Warrior Spirit

by Laura Kaighn

  “Be careful, Khumahn,” Tolianksalya snarled his towering frame a smoldering timber. “Do not provoke me.”

  “What did you really want to talk to me about? Surely not whether I miss my family.”

  “It is family I came to discuss, Jade,” he conceded with an extinguishing sigh. “My family.” The elder Vesar paused for a moment, jaw clenched. Dorinda spied the conflict in his burning, stone eyes. “I do not offer you ill will, but I do not believe you consider all of the consequences of your actions.”

  “You mean the risks of loving a Vesar?” Dorinda stood timber solid yet seemingly dwarfed before the sequoia-like Tolianksalya. “Perhaps I haven’t,” she admitted relaxing slightly. “But even human behavior can be unpredictable. Any relationship is a growing, changing entity.”

  The ambassador nodded. “There are no guarantees. I know that, Jade. But a Vesar has an ingrained need for power, control.” He raised a fist to clarify, “We are too strong-willed for humans to bear for short periods, much less a lifetime. He will break your will, destroy you as easily as a tarlocat crushes bone.”

  “You condemn your own race. You see such Fury in your own kind? You think humans are peaceful? We’re not.”

  “You were raised not to hurt others. Raised to be at peace with yourselves.” The ambassador waggled his head at her. “We do not have such control. The Fury is a caged beast within us.” In gesture, Tolianksalya pounded his left shoulder blade once. “Our blood is hot, at times too riotous for our minds. The Fury wells up inside, and fists fly.” He swung an appendage. “The Fury steals our souls. Only the bloody death of another can quell this beast, return our reasoning.”

  “I understand,” Dorinda asserted. “I’ve seen it happen, and it scares the hell out of me. I’m frightened by its suddenness. But I also believe that Vesarius’ll keep his promise to me.”

  “He has promised … not to harm you?” Grimacing, Tolianksalya jerked his head back. “He can promise nothing. The Fury is part of his blood, his dark inner workings. It cannot be promised away.”

  “Then he’ll die at his own hands if he breaks it,” Dorinda explained. Her shoulders slumped to that possible reality. “I ... I just have to trust. Help him control the Fury ... and hope for the best.”

  “Hope? That is an alien concept,” the ambassador uttered with another dismissing wave. “As a warrior, we either do something or choose not to. There is no hoping for anything. It is as frivolous as wishing upon a sun.”

  “Star, Ambassador. Wishing on a star. And we humans have always set goals. We work toward them.” Dorinda sighed. “Some of us attain our goals. Some don’t.” Hadn’t she just had this same conversation with Vesarius? “If we fail, our hope is for another chance. We hope to avoid distracting pitfalls ... like your showing up for this mission. That was a detail Vesarius hadn’t counted on. His ability to adapt does nothing but honor his tenacity.”

  “Ah, stubbornness you see as a positive attribute.” Tolianksalya’s wide mouth betrayed his skepticism.

  “It can be, if it’s what keeps you alive. I guess that makes me stubborn too, another way our people are alike.” Dorinda barged on with her conviction. “I’m starting to think we’re not all that different, we humans and Vesar.”

  “Oh, but we are,” the ambassador countered with finality. “Has the commander told you about the Colonial Wars with the Tloni and your people? Our bloody battles for planets and land?”

  “He’s said he regrets the past violence,” Dorinda conceded. “He truly believes peace is now the only way Vesar will survive.”

  “Then our philosophies part ways,” Tolianksalya insisted sternly. “Our warriors fought to survive. Glory was in the killing. Tankawankanyi has lost his warrior spirit if he feels peace is the answer. There is much honor in the defense of home, in the will to survive.” The ambassador threw back his shoulders proudly. “A warrior spills blood for his family eagerly, with no regrets.”

  “Then why’re you the ambassador to Vesar?” Dorinda challenged with a wave. “Why do you work toward peace with the Orthops?” Gathering a deep lungful of courage, she charged on. “If your warrior spirit tells you to conquer, then why even allow peace with the Tloni? Why reason with me about Vesarius? Just refuse to acknowledge our relationship. Instead, condemn it.”

  “I did,” Tolianksalya snapped. “Then I saw the truth of it.” The ambassador sighed, closed weary eyes, and continued. “A warrior cannot deny, nor battle the truth ... lest he be labeled dokt́ai’, insane.”

  “Don Quixote once fought a windmill thinking it a dragon. He was nobly insane,” Dorinda admitted. She patted her hips with both palms. “Even in fiction, there are truths, Ambassador. What truth do you see?” Dorinda took a step back and sat on the bed end to allow the Vesar his stage in her cramped cabin. Perhaps for Noah’s own reassurance, the otter slid up beside her and rested his chin atop her lap.

  Tolianksalya noticed the gesture of solidarity and offered a slanted, ironic smirk. “I have tried to understand what you see in the commander that would so commit you to him,” he began serious once more. “I find him flawed, weak, and undisciplined. Yet you spoke the truth in his survival and his continued sanity in the face of such dishonor and shame.” The Vesar faced her with softened eyes, his fists no longer white-knuckled. “I have also tried to fathom why a Vesar would choose a weakling human as a mate. But I have seen your courage. As a woman from the past, you are also surprisingly adaptable. You do seem to belong here.”

  “One hundred-fifty years doesn’t change human nature,” Dorinda conceded with a half grin. “Someone – a relative – told me not long ago that Vesar can’t change their nature either. But you must give Vesarius credit for resisting his darker side. Perhaps someday he’ll even win over it ... learn to keep it contained.”

  “He may yet kill you, Jade,” Tolianksalya warned eyes dark pits. “Perhaps put you in a situation where he cannot save you.”

  Dorinda caught a glimmer of the ambassador’s quandary. “You mean the Vwafar´ee? That’s a risk we’re both willing to take. I’d die for Vesarius, for Brune.”

  “Bravery and wisdom are not congruent, Jade. Do not allow foolishness to destroy you.”

  “He’s trying to earn your approval, Ambassador,” Dorinda affirmed gripping the bedcovers in determined fists. “Trying to atone for his life, be accepted back into the society he remembers as home. Away from his people there’s little chance for conformity. In a way, you’ve made him who he is.”

  “I?” Tolianksalya flinched at the accusation and backed up a step. “I was not the one who drove him to desert his family and allow their murders.”

  “No, but all that he’s become since is because of your judgment. He’d have been executed if you hadn’t forced him into exile. If he hadn’t come aboard the Pompeii, Sarius would’ve probably ended up on some obscure outpost, murdered at the hands of an enraged Vesar superior. Instead, he’s made himself a life here, a home,” Dorinda extolled. “Vesarius has value, Ambassador. Every life does. Even yours.”

  “You dislike me,” Tolianksalya surmised flatly. “Hate me because of how I feel toward your ... your mate.”

  “I don’t hate you, Ambassador. In fact I’m starting to like you. In your own way, you’re a rather charismatic individual. ... Someone I’d like to get to know better. Could respect.”

  “How much better, Jade? My life has been no kinder than Brune’s. One of cruelty and tragic mishap.”

  “We all create our own hell, Sir,” Dorinda offered. She looked down at Noah, patted him reassuringly on the head. “Even me. I was used to isolation, wanted to be left alone. Then I chose to help a wounded stranger, to save him from bleeding to death on a roadside near my home. Now, because of that choice, I’m here.”

  “You would repeat those actions if given the chance again?”

  Dorinda raised a definite chin. “Yes, Ambassador. I would.”

  “I would not.” The older man turned away from her pumping his fist. �
�I would have had Tankawankanyi executed instead. Then there would have been less suffering.”

  Tilting her head at his unbending spine, Dorinda voiced her surprise. “Self-pity, Ambassador? I didn’t think Vesar experienced that emotion.”

  “We do not,” Tolianksalya confirmed eyes closed, head tilted toward the ceiling. “The suffering you have endured, the anguish my mate has endured because of what I have become.” Lowering and turning his head to regard her, the ambassador frowned at Dorinda’s impassioned emerald gaze. “Pity does not suit you, Jade.”

  “As I believe self-persecution doesn’t you, Ambassador.”

  “Then perhaps I can help remedy both emotions. I have ... a gift for you.” From under his cloak the ambassador withdrew the cream-colored parchment Dorinda had seen in his hand before. Noah chirped his hesitant curiosity. “This is to remain sealed until I am gone, Jade. Do I have that understanding?”

  “Yes, Ambassador.” Dorinda stood to take the paper from him, curious also. “Once you’ve left the ship for Orthop, tomorrow?”

  “No.” Tolianksalya’s head and voice dropped another octave in sober realization. “The Orthops would rather have the commander stay as their liaison.” Then the ambassador tilted his raven braid at her. “You would stay with him if they insist?”

  Dorinda paused in her answer. She had avoided the subject since Vesarius had last dismissed it. Behind her, Noah moaned his shared reluctance from the bed. Absently, Dorinda set the sealed document beside her Kinpanion and turned back to the elder Vesar for his answer. She would not look into his coal-hardened gaze. “I was hoping he wouldn’t have to stay.” Dorinda swallowed. “I dread the thought of being among them, away from the Pompeii, for maybe a year.”

  “This frightens you,” Tolianksalya confirmed facing her with quiet certainty.

  “Yes.” Dorinda still avoided his ebony regard. “Because of what Vesarius’s told me about them, because of their attempt to brainwash him. We’d be under constant threat of rebel attack.”

  Tolianksalya raised his hands to grasp her arms. Quietly he agreed. “I share that fear for you, Jade. My mission dictates I talk of peace, but my instincts warn of treason. Vhahl-shaukk, the Fury, prepares me for battle. All that I know of Orthop results in death.” With a stern frown he nodded. “That is why I will not sign the treaty.”

  Dorinda blinked at this revelation. “But, Ambassador ...” Peace had to be attained, or there would be war.

  Squeezing Dorinda’s arms until she winced, Tolianksalya insisted, “All that we have endeavored here will not come to pass. Not yet.” With a deep exhale, the elder Vesar acknowledged the truth of it. “We are not yet ready to lay down the knife.” His steel hands relaxed.

  “But how will we leave here without the Orthop delegation? What’s to stop the Orthops from destroying the Pompeii?”

  Dropping his hands from her bare arms, Tolianksalya twisted to face the door before offering his answer. “In the morning, we will return to the capital city and explain to the high chancellor his need for solidarity. As a reasonable diplomat, he will agree to the delay.”

  “A delay only, Sir?” Dorinda was uncertain whether the ambassador was admitting defeat or only stalemate.

  With slack shoulders, Tolianksalya paused at the exit and regarded her with shadowed brows. “If there is to be another summit, I will not be party to it. I am retiring. To Vesar ... permanently. My mate has felt my absence too often, and my youngest son grows restless. He desires to emigrate to a colony world and a homestead of his own. It seems he, too, has fallen in love with a woman who would take him away from us.”

  Tilting her head in shared despair, Dorinda stated quietly, “You don’t seem happy for them, Ambassador. Are all Vesar fathers so reluctant to see their sons leave?” Dorinda waved him back to the couch and the inviting lemonade. She sensed that this powerful man really did want to express his thoughts.

  Nodding solemnly, Tolianksalya settled back onto the couch. Gratefully he took up his glass from her proffered grasp. After a slow draught of the cool, tangy liquid, he explained further. “The issue of family has recently become the focus of my meditation.” With another sip of lemonade, the elder warrior continued more softly. “You spoke the truth, Jade, when you accused me of holding onto hate. For nearly nine years, I have clutched a memory and an emotion. It has extinguished all others, prevented me from making new, more joyful memories. This must change.”

  Dorinda sipped her lemonade intent upon this man’s confession. She was aware that the Vesar statesman must respect her to admit such inner truths. They had, after all, only met a week ago.

  “There will be grandchildren in a few years,” he surmised with a cocked, ironic brow. “I must not be the harsh man I am now to them. My son already considers me so.”

  “Why’re you admitting this to me?” Dorinda inquired.

  Tolianksalya raised his eyes from his glass to consider her impassioned gaze. “You share wisdom in your honesty, Jade. You have never deceived.”

  “Oh, but I have.” Dorinda leaned away and coughed to clear her constricted throat. “After I lost my husband, I was adamantly against any and all suitors, thinking them brutes and sex hounds. Now I know I only feared committing my feelings to another, to a love I might lose tragically again ... as I almost did with the commander.”

  Tolianksalya’s eyes became glazingly unfocused above his drink. “Jerylin does not love me. Our bonding was one of prestige. But I do care for her.” He considered Dorinda’s attentive concern, once more present before his audience. “There is a deep ... urging in me to return to Vesar, and family, before I lose it all.”

  Sure the man didn’t want her pity, Dorinda censored her words. “I ... admire your honesty, Ambassador. I think I understand your feelings now ... about Vesarius and me.” Flinching against her awkwardness, hoping she would not trigger his disapproval again, Dorinda asked, “Is there anything I can do for you, Sir? For the mission, perhaps?”

  “No, Jade.” Tolianksalya sighed and rose from the couch. “I should leave. ... Let you sleep. In the morning we will go planetside one last time and explain to the Orthops that peace will be possible only once their entire population is in consensus.” Setting the empty glass down on the tray, Tolianksalya straightened before her. “Thank you for your kindness.” Hesitating before turning away, he finally divulged, “Your ... sensitivity and morality have helped clarify my convictions. Good night.”

  Standing also, Dorinda followed him. “Good night, Ambassador,” she echoed as the Vesar shuffled into the corridor. The door slid shut between them. Then, with a deep and uncertain sigh, Dorinda pivoted to her bed.

  Noah purred his relief that the encounter had ended without bloodshed. Dorinda huffed her agreement. “The lion tamer scores another stalemate.” Then her weary eyes fell upon the folded parchment perched atop her bedcover. What could it be? Moving to grasp the stiff paper, Dorinda scrutinized it against the dimmed ceiling light. There was handwriting inside, all right, but the scribble was indiscernible through the heavy fibers. Harrumphing in deflated anticipation, Dorinda acknowledged her challenge. “Gremsctok.” She dropped the document onto her tiny nightstand then plopped back against her bed.

  Vesarius would have to translate. Yet, as she drifted off to sleep – Noah curled above her pillow – Dorinda realized: Vesarius was the only one to translate the parchment. Strange that Tolianksalya had planned it so. Her thoughts soon became fuzzy fluid; her dream images crept into her spongy consciousness. Even Moxland couldn’t read Gremsctok. It was too complicated, filled with subtle ink strokes and double meanings. Robert Frost would have admired Vesar poetry, Dorinda pondered and promptly fell asleep.

  Chapter 14: Rebellion

  Dorinda faced Vesarius’ cabin door the next morning with drooping eyes and flushed cheeks. Coty had called down early to awaken her. They were going planetside. All of them. And it was Dorinda’s job to drag the exhausted Vesar from his bed.

  Sighing in resignati
on and covering a yawn, Dorinda buzzed her friend’s door chime. Useless. He was in la-la-heaven at least until Tuesday. Only after a twelve-hour sleep would she even want to roll over, much less get up, had she been through such a sleep-deprived trial. Vesarius had been given half that time. With a sympathetic groan, Dorinda fingered in the override code and trudged into Vesarius’ cabin. There she froze.

  Empty of its occupant, the bed exposed a restless night. The coverlet, crimped and stretched, splayed limp upon the platform. A haphazard pile of leather clothing lay scattered atop that. “Sarius?” she inquired softly.

  Tundra raised his head from the far side of the bed and groaned a sleepy stretch before coming to greet her. “Where is he, boy?” Dorinda ruffled the malamute’s mane of thick, gray fur.

  Then powerful hands encircled her slim waist. Straightening, Dorinda spun within that grasp to lean against the still damp but hot skin of her Vesar mate. “You rang?” he growled, a crooked smile on his wide lips.

  Breathlessly Dorinda pulled away to regard the Vesar’s mahogany nakedness. “Well, we’re certainly lively this morning.” She considered his sparkling gaze. “How is it that you’re even conscious?”

  Hunching his ridged shoulders, Vesarius strode to the bedside to gather his clothes. “A ... dream awoke me.” Grabbing up his leather briefs, he bent to step into them.

  Her breaths short and sudden at her lover’s gleaming skin and dripping, ebony tendrils, Dorinda approached him. “What kind of dream?” She sighed as he stood snatching up his tunic.

  “A nightmare. It was a nightmare,” he admitted gruffly then tugged the leather garment over his still damp torso.

  “About what?” A nightmare involving Orthops?

  “I do not remember.” He plopped down on the bed to draw on his trousers. “When does the transport leave for Orthop?”