by Lyra Shanti
Zin quickly shook off his fears and stood to his feet, returning to his logical, Ohrian self.
“Alright, if you really feel that you must go back, I'll take you to Kri,” Zin said with a grimace. “However,” he added, “I'm not going back. I can't. My father has probably disowned me by now.”
“You don't know that,” said Ayn, back to his normal, soft-spoken voice.
“Yes, I do,” Zin replied. “I know my father. He's probably fuming that I ran away… once again.”
“I have a feeling,” said Ayn, “he'd be happier about your return than angry at you for leaving.”
Zin shook his head in disagreement. “Look,” he said as he began packing his beloved elenon, “I will take you to Kri, but then I'm coming back here to Xen where I finally have a way to play my music and live freely without expectation or pressure to be someone I absolutely am not! And if you were smart, Ayn, you'd do the same.”
Ayn watched Zin head to the bathroom. “I'm taking a shower, and then we can go as soon as you're ready,” said Zin, somberly as he shut the bathroom door. Ayn felt empty, wondering if he was doing the right thing. He loved Zin like a brother, much like he loved Pei, but he knew in his heart that Kri was calling to him, and going there was the right thing to do.
“Are you sure?” said a cat-like voice as Ayn was re-packing his clothing.
“Yes, I'm sure.”
“But you could remain unknown if you stayed here,” said Axis as he pounced on top of the bed, “and appear as a normal, average person.”
“What would you know about normal?!” snapped Ayn. “You magically disappear every time someone else is around!”
Axis sneered, then licked his paws. “Well,” he purred, “that's because most people are strange and wouldn't accept that I even exist.”
Ayn groaned. “Ha! I don't even accept it! In fact, I'm probably just suffering from some sort of mental breakdown and have invented you to deal with the trauma of what happened to Meddhi-Lan.”
Ayn started to giggle at the thought of it: their Bodanya gone crazy!
Axis frowned as he jumped down from the bed, and then onto Ayn's suitcase. “Stop it!” he demanded.
“Why?” Ayn replied with a wild, sarcastic smile. “Why should I even care anymore?”
“Well, you're going to have to care,” Axis said, “if you go to Kri and attempt to reclaim your throne!”
Ayn looked into Axis' deep blue eyes. It felt as though he was looking into his very own reflection.
“You're right,” said Ayn, “I have to face what happened. And I have to help King Atlar do what is just, yet without causing a terrible war.”
“Good luck with that,” said Axis, rolling his eyes as he licked his paw.
Ayn watched his new cat-bird friend for a moment, taking in how strange, yet wonderful he seemed. Could Axis really have been created in his mind? Ayn didn't want to believe that he had truly gone insane, but at the same time, it was almost comforting to think he was as normal as everyone else with as many psychological problems and fears as the rest of them. He wondered what Pei would think of him now.
Pei had seemed so sad in the news clip, and it caused Ayn to feel nervous, yet excited twitches in his stomach when imagining their reunion.
“Must you really go back to being The Bodanya?” questioned Axis while curling up next to Ayn.
Nodding decidedly, Ayn sat on the bed while waiting for Zin, occasionally petting Axis, as if he were a mere house cat.
“Yes... it's my destiny,” affirmed Ayn.
Axis sighed as he tried to enjoy the petting despite being rather displeased with his friend's answer.
Yawning, he mumbled, “If you say so... but my people don't believe in destiny.”
“Really?” Ayn asked, curious. “What do your people believe in?”
“Time.”
“Time?”
“Yes, time... and love. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Ayn had no clue what Axis really meant, but he found it surprisingly comforting.
“I like that,” said Ayn.
Axis snickered in between purring, “Yeah, you would.”
Ayn smiled and found himself glad to have Axis at his side. Even if he really was insane, at least he wasn't alone.
--
The news reporters swarmed the steps of the great palace like flies swarming the carcasses of fallen soldiers in battle. As they tried to get another glimpse of the king, or perhaps attain one more interview with one of the councilmen, the security forces patrolling the area wouldn't allow it. Atlar's orders were strict and followed with loyal diligence.
Baran, however, was ordered by Atlar to give an official statement to the media; it was something he found very unnatural, despite possessing the natural talent. Even as a child, he was able to command the attention of just about anyone he came in contact with. Baran had no idea why he was able to speak so easily and with such charm, but he assumed it was a gift from the Gods, and one that should be utilized for a grand purpose. He could only hope he was justifying the Gods' generosity in moments such as these.
Pei had also been asked by Atlar to make an appearance with Baran, not only in front of The Council, but for the press as well. It was a completely foreign and uncomfortable world to Pei, and he secretly counted the seconds until it would all be over.
“Come with me, Pei,” ordered Baran while motioning with his right hand. Pei didn't know where Baran was leading him, but if it was away from the news reporters, he was glad to follow.
Down the white marble corridors of Atlar's palace, Baran led Pei to a large room with sleek, wooden floors. The walls were crystalline blue, yet trimmed with some kind of ancient text which was written in gold; a style that reminded Pei of Deiusian design.
“Where are we?” he asked Baran.
“This is the training room for The Lirhan.”
Pei couldn't believe it. Baran was actually serious about training him to become a Lirhan soldier.
“Will you begin my training now?” Pei asked with cheerful, boyish glee.
“I don't know,” Baran replied coyly as he threw his blue jacket and outer shirt, onto a chair in the corner. He then cracked his knuckles and grinned at Pei. “What do you think?”
Pei was suddenly very nervous. He had never fought a man, nor had he even thought about fighting. He had no idea what was expected of him.
“Don't just stand there,” Baran commanded. “Take off those priestly robes, and show me what you've got!”
Pei was mortified. He had no idea what he had to show Baran or to anyone.
Unfortunately, Baran didn't wait for Pei to figure it out. The next thing Pei knew, Baran's powerful fist was smashing into his left cheek. The combination of pain and shock was very different from anything Pei had ever experienced.
As Pei fell hard onto the wooden floor, Baran let out a hearty laugh. Pei desperately attempted to regain composure, but the world seemed to be moving by him in slow motion.
“Get up!” ordered Baran.
Pei stammered to his knees, trying to follow the general's orders. He was moving very slowly, however, as he was still rather dizzy from the punch.
“I said, get up!” Baran shouted as he grabbed Pei by the collar of his robe. “And what are you doing still wearing this Deiusian costume?”
Costume? thought Pei, angered. How could Baran dare call his holy robes a 'costume?' It was Meddhi-Lan who gave Pei the robe he was wearing. Didn't he have any respect for the man who died trying to protect The Bodanya?
“It's not...” grunted Pei as he stood to his feet, “a costume!”
Baran smirked, amused. Perhaps this young priest has promise after all, thought Baran. However, he knew he'd have to push him much further if there was any chance of erasing The Dei training in his mind.
“Then why do you still wear it?” asked Baran. “Are you not done with being a holy man of Deius?”
Pei didn't understand why Baran was teasing him about his robes, espe
cially after having hit him across the face like that! If this was a test, Pei couldn't figure out how to pass it.
“But...” Pei muttered.
“Speak up!” ordered Baran as he held his hands in a fist, looking like a snake coiled to strike. Pei was terrified Baran would throw another surprise punch at his face, so he instinctively moved back and to the side. This made Baran smile.
“You yourself told me to wear the robes so that it would seem more convincing to The Council when we made our plea to them this morning!”
Baran nodded with a slightly amused sneer, then replied, “That's true, but you seem a little too attached to your old life for my liking. Now take off your robes, and forget about your past! You're not a priest anymore, are you?”
“No...” said Pei, motionless.
“Then stop acting like one!” Baran shouted as he grabbed Pei by the collar. “Come on! Give it your best shot and punch me!”
Pei stood still, unable to think straight. He really wants me to punch him? thought Pei. Unfortunately, as angry and confused as Pei was, he just couldn't do it!
“I see how it is,” Baran said with a sarcastic smile, circling Pei like a vulture with its dinner. “When it comes down to it, you're just like the rest of those pathetic Deiusian priests who were so weak they got themselves killed! No wonder your own teacher wasn't able to save your Bodanya's life! He was a weakling, and so are you!”
Pei was breathless and on the verge of red-hot tears. He wanted to scream, but his voice felt locked up, as if it were trapped inside of a bottomless well of pain.
Then Baran did something Pei was completely unprepared for. In one fell swoop, he grabbed the front of Pei's robes and ripped them off, leaving Pei in nothing but his shorts. Laughing, Baran threw the robes across the room, and then looked at Pei with intense, dark blue eyes.
“No wonder you couldn't save your Bodanya!” Baran growled. “You're a frightened, little excuse of a man! You really believe you could be a Lirhan soldier, you pathetic coward?! You weakling! You-”
“Stop!” Pei screeched in pain.
“Make me,” Baran coldly replied.
Pei couldn't take it. He was crumbling inside, unable to stop the tears he had been so desperately trying to keep from pouring forth.
Baran shook his head, and then surprised Pei with another earth-shattering punch to his face, then again from the other side. Pei didn't even have time to think about the pain. All he could feel was the shock of the impact. Then, just as Pei regained his senses, Baran's fist was smashing into his stomach.
Pei doubled over, spitting blood uncontrollably. With his head spinning from the pain, he caught a glimpse of Baran's fist as it was on its way to slam into his face once again.
Baran's fist was stopped, however, unexpectedly by a hand of rage: Pei's hand. Out of a subconscious and unknown depth within Pei's soul, he had grabbed onto Baran's fist, acting in a deep, primal need for survival.
Baran stood silent, grinning at Pei. “Now,” said Baran, “what shall you do, Pei-Lan?”
Baran’s last remark triggered something inside Pei's brain causing him to fly into a wild rage he had never before experienced. Screaming, Pei punched Baran repeatedly in the face and sides. Over and over again, his fists flung into the general's body as fast as lightening, yet as hard as a pillow. For a man like Baran, who was possibly the strongest warrior within The Lirhan, Pei’s punches didn’t inflict much damage, and so Baran took it, letting Pei release his full anger. In truth, however, it wasn't the strength of Pei the general was testing, it was his will.
Finally, when Pei had let out as much of his rage on Baran as he possibly could, he stopped and looked at the general, out of breath and with tear-soaked eyes.
“So,” said Baran as he wiped his own blood from his lips, “are you still a priest?”
Pei shook his head and cried. “No,” Pei softly replied, “obviously, I can no longer be one.”
“Do you regret that?” asked Baran. “Because, Pei... you must understand that you can't regret giving that old life up if you are to become a Lirhan warrior. There is no room for doubt! A Lirhan soldier lives and breathes fighting for justice, and if you don't want to fight, then you cannot be Lirhan! Do you understand what I'm saying to you?”
“Yes!” Pei shouted defiantly.
Baran nodded, pleased with Pei’s response. “Good,” he said, “now we can begin your training.”
“What?” asked Pei, shocked. “Wasn't what you just did part of the training?”
“No,” replied Baran, “that was just a test... to see if you were even worth the effort!” Baran gave a slight chuckle, and then wiped his mouth with a towel, which he threw to Pei after he had used it.
Pei couldn't believe the nerve of this general! Who did Baran think he was beating him so severely while calling him weak, and then forcing him to go into such a rage? Yet, Pei felt better somehow: more released and powerful. He was starting to feel hunger for the fight. In fact, now that he thought about it, there was a burning inside him he never realized was there before, and it was a thirst that needed quenching. Unfortunately, it seemed to Pei that the only way to calm his thirst was through violence. This new, primal side was both wonderful and disturbing to Pei, but he couldn't wait to learn more.
Following their initial test-fight, there was much more Baran taught him that afternoon, not just about how to throw harder punches, but where to land them and the places on the body that are more sensitive than others. Pei learned The Lirhan was somewhat like The Dei in the sense that it was almost a mystical religion, having supposedly been started by The Great Adin himself.
“Now, the key to The Lirhan fighting style,” said Baran, “which you will learn at some point later - when you're ready - is to think and react in multidimensional ways.”
“What do you mean?” asked Pei.
“Well,” said Baran, “loosely based on Adin's philosophy, The Lirhan technique involves seeing that which cannot be seen, meaning you must always be aware of what is around you, even if you can't see it in your direct view. You must begin relying on all of your senses to detect what is truly there. This is the first and foremost lesson every Lirhan soldier learns when we are being trained.”
“Who trained you, Baran?”
The general crossed his arms and subconsciously twitched his muscles. “I was trained by my king,” said Baran, “but considering Atlar had been trained by your Lan, I consider Meddhi-Lan to be partly responsible for my training.”
Pei was confused. “Meddhi-Lan... trained King Atlar?” he asked Baran, completely bewildered by the idea.
“Yes,” Baran replied, “when Atlar was a young man, he’d been schooled on Deius at the Shiva Palace. He and Meddhi-Lan became very close friends. Up until then, Atlar had been given a military education and had gone through some training within The Lirhan, but...” Baran suddenly fell silent.
Deeply curious, Pei impatiently asked, “What then? What happened?”
“Well,” Baran hesitantly answered, “you see… Atlar had never gotten along with his father, my grandfather. So Atlar quit early and... failed his Lirhan training.”
Pei was shocked. The idea of Atlar failing anything seemed ludicrous.
“So, King Atlar is your... uncle?” asked Pei, a bit confused.
“Yes,” Baran replied stoically.
“And Atlar's father,” Pei added, “declared Atlar a failure?”
“Yes, that's true,” Baran continued, “but to be fair, my grandfather, King Rummund, was a hard, and sometimes cruel man... especially with Atlar. I don't know if my grandfather really wanted Atlar to pass his training or even to become a Lirhan soldier.”
“Why wouldn't he?” Pei asked, even more confused.
“It's hard to explain,” sighed Baran, “but their relationship was often rocky and difficult... to the point where Atlar felt he had no choice but to learn everything on his own, including fighting techniques.”
Pei didn't understand the i
ntricacies of Atlar's relationship with Rummund, but he could definitely empathize with feeling separated and distant from a father. Having never known his own father, Pei had always felt the sting of isolation; it was something both he and Ayn had in common. Luckily, they had grown up under Meddhi-Lan's care and could look to him for fatherly guidance.
Deep in thoughts about his past, Pei felt the agony over losing his teacher and his spiritual brother. He tried to shake the feeling, but the all too familiar lump in his throat began to ache.
“You're thinking about the past again, aren't you?” Baran astutely observed.
“Yes,” Pei replied solemnly.
Baran sighed, then shook his head. “Here,” he said as he handed Pei a bottle of water. “You can rest. However, even though we are taking a break, we're not done. Rest for now, and tend to your wounds. You're going to need your wits for what I'm about to teach you.”
Pei was curious and a little frightened. Mostly, he was just thirsty and glad to be drinking the ice cold water Baran had given him. He felt like he had sweat more than he’d ever done in his entire life.
“What will you be teaching me?” Pei asked before taking another gulp of water.
Baran flashed Pei a wicked grin. “I'll be showing you how to think and move like The Great Adin, which is what Meddhi-Lan taught Atlar back when he was young. Trust me, Pei, it will change your life.”
Pei couldn't imagine how learning a few fighting maneuvers could change his life, but if Meddhi-Lan had known such knowledge, then he wanted to learn it as well.
“Baran,” said Pei in a soft voice, “how did Meddhi-Lan know the fighting style of The Lirhan? Isn't it a secret knowledge only known to a handful of Krians?”
“Well,” Baran said after guzzling down his bottle of water, “from what I've heard, and from the little Atlar has told me, your Lan wasn't always a holy man. In fact, he began his life as a Deiusian rebel, and then later, he studied the secret arts of Adin, which is actually rather similar to the fighting techniques of The Lirhan.”
Pei was mystified by the idea of Meddhi-Lan as a Lirhan warrior, and one who was perhaps so skilled that he was able to turn Atlar into the strong fighter the king had become.