AMNESIA

by Canada Jackson

  * * *

  When Amber continued to whimper as she fell asleep, Leyahanna covered her and sought out what she believed to be Amber’s biggest problem.

  “My lord Wrexel.”

  Wrexel’s head snapped up where he sat at his desk, face in hands, tormented with the idea of Amber with his brother. “Yes.”

  “I don’t know what happened earlier today, but you have upset Amber. She is looking for her medication, the one that numbs her mind, changes her from being a strong, willful woman to a people-pleasing droid.”

  Wrexel frowned. “I thought she had stopped taking those; I told her she doesn’t have to hide…” “Yes, you tell her a lot, you demand a lot.” Leyahanna walked to his desk. “Do not forget I am under her bounty; I am loyal to her and I will make one who hurts her very sorry.”

  Wrexel looked bemused. “What will you do, mix me a potion that makes me break out in warts?”

  Leyahanna’s hair rose, which was literal for a Gweithi. When angered, their hair went straight and swirled above their heads in a spiral wheel.

  “Settle down, little Gweithi,” Wrexel opened up his palms before her, which was a gesture that the Gweithi appreciated – one of submission to their will. “I did not mean to upset Amber.”

  “Your jealousy over Staede is misplaced,” she said firmly. “Amber is kind, honest, and loyal. She is not a Thromian able to move from one lover’s bed to another with ease. She will give her all to the one she loves and only to the one she loves.”

  Wrexel’s anguished gaze took her by surprise.

  “Amber doesn’t love me, Leyahanna,” he said softly as if she needed to be let down gently for misreading their relationship.

  Leyahanna sighed and remembered why she adored Wrexel. While others saw a brute, a masochistic bully, she had always seen a man so confused by love, he never sought it.

  “Then perhaps you should fight for it, tell her how you feel, let her know what started out as insanity has now become so much more.”

  She watched him frown, saw a glimmer of the conflict before his face smoothed back into its normal unreadable state.

  She moved around the table to his side and looked down at him sadly. “I thought your anger was based on a fear that wasn’t justified but I see that it is. You will not love her… so you could easily lose her to Staede or another who fights for her heart.”

  30

  Helpless

  Amber lapsed into a feverish sleep. Dreams of her mother swirled into dreams of the Sanbara surrounded by floating orbs in spinning universes that exploded into looming green eyes. She woke a few times to find Wrexel at her side, barking commands for medication and covering her head with a cool cloth. In between his words, she heard Leyahanna begging her to return. She would raise her head only to feel the room spin. Darkness descended as she fell into the catacombs to swim through a sea of orbs, reaching for the one that eluded her. Heat surrounded her and confusion reigned. Surely, she was not in their bath, naked against a fully clothed Wrexel, the water icy cold against her skin. He gently poured water over her head and she tried to focus on the eyes that were ravaged with concern. She reached up, wanting to tell him something important, but the thought slipped away. The catacombs beckoned her to return, to search, to find what was needed, and her mind retreated into the dark abyss of its promise.

  “Get a Yimmyrd,” Wrexel shouted and she heard the patter of running feet before she blacked out again.

  Amber opened her eyes and stared up into the beautiful lined ones she recognized as Revan’s. The hum of his healing hand moved over her and the peace it offered finally calmed her ravaged mind. The heat receded gradually, and the room swam into focus. Wrexel stood staring down at her, Leyahanna at his side, her hands upon her mouth and tears on her cheeks.

  Amber slowly sat up and saw Wrexel give a shudder of relief as she stared at them all in confusion.

  “Be at ease, Amber.” Revan’s shadow of self covered them both and she had never felt better. “I’m fine,” she said as she smiled up into his young, handsome face. “I feel amazing when I’m near you.”

  He grinned and softly ran his fingers over her hair. “I am glad; your fever is finally gone.”

  “Fever?”

  “You’ve been like this for two days.” The words came from Wrexel, who had still not moved toward her. He stood at Leyahanna’s side, arms folded, eyes riveted on her face.

  “Is she healed?” he asked Revan, who nodded, drawing Amber’s gaze back to him. She sighed with pleasure, for the peace of the Yimmyrd was powerful and serene.

  Leyahanna took Revan’s nod as permission to hug her. “My lady, you scared us.”

  “I am glad you are here,” Amber said to Revan. “I’ve wanted to see you again.”

  “I’m in no rush; why don’t you bathe, put on some clothes, and we can spend some time together?”

  Amber looked down to the sheet that covered her. She remembered being in Wrexel’s arms in their bath, him staring down at her in concern as he bathed her for hours in the cold water. She sat up and clutched the sheet to her bare chest. Wrexel shot forward to clasp her firmly to his chest. “I’ll return her shortly,” he said, carrying her to the bathroom.

  He set her down at the edge of the bath and ran his hand over the setting to start the water flow.

  “You’re fully recovered?” He frowned at her.

  “Yes.”

  When the tub signaled it was ready, she stood up, still holding the sheet, but before she could slip inside, he brought her to his chest. She felt his lips against her head as he cradled her to him for the longest time.

  He finally set her back. “Tell the Yimmyrd I demand a full explanation as to why you had a fever,” he said gruffly before he strode out of the bathroom.

  * * *

  Amber came out onto the balcony and saw Revan seated on the stone wall overlooking the empty courtyard below. He smiled and stood up politely when she moved toward him. Amber sat down on the ledge and he followed suit, pouring her a glass of water from the tray of refreshments that was between them. She looked at his defined forearms and her eyes roamed up over his lithe, strong body. He didn’t have the bulky muscles of the Thromians but he resonated with strength. The grey cloak that he usually wore open over his white shirt and black pants had been set aside in the warm sun and Amber watched as he tucked behind his ear the long silver strand of hair that ran from his temples. It was a stark contrast to the dark length that hung beneath his shoulders.

  His shadow of self was less visible when she was up close but he still radiated with unseen power. He was handsome she decided, his beautiful, lined eyes quite mesmerizing. Revan choked on his water and his face flushed; he peered at her in alarm and she grasped her mouth, remembering he could read minds.

  “I’m… it’s not for me... I... Rix,” she blurted out and then groaned as her cheeks burnt even more. “You may not read my mind,” she recited.

  He chuckled. “I think that’s for the best.”

  “I spoke to Rix recently,” she said softly. “I was thinking about her when I was looking at you.” She flushed again.

  Revan’s face clouded over. “I’m married, Amber... I was married weeks ago.”

  Amber nodded. “It’s none of my business.”

  “Why did you want to see me? Is everything okay with you on Throm?”

  “Yes.” She shrugged. “Under the circumstances, all is well.”

  “Wrexel was beside himself with concern for you.” He gave her a small smile. “I do not remember seeing him like this ever.”

  She flinched at his words; she didn’t need somebody else pointing out that Wrexel doted on her. She needed a hardened heart to cope when it was all over.

  She took a long sip of water and ignored his frown.

  “I wanted to ask you about the Sanbara,” she said.

  His frown grew. “Why?”

  She counted her words, knowing that to arouse his suspicion would be bad for her.


  The Yimmyrds’ obsession with controlling anything magic was well-known. “I saw the Sanbara recently at a gathering and… I felt a strange empathy for them, like they were serving the Monarch under duress.”

  Revan looked thoughtful. “That would explain things.” He sighed. “We Yimmyrd never understood how two of them suddenly appeared here and in full service of him. The rest of their pack is on Illohi, near to my home in a forest where they live in isolation, never interacting with anybody.”

  “Interact… do they speak?” she asked nonchalantly.

  Revan folded his arms. “They do, yes, although none of them have spoken for hundreds of years. They tend to converse when they want something and only to a person they consider important. They were originally from Throm when we brought the Thromians here from Earth, so they are ancient. We relocated the Sanbara to Illohi and at that time they conversed with one Yimmyrd to make their wishes known.

  “Which was?”

  “Very little I believe; they were in agreement to leave Throm, agreed it was better for them to be transferred to a safer haven. We thought they were a pack of ten, but then two turned up here recently, which means two had been left behind for a very long time.”

  “I believe you wished to relocate them too,” she said.

  “Yes, they are beasts of magical power and we control all beings of magic.”

  “What kind of magic do they have?”

  “I don’t know; they’ve never shown us anything and they’re uncommunicative. We test the blood of all individuals of sorcery but we cannot get close to them, so we have never categorized them.”

  “Categorized?”

  “Yes, magical beings run from level one, which is a holder of a talisman, one who can see dreams, levitate small objects, to a level four, a being that can manipulate the elements, like start a tornado or an earthquake. We can tell this only from a blood test, though.”

  “And this all happened after the appearance of a mysterious cloud?”

  Revan nodded. “Yes, it came upon all the planets, afflicting at will. Chaos erupted and we took control, harboring them all on Serenay under our protection and guidance. Now they live in relative peace, but they are monitored. You cannot allow one with that kind of power to live according to its own will; they need to be controlled for their protection and others.”

  “What caused the Great Cloud, Revan?”

  “Magic is an ancient power, Amber. It disappeared for centuries when the Father of all Magic went into rest. There are some who believe he is set to reappear, that the cloud afflicting people was the first sign of his return. Although we Yimmyrd pray that isn’t true.”

  “Why? Because you fear magic?”

  “We don’t fear the ability, Amber, we worry that it is hard to control, and those afflicted can use it for evil. All current categories are weaker than Source power and so we Yimmyrd have dominion over them. This may not be the case for the Father of Magic. Historical documents in our possession reveal that when he was alive, he was diabolical. We do not wish to see the return of such a malevolent being. He would rise against us, gather his magical followers, and cause untold chaos within Diogel.”

  * * *

  Amber shivered despite the warm sun. Revan’s words made her feel discomfort and resentment and she wasn’t sure why, so she returned her enquiry to the Sanbara.

  “So, you could not move them from the Monarch and they never told you why two stayed.”

  “No, Amber, I’m sorry but all that I know is they wished to remain here and that they are beasts of great ability.”

  He looked sad when he added, “In all the years upon Illohi, they have never harmed a soul, yet the Monarch uses them to exact his decrees of evil. I think you may well be right that they are under his control in a way we cannot understand.”

  He glanced at the Sanbara depicted on the castle walls in stone. “They were once considered mythological by the Thromians… perhaps from the memories of those who saw them leave in the very beginning. Now their legacy is tainted by the Monarch’s evil commands.”

  “And nothing can be done?”

  “Not unless we find out what the Monarch has over them.” He turned his dark, lined eyes on her. “Is that your goal?”

  Amber experienced a wave of sadness. “I wish it could be, for I sense their sadness; perhaps being here against my own will has made their plight resonate with me.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  She looked at him with surprise.

  “Oh, I know that there is a strong possibility that they are here against their will, but you are not.” A knowing smile and a becoming blush settled on his cheek. “It’s not what I detected before you shut me out of your mind.”

  Amber changed the subject. “What caused my fever? Was I ill with influenza or something?

  “I don’t know for sure, but I sensed that you have trouble accepting a unique aspect of yourself and until you do that, you will always be uneasy, perhaps to the point that you become ill.”

  “What aspect?”

  “You dream of your mother a lot. You feel her guiding you sometimes, like she is with you. This scares you, makes you assume you are crazy or that you need medication.”

  Amber swallowed heavily. “It’s seen as insanity on Earth.”

  “There is nothing wrong with your mind, Amber; you are created perfectly. Why not embrace her guidance? Yimmyrd rest when they die; we do not remain behind in ways that other creatures can when they have something left unsaid or not done. We are all fully spirit and there are dimensions to reality that we cannot see. We are surrounded by mystery – mystery that does not always need to be understood. Mystery that needs to be accepted so that it, too, can be at peace.”

  “You’re telling me it's okay to speak to my mother’s ghost.” She gave a nervous laugh.

  “I’m saying it’s okay to be different; it’s alright to lean on things others cannot understand if it gives you peace.”

  He stood up then. “I need to get back. I have a new wife at home who is quite heavily pregnant and she needs me.”

  “I thought you were married just recently,” Amber blurted out and then once again flushed with embarrassment before him. “I’m sorry, Revan; I had this idea of Yimmyrd culture which is clearly not correct.”

  Revan looked troubled for a moment but then he straightened up. “Perception and reality.”

  He smiled and then held out his hand to her for a human handshake. “My wife is an Earth human.”

  She shook hands with him and sighed as his peace covered her. “I hope to see you soon, Revan.”

  “That would be lovely, Amber.”

  Weeks later, Rix entered the Hall of Decision and moved quietly to the rear wall. The Monarch had asked her to attend in observance that day, and while she was mildly curious about his reasons, she was too concerned about her own problems to care. Even during the proceedings that should have held her interest, her mind drifted back to him repeatedly.

  Rix had shared something special with Revan on Earth. She had connected with him in a way she had never linked with another being before. Her heart had been bared, all her secrets shared and instead of the disdain and rejection she had always received, he had shown her kindness. Comforted her, healed her, and loved her. Love that he declared was platonic. She was transferring gratitude for acceptance into something more. He would continuously care for her, always love her, but not in the way she wanted.

  She was lost in these thoughts as the Monarch worked on the judgments before him, obviously intending to clear the hall before he called on her. When the last Thromian had left the room and only the personal guards remained, he fixed his gaze on her.

  Gilroth summoned her to approach. Rix stepped down into the circle to be addressed. “My king.” She knelt before him, careful to avoid the black, roaring Sanbara, then moved back when it became clear that he would not give her the greeting reserved for family members.

  “Why have you beckoned me?” she ask
ed.

  “Do you have anything you wish to admit that is contrary to our law?” He interlinked his fingers and peered at her earnestly.

  “No, my king.” She would never break Thromian law.

  “So, you have not consorted to any means that is against our regulations?”

  Rix’s voice faltered. “I do not know what you mean, Uncle Gilroth.” She prayed the reminder that he was her kin would soften his tone.

  “Is it or is it not true, Rix of Throm, that you communed with the Sacred through a Yimmyrd, giving him access to your mind and endangering Throm?”

  “No, my lord,” she began earnestly, but broke off when he provided evidence of her attempted meetings with Revan.

  She had no choice but to admit the truth. Or at least part of it. “Yes, my king, he healed me, but it was in communion with the Creator. There was no mind reading… it is the Sacred of all; whilst we do not worship, we do accept.”

  Surely, Thromians had accepted healing in the past. Rix was confused and alarmed when the king took out his ancient book, and still more perplexed when the guards surrounded her.

  She was his niece.

  His kin.

  Her heart slammed to a halt in her chest when they brought her to her knees with the prisoner’s staff that could make her muscles go limp.

  “Let it be known that the accused has accepted the charge of treason without argument. She will be kept in confinement while her fate is decided.” The Monarch rattled off words from the ancient book, damning her actions. He had cunningly defined her healing as consorting detrimental to Throm, for they were never to open their minds to the Yimmyrd – especially one of high rank like Rix.

  “Treason?” she shouted, standing up to object.

  The electric jolt ripped through Rix’s body and she dropped to the floor with a moan.

  “To the pit,” Gilroth ordered and Rix screamed with horror. The pit was a holding cell beneath the Room of Decisions. A torture chamber of waiting. A place where the worst of Throm were placed to consider their possible verdicts. Shihlo had tried to seal it off for years but the Monarch loved the ceremony of dumping his enemies into the hole.