by Kelly A Nix
“How long has it been?”
“About two weeks,” he says. Atae sighs in frustration, and Dr. Pwen frowns in sympathy for her. “It’s difficult to determine the cause of your illness because of your unknown origins.”
Atae nods at Dr. Pwen’s words and glances at Solum. Since Solum is purebred Kaji, Atae assumed at a young age that her mother was not purebred. Solum refuses to say much about his late life-mate, only that she died honorably. In Atae’s earliest seasons, Solum squashed any questions about Roga with harsh reprimands for being emotional and weak. Atae only learned her mother’s name because an old, drunk war buddy stopped by their home when Atae was younger. He was looking for a good time and was disappointed to find Solum with a youngling.
Atae still remembers the confusion clouding his drunken stare as he pointed at her. He kept asking Solum from where she came. He didn’t remember ever seeing Roga with child, and Atae certainly didn’t look Kaji. He left sporting a broken nose, three shattered fingers, and a clear understanding to mind his own business. Then Solum told his daughter that even the strongest warriors could falter under the influence of drink and that she would be a fool to listen to his ramblings. Always eager to please her father, the young Atae nodded her head and never gave the drunk another thought. Later, when she inquired about Roga, her father would not tell her or anyone else with which species she shared her genes. He would state that Atae was Kaji and that was all that mattered. Atae accepted the answer in earlier seasons, but as she spends more time with Jeqi and Deh, Atae can’t help but wonder about her mother. Dr. Pwen’s heavy sigh pulls her from her musings.
“I began to think you were entering your shifting phase, but you proved me wrong, once again,” he says.
“Why would you think that? Hybrids don’t have a second form,” Atae says tartly.
“That’s true in most cases. Less than one percent of hybrids have a second form, and it’s always a variation of their first form rather than a true battle beast.”
“Then why did you think I would shift?”
“Because it’s far more likely than you having a natural defense against Setunn poison,” Dr. Pwen says. “If you were poisoned during your shifting phase, your body’s natural immune system would already be in fighting mode. It could explain how you survived.”
“So, I could have a second form?” Excitement dances across Atae’s face until Dr. Pwen shakes his head.
“No, your fever broke without you shifting. The only logical reason for your survival is that your unknown origins have a natural resistance to Setunn poison.”
“But what if I shifted in my sleep and didn’t know it? If no one knew?”
“During your last convulsion, Solum attempted to coach you through the shift. Instead, you passed out, and your fever broke while you were unconscious. You did not shift,” Dr. Pwen says. He sets a small, comforting hand on her shoulder, but she shrugs it away and touches her jaw, remembering the pain of her dream.
“But you don’t know my origins. You don’t know for sure.”
“I do,” he says. “Seventeen seasons have passed, and you have not shifted once. I am absolutely certain about this. You do not have a second form and will never shift.”
Solum places his head on her lap and licks her hands comfortingly. She stares down at him as an unexpected sadness settles in her chest.
Why should I be sad? I’ve always known that I couldn’t shift. Nothing has changed.
Lost in thought, Atae strokes Solum’s fur for a few moments of silence, then she smiles.
“It’s okay, Father,” she says. “I don’t need a second form to be strong. I am Kaji.”
Chapter 14
After Dr. Pwen deems her healthy and advises only light training until her strength returns, Atae immediately challenges Solum to a match. With better things to do, the battle beast puffs at her and walks away. Not wanting to challenge her new rival until she is at full strength, Atae says good-bye to the doctor and exits the training area.
Atae strolls down the magnificent hallways and admires the jeweled depiction of her people’s historical moments, following the timeline of her people’s ascension to power in their solar system. After she explores several diverging corridors, Atae stumbles upon a striking delineation of the royal bloodline. Her fuchsia eyes follow the beginning of the grand and honorable bloodline with the merging of the Ru-Ghi and Fu-Kai families. Every third season youngling knows the story of the noble Ru-Ghi warrior that conquered the Fu-Kai princess’ heart and throne.
Atae’s chest swells with pride for her people as she follows the imperial branches of the Ru-Kai lineage. Each generation mates with a new bloodline to add strength to the robust family heritage. Every Kajian knows that it is not the blood of a warrior that makes him or her an influential leader; it is the solid ideals and motives of the warrior. While the lineage is essential for traditional reasons, it is the upbringing and lessons taught to the ruler-to-be that keeps the Ru-Kai family in power.
When each Ru-Kai heir reaches sixteen seasons, he or she is thrust into the Gridiron. Merely surviving is unacceptable for the Kaji; instead, the royal heir must conquer it. Only then will he or she be allowed to return with followers and eventually reign over the Kaji. Allies and companions gained in the Gridiron are trained alongside the heir. This tradition allows the royal bloodline to stay dedicated to the Ru-Kai promise of protection and strength to the Kaji.
Atae marvels at the detailed pedigree etched into the long hallway. She passes several extravagant doors as well as attentive Kaji guards posted at each entrance. Each guard eyes the youngling, who is so engrossed in the meticulous historic artwork that she fails to notice her surroundings. Atae stops when she finds the Kajian name that makes her warrior’s heart sing with pride. The sight of Queen Sula Ru-Kai’s mark etched into the wall for all eternity strengthens Atae’s hero-worship.
The hybrids of the most recent generation have a strong dedication to Queen Sula because of her support. She implemented programs designed to nurture non-warrior specialists through youngling training, such as Sula Academy & Research Facility. Younglings that participate in such establishments have more avenues and opportunities to bring honor to their families. Atae understands Queen Sula’s role in her education because she would never have bested Solum without the Sula Academy’s teachings. A stray thought creeps into her mind, reminding Atae of her failure in the wilds of Mount Tuki, and she grimaces at the stab of shame that penetrates deep within her chest. Sighing, she heaves the memories away.
Atae touches the grove symbolizing Queen Sula’s position in the royal lineage and follows it to the next generation. As the only offspring of Queen Sula and King Uta, Prince Truin’s grove is short and ends the entire pedigree. Atae glances at the previous generations of Ru-Kai. Each offered multiple offspring to ensure that one Ru-Kai heir would conquer the Gridiron and reign supreme. Less skilled Ru-Kai heirs fade from the family tree as they do from history. Concern strikes Atae as she realizes that if Prince Truin perishes in the Gridiron, the Ru-Kai bloodline perishes with him. Centuries of rule brought to an end by one warrior’s inadequate skills. Atae gasps at this realization, and a wave of protectiveness for the royal family surges through her. There must be a way for her to help.
Atae decided early in her career at Sula Academy that she would be a warrior, but she hasn’t yet chosen her specialty. Like many Kaji her age do, she planned to let the Gridiron decide her warrior specialization. She frowns at the wall of Ru-Kai rulers, and anger fuels her determination. Atae chooses, at this moment, to dedicate her life to the Ru-Kai family as a warrior for the royal heir. Protecting and serving the future leader of the Kaji Empire is one of the most honorable positions. Atae knows she will need to work hard to prove her worth.
Her imagination grows wild as she envisions single-handedly saving the royal heir from certain death. Atae smiles at her musings and again touches the prince Truin’s groove. When her finger grazes an unfamiliar mark, Atae frowns
at it. Intrigued, she notices the same symbol next to Queen Sula’s slot. Unsure of the symbol’s meaning, Atae searches the wall for an explanation, scanning every section of the hall around the two names. Engrossed in her search, she almost misses the slightest thump of a footfall behind her. Almost.
Atae freezes, her arm extended and fingers pressed to the wall, as she listens. When she doesn’t hear anything, Atae wonders if her mind is playing tricks on her, then she hears the unmistakable sound of someone breathing. Atae’s heart thrums with adrenaline and fear as she realizes that Kandorq is behind her. Somehow, someway, he’s found her. He’s returned to finish the job, and she is too weak to stop him. Atae imagines Salyn standing behind Kandorq with a cruel smile, waiting for the hybrid to face them.
“Youngling,” a stern, female voice calls. Atae jumps and spins to face Kandorq with her teeth bared and fists clenched. Her frantic fuchsia eyes do not meet hungry red or wicked emerald, but warm amber. Atae releases the breath she didn’t know she was holding, and relief washes over her. Then, she steps back from the empowering presence of the elder female standing before her. Atae notices the guards following the queen, and her eyes widen in realization. She snaps her right fist to the small of her back and the left across her chest. Queen Sula raises one eyebrow at the mistake, and Atae cringes, switching her hands so that the right fist lays across her chest and the left at her back.
“I believe I have startled you,” Queen Sula says. She chuckles, and Atae blushes but remains silent. Sula eyes the silent youngling with a curious gleam.
“Why are you in the Royal Hall?” the queen asks.
For the first time since starting her wandering tour, Atae scans her surroundings and notices the extravagant entrances and numerous guards stationed at each door. Atae blushes again. How can she explain without sounding foolish that a future warrior wandered through unknown halls and ignored her surroundings because she was distracted by artwork?
“I asked you a question, youngling.”
“I…uh…I don’t know where I am, my queen.”
“You are on Planet Kaji, of course.”
Atae gawks at the queen before noticing the amusement dancing on Sula’s dark lips. Atae smiles at the light teasing and presses a hand to the magnificent wall.
“I was…I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. This place is so beautiful.”
“I agree. When I am here, I walk the halls and draw strength from the Kaji and their accomplishments,” Queen Sula says. She glances down the hall, and her long braid sways down her back.
“Really? Wow. I…uh…I understand,” Atae says.
“This is truly my favorite palace. I come here often.”
“Palace? This is a royal palace?” Across from Atae, Queen Sula raises an eyebrow at the youngling.
“You didn't know this to be a palace?”
“I awoke from an illness.” Atae grimaces at the confession. “My father, Royal Advisor Solum, he brought me here.”
“And Solum allows you to roam free without any explanation?”
“No. When I awoke, he was in his beast form. He couldn’t explain everything, but he did lead me to the doctor.” Atae will always jump to her father’s defense.
“And the doctor’s report?” Queen Sula asks.
“He cleared me.”
“I suppose it will be a while before you are at full strength again.”
Atae nods, and the shame of her weakness reignites, forcing her gaze away from the queen. She glances at the royal lineage on the wall and considers her newly adopted and lofty goal. Her eyes land on the unfamiliar mark again, and she bites her lip.
“Your Majesty?”
“Yes, Atae?” The queen laughs at Atae’s surprised expression. “I consider Solum one of my most trusted friends. Do you not think I would know of you and your…condition?”
When Atae blushes again, Queen Sula says, “Ask your question.”
“I…uh…” Atae glances at the wall as she decides whether her curiosity outweighs her sense of pride. She doesn’t want the ruler of the Kaji Empire to think her weak and uneducated. Frowning, Atae decides to ask and points to the unfamiliar symbol. “This mark. I’ve never seen it before.”
Sula glances at the mark and huffs. She answers in a tone that suggests if it were not un-queenly, Queen Sula would roll her eyes.
“That, dear youngling, is the mark of royal impurity. The symbol was created just for me. It indicates that I descend from a line that is not pure Kaji.”
“You’re a hybrid?”
“My grandmother was a half-breed. I forget what species. But even the fraction of alien blood running in my veins makes me an impurity in the royal bloodline. It’s actually quite scandalous.” Sula wiggles her silver eyebrows, and Atae smiles at the queen’s mischievous tone.
“Come, youngling, you will join me for the evening meal.”
With that, Queen Sula walks past Atae expecting the hybrid to follow. Excited about the prospect of spending more time with her ruler, Atae falls in line. From behind, Atae admires the queen’s ability to project strength with every deliberate movement. Queen Sula’s pace is brisk and confident. She nods her head to passing advisors, respecting their titles, but not stopping to ensure that they pay their respects to her. Atae has a feeling that every servant, advisor, and guard they pass will show their respect whether the queen stays to witness it or not.
“Atae, tell me of your training,” Queen Sula says, her long braid swinging behind her.
“Solum and I train every day. I am honored to have such a skilled instructor.”
“You are attending Sula Academy & Research Facility, yes?”
“This is my final season. We just started weapons training,” Atae says. Queen Sula smiles at the hint of excitement in the youngling’s voice.
“Oh? What is your weapon of choice? I’m partial to throwing knives,” Sula says.
“Well, I don’t know yet. I held my first hilt the day of the…the attack,” Atae says. Queen Sula halts and twists to study Atae with an appraising eye.
“Do you realize you are part of the first graduating class to attend Sula Academy from start to finish?”
“Uh, yea-yes. I think someone mentioned that before.”
Sula watches her a moment longer without commenting then continues down the maze of palace halls.
“I am second in my class. Or, I was,” Atae says.
“Only second?”
“Yes. My packmate, Jeqi. She is a fierce fighter and hard to defeat.”
“Well, you’ll simply have to surpass her.” The queen’s confidence in Atae makes her swell with pride and determination.
“I will, my queen.”
Sula smiles at the youngling’s response. The guards stationed at the entrance open two large ornate doors to reveal a marvelous dining hall. The marble walls depict glorious battles with conquered planets, and gold cloth, streaming from the high ceiling to the marble floor, frame each image. A large stone table, big enough to accommodate twenty Kaji, stretches the length of the room. Solum, no longer in his beast form, sits alone at the table, impatient for the queen’s arrival.
“I apologize for the wait, Advisor Solum. I seem to have found something that belongs to you,” Queen Sula says. She flashes him a charming smile, and Solum stands to greet her.
“My queen.” Solum nods at his daughter. “Atae.”
“Enough formalities, my friend. They bore me to tears.” Sula waves her hand at him and sits at a less prestigious seat across from Solum instead of one of the royal chairs at the end of the long table.
“Tell me, Solum. Any news of my son’s progress?” Sula asks. She signals to the servants to serve dinner, and Atae sits next to Solum, eager to learn of her ruler-to-be.
“He is skilled for a youngling of his season. There is certainly no doubt that he is his father’s son,” Solum says. Sula smiles at the compliment but falters when her royal advisor continues.
“But he has much to lea
rn if he wishes to conquer the Gridiron.”
“What do you mean?”
“For one thing, he lacks humility.”
“Humility is not needed to lead an empire. If anything, insecurities can cause doubt in one’s abilities,” Sula says.
“Atae, why is humility important?” Solum asks. Atae swallows her mouthful of food before answering.
“Uh…Well, a lack of humility leads to overconfidence and underestimating one’s enemy. That can be deadly,” Atae says. She stares at her food as her thoughts lead to the overconfident Setunn she recently killed. Feeling Solum’s eyes on her, Atae lifts her head with a forced smile.
“Besides, no one wants to follow an arrogant brute,” she says.
“A what?” Sula asks. Atae realizes her mistake and snaps her apologetic gaze to the queen. Solum watches with a raised eyebrow as his daughter treads through her first royal minefield.
“Oh. Not the prince, of course. I was commenting on another youngling I met today.”
Sula narrows her eyes at Atae but accepts her explanation. When the queen turns back to Solum, Atae exhales in relief and decides to eat quickly before she can make another stupid remark.
“So, you doubt his leadership skills not his combat skills,” Sula says.
“A ruler must inspire his people to fight for him. Prince Truin is too egotistical to inspire anyone but himself,” Solum says. “Atae, pride?”
Prepared this time, Atae recites the answer with confidence. “A leader takes more pride in his people than in himself.”
“And what does that mean?” Sula asks. Atae thinks for a moment as she stares at her food.
“It means drawing more strength from your people’s achievements than from your own. So that when you walk the halls of this palace, the murals fill you with more pride than remembering your grandest battle,” Atae says.
Solum smirks at the idolization shining in his daughter’s eyes for the queen. Sula has that effect on her people. Sula leans back in her chair with a smile.
“You have taught her well, Solum,” she says. “Tell me, Atae. Will you specialize?”