Chasing Earth and Flame

by Adonis Devereux

  Melenius opened his hand to reveal a smooth, silver plug. Its narrow tip and flanged edge caused Nevia’s airs to flutter.

  “And just where do you intend to put that?”

  Melenius’s answer came in the sudden caress of her anus.

  Nevia seized the instant of his distraction to slip out of his grasp and swim to the opposite side of the bathing pool. Her negation was in all her elements as she shook her head. “Oh, no.”

  “Oh, yes.” Melenius pushed through the water and caught her again. “Most definitely yes.”

  At that moment, the door to the bath burst inward. Ginovae rushed to the entry, but stopped at once.

  Nevius Akar Judal stood there, his gaze traveling over his naked daughter and son-in-law. He spoke, in the calm and even tones Nevia had heard all her life.

  “This marriage is over.”

  Chapter Four

  Melenius stood up in the middle of the bath. “What are you doing here?”

  Judal answered by moving into the chamber, looking around corners, and assuming a seat on a nearby stool. “Last time I checked, this was my house.”

  Melenius heard splashing behind him. Ginovae had entered the bath and draped a robe around her Domina.

  “This marriage is over?” Melenius took Nevia’s hand in his.

  Judal snapped his fingers, and his steward scurried forward with a scroll. “Yes. Truly I am sorry to bring you this news. It pains me to bring you suffering while you bask in your marital bliss.”

  Melenius narrowed his eyes. Judal was not even trying to hide his mockery.

  “Explain yourself, Father.” Nevia’s airs bore her anger like a bird of prey on the wing. The temperature of the bath water plummeted.

  “It’s quite simple, really.” Judal unrolled the scroll. “I’m actually a little embarrassed that I didn’t catch this before, what with me being the Chief Priest of Nirrion. It is my duty, after all, to know the law.”

  Nevia squeezed Melenius’s hand. The joy that had shone in her eyes just a moment before was gone; fear replaced it.

  What could make the indomitable Akara fear? Melenius studied Judal’s placid visage, his unruffled brow, the ease with which he sat, like a proud and contented king upon a throne. Judal had something, something he thought unanswerable.

  “When the Faror came to Nirrion about fifty years ago, we Skenje let them in, but only because we needed a buffer between the Akar and the Basur who were at the brink of war because of mutual insults resulting from a botched marriage.” Judal crossed his legs, clearly making himself comfortable.

  Nevia’s fires sparked in annoyance, and Melenius assumed he was going to be subjected to some pontification.

  “Nirrion welcomed these foreigners, but not without stipulations.” Judal smoothed out the scroll in his lap. “And one of those stipulations was that no Faror may marry a Skenje noblewoman without dispensation from the High Council of Jehiel. I neglected to obtain it, and for that, I am sorry.”

  “Kanfiran eat your eyes!” Nevia’s wrath turned the bath water to slush, and Melenius was obliged to climb out of the pool. Ginovae, too, who had still remained waist-deep in the water, shrieked and jumped out.

  Judal stood and looked Melenius up and down. “Hairy beast. Thank the gods this law was brought to my attention. I shudder to think what my daughter has endured at your hands.”

  Melenius towered over the Akar patriarch. The room was filled with the sound of ringing metal, swords being unsheathed.

  “Do you want to do this?” Judal looked up into Melenius’s eyes. Even still, with a furious Lorin within arm’s reach, Judal appeared unafraid.

  “I will do anything to protect my wife.” Melenius could hear every breath Judal took. His elements called out to the air, and it obeyed him. It fled from Judal, and he began to choke.

  “Bastard Faror!” Judal’s voice croaked as he fell back against the wall clutching at his throat.

  Sword raised, one of the Akar house guards leaped at Melenius. The Lorin had expected an attack, and he side-stepped the thrust. The air around Judal rushed back in. Melenius cursed, angry at the distraction. Keeping one wary eye on the guard, he moved to stand behind Judal, asphyxiating his foe again.

  Guards poured into the bath chamber. Clearly Judal had expected a fight. Melenius watched with pride as Nevia, dripping from her bath, incinerated the man who had attacked him. She simply raised her hand, and her cold eyes burned hot. The guard doubled over, and his sword clattered across the wet tiles. His hair was the first thing to burst into flames, and the screaming that followed was horrible. The reinforcements pulled up short of their quarry and looked to their master with puzzlement.

  Judal was no match for Melenius and Nevia. They would annihilate that pompous ass and flee, for there was no greater sin in the republic than the killing of one’s father. They would blame Nevia for Judal’s death, but Melenius would be guiltless of patricide before the gods. Nevia and Melenius would never be welcome in Nirrion again, but Melenius did not care. He would take his wife to Faror, to live among his father’s people, and they would live at peace, away from the stench of the city. Away from the bigotry and the lies. Melenius rejoiced to watch Judal collapse on the floor, clawing at his throat.

  And that was when Melenius got tackled. He sailed across the room and smacked his head against the far wall. Garalach was on top of him, his white cheeks flushed.

  “Melenius, stop this!”

  Melenius roared. His airs responded to his fury, lifting him and his teacher from the floor. Melenius slammed Garalach into the ceiling. “Veirakai take you!” He launched his erstwhile friend into the slushy pool.

  Garalach rose from the pool and cried out, “No, my friend! Look to your wife!”

  Melenius – so intent he had been on ending Judal’s existence – had not seen Nevia being swarmed by her father’s guards. She was pinned down. Nevia was strong, but any Lorin would have been overwhelmed.

  Judal recovered a second time, and his face was purple with rage. He stumbled toward the edge of the pool.

  Garalach’s elements returned the bath water to its natural state, and he used the liquid to propel himself forward to prevent Melenius from advancing.

  “Listen to me, old friend.” Garalach laid his hands on Melenius’s chest.

  Melenius looked past Garalach. He wanted to punch him, but he was more concerned about Judal. What was he going to do? Melenius’s airs sang in anticipation; he was balanced on a knife’s edge. Fury warred with caution – Judal was a canny foe, and Melenius could not afford to make a mistake. Exhilaration at the prospect of battle suffused his elements; he craved a contest of wills with Judal.

  “Are you prepared to face the consequences of this battle?” Garalach asked.

  “Father!” Nevia struggled against her captors. “Why are you doing this?”

  Melenius wanted to go to his wife; he wanted to drown all the men who dared lay their hands on Nevia.

  “Listen to me,” Garalach said. He matched Melenius’s movements, keeping himself between Melenius and those he wished to kill.

  “Get out of my way, Garalach.”

  Garalach’s airs rose up like a wall before him. “What will you do? You cannot win her back through brute force.” His voice dropped to a harsh whisper, and he glanced back at Judal. “If you push this, Judal will kill Nevia. He is a man of outrageous pride. He’d rather see her dead than in your arms. Now, I don’t know what game he’s playing, but rest assured, he’s playing a game. Be patient. Let him take Nevia back to Nirrion. Then we can work on a way for you to rescue her.”

  Melenius shoved Garalach away. Patience? Against this insult?

  But Garalach was right back in Melenius’s face. “Or else fill this bath chamber with corpses, among whom will be your wife.”

  Melenius looked into Nevia’s wintry eyes, and the maelstrom of his wrath subsided. Garalach was right. No matter how much he wanted to strangle each and every one of those guards, no matter how much h
e wanted to turn Judal inside out, he could not risk Nevia’s life. He would have gladly died facing an innumerable foe, but he could not ask Nevia to do the same. He would not. He loved her too much. He loved her intensely, and he would not part with her so soon.

  Judal spoke, and his voice was a hoarse whisper. “As Chief Priest of Nirrion...” He winced and rubbed his throat. “I nullify this marriage. All you present are witnesses to Jehiel’s will.” Judal’s hatred burned against Melenius, and the Lorin supposed that that had been the first time in the arrogant Akar’s life that anyone had dared lay a hand on him.

  “Bring her.” Judal shuffled away, flanked by his bodyguard and steward.

  The guards lifted Nevia off the floor, and though she was small, she thrashed against her captors’ strong grasps. The guards began to scream, and Melenius watched as Nevia’s frosty skin erupted in flames. Two more guards perished in fire before Melenius could get to her.

  “Be still, my wife!” Melenius took her hand as she reached out to him. “I would not have your father kill you.”

  “The Threefold Darkness take them!” Nevia screamed. “I shall consume them all!”

  “Peace, Nevia.” Melenius moved closer, but one guard threw his chest into him. Melenius’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “You are going to want to think very carefully about what you do next.”

  The guard backed down.

  Melenius’s rage bled away, and his airs wrapped around Nevia like a blanket. “Go back to your father’s house. I will come for you. We are married, and no god can come between us, much less any of his servants.” He glanced up at Judal, who stood waiting near the door.

  “I will kill him for this.” Nevia’s fires rippled across her skin.

  “And damn yourself? Nistaran would turn his back on you in the afterlife, and you would have to wander the outer darkness alone, eternally separated from me. No, you shall not kill your father.”

  Nevia nodded, and Melenius marveled at how quickly she gained control of herself. Her body turned to ice again, and her eyes resumed their frosty depth. “Husband, you well instruct me. Come for me, then.”

  Melenius kissed her hand and stepped away. The hardest thing he had ever done in his life was let Judal walk away with Nevia. When everyone was gone, and only he and Garalach remained, Melenius howled, and the winds answered him. A mighty storm gathered. Winds drove the stinging rain before dark clouds. Lightning struck all across the countryside, and thunder buffeted the walls of the villa. Melenius levitated upon his airs in his wrath, and anything that was not tied down got caught up in his vortex.

  At one point, Melenius saw Garalach sink into the stones and disappear. He was wise not to tarry. Melenius’s airs and water flowed through him and around him, and as they responded to his anger, he drew strength from them, just as they grew mightier from him. All turned to haze and mist before his eyes, and only his cry was heard above the tumult.

  ****

  Melenius sat among the wreckage of the villa. The bath chamber no longer resembled the charming room where he and Nevia had whispered sweet words to each other, where they had kissed and touched. Nevia was gone, her elements fled with her, and all that remained was a broken house, its roof torn off, exposing its rich interior to the cold, unfeeling stars. Melenius’s soul, too, was laid bare, and his heart bled for the woman who had been ripped from him. He wondered how he could heal.

  Melenius sensed a tremor through the stones beneath him, and Garalach rose from the earth like some statue being solemnly elevated from some secret vault. “I’m sorry, my friend.”

  Melenius stared at Garalach’s feet. “I know you did it for Nevia’s good.”

  Garalach nodded and moved to sit beside Melenius among the crushed stone and shattered tiles. “Judal had come prepared. I saw more men outside than were in here. If you’d not stopped, they would’ve overwhelmed you and Nevia, and you’d both be dead.”

  “I feel dead already. I have loved Nevia from a distance for years. Now that she is a woman, I love her more. I still feel her fires in my flesh. You don’t know how wonderful it is.” Melenius looked to Garalach for some commiseration, but the tutor’s glassed-over eyes stared into vacant space before him.

  Melenius nudged his friend with his elbow. “Garalach?”

  “Must be nice.” Garalach snapped back to his senses. “Anyway, I don’t want you to lose hope. Remember Tiaba?”

  “That slave girl you fucked all the time?”

  “Hey!” Garalach gave Melenius a playful push. “When she died of the plague, my heart broke. I was truly fond of her. She was more than just property to me, and though she was not Lorin, I felt a special connection with her.”

  The fires within Melenius expressed his disbelief, but his airs whispered in appreciation for what his friend was trying to do. “This is not the same thing, Garalach. I haven’t lost a slave. My wife has been stolen from me. Besides, as I remember it, you were even more fond of Tiaba’s brother, Ikarus. You’d take an ass-fucking from him over you penetrating her any day of the week. When he died of the plague, I thought you were going to drown yourself in the sorrow of your own waters.”

  Garalach nodded. “True. They were both lovely, but Ikarus was better in bed.”

  Melenius had had his fair share of pretty little slave youths, young ass that took the edge off after a long, dull session of the Senate, but he had never allowed one of his pleasure slaves to take him. He did the taking, not vice versa. It was distasteful to a man of Nirrion to be dominated in bed, so, ironically, Melenius was in this matter more Skenje than the Skenje who sat beside him. But he did not judge his friend. Some men liked to be taken by male lovers. To each his own. It just was not something Melenius was interested in.

  His thoughts turned back to Nevia, and his waters darkened like the sea at night.

  “Don’t worry,” Garalach said, clearly sensing Melenius’s shift in his elements. “We’ll get her back. What can I do to help?” He put a hand on Melenius’s shoulder.

  Melenius turned and looked Garalach directly in the eyes. “I shall return to Nirrion and kill Judal.”

  Garalach shook his head. “No, no, no.” He came around and knelt before Melenius, placing both his hands on Melenius’s shoulders. He leaned in close. “Listen to me: you can’t fight Judal that way. You’ll lose. Challenge him legally. Sure, he controls the courts, but if you sue him, this misdeed will become public knowledge. He might settle with you to avoid scandal.”

  “I’m no lawyer.”

  “If you try to carry Nevia off, Judal will kill her. You know how diabolically proud those Akar are.”

  Melenius put his hands on either side of Garalach’s head, and the Lorin’s watery hair flowed over his flesh. “What can I do, then?”

  Garalach’s elements sang with sympathy. “We must watch and wait. In time, an opportunity will present itself. And if one does not, we will make an opening.” He touched his forehead to Melenius’s. “Let’s vow to all the gods right here and now that we’ll do everything we can – within reason and safety to Nevia – to reclaim your wife.”

  Melenius nodded. “I swear by Jehiel’s brow.”

  “And I, by Chiel’s bright eyes, too.”

  The oath made, Melenius sat back against a half-toppled wall.

  Garalach laughed as he looked around. “The Akar clan is less one villa. I wonder if he’ll charge you for this. Remind me to never anger you.”

  The last thing Melenius cared about was what Judal thought about his own ruined house. Nevia’s fires sparked from his fingertips, and with that last spike of fury, her elements fled from him at last. “I should have bonded with her. She’s gone from me now, and I may never get another chance.”

  He rose and gathered together enough broken shards of wood to build a small fire. As he warmed his hands before the flame, as the popping sound of burning oak soothed him, he thought of Nevia’s beautiful eyes of ice.

  Chapter Five

  “Ginovae, my veil.” Nevi
a rose from the table and held out to Ginovae a wax tablet. On that tablet Nevia had inscribed all the documents that she would require from the Hall of Records.

  “Yes, Domina.” Ginovae took the tablet, sliding it into a pouch at her waist, and then adjusted the slim band of gold in Nevia’s hair. It did not take long for her to fasten the long, diaphanous veil of deep purple.

  Nevia did not bother to survey her appearance before sweeping out into the passage. That she was beautiful she knew, but it did not matter at the moment. All that was important was that she conveyed sufficient wealth in her attire. The slaves and scribes at the Hall of Records would therefore accord her more respect, and that was what mattered.

  “Domina.” Ginovae’s tone conveyed something; Nevia was sure of it. But she was not so skilled as Melenius at reading human expressions, and she had no notion of what her nurse meant.

  “Yes?” Nevia decided that caution was the better choice at this moment. “What is it?”

  Ginovae coughed and made a surreptitious gesture to the knot of guards at the end of the passage.

  Nevia stood still, pretending to fuss with the folds of her gown as she observed the group. They were five in number, but there were easily five times that number within call. Since their return to Nirrion on the day before, Judal had trebled the number of house guards. There were, as well, two guards on her door, but those she had reckoned on. Nevia’s annoyance flashed like flame through her air, but she knew that the guards would never see it. She resolved at last to feign ignorance of any sort of difficulty with her leaving.

  “Come, Ginovae.” Nevia glided down the passage toward the guards, and the two that had been stationed on her door followed her.

  “Domina.” The captain of the house guards, a Skenje man whom Nevia had known since childhood, stepped before her and bowed. “The Dominus your father has said that it is too dangerous for you to be out in the city during this time.”