Children of Semyaza

by Kevin C Noel

  Kolten raised an eyebrow but said nothing as his incredibly astute mind went to work. His mysterious Incardian gift had taken over. Prior to his Questioning, Kolten had a keen eye for details which aided his deductions. However, in those days he had to be incredibly observant and knowledgeable about many things to accurately make these deductions. Nevertheless, once he was Questioned, this skill took on a different dimension. He was no longer required to have much information about anything or any situation to deduce something. It would all just come to him without the slightest effort. And because of this, Kolten had deduced the truth in less than thirty seconds.

  Garrick was adopted.

  The circumstances of the adoption were still a mystery to him, though. Also, it was clear that the wide-eyed Nink had no idea of this fact. He wasn’t sure how to break it to him or if it was his place to do so.

  he said.

  Cousins. A relationship Garrick had only shared with Celina, and then he suddenly recalled how pleasant it was to meet her the first time. What if things turned out similarly with Kolten? The thought made him cautious.

  Octavius had joined them shortly after. He wasn’t very talkative as he took a drink. Once he was done, he asked Garrick and Kolten to follow him to the bar. Once they were there he began to speak in a whisper. “Kolten, I assume you’ve figured it out,” said Octavius.

  Kolten nodded but Garrick was confused. “Figured what out?” he asked.

  “That you were adopted,” answered Kolten.

  Octavius tutted at Kolten’s tactless response and attempted to lessen the tension when he noticed his Assenter’s expressionless face.

  Garrick experienced a fleeting moment of relief. For years he had had dreams where he’d discover he was kidnapped by the Hartmanns as a baby. The prospect of having a loving mother and father searching for him was welcoming. But, as he grew older, he had begun to disregard such ideas and accepted the hell he was in. So why was he gradually losing his cool?

  And it hit him.

  All those years, he had seen Celina as the encroaching stranger who had stolen the love of his parents and turned him into a pariah. This was part of what fueled his hate for her and confused him. He had always wondered why his parents would value a niece above their own child.

  It made so much sense. He was the stranger! He wasn’t a Hartmann. They must have adopted him when they couldn’t have a child of their own. But the moment Hermann was born, he became useless to them.

  Useless.

  From the corner of his eye, Garrick noted four Incardians tormenting a smaller one, but he was too enveloped in his thoughts to pay much attention. However, as soon as Octavius and Kolten scowled toward the direction of the ruckus, he recognized the voice of the tormented Incardian.

  “Rummy?”

  With an amazing newfound swiftness that startled even Octavius, Garrick had run to the aid of his butler’s ancestor. He gave no warning as he struck one on the back of his head. A warning would have been useless. There was no way three consented Incardians would heed the warnings of a Nink, so a lot of time had been saved by this action. The other three looked down at their fallen comrade mystified by Garrick’s impudence.

  They noticed his white armband and sneered at him. “You’re a big man when you strike a man from behind, eh?” said one of them.

  “Let’s fuck him up!” said another.

  “Garrick,” Rummy called out, “There’s no need for you to be here. You should go.”

  Garrick didn’t hear him. A heat within his stomach had begun to course through his entire body. His eyes turned a brownish yellow.

  “Come at me,” he said. His voice had turned into a deep growl.

  Warwick and Ingrid had gotten wind of what was going on and ran over to see. Hearing Garrick’s sinister voice and noting his altered expression, Warwick crossed his hands in eager anticipation.

  Ingrid tried to run toward him but was held back by Warwick. “Time to see what the kid’s made of, Grid. If it gets too hairy, we’ll step in,” he said.

  Instinctively, the three Incardians looked at each other and decided not to underestimate Garrick by attacking him one by one. He gave off an incredibly sinister aura that could be sensed throughout the club. Everyone in the club watched, anticipating who would make the first move.

  “Come at me!” he repeated.

  The three rushed him. Two pinned him to the wall and one began to punch him continuously on the chest, stomach and face. Garrick roared like a wild lion, jumped and kicked the one punching him with both legs while he dragged the two who held him by the shoulders toward each other causing them to bash their heads together. He rushed after the one he had kicked and began to bash his face on the ground. The sounds from the impact made some of the spectators cringe. The other two finally got their senses back and dragged him off their lifeless friend and began to kick and punch. But Garrick was reckless in his anger. Every punch seemed to fuel his resolve. He picked one and threw him toward the bar which knocked him out cold.

  The last one took him by surprise and kicked his leg. The pain sent Garrick down on his knees. The Incardian tried to punch him directly in the face, but Garrick dodged and tackled him like a football player. Once he had him down, Garrick pummeled him in the face repeatedly.

  In his mind’s eye, as he punched, he saw different faces. He saw the red eyed Jared; the apathetic Delilah; Lester, Dennis and the multitude of people from his school who treated him like garbage. Then he saw that face—the face he detested the most—he saw Celina. She smirked as she always had. Her golden blonde hair flowing surreally behind her. She came close to him and whispered his name softly, almost lovingly.

  Garrick raised his fist and sent it down with such power the entire ground trembled. He suddenly snapped out of his trance, stood up and noted the Incardian he had punched. Something odd happened to him. His eyes were clouded by cataracts. He floated slightly then fell back to the floor, except when he landed his body turned into smoke and vanished.

  There was a roar of shock and anger in the club. Before Garrick could understand what had just happened, he was struck on the back of his neck and was knocked out cold—again.

  22

  Nothing soothed the High Lord of Terraincardia more than watching Shajan glide serenely in a pool. To him, she was the closest thing to a beautiful red-haired angel. The bond they shared surpassed that of Questioner and Assenter. Following their connection in the Oneness—a connection supposedly greater than love—he knew there was something more between them. More than his constant pride would ever let him openly admit.

  She disappeared for a moment within the darkness of the swirling pool only to emerge again, eyes fixed on him and a coquettish grin on her lean face. “Join me,” she entreated softly. “The water on your skin will quench any thirst.”

  “Your presence is enough to quench any thirst.” She climbed out of the pool and walked toward him, her naked body glittering. “No, not enough,” he continued, in awe of her. “What you inspire is an insatiable urge. A single kiss and all I want is more of you.” She sat on his lap and kissed him long and hard.

  She placed her head on his chest and they stared at the starless black sky through the glass ceiling in a rare moment of peace and solitude.

  Their peace would soon be interrupted.

  A Nink servant walked into the room, her head down, and declared: “High Lord Kalder! The Lords the Doc…Hagen and Kolten are here to see you.”

  Kal sucked his teeth in annoyance as he waved his hand dismissively. “Tell them to leave me in peace.”

  The Nink was startled and spoke softly, almost in a whimper. “They say it is a matter of utmost importance.”

  “He’ll be with them momentarily,” answered Shajan. Grateful for the dismissal, the Nink speedily scampered away. “Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown,” she said. “But I cannot imagine a stronger person who could withstand its weight.”


  Kal managed a smile. “You flatter, my love.”

  “Whatever my brothers are here for, it must be important.”

  He recoiled as if she had thrown a bag of excrement his way. “Don’t call them that!”

  “Why not? We are all part of the same connection in the Oneness,” she replied matter-of-factly.

  “Then I am your father? Is ours an incestuous relationship?”

  “Come off it, my love. We both know that the Oneness doesn’t work that way.”

  Kal laughed softly. “No one knows how the Oneness works, Shajan.”

  “We are not bound by human rules, is what I mean. A physical relationship between Questioner and Assenter is perfectly acceptable.” She stood up. “Shall I join you? Or would you prefer I wait here…” she looked down at her soaking body and flirtatiously finished, “…dripping wet?”

  Kal guffawed. “No, you can wait. If the matter is serious enough, I shall send for you.” He stood up, kissed her and walked out of the room a different person—an unbending and more impatient Kal—this was the Kal the rest of Terraincardia was familiar with.

  Reaching his court, he noted the grave expressions on the faces of his most trusted Assenters. There was none of the usual confidence in Kolten’s manner and Hagen seemed disheveled by some horrific discovery.

  They both bowed but remained silent.

  Kal walked up to a bowl and picked an indistinguishable fruit, took a bite and sat on his throne. “So,” he finally said amidst his munching. “Who speaks first?”

  The two exchanged furtive glances.

  “Mutes, are we?” Spat Kal. “Out with it. I have better things to do.”

  “I believe Kolten is in a better position to report what happened earlier,” said Hagen. “He was present, after all.”

  Kolten had foreseen Hagen’s move. If he was irked by it, he did not show. He simply proceeded to recount the curious incident at the MoltSang to Kal with a keen attention to detail. As soon as he concluded his report, Kal spoke.

  “You mean,” he began, “the kid caused an Ousting?” The two nodded.

  The High Lord stole a wistful glance back at his chambers. The peace he had enjoyed earlier was gone.

  “Wake up, kid.”

  A groggy Garrick opened his sore eyes and tried to make sense of his surroundings. He lay on the floor of a dimly flame-lit room. He cleared his grainy throat with a few coughs and turned toward the voice that had woken him. It was then he realized he was behind bars. On the other side were his Questioner and fellow Assenters. No sign of Ingrid.

  The one who had woken him was Warwick. “Good morning, sunshine. Comfortable lodgings?”

  “What did I do?” asked Garrick, as he struggled to stand.

  “You’ve caused an Ousting,” said Octavius.

  Garrick flinched. The word wasn’t familiar to him. “You never taught me about an Ousting.”

  “Probably because it’s never happened,” remarked Warwick. “At least, not in recent memory. It was only supposedly accomplished by Jekuthiel Roth.”

  “Not even Lord Volant could do it,” added Rummy.

  Garrick would not admit it openly, but he was tickled by a sense of pride at the prospect of achieving a feat not even the great Volant Kesgaila could. “Did I kill him?” he asked.

  “Close,” said Octavius. “An Incardian who has been ousted can never return to Terraincardia. You banished him. It’s a fate worse than death for some of us.”

  Rumsfeld cleared his throat at the sound of this but said nothing.

  Garrick, on the other hand, did not feel bad. He had hoped he killed him. He despised bullies. “Why am I behind bars? If an Ousting isn’t supposed to be real, there cannot be a law against it.”

  They all laughed. It was Rummy who responded. “You’ve become a significant threat to the council. They are the established authority here. They’ve undoubtedly decided to keep you under lock and key until they know what they should do with you.”

  Before he could ask another question, a guard showed up to tell his visitors their time was up. None of them protested as they began to walk out of the cell. However, just before he was out of sight, Octavius looked back and told Garrick Kolten would look after him until they met again.

  Garrick sat with his back to the bars and thought about the situation he found himself in. If all Octavius had told him during his years of training was true, his presence alone was a threat to Jacob Kalder. Causing an Ousting, something considered impossible, would further enflame his insecurities.

  Impulsively, Garrick tried to bend the bars but was not surprised when his lack of strength prevented him from doing so. It vexed him how powerless he seemed in Terraincardia. Yet, he was curiously at ease regardless. Being locked up was all too familiar to him. It was his entire life.

  “Live free or die,” he muttered.

  READING, NEW HAMPSHIRE, 1950.

  A shirtless Garrick lay on the cool floor of the pitch-black basement and struggled to warm himself up with a thin blanket. He closed his eyes as he hoped to doze off despite the pain and cold he felt, but such a miracle seemed beyond his reach as each sniffle and sneeze kept him wide awake.

  A few hours passed when he heard Jared unlock the door. As usual, there was no sign of regret on his face as he simply said: “Go to bed.”

  Garrick took a hot shower and nursed the cuts on his arm from the beating he had received. He looked at his red face in the mirror and stifled a sob. Then he heard a sound coming from Celina’s room.

  He knocked on her door and walked in without waiting for a response. Celina lay covered from torso to toe in her bed reading a magazine. She glanced at Garrick, smirked and looked back at her magazine. He didn’t speak immediately. He picked a chair and sat on it as slowly as an aged man.

  “You snuck out, didn’t you?” he asked.

  She glared at him for a while before she decided there was no point to her act and uncovered herself. She was fully dressed in a skirt and cardigan. “No one will believe you anyway,” she said.

  Garrick nodded. “I know.”

  Celina stood up and began to undress. Garrick turned away uncomfortably.

  “Well? What do you want?” She asked impatiently.

  “I want you to stop.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Everything. Your lies. Getting my dad to punish me every time. Why can’t we just be friends? Why do you enjoy seeing me in pain?”

  She giggled. “Look at me, Garrick,” she said. He turned to face her and reddened at the sight. Seeing her in her underwear frightened and embarrassed him. He knew that was his cue to leave—but he couldn’t. He was completely transfixed on her appearance. She knelt in front of him and held onto his laps. “Do you want me? Is that why you’re really here? I mean, I wouldn’t blame you.”

  “You… you’re my cousin,” he stuttered.

  “I see the way you look at me, Garrick. You want me. You always have. Admit it.” She took his hand and placed it on her breast. She had matured quicker than most girls in school. It was obvious from merely looking at her. But feeling her was another thing entirely. Her breast was soft and heavy like nothing he had ever felt in his life. Her warmth was soothing. He was sure he would give in to the temptation if he stayed there any longer.

  Before that night, the closest Garrick had ever come to a girl was when he ran into Ms. Campbell at school. His heart pounded with such ferocity, he could have sworn it would jump out of his chest if he didn’t calm himself. He let go of her breast and stood up defiantly, but somewhat reluctantly.

  “You’re my cousin,” he repeated.

  Celina’s coquettish smile vanished. “I do what I do, Garrick,” she began as she got back on her feet, “because I can.” Then she screamed at the top of her voice.

  Already weak, Garrick could not beg her to stop. And when he heard the rush of heavy footsteps, he swore under his breath as it became clear he would not be sleeping on his warm bed that night.

  �
�Dreaming?”

  Garrick didn’t need to turn to see who had spoken. He would not forget Hagen’s voice in a hurry.

  “Remembering,” Garrick answered, still leaning on the bars.

  “Good times, I hope?” Garrick did not respond. “An Ousting,” he continued. “We don’t see one of those every day. In fact, we’ve never seen one.” Garrick remained reticent. “Octavius filled me in on what happened to you. On what my daughter did. Surely you must know she was just being a child acting out because her father left her at such a young age. You cannot hold it against her. You’re a smart boy, Garrick. You know this to be true.”

  There was still no response from within the cell. Slightly irritated by this, Hagen continued. “Years have gone by since you last saw her. I’m sure she regrets everything she did to you. She may want to make things right. Have you ever stopped to consider this?”

  He hadn’t. He never considered how Celina would have greeted the news of his disappearance. Very likely with glee. Or maybe sorrow, but not from regret—but from losing her plaything. Losing the one person whose fate she controlled with ease.

  “Answer me, Garrick!” fumed Hagen. “You cannot possibly think that my daughter is evil! Of course, she regrets it all. It’s so clear! I cannot allow you to harm her for her childish foolishness. I will protect her from you or anyone who tries to harm her! End this foolish vendetta now and let us live amicably. She is your family after all.”

  “Family?” Garrick finally said. What followed was a maniacal cackle that perplexed Hagen. Soon, he was on his feet and grabbed the bars as he turned to face his former uncle. The eyes that looked back at him were cobalt blue and his features weren’t as infernal as those of one Glaring. Yet, they were not of the Garrick he had seen earlier as his face was paler and his hair seemed darker. “Did you say, family? Let’s be serious. You say you’ll protect your daughter. Funny how you choose to be a father now, but I can accept it. But know this, Hagen. Only death will stop me. So, you might as well kill me now because if I ever get out of here…” He attempted to show some restraint as Octavius had cautioned so many times before. “If I get out of here,” he repeated softly and took deep breaths to help him relax.