by Ashley West
Samel rolled his eyes. "Who are you?"
She laughed in response. "Does it matter? My name in Lemaria. I am here to take what has been given to you, and keep it for myself. I will be stronger than any one with the power of this planet to call my own."
"There's no way to give the power to you," Samel said, still trying to reason with her. "Your Hillsiders should know that by now. They've been looking for it, and there's nothing. The power is passed down through our people from the first Warrior who was granted it. Even our children know that."
Her face twisted into a scowl. "You say that, but all power has to come from somewhere. Your lies will not stop me."
"They aren't lies," Samel said sharply. "And if you continue to make this hard, we will stop you." His hands burst into flames, and it was comforting. He shaped his sword with a second's thought, and pointed it at Lemaria. "You do not want to do this."
She was barely listening, it seemed. Instead she was staring at the sword with a hungry look on her face, clearly coveting it and its power. "Oh, but I do," she said, licking her lips. "This will be mine!" She raised her hands and her voice, calling out "Come to me!"
Hillsiders came streaming out of the ship. Samel wouldn't have thought it was big enough to hold all the creatures that were pouring out of it, but they kept coming. They were the same as always, tall and thin with their sharp clawed wrists. So many of them in one place sent up a rattling hiss that chilled Samel to the core and made him shudder.
But this wasn't the time to be afraid. This was the time to fight.
"Warriors of Fire!" he called, voice booming over the hissing rattle from the creatures around them. "Engage!"
A guttural cry rang out from the assembled warriors. His own squadron was right in the middle, and there were three more approaching from the sides. For a second, no one moved or even breathed, and then all at once, the fighting started in earnest.
Samel had his eyes on Lemaria, but he was cut off from her by Hillsiders. Clearly rushing through them to get to her wasn't a sound plan, and he fought the creatures around him instead, slashing and stabbing and burning through them.
He fought with everything he had, letting his muscles do what they had been trained to do. With every Hillsider he cut down, another two were in his way, and all he could do was keep moving.
He was supposed to be keeping an eye on his squadron to make sure they were faring alright in the battle, but the fighting was too thick. There was blood and bodies on the ground, and he had to work not to slip and fall over them.
Every now and then he'd catch a glimpse of Lemaria, urging the Hillsiders on and watching the battle like it was giving her pleasure. Samel thought it was sick, and he wanted to end it. He needed to make a push for her.
They'd made a dent in the Hillsiders, and their agonized screeching filled the air along with the hiss and crackle of their flames. "Fight!" Samel called. "Defend our people."
Those warriors who were still in the thick of it, which was nearly all of them, echoed his cry, doubling their efforts. Samel sighed and pushed forward.
There was sweat dripping down his face, getting into his eyes and making it hard to see. Which was how one of the Hillsiders got the better of him.
He already had cuts and gashes from their claws, and he tried to duck when one of them made a slashing motion towards him like it was going to try and lop off his head in one go. He didn't know if that was possible, but he didn't stop to think.
Instead of cutting through his neck, the thick bone scythe just smacked him right in the side of the head, making him reel for a moment and see double. Samel swore under his breath, and then Lemaria was right there in front of him.
"Perhaps you're right," she said. "Perhaps the power lies in you. I had better make sure." She looked at the Hillsider who had just hit him. "Cut his arm off," she ordered.
Before he could react, he was being grabbed by one Hillsider, and another was coming up, claw extended. Samel struggled hard, but those thin, spindly fingers had a surprisingly strong grip on his arm. His sword melted back into flames that covered his hand, and the Hillsider who was coming to do the cutting, lifted the blade on its wrist and then brought it down.
Samel grunted in pain. His arm was too thick for the cut to be clean through, but the sharp claw was wedged into his arm, blood welling around it. He huffed out a breath and forced himself not to give into the pain. In his other hand, the sword appeared again, and he made himself move, killing the Hillsider who was holding him and the one trying to cut him in two quick blows.
He yanked the bone claw from his arm, ignoring the pain and the blood that dripped down his forearm to hiss and spit in the fire. He faced Lemaria.
"You lose," he snapped, anger and pain combining to make him fight harder.
She couldn't even defend herself.
She'd been so dependent on her Hillsiders to keep her safe, and when Samel thrust his sword through her, she looked surprised. "I..." she managed. "You..."
"This power will never be yours," Samel said, and then let her fall to the sand.
It was over. Finally.
Lemaria, if that had been her real name, lay dead at his feet. The Hillsiders were gone, those who hadn't been killed had fled and Samel was fairly sure they wouldn't be seeing them again. Not in these numbers, anyway. The ones on Earth had been pulled back with Lemaria when she had come here, looking for him.
Around him, other warriors were helping each other, pulling others to their feet and helping them limp off to the medic so they could have their wounds seen to.
He himself was bleeding heavily from one arm where a Hillsider had tried to chop it off, and his ears were ringing from the blow to the head he'd taken. But he felt alright. He felt strong. He felt like he could take on anyone who needed to be taken on. And underneath that, he felt exhausted.
"Come," General Dala said, watching him with concerned eyes. "Let's get you to the medic. You have done good work here. Your people are proud."
It was nice to hear that, honestly, and Samel nodded, letting the General lead him off to the medic so he could get patched up.
Later, once he had been seen to and dismissed, he went back to his home.
Everything looked disused and neglected, and it didn't feel like home. His family had been by recently, as was evidenced by the clusters of Spark Tongues that were on his table. They were brilliant orange and gold flowers that looked like little explosions of flame with their clusters and gold edges.
It was kind of them to think of him while he was gone.
He hadn't thought of them, at all.
Granted, that was because he hadn't been able to remember them, but still.
Samel pushed the thoughts out of his head and made his way to his bathing chamber. The water was still set to the way he preferred it, and a sort of strange nostalgia filled him for the way the shower, as it was called on Earth, in the bathroom at the house had always taken at least ten minutes to heat up properly and would then spit scalding water on him for another two minutes before it regulated itself.
He hadn't remembered how convenient bathing was here, and so he'd just gotten used to the routine.
But now he stood under a perfectly adjusted spray and let the dirt and sand and dried blood sluice down his body into the drain.
Thinking about the shower made him think about the house, and it made him think about the person he'd been there. He hadn't been able to remember anything about his home here, or anything about his family and friends. He'd had to construct a new personality just about, building it up from nothing and adapting to a whole new way of life.
And it had been hard, but rewarding. Ultimately, he'd found a place there in the house, at Naomi's side. He'd talked with Finn and Priscilla, commiserated with Raven and Matthew, gotten advice from Samantha, and been Camille's confidant. And Naomi...she'd welcomed him with a warmth and a brightness that he had never expected. She'd given him a place to belong when he literally had nothing else but hi
s name.
It had been amazing.
Well, some of it had.
Samel hadn't liked the feeling of not knowing who he was. He hadn't liked being untethered and lost, knowing he belonged somewhere, but unable to recall where.
What he wanted, he realized, was to combine the two things. The Samel who knew who he was and what he wanted with the Samel who had been unburdened by duty and happy on Earth.
It was impossible of course, and he sighed as he washed himself more thoroughly and then shut the water off, stepping from the chamber and dripping on the floor. It was like he'd told Naomi when he left. He had a job to do here.
There was going to be a banquet that night, surely. His people didn't waste time when it came to celebrations. A foe had been defeated and a hero had come home, which meant food and drink and dancing. It meant the fires would be lit and the Elders would say their piece.
If anything was going to make him feel more like he belonged here, it would be that.
Samel pulled on clothes and tried to clear his mind.
It wasn't working.
Nothing was working. Not the spicy spirits or the delicious food. Not the stories being told over the flickering flames of the ceremonial fires. Not the gently swaying hips of the dancing girls who all looked at him with those dark eyes that used to compel him to pull one of them close and take her home with him. Not the way Shenna and Crispin clapped and cried out the loudest when the Elder himself stood up and welcomed him home.
It should have been enough. The Samel from before would have relished this. All he'd wanted before he'd been to Earth was to be recognized like this. To have even more confirmation that he was on the right path, doing the right thing. He would have eaten and drunk his fill, laughed with his friends, and then grabbed a dancing girl or two to continue the celebration into the night.
But now he stood there, a cup in one hand, his other by his side, and wondered what was wrong with him.
"You do not look like you're enjoying the festivities."
Samel turned, surprised to see General Farleen standing next to him. She'd let her hair down for this, and it fell around her shoulders in dark brown waves that took years off of her severe face.
He tried not to stare. "General," he said, saluting with a cup in his hand. "I think I'm just tired."
"That would be understandable," she said, nodding. "You've been through quite a lot of late. I don't think any of us truly understand what it must have been like. Being lost on another planet, as you were."
Samel sighed and shook his head, wanting someone to understand. "It wasn't as bad as all that," he said. "The people there are...they aren't the way we think they are. And the planet itself wasn't bad. Very cold, but not bad."
“They sheltered you,” Farleen said, and she seemed to be saying it for her own benefit, rather than his.
“Yes,” Samel answered all the same. “I hit my head when I landed there, like I told you when I called. And I had no idea who I was or where I’d come from or where I was supposed to be. I was wandering alone and lost and confused in the cold, and they took care of me. They gave me a home for however long I needed one.”
“Perhaps we underestimate humans, then,” Farleen said. “If they did all that, even though you were clearly not one of them.”
“I don’t think they knew what I was,” Samel said back. “But it didn’t matter to them. They just knew I needed help, and that was enough.”
He could hear the warmth that colored his tone when he spoke about them, and he wondered what it sounded like to Farleen. Samel didn’t know how she felt about affection and the way it tied people together. He didn’t know much about her personal life, and he’d never seen her with her hair down before. She didn’t seem to have much in the way of family, but that made sense. In order for her to have become a General, she would have had to dedicate her entire life to being a warrior. And she was a fearsome fighter, so it made sense, but...it had to be lonely.
Samel couldn’t recall ever wondering about that before now.
“Well,” Farleen was saying. “It is good to have you home, Captain, and I hope settling in here will not be too difficult for you. Even with this Lemaria dead and the Hillsiders gone, there is work to be done yet. We need to know why they thought we had some kind of stone in the first place and what her plans were for it.”
He nodded. “Of course. I’ll help in any way I can.”
“Excellent,” Farleen said and then lifted her cup to him. “Enjoy yourself, Captain. You have earned this.”
He had, of course. He’d worked hard and fought harder for this celebration, but he didn’t feel like reaping the benefits of it. When he thought about what he really wanted, it was Naomi’s kitchen or her bedroom. It was the spicy cool scent of the mint tea she preferred, and the whistle of the kettle when it was done boiling. It was the feel of her hands on him, her body tucked against his, so much smaller, but still strong. It was the way Finn looked at them like they were disgusting whenever they sat together in the living room, thighs touching, and the way Camille would appear out of seemingly nowhere to say something ridiculous. When he thought of home now, he thought of the house and its odd assortment of people, and his heart ached.
But time, like it always did, rolled on. Soon enough, he was too busy to think of things he wanted but didn’t have. He was leading patrols, looking for Hillsiders, and he was training recruits and he was answering questions about Earth and doing research in the library of the Elders to see where these rumors about a stone were coming from. In his downtime he went out with his friends, saw his family, and enjoyed sleeping in a bed that was made to fit him.
He worked himself hard so that by the time he had to go to bed, he was too tired to think. That didn’t stop him from dreaming, of course, but that was manageable. Just like he had when he’d landed on Earth with nothing, he was cobbling a life together, and it was fine.
Now, he strode down the corridors of the main complex, running just a little late for a meeting with the Generals. No other Captain had to meet with them as much as he did, but Samel supposed that made sense. None of the others had been through what he had, and that sort of made him the unofficial liaison when it came to this matter. The others had their own projects to deal with, and it was fine.
He’d been saying that a lot lately.
Samel knocked, and then let himself into the meeting room, surprised to see all seven Generals sitting around the table. Usually he just met with a couple of them at a time and they passed the information on to their fellows.
“I’m...sorry I’m late,” Samel said, moving to take his seat. He had the scans from his last patrols on his comm device, and he called them up quickly. “The patrols are still proving useful,” he said. “We haven’t seen anything large out there, but there have been smaller ships, and—”
“Captain.” Holin held up a hand, cutting him off.
“Er...yes, General?”
“We did not call you here to discuss your patrols.”
Samel blinked, taken aback. “You didn’t?”
“No.”
His mind whirled, trying to figure out what it could be that they wanted to talk to him about, then. He was fairly certain his performance hadn’t been lacking. He’d been working harder than ever over the time he’d been back, and there was no way they could accuse him of not pulling his weight.
“Relax,” Dala said, smiling at him. “You’re being promoted, in a way.”
Instead of relaxing him, that sent panic spiking through his heart. “What?” He didn’t want to be a General. It was the first time he’d thought that, or even let himself consider it, but he didn’t want it. He didn’t want to spend all his time fighting, and he didn’t want to get old and close to death and realize he hadn’t lived. Samel knew that now.
“We need a liaison for another planet,” Farleen said in her brisk way. “And since you’ve had good experiences on other planets, we are choosing you.”
“I...wh
ich planet?” Samel asked, unsure how he felt about this.
Farleen’s lips twitched in a smirk. “Earth.”
Now that did stop him cold, and his eyes widened as he gaped at them. “What?” he said again.
“You heard Lemaria,” Holin said. “Part of the reason she went to Earth in the first place to look for you is because she thought the planet would be easily conquered. Clearly they need protection.”
“I...can’t protect a whole planet,” Samel admitted. “Not by myself.”
“We don’t need you to protect it. We need you to watch it. To make sure there aren’t Hillsiders or other creatures out there. If there are, there are measures in place to remove them. It’s an important job, and it’s yours if you choose to accept it.”
They were all watching them, and Samel felt the shocked surprise lifting enough that he could see what he was being given.
They were letting him go home.
“Thank you,” he said, and his voice was warm with relief. “I accept.”
Epilogue: Hearth
"So, as you can see, we try to make sure that the residents have access to everything they need, so they can get their lives back on track," Naomi said as she ended the tour of the house in the living room. Her feet were aching from the pinchy shoes she'd stuffed them in, but she knew she looked nice with her hair wound up into a bun and the light spring dress she'd put on.
"And do most residents choose to stay?" the man whose name she had already forgotten asked. "Or do they move on?"
"Depends on the resident," Naomi said. "Some of them see this as their home, and I'm definitely not opposed to that. If they want to stay here, then they're more than welcome. The house can support it now. Some of them just want a place to recover and recuperate, though, and those people will probably go back out into the world. Go back to their old lives or start new ones as they see fit. I encourage them to do whatever is going to make them happy."
The man nodded, scribbling something on his notepad. "Well thank you very much," he said. "This has been very interesting. My office will be in touch."