The Kingdom of Ecstasy

by S. R. Laubrea

  By the third year, the discovery was made that there were nine islands surrounding the mainland. Each one was a number of miles away from the coast, nearly situated on the skyline, visible as little spits of land from so far.

  Various reports regarding these discoveries and others like them were constantly coming in to Lucein from different sources, one of which was his own mother and father. It seemed that Rollond was far more content when he was satisfying his human nature, that being the indwelling drive to explore and subdue.

  Or be subdued, in some cases.

  During a typical Syvan, Rollond and Sanci were no-where to be seen. They would've been dwelling in the wilderness on one of the islands. This year they had returned early, and Lucein went down to Rah'ii's netroa, where his mother and father were staying, to find out why.

  "Tsche au," he said, nodding to Rah'ii, who promptly flattened to the floor.

  "Bright Sun and Warm Sand, my honor greets me."

  Lucein wasn't crazy about formalities. He was inclined to roll his eyes, but instead grinned and gestured for Rah'ii to get off his stomach. "I heard my parents are here."

  "Tsche… She is pregnant."

  "Again?" he asked, his tone rising.

  Then again, he knew his mother was engineered to breed. It was something Yonathael hinted at in one of their conversations just a couple years ago, how she was really an emotionally repressed sex machine, and Rollond likely appreciated that more than he let on, being that he was half-taarim himself.

  If men were likened to ever-horny dogs, then taas were constantly and excessively sexual. It was Yonathael's way of warning Lucein what was going to awaken within him in his future.

  Rah'ii bobbed his head. "It's been since Kaienne. No tyiha spends eight months pregnant. We're planning to force it out."

  "Exactly how do you do that?"

  "Come and find out." Rah'ii ascended the pole.

  At first Lucein hesitated, then he went up the ladder.

  There were three rooms on the third floor, each one of about equal size. Rah'ii stood before the draped archway of his, and with an outstretched arm, directed Lucein into one of the others.

  The uutalaysi was pushed into a corner of the room. A tub dominated the chamber, big enough to fit four people, filled with lukewarm water. In it was Sanci.

  She gripped the edge of the tub, her ears flattened back, as if she wanted to growl, but couldn't, because Rollond wouldn't let her. Frankly their eyes were shut, and there wasn't time to make noise, because he had one arm across her shoulders, and the other griped the lip of the tub, supporting his weight while he kissed his tyiha.

  When their lips parted, finally, she drew breath and in a hushed, oddly sensual voice, said: "They are near at the entrance." She shuddered, and Lucein canted his head.

  His understanding of birth was that it wasn't a pleasurable thing. He'd seen the anguished, pain-laden faces of women in labor. Yet here was his mother, and she was purring, as if sex was the second best thing to pushing out another child.

  The soft sound of splashing broke him from his thoughts. He looked away from them, and saw Rah'ii had gotten into the tub.

  "If you don't mind," he said, making sure to hold eye contact with Rollond as he motioned for the man to get in front of her.

  Once he did, Rah'ii signaled for Lucein to get in.

  He peeled off everything but his pants and stepped into the tub.

  "I'm going to slit the amnion, the sac that pushes against her cervix. Normally the air dries and thins it out and it will pop on its own. Once I slit it, there's going to be a lot of fluid, and some blood. I want you to reach in, grab what's in there, and pull it out." He turned to Rollond. "You make sure she's comfortable."

  Rollond and Lucein nodded. The moment after their mutual confirmation, Rah'ii reached into Sanci, and before any of them knew what had happened, he pulled his arm out, and gestured to Lucein.

  His face paled. What had initially crossed his mind was beyond him, but he didn't think it involved reaching into his mother's depths. He swallowed, nervously put his hand down, and entered.

  There were few things he could compare the experience to, save for this awkward and nerve-racking, pins-and-needles sensation all over him. It seemed like an eternity, feeling around in the dark, and already he was up to his elbow.

  She was so deep that he wondered how on Dyiij's turquoise and burgundy planet Rollond managed to successfully get Sanci pregnant. He felt like she nearly swallowed his arm whole —

  And then there was something. It bumped against his arm, somewhere between his wrist and his elbow. He had actually sttretched her and gone in too far. He pulled back and grasped what he assumed was the head of someone. "I… I think I got… them?"

  "Staazsi, staazsi," Rah'ii said with a few claps. "Be gentle about it, don't want to pull it apart!"

  She clenched and Lucein froze. He took a deep breath, and gradually resumed pulling, until finally, it came out.

  Now it was a bloody little thing, until after some rubbing in the water when it turned out that it was white. It had skin white like ivory and their hair like pearl. It was some kind of creature, one Lucein hadn't seen before. He stared at it, lips puckered, not sure what to make of it.

  "Well?" Rollond asked.

  Lucein cocked his head, shrugged, held it out to his father.

  Not long after Rollond cradled the little thing did he furrow his brows at it. "I've seen one of these before," he said. "In fact, I knew one by the name So'yi, but I don't know what she… was." He sighed, shook his head.

  "There has to be someone who knows," Lucein said. He glanced at Rah'ii, who put his hands up.

  "If it's such a big deal, ask the Makers," Sanci said, half-dazed.

  "I'll go get grandpa Yonai," Lucein said. He descended the ladder, certain that Yonathael would know.

  By the time Lucein returned with Yonathael in tow, Rollond and Sanci were lounging with their newborn on the first floor of Rah'ii's netroa. Sanci was glowing, emanating pride and joy. Lucein and especially Yonathael picked up on it.

  The old xeirelle was gradual about getting into the depression that denoted the social, living area form the rest of the fist floor. But only because of his spine, what frustrated him endlessly. When he finally sat down with them, he crossed his legs and grinned. "So I hear there's a forth one now."

  "Tsche." A broad smile lit Sanci's face, and she passed the creature — the child — to Yonathael's open, inviting arms.

  Not long after he got hold of it he lifted the creature up over his head and took a good look. "How curious," he said.

  "You don't know what it is?" Rollond asked.

  "Oh I know what it is." Yonathael lowered the child and hugged them to his chest. "But I never thought it was possible between the both of you to make Xeigons."

  All three of them, Sanci, Rollond, and Lucein went unanimously silent.

  It was said that the Xei came in two and a half types, and in this very room, all of those types were present: Rollond, the Humanized Xeirelle; Yonathael and Lucein, who were Xeirelles, though not humanized; and this new one, who was a Xeigon.

  Now Xeigons were peculiar creatures. Like Xeirelles, they had four digits on their hands, six on their feet, and like the kyusoa, they had hand-like feet. But they had muzzles like those of dragons, and sphincter eyelids over glossy, solid-colored eyes.

  Their tails were long, winding snake tails. Their ears resembled wings, with three pinnas that they could spread to better capture sound. The talons of their hinds were keen enough to shred the skin of a crocodile or worse, as if nothing but paper.

  "So what are you going to name him?" Yonathael asked.

  Another moment of silence passed. It wasn't like the xeigon had a pair of genitals for everyone to see, although Yonathael prodded its feet, and the creature kept trying to grab and nip him.

  Finally, Lucein asked: "How do you know its a 'him'?"

  "Well." Yonathael flipped the new-one over and opened i
ts legs. "Only O'renn and Taarim have pouches among the xeigons for carrying up to four offspring between the two. The males and middle-sexes do all the nursing, you see. But if you really need proof of malehood…" He pushed his thumb to the new-one's hips at the top of a tiny protrusion that looked no different than an undefined body mound, and out shot something like a tiny, purplish tether.

  Only it wasn't quite like the penis of a kyusoa. It was long, but it wasn't spear-headed.

  "Lookit him," Yonathael chuckled. The new-one froze in Yonathael's grip until he let up the pressure, and the organ retracted into whence it came. "So then, what is his name?"

  "Can we call him 'Small Fry'?" Lucein asked. His features brightened when Rollond and Sanci looked at one another with what seemed like thoughtful consideration.

  Then Rollond parted his lips to speak, but before he could make a sound, Sanci put her hand to his mouth and hushed him.

  "Amonthe," she said.

  He frowned. "You got to name the first two and —"

  "This one is Amonthe," she insisted, staring him down.

  He puckered his lips, keeping her persistent stare. "Yes dear," Rollond said, his voice quiet.

  "You can name the next one." She kissed his cheek.

  Schiivas, the 31st day in the month of A'ii-dann;

  Withering of the 6th year of the Third Epoch of Dyjian.

  Three years passed. The xeirelles were an architectural type, more so than humanity and the kyusoakin combined. They set out to build a city, an expansive one in a matter of a few years.

  It was called Yjuiheta, the great city on the mainland of Vandanei, and towards the northern end of it, situated at the waterfall their Neisam had taken to, was the Faajhier, the palace Chade and Vaeschus had built to house Lucein and the Alekzandyrs.

  Of course, the one thing Amonthe noticed about his brother, Lucein, apart from his height, was that he wasn't much of a hunter. Meaning that he didn't have a spirit to seek and cause ruin. How different from himself, or so he thought, because from the moment he had been weaned, Amonthe knew he was built to trace.

  He opened his eyelids to expose the glossy ocular orbs, and his vision went from narrow — focused — to broad. He could see everything around him, except for his spine, in a perfect, spherical view. His surroundings and what was in them were all the more cemented by a minutely sensitive electric field, and something within the vicinity of his guts tingled every time Lucein moved.

  That tingling in his stomach became intense, when the chielde-like barrier that served in the place of a door allowed someone to pass through.

  Amonthe knew Rollond. Though the strange thing about him, Rollond, was the dark presence that permeated his being. To be clear, Amonthe could see him just as he was: fair skin, white hair, blue eyes, along with whatever colors he was wearing. But everywhere Rollond went there was something like a smoky gloom that accompanied him.

  Frankly, Amonthe wondered if anyone else noticed it.

  Apparently not, because in the following moment, Lucein rose and embraced Rollond. "Father!~" he cooed.

  "Thought I'd come in and collect my son," Rollond said.

  "Which one?" Lucein asked.

  "You know, small fry." He gestured to Amonthe. "Have you eaten?"

  With a beast's maw, it was hard to form the Gyutic words of men. He wished Rollond knew Savuung. The melodic tones and harmonic pitches were much easier for him. "I… weel… soohn."

  The man plucked the xeigon from the plant in the windowsill. Amonthe was about the size of a house cat, though heavier. He gripped his father's arm and climbed up onto his shoulder.

  Lucein signed a document, then shut down his desk. "Want to hear some good news?" he asked.

  "Sure," Rollond said, as Lucein fell in-stride beside him.

  "We're all legal now, officially."

  Rollond stopped. "You've passed the marriage license?"

  "How could I not? I'd like to think I'm legitimate for real, you know." Lucein grinned, and his aelyth intensified.

  The kind of aelyth that animated Lucein had a yellowish hue. Amonthe had thought it meant cowardice, but his brother wasn't a fear-stricken worm.

  For that matter, Gnyovante's was also yellow — intensely so. Perhaps it pertained to them being twins? Do womb-mates share similar aelyth? He wished he could ask them why their aelyth was yellow, but he was certain they wouldn't know what he was talking about. He almost knew it: they couldn't see aelyth like he could.

  Otherwise, Lucein would have noticed the radiant plumes of aelyth emanating from the rock that hung on the chain around his neck.

  That ability to see Aelyth wasn't inherited, nor was it something that people merely possessed. It was an ability that held special significance. The kind of significance that suggested that Amonthe wasn't just the byproduct of Rollond and Sanci.

  Now, their parents, Rollond and Sanci, stayed in the southwest annex, a building devoted entirely to them, and those who serviced their needs. It was the only annex of the Faajhier that allowed small game to roam the halls freely.

  As soon as Amonthe sensed the presence of something scurrying along the floor his eyelids narrowed and he focused on it. A series of lenses within his eyes gave him telescopic vision, a feature only available when he had focus.

  It was a pliima, a crop-devouring pest that caught his attention. A pliima was like a chinchilla, only it had a chicken's feet, and the uncanny ability to defy gravity and, by extension, logic.

  Out of no-where, for no discernible reason, the rodent tumbled arse-over-head, then began floating up towards the ceiling.

  Amused, Amonthe allowed it a few seconds of lift before he launched off of his father's shoulder and snatched the pliima in the length of his tail. It was an easy creature to crush, wriggling as it suffocated in his tightening grip.

  After a short while of torturing the rodent, he kicked back with his hinds, hooking his talons into the animal's rib cage. Then he jerked forward, and completely tore the pliima's thoracic lumbar out of alignment.

  The pliima died shortly after, and Amonthe proudly dragged it with him, coiled in his tail. Maybe he'd get his mother to cook it, though he preferred it raw. It was more of a courtesy thing, because his family saw it as weird that he'd eat unprepared carcasses.

  That's probably why, when they sat down to eat together, Tensten wouldn't accept any food in their presence. He was an excellent hunter, and he devoured his meals live. Perhaps he didn't want his family to suffer the shock and terror that consuming live creatures involved — kicking, screaming, flesh melting, bones and all as he shifted over the poor thing.

  It was once a year, sometimes thrice, that the Alekzandyrs ate with one another. When they did gather together, the air at the table became galvanized to the extent that not even Gnyovante's ever-stoic demeanor could withstand the energy and good feelings.

  The table was long, with more than an arm's reach between seats, and broad enough that numerous platters of whatever fit comfortably on it.

  Amonthe wasn't big enough to fit the seats yet. The table was too high for him to reach from the chair. He climbed up top and surveyed the arrangement. There was a sixteen-legged roasted fowl, its coppery skin glistening in the light of the chandelier.

  Then there was a gigantic bowl stuffed full of fruits, and another reserved for salad. There were other things, some that jiggled, some that were pudding-like, some that were mashed, some that were crisp and stalky.

  He went over to the fowl, tugged off one of it's massive wings, and dragged it across the polished table over to his father. He sat down to the left of Rollond's plate and began eating.

  Now, Amonthe wasn't paying attention when the air of the dining room in the southwest annex changed. Something like a soft breeze chilled his skin, but he didn't think anything more of it. Not until Rollond grabbed him, flipped him onto his back and held him by his throat. His expression was blank, devoid of all thought and emotion as he clutched the steak knife and raised it high over Amont
he's belly.

  Rollond's eyes flashed — for a fraction of a second, his irises were discs of polished gold on scleras black as death — and the smoky gloom of Rollond's aelyth had become like a man's blood. For that matter, it had formed a human-like shape, and was twisted around his arm, the one that held the knife over Amonthe's stomach.

  Several voices sounded at once. Amonthe couldn't make out what was being said, between the race of his pulse and the ringing in his ears.

  Then, as the knife descended, Gnyovante socked Rollond and knocked him sideways to the floor. He pinned his father down, gripped him by the collar and held his fist back, prepared to punch the sense out him a second time.

  That is, until Rollond returned to his wits. "Heiknelbaum, boy, get off me!" he growled.

  Gnyovante backed off.

  "What in the world possessed you to go upside my head!?"

  "You were about to shank Amonthe," Gnyovante said, his voice clam.

  "Nonsense," Rollond grumbled. "I would never…" He yet clutched the knife. The shock and silence of realization manifested on his face, and he glanced at his youngest son.

  Amonthe still lay on his back, dazed, his legs wide open in the air, as if trying to feel the ceiling. Then, finally, he winced, began to cry, and Lucein scooped him off the table.

  Rollond flung the knife away.

  "What happened?" Lucein asked.

  "I don't know," Rollond said. He remained there on the floor, one leg bent, the other straight, an arm resting atop his knee. "I blacked out." He shook his head. "I can't explain it, I've never blacked out except for once before."

  "When was that?" Gnyovante asked. They all wanted to know.

  "Over… two-hundred years ago. I was twenty-four, in an underground warehouse, with… with So'yi, you remember, don't you?" He got up and motioned to Ashenzsi. "We split up, because we were looking for a way out, and I remember she looked me in the eye one moment. Then it all goes blank, except that when I 'came back', she seemed upset with me. I don't remember why."

  Quiet swept through the dining room.

  "I think it's best Amonthe stays with me until we know what's going on with you," Lucein said, his voice quiet.

  "Yeah, right," Rollond sighed. At once he wished he knew what it was and how to explain it. His mate, Sanci, kneaded his shoulders, wanting to help him relax. He couldn't, especially not as he watched his lord take his youngest son from him.

  Act 3:

  A sad song of fate

  Imperceptible.

  Luorvas, the 32nd day in the month of Hijarr;

  Regarding things unseen;

  Spring of the 8th year of the Third Epoch of Dyjian.