by J. Naomi Ay
My father and brother and I were sitting in my father's living room. The Mishnese emissary had just departed, and the MaKennah had joined us. He stood by the door for a moment and seemed to watch as the Mishaks departed, then he came to sit on the arm of the sofa next to me.
“Yokaa Kalila wants you back in Mishnah September first,” my father said.
The MaKennah nodded. He already knew this.
“We knew this time would come,” Father continued. “We knew your time here would be limited.”
“I don't think you should go,” my brother interrupted. “I don't think you will be safe. Captain Loman does not have enough loyalists that can protect you at a university.”
“Perhaps you would be safer at the Royal Guard Academy where the students are already trained in security,” I suggested.
“Security for who?” My brother protested. “Akan or the Karut prince who nobody has seen in four years and didn't like much before then because he made it clear he wasn't a Saintist. He needs to stay here.”
“What think you of this, Sehron?” my father asked. “Several years ago you had a vision. You said you would be put in a cage, and Tuman would leave Rehnor. Will this happen if we release you back to Mishnah?”
Sehron crossed his arms and turned his blank gaze down to the floor.
“What will happen,” he replied after a moment, “Will happen regardless of what we choose to do now.”
“Do you know any more about this now? Do you know who your captors will be?”
“Mishnese.”
“That proves it,” my brother nearly shouted. “He cannot go back to Mishnah.”
“Staying here is out of the question.” I shook my head. “You think they will make him King of Mishnah while he lives here?”
“We will make him King of Karupatani while he lives there,” my brother replied indignantly and got up to pace the room again. “Why should we be the ones to always accommodate them? He is happier here. He is safer here. He does not need to go to their university. He already knows bloody everything.”
Sehron smiled. “Thanks Professor.”
My brother who had no wife, no children of his own, that we knew of anyway, went over to the MaKennah and wrapped his arms around him.
“He is our blood. He belongs with us.”
“He belongs to them too,” my father replied with a heavy sigh. “Despite how we feel about it.”
Pedah let go and resumed his pacing.
“I don't know,” Sehron shrugged and smiled. “Why don't I just go off to…Rozari? Maybe there I can just belong to…myself?”
“What?” My father nearly fell from his chair. “You, of all people, cannot leave Rehnor.”
Sehron was quiet for a moment. “I will.”
“And Tuman will leave with you?” my brother asked.
“No. He will go his own way.”
“And what of me?”
Sehron shook his head.
“What does that mean?” my brother demanded. “Am I dead?”
“That's enough fortune telling,” my father snapped. “You're not dead, you're just staying here. Four sons and two grandsons and all are either dead or a bunch of fools, except perhaps little Rekah. It is still too soon to tell.”
“You,” he continued, pointing at Sehron. “Whether you go off to Rozari or not, you are still the MaKennah ka Rehnor, and like it or not you will rule this planet. Therefore, I want you and you, and you,” he pointed at all of us, “To take your horses and whomever else you want and go tour as much of this continent as you can until September first. Since this is most likely the last time you will be in Karupatani for an extended period, you,” he waggled his finger at Sehron, “Will find a wife or two.”
Sehron’s face turned pink.
“He hasn't even been with a woman yet. How's he supposed to find a wife or two?” Pedah smirked.
“He's only sixteen,” I reminded them.
“Actually,” Sehron cleared his throat. We all turned on him and stared.
“Well…um.”
“You old dog you,” Pedah chortled and punched the boy in the shoulder.
“It just that…”
“What?” my father demanded.
“I'm not going to take a Karupta wife. I won't have a Mishnese one either,” he added quickly.
My father rolled his eyes and clasped his hands upon his forehead.
“Please don't tell me you favor men,” he grumbled.
“No Sir, not at all. It's just that…she is Human.”
“Who?” I asked.
“His wife, you idiot,” my brother snickered.
“You're married already?”
“No, he's not,” my brother replied.
“What are we talking about then?” I said, thoroughly confused.
Pedah started to laugh. “His wife is going to be from another planet.”
“How is that possible?”
“Tell us, Sehron. Does she know what she's getting into?” Pedah asked.
“Not at all,” Sehron shook his head and then mumbled, “She hasn’t a clue.”
“You've met her?” I asked. “A…what did you call her?”
“Human,” Pedah chortled.
“Yes. And…and I've been with her,” Sehron said hesitantly.
“Here?” Pedah hooted. “Or in Mishnah when you were twelve?”
“Well…”
“I haven't seen any humans around here, assuming I even know what they look like. Do they look different?”
“Does she have three teats?” Pedah was laughing so hard he was crying now, tears streaming down his cheeks. “If so, I would like one too.”
“A teat or a Human?” I asked.
Sehron looked like he wanted to hide under the furniture.
“Where did you meet this girl, Sehron?” my father demanded, glaring at Pedah.
“On Earth? The planet she comes from?” The boy blushed furiously.
“You went to another planet?” I cried. “Recently?”
“You went to a planet called Earth and slept with a Human girl.” My father looked and sounded very annoyed.
“Well…yes?” Sehron nodded.
“And how far away is this planet?” my father inquired still rubbing his temples.
“About 10 light years?” Sehron shrugged. “But it's still in this galaxy.”
“Oh that's very reassuring,” Pedah choked.
“How did you get there?” I asked.
“Um…well…um…”
“Let me guess,” Pedah cried. “You flew all by yourself. Did you take a spaceplane or just use your own wings?” He doubled over and held his stomach.
Sehron turned his face to the window, but I saw a smile on his lips.
“I went metaphysically through a dimension that is not based on the same principles of time and distance.”
Pedah stopped laughing and stared at the boy. “I’ve got to ask. Did you fuck her metaphysically too?”
“Um…yes?” the boy replied. “But it was still good.”
My brother doubled over again.
“Get out of here,” my father shouted. “Get all of you out of here. I don't want to see your faces back in this village before the end of the summer.”
We all ran for the door.
It was a glorious summer. Though I missed my Garinka and Rekah and our infant daughter, Lookah, I loved being on horseback exploring the continent with my brother and Sehron. We brought Pori and Padim and their father, our friend Torim, as well as Karim and his older brother Terrin along with us. The boys had a tremendous time visiting the other villages and everyone was treated like princes whenever we arrived. All of the boys except young Padim enjoyed the company of many girls. Despite the fact that all the girls vied for Sehron's favors, there was no resentment among the boys in having to take his cast-offs.
“So tell me,” Pedah said one evening. “Is it better physically or metaphysically?”
>
Sehron started laughing. “Most definitely physically.”
I think it was the best time in his life. He was nearly fully grown, as tall and broad as my brother and I, and his skin had tanned to a golden hue, still lighter than ours but darker than most Mishnese. His eyes shown as bright as the sun, so much so that he had taken to wearing sunshades all the time just to protect our eyes from them. He was powerful physically and psychically. He could lift a horse and place it down elsewhere simply by thought. He could blast off the face of a mountain by pointing his finger at it. There seemed to be no bounds to what he could do but since he was happy and healthy and sixteen, he desired to do nothing but enjoy our adventure and enjoy the girls.
It was the last day of our great adventure, and we were camped in the hills above our own village. We had just arrived and the sun was setting. We were all anxious to return to our own home and our families, but this had been a monumental trip for us and neither did we want it to end.
We were sitting around our campfire, the evening was warm, and the two moons had risen. We had eaten dinner and were now smoking Barkuti while telling stories and remembering and laughing about our adventure. The boys were high on the Barkuti. For most of them it was the first time. Only Sehron had smoked it before, and that was in ceremonies that he was privy to and not the other boys. They were all lying on their backs and giggling except for Sehron, who rose to his feet, a worried look upon his face.
“What's the matter?” I asked.
He didn't answer but instead walked toward the edge of the cliff that overlooked the village. I followed him.
“Do you see anything?” he asked. “Over there.” He pointed toward the ocean. As far as I could tell the night was quiet and there were only stars to be seen.
“I'll be back shortly,” he said anxiously. “Get everybody up and hide in the forest.”
“You have had too much Barkuti,” I laughed. “You are imagining things.”
“I hear something, Tuman. Do as I say.” Then he was gone. It was dark, and it happened so quickly that I could not tell in which moment he had changed from man to raptor, only that there was a beating of heavy wings and a rush of air and the creature was in the sky heading towards the ocean.
I went back to our camp and told the others what he had said.
“He has had too much Barkuti,” my brother agreed but dragged himself to his feet. We extinguished the fire and hid the horses and ourselves among the trees.
In less than an hour, the eagle soared back toward us at a rapid clip. Behind him were lights and now even I heard the sounds of speeders, large speeders, perhaps even trucks.
“We are being attacked,” Torim whispered. “They came like this when your mother was killed. Those are trucks carrying many men.”
Sehron crashed into the brush just steps from us. He was out of breath.
“Akan's troops,” he gasped.
“They're not supposed to come for two more days,” I said.
“The King's troops come for him, you idiot,” my brother spat. “Not Akan's.”
“We need to go fight them,” Pori declared bravely. “We will not let Akan take the MaKennah.”
“There are too many,” Sehron replied as the trucks landed and troops ran out and overwhelmed our village. I could not count how many came, but our village was poorly defended. It had been many years since we battled the Mishaks on our land. We did not have more than a hundred men in our entire village, and that included both old and young.
“I will go and let them take me,” Sehron said and made a move to show himself.
“You will not!” my brother hissed, pushing him back into the brush. “You will stay here and fight with us.”
“Pedah’s right, Senya,” Pori said, and he and Karim grabbed Sehron’s arms. Sehron shook them off.
“If I do not go, you will die!”
“That’s absurd,” Pedah replied, pulling his sword from his satchel. “There are few of us but we are strong. We will not turn you over to Akan.” An explosion sounded from our village.
“Pedah!” Sehron cried, and his eyes flashed in my brother’s face. “Don’t…” Sehron began to sway on his feet. The boys grabbed him again as he fell to his knees. “Kari-fa, Pedah!” Sehron gasped.
“What is it?” Pedah knelt beside him, his face hard. “What do you see?”
Sehron shook his head. “Save your son, Pedah,” he said under his breath. He turned his eyes on the friends who surrounded him. “It is as it should be. Makiri-ka te la’at, you are blessed.”
A woman’s scream carried up the hill to where we stood and was joined by another and then another voice. The Mishaks were raiding our village, breaking down our doors and invading our houses. Smoke wafted from the valley as the Mishaks set our homes on fire. Our women and children were dragged out into the streets, and then it was Rekah’s voice that pierced the chaos, that rang in my ears louder than any other.
“Senya!” he screamed. “Senya save me!”
A Mishak had my son. I was nearly on my horse, but my brother had beaten me to it and tore down the hillside. It was so dark, and Rekah was only four years and was frightened. Pedah's horse was dark chestnut, and in the night he looked black.
“Senya!” Rekah cried, and lasers burst from Mishaks across the village and then Pedah was on the ground, trampled by his own horse's legs.
Now we were all mounted upon own horses with light swords ablaze. We were mad to be riding into this trap, but we had no choice. The Mishak who held Rekah released him and Rekah ran to my father. There were laser bursts from all around us as we raced down the hill and parried and deflected them, striking and slashing until all I could see and smell was blood and fire. My good horse crumpled upon his feet and died beneath me and still I continued to fight from my own feet.
Then suddenly, there was silence and a Mishak voice cried out that he was taken, and they began to clear from our village. I was left standing alone among dead horses and dead brothers. I turned myself around in a circle and gazed at what had become of my home. There was my wife weeping over my brother whose eyes were open but did not see, whose mouth was open but did not breathe. There were Mishaks standing before my father who held my son in his arms, covering his eyes so the child would not look. There was Sehron on the ground at their feet, bathed in a pool of his own blood.
“Prince Akan sends his greetings, King, and thanks you for taking such good care of his nephew,” a Mishak spoke. “He wants you to know that now it is his turn to foster his nephew and he will not, unfortunately, be attending University.”
He indicated to the others to take Sehron away, and they lifted him and carried him through the village toward their trucks. My father looked in my eyes and did not speak, but I knew. The time had come. I raced after the Mishaks although they raised their guns to me.
“I will go with him,” I cried.
“Stay in your village, Karut,” the leader said. “Hunt your rabbits and grow your corn and fuck your wife.”
“I will go with him,” I repeated.
The Mishak laughed at me. “He ain't going anywhere nice, Karut.”
I threw myself to the ground and make obeisance at his feet. “I beg you let me go with him.”
The Mishak kicked me with boots and steel toes.
“Let him,” another said. “What do we care? There will be room enough for two when we get to there.”
“Alright,” the first one replied and someone grabbed me from behind and slapped cuffs upon my wrists.
They checked my torn and blood stained clothing for guns or knives and then I was tossed in the truck. Sehron was tossed in after me and crumpled into a ball where he landed. The doors were shut and we left Karupatani.
I don't know how long we travelled or how far. I believe at some point our truck was loaded into a freighter, and we left the planet. Sehron did not awaken the entire time. It was dark. I looked
him over as best as I could, feeling his skin for wounds, finding clots and burns on his chest and back. He was hot and clammy, and his breathing was shallow and labored. I lifted up an eyelid and was not surprised to find his eyes a pale grey-blue color absent any silver light. He would live. I knew this with certainty, and I knew also that my brother was dead.
We arrived in the night of this place, and I was ushered by our captors into a processing center. It was a huge and ancient prison, and the guards were not people of Rehnor at all but men whose skin was tinted blue. They spoke a language that sounded like gurgling to me.
I was stripped and searched again. I was washed, and my hair was shaved away. I was given worn grey trousers and shirt to wear. Then I was put in an ancient cell with bars for a door and stone walls. There was no window. It smelled of urine and other bodily fluids and vermin scampered across the floor. There were two cots with thin mattresses, each with a small blanket and a hole in the ground to use as a toilet. There was a pipe from the wall which dribbled water when the stopper was pulled. There were men in the cells around and across from me and they called and whistled at me in languages I did not understand.
Twice daily I was given a dish of grey mash to eat and a cup that I could fill with the rusty water that dribbled from the pipe. In the day, I was taken to the laundry where I washed by hand filthy towels and linens. My hands were raw from the boiling water, and I felt I was half the size I was before from lack of food, but I did not care. I tried to ask where Sehron had gone, but no one answered. No one understood me. No one spoke Mishnese here. Akan had safely hidden us away.
After nearly two months’ time, Sehron was brought to my cell and laid on a cot. His eyes were grey and stared blindly at the ceiling. His hair was shaved and like mine had grown only a few inches since then. He was painfully thin, his bones jutting from his shoulders and chest as mine must have been. The men in the cells across from us made noise and banged their cups against the bars.
“Sehron?” I whispered. “Are you okay?”
He shook his head ever so slightly.
“You are hurt? Your wounds have not healed?”
He shook his head again and turned away from me. He thought I could not see the tears that fell from his useless grey eyes. He did not eat the gruel we were given although I tried to feed it to him as if he was an infant. In the morning, I was released to the laundry but he remained unmoving on the cot. In the afternoon, I returned to find him still there. I lifted up his blanket to see his wounds, to see how he had healed. He made a noise such like an animal and cowered from me, his own brother-uncle.
Now I knew what had been done to him. I was in a fury. I was enraged. My burnt hands and weakened body were nothing to what cruelty had been inflicted upon my brother-nephew. I vowed to kill whoever had done this. I flung the gruel against the wall and it made a mess as the tin plate clattered to the floor. I paced the small cell and contemplated what I had to do. I was not sent here just to witness. I was sent here to help, to protect him. I was only a man, I reasoned, one man with no special powers.
In my mind, I saw Sehron as he was only a few short months ago. He was astride his crazy black horse and his hair was long and wild as he galloped across the meadow with his light sword ablaze. He could move mountains then simply by willing it. He could change into the great black eagle and rip out a bear's heart. He could do it again if he grew strong. I could not rescue him, but I could make him strong again so he could rescue us.
“Eat,” I commanded and taking the one remaining dish of gruel, I forced a spoon into his mouth. He turned his head from me. I held his head flat against the mattress and shoved the spoon between his teeth. “From now on,” I declared. “You will eat both plates in the morning. I will only eat mine at night.”
He tried to shake his head but couldn’t because I held him tight and forced another spoonful in his mouth.
“You will get strong again,” I said. “And you will kill the men that have done this to you. And then, we will get out of here and we will go to Mishnah, and we will kill Akan.”
Tears dribbled from his eyes, but he swallowed and swallowed the next and the next until the dish was done. I gave him a cup of water from the pipe and held his head while he drank.
“I'm sorry, Tuman,” he wept. “I'm sorry.”
“It's not your fault,” I whispered and held him as if he were Rekah. I remembered a time several years ago when I was angry at him for an unknown crime and he begged me for forgiveness. Was that time now? Why was I angry when it was never his fault?
“You're here because of me.”
“No,” I said.
“Pedah is dead because of me. All of them are dead because of me.”
“Pedah, all of them, are dead because of Akan and his Mishaks.”
“I should have just given up. Pedah would be alive.”
“No,” I snapped. “You will never give up. I won't let you.” And I shook him. “Stop crying! That's enough. You know what you need to do, so now do it.”
“Let me be,” he whimpered and pulled the blanket over his head, curling up on the cot like a baby.
In the morning, I refused my gruel and left the plate beside his bed. I went to the laundry and listened to the odd gargling voices of the other prisoners and I didn't give a whit what they were thinking or saying.
When I returned in the afternoon, Sehron had eaten both plates. He was sitting in a corner of the cell chewing on something with a long hairless tail.
“I guess that's good.” I swallowed hard and tried not to retch. “Protein, yes?”
He shrugged. For a moment, I saw a shadow of who he was and would become again.
The next day he was well enough to come with me to the laundry. He stood beside me and washed the linens and soon his hands were as red and swollen as mine. In the evening, the blue guards came and dragged him from his cot. He returned in the morning and refused to leave his bed again for several days.
I made him eat the gruel and drink the vile water, and when he was well enough, he caught the rats in the cell and ate them, as well. Days and nights passed, and I could not say how many but it seemed like an eternity. Then, one morning, I looked at him and he turned to me and gazed upon me with the silver light.
The prison closed. We were there nearly six months. Three guards were killed during the night by a great beast. The rest of the guards quit and refused to re-enter the compound. We were transferred to the child moon of Rehnor and assigned to work in the quarries.
The Lord Governor there was a Mishak and known to be a friend of Akan. His wife was distantly related to the Kalila family. I did not know if the Lord Governor knew the identity of his new Karupta prisoners. I was known only as Tuman, and my brother was Senya. I suspected the Lord Governor did know, but Akan had paid him well to keep silent.
It was better in the quarries than the laundry although it was always dark and I craved the sun. Senya was indifferent to it. We mined the ores and loaded the rocks into carts, and it was back breaking work, but we ate well so we could stay strong and work hard. Both of us had filled out again. Our muscles had grown big and rock solid, and our hair was long and tied in plaits.
We worked from six to six and then we returned to our cells to eat and rest. It was the same every day. We were given a pittance of wages so that we might buy cigarettes or candy or if we are truly lucky, Horkin from a guard. Senya bought the Horkin and shot up as often as he could. It was the only way he could get through the day. I gave him my money to buy as much as he needed. I prayed that he and I would think of a way to get out of this place. He was strong, but we were trapped in an air bubble on a dead moon. His eyes were bright, but there was a madness to them, and he rarely spoke. When he did it was only in the Street Mishnese of his youth. He never spoke of the future or alternate dimensions or metaphysical travel. That boy died with my brother.
The whores
came every month, and we could use our coins to buy them. I did because I missed the touch of woman even if I might have her only for a few minutes. Senya was so beautiful they would give themselves to him without a coin, but he had no interest. He recoiled in the corner of our cell and cringed if anyone should touch him.
“Your brother is crazy,” one girl said to me. She gazed at him the entire time although it was I who filled her. “But he is beautiful. He looks like the dead MaKennah.”
“The MaKennah is dead?” I asked. “How do you know this?”
“Oh,” she said still gazing upon him but not seeing him. “He was killed many years ago by the Karuts because he wanted to come back to Mishnah and they wouldn't let him. I guess you didn't know this because you were here.”
“Who said this?” I demanded.
“Oh,” she thought for a moment. “Prince Akan. That was why he attacked the Karuts. He punished them good.”
I cried and then I prayed that my father, if he still lived, would discover where we were and call Captain Loman to rescue us. I prayed that my wife and children remembered me. I prayed that I would change my mind and would want to return home once I was released. I was twenty-nine years old when we came to the Child Moon. I was thirty-nine, when we left.
Chapter 17
Katie