----------------------------------------
Nevari
----------------------------------------
Chapter Thirty-Four: Duty Above All - Part One
Galactic Quadrant: Darna Quadrant
Ruling Government: Talum Merchant Federation
Solar System: D-447
Planet: Ora
Location: Beneath the planet's surface, Naro City, Yul Clan Chief's Private Quarters
----------------------------------------
There is a feeling in my chest, one that is not calm like my father wishes. It has been here for many seasons. I remember when it first began. The first time I saw him fight, my heart raced as I heard his blade’s song. It was then that I knew, he would be the one that held my heart.
A sigh parts my lips as I wipe the blood from Kalon’s brow. He will never be the one to hold my hand though. He is too wild, too unrefined. There is nothing he can offer the Clan besides his life. The children of the Clan Chief must be more than just a life. The ones they wed, must bring assets to our Clan. My father would never allow it, nor would I accept it.
Were I a simple girl, born to a simple father and mother, perhaps I would take him as my own. I still think of the times we shared all those nights ago. Has it been that long? Nearly a season now. I find myself still missing it. The feeling of his touch upon my skin, the sensation of our lips together, I miss those nights. Those nights of lost innocence, so far away now that they may as well have been a dream.
Is it wrong of me to have given him false hope? I often wonder. Yet part of me knows that he needs my affection, without it he is lost. I wonder if that is why he made the mistake with his parachute. He is usually so cautious, so diligent, perhaps I should not have scolded him so. No, I was right to have done it. The brothers were not worth his freedom. They cannot even obey the Clan Chief. He betrayed me by doing it. Betrayed the idea of us.
My mind replays seeing him hanging from his cords, so high above no one could help him, my heart burns thinking that I almost lost him. A feeling I shouldn’t have for him. He is a tool, a distraction.
My father’s eyes watch me as I wipe the blood from Kalon’s brow delicately. He is always watching me around him, as though he does not trust that I can do what needs to be done. It is insulting that he believes I would choose love over Clan. I am not a girl anymore. Though he carries my heart, I do not need it to lead. I am my father’s daughter after all.
“Nekam, it was the brothers’ choice to go to the mines.” Grandmother says, giving a look to my father. There is disappointment that touches the edges of her face as she says “They wanted to help Arrum and him. You did not need to make him think you sold them.”
Kalon is asleep again, though looking at the way he clenches the bed’s furs, he does not sleep peacefully.
“He has grown soft lately.” My father says after a few moments “My blade must be sharp.”
My father is not wrong. I had begun to hope that Kalon may rise in station after winning so much honor for the tribe. Yet he did not see the bigger picture in the mines. He should have trusted me and taken Neeba’s punishment. My brother will never be Clan chief, this much is clear, as I am the better choice. Father has as much as said it. However, my brother will be a tribe chief, under my rule. He should have sought to protect his honor, and mine. On top of that, having my father look like a failure to the other tribe leaders, unable to raise a decent child. Kalon should have understood it was his duty to take the beating. For my father’s honor. For my honor. If he had done that, perhaps… perhaps there may have been a chance for us.
There is no world in which I see him rising though. He proved that further when he threw away everything for those Ulima brothers. He threw away the chance of being mine, to have and to hold, making more memories of… my jaw tenses, my emotions are getting the better of me. Deep breaths suppress it within me.
“Do not act like he is just a blade to you.” Grandmother mutters at my father, sewing closed the flesh of Kalon’s shoulder.
My father does not reply, but I do not think she is right. He sees Kalon as he must, an Ulima is a tool. Nothing more, nothing less. Though, there are exceptions, such as Arrum. My father keeps him Ulima because someday he plans to elevate him to a tribe chief’s position. Because he is of our blood. Kalon and the brothers though, are as he said… blades.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Where is your brother?” father asks me.
“I told him you wished to speak with him. He did not find you?” I ask.
Strange, I told him that father wished to speak with him. Why would he not come immediately?
He does not reply, yet I sense no anger from him. His emotions are hard to read, as they should be. He is the pillar all must tether to. He is what I aspire to be. What I will be someday.
“I have never seen Netherium do this before,” grandmother says, holding up the cup with the Netherium shard.
“Nor I,” father says.
Looking into it I see the Netherium has begun to crack and crumble. Its glow is dull, black dust lines the bottom of the cup. Strange that the Netherium looks this way. My eyes peer closer at Kalon’s wound, recalling now, that grandmother had to cut it out of him. How did his skin close with Netherium in it? Stranger still, why did he not begin the change? When they brought him here, he was feverish. However, he did not look like he was changing. Having Netherium in you for that long normally would spell doom.
“Speak of it to no one.” father says after a time, then looking at me he says “Find your…”
“My chief, I must go help Arrum and the brothers,” Kalon says, his words almost slurred as his eyes droop open.
My father sighs.
“What good will you be to anyone in that state?” father asks him, releasing his shoulder and standing.
I try to press him back down firmly, giving him a look. He presses back, wishing to rise. There it is again, proof he is too wild to hold my hand.
“Relax,” I say.
“Let him up,” father says, crossing his arms.
I release Kalon, giving him a look of disappointment. A look he is used to seeing from me of late. His body rises and falls back to the hard stone floor. Shaking my head I let out a sigh. He will never hold my hand. This feeling in my chest for him. I must learn to extinguish it. Someday I will be Clan Chief. I cannot have him hold me back. My duty is to the Clan above all.
“Again, I ask, what good will you be in that state?” father asks him, he is not angry, he is trying to teach him, I can feel it in his tone.
“None, my chief,” Kalon admits.
“Then you will rest until you are of use again.” He says.
“Understood, my chief,” Kalon says, though I can tell he is frustrated, despite trying to hide it.
His words and teachings are wasted on Kalon. He does not see reason when Arrum is in danger, both of them are the same in that regard. Foolish. Not that I am unhappy Arrum succeeded in bringing Kalon back, though perhaps it would have been better if he did not… so that I would not have to be burdened these feelings. My heart hurts thinking of him dying. I must learn to control myself better. Father expects more from me.
“There is much we will need to speak about after you have rested,” Father says to Kalon, but in his gaze, I feel it is more than just the strangeness of the Netherium he speaks of.
What else could he need to speak to him about? Kalon and I have not snuck away recently, nor have I even spoken with him lately, so it can’t be that. What else does he press him about?
The door to father’s private quarters echoes with someone knocking. Father stands and opens the door. Yuri enters, whispering to him. Father nods, turning to give me a look.
“Nevari, find Neeba and check on Arrum.” Father says.
“Understood, father.”
Passing by Yuri in the doorway, I see a woman with him. She gives me a curious look as I pass by. Her deep green eyes look at me strangely between her dark green bangs. A small smile on the corner of her mouth.
Dismissing the thought of her, I move to find Neeba. To my surprise he is standing over Arrum’s bunk, tending to him. His face is distressed, more so than last time I saw him. I did not know he cared for Arrum so much. My brother has always been… not the kindest to Arrum, and has always despised his loyalty to Kalon.
I hear footsteps behind me, turning, I see it is the green-haired woman who was with Yuri. She glances over at me, then to Arrum, sliding by me to look him over.
“You look like… Sekat.” The woman says, titling a head at Arrum.
Arrum tries to sit up, and Neeba moves to help him.
“Who are you?” Neeba asks her, his tone is sharp as though defensive of Arrum.
“Be careful of her. She is… not right in the head.” Arrum says, still trying to get up, a snarl on his lip while looking at her. He does not make it upright though, his body is weakened from the Netheric Maka.
“Rest, cousin,” I say, pressing him gently backward.
“Did you not hear me?” Neeba asks her again, his tone annoyed, despite the distressed look behind his eyes.
“Who am I?” the woman laughs.
She does not bow to Neeba or me, instead, she traces her hand over towards Kalon’s bunk now.
“Somedays a seer, others, the last thing someone sees.” The woman says, spinning her finger in her hair.
“A seer.” I scoff “You do not look like a seer.”
I do not believe in trick peddlers like self-proclaimed seers. Surely she jests, but still, I find myself annoyed at her presence.
“I don’t?” she says, mockingly.
She turns her gaze to Neeba now, his arms crossed in front of him, in the same way father does.
“One should not play with the cords of fate,” the woman says, her eyes looking at him unkindly now “Cutting them can have consequences.”
Neeba’s eyes widen as she looks at him, her look more menacing than before. He backs away from her, his hand trembling. What is going on with him? I move to grab his arm, but he turns and briskly walks away, looking back only once to make sure she does not follow.
“Is this his bunk?” the woman asks, her tone cuts at my nerves for some reason.
“Kalon’s?” I ask.
“Who else would I mean.” She says with an eye roll, sitting down on Kalon’s bunk, touching his things, almost affectionately so. Moving them all slightly out of order, giggling to herself.
She lays back on his bunk, spreading out on it now, turning her head and smelling deep into his pillow. I feel a vein in my forehead wishing to rise, but I pull it back. How does she know him? The way she speaks to me, does she not know who I am? Surely not. I must not say anything, the moment that I demand respect, I have lost it. I will wait for her to realize, and when she grovels and apologizes. She will know it is I who has won.