around us. Once the dust settles, the camp has quieted, and I am short of breath.
“Chief,” Leyana says. Her voice is quiet and she is beside me. “What would you have us do?”
My chest heaves with each panted breath. “We will tear apart their castle stone by stone,” I growl. “I swear to this, I will not stop until I have my Goddess back in my arms.”
CHAPTER TWENTY- TWO: KENNEDY
I’m a mess. I haven’t brushed my hair and it sticks out in all directions. I’ve still got my pajama top on and I’m running around, doing ten things at once. The coffee pot goes off at the same time that I finish putting jelly on the side of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and I hastily put the two slices together and shove them in a Ziploc. I flick the coffee pot off before it burns and shove the sandwich in a lunch box before I go flying out of the kitchen.
“Ben!” I shout. “We’re T-minus three minutes and counting!”
The second I swerve around the corner, I come to a quick stop. Ben, my fifty-year-old in a five-year-old’s body, is already prepped and ready to go, dressed and clean, with his Superman backpack hooked over his shoulders. Ben is tall for his age, with black hair that falls around his ears, and he looks up at me with dark eyes full of worry.
It has been over five years since I’ve seen Garock and his Kurah tribe, but it feels like I see him every time I look into my son’s eyes.
I crouch down in front of him and knit my eyebrows. “What is it?” I ask. “First day jitters?” First day of school is rough on anyone, especially a first grader.
“Nothing,” he mumbles. My Ben. My strong-hearted little warrior.
I give his shoulders a squeeze. “You
know you can talk to me,” I tell him.
He looks deeply contemplative for a second before he looks up at me. “It’s just…what if I don’t fit in?”
My heart breaks, since I know the feeling all too well. My whole life, I’ve felt like I should be somewhere else. I can’t imagine what it must be like for him. Too tall for his age, odd birthmarks he has to cover up with long sleeves, and a strangely focused draw to the stars. I draw his thick, dark hair away from his face and say, “Do you want to give yourself five seconds?”
He nods and squeezes his eyes shut. This is a common practice in our household, we give ourselves five seconds to feel the full extent of our emotions and then we let it go. We count together, slowly, from one to five. I see the lines in his forehead deepen with worry and his little body grows tense, but by time we reach five, he’s relaxed again and he exhales a deep breath, letting it all out.
“Ready?” I ask.
He nods. “Ready,” he says confidently. “Can I touch the wishing stone?”
“Of course.” I fish it out of my pocket. The smooth, black stone never goes far from me and I hold it in my palm. Ben places his fingers on the stone.
“I wish for a good day at school,” he says.
I smile. “I wish for that too.” I press a kiss to his forehead and ruffle his hair. “Come on now. A good day starts with not being late.”
“What, were you going to leave without saying goodbye?” Maya stands in the doorway with a pout, hands on her hips. Ben immediately jumps at her and grabs her in a big hug and she laughs, returning it. Even when our other roommates left, Maya stayed with me. She’s been an incredibly constant friend these past five years. She’s a babysitter when I need it, a helping hand, and, most importantly, a sanity check when I feel like I’m going off the deep-end. I don’t know if I could do this whole single mom thing without her.
