by Cara Violet
After wiping his blade of blood from the multiple Sprites of the South he’d killed, Levon inconspicuously entered the rear of the marble Communication Room inside the Janjuc Castle in a bitter state. His beautiful wife and exquisite fighter, his sre’shi, Leera by his side.
“Our state follows Moel!” Young Queen Chastity roared, flicking her pearl necklace around and fluffing her cream feathery coat that covered her whole body. Levon noticed she may just look like a chicken.
“Your Majesty,” a Sprite Bishop bowed on the steps below her throne, covered head to toe in his thick cobalt velvet robes, “you must understand: Silkri has always been the unspoken culture of half the people. The Sprites are content with their ideas in multiple—”
Chastity’s thick blonde and platinum silver strands spun as she yanked her head lower. “Then they shall unbelieve!”
The Bishop raised his eyebrows, dropped his head and bowed.
Remaining hidden in the shadows of a pillar behind her throne to the right, Levon pursed his lips in thought. There was no way she could revolt against the Sprite Law of neutrality in religion. The power persisted with the people. This was just another moment of childish behaviour from her, but if Levon had anything to go by, the four Bishops at the forefront of her throne sniggering and kneeling must be responsible for this train of thought. No matter, this monolithic attitude was just making another mockery of her, nothing more.
“She having another crying match, is she?” Leera was in Levon’s ear; she was just as tall as him. Levon’s frame was athletic and broader, and the grey and cobalt suits they wore made their silver blonde hair stand out. Levon even had longer, straighter hair then Leera.
“I’m sure the sookielala just put her knickers on the wrong way this morning,” he said bringing his sight to Leera’s eyes—her large blue eyes, over a long, tapered nose that matched her small pointy ears and thin lips—her round cheeks blushing as he met her gaze.
“That all?” she asked, touching his elbow.
“Must be bunched up down there, causing her distress, you see?”
“Oh,” his sre-shi giggled, turning back to Chastity. “I see.”
Levon embraced her in the shadows. “Pity the Moel can’t fix that for her. I shall pray for her regardless.”
Levon had to look at his Sprite wife, who had a large smirk across her face and was trying to supress her laughter. “I’m sure you will,” she eventually said.
“Kinsmen Ranger, welcome.” Chastity wafted, in a sultry tone.
“And what do we have here?” Levon released Leera and squinted at the five tights-wearing, green-tunic boys prancing toward his Queen. Levon took one step closer to her throne, exposing himself from behind the pillar and giving the visitors something to ponder. An exceptional fighter, he was there to protect the young naïve woman, and he was smart enough to know she needed it.
“Your Majesty, you know me as Owen,” the broadest of them said and bowed, noticing Levon’s frame in his periphery. “My comrades,” he gestured to the four behind him, “Nash, Everett, Lafael and Taelen.”
Levon took them all in. Fighters, skilled ones at that. Even the way they stood there looking nonchalant, they were all ready to protect the man in front of them.
“Oh, dearest Kinsmen Ranger Owen,” Chastity called in her high-pitched voice, “they didn’t tell me how handsome you are.”
Levon had never seen a man go red so quickly. What in Holom’s name was this girl doing? Levon gritted his teeth; this was one of those occasions where she couldn’t be told. Her age just shone through, and that exalted nobility of being able to speak your mind whenever you fancied, obviously seized her. Time and place young Queen?!
“You run all of Valendean do you?” she went on.
“Why, yes, Your Majesty,” Owen replied politely. “But my title is as my people’s.”
“But you’re still in charge?”
The room was becoming smaller by the second.
“I am,” Owen said more nervously.
“How lovely,” the young Queen giggled, “perhaps you and I can get to know each other on a more intimate level. For my own planet’s sake? It would be such a benefit for the Dowaric System.”
A benefit for the Dowaric System? Never had the infamous Marble Castle been known to need help from Valendean. The Sprites didn’t want the help, it was forced upon them by the Felrin. Levon had heard enough. He cleared his throat loudly.
“Oh yes,” Chastity chuckled. “Kinsmen Ranger, this is Levon, the greatest fighter in all of Janjuc … his wife Leera.” Her hand waved graciously in the direction of them both as they stepped forward to flank her on the left. “Levon is going to be showing you around, no doubt.” She turned that devious-looking face to Levon and smiled like she had secrets she was keeping from them all.
Levon plastered a smile across his lips; most likely giving away his lack of conviction in the woman. He steadied himself and tried better. Even if he loathed the woman, she still ran the terrain in Janjuc and he supported that, unlike others he knew who disavowed her and turned to the Silkri for support in overthrowing her.
“Your Majesty, how lovely of you to present such an offer for the Kinsmen Rangers from Valendean.” Levon spoke through gritted teeth. “I would suggest though, is there not perhaps an actual interpreter around?”
The Queen arched an eyebrow.
“We speak perfect Vernacular,” Owen interjected. “The whole state has since it became the common tongue … actually we hardly speak any Valendean at all.”
“Doesn’t that work out then?” Levon’s voice masked his anger; Leera placed a hand over his.
“Oh, how lovely!” The young Queen boasted. “Will you escort the Kinsmen Rangers to the east wing?”
Levon contained rolling his eyes and unsheathing his blade. Only Leera’s presence calmed him. His animosity had been growing so much lately he struggled to control some of his actions. A big part of him enjoyed slaughtering the traitors of the South too.
What he hated poisoning his mind was his father. The bitter man chose to side with the Silkri-worshipping South.
They just never saw eye to eye.
Levon wanted freedom of belief. Holom, he wanted to love Leera more than anything, and she believed, like he did, that they deserved their freedom. The Dowaric System wasn’t going to be dictated by those that wanted to mandate the Silkri through the Siliou as the only form of aura.
And if he had to support some seventeen-year-old, snobby and yappy Queen who ran her mouth to ensure this freedom, then so be it.
“Your Majesty, I would be happy to.”
Levon composed himself and, with Leera smiling by his side, he escorted the Kinsmen Rangers out of the room, to their quarters.
“You’ve got quite the rapport with the young Queen,” Owen said to Levon, as they turned another marble bend in the castle; Leera and the other Rangers trailing them. “What makes her allow you to question her so?”
“This is Janjuc, Kinsmen Ranger,” Levon’s voice was audacious. “Merit is based on skill.”
“And you obviously have a lot of it?”
The question came across condescendingly and Levon didn’t like it.
“There is no-one else in the Dowaric system with more.” Levon’s eyes flared at the Kinsmen Ranger as he stopped just outside the east wing common room. “This is where you will eat and converse with her Majesty. To the right are three vacant sleeping quarters. I’m sure you lot can work out the rest.”
“Ah, Levon, you’re such a showman!” Leera interjected, noticing Owen’s outward expression of his annoyance. “Isn’t he something?”
“I would hope,” Owen began more seriously, “we have a mutual respect here and can bring the system back into—”
“You’re here to help us, Ranger? All four of your clones here for that too?” Levon’s anger getting the better of him.
“Don’t you want to win this war?” Owen said confused.
“We do,” Leera int
errupted. “Levon has just had a long day in the field and is in need of rest,” she held onto him so tightly, he stopped talking and relaxed in her arms. “Thank you, Owen, we will see you at supper.”
The next thing Levon knew, Leera was marching him back to their quarters.
She shoved him inside and slammed the door; the cream silk curtains amongst the timber furniture and marble walls the only thing shifting in their wake.
“Show some dignity, Levon!” she raised her voice as he sat himself on their round, white and silver sheeted bed.
“They are not here to help, Leera,” he said moving the sparkly cushions out of the way to sit back.
“Then why are they here?”
“To work out if we are too far gone,” he said looking into his hands, “my father said the Felrin are capable of wiping us out—”
“The Felrin have just provided us with support!” He said nothing so she went on, “Your father supports a Silkri aura-lead dynasty now Levon—”
“You think I don’t know that!”
“He does not want the rest of Janjuc their freedom of aura,” she said calmly, approaching his fallen face in his hands. “Everyone must have the right to choose. I don’t believe in Moel, but my friends and family do, they should not be made to conform to the Silkri. We’ve never wanted any auras on Janjuc, we are a spiritual people, we don’t fight, and we don’t force anything upon others.”
“I know,” he whispered. “It’s just this whole universe is on edge since the Mark transformed.”
“We don’t need to be though,” her long strands of platinum blonde and silver falling further forward as she lent down, “we have each other.”
Leera lifted Levon’s chin; his pointy ears and nose twitched.
“You’re a caring Sprite, Levon,” she continued, as he dramatically exhaled, “you are so gifted, your natural ability different to the other native Sprites, you can show them a new way, how it can be done,” she combed his blonde strands past his pointy ears, “show that outwardly, the Kinsmen are here to do their best. To help us. They want peace.”
He nodded disconcertedly.
“I love you,” she said.
He smiled and pulled her head closer to him in embrace. “What would I do without you, Leera?”
“You’d survive,” she laughed.
“No, I wouldn’t,” he kissed her roughly and silenced her retort.
Chapter Six: Waterworld
Archibel breathed out.
Blood was dry in her nostrils and her lungs ached with each breath.
“Awake again.” Wederin’s voice snaked around the room.
The healing room was blurry and smoke-riddled. She assumed they had pumped her full of some hallucinogen. “Trying to kill me, Spirit Advisor?”
“Good grief no,” he chuckled. “Your cousin wants you alive, no doubt. Just think, his whole position compromised because you’re still alive.”
Anger surged in her. “You didn’t tell him?”
“It may have slipped my tongue.”
Archibel tried not to go rigid. She turned her mind to the escape pod locations: she knew there were four areas stationed on every level; if she could get her bearings right, and get her aura gyrating, she could get herself off this transport.
“Ah, but I have been given a better offer for your hide,” Wederin stalked around her to dreamily view through the small window to the right. “We’ve made it.”
“Where the Holom are we?” she asked, moving the conversation away from her family history.
“Waterworld,” he answered, gleefully.
“What?” Archibel craned her neck as far towards the tiny window to the right as she could, but could hardly see anything but black space. “I’ve only heard of two waterworlds in antiquity: Wijeria and Whidal. I’m assuming we are at one of them.”
Wederin smiled.
“And the species?” she continued. “Friendly? Alliance to the Felrin Congress?”
“Hmm, the Wijerians, no,” Wederin said to her surprise. “Slightly radical bunch with no leaders. The Aquamorphs on Whidal, though, are Felrin alliance citizens … didn’t you know … do you know why you’re wanted?”
Archibel zoned out. It was the burning question she wanted answered, too. Who had Wederin told? Her cousin? But he would have been here by now. Unless he didn’t make it off Sari in time? She hated to think that. The two options Wederin presented seemed illogical though. Who on either of those planets were they wanting her to meet? Were they sending her into hiding, or worse, death?
“I don’t know why. You’ve got the wrong person. You want someone on the other transport.”
“Darayan?”
“No!” Fear spread through her.
“Hmm.” A devious grin formed over the Spirit Advisor’s lips. “Well, I just hope you’re telling me the truth, Archibel.” She said nothing. “Adrian, the World Minister, wants to meet you.”
“Why? What does he want?”
“He is trying to win an election, dear girl, and you may be able to help him—if you’re willing.”
“The Felrin always win that damn election!”
A heavy thud alerted her to another person entering the room.
“Not anymore,” the husky voice stated, unnervingly. “Wederin, I want our new ally unhanded and cleaned up, please.”
“Who are you?” Archibel said as the man came into view.
“Welcome to Whidal,” the light-skinned Aquamorph stood over her. Aquamorph skin colour lightened or darkened depending on the warmth of the water or atmosphere in their proximity, she recalled. Gills flickered behind his ears; his blue skin glimmered as he lowered his face to hers and his long, thick sapphire hair fell forward. Those eyes of swirling indigo pierced her.
“I know who you are,” he sneered. “And you,” he brushed his long, tapered fingernail across her forehead, pushing her hair aside, “you are going to help me win this war from within.”
Chapter Seven: Niceties Abashed
Crammed into the office of Chastity’s chambers, Levon felt claustrophobic as he stood alongside the five Kinsmen Rangers. Already they had become more relaxed around the young Queen.
“Were we not to sit in the east wing common room?” Levon suggested, semi-upbeat; Leera, flanking Chastity, supressed a smile at his flakiness. “Didn’t you call us for morning briefing?”
“No,” Chastity said to him. “I am comfortable here. Please, everyone, sit where you can. I’ve got some catering on the way.”
Levon’s jaw feathered at her shallowness but he refused to allow his temper to show; he was actually quite hungry.
“Sure,” Owen said; he and his four Rangers sat around her small coffee table; three of them sitting on the floral couch, Owen and Nash on the grey double armchair. Levon sat further away, with Leera, at the Queen’s desk.
“We’re having braised Deeter cheek.”
Deeter was delicious, Levon thought, and braised cheek, even better. The large four-legged mammal was all meat, and they roamed in numbers on Janjuc.
“All good, Kinsmen?” Chastity asked Owen.
“Of course,” he replied. “We settled in well last night, and we are keen to explore the rest of Janjuc.”
“The Felrin alerted me to a small disruption on Croone,” she said hastily. “Did you receive the information?”
“Hmm,” Owen sucked air through his teeth, disinterested. “I think Croone has always been unsettled with those pesky Daem-Raal. My focus is here, young Queen. What will be required of us against the South?”
“We are scoping out their hideaways while they have retreated,” Levon explained to the anxious Kinsmen, feeing a lot more composed after a good night’s sleep and long hot shower this morning—even his crisp fresh robes spoke volumes of his renewed spirits. “They were running scared after seeing your cruiser enter the atmosphere.”
“And what of the progress?” Owen asked imprudently. Several wait staff quickly and quietly entered the room, laid cobal
t and gold bowls in front of each of them, and departed.
Levon took a bite of his meat before answering. “Well, with the cover of your Felrin cruiser we have been able to advance into the lost terrain,” he wiped his chin, still chewing. “A lot scarcer than we dared believe but our scouts—”
“You’re not looking hard enough,” Owen piped up. “Half of your planet can be seen from the stratosphere blowing each other up, I fathom there would be thousands—”
Levon grunted, ears twitching, temper flaring. “You think I’m that overconfident?”
“Well,” Owen said “you’re underestimating your enemy; I think I’ll have to call for half my Valendean army to deal with this mess of yours—”
A vicious cobalt and silver aura spun around the infamous Sprite and all the others gasped in shock.
“Your kind have no aura,” Owen ushered out, eyes glued to the glowing forcefield around Levon. “I thought they studied the Silkri,” he fumbled, “because your kind have no aura!”
“And with that narrowmindedness of yours, you will get us all killed,” Levon snapped. “I shall kill you myself, Kinsmen, for your disdain and disrespect!”
Owen shot up from the cosy couch he was wedged on and fired up his swirling green aura.
“Enough!” Young Queen Chastity said. “I’ve had enough.” She pushed her meal aside. “Owen, Levon is the first of our kind to use a native aura. We don’t know how or why, but we know that, as a child, he was capable of training and adhering to the Siliou with the help of his father … anyway, he is very gifted. And Levon,” her eyes pierced him, in a way they never had; he could see she was disappointed. “Owen represents our people in the Universal Order, he fights diligently for our freedoms as much as he does his own home, Valendean; we are forever in his debt.”
Levon felt Leera’s fingers glide into his palm and squeeze. He dropped his aura and sat back down. Taking his eyes to Chastity, a part of him could see her father, the King, in her. Levon saw his careless assumption that she was a squealing, good-for-nothing teenager had blighted the respect she deserved from him. How did she know about his own father though? And why did he feel the guilt of disrespecting her in front of the others flood through him?
