by Lyra Shanti
“Oh, Gods,” said Pei, “we have to get him to Kri immediately!”
“I know, he's not well,” replied Reese as she wiped her eyes and sniffed. “I'm just so glad you're alive. I worried...”
“I'm fine,” said Pei. “The Bodanya is here, and he saved everyone with the help of the Sarax. I didn't think they really existed, but I guess they do.”
Reese slightly smiled, then hugged Pei tightly.
“Ouch!” he said with a wince, causing Reese to back away.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, concerned. “Are you injured?” Noticing the blood on the side of his vest, she frowned and said, “You're hurt, aren’t you?”
“It’s nothing,” Pei replied. “Don't worry, honey, it's a small wound. I'm more worried about Atlar, to be honest.” Pei continued as he gently pulled her into his arms, “But soon my ship will be ready to fly and Atlar will be back on Kri. I'm sure the healers there can cure him.”
Leaving Axis outside, Ayn walked into the heart of the cave. He then saw Atlar's deteriorating state, as well as Kuva lying on another bed nearby with her grandparents hovering over her. Srah was there too as she looked at Ayn with a sad smile. Ayn smiled somberly in return, then nodded in a silent greeting. He wanted to hug her properly, but there wasn't time.
Granjie and Joh looked at Ayn as he walked over to them. They had a feeling he was The Bodanya, but neither said a word, for they were overwhelmed with emotion.
Noticing Kuva seemed to be alright, though weakened from lack of food and water, Ayn walked over to Atlar's bed. Kneeling down over Atlar's pale, dying body, Ayn closed his eyes and began to pray. Just then, Adin's voice came through his mind. The sword... he heard him say.
Opening his eyes, Ayn felt stupid for not thinking of it before. Drawing his sword, Ayn stood up and held his Viha to Atlar's chest.
“What the hell are you doing?!” blurted Reese.
“It's alright,” said Pei, “you can trust him. He's The Bodanya. He's my dear friend.”
Reese grimaced, but stepped back, trusting Pei's words and allowing Ayn to continue.
Ayn closed his eyes, feeling the plasma flow from the sword through his body, then back again to the sword. It circulated in a way that intoxicated Ayn's mind and soul. It was almost pleasurable, but painful too. The power felt to Ayn as if he now had the power to control life and death itself.
Opening his eyes, he hoped the power was enough as he cut a slit into Atlar's chest. The Krian king was so weak, he didn't move or make a sound, but Ayn could sense the wound wasn't half as painful as the plasma sickness inside him.
Hold on, Atlar, thought Ayn as he felt the sickness being drawn inside of his own body. He hadn't expected his sword to be able to do such a thing, but it seemed to Ayn like the Viha was draining the negatively charged plasma inside of Atlar, then transferring it into Ayn's own healthy plasma. It began aching in Ayn's mind, then his body. Deep inside his bones, he could feel the sickness twist and turn, as if it were attempting to corrupt every fiber of Ayn's being.
“Stop, Ayn!” Srah shouted as she grabbed his arm. “That's enough! Any more and you'll die!”
Ayn breathed hard, wincing in pain, then said, “I'm fine! I can do this!”
“No! Please stop!” she pleaded, turning Ayn's face to hers. “We need you. I need you!”
Ayn saw her face contorted with fear, and it broke his concentration. Unable to continue, he pulled the tip of his sword out of Atlar's chest, then fell to his knees.
With his head down, he muttered, “It wasn't enough. I... couldn't save him.” He looked up at Srah with tears in his eyes and said, “Why do I even bother? I'm not worthy to be called Bodanya! I'm not half the man Adin was.”
Srah shook her head and pet Ayn's face. “That's not true. You're the greatest man in the universe, and you are indeed worthy of your title. It's just, some things can't be healed. You cannot give your own life in exchange for another. I forbid it! Do you hear me, Ayn?!”
Catching his breath, he half-smiled, then gently held Srah's face. “Yes, I hear you, my beloved friend. I'm sorry for frightening you. I'm alright, I promise.”
“Are you sure?” she sweetly asked, feeling his forehead.
“Yes,” he replied as he stood to his feet, “I think the Viha cured me as I took in his sickness.”
“Does that mean he's healed?!” asked Reese excitedly as she ran to Atlar's side and felt his pulse. It still seemed slow, but she noticed his face appeared to have more color, and his breathing was less shallow.
“I healed him as much as I could without becoming sick myself,” said Ayn.
“We need to get him back to Kri,” said Pei. “He needs to return to his planet... and to his daughter.”
“Yes,” Ayn agreed, “and as soon as possible.”
Just then, Atlar moaned something inaudible. Reese leaned in closer and heard him whisper, “Ona... my baby. I'm coming home, my dear girl. Don't worry... Daddy's coming home.”
Chapter 16: The Mourning After
“How do you plead?” asked Baran with a sneer. “Remember, Octian, you are under oath before this Council and your words are being recorded.”
Ona watched with intense glare from the front seat of the marble benches, which encircled the council-room. Standing in the center of the floor with Baran, stood Octian, who was handcuffed and scowling.
“Well?” Baran growled. “Do you have anything to say in your defense?!”
“I plead guilty of only one thing,” Octian coolly replied. “Defending Kri! Yes, if I am guilty of anything, it is doing what I can to protect our planet and our Krian way of life. King Atlar was not, and will never be, fit to be king of Kri!”
“Silence!” Baran barked. “You are charged with plotting the murder of our elected leader, leaking secret Lirhan information, and conspiring against our king illegally with our known enemies. You do not have the right to speculate!”
Octian once again attempted to speak, but one look from Baran kept him quiet. It seemed to Ona that Baran was very close to losing his temper and might need her intervention soon, though she'd rather not speak if she didn't have to. She had a lawful right to speak against Octian, but it was traditionally more the Minister's fight, not hers, and she wanted to keep it that way.
“My fellow councilmen,” continued Baran as he walked around the room, facing each man seated, “you have heard the evidence and you have seen the video in which Councilman Octian not only spoke against the king, but plotted alongside The Tah's leader, Yol Notama, to kidnap and murder Atlar. However, I still have one more witness who wishes to be heard.” Looking toward the giant stone entrance doors to the council-room, Baran smirked as he said, “I call to the witness stand, Junior Councilman Darvis.”
The room quickly filled with murmurs as Darvis walked to the triangular-shaped stand made of green marble. Darvis raised his right hand and swore his truth to Thran, the God of justice, as well as to the honor of The Council itself.
“Darvis,” Baran addressed him, “tell me, how long have you known Octian? He is your legal guardian, is he not?”
Darvis gulped. “Yes, he is. I've known him since I was four years old.”
“He knew your mother. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“How is this relevant?!” Octian interrupted from the circular, gray marble where he stood.
“It is quite relevant,” Baran coldly replied, “as you will soon realize. Also, as the defendant ad not a councilman, I would appreciate if you would remain silent during my questioning of the witness.”
Octian looked as if he would burst open, yet he didn't say a word. He had chosen to represent himself in his own trial, partly because no one else would represent him, and partly because he assumed he could best speak for himself. It was now a choice he wished he hadn't made.
“Darvis,” said Baran without skipping a beat, “when you first met Octian, how did your mother introduce him to you? Can you remember?”
Dar
vis squirmed in his chair. He had agreed to testify against Octian in exchange for his own clean slate, but he didn't expect Baran to ask him questions about his mother. “I... um... well...”
“Go on,” pushed Baran as he folded his arms and eyed Darvis like a hawk.
Darvis swallowed and said, “She introduced him as my uncle, though I know he is not by blood. I didn't know that as a child though.”
“So, you thought you were part of the royal line of Kri?”
“No, not exactly,” replied Darvis nervously.
“What did you think she meant then?” Baran asked with a raised brow.
“Well, at the time, Octian always seemed to be at our house. He took pity on us since my father had died in battle. My mother explained to me that Octian had been a good friend of the family's.”
“Did you believe her?”
“Of course. Octian had always taken good care of us.”
“Oh, so he took care of your mother as well? Did he give her money... gifts?”
“Well, um...”
Baran looked at The Council, then at Octian, who was looking downward.
“So, let me get this straight,” said Baran as he crossed the floor to where Octian stood in chains. “You and your mother had been given gifts from Councilman Octian since you were a child. Did you ever witness Octian telling your mother why it was that he was giving you these luxuries?”
“No, but she told me it was because he cared about us.”
“About you in particular, yes?”
“Well... I...”
“Isn't it true that Octian often told you he was going to make sure you were elected king?”
“He had told me that, yes. However, I told him I didn't want to be king!”
“He was adamant about it though, wasn't he?”
“Yes,” gulped Darvis. “He often said that, since Leif and I were raised like brothers, it was my duty to overthrow Atlar and become king myself... in Leif's name.”
The Council murmured once again as Octian glared angrily at Darvis.
“So,” said Baran as he quieted The Council with a raised hand, “you are testifying here today that Octian nominated you against your will, as well as attempted to involve you in his plot to kill King Atlar.”
Darvis looked at Octian with a sad expression, then replied, “Yes... he wanted me to replace Atlar. He wanted me to do a lot of back-handed things, but... I couldn't do it. Leif wouldn't have wanted things this way. I'm sorry, Octian, but I just can't do this anymore.”
Enraged, Octian said, “You are a coward and a traitor, boy! I deny that you even came from my seed! You are a fool!”
Clearly shocked, Darvis gasped as if someone had punched him in the gut. “Your seed?!”
“I regret that fact, but yes. It was a mistake. Your mother was a whore, and I never should have allowed you to be born! You are a weakling! I wash my hands of you!”
“That's enough!” shouted Baran. “Take this madman back to his holding cell. I think we've all heard quite enough.”
Two Lirhan soldiers came to Octian and escorted him out of the council-room, which was buzzing with whispers. Baran then walked over to Darvis and said, “You may step down from the witness stand, Darvis. Thank you for your testimony. I'm sorry for any pain it may have caused you.”
Darvis grimaced and stepped down, wishing that Octian had kept the truth away from The Council, and from his own ears.
“I vote for a verdict by this afternoon,” said Baran. “All in favor, raise your hand.”
As each councilman raised their hands, it was unanimous.
“Good,” said Baran. “We will meet again at noon, sharp. Council is adjourned.”
Baran watched as The Council slowly dispersed. He then walked over to Darvis and said, “Thank you so much, my friend. I know it wasn't easy for you, but... I needed to make Octian crack. I hope you understand.”
“I guess,” said Darvis, “but... did you know that Octian was my father all along?”
“No, it was a hunch. Had you never guessed? The way he doted on you and treated you as a replacement for Leif; it seemed fairly obvious to me. I just needed to force it out of him as an added motive in the eyes of The Council.”
“Is he going to be found guilty of treason?” asked Darvis with a concerned look on his face.
“Most likely, yes. He'll probably also be charged with attempted murder. He did arrange for Atlar's kidnapping. Of course, depending on how Atlar fairs in the infirmary, he may end up being charged with second degree murder as well.”
Darvis took a deep breath, then said, “Oh gods...”
“You did the right thing, Darvis,” Baran said as he pat Darvis on the shoulder. “You're free of all blame in this, and I personally think you should be proud of yourself for standing up to Octian.”
Darvis nodded, about to leave.
“Darvis...” Baran added, “thank you for your courage today. We'll be in touch,”
As Baran watched Darvis walk through the hall, he could sense how disturbed the young man was. Baran genuinely felt bad for the young man and hoped Darvis would eventually get over the shock and pain of what Octian had put him through.
“Is he alright?” asked Ona who quietly approached Baran.
“I think he will be... in time,” said Baran.
Ona's face looked drained from sadness and worry. Baran wanted to ask her how her father was doing, but he didn't want to upset her further. He was actually rather surprised she had made it to Octian's trial. He would have assumed she'd be with Atlar, for the king had only just arrived on Kri two nights prior and was now in critical condition.
Baran was consumed with rage when he first heard Atlar had been injected with plasma sickness. Without hesitation, he ordered Octian's arrest, and fearing Octian might think of a way to squeeze himself out of his situation, Baran pushed for an immediate trial.
Luckily, The Council bent to Baran's orders. He assumed it was because none of them believed Atlar to actually still be alive. Once they saw their king lying on a stretcher, pale as death, Baran assumed they felt silenced by shame. None of them wanted to be implicated in Atlar's death. Those who had worked with Octian now feared for their careers, so they kept quiet, allowing Baran to do whatever he wished to Octian.
Baran didn't want blood, but he did want Octian to pay. He wanted everyone who had anything to do with Atlar's kidnapping to be held responsible. If his king died at their hands, he wanted them them behind bars for life.
Baran's father was still missing, but he suspected Raifar dead. Only Atlar could shed light on the matter. Baran prayed their king would soon be able to speak, though he held no hope Atlar would live past a few days. No one did. Not even Ona.
“Your Highness,” Baran softly addressed her, “you know how sorry I am about your father. How is he? Any change in his condition?”
“No,” she solemnly replied, “and the doctors have no idea how to heal him. His illness is too advanced, they say.”
“I'm so sorry, Ona,” Baran gently replied, wishing he could say more to ease her pain.
“Thank you, Baran... for everything. I am actually going to see him now. Do you wish me to tell him anything on your behalf? I know you're a busy man at present.”
Baran nodded and said, “Just tell him how grateful I am for everything that he taught me, and Ona, tell him that I...”
“Yes?”
“Tell him I will do as he asked of me the last time we spoke. I will find those to blame for his illness, and I will bring them to justice, especially Notama.”
Ona gave a sad smile with a nod. She then turned to leave. She desperately wanted to return to her father, but first, she needed to see Ayn. He had told her he was going to visit the infirmary that afternoon, but she had a feeling he was still in bed resting. The healing he had tried on Atlar seemed to completely drain him, and it worried her. The idea of losing both her father and the love of her life at the same time was too overwhelming for her to even think a
bout. She had only just met Ayn, and the thought of losing him was too much for to bear. All she could do was pray the Gods would find it in their hearts to spare them both. She refused to be religious, but she was getting desperate.
Ayn was staying in a room next to hers, though she had offered her own room to him. She didn't want to push their relationship faster than it already had been, but she also knew he needed to be cared for after what had happened on Sirin. She felt selfish about him and wanted him as near to her as possible. When Ayn was gone from her sight, he was all she could think about: his beautiful face and his heavenly voice. Fully aware of how smitten she was, there was no turning back, and her past fear of their intense love seemed so silly to her now.
Softly knocking on his door, Ona quietly said, “Ayn? Are you awake? It's me... Ona.”
As she slowly entered his room, she saw him, shirtless and tying the waist of his silken, light-blue pants. Immediately blushing, she quickly turned around. “I'm sorry!” she squeaked.
Ayn smiled and said, “It's alright, Ona. I'm dressed now. You can turn around.”
She turned and saw he had put on a blue silk shirt to match his pants.
“How unbearably handsome you are, my Bodanya,” Ona said with a grin.
Her flirtatious words made him smile, though only for a moment. He was far too worried and anxious to lose his cares in her love, though it was tempting.
The truth was, he had no idea how far he could allow their love to go. He desperately feared that once she found out about his gender issues, she may lose all attraction for him. It was a situation Ayn dreaded almost as much as he feared the possibility he could have somehow caught Atlar's illness. Although Plasma Sickness was not usually contagious, and was more thought to be a hereditary illness, Ayn worried he somehow activated his own body's vulnerability. His mother had died from it, and there was always a risk he could get it as well.
Not wanting to think about such things, Ayn shrugged it off, giving Ona a soft, warm embrace. She loved the way he held her, so gentle and loving.