Guardian Enjel

by Viola Grace

  Now that she was looking around, she was astonished at the range of colors that the Enjel sported. The monographs on the species only mentioned the darker colors of wings, hair and eyes. In reality, the colors ran every combination of the human spectrum. But the wings were always grey or black.

  “Captain Ilo, a pleasure to meet you.” She extended her hand and was not surprised when he took it and brought it to his mouth for a soft kiss.

  “And you, Miranda. But please, call me Charan.” He winked at her, causing a scowl to cross Osias’ face. “Why am I leaving you in the hall? Please, come in.”

  He stepped aside to allow them to enter and laughed as Osias flicked him with a wing in a less-than-playful manner.

  Miranda was not surprised to find a dining room adjacent to the main chamber, but the Victorian-style tea set was enough to make her giggle. “Where did you get the tea set, Charan?”

  “It is a Dheman antique that my family acquired during one of our many wars.” He pulled out a chair for her. “Do you like it?”

  “It resembles a style of silversmithing that occurred on Earth not too long ago.”

  “Probably inspired by a Dheman relic.” He shrugged it off and poured a cup of tea into a finely wrought china cup. “They were always crawling around your planet, stealing your women and keeping us from doing the same.” He laughed in genuine amusement and offered her the tea.

  “Yes, I remember that the war between Jela and Dhema ran over to our world.” Indeed, it had been a lecture at her orientation. They made sure that the humans that were leaving their world were prepared for the others that they would meet along the way. Hundreds of races had dabbled on Earth, changing the courses of history and mixing their blood with that of the human race. It was one of the things that made the Terrans so desirable. They could mate with almost anything.

  Osias spoke up, “Ah, I wasn’t sure that you were aware of that.”

  Miranda snorted in amusement. “It is one of the first things that they teach us when we leave. Exactly which species are familiar with ours, and for what reasons.”

  Charan asked, “And why is your species familiar to ours?”

  She sipped delicately at her tea and relaxed into her chair. “Well, the spill-over from the war with Dhema, of course. And the penal colony that you tried to start on our world, which is why the Dhemons showed up and began the fight to remove you. That was the first time on record that the Enjel genes entered the population, shortly followed by those of Dhema.”

  She put her cup back in the saucer and looked at both males expectantly. “Did I miss anything?”

  “There are a few details that are best left to the Archive on Jela, but you seem to have caught on to the basics.”

  “When did you research my species? I have to assume that it was while I was in the tank.” Charan refilled her cup, and she put the sweetener in it and sipped again. His researching her species would explain the sari.

  “Indeed, I did.” Osias was relaxed as his own beverage slowly disappeared. “It seemed only prudent, as you are soon to be in the Women’s Aerie. They needed to be apprised of your species details, as well as any side effects from Myrik’s attack.”

  A furious blush covered her skin as she looked from Osias to Charan and finally realized that her rape was common knowledge throughout the ship, and now it was on record on a planet she had yet to set foot on.

  “There is no reason to be embarrassed, Miranda. It has happened before, and will happen again, the next time that a male leaves home before reaching maturity.” Charan was relaxed with his explanation. It took some of the sting out of her private humiliation. “After an Enjel male finishes his growth cycle, his mating cycle takes over.”

  Osias took over. “The mating urge is uncontrollable when it first hits, and on Jela the male is segregated until he can control himself. It was my fault for not checking on Myrik, and his fault for not checking in with Medical once the hypothermia wore off.”

  “If you had been raised on Jela, you would have recognized the increased body heat as a sign, and reported him to a councilor. The companions that share the beds of adolescent males have been trained to recognize the signs of the end of the growth cycle.”

  “It should never have happened, but it did, and Myrik will pay for his actions.”

  “Pay how?” Her cup hit the saucer with a clatter. She tucked her hands in her lap and twisted her fingers in the silk.

  “That has to be determined by the hearing. It may involve permanent damage to his wings, which would keep him from taking a mate, or perhaps some torture and restitution.”

  Knowing how hard it was to get decent punishment for a sexual crime on Earth, this extreme punishment caused her some confusion. “When is the hearing?”

  “In two days. We will proceed from the shuttle bay directly to the hall of justice. After the hearing, you will be escorted to the Women’s Aerie.”

  Her fingers came up and covered the yawn that welled up inside her. Another quickly followed, “I am so sorry. I seem to be rather tired.”

  Charan took her cup and set it on the tray. “Well, it seems your species is susceptible to an herb named Valerian. It will help you get some actual rest.”

  She yawned again and looked accusingly at Osias, who merely sipped at his cup, then put it on the saucer when empty. “Why did you sedate me?”

  “I drugged myself as well, so that I don’t leave you unprotected on the ship.”

  Charan chimed in, “I offered a guard outside a private room for you, but Lord Aron would not hear of it. Apparently, he doesn’t trust anyone but himself to guard you. Just like he didn’t trust anyone else to pick out your clothing. We had to wait for days until they were ready.” His grin was beatific. The golden hair and eyes did give him the look of a biblical angel, and in that moment she knew why they had stood for representatives of a higher power. You had to trust a face that beautiful.

  She yawned again and her eyes began to flutter shut.

  “I believe, Captain, that we should take our leave now. Thank you for the tea.” He rose and executed a graceful bow, then tugged Miranda to her feet.

  She clung to his arm and glared up at him. “I can’t remember how far it is to your quarters, but I hope it’s close.”

  She didn’t remember the rest of the walk, but deep in the night, terror came to visit once again.

  Chapter Eight

  Hands were on her, holding her down. Burning pain lanced across her breast and shoulder as he held her still for his invasion. She tried to scream, but her throat was blocked. She had to scream!

  “Miranda! Miranda, wake up!” Hands shook her out of her terror, and the screams she had been trying to voice came spilling out one after the other.

  She sat up and fought the hands until they dropped away from her. Only then could she scoot up against the headboard and draw her knees up to defend herself. Her mind cleared slowly eventually realizing that it was Osias, not Myrik, in the bed, and that his clothing and hers was still in place, if somewhat rumpled. The screaming stopped.

  “Osias? I had a bad dream.” Her fingers touched her face and the tears she felt did not surprise her. He simply sat still, facing her and waiting.

  She crawled over to him and cuddled against him, seeking comfort in his silence. His arms held her gently and he rocked her ever so slightly. That little bit of tenderness broke the dam of emotion that her mind had been warning her of.

  She cried for hours, mourning the loss of trust and cursing the memory of the pain. Every time the storm eased, she took a deep breath and it began again.

  Eventually she hiccupped back into sleep, her head pounding and hands bloody from the fingernails she dug into her palms.

  * * * * * *

  The engines of the landing shuttle pulsed gently as it settled onto Jela. The city of Talor sprawled and spiraled in the distance as the ground carrier approached.

  Miranda had chosen the other sari and choli that were at the top of the chest,
a pale lavender hue that suited her mood. The beauty of the city that they traveled through was lost to her. All of her thoughts were turned inward. Talor would have to keep.

  Since her breakdown, Osias had kept a watchful eye on her at all times. She knew that he had briefs and documents to prepare, but he chose to spend time quizzing her on Terran customs. They covered every topic from jobs to dating to sex.

  She woke up screaming again that night, so they stayed up and talked for hours until the notice to board the shuttle arrived. The hearing would commence as soon as she arrived, but her testimony was not necessary. The medical reports and Myrik’s confession were sufficient to conclude the proceedings.

  Myrik had been taken down to the planet on the first shuttle, under guard. It was not necessary as he had no inclination to bolt, but it was protocol. The Enjel were all about protocol.

  “Are you ready, Miranda? We are almost there.” A hand gripped hers and she squeezed her fingers around his.

  “As ready as I can be.” She didn’t even try to smile. This was not a time for levity.

  The carrier slowed and the door swung open. “So, this is the Hall of Justice?”

  “Indeed. For the last five hundred years.”

  In comparison to the buildings surrounding it, it was ugly. It squatted in the main square with a brooding presence, huge and ugly. Perhaps it was only her perception based on her purpose for entering it. The columns flanking the hall were of icy marble, as were the floor and ceiling. Osias steered her into the main chamber at the end of the hall with a gentle hand at her back.

  The chamber held sixty seats, all of which were filled with Enjel. A tribunal sat behind an impressive table covered with carvings that she couldn’t identify from the seat that Osias led her to on the far left. He took a guarding stance behind her, protecting her from the eyes of the observers.

  Myrik was led in on the far right. She shivered at the despair that she saw in his face. Also, one of his wings seemed to be broken; it hung at an odd angle on his back and she winced at the pain that it must be causing him.

  That was when she realized that something had happened to her talent. She couldn’t feel his pain, and he was well within her radius. Until that moment, she hadn’t thought about it one way or the other. Now, however, she became aware fully of the damage that had been done to her. Her talent was gone. Her empathy. The only thing that made her of any value to the Alliance.

  It was as if a weight was lifted. She could go where she wanted, do what she wanted, and no one would come looking for her.

  One of the tribunal banged a pyramid of stone against the table, and the hearing began.

  * * * * * *

  Myrik was questioned, his rendition confirming her own. He spoke of forcing her, the clawing, the rape and the blood. Then coming to his senses, realizing what he had done and sending for help. They verified all of the medical reports and she was surprised to see a 3D image of herself in the tank revolving in front of her eyes. She shuddered in revulsion.

  The skin of her shoulder had been laid open, her thighs bruised and gouged, and she could only imagine the internal damage. It was a view out of a horror movie, and it was her face on the body. The red haze in the tank was her own blood. She felt sick to her stomach.

  Tears were flowing freely from Myrik’s eyes. He did not ask for forgiveness, but asked instead for the maximum sentence that the tribunal would allow. They called a recess to debate their decision.

  “How are you feeling?” It was a thin blade of sound, not carrying beyond her ears.

  Her own whisper was as quiet as she could make it. “A little sick. I didn’t realize how badly I was injured.”

  “That was the reason that I didn’t spend as much time by your side as I should have. One view of your injuries was enough to fan my fury for a lifetime.”

  “What happened to Myrik’s wing?”

  “His guards weren’t fast enough to stop me.”

  Miranda had to use all of her self-control to not turn around and stare at him. She kept her eyes downcast. “You did that?”

  “I would have done more, but his guards removed me.”

  “Why didn’t he get medical help?”

  “You were in medical, and we don’t mix rapists and victims.” He paused for a moment. “He will heal…eventually.”

  Silence seemed best at that point.

  A few minutes later, the tribunal arrived and once again the pyramid struck the table.

  “We, the Tribunal of Talor, sentence Myrik Nida to five years of incarceration and twelve years of meditation at the temple of Teness.”

  “It has been a difficult decision, but we have found that his time as a slave threw off his maturation process. The ruling of the Tribunal is final, and we declare this hearing concluded.”

  With a final crash, the pyramid struck again and the observers were dismissed.

  Myrik was led off with shackles on his wrists and ankles while Miranda sat immobile.

  Osias finally tugged her to her feet and led her out to a waiting carrier. “The Women’s Aerie,” was all that he said as he tucked his arm around her shoulders.

  On the outskirts of Talor, the Women’s Aerie took shape. It was a castle with minarets, carved into the side of a mountain. Delicacy and strength in one amazing structure.

  “So, this is where you are sticking me?”

  “No, this is where unmated women stay so that they are provided for, protected and have the choice to spend an evening with a male, or no time at all.” Despite the trials of the morning, his humor was returning.

  “So it isn’t a brothel, then?”

  “What? No, of course not. The women here have a choice. Each day, they can register that they are accepting suitors, then meet them in a common area. The Duena will explain it better.” The carrier slid to a halt and they disembarked.

  The doors swung open at their approach. “They are opening the great doors for you. Males use the entrance over there.” He pointed to a smaller entrance to the left of the main walkway.

  The shadowed entrance beckoned and taking a deep breath, Miranda walked in.

  Chapter Nine

  Osias bowed low to the mature Enjel woman who rushed toward them. “Duena, this is Miranda Kenzic of the Alliance, protectorate of Terra.”

  She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Miranda, I am the Duena of the Aerie. You may call me Karmiti.” She took Miranda’s hand and began to lead her away. “We have all of your things ready, and your private apartment has been prepared for your arrival.”

  “Osias?” She turned to look at him and he gave her a reassuring smile.

  “Don’t worry, Miranda, I will see you soon.” He bowed low again and saluted her, then turned and left.

  “That is a lovely outfit, by the way. Is it indigenous to Terra?” Karmiti kept a relaxed but unbreakable grip on her hand as she led her to an expansive stairway.

  “Um, yes, it is.” The earlier comment sunk in, “What things? I am a slave. I don’t own anything.”

  “How odd. There was a delivery of clothing and jewelry from the Jeneil Netis earlier. Captain Ilo delivered it himself.”

  Miranda could only guess that it was the box from Osias’ quarters on the ship.

  “Now, for part of the tour. On the right of the stairway is the hall to the privacy gardens, and on the left is the common dining hall where you may meet with the male of your choice for dinner, or simply go to socialize and watch the entertainment.” She mounted the stairs, her grey-lavender wings extending slightly to improve her balance.

  She pointed out the common bathing rooms, a pool for swimming. A massage therapist was available for booking, as were groomers and various estheticians.

  As they progressed into the heart of the castle, it seemed to Miranda that this was a very ornate spa with a serious dating service.

  “I would like to learn to read and write in Enjel. Would that be possible?” She winced, as she had interrupted her gu
ide, but was relieved to hear, “Yes, of course, my dear. I will arrange it immediately.

  “Lord Aron arranged for you to have private quarters away from the common housing. It cost him a pretty penny, I will have you know.” Another set of stairs and another round of hallways. “You are quite popular.”

  “Popular? I just got here.”

  “The news of a Terran spread like wildfire. Gifts in white have begun arriving already.” She smiled and met Miranda’s eyes for the first time. The golden-brown orbs held centuries worth of understanding, haloed by the silvering blonde hair braided into a crown.

  “Gifts in white? I don’t understand. This is all new to me.” Her brow puckered in confusion. Someone was sending her gifts?

  “Didn’t they explain anything to you?” She sighed heavily and led her over to a bench where they both took a seat.

  “All I know is that this is where they keep unmated women. That is about it. I have learned more on your tour than in the two days before.” Her brain was reeling. She had imagined an atmosphere of gloom and oppression, not this cheer and relaxation.

  She laughed lightly. “The gifts you are receiving already are efforts from men to get your attention. White is for a casual meeting. Green is an apology. Blue is a bid for a night together on the grounds. Red is for an evening at his home. Black is a request for a leap of faith. You needn’t worry about that one for a while. Black gifts are almost never sent.”

  “The key to the gifts is that you don’t know who sent them to you. We have it on a registry, and when you have made a choice, he will be notified.”

  “So, I have to choose based on the gift alone?”

  “Yes, at least until you have a regular suitor. They usually work out a code with their women. An item with a specific meaning, color or scent.” She smiled once again, memories in her eyes.

  “So, people can cheat.”

  “Indeed. You do not need to accept any or all of the gifts, but if you do accept a white-wrapped gift, you are obligated to at least a dinner in the common area. Green gifts may be accepted without any further obligation. The other gifts are very specific invitations, and should not be accepted lightly.”