Turn, Fir of Apla: 28 Xiven

He was alone again, only this time he was…was this home? Kayin flinched; he couldn’t think of it that way, even if he had been living here for a month. His eyes opened slowly, his shoulder and arms itching and tingling. When he looked down to his shoulder, where he last remembered everything hurt the most, there were ghostly white and red lines reminding him of why he didn’t recognize the room he awoke in. Aunt Aayin’s Mild Potion of Regeneration would not have helped like this, not with how he could so clearly tell that there was something major missing. A large dent, uneven skin, pieces of his flesh rippled and open and stitched together.

In an instant, Kayin saw the peka standing right before him, silhouetted by ash and fog, its maw dripping a dark red mixture of saliva and blood as it chewed on what it ripped from his shoulder.

Shuddering, he shook the visage away and touched the indent. Numb. Whatever this potion was, it was powerful. He didn’t have any edia to pay for a mild potion, let alone one this potent. Maybe he could borrow some from the kitchen and go out in the mornings to lay traps when he was well enough. Or maybe this was a dream and he was dying. Was death painless? Other than a little soreness when he tried to move it, the pain he felt before was nothing but a memory.

And while attempting to fully move his right arm seemed fruitless, he could move his left one just fine, enough so he could raise his hand to his cheek to see if there was any other evidence of what happened was there. Three long, raised indentations, a little tender to the touch, dragged from ear to mouth. A fourth, small, fainter one felt more like a a cut from playing in the forest. The others, deep and rippled, would definitely be a permanent facial feature.

That breath….

The lump that formed in Kayin’s throat was enough to remind him that he now longer lay on a bed of bones. Instead, it was a single-person cot, not nearly as soft as his own, smelling crisp and floral. Everything in this small room was clean and fresh, save for some soot and blood that stained the sheets he lay on.

On the end table, facing away from him, was an old book with yellowed pages Kayin recognized from his herbalism class. Miss Tisa read from it not that long ago, instructing everyone how to exactly combine harboneau and jensine to get the desired effects.

Tan and white curtains hid the light from the full moons out the window just opposite the end table. Maybe if the curtains were left open, he wouldn’t have noticed the subtle candlelight from underneath the door on the other side of the room.

Kayin debated getting up for just a moment, before he flopped his feet over the side of the bed to approach it. The potion, he could tell, healed any scrapes he got from his narrow escape; his feet were no longer cut, his shin didn’t throb from hitting it on the wall when he climbed.

A silent and slow as could be, Kayin crept up to the door. A deep voice murmured with an odd certainty.

“No, don’t tell Dhekk. He doesn’t know. I mean, he doesn’t—you know what I mean.” An odd, dry laugh. “I mean, I didn’t even know. I didn’t even remember until I got here.”

“How did you?” Finally, Kayin could hear who the stranger spoke to: Tidesa. “And who is she? Is she with you?”

The man hesitated.

“Yes.” His voice got softer, so that Kayin had to lean even closer to the door to strain to hear what was said. But other than the rumble of the stranger speaking, Kayin couldn’t make out anything specific.

The man’s voice was only clear when he said, “This is when I leave.” Before Kayin could dwell on the stranger’s weird words, he realized what that meant. He let out the littlest gasp before he dashed away from the door and back to bed. Thankfully, his legs worked fine, and he could hop up and lay down without effort.

Tidesa’s response sounded almost amused, “You—? Well, alright. I suppose I’ll…see you soon.” As she laughed, Kayin closed his eyes to slits and let his head sag to the side. He opened his mouth a little, tried to let some drool leak out. Did he look like he was asleep? He needed to breathe slower.

The door cracked open, letting the weak light into Kayin’s room. The man that spoke to Tidesa stepped out, still turned away.

“I suppose I’ll be seeing you soon, too,” he echoed, as if sharing a joke. The stranger, almost as old as Dania’s parents, stepped out of the silhouette, his hair as dark as midnight. Kayin tried to see his face, but the man ducked and moved swiftly, silently. He looked almost regal, with a dirty and ashy, but well-made purple cloak. It was draped over scarred and scraped leather armor, muffling the way he walked. He wore shoes, but hardly made a sound. Kayin tried to watch to figure out how he did it, but he was gone too fast, out the other door that had no light coming from it.

Almost as soon as the latch caught, noting the stranger’s departure, did Tidesa’s voice call out to him, “I know you’re awake.” He didn’t react. “Your dirty feet left a trail. You should have worn the shoes we set out for you.” The humor died from her voice. He could feel her energy change. “You got lucky, you know.” Pressure on the cot beside him made Kayin finally open his eyes; he faked a yawn. He knew he was caught, but he wouldn’t ever let her know.

She smiled at him as she put the rest of her weight on his bed, leaning as if she was preparing to tuck him in. “You’re lucky that I caught you before that peka could go for your neck. The potions wouldn’t have been able to heal you if you didn’t have any blood left.” He tried not to look confused. “Do you remember what happened?” The way she looked at him so carefully made it feel like there was a right answer to this.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“I remember a…a golden sword,” he answered awkwardly. Tidesa’s laugh hit an odd note, higher than normal.

“Swords can’t be golden, Kayin. It’s too soft a metal.” That was such a quick answer. She cleared her throat. “No matter. You’re safe now.” She patted his hand so quickly, gently.

“Aren’t swords coated in all sorts of things sometimes?” he asked. He tried to think to the guards he saw every day. They didn’t have anything fancy, but sometimes the High Knights that he walked by had interesting-looking hilts with gems and other stones in them. He never saw them drawn from their sheaths, but maybe they were completely gold, and maybe the girl that saved him was the daughter of a High Knight.

“Oh, Kayin.” Tidesa’s voice was soft, but dismissive. He frowned.

“What happened there?” he asked instead. “Why was it…burnt?” Tidesa’s smile tightened into a thin line before it faded away.

“There was a peka attack about a month ago. Peka are afraid of fire, so a fire was set to get them to retreat. We stay away from there, now.” It was a statement, but she stared at him and waited for him to nod to show he understood. A passing memory of his first full day here surfaced at the back of his mind, how Sepik asked for something other than edia, and the servants brought out peka.

Tidesa didn’t have to explicitly say it, but he knew that if it weren’t for whoever saved him, he might not have been found in the piles of ash and bone. The thought left a cold stone in his stomach.

“I won’t go back there,” he said, wringing his fingers together. Tidesa nodded.

“You need your rest. I think you should probably stay here for the next few days. The potions and poultices did wonders, but I bet you’re tired, aren’t you?” Well, no. But if saying he was tired got him out of classes….

“I’m tired,” he answered with what he hoped was an adorable pout. It made her laugh.

“Fine, then. You’ll rest for the next few days before you go back to your classes.” As she rose from the bed, he sank back into it.

“Why do I have to keep going to those?” he asked.

“To give you the best chance at your future,” she answered, as if reciting a mantra. She didn’t even turn around, just kept making her way to the door.

“Won’t people just be doing stuff for me when I’m king?” The question seemed to catch her attention, now. She turned.

“Well….” Tidesa glanced to each of the doors, the one she came from—a simple study with a lone candle—and the one the stranger walked through. “I’ll let you in on a secret.” This made him sit up a little straighter. “You’re not going to be a king.”

“What?” The stone in his stomach burned. Why bother with all of this if he wasn’t even going to rule Yatora?

“Princess Sepik is going to be the Queen of Yatora. You’re the Crown Prince.” And while Tidesa gave him her full attention, now he was the one to turn away, hiding his burning cheeks. “Unless you want to marry her? No, I didn’t think so.” And even though he hid his face from her, she must have been able to see his sneer. “Kayin, your future is important, but takes you away from here.”

“Then why—” Kayin almost choked on his words. “Why am I here?” Why did Aunt Aayin have to die?

“This is your best chance at the best future,” came her answer. Was this a part of his future, this attack? Sitting in a recovery room as he eavesdropped on a stranger?

In a burst of frustration, he asked, “Where were you?” He looked up to her, finally, to see her look of gentle curiosity. The fact that he felt so much, like he was going to explode, but she stood there and looked unaffected almost made him lose it. “Why didn’t you stop the peka?”

Tidesa pursed her lips for a moment. “I did.”

He shook his head. “No. It was someone else. With a golden sword.” Brown hair poking from a cloak, much shorter and younger than Tidesa, but still mature.

“Kayin.” Now Tidesa’s voice sounded a little more strained, that cool attitude cracking. Kayin pushed further.

“Who was that man? The one you were just talking to?” Her face contorted in a way that told him she hated the question. “Was he there, too?”

“Kayin.”

“What?” If he’d used that tone on Aunt Aayin, he would have been grounded until the next season. But Tidesa didn’t yell at him, or swat him, or anything.

“I see you are getting upset. I think you should rest.” It was a closing statement for her. She turned around with such controlled finality, and for a moment, Kayin thought that he would going to let that be it.

But the words bubbled up in his throat, “It wasn’t you. It was someone else. Who saved me?”

Tidesa kept her hand on the handle, her shoulders stiff.

Her words were careful as she spoke into the door: “There was no one else, Kayin. I told you, I came in and saved you. There was no one else. And if there was, why would she have a golden sword?” She. “Don’t confuse dreams with reality, Kayin. Good night.” Without looking at him, she opened the door, and closed it right behind her.

Excitement bubbled and fizzed with the anger in his stomach. She made a mistake. The burst of energy compelled him to stand right in the middle of the room, staring where she left, with nowhere to put his focus. She! Maybe it was something small, but it felt all the more compelling. Kayin felt himself start to pace the room, circling the small space with a grin on his face.

If Tidesa was the one to save him, why didn’t she say, “Why would I have a golden sword?” Maybe it was whoever she spoke to that man about. Tidesa was lying! She was lying to everyone as to why he was here, she was lying to him about who saved him—

Kayin paused in front of the window, his smile fading as realization trickled through his veins. Tidesa was lying. The woman who everyone believed could see the future was a liar, and he was the only one who thought so. The excitement buzzed into a tighter anxiety, floating to his chest. The Namuh of the Future, the woman who could see what was destined to happen, was lying to everyone…and he had no proof. He didn’t even know why.

He approached the window, hoping that he could see the village from this vantage point. Only treetops and glowing, purple mushrooms dotted the gentle hills as far as his eyes could see.

The two moons, Orinel and Irinel, were full of light. One evil moon, one good moon. Both representing the dual-sided nature of Elyk, the night. The completely identical moons people couldn’t tell the difference between, where each one traded off swaying the nature of the people below them.

Aunt Aayin would point to them and ask him, “Which one, little one? Which one is evil, which one is good?” He liked to think he could tell the difference between them. He could tell her, “Oh, Irinel is brighter tonight! People will be good!” And maybe it was just a game, a way to get him to stop asking about more food, but she told him he was good at it and could always tell which moon was in sway.

But tonight, the more he stared, the less sure he was. They looked identical. The anxiety gripping his heart grew tighter, the moons grew brighter, and he couldn’t tell which was true, which moon was in sway. Maybe it was Orinel, and Tidesa’s lies were sinister and hidden for her own purposes. Maybe it was Irinel, and Kayin was mistaken, Tidesa saved him after all.

Or maybe the stories of the gods and their influence were just stories, and stories aren’t real, and he had no way to know why Tidesa was lying to everyone.