We cannot destroy them. We have tried. We have failed. We have died. We must adapt. We must yield to change. If we cling to the past the goblins will swallow us. We must look forward to the future.
Future? Is there a future? Can there be one? Not if things stay the same.
Our world is in flux. Someone must do something to change it. Save them. Adapt. Flux. I must do something.
-“Doc” Vorran Date: 10 years post poisoning mid Anolbee
Trigan swallows a bite of food and speaks with a cheerier tone to break the silence. “You’re quiet over there my little observers.”
Lesedi blushes, Alaric laughs, Zoey giggles. Echo talks over them with her usual edgy voice. “It’s so dull down here in our hole. Seeing Talea get cut down is always entertaining.” She flashes me a smirk. “Good thing you didn’t become nightstalker food. I’d get so bored without you getting in trouble all the time.”
Zoey whips her head around to look up at Echo, her short orange locks flip with the motion. Her big round eyes glare hard. “That. Was. Rude.” Of course, Zoey’s glare isn’t intimidating. She still looks harmless, but she tries.
Echo grumbles and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, whatever.”
Zoey stretches her neck upwards trying to look bigger and more daunting. “Talea almost died!” She spit out died as loud as she could for emphasis and shakes her head. “You should be nicer.” She glares once more for good measure, then nods her head when she’s sure her point has come across.
Echo shakes her head; a grin comes to her face and she looks up at me. “It’s good to see you suck less with knives. Otherwise, this would be kind of a downer meal.”
Zoey pauses with a gasp as if a thought hit her like a wall. Her eyes shoot open wider until it looks like she has no eyelids. She turns to face Wren. “Mommy, why do nightstalkers come out at night?”
Wren crinkles her brow trying to figure out what to say. “Well sweetie-”
Echo turns to Zoey. She raises her upper lip to reveal as many teeth as she can. “Because at night we’re all asleep. That’s when they try to sneak into our homes, tip toe up to our beds, and eat us!” She pokes Zoey in the side with her fork and growls.
Zoey screams and recoils from Echo. She wraps herself around Alaric’s meaty left arm and holds on for dear life. Wren reaches across the table and flicks Echo in the tender part of her ear.
Echo winces. “Ow!”
Wren points at Echo with her spoon. “How many times have we told you to not give Zoey nightmares?”
The teen rolls her eyes. “Oh, psh, it’s not that bad.”
Wren glares. “Echo. We finally have her sleeping in her own bed again.”
Trigan, having recovered from his emotions, walks around the table and picks up Zoey. He returns to his chair with the little one in his lap. His thick arms hold her tight while he caresses her hair. “Now Zoey, do you remember what we always tell you?”
Zoey’s quiet voice drops to a discontent tone while she glares across the table. “Echo lies.”
Trigan smiles and pats her head. “Very good.”
Wren leans over and gives Zoey a kiss on the forehead. “We don’t really know why they only come out at night sweetie. Long ago day or night used to not matter to them. Less than a century ago many would still go out hunting during the day. But then, one day they just stopped. They decided to only come out at night and it became a kind of promise between our people and them.”
A malicious grin plants itself on Echo’s face. “And if anybody breaks that promise, they die.”
Zoey’s eyes widen again and she squeaks. Trigan’s arms tighten around her and she closes her eyes tight burrowing into his chest.
Lesedi interjects with her soft calming voice, like a spoken melody. “Do you remember what I taught you about The Poisoning?”
Zoey nods and speaks with a voice muffled by Trigan’s chest. “It’s what turned people into nightstalkers.”
Lesedi smiles. “Right. Well, after The Poisoning the nightstalkers were causing lots of problems.”
Echo interrupts. “Killing everybody.” Wren shoots her a glare.
Lesedi continues. “Over time they changed. They didn’t become nice, nightstalkers can’t be nice, but something made them realize they had to give us the day.”
Trigan smiles. “The priests say Father Sky broke through their darkness and removed them from the day, for us.”
Lesedi shifts with discomfort, she’s not quite a believer. “Thus, since we can’t live together, they get the night and we get the day. That’s why it’s so important to go inside when the suns go down.”
Zoey pinches her chin in thought. “Why can’t they be nice? They got a little nicer before.”
Wren reaches over and tucks a short strand of fiery orange hair behind Zoey’s ear. “We don’t know sweetie. There’s a lot we don’t know. We just have to do our best to obey the law and stay safe.”
Echo’s voice drops to an ominous low tone. “If…you…can.”
Lesedi shakes her head, her long beautiful neck twists in the green reflections. She’s gorgeous by any standard, like a sculpture carved to perfection and come to life. Although she’s aware of it, she never becomes haughty or vain. Whenever reminded of it she shrugs and says it’s not important. She says the beauty of the mind is more worthy of absorbing our energy and obsession. I guess I just have the short straw on both accounts.
I catch my reflection in my glass while I lift it to drink. My hair is a bright lavender with strands of darker purple scattered throughout it. It’d be stunning if I took care of it, Lesedi nags me into brushing it once a week, most of the time I ignore her anyway. My unsettling pale face glows back at me under the light of the chandelier. Skysingers have various shades of bronze skin. Though regardless of how much time I spend in the sun I stay pale. Uncle Trigan calls me his snowflake, he says it’s because there is no other like me. Echo calls me a pasty freak, I guess it’s a matter of perspective.
My eyes match my hair, the same purple as Lesedi’s. Though hers are big and almond shaped with long curling eyelashes. Mine are thin and narrow and shaped into a scowl. Purple is the rarest of all eye colors, no one I’ve ever met has seen another person with purple eyes. I’m peculiar, a curiosity, a strange pale gangly girl that stands a head above everyone else. I’m content with being odd though, I don’t envy Lesedi’s beauty, it means less interactions with people I don’t know how to cope with.
Lesedi tries to convince me that I am like a beautiful rare bird. But it doesn’t matter. I don’t need to be beautiful. I need to be strong; strong and deadly enough to protect myself, so that someday I can leave this hole. Don’t get me wrong, I love my family. Our life has been pleasant. But I want more than pleasant, I want adventure, I want freedom. I want a life where the most exciting thing to happen to me in a day isn’t collecting moss.
Lesedi’s voice enters my ears. “Do you plan on drinking your juice or continue admiring your alluring reflection?”
I] drink the sweet green juice in embarrassed gulps and smile. “Sorry. I was, uh, lost in thought.”
Lesedi giggles. “It’s good to see your self-esteem is improving.”
I glare. “I wasn’t just looking at myself. I’m not vain.”
Lesedi finishes off her juice and pats her face with her napkin. “I never said you were. Remember, beauty is simply a matter of perspective. Often what is coveted is what is rare. You are rare to look at. Ergo, you are beautiful.”
I raise one eyebrow with skepticism. “Then why is it whenever we go to market all the young men flock to you while I end up doing target practice with Echo?”
Lesedi raises her eyebrows. “That’s simple. You’re scary and have poor social skills. I can’t help that.”
I shake my head with a chuckle, it’s true. It’s not my fault though that boys scare easy. I break one rib and suddenly they all run away when I walk by, if they’re going to be cowards, I don’t want them anyway. If I were to find a man, and I emphasize man, he needs be tougher than one of these little wimps. If I hit him, he shouldn’t run away or whimper that I broke something.
My aunt turns towards us clanking the metal dishes. “If you two have finished your deep philosophical conversation, would you mind cleaning up?”
I groan. “Why can’t Alaric help?”
Wren lets out a breath. “Because while you were gazing off into dream land Alaric and Echo put the food away. You two will do dishes.”
I hear Echo’s voice call to me from the family room. “Also, she’s still pissed at you so you better do what she says.”
I glare towards the room; I can’t see her but I can hear her cackling. We hear a short squeak. Wren put the plates she was holding back down onto the table and marches off towards it. “Echo, you better not be scaring Zoey again.”
I grunt, Lesedi and I gather the dishes and cart them to the kitchen. We pass under another archway, also masterfully painted with vines and flowers. The counters are polished wood with carved vines that travel along the border. Our home is by far one of the most beautiful to live in. Not that I’ve seen many, and out here every person has a trade that marks their home. We visited one family two years back where the couple were masterful tile workers. The floors were beautifully arranged colorful tiles and the walls had big detailed mosaics.
Lesedi and I begin our chore of washing the dishes, she picks up a blue rag and starts scrubbing. “Name the cities and towns of Zaran.”
I roll my eyes. “Lesedi, not another brain game. Come on, I know what the cities are. It’s bad enough that I already have you in my head all the time.”
Lesedi smiles. “Good, maybe if I stay in your head you won’t make bad choices.” She plunks a soapy plate down on my half of the sink to rinse. “If you know them so well, then list them. But now do it according to population. Highest density first.”
I grumble. How did she always get me to play these stupid games? I can just say no, that has to be an option, right? “First is Safehaven. Then Gardenya. Capital Island, Thraz, Evos, Terra Guard, and Gerafar.”
“You didn’t list the populations.” She raises one judgmental eyebrow and picks up a cup.
I grunt. “Oh, come on! Who cares? The population goes up and down all the time anyways. There’s no way to know. The only stable population is in Safehaven, Evos, Gardenya, and Capital Island.”
Lesedi gives me her signature smile. “Why is that?”
I rinse off a plate and place it on the drying rack. “Because they have walls at their front and water at their back.” My voice becomes tired and annoyed. “Capital Island is completely surrounded by water; they don’t even need walls. Nightstalkers can’t swim. So, everybody stays safe.”
“Gerafar has walls. Yet they have the highest death rate. Why?” Lesedi is coming to a lesson, I can feel it but I can’t see it yet. She’s always trying to teach me, it’s exhausting. She’s two hours younger than I am but sometimes I feel like she’s ten years older.
“Because Gerafar is built on a plateau. They have a mountain at their back and a big circular wall. One road in and out, it’s like serving the city up on a platter.” I reply with heavy exaggerated breaths to let her know how boring this is.
Lesedi places a cup in my side of the sink. “But they have walls. Just like the others. Do those not protect them?”
I scrunch my brow thinking. My thoughts mull over everything I should know about the city closest to us. “Because there isn’t a lot of space in Gerafar. It’s all set aside for mining, numinium and hard stone processing, and housing. They rely on outer farms and exterior support to keep going. So, if nightstalkers raid their caravans or block off the road they don’t get food or medicine.”
Lesedi nods. “The wall gives them strength. With that strength they can fend off nightstalkers. But they rely on other people. They need other people. If they don’t act with caution those people who support them and help them will die. Without that support they die too.”
I know she’s about to swing in and strike me down with logic. I place wet hands on my hips and tap my foot. “What’s your point Les?”
Lesedi places the last dish in my side of the sink and dries her hands. “My point is you are stronger than any of us. You probably can hold your own and protect yourself from nightstalkers. But you need us. Much as you think you don’t, you need the support of your family. If you do not think first and proceed with caution then it is those you love who will get hurt.”
I dry off the last dish and roll my eyes. “Ughn. Come on.” My words sound heavy leaving my mouth full of groaning. “You agree with Wren too?”
Lesedi pauses and her face goes stoic. “Almost.”
I tilt my head. We finish up and begin walking to the family room. “Almost?”
Lesedi clasps her hands in front of her while she walks. “I think that you are a survivor. I don’t think you just got lucky today. I think that no matter what happens you will survive it. But the problem is, we will not. We are not survivors like you. Maybe Echo. But you need to consider consequences to your family for your actions.”
I sigh. I know she makes a good point. I rub the back of my neck and look away with a face full of emotion I can’t hide. I’ve never been able to pull off a Lesedi face like she does, everything I feel everyone can see. I try to still my eyes because I can feel Lesedi getting nervous and suspicious. It doesn’t work.
She stops and grabs my shoulder. I jerk to a stop. “What aren’t you saying Talea?”
I pick her hand off my shoulder. “Well, maybe, if I’m so dangerous I should leave.”
Lesedi’s eyes widen with horror. Everyone knows what happens to those who decide to go it alone out there. Her voice falls quiet. “That’s not what I meant. Talea I-”
“I know. I know. You meant I need to be careful. Well, I’m not a cautious person. And maybe-” I pause. Just the mere thought of this topic is bringing a watery film to Lesedi’s eyes and I’m drowning in her panic. She’s desperately trying to hide it from her face, it doesn’t need to be on her face. I sigh. “No worries, Les. They’re just thoughts. I’ll never leave you.”
Putting the disturbing topic behind us we join the rest of the family for the evening. Though she relaxes a little, my sister is still troubled. Upon entering the room, we find Zoey curled up in Trigan’s lap weeping with her face buried in his broad chest. Echo’s cackling on the floor while being reprimanded by Wren.
Alaric is in the corner working on something. He’s an apprentice to Trigan and has showed great promise in carpentry. Whatever he’s making, it’s tiny, dainty work. For now, it just looks like a small circle he’s sanding smooth. It doesn’t look like wood though, kiri antler maybe. He isn’t telling anyone what it is but I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.
Lesedi and I take our seats on the sofa to the far wall, it’s plushy and purple. I relax and let the cushions swallow me. Lesedi still manages, even at the end of a tiresome day, to sit with perfect posture. She insists it’s more comfortable than slouching. I’m not so sure.
Together we spend our evening as a family, like we do every night at the end of every day. Trigan tells us stories, the same ones I’ve heard before. Lesedi plays her harp, the same songs I’ve heard before. Wren works on her needlework making beautiful designs of flowers and trees that I can’t see because I’m locked inside this hardstone prison. Every day the walls creep in farther, every day I feel more trapped than before. I don’t care if it kills me, I want to be free. I want to run as far as my legs will take me without worrying if I can get home in time. I want to see places I’ve never seen. I want to explore, to fight, to do something, anything, different.
There’s a distinct tension in the air, a tension caused by me. What do you do when you’re the cause of chaos and stress to your family? Maybe I should leave, pack up and disappear, travel north to Thraz. I might die on the road, but I might not. I sigh pushing the thoughts from my mind, I can never leave Lesedi like that, and Lesedi will never leave here.
I try to sink into the sofa cushions wishing I could disappear. I close my eyes trying to fantasize about the world outside. The words of Lesedi keep bouncing around in my mind. You’re a survivor. We are not survivors like you.
A fear creeps into my heart that they’re right. That I’ll do something spontaneous, impulsive, and stupid and they’ll pay for it. My mind drifts to fantasies of leaving my family behind because as much as I scoff, I know they’re right. I know that their predictions will come true and I will indeed bring harm to my family.
✽✽✽
A snort escapes my mouth as I jerk awake, my eyes open dazed and confused. I glance down at my lap, an orange tuft of hair presses against my stomach. Zoey? I look around with heavy groggy eyes squinting at my surroundings. I’m still in the dark, and now empty, family room.
While the family was discussing business, stories, and making plans, I had fallen asleep while not paying attention. I’m much too heavy a sleeper to wake and even heavier a person to lift, so they left me on the sofa. I smile as a memory flashes before my eyes. Last year Echo had told Zoey that nightstalkers can sneak into our homes at night and anyone found sleeping alone would be stolen back to their village of death and never heard from again. For six months she slept in a different person’s bed every night to make sure she wasn’t alone. For another two months after being told it needs to stop, she slept underneath our beds. We found stashes of blankets and pillows where she had made small dens for herself. I thought it was cute so I left her dwelling beneath my bed untouched. Sometimes I can still hear a third person breathing in our room in the middle of the night, soft little snores.
I hear footsteps echoing from the kitchen. Wren’s beginning to set up for breakfast, a picture of her in a robe and apron slides into my mind. I hear voices talking to each other and a subtle smell of breakfast cooking wafts into my nostrils. A second set of footsteps make their way towards me. I close my eyes again hoping if it seems like I’m still asleep they won’t force me to help.
“I know you’re awake Talea.” Lesedi’s voice.
I open one eye and there she stands, still in her blue nightgown and robe, her hair in a long thick braid hanging over her right shoulder. “How’d you know?” I ask slurring my words.
Lesedi smiles and crosses her arms. “You snore.”
I groan while trying to shift in my seat. Tiny hands cling to me awkwardly. “Well, we can’t all be perfect like you, now can we?”
Lesedi smirks. “I’m not perfect.”
“No?” I raise an eyebrow.
Lesedi leans forward bracing herself on the arm of the sofa. Her voice lowers to a teasing tone. “I've shared a bedroom with you my entire life. Thus, I’ve suffered considerable hearing damage.”
I put my hand to my heart, my voice monotone. “Ouch.”
Lesedi flicks my ear. “Get up. Wren’s made breakfast and she wants you to set the table.”
I gesture to Zoey. “I’m afraid I’m otherwise occupied.”
Lesedi turns around and walks away. “Zoey’s awake she’s just faking. Now come help.”
The little girl pops her head up and opens her big pale eyes in an expression of mystification. “How does she do that?”
I shrug. Zoey scurries away in a stealthy crawl and I follow her into the dining room. I watch with a tired smile as she crawled towards the hallway wreaking of mischief. She stops under the archway preparing to turn left towards the room she shares with Echo.
I chuckle “Zoey, what are you doing?”
She smiles and taps her fingertips together. “Revenge.” She then drops to her belly and crawls from my sight. Minutes later we hear Echo scream. An orange blur bolts into the dining room, passes me, and slides under one of the chairs in the family room.
I shake my head chortling while I place the dishes on the table. In a slow wave everyone begins to file into the dining room and take a seat. Uncle Trigan enters the room while Wren puts the sweet bread on the table. He wraps a meaty arm around her waist and pulls her close giving her a kiss. I never see Wren smile as bright as she does when she’s with my uncle. They’re a prime example of what it means to be in love. It nauseates me.
Uncle Trigan and Aunt Wren are bond mates, it’s a weird phenomenon among skysingers. We have what Lesedi says is a life sense, it comes from our ancestors before The Poisoning. We can sense other people nearby so much so we can even tell if a woman is pregnant. I don’t really pay attention when she talks, but Lesedi says our minds draw us to some people like magnets. It doesn’t really make sense to me, apparently there’s “science” to it.
I guess there’s a limited number of people that are drawn to you specifically. Only a few in the whole stupid world. Wren and Trigan just so happened to live in the same city, they gravitated toward each other in childhood and bonded as soon as they turned sixteen. Most people settle for close enough and seem happy enough. As happy as someone can be anyway. I’m fine with none at all. Especially considering my options, I doubt there even is someone out there to bond with me. If there is, nobody else would want to meet him.
Trigan sits down for breakfast next to Wren. They hold hands under the table. His eyes glance across the morning meal and he squints. “We’re missing two children. Where are they?”
Once hearing his voice Zoey runs from the safety of the chair into the dining room. She ducks under the table, and climbs into my uncle’s arms. “Daddy protect me!”
Trigan hugs her close and looks around in confusion. Alaric grins and points to the archway. We all turn our heads and there stands Echo fuming with rage and a head full of cold wet hair. She glares with venom in her eyes at Zoey while she moves to sit in the chair across from Trigan to fume in silence.
Lesedi stifles a giggle. Her lips purse together trying with all her might to keep it at bay. “Wh-what happened Echo?”
Zoey peeks one eye out from Trigan’s chest to look at her enraged sister. Echo’s voice is low and angry. “Zoey happened.”
The guilty orange haired girl turns her face back to her father’s chest and pushes against him tighter. Trigan pulls her face away in a gentle motion so he can look in her eyes. “Zoey, what did you do to Echo?”
She tries to look away but Trigan holds her chin in place so that she can’t. She sighs with defeat. “I poured cold water on Echo while she was sleeping.”
Trigan fights to keep his face still, though his eyes are laughing. “What have we told you about antagonizing Echo?”
Zoey’s voice goes quiet. “If you trouble Echo, Echo will trouble you.”
He nods. Her eyes widen. “But Daddy that’s not fair! Echo was mean to me last night!”
Trigan strokes her hair. “We keep telling you.” He looks up at Echo. “Both of you need to be nice. Revenge is not allowed in this house. Echo, I expect you to let this go and not act upon it.” He turns back to face Zoey “And you my little deviant, will not do this again. Today no playing. You will pick beckle berries with Mommy.”
Zoey slumps her shoulders and slides from Trigan’s lap. She crawls under the table and pops up into a chair by Lesedi. “Ok.” She hangs her head, upset but accepting.
Trigan looks up. “Now if there aren’t any more distractions, shall we say our hymn and begin our day?”
We rest our elbows on the table and raise our hands towards the ceiling. We do this every morning at breakfast, I let out a bored sigh. Trigan recites the hymn in a steady melodic hum, the same way he does every morning.
“Father Sky protect us,
From gray skin and darkness.
The Suns we trust,
To save us from stalkers.
Mind the sky. Do not stray.
And we will survive to the next day.”
They say that Father Sky is the one that raises the suns and chases back the night to protect us from death. All we have to do is obey the rules, which means do the same thing every day from what I see. All we care about is surviving, make it to the next day. I want more than survival; I want to live. I want excitement, adventure, even some chaos would be welcome at this point. I live a good life, I obey Father Sky’s rules, and I’m rewarded by living in a hole for the rest of it? I should look around at this world and be grateful that I can survive in it? I go along with the hymn; it disturbs my family if I don’t. They say if we withdraw our fealty from Father Sky he’ll withdraw his protection from us, and our families.
After breakfast is all eaten and done, we leave our humble little hole for the day. Uncle Trigan peeks through the door slot first to make sure the suns are fully in the sky. Under the secure protection of light, he knocks an arrow on his bow. It’s a beautiful weapon showing his signature artistry. Wings carved into the wood spread from the grip. The carvings are so dynamic you almost expect the wings to flutter at any moment. The feathers stretch along the bow towards the recurve and end in thin tips.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
The arrows are simple and basic in shape, made of solid numinium, strong and lightweight they always fly true. Trigan had traded for them in Terra Guard; expensive but worth the coin. It's why an arrow is never fired unless he has a clear shot.
Trigan steps outside the house. He holds his bow armed and ready, his thick arms are steady as stone. Those cautious eyes examine the perimeter searching for anything amiss. This is always the tensest part of the day, leaving the safety of our home and throwing ourselves at the mercy of the world hoping there’s no danger. After a long silent moment, he lets out a breath and gives the all clear.
My uncle whispers with reverence and bows. “Sky blessings, Tizu.”
Another superstition, typically, you have one weapon for most of your life. That weapon protects you and becomes part of you. Giving it a name gives it a soul and with that it can receive blessings from Father Sky to continue protecting you. Ridiculous, but out here people will take any sort of comfort and added security in their life. My knife's name is Vo, I try to not let anyone know I cater to superstition. Officially I don’t believe in it. But, better safe than sorry.
We file out of the house underneath the carving above our topside door. A triangle turned upside down with two circles above it, the symbol for Father Sky. Trigan says having a carving above our door brings Father Sky’s blessing into our home and keeps us safe when we pass under it. He and Wren are devoted people, Lesedi and I have always been a bit more ambivalent. It’s a strange concept to me, but with his symbol above every door and in every shrine and temple, there must be something to it.
The sunlight is warm and bright, it reflects from my pale skin and I almost look like I glow. I sigh, today is chores, lots of them. Everyone in the family has to pitch in and help. We need as many goods as possible to haul to market in a month. The trade made from this trip will have to buy the supplies we need to survive the upcoming cold months. This year, the season will be harsh, this year will bring lune.
Evos will host the last market assembly of the year, in any typical year it would be held in Gerafar. Lune is coming though, and there will be no trade during the severe season. It brings a curtain of darkness to the world; we close our doors and hide waiting out the storm. I shudder. Evos has been selected to draw a larger crowd of merchants from as far as Safehaven.
It also helps that Evos is safer. It’s surrounded by either impassable mountains or a deep lake. Evos’ wall, if it can be called that, is more of a tunnel carved into the mountain and blocked by hardstone and numinium. Roads from the south lead to Evos’ wall while a ferry crosses the lake to cater to those coming from the north. Security Lake is deep enough it shouldn’t freeze over during lune. But, if the season is severe enough, who knows.
I tremble at the thought; I despise that season with every fiber of my being. It’s a “special” three months filled with ice storms, blizzards, and never-ending darkness that only comes around every four years. A normal year is mild with the cold months bringing lots of rain and snow only falls in the mountains. Anolbee is the longest season most years, it’s pleasant weather with beautiful orange colors and a minimal amount of death. But this year we’ll spend six months locked up in our hole unable to leave. Day or night doesn’t matter during lune, it's prime nightstalker season.
We can see its beckoning for a month and a half when the blue shape of Onay makes its slow eclipse over the yellow of Archarus. Once fully eclipsed they stay in sync for three long months. No yellow light, a constant string of dusk and cold. Things only start to improve over another month of Arcarus finding its way back to us.
Nightstalker sightings are highest during lune. They cheat. It may be day, but the day is dark and gray. The ground is covered in snow, we sometimes go weeks without going outside. We’re trapped together. It’s hard not to lose your mind, I feel my stomach growing ill with the thought of it.
Today our work involves gathering our crops and storing them. There is another topside hardstone dwelling near our home. It leads down into a cellar that connects to our home by a tunnel from the kitchen. This is where we store all our goods from trading and our crops from harvest. We also need to tend to our cattle house and restock the hay beds. Most animals go into hibernation during lune. They can sense it coming and they gorge until they get good and round, then settle down into a nice hole and sleep lune away. I wish I could do that.
Nightstalkers will eat the cattle, which is why we have a subterranean barn. It’s expensive to build, which would be why there aren’t many treekie farms in the outlands. But it gives us an advantage in trade. Thankfully during lune, they go into hibernation, the one perk, I don’t have to put them away every evening.
I step along the path towards the wedge-shaped stone building that protects the large underground dwelling. My feet bring me to a shiny numinium door and unlock it as my hands wrench it open. One by one the gentle, odd, creatures file out and skip around happy to see the sun. Their line breaks into a prancing group as they bounce with joy into the pasture.
Zoey sits in the grass with her arm petting an invisible shape. Curious, I walk towards her. “What’re you doing Zo?”
She keeps petting air. “I’m cuddling my friend.”
I frown with confusion. “You’re petting nothing.”
Zoey shakes her head. “Not true, this is my treekie Junu.” She smiles and keeps petting the imaginary creature.
I place my hands on my hips. “You have an imaginary friend that’s a treekie?” She nods. “But Zo, we have actual alive treekie you could play with.”
She smiles and shakes her head. “Not like Junu. She’s special.”
A skipping juvenile treekie bounces over to her, it tilts its head with curiosity. Even the livestock are confused. It pushes its flat face up against Zoey’s cheek and sniffs her, my little cousin smiles.
Her voice is happy and mischievous. “I knew you’d get jealous Tika.”
The creature shakes all eight of its legs causing its arachnid body to bounce up and down. It opens its mandibles to reveal its inner mouth. It’s triangular in shape with a fat wet tongue on the bottom and two row of small blunt teeth along the other two walls. The tongue unfurls with all of its slimy saliva and licks Zoey up the face.
She laughs and grabs the animal by the thick neck. “That’s my girl!”
Zoey pulls a beckle berry from her pocket. The treekie gobbles it up, blue mush dribbles onto its pink fur. She whispers to her eight eyed friend. “Just remember I give you treats. The other treekies don’t.”
I put my hands on my hips. “You know Trigan has told you to not give them a taste for beckle berries. When Tika’s full grown she’ll be as big as a wagon and could strip the orchard clean. You’re supposed to feed them from the grains bucket and let them hunt insects. It’s a treat for them and keeps the pests off the farm.”
Zoey pushes her face against the fluffy treekie’s. “I know, but look at this cute face. She deserves beckle berries Talea.”
I smile and crouch down beside her. “I tell you what, stop giving her beckle berries. Next time I’m out in the forest I’ll try to catch her a hort. It’ll be more filling.”
Zoey’s eyes light up, she wraps her arms around my waist. “Thank you, Talea!” She reaches over and pushes the treekie’s mandibles back and forth like it’s talking and makes a creaky voice. “Thank you, Talea.”
I laugh and rustle the short orange hair on her head. My eyes scan the farm to see the herd of treekies in the distance. They’re incredible creatures, large enough to ride, but too awkwardly shaped to easily make a saddle. They’re not predatory like other dangerous animals in our world, but they’re well protected. They have both an inner and outer skeleton. The inner bones give them structure to support their massive size. The exoskeleton acts as armor plating to protect them from aggressive creatures until they can get away. Usually by climbing a tree, and screaming.
Not everyone is a fan of our livestock choice, I’m not sure why. Treekies are harmless. They only thing they’ll hunt are insects. A good thing too, leaf cutter ants can grow to be shin high and wipe out our vegetable garden. Often times we get a little bonus coin by renting our treekies out to local farms to deal with their bug problems. The sharp tips on the ends of their feet are good for digging, it lets them rip up root worm and destroy insect hives.
But the main reason we farm these bizarre creatures is for the silk. When treekies breed they create massive silk pods within a blanket of spider silk. After the baby’s hatch, they leave the pods unoccupied. We carefully harvest all of the silk from the trees and sell it to spinners. Some farmers make a lot of coin by steaming the pods to keep the strands more intact, but it kills the young. We’re fine with selling our second rank silk and letting the next generation live.
The beautiful thing about treekie silk is how strong it is. All non-metal armor is made from it. Most people have their travelling clothes made of treekie silk to help protect them on the road. All caravanners have at least one silk outfit. It’s expensive, but the garments are shiny, sleek, and protective. So, worth the money.
Wren has a special storage bin where she keeps portions of the harvest. Occasionally she weaves and dyes it herself to make clothing for us. Though, she hasn’t made me one in quite a few years. I grew so fast and so large; her effort would be in vain in no time. Fortunately for Lesedi, she stopped growing at her petite height a long time ago.
Leaving Zoey in the pasture I walk away towards the morning sun to join Lesedi in our largest task for the day. Today we gather rattle vines, they’re thick winding vines with bright red berries. The berries are hollow with one lone seed, if you shake it, you can hear the seed rattle around. The vines grow on trees by the river, our job is to cut the vine, wind it into a circle, and place it in a basket. Which sounds easier than it is.
Rattle vines move and swish around like the tail of a snake. They only eat insects, harmless to us, but it’s aggravating. Most of the task is trying to get a grip on the things, if they stayed still the job would only take an hour.
We each receive a large basket, once we fill it up with vines, we trek back to the store shed and place it in its space. Then repeat. Rattle vines don’t make good food, the meat of the berry is tough and dry like leather but when steamed it releases a powerful antiseptic. It's useful both for possible injuries in the coming season, and valuable for selling. Of course, the money from selling it goes to the household even though I’m the one fighting with the stupid things.
Wren, Echo, and Zoey pick fruits from the orchards nearby. Wren holds a large yellow basket while Zoey scrambles through the trees like a yellow tailed kitch. Sometimes she gets distracted and sees the bushy tailed tree vermin, then chases them. From the branches she picks fruit and tosses it into the baskets making a hooting noise. Every time Wren catches one Zoey squeals with delight. It looks suspiciously like playing. Echo is less enthused.
Lesedi and I kneel over the river taking a drink. The suns are high now and it’s almost time for lunch. Our baskets are half full of rattle vines. While bent over the clear creek, water dripping down my chin, a cool wind gusts over my spine. I shiver, not from cold but rather anticipation. I can hear the quiet howling of a low wind in my ears. I raise my eyes to see the woods calling to me, again.
Dark and welcoming, the thick trees raise high into the sky making it impossible to see the top. The deep purple bark stands strong and tempting. I need to be among those trees. I need to run through the bright green brush, to climb that deep purple bark. There’s a pull coming from that forest, like something pulling rain to the ground. There’s something in there I need, I feel like I’ll go insane if I don’t find it.
But how to sneak away, again, when Lesedi is right here?
“I think I’ll go for a walk today.” My voice tries to be soft and nonchalant.
Lesedi’s head snaps up her eyes squinting with suspicion. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing, it’s just is very tasking cutting down rattle vines all day. I’d like to take a break.” Unable to resist the pull my eyes glance with longing towards the tree line.
“No.” Lesedi gasps from shock and punctuates by waving her hands and shaking her head. “There is no way. What’s wrong with you?!” Her voice falls to a hushed whisper like what I suggested needs to be concealed from prying ears. “After what happened yesterday?”
“Look, I’m twenty years old, I can go where I want. They’re just trees and bush.” I stand up and set my eyes towards the forest that calls me.
Lesedi’s eyes narrow and her face calms. “If they are only trees and brush there would be no allure for you.”
She stands up and brushes the dirt from her blue veya. It’s a dress that’s confuses me, but she insists it’s not a dress. It sure looks like one. But that wouldn’t make sense, people don’t wear dresses in the outlands. Not when you might have to run for your life at a moment’s notice. This not-a-dress has a high collar with clasps made out of cord and sleeves that stop at her wrists. The front goes down to almost her ankles, but the sides arc up over her hips showing the thin legged black pants she wears under it.
The one thing I do appreciate about the garment is that it’s supposed to be an extremely personal piece of clothing. Something unique to the wearer. It’s all about the trim. A belt of wide trim cinches around the waist of it, that one is supposed to embody the people you love most.
For Lesedi, the trim is a dark blue that contrasts the light blue of the main body. Stitched in pale blue thread is the outline of two women, one on each side, reaching towards the middle with the cord clasp completing their middle fingers while holding each other’s hand. They symbolize the strong bond between her and I. Other figures form silhouettes around the back of the band to represent the rest of our family.
Thinner trim attaches down the middle where the clasps are, around the cuffs, and all along the edges of the hem including where it arcs over her hips. Those are also dark blue. They have a beautifully intricate pattern of open books with flowing lines of wind erupting from their pages. The lines turn into flowers and animal shapes that all look like they’re happily dancing. It’s very Lesedi and celebrates her obsessive love of learning.
It’s an outdated piece of clothing. I remember people used to wear them long ago before they had to kill nightstalkers all the time. They were significant to our culture and basically showed everyone around you who you were when you met them. It’s supposed to show the openness we should have towards others or something like that. It’s a nice idea, but openness doesn’t match up with survival out here. At least Lesedi’s beautiful veya is made from treekie silk, that’s no coincidence. Wren made it for her, for all the times I get her into trouble.
“Good point.” I concede, but I need to go anyways. “I’m going. With or without you.” The trees nag at my muscles. It takes all my power to not sprint away in this moment.
Lesedi draws in a frustrated breath. “Am I correct in assuming if I don’t help you, you’ll do something stupid?”
I shrug. “There’s no way to know.”
Lesedi pinches the bridge of her nose. “No, there is a way to know. Don’t make bad decisions.”
I turn my hands palms up and shrug again. “I don’t really have control of that Les.”
My frustrated sister sighs. “Then I’m coming with you, if only to save you from yourself. Let’s go tell Wren.”
I grit my teeth. “I was sort of, not going to.”
Lesedi raises one eyebrow. Her voice fills with sarcasm. ”Yes, because that’s a fantastic idea. Sneak off into the woods, then if you get hurt or in trouble no one knows where to look for you.”
I wince with frustration and my voice groans. “What am I supposed to do?”
Lesedi rests her hands on her hips. “I would say be smart and don’t go gallivanting into the woods. They are, as you know, nightstalker territory. But being that ‘smart’ is out of the question here, you need to be diplomatic.”
I groan. “You know I’m terrible at diplomacy.”
Lesedi picks up her basket and motions for me to walk with her. “That’s true. You’re going to need to lie.”
I hoist my basket into my arms and roll my eyes. “Lesedi, please, just help.”
“You can’t really lie though.” She pinches her chin in thought then snaps her fingers. “So, don’t. Come up with an honest reason for going into the woods, and actually do it.”
I concentrate on my steps treading over the stony rock bed that stretches out from the creek. “Like what?”
I can feel Lesedi’s irritation. “Think Talea. Think of something real. A truth.”
I rack my brain but I’m distracted by the pull of the forest making my spine shiver. Across the river I can see the blue canopy of the beckle berry orchard where Wren is. An idea hits me. “Lune. Lune is coming. I hate it. It scares me.”
Lesedi motions for me to continue. “And…”
My eyes flash open with realization. “I could tell Wren that I want to go collect some barkweed to sell at market next month. The money I make could buy me something to keep me from going crazy when lune comes.”
Lesedi grins. “Perfect. Then when we go into the woods, you’ll actually gather barkweed and there you go. No lying, no awkwardness.”
I let out a breath of relief. “I don’t see why I can’t just tell her I’m going on a walk.”
A gold and green lock of hair falls from Lesedi’s bun and she tucks it behind her ear. “Because without a task trouble finds you.” I stare at her with blank eyes. She sighs again. “This isn’t about you Tal, it’s about Wren. She has enough to worry about, we’re putting her mind at ease.”
A thought strikes me. “How did you get so good at lying? Aren’t you the golden child? The pride of the family?” I begin bowing towards her. “All hail Lesedi. The perfect child. May Father Sky bless her!”
Lesedi glares. “Stop it. I study lies.”
I roll my eyes. “Ughn. Lesedi, not another book.”
She straightens her neck. “Not just a book. The Great Hermit’s study of facial cues, body language, and psychology. There’s a science to our expressions being linked to our emotions.”
I roll my eyes. “Him again? With the way you gobble up his books I think you worship the man. He’s just some crazy person-”
Lesedi gasps and cuts me off. “He is not some crazy person! He is a genius! Nobody knows his name or background or even in which city he lives. He publishes his works of knowledge to advance our people without want of fame or glory. His books alone have catapulted our knowledge forwards by several decades in just the last fifteen years!”
I smirk and shrug. “I still think someone who calls himself The Great Hermit has got to be crazy.”
She frowns. “He doesn’t call himself that! That name was given to him by his publisher, who still won’t release any information about him.” She takes a deep breath to calm her excitement. “But I digress. You know how I can always tell when someone is lying?”
I glare. “Yes. It’s annoying and has made everyone in our house way too honest.”
She pastes a self-satisfied smile on her face. “People exhibit less deceitful behavioral cues if they’re speaking a half-truth. Snippets of truth are more convincing than a complete fabrication. I would still spot the lie, but Wren won’t.”
My shoulders slump. “Fine. It’s not like I have a better idea. Just no more science talk.”
She takes a judgmental deep breath. “Very well, if you prefer to remain in ignorance.”
I nod and roll my eyes. “Yes. Please.”
We reach the orchard and Wren is hanging from a tree tossing beckle berries into a large basket. A few of the large spherical blue fruits lie on the ground, hapless ones from when Wren had missed the basket. She’s laughing, Zoey is squealing, altogether they’re having far too much fun for this to be considered chores.
Reaching the scene, we see Echo has planted herself below to catch the falling beckle berries. With her focused reflexes she catches every single one. Wren likes to aggravate her by throwing more than she can catch, but somehow, she does it. Zoey, perches above Wren and giggles watching Echo dance as she struggles to catch all of the falling fruit. At this point it’s a matter of pride. Zoey scurries up the tree and after a minute passes fruit rains down, more than she can catch this time. Wren curls into a ball laughing while Zoey’s giggle resonates through the orchard.
Wren claps her hands. “Twelve out of seventeen that time. Not bad sweetie.” She giggles once more. Our aunt looks up to see Lesedi and I approaching and scales the branches to bounces back to the soil. After straightening her hair and tugging at her clothes she speaks with a mock-stern tone.
“Alright, what do you girls want? We’re in the middle of a serious chore.” Wren’s lips puff out while she tries in earnest to hold back a giggle.
“I’m sure you are. Listen Aunt Wren, Lesedi and I are going for a walk.” I blurt with more bluntness than we agreed on.
Wren grips her hips with tense fingers, her joy is gone in an instant. “A walk? After what happened? You’re going to get yourself killed out there.” With that, all light-hearted glee is gone.
I open my mouth but Lesedi pinches me and pushes me aside. “Auntie, I know Talea is oblivious and untrustworthy.”
“Hey!” I protest but am hushed.
Lesedi continues. “That’s why I’m going with her. I have always come home in time. I never even try to wait for the first sun to set. I will make sure Talea comes home long before dark, no worries.”
Wren rubs her chin mulling this over. Her eyes stop on me and glare. “No. I don’t like this.”
I gasp. “No?! You can’t say no!”
Lesedi pinches my arm and twists the skin she has a hold of. She whispers to me under her breath “Shut it.”
She approaches Wren. “I know you’re scared Talea will get herself killed. We all are. But here are the facts, Talea is an idiot.”
I open my mouth in a wide and shocked expression. “Excuse me I-”
Lesedi cuts me off and ignores my offended gesture. “She’s impulsive and shortsighted. You know how edgy and anxious she gets during lune. How she’s practically digging through the hardstone with her fingernails after one week.”
Wren’s eyes narrowed further. “That is certainly true. What’s your point?”
“My point is this: Lune is only a few weeks away. It’s approaching fast. It would be wise to allow Talea a walk to vent her need for the outdoors before she’s cooped up again. Wouldn’t you rather a supervised walk with me to keep her out of trouble, rather than she run off by herself?” Lesedi doesn’t make points, she crafts them.
Wren’s eyes burst with intensity as she turns to me. “Talea. I want to hear it from you. What are you up to?”
Lesedi opens her mouth to speak; she’s quieted immediately with a single glance. A twinge of guilt pricks at my neck for planning to lie to her. But what do I tell her? The woods are calling to me? That something deep within me needs to go run wild in nightstalker territory for no good reason?
I take a deep breath and do my best to tell her our constructed truth. “I’m going to harvest barkweed. You know I’m the only one that has the reflexes to get it. Aside from Echo, but she won’t do it, and-” I pause, I’m babbling. “Barkweed is harmless, and the dye we can make from it sells well.” I take another breath and look Wren in the eye as casually as I can. “I want to buy something at market this year. Something to distract me from the walls closing in.” I gulp.
Wren’s left eye twitches. “What do you want to buy?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. The only thing I’m good at is rope juggling. I can’t use that in the house. I don’t like books. So, maybe I’ll find a hobby.”
Wren lets out a deep sigh, it appears genuine enough. Lesedi delivered a flawless argument in my behalf and I choose to ignore that her conclusion was built on how senseless I am. Wren speaks with all seriousness. “You may go on one condition. Alaric goes with you.”
Alaric’s voice carries from the edge of the fruit trees. He’s running through the orchard and comes to an abrupt stop. “What!? No!”
Wren turns to Alaric. “What are you doing now?”
He pauses trying to choose his words with tact. “I’m, uh, helping father with securing the tog shelter. Very important man’s work.” Wren stares him down and Alaric lets out a breath. “Ok fine. It’s a one-person job I’m just grabbing a tool.”
I smile with bright eyes. “Good! Then you can come!”
Alaric turns to his mother pleading. “Suns no. Mother please.”
Wren places a gentle hand on Alaric’s shoulder. “Alaric honey, I need someone to keep an eye on her. No oovak today, but you could try to get some green geckle and I’ll make your favorite desert.”
He caves, he’s always powerless against his mother’s baking. “Alright. Let me just fetch some things first.” My cousin shoots a glare towards me.
Alaric sulks back to the house clearly unhappy with how his day is turning out. I decide to walk with him while Lesedi stays to giggle with Wren. I look back over my shoulder and see Wren try to get back into the care free chore of picking beckle berries, but her heart is heavy now. Worry fills her eyes. That does bother me, but I push away the pestering guilt. Everything will be fine.
Catching up to Alaric I give a hearty pat to his shoulder. I’m as tall as him and can look him in the eye even though I’m three years younger. I attempt idle small talk to ease tension but it never goes well. “Al, my buddy old pal! How’re you doing?”
Alaric glares. “Old pal?”
“Well, we’ve been buddies for what? twenty years now? That’s an old pal.” I grin hoping to turn the conversation to a lighter topic. It doesn’t work.
Alaric shakes his head. “You have manipulated my mother into letting you go on this absurd walk of yours into the woods of all places. Because she’s terrified you’re going to die, I get dragged into it. I had important things to get done today.”
My eyes squint while I process what he said. It seems like there’s something else bothering him. I can feel how annoyed and angry he is, that can’t all be because of me. Lesedi’s always good at seeing between the lines on these kinds of things. She can figure out what a person’s hiding. I try to think of all the countless times she ripped apart my defensive emotions.
I scrutinize his face, his testiness, and try emulating Lesedi’s tact. “You’re being a tiffy little prenk. Is it a girl?” Well done.
Alaric’s eyebrows twitch and he looks away from me. “What’s wrong with you? You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
My face scrunches with glee. “Aha! It is a girl! Who is it? I bet she’s from the market. Does she live near here?” I pull on his shoulder pestering him for answers.
Alaric’s brushes away my hands and sighs. “Fine.” His voice drops to a whisper. “It’s a girl. She’s my bond mate.”
Unable to express my emotions correctly I punch Alaric in the shoulder. “No way!”
He flinches and rubs his arm, frowning at me he mutters something while shaking his head. I can’t make it out so I lean closer and he shoves me away. I may not pick up on subtle hints but I know something is bothering him. Something bigger, he’s even angrier now that I mentioned the girl.
We get to the house and split up, Alaric heads to the storage room for a tool, I jog down the hall to my bedroom. I dart through my doorway and grab my knife sliding it into the sheath on my belt. Kneeling down beside my bed, I pull a wooden box out from underneath it. My fingers lift the lid with care, the hinges creak with a quiet squeal. Inside the velvety interior is a studded numinium ball a little larger than my fist. Coiled up beside it is a long smooth rope. The ball has a ring on the bottom that clips to the ring on the rope. This is Rax, my meteor hammer. I pick up the lethal ball, my thumb rubs over the thick stubby spikes with care. They aren’t sharp to the touch like a fine blade, but they do a lethal amount of damage.
I discovered I had a talent for rope juggling when I was fourteen. Usually, it’s a performance art with a certain acrobatic appeal. There are travelling performance caravans that make a lot of coin braving the roads to bring their show from city to city. Some folk in the outlands will host them so they can perform at market and gatherings. It’s a dangerous life to choose, but it’s also a life that changes every day.
Typically, the end of the rope is a round ball with a ribbon attached for flare. The art is in the contortions of the body and the way the rope moves through the air. I was quite awkward and clumsy, my legs were far too long for my body, but when I rope juggled my mind and body unified. I didn’t even have to think much, just feel, and the rope moved the way I wanted it to.
Later I tried aiming it at trees and targets. After a series of accidental knocks in the head the method did work. It became more than just an art; it became a weapon. The only one I’m competent with. I sold enough blue moss to have it cast with a blacksmith in Gerafar. Of course, I’m not allowed to go to Gerafar for reasons I still don’t understand. Wren says I’m too hot-headed for that place, a statement that makes me want to hit her. Which only validates her point but it’s still frustrating. I convinced Uncle Trigan to run the errand for me. Wren was less than happy about it, worried a weapon will only make me bolder and more headstrong. But now I am protected, I am lethal. I made the mistake yesterday of going out without it, I will not make the mistake again.
I hook the rope and ball to the loops on my belt. With the flip of my thumb the loop snaps open releasing my weapon. My body itches to use it. Fully armed I jaunt up the stairs to meet with Alaric outside.
He stands alert and ready. His bow is slung over his torso with the bowstring diagonal across his chest. His quiver is strapped to his back via a belt that runs the opposite direction of the bowstring.
I resume the conversation to distract from how angry he is. “So, what’s her name? Who is she? How’d you meet?”
Alaric rubs his temples. “I thought you were the quiet one.” I nod. He sighs once more. “Her name is Ilana. She’s the daughter of the Lomals. The herbalists two farms over. We met, like you guessed, at the market. Her mother and her sell cures. She’s brilliant.”
I shrug with nonchalance. “Nice.”
Alaric snorts. “Seriously? All that pestering and you say nice?”
I shrug again. “You answered my questions. Do you want me to bug you more?
His eyes drift off in thoughts of Ilana. “It’s nothing like what they say you know. You can’t describe it with words. The bonding. It’s like you never knew you were missing a part of yourself until that moment. It’s not love so much as it’s need. I need to be with her. If that makes any sense.”
I crinkle my nose and squint my eyes. “You’re such a girl.”
Alaric half chuckles and half gasps. “You brought it up!”
I roll my eyes. “You didn’t have to get so sappy about it.”
Alaric shakes his head. “You just wait until you find your bond mate someday.”
I raise one eyebrow. “Yeah, right. Spend my life waiting for the universe to pair me up with some wimp that can’t take a punch. I don’t need a bondmate. I’m fine.” An awkward pause falls between us. Bond mates are rare for a reason, for all I know the one I could bond to is dead. Or not born yet. Or married with eight kids. “So, is she ugly?”
“She’s beautiful. Her hair is red and curly, not to mention smooth like water. Not like that dead mess you have.” He grins at me and elbows my side.
I glare. “Hey. Not everyone can have my violet allure.” I swish my frizzy locks with dramatic flair, but they don’t flip like Lesedi’s do. Instead, they’re limp and unmoving. When was the last time I washed it?
Alaric laughs. “That must explain why the boys avoid you like a plague.”
I glare harder. “No, they avoid me because I punched one.”
Alaric snickers “All he did was try to kiss you Tal.”
I smile with satisfied malice. “And he never tried it again.”
“Nor has anyone else.” Alaric lets out a chuckling breath. “Illana could teach you some manners. She’s got three brothers and she’s very intuitive. Maybe she can help you not be so-” He pauses unable to structure an end to his sentence that isn’t insulting. He lets out a breath giving up on it. “I was thinking about bringing her over to dinner soon. When I’m ready to share her. Mother and Father will love her, I’m sure.” He rubs the back of his neck wreaking of tension. He’s deep in thought. His mind must be torn about something. He feels sad and frustrated.
“Lesedi has tried for years. If she can’t, Ilanna stands no chance.” I look at him with serious eyes and a solemn tone. “There’s something else isn’t there?”
Alaric nods. “We’re married.”
I punch him again. He rubs his arm with pain. “Ow! You’re stronger than you think!”
My eyes go so wide it feels like they’ll pop from my head. “What about the Sky Blessing?! Did you already do that?!”
Alaric looks at me with guilty eyes. “Yes.” I shake my head with disapproval. Alaric puffs out his chest defending himself. “You don’t know what it’s like Talea! The bond is more powerful than anyone can handle. We didn’t do anything wrong. Bondmates are considered automatically married when they accept the bond anyway.”
I cross my arms while we walk. “Yeah. I know that. But that’s why we have the Sky Blessing ceremony. So that we can all join in your happiness. How are Wren and Trigan going to feel when they learn their only son cut them out?”
Alaric marches along with awkward steps, his voice is quiet and drowning in guilt. “We could do the ceremony again. Specially for the family.”
I sigh. “Alaric, it only means something once. It cheapens everything if you do a fake one.” “I look away for one silent moment then shove him. “Who did you even have sing for you?”
He looks down at his feet. “No one. It was just us and the priest from the temple.”
I gasp and cross my arms. “Then enjoy having your marriage be cursed.”
Alaric scrunches his eyes. “I thought you didn’t believe in all this ‘nonsense’ anyways. A special ceremony for Father Sky to bless our union? Does this really mean all that much to you?”
I shake my head. “No. What means a lot to me is Wren and Trigan. They’ve already got one screw up in the family. They don’t need another.” I let out an angry snort. “Why all the rush? What’s so important you couldn’t wait a month for your family to organize the blessing?”
I see a withdrawn expression of anxiety on Alaric’s face. My heart sinks. “Oh Suns. What is it?”
“I-I applied for citizenship for Safehaven and Gardenya. They rejected me. Evos too. Even Terra Guard. I guess they don’t have much need for an uneducated carpenter.” Alaric lowers his head with despondency.
I shrug letting out a breath of relief. “No big deal. After lune has passed, we’ll expand the house. Uncle Trigan can build from the storage tunnel for you two to have your own family. Before you know it, you’ll have wriggling babies and a whole passel of people aside from me to annoy you.” I smile assuming that is the end of the argument.
Alaric rubs the back of his neck. “No. You don’t understand. I don’t want to live in the outlands with Ilana. I won’t. It’s too dangerous out here. I don’t want to raise our children out here.”
I crinkle my brow and fold my arms against my chest. “What do you mean? We were raised out here. We know lots of people who live out here. If you take precautions-”
Alaric’s eyes flash with anger. “You almost died yesterday!” He stops in his tracks and looks at me. He raises his right arm and points towards the woods. “Nightstalker territory is right there! Just last week the Gundran family lost their son. He was taking a shipment of food to Gerafar. People die out here.”
My tempter blazes. “People die everywhere! That’s what this messed up world is! The only thing you can hope for is to be with your family until something kills you.”
“I will not let Ilana and our children be in danger like that!” Alaric takes a deep breath. “I will give her a better life.”
He continues walking towards the beckle berry orchard. His feet move with swift purpose. His heart is roaring with rage, hurt, and frustration.
My voice keeps its hard edge. “Then where will you go?”
Alaric shrugs. “Thraz maybe. You don’t need to apply for citizenship there. They let anyone in.”
My mouth drops and I gasp in horror. “That’s because it’s a slum!”
“A slum that needs carpenters. I can get work there and save up enough to buy a citizenship in Evos.”
I shake my head in violent swings. “No. Alaric no! You’ve heard about Thraz. We all have. Criminals, drug lords, gangs, even pirates! It’s more dangerous there than here!”
Alaric pushes his hands into his pockets and slumps his back. His voice quiets “To the mines of Gerafar then.”
My heart pounds in my chest. “Gerafar?! My mother died there. People die there Alaric!”
His voice drops to a low menacing tone. “As you said, people die everywhere Talea. None of us live to old age. We hear that we can live to two hundred but the only ones that reach it live in cities. I want to grow old with her. I will do anything for her. In Gerafar, if I work hard, I can make the sum I need in a matter of eight months. Then we can have a house in Evos. Maybe I’ll even make enough to get her a house above ground, in the sunlight.”
We’re almost to the orchard, I can hear Zoey laughing in the background. The image of Wren’s smile floats into my mind. It’s what I love best about her, her smile. She’s the closest thing to a mother I’ve ever had and her defining quality is her almost pathological joy. Things would never be the same if Alaric left. He’s her only son.
My head hangs low. “Is there nothing that can change your mind?”
Alaric shakes his head. His black shaggy hair tousles around his face. “None that I can think of.” He goes silent for a minute. “Look I have a lot to sort out. Just don’t tell anyone about Ilana until I do, ok?”
I sigh. “Fine. But think of this before you make your decision. We need you. Your family needs you. I know it’s selfish of us, but we won’t be the same if you leave.”
Alaric grunts and tenses his body attempting to shrug the guilt away. We walk in silence past the orchard and towards the barn. My mind reels in shock. Alaric had been rash in the past, but he’s the good one. He isn’t reckless or selfish, that’s my role in the family. Panic builds in my chest. I can’t shake the feeling that a landslide is coming to swipe my family away. Alaric getting married is just the roll of the first stone.
✽✽✽
LESEDI:
I crane my neck and search the distance for Alaric and Talea, she hangs from him like a wrigglebug. I grin. She loves Alaric like he’s her own brother, he is in a way, we were all raised as siblings. She’s always seemed like she’s on the outside looking in by her own doing. Talea thinks herself doltish and simple, but she has instincts far more powerful than my extensive research. She may not have a keen mind towards articulation but she has a ferocity about her. A determination. She doesn’t wait for something to happen; she makes it happen.
Wren turns to Echo and Zoey. She gestures down to the containers overfilling with fruit. “Girls, the baskets are full, go put them in the bins.”
Zoey vaults from a branch and lands on Echo’s back. She grabs the back of her hair with one hand and raises her other into the air while kicking her sister in the side like a fand. “To home!” Zoey calls out.
Echo bends backward and shakes her body; Zoey comes off like a piece of brush. She falls off and squishes a beckle berry against her back. Echo turns around and smirks. “Your steed has bucked you off. I suggest you walk.”
Zoey giggles again and jumps up to grab a small basket, her pink overalls are stained with mushed blue fruit and dirt, she thinks nothing of it. Echo picks up the large basket too heavy for anyone else and hauls it away with ease. The little sun haired girl runs to keep up with her big sister and in so doing trips on a rock and falls face first into her basket of delicate fruit.
Wren rolls her eyes and shakes her head with a bright smile. “Zomina Arathune, what am I going to do with you child?”
Zoey scrunches her wet blue face and wipes mushed fruit from her eyes. “Who?”
Wren waves her hand. “Just go Zoey. Make Echo put those in water, maybe they won’t stain.” She postured herself on a rock by a tree and patted the space next to her asking me to join.
I comply without protest, but Wren’s face gives me pause. Her eyebrows are drawn forward creating crinkles in her forehead, her smile is forced, her eyes tense. She’s distressed. I place my hands over hers clutching them with gentle care and giving her a supportive pat. We’ve always been close, always able to share our worries and innermost feelings with each other. Ours is a wide-open relationship, unlike her complicated bond with Talea.
Wren lets out a breath brimming with trepidation. “You are so beautiful Lesedi.” She looks at me with a genuine smile.
That’s a statement writhe with redundancy at this point. Something I find tedious, frivolous, and unnecessary. Why does everyone have a fixation with beauty? Different species of birds have different color patterns upon their feathers, no one ranks them in order of most attractive to least. I am beautiful, but why does my appearance have to take away from that of others? Who has the right to quantify the value of another based on the symmetry of their face?
I admire Talea far above any sort of beauty any person may have. She is strong and passionate with physical qualities unseen in anyone else. She has a raw untapped power that only she cannot see, I think that’s in part why she scares so many. We can see the force she can become; we can see she has dangerous potential.
My mind circles back to the present conversation. I keep my response simple “Thank you.” I learned long ago negating a compliment only brings more of them.
Wren’s eyes form into a sad crumpled expression. She tries to hide it, but I always see. “Talea is lying to you.”
My breath catches in my chest. “I-”
Wren hushes me. “Don’t interrupt. Answer this question, can you trust Talea?”
I laugh from the ridiculousness. “Of course.”
She takes a deep breath staring through me. “Then explain to me why Trigan and I have caught her sneaking away from her chores into the woods for two months.”
My mouth gapes flabbergasted. “I, uh-”
She raises an eyebrow. “So, she didn’t tell you. I didn’t think so. Every time she stays away longer, comes home with more scrapes and cuts. What do you think she’s doing out there?” I respond with stunned silence. “She’s testing death. Finding her limits. Trigan followed her once, she goes deeper into that cursed wood than Alaric ever does.”
I shake my head. “Maybe she’s-”
Wren cuts me off. “She found their village. Trigan followed her to it, he had to leave her before they sighted him.”
I gasp. “But no one knows where their village is. It’s their highest kept secret, everyone dies before they find it.”
My aunt nods. “I don’t know what Talea was thinking, but I doubt she got away with that information without them knowing. Why do you think that nightstalker was out early yesterday?”
My mind spins, why wouldn’t Talea tell me this? Why would she be searching for the nightstalker village? None of this makes any sense. Talea is reckless but this behavior is suicidal. Is she really so arrogant to think she wouldn’t get caught?
After a minute Wren breaks the silence. “Talea is drawn to danger like a wingrat to the light. She can’t resist it. No matter what I say or do, she will go into those woods and she will keep going until she’s dead. Don’t go with her.”
Don’t go with her? Abandon her now that she’s in danger? That’s wrong. Talea is impulsive and careless, but with me around she’s a bit more cautious. It may seem arrogant to think I can reign her in, but I can. If I go with her, I can turn her around. She’ll listen to me; I can keep her safe.
Wren looks back at me patting my hands like she knows my thoughts. “Your mother was the same way. Trusting to a fault. She believed in everyone, trusted everyone. Even those she shouldn’t have.” Her eyes flash with water and she chokes down tears.
I know little of my mother, Wren and Trigan don’t talk about her much. They’ve tried, but the pain is too deep. I wipe a tear from my eye. “I’m not her. Whatever it was, it won’t happen to me.” I have Talea grounding me to this world, I won’t give up on life like our mother did.
Wren holds her breath and lets it out in shaky spurts. “If you keep following Talea, it will.”
I can’t make sense of what she’s saying. I need more information but she won’t give it to me. What does my mother have anything to do with this? My head spins with unanswerable questions and manic speculation.
I shake my head. “Maybe it’s naïve, or stupid, but I can’t believe that. I can’t believe that I have to abandon Talea. She’s always been there for me; I will always be there for her.”
Wren closes her eyes and tears fall from underneath her eyelids. Her voice comes out a whisper. “Please. Promise me something, if Talea will not yield and danger is coming, leave her. Please Lesedi, leave her.”
My face goes cold as does my voice. “No.” Is all I can say.
Wren covers her face with her hands. “You don’t understand child.” Her voice is soft, surrendering.
Emotions build within me until they form a storm of frustration and rage. I have complete control over my being, until someone disparages my sister. I will not tolerate even the thought of disloyalty. Anyone suggesting it, let alone the woman who’s raised us, is maddening enough to undo my restraints.
I hiss at the woman who is almost a mother. “No, you don’t understand!” I feel a heat of fury rise within me and erupt from my eyes. Horror flashes into Wren’s face and she flinches. I close my eyes and take a breath to bring peace to the tempest of emotions within me.
My voice goes cold once more. “Wren, I love you. But Talea and I share a bond few people can understand. I would sooner die than leave my sister.”
As I stand up to welcome Talea and Alaric back, I hear Wren whisper. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
✽✽✽
TALEA:
Wren places her hands on my shoulders, she has to look up at me. One soft hand touches my cheek, her eyes are wet. I look over at Lesedi, she seems to be giving the cold shoulder to Wren. That’s unusual. Those two have a closer bond than anyone else, I have a bare and tense relationship with Wren, but Lesedi is her daughter on all counts.
Wren’s voice is low so only she and I can hear. “I know Talea, there is no stopping you from what you want. There never has been.” I smile with pride. She grins for a second, but it drops away. “But remember what I said yesterday. There is no room for mistakes.”
I nod with understanding and begin to pull away. Wren grabs my chin and pulls my head to look down at her. “No.” Her teeth grit. “You must think. Be cautious.” Her voice chokes, she forces my head to turn and look at my family. “They are not you. They will suffer if you make a mistake.”
With that she gives my cheek a gentle pat, whispers that she loves me as if to remind herself, then walks away towards the house. I turn to Alaric and Lesedi, Wren’s words are lost on me. I recognize what they mean. But I don’t understand why she’s concerned with me understanding. I’m not going to get them hurt, they’ll be fine. The only person I’m at risk of hurting is myself, and I’m fine with that.
My aunt’s voice clings to my thoughts weighing me down.
“There is no room for mistakes.”