Flight To Exile

by Chris Reher

  “Not really. Usually. I’m sure the La’il is using quite a bit of energy to reach me all the way up here. It’s a long way for a thought to travel.”

  “I'd like to try!”

  He frowned. “I don't know...”

  “Please? I just want to see if I can reach you. Just for a moment.” She shook his arm. “Please? Please?”

  He laughed, touched by her enthusiasm. He was reminded of his own discovery of his talents, and the wonder and apprehension that accompanied each stage of his training. He, too, had wanted to test his limits well before his mentors had thought him ready for his ambitions. “All right! Just don't look where you shouldn't.”

  “I promise,” she said earnestly. “But you've got to help me.”

  “If you think it's that easy,” he said, amused. “Good luck.” He leaned comfortably against the cave wall. “Okay, go ahead. Just don't expect this to work. You're too green for this.”

  “What do I do?”

  “Let’s start with a touch. Eventually you won’t need that with people you know well, or those you touched before.” He raised his hand and waited until she grasped a few of his fingers. “Focus your thoughts on me, like you did in Delann’s garden. Just try to hear me. Hear what I'm thinking. Or, better yet, try to send a thought to me. Or an image.”

  She nodded and narrowed her eyes. “Okay, here I go. Tell me what I'm thinking.”

  Galen waited, indulging her whim, expecting nothing. But then, as clearly as if they were standing outside in bright daylight, he saw an image of their boat, coming unbidden to mind. “The boat!” he said, surprised at how easily she had reached him. “You were thinking of our boat.”

  “It works! I can do this! Let me try again.”

  He closed his eyes, waiting for her next thought, when his mind was suddenly filled with imagery, none of it the product of his own thoughts, in a wild jumble of color and shape. “Slow down,” he said, wincing. “It's too much. I can't make any of it out.”

  She tried to hold her exuberance in check and let her mind float freely to linger over each image. He saw an impression of Delann and one of a woman whom he now knew to be Minh, her foster mother. He grinned when Aletha conjured an image of herself, captured from his own memory. It hadn't been her face he was studying at the time. Then he saw himself or Chor and wondered if she really saw them like that. “Very flattering,” he murmured, opening one eye to look at her. “Is that me or Chor?”

  He felt her look for his mental link with Chor. “Leave him out of this,” he said quickly and pulled his hand out of her grip. “He’s not agreed to this.”

  “Images, sensations, no words, though,” she said. “I wanted to talk with you in your head, like you two do.”

  “We were bred for that, don’t forget. Your talents came together all by themselves. You’re trying to hear with your ears. Images are words, too, like those writings in your temples. La’il doesn’t talk in my head, either. She makes me think I can see and hear what she’s trying to show me. In the end, it’s the same thing as really seeing her, isn’t it?”

  “I'm going to try something else now,” she said. “Hold still.”

  He felt her mind probe into his, carefully, slowly, giving him enough time to shut off from her those things better not shared, her touch far gentler than the La’il’s. He knew that she wanted to find out how the La'il was able to rearrange his synapses to change his moods to her purposes. He hoped that she wasn't about to goad him into some unpleasant outburst. He thought that it would be wise to stop these experiments now.

  But the sensation he felt was one of absolute peace and contentment. He smiled broadly when he felt a surge of wellbeing and he seemed to be floating, aware of her somewhere nearby, completely free of any worry, fear or memory that had ever plagued his mind. “Hmm, nice,” he murmured. “Don’t stop. Happy. Content. Warm.” He opened his eyes to gaze out of the cave into the night beyond. He turned his head to look at her eager, excited face. Her dark eyes seemed to look directly into his thoughts. “Love, I think, but no desire.”

  She leaned forward and put her hand on his chest. A low moan escaped him when every nerve reacted to her touch. There was no more imagery now, only a single sensation flaring through his body and filling him with the most basic of needs. He fought it, knowing it to be false, instilled in him by her mind and touch.

  “Don't do this.” He raised his hands as if to push her away, shook his head in denial even as he gripped her arms, drawing her close to kiss her, his mind filled with her need as well as his own. She responded in kind and they shed a minimum of clothing before he entered her, his powerful body exhausting her own as he reacted to the passion she had deliberately unleashed in his mind. Galen remained aware of Aletha, but the release he sought was physical and had nothing to do with the woman in his arms. It was not long before, shuddering, he collapsed beside her.

  Many moments passed before his heart resumed a more dignified rhythm and he was able to breathe normally again. Turning his head, he saw Aletha curled up beside him, her arms covering her face. He closed his eyes, disturbed by his savage reaction to her botched experiment.

  “That one got away from us. Do you understand now why you need a proper mentor?” He leaned over her to move her arms out of the way and realized that she was crying. He sighed. It would be easy now to blame her for this transgression, put it aside like some inevitable accident of her training, and continue on their way to deliver her to the Homeworld. Easy, uncomplicated, and far less likely to infuriate the La’il. And absolutely impossible.

  He brushed a tear from her cheek. “Did you think I needed convincing? Let’s make this right.” He kissed her softly; demanded nothing until her lips parted under his and he felt her touch his face. Her breath quickened when he began to unlace her blouse to bare her body before him. When his hand moved over her, delighting in every curve, she bit back a moan, knowing that his twin slept nearby. His lips followed his hands as they made their way along her body, taking their time, tasting, feeling until they knew all of it. His patience broken at last; he lifted her over himself to fit their bodies together as they seemed meant to fit, watching her face as they began to move languidly without the mindless fervor of their earlier encounter.

  “Open your thoughts to me,” he whispered, reaching for her.

  Both of them gasped when he entered her mind as pleasurably as he had entered her body, each suddenly able to feel what the other did. Together they explored this new sensation, as foreign to him as to her, and let it fuel the rising passion brought about by their physical contact until they reached a crest of ecstasy neither had attained before. Their minds remained as passionately entwined as their bodies and it was a long time before, sated, they fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

  * * *

  Aletha awoke to find herself alone in the cave. She huddled in her blankets, not entirely sure if the night before had not been a dream. Or should have been. She had woken in the pre-dawn to find herself cradled in Galen's arms, cushioned by his strong body. She had remained awake for a long time, listening to his even breathing, letting it calm her and put her worry and confusion aside to find a few more hours of sleep.

  Slipping into her blouse, she wondered about this new talent she was discovering and if using it taxed the mind and body - she had noticed neither Galen nor Chor rising and leaving the cave. But she felt wonderful, strong, and as though her perceptions had been heightened and made more powerful. She knew that the clouds were breaking up although much of this coast was swathed in fog that wouldn’t lift for a few more hours. She could tell that this cave used to belong to a pack of wet woods cats that had moved on two seasons ago. She also knew that one of the twins was now approaching.

  Damp daylight greeted her when she crawled out and sat in the opening of the cave, tousled and slow to wake. Her perch overlooked a gentle decline toward the cove on one side and the edge of a forest to the other. She could almost feel the sun reaching through the clouds up
here but drifting patches of fog obscured both the boat and the trees.

  One of the twins appeared below, carrying an armful of firewood. His steps faltered when he saw her but he approached their campsite without changing his blank expression.

  “Galen?” she said, already knowing the answer.

  He looked up at her call and shook his head. His hair was still wet from his morning swim but he was dressed and ready to continue their journey.

  “Where's Galen?”

  “In the creek,” he said.

  She watched in fascination as he touched some dry tinder to a stack of kindling and, after a moment of concentration, carefully blew on it. Small flames leaped up and soon reached for the larger pieces of wood.

  She came down to the fire and crouched nearby, drawing her bare legs under her blouse. “Uh, Chor,” she began. “About yesterday...”

  “What about it?” He handed her some fruit.

  “Did Galen tell you what happened?”

  He nodded, suspiciously examining a piece of dried fish that even Aletha found less than appetizing. Shrugging, he flipped it into a small pot of rice and water. “Are you all right?”

  “Me? Of course I’m all right. Why?”

  Chor’s lip twitched in what might have been a fleeting grin. “He was out of his mind and you’re a bit on the frail side.”

  She gasped, feeling a furious blush coloring her cheeks. Had Chor been awake during her and Galen's rather voracious lovemaking? “Frail? Me? I happen to be just the right size for this moon, you behemoth! He could keep the details private, in my opinion. What else did he tell you?”

  “He's upset.”

  “Upset?” she said, astounded. “Why is he upset?”

  Chor looked toward the trees as if to see his brother walking among them. “Maybe you should ask him.”

  “I’m asking you!”

  He took a moment to balance the pot over the fire and then sat back on a rock, his arms folded on his knees. “It was not his decision, you gave him no time.”

  “He's thought about it,” Aletha said, knowing that Chor was right. “I saw it in his mind. He wanted me. I only let him know it was all right.”

  “There are other ways to do that.” Chor began to unwrap a parcel of tea leaves. “She uses him like a toy, at her whim. She can make him feel things and do things and make him believe that he wants those things, too. You did exactly the same thing. Not only that, but it got away from you. And most definitely away from Galen.” He held up his hands to stop her protest. “Yes, not on purpose and no one got hurt. We can help you become anything you want, Aletha, but don’t make him the playground for another goddess.”

  Aletha scrubbed her face with her hands. “I've made a mess of it, haven't I? At least I think I know why the La'il does what she does. She gets power from it. Real power. When I was doing those things to Galen's head, I felt strong. Powerful. Much more than when I was playing with the risers. It’s like he’s a mirror that amplifies everything I send to him many times over. I think the La'il uses him to make herself stronger. I don’t think she does this just because she wants to hurt him.”

  “I’ve wondered about that,” Chor said, sounding interested. “If she just wanted to injure him she could easily do worse. She could just make him think he was in pain and he would be. But she doesn’t. She wants him angry. Are you saying you were able to feed on Galen's mind?”

  “As good a word as any. But not on his mind. On the way he felt. His emotion at the moment. The better he felt, the more power I received from him. It must be even stronger when it's a bad feeling or she wouldn't do it, would she?”

  He shook his head, pondering her theory. “I have no idea.”

  “Well, he's got something she finds useful. I'd bet she'd be fiercely furious if she couldn't get a rise out of him. Maybe he should try to be nice to her. See what that does.”

  “She'd tear his lungs out and have them for breakfast.”

  She grinned. “I think I'll go for a swim and then figure out how to apologize to Galen.”

  Chor offered a rare smile, now looking exactly like his twin. “You just did.”

  She stood up. “I think you two should stop discussing me when I can't hear you!”

  She left him for the small stand of trees where a stream passed near their camp. The cold water did much to clear her head. She thought about the previous night and smiled when she recalled Galen's passion. Then she blushed when she found herself wondering if Chor was equally skilled.

  Still bemused after her bath, Aletha wandered through the woods in search of Galen. She felt his presence farther along the stream and found him seated under a tree, watching the fog dance across the small meadow. He wore only his leather trousers and she slowed her steps to admire the broad, smooth chest, remembering the feel of his body as if he were touching her even now. His wet hair curled glossily to meet wide shoulders marred by the wound he had sustained in Delann's bathhouse. But for his scars he and Chor were identical; why was it only Galen’s eyes that caused her breath to catch, only his smile that she felt down to her knees? Surely he had known how his presence had affected her – what good could come of hiding it? She sighed and approached him.

  “You're right to be angry with me,” she said, crouching beside him. “I'm sorry. I guess you know Chor already shouted at me.”

  He said nothing.

  “But I was so excited about this... this talent I have. I wanted to try it on something big. Something more important than just showing you pictures. I got carried away. I'll never do it again, I promise. I am not like… her. I didn’t mean to touch you like that. But then I couldn't stop...”

  He shifted his attention from the riverbank to her. “I should have been able to stop you,” he said. “If I really thought it was so wrong, I should have been able to.”

  “Chor said—“

  “I know what Chor said. I was angry, but only with myself. I’m tired of being manipulated. So why can’t I stop it? I can only blame myself for what happened last night. I could not stop! You have a great talent, Aletha, but you are a novice, you know nothing. And yet you got past me as easily as La’il.”

  She started to say something, perhaps something kind and reassuring to chase away the tired hopelessness she saw in his face, but his words had stung. Had the previous night meant nothing to him? “Maybe I got past because you wanted me to. Have you thought of that?”

  “Of course I wanted you to.” He ran his hands through his hair and looked up into the trees for answers. “But I can’t tell if it was me doing the wanting.”

  Aletha winced, knowing that another wrong word from either of them would lead to disaster, yet unable to stop. “How can you say this? I would never have done that if I thought you didn’t want it. How dare you suggest otherwise?”

  He blinked, startled. “That’s not what I wanted to—”

  “Oh, stop it, you’re confusing me!” Angry now, Aletha came to her feet. “I promise to take more care and not touch you in the future. That way you can be sure who’s put what thoughts in your head.” She turned away but had barely taken a step when his hand closed around her wrist.

  “Don’t say that,” he said, looking up at her with a crooked grin.

  “Say what?”

  He tugged on her arm until she sat back down. “About not touching me.”

  “But you said—”

  “Forget what I said. I was out of my mind only the first time. I’m not now. And I’m finished with the pouting.” He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck to pull her closer. “I’ve wanted you since the day I almost bought you.” When their lips met she did not need to touch his thoughts to feel the craving that so closely matched her own. Almost effortlessly, their minds joined as their bodies did, fixed only on this encounter, neither attempting to look beyond what the other offered. Together, they found the means to shut off all other intrusions into their space, pulling a mental barrier like a blanket over themselves. Time slipped away
as they made love, then rested in the soft grass by the bank, drowsily talking of nothing only to come together again, mentally, physically, or both at once.

  It was nearly noon, the morning fog long since chased away by the sun’s attempts to break through the clouds, before they ambled back to the camp. Aletha could still perceive Galen’s content state of mind, happy to note an unmistakable, uncomplicated fondness for her that he did not bother to hide. He raised an eyebrow, sensing her scrutiny.

  “You like me!” she blurted.

  “I noticed.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t pry.”

  He shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

  “You don’t have to be, you know. You can keep her away.”

  “Not if we want to get back home. We can’t reopen the launch without her getting into my head to show us how that’s done.”

  “I don’t mean keeping her away when you need her for something. I mean keeping her away when you don’t want her there.” She reached up to stroke away the vertical line that had appeared between his brows. “I think I can help you,” she said. “I know it can be done; it’s just a matter of finding the right place. Like the way you showed me how to recognize chi’ro. I know I can do this!”

  “Keeping her out isn’t all that difficult, as long as I’m paying attention. She’s hard to notice sometimes. It’s when she’s already in my head that things go horribly wrong. That is when I need a way to get loose.”

  “Then we’ll start with that. With you fighting me. It’ll be easier, I’m sure, but if she’s not there to make you… do things while you’re fighting, you’ll be able to concentrate better on what you have to do to get free.”

  “Concentrate? With you in my head?” He bent to kiss her before resuming their walk back to camp. “Well, no harm in trying but we can’t let her know you’re doing this. Don’t forget that she will be your teacher on the Homeworld. I’m sure she’s not very happy with us right now, anyway.”

  They soon reached the cove near the foot of the cliff that had sheltered them during the previous night. They would have to leave now or spend another night, waiting for the appropriate tides to clear their way through the islands.