Spirits of Falajen

by Ginger Salazar

  “You said no mystics, you cheat! You filthy cheat!” Etyne shouted with a laugh and lunged toward her once again.

  “I didn’t want to bleeeeed,” she squealed when he picked her up again. Instead of flying, this time, she held onto his arm and used the momentum from his attempted throw to pull him with her. She jumped onto another crate and leapt from them to land her feet to his chest. He fell on his back, somersaulting backwards to prevent her from attacking him again.

  Korteni and Livian had to keep running from one side of the cargo hold to the other in an attempt to dodge the captains about to collide with them. One of the lanterns was knocked over, and Korteni used her mystic to extinguish the flame before it could spread. “This is why I’m here,” she whispered to Livian. “It’s hour one, so you should probably try not to break any bones. I don’t want to be the one waking up the medic,” Korteni called to them.

  “I’m already going easy on him,” Brisethi teased.

  He wiped blood from a cut on his lip. “Dammit, you’re paying for this,” he threatened and burst into motion once more.

  Livian giggled, “He’s mad now, you cut his pretty face!”

  Brisethi dodged three out of four of his fast punches. The fourth found its target on her rib, causing her to double over. She prayed to the spirits it wasn’t cracked and forced herself to counter with a tackle. She straddled him and grasped his muscular neck as tightly as she could.

  Etyne burst into laughter. “You’re never going to be able to strangle me, your paws are too tiny,” he then used one hand to strangle her in return. When she released her grasp to pry his hand off of her own neck, he sat up, and then stood up, and threw her to the deck.

  “Ouch,” she painfully exhaled. She wanted to stand and keep fighting, but the thought of waking the corpsmen if they seriously injured one another kept her on the ground. Instead, she wiped the blood from her nose and caught her breath. She shared an aching look with Etyne.

  “I honestly didn’t think you were ready to fight again,” he admitted. He stood over her, breathing heavily and stared at her with his hands on his hips. He tried to smirk but winced from the cut on his lip.

  “You underestimate my fury,” she grinned and held her hands up to him.

  He took hold of them to help her stand. “I needed this. It’s been awhile since I’ve beaten anyone up,” he gloated. He touched and examined her ribs where his fist had earlier rammed into her.

  She groaned from the tenderness. “Don’t worry; you didn’t break anything in me this time.”

  “The crates, however,” Korteni pointed out. “Captain Nessel won’t be happy with you two destroying his supplies.”

  Brisethi covered the crates with a tarp. “Shhh, no one will ever know-“

  “’Sethi!” Etyne scolded. “I’m headed back up to the ready room. Don’t damage anything else,” he ordered.

  Chapter IX

  Sulica woke early the next morning and made a quick stop at the near-empty galley to grab a pastry. She wrapped it in a napkin and hurried topside. The deck was almost completely devoid of life, save the unfortunate sailors who had been scheduled for the roving watch. Her footsteps echoed slightly as she walked along the wooden deck to the fantail. Turning her collar up against the cool air, she settled on a couple of crates temporarily placed against the stack.

  She bit into the warm, flaky pastry, savoring its sweet taste as she looked out across the railing to see the sun just barely beginning to rise over the mountain behind Vipurg. The sky slowly began to change from the near blackness to a mild purple. Sulica sighed happily, content to just be alive at that moment. She didn’t want to think about what would happen once she reached Pahl’Kiar.

  More footsteps could be heard approaching, and she instinctively leaned further back into the shadows. She recognized Ekani’s form as he came into view, his profile barely visible. He removed his overcoat and tossed it on the deck at his feet. Moving rather quickly, he climbed up and over the railing slightly off to the side. Before her eyes, Ekani performed a clean dive into the water below.

  Is he crazy? she thought in astoundment. Several minutes later, he returned, soaking wet, this time accompanied by Lieutenant Simtel.

  “Are you crazy?” Simtel asked his friend. “I know you’re nuttier than a squirrel, but are you genuinely crazy?”

  Ekani laughed as he bent to retrieve his jacket. “The cold water sharpens my mind, and I’m going to need a clear head today.” In answer to Simtel’s unasked question, he continued, “I have to go to the embassy today. The Lantheuns have seriously considered our offer, and Vipurg could be a critical spot for transporting supplies.”

  “Great,” Simtel grumbled, “Just what we need, crackpot scientists and bloodthirsty brutes.”

  “How is that any different from your crew?” Ekani teased.

  “True enough, but I would rather go dress shopping than spend the morning at the embassy with those stuffy know-it-alls. No offense,” he quickly added.

  “Good,” Ekani said with a grin. “Thanks for volunteering to take Sulica around town today.” He began walking away, leaving Simtel at the fantail.

  “I said ‘no offense’!” he called after with a laugh.

  Sulica contemplated just hiding until he went away then disappearing so he wouldn’t be obligated to escort her.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” Simtel said, startling her, “we can head on into town, so you can get your dresses.” He turned and gave her his most charming smile.

  A short while later they were passing through the large wooden doors into Vipurg proper once more. The sun had almost fully risen, and the day seemed to promise a little warmth. They traveled into the market quadrant, past the great lodge they had dined at the night before.

  “What do you like to do?” Simtel asked Sulica as they walked past the snow-covered shops. “Besides talking to me, of course,” he added confidently.

  She rolled her eyes in response and thought about his question. So much of her time had been spent scheming up ways to survive that she could hardly remember anything that she did before. It seemed like her life before the Dominion training didn’t even exist.

  Sensing her discomfort, he suggested they visit his favorite place in the town. Shops lined the street with warm lanterns placed directly outside the door in order to allow potential customers to read the signs, even in darkness. At the moment, the lanterns were all mostly extinguished. Light, powdery snow covered the rooftops and lined the sides of the buildings, but paths had already been cleared for access. As they walked, Simtel translated the names of the most popular shops, cafes, and restaurants. He waved at some of the people who passed, greeting them kindly by name.

  “How do you know everyone?” Sulica asked after the fifth incident.

  “We pull into port here every so often,” he replied casually.

  He led her to a small corner store with a large wooden carving of a bear in front. Sulica paused and stared at the incredible details etched in the wood. The bear stood on all fours, its muzzle open wide, displaying all the carved wooden teeth. She reached out slowly, almost afraid to touch it.

  Simtel suddenly grabbed her side and growled, “Careful, he bites!”

  She jumped and whirled to face him, barely able to restrain the urge to punch him in the face.

  He was doubled over in laughter, gasping, “Your reaction - that was priceless! I haven’t had one like that in ages.”

  Her hands curled into fists, and she placed them on her hips for better control. She took advantage of his mirth and pushed Simtel’s shoulder, sending him tumbling backwards into a pile of snow.

  “Cold!” he gasped in a high-pitched voice, causing Sulica to begin giggling uncontrollably.

  Sulica held out her hand to help him up. Acting like he was going to take it, he instead grabbed her forearm and pulled her into the snow pile with him. Between their laughter and struggle to get free from the snow, they seemed to sink further into it. Finally, they t
eamed up and used each other as leverage to get out. They brushed the snow off of their clothes, stomping their feet to loosen it from the boots.

  Simtel straightened his uniform and attempted to regain his composure. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m colder than an icicle in a freezer. How about a drink and a fire?”

  They headed back to the lodge, which was significantly quieter than it had been the night before. Stone fire pits adorned the corners of the great hall, and Sulica found a set of plush chairs by an unoccupied one. She settled into it, sinking deep in the cushions. Putting her hands up to the warm flames, she felt the chill start to leave her fingers.

  Simtel suddenly appeared next to her, holding out a steaming mug of brown liquid with white cream topping it. Sulica thanked him but regarded the mug skeptically. “It’s not poison,” he said, pointedly taking a sip of his before plopping into the chair next to her.

  “Sure, but how much alcohol is in it?” He laughed easily, assuring her there wasn’t any. She took a cautious sip, immediately burning her tongue.

  “Well, it is hot,” Simtel said innocently. After a moment, he leaned forward in his chair and said eagerly, “Tell me what it’s like to grow up in Sariadne. Have you seen Ancient Kiar? Are there really dragons?”

  Sulica was momentarily taken aback. “I would think it’s the same as growing up in Pahl’Kiar,” she answered slowly.

  “Except for the mystics making your life easier than a drunk Beccilian.”

  She laughed at his unexpected word choice. “Mystics are a lot of work. We have to be able to keep them in check, or it could mean death.”

  Simtel scoffed, “Of course it does. Dragon spirits aren’t easy to control.” He noticed the bewildered look on her face. “Don’t tell me you don’t even know the story behind your own people.”

  Shrugging, she said, “I didn’t have to pay attention in school. My father didn’t care about marks unless it had something to do with money.” Blowing on the hot drink, she was able to take a tiny sip. The chocolate drink immediately began to warm her insides.

  “That is sad,” he said. Then he set down his half-empty mug and clapped his hands together. “Time for a history lesson.

  “Long ago, the dragons decided to give their dying spirits to the people beginning to inhabit Sariadne. The type of mystic a person had was related to the dragon and its abilities. The people were thankful at first, worshipping the dragons as the most powerful beings in the world. From there, the population continued to grow and expand, splitting into two major civilizations. But, as the years passed, the people began to forget where their gifts came from.

  “Now, this is not a high point for my people,” Simtel continued sadly. “The inhabitants of Kiar decided the dragons were too central to their way of life, and that needed to change. They tore down shrines and began hunting the dragons down. The dragons began to withdraw more and more, or they were mostly killed. Finally, the remaining dragons banded together and stripped the Kiarans of their dragon spirits, leaving them with just enough to live through the pain of it as a punishment.”

  “That’s awful,” Sulica said quietly, suddenly recalling the missing training division from her own expedition years before. She shivered, half-hoping dragons didn’t really exist anymore, lest they enact vengeance against her people too.

  A voice behind her interrupted, “Don’t be telling her your tall tales.”

  “Vorsen!” Simetel said, “It’s true, and you know it. That’s why our eyes are the way they are, because we had mystics and lost them.”

  “It can’t be all true,” Sulica interrupted as Ekani came around to sit on her other side. “I know a half-Kiaran who has eyes like a full one, but he has full use of his mystics.”

  Simtel raised his eyebrows with a grin, “Yeah, what’s his name?” he challenged.

  Holding her head high against his disbelief, she looked directly at Ekani. “Etyne Vorsen.”

  -:- -:- -:-

  The sailors of the DSV Sovereign moored her lines to the pier of the Southwest Naval Base just outside Ancient Kiar. Both moons lit up the purple sky above with their evening glow, threatening to outshine the orange sun upon the horizon. The normal hustle of the day had slowed to a crawl as the ship pulled in. The rest of the shipyard was relatively quiet.

  Captain Sen Asel bid farewell to Captain Nessel, Lieutenant Sieter and Chief Kayula. She hugged Chief Korteni Pyraz, wishing her a safe journey on the way to the DSV Reliant. Sergeant Livian Reej gave her a salute and, after returning the salute, Brisethi shook her hand.

  Etyne walked with her down the gangplank and halfway to where two base guards waited to escort Brisethi back to her division. He was saying goodbye to her again. “I’ll see you in two years, ‘Sethi. Write to me, and maybe I’ll reply,” he smiled.

  “You better write back,” she nudged his arm. “I’ll mail you your frakshins when I get to my belongings.”

  “Please, don’t,” he told her. “I’d rather you thought of your compass watch as a gift.”

  She smiled at him. “If you insist, Etyne. Thank you.” At the edge of the pier just before the mounted guards, she turned to him to give him a farewell salute.

  He returned the salute and before she could turn away, he placed his hands on her arms and pulled her in. He held her close in a tight embrace, feeling her arms wrap around him in return. Regulations or not, he needed to give her the farewell she deserved. “You once stated that we were too good of friends for a formal goodbye,” he whispered to her.

  She squeezed him tighter at hearing him repeat her own words, written what felt like ages ago. “Why is this goodbye so much more painful?” she asked with a lump in her throat.

  “I don’t know,” he exhaled, holding her tighter. “I’m guessing because we’ve never held each other like this.”

  I don’t want to let go of you, she thought when sudden realization struck that she was content with his affection. They reluctantly broke away from one another in an effort to restrain the overwhelming emotions flooding their spirits.

  “Or perhaps,” he continued, “it’s because the last time I said goodbye to you, it was almost the last goodbye.”

  “Well not this time,” she stated confidently. Brisethi’s heart ached at the thought that his spirit’s lifespan was halved to allow hers to live on and had no way to repay him. She smiled sadly to him and began to walk away. After saluting the two guards, she mounted the horse that had been reserved for her two day travel to her division. She looked back to watch Etyne walking back up the gangplank to the DSV Sovereign.

  “I love you, Etyne,” she whispered to him, letting her words disappear on the breeze, knowing he couldn’t hear her.

  -:- -:- -:-

  “What?” Where is Trenn? Who is that?” The rough Kiaran words dragged Ibrienne back into consciousness.

  She squeezed her eyes shut to ward off worsening the pounding in her head. She tried to move her hands, but the rope binding them made it difficult. Resigning herself to lay still, she concentrated on the discussion taking place nearby.

  “Stop giving me excuses,” the same voice growled.

  Ibreinne couldn’t hear the mumbled reply. Slowly, she opened her eyes, blinking several times to clear her vision. Moving as little as possible, she looked around. From her position on the floor, she could see that she was most certainly not in the same room as before. Boxes and crates of varying size were piled all around her.

  She heard footsteps and closed her eyes again.

  “When does it wear off?” the voice asked, much closer.

  “Any moment now,” was the reply. She recognized it as the voice of the Kiaran who had trapped them.

  Her eyes snapped open, immediately glaring in the direction of the second voice. The two Kiarans stood over her. Seeing her awake, the newer one picked her up and put her on her feet. He was not gentle.

  “Where,” he began, “is your friend?” His voice was low and dangerous.

  Ibrienne kept
her eyes on the second Kiaran and remained silent. She didn’t see the first one’s hand in time to dodge as it made contact with her cheek, hard. She staggered and almost fell, but the one who hit her pulled her close to his face and growled the question again.

  From the corner of her eye, she could see the sorrow and shame expressed on the other Kiaran’s face, and it angered her more. “He is no friend of mine,” she spat. Droplets of blood mixed with her saliva on the man’s face.

  He tossed her back to the ground and walked away. “Mirako,” he called behind him, and the other Kiaran hurried after. A door slammed after them, leaving Ibrienne in the near darkness.

  Her cheek stung, and she wished she could have use of her hands. Channeling her mystic through her fingers had always made the process go faster. She struggled into a sitting position and leaned against a crate. Closing her eyes, she breathed in and out, concentrating on keeping an even tempo, just as Acolyte Roz had taught her. After several moments, she felt a numbing tingle in her face as it healed.

  When it was through, she slumped down, completely exhausted from the effort. She leaned her head back, her eyes adjusting to the lack of light in the room. Methodically, she began to assess her situation.

  Kanilas was gone, that much was obvious. She wasn’t sure whether she ought to be relieved or irate. If he got away, then he’d know she was still in need of help, but with how untrustworthy he’d proven himself to be, she couldn’t believe that he would actually try to rescue her. Her body ached from laying on the hard floor, and the pounding in her head had only subsided to a dull thud.