by Todd, E. L.
She leaned her back against a tree, but she couldn’t see him in the darkness. She moved closer to him so she could distinguish his face. “Can you tell me about our culture?” she asked.
Zyle thought for a moment before he spoke. He looked at her expectant expression in the darkness. “What would you like to know about?”
“Anything,” she said.
Zyle laughed. “That’s a very broad choice, but I’ll give it a shot.” He dropped his hands into his lap. “Well, our population is very small. There are approximately a thousand Asquithian souls that populate this island.”
“There are so few of you.” Accacia felt the despair fall on her shoulders. She hated Drake more than ever. “Have you tried repopulating?”
“That is a touchy subject. I suggest you don’t bring it up until you have been established in our society.”
“Why?”
“Well, many of us lost our life partners in the catastrophe that took the main island under the sea, so we don’t want to procreate with a partner that we hadn’t committed our lives to. We would rather be alone. Besides, the island is quite small. We couldn’t handle a large population of people. There are limited land and resources.”
Accacia nodded. “But eventually you will die and the population will decline. New generations need to be made, right?”
“Yes, but we don’t have to worry about that for a very long time.”
Accacia raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
Zyle looked away from her. “When you asked to know about our culture, you meant everything because you don’t know anything, right?”
“Well, I know a few things.”
“How about our lifespans?” he asked.
“What about them? We live as long as humans do.”
Zyle shook his head. “I’m sorry, Accacia, but that is incorrect. Our lifetime is longer, much longer than any human.”
“How long?” she asked with interest.
“I don’t even know. I have known only one man who passed from natural means and he would never admit how old he was.”
“What? Why are we blessed with such longevity?”
Zyle stared at her. “Blessed? That isn’t the right word to describe our almost-immortality. It is a curse, Accacia.”
“Why? You said yourself that you lived in paradise.”
Zyle closed his eyes. “I can tell that you are very young. You will understand one day, Accacia.”
Accacia stared at him. Zyle opened his eyes again and stared out into the darkness, looking at the sights of the Suaden only he could see. She wondered how many years of his life had passed. “How old are you, Zyle?”
Zyle sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “Accacia, never, ever ask another Asquithian that question. It is the most offensive thing you could possibly do.”
Accacia looked away from him. “I’m sorry, Zyle. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“Don’t worry, Accacia, you didn’t know. Just don’t pose that question to anyone else. If anyone ever reveals their age to you voluntarily, you should feel honored with the information.”
“Why is the question so offensive?”
“Immortality is a curse, Accacia. The years of your life clump together with little meaning, your loved ones die and you carry on without them. Life becomes repetitive and meaningless, just a routine you do but for a reason you can’t justify. The older you are, the more insane you are. Your number is a marker to the degree of your insanity.”
Accacia suspected Zyle was very old, older than she could imagine. She wondered how many children he produced in his lifetime. “Have you fathered any children?”
“No.”
“Are you married?”
“Another word of advice, don’t ask questions you don’t feel comfortable answering yourself. Because the moment you do ask a personal question, you should expect the same question in return.”
“This is true for all Asquithians?”
“Yes.”
“Are you married?” she repeated.
“There is no concept of “marriage” here. We have life partners that we choose willingly. There is no ceremony, it just is. When your peers feel the relationship is a good match, they will refer to your life partner as such. Until then, your partner can still be pursued romantically,” he said. “But no, I do not have a life partner.”
“Does that mean you are not monogamous? If other people can date your—partner—then does that mean it is an open relationship?”
“It depends on the couple. Most are monogamous, but that doesn’t mean other available Asquithians can’t express their interest. Until society establishes you as life partners, you are still on the market, so to speak.”
“That is very interesting,” she said. “So theoretically, a couple can be together for years, but may never be established as life partners even if they love each other?”
“Yes.”
“So there is a possibility you will be never be life partners with the one you want, since it is dictated by society?”
“Yes, unfortunately,” he said.
“I don’t agree with that.”
Zyle laughed. “I don’t think it matters if you do.” Zyle bent his legs and rested his hands on his knees. “So, are you married, Accacia?”
“No.”
“Have you ever been married?”
“No.”
“Have you mothered any children?”
“Yes and no.”
He looked at her quizzically. “It’s either yes or no. The process is an all-or-nothing phenomenon, at least last time I checked.”
“I was with child, but I had a miscarriage,” she said. “Even though my child was never born, I still felt like I mothered it when I carried it within my womb.” Accacia didn’t know why she was telling him this. She could have just answered no. She only knew this man for a day and she felt innately comfortable around him. She wondered if it was just because they were the same race or if there was another reason.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. He patted her hand with his own. She smiled at his gesture of comfort.
“Thank you,” she said. “It was a long time ago.”
“Well, if you want to have more children, I am sure you will find a mate quickly. There are men in Canu who want to father children, but can’t find a willing mate.”
She immediately thought of Aleco and shook her head. They never discussed having children. He even said he thought all children were brats, but she assumed if she had babies, he would be the father—she knew he would have wanted to be. “I’m not interested.”
“You don’t want to have children—ever?”
“No—I don’t know—no. At least not in the foreseeable future,” she said.
Zyle nodded his head. “That is your decision to make, and society will support whatever you choose.”
“Do you want to have children someday?”
Zyle was silent for a moment. “No.”
Accacia looked away from his face and stared into the darkness ahead. The static in the air told Accacia that childbearing was a poor subject for him to discuss. She wondered why he had no interest in it. Accacia knew better than to ask. “Do the Asquithians offer special training in the sword?”
“Yes,” he said. She felt his mood soften at the change of subject, especially one so impersonal. “The trainers at the school are excellent. They could teach you a few things since your battle tactics are ill-suited for your small physique. That was the only reason why I didn’t kill you yesterday. Your fighting technique was so inappropriate to your stature that it threw me off.”
Accacia was offended by his blunt words, but she held back her words of anger. Accacia could have killed him on that beach if she wanted to. He should be grateful for her mercy. Aleco was an excellent instructor and gave her the greatest gift anyone could give—he taught her how to defend herself. She was proficient not only with the sword but the bow and her bare fists. She could take on any man and win.
Aleco was the only exception.
Zyle sensed the hostility radiating from her body. He tried to make amends. “Accacia, I apologize. I misspoke.” He looked at her, but she continued to look away. “Let me rephrase my meaning. You have exceptional swordsmanship skills and have mastered the craft of fighting, at least from what you have learned, but the fighting style doesn’t suit your stature or natural abilities.” Accacia wrapped her arms around her knees and stared into the forest. “The person who taught you the sword was a large man with heavyset muscles and a powerful frame, am I right?”
Accacia pictured Aleco in her mind. His chiseled physique was adorned in layers of muscle and his body was a solid as a rock. She remembered his strength when he held her down during their battle sessions and recalled the feel of his heavy weight on top of her. “Yes.” She swallowed the lump in her throat, remembering the feel of his body during their lovemaking.
“I would assume this man taught you the same skills he possesses, which are driven by the strength of his body. I am certain he was an excellent teacher, but there is a fighting style that is more suitable to your stature. Instead of relying on your brute strength, which you lack, you rely on your other attributes: speed, flexibility, and unpredictable nature.”
Accacia nodded. “I suppose that makes sense.”
“You will see what I mean, if you are worthy for the instruction, that is.”
“Worthy?”
“The instructors at the Battle Academy only train apprentices they feel are worthy of the trade. They guard their knowledge jealously. They even reward their successful students with renowned blades from the original island. They are blades crafted with abilities that surpass any normal sword. Enlistment at the academy comes with a sacrifice, however.”
“What is it?”
“A promise,” he said. “You make a vow to protect the remaining people of Asquith with your sword and your life. You must also swear your fealty to the cause of the Asquithian people, that you will never use the art of bloodshed against them. It would be treasonous to do so.”
Accacia nodded. “Do they accept women as apprentices?”
“Of course.” He smiled. “Why wouldn’t they?”
“Women tend to be excluded from battle, at least in the culture on the Continent. Females are not trained in battle tactics, but are protected behind the lines of fire.”
“Then why are you educated in the craft?”
“I sought an instructor for self-defense,” she said. Her mind wandered back to the years she spent as a slave. She forced the memory to fade behind her eyes. She would never have to see that sick fiend again.
“That is very honorable of you. Even when you were away from your homeland, you still carried the intrinsic traits of your race.” Zyle dug in his pack and withdrew his waterskin. He took a deep drink of the water then recapped the bottle. “Men and women are equal in our society. Our females are included and accepted in every part of life. They are politicians, blacksmiths, healers, and soldiers. Some of the instructors at the academy are women—they are warriors.”
Accacia smiled. “I hope they will accept me as an apprentice—I hope they deem me worthy.”
“We shall see.”
“Did you train at the Battle Academy?”
“Yes,” he answered. “I used to be an instructor myself until I left my position. I decided to spend my time elsewhere.”
“What do you do now, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I do not mind your questions. It is quite refreshing to converse with someone new who is experiencing an ancient world for the first time.” He leaned his head against the tree. “I am the Chief Forester of the island. I patrol the coasts, tend to the animals, and check on the livelihood of the plants that occupy the soil.”
“We have a similar office on the Continent—we call them Naturalists. They are also skilled in herbal remedies and star-mapping. They are very useful and are essential to the Chief Nature Priest, who utilizes the information to aid the forest.”
“Did you attain this status on the Continent?”
“Yes.”
Zyle nodded. “Good,” he said. “That will help you convince the Head of State, Roxian, of your friendly intent. Tell me about the Lorunien Tree.”
“You know of it?”
“Of course,” he said. “We may be separated by the ocean, on the other side of the world, but we feel her presence every day. We still worship the tree—the Nature God.”
Accacia smiled as she remembered every interaction she had with the glorious elm tree. Its white bark almost appeared bleach when the sun’s ray caressed the wood of the stump. The song of the tree squeezed her heart—it was the most beautiful sound. “The Lorunien Tree is—” Accacia couldn’t think of any words to justify the image in her memory. “The most beautiful sight I have ever seen. The soul of the tree sings throughout the forest, and you can feel its song everywhere. When I worshipped the tree and prayed to the Nature God with my own voice, it sang with me, steadying my voice and matching its tone to mine. She never spoke to me, but I could feel her watching me—protecting me. I would give my life in defense of the holy tree.”
Zyle smiled. “It sounds truly amazing, Accacia. I am just sad I can’t experience it myself. Your obvious respect and awe of the tree will ensure your survival in this land.”
“Why can’t you experience it yourself?”
Zyle dropped his smile. “Is that a serious question? I would hope the answer would be obvious.”
Accacia’s cheeks reddened. “The answer isn’t obvious to me.”
Zyle sighed. “Well, you know what happened last time we ventured to the Continent—our entire civilization was almost wiped out. Now the rulers of the Continent think we have disappeared—we want them to continue to think that, Accacia. Our survival depends upon it.”
“I could take you directly to the forest. No one will ever know you even came to the land.”
“Until someone questions the Nature Priest,” he said. “And when they do, we will meet our end.”
“Why don’t you launch an attack against them?” she asked. “Bring down the duke who did this to us? We must avenge the death of our island—our world.”
Zyle raised his hand and silenced her. “This conversation is over, Accacia. I want to speak no more of this.” Accacia saw his face redden with anger at her words. His breathing was heavy and he clenched his fists at his side. She hadn’t seen him angry. Even when they swung their swords at each other on the beach, his face appeared stoic. This was clearly a touchy subject.
“Forgive me,” she whispered. She grabbed his hand with her own. He smiled at her then pulled his palm away, returning it to his knees. The sun was rising in the distance and the sky was changing from blue to purple. A splash of orange could be seen scattered through the trees, and Accacia knew the sunrise had arrived. She thought of the next step of her journey. Her palms began to sweat. “I’m nervous,” she said as she took a deep breath.
Zyle stood up and shouldered their packs. “There is no reason to be, Accacia. What will come to pass will happen despite your best efforts to control it, whether it is for good or ill. You have no choice in this manner, so just accept it.”
“Is that supposed to comfort me?”
Zyle smiled. “No.”
Roslyn Keep
11
Shane, the leading commander of the armies of the Continent who braved more battles and fought more wars than any man, trembled under the king’s stare. Lord Aleutian was reputed with his calloused anger and unpredictable edge. No one knew what might set him off. Now that Accacia’s death was confirmed, Drake was more evil than ever before. Shane looked at the base of the keep of Roslyn, the home of Artremian, and stared at the iridescent material of the palace. He still didn’t understand what the king wanted him to do.
“Take it apart, piece by piece, and ship it back to Letumian Province.” Drake took a swig of his waterskin and handed it back to his servant. The sun�
�s rays were beating on their faces, causing their skin to drip with sweat, and Drake was irritated with the swelling heat. It was still the spring season, but it felt like the arid temperature of summer. “If any stone is missing, if any of the men pocket a single gem for their own, your head will answer for their crimes.” Drake’s eyes widened as he stared at him. Shane said nothing as he met his gaze, unsure how that expectation could ever be met. He only had one set of eyes. “Do you understand me?”
Shane nodded. “Of course, sire. Your bidding will be done.”
Drake was satisfied by his response and turned away from his commander at arms. Shane didn’t understand where he would gather enough hands to complete this laborious request, especially in the small time frame the king demanded. “M’lord?”
Drake stopped and turned around. He didn’t hide his frustration at Shane’s spoken words. He thought this conversation was over. “Yes, Shane?”
Shane held his ground under his look of annoyance. He would rather not ask any unnecessary questions, but this must be addressed. Shane hated bothering the king in any way. It was obvious he was in the throes of his painful grief. “Where will I find the means? Shall I use the soldiers for this undertaking?”
Drake sighed and closed his eyes. He grabbed the pommel of his sword, and Shane’s eyes widened in fear. Evidently, the king controlled his emotions because he released his grip on the hilt of his sword. He did not open his eyes. “I would never condemn my men at arms to such a ridiculous undertaking, Shane.” Drake opened his lids, and Shane flinched involuntarily. The morbid pain in his gaze was frightening to behold. “My soldiers have one purpose; to kill at my command. I would not waist their strength on such rudimentary tasks. They are needed in battle.”
Shane stopped his feet from moving. He wanted to run but he knew there was nowhere to escape. Only in death would he find a reprieve. “Yes, sire. Then who should be enslaved to this undertaking?”
“Use the prisoners of the Continent, criminals who are responsible for the deaths of innocents and the empty pockets of those who are already poor. They are condemned to the servitude.” Drake turned away again, dismissing the conversation.