by Lyra Shanti
“Frey...” Ona addressed her best friend who had always been like an older sister to her.
“Yes, my princess?” Frey happily replied as she gently combed out the hidden knots of Ona's otherwise perfectly shiny strands of hair.
“Do you think Pei is the man from my dreams?”
Frey stopped brushing for a moment and said, “You mean the recurring one you have about the man on the black horse?”
“Yes, that one... the one I've had since I was a child,” said Ona, almost as if in a trance.
“Well,” Frey said as she continued brushing, “he didn't exactly get here on a big, black horse, but I do think he fits at least a little of what you've told me: the long dark hair, the fiery demeanor. Yes, I suppose it could be him.”
Frey looked at her little sister-in-spirit and saw that Ona's face seemed deeply disturbed. “But you know,” Frey added with a final stroke of her brush, “dreams are mysterious things... and you never know what they really mean or if they hold any real truth to 'em.”
“But... they say recurring dreams tend to be prophetic,” Ona stated, her brow knotted with worry.
“Not always,” said Frey. “Who can say what the Gods have planned for us?”
Ona nodded again, trance-like.
“What's the matter, my dear?” Frey sympathetically asked as she held Ona’s hands.
“I just hope... “
“Yes?” Frey prodded.
“I hope it isn't him.”
“Why's that?”
“Well,” replied the princess, crawling into her silken bed, “in my dream, the man captures my heart as if it were my very soul. I seem to have no control over myself when I see him. Every time, it's the same. I am in my private gardens and there he is, beautiful as a God with long, dark hair, riding toward me on a black steed. He gets off of his horse and our eyes meet, and as soon as he speaks to me, I am unable to move – as if he is the master of a spell that I am unable to break. It's frightening, Frey!”
“Hush now, Ona,” Frey soothed. “It's just a dream. They're supposed to frighten us sometimes.” Frey then kissed Ona's forehead, which made the princess smile. “Now, have some more dreams, but have good ones instead.”
“That's the strangest part,” Ona said with a yawn. “You'd think a dream about a handsome young man on a black horse would be a good dream, and yet, somehow... it's not.” Ona looked at Frey with pleading eyes, hoping her handmaid would have the answers. However, Frey had none, and could only give Ona another kiss for comfort. She then turned to leave and said, “Goodnight, sweetheart.”
“Goodnight, dearest Frey,” Ona whispered in return.
Once Frey had left her room, and Ona knew for certain she was alone in the darkness, the princess' thoughts turned to Pei with his strong jaw and gray-green eyes. She was certain he was not the man of her recurring dream, and yet, he stirred something primal within her.
She was usually rather choosy when it came to men. Because of this, she was still a virgin. Even so, she didn’t feel like a child any longer, even if many in the palace still saw her that way, especially her own father.
Spiraling inside sensual fantasies, she wondered if she could replace the man in her recurring dream with this new man of reality. “Pei,” she whispered in the darkness, “are you the one for me?”
Uncertain of her destiny, she thought about the man dressed in black and shuddered. No! I have control over my own fate! she thought as she shrugged off her fears.
Turning over, she grabbed onto her dark purple covers and burrowed into her pillows. She was determined to have a good dream - maybe even about Pei. There was something about him that gave her hope. His sweetness and strength of will was inspiring, and she hoped they would become close friends, if not more.
Turning off the plasma-lamp in her room by saying the words, “Lights off,” she focused on nothing but her mother’s gardens and the white flower she was named after. Imagining her mother, Pira, singing her to sleep, Ona found herself forgetting her recurring nightmare. Soon, she was dreaming, but this time about her family and a castle of long ago entirely made of flowers.
--
“I want this man caught!” Atlar demanded. “Then he will pay for the crimes he has committed! Do whatever it takes, both of you.”
Baran and Reese nodded and bowed. Even though they were Atlar's closest companions, they were also his subjects, and knew him well enough to know he was not a patient man. When Atlar wanted something or felt passionate about a cause, he would not rest until he accomplished his goal.
In fact, it was his determination and strong will that won him the throne of Kri. Having been born to a brood of six brothers, he learned early in his life to fight for his place among the others. By the time he was fifteen, he was at the top of his class – both in military and in science. However, his father, King Rummund, who was Kri's First General at the time, felt something amiss with his strong, overly competitive sons.
Being a widow who knew very little about parenting or tenderness, Atlar's father sent all six of his strapping sons to the planet Deius, hoping they would learn the more metaphysical teachings of Deiusian philosophy. It was Rummund’s hope that his sons would become more well-rounded and less competitive by nature.
At first, Atlar was just as bratty and stubborn as his other brothers, wondering why his father had punished him in such a way. In time, however, he became a student of Amun-Lan, and something inside Atlar slowly changed.
He and Meddhi became fast friends, and Atlar's perception of the world had become much broader than that of his brothers. Seeing the universe as a connective thread between every living being, Atlar no longer felt alone or filled with anger. His brothers never quite understood what The Dei had tried to teach them, so they left before finishing their schooling.
While his brothers returned to Kri, Atlar stayed to finish his classes. There, on Deius, he met his true love, Pira, Amya’s younger sister, and Atlar changed even more. Love and spirituality guided him in a way his brothers found foolish, and it distanced him away from them all, except for his younger brother, Raifar, who still loved and respected his older brother, despite their misunderstandings.
Knowing he would have to become royalty to win Pira's hand, Atlar vowed to make his dream a reality. As soon as he finished his schooling on Deius, he thanked his teachers, then went home to Kri where he made the announcement to his father, who had been elected King only a few years prior, that he was the only one of his sons worthy to follow in his footsteps.
At first, Rummund laughed, thinking his boastful son was only kidding, but when he saw the seriousness in Atlar's eyes, his face turned cold. Rummund had wanted to educate his sons, but it seemed to him that all he did was make their bloodlust and greed even stronger. Already fed up with his other competitive sons, the king drew out his sword and challenged Atlar to a duel. In doing so, Rummund assumed he’d win, and would teach his son a lesson in the process.
The story, which eventually became famous, was that Atlar had bested King Rummund, but spared his life. Soon after, that daring act made Atlar the new king by popular demand. Rummund was then sent away to live the remainder of his days in exile with his Deiusian concubine.
The truth was a little more complex, however, when Atlar's father later revealed to a select few that he had longed for a quiet life for many years, and was secretly hoping one of them would best him in battle.
He also explained that, after their rigorous duel, Rummund had dared Atlar to kill him, as was the custom on Kri. Atlar, however refused to kill his own father, and threw his sword into the nearby well. Rummund gave a great laugh, then hugged Atlar firmly. He told Atlar he knew Kri was in good hands, then he left, never to return to the palace.
Only Atlar’s younger brother, Raifar, and a few of the king's trusted friends knew the truth of what actually happened with his father. Baran and Reese were two such individuals. Neither of them had known Atlar when he was a young man, but they had heard stories
from their families, as well as from Atlar himself.
They grew up hearing how Atlar conquered the Ohrian mafia lords of Xen, and how he defended the innocent Sirini women and children when Xen bandits raided their homes during the worst years of The Great Paradox. It seemed to Baran and Reese that Atlar was something of a God – a hero of ancient legend come to life. When Atlar was overwhelmingly voted in as King, Baran and Reese watched as young soldiers-in-training, hoping that, one day, they would have the honor of fighting at his side.
The moment that Baran finally met his hero, and uncle, he found the king to be even greater than legend. To Baran, Atlar was gentle and loving, much more than Raifar, his own father. Baran soon grew a deep love for Atlar, vowing to be his protector for all time.
Reese' devotion was much the same as Baran’s, though more sensual in nature. Many years after Atlar's beloved queen died from plasma poisoning, she found herself giving more than a vow of protection to her king. Reese already loved him as a hero, and when she found him alone one night in tears, she easily gave herself.
At first, she was merely the king’s favorite distraction, but soon, she turned into his addiction. Unfortunately, their ongoing affair not only displeased her childhood friend, Princess Ona, but it greatly displeased Baran. Despite his detached behavior, he still yearned for Reese, who was once his true love. If their relationship hadn’t ended so terribly, he would have tried to stop her from turning to Atlar, though he had no idea how he would stand against his beloved king.
In time, Baran's need for Reese cooled, and he too found distraction within the arms of many women throughout the kingdom. Much to Reese’s disgust, Baran’s reputation as a lover almost outweighed his reputation as a Lirhan warrior. Even still, it was Reese's belief that Baran still loved her, just as it was Atlar's belief that Reese still loved Baran. None of them spoke of such things, however, especially not when in the same room.
“Reese,” said Atlar, “go to Deius and find out everything you can about Yol Notama. I want to know everything about him: where he goes, what he does, who he speaks with - everything! I want to know what this man eats for breakfast!”
“Yes, my king,” Reese quickly replied with a nod.
“And Reese,” Atlar added, “be careful. My entire plan hinges on your intel. Don’t get caught.” Reese nodded with a gleam to her eye.
“Your Majesty,” she said with a smirk, “it’s me.”
Atlar smiled and said, “Yes, I know, but be careful anyway.”
“Sire...” Baran interjected.
“Yes?” replied the king.
“What do you wish me to do?”
“Baran,” said Atlar, “you must stay here for the time being.”
“I beg your pardon, my king?” said Baran, confused and somewhat offended.
Atlar put his arm around Baran and led him a few steps away from Reese.
“Baran, I need you to stay so that you may help convince The Council of my plans,” said Atlar, reassuring his disappointed nephew. “Do not worry, though,” he added, “when the time comes for a full scale war against Notama and his followers, I will need you to go with me into battle. I assume you will stand at my side when that moment happens.”
Baran pressed his fist onto his chest and nodded. “Sire,” he proudly replied, “you only need to ask, and I will fight against all who dare dishonor my king and country.”
Atlar smiled and said, “Now get some sleep, both of you. I want you at your best for your equally difficult missions.”
As they left Atlar's room, Reese walked at Baran’s side and grinned. “As if charming blind, old council snakes is a difficult mission,” she gibed at Baran under her breath. He smirked and said, “Well, I wouldn't exactly call surveillance work to be all that perilous either, my dear.”
Reese smiled, masking her annoyance as well as her attraction for her ex-lover. “At least I have been given a real mission,” she taunted back at him.
“Only for now,” Baran teased in return. “And when you have brought back the information Atlar seeks to prove his war is just, you can be certain he will hand all future Lirhan assignments back to me.” Baran then leaned over Reese and put his arm over her shoulder.
Quickly, she threw off his arm and twirled around, pinning him against the wall. Somewhere between playfulness and anger, Baran and Reese looked at each other with smiling sneers. Surprising her, Baran kissed her passionately. She then pulled back, annoyed, but before she had a chance to speak, he freed himself of her hands and grabbed her arms. This time, he had pinned her against the wall, and he wasn’t letting go.
Reese smirked. Then, without warning, Baran felt a sharp jab to his groin. Bent over and throbbing in pain, Baran watched as Reese walked past, sauntering down the hall, seemingly proud of her actions. Baran knelt down on the floor, marveling at how beautiful, yet, how deadly she could be.
--
Without warning, Zin stopped dead in his tracks, which made Ayn bump into him and nearly fall over.
“Hey!” Ayn crankily protested.
Zin didn't seem to hear; he was busy staring at something in a shop window. Ayn tried to see what his friend was so enthralled with, but he couldn't be sure since there were so many different objects in the store.
“Ayn...” whispered Zin, “look at it. Isn't it the loveliest thing you've ever seen?”
Ayn looked again through the shop's window, trying his best to see what was catching Zin's eye.
“Um,” said Ayn, “what do you see?”
As Ayn looked at his Zin's face, he saw a hint of pain in his friend's eyes. Whatever it was that had captured Zin's attention, it was obviously something very important to him.
Zin finally pointed at the object, touching his forefinger on the glass of the window. “It's the most beautiful elenon I've ever seen.”
“What's an elenon?” Ayn asked.
Zin slowly turned to Ayn, then looked at him as if he had asked him what the sky was. However, instead of answering Ayn's question, he took Ayn's hand and led him into the shop.
As Zin targeted the elenon straight away, Ayn looked around, slack-jawed. He had never seen so many musical instruments! Picking up the eight-stringed instrument, Zin soon began strumming and finger-picking at the same time, which amazed Ayn. He couldn't believe how good Zin was; it was if he had been playing the instrument his entire life.
The shop filled with sweet harmonics, lulling Ayn into a state of peaceful transcendence. A few minutes went by as Zin played what Ayn assumed to be some sort of old folk music. When Zin finished the song, the last chord he strummed was still ringing in Ayn's ears. The melodic resonance almost made Ayn cry, for it reminded him of the holy songs of his people.
“Zin,” said Ayn with a quivering voice, “when did you learn to play so beautifully?”
Gently putting the elenon down on the display window, Zin sighed and gave Ayn a melancholy look. “A long time ago, Ayn,” he replied wistfully.
Ayn could feel his soul-friend's sadness as if it were his very own.
“How wonderful!” hailed the music shop owner, which caused both Zin and Ayn to whirl around with surprised faces.
“You play like a God, young man!” the owner exclaimed as she excitedly walked over to where they stood. “May I assume,” she continued, “that you must have been classically trained as a child?”
Zin looked down at the floor and mumbled something under his breath. Ayn was surprised to see his usually over-confident friend acting in such a way. Still, Ayn could feel how sensitive Zin was about the subject.
“What's that, dear?” asked the bubbly, top heavy shop owner.
Sneering at having to repeat himself, Zin loudly stated, “I said I only trained with a teacher for a short time.”
“That's simply amazing!” she giddily replied while clapping her hands. “You were self taught?!” she added. “How spectacular!”
Zin gave Ayn a thoroughly annoyed look, as if to say, “Let's get out of here!”
Zin raised his eyebrow. “I'm listening,” he skeptically said, folding his arms.
“On the condition that you play it at my brother's bar!” she happily replied.
Zin stood silent, dumbfounded.
“You see,” she expounded, “my brother, Luceon, runs a very classy club. It’s in the city, in the snazzy part of town.” The woman then carefully put the elenon in a smooth, black case and said, “I think Luc would love it if you played there a few nights a week. You interested?”
Ayn saw that Zin's eyes had lit up like candles from The Holy Temple, and he felt how much it meant to his friend to play the strange instrument.
Zin swallowed, trying his best to keep his head. “How much are you willing to sell it for?” he asked, cautiously.
“Well,” said the woman as she walked to Zin with the elenon in her hand and a gleam in her eye, “I myself came into possession of this rare beauty by the smallest of chances. You see, my brother and I were traveling around the ancient ruins - near the outskirts - where the original Deiusian royal founders first inhabited this planet. Anyway, at the temple for Adin, we came across a band of gypsies who were playing old, religious hymns with this very elenon. They told us that it had been passed down for generations in their family for thousands of years.”
She smiled wide, noticing how Zin hung on her every word. “They did not want to part with it, of course,” she explained, “ but Luc managed to convince them with a good trade. He's a very generous man, my brother. He helped them to get their papers, which would legalize their presence here. They were refugees from Sirin, you see. In return, he and I took this exquisite elenon back home. It is rather rare, but I have a feeling it's finally found its true master, and I have good instincts about these sort of things.”