by Leyton, Bisi
“I know that was intense, but I’ll soon make you forget about it.” Steven caressed her back.
She took one look at Steven and did what she’d wanted to do since the moment she’d stepped into his room—she threw up all over his bedroom floor.
CHAPTER ONE
Fourteen Months Later
“D’cara, watch where you are going!” Enric swore.
Bach back-flipped from the head of the scaly leviathan and landed on the creature’s neck. This move caused Bach’s leviathan to weave into Enric’s.
He barreled down the snow-white mountain, toward the Jade Ocean, in The Family’s home realm.
The aim of the race was to tag the nose of the creature with a pulse, which would leave a green palm print, and then jump off the leviathan at the agreed upon point. For this race, the finish line was the tombs of the dead Sens. Whoever got there first would win.
This of course was dangerous, because leviathans were snake-like creatures with thirty legs. They were highly unpredictable at best and deadly at worst. The only reason these creatures hadn’t turned and feasted on the four people racing them was because Yordi had ensured they were well-fed before the race started.
In the lead was Radala of the Second Pillar, the seventeen-year-old granddaughter of Bach’s current boss. She was an all-over crazy person. “Enric, if you cannot take it, then you can forfeit now,” Radala jeered as she fought to keep control of her twenty-five-foot leviathan cub.
“Why? Am I not going to win?” Enric yelled from behind.
“Not from way back there, Enric,” the dark-haired girl mocked. She and her five-year-old cub were ahead of the three guys. “Are you sure you can keep up, Bach?”
Bach didn’t answer. The only reason he’d taken part in this stupid race was because Yordi had interrupted his daily meditation and insisted he do something fun. While tagging wild leviathan might be what Yordi considered a good time, Bach found it pointless, but he acquiesced when Yordi agreed he wouldn’t ask him to do anything, ‘fun’ again for a month.
Yordi was always in the mood for childish games when Radala was around, because that meant Turia, her sister, was also around.
On the rocky paths above, Bach saw the twenty-five-year-old Turia watching the race with her friends, feigning indifference.
Yordi had tried for years to get her to agree to talk to him. At one point, he’d named her his intended, meaning once they turned twenty-three, he’d marry her.
Turia rejected the offer. Now she was pledged to the Sen of the Fourth Pillar, who had to be fifty-something. Not that it mattered anymore. Yordi was getting married in a few months to some woman from the Sixth Pillar.
Bach didn’t remember her name, and he didn’t care to. He guessed Yordi was now trying to show Turia what she’d be missing by choosing a much older man. Bach only wanted to get this race over with, so he could get back to his meditations, travel back to Molden, and continue his duties with the daughter of the Sen of the Second Pillar, Sen-Filla Merce, who was Radala’s grandmother.
A Sen-Filla was the daughter of a Sen, and Bach worked with her because he wasn’t ready to take on any official position in the Third Pillar. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing for him among a bunch of people who’d happily stood by and watch him die.
“Radala, do not waste your time talking to him,” Enric laughed, as his beast took the lead. “Bach is determined to be miserable.”
“And focus on the race,” Bach called back.
“Focus on losing the race, you mean,” Yordi corrected.
“Or on staying alive,” Bach grumbled, as he tried to slow down the animal he rode.
There was a twenty-mile drop ahead, and while the leviathans would easily survive the fall, Bach wasn’t keen on diving into the infested waters and becoming their lunch. The race ended once each rider had tagged their leviathan’s snout and leapt from the beast while landing at the entrance to the tombs of the dead Sens.
Enric rose out of the saddle of his speeding leviathan and inched toward the head. The animal snapped his sharp teeth and tried to bite him. Enric wasn’t going to be able to tag it in time.
Bach always tagged the beast first, and then worried later about trying to win the race.
Soon, Radala was on her feet, crawling toward her creature’s nose.
Why did anyone think this was a good game? Leviathans were dangerous. Granted, these were still young, but even a five-year-old cub could tear a full-grown Famila man apart.
“Qwaynides!” In an instant, Yordi jumped up and flipped over the nose of the animal he was riding. Landing on its nose, he placed his hand on the snout and a bright blue light emanated from it, leaving a green mark. He’d pulsed the animal.
With all the other riders on their feet and doing their best to keep their balance, Bach decided to play dirty and get the game over with. He barraged through Radala and Enric, knocking them both off their animals.
“Bach—” Yordi exclaimed, as Bach’s beast crashed into his, sending Yordi flying into the air.
So it was dangerous, but they were all fast enough to get out of the way of the animals. Bach chuckled for the first time during this race. “I have forgotten how much I love this game!” He saw the tombs ahead and got up once again. As his beast moved past, he sprang off and sailed into the air. While he moved through the air, he took a second or two to see where the rest had fallen.
Radala had landed by the tombs, while Enric was climbing up the other side of the valley. Neither had been able to tag their leviathans.
Landing on one knee, directly opposite from the Tomb of Sen Agusti, his great-grandfather, Bach looked around for Yordi. There was no sign of him. “Prime!” he yelled, moving toward the valley just in time to see the four semi-domesticated animals dive off the edge to join their herd in the waters below. “Yordi?”
“Qwaynide.” Springing up behind Bach, Yordi hit him on the back of the head and laughed. “Were you trying to kill me?”
“If I was, you would be dead.”
“You know, with Lluc gone, you are now in line to become Sen after me. So, I have to be careful.”
Bach nodded. “I wish he was here. “
“Me too.” Yordi rubbed his neck. “It is not as fun as it used to be, without him nagging me about how I am going to get you killed.”
Six months ago, Lluc had journeyed to Terra where he’d been caught in a fire and died. The fire had completely destroyed Bach’s den in Hammond Village. Nothing was left.
His brother was gone.
Lluc’s death hit Bach hard because he was closer to his brother than anyone else. Lluc had been the only one who seemed to understand the entire Wisteria mess.
After Wisteria had shown her true colors, Bach had returned to his father, to be re-admitted into his family. Aleix, who was the leader of Bach’s Pillar and also Bach’s father, had been enraged with Bach’s choice to stay with a human girl, so when Bach came back, his father made him publicly grovel as punishment.
Instead of begging for forgiveness from his father, Bach’s initial instinct was to walk out, but his brothers convinced him that he was dying. As angry he’d been with his father and the world, the thought of dying alone for nothing seemed unacceptable. He would do his duty, regain his standing, and show everyone that he was someone to be contended with. He was going to prove to his father and the rest of the Family that he wasn’t a joke. So he groveled and publicly made a fool of himself.
Lluc had pleaded alongside him for days. He had stood by Bach during the recovery process while suggesting that Bach work as the emissary for Sen-Filla Merce of the Second Pillar. Lluc had pulled the required strings to make it happen.
This took Bach away from the Sable Mountains and into the Moon Dessert cities. He actually liked this, as it kept him away from his father. While his father had accepted Bach back into the Third Pillar, he hadn’t forgiven, or forgotten, Bach’s moment of weakness with a human, and he made sure Bach didn’t forget either.<
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“But next time you are going to cheat, try not to get anyone killed.” Radala stormed up and punched Bach in the chest. “Do you hear me?”
“What? You can take care of yourself. You are practically indestructible.” Enric jogged up and put his arm around the olive-skinned girl.
“Get off, Qwaynide, or you will eat that hand,” she warned, twisting his arm away from her. The girl had a temper no one could believe.
“Maybe you should listen to her,” Yordi remarked. “I do not think I am strong enough to take on Radala if she decides to attack you.”
She shot Yordi a dirty look.
Bach had heard enough of the small talk. “I have to get ready to leave.”
“Why? Grandmother is not leaving until tomorrow evening and she gave you the day to spend with your brother.” She tugged on his arm.
Bach pulled away from her. “I have other things to do. Yordi, we can talk later.” He trudged through the thick snow up the mountain, toward the city.
“Wait. At least tell us what we need to get you,” Yordi yelled out. “Your prize--you won!”
Can you leave me alone? For the rest of my trip here, stay away from me? Bach wanted to say. “Nothing,” he answered aloud.
“Come on, what do you want?” Enric bumped into him, knocking him over.
“Ha, ha.” Radala snickered from behind him as she threw a snowball at Yordi.
“Radala, that is not funny!” Enric cried. “There are stones in those snowballs.”
“You are only complaining because your aim is rubbish.” Her light green eyes glistened and her tan cheeks turned red as she tormented him.
Even bundled under the layers of skins that protected her from the cold, Bach could see she had more curves than a girl her age was supposed to have.
“I see,” Enric remarked.
“You see nothing.” Bach stormed away. “You wanted me to play these stupid games with you, and I did. Now I want to leave.”
“Bach.” Enric walked beside him. “You are not the only one who has lost someone. I know you are hurting about losing Lluc. I know exactly how you feel—remember my sister murdered my father.”
Bach forced a smile. It was hard to argue with Enric when he mentioned what had happened to his father. It had been over a year since Alba had succeeded in killing the Lord of Jarthan. Enric seemed to be doing well, considering his sister was now insane and completely under the spell of the psychotic traitor, Felip.
“I hated the world for a while, but I did not let that turn me into a selfish and heartless ass,” Enric continued. “You need to get over yourself.”
“Enric—”
“Get over yourself and you might have a chance with Radala.” Enric dodged a snowball the girl tossed.
“Do not, she is—” Bach started to protest. He blocked the snowball, intended for him, just before it hit his face. “I do not want your help. I have named Alba as my intended, so leave it at that.”
“No one expects you to fulfill that pledge. Even I do not,” Enric admitted.
When Bach turned nineteen, his Family expected him to name the girl that he intended to marry, and then marry her once he turned twenty-three. So he named Alba, not that she wanted to be his intended because she was in love with his cousin, Felip. He had not wanted her either, but he had named her so he could technically have an intended, and no one could pressure him into going through the song and dance of naming another one. Now he had three more years in order to break the pledge to her, and this gave him three years of stress-free living.
“I am not ready for anything serious.” Bach had recently completed a series of meditations and fasts to break his Mosroc with the human girl and wasn’t looking to get entangled again.
“What are you babies talking about?” Radala was holding a snowball the size of her head. Tossing it up and catching it, she laughed. “You have any idea who I am going to hit?”
“We were talking about you.” Enric’s voice was low enough so that only Bach could hear him.
“No, Bach is leaving to go be a baby somewhere else, while the rest of us are going to celebrate my victory,” she continued.
“You lost! You did not even come in second,” Enric replied.
“Bach refuses to claim his prize, so I get the prize because I actually tagged my leviathan, unlike you two. Right?” She turned to Yordi.
He was studying something on his far-eye. His brother used the thin glass artifact to keep updated on communications and news from just about anyone.
“Prime Yordi,” Radala called out, and threw the snowball at him. “You did not come here to work.”
“Radala, are you—?” Enric gasped at her actions.
“I think the word you are looking for is insane,” Bach remarked.
Without looking up, Yordi caught the snowball in one hand and dropped it. “I need to go.” He raced up the mountain.
“Is everything all right?” Enric asked, concerned.
“The Sen needs to see me,” Yordi hollered back.
“Why do you not give Yordi a hard time when he leaves?” Bach demanded.
“Because he has to be somewhere. You, on the other hand, are simply being difficult,” she taunted. “The way you are dying to get away, I am starting to wonder if you are afraid of me.”
“If thinking that means I can get back to my work . . . go on and believe it, then,” Bach informed her bluntly. He had not intended to be rude, but they were both getting on his last nerve.
“No, he is that way with everyone, Radala. I am surprised you do not know this? He practically lives with your family?” Enric went over to her.
“Although he is my grandmother’s emissary, it does not mean I get to see him. The emissaries travel so much.”
As an emissary, Bach’s job was gathering and disseminating information on behalf of the Second Pillar. He was trusted with information too sensitive to be sent on a far-eye or post. A large part of his job was travelling alone, or with a small envoy, depending on where he was going. This suited him well, because he was left alone most of the time. He happily took on the assignments in the most remote parts of the home realm. In essence, it almost guaranteed he would be sent out on his own.
There had been some concern about his safety, since he was still a Sen-Son and in line to become the Sen, but he had never run into trouble, beyond pick pockets, and he figured there was not much value in a near-disgraced Sen-Son.
He left Radala and Enric. Contrary to what they thought, he did have a lot to do for Merce before he could leave on his next journey. Marching back through the snow, he wondered if it was going to be a long winter. He liked the winter, because people were less exuberant and annoying. There were fewer occasions to socialize, so he was normally left alone.
“Bach.” Radala caught up with him, stepping in front of him. “You knocked me off the leviathan and almost killed me.” Crossing her arms, she glared up at him as snow started to fall. “At least apologize, before storming of like a six-year-old.”
Bach stood very still while gazing at the girl. Her actions reminded him of the time Wisteria demanded he apologize to her. His missed her, but he was still furious with her for choosing Steven Hindle. He could have understood Garfield, or anyone else, but that yellow-haired weasel?
After being publically humiliated, disowned, and stabbed by his Family because he had stupidly believed he was in love with her and she with him, she had turned around and threw it all back in his face. She had made him feel like he was the one who was not supposed to be there, when he’d caught her with Steven. Furious and demeaned, he had left, but he knew she had to be lying, right? He’d come back once to try and talk to her about what had happened, but she chose that human boy over him again. It was as if everything they had felt meant nothing and was just a weird game.
“Are you okay? You look like you are going to strangle me. Do not get me wrong; I would break both your arms before you could.”
“I am sorry.” He stepp
ed around her and went up the mountain.
*****
“You are late.” The pale, silver-haired Merce of the Second Pillar sat at her desk, writing with a quill. “We agreed this irresponsibility would end, Sen-Son.” Dipping the pen into ink, she continued scribbling across the page.
Dressed in a dark blue suit, he stood in front of the woman’s desk, with his hands clutched behind his back. He knew his face was turning red because he was still not used to anyone speaking to him like this—well, except for his father. “You gave me the day off to spend with my brother and he—we got carried away.”
“I gave you the day.” She pointed her pen toward the setting sun. “Not all night. You know I am meeting with your father in a few hours and it would be very difficult to explain to him why you are not with me.”
Bach smirked slightly. You could just tell him I did not want to come.
“Do not even think about it.” Merce got up. She was a very small, thin woman, with tanned skin, like her granddaughter, and narrow eyes that seemed to be able to read his mind. “I owe him so much—money. I have to play nice. I know your father is a hard man.”
“Impossible,” Bach corrected. “He is an impossible man.”
She chuckled. “He was not going to kill you--you must know that.”
“Sen-Filla Merce, you made a promise to me too. We agreed we would not talk about my father.”
“True, but you broke your agreement, so I can break ours.” Gracefully, she glided by the table in her impractically long green dress. “I have been dying to discuss him with you again.”
“I do not want to, Eminent Merce.” He gritted through clenched teeth. “Besides, there is nothing to talk about.”
“Nothing?” She smiled. “Not a lot of people know that the cause of your argument with your father was because of a Terran girl.”
“Argument?” Bach gasped. “He watched stoically while his empirics stabbed me at least seven times.”
