by Cara Violet
“As I recall, Staples was the supply house,” Darayan replied, “out past Diggers Gap Road,” he pointed, “don’t know if O’Hal is still around to assist you.”
Bodel took her eyes to him. “You love this place, don’t you?”
“Yes, I remember I do.”
“Where shall we meet once we’re done?” Materid said nonchalantly.
“There is a Felrin Bank not far, stay away from that, but maybe get yourself some pastry at Sprindles to fuel up and then … perhaps just head back to the ship and I’ll meet you there.”
“Wait—” Bodel began, but Darayan had already left them.
Down the narrow lanes and through the familiar bluestone dwellings he used to call home. His eyes were soon upon the old Manor where his training with Dersji and Kaianan used to take place. It was somehow good to be there.
The bluestone wall was as he remembered, even if it was slightly dilapidated. A dozen Giliou flanked the place and Darayan knew it would take every bit of training he had to get inside without being seen. But he wasn’t worried: this was one castle he knew the better of. His switched his aura on and without a second thought headed for the library.
Stalking the corridors of the Manor and searching for the King and Queen, Darayan let go of his aura when he heard the General’s name.
“General Tafen!” A guard summoned.
“General,” the guard knocked on the library entrance and a hollow ‘enter’ sounded from within.
When the guard and the guard’s associate—a definite Giliou—entered the library, Darayan closed in. He stopped an inch from the doorway, holding the door ajar and getting a good look inside to listen to the conversation.
“My General,” the guard bowed, “there is a Giliou, a citizen of Forsda at the wall claiming they have word from Xandou.”
General Tafen looked up from his map of Rivalex laying on the table in the Manor library, to the Gorgon guard addressing him. “Well?” He said moving a few of the maps and books aside.
After a few moments, the young blonde-haired boy walked out from behind the guard anxiously, looking at the thick Miry shelves full of books and editions, at the hanging Gorgon and Giliou the Wise paintings; upon realising he was dawdling, he hurried to the General.
“Yes?” the General snapped. Getting a good look at the lad, Darayan noticed he was a very tall Giliou teenager—Shielder robes—thin wavy hair framing nervous eyes.
“I am Ryar, Giliou Guardian and in-training Shielder. I come to Layos at a request of Master Xandou,” Ryar said it like he had been revising it over and over again in his head. Darayan stepped closer to the door.
“He is well? How did negotiations go? Why has he not returned?” Tafen asked incredulously.
“Aye, he is back in Forsda. He came from the watchtower.”
“The watchtower? What was he doing there? … What say of Xandou, then? And what state of the Conductor?”
“He wanted me to give word that he is claiming the Felrin cruiser in Forsda, and to send healers to the watchtower and … and that Layos should be prepared for war.”
“What happened to Jahzara?” the General asked, the same time the adjacent door burst open and Giliou Desrix and Yasminx tore in.
“We have news!” Yasminx said.
“Yasminx,” the General said calmly, “this is Ryar, a Giliou Shielder-in-training, he will speak before I answer you.”
“It can’t wait, General.”
“I said both of you listen,” he ordered, and they nodded in agreement. “Go on, Ryar.” He gestured to the young man while Yasminx and Desrix relocated themselves behind another desk of cluttered maps, scuffling through them.
“Xandou was stalking Forsda.” Ryar began over the noise of papers. “He alerted me of the need for healers at the watchtower and then said he wanted the Felrin cruiser. The Felrin Liege have been hanging around helping Queen Maya so it would be hard for him to attain it.”
“Why is Xandou running? Where is he going?” Desrix mumbled, then looked up from the documents to Ryar. “Who represents the Congress?”
“I believe one was Liege Shiek Ferak Jarryd,” Ryar said.
Something inside Darayan clicked, and not in a good way.
The three insurgent leaders, including Yasminx, who dropped the parchment in her hand, looked at each other with a mixture of irritation and disbelief.
Desrix bit his lip then said “Was there word given to Sile about this?”
“I would assume there may be as, I believe, they would have also been looking for the cruiser. Our Vectors … our Vectors are unmonitored due to our Conductor being badly wounded, there will be stirring.”
Jahzara was hurt? Darayan gulped in fear.
“No, there will be war.” General Tafen’s eyes darkened. “If Sile gets wind of this, they will more than happily bring Layos down—or Forsda for that matter.”
“They wouldn’t survive the wrath of the Giliou,” Ryar protested.
“No, they wouldn’t, but with unmonitored Vectors open to any visitors, I can only guess the fiends on their way to us,” Tafen said looking apprehensively at Desrix and Yasminx, “Double the defences and double watch times. We must be prepared for anything.”
“Shouldn’t we be making our way to Forsda?” Yasminx said. “To help Xandou?”
“He has brought this upon himself, Yasminx, it would be illogical and unwise to send our troops away from Layos,” Tafen said. “We need to remain here.”
“There must be a reason why so many want to Vector out,” Desrix muttered. “The Necromancers will attack Forsda for this just to prevent being ambushed by the Felrin or anyone else coming through our planet’s barriers without sanction. And why does Xandou need the cruiser? Where does he plan on going?”
“I was not privy to that information,” Ryar stated.
“Possibly he would have wanted to go after Queen Kaianan, knowing the Defeated King is released …” Desrix said in deep thought.
Darayan froze. The Defeated King? Released? Wasn’t he dead—
“If Sile is on the way to Forsda,” Yasminx went on, “with new allies in the Defeated King’s army, we would need to show face. Be present; keep Rivalex together.”
“What?” Tafen asked the two of them, deeply disturbed.
“The Defeated King—we wanted to tell you—he has been released; well we know Holom’s Door has been opened.” Desrix said and heard the papers and maps shifting again under Yasminx’s hands.
At that moment, another two Giliou Shielders entered the library—Darayan recognised them: Thia and Ravi, chewing large chunks of bread.
“Ah, how we find you all cowering in the library …” Ravi said in a light tone, “no surprise there.”
“Why didn’t you say he has been released?” Tafen demanded, ignoring Ravi.
“We tried,” Desrix said.
“We must keep up guard!”
Ravi frowned, wiping his face of excess crumbs. “Wait, who’s been released?”
“The Ancestor of Sile,” General Tafen said as if commenting to himself.
“Your long-lost cousin, is it, Dessie?” Ravi said and Thia chuckled.
“We need to see if Forsda needs assistance,” Yasminx said still scouring through documents.
“We don’t have enough of us to keep Layos guarded let alone the whole of Rivalex, Yasminx,” Tafen said. “What the Holom are you looking for anyway?”
“I agree with the General,” Desrix said. “The Defeated King, if on his way to us, will most likely attack all of us at once. Regardless of where we are, our strength matters not. Not with the capability of the Pernicious.”
Yasminx gave Desrix a contemptuous look, then said to the General: “I’m looking for a map of Croone. We can call upon the Conductor there to perhaps block him from Rivalex. This is his home. He will want to return. And we are unprepared.”
Ravi stood slightly bewildered. “You mean to say your long-lost cousin is the Defeated King?”
�
��We can fix this situation,” Desrix stated, loudly. “We can get to the watchtower and get Jahzara back to full health, then, we can assist Xandou.”
General Tafen frowned. “And what about the Felrin cruiser?”
“What of it? If we can get Jahzara back to full health, no-one will be chasing that cruiser.”
“Aye, at what cost?” the General said. “We need you both here, the Giliou who are now a part of this Insurgence still need a leader.”
“We won’t be gone long, General.”
“It’s too risky.”
“We need to assist Xandou,” Desrix insisted.
“I will fight with you,” Young Ryar offered.
“You’re not of age,” Yasminx pointed out.
“Hang on just a minute!” Ravi cut in and all the faces in the room fell on the short, messy man. Darayan took a second look down at him, not sure if he even looked like a Giliou. “Who the Holom is this kid? Why is no-one talking to us about your cousin? And why have none of our people sitting in the Layos outskirts, rebuilding this place, been told about the Defeated King?”
“Ravi, please,” Desrix started, taking a moment to think. “Actually … this is where you come in.”
Ravi had reached Yasminx muddling over maps, setting his bread down and trying to find one himself. “Yes, it sure is. If I have to direct them back to Forsda myself, then so be it. I will.”
“Just calm down for a minute.”
“Desrix, I am becoming more enraged with your leadership qualities by the second.”
“I want you and Thia to take over command here,” he said quickly, silencing the room.
“Why?” Ravi snapped.
“Because you are right. My destiny was not to lead an Insurgence. That was for Xandou to do, and he has made another decision at his crossroads. But I will bring him back here to lead again. You love the Giliou, I know, Ravi. And I know you believe in Laro thou Maiy. So that is why am I asking you to do what is right and protect Layos while you still hold your beliefs.”
Silence followed those words. Even the short-haired, gaunt-looking Thia had nothing to say. Ravi finally said: “So can I give them orders and not be overridden?”
Desrix’s own smile calmed him. “Yes, Ravi. They fall on both of your shoulders now. I know you will do an exemplary job to keep Layos and our beliefs intact.”
Ravi nodded, somewhat satisfied.
“Well that’s that now,” the General said. “You Giliou are a heated lot.”
“Speak for yourself, General,” Thia interjected.
“It is settled,” Desrix said ignoring them. “We will get Jahzara back to full health, venture into Forsda, extract Xandou and bring him back here. Ravi and Thia will continue to counsel the Giliou and get Layos battle-ready—”
“Found it,” Yasminx said plucking out an older, worn-looking map. “Lenity. That’s her name.”
“We can see to the Croone Conductor after our return and Master Xandou can assist us,” Desrix said with an air of finality.
“You still need my help,” Ryar said over the top of them.
“Do—we—really?” Ravi mumbled in between bites of bread.
“We indeed do,” Desrix said. “Do you understand the risk?” he asked Ryar.
The younger Giliou nodded. “Aye, and I am willing and able.”
Desrix went on, “Ryar you can join Yasminx and I as we head home for Xandou.”
“I will talk with those inside the Manor to get healers to accompany you to the watchtower,” Tafen said.
“Already one step ahead of you, General,” Ravi called, as he made his way out of the library and down the corridor followed by Thia.
“Strange you are, you lot,” Tafen said with a tilted head.
Darayan didn’t wait for the reply, he got out of the corridor as he felt it getting busier. Shock still spun within him. The Defeated King was released? But from where? On Croone? He was more worried than ever for Kaianan’s safety, but Xandou was going after her. That was a little bit comforting. Even though Xandou needed to steal a Felrin cruiser to do it. But what was a Liege Shiek doing on Rivalex anyway? Why would Forsda be such a big deal? And who was Liege Jarryd to Darayan? Would Sile really attack Forsda? Perhaps with a Defeated King army they would.
And where on Rivalex were the King and Queen of Layos in this meeting?
Chapter Sixteen: Hollow Explanation
The bluestone dwellings he passed left a hollow feeling inside Darayan. An old feeling of belonging. A feeling like home, yet it felt so far away from anything he’d felt since. No father, no mother, no family at such a young age contributed to his demeanour when it came to emotions. He just never showed much. He paced forward quickly, coming to a stop outside Daley’s old place. Tears stung his eyes, a feeling of loss he’d forgotten about since her funeral. Since he’d left—Suradika, if he only remembered why!
“Can I help you?”
A Gorgon woman behind him asked; she was entering the property, signifying she was the current owner.
“No, sorry,” Darayan said coolly.
“You look familiar though.”
“I used to live down the next street,” he lied.
“No, I know you,” she said. “You were that little boy who lost his mother and lived with granny Daley.”
“No, that boy is gone from these lands.”
“Perhaps he has returned.”
“How could he?”
“They say you can’t run from your problems; they say you have to find a way to be okay with your past.”
Darayan knew he shouldn’t keep asking the questions but there was something beating inside him, too many unanswered questions about why his family perished. He wanted his memories back. All of them. “What if it’s been erased for good?”
“Then you would already feel okay.” And with that the woman smiled and entered her home, leaving Darayan in the middle of the street.
Did he feel okay? With a tense grip around his heart, and a shortness of breath just being here he knew the answer. But how to feel okay with the past he’d run from for so long?
He walked three houses up and exhaled. Facing the smaller dwelling, covered completely in moss and shaded by overgrown trees, Darayan’s tears did not hold. This was a memory that had already come back to him, that his nightmares presented more and more frequently. This is where his mother and brother died. Daley told him to cherish the moments he’d had with his family. That he was lucky to get such moments.
There was nothing lucky about it. He was a child when they were taken from him.
Opening the broken gate through the bluestone entryway, he made his way inside. Abandoned, unoccupied, the place had gone to ruin. No longer did the room provide ambiance or warmth, like his mother used to create. Instead, dust and debris filled the living rooms and the bedrooms.
“Twenty years on,” he breathed out. The house had been uninhibited since his family’s death. Cursed, some people said after the night her child’s birth went wrong. But no-one entered, least of all Darayan, when he was growing up, for fear his heart might explode. It was here he found her stone locket. He felt it in his pocket the moment his eyes found the music player in her bedroom. Cocking his head at the square box that, once wound up, would echo out his favourite lullaby, Darayan sighed in pain.
Slowly, he approached it and fiddled with the top of the box. Eventually running his fingers along the brass handle, and spinning it a few times before letting it go. In the split second it began playing, Darayan dropped to his knees. Painful images stung at him. His mother again was singing, then speaking to him.
“Now your father is gone,” she began, “we must stick together you and I, for the baby’s sake.”
“Mother,” he tried to say, but he was already asleep in his cot.
“I know you don’t know about your father, but he wasn’t who you thought he was. Not a Gorgon, not a Homo captiosus at all. Your father, he was a preform. One that had strengths within, not without. Oh Dara
yan,” she sobbed, “he couldn’t use the Siliou at all but he gave his life to save us.”
Darayan wasn’t putting the pieces together, he didn’t understand.
“To think,” his mother went on, “all of us, including him would have been killed by that hover vehicle if he hadn’t swerved it into him. And they said Felrin would be safe to travel to for a holiday …” She wiped her tears. “In their eyes he might not have been extraordinary, but to me he was, and he was to you.” Darayan felt his mother’s hand touch his tiny one in his cot. “And his spirit lives on within me,” she touched her belly.
Innocent, alone and unaware, Darayan wished he could tell her the baby boy growing inside her was going to kill the both of them.
But then the music finished, and he was back in the dusty confines of bluestone. Raising his body from the ground, Darayan started pacing, running faster. He couldn’t be here, he hated Layos, hated this place that fed his trauma.
His mother had trusted the Felrin, trusted the Gorgon, and still she ended up dead. Life was not fair, it was cruel, it was—
“Damn forsaken!” He sank to his knees at the base of the Valley Woods. There was no-one left here. No-one that he knew. That he trusted. Why did he come? To find out the bad news? That the most savage beast that ever existed was released? He led Bodel and Materid into harm’s way, for what? And what about Archibel? Why was there this niggling in him to come here?
“I hate this place!” he groaned. He scrunched dirt between his fingers and dispelled the heavy saliva from his mouth. Disgusted, Darayan rose and headed in the direction of his scapecraft.
Chapter Seventeen: Repairing the Injured
“Well, how did you go?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Darayan replied to Bodel as he approached. She was sitting near the scapecraft. Nightfall in the Valley Woods was a different kind of beast: the chill in the air had Bodel breathing out smoke. Then again, they were Sarinese and not accustomed to such extreme weather.
“Darayan,” Materid called, “hand me the alternator.”
