To disappear into the desert was not unlike me, but to disappear to escape reality was far from characteristic. I began running again, striding as quickly and relentlessly as I had earlier in the day, but this time it was not in the name of fitness. It was in search of understanding and hope for escape. I ran until the sun disappeared not only behind the dunes but behind the horizon, leaving me only with arid blueness around me and billions of pinprick stars above. My lungs were burning, searing me to ashes from the inside out. The tendons in my legs had long since snapped, and my muscles had collapsed several miles back. I battled drifts of soft sand as they coerced my boots into protesting the next step with suckling insistence, and I defiantly flew against the hot breaths of wind bellowing at me to turn back. When my body refused to flee any longer, I reentered the city of Ka-lik’et, careful to dissuade my gaze from falling upon the palace, and navigated the streets until I arrived at a familiar two-story, rectangular clay home.
Before I had even stepped completely over the threshold, a pair of arms wrapped around my neck, and a body flew so hard into mine that I nearly stumbled backward.
“I have been so worried!” My mother's wail cut me to the quick, and the concern wracking through her shook me.
“Whatever for?” I asked, patting her on the back but remaining stiff in her hold.
She drew back and looked at me with wide, stunned eyes. “Have you not heard?” Her chin wobbled with emotion. “Our Wise One has perished!”
I said nothing, too frightened of my own emotions to speak. Over Mother's shoulder, my father was watching me with sorrow on his face. I inclined my head to him as greeting, a gesture he returned, as my mother continued to blather.
“We have been told so very little that one can only imagine what has befallen us,” she mourned, burying her face into my shoulder. “I cannot imagine Elder Kharid having a single enemy who would wish to take his life, and he certainly could not have become ill to death so quickly. We have only been made aware of his passing, and what are we to do with ourselves? Oh, Zuran, I have been so worried about you!”
I patted her back again and murmured, “I am quite well, Mother, as you can see. You need not worry about me.”
She shook her head and took my face between her hands. “You are my son. I will always worry about you.”
I attempted to smile reassuringly, but I was only able to force a strained grimace. Gently, I unwound her arms from my neck and took a step away from her to address Father. “You have not heard from Venan?” I asked.
“No,” said Father with a small shake of his head. “Though, I expect he is at the palace assisting with funeral arrangements or the like. He was very devoted to Elder Kharid, as you know.”
At that moment, the sound of footsteps behind me urged me to turn around. Standing in the still-open doorway was Venan. His face was still, his eyes sightless as if he had just arisen from his very own grave. As I looked at him, I wondered how he had found it within himself to walk through the streets that mere hours ago had been ruled by his idol. It seemed he knew not how he had arrived, only that he was there, and, as Mother raced to him and threw her arms around his neck as she had done with mine, he did not move. His arms continued hanging limply at his sides, and his face was unchanged.
“I am so sorry, my son,” Mother lamented against his neck. “I know you loved our Elder dearly.”
Venan did not respond. I felt apprehension rising within myself, for I had never seen my brother in such a state. It was as if he had ceased to exist, as if his spirit had left his body entirely and he was merely an empty shell. I glanced across the room to Father, whose brow had creased in concern. Mother may have been buried in her woes, but Father was a quiet, observant A’li-uud, and the numbness that had taken over my twin was not lost on him.
“Oraaka,” he said to my mother, stepping forward and placing a hand on her shoulder to get her attention. She pulled back from Venan reluctantly, but when she looked up into his face, she was met with the same expression that alarmed my father so.
“What is it?” she whispered. “What troubles you, my son? Surely, nothing more could have happened. Surely, the worst has already come. Has your grief gripped you so tightly you are unable to breathe?”
I stepped forward just as Father had, but it was not to encourage my mother to desist. Venan was beginning to sway on the spot, his knees locked but his ankles rotating. His lips had fallen open ever-so-slightly, and I could hear a wheezing strain of breath flowing outward as if he was trying to speak. When he managed to force his tongue to form the words, he was barely audible, but what he said would haunt me in the days to come:
“I am to say goodbye.”
Chapter Eight
Phoebe
“So, what do you think this means?”
I looked over to Edie. She was sitting in a puffy purple armchair with her legs tucked up beneath her, her arms wrapped around her knees. It was like she was imitating a cat, or perhaps a baby in the womb. I supposed it was a form of stress management, so I didn't bother to comment.
“I don't think I understand your question.”
“You know,” she said, gesturing absently with one of her hands. “Do you think we will be transferred to another colony? I think there are four kingdoms now with colonies or, maybe, we’ll be sent back to Earth altogether. Maybe there's just not enough room for us to be dispersed across Albaterra and they need time to build more colonies.”
A flash of anger surged through me. I turned an indignant gaze onto Edie and asked, “Are you kidding? The leader of this kingdom has just died, in our presence, I might add, and you are concerned about what's going to happen to you?”
She shifted in her seat and shrugged. “We’re nurses, Phoebe. People die in and out of our presence every day. If we became emotional after every death, we wouldn't be able to do our job. Besides, I don't mean it to sound callous, but just because someone’s life ends, it doesn't mean ours does too. We still need to have some place to stay and food to eat and everything.”
Part of me wanted to blast her for being so cold-hearted, but another part of me knew better. Edie was right. The thing about being a nurse I had always found most difficult was detaching myself from my patients and their families. When car crash victims were rushed in with great gashes or missing limbs, I became emotionally entrenched in their battle to survive. When they didn't make it and their families were pacing the waiting room, desperate for news, I often found myself crying with them as I told them their loved one had moved on. I hadn't known Elder Kharid, but I felt the grief rising up from the city of Ka-lik’et, and a piece of me grieved with it.
“I guess I don't know what's going to happen,” I said, deciding not to scold Edie for being tactless. “Maybe they'll name a new Elder, and we'll just stay here.”
Now that I was thinking about it, I realized I didn't want to be relocated somewhere else. I didn't want to return to Earth, to Ohio, either. I wanted to stay in Dhal’at and continue my work in the infirmary, even if it meant sharing a clay bubble hut with Edie for an indefinite amount of time. She was somewhat of a privileged girl who had only taken a job in nursing because her father had insisted she had a career if she wished to see her trust fund. It was also my understanding she had only joined the colonist expedition to Albaterra because her boyfriend at the time had volunteered, and she didn’t want to break up. However, we had somehow made a friendship. She was by no means an overachiever in her bedside manner, nor was she exceptionally knowledgeable in basic health and wellness as a good nurse should have been. Nevertheless, she was not completely incompetent, and it was both our status as roommates and our titles as life savers that drew us close. I couldn't imagine returning to Earth and trying to reconnect with the friends I had left behind, and I certainly couldn't imagine being transferred to another colony and forced to start all over again.
“You know,” Edie pointed out, “we never did find out why we were supposed to go to the palace in the first place.”<
br />
“No, I guess we didn't,” I murmured distractedly.
“Do you think it had anything to do with that Novai?” she asked. She had a habit of asking me questions I often didn't know the answers to, but I tended to humor her and this time was no different.
“Maybe,” I said. “But I kind of hope it wasn't. I’m not exactly fond of the Novai.”
She unfolded her legs and kicked them out before her on top of a coffee table made of some kind of wood I had not yet been able to identify, though it was much yellower than any Earth-wood I had ever seen. “Why not?” she asked me curiously.
I shrugged. I wasn't in the mood to discuss my tastes--or lack thereof--for alien races. Although, on that topic, I had found myself very distracted since returning to the colony with thoughts of a particular alien, and they were not the kind of thoughts I had often distracted myself with before.
After Kharid had taken his final breath, I had done everything I could to resuscitate the Elder. There was nothing that could be done though, and, when the A’li-uud healer arrived, he agreed. It was then that Zuran disappeared. I wanted to go after him, but the healer was bombarding me with question after question about what I had done to attempt to save Kharid’s life. As this was a death of magnitude, both politically and socially, I was obligated to offer a witness statement of the event as well as a recounting of any and all medical action I had taken. Apparently, much like human royalty, Elders had healers devoted only to them and their family. I was the first and only non-official medical personnel to tend Kharid during his long reign, which made me both a person of honor and a person of suspicion.
The other nurses were permitted to return to the colony before I was. They were escorted by several guards, though no more than one was actually necessary, while I remained behind to answer questions from a number of Dhal’atian military officials. When they’d finished, I expected I had done my duty, and my role in the horrific event was over, but I was informed that I would likely be called upon to speak in front of the Council to present a witness testimony. Then, I was offered an escort of my own and, rather than taking me back to the infirmary, I was brought to my hut. I didn't see Zuran anywhere on the way, which was noteworthy because he was almost always stalking the streets with his cocky grin and confident swagger. Now, in the comfort of my home, I wondered if Kharid’s death had affected him more than I’d originally thought, and I wished I knew where he resided so I could go find out and offer my condolences.
A knock sounded on the door, an unusual sound in the colony and one I had nearly forgotten since leaving Earth and coming to Albaterra. For the most part, knocking had become obsolete. Houses in the Ka-lik’et colony didn’t necessitate knocking as the windows were just artfully-shaped holes in the walls with operational shutters to block out the elements as needed. This meant visitors could just call out to the residents inside rather than knocking and waiting for the door to open to announce their presence. In some ways, it eroded the concept of privacy, but it was also more convenient and a cultural norm. I had grown so used to it that the knock startled me.
Edie started to get to her feet, but I waved her back down and stood myself. I trudged across the limestone-style floor and realized I was more tired than I thought. My muscles ached, and my joints protested. I felt sixty-five rather than twenty-five.
Swinging the door open, I came face-to-face with an A’li-uud quite unlike those I was used to seeing. Even in the darkness of night, I could see his skin with shimmery jade rather than the rich, royal blue popular around Dhal’at. His hair was as silver as the moon in contrast to the pearlescent locks of Zuran and the other desert aliens, and, while Zuran was by no means wimpy in build, this particular A’li-uud made him look like a prepubescent boy.
“I have been told you are Phoebe Morris,” he said in English. All A’li-uud spoke English with clipped syllables and blunt ends to their words, but this A’li-uud speech was so staccato I could hardly understand him. I stared at his lips for a long moment before finally understanding what he’d said.
“Yes, I am.”
“I need you to come with me,” he commanded without hesitation. His fingers shot forward and curled around my wrist. “Immediately.”
Chapter Nine
Zuran
“Why are you to say goodbye?” I demanded.
Venan was still expressionless, but I could see the pain in his eyes. No matter the differences my brother and I had, both in personality and in principle, it pained me to see him hurt. I had known the moment Kharid died, Venan would be nearly inconsolable. I had not anticipated a complete emotional shutdown, however.
It was evidently as alarming for my parents as it was for me. Mother stared at Venan with her mouth agape, and Father’s features were hardening as he realized his eldest son was beginning to spiral into the depths of despair.
“I am being taken to P’otes-tat Ulti,” Venan said monotonously. “I am under arrest.”
Mother gasped, Father snarled, and I shook my head in vehement denial. “They cannot do this,” I said. “Brother, it was not your fault.”
“What?” my mother cried. “Venan, what have you done?”
Finally, he met her gaze. His eyes were shattered, his face broken. He had indeed lost his spirit the moment his adored Elder had left our realm for the afterlife, and it seemed that this was his final goodbye. And a strained, pained voice, he crackled, “I killed him, Mother. Our Wise One died at my sword.”
Silence fell upon the house, but it was not the comfortable silence I had come to love about the desert night. It was a silence riddled with horror, disbelief, and more pain than I had thought imaginable. Mother’s knees gave out beneath her, and she crumpled to the floor with a howl of broken-hearted agony. Father swooped to catch her before she landed, but he was too far away to reach her in time, and she crashed to the ground with a thunderous bang. It did not matter. She could not hurt more than she already did.
“I was there,” I said fiercely. “I was witness to the incident. I can attest you were not at fault.”
“It does not matter,” came Venan’s dull reply. “I will have a trial, but, under the circumstances, I am to be held until that time. I am not considered safe to the Albaterran public.”
“What happened?” Mother whispered, still twisted upon the floor. “How did it come to pass that your sword brought about our Elder’s end?”
Venan shook his head. “As of now, it is a classified matter. I am not at liberty to tell you what happened, nor are you.” He turned slightly to stare aggressively into my eyes.
To look back at my twin brother was like seeing my reflection as someone else's in the mirror. He was no longer identical to me. In a matter of a few short hours, he had aged years, decades, maybe even a century. And, yet, he remained steadfastly dedicated to the kingdom and the Elder under which he served, determined to quell the rumors and keep the secrets of the palace. I, however, had never been so unwavering, and to learn now that my brother, who had devoted his entire life to Dhal’at, was to be imprisoned for a crime that was not a crime at all but in fact an accident splintered my already lacking resolve to live up to my duties as a Dhal’atian warrior.
I turned to my mother, though not before shooting a defiant glare back at Venan. “We were summoned to the palace to address an unknown disease afflicting the Novain colonists,” I explained. Venan started to move toward me furiously, but Father held up his hand to halt him, and I went on. “I was to bring the human healers from the colony, presumably to form a team of varied medical experts to diagnose the disease and its origins and develop a treatment. Evidently, there was already an ill Novai in the custody of the palace guards, as he managed to escape them. During our search for him, he met the human healers and Elder Kharid. We arrived in time to witness the struggle between the Novai and Kharid.”
“Enough!” Venan boomed. “They are not to know!”
“They are our parents!” I burst back, rounding on him. “I do not wish them to
be ignorant should this disease begin to spread to A’li-uud! And, at the very least, think you not they deserve to know why their son is being taken to P’otes-tat Ulti under charges of murder?”
I could see he was fuming, but I was unwilling to relent. I turned back to my mother and father and continued with my tale.
“In an effort to save Kharid from the Novai, Venan thrust his sword into the Novai’s back. Unfortunately, the Wise One and the beast were too close together, and, in eliminating the threat from the Novai, the sword pierced Kharid in the chest.” Mother's eyes were so round they were nearly plates, and Father appeared more distraught than I had ever seen him. “One of the nurses and I attempted to dress the wound and stabilize Elder Kharid until one of the palace healers could reach him. It was not enough.”
I swallowed hard, then, as I recalled the last moments of Kharid’s life.
“He died looking at me,” I murmured. “The last face he saw was mine.”
In my peripheral vision, I could see Venan. His chest was rising and falling at a rapid rate, and a vein in his neck was pulsing. He was seething. Whether his anger was borne of the fact that I had revealed the course of events to our parents, or whether it was in jealousy that he who had been so loyal had not been Kharid’s final sight, or perhaps whether it was simply his emotions finally coming to the surface and overwhelming him completely, I did not know.
It seemed I never would. Behind Venan, through the darkness, rose the hulking silhouette of six warriors grouped closely together. The curls of their staves were only visible as they caught the glow of strung geode lights, and their faces were entirely masked by the thickness of night. It was only when they drew up behind him, and the flaming aura of the fire inside the house licked their features did I realize their identities, and they were identities I was not grateful to see.
Zuran: A Paranormal Sci-Fi Alien Romance: Albaterra Mates Book 6 Page 4