by J. Naomi Ay
Hesitantly, and with a slight nod from my father, I rose. My knees creaked and my back wrenched with a brief spasm, but I made my way past the royal assembly and stood to the side of Senya's chair.
“Exactly how do you propose to protect yourself?” my father demanded as I was moving about. “When you could not protect yourself this time?”
“I am stronger now,” Senya replied dismissively as if this was all too tedious for him.
"How so?" my father protested. "You have only just arisen from your hospital bed."
"Ach Loman. ‘Tis all very complicated." Senya produced a fresh cigarette, lighting it with the remnants of the last one. “You shall just have to trust me in this. Berk, please have my plane ready within the hour. I should like you to travel with us so we may discuss all that has happened during my absence.”
“Yes, Sir,” I replied and pulled out my cell to alert my secretary and send a note to Luci.
“Sehron,” King Yokaa interrupted. “I forbid you from returning to Rozari. I forbid your wife and son to leave this planet as well.”
Senya leaned back again as if to study the old king. His eyes flickered like microbursts of lightning. There was something different about him now, though I could not put my finger exactly upon it. He did indeed look stronger.
“I appreciate your concern, Your Majesties.” He nodded toward both kings. “Your objections are well noted. Kate, please get out from behind that pedestal before you break something and go ready yourself and Shika for the journey home.”
Katie stood up and turned bright red. She scurried out the door.
“You mean to disobey your lords?” my father demanded of Senya.
Senya smiled slightly with an almost pitiful expression upon his face. “I mean to do what is necessary, Loman. I apologize if it gives the appearance of disrespect.”
He turned again to the Karupta King and said something in Karupatani. The King shook his head. Prince Sorkan narrowed his dark eyes.
“Let him, Father,” the Prince said, taking the Old King’s arm.
The King shook his head again.
“If there is nothing further then,” Senya said. “I bid you leave me be so I may finish these documents before departing. Berkan, you may escort my lords to the door.”
“I am unclear as to whom is the King and who are the Princes,” Prince Sorkan remarked when I had returned them to Kinar's office.
"There is no confusion," my father replied. "Senya is and was always in charge."
Chapter 29
Senya
It was early in the morning and he was wide awake and sitting in a tree in the hills above his home. The Rozarian star was rising over the ocean, sending out rays of light in orange and pink hues. A few sea birds called to each other as the sky lightened. The bay was calm with only a ripple on the water. His wife's little sailboat was tied to the dock, the sheets occasionally slapping against the mast, making a pinging noise as a whisper of wind knocked them about.
He was satiated, neither hungry nor tired, although he could not recall when last he slept. He felt stronger now than he had in a very long time. He was lonely though and his body craved comfort.
The Evil Voice from the dark had known the truth. He was too attached to his mortal being. He missed his wife, the taste of her, the feel of her skin pressed against his own, the warmth and wetness of her as he pressed himself deep inside her. He wanted her now but he was dirty, his skin touched with such filth it would never be clean. He did not wish to tarnish his wife with his foulness, yet his body betrayed him and desired as it always had. Even now his cock tightened, recalling the power it possessed.
He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, contemplating satisfying his cock with his hand. He knew that satisfaction will only be brief, perhaps no satisfaction at all. He distracted himself by concentrating on the pungent smoke in his lungs, the nicotine racing through his veins. The cig was a Camel from the box in his office in the Engineering building, the box that Susie dutifully purchased months and months ago. He exhaled a great cloud of tobacco smoke and with it willed away all the poisons in his skin placed there by the Andromedean creatures. He still felt dirty and unsatisfied.
The sun rose slowly in the eastern sky. He could feel the warmth of it on his face and body. Soon it would be hot, too hot for his taste, and soon he would have to go back inside, begin his day, though the previous one never ended.
If he could spend every day, all day as an animal, as a mindless creature soaring the skies, catching the currents and hunting prey, would he? It was a relief for him to be as this, to disappear from the constraints of a mortal man and reduce his existence to only the basest of instincts.
No, he would not want to be as this always. Even now, he preferred to be a man sitting here at the top of the tallest tree, smoking a cigarette. He liked to be a man, liked it too much, and again the pleasures of a woman's body invaded his thoughts, distracting the peace he sought up here above the world.
Down by the dock, he heard a noise, the sailboat rocked for a moment, the sheets pinged wildly. Then it was nearly silent again save a heron on the water and a soft intake of breath.
It was his wife that made this sound, leaning against the side of her boat. He could smell her even up here in the tree, his senses were so keen. He could almost taste her skin and feel the washed cottons of her pajamas. He could sense the heat coming off her body though he was far away from her. For a moment, he believed he could hear the beating of her heart. It was a sweetness to him and his body ached for her.
“I'm sorry,” he said as she nearly jumped out of her skin.
He had made no sound as he approached, flying silently down from the trees and landing on the dock. He sat down on the dock near the boat's transom and let his legs dangle to the water. The water was warm but he did not like the sensation of wetness on anything other than his feet. It reminded him too much of other places, places where evil reigned. He dragged his long nails through the sea, creating a ripple of current, five long lines that spread slowly outward.
“I was thinking how it was when you first brought me here,” his wife said, sniffling as she spoke, swiping at her eyes with the tail of her pajama top.
He wanted to climb aboard the boat and wipe her eyes, taste her salty tears with his tongue, press his hand beneath her clothing, against her skin, into her. Instead, he made more lines in the sea, ten small waves from all of his toes.
“The first time I swam at the beach while you lay on the grass,” she continued. “I had this idea that we would be here, alone on this beach forever. You were going to build us a little house and I'd go to work and you'd go to work and we'd come home at night and come out here on this beach and just love each other again and again for ever. Or at least until we got too old and tired to keep doing that.” She choked a little, a little laugh.
He would like that, he thought. He would like to lie on the grass and love her over and over until their bodies were raw and there was nothing left in him. He thought he would never tire of her in this way. He would never grow too old to desire this.
“I was so naive. I had no clue who you were or what would happen to you. And you know what else? The craziest part of all this? It was only a few years ago. I hooked up with you and now my whole life is moving at light speed toward something. I'm not even sure what.”
He sighed because she did not understand. Years, time, what was that? Today, yesterday, tomorrow, it was all the same. Who am I? Who are you? She knew nothing and cried for the loss of nothing but a tiny speck of time when all eternity awaited them.
“Can you do anything about it? Can you jump into a time vortex and restart us so we can do it right this time and maybe a little slower? Hell, I'll even live through the pregnancy all over again if we could just be together this time around.”
“I cannot do that,” he said. Now he made circles in the water with his toenails. Great spirals spun outward across the bay like whorls in time.
“What hap
pened to you, Senya? I don't know you at all anymore. Just when I thought I understood you a little, you disappeared. "
He pulled his feet out of the water. The currents he had created drifted outward and disappeared. The water below the dock was quiet again. Her anguish disheartened him and annoyed him at the same time.
“Where are you going?”
He shrugged. It was morning and he had meetings and calls and business to attend to.
“Senya?” she pleaded. “Come back. Talk to me. Senya, please?”
He turned back to her. He didn’t want to talk.
“Come here,” she said and went down the two steps into the boat's dark cabin. She took off her pajamas and spread a blanket upon the berth. She lay down and waited for him.
“I am dirty,” he said.
“Then I will be dirty too,” she replied and reached for him. “Don't leave me, Senya.”
“I am always with you,” he said but not in a language she understood. “I have never left you. I never will.”
He decided his business could wait another day. They stayed in the cabin of the boat until the sun had set and risen again. The boat grew hot as the Rozarian star crossed the sky. His wife opened the windows and hatches, letting in whatever breeze came upon them. She fetched cold water bottles from the boat's tiny galley fridge and she poured it upon his chest and rubbed it into his skin. He liked the feel of her hands, her caresses, until he remembered the creatures caressing him. He shuddered and pushed her back, thrusting himself inside her, relieving his anger in her. She accepted his anger and took it from him until he was spent of it.
In the evening, they cast the boat adrift and they floated around the bay, spending the night locked upon each other until their muscles ached and their skin was rubbed raw, and then they fell into an exhausted sleep only to wake a few hours later and begin again.
During the cool dark hours just before the dawn, he untangled himself from his wife's limbs and went up on deck. A school of fish swam just underneath the boat and for a moment he considered going after them. He would grab the largest one and then head back to the forest where he would rip it apart and enjoy every moment of it. The thought of the raw, salty blood made him salivate. His wife made a coughing sound from inside the small cabin and rolled over. She would awaken to find herself alone again. He lit a cigarette instead and leaned back against the bulkhead, forcing himself to enjoy the quiet and solitude before the morning came.
"Why are you out here?" she asked, climbing the two step ladder to the cockpit.
Already, the sun had risen. He could feel the heat trapped in the little cabin and radiating off of the sea around them.
"You do not like when I smoke in bed," he replied, letting his senses absorb the image of her.
She smelled slightly of sweat and the salt of the sea and the lavender soap and shampoo from Mishnah that she liked so much. The faint musky scent of him drifted from her cunt and assaulted his nostrils. His balls, though aching from the exertions of the night, immediately tightened, ready again. He shifted his legs so she could not see how his cock had risen and he sucked harder on his cig to quell the salivating in his mouth.
"Thanks. I think that's the first time you've ever acknowledged that." She turned away from him and looked to the north, up the coast, raising her hand to her eyes like a visor. "I think we're about ten miles south of the house. Are you anxious to get back or shall we stay out here another day?"
"What time is it?"
"Just after 8AM. Why?"
"Is it Wednesday?"
"No, it's Monday."
Monday. He thought about his Monday calendar, which meeting and calls he would need to take. He had already missed two conferences beginning at 6AM and if he was lucky, he might end the day around midnight.
"I need to get back," he said, tossing the remnants of his cig into the air and letting it fall upon the water.
"Ok." She looked up the mast to the weather vane. It twisted as the boat bobbed on the water but didn’t indicate anything other than an absence of wind. She checked the fuel tank for the outboard and then pushed the button to prime the engine. "You can spare another hour or so, right? It's going to take us that long to motor home."
"Ok," he agreed, sensing her movements as she readied the boat. The motor started and she sat down on the opposite bench, hand on the tiller. The boat glided through the pink water with hardly a ripple, a salty breeze blowing in his face. She stared at him as they moved and her mind was puzzled.
"What's different about you?"
He turned his face to the sea.
"I am only more of who I am," he replied, knowing she would not understand.
She locked the tiller in place and went to him, sitting upon his lap, taking his face in her hands. "Senya, where did you go?”
He put his hands under her t-shirt and cupped her bare breasts, moving his legs beneath her buttocks so she could feel his erection.
“I hope you didn't go to some teenager's bed.”
“No. I have no need for teenagers. I have you.”
“That you do. I'm glad you finally remembered it.” She pulled off the t-shirt and straddled him, taking him inside her again. He willed the outboard to quiet, the gas line to crimp and it responded by sputtering to a stop. The boat drifted.
“I thought you had to get back?” She whispered, her hands lost in his hair, her muscles coaxing him, pulling him forward.
"Eventually," he replied and took her nipple in his mouth. In the meantime, he would lose himself in these sensations. He would swim under her skin and fill her with everything that was in him. A moan escaped from his lips as he came. His body shuddered and for a moment he was uncertain if he had done more. He listened past his own breathing and her panting for an explosion, a tornado, a cry or scream, but the bay was silent save a gull calling to his mate.
His wife collapsed against him, heart racing in her chest, her skin soaked in the sweat of the two of them. "You were gone for so long. I have missed you so much."
"I am here," he said, breathing in her hair, wiping the tears from her eyes.
"No, your mind is still far away. Where were you? Tell me."
"The Gates of Hell," he replied and his body shuddered at the memory.
His wife made a sound. "It’s over. You are safe now."
Was he? He caused an entire race of creatures to die because he was unwilling to save them. He raised the ire of the Evil One yet again. It was far from over.
"Senya?"
"Ay yah, Milaka. I am returned. I will be better now."
When they got back to the house, they were met on the lawn by Kinar and Fruph and the two Andorian women who cared for the baby. The baby bounced in the Andorian’s arms and squealed nonsensical sounds.
"Here, Madame," the Andorian said, handing the infant to his wife while Kinar started to relate the rescheduling of his day’s appointments.
"Here, Daddy," his wife said instead, interrupting Kinar. She put the baby in his arms. "Say Dada, Sweetie. Hi Dada."
The baby stared at him, watching his eyes, studying the light that shone from them. He raised a hand and tried to catch it, missing it and pounding Senya's face instead. "Da da da," he declared to the delight of his mother.
Senya put a hand on the boy’s skull and felt the soft hair curl around his fingers. He listened. He searched. The boy was normal, healthy. His soul was new. Senya looked forward. He tried to see what would become of this boy but it was only mist.
"Da da da," the boy cried again and pounded Senya's nose with his little fist.
"No, Shika," his wife scolded lightly and reached for the little hand. Senya took it instead, removing his hand from the child's skull.
"Ay yah, Shika-ala," he said in Karupta, holding the boy high so he could watch his father’s face as they walked up the lawn. "I have much to teach you. Your brain is completely empty." Senya laughed at his own words and for the first time in a long time, he realized he was happy.
A Prev
iew from The Two Moons of Rehnor, Book 4
Firestone Rings
Sorkan
“We need to wait a little longer,” I said.
My nephew Rekah nodded. He and I, our cousins and the chiefs of our people were waiting in the Temple.
“It is nearly sunset,” my cousin, the Chief of Shrotru prodded. “We cannot wait much more.”
“He will be here,” I replied, my voice perhaps a little sharper than necessary.
I was grieving so my rudeness should have been forgiven. I was sober today. I was forever sober now. My tongue had soured on the taste of drink and I was ashamed it had controlled me for so long. Every day I knelt in the Temple and asked Him for forgiveness and begged for His Blessing once again. Every day of my father’s illness, I sat by his bedside and asked for forgiveness from him too. My father gave me his blessing. I did not know yet if My Lord had done so.
“My father is greeting Grandfather in the Heavens,” my nephew said, tears staining his face.
“Your father is not dead,” I snapped. “Your father chooses to be gone from this valley for more than twenty years. Say a prayer for your Grandfather’s peace and another that your father will soon return home to honor his obligations.”
My nephew knelt in obeisance and his mouth moved as he recited the ancient words without sound. His weeping annoyed me. A man as large and strong as he, a man with three wives and already too many children to count should not need to cry as an infant over the death of a man who had seen nearly one hundred years and could not leave his bed for all of the last one.
My stomach clenched at this thought. My father could have lived another twenty years, had he wished. My father had no need to lie in bed and let the cancers within him eat away at his body. My son could have cured him but my father refused. My father had brought on this day, this time, upon himself. He was dead and I had to remain here and continue on in his absence whilst my sole remaining brother flitted off in the galaxy doing heaven knew what.
