Inbetween

Omens

2009-03-28T19:22:00.000-07:00

Explosions had ripped along my spine, jerking me around like a rag doll. Something was building up inside my chest, ready to erupt. Some part of my head knew that this would kill anything in it's path, but I had no control. Like being a bystander while watching a horrible accident as you take in every minute detail in the span of several seconds.
Something soft pressed against my lips and I was stunned by the feeling. It felt like the first touch I had ever received. A subtle pulling at my mind had the energies draining away. My lips moved on their own, though only slightly. A mas pulled away from me, and I blinked to try and comprehend what I was seeing.
A familiar face was looking down at me, a shock of blond hair sticking up at odd angles. Light amber eyes searched my face. A part of me seemed to click back into place. Demaren.
My heart weakly fluttered. I wanted to cry. I wanted to throw my arms up and hug him. I wanted to kiss him. Shout for joy. Tell him how I had missed him... But I was suddenly aware that my body felt dead. My arms only twitched in response when I tried to reach up and touch his face. As it was, I only managed to flex my fingers which lay over his arm.
"Demaren." I forced his name over my lips, trying to put all the feeling in my voice for the things I couldn't say. All will slipped out of me as if it were water in a sieve. My eyes closed in what seemed like the first time in an eternity and I drifted away.
I didn't know how long ago that was.
Dreaming meshed with daylight and swirled around my head so that I didn't know which was real and what was illusion. Darkness and whispers and dizzying winds raked over me. The only steady thing was Demaren. I couldn't be sure if he was a figment of my dreams too, but his voice, his face, his firm touch gave me something to anchor against.
Soft things were often pressed to my lips. Liquids, skin and cloth, feathers and lips. Sometimes I couldn't tell one from the other.
After drifting forever, a steady sound caught my attention. Water meeting wood. Or maybe it was just images in my head sloshing around.
My eyes cracked and were immediately stung by a piercing light. Despair flooded through me and I shut my eyes tight. Was I still in the white room? A small sound passed my lips. Something, a hand, brushed my bangs from my forehead.
Opening slowly, my eyes found not the strange, hard glowing lamps of an Eryn building but the sun directly over head in a light blue sky. Turning my head to the side, I blinked to clear the after image and found Demaren gazing at me steadily from where he sat at my left. His arms were crossed over his bare chest, feet folded up under him where he rested against a low wooden wall.
"Demaren?" my voice cracked sharply, like I hadn't talked in days. I licked my lips.
He looked serious, a wing ruffling a little before settling back into place. "Are you awake?"
"Yes?" I said, feeling slightly unsure. I would have to be awake or this was a very vivid dream.
"How do you feel?" he continued, leaning forward now and placing a hand on my head.
I relished the touch before he took it away. "Great...." I croaked.
Demaren's mouth twitched at the corner. "Well, that's not what is generally expected from someone who had cracked ribs, malnutrition, and couldn't keep her body temperature at a steady level."
I ignored this comment.
"Where are we?" I asked. I glanced around, noting the small pallet I lay on under a thick quilt and wearing a long sleeved night gown I had never seen before.
"We're on Jeron's boat. The Noon Day."
Something stirred in my memory. "Is Lia here?"
Demaren started. "Who?"
"Lia. The little girl..."
"How do you know Lia?" he asked, eyeing me curiously.
"Larii mentioned her, before... before I got to the City of the Eye."
"Oh," Demaren frowned at the mention of Eryn's capital city. "They're below deck."
"How did we get here?" I asked suddenly. "The sea is no where near the Eye."
Demaren paused, looking at me with an expression I couldn't place. "Don't you remember?"
Now I frowned. "Should I?"
Demaren ran a hand through his hair. "You were asleep most of the time, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Still, I was hoping for something..."
"It's all like dreams. I don't know what is real and what is not. How long have I been asleep?" I asked quietly. Surely I must have been gone a long time.
"Well, it's been six days since we retrieved you, and you were in and out of consciousness for the first three days. But after that, you were completely out."
I blinked. "It feels like longer," I stretched my legs a little. "Like I've been asleep forever."
He looked down at me with a dark sadness clouding his eyes. "I know how you feel."
With only a slight effort, I reached and took hold of the hand that rested on the pallet next to me.
"What do you remember?" he asked suddenly, his eyes intent and darkly flashing into mine.
"Er. Well," I thought for a moment, taken aback by his expression. "I remember you. Before there were just waves and light. But then you were there. I think. I thought you might be a dream and was afraid to wake up..."
Demaren's expression was guarded. "That wasn't a dream. Anything else coming to mind?"
I looked away and bit my lip to think, the sensation bringing something to the forefront of my mind. My free hand rose to lightly touch my lips. The flutter of a memory stirred.
"If I have to eat anymore mushy I'll be sick," I stated flatly.
Demaren blinked then gave a little laugh. Frustrated. "Not if I have anything to say about it, but we'll talk to Sam."
"The other--" I was confused by the unfamiliar name, "Wait. Who?"
"Me," said an Erynese boy, coming up and sitting next to me.
Startled by his sudden appearance, I flinched. His short blond hair shone in the sun as he smiled politely down at me.
"Don't worry. I will not urt you," he said, his accent heavy.
"Samil's been a big help with you and your unconsciousness," Demaren clarified.
The boy's hands were prodding at me. His touch was gentle but clinical, as he rested his hand against my forehead and the pulse at my throat.
"I ave medical training," he said conversationally as he worked.
"Aren't you a little young?" I asked, eyeing a little, round metal device attached to two tubes he was pulling out of a bag.
He stopped what he was doing and frowned at me. "Wy does everyone say tat? I'm not tat young."
I glanced at Demaren, who was holding back a small smile. Samil continued his inspections, placing the tubes attached to the metal thing into his ears. He blew his breath on the flat part of the metal and leaned in to place it on my chest just below my collar bone. He seemed to listen for a moment then moved the object to the right and left before starting to move it down...
"Hey!" I squeaked, trying to shy away from him and moving my arms across my chest.
Samil looked quizzically at me for a moment, then extremely embarrassed.
"It's for listening to the eart, not wat you tink!"
I eyed him suspiciously. "My heart is fine, thanks."
Demaren furrowed his eyebrows at me. "Ashling..."
"No, it's alrit," Samil sighed. "Se is doing better," he smiled at me, "would you like some brot?"
I stared, wondering what 'brot' was until I replaced the 'h,' "Oh! Broth. Yes, please."
Sam nodded, ignoring my trouble with his accent and went down the stairs.
I looked back at Demaren triumphantly, "Ha! Broth!"
He smiled weakly, his lips pressed together in a thin line. My heart seemed to stutter at his expression. Maybe I had been wrong about it being fine and Samil should come back and check.
"What's wrong?" I whispered, moving my hand back to try and grasp his. He moved a little out of reach. My hand fell back to the blankets, my throat constricting.
Some commotion came from the stairwell Samil had disappeared into, making us look over. Larii was bounding up through the deck, circling Samil who seemed to be concentrating hard on not spilling the bowl between his hands. Following them came a little girl with red, curly hair, babbling in a dialect I didn't know.
"I am trying not to spill!" Sam said.
Larii scooped the little girl--I could only assume she was Lia--and tumbled playfully across the deck with her. They both laughed all the way.
After them came the huge lunking form of an avery...
"Oh," I said, surprised to see a creature from the Veil. The noise I made seemed to attract it's attention and it padded over with the grace of a giant cat.
"Can you sit up?" Sam was asking, he had knelt beside me with the bowl in his hands, but I only stared at the avery that came up to rest behind him.
It stretched it's long neck over Sam, it's big completely blue eyes level with mine. Tentatively, I reached out a hand. The avery's nose (or where a nose should be) came to meet my hand and I patted it's soft, buttery skin.
"You're the avery from the forest..." I said to the creature, suddenly very sure of myself.
The avery pulled it's head back slightly, cocking it's head like it was surprised. It looked at Demaren for a moment then turned back to me.
"Essentially... He's surprised you remember him," Demaren said.
"You'd be hard to forget," I told the avery. Then I looked at Demaren, "You can hear him?"
Demaren's head quirked to the side as he nodded.
"I guess I'm not the only one hearing voices," I murmured, patting the avery's 'nose' again.
Samil was patiently waiting with the bowl, I struggled to my elbows and made it to a seated position. I smiled to myself, proud with the small achievement. I felt a sheen of sweat dampen my forehead and I puffed a little; out of the corner of my eye Demaren watched me cautiously. Maybe he was still worried about me. Putting on my best smile, I took the spoon Sam guided toward my mouth.
"I got it," I said. He returned the smile and placed the bowl in my lap.
The avery had gone over to sit by the mast. I took a sip of broth, surprised by how delicious it tasted.
"Does he have a name?" I asked, still eyeing the avery. Lia was now running circles around him in an attempt to evade Larii.
"Ponce," Demaren told me.
"'Ave you seen one before?" Sam asked.
"Once," I replied, looking at Demaren to see if he had told the Erynese the story. But Demaren was brushing some non-existent dust from his off white slacks. "It's where we met Larii."
At the sound of her name, Larii whipped around and bounded toward me, an exuberant smile on her face. She skidded to a stop and fell to her knees, actually knocking into Sam in her effort to hug me. Demaren caught the spoon as it flew out of my hand. A parade of images battered my mind, making me wince.
"Good to see you, too," I told her, a little breathlessly.
She leaned back, ignoring Demaren's glare. You wouldn't believe how worried we were.
"I told you not to come," I chided, but a smile spread across my lips.
Demaren snorted at the comment. A red head popped over Larii's shoulder. I smiled at Lia, her face completely taken over by large, sparkling eyes and curls.
"Hello," I said. "You're Lia?"
She became suddenly shy, and partially hid behind Larii's green arm.
"I'm Ashling," I continued as if she had responded.
"Ashling eda Dema p'saunta na fielli?" she babbled.
Like this, Larii said in my head. I looked at the green girl questioningly, wondering what she was talking about. Suddenly images were in my head, though not from Larii.
I blinked at Lia, tentatively sending out my own images. The same images presented themselves.
Ashling is Dema's wife?
I laughed with a start, shaking my head at her. I smiled at Demaren, who was looking between us with a frown.
"She calls you Dema."
Lia launched away from Larii and threw herself at Demaren, who caught her easily. He smiled at the little girl in his arms as she reached up to touch his face. A slight pang went through me as I longed to do the same thing.
"Yeah, she does," the ghost of a smile lingered on his lips as he turned back and handed me the spoon.
I took it and looked back down at the bowl in my lap. It was almost done, and I was more than full. Stalling so Demaren wouldn't chide me for not finishing, I glanced at Samil. He was trying to covertly stare at Larii who was making faces at Lia.
"Lia!" I heard a woman call from the stairwell.
The child shrieked and kicked out of Demaren's arms to wriggled between his back and the side of the deck.
A beautiful woman came up the steps, looking around. She caught sight of the little group huddled around me and smiled.
"Jeron, come here," she called down the stairs before coming over.
She was wearing white and blue striped skirts, bringing out the flame of her hair.
"I'm Jain," she said, kneeling beside me and surprising me with a hug.
My arms closed around her automatically. She felt warm and substantial, like how a mother should feel.
"I'm Ashling," I told her, when she pulled away, though she left one hand on mine.
"It's so nice to finally meet you," she said sincerely.
"Or at least to see you in person," said a gravely voice.
I looked up to see a scruffy, sturdy man behind Jain with his arms across his chest.
"Hello, Jeron," I said, looking at him from beneath my eyelashes. His eyes were piercing, though not unkind.
"Nice to see you know how to be awake," he said.
"It's nice to be awake," I said, stifling a yawn. My back had begun to ache where I sat and my eyelids felt heavy though I kept them wide open.
Jeron's eyes flashed a moment, taking in every detail of me. "Are you still tired?"
I thought about lying, but somehow knew he would call me on it. I nodded, hesitantly.
"Then you should sleep," he stated. He looked at the group around me, "Get below deck or into the sea. Either way, be quiet and let the girl rest."
Everyone moved. Lia made to evade her mother, but Jain was fast. She caught the girl around the middle and hoisted her into her arms. Samil took the bowl from me with a smile and lead Larii away down the stairs. Demaren went to leave, too, but I caught hold of his hand.
"Will you stay?" I asked, looking at him.
He hesitated and my heart beat a funny rhythm. The avery--Ponce--who had not left, made swishing sound through his circled mouth.
"You stay up here, boy," said Jeron, though it didn't sound like a suggestion.
I let go of Demaren's hand. "He doesn't have to," I said.
My hands began arranging the blanket on top of me so I wouldn't have to look at him.
Jeron looked down at me and smiled. "He takes up too much room," he said, glancing at Demaren then back to me, "and could use a distraction, girlie."
Walking away, Jeron gave Demaren a hefty push on the shoulder so he would sit down. When he was gone I looked at Demaren again, fiddling with the blanket between my fingers.
"You don't have to stay."
"It's fine," he said, looking to the side toward Ponce. I wondered if they were talking. He turned back to me. "Go to sleep."
I fidgeted with the blanket some more, biting my lower lip. A chuckle passed Demaren's lips and he reached out to pluck the material from my hands. He gently pressed a hand to my shoulder and I, feeling more tired by the moment, couldn't resist. He pulled the blanket up around my chin and as he moved back I snatched hold of his wrist.
"I didn't get to finish telling you," I said, biting the inside of my cheek to stay awake.
"Telling me what?" he asked quietly. I thought he could tell that I was tired, his voice was soothing as if he spoke to a resistant child.
"What else I remember," I said, dissecting his face for the tiniest expression.
"Oh," he blinked at me, seeming genuinely surprised. "Well you can tell me when you wake up..."
I shook my head obstinately. Sleepiness, or lack there of, was making me brave.
Demaren sighed and leaned back, but still holding my hand. "Okay, what do you remember?"
"W-well," I hesitated, looking away. "I remember at night, before the City, I couldn't sleep," I snuck a glance at him. He was looking at me incredulously. "I found that I can't really sleep with out you..."
A small noise came from Demaren's throat, but he covered it with a cough and resumed a passive expression. "Hmm."
I was losing courage fast, maybe this hadn't been the best idea, but I plowed on anyway.
"And, well, I don't really remember anything from being in the white room, but I think remember when you saved me. I remember feeling so happy. I remember I just wanted to--but I was so tired. And then a lot after that is dreams, or I think it might be dreams. But I kept having the same sort of dream over and over, and I wanted it to be real. I wanted it to be real more than anything else. I would have gladly stayed there in trade for it..."
I realized I was blabbering, as I usually did when I got nervous, and tapered off. Taking a deep breath I look at Demaren. His face was scrunched up in confusion.
"I don't think I understand a word you just said."
A strangled laugh escaped me, and something clogged my throat while tears stung the backs of my eyes. I had come this far, hadn't I?
"The simple truth, Demaren, is that I missed you," I said, feeling a single tear roll down my cheek. Demaren now wore a concerned expression. "I missed you so much that it hurt. The only thing I wanted was to see you, to touch you. It was your arms I wanted to feel around me when they k-killed Jamis--" I choked a little at the thought of the slave boy. I hadn't even gotten the chance to mourn him. I took a steadying breath. "You don't have to say anything if you don't feel the same. And I could see why you wouldn't. But I would rather only kiss you in my dreams than kiss anyone else in real life."
I stopped and took a shuddering breath, blinking my eyes to clear them. I hadn't meant to start crying, though somewhere along the way I had. I bit the inside of my cheek. Steeling myself for the let down, I made my eyes rise to meet Demaren. He had the same expression as a fish on ice.
Immediately fearing the worst, I started to backpedal.
"I-I'm sorry! Just forget I--!"
My voice was cut off by Demaren's large hand pressing over my mouth. His hand was shaking over my lips and I gulped back the doom I felt rising in my stomach, sure that I had made him angry.
He spoke in a whisper, and I had to reach up and take his hand away from my mouth so I could sit up on my elbows to hear.
"...I was so lost without you. Nights were the worst. I didn't have you in my arms," his voice got a little stronger, though his eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I needed you every moment!"
His hand pulled from mine and reached up to grab his hair.
"Thinking you could have been dead was too much to handle. I..." his head dropped to his chest and his arms to his knees.
I could see several glistening tears fall between his legs. My heart twisted to see him in such distress. I reached out a hand tentatively as his head snapped up so that his eyes could bore into mine with the intensity of gold lightning. He snatched my hand to his face, pressing it close, his eyes never leaving mine. I brushed away the last tear left on his cheek with my thumb.
"Losing you was like having my soul taken away. I lived and breathed and moved. I even laughed. But everything felt empty and fleeting. I couldn't connect to the moment I was in. I thought of you always." The muscle in his perfect jaw tightened. "I am nothing without you." He hesitated. "You say you would rather kiss me in your dreams... than not at all?"
I nodded. For once I was at a loss for words. It felt like I would break the spell that made Demaren say all these words if I were to speak. The hand that pressed my fingers to his face traced down my arm, a wicked smile spreading across his face.
"Ouch!" I complained. Demaren had pinched me.
I looked back at him reproachfully, catching the softest expression come over his features. Then a smirk tightened the muscles in his lips and smoothed out his face.
"I want there to be no doubt in your mind that you are awake," he said, leaning toward me.
My eyes widened as Demaren grasped my shoulders, the hand that had been touching his face fell easily to the back of his neck, and leaned onto his knees to pull me to him. He pressed me to his chest for a moment and I could hear his heart beat. I wondered if mine was going as fast. Then he leaned back a little and tilted my chin to reach his lips to mine. My eyes fell closed. He tasted of sweet, clear water.
Somehow my other arm found it's way up so I could touch Demaren's face, the hand at the back of his neck reaching higher to grip his hair. One of his hands encompassed the back of my head, the other pressing me to him at the small of my back. His lips moved and parted mine.
Dizzily, I gasped for air. My fingers convulsed weakly in his hair. I felt Demaren smile under my lips. His hold on me loosened, though firm. Which was fortunate because I sagged and swayed a little both from the kiss and from tiredness. This was the first real movement I had attempted in weeks, and I would have gladly repeated it all for the same event, but it left me feeling exhausted and thrilled at the same time.
Demaren eased me back onto the pallet, bracing one arm to the side of my head so he could stroke my face and brush his thumb over my lips. I wanted to touch his face, too, but couldn't seem to find my arms. My eyelids seemed to be drawn together like magnets and I was not capable of fighting them anymore.
"Goodnight," he whispered as my eyes fully closed, only to snap open as I realized he had risen.
I clutched at his pant leg. "I told you," I frowned disapprovingly up at him, "I can't sleep without you."
Demaren chuckled and stretched out his wings before coming back down and laying out next to me.
"Wouldn't matter if you could, I refuse to sleep without you," he said, his voice a grumble in his chest.
He rested an arm over me, and I turned to snuggle in close. I felt Demaren lightly kiss the top of my head then press his face into my hair. His other wing came over us both and we slept.

------

The next few weeks past in a pleasant blur. Lia would sit with me, playing hand games in her native language. Larii did tricks to make the child laugh, pretending to fall and tumbling to a stop. Samil and Larii seemed to always be in orbit around each other, though Larii hardly noticed it. Ponce watched and tolerated all of Lia's prodding and bumping with dignity. I started to become fond of him, though I couldn't hear him talk the way Demaren could. When they had their silent conversations, I got a taste of what traveling with Larii and me in the forest.
When I wasn't too tired, I went below deck to visit Friend. He didn't seem to mind the lower deck. He had a window to stick his head out and breathe the sea air. I patted his neck, leaning my forehead against his.
"I missed you," I told him. He whickered softly.
Jain and Jeron were more than accommodating. By the time I was up and walking around, Jain had a new wardrobe made up for me. Several skirts of different colors and linen tunics over light camisoles were made to fit me perfectly. She made me try them on several times and parade them around.
"You see? Burgundy is her color," she declared, practically shoving me under Demaren's nose. (Not that it was hard, I only came up to his chest.)
He craned his neck down at me as Jain had thrown me against his frame. He smiled wickedly.
"I like the cut of her... shirt."
My mouth fell open before hastily back stepping to cross my arms over my chest.
"Ruffian!" I accused, my cheeks flaming. I could hear Jeron crowing with laughter from the crow's nest.
"Ruffian?" he said, an eye brow raising. He leaned in to bring an arm around my shoulders. "Do you want me to... 'ruff' you up?"
Two fingers slipped under the strap of the camisole as though he might pull it down. I smacked his hand away.
"Jain? Where is the extra fabric? I wish to make myself look like a tent."
Ha! You look cute no matter what you wear! teased Larii.
I turned on her, hands on my hips. "Hush, you!"
Demaren laughed. I glared daggers at Ponce, knowing he had told Demaren what I said. He sat innocently staring off into the sky. I threw up my hands in defeat.
The weather steadily became colder. Soon I could see my breath even in the noon day's sun. We were headed toward Grayman.
I heard Demaren and Jeron talking one night before we had set a course. I had come up the stairs from the warmer, lower deck after helping to put Lia to bed. I halted on the first landing, listening to Jeron's urgent voice.
"...too far inland for me to help you, boy."
"I can fly us there, it's fine."
"I ain't keeping your crazy animals on my boat!"
"What do you want me to do!?"
"Why are you going to Grayman at all?"
"I told you, I need to find out what happened to my mother! Stars above, Jeron!"
"You shouldn't go at all, boy. It won't end well for you. There's something real bad there for you. Go back to your people. Take Ashling, and go back. Live there."
"Jeron... I have to find my mother. What if she's there and alive?"
"Oh, come on now, boy, you don't believe she's alive! You want to go get some revenge for her and your dad!"
"Oh, so what! What if I am! Don't they deserve it? My dad is probably dead, too!"
"How many times do you need me to say this, boy? If you go there, you won't come back!"
There was silence, and Demaren's response was quiet and angry.
"You been looking at my shadow again?"
"You've got such a big one, it's hard to miss!"
"Hell, Jeron, I'm going! You could at least help me!"
"You should leave Larii here, then. There's something in her shadow that doesn't sit well."
"I'll talk to her."
There was another bout of quiet.
"Don't go boy. Please. Don't put everyone through this. I swear to you, it's a mistake. Think of Ashling..."
"I am! I always do. But how can I live without knowing? I would follow her where she went, and now she's willing to come with me... I would leave her in safety with you, but I'm afraid to put her from my sight again."
"If you go, you'll put her through more than you suffered this past month. So much more."
A loud crack sounded, followed by a dull thud and a slew of cursing. I covered my mouth Demaren must have punched Jeron.
"Don't say that! I don't ever EVER want to hear that!"
Footsteps echoed just above me toward the stairs. I back down the hastily, being as quiet as I could.
"Wait, Demaren." I heard Jeron sigh. "I can maneuver the dingy to a safe shore."
"You're so willing now?"
"I ain't gonna let you stick me with your critters and an angry green woman!"
Demaren laughed.
Straightening up, I made some noise coming up the steps and all fell quiet. I smiled at the men as I cleared the steps.
"Lia's asleep," I said.
Demaren rubbed a hand through his hair. I walked over, pretending to be surprised by a red mark on Jeron's cheek.
"What happened?" I asked, reaching up to turn his chin to the side so I could look at it better. Jeron lightly swatted my hands away.
"Dont' worry yourself with me, girlie," he said, patting my head as he walked away. I caught the loaded glance he flicked at Demaren before heading down stairs.
I turned to Demaren, my eyebrow's raised, hands clasped behind my back. "Everything alright?"
"Of course," he assured me, leaning down to kiss me on the cheek. His lips were cold. "Jeron and I just disagreed on a couple of points. Nothing to worry about, though."
I smiled as though I believed him, and took hold of his hand.
"Come on. Jain's making hot cider. It's too cold up here, even for you!"
He smiled in return and I tugged him to the stairs. Larii, Demaren, Jain, and Samil sat around the table. Jeron, it seemed, had gone to bed. We sat and drank cider, Jain, Samil, and Demaren telling stories. Ponce walked through on his way to visit with Friend, whom he called 'Kero,' Demaren had said.
Sipping my cider, I watched Demaren from under my eyelashes. He seemed in good humor, not at all like he just had a fight. I twiddled with the scarf around my neck. Even down below deck, it was chilly.
Demaren caught my eye in the middle of Samil's anecdote and winked at me. I smiled back. I knew that I would follow him to the ends of the earth. Jeron was not often wrong, but I didn't have much choice in the matter. I wouldn't be left behind and Demaren wouldn't be swayed from his task. If something went wrong, we would figure out a way to fix it. Changing fate couldn't be that hard.
Reaching for the cider, Larii passed the pitcher around to fill our glasses again. Samil raised his and made us all clink glasses in what he called a 'toast.'
"It's for celebrating," he clarified when I looked at him quizzically.
I shrugged and happily tipped my cup back.

Executing

2009-03-24T22:14:00.001-07:00

Whatever Demaren had expected to see when he had come over the wall--whatever sights he'd thought the city would have--where completely off base. He'd expected building like in Velt. Perhaps more carefully crafted, but similar to the earthen houses and structures. But, no, not this city. The City of the Eye was alive and shining, even at night. The buildings were not made of earth. They were tall as the trees of Tovsyla, and as glittering and reflective as the sea. Demaren was thrown for a moment, and even paused in his flight. The avery swarmed the dark roofs, moving along the lower structures. But Demaren was still struck by the looming, slender buildings of mirror and light. They towered! He craned his neck, but some seemed to expand upwards forever. His stomach tickled and even his hulking wings felt small.
"Even your mind is speechless. What do you see?" Ponce spoke quietly in Demaren's mind.
"Did you know the city was like this? I have never seen anything like it!"
"Yes, we were aware of the nature of this place. The people here think almost entirely the same. To even contemplate the city was to stare into a massive portrait that screamed monosyllabic words."
"That's kind of creepy."
Demaren soared lower.
"A wise choice. There are flying contraptions with guns in the air. They would have killed you."
Demaren was relieved at his decision. They could make things that flew? That was disconcerting. Demaren didn't want to think and converse, though, so he tugged up a barrier around his mind. He was getting better at it, and this barrier felt more like a brick severance as opposed to a flimsy gauzy one.
Ponce always understood when Demaren fell silent, just as Demaren always understood. There was no need to explain.
The entourage moved in silence. Demaren could not hear the movements below him, and could not see them either. But he sensed them. Their minds pressed against his like a crowd. He focused on avoiding the leering buildings and their invasive lights. They made excellent time. The large structures fell behind them soon, and they traversed smaller dwellings full of families sleeping soundly. Lights were dead here, save only a smattering, which glowed with the light for the few and the lonely.
A dull pressure in his head bade him to come to the conscious front.
"It is ahead, Demaren."
Ponce felt further ahead. He must have run faster and made it closer by this point. The building, though, was clearly visible. On either side of the box-like building, stood two towers like he had seen in the city. Only, these were not as tall. Of course, this was merely in comparison. These were still looming.
The avery stopped along the roofs of domestic homes.
"Shall we wait here until your word?"
"Yes." Demaren felt somewhat unnerved by the prospect of surveying the building for an appropriate entrance. But he swerved ahead, floating on the air currents to keep his wings silent.
The building was wide awake. Not a window was dim. Demaren felt that it must have always been lit so profusely. The lights felt so old and tired. Not at all fresh and bright like a newly lit candle. He sailed in a looping figure, gazing intently at the front. Then he swooped a few laps around the building. He couldn't see a way in. They were all lit. People everywhere, surely. He flew back to Ponce and spoke into his mind alone.
"Ponce, I need your help for this."
"I see. Shall I accompany you back?"
"Please."
They made their way around the building, Demaren hovering above Ponce.
"The lit rooms are not all occupied. There are some corridors unguarded, with windows we could easily access."
"That's good."
"The others are coming now."
Through the night, the other avery crept into view. The hazy light that sifted the air made it possible to see Ponce's tribe. They were ready, and they followed Ponce. Demaren followed him as well, as Ponce slowly picked a choice window. When he had decided on it, five avery slipped up the walls and surrounded it. Delicate claws from females somehow pried the glass free. Demaren was astonished and mystified. The avery were proving more resourceful and advanced than expected.
Once the window was loose, three more avery climbed up and disappeared into the darkness with the glass. No one moved. For a moment, Demaren wondered what was happening until in the distance a shattering told him the avery had gone off to dispose of the glass--and pose a marvelous distraction, if he could venture that guess from the crack-pop sounds that followed. They sounded like the things that had shot through his wing when they took Ashling. But there was no time to ponder, for the instant the glass was destroyed, the avery began to flood inside. Demaren swooped in and landed carefully. Ponce was beside him quickly, breathing the air deeply.
"We should find an Erynese soldier to direct us."
"Are there any nearby?"
"There's a small group coming this way, actually." Ponce sounded cheerful at this, and Demaren rolled his eyes.
Sure enough, around the corner ran six soldiers. They were flabbergasted at the sight of Demaren's army, and did not even scream when they were pinned down. Ponce stared for a moment at them, before five of the soldiers were made into meals. The last soldier, realizing his fate began to cry. Demaren was a little disgusted at the tears and blubbering.
"Truly, in this society there are very few men. Most males remain in an immature state their entire lives. And their soldiers are often soft--at least, in the cities." Ponce's disdain was obvious.
Demaren shook his head, "What does he know?"
"Ask him. I merely know that he has useful knowledge, but his thoughts are as confusing as an infants so I cannot discern it."
"Right..." Demaren stepped beside the imprisoned soldier. A good look told Demaren the tearful man, was actually a young man. Probably just 18. Demaren felt some pity for the soldier. "Hey. Stop crying."
The wailing quieted for a moment, and he spoke through a stuffed nose, "Are you going to kill me like tem?"
"Not if you help us." Demaren noticed the odd accent, very unique and strange.
"W-wat do you w-w-want from me?"
"Answers. Don't try to run, or they'll kill you for sure." He added mentally, to the avery, "Let him up."
The female gripping the boy slid off daintily. Her shoulders and hips swung smoothly, but her head remained turned towards the slight man, who scrambled to his feet and tried to make himself small.
"Where can I find the girl?"
"Wat girl?"
Demaren wasn't in the mood for any sort of runaround, so he pulled the knives from the latch on his shin and strode to the soldier, lacing the sharp edges close to the underdeveloped neck. His eyes narrowed in blatant annoyance.
"'onestly! I-I don't know w'ere any g-girl is. I'm just p-p-patrol!" His voice cracked. Demaren arched an eyebrow at Ponce.
"He knows something helpful, Demaren. Ask for something else."
Demaren pulled the knives away and stepped back, "Who would know?"
"Um..."
Demaren flipped one knife impatiently. The boy rubbed his knuckles and swayed on his feet.
"You know something, kid. So give us something!" Demaren was surprised at himself. He was usually nicer, even to people he didn't like. He felt very different here. He didn't like it at all.
"I-I know tere's an important project on the ei'teent floor! And Minister Entark is in t-targe."
"Which floor is this?"
The soldier was breathing more steadily now, and feeling more confident he may not die. "Sixt'."
Demaren slid his knives back into their sheaves with such a snap, that the soldier flinched violently. Demaren stood silently for a moment, mentally cursing (Ponce didn't enjoy the barrage) and trying to contemplate the fastest way up.
"You could--!" The soldier started but hesitated. Ponce walked to the boy and loomed over him, breathing in the scent of fear and sweat.
"We could?" Demaren joined Ponce.
Ponce seemed excited, "This will be good."
"You could take te elevator..."
"The what?" Demaren knew what it meant to elevate, but had never heard it used to describe what could be an object. Perhaps a form of transportation? Is it an animal, like a hop?
"Te e-elevator. It--It goes up and down faster tan stairs."
Demaren narrowed his eyes and stepped a little closer, "Explain?"
"It's a small room! Wit doors and it goes up and down! I don't really know muc about it, I just know ow to use it!" The soldier was getting panicked and obviously wishing he hadn't mentioned it. He pointed down the hallway from which he had come, probably in hopes of earning opportunities to live.
"Oh! You can work it? Good!" Demaren turned back to Ponce. "Why don't we take two more with us to the elevator and send everyone else to clear the way? Some can scale the outside and meet us on top."
"Why do we not just climb the walls outside to reach the desired floor? It would be faster."
"Because I kind of want to see an elevator."
"You are a strange creature."
"Indulge me." Demaren strode forward and gave the soldier a reasonable shove to indicate he was leading the way with Demaren close at hand.
Ponce followed with a female, Jema, and another male, Leo, as Demaren pushed the young soldier down the hall. The soldier stopped them in front of two metal doors and pushed a little round button, which lit up.
The door opened quickly, startling Demaren. And even more startling to him was the sudden shout from the far corner of the hallway. Before he could turn his head, tiny projectiles attacked the party.
Demaren snarled and dove into the elevator, followed swiftly by the avery. The doors began to close on their own. Demaren noticed the soldier had not followed them and remained in the hallway with his arms over his head, crouching low. So, Demaren reached out, caught him by the scruff of his shirt, and pulled him into the small room. The doors slid closed, silencing the beat of footsteps as they hustled towards them. Obviously, not every soldier was as easily quelled as this shivering one.
Glancing around the room, Demaren saw it was very tiny. Ponce and the other two avery only fit because Jema was so small. The solider was pressed in front of Demaren and Demaren could feel the young man's heart beating faster than was probably healthy.
"Well? Make it go."
The soldier pressed a button--one of many--that Demaren couldn't read. It lit up as the one outside had done. There was a strange shift in the room, and an almost silent humming. But it seemed as though nothing was happening. Demaren was about to threaten the life out of their escort when the room jolted to a halt, and the lights flickered.
"O no. Wy now? Tis is terrible!" The solider seemed frantic and repeatedly pressed a button with arrows pointing outward. Frustrated snuffs echoed in the little room.
"What happened, kid?"
"Tey stopped te elevator!"
"They can--they can do that?" Demaren was uncomfortable with that and slightly intimidated.
"Of course tey can! And now tey will old us ere until tey can get ere and kill us!" He began to cry again, frowning hatefully at the doors. He kicked hem swiftly with his boot. "If tis door would open, we could get away."
"Oh." Demaren looked at the metal panes. It seemed easy enough. Demaren shoved the soldier over, "Move."
"Wat are you--"
Demaren was able to press the tips of his fingers between the doors, and pull at them with extreme force. As they slid open a tiny fraction, he slipped his fingers in fully to the joint and exerted all of his effort into prying the doors apart. His muscles strained and screamed at him, but he pushed himself to continue until the way was open. For a moment, he looked at the dark wall they opened to. Ponce quickly caught his attention.
There's another set of doors level with your head, Demaren. Probably another level.
Merely nodding his response, Demaren could feel his arms beginning to shake. He stepped away from the doors and released them, expecting them to snap shut. But they glided together with a soft shuffle. Surprisingly slow, too. He had an idea.
"Why didn't they slam shut?" Demaren turned to the soldier.
"Safety precautions? I do not know."
"Are they all like that?"
The soldier nodded.
"Those doors we saw on the other side..."
"Te lower 'alf of tat floor. Tere are two sets of doors for te elevators."
Demaren was looking upward. Could he break through the ceiling? Doubtful. He reached up easily and gave it a swift pound with his fist. It echoed, but held firm. He frowned and lowered his arm just as the soldier gasped.
"O! Te escape 'at!"
Demaren arched an eyebrow at him, "Escape hat?"
The young man frowned, "No. 'At!" He frowned harder, "Atk. Atch!" He scrunched his face up tightly, "A door."
"Oh..." Demaren pondered this for a moment before getting it. "Oh! A hatch." He looked up again, but did not see anything that looked like a door or a hatch or even a small vent.
"Lift me up!" insisted the soldier.
Demaren grabbed the soldier by the back of his shirt and brought him up. For a moment, his smaller fists smacked the ceiling in vain. But, he swiftly found what he wanted and began pressing on a random spot. Nothing happened, and the soldier looked tired, so Demaren lowered him.
"Wait, no! It's tere!"
"I believe you." Demaren gave the young man and pat on the head. Then he reached up to where the smaller man had been pushing, and spread his hands across the surface. "Here, right?" Then he started to push. His arms were still aching from the doors, but he felt the give behind his force. So he dropped his arms.
He looked quickly around, then said, "Stand back, I need some room."
The avery compacted surprisingly well and the soldier folded into a corner. So Demaren leaned back, resting his hands behind him against the handrail. He braced for just a moment before swinging his legs up and pushing with his arms so that his legs flew full force into the designated spot above him.
And with a crash and a tumble, a square gave way into a dark space.
Demaren smiled, then he turned to the soldier. "Time to go up, kid." And he grabbed the soldier by the uniform again, pressing him up and out like a buoy. The small figure scrambled out of sight and was heard noisily above them. Then the avery slipped out. Last, and a little winded, Demaren reached up and through, bracing himself on the outside of the room. He swiftly pulled himself out and sat on the top.
He was impressed. The soldier stood near him, looking conflicted and tired. Demaren sighed when he noted that the doors to the nearest level were tightly closed. And again he managed to creep his fingers between the doors and pry them open. Then he stepped between the doors, pressed his back to one and his foot high against the other. A moment of breathing brought his mind down to a calmer level. He looked at the team.
"Get onto that floor."
"Wat about you?" Said the soldier, rubbing his palm against his arm nervously.
Demaren glowered at him, "You said all these doors close slowly. Now, get out there. I'll follow behind you."
The team moved quickly--even their unwilling guide moved efficiently. Once again last, Demaren dropped after them and the doors closed quietly and slowly.
"Perfect."
Ponce sounded less pleased, "I would like to never go in there again, if at all possible."
"Agreed." Demaren muttered aloud, causing the soldier to wince in some confusion. "Where are we, kid?"
"Elevent' floor," he replied, gesturing back at the doors. There were two parallel lines painted cleanly on them. "Te stairs are over tere." He pointed around the corner.
"Demaren, some of the others seem to have made it to our floor."
"All right then." Demaren straightened up cheerfully, rolling his tired muscles. He gave the soldier a prod and the group headed off. The doors to the stairwell came up on them quickly, and waiting patiently beside them was a group of three avery. They were all splashed in varying amounts of blood. The smell tinged the air with iron and humidity.
"Tis is as far as I can t-take you..." The soldier leaned against the wall, shaking slightly. "I do not know were tey keep te project or anyting like tat."
Demaren stood over the soldier, curving his wings around their unwilling guide. "You can guess."
"Please! I will be killed if I elp you any more! I do not want to die!"
Demaren stepped back, surprised. Then he narrowed his eyes and gestured to himself, silently pointing out the more immediate threat--himself.
The soldier's mouth fell open slightly and he shrank down the wall in defeat. Demaren felt guilt and pity for the soldier, feeling a slight hope that he may be able to find a way to spare the man's life when this was over. "Let's go. We have seven floors to go."
The stairs were impossible for Demaren to fly up, as they were awkwardly placed, so he had to walk beside the trudging soldier. The avery scampered up and down the way, looking for enemies to take care of. They were fortunate, though, that no one found them there. They gathered two more avery around the fifteenth floor. When they reached the eighteenth, Demaren was tired of walking and his arms were tightening up.
Once in the hallway, the soldier began to walk even slower and Demaren was losing patience. And they were losing time. So, he snatched the front of the soldier's uniform and dragged him off. Whimpering all the way, the prisoner's boots dragged and clipped down the hallway.
"Wat te ell is making all tat noise?" Came a voice around the perpetual turn of this circular level. A moment later, a pale, too-thin man appeared. His face went from annoyed to shocked and alarmed very quickly. The soldier quivered in Demaren's grasp, and whispered, "Entark..."
"Entark?" Demaren felt a rush of success. This was the man who could lead him to Ashling. Then suddenly, hate. The face of this became very clear in his mind as he recognized him. This was the man who had kidnapped Ashling in the first place! He was in Velt! Demaren was so angry, he threw the soldier backwards towards the Avery and stepped forward towards Entark.
"X'il et ip'ria! Hi'u ern ut'sta okma're'sta!" It took a moment for Demaren to realize he was cursing in Syla, something he rarely did anymore. Annoyed at himself and everything, he tugged free some of the thin needles. Ponce quickly stormed his mind.
"Calm yourself! If you kill him, you will not find your mate!"
Demaren felt too much to respond. Too angry to think, too terrified to care. He flipped the needle knives, ready to throw them.
"Demaren! STOP!" Ponce not only shouted and violently knocked Demaren with his long neck. Demaren did not fall, but he stumbled. And Entark, turned on one foot and ran. Demaren wanted to scream in fury that his enemy was escaping. But Jema anticipated him and shot like a bullet after Entark.
Demaren felt his fury deflate very quickly. He felt very tired, and Ponce let him lean against his shoulder. The doors must have taken more out of him than he thought...
"Foolish boy." Came Ponce's gentle chiding.
"I know... Thank you..."
"She has him. Let us move in their direction." Ponce glanced back at the soldier, who was cowering under the unnerving stare of Leo. "Bring the soldier. He is useful."
So, with Ponce beside him, and the soldier in tow with Leo, they met up with Jema who had Entark pinned painfully against a wall. With her claws in one shoulder. She rolled her head quickly at them, mentally smirking.
Her little voice danced through Demaren's head, "Look what I found."
"Lovely." Ponce responded with less emotion than a rock.
"Okay, Entark." Demaren put a lot of emphasis on the T sound and sneered in his face. "Where's Ashling?"
Entark laughed somewhat maniacally, and haltingly, spasming in pain. "Se is not ere."
"Like hell she isn't." Demaren dipped under the arm of Jema to stand in front of Entark.
Again, Entark laughed, like a creepy school girl, "Is true!" He smacked his lips, "Er body is ere. But I tink se is gone."
Demaren twitched. Probably. He wasn't really sure. But he was very sure that he ripped Entark from the spot Jema had him pinned to to slam him against the ground with all the force he could. He even relished the ripping and breaking of fragile bones--after all, Jema hadn't let go yet. He pressed his palm into Entark's esophagus, curling his fingers around the slim neck. Ready and willing. "You saying she's dead?"
Entark was still smiling, even as his throat gurgled and pulsed for air. He coughed words out in such a way, Demaren wanted to rip Entark's face apart. "No. We wanted er alive. It took quite a wile to obtain er." He gave an especially bubbly choke, then whispered, "Se calls for you."
It was like an explosion. Like the dream of being a star was happening again. He was a star and he was fragmenting into a hundred million tiny shards of death and life. He wanted to direct it all into Entark and watch him dissolve--And he felt he could. But, instead, Demaren smashed his fist into Entark's face before he slammed his head against the floor again. And again. And again. Wrath and fear exploded from him in the form of a burning yell, heightening with each smash of Entark's skull. His hands shook, tiny blood vessels pressing and churning beneath his skin, trying to escape. The muscles on his back seemed to writhe electrically, and he wasn't sure if his wings had burnt themselves up or simply vanished, for he no longer felt them. He closed his eyes in his fury, and instantly felt nothing. Oh, the emotions remained, but the physical part of existence seemed to fade away. He was an endlessly looping destruction.
"Stop." Came Ponce's voice, again, full of reason and reality. Demaren opened his eyes and looked down at Entark. He had stopped smashing him, so he was still alive. Still conscious even. Still smiling. Demaren let go of Entark, stood, and walked to stand behind Ponce.
"You would like to see er?" Came a bloodied, shaking, yet controlled voice from Entark.
Demaren turned to glare at him, "Don't you ever die?"
Entark laughed with burbles and flecks of blood. Demaren pressed his bloodied hands to his face, not caring if he smelled the iron of Entark's blood for the rest of his life. He smiled even, looking forward to the moment of his death.
At that moment, there was the building sound of running boots coming from behind them. The entourage turned quickly to meet the sound of twenty soldiers racing to meet them. They were in view within moments, orders shouting from the mouth of a dangerous looking man.
"They don't look like the other soldiers..." Demaren said, aloud, directing it to Ponce.
The kid answered him, "I tink tey are te special unit. Tey are very mean..." He shivered.
The unit aimed their guns, but did not fire at them.
"Leo, Jema, and Ponce, you come with me. Can you five handle them?"
Their response was merely to suddenly fly at the special soldiers, they had killed one a piece before the first shot was fired. And they were efficient, forcing the soldiers back and out of sight. The sounds of fighting continued though.
"More soldiers are coming to help them, Demaren. We need to move. More of my tribe is coming to aid Era and the others."
Demaren nodded, assuming Era was one of the five avery. Then he whirled on his feet, strengthened and calmed with fresh resolve, and stood over Entark, one leg on each side.
"You know where Ashling is? Let's go then." Then Demaren tugged the Minister up by the bad shoulder and gave him a shake. "Which way, ip'ria x'il? Or has the blood clogged your throat."
Entark choked with pleasure, "Not yet." He rolled his head at Demaren and smiled, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. "Tis way, winged boy." He flinched his good arm back towards the way he came.
Demaren heartlessly and forcefully half ran and half dragged Entark down the hallway at jogging speed. He didn't care that Entark staggered, nor that the blood flowed like water, and even gave little squirts onto his face.
And still, Entark talked, "We became close, Asling as I."
He coughed and gurgle as often as he spoke, and Demaren couldn't decide whether he wanted to finish ripping him in half or shove what was left of his arm down his throat to shut him up.
"Like friends. But..." He sighed like recalling a fond memory, "We need er energy. So we took it."
"That's it? This is about her energy explosions?" Demaren whipped his head at Entark.
"It is ow we power te city. Se could ave given it... willing." He sputtered, smiling even still. "But, se did not know ow. So we teac er." He glanced at Demaren through the sides of his eyes, almost flirtatiously, and then he grinned, "You know ow?"
"No. I specialize in turning it off."
"This man is insane, Demaren. His mind is as destroyed as his body." Ponce whispered in Demaren's mind.
Demaren did not respond, for he could not remember how.
"Se must be..." Entark lulled his head as he hesitated, before rolling it back to Demaren, "Moved."
"What are you trying to say, you bloody fountain?"
"Emotional." Entark staggered forward for a moment, and Demaren let him fall to his knees. His arms draped to the floor limply, and his head hung for a moment, but he arched it back up to look at Demaren's face, "Se must be beyond fear. Beyond anger."
Demaren leaned down, letting his wing prod Entark between the shoulder blades. "How much further do we have to go?"
Entark raised his eyebrows, "Yes, come come, I sow you. Words are useless."
"If only you truly believed that." Demaren pulled Entark up by the back of the collar on his uniform and dragged him onward.
Demaren ignored whatever else Entark may have said, if he indeed said anything. But Entark directed them into a doorway which slid open at their presence.
There were five men inside the room, three men in white coats and two in special unit soldier uniforms. The soldiers raised their guns at the sight as an instant reaction, but lowered them slightly and hesitantly when Demaren brandished a knife at Entark's neck.
"As bad as it looks, this could get a lot worse for him." Demaren said as they all came into the room. He looked at the soldiers and then at the white coated men. "Ponce?"
"The soldiers are useless and dangerous. The scientists... we only need one of them."
"Kill them."
Later, Demaren would look back and feel the worst for the two Jema killed. He had never seen the female's hunt before, and seeing the claws rip open the chest cavities would have made him sick, if he hadn't already been disturbed to the point of numbness. As it was, the poor soldier was ill and sat silently shaking and sobbing in the corner long after it had ended, muttering about "never wissing to see another body treated like tat again".
The death of his companions made the scientist instantly complying and helpful.
"Wat do you want?" He leaned against the table of lights and buttons with a desperate sort of tension.
"Ashling." Demaren was growing weary of explaining. He threw Entark at the feet of Ponce, who rested a single slender hand on the pale and twitching man, still smiling.
The scientist pointed to a glass wall that Demaren had somehow failed to see. He turned slightly to look and felt every emotion he had felt in the past weeks evaporate.
There was Ashling. There she was. But she wasn't. She was a shell of Ashling. She was, as Entark had put it, a body. Her skin was pale and grayed. Her hair looked limp and tired. She didn't move. She didn't make a single reaction if she had seen him. He didn't think she could even see, despite her eyes being open and weeping. She was strapped to a chair. A strange tube came from her arm and disappeared into the ceiling, along with shining cylinders and pipes and other tubes. Thins chords, like rope, snaked upward in tangles. All vanishing into fitted holes. And the entire room pulsated with a light that seemed to start from Ashling.
"Energy..." He whispered.
"Demaren. Guarding Stars, Demaren, what have they done to her!" Ponce's calm nature seemed to stumble at the sight, even.
Demaren stared and stared. He wanted to forget he had ever seen her this way, but to look away would not save her.
"Let me in there." He said quietly.
"You can't go in!" The scientist began, "It will kill you! It will kill us all!"
Demaren did not let his gaze waver from his dearest desire, but merely raised the knife in his hand to point it at the scientist. "Is that for sure?"
"Uh..." The man shook and quivered, "Te room is meant to contain. You go in tere... We all die, maybe se dies."
Finally, Demaren tore his eyes away. He focused the pale white gold iris' on the scientist. "Let. Me. In there."
"Not just us! Te ole city!"
Demaren ground his teeth, gritting them fiercely together. He backed the man against the table, pressing the blade sharply to the pale throat. "You think I give a damn about you or your city?! Let me in there!"
"Okay! Okay!" He threw his hands up, a silent plea, and after realizing Demaren was not about to cut off his head, he pointed to a door, "Tru opposite door. And I enter te code and let you in."
Demaren let his arm fall away and sheathed the blade, walking to the door. Ponce had been distracted by the horrors of Ashling's situation, and Leo and Jema were in the hallway on careful watch, so the guard over the Minister had fallen to... no one. And Entark was staggering to his feet and hobbling with great effort, and much blood dribbling, to the large window.
Demaren paused at the doorway and looked at Entark with irritation, "How have you not bled to death?"
Entark was on the other side of the table from Demaren, staring with dark fondness at Ashling, and ignoring what Demaren said, "Se is so beautiful. I would ave ad er for a daugter."
Demaren clenched his hand around the rim of the doorway. "You'd make a lousy father. And your time here has passed." Then he stepped through as the door closed.
He was in the same room as Ashling now. The energy she emitted surged over him like a warm wave of water. He felt it tingle on his skin and flicker through his body, but it did not give him pain nor hinder his progress to her.
When he reached her, he untied her feet and hands as quickly as he could. When he removed the halo band from her head, her eyes flicked up to look at him. There was no glimmer of recognition or flutter of eyelids. No sharp breath of surprise. Merely a glance. And Demaren realized she was speaking. So quietly. Barely noticeable, really, for her mouth barely moved and the sound was just the breath between her lips. But it was there.
"Demaren."
Whispered with each breath. Demaren could have sat for hours and listened. His name had never sounded so wonderful before. Still, she had to be freed.
"R-remove te t-t-tube." The scientists voice echoed in the room. He sounded shaken up, but Demaren supposed that to be expected from the days events. So he pressed his hand over the spot where the tube entered her skin, and using his other hand, pulled the slender slip of material from her arm. Her skin was soft and damp, and burning with heat. Strange, how pale it was, yet how heated it felt. The muscles were firm from the almost corrosive temperature, but Demaren did not notice it once he pulled the tube out.
For as soon as it was removed, Ashling gasped and her back arched, throwing her head backwards. Her entire body began to shake and vibrate. The energy releases ceased, but her body started to glow--brighter and brighter. Demaren stood still, unsure what to do, until Ponce sounded urgently in his head.
"Demaren! You must stop her. She is going to kill us!"
So, Demaren did the only thing that came to mind--probably the one thing he had planned on doing when he saw her again for weeks--he gathered her off the chair and into his arms, pulled her shoulders in tightly and kissed her firmly on the mouth.
The glowing intensified for a moment before dimming in ever darker pulses. The vibrating, too, faded. For a moment, she was still in his arms and unresponsive to his kiss.
Then a tiny chirp flitted between her lips, sounding like the birth of an angel to Demaren. A chirp, and then movement. Just the smallest of movements, but when you're kissing someone you only ask that they kiss you back anyway, so it was all that mattered. He broke the kiss first, partially because he wanted to look at her again, and partially because he wasn't sure she could have ended it herself.
So he looked down at her, her eyes open and seeing him. The hazel eyes he had looked into so many mornings, and missed at every moment. There they were, sparkling with life. Her skin, though still ashen, looked less gray and sickly. More and more her every moment.
"Demaren." She whispered again, though he could hear a tinge of her voice in the sound this time. Her hand had been leaning against his arm and now it tried to give his bicep a little squeeze. He wanted to hold her forever, and wasn't at all surprised when a tear or two stole from his eyes to her cheeks.
Ashling stared, her eyes starting to fluctuate, trying to stay awake, and she looked like she wanted to speak. But sheer exhaustion won and she suddenly fell unconscious.
Demaren waited, quivering in expectation. Would she explode again? But minutes floated by and she was still and limp. So he rushed to the doors and back into the scientist room.
He noticed that Jema had dragged something into the corner and, hunching over and blocking it from view, seemed to be eating it. Entark. Demaren shuddered.
"Is she all right?" Ponce questioned.
"I'm not sure..."
The soldier, having calmed down slightly, had slipped from his corner to eye Ashling. He spoke up quickly and suddenly, catching the entire room off guard, "Se'll need IV's for a few days until se can eat again."
Demaren swiveled to look at the soldier, who quelled under Demaren's gaze. "Say that again?"
"Um... S-se'll need nourisment tru tose little tubes. Se will not be able to eat on er own for a day or two..." He seemed to revert to his meek state again.
"What do we need to help her then?"
The soldier perked up, smiling slightly, "You will need a medical kit! Tey are on every floor!"
"Ponce, I trust you won't kill him if he tries to run away. Would you go with him to get one?" Demaren looked at Ponce, who had been surveying the young soldier in silence.
"Certainly." He stood to lean over the soldier, signaling him to walk. So the two disappeared into the corridor, returning a few minutes later with the soldier sitting astride Ponce.
"Ponce?!" Demaren was shocked at the sight.
"He is very slow." Ponce suddenly unseated the soldier, who had been looking particularly fearful on the avery's back.
Demaren looked at the soldier, "Open it."
The soldier fumbled the latches and popped open the lid. Inside was a jumble of bags, tubes, needles, and paper packets, all sealed in fitted clear material. He didn't understand at all, so he looked to the soldier.
"What does this do?"
"A lot of tings. Some is for wounds and some is for te sick like er."
"Can you use it?"
The soldier puffed up his chest in pride, smiling smugly, "I was trained for medicine. Not tis run around and soot people ting." He paused and then continued, "Actually, a lot of the patrols here were not trained to be soldiers..."
Demaren smiled at the soldier, then shifted Ashling in his arms. "Then you can come with us." Demaren walked past the boy to stand near Ponce.
"Wat?" The soldier turned quickly, in blatant horror. "You want me to come wit you? Wy?!"
"As you said, you were trained for medicine. And they'll kill you for helping us get this far." Demaren shrugged nonchalantly. Then he spoke to Ponce quietly, "How can we get out of here the fastest?"
"I am an idiot..." mumbled the soldier, dropping his face into his hands.
Ponce snickered at the forlorn soldier before focusing on Demaren, "We will have to go up or down another two levels, I think. The tribe members outside say there are no windows on this floor. Possibly even the floors above and below."
Demaren cursed. He whirled on the soldier again, "Nearest floor with a window!"
The soldier jolted, "Um--I tink it is on te fifteent floor."
"I am not taking that ridiculous elevator again." Ponce sniffed.
"Agreed." Demaren said aloud.
"Wy do you talk to yourself?" The soldier asked, probably feeling his life was soon to end anyway.
"I'm talking to this guy." Demaren cocked his head at Ponce, and headed for the door. "Let's get back to the stairs."
Jema and Leo followed quickly behind Demaren, while Ponce waited for the soldier to stand and gather the medical kit. They ran to catch up to Demaren's fast pace.
Going down the stairwell was much faster than going up. Demaren leaped from platform to platform, down eight platforms until he kicked one of the doors open. He was getting irritated with this place and the people and their funny accents and stupid technology. The three avery kept up with Demaren well enough, but the soldier was nowhere to be seen.
"Where the hell is the kid?" Demaren shouted. Leo shot back up the stairs, returning a moment later with the soldier on his back like a sack of potatoes.
"He was practically falling down the stairs." Leo sneered, laughing at the somewhat pathetic prisoner. Demaren had to agree, the soldier looked a little bruised from some tumbles, and it was something he felt like laughing at, only the soldier looked so terrified and tired.
"Can you carry him, Leo? We can't keep waiting for him."
"Fine by me, he doesn't weigh much."
Demaren stepped through the doorway and peered up and down the hall. It was very quiet, which seemed out of place. So he sent a question to the avery in the building, "What's the situation?"
The response was the same from almost everyone, "Dead." Only a few responded with some living captives. Demaren directed them to be deposited on the 18th floor and then to hurry over the wall to the meeting place. The avery on the wall confirmed the way was clear.
So Demaren and Ponce found the nearest window. Demaren shielded Ashling from flying glass as Ponce and Jema broke it apart--the need for secrecy was past. Demaren climbed onto the sill, about to take off, when something occurred to him and he turned to the soldier, "You will want to hold on as tight as you can. These guys climb walls."
There was a moment of satisfaction when he saw the stricken fear on the soldier's face, before Demaren pushed into the dark.
He soared in the cold night air, clutching Ashling close and protected. He frowned when he realized she was lighter than she had once been. Another reason to not regret anything that happened tonight.
He flew high above the city, making the flight over the city wall effortless. The descent was swift and chilling and Demaren lightly landed onto soft, dewy grass with ease. There were some avery already there, and he could see others racing through the darkness. The wall was probably a good 10 miles or so away.
An hour of waiting was not on his agenda, but the group waited for everyone to return. There was a heavy mindset as Demaren heard that some of the avery had been killed by a gun. He supposed that was why nearly everyone in the building had been killed.
When Ponce, Jema, and Leo made it back, the soldierv looked shell shocked as he tumbled to the grass. He lay in complete stillness for a few minutes before sitting up quickly, "By te great eye! Tat was te most trilling experience I ave ever ad!!" He was smiling, giddy, and shaking violently.
Demaren laughed. The sound of his laughter stirred Ashling, waking her slightly. In the pitch darkness she was not accustomed to seeing in, she whimpered in the deep shadow. Demaren pressed his forehead to her temple and quietly hushed her.
"It's all right, I've got you." He cooed.
A small voice came from her dry throat, "I can't see anything."
Demaren laughed very calmly, "It's night. You're outside. There isn't even a moon tonight."
She tried to move, which did not work well at all. The failed attempt seemed to tire her and she relaxed into his arms again. A stifled sigh sounded, before she turned and pressed her lips to his shoulder. Demaren silently wished he was not wearing Jain's black ensemble. A slow in her breathing told him she had fallen asleep again.
"We should move on to return to Kero and Larii." Said Ponce from Demaren's side.
Demaren agreed, giving Ashling a little squeeze.
Once again, they were on the move. Demaren flew on ahead, knowing he was supposed to be watching for Friend and Larii. But he couldn't help but look at the sleeping Ashling. He missed her, even now. He wanted her awake so he could talk to her and look at her and hear her speak. Ponce attempted to be understanding when Demaren had to backtrack to rejoin the group, having passed over Friend and Larii in his distraction. They were further away and in a larger growth of trees than Demaren remembered leaving them, and it was clear why when he arrived.
Larii was still sick with a fever and her eyes held no firm tracking, drifting and fluttering in a sightless way. Friend had froth in the corners of his mouth, and blood smeared across his lips. A hint of the severe wound in his leg. Demaren inhaled sharply at the sight, and narrowed his eyes.
"What happened?"
"Kero tells me they were attacked by a patrol. It was not predicted that patrols would be so far from the city, but they came all the same. Larii was completely overwhelmed by the presence of technology and went into shock. And Kero, in the process of fleeing with her, was shot."
"Oh, Friend..."
Friend nickered weakly and fell back to breathing heavily. Demaren was not entirely sure where he could set Ashling so he could attend to Friend, but Ponce resolved that by reclining near a tree. His mind was uncharacteristically quiet and inaccessible. Demaren smiled appreciatively and set Ashling into the smooth crook of Ponce's shoulder. He smoothed her hair once and hurried to help Friend.
Surprisingly, the soldier had brought it upon himself to begin treating Friend. He had already begun picking out tools. A silver bottle of fragrant liquid was misted onto a small shining pair of tongs as well as a thin knife and an odd needle.
"What is that stuff?"
The soldier started, but did not drop anything. "Tis is medicine so your animal does not die from infection. And tese are te tools tat will remove te bullet and stict te wound."
Demaren blinked, feeling confused by some of the words, but nodded anyway. The soldier nodded slightly and turned to Friend's injury. But the moment the soldier rested a hand near the wound, Friend jolted and made to rise up. Demaren had to dive down and keep his hands on Friend's face to calm him. Friend had to have his head turned away, but Demaren watched the work.
The soldier sprayed the disinfectant onto the open wound (Friend shuddered and whined) and ripped open a packet of clear material which had encased a thin clear tube. Some quick finger work revealed a very thin needle that seemed to be attached to the end of the tube. Before Demaren could ask about the needle, the soldier stuck the needle quickly into the flesh near the wound. He pressed down on the top of the tube for a moment, and the tube shrank slightly. He repeated this motion three more times until the tube had shrunk by half. And Friend, who had been so jumpy, was calm and drowsy. The soldier glanced up, giving a double take to Demaren's shocked face.
"Tis is a numbing serum. It as taken away te pain. For now."
Demaren merely nodded. He watched as the small pair of tongs was used to removed a small metal object. The thin knife was used to trim some nasty colored flesh, and the odd needle was threaded with thick string and used to close the wound. Demaren was impressed.
"What's your name, kid?"
"Samil."
"You're amazing, Samil."
The soldier remained focused, but smiled, "Tank you."
"Where did you learn to do that?"
Samil smiled with pleasure and puffed up, "I was trained wen I turned twelve to be a doctor." His face darkened, though, "But te military did not need my services, so I was given a gun and sent to patrol." He sighed, "I am not a soldier. I do not like to kill--I like to elp."
Demaren bit the inside of his mouth, "I'm glad we ran into you, then."
Samil nodded, glumly, then he silently rose and attended to Larii. Demaren let Friend's head settle to the grass, but remained kneeling there to absentmindedly stroke his mane.
There was a distinct feeling of regret and guilt in what he had done tonight. He did not regret saving Ashling, not in any sense of the concept, and would have done anything to have achieved it. But he did feel there were some unnecessary deaths that he could have so easily avoided. And forcing Samil to accompany them as an unwilling doctor seemed unfair too. But whose to say that if he hadn't brought him, that Demaren might have just had him killed as he had the soldiers and other scientists in that room? He stopped combing the soft mane and cracked his jaw loudly.
"Do not be so harsh, Demaren."
"I was not aware that I was thinking aloud, Ponce."
"You were not. I read your face."
Demaren grimaced slightly, then sneered at himself. "I'm not a very good man, am I?"
"No one is distinctly good by anyones definition. In matters of mating, or in yours words, matters of love, there is a natural tendency to do violent things. When I was young, I broke the neck of our tribe leader to ensure that I had no opposition in my efforts to mate with Essa."
"Your mate?"
"Yes. My only mate. She died three years ago."
"Your only mate? Do avery have more than one?"
"There is a natural tendency to mate with multiple partners. Males, as with every species, have a natural urge to spread their seed as far as possible, which is logical for the survival of our race, and we are a species heavily founded on logic, so it follows. And our females, unlike you bipeds, have multiple uteri and therefore, do not feel a need to obtain one mate."
"Then why did you--"
"I held Essa in the highest respect. I did not care for the idea of sharing her mentally or physically. It was unfortunate that Opar--the previous tribe leader--attempted to mate with her. I had killed him before I had even given a moment of logical thought to the situation. Essa was not angry. She forgave me on the spot, merely feeling pity for the dead leader. And as tradition followed, I became tribe leader. Essa had chosen not to mate prior to myself, and never intended on mating again afterwards."
"Ponce, that sounded like a romance."
"Did it? I suppose it was, when you look on it with your eyes. Yes, I expect I did love her. And she me." There was silence between the two for a moment but Ponce ended that with a short realization. "That realization makes the loss of her more painful to me."
"I'm sorry, Ponce, I didn't mean to cause you pain."
"You are not the source of my pain, nor did you aggravate it. But we have digressed. What I intended to teach you was that the tribe did not hold against me the death of our leader. It was understood. What you did was, perhaps, even more innocent than my actions. Your mate was in danger. Mine was merely being... propositioned--which she would have rejected, had I paused one moment to consult."
Demaren did not respond to that. He sighed and gave Friend a final pat, then he rose quickly and turned to look at Ashling. He was surprised to see Ponce giving her hair a soft nuzzle.
"Ponce, you surprise me more and more each day."
Ponce straightened up quickly, piercing Demaren with his blue eyes. "She sighed. I was merely ensuring she was not... dead."
Demaren nodded and smiled.
Ponce closed his eyes and turned away from Demaren. "Do not begin to think I have developed a fondness for this girl. I have yet to even speak with her. Were I a being of emotional attachment, perhaps I would feel an affinity for your situation--but I am not. If I were such a being, there would be a natural desire to protect your mate due to a subconscious association with my own--but I am not. So, please, do not direct your mind down such paths."
Demaren turned away and stretched his wings, "I suppose you're right. If you were an emotional being, you would have most certainly acted rashly in the defense of your own past mate." Demaren gave a strong flap of his wings and launched into the air.
Ponce curled his neck to watch Demaren soar into the rays of the sunrise. His gaze settled on nothing, then rested on Ashling.
When Demaren landed about an hour later, the sun having mostly turned the sky a dazzling blue, Ponce was asleep with his head on Ashling's lap. Larii lay asleep beneath a tree, carefully covered with Samil's coat. Samil himself was nowhere to be seen. Demaren looked around quickly, wondering if he'd abandoned them. He felt a surge of anger, especially when he recalled that Ashling had not been treated. But Samil came back into sight within a short time, soaking.
"Where have you been?"
Samil paused, reddened a little, and rubbed his knuckles. "I found a river and was wasing te tools. Ten I fell in."
Demaren smiled at the clumsy Eryn boy. He shook his head, and yawned. Then he started to peel off the black suit Jain had made him. Once down to the waist, he was surprised to find Samil staring at him. "What?"
Samil jumped, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to stare. Te Eryn are not so tall as you, and very few of us are as obviously strong." He dropped his head onto his shoulder, "I am, especially, not eiter ting."
Demaren laughed. "That doesn't matter. I can't heal a scrape without leaving a scar, let alone bring a thrashing hop to a calm state--and remove a... a..." He searched for the unfamiliar word.
"Bullet?"
"Yeah."
Samil seemed consoled, and glanced at Larii. "Se as not awoken as se?"
Demaren shook his head and yawned again. Samil seemed to sway on his feet. So Demaren gave Samil a small shove towards the nearest tree, "Get some sleep."
"But I was going to elp te energy girl."
"You aren't touching her without a good amount of sleep behind you, Sam."
"I--Sam? Well--"
"Sleep on your own, or I knock you out."
Samil hurried to the tree and tossed the kit down. He dropped to the grass, rolled onto one side and was still. Demaren laughed quietly, stopping mid-chuckle to yawn again. It was getting ridiculous. He glanced at Ashling, longing to curl up beside her. But he didn't want to interrupt the attachment Ponce was clearly forming for her. So he grudgingly slid into the tree they rested beneath, and slept.

---

Demaren woke late. The sun was past midday, yet it was not the sun through the leaves or the rustling of the trees--it was the soft whimpering of someone in terror. But he was very in tune with the source of the cries, so he was not only awake instantly, but also down from the tree and ready to kill whatever was scaring her.
He did not kill it though. Samil was, after all, only trying to help her. She just didn't realize he was an ally as opposed to an enemy--which he had been the night before. In fact, Demaren nearly laughed when he saw her sadly ineffective attempts at escape, which included wiggling limp noodle arms, failed efforts to roll over, and the ever-effective cringing.
"Please do not be scared!" Samil was looking very frustrated. "I wis you would not make so muc noise. You will wake up te flying man!" He was trying to shout as quietly as possible.
"I am also known as Demaren. Only my closest friends call me flying man."
Samil, proving to have a skittish nature, was startled and dropped what appeared to be a wet towel.
Ashling, though, stopped squirming and looked up at Demaren, her eyes pleading desperately. Demaren smiled, while a sense of rightness crept over him. He knelt beside her, propping her up to lean against him (Ponce appeared to have wandered off). "Don't worry, Ash. He's a good guy. He's going to save you." Demaren smoothed her hair and leaned down to kiss her forehead.
She turned her face into his chest, "You were gone. I was scared."
"Understandable. But Sam's a good kid."
Sam knitted his brow together. "I wis you would not call me a kid. I am not a kid. I am twenty-tree."
Demaren was shocked, but said nothing. Ashling, though, was looking tired again. She blinked heavily, and blinked as hard as she could, forcing her eyes to fly open. Demaren looked at Samil, who was looking concerned.
"Ashling..." Demaren started to say, as she wriggled slightly to stay awake. "If you're tired, then sleep."
She shook her head weakly, but her eyes closed. She pried them open, but they didn't go up more than halfway before dropping again. Drifting off she muttered, "I want to stay with you..."
He smiled, "You aren't going anywhere. Besides, I'm always the one who sticks around wherever you go. So sleep, and I'll stay here."
She gave a little puff of a laugh, and was asleep.
Immediately, Samil reached into his kit to prepare some more strange medical devices. Demaren was tired of trying to understand, so he merely allowed the young doctor to attach a thin tube to her arm in an undamaged spot. The tube led to a clear bag of fluid.
"We just wait for er to become more stable."
"Stable? She isn't stable? I mean, other than the tiredness?"
Samil shook his head, "Er body keeps dropping in temperature."
Demaren looked shocked, and suddenly realized she was like a tiny icicle in his arms, "But she was like fire when I got to her."
"I tink it as to do wit er energy. Se gets ot wen it is flowing. Probably witout it, se gets very cold. Especially after suc weeks of it on all te time."
A certain stiffness came over Demaren when he heard that. "I thought you didn't even know she was there."
Samil shook his head, "I didn't. But in te control room tere was a tart tat sowed information about er daily energy levels. It extended for two weeks."
Demaren winced, "Two weeks? Of sitting in that chair in that dead state?" He didn't feel so bad about killing those scientists. They let it happen and didn't try to help her.
"I didn't realize tings like tat were appening."
"Would you have saved her?" Demaren didn't think Samil had that kind of spunk to him.
Samil looked downcast, "No. I am not so eroic as you. But I would not ave stayed to serve suc men as Entark."
"It's past. It doesn't matter. If you save her now, you'll have done more than I can ever hope to do."
"Tat is te ting, Demaren. I am not certain wat I can do. Se gets so cold and does not stay awake long. I can give er IV's, but se will need to have substantial food as soon as se can. But te colder se gets, te less se will be awake."
Demaren cursed. It was looking to be a futile venture. One he wouldn't be able to give up on until he or Ashling had given their last breath. And the latter was unacceptable.
The best they could do, it was decided, was to try to keep her warm. She was carefully wrapped in as many articles of clothing possible and kept in the sunlight. Friend, already feeling better, though not walking, was perfectly willing to sit with her. But by the time the sun began to set, she was plenty warm. And Samil began to worry even more.
"I do not understand tis. Now se burns up with fever!" Samil threw a melted cold pack (what Samil called it, at least) at a tree with frustration. "I do not know wat to do!"
Demaren clutched at his hair in desperation. He sat beside her as she slept in ill ease. Red skinned and sweating, she breathed heavily and fluttered her eyelids, yet not waking. He couldn't bear it. She was dying and no one could stop it!
He stood quickly, "I need too cool off, myself."
Samil nodded, muttering ideas to himself as he rifled through the medicine kit and glanced continuously at Ashling.
Demaren rushed in the direction Samil had come the day before. He found the river easily, but stopped a couple dozen feet from it when he caught sight of Ponce sitting on a rock at the edge.
"Ponce?"
Ponce tilted his head, but said nothing until Demaren was standing beside him. "I am sorry your mate is dying."
Demaren swallowed with difficulty and nodded.
Ponce sighed, "You and I are very similar. We are both in control of our emotions and our minds. But somehow, we have certain weaknesses in specific areas of our lives."
"Our mates, you mean."
"Yes." Ponce rolled his head slightly, looking up at the sky as it started to show its stars. "It is difficult for us, is it not? The ones we love are lost to us without a thought. Essa was taken from me far sooner than I should have liked. We only produced two offspring, only one of which survived adolescence. The other is grown and has mated herself." He focused his gaze to the water. "Your mate is not taken from you yet, and may not die so soon as mine did. But you suffer the fear of losing her, while I never felt such things."
"I don't understand what you're saying, Ponce."
"Essa died suddenly, Demaren. She somehow fell from a tree and was lost to me forever." He paused. "I am not sure what I intend to say to you. I fear for your happiness."
Demaren laughed bitterly and dropped his head into his hands, "I hadn't felt happiness until I met Ashling. I felt contentment and satisfaction, but never happiness. She is my joy. If she dies, I will probably follow soon after." Ponce shifted suddenly, but Demaren did not look at him, he merely raised his head to the sky. "I wouldn't kill myself, Ponce. But I feel... I feel there would be nothing left to tie me to this life. She keeps me here. She has brought me back from death and eternal dreams."
"And if she lives?"
Demaren felt tears spill down his face, unwanted, "I would never leave her again. I would never let her be alone."
"Then go be with her now. She is awakening." Ponce rose himself and slunk gracefully back to the camp.
Demaren rolled to his feet and ran back to Ashling.
She was, as Ponce said, stirring. But now she was pale, and Samil looked even more frustrated and confused as ever.
"Sam, what's--"
"Se is freezing again! Wy is tis appening?" Samil was trying to wrap her warmly again.
Ponce, who Demaren had hurried past, slipped into the camp. "It will keep happening, I think. She will be hot again soon."
Demaren turned, speaking aloud, "And then cold again? How long will it go on?"
"Either until she dies, or until it tapers out. It must do one or the other." Ponce was smelling the air around Friend.
So Demaren brushed Ashling's still damp hair, "One or the other..."
Her eyes fluttered open, and she peered at him. "What?"
Demaren sighed deeply, "Get better."
"I'm fine." She said between the chattering of her teeth.
"A little cold, right?"
"J-just a little."
He nodded in response, before adding, "Did you know you had an insane fever twenty minutes ago?" He felt deadly serious right now, so there was no hint of a smile.
"N-no?"
"Well you did." He turned suddenly to her and kissed her roughly, and then added, "Stop it."
She tried to push the various blankets and clothing articles off of her, but only managed to get one arm free. And the effort drained her of energy. Still, she managed to lightly drag her fingertips down his chest before her hand fell limply.
He kissed her again, more gently, and stood up. He turned slightly, "Don't fall asleep yet." And he disappeared from sight.
He reappeared a short number of minutes later, to find Ashling valiantly fighting off sleep. She was looking a little flush, already.
"I thought you didn't like kissing me?" She whispered from her warm cocoon.
He crouched beside her again, smirking, "Which only proves to me that you surely cannot read my mind." He held a bowl in his hand and tilted it towards her. "You know what this is?"
She winced, "I'm not hungry for mushy..."
"Too bad." He said, spooning some towards her.

---

For three days, Ashling's body temperature shot from blue-lipped freezing to flushed skin fever, every thirty minutes or so. Demaren, figuring she usually awake every few hours, was always ready with mushy food (which she was less than enthusiastic to enjoy). And for three days, they travelled slowly towards the ocean and Jeron's boat. And they found, with some unexpected pleasure, that the further away from the Eye they got, the more healthy Larii became. They reached the beach late the third day and camped in the sand, hoping to see Jeron's boat in the sunlight.
But on the fourth morning, Demaren woke extremely early when Samil shouted. At first, Demaren thought an Erynese patrol had found them, but instead, Samil was on the verge of tears. And smiling.
"Se is barely ot!"
Demaren blinked, not comprehending. "She's in transition again?"
Samil shook his head, "No! Se as been barely ot for two ours!"
"What!" Demaren dropped down beside Ashling in the little nest they settled her into every night. Still pink in the cheeks, she was distinctly cooler than her usual high, but still definitely with a fever. "Is she... is she getting better then?"
Samil shrugged, still trying to contain his glee and confusion. Larii appeared from behind Samil, suddenly, poking her head over his shoulder to peer at Ashling. Samil, who would usually have been startled and fallen over, stiffened.
Demaren cocked an eyebrow at him before Ponce whispered sleepily, "She has decided she likes our Erynese boy. And I suspect, from his physical reactions, that he would not be adverse to the idea."
Demaren laughed. He laughed so hard, he started to cry. He hugged Ashling, feeling she would be all right, and felt relieved. He curled close to her, breathed her the scent of her hair deeply, and fell into the first truly restful sleep he'd had in over a month.

Lack of Meaning

2009-03-22T11:34:00.000-07:00

I was aware that my face was wet. I could not comprehend why. Wanting to brush the wetness away, I tried to lift my hand. Something prevented it. With great difficulty I tilted my head to look at my arm. It was tied to the white arm of a chair. There was a tube sticking out of it. I wondered it that should concern me, but couldn't find the ability to care.
Time did not pass in the same way it always had. I was aware of every second, every moment, but it didn't mean anything. There was no day or night in the florescent white room. I did not sleep or wake. Just me, my breathing, my heart beat, and raw, vibrating energy.
A tremor racked my spine, making my head snap up in it's haloed restraint. A thin, rat faced specter grinned at me on the other side of a barrier. It was wrong, but I couldn't say why.
Half aware that my lips were moving of their own accord, I tried to pay attention to what they were trying to say. There were no words, to my knowledge I didn't have a voice, and I had to pay attention to the formation of the single word.
I was mouthing it over and over.
Another set of vibrations radiated from me and this time I actually whispered.
"Demaren..."

Preparing

2009-03-21T20:55:00.001-07:00

They did not travel through Velt. Jeron and Demaren handled the ship to a small bay near Ellipt. Once they had landed and spent a day or two reviewing the plan, Jeron expressed some mild concerns.
"Damn it all, boy, I ain't staying behind while you go get yourself blown up!"
"If you go, you'll get killed!"
"Shut your mouth, you don't have any kind of sense in those things!"
"If you die, you'll leave Jain and Lia all alone!"
It went on like that for half of an hour before Jain had sent Demaren to get fresh water, and Jeron below deck to peel potatoes. The two men didn't bring it up again, but Demaren suspected Jain had tearfully (and wrathfully, as well) begged him to stay with her and Lia.
In the end, Jeron submitted to remaining with his family. The night before they separated Larii told a story using tiny sand buildings and sea shell people she had spent the day making. Lia laughed the most, and Larii presented her with the little dolls at the end. Demaren was coerced into singing (though he wasn't sure how they had known he could sing at all). As they settled down into a somewhat depressing sleep, Lia curled into Demaren's arm and cried--he quietly sang her a Syla lullaby until she slept.
The first day away from Jeron and his family was rough. Demaren felt alone with no one to talk to, especially missing Ashling again. But they only traveled a day and one night before they made contact with the Avery's.
The evening the creatures appeared, Larii was staring intently into the trees while Demaren brushed Friend. Demaren was huffing slightly because Larii had usually taken to grooming Friend, and Demaren felt entirely poorly skilled at it. Friend did too, because after a few minutes of it, he shifted away from Demaren and rolled around in the dirt of the clearing.
"Fine." Demaren threw a smoothing cloth at Friend and trudged to Larii.
"Well? Are they coming?"
Larii nodded slowly. She looked at Demaren and pointed meekly into the darkness where the fire's light didn't filter.
"What."
She pointed a little more firmly. A rustling in the dark, crushing of tender dead leaves, and some delicate sniffing sounds reached him. He turned, trying to see. No lulling, swinging forms appeared, merely the reflection of the fire in two pinprick points. Which blinked.
"Ah." Demaren's heart pumped harder, anticipating coming face to face with his once intent murderers. He strained his ears to listen for movement. So focused on the silence, his pumping blood was almost deafening. Then he heard it.
"So this is the way you think."
He jolted, catching Larii's attention. She jerked a little in surprise and looked into the darkness questioningly. Then she looked back at him is wonder.
"Did you hear that?" Demaren asked, slightly panicked.
"She did not."
Demaren winced. Then he felt a laugh in his mind. Not his own mental voice, but a deeper, smoother voice. An elegant voice. He was actually reminded of his father.
"How flattering."
"W-what?"
Larii looked questioningly at him. But he didn't look at her now, he looked at the glimmering lights in the darkness.
"You do not have to speak to make yourself heard, Demaren."
"Uh... Who are you?" Demaren consciously asserted this mentally in the shadows.
"Very good. How promising. I am called Ponce. I am the head of my tribe."
"Ponce. All right. How did you know my name?"
"Larii told me."
"You can talk to her?"
"I would not go so far as to call it 'talking.' Her people do not think like yours do. Nor do they think as the Xian. They think in images and emotions. And while my people are not so emotive as hers, we can see rather finely and the communication is not limited."
"So you live in the forest too?"
"Did you not come here specifically to meet us?"
Demaren jolted violently.
"You're an Avery?!" He shouted, causing Larii to topple over and cover her ears. The smooth laugh, easily perceived as arrogant filled his head again.
"Yes."
Demaren felt sick. He pressed his mind to think coherently, "I didn't realize you were sentient."
"My tribe and I are probably more sentient than yours. And certainly more than Larii's."
"Larii is very sentient." Demaren felt some defense for his hued companion.
"Quite. That was not entirely an insult. It was a commentary on my people. Not hers. While hers are intelligent and capable, they are only able to communicate with animals and select bipeds, such as your mate and the small Xian child."
"My mate?"
"Yes. The Gaeian girl."
Demaren blushed anxiously. "She is not my mate."
"May I join you beside the fire? I believe Larii is growing concerned and Kero wants to settle the air."
"Kero? A companion of yours?"
"The opposite. He is a companion of yours. The Simein."
"The what?"
Rustling in the darkness brought Demaren from his mind slightly. An Avery swung slowly into view. Blue eyes glimmered intently at Demaren, and the delicate pointed toes dipped like dancers feet. As it passed, it turned it's head to look into Demaren's face.
"Your quadruped friend."
"You mean, Friend?"
The Avery's head rotated slightly, inclining to the right.
"You mean to say you call him 'Friend?'"
Demaren felt slightly embarrassed, "We couldn't exactly ask his name."
Ponce turned to look at Friend, who was watching from across the fire. "No, I suppose not." He looked back at Demaren, "His actual name is Kero. But he tells me he does not object to the name Ashling gave him."
"I'm glad you approved!" Demaren shouted to Friend, who shook his head and gave a shrill snuffle.
"Are you still afraid of me?"
Demaren turned back to Ponce, slightly confused. "Afraid? I'm not sure."
"What if I told you it was me who made that attempt on your life upon your last visit to our forest?"
A chill skipped over Demaren's skin. "You?"
The swinging neck dipped towards him, Ponces' head lulling gently in front of Demaren's. Demaren felt an intake of air as the Avery inhaled Demaren's scent. He saw the tiny circle of teeth and felt a little afraid. "How do I... Are you..." He paused from speaking and tried to think clearly, "Are you going to try to kill me again?"
"Understand this. I could not access your mind. Perhaps I was less interested in that endeavor than I should have been, but all the same. My tribe and I do not consume life with coherent, individualized thoughts. We try to reach the core of a mind first. And when I could not reach yours, which is very unique, I felt no qualms. Of course, Larii appeared and informed me of my error. So, I apologize."
"What about tonight? You found my mind tonight?"
"I have been following your entourage from the moment you entered the forest. Larii could not reach me and did not know I was near. For the entirety of your journey here, I could not access you. I was beginning to worry there was no way. Until you, essentially, began breathing down my neck."
"What do you mean?"
"When you began to listen. You strained for sound. It was silent, but I felt you. Like someone behind you, breathing heavily down your neck. I cannot hear you unless you think in words."
"Oh. That's interesting."
Ponce suddenly meandered to the fire and sat down. "As I said. Unique."
Demaren leaned against the nearest tree and rubbed his head.
"And, no, you will not be able to think quietly to yourself anymore."
"Gee, thanks." Demaren responded aloud.
Ponce rolled his head to peer expressionlessly at Demaren, and shrugged his bony shoulders, "You could attain that ability through heavy practice. We Avery also must work to conceal our thoughts from one another. It is not an easy task, but we are brought up with that skill. I suspect you can get to that point. You have a strong mind, and the others of my Tribe will respect you."
"Are there going to be more of you joining us? I asked Larii to see if she could accomplish that. I kind of need as many of you as I can get."
Larii smiled at the reference to her.
"Larii was beginning to feel ignored." Ponce said, rising delicately to slink over to Friend.
"Sorry, Larii."
She shrugged, smiling again, and tapped her temple. Then she skipped over to Friend and Ponce to pat Ponce's head and curl up beside Friend. Ponce walked back to Demaren, who had come to sit in front of the fire.
"She is tiring to communicate with."
"Why?"
"They communicate with sight and emotion. That takes far more energy than speech. And I am not as emotive as she, nor so easily attached to individuals."
"Meaning?"
"She is fond of you and Kero."
"Can you call him Friend? It's very confusing for me to remember his true name."
"Is it supposed to be less confusing for me to call him Friend when I am accustomed to Kero? Should we not refer to him as he is called?"
"I've known him longer."
"True." Ponce was silent for a moment, cocking his head to one side. "All right then. I shall refer to him as Friend when I remember."
"Thank you."
They fell silent again as Demaren was tired. He rubbed his head again, then ground his knuckles into his eyes. When they opened again, the rising suns rays were streaming above him him and he was laid to rest beside the dead fire. He must have fallen asleep. Disoriented, he sat up to gage his surroundings.
He was shocked to find his was not only in the company of Larii, Friend, and Ponce, but that sometime in the night hundreds of Avery had gathered to linger near the group. It was disconcerting to be surrounded on all sides by black and white blood suckers. They slept all on the floor of the forest and draped themselves in the branches of the trees. They did not come within the clearing where Demaren sat, but they were very near all the same. Only Ponce sat in the circle, awake and staring.
"When did they arrive?"
"All throughout the night. They arrived and went to sleep."
"When did I fall asleep?"
"When you decided to. I have no sensory clock, nor do I discern time by the location of the orbiting celestial bodies. I do not see in light or dark as you do. Merely clearly defined shape."
"I--What?"
Ponce rose and stepped to one side of Demaren, snaking his long neck to Demaren's other side and throwing him off kilter.
"You cannot see when the sun has set. When there is darkness."
"Right."
"I can see despite the lighting. I do not see light or dark. I only see." Ponce then turned to saunter away.
Demaren stared into the pink sky, "That's weird."
"I heard that."
Demaren rolled his eyes at Ponce's retreating figure, "Of course you did."

- - -

Once the encampment of Avery had awoken, the entire day felt compressed and choked.
"Ponce!"Demaren had shouted into the sea of Avery, at one point.
"Yes?"
"Where are you?"
"Above you."
Demaren looked up to see a low hanging branch and Ponce's slender limbs draped artfully along it. "I feel like everything I think can be heard for miles."
"It can."
"Help me figure out how to fix that, please!"
Ponce slid down to the ground, and rolled his head. "All right then. Follow me."
At first they walked to leave the group, but once a safe distance out, Ponce leapt into the nearest tree, "Follow from above, please. I will be easily viewed from the sky." And he climbed effortlessly up the almost branchless tree.
Demaren flew up, reminding himself of the games back on Syla. He even smiled slightly. Once in the sky, the sun not even at high noon yet, Demaren flew quickly along with Ponce. They travelled very far before Ponce rested on a particularly high tree.
"Here?"
"Yes. Come rest. We needed to be far enough away so your screaming words can not be heard."
Demaren flushed red a little as he carefully came stand gently on a branch, "I hadn't realized my words were like shouts."
"I can tell you intended that to be a personal thought, but imagine if you met someone new and they only spoke very loudly and never thought quietly to themselves. But all unintentionally. You simply must learn to curb yourself."
"I don't understand."
"You do not realize this, but now that you can made a connection with me, you are always listening for it. And therefore, always speaking into it. My mind, particularly, is constantly bombarded with your thoughts."
"That is incredibly embarrassing, Ponce."
"I'm sure it is. The tribe hears you as well, but only in the way that on lookers in a crowd view someone shouting at another individual."
"Great..."
"You simply have to learn to identify what my mind feels like. Once you can identify my mind, you will be able to identify the other Avery minds. As well as your own. You will suddenly realize when you are thinking 'aloud' and when it is completely internal."
Demaren cracked his jaw nervously, "How do I do that?"
"Listen. I will speak quietly so you cannot hear. My mind will then be active and therefore perceivable. Ready?"
Demaren nodded. Ponce sat still staring at Demaren. Demaren wondered if Ponce had begun. So he perked up his ears--or the part of his mind that seemed to 'hear' Ponce's thoughts. But nothing came to the forefront. He licked his lips and focused harder. For a moment, he thought he felt what he could describe as his head coming into contact with a very padded wall, but only gently.
"Ponce, did I just feel it?"
"Perhaps. Are you aware of your own thoughts?"
Demaren said nothing, and thought as quietly as he could, trying to sense himself. He felt nothing, though.
"No, you did not feel my mind--at least, not well enough to access your own. And yes, you are still very audible."
"I hate this. I feel like I'm walking around naked and screaming!"
"That is a peculiar image, Demaren." Ponce paused, cocking his head thoughtfully--Obviously thinking privately, much to Demaren's dismay. "Let us return to the tribe. You can practice with the other minds of the Avery. There will be many private and internal conversations to press for."
Demaren followed Ponce back, still trying to feel the Avery mind below him.
He tried, over the next few days, to avoid thinking verbally. It was difficult and frustrating. And he knew all of the Avery's could hear him. Still, he tried to feel the slight walls around their minds.
He was surprised at how quickly the Avery traveled. Over the unsteady ground in the forest, they were nimble and smooth. They slowed like a dark river and left no foot prints. It was staggering, as well, how quickly they moved. Demaren could not have kept up with them on foot, so he flew through the trees with some difficulty.
It was not until the massive group was a days walk from the edge of the forest that Demaren noticed a mental barrier around Ponce. He mentally reached out to it again, pushing against it. Ponce even shifted to look at Demaren.
"Very good. But do not try to break it. You will only hurt your own mind."
The sudden words in his mind made Demaren instantly aware of his thoughts. And he actually felt like he was standing naked in a room. The entire encampment had light barriers around their minds, and Demaren was very aware of his exposure. Like a breeze rushing along his body. He instantly pulled a defense up, like a thin gauze.
"Excellent, now I cannot hear you very well. I have to focus to understand."
"I was hoping for complete silence."
"Eventually, you will find the stronger, more durable blockade to keep us out. For now, you have merely pulled a a heavy curtain around you. It stifles noise, but does not silence it. You need walls and sealed doorways for that."
"More to work towards, then."
"Quite." After a moment, Ponce added, "How soon do we make our way to the City of the Eye?"
"Tonight. I think it will be easier to travel across the countryside at night."
"Will you be flying above us?"
"Yes. How fast can you travel?"
"My tribe and I will have little trouble reaching the mountains near the city before dawn's light, if we leave when the sun has completely gone."
"Excellent."
Ponce shifted over a lounging Avery, "What shall we do with Larii and Kero?"
"I'm not sure they should come with us." Demaren felt concerned for Ashling's special friends, "I don't think they can defend themselves as well as we can."
"It will not be a small feat to convince them to remain behind."
"We'll find a way." Demaren rubbed his head absentmindedly.
But it turned out they did not need to convince or coerce. Upon leaving the forest, Larii had developed a slight headache. The three days in open country had been fine, though tiring for her, but she became extremely ill and collapsed a few miles into the Erynese mountains--mountains that encircled the city. Once the entourage had made their way out of the geological formations, she fainted dead away. Friend was perfectly willing to retreat to the safety of a nearby tree cluster to protect Larii. In the trees, Larii seemed to recover her senses enough to regain consciousness. But she had a fever and shook her head in heartbreak.
Ponce lulled his head from side to side, "She says that even within this proximity of the city, she still cannot hear Ashling. There is a nasty mental scent that permeates her mind and makes her feel nauseous."
Demaren wondered what the city would be like. The Erynese had proved to be an entirely unique kind of people, unnatural and unpleasant in their existence. Would Ashling be found safely? He turned to Ponce and openly spoke to the Avery. "Let's go."
Demaren flew above them for the hours of silent travel until they crested a hill. Then he landed beside Ponce to survey the city. In the darkness, bright pinpricks of light scattered the horizon. Even so late an hour, life swarmed. Some of the lights seemed to hover above the ground--as if he was looking at his home forest in the darkness. A noise sounded and three sleek Avery slinked into view from the darkness. Scouts that had been sent on a few days ahead to survey the city and gather information of safe routes and swift lanes.
A small red eyed female spoke for the group, "A general... polling... of minds showed the military center is grouped within the city walls, but on the outskirts. No rural buildings have been built near the structure, and the only domestic dwellings are for families of important military officials. We should have no trouble getting to the structure if we run along the barrier, but guards patrol the walls and they will shoot us and alert the headquarters to our presence."
"Can we stay outside the city until we are right near the building?"
She slowly shook her long neck and blinked her expressionless eyes, "No, there are even more guards at that portion of the wall."
Ponce had pondered in silence and now interjected, "Perhaps we should enter here--this is the opposite side of the city, correct? Good. We can hurry along rooftops and alleyways in the darkness, avoiding the small patrols. We can rush the military building and enter as silently as possible. The less attention we attain, the swifter our rescue will proceed."
Demaren nodded, "That sounds good." He turned his thoughts to the female, "Can we make it across the city in one night?"
"We can do it tonight if we leave within the next hour."
So Demaren and Ponce gathered the Avery. Fifty were to remain outside the city walls and keep a safe distance on all sides, should someone try to slip Ashling out. Another fifty were to wait on a safe increment of wall to eliminate the guards nearest the building so escape could be swift. One hundred even filtered through the city to maintain discretion. And the remaining group, about one hundred Avery and Demaren, would infiltrate the base and find Ashling.
There were two rules: draw as little attention as possible, and only kill those who mean you harm.
The plan was set in motion only 25 minutes after the scouts returned, and as Demaren readied himself for a low flight, one of the most difficult flights he would ever make, he breathed in the deep, silent air. He listened for any more shifting padded feet, heard nothing, and pushed off.

Energies: Part II

2009-03-10T10:14:00.001-07:00

The sheer mas and scope of everything was beginning to hurt. I couldn't bare to look up at the towering gray buildings for more than a few seconds at a time. I was sure they were going to fall over any moment. Jamis chattered on and on about the history of everything, but I hardly listened. It was like being pulled in twenty directions at once. I hated it.
Colorful, moving images splayed across the walls of buildings. Frighteningly happy images in this dull gray world. Everything was so loud. When I was escorted from the loading area where the ships had finally settled, I saw endless streams of smaller land ships. I cringed back into the guard that walked behind me.
Smiling, Jamis reached up and took my hand, unconcerned for the tall thin buildings over us or the fast and frighteningly agile boats around us. He was completely unafraid. I made a point to stop looking around myself and stare at the black pavement beneath my slippered feet.
Soon, Jamis had lead me into a building, it's swishing doors allowing us through. I looked up then, cautiously, and was relieved that the highest thing was the ceiling some twenty feet above my head. There were no land boats in here and it was much quieter.
A new set of guards relieved the ones at my back and my loathing for all things Erynese intensified when Minister Entark appeared before my eyes. His lip curled in a strained smile.
"You must be tired," he said, motioning for me to follow him
Jamis started off immediately and I trailed at an arms length.
"Being woken in the middle of the night sometimes has that effect," I scowled at Entark's back. He threw grin over his shoulder at me.
"You will rest, ten work," he informed me, a set of silvery doors opened into a small square room.
He stepped inside and turned to face us. I wouldn't have known what to do if Jamis hadn't lead me into the room and faced me in the same direction. The doors closed and we stood in silence for a time. I looked around curiously, wondering what we were waiting for. There didn't seem to be anything in the room, just a glaring light above our heads, and with six people it was tight fit. Then the silvers doors slid open again.
I blinked to be sure I was seeing correctly. The entrance area we were in only a moment ago was gone and a decorated hall way had taken it's place. Jamis tugged me into the hall to follow Entark.
"Where did it go?" I asked Jamis under my breath.
He looked at me quizzically.
"The entrance hall," I explained in a whisper. Surely he had noticed the change?
"Took the lift," he said simply, as if this explained everything.
I only stared blankly at him and continued to follow Entark down the hall when nudged lightly by the guards behind me. Presently, I was ushered into an expansive room. I took in little else but the huge window that stretched from floor to ceiling, allowing me the terrifying vision of what seemed to be the entire city sprawled out below me. Surely we couldn't be that high? As it was, I pressed myself to the far wall.
Entark frowned at me.
"Wat ails you?" he asked, glancing toward where my gaze was fixed. "A beautiful city, is it not?"
"Mhm..." I said conversationally, deciding to eye the thick weave rug beneath my feet instead of contemplating the sickening height I must be at to view the city below me.
A pair of shiny shoes appeared in front of my own. I tilted my head slightly, something like deja vu tickling my memory. Two fingers were placed beneath my chin, directing my gaze upward to meet the minister's.
"Now listen ere, little dear," he said darkly, his squinty eyes becoming more narrow. "Tey wis me to keep civil wile tey try to get it out of you."
I didn't know what he was talking about, and my mouth started talking without my thoughts catching up.
"Civil?" I asked, going for shock. "I didn't realize that was in your repertoire. I might have asked for it that much sooner."
His fingers pinched my chin. Jamis was at his side, speaking rapidly in a soothing voice. Entark took a step back, his hands shaking.
"Mark my words, little dear," he said through his teeth, "wen it comes my turn to try I will not old out."
I gulped, glad that--who ever "they" were--they had a tight reign on the irate minister for the moment. Though I had no idea what they wanted from me, Entark's menacing threat had me hoping I knew how to cooperate.
"Well, you know what they say," I tittered, trying to brush off the daggers he was shooting at me with his eyes, "if at first you don't succeed and all that."
"Quite," he growled.
With a sharp word in Erynese, he and the guards removed themselves from the room. I slid down the wall I had propped myself against and rested my head on my knees. Jamis was at my side.
"Yah don't worry," he said stroking my arm. "Minister not always so angry."
A shaky laugh escaped me.
"He didn't even look angry when he gave me a black eye, I'd hate to see him when he's livid."
Jamis nodded as if I hadn't tried making a feeble joke, then hauled me off to bed. Not that I could sleep. At all. One reason being that everywhere I looked around the room, a large, blue eye stared back at me. The object was mounted on everything, from the head board to the handles on the dresser. I knew that the the 'Great Eye' was worshiped in Eryn, but this was going a bit far.
A luxurious bed had been laid out for me, satin and lace sheets along with some other fine fabrics that I had never encountered. I lay, staring up through the bare, steel frame canopy, calling as loudly as I could with my mind for Larii. As dawn's light crept across the ceiling, no one had yet answered.
The door to the side of the grand bed slid aside and in tripped Jamis, a tray in his hands. It looked too heavy for him and I jumped out of bed to help.
"No!" he said, as I placed my feet on the floor. "Yah stay! It's my job."
He placed the tray beside me on the poofy blankets and smiled at me.
"Yah eat, I pick yah clothes."
"Mm," I said, eyeing the tray speculatively. It was covered in short, square bowls filled with what looked like different colored pudding.
Tentatively, I picked one up and sniffed at it before sticking my finger in for a taste. I grimaced, going for a regular-looking cup of tea. Jamis had thrown open the wardrobe and draped garments across himself to bring to the bed. It made him look like a walking laundry pile.
"Want to look yah best," he explained, dumping the load on the opposite side of the bed. "Yah have visitors."
I looked up at him, startled.
"Who's coming to visit me?"
The boy shrugged. "Politic man."
"When is he coming?"
"He here."
"What?!"
I jumped up from the bed, having to catch the hot tea as I accidentally sent it flying out of my hand.
"Not to worry," Jamis said calmly, coming and taking the tea cup from me. "Yah no like breakfast?"
Ignoring the question, I pointed to the door.
"You mean there's someone in there right now?"
Jamis nodded. My hand moved to my forehead, rubbing methodically.
"This is ridiculous," I muttered. "I'm a slave to them. You don't do all this for a slave."
Making up my mind, I straightened and walked right through the door, my sheer night robe flowing behind me. Underneath was a white set of stretchy pants and short sleeved shirt that made my tanned arms and legs stand out. When I came through the door, a tall Erynese man in fine gray pants and short coat stood producing an outstretched hand.
"Eh!?" squeaked Jamis, hurrying after me.
"Welcome to Eryn," said the man in perfect Elite. When I only stared coldly at his hand, he retracted it and put it between the buttons in the front of his coat so his arm relaxed across his middle. He still smiled.
"Thank you," I said stiffly, he was flanked by seven or so people, though only two of them were guards. I stared at them all in turn, my eyes coming back to the man as he began to speak again.
"We are so happy to acquire you," he continued, smiling as though this bit of information should please me. "You have no idea."
"I'm sure," I murmured. Now that half a dozen people were staring at me, I lost some of the fight I had before walking through the door. I crossed my arms, pulling the edges of the gown tight over my chest. "Do you mind telling me why you're so happy to have me?"
He motioned to the couch around a low glass top table, everyone else sat and waited for me. Feeling edgy, I shifted into a corner seat.
"What do you think of our fair city, Ashling?" he asked, leaning forward.
I deflected the question, "May I know your name? You seem to know mine."
"How rude of me," he chuckled, and bowed slightly in his seat. "I am Minister Onard. Simply put, I over see the efficiency of the city."
Though it was breaking all the etiquette classes I had taken under my grandmother's rule, I didn't bow back.
"How nice," I muttered. "And what does that have to do with me?"
"We have had dealings with your kind for generations," he told me, as if this explained everything. "They supply the power, and we provide suitable accommodations."
I looked at Onard blankly.
"I don't know what you mean."
"We know about your abilities, imen fyle," he said. "And we can help you lead a normal life if you would be so kind as to use them for us."
My eyes opened wide and I was at a loss for words. Had he really just asked me to kill everyone in the city? Before I could ask he pressed on.
"We found a way to harness the energy your people produce, and use it to power all of this," he waved a hand around the room. "The lights you see, the conditioned air, lifts, and even the vehicles are powered by such power."
"I'm sorry..." I said, becoming confused. "Conditioned... air?"
"Our factories, medical facilities, and much more depend on the power," he continued, not realizing he had lost me. "What we would like is your help, and you would have our eternal gratitude."
All of the people in the room stared at me, as if waiting for an answer.
"...If I help you, will you let me go?"
Everyone burst out laughing.
"Go?" Onard laughed. "Where would you go? Where would you want to go?"
"Oh, I don't know," I pretended to think. "Maybe some place I wasn't a slave."
"That is hardly the way to look at it," a woman close to me said, sympathetically. She wore strange glasses that seemed to hover before her eyes without the help of frames. "You could not count yourself amoung people like the boy-" she gestured to Jamis "-when you live in places like this."
Others nodded their heads.
"You mean this gilded cage?" I retorted. "And I suppose you wont brand my arm the same way you did Jamis'?"
Onard looked uncomfortable.
"It is a policy," he tried to explain, shifting in his seat. "It does not hurt. Not with the medicines we have now--"
"Let me explain something," I cut him off. "My 'ability'? I would gladly give it up. It killed over thirty of your soldiers. I can understand if you wanted retribution, but I can't control this curse inside me. Likely I'd destroy the whole city."
As I spoke, the lines around Onard's mouth got deeper as he pressed his lips together in anger.
"We are willing to give you anything you want for your cooperation."
"Look, I'm not trying to be difficult," I said, exasperated. "I cannot control this anymore than I can the sun rising. And what I want is my freedom, and you just said you're not willing to give me that."
Onard stood swiftly.
"Very well, let us know if you change your mind," he snapped his fingers and the rest rose and walked toward the door.
"That's it?" I called after him, still seated. He glanced over his shoulder and motioned to the guards with a cold smile.
"Maybe they can change your mind?"
The door slid shut as the guards came closer. I turned to Jamis instead.
"I need you to leave for a little while," I said. His wide, frightened eyes were on the advancing guards and he shook his head. "Go!"
At my firm command he turned and rushed from the room the same way the diplomats had gone. I sighed in relief as the door slid shut behind him. A gloved hand laced it's fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck and jerked me backwards.

----

I was proud of myself. I had held out for two weeks against their punishments. They tried to beat me into submission at first. I still had two broken ribs from the experience. With every punch, however, they were no closer to getting what they wanted. I was completely incapable of giving them the 'power' that lay inside me. The irony of the situation sometimes made me giggle uncontrollably, much to the displeasure of my tortures.
It hadn't all been fits of laughter, of course. They decided to brand me without the numbing herbs, and since I officially 'belonged' to the government of Eryn the brand was intricate and took up my upper arm from shoulder to elbow. That day I had screamed myself hoarse.
When the beatings failed, they resorted to other methods. Starvation and mind games were dealt out in turn, each with the same out come. By now I wanted to give them the energy inside me, but still didn't have the ability. The gods must have found the predicament terribly amusing.
The only thing that kept me from loosing my head completely was Jamis. He found ways to sneak me food when they starved me. When my wounds were bad enough, he was allowed to give me some treatment. His soothing words and large, chocolate eyes were the only friendly sights I had to look forward to.
I had been systematically down graded from the large apartment I had first been stowed in to a small, gray cell some where along the outskirts of the city. There was no bed in my dark room, but it didn't really bother me. When my ribs complained, I lay on my side and pressed them to the cold, metal floor. I was doing this when an old friend came for a visit.
"Minister, so good to see you," I said pleasantly, hardly looking up from the corner where I lay. "Make yourself comfortable, I'll be up in a minute."
Entark smile sardonically from the corner of my eye.
"Still resisting?" he asked, coming to stand over me.
"Like I said," I sighed, then winced as it hurt my ribs, "I'd love to help, really, but I don't know how."
The minister squatted now and tilted his head to see my face.
"I believe you," he said quietly.
I blinked up at him, then laughed. He frowned as I clutched my aching ribs and tried to quiet my giggles so I wouldn't hurt myself.
"No, really," I said, wiping tears from my eyes. "Good one. I haven't laughed like that in weeks."
"I am not... joking," he said, searching for the last word. "No one would survive this and not tell the truth."
Squinting, I regarded Entark. "Please don't tell me, you're going to play the good guy. I really can't do anymore games."
He reached down and patted my cheek patronizingly. "No tricks, little dear."
"Then what do you want?" I asked, trying to shy away from his touch.
"I have devised a compromise for you," he smiled, showing his yellow teeth.
"Oh. Goody."
"Come with me," he ordered, taking my arm and hoisting me up while I stifled a yelp from my ribs.
Without much choice, I trailed behind Entark with one arm protectively around my ribs. He lead me down the hall from my cell, where every few yards stood a guard on duty. I eyed them apprehensively, wondering if they might strike out at me.
"Did you know wy your grandmoter sold you to Eryn?" Entark asked suddenly.
The question had me stumbling over my feet.
"N-no," I said, regaining my balance and continuing forward.
"Se tougt you would be safe ere," he said. I gave a breathy laugh.
"She doesn't care what happens to me," I said surely. "She wouldn't be too sad if you all killed me."
He gave a shocked glance at me from over his shoulder.
"You are mitaken, little dear," he said. "Se knew you would be cared for if you came ere. It would be some place you could not urt anyone."
"Yes, I've been very safe," my arm came a little tighter around my side.
Entark chuckled and stopped a door, pressing his bare palm to the glass panel along the side of the wall. It slid aside and he motioned for me to go first. I hesitated, but went in. There wasn't much worse they could do to me now.
A chair was before me in brilliantly lit room. My eyes were so used to the dark, I had to blink for several seconds to get used to the light. Everything in the room was white, from the chair, to the ceiling, to the floor. In front of the chair was an entire wall of thick glass. And on the other side was a team of people bustling about in long, white coats.
"What is this?" I asked bluntly, turning to Entark.
"Ashling!" a small voice called. A door opened from the other side of the room and Jamis came running at me. I smiled reflexively, holding out my arms to hug him though it hurt my chest. I hadn't seen him in days.
"Yah well?" he asked, looking me up and down.
"I'm fine," I lied, though he eyed me skeptically. Apparently I wasn't a very good liar.
He pulled something white slung across his shoulder.
"For yah," he said, happily handing it to me and pointing to Entark. "Minister Entark found a way to help yah."
I looked up at the minister speculatively. "Has he."
The minister waved a hand to a curtain in the side of the room.
"Please, cange tere and sit down. I will explain."
Reluctantly I moved to the curtain, Jamis following to wait just outside it. The boy chattered the whole time, telling me how he had talked to Entark and begged him to help me. His courage touched me.
"And he said he would!" Jamis concluded when I came around the curtain again. I was dressed in much the same clothes I had used as pajamas on my first night in the City of the Eye. The short sleeves showed the grotesquely scabbing skin of my burned arm.
"That's very brave of you, Jamis," I said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I hope you didn't get in trouble."
The boy swelled with my praise. "Being a slave not so bad. I can stay with yah when Minister is finished. He said!"
I glanced at the minister, talking with some of the white coats that had come into the room.
"That's wonderful..." I felt sick that Entark had lied to Jamis like this, because I knew he wouldn't give me up.
"You may sit down, Asling," Entark called.
Several people in white coats came to lead me forward, Jamis back away out the door promising to see me later. I tried to smile at him as he left.
Once I sat down, the white coats began strapping me in. Bindings went up and down my arms and around my legs.
"What's going on?" I asked Entark darkly. "Why did you lie to Jamis like that?"
"I know how to provoke you," he said, quietly.
Something pricked my arm, I glanced down to see a needle with a tube attached to it being stuck into and tied to my arm.
"Getting me angry isn't really that hard," I snapped at him. "You seem to do just fine without all this fuss."
I waggled my fingers around to indicate the room, they were the only body parts left that I could move. A metal halo had been attached, wrapped around my head to kept me firmly in place. Little dots with string coming off them were stuck to my temples and over my heart.
"You see," continued Entark, "you don't mind being urt."
"Don't I?!" I growled.
"You would rater put it on yourself tan, say, te boy," he gestured to the glass wall where Jamis stood watching everything around him intently.
My eyes snapped back up to Entark, the edges of panic starting to seep into my veins.
"Don't," I whispered.
The minister gave me a wicked smile.
"Please," I tried again, I felt my heart starting to beat faster. "I'll do anything you want. You don't need him."
"Oh, but I do," he assured me.
The white coated people seemed to be done with their ministrations, and filed out the door. Minister Entark leaned in then, a hand coming up to wipe away a single tear that had escaped my eye.
"I'll let you say good-bye," he whispered in my ear. Then he pecked me on the cheek, like Berrik had before I went to sleep as a child, and left the room.
More tears slipped from my eyes. I saw Entark join Jamis on the other side of the glass and my palms started sweating. I tried to shake my head as the child looked up at the minister, completely trusting. Entark smiled down at Jamis and seemingly suggest to wave at me because Jamis looked back and did so happily.
Jamis never saw it coming.
A quick twist of Entark's wrists and the boy dropped to the ground, his neck tilting at an unnatural angle. Heat rose inside me and tears blinded my eyes. Everything was growing hot and my limbs began to shake.
No. Heavens and hells, not Jamis. Please. He's just a boy...
Something erupted from the center of my being and swam out from my skin. It grew in waves, emanating out from me. Entark looked on in wonder, as did all the other people that watched. Never before had I wanted to kill a man so badly.
I was glowing, shaking with suppressed power that I tried desperately to hold onto. I couldn't kill everyone. I wouldn't. But something was different. The heat was unbearable, my limbs jerked against their restraints, and my teeth rattled in my head. My heart was pumping so fast I thought it would explode, too.
I held on to the arms of the chair, waiting for it to stop as I let the energy roll through me. Darkness would take me and it would stop...
Wave after wave came from me, as if I were an ocean, with no end in sight. My muscles screamed--or maybe it was me that screamed--and went numb as I slumped in my chair. But I didn't loose consciousness. The power still came; with each new eruption, emotions and thoughts were wiped away. Right and wrong bent, broke, and ceased to exist.
Nothing mattered. I didn't care. You had to have more than a physical heart to care with, and my heart was merely a fluttering bird in a too small cage. As if it were being called from me, the power kept coming. All feelings went with it.

Energies: Part I

2009-03-01T16:44:00.000-08:00

Something was making my teeth rattle, which was highly uncomfortable since I thought my brain might be leaking out of my ears. The left side of my skull throbbed in time with my rattling teeth; in other words, almost constantly. I wasn't sure I had any appendages, but I was painfully aware of my shoulders. It felt like I had been hanging from them for the past decade. My mouth felt like a bucket of sand.
Eyes cracking open, I found myself haphazardly stuffed into a corner, my head leaning at an awkward angle against a metal wall which vibrated. At least I knew why my teeth were rattling.
Trying to sit up, I realized my arms had been tied together behind my back at the elbow then secured to a tether attached to the wall. My whole weight was placed on my shoulders and knees. I must have toppled over while unconscious.
I lifted my head to look around, the twinge in my neck complaining. I swayed slightly trying to gain my balance before I realized I was sitting in something that was moving. There wasn't much to look at. Slopping metal walls were at my back and side going up to a low ceiling and stacked crates obscured the rest of my vision. It was mostly dark except a small vent where hot air drafted in a few feet in front of me.
Painfully I tried to wriggle my way into a better position, only managing to topple to my right when my numb legs didn't respond. A small whimper escaped my lips but it couldn't be heard over the rattling of the metal space. My head throbbed another complaint. The wall beneath me, I discovered, was incredibly hot. With a sudden hiss, I wrenched myself upright before it could burn my skin further.
An assault of images sent pins through my mind.
...okay?
"Ow," I whispered, wanting to cradle my head in my hands. I managed to pull my legs out from under me, they tingled painfully as blood rushed into them.
The images came again, softer this time. Are you okay?
I frowned. Was Larii still communicating with me? Didn't distance hinder her strange speech at all?
Larii? I asked wearily.
I almost felt her relief. We've been so worried.
My head was reeling. All I wanted was to sleep.
"We?" I asked out loud.
A slew of pictures came at me. Friend carrying something large and white across his back. A boat. People I didn't know. Larii as she wrapped bandages around Demaren's wings...
"Demaren!" I practically shrieked. On impulse, I attempted to shoot up to my feet but was jerked back down by my leash. The back of my head collided with the wall.
Dizzily, I sent a babble of discombobulated pictures.
Demaren. Falling. Killed. Maybe. Pain. Lots of pain. You. With helping him.
There was a pause in our conversation. I waited for the boxes to stop dancing before my eyes.
He's going to be fine, she finally said.
A breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding rushed from my lungs. I almost giggled with happiness. Tears clouded my eyes.
Who were those people you showed me?
An impression of safety came over me. Friends of Demaren's. The man's a Shadow Reader.
That explained it, I supposed. If Larii trusted them, I would have to as well. It wasn't like I had much choice...
Did he hear what I told him? About going to Grayman?
Another pause.
I don't know, I got a contrived picture of her trying to unsuccessfully talk to him.
Make sure he knows, I insisted. DO NOT let him come to Eryn.
Pictures filled my mind of the images I had seen from Eryn's main city. Guards everywhere. Impenetrable and imposing.
Larii's version of laughing sarcastically was with an image of her tying Demaren to the ground.
If you have to, I replied with a shrug that I immediately regretted. My shoulders laced with fire.
Be serious. He will not leave you. And neither will I.
I felt my heart rise in to my throat. No! Larii listen to me! He CANNOT come here and neither can you. You have no idea of what these people are capable of. If you saw anything of what happened in Velt, in their own land the Erynese are ten times worse. And I will not let him...
A few tears onto my cheeks and I tried to wipe them way on my shoulder.
Please. I can't let him die like Berrik...
Larii paused again from our pictured conversation. If she had been here she might be looking me up and down with a measured expression.
I'll tell him, she consented. A burden lifted from my heart.
Thank you.
I felt Larii depart from my mind as if she were walking into another room. She was still there, only just out of sight. With a sigh I leaned back.
"Ouch!" I hissed, the bare part of my arms touching the hot walls.
I realized I was sweating. My chemise-like shirt was half soaked as well as the my pants at the back of my knees. What was I in? An oven? Shimmying forward as much as my leash would allow, I craned my sore neck to look through the grated vent. Waves of orange and red ran by.
"The desert..." I said to myself, needing to hear the sound of something other than the insistent hum of my cage. I wondered idly if I was in one of the moving boats I had seen going to the Spurt with Berrik.
Quickly, I recoiled from the thought of my brother. If I thought about him, I might think about other members of my immediate family. And I really didn't want to think about her.
Sitting back, but this time away from the walls, I attempted to lean against the boxes to my right. My leash kept them only just out of reach. My head throbbed again from the spot where the Erynese struck me. Somewhere between between being tired and incredibly uncomfortable I lost my patience. Frustrated, I kicked out a foot and managed to knock over the column of crates. Over the hum of the sand-boat I heard the distinct sound of cracking wood.
I smiled grimly to myself. Maybe if I broke enough boxes I could find something to help free myself. At least I would have the satisfaction of breaking things that belonged to my captors.
Almost within range for another well placed kick, I realized we were slowing down. The boat's humming was less insistent and beginning to diminish. I could hear movement above me, people walking around. Trying to see out, I scooted back over to the vent. All I could see was red sand.
A cracking sound from the wall with the vent had me scurrying back. I bumped against the wall at my back, ignoring the burning on my skin. I drew my knees up to my chest where I sat, ready to kick at someone if need be.
The door opened to become a ramp, the weak light of evening pouring in and making me squint. The minister from Velt strode up the entryway, glancing around as if searching for something. His narrow eyes fell on me as if seeing me for the first time.
Larii was suddenly in my head again. What is it?
Shh... I responded, shaking my head slightly as if she were there.
"'Ello," he said, coming over with a clear tube in his hand. "We ave stopped for te night."
He squatted down beside me and held out the tube slightly. I tensed automatically.
"It will not bite, little dear," he chuckled. "Aren't you tirsty?"
He twisted one end and held it out to me like a long, thin cup. Once I saw water dribble off the top, my lips constricted around it like an air line under the sea. I gulped it greedily for a few moments until the minister started to laugh again. I pulled my lips away and glared at him.
He sat back on his heels a little, tilting his head and eying me.
"You do not look... comfortable," he finally said, struggling with the last word.
I bit back a laugh but made no attempt to hide my feelings.
"You stuck me in an oven. How did you expect me to look? Medium rare?"
He smiled his yellow toothed grin. "You are making jokes. Still plenty of spirit!"
"Untie me and I'll show you some spirit," I almost snarled. My hands were itching to set nail marks in his pasty skin.
"Actually, I tink I will," he said, surprising me by leaning in and untying the rope from it's hook.
He turned quickly away from me walking with the tether in his hand, making me scramble to get up and follow or be dragged. My feet struggled to obey after a day of awkward sitting. I tripped over the grate on the ramp and would have face planted into the dirt if he hadn't caught me. The feel of his arms holding me up made me want to vomit. Though that could have been the fact that I hadn't eaten recently.
The minister turned me slowly away from him to look around. I had been in one of the sand-boats I had seen before, and several more were spread out in a low space between the tall dunes. Erynese men were out and about building fires and tents in the remaining light of day.
I shuttered as the minister's mouth came close to my ear. "So you see, you cannot run. Yes?"
Stubbornly, I didn't answer; I gritted my teeth together instead. He seemed to see my determination.
"We will be passing trough te razor sand tomorrow," he said conversationally. My head snapped up to look at him. It should have taken a little less than a week reach the razor sands. How long had I been out? The minister pretended not to notice my reaction. "And once we are past te boarder to Eryn, tere is no ope for you. You will not leave Eryn again."
I gulped down the response that I would rather die. If he let me near a sharp object I would do it myself.
Larii was on me the second the thought passed through my mind.
Don't you dare! she all but shrieked, making me wince. She threw pictures of the devastation it would bring to Demaren, Friend, and herself.
Seeing me wince, the minister guessed I was in pain.
"Wy don't we see about getting you cleaned up?"
He turned me to face him and reached out to tilt my head and get a better look at lump behind my ear. I pursed my lips together, hating his touch. Carefully he cleared some of my hair away to look at the lump.
It was totally unexpected when he suddenly reached up with the hand that held the leash and gripped at my hair and neck. Pain shot through my shoulders as the leash pulled tight and fire crackers exploded over my eyes as he maliciously tightened his grip over the wound on my head. I had shouted out, not getting a reaction from any of the Erynese soldiers near by. The minister tilted me back awkwardly, making me put more weight into his hand at the back of my head. A few tears escaped my eyes but I bit the rest back.
"We will ave no eroics, yes? We will be friends now," he stated, certainly.
"I would rather befriend a--AH!"
His fingers contracted. Larii flitted worriedly through my mind.
"My name is Tomic Entark, Minister of Eryn to Gaea," he smiled down at me as though nothing was wrong. "You may call me Minister Entark. I will call you Asling. Just like friends."
"It's Ashling! There's an 'H' in it you ignorant dope!" I screamed at him.
With only a slight frown Minister Entark--my new 'friend'--pushed me up right then down into his rising knee. I only turned the front of my face away in time to spare a broken nose. It collided with the right side of my face instead, just below the cheek bone.
Stunned I slid to the ground, dangling slightly from the leash before he let me fall completely into the sand. He dropped the tether and walked away from me, though I hardly noticed. My conscious was still floating somewhere above me. As it slowly descended to rejoin my body, feeling started to come back. A fuzzy sensation was hovering around the right side of my face.
Don't tell Demaren, was the first thought to pass through my head.
Larii was going round in circles. Too late! she replied, frustrated at her lack of action.
My face rebelled painfully as I tried to frown into the sand.
You acted that out?
No, she said, still frustrated. I saw a picture of a little girl on the boat. Larii playing with her.
She can hear you, too?
She mentally nodded at me.
Interesting. At least I'm not the only strange one, I said, thinking of Demaren.
I curled my legs up where I lay. Night was approaching fast and my stomach was gnawing at my insides. But I'd be damned if I asked for food from these wolves.
You shouldn't tell him things like that, tiredly and fast loosing conscious. He'll never pick up and go to Grayman otherwise.
Exactly, she said fiercely.
I was fully awake.
No, Larii! You have to tell him not to come. Please. I'm begging you. Please, please, please. It's the only thing I can do for him! I begged.
Whatever. Shut up and rest, she growled.
Somewhat mollified and all too tired to argue further, I lay back down. By midnight, my right eye had swollen shut.
I lay in the sand in the same spot Entark had left me, shivering as the desert temperature dropped. Most of the soldiers were asleep, except for the few on guard duty who paced between their designated posts around our perimeter. No one so much as glanced my way. A few times I contemplated running, counting the time it took for the guards to go from one post to another. But there was no cover near enough for me to run to without being spotted. So in the sand I stayed.
The last rays of the sun and residual heat in the sand had let me sleep for a little while, but the night had stole the warmth away and now my teeth rattled making my head and face ache. I tried to pull my arms in as close to my body as possible, but the ties just above my elbows prevented it. My lower arms had lost most of their feeling anyway.
A thin hissing sound of shifting sand made my body stiffen, my jaw clenched tight so my teeth wouldn't rattle. Someone was walking close by; I squinted my left eye closed to feign sleep. I felt sand moving slightly around me as someone came up close behind me. A small hand pressed lightly over my mouth.
My left eye flew open and I turned to kick whoever it was but quickly stopped as I took in a small, dark skinned boy with a finger pressed to his lips. Giving me a stern look to make sure I wouldn't scream he took my hand away and smiled. I merely stared at him with my good eye then glanced around, making sure no one noticed.
"Salue," he whispered, his teeth and eyes were the only thing that stood out in the darkness of the moonless night. I didn't recognized the language.
"Hi?" I barely mouthed, turning my face in his direction and eyeing him suspiciously.
When I turned my head he was able to completely see my face. He sucked in a breath sympathetically and bit his full lip, I could only imagine how bad it looked. It was hard to make out details in the dark, but some emotion was waring over his face. His smooth brow puckered slightly as he frowned and he tugged slightly at the rope around his waist that served as a belt over his dark colored jumper. I saw the resolution set in his jaw as he seemed to make some sort of decision.
A small knife barely flashed in the night as it came toward me and I didn't have time to scream. But he didn't cut me. Instead, I felt my arms fall slack as the bindings fell away. Painful tingling crept down my arms as I brought them around in front of me and wrapped them around myself. Gingerly, I reached up to touch my face and cringed when my fingers found the length of my cheekbone swollen. I looked back at the boy.
"Thank you," I whispered, he grinned at me. He couldn't be more than ten, I thought.
"Yah girl, welcome," he said, as I sat up a little. "And yah chilled."
From behind his back, he pulled a thin blanket. Eagerly I reached out to take it then hesitated.
"I-is this yours?" I asked. He shook his head mischievously and glanced around before leaning in.
"Is from supply tent."
I nodded my head carefully, accepting it and throwing it around my shoulders.
"What's your name?" I ventured.
"Jamis," he replied, he was pulling something from the sleeve of his shirt. Something thin and long. He held it out to me.
I took it curiously and my mouth started to water when I realized it was a roll of thin, bendy bread wrapped around another water tube. I crammed the stretchy dough into my mouth. The boy--Jamis--watched me, seemingly proud of himself.
"Is good?" he queried when I started chugging the water.
I nodded, wiping my mouth on my arm.
"I'm Ashling," I offered. Jamis seemed to already know this.
He nodded vigorously. "Yah are energy."
I blinked. "Energy?"
"Soldier men say yah are," he shrugged, looking at me curiously as if I might tell him more about it.
"I don't think so," I said with an apologetic smile. "I'm just a girl."
"A slave?" he asked, leaning in eagerly.
I frowned. "I will never be a slave."
Jamis seemed to deflate a little.
"Soldier men say yah are," he said, disappointed. He scratched at something on his palm.
Impulsively, I reached out and took his hand. It was hard to see in the dark, but across the right palm was a thick, shiny scar. My eyes watered and I held out my own hand. Jamis brought it up to his face for inspection and started bouncing around with excitement.
"Yah like me!" he whispered, grinning.
"Lots of people have scars," I said. "But it doesn't make them slaves."
"Not this scar," he said, holding up my own hand for me to see. Then he pointed at the side of my face. "This one means soldier men can do that."
I frowned, and grimaced as the action brought pain to my face. The water tube was still in my hand, though empty, and was still chilled. I brought it up and carefully placed it along my cheek bone.
"What house yah in?" Jamis asked, not liking my silence. I wondered if any of the Erynese talked to him.
"I don't belong to a house," I told him, sighing. Without hunger or thirst to keep my body occupied, it had gone back to giving me a throbbing head ache.
"No brand?" he asked, his eyes getting wide. He pulled down the neck of his over sized jumper and showed me his upper right arm.
I couldn't see it in the dark, so I reached out. Almost at the socket of his shoulder was a ridged, angling figure that had been burned into his skin.
"Belong to military," he explained. My heart contracted as he said it with pride.
"Listen to me, Jamis," I said, quietly. "Neither of us belong to anybody. We are not property. Remember that, okay?"
Jamis looked at me quizzically, but nodded all the same. I wondered how long he had been a slave. Maybe he had never known anything else. I felt sick at the thought.
"What house yah want?" he asked, still full of questions.
"It doesn't matter."
"I know which," he said mischievously.
"How do you know so much?" I asked, laughing a little.
"They talk," we waved a hand toward the soldier tents. "I listen. Yah go to palace!"
This seemed to excite him, and he beamed at me as if it should excite me too. My mouth went dry as my jaw tightened, making my cheek bone scream under pressure. Jamis took in my face and frowned at me.
"Yah not happy? Treat slaves well there," he said, patting my hand comfortingly. A ten year old slave was trying to comfort me.
"No," I said quietly. "Not happy at all."
He looked slightly taken aback but swiftly recovered. "Yah see. They good."
With that he patted my arm and walked swiftly away, his figure no more than a shadow in the dark. I watched him until I couldn't distinguish his form from the tents before laying back down.
Jamis had given me a lot of things to think about. How the poor child could possibly think of his oppressors as 'good' for one. But before I knew it dawn had broke and a large hand was shaking me awake.
"Awaken, ma pelue," cooed Minister Entark. The sound took away any appetite I may have built up over the night.
"Are you more willing to cooperate today?" he asked.
I glared up as him with my good eye and ground my teeth together so I wouldn't say anything. He regarded my blanket and empty water tube from my night visitor, Jamis.
"Someone as made a friend?" he asked, squatting down.
I averted my eyes. Would Jamis get in trouble if Entark found out? He took the tube and placed it under my chin like a knife so I had to look at him.
"Eiter you made a friend or you stole it," he said coolly. He took the tube and ran it along the edge of my swollen bruise. I suppressed a shiver.
"We sould tank your benefactor," he continued, deciding I hadn't stolen the items.
My eyes flitted around, searching among the moving soldiers for Jamis. I didn't know what I would do if I saw him; maybe I could warn him with my eyes.
Entark opened his mouth to say something--probably demand to know who had helped me--when a soldier came up beside him speaking in rapid Erynese. The minister stood up to talk with him, frowning and saying something in brisk tones. Still on the ground, I sat up straighter to try and spot the little boy.
Suddenly, out of the moving crowd, Jamis appeared at the soldier's side. He glanced my way and gave me a wink before interrupting the two men. Jamis spoke to the soldier politely in Erynese before the man nodded absentmindedly and gestured toward me. I blinked at the gesture. It was the fist time anyone besides Entark or Jamis had acknowledged my presence in two days.
Jamis bounded to my side.
"I am helping!" he said happily. He reached down and took my hand to make me stand up.
"Er," I said nervously, looking at Entark who was talking angrily now to the soldier. "Helping with what?"
"Yah!" he said, swinging my hand a little before leading me off toward one of the sand ships.
I glanced back sharply at Entark who was shouting at the soldier now and gesturing at me angrily.
"Um. Are you sure I'm allowed to go with you?" I asked.
"Yes," he said with a giggle, leading me up a ramp into the ship.
It was a completely different part of the ship than I had been in yesterday. The day was starting to get hot outside, but in this room is was pleasantly cool. Soldiers were going about, looking at blinking lights and flashing panes of glass. I had never seen anything like it.
Still leading, Jamis pulled me though a small door in a corner and walked me down a skinny hallway barely wide enough for two men to pass through. Every few moments, we had to squeeze by another soldier going the other way. He would nod and smile faintly as we pressed by. These little attentions were beginning to disturb me.
Finally, Jamis darted through a thin door, pulling me along behind him. Once inside, the door swished closed at my back, making me jump. Jamis dropped my hand.
"Yah room," he announced, holding out his arms happily.
I looked around the little space. There were no windows. A short bed took up one wall and behind a white curtain was a bath area. Everything was mostly shaded in gray tones.
"My room?" I clarified. Jamis nodded. "Why would I get a room? I'm supposed to be a slave."
"But special," the boy said, turning to the curtain area and twisting some nobs in the wall. Water started to spurt out into the shallow tub.
I frowned at him. "I'm really not."
"Soldier men think yah are," he shrugged. Steam now rose from the water. Jamis turned to me. "Yah get in."
I looked from the boy to the bath and raised a eyebrow.
"You have to leave first."
He shook his head. "Am to be with yah."
"Well, turn around at least!"
He sighed, but complied, crossing his skinny arms over his chest.
"Am supposed to help."
"You're being very helpful," I assured him, stripping my filthy clothes and sinking into the water. It was hot on my skin and felt delicious.
Once I was in, I pulled the curtain closed and began to rinse myself. I looked around but couldn't find any soap.
"Um. Soap?" I called.
A dark hand appeared around the curtain's edge with a light yellow bar. I took it, thanking him. I was about finished when the hand came around again, this time with an amber colored bottle. Taking it tentatively, I looked it over.
"What's this?" I asked.
Jamis' voice called through the curtain. "Yah hair. Makes it smooth."
Curious, I twisted off the cap and let some of the cream fall into my hand. It smelled nice, a little bit like lavender. I rubbed it into my scalp before rinsing my hair once more.
Standing, I peeked around the curtain. The boy was standing there, a large fluffy towel in hand. He smiled as I took it and came back out with it wrapped around myself.
"Yah feel?" he asked, walking over to the bed where some clothes were laid out. I didn't see my old clothes anywhere.
"Much better, thank you."
He smiled even wider, his bright teeth standing out against his dark lips.
"But do you know why they're doing this?" I asked.
Jamis frowned, taking in the uncomfortable way I held the towel around me like I was using it as a shield. He got up brought over the dark green garment across the bed.
"Don't right know," he admitted. Without warning, or seemingly any thought, he pulled the towel away.
I squeaked in surprise but he had pulled a long shirt over my head at the same time. I tugged at the fabric which only came down to my thighs and glared at him.
"Don't do that!"
He giggled, bringing over tight fitting dark pants and a thin, flowing over coat.
"Yah sit," he ordered.
I pursed my lips, but obeyed, folding my legs under me on the bed. He seemed to be enjoying this new found authority. Jamis jumped on the bed as well and moved behind me with a comb. Gently, he started brushing my hair.
It felt nice, and he was extra careful of the tender lump that still pulsed behind my ear. He had it up in several braids before long.
"Lovely!" he pronounced, jumping off the bed to survey his work from the front of me.
I smiled at his obvious delight. Maybe I could be as happy as he was with his lot in life someday. The thought left me cold and made my chest hurt.
The next few days passed in much the same manner. The bruise around my eye diminished under my young companion's tender care and was nearly gone before the week was out.
I never really left my room, and could barely tell when the boat was moving. Jamis only left me for brief periods. He even slept in the room across a pallet that was stowed under the bed during the day.
Having the child there at night, being able to hear his steady breathing and shuffling in sleep, made things easier. Most of the time I woke up searching for the comfort of glossy feathers and warm arm at my back. I only cried at night, when Jamis was completely taken by sleep. I hugged the pillow to my chest and bit down on my fist to keep from crying too loud. I missed Demaren so much.
At these times, a comforting mind would enter my awareness. Larii hush me mentally and show me easing thoughts through pictures. I fell asleep to the sound of her mind.
Unfortunately, this consolation didn't last.
Half way through one night, I awoke to an emptiness in my head.
Larii? I called, sleepily. There was no answer.
I gave myself a headache trying to call to her the rest of the night. By morning my eyes were sore from crying and my head felt like a hop had been bucking through my brain in the dark.
Jamis came bursting through to door with a large smile on his face, his hand clasping mine in excitement.
"We're here!" he said.
"We're where?" I asked, cringing at his shrill voice.
"City of the Eye," he said in a hushed voice that could barely contain his enthusiasm.

Planning

2009-02-27T10:50:00.000-08:00

Demaren groaned, his eyes closed tightly. He lay flat on a what felt like a woven mat, swaying gently in the recognizable lull of the ocean lapping on a boat. Ocean air salted his senses. He breathed deeply, taking in the comforting scent. Memories of a Xian family stirred at the faint smell, sweet of Honey Wood. Demaren reached up to rub his face, which felt slick and filmy from the deposit of sea air.
"Awake now, boy?"
Demaren smiled at the coarse voice, chuckling even slightly. He opened his eyes.
"Jeron?"
"Right on the mark, boy."
Demaren craned his neck to look around him. It was the deck of Jeron's boat, Noon Day. He smiled, almost bitterly, breathing in the comforting smell of ocean and wood.
"I missed this boat..."
"Well, damn, I would hope so, boy."
Demaren looked around more directly, aiming to locate Jeron.
"Where are you?"
"Look up."
Demaren smirked and saw Jeron in the crow's nest.
"As usual."
Jeron smiled back, a wily sort of grin.
A clatter and jumble caught his attention, and Demaren sat up quickly to see what had sounded distinctly destructive.
"Oh, Lia! Ero ima erta joi!"
Was that Jain?
The hurried stomp of feet echoed below, and up from the lower deck dashed Lia and Larii. Larii was grinning wildly, chasing Lia, who was shrieking with joy and mirth. They raced in a small circle before Larii caught her and they wrestled playfully. Demaren laughed outright, catching Lia's attention.
"Oh! Dema! Dema! DEMA aro itero!" She scrambled from Larii's grip and threw herself into Demaren's lap, hugging him fiercely.
Demaren hugged her back, and even planted a kiss on her head.
"Demaren." Jain appeared in the stairwell, smiling fondly.
"What the--How are you all here? Jeron? What's going on?"
Jain spoke instead, "Jeron told us we needed to sail to Velt. The whole family. So we did. We left the day after you did, actually. After we arrived, Jeron left the boat and didn't come back for a few hours. But when he did... He had you and Larii."
Demaren looked at Jeron, surprised and expectant. Jeron merely looked away and snubbed him a bit. After a few minutes of this, Jeron rolled his eyes and turned to Demaren.
"All right, y'damn annoying boy. O' course you know I can read shadows."
Demaren nodded in response.
"And that I don't have a shadow so I can't know my own fate... Right--oy, don't nodd so much! Anyway. After you left we were preparing to go to market to buy some dinner makings, when Jain pointed out my shadow. Mostly, she screamed a dropped a plate. But there it was--my shadow. Of course, that meant I had to do something important so I went outside to look at it in sunshadow. And all I could see was me and my family arriving in Velt, and then me hiding in an alleyway and waiting. And you don't really ignored your shadow when it's telling you what to do, so we left."
"And?"
Jeron rolled his eyes again, "And I waited in the alleyway until I heard a girl screaming and Erynese guards shooting. I thought I heard your name but... I didn't want to be sure, really. But then your green friend dragged you into the alleyway a moment later. And she's so little and you're so damn big and it looked like you were going to crush her or bleed to death, so... I helped her carry you back to the boat. And here we are."
"Here we are!" Jain smiled.
"Here we are..." Demaren said sadly. After a moment of pensive silence, he glanced up to see everyone looking at him with concern. "Oh, I'm gald you're all here, but I'm just wondering what happened? Where's Ashling?"
Even mentioning her himself brought a pang of loss to him. A look at Larii's stricken face told him she was gone. He felt a wave of ice rush through him, and clutched the tiny Lia closer. She snuggled him, tracing the tattoo on his chest.
Larii got up and tugged a full sack into full view of everyone. She set it down and pointed to it, nodding. Then she draped her arms out and swaggered around the sack, looking angry and mean.
"You supposed to be one of those guards?" Demaren ventured.
She nodded vigorously. Then she pointed to the sack, expectantly.
"Ashling?"
She nodded again. Then she swaggered over and knocked the top of the sack roughly, causing it to topple over. Then she picked it up and carried it out of sight. She came back shortly, bounding into view, pleased with her description.
"So, they took her?"
Larii nodded again, looking apologetic. Demaren nodded grimly and opened his hand to Lia so she could play with his fingers. Suddenly, Larii stood stark still. Her eyes gazed off distantly, her eyes glittering intently. Then she started clapping her hands, smiling. She rushed out of view and brought the sack back into sight. Then she set it down and pointed smiling at it.
"Uh..." Demaren did not get it this time at all. He shrugged slightly, "I don't know?"
Lia stared at Larii and then babbled off, "Iktera Larii oj henar jema Ashling."
Larii nodded, sighing in relief.
Demaren stared at the little girl, before turning to Jain. Jeron had just returned to the deck, so Jain was not entirely focused.
"Jain, what did Lia just say?"
"Hm?" Jain turned back to him, then glanced at Lia. "Fela or Lia?"
"Iktera Larii oj henar jema Ashling."
Jain cocked her head in confusion, then spoke slowly. "She said, Larii says Ashling is okay."
Demaren perked up, "She is?"
Larii nodded furiously. Then she looked distant again. Lia, who had been squirming playfully sat still as well. Both girls were staring into the same sort of distance. Lia then giggled, and even Larii smiled.
"I feel left out of something."
Jain scooped the entirely distracted Lia up and looked at her. "Lia? Ero ita?"
No response. Then Lia looked a little serious, then she turned into her mother and clung to her. Larii turned back to Demaren. She pointed at him, then at the deck of the boat. She nodded briskly.
"What, you want me to stay here?"
Lia placed her hands on his chest, and raised her eyebrows as if to ask, me? Then she shook her head and held her hands out. Her hand then pointed to the sack.
"Ah... Ashling wants me to stay here."
Larii nodded, smirking.
Demaren frowned. Then he smirked at her. "Right."
Lia burst into tears at that and ran below deck. Demaren could hear her crying and felt a pang of guilt. But Ashling needed him and he could never leave her to a mysterious fate.
He made to rise, aiming to get right on rescuing Ashling. But his left wing, instead of fluffing up and taking care of itself as it usually did, seemed to collapse behind him. He fell unceremoniously after it.
"That was unexpected.." He mumbled.
Jeron laughed heartily, almost doubling over in hysteria.
Jain was kinder, stifling her giggles and helping him to stand. He exerted effort to keep his wing from weighing him down. He pulled his right wing taut trying to keep balance.
"What the hell happened to my wings?!"
Larii made a strange motion with her arms he didn't quite understand. But Jeron seemed to.
"Oh. You were shot, boy."
"I was what?"
"Shot. With a gun."
"... With a what?"
"You're damn annoying today. You were shot with a gun--you shoot them by holding them like that." He made the motion with Larii.
"Oh... kay." Demaren turned back to his wings to examine them. The right wing was fine, though a little ruffled. He smoothed the feathers. But the left wing was carefully bandaged and he could feel a slight burn beneath the wrapped fabric. He sure was accumulating a fair number of severe injuries recently, wasn't he? He sulked.
"I guess flying is out of the question. Again."
Larii sat on a barrel, smiling piteously at him. He wanted to give her a shove off that barrel so he could laugh in her face. He frowned, though, as memories of what happened trickled into accessible portions of his thoughts.
"How long has she been gone?"
Larii held up three fingers. Three days. Demaren fumbled some of the unbandaged feathers and furrowed his brow when he realized he couldn't actually feel it on the left side. Panic flooded him, and he found himself tugging feathers out in desperation for some sensation.
"Hey! HEY! Boy, stop that!" Jeron ran over and gave Demaren a swift kick in the arm. But he missed and hit Demaren's chest, sending him backwards into the mast. He leaned against it for a minute, blinking. Then he jumped up.
"Ow, Jeron, OW!" Rubbing his chest.
Jeron shrugged and gathered up the handful of feathers crudely removed. He let them fall in front of Demaren's face, so Demaren caught them bitterly. He turned quickly to Larii.
"Did you give me something for my wing or did I lose my feeling in it permanently!"
She jolted at the sudden burst towards her, and toppled off the barrel. It was not as funny as Demaren had thought it would be. When she righted herself, she clutched a papery envelope and shook it's powdery contents noisily at him. He relaxed.
"Good..." Then he looked around, embarrassed by the outburst. "So... Where's Friend?"
A strange whinny echoed from below deck. Demaren was worried that maybe Friend had been injured too, somehow, and rushed down. But Friend was sticking his head out a window and his legs were prancing and skipping joyfully. Demaren was reminded of a small child wanting to go out.
"Friend?"
Friend tugged his head back into the room, and Demaren saw it was soaking. The mane was matted and sopping, and droplets of water flicked everywhere. He even seemed to be smiling. Demaren smirked at him.
"Enjoying the water?"
Friend danced wildly for a moment and stuck his head outside again.

- - -

The first week, Demaren woke up every night to pain in his wing. The first night, he cried out and Larii gave him more numbing powder. The next day was spent numb winged, and when he woke up in pain the next night, he took it silently.
So by the second week, he had not slept much and was in a dark mood daily. Life on the boat with a curiously nurturing green girl, overexcited Hop, and rambling 4-year-old was tiring. He felt bad when he snapped at people, and every evening watched the sunset with a dozing Lia in his lap.
On one particularly bad night, Larii had suddenly burst into hysterical tears and nearly thrown herself off the boat. Almost two hours of consolation was required before Lia could even discern enough to give Jain something to translate.
"So, Larii can't hear Ashling anymore?" Demaren asked.
Larii gave a watery nod.
"Does that..." He swallowed painfully, "Is she dead then?"
She rubbed her eyes and looked up at Demaren before shrugging slightly. They spent the rest of that night silently contemplating the possibilities of Ashling's fate.
The third week ended with Demaren in almost no pain, and even the scabs were almost gone. But he still didn't sleep. Night was lonely. He had, at first, attributed it to the drugs. When he had given them, he blamed the wounds themselves. But now, he could only realize that he missed the warmth and curve of Ashling beside him. Now, almost a month without her, he still missed her breathing and gentle shifting. He hated it when the sunlight came in through his feathers--it made him miss her tiny groans of loathing towards sunlight.
Finally, in the middle of the fourth week, during their "family" lunch, Demaren brought up what he had been heavily thinking about.
"So I have an idea on how to get Ashling back..." he peered cautiously around at the group.
Larii was staring expectantly, Jain was wiping Lia's face, and Jeron was leaning against the railings of the ship nibbling lazily on a stick of sweet cracker.
"Larii? You can talk to the... the things in the forest, right?"
She nodded.
"And are they friendly? I mean, when they're not trying to eat me," he asked.
Larii nodded again slowly.
"And do they do well... outside the forest?"
She shrugged a little, thinking a bit, before suddenly clapping her hands and smiling ecstatically.
Demaren smiled, "Do you see what I'm thinking?"
She nodded enthusiastically, and leaped up to rush down to Friend. But Jeron rolled his eyes and said, smirking, "What about us, boy? Why don't you explain these forest monsters and your plan to us."
Jain glanced at the two men and picked Lia up, "I'm going to put her to bed." And they disappeared below deck.
Demaren laughed and explained their short adventure in the forest, from the run in with the monster to the meeting of Larii, and how it all eventually led to Ashling's disappearance. Jeron sat thoughtfully for a while. Jain had come back up and heard most of the story (Lia had been very tired and fallen asleep quickly).
"So..." Jeron started, "Larii can talk to these blood suckers in their heads like she can talk to your girl?"
Demaren cleared his throat calmly, "Yes."
"And they aren't really mean? They just eat what they can't talk to?"
"Yes."
"All right, so what's your plan?"
"I want to go back to the Veil and, with Larii's help, gather as many of the--" He paused trying to recall what they were actually called, "--as many of the Avery's as we can. Larii should be able to communicate the idea and since they are supposedly very intelligent and inclined to be helpful, they'll probably help us. Or at least, that's what Ashling led me to believe about them whenever we discussed them."
"And then what? You get an army of Avery's and what? Storm the City of the Eye in Eryn?"
Demaren nodded, "Essentially, yes. Larii will attempt to communicate they should only attack people to try to stop us, or whoever Larii tells them to attack. No innocents, or cowards."
Jain joined the conversation then, "Are you going to ride them? Or are you going to fly?"
"I'll probably have to put some dark outfit together and fly. I couldn't ride one of those things. It's too strange."
Jain smiled and began to braid to her hair, "Oh, I'll help you with that. We'll stop in Velt--oh don't look at me like that Demaren--Jeron and I will go to the market in Velt and find you some suitable material."
"That's damn dandy, but how the hell are you going to find your girl?"
"I'll probably have to find that particular Avery that attacked us because he--or she--or whatever-- will know her scent. I think Ashling said they have an amazing sense of smell. He'll probably be able to find her."
So it was decided. They made port a few days later, and while Jeron and Jain were gone, Demaren and Larii took care of Lia and the still overexcited Friend. It was a mildly frustrating evening for Demaren being unable to communicate with neither female on board, while Larii could talk to both small child and prancing hop. The two parents were gone for the entire day, returning long after Lia had gone to bed. Demaren had wanted to ask about the venture and see the material, but Jain and told him to wait and she put Jeron to bed.
The next morning Jain measured Demaren, while Jeron sailed them away from the port into more open water. Larii and Lia watched, riveted by Demaren's discomfort, giggling at inappropriate moments. After the measurements were taken, Jain sent him to fly Lia around. The flight was pleasant, the first one in a long time, and Lia shrieked with glee the entire time. When they landed, Jain was cleaning up her sewing mess for the evening and Demaren didn't get to see how much progress she had made. The days passed the same after that, sans the measurement sessions.
Probably a week and half later, and after Demaren felt suitably tormented and teased with the vague idea of his new outfit, Jain presented him with a folded pile of black clothes. His excitement was barely containable and he rushed down to change below deck. Friend was eating from a bag tat hung on the wall, and watched Demaren change. The outift was a smooth black material, with the firmness and strength of leather, but the soft warmth of fabric. It was tight and felt waterproof. Jain had sewn in thick patches over his shoulders and chest and back, as well as his knees and thighs. He felt invincible in it. Strangely, though, he noticed small loops on the chest and legs, as well as two matching sturdy hooks on the lower part of his hips. He walked upstairs, tugging the mysterious loops.
"Jain? What are these for?"
Jain was smiling mischievously, and Jeron had his hands behind his back.
"Thought you could use some equipment, boy."
Jeron brought from behind him a cloth case, carefully tied and fastened shut. He walked to Demaren and laid it on a nearby barrel. Then he undid the fastens and drew the ties free, and revealed a shining trove of metallic weapons. Demaren breathed in sharply, suddenly very excited by the view before him.
There were a dozen small knives in tiny covers obviously meant to slip easily into the loops on his chest, and a set of short daggers with black hilts to slide into the loops on his shins. There was even a dozen thin sharp sticks, like unto needles, yet thicker and with carefully attached handles for stabbing quickly through thick armor. But the most beautiful, appealing weapons were the axes. Two of them, matching, engraved and undoubtably sharp, about two feet long. Hard leather covers carefully rested over the blades, and small holes near the blades made it clear these were to hang on the hooks by his thighs. When he went to attach them, he found small pockets on his pants to rest the handles in so they did not bounce around and hinder him. He quickly assembled the entire set of weapons, sliding each knife, dagger, and piercer into place.
Then he stood still for a moment, examining himself carefully. Each loop had been filled and everything fit perfectly. Jain was a master seamstress, having to only measure once to make everything fit so perfectly.
"Jain..." He turned to her and she was smiling with pride. "It's perfect. Better than anything I had ever expected from anyone."
She blushed, "Thank you, Demaren. It was my pleasure. Jeron thought of the weapons and while I don't condone violence, I know you should have something to protect yourself with. Especially on a venture of love."
"L-love--!" Demaren was blushing now, attempting to deny it. But Jeron cut him off by clapping him roughly on the back. So he didn't try to pretend it wasn't out of pure selfishness that he went into the Erynese city. It was.
He was going to fetch what was his and would destroy anything that tried to stop him.

Velt

2009-02-09T19:57:00.001-08:00

Entering Velt again was like taking a step back in time. The mud-brick buildings came up around around me as I walked through the gates, all the walls glowing in torch light of early night. Smells and noises that I knew all too well assaulted me, even the dry taste of dirt being trodden under foot that stirred up into the air.
Part of my heart seemed to settle with a sigh. I knew all the back streets of the west side of town so well I could have walked them backwards with my eyes closed. This was my home. Was. I moved among the people now and clenched my right hand to my side. I could feel the ugly scar on my palm beneath my pressing fingers and knew Velt would never be my home again, or any place in Gaea.
The buildings dropped away and I entered the plaza, threading a way through the still thick crowd. It was still early, but a different sort of sellers and buyers were out and wandering. A woman elbowed me lightly in the arm and showed me a packet of some substance. I politely declined and she moved on to other potential customers.
I took a last glimpse of the night sky, hoping to catch sight of Demaren before the taller buildings of the inner city blocked out the night. The lights were too bright, though, for my eyes to see anything. My feet guided themselves as my mind drifted to Demaren. It had been a long three weeks of recovery for him, and every moment he had been in pain I felt it too. Half the time his eyes looked so lonely, and lost...
Anyone could get lost in your eyes, teased a voice through a stream of pictures.
My head snapped up too look for Larii but only found a half empty side street.
"Larii?" I whispered. Mentally, I sent my own pictures.
Along the wall, she said. I could see her in my mind, mirroring my progress through the city on the outside of the wall. Friend was with her.
How can we talk so far away?
She seemed surprised, as if everyone communicated this way.
I rolled my eyes and kept moving. Demaren isn't going to be happy, I thought, referring to their sneaky following.
He's happy as long as you are with him, she retorted, sending me images of his eyes on me. To the elderly couple I passed, I was blushing for no apparent reason.
I adjusted her images and sent them back. He doesn't think of me that way.
She replayed snap shots of Demaren and I bantering back and forth. Yes, very friendly.
My teeth clamped down on my tongue so I wouldn't shout in frustration. Even if none of the few people I passed knew me, it wouldn't do to draw attention by seeming to talk to myself. I left Larii to her distracting thoughts; I was close to home anyway.
The dusty red house came into view as I rounded the curve in the street. I stopped short, letting a group of gaudily dressed women pass me by, and stared the building. Images of Berrik and me as children danced before my eyes; I shook my head to clear it. Both my hands now clenched into fists.
All those memories had been broken by my grandmother. I was glad I wasn't coming back to try and make her or my mother see reason. I would get in, get the map, and get out. Easy as pie.
There was no one on the street now, and I slid around the side of the three story building to the back. A rectangle hole was cut away from the ground along the wall for the window to the cellar. I slipped into the space easily and jiggled the latch until it popped out before I could crawl through.
It was dark. Almost no light came in through the window. I stood for a moment, letting my eyes adjust and listening above me for people moving about. Nothing, just quiet.
Cautiously I moved forward through the dank cellar, though I knew every nook and room in the house to navigate blind. A wooden door met my hand when I reached out for it and I smiled in the dark. I opened it just enough to let myself squeeze through. Counting the steps up, I skipped steps two and five so they wouldn't creak under foot.
I went up to the second floor where my old room was. I could only hope Grandmother hadn't cleaned it out yet. A quick glance told me she hadn't, everything was in the exact same place I had left it.
I had barely gotten through the door when I heard them.
"Here's your water glass. I have to leave. I'm already late for temple."
My grandmother's voice cut through the ceiling above me to my ears. Every muscle seized up where I stood and the hairs on my arms stood on end.
A murmur was all I could hear of my mother's reply.
"I'll ask the minister to come tomorrow to visit you."
Grandmother's footsteps headed toward the stairs. Panic rising in me, I scrambled under my bed. She said something else to Mother that I didn't catch, probably a goodbye, and started down the stairs. The glow from her fairy lamp lit the stairs on the landing outside my door, and my breath caught as I saw that I had forgotten to close it.
Please don't see it. Please don't see it. I silently begged.
Grandmother's shadow stopped beneath the door and my stomach fell back down to the basement. Slowly, the door opened and though I really wanted hide my face I felt like I couldn't.
The devil herself stepped into my room, lamp in hand. All I could see was her long skirt and the bottom of her shall, which she would pull over her head when she got to temple. She took a few slow steps into my room and paused while I held my breath. Seemingly satisfied, she turned and closed the door. The sound of her sandels clipped down the stairs.
Sighing quietly, I slid out from under the bed. That had been close. Time to get the map and run.
I quickly went to my desk and pulled open different drawers, searching for the right one.
You never keep anything organized, Berrik would have complained.
"I never expected to sneak into my own house," I whispered to myself.
One of the thin drawers near the table top revealed my maps and I thumbed through for the correct one. Map in hand, I slid the drawer closed and turned to the door. Vaguely I wondered if Demaren was really on the roof and if I should just go up so he could fly us out.
"Ashling..."
My hand froze above the door handle. The voice had come from up the stairs, from my mother's room. It had been little more than a whisper, maybe just a sighing in her sleep, but a lump rose in my throat anyway.
I pulled the door open and slipped out, mounting the steps to the next level carefully. Just one look couldn't hurt.
Practically on all fours, I made no more noise than dust settling. Lights had been left on and it got brighter as I ascended.
When my head cleared the top stair I saw her propped up on her chaise lounge. Her head had rolled to one side, her auburn hair splayed out like rays from the sun. Colorful blankets covered her so that I could not tell the difference between her robe and quilts. One delicately pale arm had fallen over the side, knocking her glass of water over.
I sighed and stepped into the room fully, striding across the floor boards to pick up the fallen glass. I refilled it from the pitcher on her dresser and placed it back on the floor beside her within easy reach. Gently, I raised my mother's arm--which was cold to the touch--and placed it under her covers, tucking in the blankets. Then I looked down on her.
My mother had been sick since Father died when I was very young. I hadn't been old enough to remember him, but Berrik had. He had also been old enough to help take care of me when Mother fell ill and Grandmother came to live with us. He hadn't liked to talk about those days.
Though I loved my mother, and had often helped tend to her not so long ago, she was no more a nurturing figure than my grandmother. I brushed a strand of hair off her forehead.
"Goodbye," I whispered.
She muttered something in her sleep which sounded like, "Thank you," but my mind was playing tricks, I was sure.
When I turned to leave I nearly screamed. My grandmother was standing in the door way. The witch had never made a sound.
My fingers and toes ran cold as all the blood in my body was suddenly infused with adrenalin. She held the door open for me, her eyes as cold as stone.
I gulped and glanced at the window, wondering if I could survive the three story drop. I didn't think Demaren could catch me that fast, even if I started screaming now. Jerkily, I stepped out into the hall with the woman.
As soon as I was out of the room, she closed the door quietly and rounded on me with a ringing slap. I hadn't expected anything less and barely let out a whimper. When I faced her again, cheek stinging, her eyes were burning.
"How dare you come and soil this house?" she hissed, grabbing me by the scruff of the neck and propelling me down the stairs.
"You're the one who cursed me," I replied, my feet stumbling on the next set of steps.
"The council made their decision. You are responsible!" she spat at me, stopping to press me up against the wall. "I did you a kindness!"
"I would rather have died," I said through gritted teeth, just as vehemently. I was done carrying her burdens.
"They would have treated you like royalty!" she said, charging me down the stairs again. "You have no idea what you are!"
"You made me a slave," I all but growled. "You expect me to thank you for it? I knew you always hated me, but gods above! I'm your granddaughter!"
We reached the main level and she shoved me to the floor. I was too busy glaring up at her to notice the other people in the room.
"I don't care what you are," she said evenly, coming down close to my face. Her eyes narrowed to slits. "As long as you're safely gone."
How could I be related to this woman?
It wasn't until two pairs of hands grabbed me that I realized we were not alone. Two men in gray and pale green uniforms were hoisting me to my feet by my upper arms. My heart started beating at a frantic pace.
"Erynese..." I whispered.
"You know te uniform," said a man, stepping into my line of sight.
He was tall and thin, his uniform boasting stripes of silver down the sleeves. I didn't know what that made him in rank, but it was certainly high. There were two more men with him, each carrying the thin black weapons they had used to kill everyone in the desert caravan. The man who spoke smiled at me, making his already squinty eyes even smaller. His upper row of teeth were crooked and off white.
My eyes locked back on my grandmother. "What are Erynese doing in our kitchen?"
"Tank you for calling as soon as you eard," the man said to Grandmother. His Eryn accent was strong, making him drop the "h" sound, even in the Elite language which was supposed to be universal. I wondered if he had been properly schooled.
Grandmother nodded curtly to them, her lips pressed together as she looked at the door pointedly.
The Erynese didn't take the hint. Instead he turned to me.
"You've been very ard to find, little dear," he said, tapping my nose once with his index finger. I suppressed the urge to bite it and merely jerked my head away. "It was to us you were sold."
"I wasn't sold to anyone!" I corrected him. "And since when does the Erynese government send men after one runaway?"
"We ave been looking for someone like you," he replied. Reaching out for my right hand, he inspected it. "And you are ours. Tis is te proof."
I tried to wrench my hand away, but I was being held almost on tip-toe by the two guards who grabbed me and had no leverage.
"Where did you learn to talk?" I jibbed. "Did you even go to school?"
Something--I think it was his hand--hit me with such a force that I yelped and my eyes spun round. Something dripped from my nose.
"Best learn manners now, little dear," he said darkly.
I glared at him, but didn't say anything. The beady eyes in his angular, pale face threatened violence.
"Tank you again, madam," he said to my grandmother. "We will take er now."
"You're welcome, minister," she said. I guessed he was some sort of official.
We were headed toward the door now and I felt my heart all but stop as the two other guards unstrapped their killing sticks from their backs. Demaren was outside and those things could kill him just as easily as they had Berrik. My heels dug into the ground and I started wriggling frantically.
I twisted around to yell at my grandmother again, anything for a distraction.
"You sold me to the Erynese? That's a new low for you!"
The crone's jaw flexed, but she didn't say anything.
"How could you do this to her?" I jerked my head at the stairs, referring to my mother. "You're taking away her last child!"
Nothing I was saying seemed to have any sway, and my struggles were like a bird's in a cat's claws. The Erynese minister opened the door with a flourish and the men on either side of me carried me out as I tried to kick at their shins.
Warm night air hit my face and my eyes were blinded by the sudden darkness of the street. I heard the unmistakable sound of large, rushing wings. I could see him easily in the dark, his bright wings catching the infinitesimal light coming from the door way as he landed steadily. Saying he looked angry would be an understatement.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he growled.
"Demaren!" I shouted, the Erynese backing up at the sight of him. "Fly away! They'll kill you!"
"I'd like to see them try," he challenged, his eyes narrowing. He started forward with a rush. "Now let her go!"
"Wat is tis?!" I heard the minister complaining from behind.
I braced myself expecting a fight, but Demaren stopped short and gave a mighty flap of his wings instead. My hands came up automatically to protect my eyes and the surprised guards stumbled and loosened their grip on my shoulders. I felt a strong arm yanking me into the air.
I turned my face up as Demaren pressed me to his side, my arms wrapping tightly around him instinctively. We were soaring up now and I glanced down to see all four guards outside and taking aim to the sky.
"We have to fly higher!" I said frantically.
"I don't think they can jump this high," he chuckled to me as I kicked my feet a little trying to help us fly.
"No! Those sticks. They can--"
Two small bangs reached our ears to cut me off and Demaren's wings came to a jerking stop. We were still moving up, but slowing as we reached the end of our apex. Demaren's eyes met mine, surprised. I hadn't yet worked up a scream.
"Oh," he said, his head falling forward slightly as his eyes closed and the rest of his body went limp. "I see..."
And we started to plummet.
Falling to the side, my lungs started working enough to let out a decent scream. My arms convulsed around Demaren's torso. I shut my eyes tight. Suddenly I felt strong arms around me again. I turned my face up to see Demaren struggling for control of our fall. The earth was rushing closer.
Flapping his wing once, Demaren turned us just enough so that he would hit the ground first. His eyes met mine and he smiled slightly, pressing me closer. I felt my eyes start to sting, though not because of the rushing wind.
"No!" I shouted. "Don't--"
But it was too late. With a painful smack we hit the ground. I saw Demaren's head snap back as we bounced back up. My breath was knocked away.
I coughed to force air back into my lungs. Demaren's arms hung around me like an inanimate object. Struggling, I crawled up his tall frame. His eyes were blinking but loosing focus.
"Demaren," I gasped, touching his face. He seemed to hear me, his eyes searching.
Hurried foot falls were coming toward us. I glanced up to see that we had landed farther down the street. The guards and minister were rushing toward us, my grandmother was standing in the street watching.
"Demaren!" I called, turning back. He was close to loosing consciousness. I only had a moment. I took the map out of the pocket I had put it in and stuffed it into his hand. "Listen to me! Don't follow. Do you hear me? Don't follow me and do something stupid to get yourself killed, got it? It's too dangerous."
Hands were on me, pulling me as I wrapped my arms around his shoulders.
"Forget me and go to Grayman!" I said, hoping he could hear. His eyes were closing and the guards were pulling at my hands. With a last effort I pressed my lips to Demaren's unresponsive ones. "Please! I love you!"
His eyes were completely closed now. Was he okay? Was he breathing? My body was ripped from his as I moved to check, forgetting my captors.
"NO!" I screeched, struggling anew. They couldn't take me yet. I had to know if he was alright. I couldn't loose him like Berrik!
My body started to shiver, my breath coming in gasps. I felt hot. Something was making the street shine like it was day, though it couldn't be dawn yet. I didn't care, I had to get to Demaren...
The minister was in front of me now, his smiling glaring down at me.
"None of tat now," he said sweetly. With the back of the black killing stick he struck the side of my head. Everything fell away like I was falling again.

Stars and endings

2009-02-06T21:39:00.000-08:00

Stars. All around him. Stars. Glowing lights, flickering far and near in the depths of the deep darkness of the eternal sky. He wasn't flying. He was not falling. He wasn't even floating. He was simply there, among them. He made to turn his head, but realized that he had no head to turn. There were no eyes to look around for his body with. There was no body. No physical manifestation of himself. Yet he was here.
Panic filled him for a moment, and he felt himself glow with surge of light. Glow? Suddenly it made sense. He was a star. With that knowledge--that realization--he could see everything around him. Not just what would be in front of the eyes he once had. He could "see" all the stars all around him. And once he became aware of what he was, he could hear them.
"Welcome home." Said an echo of endless voices. The flow of voices was not overwhelming, but it echoed off into forever. Drifting into the resting of the universe.
"I have only been away for a short time" he said, the rest of the voices echoing after him. He realized they were repeating the entire encounter so every star in the entirety of existence could be a part of this conversation. All could offer up something to say.
"Yes, a very short time." They echoed.
"Why am I a star?" He asked. It seemed like a pointless question, because he couldn't answer himself what he didn't know.
"You have always been. You are of the we. We are stars. We are one. We go where we are. Where one is, we all follow after. You followed us first. We will follow you."
Demaren began to feel dizzy.
"Go back." The voices echoed further apart now, making everything feel disjointed.
"Back..." He repeated. He brought a hand to his forehead. He opened his eyes quickly.
There was no space. No stars. His hand was in sight. The darkness of a dim forest.
He dropped his hand into the moss. Soft and wet. A pang of disappointment pricked his heart. He felt lonely now, without that dream. There had been some comfort in it. He heard no multitude of voices. Just the wind in the trees, humming of insects, and shifting sighs of Ashling beside him.
Ashling.
He turned slowly, for his body ached tremendously. She was curled into a ball, her back against his thigh. His eyes felt tired and swollen. His mouth powdery dry. He shifted to sit up more, but couldn't bring himself to do more than send a tremor through his muscles. It hurt his chest to move, and he looked down to see a bandage around his upper chest. A tearing sort of hot pain lingered sharply around his left pectoral. He winced and tears glazed his eyes. The pain of the wound was intense. And the echo in some hollow part of his chest reminded him how very alone he was in the entire world.
His mother was gone. He had a feeling his father was too. And now, after that dream, he really felt the burden of solitude. Even Ashling felt far away from him. Would he ever feel like a part of something again? When had this happened to him? He thought back to pinpoint a time. It must have been when his father had been brought to the shore. He felt himself grow up then and somehow he went beyond the world of his friends. He'd felt at ease with Jeron, but that could never have been permanent. What about Ashling?
Demaren sighed. And suddenly Ashling sat up. It was as if she had heard her name in his mind, or maybe whispered in the sigh.
"You're awake!" She said it in a hushed voice, but the urgency was blatant. Her eyes blinked rapidly and she slipped in closer to hover herself over him. He wanted to speak, but he felt so tired. So physically drained, he couldn't even hold his eyes up above him without them wanting to droop down again.
"Do you need anything? Are you hurting? Are you okay?"
Truly, Demaren wanted to console the obvious concern. But his body would not react. He tried to smile with his eyes at her, and he thought he managed a small smile and some curvature of his eyes. But she was hardly focused on his minute facial expressions. Her hand was checking for a fever on his forehead, his pulse in his wrist, then she lightly touched the bandage. He winced and stifled a gravelly gasp at the slight pressure, as it sent a thousand burning needles across the wound.
"I'm sorry." She whispered from above him, taking her hand from the bandage. "Maybe Larii can help..."
Demaren didn't know who Larii was. He cocked an eyebrow pathetically at Ashling.
She smiled slightly, "Hang on."
And she flitted out of sight somewhere past his head. He followed her as far as he could, which was only to the point where he rolled his eyes into his head (which made him dizzy and he had to close his eyes from the swirl of a head rush).
The rustling of leaves alerted him to some arrival. He opened his eyes blearily to peek out before popping them open fully.
There were two girls in sight. One was Ashling, looking concerned as usual. The other was most definitely not any variation of Ashling and was certainly green. And staring very hard at him. He narrowed his eyes, feeling perturbed.
"Isn't there anything we can give him for the pain?" Ashling asked suddenly, looking at the green female.
There was silence as the off colored girl didn't reply. Ashling was then blushing and looking off at some out of sight feature.
"I'm sure that would be distracting... But that wouldn't help the pain." She mumbled.
A quiet stillness ensued.
Ashling rose, brushing off her knees and saying, "I'll get it." And she went out of sight again. Demaren tried to watch her go again, then looked quickly at the green girl, who smiled at him. He felt a slight comfort at her warm smile, but didn't appreciate it when she started to unbandage his chest. He cried out again, and his muscles twitched furiously.
Ashling was back in sight instantly, "Stop it! Stop it!!" She insisted at the green girl. Demaren could hear the crunching of leaves and foliage behind him. Then a muzzle began to snuffle about his hair. Demaren smiled weakly at Friend's inspection, and grimaced affectionately when the tongue lolled over his head.
"I'll do it." Said Ashling, motioning the other girl away. Demaren was half pleased and half terrified. Ashling took a small packet from some hidden pocket in her outfit and poured a tiny flow of powder into her mouth. Demaren thought it was mysterious for her to be taking recreational drugs at a time like this, but he'd never figured her for that type of person as it was. He was even more confused when she took a swig from the water bag (it was a small struggle, so they must have been running low) and swished it around in her mouth for a mere moment. And then leaned down to his face and kissed him. Or what would have been a kiss, if she hadn't essentially pushed the powder/water mixture into his mouth. She pulled away all too soon.
"Swallow." She said quietly, her head still inches above him. He fought with the muscles in his throat and managed to get down the slightly bitter drink. Satisfied now, Ashling sat up fully and leaned back to sit on her ankles.
It was a moment of awkward silence. Ashling looked at Larii mostly. Demaren felt tired and ignored, which was a stupid thing to feel, but he wasn't feeling particularly well. But after a few minutes, a warm sort of feeling smoothed over his tired body. When it reached his chest, the burning pain he hadn't really noticed rippled out. He felt, not great, but a lot better. He smiled.
"Better?" Ashling said, slightly fuzzy in his ears. Demaren closed his eyes in sluggish reply.
Then Ashling began to unbind the bandages around his chest. He was surprised and opened his eyes to watch. She often had to reach over his chest to pull the wrap around, and he enjoyed those moments. But as the layers came off, the bandages came out a little more soiled than before. Then he could see pink, raw flesh. More bandages came off. Blood and pus stained huge patches now. He wanted to feel concerned, but could only feel warm. He even laughed feebly. Ashling glanced at him in concern, then turned back to the green girl.
"What was that?"
No response again. Demaren laughed at the bizarre silent creature and the fact that Ashling insisted on trying to talk to her. But Ashling must have felt satisfied for her continued removing the bandages. And after a few more wrappings, all were gone. Demaren peered over his cheeks and down at his chest. There was blood staining his chest. Pus still glistened over the flesh. And the skin itself was fine, if slightly pale, until you moved in towards the center of his chest. The skin turned pink and inflamed. And then it was torn and lipped with white. He'd been wounded. He widened his eyes in mild surprise.
"Huh!" Then he sniggered again. He cocked his eye brow at the piercings, as fresh pus oozed out. He was glad there was no blood coming out. And the pus meant it was healing. Probably.
"I don't like that medicine..." Ashling half growled from beside him, rolling up the bandages. She pulled out a fresh set from his bag and set them in the pocket of her skirt.
The green girl tumbled into sight (he hadn't noticed her exit) with the water bag. She sloshed it merrily around, smiling widely. Ashling took it, looking relieved, and poured some onto a cloth. Then she began to gently clean the wound.
A messy half hour later, having cleaned and medicated the injury precisely, Ashling (having playfully slapped the green hand away) took great care in wrapping Demaren back up tightly and securely.
By this time, he was feeling drowsy again. But still warm! Ashling was looking down at him, so he focused his eyes on her.
"A little better?" She said, concerned.
Demaren didn't want to be giggly from the medicine she'd kissed into him (he'd call it what he wanted!!) and wanted to be less tired than he felt. He smiled at her warmly. He uncurled his fingers, holding his hand open to her, though still on the ground.
She grabbed it firmly and pulled it beneath her chin. He marveled at how warm her hands were. He realized he didn't feel warm at all. She was genuinely warm and soft and safe. His eyes implored at her suddenly.
"...I was alone..." he forced himself to say, draining the last reserves of strength he seemed to have.
"I'm here now..." She whispered, "I won't leave you."
His eyes were already closing, but he smiled at her fading face. Then he fell asleep. But he did not dream of stars. He did not dream at all.

- - -

The next days passed in a similar manner, but with less and less panic as the days went on. He gained more energy each day, and always fell asleep either holding her hand or with his head in her lap. He was able to take the medicine himself on the third day of consciousness. He never dreamed of those stars again. But he also never forgot them. He didn't feel so alone when Ashling was awake and he could feel her touch. At the end of the first week he was sitting up, and by the end of the second they were letting him walk very short distances.
There was a brief argument about him perhaps riding Friend, but both he and Friend were both adamantly against it. Sulking ensued.
They spent about three weeks sitting in the clearing. Demaren learned the green girl was the Larii Ashling had referred to. And throughout the weeks, the Avery (the same beast that tried to kill them) would slip around the camp and snuffle with Friend. Demaren did not like it and would not like it. Ever.
When they finally decided to leave (Ashling insisted Velt was only a days ride away) Larii followed them to the edge of the forest. Demaren walked slowly beside Ashling and Friend, still unsure about flying. But a few hours on foot, he was tired and his feet ached.
"Ashling, do you think I could try to fly?"
"If you feel well enough.." She said, obvious doubt in her voice. Demaren frowned and rubbed his head.
"I don't know. I'm just tired of walking."
"You can try. I mean, you can always land again if it isn't working."
He nodded, half doubting himself. But he stretched his wings. They hadn't been totally ignored during those weeks. He'd flexed them and flapped them, but he hadn't actually tried them out. He started the steady pump of power in the appendages. Then he ran forward waiting for the tug of the sky to let him know he was ready. It came, and he lifted off.
It felt good to fly. It didn't even hurt his chest. He didn't try to spiral or even roll, though. Too risky at this point. But he followed pleasantly above Ashling and Friend, who had picked up the pace to keep up.
But, when he landed at dusk to meet them, just outside the city (they wanted to go in the city at night) he found not only Friend and Ashling waiting. But also Larii.
"What the--Larii?!" He was astounded.
Ashling shrugged, looking only half guilty. "She kept following..." She ended it with a small smile.
Demaren sniffed in vague frustration. "Fine."
Ashling was already setting up for dinner. Larii sat on Friend, braiding the mane, pleasantly kicking her legs.
Ashling turned to Larii, "No, we're having some mushy stuff."
Demaren frowned at the one sided conversation he had never really gotten used to.
The dainty Gaeian continued after a moment, "Oh, if you have some Harp bird I'll cook it."
Larii rolled off of Friend and trotted over with a small bag she had over her shoulder. She pulled out a bird, feathers awkwardly angled.
Demaren felt sick at the sight of the broken wings, and openly stepped back in horror. "I'm not eating that."
Ashling looked from the bird to Demaren, slightly horrified herself. "Oh!" She practically sang it with guilt. "Larii says sorry, too."
He frowned.
"No she doesn't. She doesn't say anything! It's incredibly insane that you talk to her like you can hear some unspoken response!"
"I told you, she talks in pictures! I don't know why you can't hear--er, see them!"
A scowl crept into his face, "Ash, pictures? Really? In your head? Are you serious? It just sounds so crazy! I don't think you're crazy, but I've never heard anything like that before except from crazy people!"
She sighed and rested her head on her shoulder in resignation. "I can't explain it, it just is."
Demaren grumbled and folded his arms in a half sulk. He leaned against the tree they had rested beside (and that Larii was bounding around on) and asked, "So what's the plan, Miss Telepathy? Enter under the cover of nightfall?"
She cocked an eyebrow, "I'll go in on foot, and grab the map. Grandmother goes to evening temple every night, so it'll be easy to sneak in and out."
"And the rest of us? Me? Friend? Larii?"
"Wait here, of course. I won't be more than an hour."
Demaren narrowed his eyes.
"Or you could fly above me and wait on the roof?"
"Better."
Friend snuffled and snorted in protest, but they ignored him. So Larii jumbled down and stroked his head, looking vaguely annoyed herself.
They got ready to separate, packing her a few probable essentials: nothing. She actually removed the skirt portion of her outfit, to maneuver more easily.
"How fortunate that you also possess a pair of pants." Demaren teased.
"At least I have a shirt."
Demaren smirked, and said playfully, "That's a good thing?"
Ashling opened her mouth to speak, but closed it as a blush crept into her cheeks. She balled up her fists and stalked forward. And just as Demaren was starting to worry he'd gone a little too far, she turned back to stick her tongue out. He laughed outright, and took a leap into the air.

Green

2009-02-02T10:18:00.001-08:00

Friend was restlessly tossing his head.
"It's okay," I said soothingly.
He huffed at me and looked at me with doleful eyes like I was an idiot.
I patted his neck and smiled like a lunatic. Demaren had just told me I could stay with him. I didn't think it was healthy to be this happy, but I was. That had to mean he liked me a little. I continued to grin as I stroked at Friend's mane, trying to calm him.
Suddenly he bounced up and down on his front feet, baying angrily, and I grabbed his reigns.
"Friend, what's wrong?" I asked, frustrated by his behavior. Normally he enjoyed it when Demaren and I got along.
I heard Demaren, then, mutter my name, but friend gave a shriek and I was somehow toppling to the ground. I cried out unexpectedly, rolling onto my back to find a very large beast atop me.
My mouth fell open, I think, to utter a horrified scream, but nothing came out. The breath had been knocked out of me. Large, blue iris-less eyes surveyed me with what I thought was interest. (It's hard to tell expressions if you can't see a mouth.)
Oh, so it's real. I thought, moronically.
I was being straddled by a huge--what had the stories called them? Oh, yes--avery. It's spindly fingers gripped at me from elongated limbs and it's equally long neck swayed above me, bring it's head down to sniff at me. I turned my face away, not wanting to see the small circle of sucking fangs that were now hovering over me, breathing in short little bursts to find a good spot... Because, if the stories were true (and they obviously were) I knew what was coming next.
With a shriek, Friend collided head first into the avery, knocking it off me and making it roll toward Demaren. The hop placed itself between me and the avery, growling menacingly, as I scrambled to my feet. Lanky appendages set into a crouch, the creature seemed to take in the situation for a moment then spun fluidly around to face Demaren.
In a split second, it was on top of him. Without thinking I rushed forward to help him, but Friend stood in my way. Impatiently I tried to get around him, my head spinning a little from my fall.
"Stop it!" I told him. "It's going to--"
Demaren cried out and my head snapped up to see the avery's mouth attached to Demaren's chest, directly above his heart. Friend's screech brought on a scream of my own and I hurtled myself over the hop's body only to find myself flat on my back again as he grabbed at my vest with his teeth. I was nearly in tears with frustration as the hop stood over me and prevented me from getting up.
"Demaren!" I nearly screeched, flinging an arm around Friend's leg as if I could reach him.
Nononononono... I thought, or maybe I said it. I'm not sure.
But suddenly, something light green and vaguely humanoid dropped from the trees and landed on the avery's back.
With a pop, the avery's mouth released Demaren and it awkwardly got up to lumber away. The greenish person slipping from it's back. I finally managed to shove Friend off me and scurried over to Demaren, half the distance spent scrambling on my knees until I managed to fully get up.
Blood was everywhere.
"Demaren!" I called, placing a hand on the winged man's cheek. His eyes were closed and his face was a sickly pale color.
A pool of blood was beginning to form around him and seep into the ground as the wound in his chest pumped out blood erratically. Without thinking I pressed my hands over the hole, trying to stop the flow.
Demaren gave a wet sort of cough, his lips turning a light red as some blood made it's way out of his broken lungs and up his throat.
I could hardly see anything, tears were streaming down my face. What was I supposed to do? I didn't know how to doctor this sort of wound. It was far beyond me. He gave another wet cough, blood trickling out of his mouth now.
"No!" I cried. "No, please, no..." Whether I was pleading with Demaren or fate, I didn't know.
A hand dropped to my shoulder and my head whipped around, my own hands not daring to move from Demaren's chest.
A young woman, the same form that had dropped from the trees onto the avery, smiled down at me. Her skin was tinted green and her eyes were a dark brown, almost black. Friend was flustering around between us and the avery.
"Help him!" I pleaded, forgoing any sort of thank you or introduction.
She looked from me to Demaren and a flood of pictures enveloped my mind.
"Wha--?" I started, but my hands were already moving.
My hands, bloody and shaking, found the hem of my shirt and pulled hard. With a rip the bottom began to come away. I gathered up what I could and pressed the rags over the bite mark in Demaren's chest. Which, I now noticed, was not moving nearly as much as it should be.
"Um. Help!?" I squeaked.
A green hand appeared in front of my face, cupping a strange looking gray power. I looked up at the green woman and made an inquisitive, though strangled, noise. Once again a bunch of pictures flowed into my head.
"How do you do that?" I muttered, taking the powder in my own hands so she could take my place.
With a quick motion, I scooped some of the powder up with my lips. Kneeling over Demaren, I pinched his nose closed with my free hand and blew the gritty powder down his throat. Some space in my mind was still free in the middle of the chaos to be trilled at the touch his lips. Perhaps the only thing that part of my brain did was relish kissing.
But the excitement was short lived as Demaren's lips were as cold as ice and his normally tan skin was paler than my own.
"Is it working?" I asked my knew, though strangely colored friend, wiping the powder residue from my lips.
She looked at me from where she sat, cross legged at Demaren's side, pouring some of the same powder over his wound. Her eyes were questioning.
"Is it working?" I snapped, not having any patience at the moment. "Will he be alright?"
Now her brow furrowed, bringing dark green eyebrows together--everything about her was green, from her mossy short dress to her toenails--and another stream of images collided in my head.
"Stop that!" I said, shaking my head. "Can't you just talk?"
The girl tilted her head to the side.
"I'm not being ungrateful!" I said indignantly. "What I'm being is frustrated!"
And frightened, and angry, and worried, and confused, and...
"And suddenly really, really tired," I muttered to myself.
Friend came up to me, butting me with his head comfortingly though still keeping himself between me and the aver. I rubbed my head.
"Okay, let's try it your way..." I said, looking at the green girl intently.
With an effort, I focused on pictures in my head. Demaren. Happy and smiling at me.
A light went on in the girl's eye. She nodded vigorously.
"Great. Okay," I said, glancing at the avery now.
It was sitting at the edge of our small clearing, swaying it's long neck slightly as if to some unheard music. Could it even hear? I didn't see any ears on the thing. I noticed a line of something dark running from it's small mouth and dripping off it's... was that it's nose?
The green woman must have thought I was wondering about the dark stuff around the avery's mouth because she was quick to provide a picture of where it came from...
"Oh, stars! I did not need to know that!" I said, closing my eyes as if that could help keep the image at bay.
When I opened them, she was picking up my friend in her arms. My mouth fell open. She was much taller than I am, but just as thin. I wouldn't have thought she had the strength.
She marched over to me and Friend lay down obligingly. She lay Demaren propped up on the hop's side. I came around to sit next to him, Friend huffing worriedly as I was in the avery's line of attack again.
"Shush," I told him. Somehow I didn't think the avery was a threat anymore.
I took Demaren's large hand in mine. It was getting a little warmer.
"Okay," I said, not taking my eyes off his still face. He was breathing better too. "Who--what are you?"
The girl didn't respond. I sighed and sent disjointed images until she responded.
"Larii?" I asked.
She nodded, her matted hair bouncing at her shoulders.
I sent another batch of images to find out what to do next.
Sleep, was the answer I got back. The girl, Larii, lay down on the spot and proceeded to take the advice she had given me. In minutes she was out.
I looked over at Friend, my mouth slightly open.
"Wha..." I whispered. Friend shook his bangs out of his eyes.
Well, I was tired. Being beaten down by a nonexistent creature and watching it suck out the life of the one you love was sort of a lot to process.
My head snapped up at the thought. Love? Where had that word come from. I had only known Demaren for a month. It couldn't be love. I mean. Sure, I liked him. (A lot.) And I didn't want to leave him. (Ever.) But that didn't mean I loved him.
Except for the insistent need I felt to kiss him. All the time.
I brought my free hand up to my face, covering my eyes and shaking my head. How stupid could I be? Demaren obviously didn't feel the same way or he wouldn't have pulled away when we kissed. This was a loosing battle.
But... He'd wanted me to come with him. That meant he at least liked me, right?
I looked at Demaren's blank face, finally almost a normal color. Maybe if I spent more time with him he'd grow to like me.
I shook my head. That was stupid. Stupid! What was I going to do? Stick around on the off chance he started liking me?
My eyes flitted up to Demaren's face again.
"Yep," I whispered to myself. "I guess that's what I'm going to do."
I rose up on my knees and, very lightly, pressed my lips to his warming cheek. Then I scooted down, not wanting to hurt him by snuggling up to his middle as usual, and pressed my back to his legs instead.

Beautiful oblivion

2009-01-30T16:34:00.000-08:00

Well, he was in love with her. That was apparent. It had been a painfully clear to Demaren the moment Ashling had, essentially, forced him to come to a conclusion. He considered it unfair that she had brought him to that point with emotions running high and tears running down her face, but what was done was done. And the conclusion was bound to be the same.
So now he lay on the ground, completely unable to sleep because a small, warm, and extremely cuddly Ashling was nestled into his arms. He was confused, though. So very confused. He'd kissed her. And he had been convinced she would not mind. It almost didn't even occur to him that she might have any qualms about it. So he had jumped in head first. It had been every kind of perfect. He'd kissed his fair share of Syla girls back home, but nothing lit his brain on fire like Ashling's lips. Nothing had sent him spinning off into white oblivion like the warmth behind her. And, of course, nothing had stabbed deeper or more painfully then the slight touch of her hands pushing him away. It had been very light and he had considered pretending not to have felt it. But he'd pulled away out of respect.
Her face was unreadable at that moment. She looked completely shocked, that much had been clear, but her thoughts? Oh, he had no idea what they were. He tried to play it off as a ploy to calm her down, but wasn't sure he was convincing. Still, she didn't seem to hate him.
But, Demaren felt frustrated. She sighed in the crook of his arm, and he held in an exasperated grumble. He wanted to kiss her again. Then. Now. Tomorrow. And his mind wanted him to know it, so sleep wasn't becoming an option.
Yet he did fall asleep. And dreamed of the beautiful oblivion.
In the morning, he awoke blearily. He peered over his feathers at the sun that forced its way into his eyes.
"Damn you." He muttered.
Ashling rustled slightly beside him. Her hands tightened as she sat up slightly. He glanced at her through the corners of his eyes, as nonchalantly as mortally possibly. He silently cursed her lovely face for being irresistible and ever present. And thanked the stars that she existed. It was becoming troublesome in his mind.
"... morning..." She whispered. She cleared her throat daintily, frowning slightly, then smiled pleasantly at Demaren.
"Good morning to you too." He mumbled, making to rise. She sat up fully, leaning against Friend, and he rose quickly.
"We might be able to make it out of the rain forest today." She said from behind him. He was only half listening to the words she said.
What did making it out of the forest mean? Would he escort her to Velt? Of course. What about from there? Could he simply leave? He turned around fully to stare at her.
"And then on to Velt?" He was frowning, and she wouldn't like the face, but he was unhappy and couldn't bring a fake smile to the surface.
"Um, yeah. About that?" She looked unsure, her eyes open wide. She fingered the collar of her very snug vest and he realized that was probably his favorite vest in the world.
He was distracted by the ... fit of the vest, and completely out of the conversation. But found his way to her earnest face, and back to reality.
"About that...? Oh. Yes. What about that?" He turned around again to muster up food.
"After that actually."
He stiffened at her words. Was she going to politely request he stay away from her after that? He wasn't sure if he could even pretend to be fine with that.
"After that, what?" He mumbled.
"Well if you're not okay with the idea then it's completely fine but maybe after I--And the--Home? And maybe after, where you--And I'm not saying this--What if I, after home--" She flustered behind him and he bit his lip to keep from laughing. "I could go with you?" She blurted out.
Demaren had not been expecting that. Nor did he really understand her at all at this point. Go with him? Where? Why? To torment him?! He carefully set the bowls down.
But she had started babbling again.
"Of course if you don't want me to that's completely fine and I'm not sure I'm the best company but I don't think I can stay at home and but I want to stay with you or not at home, so can I or I mean, would you--"
He threw his hands up finally to calm the strange stream of incoherence.
"Why?" He decided to get to the point.
She took a deep breath and rolled her head on her neck. "I don't want to leave you."
Right. Okay. He was confused to no end now. His mind started thinking at light speed.
First she cries because of him, then she doesn't want him to kiss her, then she snuggles up to him, and now she doesn't want to leave him. While the majority of those would put him in the mindset of 'she likes me' he could not overlook the glaringly obvious point where she politely refused him physically. But perhaps he could change her mind over time... She wanted to travel with him after wards?
"Fine." He nodded briskly and turned back to the food.
Her hand was gripping his arm (as well as a small hand could grab a thick forearm, at least) suddenly, so he looked down at her beside him. Her face was serious and set in a focused way.
"It's okay if you don't want me to come."
He frowned again. So, she didn't want to come with him?
"Do you want to come with me or not?" He said, frustratedly.
"Yes, that's why I said so." She rolled her eyes in search for words. "But if you'd rather have me go away... I guess I would."
He tilted his head away from her, cocking an eye brow.
"You know I prefer to have you in sight."
She smiled blissfully at him. "Okay then." And flitted off to manage Friend (who was flustering around, snuffling at trees).
Demaren wanted to pursue this strange conversation, but a rustle in the trees distracted him. His eyes shot up to the branches high above.
A shape jumped from branch to branch, until it was about 15 feet further than Ashling and Friend. Then it stopped and sat to stare at the group. Demaren was thrown completely and partially horrified. Long limbed and lanky, whatever it was gripped the branches with spindly fingers and toes. It's torso was slim and elongated, and continued seamlessly past it's arms to the neck and the head. The eyes were an intense light blue, with no other varying color at all. It blinked at them. Demaren couldn't see a mouth on it. Just black and white, long and lean, and huge unnerving eyes.
He was brought back to reality by Friend's whines and shuffles.
"Friend, what's wrong?" Ashling was tugging at Friend's reigns, trying to calm him down.
"Ashling..." Demaren began, but a shrill shriek from Friend and a burst of rustling from the creature brought him sharply to attention.
The thing in the branches had made fast lunge from it's spot 50 feet above them straight to Ashling. She screamed when she saw it and Demaren felt his body tighten. The beast tackled her to the ground and began smelling her. Demaren felt a foreboding sense of danger he couldn't shake. And, right on target, the thing pulled it's long neck back to survey Ashling. Demaren saw the small circle of fangs on the underside of its head. Tiny and piercing, they looked ready to go to work.
"Ashling!" He made a frenzied dash to save her from whatever was going to happen. But Friend was faster. The thing was tackled full force by the hop. It rolled off, tumbling recklessly towards Demaren, who slid to a stop in surprise. Friend rushed to stand between the monster and Ashling, growling a strange noise Demaren had never heard before. Oriented right ways, the beast looked expressionlessly at Friend. Then it whipped its head at Demaren. Up close, Demaren could see the details on it. Or lack of details, really.
It was a plainly designed beast. It was probably the same size as Friend, or slightly larger. No finger nails--not even claws. Just long, slender fingers at the end of bony arms and legs. It swaggered on all fours, shoulder blades poking sharply up and stretching the black smooth skin of its back. Its underside was white and clean. On the ground, its neck swung low so the small head (like a continuation of the neck and body, so similar was the size) hovered very near to the mossy forest floor. The eyes, as he'd suspected, were the most frightening thing about it. As a blind man's eyes were all white and clearly sightless, these eyes were all blue with no hint of an iris. But Demaren knew it was staring intently at him. It walked slowly at him, awkward limb staggering over the ground. It could have been intoxicated, the way it moved. But, a moment later, Demaren knew it was very in tune with its surroundings.
It leapt quickly and accurately on top of him. It was very strong, he realized, the strange hands pinning him down and grinding him into the soil. It hovered it's creepy mouth above him, inhaling his scent. The circle of teeth rested briefly above his face, revealing how dangerous it really was. The teeth were there, ready and willing, and in the circle of incisors, was a strange suction type of mouth.
"Ah..." Demaren breathed, realizing the way it fed. And a moment later, the mouth moved down to his chest, where it halted instantly. It was only half of a second of paused silence before the head dropped into Demaren's bare chest. Many things happened then. The teeth pierced the skin above his heart. Friend gave a wild shriek again. He cried out briefly. And Ashling screamed.
He wanted to push the beast off and run to her and show her he was alive, but his body was unresponsive to his desire to flee. There must have been a venom or something coating the teeth or in the saliva.
But the worst part came next. He would always remember it as the most unpleasant, painful sort of experience to ever have--the feeling of having blood sucked from your body--from your very heart. He felt his heart beat wildly as it fought for the blood it needed. The nauseating feeling of having the inside of your chest begin to collapse and shrivel. Even the tingling in his face, like the need to sneeze. So strange. So unique. His stomach fell through. His limbs quivered restlessly.
He felt on the very brink of insanity.
And in the foggy outskirts of his fading consciousness, Ashling's screams.
"Demaren!"
Friend's whines of terror and fury.
And lulling shrieks and yells, even further from his hearing.
And everything faded out and was gone into dark absence. Before he fell into the void as well, he suddenly compared it to the white, shining oblivion of Ashling's embrace. He teetered at the edge, mentally frowning at the unattractive darkness. But the pull was strong, and he felt he would go mad if he remained in his body. So he let himself fall into the darkness.

Fixing It

2009-01-26T11:23:00.000-08:00

It was a quiet for a few days and Demaren was in an even worse mood, if that were possible, since having to walk. Once we hit the forrest, he didn't attempt to lead, leaving me to determine our path.
After leaving the coastal breezes, the air turned muggy. Everything in the forest was wet and slippery. When I walked beside Friend to let him rest, I often found myself clutching the saddle so I wouldn't slip and fall on my face. Friend had not been happy with the change of events that brought on an oppressive silence almost as heavy the steamy air. He tried to get things resolved in little ways, shoving me into Demaren's side at odd moments and such.
One of the first times Friend pulled this trick, I collided face first with Demaren's chest which was little softer than the damp bark on the tall trees around us. Only a hundred times warmer. He caught me easily, his arms wrapping around me and his wings unfurling slightly to keep us both balanced.
"You idiot!" I shouted at Friend, steadying myself against Demaren. "What is wrong with you?"
"Maybe he's in league with the forest beasts," Demaren teased.
My head snapped up to look at him with wide eyes. We hadn't talked in half a day. I smiled hoping he was over what ever was bothering him.
"He IS the forest beast," I countered, tilting my head back to grin up at him.
Demaren smiled down at me as if nothing were wrong for a moment. Then his grip tightened on my arms, and his face slipped back into the cautious mask he'd taken to wearing. He let me go and moved decisively away. I watched him wander forward and felt my face crumple. The problem obviously lied with me.
Friend gave a sharp snort of agitation. I glared at him and he ignored me by taking a bite of near by vegetation.
The only thing that hadn't changed between Demaren and I was that he still slept with me tucked under his wing, like a protective parent.
I relished the contact. Sometimes I would pretend to fall asleep, so that Demaren's breathing became steady, long, and even, and press my face into his feathers. They were gloriously soft, like Demaren only a few days ago. The cushy things smelled like him, lightly sweet and comforting.
The silence lengthened between us. As I lay in his wing, I listened to Demaren breathe. I was sure he was asleep. I pressed my face to his wing, stroking the feathers with my hand, and cried quietly.
I didn't know what was wrong but I was sure he didn't want to be here. Even though I didn't have an exact idea about many things right now, I didn't want him to leave. Whatever else happened at this point, I hardly imagined myself without Demaren. It was like with Friend, I could just leave him. I didn't want to.
I wiped my face on the linen sleeve of the dress Nieta had given to me. The light color was turning more dark with wear and the wet of the rain forest. I pulled the tie out of my hair and shook out the curling tendrils, which were now growing close to the middle of my back, and pulled the locks in front of my face. I felt like hiding and I didn't want Demaren to wake up first and see that I had been crying.
Green light filtered down through the thick forest canopy then through my living feather bed. With the dense foliage and never ending drizzle of rain, it seemed like we were in a perpetual twilight. I blinked awake, moving my hair out of my eyes to find Demaren still fast asleep. With little effort I slipped from his wing and stretched without waking him or Friend. I looked around our little dark camp, contemplating breakfast.
We hadn't had a fire in days. With the perpetual drops from the tree tops and the humid atmosphere there wasn't much dry wood to be found. I wondered if Demaren would like a hot meal as much as I would. Maybe it would brighten his mood.
With careful steps, I tip-toed away from the little clearing into the towering trees. I wanted to have food ready by the time he woke, but my search for dry wood was a futile one. Within twenty minutes I was soaked through (as I had been for several days) sure that I wouldn't find anything dry in the area. I sighed and tilted my face up to the falling mist, letting the water cool me. I didn't mind my clothes being wet, it helped to keep me from sweating to death.
With another sigh I turned back to camp, my wet skirt swishing around my ankles. I hadn't gone more than a few yards when a crashing sound approached from in front of me. It wasn't such a loud sound, actually, but after the relative quiet of the forest it was startling.
Demaren crashed out of the trees in front of me with Friend close on his tail. His eyes were wild and sparkling, as if he were looking for something to attack. I took a step back, his intensity catching me off guard. His eyes took me in, darting this way and that before his stance relaxed and he frowned heavily. Friend made his way over, snuffling at my arms and shoulders.
"Good morning," I said, smiling uncertainly, my hand went out automatically to pat Friend.
"Where were you?!" he all but shouted at me.
I shrunk back a step, my eyes wide. "I-I was looking for fire wood--"
"Then where is the fire wood?" he snapped.
"I... Well. Since the rain--I could find any!" I shouted back, my hands clenched into fists. I was getting a little fed up with his strange behavior.
"Wha... Why the hell would you wonder off on your own! You're the one that said there was monstrous beasts waiting in the trees--"
"We haven't even seen one!" I said, but he continued.
"--go tramping off into the forest. Oh! Look at me! I'm a tasty little girl, COME EAT ME!"
My mouth moved, but no words were coming out. I shook my head to clear it.
"I'm not a little girl!"
He looked at me critically and took his hand to measure me against him. My head barely made the middle of his chest.
"So I'm vertically challenged! That doesn't make me a child!"
He stooped a little and pointed at me, completely serious. "But you are little!"
I stopped again, my mouth hanging open before it closed with an audible snap.
He went on, not seeming to notice, and he turned away in frustration as he spoke. "But that's not the point! Do you have any idea how worried I was?!"
My eyes widened now and I blinked as he came at me again.
"Stop throwing yourself into danger!" he had me by the shoulders now.
He looked at me intensely, eyes burning into mine. My feet were almost off the forest floor; I could hear Friend making plaintive noises to the side, as if trying to calm us down. One tear trickled down my cheek, followed by another. I was crying.
Demaren's eyes took in my face, his eyes widening as he let me go and stepped back.
"I knew it!" I said.
"K-knew what?" he said, completely disarmed by my tears.
"It's my fault that you're angry!" I sniffed, covering my face with my hands.
"Well..." he said, weighing his words. "Yeah. You went off into the forest alone!"
"No!--I mean, yes. But. That's not what I meant!" I looked at him now, not bothering to wipe away the stream of tears. "You've been angry with me since before the Veil! Whatever it is, it's my fault!"
"Angry? N-no! I wasn't angry! I was... I was just trying... to figure out h-how to fix some stuff!" he finally said, looking horror struck at my accusation.
Well, that was just great. I'd spent the last few days tormenting myself over the possibility that I had somehow offended him. Now I was back to being clueless as to what was wrong.
I choked on a sob. "W-well, did you figure it o-out?"
"Um. I think so," he said warily.
"Good!" I shouted, crying angrily now. "Then try fixing these!"
I pointed at my face, to the seemingly endless drops of tears that forced their way out of my eyes when I desperately wanted them to stay.
Demaren looked taken aback for a moment, like I'd said something completely unexpected. Then he straightened and his jaw locked in determination. I thought he was going to get angry again, but he took a step forward. With both hands he cupped my face firmly between his palms. And kissed me.
My tears stopped immediately.
I was so surprised I merely stood there, my eyes wide. Unconsciously, my eyes started to close, my lips moving with his. A tingling sensation started in my toes and ran up the back of my legs into my head. Dizzily, my hands came up to steady myself against his bare chest.
Demaren stopped kissing me suddenly, pulling away as he leaned back to take in my reaction. I blinked up at him, my lips slightly parted from where we left off. Why had he stopped? Uncertainly, I leaned in a little, almost on tip-toe...
"Better?" he asked, he voice rattling in his chest. He cleared his throat slightly.
I nodded, confused, letting my fingers fall away from his skin. Had he only kissed me to stop my crying? You didn't just kiss somone without liking them, did you?
Looking around, Demaren frowned a little. "Good," he said finally. "Don't get lost. Again."
I rolled back onto my heels, trying to read his expression, but he turned away then and we went back to the campsite. Friend walked next to me, butting me with his soft nose comfortingly though I didn't know what he was trying to tell me. I stared at Demaren's back, his wings folded neatly. I had the most intense urge to kiss the line between where the top of his wings met and up his spine to the nape of his neck.
I bit my lip and clenched at Friend's reigns instead.
Night seemed to come swiftly. Though Demaren and I hardly talked for the rest of the day, it wasn't the strained, loaded silence I'd experienced before. Friend settled in next to the coals we managed to light and I leaned up against him. Though I normally slept next to Demaren (at his insistence) I didn't want to make him uncomfortable.
He looked over at me suddenly.
"Are you going to sleep?" he asked.
I nodded, looking at him from under my eyelashes.
Coming over immediately, he sat down next to me. I bolted upright, wondering if he wanted to talk. Instead he leaned in close and wrapped a wing around me.
"Goodnight," he said quietly, leaning us back against Friend until I couldn't see his face easily.
His feathers brushed up against my skin, and I sighed at the touch. He smelled lightly sweet, as always. Since he obviously wasn't going to kiss me again, I did the next best thing.
Turning toward him, I snuggled into his side and wrapped an arm around his middle. Demaren was very still for a moment, and I was suddenly afraid I had gone too far. Then his arm slid around me and tucked me to his side securely.
I'll take what I can get, I thought.

Trying to not think about it

2009-01-23T08:43:00.000-08:00

Everything was wrong and Demaren didn't like it. He was still confused about her and now she was mad at him. And he didn't even really understand why. She just started getting upset and he was the one who had to walk. She was mad at him because he didn't want to walk? He supposed that would make some sense. Except for the parts where it didn't. He rubbed his head vigorously and groaned. He watched her trot off, probably expecting him to follow. Or maybe not. He frowned deeper. He wasn't going to leave her to die in some forest of monsters. So he took to the air.
He flew high above her, using his refined eyes to keep an eye on her. But he was still confused and a little angry. The anger tapered off after a couple hours though, so he ended up back in his thoughts about her and what he thought of her. He tried not to think about it. The way her eyes looked kind of stormy when she was angry. He frowned. Demaren tried not to think about it. It being the way she'd bite her lip after saying something. He rubbed his face. And again, tried not to think about it.
"It doesn't even matter." He mumbled to himself.

Turned Around

2009-01-19T19:59:00.000-08:00

Demaren left to fill up the water bag, taking off before I could look back up to see which way he went. I let out the breath I'd been holding.
"Gods above, that was close," I muttered.
Friend looked at me, his ears perked up in question as he munched on some near by stubbly grass. I put half the mixture I'd been making into another bowl and sat down with my own, sloshing it around as I talked to the hop.
"He was really close," I clarified. "Didn't you see that?"
Friend looked at me and blinked.
"He was so close, his earring brushed my cheek!" I said in a squeaking whisper, looking at the ground instead of the hop's big brown eyes.
He snorted; it sounded like a chuckle.
I glared at him. "Of course it doesn't mean anything! There I went, pouring my entire sob story out to him last night, and now I'm just self conscious. End of story."
Friend huffed in a way that definitely said, "Yeah, right."
My face burned the color of the berries I had found near our sleeping area. They were the same sort of fruit my brother and I would pick at the edge of the rain forest in Velt as children. I took a huge bite of food.
"I barely even know anything about him," I mumbled between chews.
I bit my lip. I really didn't know anything about him. He was Syla, but I had guessed at that. What else did I know about him? Apparently he liked to save people, since I was proving to have an impressive knack for attracting deadly situations. But that was it. I didn't know about his family, his home, his friends.
Why was he on this journey anyway? Shouldn't he be finding his way to Grayman and not tagging along with me?
I had almost finished my mushy bowl of... mush, when Demaren landed back in the campsite. He was literally sparkling, and it took me a moment to realize that it was because he was soaking wet and not because of some divine aura. I blinked, and closed my mouth (which had fallen open at some point) and settled for biting my bottom lip. His hair stuck up, naturally, in a sort of peak at the top, almost like a collapsed mohawk.
When his eyes had finally found mine, they weren't the same shining, pale gold they had been a half hour before. They were brooding and thoughtful, so instead of pelting him with the thousands of questions I realized I hadn't asked, I handed him the other bowl of mushy.
He nodded slightly, reaching out to take the bowl. Our hands brushed as I handed the bowl off to him and his hand hesitated at the touch.
I looked at him quizzically, wondering what had happened.
"Are you okay?" I asked, concerned.
He looked down and rubbed the back of his head. "Big fish."
I had to lean in to hear the words, and I wasn't sure I got them right. Demaren, seeing me lean in, inclined his body in the other direction.
"Big fish," I repeated flatly, bringing myself back to my original position so he didn't have to lean away.
"Yeah. It was," he made a hand gesture to suggest something about a foot long, "really big."
He shuffled off to go stand next to Friend, moving in close as he patted the hop's neck. My brow pulled together as he muttered something in Friend's ear.
How had we gone from a natural friendship to suddenly stand offish? I shrugged. Maybe he didn't like fish.
I moved around the camp, packing things away to give Demaren some space. It was mid afternoon by the time we were ready to leave.
"I guess we won't travel too far today?" I queried, hopping up on Friend's back as Demaren shouldered his pack.
"Why do you say that?" he asked, frowning at my assumption.
"Well, it's so late in the day," I said, lamely. "I just thought... We should probably bed down before night fall. I think we're pretty close to the forest."
He looked at me, seemingly distracted for a moment, then shrugged. "Oh. Okay."
I felt my eyebrows raise. "Unless you feel like traveling at night? But if we hit the rain forest, you probably shouldn't fly around."
That got his attention. "What? Why can't I fly?"
I tilted my head. "There's a Gaeaian legend about creatures that live in the rain forest. In the trees. Supposedly, not many come back out. There won't be any people traveling through it, though. If you don't want to go that way, we could try another..."
He looked at me strangely. "Why are we going to a forest where people disappear?!"
I smiled. "I don't think that anyone disappears in the forest without wanting to. There could be creatures in the trees, though, so I don't know if you should fly around in there."
"Nonono... You're missing my point. Why are we going in at all?!"
"Because there won't be anyone there. There's too much of a chance I'll get discovered if we don't stay away from people," I paused. "...And I'm not sure how they'll react to you."
"So, you'd rather get killed than discovered? Why can't we just fly...?"
"It probably would be safer to fly, though it's a long ways off. But I won't leave Friend," I said, frowning up at him.
Demaren looked at Friend, who blinked innocently back at him, and scowled. He rubbed at his head again and nodded.
"So, you expect me to walk," he said a little sourly.
He'd never put up this much resistance before. I bit my lip and shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though I was a little stung by the words. Walking around with Friend and I couldn't be that bad, could it?
"You could fly and meet us there," I suggested, looking off to my left so I didn't have to see his expression. "I'm sure if you stick to the coast line it'll be easy to find from far up. There's a part in the Veil that thins out enough for people to walk through in caravans. That's where Velt is."
His scowl turned a little black with irritation.
"And leave you alone in a forest full of murderous beasts," he said, heavy with sarcasm. "Oh, yeah. I'll fly."
"You just seemed so adverse to walking..." I tried to explain, wondering where his dark mood was coming from.
"I don't exactly have the best walking feet," he retorted, angling a foot out in observation.
"I'd be happy for you to take a turn on Friend," I suggested, trying to smooth things over. "I'm sure he--"
I came up short as Demaren took on the look of someone who realized they had just stepped on a small kitten.
"This entire venture is steadily progressing into a bad idea," he stated, folding his arms over his chest.
I flinched, but came back immediately. "No one's making you come..."
His expression turned even darker and he scuffed a foot on the ground.
"Well, I'm not leaving," he muttered.
"Fine," I snapped. I flicked Friend's reigns and trotted forward at a slightly quicker pace than usual.
I refused to look back to see his expression. His words had cut me a little, like parchment. It was a complete turn around from his understanding the night before and his closeness this morning. I wondered if I had done something to provoke him. I bit my tongue to stay my uncertainties and tasted blood.

Sudden thoughts

2009-01-16T16:38:00.000-08:00

She was asleep again. This seemed to happen to him, with her, a lot. He sighed and carefully pulled her off of him. She didn't stir, just breathed a little more deeply. Her head lolled onto her shoulder and he looked at Friend, who was walking over to snuffle her hair. He gave a satisfied huff and bonked his head against Demaren's ("Hey!") before laying down expectantly. Demaren, rubbing his head playfully, yawned suddenly himself. He relaxed onto Friend's back, as they usually did, but instead of laying her beside him, he kept her in the crook of his arm before folding his wing over them. She snoozed on, small and delicate.
He smiled to himself and leaned down. She smelled vaguely of camp fire, but mostly of a soft sort of flower. He pressed his lips to corner of her mouth, then lay his head beside hers and slept.

- - -

When he awoke, he fully expected to see her sleeping beside him, as usual. But there was an empty space where Ashling had laid. Demaren sat up quickly, first concerned that the traveling whoever-they-were's had come along and stolen her from him again. But a rustling and clatter to the right quickly eased his mind. Especially when he saw Ashling was the one making the clattering sounds. She was mixing something in one of his bowls. No fire was to be seen (he felt concerned when he thought of her trying to a) find fire wood, and b) starting a fire) so he assumed she was making some sort of cold meal.
"Ashling?"
She looked up suddenly, her eyes glittering and awake.
"Good morning--uh, afternoon?"
He looked up, automatically, to gage the sun. It was lingering above them, though not directly. Demaren would have safely guessed it was afternoon as well. He pushed himself to his feet, and stretched tall. His wings reached upwards, feathers spreading like toes. A shudder rushed over his body as all the muscles tensed and relaxed.
"Good afternoon." He responded pleasantly. He wandered over to peer into the bowl over her shoulder. He felt extraordinarily playful! He tiptoed over to her, and leaned in closer than he usually would have, carefully monitoring her reactions. His feather earrings tickled her cheek as it fell. "What are you making?"
"Some of that mushy stuff." Her face stayed strangely calm, which irritated him slightly. Not even her voice wavered. He pulled back and pulled the water bag from the gear.
"Okay. I'm going to fill up the water." He flew upward, looking for a fresh water source. Once found (a large river), he shot to it. The time in the water was spent in thought. Maybe she didn't notice how close he'd stood. Perhaps she was... very absorbed in cooking. Or maybe she didn't think of him like that.
He froze.
He could feel the muscles in his face knot up into a frown. Like what? There was no way to think of him. Whatever his brain had come up with for her to feel, he certainly didn't feel himself or even want to know! He felt suddenly flustered. He ran one hand through his hair, roughly rubbing his scalp and quietly exclaiming his confusion. Then he threw the water bag to the shore and leapt into the air, looped upwards, and dove under water at a smooth angle.
It was very cold and fresh. It coursed around him, like the altitude wind. He pinned his wings to his back and just swam.
What did he want her to think of him? What did he think of her? True, she was very pretty. And sweet. She had a little fire in her that he found captivating--was that the right word?! But she was always getting into trouble. She also kept so many secrets from him. And what about her family? What if they didn't like him?
He had surfaced and was resting by a rock, only the upper half of his head above the water. He blew bubbles with his mouth and frowned.
What did it matter? Any of it. She probably thought he was a winged freak. A scary one. He did kill someone... He scares her when he flies her around--which is the best way to travel--and probably acts way too over protective.
"Stupid." He mumbled and dove down again.

I won't let you

2009-01-16T08:40:00.000-08:00

I watched Demaren fly away, so high into the stratosphere that he wouldn't have been perceptible even in daylight. Friend had broken into a gallop, following in Demaren's wake.
The tears didn't wait until he was out of sight. As soon as Demaren's figure, though dark and frightening at the moment, was gone, my eyes were obstructed with tears faster than they could roll down my cheeks. I pulled my legs up as I leaned back into the saddle back, hugging my knees to my chest and pressing my forehead to my knees.
"G-go to sleep?" I asked the empty darkness, laughing with a bit of hysteria. I would not sleep tonight. For all I knew I would never sleep again.
Friend made concerned, comforting noises over his shoulder at me.
"He's angry," I whispered to the hop.
Friend gave a sort of snorting huff, as if he was denying Demaren's blatant fury.
"Yes he is!" I shouted back, looking up so that the tears spilled out behind me as Friend sped forward. "He's more than angry. He's livid! Did you see his face? Did you see the way he looked at me? He hates me! I wouldn't be surprised if he left!"
I buried face in my hands. Friend made soft, throaty noises.
"Do you know what's worse?" I asked him, sniffling through the shield of my knees. "I knew this would happen. I knew that when he found out about this"--I glanced hatefully at the brand on my hand--"he'd be beyond disgusted. I knew it and I still let myself befriend him."
That was probably what hurt the most. Over the past week, with everything else that had happened, I had gotten comfortable in Demaren's presence. We had fallen into an easy friendship, the same way Friend and I had. The thought of leaving things like the like this cut into my chest.
My eyes lifted to the skies, hoping to see the dark figure of Demarenn coming to land beside me in the night. The only thing I could see were the stars, gleaming cold and lonely in the sky. Suddenly I thought of Berrik and I clapped a hand over my mouth, only to release it as my right shoulder gave a throb.
"D-did I really call Demaren Berrik?" I whispered.
Friend reluctantly snorted an ascent.
I muttered to the gods. "Strike me."
I found myself wishing, not for the first time, that Grandmother had ordered my execution. The entire council had witnessed only the surface of the power that lay within me, and deemed me too hazardous to stay in Gaea. As I thought of Berrik lying in my arms, I wondered if I was too dangerous for Demaren as well. What if he had gotten hurt when fighting off the gypsy bounty hunters tonight? My throat closed at the very thought.
Maybe it was good, then, that Demaren had found out about me. Maybe he would leave me to my fate and be out of danger. Maybe he would hate me so much now that it would make it easier to let him go...
My thoughts continued along the same circuitous paths until dawn touched the sky with red and orange colors. We were still close to the ocean, though I couldn't see it directly as we entered a hilly area. My head and shoulder ached fiercely and I noticed in the growing light that Friend was all but foaming at the mouth. I raked my tired eyes over the sky and, finding no sign of Demaren, pulled up on the reigns to bring the hop to a stop.
"He'll find us. If he wants to," I said to Friend when he looked back at me as I slid off the saddle. He was too tired to argue with my choice of wording.
Some kind gypsy had thrown a satchel over Friend's back and I pulled it off to inspect. The fist thing I noticed was a large water sack. I brought it around to Friend and poured some into my hands, he slurped it all up and proceeded to lick the tear stains off my cheeks. I tried to smile for him, but I think I only managed a grimace. He butted me with his nose. Taking a sip of the water sack, I lead Friend up another hill and sat down to wait for Demaren. I could see a little glimmer of the ocean with the sun behind me. Friend sat beside me and leaned a little into my side for comfort. I hugged him round the neck, hoping and fearing that Demaren would come.
We didn't have long to wait.
He touched down with a little more force than usual and I gulped, wondering if it was a sign that his anger still boiled. I left my good arm around Friend for support and let my other stay limp at my side. I could see clearly where the bandits had struck the match against my skin, and I turned that side away from Demaren. I didn't want to anger him further.
He didn't look at me right away, as usual, only sat down cross legged as he breathed deeply. A light sheen of sweat glistened off his skin. When he turned his eyes to me I almost flinched, they were dark and brooding.
"Friend was tired," I said, starting to talk in nervousness. "H-he needed to rest. Are you tired? You could rest, too. Um. About last night? I-I'm really very s-sorry. Is your hand okay? When you punched that gypsy..."
I bit back my words as he looked at me. I wasn't sure if he was going laugh at me or start shouting again, I gripped Friend's mane in my left hand. Tears were threatening, but I swallowed them down. Crying was no good and with every word I spoke Demaren's eyes took on a strange look that I didn't recognize. So I simply bit my lip and looked at the ground.
Demaren looked the hand in question. "I think it's fine... I think I killed that guy, though."
He said it so casually it took me a second to decipher his words and I blinked, startled. Demaren frowned at me.
"I probably shouldn't have said that."
"W-why not?" I asked, not thinking.
"Because I don't want you to be afraid of me," he said blatantly.
My heart caught in my throat and I blinked away some tears. "I could never be afraid of you."
He sat for a moment, looking down, then ran a hand through his hair. "Anyway..."
I decided then to tell him. "You should be afraid of me."
"Because you are oh so very dangerous?" he asked skeptically.
I bit my lip and talked through my teeth. "I'm from Gaea. When something happens between people, when something cannot be resolved, there is a trial. I was on trial. For killing over thirty people in a caravan. Including my brother, Berrik."
Tears dripped down my face, and I looked at the ground as I talked. But my voice was steady. It was like I wasn't really talking, someone else was. Demaren was beside me then, on my right, putting his arm around my shoulders lightly.
"What ever you did, I doubt you did it intentionally. Especially if it involves your brother," he said mildly.
I shook my head. "We were traveling to the Spurt in Guarda, on the west side of Gaea. We were attacked by the Eyrnese. Somehow they got past the razor sands in huge metal boats that moved across the sands. I had never seen anything like them. They had different weapons, too. Ones that drove little pellets into people, mostly killing them instantly. One of these things hit my brother, he died in my arms..."
I stopped my story for a second, taking a breath to steady myself. Stupid tears.
"Did you tell them this?"
"After I remembered," I nodded. "In the weeks that followed when they brought me to the Spurt I didn't remeber anything. Not even the fact that I had a brother."
Demaren glanced at me, surprised. I plowed on before he spoke.
"When my brother died, as the Erynese soldiers dragged me away from his corpse, I--um, watch," I said, shrugging out from under his arm. I stood up and faced the sun, which had been at our backs. I looked at Demaren, "This may sound strange, but if I start to explode, please knock me unconscious."
He looked at me like I was crazy, "O-okay..."
I looked at the sun and closed my eyes, my palms turned out slightly. The sun was so warm on my clamy skin. It felt nice. I tried grabbing hold of the emotion that filled me that day in the desert. The sick, twisting anger and absolute despair that had overwhelmed me and spilled out my skin. Even from behind my eyelids it was like the sun was shining suddenly brighter. I felt a fire in my veins trying to leak out my pores, fighting to spill and wash over my skin. My breathing sped up as I tried to control it. It burned at my throat from inside my lungs. With an effort, I tried to quell the burning inside me, white hot as melted metal. I thought I might lose it...
Demaren was in front of me, pressing his forehead to mine.
"Come back," he whispered, his breath cooling my face.
All the energy inside me collapsed, along with my body. Demaren caught me and eased us to the ground. He chuckled.
"I really didn't want to knock you out," he said.
I gave a strangled laugh, covering my face with my hands. My body was so tired. "That's what happened in the desert. There were no Erynese left to be found, which was why the council had such a hard time believing me."
"So, you destroyed even their metal boats?" he asked, letting me lean into his shoulder.
"Nothing was found," I replied.
"I guess I can see the point of view they're coming from, but how did you become a slave?" he asked gently.
My eyes wheld up again. "They brought my grandmother, from Velt, to the trial. Since there was no evidence of Erynese they found me guilty, though they knew I was telling the truth. They gave her the choice, either have me executed or sold into slavery. You know the answer."
I held out my hand between us, tracing the healing scar with my finger tips. A hand large enough to cover both of mine covered the mark.
"You're not a slave now. I don't care what any burn says," he murmured.
"No, I'm not," I replied, smiling sadly, "but I am still responsible. I am a murderer, even if it is against my will. So what I say next, please know that it is to keep that from happening again."
I looked up into his light golden eyes, which narrowed suspiciously.
"You're not getting away from me," he said with finality.
"It would be safer for you," I said. "You and Friend--"
Friend all but jumped to his feet, baying angrily and trotted around like he was pacing.
Demaren laughed a little. "You misunderstand. You can runaway from me-us-"he ammended when Friend barked at him, "but I will get you back."
Tears spilled over my eyes in large droplets.
"Please," I whispered, begging him with my eyes. "I don't want to hurt you. It could be by complete accident, and-and you would be..."
I choked on the words, only sobs breaking over my lips.
Demaren's arms held me close suddenly, and I gripped him around his middle. Pressing myself to him like a child. He bent his head down over mine, his words reverberating into my head as he spoke.
"...I wont let you kill me," he said.
I sighed into his skin, completely drained from crying for so long. His skin smelled sweet, like sugar. Gradually, my tears stopped, and though I didn't mean to I fell asleep in his arms that's exactly what I did.

The darkness that is

2009-01-16T00:10:00.000-08:00

He was mad. Blindly mad. He felt white fury coursing through him, burning every inch of his skin. He had felt the need to commit murders. To break their necks so thoroughly, that they bled through the breaks. He wanted it. His fingers itched. His arms shook. His head throbbed. His entire body was on fire.
But he with held. He limited himself to a single hit. But he put all of himself into it and wouldn't have been surprised if he had broken the man's skull with the blow. He was fairly certain he had.
And here he was, back in the cool night air. His body still burned, his heart beat heavy and fast. But she was safe. She was clinging tightly to him. She buried her face into his shoulder. He felt her breathe deeply and pull closer with her arms around his neck. He breathed easier. His heart slowed. He reached under her legs and pulled her into a more relaxing position in his arms. One arm under her back, one under her legs, her arms around his neck--still clinging, with her face out of sight in the curve of his chest. He began to feel the wind that billowed around them. He could hear the night sounds again.
Friend galloped below, whining now and then for attention and inclusion. The hop's cries reminded him of the men he'd left unscathed. He felt the anger broil up again. So he tightened his hold on Ashling and dropped suddenly to the earth. He landed softly on the grass, and Friend came to tottering halt beside him. The hop was a little winded from the long run, and Demaren realized they had covered a lot of ground in however long he'd been flying in anger. A quick glance at his cargo told him she had fallen asleep. So he wrapped her tightly in his parka again and set her carefully in the saddle of Friend.
"Don't you let her fall or disturb her sleep." He spoke, as softly as he could to Friend, but it still came out as a growl. As he adjusted her in the seat, she stirred.
"Demaren...?" She blinked at him. He suddenly was aware of the heavy glare across his face he couldn't seem to remove. The best he could muster was a dead expression with a tinge of annoyance. Better than a scowl. But she still looked concerned.
"Go to sleep." He tucked the edges of the parka around her. But she pushed at the fabric until her hands were free. He made to move away--to fly into solitude--but she grabbed his wrist. It was not a firm grasp, he could have broken it and taken off, but her face was in earnest.
"Don't be angry."
Demaren laughed bitterly, almost insanely for a brief instant. A single "ha!" burst out. She was a little surprised and her hand lifted. But it was his turn. He quickly grabbed her entire hand within his own, enclosed securely but softly.
"Why didn't you come straight out? I was on my way to steal you from sleep when I heard them with you."
She stared at her captured right hand, her eyes a little pained. He glanced down, but knew he wasn't holding it tightly enough to hurt her. He narrowed his eyes at her wrist and, glancing at her face, gave the very smallest of tugs on her arm. Her eyes bugged for an instance and he heard the sharp intake of breath.
"What happened to your arm!" He shouted suddenly, dropping her hand and placing his hands on her shoulders. He quickly pulled his hand off her right shoulder and after a moment, rested it on her cheek. She whimpered but shook her head.
"Just got pulled too hard. T-That's all." She shrugged him off. He dropped his arms.
"Why did they try to kidnap you?" He half pondered to himself. She must have been sure he was talking to her, because she responded.
"They tried to kidnap me because I... I'm a slave..." By the end of the statement, she was down to the veriest of a whisper that a normal person would not have heard--but was within range for a Syla.
"You're a what!?" He shouted. She closed her eyes tightly, as if he had slapped her. "Why didn't you tell me that!"
"I-I don't know! I couldn't!" She sobbed.
"You couldn't? Why!"
"I was afraid?"
He glared at the thought of her being afraid of him. He noted her eyes widen, and made to speak. But he was suddenly very aware of the tears she was crying. The anger seemed to drain faster than water from a broken bowl. But his body was frozen, and the shock from the recent revelation seemed to come over him briefly. After a moment in silence, he finally spoke, making his voice smooth and steady.
"Have you always been a slave?"
She shook her head and held up her right hand, with the burn on it. "That's what this is. Anyone with a brand on their hand is a slave. If I had been sold to a house, I would have received a brand on my arm, too."
The anger started to trickle back in at the idea of someone burning her hand intentionally--maliciously. "A brand."
She nodded.
"And they were going to, what?"
She shrugged, but answered. "Probably sell me. There's a reward for returning slaves."
He laughed bitterly, "Probably would have gotten less than you're worth."
Her eyes looked up at him at that. He wasn't sure what was in them, though they glittered dangerously close to tears. Again, the anger faltered. The desire to suddenly hug her overwhelmed him, so he stepped back from her. She pulled her eyebrows together and looked back down at her hand.
"Why are you a slave?"
Her face completely crumpled and she shook her head and grabbed at her ears, pressing them against her skull. "Don't ask me!"
"Don't--Ashling, I will ask you whatever I think I need to in order to protect you! I will ask you about being a slave! I will ask you about your arm! About your family! About--" He searched for something else to say. "I will ask you about Berrik!"
She looked up violently, her face pale and stricken. "H-how do you know about Berrik?"
He felt a little small at that moment. And looked away. "You called me Berrik when you were in that fever."
For a moment, neither of them moved or spoke. Friend, uneasy, snorted as he looked back and forth between them.
"He was my brother." Her eyes were sad and tired.
"Was?" he looked at her.
But her face fell into a stoney expression, her eyes closing off. She spoke in a suddenly heavy, monotone voice. "Yes."
He felt the finality in the comment. Anger filled him again. He looked away into the darkness and finally accepted that his emotions were far too volatile for a conversation as important as this. So he looked back and pulled the parka back around her.
"Go to sleep." Then he shot into the sky.
He flew above them, moving forward. A quick glance told him Friend figured it out and followed beneath. Then Demaren tuned everything out, drifted a little higher, and focused on the flight and cold night air. He looked at the stars, seeing the star he had come to associate with his mother, and felt ashamed at the hate and wrath he had felt. He tried to drain all of the feelings from his being. Tried to let it fall to the ground so far below. It wouldn't leave him as easily as he wished. He ended up with a few tears escaping.
This had not been the best day. She'd almost been kidnapped, or killed even, and he'd killed someone. He'd yelled at her, and discovered she was keeping very important secrets from him. He was feeling very alone. He contemplated abandoning his goal at Grayman, but discarded the idea when he remembered his father. He didn't even want to imagine how Ashling would fare without him there for her.
Enough. He was tired of all the thoughts. They made him tired and rushed through too many differing emotions too quickly. Enough. He shut it off and stared into the darkness where the sky faded into the distance, thrusting every thought into it and out of sight.

The Ellipt

2009-01-15T20:15:00.000-08:00

I had been afraid that once Demaren saw my burn he might figure out I was a slave. Apparently, though, they did not have the same distinction in Tovsyla. I wasn't sure they even had slaves. He seemed too good to be tainted with the knowledge, and every time I thought about it I didn't have the heart to tell him.
The further south we traveled, the warmer it got. We were headed in the right direction and I didn't need the stars to tell me so, I could smell the ocean in the air. Though we were still perhaps a few days from any beach, the sent was too familiar for me to miss.
I rode atop Friend or walked beside him as we traveled. Demaren flew mostly, coming down to check on me every so often. When he stayed to talk, I noticed his stride was--not slow--deliberate. I noticed his feet were shaped differently than mine. He walked almost constantly on the balls of his feet, like a cat, and one of his toes had migrated toward his heal. Remembering that he had mentioned living in trees, I guessed that the evolution was for better grip on branches.
During the day we didn't talk too much, with Demaren flying high over head. Sometimes I couldn't even spot him, he was so high. So I talked with Friend instead.
"He seems, nice. Don't you think?" I had asked the hop on our first day.
Friend snorted, turning to look at me with one eye on the side of his large head.
"Just an observation," I said, shrugging. Friend was possibly the most intuitive animal I had ever come across.
Every now and then, Demaren would come down from the sky with something in hand for me to look at.
"It's an Ivy Blossom," I said when Demaren brought me several pretty, five petaled flowers. It was a faded sort of blue color.
I took it from his large hand. "See? If you break off the tip where the stem meets the flower--" I broke off the remaining stem then held the flower to my lips "--and suck at the back, nectar comes out."
I smiled at his expression when he copied me, his eyes wide.
When we had nearly made ourselves sick with nectar, I took the empty flowers in my lap and pulled out a string from my fraying slave shirt.
"Watch," I said, stringing several of the flowers together on three separate pieces of string.
I motioned with a finger for Demaren to come closer and tied one of the strings around his neck. He blinked, surprised and lifting the flower necklace to inspect as I tied one around mine and Friend's neck.
It was fun. Everything here was new to Demaren and I loved watching his expressions when I showed him creative things to do with simple items. It reminded me of when Berrik and I were children and we would play at the edge of the Veil, the thick rain forest that ran the length of the easter cost in Gaea. If I thought about it much, it made me sad. But it was hard to sulk when Demaren kept bringing me new things from the forest. Besides, he would ask what was wrong if I looked anything but happy. There was no reason to burden him when he was kindly escorting me out of the wilderness. I could probably find him a map if we came to any of the gypsy towns or caravans of Ellipt, then he could go on his way. The thought made me a little sad, but it was the right thing to do.
"What do you think?" I asked Friend as I walked next to him.
I held up the acorn string for him to look at. Demaren was flying high over head. Friend gave a slight whicker, sniffed at it, and took a chomp.
"Hey!" I said, mildly cuffing his head.
He only acted properly dejected for a moment, then continued happily eating my current craft project.
"I guess I'll take it as a compliment," I muttered, scratching the spot where I had pretended to hit him.
His head bobbed on his long neck, as if he was nodding. Which was ridiculous. Hops weren't supposed to nod, though I was beginning to think they might. When he finished he craned his neck to look at the sky between the trees. The wooded areas were thinning a little now, and we couldn't be more than a day from the sea. The ground soil had become a little sandy, too.

I patted Friend's back.
"I'm sure he'll be down soon," I told him.
The animal had taken a liking to Demaren, and visa verse. It was interesting to watch them "talk" when they thought I wasn't looking. Demaren brought objects for the hop to inspect as well. Sometimes he would randomly pick up things around our campsite and hold them out for the hop to smell. Friend would make different reactions to the things, funny hop-faces for things he didn't like and sometimes eating the things he did like enthusiastically.
Friend shook his mane out of his eyes, looked up at the sky again, and gave a huff through his nostrils.
"Impatient, aren't we?" I asked him, stroking his neck to calm him down.
He seemed to grumble at me.
"Well, I can't help it," I said. "Besides, we can't get too attached. What if he has to leave?"
The hop looked at me now, almost skeptically.
"I won't hold him back," I said firmly. "He hasn't said much, but think it's important he gets where he's going. Soon."
Friend gave a snort.
"Oh! Stop acting like you know everything!" I snapped at him.
He made a sound that could be almost mistaken for a chuckle. I pursed my lips and refused to look at him.
A shadow passed over me and I looked up to see Demaren circling in for a landing. The sight sometimes still took me by surprise; his huge gold tipped wings contrasting with the tanned skin of his bare chest. He seemed to dislike shirts in general, and it must have been common in Tovsyla to go without them, so I tried not to stare. I also tried not to guess at what the women wore, or didn't wear. Though I was happy to have the freedom of dress that my grandmother and Gaea custom had not allowed, I could hardly think of that kind of freedom.
Demaren landed lightly on the other side of Friend with a gust of wind as his feet touched the ground. I smiled at him.
"I was making you something with the acorns you brought me," I said, "but Friend ate it."
"...He what?! Hey!" he said to Friend, frowning at the animal. Friend chomped at the remaining acorn left in his mouth. "Next time she makes you something, I'm going to eat it."
I tried not to laugh as he sulked.
"How was your flight?" I asked, trying for casual.
"Lonely," he said without thinking. I blinked, not sure what to say, but he went on like it didn't matter. "I saw the beach, we're going in the right direction. But there's a huge..." He stopped to circle his arms around in the air to try and convey what he meant, but I was at a loss. "There's a huge... I don't even know what it is."
He looked at me for help, but without further description I had no idea what he was talking about. I bit my lip.
"Um. Are we talking an animal, a thing...? Are there more than one? I need something to go on."
He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, a gesture I was beginning to associate with him, and gave a huff.
"There's more than one. There's colors. And they're that way," he pointed, "and--I will just show you!"
I was so wrapped up in watching him try to express himself that I hardly noticed what he meant until something large and solid lifted me off the ground. Demaren had taken off without warning and plucked me from the earth like an afterthought. I must have squeaked, because Demaren held me closer as I threw my arms around his neck.
"Uh. Okay. Um. We're flying. Great. Flying..." I muttered, not daring to look away from where my arms meet at his skin. I heard a high pitched whinny from somewhere far below me.
Demaren chuckled.
"Don't laugh while you're flying!" I squeaked, as if that would make a difference.
"You forget," he said, over the wind rushing passed us. "You're safer up here with me than you would be down there on the ground."
I gulped and glanced up to his light coppery eyes and gave a nervous laugh.
"I know someone with four legs that might disagree," I muttered, looking away.
"Depends who you trust more," he murmured, looking out and away.
For a moment I tried looking at my surroundings. It was not a good idea. I squirmed a little, trying to get closer to Demaren's side if at all possible. His arms tightened and I could feel all the wiry muscles in his arms around me. It was somewhat comforting. As I looked up at him, I saw his eyes narrow for a second, then he spun around in mid air (making me squeak again) and shifted me so that I sat on his shoulder.
"Oh. My." I whispered, clutching his head which was now pressed to my side. His arms were secure around my legs and middle, though.
He pointed to the distance, peeking out from under my arms. "There."
I followed his arm, trying not to look directly down. About half way to the horizon, close to the cost, was a circular display of colorful objects. I squinted, bringing a hand up to shade my eyes without thinking.
"It's a gypsy caravan," I said finally. I could see the tents and festive rooftops of their traveling houses. "They're everywhere in Ellipt. They travel around mostly and have houses on wheels."
"Oh," he said thoughtfully.
Absentmindedly I looked down from where I sat and immediately regretted it. My legs seized up and I lost my breath.
"Is that something we want to avoid?" Demaren asked, still looking at the caravan. When I didn't say anything he glanced up at me and took in my expression. "Oh."
He swung me down into the safety of his arms, holding me close to his chest. I felt our bodies dropping steadily and I left my stomach somewhere in the heights of the sky. Before I realized what happened, we were on the ground again. Demaren set me gently on my feet.
Friend was at my side instantly as I let myself sink to the blessed earth. I patted the ground with both hands and attempted to breathe normally.
"You'll get more used to it," Demaren assured me over Friends inspecting snuffles, "I promise."
I looked up at him with wide, confused eyes. "Used to it?"
He went from paling to bright red for some reason. "That's not what I meant."
"What?" I asked, not knowing what he was talking about.
"Never mind," he muttered, looking away.
I couldn't comprehend his expression at the moment. I was too busy thanking any and all earth goddesses I could think of.
"So, what are we doing?" he asked quickly.
I shook my head to clear it and looked around, "Now? Oh. The caravan. We should be fine to go in. But you can fly over it and meet Friend and I after we get through."
Demaren thought for a moment. "All right."
We agreed to meet a little ways beyond the caravan as long as I went through as quickly as possible.
After Demaren took to the skies again, I hopped into my seat on Friend's back. He trotted along at a steady pace, faster than if I had been walking beside him. As we rode, I began to clean myself up. If we didn't want to make a scene with the gypsies, I had to look as non-slave-like as possible.
With little effort, I ripped off the fraying trousers just above my calf and since the weather was getting warmer every day I took the sleeves off my shirt as well. Friend looked back at me with a curious eye.
"I'll have a new outfit by the time we get there," I said to him, rolling up and tying my pants off at the knee with some of the fabric.
Friend shook his mane out of his eyes.
Making some long cloths, I wrapped the back of my head in them, my long hair spilling out the back and curling at the ends.

***

We didn't make it to the caravan until late afternoon. The sun cast long shadows and sparkled off the water from the ocean. It felt so good to be back by the beach. The sound of waves was like a steady, crashing pulse and almost made me sleepy. Soon, though, I could hear the noise of the caravan up ahead, people talking, laughing, and singing. I gripped Friend's reigns tighter with my left hand, making sure to keep my right hand clenched in my lap. Though it was unlikely, there were some bounty hunters in Ellipt looking to get a price for returning slaves.
A band of tan, thinly clad children met us at the edge of the encampment. Some ran ahead to let others know of a stranger while the rest stayed and tagged along with me.
"Lady! Lady!" some shouted, the oldest perhaps being nine or ten. They babble in some dialect I had never learned.
"Hi," I said to them, one of the younger boys reaching up and taking reign from my hand so he could lead me to camp. I wondered if this was some custom and hoped it wouldn't take long. I could imagine Demaren somewhere high above me pursing his lips.
We passed several wooden houses with large wheels attached to the sides, children and people hanging from the steps and windows watching as I passed. Some people smiled and nodded in greeting. I smiled slightly back, but mostly kept my eyes straight ahead. It was custom here not to look someone directly in the eye.
In the main circle, where most were gathered, were several fires with cauldrons strapped above them for cooking and washing. The children brought me to the largest fire and presented me to a very old woman. She was wrapped in layers of shawls and skirts, a gnarled hand reached out to stir some contents of the black pot in front of her.
"Gitany!" some of the children said to her, calling attention to my presence. One of the littlest girls wriggled her way into the woman's lap.
The old woman glanced my way, fading eyes still sharp and sparkling above an exceptionally long nose.
"You speak Elite?" she said, finally in a speech I could understand. Anyone with a scrap of education could speak the language of the scholars.
I nodded smiling.
"From which way do you come?" she asked then, motioning for me to dismount and sit by her. I hesitated, then swung my leg around and slid off Friend's back.
"Bomo," I said, taking Friend's reign from a child.
She looked me up and down as I sat next to her, one of the children had brought a water bucket for Friend. I thanked him, and he scurried off giggling.
"You wear strange clothes," she noted. I was ready for the question.
"I lost most of my possessions when I came through the swamp," I said. It was true enough.
She nodded thoughtfully, making a smacking sound in reference to the sucking mouths.
"And which way do you go?" she asked.
"Velt," I replied.
Friend had taken to snuffling at some of the children around him. A few were snuffling back and giggling as his nose came at them enthusiastically as if playing a game.
"Back to the Gaea? You must be a stupid girl," said the old woman, reclaiming my attention.
I gave her a half smile. "Isn't the phrase supposed to be 'very brave or very stupid?'"
The woman made a coughing noise which I took for a chuckle. "I am Covetta."
"Ashling," I said, touching my fist to my forehead and glancing at the ground. It was a custom of Gaea, but generally excepted in Ellipt as well.
Covetta nudged the little girl out of her lap and motioned for me to come closer to her. She wrapped a knotted hand around my neck to bring my ear down to her mouth.
Her voice was a gravelly whisper. "You will need new clothes. They will not hide you so well in Gaea."
My back stiffened, she massaged my neck as if to relax me.
"Do not worry. I will not turn you in, but show no one your right hand."
Finger nails dug into my right palm and it took me a moment to realize it had closed into a tight fist. Covetta patted my head thoughtfully.
"Vita no para," she called to a young woman sitting at another fire near by. The crone turned back to me smiling crookedly. "Nieta will give you some clothes."
I blinked. "I have nothing to give you in return."
"We give what we can, in the Ellipt. It is good for the soul in the next life," she said, coughing out a laugh. "Go and you will be in time for supper."
Now I was staying for diner? With the gypsy people pressed around me, smiling and laughing, I felt I had no choice. I nodded a thanks and followed a tall young woman, Nieta, toward a cluster of wheeled homes. She guided me through a bright yellow door and pulled the curtains shut on the peeping children who had followed me. Friend waited outside.
"Elite?" Nieta asked, her dark eyes raking over my figure.
"Yes," I said, trying not to shrink under her appraising gaze. "Do you speak it?"
She only shook her head of curly dark hair, not understanding a word. With difficulty, I was able to negotiate a quick, though very cold, bath. I dried myself quickly and looked for my old clothes, but it seemed Nieta had already confiscated the sad garments. Which meant I would have to find her while only wearing a towel. I stepped out from behind the curtain she had placed around me, blushing furiously. She had a window open and was talking rapidly in her language to another girl that was standing on tip-toe outside. When Nieta saw me she got up and closed the curtain again.
With some searching, Nieta found me a set of flowing tan colored trousers and a burgundy over skirt that billowed out when I walked. Most of her shirts where much to big for my small frame, and she finally had to pull out what looked like a child's chemise that fit me snugly. She walked around me then, studying me as though she might buy me.
"Finished?" I asked hopefully when she tossed me a pair of light slippers.
Nieta only glanced at my face then disappeared into a closet while muttering to herself. I wondered if she was annoyed with her task of clothing me. She came back with a short, dark burgundy vest with glittery gold trim. I gasped at it and Nieta smiled at my appreciation for the garment.
The fit was not exactly to my liking, when the gypsy girl fastened it in front the vest pushed up my chest. I crossed my arms over myself to show my displeasure, but she only rolled her eyes and tugged my arms down. As she did so, she spotted the almost healed scar on my palm. Her eyes widened and I quickly pulled my hand behind my back, scurrying out of the little house.
I turned back when I got down the steps and thanked Nieta without looking at her, making my way quickly to the camp fires. Friend followed closely, sniffing at my new clothes.
The Covetta only glanced at my outfit before handing me a bowl of gruel with bread and cheese. Dusk had fallen and stars were beginning to come out in the east. I wondered if Demaren was watching me and I wished I could bring him some of the warm gypsy food. Friend nudged me and I silently agreed, we needed to leave.
"Thank you so much for your hospitality," I told the elderly woman as she pulled out a long, thin pipe to smoke from after dinner. I stood to leave but she tugged at my skirt.
"You will not be making any where this night, luvan," she said, I could only guess the last word was some sort of pet name.
"I'll be fine," I assured her, scanning the darkening sky for any sign of Demaren.
"You will sleep in the common area," she said with authority. The people nearest her moved automatically, setting up a small bed by an outlying fire.
"Really. I-it's alright," I tried to dissuade them. Everyone was bedding down for the night.
The old crone looked at me steadily. "You should stay the night, luvan. Hospitality should never be ignored."
I flinched, as if she had made to hit me. Was that a threat or a warning?
I went over to the bedding the other gypsies had laid out for me, Friend clopping along at my side. We sat down, him on the ground and I on the bed, and I rubbed his neck.
As soon as they fall asleep, I thought, knowing Demaren was probably out there having a fit.
Friend and I waited for hours, listening to the quiet chatter and whispers that turned into steady breathing and snores. Somewhere across the encampment a lullaby died out as the person singing it fell asleep. I was just about to get up when Nieta was at my side, placing a hand on my shoulder.
"Wha-" I started, but she put a finger to her lips and made a motion for me to follow her back toward the wheeled houses.
Friend was asleep beside me, and I glanced at him thoughtfully, but decided against waking him just then. I would be back in a moment.
I followed Nieta away from the glowing coals of spent or dying fires. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust again to the near darkness and moon light outside the caravan.
"Nieta?" I whispered, putting a hand out in front of me so that I wouldn't trip.
With a thud something hit me from behind, almost knocking me to the ground and making stars burst in front of my eyes. Someone had grabbed me around the middle and had one hand over my mouth. My legs kicked but I was off the ground and didn't connect with anything.
"Mmf!" I tried to scream, but the sound was barely a hush.
I felt my right arm being tugged forward, and the small light of a single match was lit by striking it against my palm. Muffled, my cry didn't reach very far. By the light of the match, I saw Nieta standing behind two gypsy men and I could only assume a third held me off the ground. The one holding my hand and the match looked at my palm intently. He smiled at my scar, revealing some gold replacements for teeth.
"Pretty girleen," the man said, letting go of my hand and stroking my cheek. Now that he was close enough, I lashed out and slapped him all the force I could muster. Which wasn't much.
The man bit back a full laugh and settled for a chuckle. The man behind me caught my flailing arm and pinned it back, now holding me up by my arm. My shoulder locked and started to ache.
"Now, no trouble, girleen," he said in broken Elite. "This can be in hard or easy."
Something in the dark spoke out in quiet anger. "Oh. I have a feeling it will be easy."
The two men and Nieta spun around and in our meager light, I could see Demaren. All the pain in my shoulder was forgotten and my head stopped spinning for a moment. He seemed to materialize from the shadows, his wings fanned out behind him like a cloak. His smirk was so wide it was almost a grin, but it didn't hide the fury in his eyes. They gleamed with unreleased aggression.
With a flick of his wings he sent a huge gust of wind at us that blew out the match light. For a moment there was total darkness. In the moment that it took for my eyes to adjust to the moon light, my captor had released me with a jerking movement. I landed unsteadily and looked to the side to find Demaren not inches from me with his fist already dropping from where it struck the man. His arm was already in front of me protectively and he was glaring at the next two men which had stumbled back, one bumping into Nieta and tripping her to the ground.
In another moment, Demaren had his arm around my waist, gently pulling me close as his left wing shielded me. His skin was hot as fire.
"Like I said... Easy." He paused a moment then shouted, "Friend!"
I heard an angry whinny as Demaren shot into the air. The last thing I heard from the ground before the wind filled my ears was that of two people being trampled over. I pressed my face into Demaren's shoulder and clung to his neck, ignoring the pain that ran down my right arm and my throbbing head.

Fevers and direction

2009-01-12T20:49:00.000-08:00

It was strange to watch the girl go from coherent to unconscious. In less than five minutes. Demaren would have laughed about it if he hadn't felt some concern. He watched her breathe gently, cuddled against the ... hop.
"'Scrubbed my face too hard' please." He muttered, starting to clean up the Kim grain mush. He stacked the dishes carefully and, with some apprehension, left her with the animal. Hurried was his cleaning at the creek, the sun beginning to set. He shook his head at the day thus far.
But when he got back to the site, she was not such an easy sleeper as she had been. She wasn't cuddled up anymore. She was laying almost flat, her limbs twitching very slightly. Her breathing had gone from soft and safe to loud and labored. It sounded like she was suffocating--and for all he knew, she was!
He dropped the dishes and ran to her, pulling her off the hop so she leaned on his arm. The hop quickly got to its feet and snuffled angrily.
"Ashling!" He tried to wake her up, but she only opened her eyes very slightly. They were glazed and unseeing.
"... Berrik..." She whispered. Demaren swallowed some unpleasant feeling that rose inside of him. Once again, the hop was making a fuss, stamping around them and snorting. Demaren jerked his head at it.
"Look--Friend?--don't get mad at me because I'm trying to help her too!" He stood quickly, swinging her into his arms. He stood face to face with the hop, both scowling. But Friend snorted and shook his head, sitting down to sulk by the fire.
Demaren carried her to his bag and leaned her against the tree. She looked pained and was whimpering--some awful dream--her face red and hot from fever. He rummaged through his things. All were slightly mud caked from when he'd pulled his parka from the bag with muddied hands. So he dumped it all out in frustration.
He found some of the herbs and medicines Jain had packed him, as well as a small stack of folded cloth. He practically flew to the creek--or maybe he did fly--and quickly turned the fabrics into a cold compress. He pressed them to her forehead back by the tree and mixed up some herbs into a watery drink.
"Ashling..." He sad softly, "Wake up for a moment. Please." She barely stirred again and he carefully poured the drink down her throat. She coughed a bit, waking up a little more, and raising her right hand she helped him hold it for her to finish. But before he had set the cup down, she was asleep again, her hand resting on his arm. Then he saw the infection.
"Stars above, girl, are you trying to kill yourself?" He muttered, holding a hand over his eyes.
A close examination of the wound showed it to be a burn gone bad. Her hand was red and swollen, and the burn was crusting and bleeding a bit. He glanced at her pained, feverish face.
He had to boil some water to treat it, but the hot water and the liquid from Jain made for a sure-to-sting ointment, which he deeply cleaned the hand with. In consciousness, she would have screamed and even in her sleep she squirmed. But afterward, the wound was clean (though a little raw) and he smeared a fresh mix of healing cream over it. From the once neat stack of cloth, he made some bandages and wrapped the hand.
By the end of the ordeal, her fever medicine had kicked in and she was calming down into a more peaceful sleep. Friend appeared beside him and nudged Demaren's shoulder with his nose. Demaren turned to see the hop holding his parka in his mouth, or rather, between his teeth.
"Thank you." Demaren said, giving Friend a good pat on the neck. Then he swaddled Ashling in the parka, her feet dangling out only barely. Friend snorted from near the fire, laying down as he called. Demaren gathered her into his arms this time and settled beside Friend. The two of them leaned against the hop, Demaren's wings curling over them. The sun had gone down and Demaren was tired, so he slept beside her.
The next morning, he awoke first. She slept soundly beside him, her face a pleasant, soft pink. She had rolled over from her back to her side, so she was facing him. Her honey colored hair had fallen around her face, a few strands over her eyes and mouth. He absentmindedly brushed them away, and her eye lids fluttered.
Her eyes were a frothy sort of color, much like sea foam or clouds--two of his favorite things he reminded himself, stupidly-- and were looking right into his own. She opened her mouth, but he spoke first.
"One, you had a fever. Two, you had an infection. Three, I think it's best if you sleep under my wing so I can protect you. And four, yes, I will be accompanying you to safety. Now, what would you like to say?"
"You don't have to... I-I'm sorry, I didn't think it was that bad, it only stung a little and I did clean it and I only had a headache, I didn't realize I was sick, but you don't have to take care of me, I can--"
"Yes, I do. You fall into sucking mouths of mud, infect your hands, develop fevers, and somehow manage to go without food for far too long. And it's not a problem, I don't mind taking care of you." He smoothed her hair flat around her head, trying to sooth her anxieties.
"You probably have places to go--You are going somewhere, right? And there are people you are going to see, I'm sure. I-I'm only a distraction!" She said, starting to sit up, her hands trying find the end of the feathers.
He unfolded the wings and let her sit up fully, following her up. She blinked dizzily, but seemed far more steady today.
"I told you, it's fine. It's a distraction I don't mind following up on." He smiled pleasantly at her before remembering what Jeron had said. He tried to keep the smile on, but his eyes widened ever so slightly. Fortunately, she was still looking around hurriedly, and didn't notice. He coughed and helped her to her feet.
"Well, maybe we're going in the same direction... Where are you going?" She picked up the fallen parka, and Friend leaped to his feet and began to sniff her happily.
"Maybe... I'm going to Grayman. I have a map, so I can escort you where you need to go and then follow it from there."
Ashling was picking up a muddied piece of folded paper. She unfolded it, mud breaking off and pieces of paper going with it.
"You mean... this?"
Demaren tried not to run to look. But it was definitely the map--or what was once the map. It was far too damaged from his muddied hands to be of any use. "Yes, that would be the map..." He sighed and rubbed his head.
"This happened because of me. I am so so sorry!"
He held up his hand and she stopped talking. He was staring at the sky, still pink from the sunrise. A few stars twinkled. He could see his mother star and felt a glimmer of something good. Then he looked at her again, smiling this time.
"It'll be fine. There are worse things in life than a soiled map and I wouldn't change a thing that's happened to save it. Your life is more important than anything else." He realized how that must have sounded and blushed, "I mean, more important than a map."
She smiled a little sadly, but said nothing.
Friend, feeling ignored, almost knocked Ashling over in his demand for attention. She tumbled into Demaren and they both turned to glare at the hop who was prancing around, very pleased with himself.
"No, really, who is this guy?"
The camp clean up was easy, even after a mushy breakfast ("Yes, you are going to eat mushy for a couple days!" he'd argued with her "But I feel better!") and they tried to figure out where they were.
"The swamp is that way. You're from this continent, where do you need to go?"
"I'm going to Velt. You don't have to take me all the way there, just to the rain forest."
He ignored the last bit of that and looked at the sky. "Do you know where we are? Because I really don't. In fact, without the stars I'm at a loss for what is north or south."
"Well, I'm pretty sure we're in Ellipt. And if we go south, we'll find the beach. And then we can follow that up to Velt. I mean, it's not the fastest route, but it's the best route."
"Right. So. To Velt, then." He slung the bag around his shoulder and neck. Then he looked at her and then the hop. "How do you want to get there?"
"I can't leave Friend. Wouldn't you get tired carrying me?"
Demaren shook his head, "You are very light. It would be faster, but I understand. Friend is a good creature to have around, so it's fine. Just don't expect me to ride him."
"Haven't you ever ridden anything?"
He glared at her. "I am not built to ride things."
"Okay, moving on!"
And they did.

Found

2009-01-12T18:51:00.000-08:00

I thought I must be dead by now. Sometime previously (I couldn't tell how long) I had the image of someone--a young man--with wings pulling me above the earth... He also had an insufferable smirk spread across his face.
If this was true then I must have been dead. And apparently there was an after life since an angel had come to take me away. Only the gods had enough sense of humor to send a haughty angel to take someone to death. I wondered what god or goddess I would meet, or were they all in the same place?
I swallowed and a burst of needles ran down my throat. Suddenly I noticed that my entire body was aching, worst of all my head. It hurt to breathe. It felt like each breath dragged a sandy rock along the inside walls of my throat and chest.
Was the after life supposed to hurt so much? I tried to remember any stories from the monks or ascetics about pain following death, but couldn't think of any. Mostly it was supposed to be nice. Maybe I was alive and had only dreamed of the flying boy since this was decidedly not nice.
I brought a hand to my head, stifling a moan. Mud had caked an dried along my hair, clothes, and finger nails. Yep, definitely alive. The inside of my brain throbbed and I wondered if death wouldn't have been a mercy.
Something was snuffling and I heard a slight grumble of irritation.
My eyes opened with difficulty, partially sealed shut with mud. I blinked a few times once I got my eyes open to be sure I was seeing correctly. I was encased in feathers. I rubbed my eyes now, making them sore and looked again. It was beautiful to look at, light shined through from the outside, making them glow in places. They were a brilliant white like clouds and incredibly soft. I turned to my head to the side, touching my cheek to the glossy things. After the last few days of swampy wilderness, it felt glorious. But why was I encased in feathers?
With difficulty, I rolled to my left and found myself on solid ground, my muscles screaming all the way. I blinked, finding myself on dry ground under a sturdy canopy of fur trees. There was no sign of swamp land anywhere.
There was another grumble of annoyance.
"Cut it out," I heard someone mumble.
I spun around on my knees, making myself dizzy. The vision of the young man I had seen in my dream filled my eyes. Friend was beside him, nudging the boy's head of shockingly blonde hair with his nose. Now that Friend saw me, he nickered softly and clopped over to me. My hand lifted automatically to stroke his nose as I sat agape and staring at the strange winged man laying asleep against a tree. Perhaps I had finally gone mad. I brought my other hand to cover my mouth, giggling at the thought. He stirred, opening his eyes groggily and looked at me with mild interest.
"So you made it through the night, huh?" he said sitting up and folding away his wings behind him, stretching a little as he went.
I felt my face turn bright red, and I looked away. He wasn't wearing a shirt. "Yeah..." I said softly.
"That's good," he said, getting up and stretching more fully.
My eyes followed his movement without shame now, as he went up on his toes and pulled his arms over his head. I heard the pop of his back. I quickly closed my mouth but it was hard to look away as he towered over me. He rubbed his hands over his light blonde hair to wake himself up. From where I sat he seemed huge, the tallest person I had ever seen. At least six and a half feet, so a good foot or more above my own head.
"Wow..." I whispered, not meaning to say anything at all. He looked over at me and I swallowed my tongue.
"Hmm?" he asked. Realizing I was staring we both looked away. He put his arms down and crossed them over his chest while sitting back down.
"How are you feeling?" he asked suddenly. I was happy for the distraction.
"Fine," I croaked. I cleared my throat. "Alive. Because of you?"
He looked at me, brilliant light brown eyes smiling.
"Thank you," I said. I ran a hand over my hair, suddenly very conscious of the fact that I was otherwise covered in mud.
"Have you had any food recently?" he asked, turning his head to the side a little.
"Um," I glanced at Friend who blinked at me with his big eyes. "Define food."
He looked at me skeptically and made the motion of putting food in his mouth. "You know, the kind you eat?"
"Not really," I admitted. I had only found some grassling plants in the more shallow areas of the swamp.
"Well, why don't you go down to the creek over that way and get yourself cleaned up. When you get back I'll have some... easy food, for you to eat."
I stood up shakily then, using Friend as a crutch. He watched me carefully.
"What's your name?" I asked suddenly.
"Demaren," he said. "What about you?"
"I'm Ashling," I told him.
"Nice to meet you," he said formally with a nod.
"You too," I said quietly, turning and nearly stumbling.
Friend gave a disgruntled sound and leaned into me so I wouldn't fall. I wondered if Demaren had seen, but didn't look back to check.
Friend and I made our way to the stream, though I don't know how he knew that it was where I wanted to go. It was bright here, not like the swamp at all. I would probably be happy if I never saw another swamp again. I slid down the side of Friend's front leg and sat heavily on the side of the stream. Sweat had gathered on my brow and my head pounded more fiercely than before. I reached down and swished my left hand around in the water to clear the mud off it and, cupping my fingers, raised it to my lips.
It tasted marvelous. The water only reached a few yards across and didn't really look that deep, though that could easily be deceptive. After a moment I stood up began slouching off my clothing. I hadn't noticed until that moment I was wearing a long, heavy fabric shirt that was much to big for me over my slave clothes. Lifting it off myself I held it up, wondering if it could be Demaren's.
As if in answer, a light voice reached my ears. Singing, I realized turning my head to hear better, Demaren was singing. It wasn't in a language I could understand, but it was beautiful. A light, mid-range tennor. I held the shirt close for a moment, thankful that I had been spared a watery, muddy grave. I was so thankful I laughed a little.
I wadded into the water now, my clothes in my arms. If I washed the clothes first and put them on rockes and branches in the sun, they might be mostly dry by the time I finished washing. I worked extra hard to get the mud off Demaren's shirt. It wasn't much, but it was all I could really do right now.
Laying the items out to dry, I finally stepped all the way into the water. It was chilly, but not freezing. I had to force myself to dunk my head benieth the surface. Before I managed it, I had vision of dark waters closing over my face.
I scrubbed my scalp raw since I didn't have any soap and got most of the tangles out. Despite the fact that it was warm and that I'd been moving around, I was shivering. I looked down at my right hand and saw that it still look pretty bad, the scab had turned an angry color and it was hot to the touch. I quickly put my clothes back on in hopes of warming up a little.
Friend snorted at me.
"It'll be fine," I told him without thinking.
Folding it nicely, I picked up Demaren's shirt and walked back to the little camp with Friend right beside me.
When we got back Demaren had a fire going with something simmering on top. Sitting as close to the fire as I could get without getting burned, I handed over Demaren's shirt.
"Thank you," I said again.
He took it from me without really looking, then did a double take, his brow furrowing.
"You're as red as a terra flower," he said. I didn't know what a terra flower was. "Are you feeling okay?"
I ran my good hand through my drying hair and smiled. "Just scrubbed all the dirt off. Wasn't so easy."
He nodded thoughtfully, dolling out a bit of whatever he was cooking into a small bowl and handing it to me.
I took it.
"Thank you," I said. Again. I wished for something better to say, mentally kicking myself.
Demaren didn't say anything, just leaned back on his haunches and watched me eat. I got self conscious and turned to the bowl of mushy grain. It was the best thing I could remeber eating, though I tried not to scarff it down too fast.
"So what is he?" Demaren asked when I was almost done eating. I looked up to see him nodding toward Friend who stood a few feet from me next to the fire.
"He's a hop," I said.
Demaren raised an eye brow. "Does it... hop?"
I smiled. "No. It's mostly referring to the way you have to get on one. You have to hop up."
"You have hops," Demaren thought out loud. "Do you have skips and jumps?"
I laughed now, breathily, I was tired. Demaren was smiling when I looked back at him.
"No," I said. "Do you?"
"We don't have anything bigger than..." he thought for a moment. "Well, than us. We don't need anything to travel other than our wings."
He ruffled is feathers slightly, I glanced at them and tried not to stare at the beautiful gold tipped feathers. Something clicked in my head from my lessons with Grandmother.
"You're Syla, aren't you?"
Demaren looked suprised, then turned a little pink in his tanned cheeks, rubbing a hand through his bleach blonde hair.
"Yeah, how'd you-" he stopped midsentence, glancing at his wings. "I mean, how do you even know about us?"
I rubbed my forehead absently. My headache was getting worse. "My Grandmo-er. I took a lot of lessons as a child."
"Huh," he said, thoughtfully. "I didn't know they taught about us."
"They don't really. Just where you lived and what little was known. Apparently you're hard to come by on this continent."
He gave a chuckle, thinking of something. "The flight from there to here is... tiring. At best. There's also a severe lack of forest."
I looked him curiously.
"We like forests," he explained. "What are you? I know there are different races on this continent, which one are you?"
The question caught me off gaurd and wiped the smile from my face. I was a slave. Did that still make me Gaeain? Did I still want to be Gaeaian?
"I am... from Gaea," I said finally, looking at the fire. If he didn't know I was a slave, I didn't really want to tell him yet.
I could feel Demaren looking at me, but he didn't say anything. Friend gave a snuffling sound next to me and I realized he had laid down. Sleep suddenly seemed to heavy to stave off, I leand against my four legged companion. His breathing was as steady as a lullaby. I didn't plan on falling asleep just then, but I must have, because I didn't remember anything after that.

Oddities of nature

2009-01-11T01:33:00.000-08:00

The morning started early for Demaren. The sun filtered in through the fingered leaves of his tree and found his closed eyes. And though he knew he had to get up as early as possible, he was still completely fine with the idea of the sun suddenly losing it's shine.
But it didn't and he got up. Alone on the edge of a thick looking sort of jungle. His tree, he noticed was one of the very last of its kind before the swamp. The trees in the swamp were shorter and had thicker canopies. He couldn't really see past them. There were some bare patches ahead, but he remembered Jeron telling him (the man was full of advice) not to land in them. The parts of the swamp exposed to the sky were the most dangerous parts. Dry on the top, they appear solid, but beneath is where the mucky "sucking mouths" were. You can see a sucking mouth if you're under the safety of the trees, where the sunlight hasn't hardened the first 4 inches or so. No illusions, less danger. One could probably navigate it if you knew it backwards and forwards. Or if you were an animal. Demaren, only a very small part animal, had no sixth sense about the steadiness of land (nor any faith in it), and definitely didn't know the area. So he resolved to a long, possibly endless flight. No trust in swamp trees, if he could help it. Those branches may not hold his weight.
He began with energy to spare, but maintained a steady beat. He knew he would get tired and attempted to waste nothing. The sun had crept over his head and behind him slightly when he realized he was slowly losing altitude. He was tired. His wings ached. He hadn't used them very much for a few weeks, and then over exerted them the past couple of days. So he looked, prayerfully, for something he could rest on. Anything. His eyes grazed the trees and open spots. Trees, trees, dry ground, trees, dry ground, more trees, endless trees, another spot of dry ground. He drifted lower until he could start seeing between even the canopies of the trees. Glimmers of the dangerous water sparkled at him. Dry patches. Trees. Even his eyes were bored.
His attention was alerted when he heard the screams of a girl. His exhaustion was forgotten and the need to protect kicked in. Energy was suddenly at hand and he rushed towards it. But it cut off suddenly, sending panic to some deep spot in Demaren's chest. Then he heard the snorts and baying of another creature. Finally, Demaren saw it. He spotted a creature in a dry patch. It was standing--or rather--stamping in fury. He was making to land beside it when he saw a pale hand disappearing into the water a few feet in front. Demaren switched directions, caught a small draft and dove down.
The animal was shrieking at him, but Demaren focused on the hand (fingers now, actually) as it swiftly sank. He began to pull out of the dive before he reached the fingertips, and reached into the mud before he was too far out. Through the silted slime, his hand easily found a wrist. His other hand found an elbow. And his wings took him and the weight beneath the mud up.
Demaren was intrigued by what he had saved. Obviously a person, probably the same girl he heard scream. Once he was sure he had cleared the trees and was safely in the air (much to the objection of a certain creature) he looked down at his charge.
A person covered in black mud dangled limply. That didn't seem right to him, so Demaren rolled in the air until she (assuming it was the girl) was laying parallel on top of him. He smeared the muck from the face, revealing a girls smooth features. He noted, then, she was not breathing. This was a very concerning feature, and he was unsure how to remedy it. But he made do by rolling again and wrapping his arms around his stomach. Then he made the motion of throwing her, forcing his arms to compress on her stomach. It wasn't pleasant to watch the black liquid spurt out of her mouth, but it was a start and comforting. Slightly. He did the motion once more, but nothing else expelled. So he adjusted her until he was cradling her in his arms. He glanced around hoping to see something he could land on, but still--nothing but treachery in nature.
So, the muddy girl cradled without breath in his arm, he pressed his mouth over hers and breathed into her. He felt her chest expand between his arm and his own chest. He could feel the pulse in her lips. He pulled away to press on her chest with his hand, grateful for the promising heart beat. Again, he pushed air into her lungs. Again. And again. Would she breathe again? Still, he breathed for her. But he began to feel the sickening feeling of failure and loss.
But just as he was giving up, he felt her body convulse, and she coughed violently. He almost dropped her as she coughed up more muddy water. But she was limp again in his arms, easy to maintain a grip on. And the best part was, despite her limp body, her eyes were open and he could feel her breathing.
She gasped for a while, staring at the sky. She swallowed once or twice, blinking in exhaustion. Finally, she rolled her eyes to look at him, breathing still somewhat labored.
Demaren couldn't help it. He smirked at her and said, "Hi."
She blinked at him and nodded. He shifted her into a more comfortable position, pulling her towards him more, allowing her to rest her head and neck against his chest. She suddenly relaxed and almost instantly fell asleep. He glanced down to make sure she was alive, but heard soft breaths.
Breathing. He would appreciate it after that.
Demaren looked around to get his bearings. The animal that had been stomping around her little death trap was gone. Demaren hoped she wouldn't be too angry when she found out. He looked towards the sun, trying to figure the direction had come from. But he wasn't sure how long he'd flown looking for a landing place prior to the rescue, so he didn't really know where it should be. He scanned the sky, begging for something to go off of. Nothing came into view. So he flew higher to look for the nearest border to land not swamp.
He had gone rather high, the air growing colder, and finally saw it. And then he shot off for it. The girl in his arms, though asleep, shivered in the cold wind. Demaren realized what was brisk and cold to him and his accustomed flesh, must be frigid and grueling for normal people. He paused to tug his flight shirt out. He carefully wrapped her in its wind resistant material, and pulled her back to him. Once again, they were off. It was hard to believe he had ever been tired.
But the distance was long, and by the time they actually made it to the safety of solid land, he was exhausted. He flew a bit extra to ensure they were out of any range of the swamp. And then, to be even more safe, he searched for a tree. Finally, he found a small cluster of them and landed beside it, stumbling slightly, only to catch himself on the trunk. Then he slid down the side of the tree and sat mercifully on the ground. It seemed a bad idea to sleep in the safety of the tree with a girl who might wake up before him and perhaps fall to her death. He unfolded his wings and let the girl slip from his arms to the ground beside him, letting her lean into the softness of his feathers between her and tree. Then he rested his head against the bark, folded the other wing over them both, concealing her, and slept.

Sinking

2009-01-09T22:29:00.000-08:00

I didn't see my grandmother again at the Spurt. The old crone may have left to take care of my mother, an invalid through most of my childhood, or she could have stayed on to see me safe in the care of slave traders. In any case she didn't see me, and I did not want to see her.
They kept me in a small, thinly clad room in the tunnel system. As with all the rooms, the floor, ceiling, and walls were dirt, nearly compacted to stone due to the constant shuffle of feet and use over the last few thousand years. A bed was the only piece of furniture to be found in the small space, low to the ground with a slim hay mattress atop it. There was a meager set of blankets for the cold desert nights, but with no windows in the room my days were unbearably hot.
Sometimes I tried to sleep away the heat, laying on the ground was coolest, where the dry dirt soaked away what seemed like half my body weight in sweat. Mercifully, I was given unlimited amounts of water. Gaeaians may have harsh punishments but at least they were not cruel to their own prisoners.
I had a week until the traders came and during that time the thought of escaping was fleeting at best. Digging through any of my cubes surfaces might be possible if I broke apart the wooden bed, but I was not sure what lay on the other side. I could be miles above or below ground, or I might stumble into a guards living room. If that were the case, I was sure to be kept a close eye on during the journey to Eryn, and it was during the trek I planned to escape. So I grudgingly practiced patience and spoke cheerfully with any of the servants that came to bring me food or water. Let them think me complacent, I thought. No need to raise suspicions. Yet.
When the traders arrived, I was given a plain set of light, rough clothes. My hands were bound with twine, and I was marched out to the mouth of the Spurt.
Two jets of water erupted from different tunnels on the face of the mountain, one a little higher than the other. They rained down, mists making the air damp to breath and the bottoms of my feet (I hadn't been given shoes) sink a little in the mud. The water sprayed out with a thunderous sound about thirty feet in opposite directions before starting the two rivers that flowed through the desert.
Most people considered the twin rivers life bringers, and I supposed they were in a figurative sense. They were the only source of water throughout the entire desert and the only thing constant among our shifting sands. I didn't view them with god-like reverence, though. I didn't really believe in gods. The earth and universe was enough of a natural wonder on it's own without the help of divine influence. The Spurt, for instance, was the product of an underground stream under severe pressure, causing the water to shoot out of the earth. It was marvelous and I would have studied the geology of it if I had been able to stay at the Spurt.
Instead, I was being tethered to a saddle horn so I could walk along side a fidgety hop. I patted it's rough neck soothingly and it rolled it's right eye to look at me.
"Don't worry," I told it, smiling and massaging the back of it's neck. The creature calmed a little under my touch.
"He's a biter, miss," the trader warned as he finished tying me to the hop.
I shrugged. "Better to befriend him, then."
The slaver huffed a laugh and swung up on the lead hop in front of mine. I continued to pet the hop, odds were that I would stay tied to the same animal for the rest of the trip. If I didn't manage an escape I would rather be friends with it than fighting with it all the time. I looked back and saw a few other people standing along side hops.
Slaves. I thought, frowning to myself. Other slaves.
I was a slave now, even if I escaped. I might as well get used to the idea.
Later, probably tonight around the campfire, we would get our brands on the palm of our hand. One horizontal line people would recognize us as slaves, then another on our upper arm when we were sold to show where we belonged. The first I couldn't avoid, so I would resign myself to it. Even if it meant I could be returned to the slave trade later. Now was not the time to protest though I knew some in our small group would, a few were already crying at their predicament.
My right hand squeezed reflexively, anticipating the burn.
The front slave driver brought two fingers to his mouth and gave a whistle. The hops jutted forward and we moved along into the dark tunnels. No one spoke or gave a sound as we left the last of freedom and daylight behind.

****

I cradled my right hand to my chest, huddled next to my hop's head where we sat on the still warm sand. Night had come only after a grueling day of walking; first through the tunnels that brought us out on the far side of the mountains then along the sand dunes. I hadn't thought much of walking in the desert until we reached the sand where, shoeless as I was, it burnt my feet. Now all I needed was to burn my left hand and my appendages would match.
I looked at the angry red welt between the thumb and fore finger that stretched to the other side of my palm and grimaced. It had been all I could do to keep from screaming as on of the four men held me still and another ran a glowing rod across my hand. A young man was up next and he screamed freely, trying to jerk his hand away. My eyes watered in sympathy for him.
The hop, I had started to call him Friend, nuzzled my shoulder. I reached up absently to scratch his nose with my left hand.
"You make friends quickly," commented the same trader that had tied me to Friend earlier that day. He handed me a plate of thin, watery soup and a hard piece of bread.
"Doesn't take much," I shrugged, breaking the stale bread in half and giving some to Friend. He chomped at it eagerly.
The man smiled down at me, revealing some missing teeth. His eyes sparkled darkly.
"We could be friends," he said gruffly, reaching down to pat my knee. I stiffened. "You're a cute little thing."
Friend felt my change in mood instantly and swung his head round to bite fiercely at the cretin's arm. He snatched his hand away, but not before Friend got hold of a chunk of skin. I smiled up at him serenely as he swore and jerked free.
"No thanks. I have a friend."
The slaver grumbled and shot a seething look at the hop that gloated next to me before walking away.
"Territorial, aren't we?" I muttered to Friend.

He snorted and I held out my good hand for him to lean into so I could scratch his four inch ears.

"That's okay," I told him. "I'm thankful."
The others, both slaves and traders, were settling in for the night now that the branding was over. My fellow slaves either rested against their hops, cuddling in to the animals for warmth, or edging close to the dying coals of the fire. I hugged my knees and stared at the coals, determined to stay awake.
Tonight was the night I would try to escape. We had made it farther than I thought we would today, and were close enough to the Bomo boarder for me to try and run. If I could get far enough away before sunrise, the traders would have to let me go or be late for auction. With some cooperation from Friend, the odds looked good.
I pretended to fall asleep sitting up and resting against my knees until I could hear snores and deep breathing from almost everyone in the camp. Friend had stretched out his neck on the ground, but his eyes were open and watching. I lifted my head carefully, looking around the dead camp fire to be sure everyone was asleep. Slowly I stretched out and shook a sharp bit of metal out of my left sleeve that I had swiped by the fire during the branding. I placed the tool between my knees and started rubbing the twine around my wrists against it.
Friend lifted his head when I began to move and watched curiously as I worked. With an effort, I finally managed to snap the bonds. I shook out my wrists, rubbing the raw circles with my fingertips.
I smiled at Friend and he blinked a large eye at me.
"Ready?" I mouthed to him, reaching out a newly freed hand to steady myself as I stood in the easily shifting sand.
The hop seemed to understand and he shifted his legs so I could mount his broad back. I swung my leg over as he stood, shaking out his mane. I tensed. If anyone in the party were going to wake up, now would be the time.
Without a backward glance I grabbed the reigns with my left hand and flicked them. Friend didn't need much encouragement, and we trotted out to the west. Leaving the traders direct line of sight as quickly as possible...
The next day brought its usual dry heat but no sight of the slave drivers. By afternoon, my hopes were high that they had given up searching for me. Now all I had to do was worry about surviving through the desert to Bomo. By my estimations, it was only two days to the nearest village nestled in the neighboring country's swampy boarder lands. I silently thanked my grandmother for making me study world maps and geography.
It seemed, however, I needed to work harder on the practical applications of my studies. Three days away from the slavers and I was hopelessly lost in Bomo's boarder lands.
I had watched the landscape change from harsh, orange desert to bristled shrubbery with excitement. And I knew I had left my country behind when rain clouds gathered and pushed out a steady, light rain. It felt good to my dry, cracking skin, but it soon had my light, minimal slave clothes soaked through. It also clouded the sky all day and night, so I couldn't navigate by the stars or sun.
"Mental note. Get n-new clothes, huh?" I chattered to Friend as we sat in the mud beneath a tree on the fifth night.
He snorted a response and I huddled closer to him for warmth. At least he was fed and watered due to the massive hump on his back that stored water and fat for desert journeys. Once we entered the forests and the thick, waist high water of true swamp land I knew things were beyond bad.
I had given Friend a break from carrying me and held onto his reigns incase my shaky legs gave out from under me. Walking through the sludge-like water was hard and I felt light headed. With every step came a strange slurping sound as the swamps surface opened up to free my feet.
"I spy..." I said to the hop, looking around for something new for him to guess at. "Something gray."
Friend wasn't fooled, he huffed at me through his large nostrils and butted me with the tip of his nose.
"Right," I said, laughing weakly and wondered if I was going delirious. I was playing a child's game with a hop. "Stupid choice."
He shook his head to dislodge the gnats that had taken to flying around his ears.
"I'm sorry we're lost," I said to him for the hundredth time. I hated to think the kind animal might perish along with me. "You could leave and save yourself. I'm sure you could find your way."
The hop gave an indignant sort of snort.
"Hey, I'd let you lead me out of here, but every time I try to give you free reign all you do is stand there."
Now he sighed.
"I wish you could talk," I said absentmindedly. "But if you started right now, I guess I'd think I was mad."
Friend suddenly stopped our slow trudge through the muddy water, his reigns jerked out of my hand. I almost stumbled.
"Hey," I said mildly, turning back to him where he stood. We had been on a slight incline. The water was only up to my mid-calf. I motioned for him to keep coming.
"Come on, big guy," I said, reaching for his lead. I tugged gently on the tether, he didn't budge. I frowned up at him. "Do you need break?"
His long ears were rotating back and forth nervously and he shifted weight between his four feet. I wondered what was bothering him. I came closer to stroke his nose.
"I'm tired too," I whispered wryly, resting my forehead against his long face. "But I have to keep going."
I tuned and walked forward, looking over my shoulder. "See? There's nothing to be afraid o-oh!"
With a splash, I sank below the surface of the water. My feet didn't find any ground. With an effort, I made myself swim through the muck to find the surface. My face broke free and as the mud unclogged from my ears I could hear Friend baying anxiously. I coughed.
"Okay. Okay," I said more to myself than the panicking animal. I spit some muddy water out of my mouth. "A sink hole. Great. I can deal."
Taking in as much air as possible I flung myself toward Friend. He pawed anxiously where he stood, not daring to move forward. The only thing I knew to do was spread myself out on top and swim for land. Try as I might, however, I wasn't getting anywhere. Friend seemed to be the same distance away as before, fretting and making worried noises.
I tried to make my arms tread water.
"It's okay," I said to him, my legs sinking further. I was up to my neck and I could feel the mud sucking at me.
He could see me giving up and he really started to make some noise, moving back and forth along the edge of the hole. He bayed shrilly and shook his head. He seemed to be angry with me.
Which was okay, I was pretty angry with me, too. Coming all this way to find myself in a sink hole was maddening.
I tried to smile reassuringly at my companion as I pushed the mud away from my face with my right hand. The water stung my burn, which was now a delightful puss color from lack of treatment. Friend bayed at me again, shuffling forward.
"Stay 'ack!" I shouted at him, water flooding my mouth for a moment. Friend put his head down and pawed at the ground.
I sunk another inch and wondered why I was trying to comfort a hop as I was drowning. The prospect of death does strange things to people. I tilted my head back to breath better, my right hand and left fingers the only other body parts above water.
So this is it, I thought to myself. Maybe I deserved to die here, drowning in mud. Berrik's face flashed in front of me and I wondered if this was some sort of cosmic justice. Or curse. Tears stung at my eyes.
I could feel the hole pulling me and in a last panic I reached up and screamed as the water closed over my face.

Shadows and Slaves

2009-01-05T14:28:00.000-08:00

Demaren found his way from the darkness. Like a night without dreams, he found himself awake suddenly as if time had not passed. A moment passed before he could pay attention to the various textures his skin felt. Something hard beneath his back and legs and arms. Something soft under his head. A rough fabric seemed to cover his chest. His wings flexed and the he felt the feathers rustle, hearing the sound of fabric. He smelled the salty air of the ocean. He felt the lulling rock of his lodging.
He opened his eyes tentatively because he realized his body was extremely tired and ached. The sky was brilliant blue and cloudless. He found it somewhat disconcerting and uncomfortable to not be able to see the star he had followed. And even worse, he didn't know where he was. A turn of his head to both sides revealed he was on a boat. He was under a rough, water absorbent blanket, and his head was resting on something very soft--probably expensive too. But his body, though sore, felt whole. So he sat up.
Immediately, he realized that he could move his wings, but they were still full of water. Water? Ah, he must have fallen into the ocean. Yes, he remembered that now. It felt suddenly like a long time ago. Or maybe a mere moment. His head swam and he slouched forward, resting his elbows onto his knees.
"Awake now, boy?" Came a guttural voice. Demaren turned his head, revealing more sore spots in his neck and back. A few joints popped with relief.
"Yes." Demaren replied to the unseen voice. He looked over the other shoulder, trying to see. But no one was there.
"Look up, boy."
Demaren, still looking back, directed his gaze upwards.
A Xian man sat in the crows nest of the boat. He was quite tall (not as tall as Demaren; maybe 6' 5") and muscular, but older--in his late forties or early fifties, if Demaren guessed by foreigner age. He was very tan and leathery, scars pattern on his arms. He looked rough, but his thin pale eyes were kind. His hair, gone a silvery coppery color from age and sun exposure, was cut short on top and the sides, but a long reddish white braid hung over his shoulder.
"You feelin' all right?"
Demaren sighed and pulled himself to his feet. His wings were still wet and so they sagged heavily. He let them drag on the boat and they left water marks. He walked under the crows nest.
"Yes, thank you. Uh. What happened?"
"I found you." The man disappeared from view, and a moment later appeared sliding down a rope. He landed firmly without stumbling. Demaren thought he would be dexterous with wings. "You were in the ocean, ya know. Probably didn't drown because of those wings. They seemed to have kept you afloat. On your back, you know. Yep. I thought you were a damn giant bird at first."
"Yes, that can happen sometimes..."
"I've traded with your people, so I wasn't shocked. Just surprised to find one of you so far out. What are you doing this far out anyway?"
"Visiting my mother.."
"Oh? Interesting. Where is she?"
Demaren didn't say anything but looked intently at the man. Demaren's gold eyes were penetrating and he tried to make it clear he wasn't in the mood for chatter. The man got it and smiled.
"Those are interesting wings. A different sort of color, aren't they?"
He merely grunted.
"I also noticed your earrings are a feather and a lock of hair."
Silence.
"Your mother isn't a Syla, is she."
Very stony silence.
"You're something special, boy. Why don't you dry off those sparkling wings? They've been out of the water for hours but still seem a little moist, and the glittering of water on gold is giving me a headache." He tossed another rough blanket at Demaren.
As he rubbed his wings, which felt numb now, the man began to climb the crows nest again. "Name's Jeron. What are you called boy?"
"Demaren."
"Welcome aboard."
Demaren dried his wings absentmindedly. "Where are you taking this boat?"
"She's called Noon Day, and she's bound to Ixlar. A small port in Xian. That work for you or are you taking your leave earlier?"
"Xian... Is that to the south east of Tovsyla?"
The man didn't respond. A moment later, he appeared again beside Demaren. "Why are you heading south east, boy?"
Demaren felt put on the spot and frowned. "Just looking for my mother..."
"Where?"
Still, he didn't want to say.
"Don't try to keep a secret from me, boy. I've been all over this damn world and if anyone is going to know which way to send you, it's me. Now, where are you heading?"
"... Star mountain."
Jeron furrowed his lined brow. "South east all right. I'm afraid our port is a little more east than your goal, but you should probably make the flight over land as much as you can. And stay high." He glanced at Demaren and caught the confusion. "I'm used to your people, boy. But the world outside of traders and merchants isn't. They probably haven't even heard of you. Or ever seen one of you. You might get attacked for looking so strange, or being so damn huge. There will be problems. And..." The man narrowed his eyes, which were a foggy blue, and stared at Demaren's shadow. "You will get side tracked."
Alarm gripped Demaren. "Side tracked? How would you know that? Why? What would--"
Jeron held up his hand and smiled, "It will be a good kind of distraction. It will lead you to your future. It will solve your problem and save your life."
"How do you know these things?"
Jeron looked at Demaren's shadow again. "What is past mirrors what will come."
Demaren looked at his own shadow. It looked normal. He glanced at the man, looking for his shadow and realized there was no shadow. He looked back at Jeron. "You don't have a--You're a Shadow Reader?"
Jeron's eyes softened, "My mother was. When I was born without a shadow, as we usually go without, she taught me how to see through other shadows. I don't do it if I can help it. I don't always want to know where people's lives will take them. I'm glad I don't have one, for I would hate to know my own damn destiny."
Frowning again, Demaren sat down. "So. A distraction. Will I know it when I see it? What if I don't let anything distract me?"
A smirk stole across Jeron's face, "Oh, you won't be able to resist this one."
The journey with Jeron was uneventful, but time consuming. Demaren often considered just leaving and heading out on his own, but he didn't know exactly how far it was to land. He didn't want to risk the fall into water again and take the chance of landing face down. A lonely death. So he stayed on the boat. When the wind was dead, he'd take a rope and tug the ship along. During the day, he'd survey from above for schools of fish. At night, he perched on the crow's nest. He stared at the stars, especially the shining one. He thought of his mother as he stared and touched her lock of hair in his earring. He did this every night and began to think of the star as his mother, from a distance. He thought of conversations he would have with her. The star became his source of comfort.
After two weeks, Demaren sat in the nest as usual, but Jeron climbed up to sit with him. Demaren didn't look at Jeron, but simply gazed at the star.
"You going to tell me about her?"
"Who?" Demaren looked away from the star, to Jeron's face.
"Your mah, boy."
He dropped the lock of hair, but it still shimmered like a lock of moon light.
"She must be something special. I've never seen hair the color of the moon before on anyone. Not even in the shadows. It must be from her hair that your wings their color."
Demaren rustled the wings. He liked to believe that about them as well.
"Although, your own hair is like hers I think. No, not as pearly, but definitely abnormal. It's much like light itself, so bright and pale."
"My father is a Syla. Black hair, black wings, tan skin. He's not nearly as tall as me, though."
"Interesting. Is your mother tall?"
"No, she was petite. Petite and pale and delicate. I'm tall and tan, but seem to glow. I sometimes intimidate people if they catch me in the light of the evening. My mother was like that too, only she was beautiful and breath taking."
"So she's at Star Mountain?"
"Or somewhere near it."
"Hm." They sat in silence for a long time before Jeron rose. "Well! Eventually, you'll get south east enough to find the sharp cold air. Huge ice flows in the water, that prevent ships but not creatures of the air. And then an island. From far away, you'll see pillars of ice and cold. But as you get closer, you'll see they are towers. Huge and frightening. Not sure what made them or even what they're made of, though. After that, I am not sure where you will go. I've never been on Grayman."
"Grayman?"
"The island where the massive mountain is. I assume it is your Star Mountain."
"Why?"
"It's the only mountain I have ever seen that I did not know the name of. Also, at night, it looks like all of the stars are erupting from it like a volcano. Didn't I mention you can see it from the sea? It is a damn big mountain, even to be seen from the far side of the island."
Demaren pondered this. "So. Grayman. The south east."
Jeron got up and patted Demaren's shoulder, then climbed over the nest wall and down to the deck below.
The first morning of Demaren's third week on the boat, he unwrapped from his wings to the sight of a port in the distance. It would take the morning to get there, so he flew down to the deck.
"Jeron?" Demaren looked around. Jeron was not in sight. He listened but heard no rustling of movement under deck. "... Jeron?"
Suddenly, there was a burst from the ocean. Demaren shouted and fell back, into the tarps. Jaren climbed over the railing of the boat in nothing but his pants. A sack was tied to his back with ropes, and it looked heavy and bulky.
"Jeron? What were you doing?!" Demaren struggled with the tarps as they tangled around him even more with each tug.
Jeron dropped the sack and helped Demaren from the mess. "Fishing, boy, that's what I do."
"Fishing?" Finally free, Demaren looked at the sack. It did not look full of fish. "Why didn't you ask me for help? You're soaked!"
"You couldn't help me with this kind of fishing, boy." Jeron dumped the sack out. Strange looking creatures tumbled to the deck. Shells and claws tangles together and spindly legs kicked wildly.
"Where did you get these?"
"They live on the bottom of the ocean."
Demaren kicked one with a huge claw, which it snapped at his foot--he stepped back quickly. "I hope they are not for eating."
Jeron laughed, "Don't tell me you've never eaten cresttian!" He picked up the clawed one, legs kicking, claw snapping all around.
Demaren looked shocked, "THAT'S a cresttian?"
Jeron nodded, "Anyway, you can't dive so deep without training, so I did it myself."
"But we're almost at port."
"Yeah, which reminds me. You may want to find a way to cover your wings if possible. Or maybe just fly on over and through. Don't look at me like that! No one around here has ever seen a Syla. You could be killed. We have a tendency to be superstitious people; believe in magic, angels, and demons. He follow the stars and the gods. It's a crowded culture, so there is a lot of misunderstandings. I'd hate for you to end up as one."
"Hmph." Demaren didn't want to cover up. More than anything actually. Besides, he didn't think he would walk anyway. After all, he had to fly to get across the water to Grayman, didn't he? So maybe he'd fly anyway. Then again. He was not ashamed of his wings!
"I'll help you deliver your fish. Without a cover, thanks."
Jeron narrowed his eyes at him. "I'm not saving you then."
"I won't need saving."
So, Jeron sailed the boat on. Demaren contemplated standing on the front of the boat, just to irritate Jeron, but decided not to go asking for trouble. But, it seemed that merely having huge shining wings basically asked for it.
When they tied the boat down, Demaren tried to ignore how silent the pier fell. The sounds of carts ceased, voices hushed, and he could feel the burning gazes of hundreds of eyes. But he just picked up crates of fish to unload. He realized that the act of carrying four crates of fish was a little unheard of when the crowd gasped and then quickly tried to stifle it when his back stiffened. So when he finally raised his eyes to look at the people, hoping to disperse them, he was uncomfortable to find they did not even blink. He wanted to say something. But could mostly just think of what a fool he was. Then he felt a rough hand on his bare back. Jeron was stepping beside him.
"What the hell are you all staring at? Hm? This boy here? What, you never seen wings? Maybe he ain't ever seen people as damn pale as us! Don't see him gawking! Go on, get back to work and leave the boy alone." He shooed at the crowd and picked up two crates of his own.
The crowd slowly trickled away, and conversations fledged to life again. But Demaren felt two inches tall. He realized he was being proud when he'd ignored Jeron's warning. What if they'd attacked him? He could see the glint of fear in everyone's face and tried to imagine what they felt. A man about seven feet tall, with huge white wings, dark skin, and a bright shock of hair carrying four extremely heavy crates of fish... He could have kicked himself.
"Don't think about it anymore, boy. Just help me. Ya can stay at my house--my wife will feed ya, and I suppose my daughter will fancy ya."
"Wife? Daughter?"
"Yeah, didn't I mention I had a family? Jain and Lia. My wife, Jain, is my better half. And Lia, she's the prettiest little thing on this side of the city. You'll see. I suppose you'll fancy her too, won't you."
Demaren wasn't sure what to say.
They unloaded quickly and Jeron sold off his haul surprisingly fast. He joked lated that everyone wanted to buy some of the fish carried by the bird man. Demaren didn't find it all that funny. Jeron walked with Demaren the dozen or so rows of houses to a small, but very pleasant looking house, shoved and plastered between a endless stretch of houses. Probably about two rooms wide and three rooms deep, they had the most length in the height. Each house must have been about three floors.
Hesitation clung to Demaren. Maybe he should just leave now. He wasn't sure he wanted to scare Jeron's wife, or get his daughter's fancy. But before he could say a word, the door flew open. A blur of blue and red shot down the steps and tackled Jeron.
"Feela! Feela!" Laughed a high voice. Demaren circled the fallen Jeron, who was now laughing and buckling. On Jeron's chest was a little girl with straight red hair, cropped short, wearing a blue little dress and black boots. Jeron and the small child jabbered to each other in Xianic. The little girl, finally, looked directly at Demaren. Then she scrambled off of Jeron (who tickled her as she climbed, and she swatted at him) and rushed to Demaren, throwing her arms out as she came. Understanding her intention, Demaren quickly caught her when she jumped and she landed into a seated position in the crook of his arm.
"Imia Lia koh no kin." She said, smiling. Then she patted his naturally tan cheek. She seemed to be waiting for him to say something and Demaren looked imploringly at Jeron, who merely laughed and went towards the house. Demaren followed, his face looking stricken.
"Chi hia je koh ten to ell?" She asked. She started running her hands in his white-gold hair, then started looking in great detail at the earrings he wore.
Demaren stopped at the doorway and looked inside. "Jeron? What do I do with her? I don't know what she's saying!"
"Just put her down and she'll find something else to do. Then come in and get some food. Jeron will be down in a moment." Came a soft voice from another room.
Demaren looked down at the small girl, who was tracing the tattoo on his left pectoral. Then he just brought her down and set her feet gently down. She straightened her dress and scampered to the voice from the other room. Demaren then had to navigate the doorway. The frames were much smaller than the ones from home, and he wasn't even sure his wings would get in. He had to extend one horizontally and slide in sideways halfway. Then, in order to preserve the inside of the house, he had to fold it back up and extend the other before entering fully. He was halfway through the maneuver when a tall, pretty woman came in.
"What are you doing? I told you to--" She paused mid sentence to gape at Demaren. She had the same thin, pale Xian eyes as Jeron and the small child, and her red hair was woven around ribbons and trinkets, carefully done up. She looked at Demaren, one wing inside and folded (which also meant it was grazing the ceiling, curses, he hadn't taken that into account), the other outside the house and extended, and then started to laugh.
Demaren was slightly alarmed. But felt a bit better when she came over, still laughing though trying to stifle it, and helped him with he other wing. She smoothed some ruffled feathers, admiring them in the process, and then spoke again, voice full from the laughter.
"I'm Jain, Jeron's wife." She held up her hand, palm facing Demaren. He placed his hand over hers, palm to palm.
"I'm Demaren."
"So you're a Syla? Excellent, I've never met one before. Please come into the kitchen, the ceiling is higher there." And she hurried down the hall to investigate a clatter in the kitchen. Demaren smiled at her more refined way of speaking, especially after weeks of Jeron's coarse speech.
The clattering sound turned out to be the little girl again, climbing on some precariously stacked cooking pots. Jain pulled her off, much to her objection, and dismantled the tower. The little girl proceeded to yell a long string of Xianic, and the woman turned to respond calmly. The little girl stomped her feet and turned to Demaren, running over to bury her face into his legs, her hands clutching the feathers of the nearest wing. He could hear he crying, but suspected she was faking it.
"She wanted to climb as high as you," said Jain.
"That's flattering." He mused. Then he reached down and pulled the girl from his legs. She scrambled up his arms and wrapped her arms around his neck, dangling herself down his back. "What the--?" Demaren tried to pull her off, but she would nip his fingers if he reached back to her, and she tightened her grip rather painfully if he pulled at her arms or hands. Finally, he accepted it and let her remain attached. It wasn't a real bother.
Demaren sat in the kitchen, waiting for Jeron, the small girl dangling down his back and jabbering on, and having pleasant conversation about home to Jain. It was a decently long amount of time before Jeron came down, but he looked clean and much younger. Demaren realized the man probably looked so much older when he was away from home and proper hygiene.
Jeron looked at Demaren, and then his eyes trailed to the girl. Then he started to laugh and came over to pull the girl off. The girl tightened her hold on Demaren's neck, and mumbled something at Jeron. Jeron looked at Demaren, who shrugged, and then backed off, smiling.
"So you met Jain and Lia, I see."
"This is Lia?"
Jeron nodded.
"Oh. Good to know."
"Like I said, she fancies you."
Demaren reached over to swing the girl around so she was facing him. She fought it for a moment, then relented. Once tugged to the front, she dropped into his lap and traced the tattoo again. Demaren smiled in spite of himself.
"And you fancy her too. As I said you would."
"She grows on you quickly, doesn't she?"
"Yeah." Jeron pulled a long thin pipe from the shelf and started packing some dark herb into it.
"How old is she?"
"Almost 4."
Demaren looked at the girl, who met his gaze. She opened her thin eyes as wide as she could, then gave up.
"Jeron, don't you light that now, we're going to eat in just a minute!" Jain shouted from the stove, a large cutting knife in hand. Jeron put the pipe back on the shelf and smiled coyly. Then he sat down and he and Demaren talked on.
The dinner was delicious, with all different kinds of fish and vegetables. Lia fell asleep mid-dinner and Jain carried her up stairs, returning a short while later to direct Demaren to where he would sleep. The bed was in the middle of the flooy, Jain admitting that she wasn't sure how else to set up a bed for him and his wings. Demaren had laughed and consoled her fears. He slept very well, but in the middle of the night woke up to stare at the stars.
At that moment he missed his mother terribly. He was very worried about his father, too, unsure if he should have left him so close to death. Demaren hated to imagine his father could be dead. Just the thought made him feel heavy and alone. After about an hour of gazing at the stars, his heart heavy with the inevitable loneliness his life would turn to, he headed in. A light downstairs distracted him and he slipped quietly down, his feet excellent for sneaking. He peered into the kitchen, remaining as unseen as possible. Jeron and his wife were standing there, Jeron holding her around the waist. She was stroking his face and looking at him with love and worry. Her eyes were red from some crying. Demaren realized that Jeron's excursions must worry her, and he felt even more alone. He hurried quickly back upstairs to sleep.
Before he fell asleep, he said quietly to the darkness, "No one worries when I am gone..."
The next morning, Demaren told Jeron he had to go. He didn't think he could wait anymore. He thanked him, and told him he wanted to go before the sun got too high. Lia cried hysterically, and Jain wiped at the little girl's eyes. She was only consoled with Demaren gave her one of his long shining feathers. She clutched it and then clutched him saying, "Teh ie o kama, Dema. Ni so heh?"
Demaren glanced at Jeron, who said, "She said, I miss you, Dema. Come back, okay?"
Feeling he would miss her too, so strong was her little spirit, Demaren quickly asked, "How do I promise I will?"
Jeron, said quietly, "Jeh ten tor jemo."
Demaren pulled the girl free from him and held her in his arm for a moment, "Jeh ten tor jemo." And she hugged him, sobbing again. Jeron patted his shoulder, but his eyes were sad.
"You are a good man, Demaren. You will find your mother." He handed Demaren a folded piece of paper. Demaren looked at it and saw it was a map of the known world. He noticed that only the trading port and the south-eastern tip of his home were on the map. But there was a vague island to the far south with a name written a fancy script in Xianic. But a short hand had written it in Syla, "Grayman" and had labeled everywhere else too.
"Follow the south eastern route. Fly over the Maukra basin and the Bomo swamp lands. You'll want veer and be careful not to pass over Catta or Lilli--they are at war. I would cover Ellipt. It's neutral."
Demaren hugged Jeron then, ignoring whatever customs there were. This man was like a father to him.
Jain had packed him food in a satchel. The satchel was a gift and would be useful. Demaren was grateful.
He left feeling heavy hearted. He missed the small family already, despite the insanely short time spent with the women in it. He spent the days flying high and fast. The nights were perched in the tops of the tallest trees (though none as tall as the Lowe from home). The landscape was beautiful in the basin and he hoped to visit it again someday.
Jeron had told him to fly straight over the swamp. He warned him that the swamps would swallow him if he stopped, so he had to make it one shot. Jeron packed down the night before in a tree, waiting for the long day ahead. He fell asleep to the hum of the night animals, his eyes staring at his mother star. A slight tussle in the night woke him half heartedly, but he quickly fell back asleep and forgot it by the morning.

Trials

2009-01-02T18:10:00.001-08:00

Three weeks later and my lips where still chapped to bleeding if I talked or smiled. No matter how much ointment or what amount of water I drank I still felt dry. Talking had not been possible until recently, either. It was like the desert sand and wind had invaded my mouth and held my voice captive in a hard sandy clump. In the five days it took to reach the Spurt from where the next caravan found me, I was only just able to sit up.
I knelt on the dirt floor of the ascetic hall, picking idly at the dry skin on my lips as I stared blankly at my dirty knees.
A panel of plainly dressed women sat before me, conferring with one another. Every now and again they would turn to look at me with a serious expression. I had tried to show some emotion, but all I could manage was something between a grimace and a wide eyed stare.
Most of the women where older, hair graying and skin like pasty tissue. It contrasted starkly with their earth colored robes that they kept wrapping and re-wrapping around their shoulders. They were shoeless and the bottoms of their feet along with the hems of their billowing pants were caked in dust and mud.
"Ashling," said one of the women, firmly.
My eyes flicked up to meet Travsta's steady gaze. She was perhaps the oldest of the women, of all the women in the ascetic sect at the Spurt, possibly in her mid hundreds. She had been kind to me during the trial, though I was apparently little help to them.
They thought I had murdered an entire caravan.
I blinked at her, waiting for her question.
"You were the only person Bosa's caravan found alive at the-er-site," she said delicately.
I flinched all the same, though I could not remember what had happened, I did remember the terror and illness that came with it.
"Yes," I croaked, pulling my fingers away from my mouth so they could hear me.
"And you don't remember anything that happened?" another woman pressed.
I shook my head slowly, bringing my hand back to my mouth and looking intently at the floor. I made myself concentrate. Nothing was more important right now than the way the dirt made little lines and mounds in front of me.
"I know it might be painful," Travsta said soothingly, "but if you can't tell us what you saw maybe you can tell us who did it?"
"It wasn't me," I whispered.
Mummers broke out on either side of me along the walls of the chamber. The audience that had come to watch often grew restless when the panel questioned me.
I knew it must look strange. One young woman found among a slaughtered caravan with no recollection of what happened was a curious situation. Though I didn't remember what happened, and the events leading up to it where blurry at best, I did know that I hadn't killed them. Why would I? How could I? One small girl against thirty or more was hardly a threat.
I shifted on my knees, digging the fabric of the light colored pants I had been lent farther into the earth. It stung a little as my skin chaffed against it, reminding me that I was still alive.
"There were no signs of foul play," said one of the younger women, hotly. I tried to remember her name, but couldn't. She had been on my case since the moment they carried me into the tunnels.
I blinked slowly at her. "Besides everyone being dead?"
"She's lying, Travsta," she said again. She must have said it a hundred times. "She's hiding something."
"We know your opinion, Palk," Travsta replied coolly. I barely contained a giggle. How could I forget a name like Palk?
"Do you have anything to say in your defense?" she asked me just as coolly. She hadn't mistaken my small laugh as a cough like I'd hoped.
I looked up at her, suddenly tired, and shook my head slightly. Everything I could possibly say had already been said. No, I didn't kill anyone in the caravan, let alone the entire party. No, I did not know who had. And no, I didn't remember anything about it. It was like my mind had erased itself, leaving me stranded in a perpetual fog.
"Then we have someone to speak on your behalf," she said. Shock must have shown on my face because she nodded toward the doors on my left where my grandmother was being let into the room.
I frowned at her, wondering why she was here. Something nagged at my mind as she made her way over from the dark wooden doors. A memory played just below the surface of my conscious, something with blue eyes, tan skin, and brown-almost blond-hair...
Travsta nodded to Grandmother, who inclined her head slightly in return. She didn't even glance at me as she strode onto the open floor, her layered robs billowing and swishing about her legs. Even though we generally upheld a mutual loathing for each other I was often struck by how beautiful she was. She had cropped her hair short, sweeping it to one side to give her a severe, regal look. Her nose was delicately slopped, allowing her dark eyes to easily stare disdainfully down on anyone from above her high cheek bones.
Her beauty made me cringe internally. The same beautiful face had dolled out the harshest punishments in my childhood as my invalid mother lay in bed.
"Thank you for coming, Madam," Palk said, puckering up to the old woman as if she could be sweetened.
Grandmother didn't even bother with a response, standing a few feet away from the panel's desk. Which also happened to be farthest away from me.
"Your grand daughter," Travsta began, "is on charge for over twenty counts of murder. Though we can't see how she may have accomplished this, but no evidence has been provided to suggest anyone else. Can you give a testament to her character?"
She was entirely the wrong person to ask. She hated me. Found every excuse to punish me and begrudged every expense necessary to take care of me. But being a family meant something, didn't it? Her hate wouldn't go so deep that she would--
"She's wretched," she said simply.
Or maybe it would.
"She's been a torment since she could walk," Grandmother continued, never looking at me once. "She's a selfish-"
"Hey," I said quietly.
"-greedy, lying, thief that stole-"
"Hey!" I said a little louder. Did she want me to be executed?
"Shut up, swine!" she shouted, turning on me then. Her eyes burned as she advanced on me.
I scurried back, tripping on my loose clothing.
"You killed your own brother! You murdered him because he was good! I knew you had it in you, but I thought you loved him. Now I see what you really are!"
Now I pressed myself against the far wall as her hands came flying at me, her nails biting into my cheeks, arms, and neck with each slap. I might have fended her off, but the image that I had been holding off for nearly a month came crashing into my head. My brother, blood running out of his chest but still smiling with his beautiful blue eyes. How hot the sand felt as I held him and he died in my arms...
Tears were streaming down my face now as I remembered. Some people had come to pull the mad woman off me and guide me back to my place in front of the panel. They looked at me with a mixture of expressions as I cried.
"You... had a brother?" Travsta asked hesitantly, looking confused.
I could only nod. I had sucked in my bottom lip to keep from screaming out as my memory assaulted me with the image of my brother's corpse. The chapped lip bled into my mouth.
"He was on the caravan?" she prodded again.
Grandmother was being consoled by some of the women in the audience on my right. I nodded again.
"Why didn't you tell us?!" Palk shouted, accusation coloring her voice.
I took a steadying breath so I could try and explain. "I don't know. I-I didn't r-remember and-"
"You didn't remember your own brother?" she said sceptically.
"I don't know why didn't remember but-"
"Did you think you could get away with it if you didn't mention him?" she said over me. "Did you think we wouldn't find out?"
"No, but the Erynese-"
Palk was about to say something else but Travsta stopped her with a raised hand.
"The Erynese? What about them?" she asked shortly.
"They were there," I said in almost a whisper, memory flooding my head. "They had a ship, huge and gray, and strange weapons that made things explode. They attacked us-"
"How did they get past the sands?" Palk asked hotly, not believing me. "No one can. Stop lying!"
"I'm not lying!" I shouted back, finally feeling my own anger bubble up. "They attacked us and killed everyone!"
"But left you alive?" Palk countered. "Why would they do that?"
A strange image entered my mind then. The Erynese men dragging me away from Berrik's body. The sense of power flowing through me, consuming me. My own light blinding my eyes and pushing me into darkness...
There were gasps from the crowd. Pulled out of my revere I looked around for the source of the disturbance. They were all staring at me.
I looked quickly down at myself to find my skin glowing once again. My hands lifted in front of my face, seemingly of their own accord, for my eyes to examine. It was brightest around my hands, where the skin pulsed with luminescence.
My breathing sped up and I chocked it back to try and calm myself.
"Ashling!" Travsta barked, stealing my attention.
I looked at her and the glow faded.
Travsta's expression was serious, as was the rest of the panel's. Except for Palk's; she looked like her eyes might pop right out of her skull.
"Have you ever displayed this... ability, before?" Travsta asked.
I looked at my grandmother, she was standing on her own now slightly apart from the crowd. Her eyes regarded me more coldly than I had ever seen before. If that were possible.
Still looking at Grandmother I shook my head. "No."
"Do you know what sort of power this is?" she asked.
I shook my head again.
"Demon!" Palk spat.
"Silence Palk, or so help me I'll cut out your tongue!" she threatened. Palk's mouth snapped closed, but her eyes still accused me of every evil known to man.
"It is an evil," Grandmother said quietly, stepping forward to face the panel.
I sighed. Grandmother shot me a withering look.
"My mother had the same ability," she confessed, sneering at Travsta's choice of words. "It ended up killing my the rest of my family and several other house holds in the area. I was outside of town with it happened. You could see the light erupt for miles."
My mouth fell open. This was not a story I had heard before.
"It often happened when she was emotional or angry," she continued. "Something must have happened and she couldn't control it. Ashling has never faced any sort of emotion short of foolishness, something must have triggered it."
"When the Erynese took me from Berrik-" his name burned in my throat "-that's when it started," I offered.
Travsta frowned. "If you're saying that the trauma of seeing her brother die brought out her abilities, where were the bodies of the people from Eryn?"
I blinked. I had not been awake when the caravan found me or taken me away from the gruesome scene, but no one had mentioned Erynese bodies among the dead. Had I completely obliterated them? I shivered at the thought.
The audience was getting restless again. The women covered the mouths with heir scarves to speak with one another in hushed tones.
"We will convene and return with a verdict," Travsta announced after taking in the stirring crowd the other unsettled panel members.
The panel rose from there seats and crowed out of the room for a moment. I looked at my hands again wondering what they could have done. Even with my memory now intact the scene was still blurry. Had I really killed the Erynese? If I had then where were the bodies? Where was the massive earth roving ship that I saw? This all seemed to be moving at the pace of a dream.
The panel returned to their seats in far too short a time for my liking. Trasta remained standing. One of the guards came to my side and helped me to my feet as well.
"Ashling," she said, her voice strong with authority. "The story you've told us is shaky at best. We cannot know exactly what happened in the desert a month ago. What the panel has seen and heard from your grandmother, though, cannot be denied. You have been cursed."
I felt my knees weaken, thankfully the guard had a firm grip on my arm to keep me from falling on my face.
Travsta turned to my grandmother. "You have been granted the choice. Death or enslavement?"
Grandmother turned to me, her eyes suddenly softening a little. I pleaded with my eyes. She knew what I would have chosen.
"Sell her for slavery," she said surely, turning away from me and striding out the door.
Travsta nodded absently and the gavel fell, sealing my fate.
The panel dispersed and the guard steered me out the door. If not for the guards strong hand I wouldn't so much as crawled. Grandmother waited in the hall and the guard stopped a moment as we faced each other.
"Death would have been kinder," I told her simply.
She reached out and patted my cheek, the most intimate gesture I had ever received from her.
"I know," she whispered.

Growing up

2009-01-02T00:31:00.000-08:00

Demaren stood beneath a thick, old, uninhabited Lowe tree. The black-blue bark loomed up the entire seemingly endless height. It disappeared into the darkness of the canopy, entangled over a mile from the ground. Out of sight, where the branches grew and the leaves sprouted, Demaren knew wide purple leaves overlapped for another half of a mile. Only then, would the open sky be even visible.
He glanced to his right, seeing his best friends standing beneath their own trees of choice. They all examined them carefully, as he had, then crouched at the base when they were ready. Demaren crouched at his base, waiting until the rest had chosen to do so.
"On my mark!" He shouted. From their backs, his friends wings unfurled from resting position. Huge wings of black and blue and brown, all arching and flapping in preparation. Demaren stretched his own wings, unusual as they were for a Syla. Not only were they white, but they were all lightly flecked and tipped with gold--like the precious metal from the merchants. Not like the sun or the flowers. And on top of that, they seemed to glow in the darkness of the canopied forests. He pulled the muscles tautly, reaching the huge appendages as high as they would reach. The joints popped, and the muscles pulled joyfully. Feathers spread and the gold in them glinted in the light from the lanterns.
"Show off," whispered Nek, from his left. Demaren glanced at him, and narrowed his eyes playfully.
"Get set!" He shouted, then adding quietly to Nek, "You ain't seen nothing yet."
"You better hope you picked the tallest tree, or you're gonna owe me a fan made of your feathers." Nek muttered back, smirking.
"In your dreams." Demaren whispered, then he shouted, "GO!!" And the Sylan boys took to the air. The air thrashed violently near the ground, dust and small rocks whipping the trees. But the boys were gone.
Each to his own tree, they shot up towards the canopy. Carefully flapping their wings in practiced motions, they hovered like water bugs along the sides of the bark. Up and up, closer, trying to outstrip each other. The branches began to appear beside Demaren and he had to modify his motion. Weaving now between branches, his slid by. Leaves were slapping and stinging his arms and chest. He even caught the thin edge of a leaf and felt blood drawn on his arm. But he smiled triumphantly as the light came into view and his burst into the sky. For that moment, he was alone. No darkness, no trees, no other wings. Him and the clouds, the sun and span of the tree tops.
He landed swiftly though, on the top of his tree. His barefeet--equipped with a few extra joints than any other sentient species--half stood, half gripped the highest point. And as his feet held tightly, his friends sprung into view. One, then two, then three at once and so on until the twelve of them stood on their trees. They swayed in the cold wind as it came from the sea, the salty air leaving a waxy condensation on their flesh.
Demaren enjoyed the view, their birdlike forms standing starkly against the blue sky, looking small and distant and insignificant. But the shouts from his friends brought him back.
"Not again, Demaren!"
"Every time!"
"Why do we even play!"
Demaren folded his arms. He knew his tree would be the tallest--it always was. He could just tell when they chose their plot to play on which one it would be. He was always ready to fly first, confident, and he was always the winner. He knew he should let them win now and then, but he just couldn't help it.
"You play because you hope you will win, boys." He laughed and leapt into the air, his wings still folded. He let himself feel the gravity tug, then he threw out his wings and sailed to the tree between Nek and Silo. "Because you might win."
Everyone laughed, each knowing they really wouldn't. Then they flew into the sky and played games of catch-me and there-and-back before racing to the beach. They flapped sand at each other and dove in and out of the waves. But as they played and relaxed, some Syla fliers came into view.
The boys stopped playing and watched. They were waiting for the fliers to pass over them and to head to the city in the forest. As they got closer, they could all see the special crest of the chests of the fliers--indicating their servitude to their king. As a result, his friends glanced at Demaren. He scratched his eye brow, contemplating heading back with the fliers to receive the news with the counsel. But the fliers began their descent far too early. And within moments, the boys realized they were heading for the shore, so they moved to the rocks.
Fliers are known for their dexterity and prowess in the air, but these men were tired and drained--and carried a heavy load. So their crash, though unexpected, was easily understood. Sand flew everywhere and groans were heard from the tangle of feathers and arms. The boys shot to help the men. Demaren pulled one man free and helped him sit comfortably.
"What happened?" Demaren questioned.
"Prince Demaren... Your father... Your m-mother..." The man choked on the last word, leaving Demaren feeling suddenly cold and ill.
"Where are my parents?" He gripped the man. But the only response he got was an arm and finger pointed to the other fliers.
Demaren ran to the other fliers, who had been moved and sat to rest. Three of his friends stood beside each other and stared down at the ground. Blocked from view, Demaren could not quiet see what it was. But he could see the shredded leggings and bleeding feet--equipped with some extra joints--and his heart fell. His friends moved and Demaren fell to the sand beside his father.
"Fah!" He shouted as his knees pressed into the grit. His father lay in a hanging carrier, used to transport emergency vicitims. And it was an emergency. Blood covered his father, both in black feather and on tan flesh. His eyes were closed, and his skin was cold. His black hair fluttered in the wind. Demaren could see the gashes on his chest and arms. The breaks in his wings. The bruises still coming into bloom. The vile taste of hate, hurt, and fear broiled in Demaren's throat.
"Fah..." He pulled his father into his arms, undoing the straps from the carrier. As he did so, his father stirred.
"Demaren." The dark eyes of the king opened, black and tired. He still looked like Demaren and his friends, as the Syla did not show signs of aging until they neared 100 years. His father could not have been more than 65, though Demaren wouldn't have known his father's age anymore than he would have known his own.
"Fah... Fah, what happened..."
"Your mother and I. Star mountain." Ben looked back towards the ocean. He raised one arm weakly. "Across the ocean. Far. Ice and snow. Towers." He looked back at Demaren again, and smiled. "You are strong. Like your mother. Not me. Couldn't save her." He closed his eyes as tears slipped out.
Some of the fliers came to move his father. Demaren wanted to stop them but knew they had to try to save him. He watched them adjust him in the carrier. Demaren watched as they strapped him in again. And watched as they carried him, slowly, towards home. All of his friends but Nek and Silo left to fly on ahead. The two of them stood beside him, stoically waiting.
The two of them, sons of key advisors to Demaren's father, had been with Demaren his whole life. They were his best friends and self proclaimed body guards. They were always there. Demaren looked up at them finally, the sun having gone down and leaving them three of them in moonlight. They looked tired.
Demaren got up suddenly, making Nek and Silo start. He flexed his wings once and flew into the air, hesitating to ensure they followed, and the three flew back to the city.
The city was deep in the Lowe forest--miles in from the outer edge, where they played their games. The flight was quick, though, as they boys were excellent fliers. As the first lights came into view, they shifted their flight level higher. The trees, oldest here in the middle, were so thick and tall, that a mile up from the ground, the Syla people had built their homes. Only, they had built them inside the trees themselves. Hollowed out portions of the trunks. So the trees themselves had windows of glowing light--warmth of a home and love from the families. The boys swished past home after home, hearing brief flashes of conversations or songs. On until they reached the central tree--the oldest tree.
This tree had served as the "palace" for the Syla kings and queens. Demarens father lived there with his mother, and Demaren would live there with them until he was married or given a career and thus declared a "man." After all, boys and girls live with their parents. Men and women live on their own.
He didn't feel any bitterness towards the title of "boy." He and all of his friends still had those titles. A few of his friends were married and taken on the title of "men" but they seemed to drift away when that happened. They didn't play the games anymore. So Demaren didn't mind his title. Silo did, though, and didn't like the reference to it--but he wouldn't stop playing the games out of pride.
As it was with everyone, no Syla knows his or her true age until their parents die. And Demaren had a feeling he'd be finding out his own age very soon. He looked at his friends, wondering how old they were. If they were the same age. Or if he was old enough to to be their fathers. Or visa versa. He frowned to himself. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.
They landed on the balcony to the main hall. Some servants opened the windows for them, shutting them fast again once they had entered. Demaren ran up the stairs to the room his father would surely have been laid. Sure enough, in his parents room was his father. The bed half empty, a spot saved for mother that would never be filled again. Demaren felt sick at that thought. He loved mother.
But no sooner had he come in, then the nurses and doctors rushed him out again. They told him in a jumble of voices that he couldn't see his father yet. He had to wait. It turned into mush. He pulled his arms free and glared straight ahead. They all stopped talking.
"I will see him now." He said, turning around to enter. A nurse made to stop him but he moved her with his hands as he would have moved a doll. He was well over 6 feet, nearly 7 feet actually, and the woman couldn't have been more than half of 5 feet. It was effortless for him and unnerving for her.
That being done, he strode into the room and shut the door on everyone. It was just him and his father again. His father was bandaged now, so he didn't look as close to death as he had. But Demaren could feel that the strings that held his father to life were not as strong as they used to be. In fact, as healthy as his father was looking (despite the bandages and weakness) Demaren feared time was running short. His father, it would seem, felt the same way. He opened his eyes and stared intently at his son.
"They've gone, I see."
Demaren nodded.
His father leaned into the pillows with a sigh, closing his eyes, "Good."
Demaren sat on the bed. "Fah."
"Yes. I'm not staying long."
Demaren frowned darkly, "Why?"
His father opened his eyes again and sat up entirely. "I lived with your mother for fifty years. That is a long time. But it should have been longer. I should have had another hundred." He sighed. "She is gone now. Taken away by--" he stopped and looked at Demaren. "Well. She's gone and she isn't coming back, Demaren. And I can't stay where she isn't..."
"But..."
"You are my son. My pride. You are good and just and the people here know this. Despite laws that prevent you from inheriting this throne, the people will undoubtably decide upon you to be the next king. They've always decided and it is not an option once it is decided. If they decide on you, you will rule. And you will be outstanding."
"Father, I don't care about being King, you know that." Demaren burst, angry and frustrated. "I just don't understand why you are giving up on your life just like this."
Ben looked slightly hurt, but mostly piteous. "You will understand one day. I know it." Then he leaned back into the pillows, closing his eyes. Demaren took the signal to go and rose. But before he had reached the door, his father spoke again.
"28." Demaren turned back, confused. "You're 28, Demaren. And a man. So says the king."
Outside the door, after the doctors and nurses had slipped in to continue care, Demaren felt sick. Yes, he was 28. Big deal. His father was dying. His mother had met her death--or something akin to death--at a mysterious place called Star Mountain. Demaren felt furious with everything and everyone for being so complacent. So when Silo approached him about dinner, it was understandable that Demaren punched him and threw himself out the window. Nek ran to the window and watched Demaren fly up to a high branch, but didn't follow.
Demaren stood, furious, in the darkness. The smells of night didn't bring him any comfort. The twinkling of the stars above him didn't make him feel safe. The barrier between him and the sky was no longer a bad thing. Anything to keep the world out. To keep his father here. His life together. If only he could bring his mother back into the safety of the forest. Perhaps his father would stay alive. It occurred to him that his father never said his mother had died. Just that she was gone.
Suddenly, Demaren saw a chance to make it all right. He would find his mother. He would bring her home. Save her and his father. He frowned again and looked back up. He'd have to leave the forest. The island. He'd have to go find star mountain. Across the ocean, right? Snow and ice. Demaren only knew of snow and ice on the northern tip of Tovsyla, and but that wasn't across an ocean. It wasn't even in the right direction! He would have to go a very long distance, it would seem.
He decided to go that night. After eating. After everyone else had gone to sleep. No one thought oddly of him not speaking through dinner. Nek and Silo talked to keep the air from growing electric, as it would whenever Demaren was upset, so bad were his moods. But even with his silence and their chatter, the room felt darker than usual. They adjourned quickly and said good night. Demaren didn't go to bed. He listened for their doors to close. He waited by the open window, listening for the rustle of their beds. Then for hushed breathing of sleep. They came very slowly. And with a quiet breath of his own, Demaren dove into the darkness.
Into the thickness of the canopy, careful to avoid branches. And when he go through to the sky, it was brighter. The moon was full, and the stars were out. An especially bright star stood to the south east, and Demaren decided to follow it. He blinked at him, almost tearfully. He felt saddened by it--reminding him of his mother--and resolved not to come back without the reigning queen.
The ocean looked very dark at this time of night. And it felt odd to pass over the beach. Strange to flicker by the outer rocks. And it was most bizarre when he looked back and couldn't see the forest, but merely the smudge of the island. Time seemed to have no grasp on him and he felt only the cold lash of the wind and water it carried.
Maybe he didn't realize how huge the ocean was, or didn't notice how tired he was, but whatever it was, Demaren suddenly found himself sapped of all his energy. And falling. The darkness of the sky, with it's twinkling stars, was soon distorted by the darkness of the water. And the water was discarded as he slipped into unconsciousness.

Glowing in the Sand

2009-01-01T17:22:00.001-08:00

When the sand whipped around in a fury, it stung the skin no matter how many layers of clothing a person wore. Here in the north desert of Gaea, when the sand became angry, it swarmed like bees with razor stingers that could cut a man to pieces. Literally, clothes and all.
I could see the Razor Sands collected lazily in thin clouds far out to the north of the caravan. Tak, my wide footed hop, snorted in agitation and I leaned forward on my mount to scratch the wiry fur at his neck. All the animals, and some of the people in our group, had been put on alert since the low hum of swarming sand had first reached our ears last night. I found the noise oddly comforting.
Berrik dozed astride his hop, trotting along next to me at a swaying pace. Gripping my saddle horn I reached out and nearly tipped my brother off his saddle. I snickered as he jerked around and swore at me.
"You little... and freaking... twitter!"
"Watch your language, Rik, or you'll anger the sand," I said, steering the hop's long head to the side to follow our caravan's path down the sand dune. We momentarily stepped into the shade of the sand mountain and my eyes relaxed from squinting.
My brother looked over his shoulder warily as if the sands could hear him while we descended. I rolled my eyes then blinked as we came around the dune.
"I was joking."
"Ling-Ling, you're always joking," he scolded.
"Not always," I grumbled. "Aren't you not supposed to called me 'Ling-Ling'?"
Rik was not dissuaded. "Yes, always. It's the sort of thing that Grandmother hated."
"No, what she hated was me."
"That's not true," he said. The hop bucked under him a little. I wrapped my linen scarf round my neck tighter against the chill from the shade and hoped his ride would throw him. "And that's supposed to go on your head."
I crossed my legs in my seat and shook up my sleeves, pulling the stupid fabric barely up to the crest of my head. "Happy?"
He sighed, reaching over a tanned hand to tug down my sleeves. "Yes, Ashling. Very happy."
Rik smiled at me with his blue eyes, I made a face and secretly wished I had just as pretty eyes.
"You're gonna need to be more... modest. With the ascetics."
"I'm studying with them, not becoming one. And you're going to need to be more careful, being the only kid at home," I said in the same tone. "They'll notice your trouble now that I'm not making any."
"At least Grandmother likes me," he countered.
"At least I'm free," I teased.
He leaned over the gap between us and squeezed my shoulder, the hops bobbing and making the gesture hard to keep. The afternoon sun set a light in his eyes that I would miss when I was gone. Everything about him had a glow, from his tan skin to his light brown hair. I was his opposite from pail skin to light brown eyes, and if not for the same honey brown hair people would never pin us as siblings. I wondered when I would see him again.
There was a sudden pop that made me and my brother jump a little. His hand fell away from me and he looked down curiously at the fountain of blood that ran out of his chest. He looked up at me, confused. A strange sound made it's way out of his mouth and he fell off the saddle.
I think I screamed. But I couldn't really hear as an explosion sent the nearest sand dune up in a flower-like plume.
All the hops started galloping across the sand, baying in panic. Mine zig-zagged as other explosions assaulted my ears.
"Berrik!" I screamed.
Against reason I threw myself from the animal, my feet sinking in sand as I tried to run back to him. The sand filled my light slippers and I kicked them off angrily. More popping made me fling myself down, little piles of sand erupted around me. I crawled now, reaching Rik's side.
"Come on, Rik! Get up!"
Heaving, I turned him over. Blood soaked the sand under him and all down his tunic was warm and sticky with it.
His eyes rolled and I couldn't understand why his lips wet with some sort of red juice.
"Berrik?" I called loudly, putting a hand on his face. His hand immediately came up to grab mine.
"Ash-ging..." he garbled. Red liquid ran down the corner of his mouth.
"Shh..." I comforted. I didn't know what else to do. Others Gaeaians were screaming somewhere around me and I refused to acknowledge them.
"Lugh uh..." hiccuped Rik, then he lay still.
His eyes stopped moving and stared blankly, he let out a rattling sigh. Though his hand still held mine in a tight grip I knew he was dead.
Other people from the caravan were screaming as their hops ran blindly forward. I looked around from where I held my brother, not really taking in the others that fell in the sand and did not get back up.
It was quiet for a moment, then a strange humming sound reached me. Not the sound of air born sand, this sound made the dune vibrate beneath me. A large, gray ship moved into view, oars on the side spinning along the sand. I clutched Rik closer to me as it headed toward the main lump of dead bodies. Blood was beginning to soak through my pant leg. Grandmother would kill me when she found out they were stained.
People started coming around the dune, too, in the tracks of the gray ship which had stopped some ways away. They were all men, wearing gray and pale green uniforms. I recognized the colors at once. The men and their ship where from the land of Eryn, to the north.
My eyes widened. They should not have been able to get around the Razor Sands. Even what was normally a gentle breeze would be deadly after more than five minutes to any normal person. Maybe the legends were true and they really were not human.
One of the men looked my way and shouted, pointing a black stick in my direction. Others moved with him, jogging to surround me. I stared blankly ahead, not moving when they poked at me with the tip of their sticks. They shouted at me.
"I can't understand you," I said quietly. One of the men shoved me with his black, shiny boot. I turned, still gripping Rik, and screamed at him. "I can't understand you!"
Hands grabbed me and pulled. I tried desperately to hold onto Rik's body, but someone was pulling at him, too.
"No!" I cried. I had not noticed the tears splashing down my cheeks until now.
Someone hit me across the face and my grip weakened for a moment. Rik was wrenched from my grasp. My arms were hoisted up and two men carried me (screaming and flailing) over Rik's corpse, it's dead arm stretched out as if it might reach for me.
A strange feeling welled up in me as they dragged me forward. My struggles became weak as it flooded through me, running in my veins and dumping into my skin. I looked up at the sun, it seemed dark compared to me. I had begun to glow.
The men gave a startled sound when they reached their friends, but they did not drop me. I looked up at the one holding my left arm, his startled dark eyes looked back at me.
"Why am I here?" I asked him. I could not seem to remember the reason.
He said something back and I could not understand him. How strange. I reached up my hand to touch him and, to his surprise and mine, he began to glow as well.
It felt like something split inside my skull. The men holding me dropped to the ground with startled cries and their companions moved back a step. A shrill shriek sounded around me and I think I shrank to the sand as well.
I did not remember anything else.