On the northeastern border of the Ryoken Island, rests a swampy inlet. The water itself rushes in from the sea, cutting the rough landscape with its murky veins. Thick tree roots and lush forests protrude from the riverbanks, reaching out like tentacles at small passing vessels. Small minnows dart the clear passages left by boats gliding on the carpet green.
If one followed the trail of ripples, they would see a city also protruding from the muddy riverbanks; the ancient mother of the green-eyed Ryoken bloodline. They were caught in the middle of the other two and known as Ryokaun. In the middle of a particular area is an outdated hideout made almost entirely of wood called Corsana.
I take a look around myself and continue to loiter. The caked layers of insulation behind me fill the lumbers and I lean my back against the solid building. I look into the night sky.
“Atjani Kelsever. What have you gotten yourself into?”
I scuff my boats against a recently planted garden, silencing the nighttime crickets. I look at the ground, running my boots over the tops of the flowers. I give them a kick. I still couldn't smell them.
I give a cold sigh and unroll a piece of cloth around my palm and hand. I wind it back up again, part of my self-mutilation. The bandage tightens until auburn bloodstains don't line up anymore. I would forget it soon enough.
Without wasting any time, I head into the building towering behind me.
I didn't want to enter, but I had to. I had a source of income and a plan out of this place. Corsana was my home, but I knew it was time to leave. I was a Lam Lathi outlaw and a hated enemy of the Broken Sun.
The musty air fills my nose, then disappears. Breathing inside the room I was in was thick and heavy, just like my boots against the floorboards. They creak until I stop moving toward the bartender. He couldn't stop staring at me. I look into his green eyes. They were green like mine.
The bartender had a weary face and I could tell he didn't like my stained shirt. It was a horrible mess of cotton and patched materials, from growing with me over the years. The bartender stares at my bandaged hand and then back at me.
“Out late again?” grins the bartender wiping his hands with a hot rag. “It's a little cold to be outside.”
I look at the bartender. My response comes instantly.
“Sweet drink, Berries,” I gesture silently.
The bartender gives me an odd look before nodding.
A succulent alcoholic drink is placed in front of me. It was like strawberry juice with a sting of lemon and it was filled to the brim. The cup could barely hold its icy contents. I fling the small decoration to the ground, some imported junk from Neandeleria. I let the flavor hover in my taste buds and swallow. It made my throat feel warm without burning. The taste was soft like my ex-lover's favorite drink and soothing to my throat. Before I can steal another sip, I hear chuckles behind me.
I snatch up my drink and head over to a group sitting and pointing at me. I bump the nearby tables and plant my hand on theirs. I give them a stare down colder than the night outside. One of my mockers speaks.
“Who’s that drink for, Missy?”
Before the chuckles build up to laughter, I throw my drink on him.
I lean close to my mocker's wet body, now plastered to his chair. I place my hand roughly on the table and let my eyes soak up my new enemy.
“You,” I say, pouring more drink on the man.
Before the man can react, I pull my knife out on him, forcing him to sit back down.
“Sit…..and learn your place…”
The reflection in my knife fills with lusty hate. I had made a new enemy. I loved my knife, but not because it was my best weapon. It had more meaning than its price tag. It was part of a memory of mine, long gone.
My new enemy begins to speak.
“No more blood.....no trouble here…..”
I take another look at my foe. He was probably in his mid-twenties like myself.
“Yeah, we are both Ryokaun bloodline aren’t we?” I reply with sarcasm. “I don’t need to kill you. I can count on Lam Lathi to finish us both off…”
A minute passes, before the tension fades.
As quickly as I entered the bar, I leave. I head over to a different pair of doors leading to a stairwell to the floors above. They shut hard leaving the mustiness behind me.
Inside the stairwell a tray of candles sits hastily nailed to a stud. The dim light wraps itself around each step until I arrive at a heavy door. However, I don't open it. Something was bothering me. I couldn't get rid of the feeling.
From as far back as I could remember, I was part of the resistance against Lam Lathi. It wasn't until I became older that I realized the extent of what they did to me and my tribes. They ruined everything and took my most precious memories along with their conquests for wealth. I don't like my past. I don't talk about it. There's a permanent grudge I have and I don't even care who gets caught in the crossfire.
I try to shove off another flashback. My bloodline didn't have control over their possessor being. We were Ryoken just like our brethren, but our possessors moved freely around. Imagine your soul is cut in two. Both halves are you, yet, you don't know what the other invisible half is doing. Not until it merges back with you, do you get the full picture. Who cares, right?
I give a shrug and push the door in front of me open. I find myself on a private balcony. A single table enters my view, with a woman resting her head in her hands. The door closes pulling her attention to me.
My footsteps dominate the night air and I take a seat next to my childhood friend. Her name was Melinal Fiera. We have a history trapped somewhere in my mind. I look at Melinal, ready to get my business over with. The old table separates us.
“So how much will you pay me again?” she asks.
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Melinal had a lovely pair of green eyes. They glowed like swirling jade and shimmered like cut emerald. As long as her possessor being remained away they would stay green. Once her possessor being merged into her soul they would turn brown like tiger's eye. My eyes were just the same.
I pause and then shove a bag of money in front of Melinal. I bite my tongue and wait for her response. She needed more, but every added gesture had its price. I wasn't willing to pay. Melinal was one who was calm with words, but whose wit could leave a playful bite.
“That's all?” returns Melinal.
I watch as she holds the pouch of coins in her hand. She wanted to call me cheap. I knew from experience. She had known me since we were little and ever since I found her I looked after her like an older brother. I kept her clear of Lam Lathi. Everyone with a bad word to say about her was sure to meet their end in the wooden alleys of Corsana. It wasn't completely in the same way as family. Sometimes we had our moments of being close.
“Look. No one will know you are a freelancer dancer. I can get you fully disguised. I just need a little more time. I need you to dance for me and influence a few people. It will help me in ways you don't even know.”
I give Melinal a sarcastic grin. I liked giving it back to her once in a while
“Well, I don’t care. I'm not putting my life on the line over a stage dance. I'm not going to be a counterfeit Lam Lathi messenger.”
Melinal bites her lip with subtle anger. It was funny to me when she became pissed off. She never did get the meaning of life. Life was one sick joke and, only recently, was I starting to break free of it. My meeting with Melinal would be part of my get away. It would be the last time I would see her. I had a plan to flee to Neandeleria where the good life was. It was a place of technology and dreams.
I sigh and lean in close to Melinal. She had the slight allure of an experienced dancer, but not quite. My chair scrapes the floorboards and I get up from my seat. I walk over to Melinal, my footsteps the only sounds. She tries to ignore the tense frustration between us. I get close and look deeper into her eyes. I plant my hands around her sides and stare at her. I look down her body, to her hips, and back up again.
“I could have it if I wanted,” I grin.
“Don't flatter yourself, Atjani” Melinal pushes me away. She smiles and tries to hide it. The truth was I was leaving her behind and she knew it. She didn't want me to go to Neandeleria. Starting over meant leaving our childhood friendship behind.
“So. How about my coins,” I say.
I go back to my seat and sit down. I become impatient as Melinal ignores me. Even more time passes and I sigh. I stare at Melinal and she glances back at me.
“It's still not enough, Maybe you should do it yourself?” replies Melinal. “I think you'd be hot shit in a miniskirt.”
The comment was enough to irritate me.
“Look at me, Melinal! Do I look like I can blend in? My possessor being hates me. There’s no way I can go to Lam Lathi with my green eyes. Don’t peck at me!”
My deep green eyes pierce the night around Melinal.
I needed her to dance at the stages. If she could influence those I needed her to, I could sneak my way into Lam Lathi safely. The imperial recruits would look the wrong way at the right time and I would be able to make my move. All of this was part of my overall plan. I needed a messenger dancer and her subtle tricks. They were like triggers in the mind.
“Look, I don't care much for your politics, but I need more than this,” continues Melinal. She holds up the bag of money and throws it on the table. holding up the money. A few worthless circular coins fall out next to some square ones. Their youthful shine shimmers against the uneven boards of the table.
I grip my forehead and run my hand down my face in frustration.
“Freelancers – they only take the dances they want at the price they want. They may even change the message a little if you don't pay enough. This is why I hate living here. I was counting on our friendship to pull the weight.”
My thoughts stop. I couldn't influence the stages in the same way Melinal could. Even though I had a possessor being, mine was more prone to being a tempest. That's how it was for men. The women had their strength at the stages.
Silence follows. The airy calm of the night permeates the star-filled sky. I lets the darkness cover my eyes for a moment’s rest and lets the numbing air bite at my lungs. Without warning, I open my eyes and glare at Melinal
“Just because you went to that stupid messenger school doesn't mean a thing to me!”
“Well it means something to me!” replies Melinal
Melinal had skill. She once trained at one of the Lam Lathi messenger schools and failed. They taught her a few tricks, but she always complained that it ruined her life. I'm not going to judge her for it, but what gives? The girl had a point.
Melinal continues.
“You don't know anything about that place, or how it works. Let me enlighten you on Lam Lathi's imperial messenger schools. They steal children when they're little and shred up their identity. Then, they force feed them training until they become infatuated with it. The boys become tempests and the girls become sexualized dancers. The whole time they learn excessively to become tools of Lam Lathi, and are told lies about their families – like their families rejected them. You know nothing about the whippings and the humiliation put on those who resist. The memories they tell you not to find. And if if you don't make it through the schooling, it's banishment to the Commundia lands, as labeled whores and debtors. Maybe you should....”
Melinal's sarcasm had gone far enough.
“I don't have time for this. I already know how it works. I just want your answer. Got it?”
I interrupt Melinal and keep my gaze on her. She looks back at me just as fiercely,
“I'm only asking for a few weeks of your life with low pay. Help me out on this,”
An impatient look spreads across Melinal's eyes and she looks around, almost like she was thinking about her answer. Her hands press her arm and, in the blink of an eye, she moves her fingers ever so slightly to inflict a certain meaning.
“Cheap? Is that what you're calling me?” I spit out.
Melinal looks away. She knew what her silent hand gesture meant and she was letting me enjoy it. More silence invades our conversation.
“Is she purposely wasting my time? She's really getting on my nerves now.” Irritated thoughts scatter what little patience I had left.
“Look I can read body language as well as any Ryoken native. Your bluff is getting you nowhere. I'm going to find another messenger for this dance. A real childhood friend. Have a good one.”
The chair legs beneath me scrape against the wooden balcony. I pick up my near-empty drink and recollect my bag of coins.
“Wait...fine. I'll go,” insists Melinal with a frown.
I smile. “Really now?” I says, slowly returning to me seat. Poverty speaks and Melinal needed the money. I did to, but once I made it to Neandeleria, everything would work out. I needed this dance.
Melinal gives me a dirty look. She hated when I got my way, even when she wanted the best for me. Luck had always followed me in just the right way when I needed money. It wasn't the same for her. It was also the reason I kept both of us alive when the ribs starting showing.
“You're really screwed up you know!” snaps Melinal
“Probably, but it works, right?” I smile back.
We stare at each other and then Melinal snatches the bag of coins. She spitefully drinks the rest of my drink, picks up her belongings, and fixes her hair. Then, she walks to a wooden door to exit the balcony. As Melinal reaches for the door handle, I call out to her one last time.
“Wait. There's something I need to tell you.”
Melinal looks over her shoulder at me and slams the door with a harsh echo.
The night remains silent
I take an inhale from her burning cigarette at the table. Its orange tip seemed to absorb all the light around me. I make my way to the balcony ledge. I rest my arms against the moistened rot of its wooden boards and take another drag. It was the first cigarette in some time for me.
When the orange glow fades, I flings the cigarette off the balcony ledge. I take a look across the wooden city I grew up in. Dots of newer buildings here-and-there were the only signs of change, yet the people themselves moved with the times. Melinal and I had seen it all together and we both didn't like it. I wanted to leave, but she wanted to stay and changer her home for the better. The worst part was, some of tribes around Corsana were embracing Lam Lathi. It was time to leave the place.
After a brief moment alone, I slam my fist against the ledge, “Damn me!”
I wanted to tell Melinal I loved her. She was my best friend and I was sad we were going our separate ways. It didn't matter. I had a lone opportunity in Lam Lathi and needed the influence of a dancer to get by. There was a large sum of money to steal, then a flight out to Neandeleria waiting for me. I was leaving her behind for good.