Xair looked around at the blank dark wood walls and the white cotton curtains that had yellowed with age. Some of the paint on the door was peeling, red candle wax had hardened in abstract sculptures on the small writing desk, and spots of black ink were smeared on the floor where it was apparent that an ink well had fallen over at some point. For some reason, Xair believed the slaver's tale. This was just the kind of place Dayxi would have called home.
"Did you know him? Dayxi?" Kyle asked. "He was a very kind and quiet man. All he did was write poetry, some of the most beautiful poetry I've ever read. It was like a song . . . but better. I could hear it, feel it, smell it."
"Yes. Dayxi was my brother-in-law."
"Was? You're saying he's-"
Xair traced the diamond pattern on the old tattered quilt. "Dead. He's dead."
"You have my condolences. I had saved a book of his poems that I was going to give to him. I had some of the scribe slaves translate them and write them down so beautifully. It is truly a work of art. I told Dayxi that I would try to get them published in Wolfekin when I had saved up enough money. I did. There is a copy in every library on the Northern Continent. They're under a different name, of course. But they're there. In both languages."
Xair managed a tiny smile. "Dayxi would be proud and very thankful. He always did have a way with words. Thank you."
"Don't mention it. I'm very serious, though. Don't say a word about it, especially around Tapper. He'll have me tethered to the whipping post if he finds out. Well, it's getting late, and I have other slaves to tend to. If you need anything, come find me when Tapper's not looking and I'll do what I can. I know this life is not what you wanted, but I'm here to help your people in any way I can. I hope I can make this at least a tiny bit less painful for you, for all of you."
Xair looked around his new home and he was incredibly grateful, but something was missing. "Actually, Master Kyle?"
Kyle stopped in the doorway and turned back to him. "Xair?"
"Can you . . . can you find my brother?"
"You have a brother here?" Kyle asked, his surprise showing in his deep brown eyes.
"Ulon Nendo. He's six years old. Big purple eyes."
"Nendo? He wouldn't be related to Dayxi?"
"His son by my mother." Xair said. "I heard that Ulon got in a bit of trouble today."
"Oh, he must have been the tiny kid who attacked Jon. I'm sorry, but your brother has already been sold."
"Who was he sold to?" Xair asked.
"Elves from Tivareshen. He fetched quite an exorbitant amount. It was astonishing, actually. The elves seemed to be absolutely enthralled with how tiny he was and those huge eyes. He's gone, Xair. I'm so sorry."
It was not a minute after Kyle left the house that Xair fell back onto the bed and curled up underneath the faded quilt. He found a lumpy pillow then closed his eyes to focus on the scent of his best friend that still managed to linger in this place after so long. When tears finally creeped into the corners of his eyes, Xair instead clenched them tighter then fell fast asleep.
Chapter 13
One Thousand One Hundred and Ninety-Seven Years Earlier
At fifteen years old, every pure Ka'taylin was faced with the daunting ceremony to become a man and earn the right to fully join their mentors in their selected field of study. In the dead of winter, the prospective boys were brought into a large empty building where a fire pit was filled with brightly-glowing coals. The thick smoke exited the building through the opening high up in the middle of the ceiling.
Xair sat next to the other four boys who were mostly silent as the elders, the citizens, and their parents filed into the room. Two of the boys were quickly yanked to their feet then whipped soundly by their mothers in front of everyone because they had been giggling and chatting. They were then dragged out of the building. It would be another year before they would get a chance to become a man. The other one looked sickly and he ran over to his mother before vomiting and collapsing in her arms. Then there were two.
Xair looked to Dayxi who was sitting next to him and gave him a reassuring smile. Dayxi was three years older than Xair, but he hadn't yet passed the test. The first year, Dayxi simply hadn't stood up. The next year, Dayxi broke down crying in a panic attack. Both would normally have been extremely dishonorable, but no one blamed Dayxi for it. He was not punished like the other boys who failed to undergo the ceremony. Xair had asked his mother about it, but she had dismissed it, saying that Dayxi was already damaged and that he could take as many years as he needed.
The high priest, in his long purple robes and pointed golden hat, stepped forward in front of the four braziers of the Arcanas and silenced the crowd. "We have gathered on this sacred day as another pure Ka'taylin boy has reached the threshold of manhood. In volunteering and completing this trial, the boy will prove his is mature and confident enough in his connection with the Arcanas to pass over that barrier then once and for all claim his adulthood. Will either of the two remaining boys take up the trial?"
Without hesitation, Xair stood to his feet and locked eyes with the high priest. He was more than ready to do whatever it took to move on from being a child. He needed this. Xair placed his hand over his heart and bowed. "I am."
"Very well, Xair Korvin. Your time has come to prove yourself in front of our people and the Arcanas. Step up to the coals."
"Wait!" A timid voice called out over the commotion. Then, to everyone's surprise, Dayxi stood and bowed. A woman nearby cried out then started weeping loudly. Dayxi was visibly trembling all over, but his fists were tightened in determination. His dark purple eyes were fixed on the orange and red glowing coals as a tear streamed down his cheek.
The crowd began whispering excitedly and pointing at Dayxi then at the tall heavy-set man in the corner. He stood alone with his scarred hands on his hips. A scruffy beard hid his lips and his dull white hair hung down into his angry-looking small eyes. Dayxi's father. Xair had only seen the man once before when he had showed up in the palace garden to yell and punish Dayxi for sneaking out of the house to play with Xair. He had removed his belt then made Xair whip his only friend until both boys were sobbing uncontrollably.
Dayxi placed his fist over his heart. "I am ready as well."
The high priest smiled. "Very well, Dayxi Nendo. We shall see. Both of you, undress then step back against the poles."
Xair removed his clothes then began shivering with the winter air and the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He was ready for anything. He turned to watch Dayxi do the same, but he was quickly taking a step back, confused at what he saw.
It was then that Xair first saw the striking evidence of abuse that covered his friend's legs and thighs. Large jagged scars trailed up his legs to his back where small pieces of glass and bone were pierced into his skin along his spine. Xair stared at Dayxi, enthralled by the painful yet somehow beautiful decorations. He was equally stunned when he noticed the glass rings in his nipples. As Xair remembered some of this studies, it all began to make sense. Dayxi was a member of a nomadic tribe of Ka'taylins who had only come to live in Akalam-Tirya in the past couple of decades. They still continued most of their own customs, including this one. Seeing Dayxi's hesitation at the ceremony made Xair cringe to think about how traumatic getting those piercing done had been. But judging from his father's behavior, Dayxi's piercings hadn't been done willingly.
The elders brought in long metal poles covered in leather that both boys were backed up against. Their wrists and ankles were bound to the poles, stretching them tightly against them. Xair took a few deep breaths and watched the heat waves dancing on top of the fire pit.
"You will both now be baptized in the heat of Hell's flames. If you wish to survive, you will cry out to the Arcanas and recite the basic chant one hundred times. Only then will you be rescued from the heat and emerge cleansed on the other side. Begin."
Both boys were lowered over the fire pit where the poles were placed on the shoulders of the elde
rs. Xair used all his strength to tighten his muscles and keep his torso from dipping any lower to the blazing coals. Sweat poured from his underarms, his forehead, and down his legs. The heat seared his skin until it was burring. Through the agonizing pain, Xair focused solely on the words as he cried out to the Arcanas with his tiny voice. His chant was joined by Dayxi's frantic gasping as he panted out the words as well. Xair's eyes were dry and painful, he was writing against the pole, and holding back his screams between prayers. Just when the smelled his own skin cooking, he was lifted away from the coals and leaned against the wall, still tied to the pole.
Seconds passed by as Dayxi began to struggle. It was becoming dangerous. Even so, Dayxi continued repeating the chant as he cried. Finally, he was brought over beside Xair to await the next phase of the ceremony. Dayxi hung limply against the pole as his breathing began to calm and even out. Blisters and burns covered his chest and thighs just like Xair, but he was unharmed other than that.
The women of the city exited the building then returned moments later carrying slings filled with snow. They circled around Xair and Dayxi then began rubbing the snow over them. Xair gasped as the snow soothed his burns. The cold water trailed down his stomach to his legs and tickled him, but he was powerless to stop it. So he closed his eyes and concentrated on the warm female bodies that brushed against his body and tried to ignore Dayxi's sobbing that still hadn't stopped.
When the women moved away, Xair knew the next part of the ceremony was beginning. He had no idea what would happen, having not watched the ceremony before and no one spoke about it. But according to the frantic increasing in crying, Dayxi definitely did and it wasn't going to be very pleasant.
The high priest held up the pointed half-inch-thick metal spite in front of Xair's face. "With this sacrifice of pain and blood, you hereby give your words to eternally serve and please the Arcanas. Open your mouth, Xair Korvin."
Xair obeyed, only to have his tongue pulled taut by the high priest. He then realized exactly what was going to happen. If he wasn't tied to the pole, Xair would have tried to fight or run. With wide eyes, Xair watched the large metal spike as it was roughly shoved all the way through his tongue. He groaned as his blood flowed from the wound and was then gathered in a small golden bowl. The spike was then twisted harshly to draw out more blood.
The high priest took the bowl to the braziers and poured some of the blood into each one as he silently blessed it. Once that was done, he returned to Xair. "Your sacrifice has been accepted."
Xair moaned as the heavy metal spike was pulled out, leaving a throbbing bloody hole in his tongue. His hot blood spilled from his mouth and dripped onto the floor below his feet. His heart was racing and he was hurting, but a new feeling swept over him. He was doing it. He was accomplishing everything he had been preparing for during his entire childhood. Every pure Ka'taylin boy wished and hoped to one day become a pure Ka'taylin man.
Dayxi's screams filled the building as the spike was driven through his tongue then manipulated to drain more and more of the blood. Xair watched from the corner of his eye as his friend was bled and struggled in vain to break free from the leather securing him to the pole. It was difficult to see, but necessary. In every other case, the high priest would have stopped the ceremony if the boy was in that much distress and make him wait another year, but time was running out for Dayxi to marry and to join his field of study. Then Xair saw something more confusing. The high priest gently smoothed Dayxi's bangs and winked at him. It was something so small and quick that no one else seemed to notice, but it was interesting and calmed Dayxi somewhat. The high priest was never one for comforting anyone, much less a boy who had failed to complete the trial two years in a row and was having an emotional crisis in front of everyone.
After Dayxi's blood was blessed and given to the Arcanas, both Xair and Dayxi were cut free from the poles then pushed down on their knees in front of the braziers as the high priest held out his arms. "Xair Korvin and Dayxi Nendo, on this sacred day, you have both proven yourselves brave, confident, and worthy of being men. You will both be officially inducted into your permanent field of study. Xair Korvin, are you prepared to become an arcanist conjurer of the sultanate?"
Xair placed his right hand over his heart and bowed his head in confirmation.
"Dayxi Nendo, are you prepared to become a scholar-scribe of the sultanate?"
Through his continued crying, Dayxi slightly nodded as blood trickled out of his lips and down his chin.
"Very well." The high priest motioned to two of the elders who approached with leather in their hands. "These pairs of leather subligar are symbolic of your passage into adulthood. You will wear these with pride and with dignity. To guard, protect, and to secure your manhood, this subligar will be worn at all times except for within the temple."
Xair couldn't stop himself from grinning with accomplishment as the elders secured the subligar around his waist and between his legs. It was the single best feeling he had experienced up until that point. No longer would he have to wear the coarse cotton underwear of the children. No longer would he have to cover himself with pants or robes. He could strut down the main streets of Akalam-Tirya wearing only the sturdy straps of leather and brass studs if he wanted. More than that, he could seek the company of females. And Xair was beyond ready for that. He would no longer have to be ashamed of his body. It was a dawning of a new era for him, for both of them.
The elders stepped back as the high priest took Xair's and Dayxi's hands and held them up in the air. "Turn around and face your people as men."
Xair turned and was greeted by howling and cheering as the women rushed forward, throwing snow violets and purple winter irises at them both. The soft hands rubbed rose-scented oil over their bodies, massaging away the soreness and the pain from the burns. Dayxi looked at Xair and smiled, his tears finally coming to an end. Their black skin glistened from the oil and the soothing salves. Xair reached out to Dayxi and took his hand. They had survived the trial together. They squeezed each other's hands reassuringly as the woman wove raven feathers into their hair that would be cut the following day to mark them as members of their new fields of study. They were no longer boys. Together, they had crossed over into adulthood.
* * *
Xair stirred awake underneath the tattered quilt that smelled too much like Dayxi. He pushed the blankets off of his sweating body and sat up to rub his aching back and clear his mind from the memories that had invaded his dreams. He ran his tongue over his lips, feeling the scar from that ceremony. It had been so long ago . . . perhaps not long enough. Even so, there were many questions that he never received answers to. There was so much about Dayxi that Xair never got to figure out.
The mage-glow was still dark outside the dusty window, but Xair's mind was too troubled to sleep. Instead, he slid out of bed and went to the small stone basin to splash some water on his face. The cool water helped calm him down. As he looked through the cabinet nearby for any kind of towel, he instead noticed something else. It was marble and in the shape of a woman holding the sun in one hand and grape vines in the other.
A statuette of Sola? Xair smiled as he traced the figure with his fingertips. So Dayxi had converted or discovered for himself that the Arcanas were Sola all along. Either way, it was comforting to Xair to know that his friend had found some sort of peace in religion after struggling for so long to embrace the ways of their people and the rituals. As Xair picked up the statuette, the base fell off and rolled along the floor. A small scroll of parchment slipped out from inside. A hidden compartment?
Xair unrolled the scroll to see Dayxi's curly handwriting. It was the same thing repeating over and over all the way down the parchment and in Ka'taylin.
Kana i'minax elt anra tamrin. Kana i'minax elt anra tamrin. Kana i'minax elt anra tamrin.
It didn't take long for Xair to translate it. But that couldn't have been right. Dayxi would never do something like that. There were layers to the man Xair had on
ce known as the timid boy who was terrified of everything. Kana i'minax elt anra tamrin translated into 'I killed father in my defense.'
So that was what had happened to Dayxi's father.
Xair reached up further into the hollow statuette and his fingertips were cut by something sharp. Wincing, he grabbed onto it and slid it out. Dayxi's purple glass dagger with only one black mark of revenge on the hilt. All the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. The night after the ritual, Dayxi had acted upon the time-honored tradition of getting revenge on the person that the mark had been placed on the hilt for. It was always for someone who the wielder felt had wronged them in some unforgiveable way. It was that night so many years ago that Dayxi's father had been found stabbed to death in his bed. Though perfectly legal according to Ka'taylin law, it was apparent that Dayxi had felt guilt for the act.
This only served to make Xair think of more questions. Why had someone so forgiving and caring like Dayxi felt the need to place a mark on his dagger for his own father? It had to be something much worse than the occasional over-zealous punishments. Then there was the way the high priest had acted towards Dayxi during the ceremony, caressing his face and smoothing his hair, even letting him complete the ritual through his crying.
"Puzzling, isn't it?"
Xair froze as the gravelly voice somehow managed to echo in the small house. It sent a cold chill down his spine. He set the statuette back down onto the table then tightened his grasp around Dayxi's dagger. He spun around to see the golden-winged angel in the flowing white robes who was leaning lackadaisically against the closed door. "What are you doing here? Don't make me kill you, Carvael."
Carvael chuckled as he paced around the room, examining the various carvings that Dayxi had made in the walls. "These are good, aren't they? Your friend truly did have many artistic talents. It was a shame that he was forced to focus on those arts in order to forget about what his father did to him. And that so-called high priest? He was in on it too, but in a different way. I find it difficult to believe that you were so close to Dayxi Nendo, but you never suspected he was abused by them both."
Angel of Darkness Books 6-10 Page 36
