“I never want to see you,” circled his thoughts.
His fists clenched, his veins pumping with hot blood and he wished he had his Vota. He didn’t need it, but it would be quicker to kill the worthless one. From the day that cursed one came into his life, Mara had distanced herself from his affections. She made dinner with him, but never ate together. She gave him guarded goodbyes and didn’t smile at his antics. It was all Ethan’s fault. He let the fire in him rage about until he was racing towards the boy.
Ethan’s eyes widened at Mollet’s charging anger.
With a fierce roar, Mollet lunged toward Ethan and struck the boy down with his meaty fist. Ethan’s neck snapped back against the force, shredding both bandages and skin. The light in his eyes escaped and he saw black. When he opened his good eye, both Hinson and Caitilin were restraining Mollet. Hinson was pulling hard on a vein popping bicep, while Caitilin was holding onto his neck.
“I swear to Daysun, I’ll kill you, Mollet!” Hinson threatened, his wings turning sharp.
“You’ll have to kill me twice! Now and after I have killed the curse!”
Caitilin was struggling to hold on. “Mollet, Ethan is not at fault. You have to believe us!”
“Then who is, Caity! Who do I kill?” Mollet glared at them with venomous eyes. He was lost without a battle.
“The Kalhari did this! They are the ones to blame for this. You must focus your energy on overcoming them. You have to trust us! Killing a simple Earthian is not logical.”
He stopped resisting the Phaenix and slumped down.
Hinson relaxed his wings and returned them, “We are doing this for Faeria and for our people. This Earthian is worthless, but he has Daysun’s purpose on him . You can’t kill him.”
Mollet started to slow his heavy breathing and brushed his hair out of his eyes. “Why would the Daysun want a curse present in our land? How is this anything but a disregard of logic?”
Caitilin rested her comforting hand on his shoulder. “We don’t know; it’s all we have for the moment and we need your allegiance on this. Believe us when we say we wouldn’t want him for any other reason.”
Ethan was barely conscious, unaware the three Phaenix were disowning him in a separate language.
“Is he safe?” Ethan asked Caitilin.
Mollet stomped his feet. “I may not kill him, but I don’t want him to be near us in the frontline of battle. He’ll ruin everything, sullying the name of the warrior’s guild.”
Hinson began to chuckle. “An Earthian on the battlefield, that’s laughable. We didn’t even think that far. I doubt he will be doing any fighting. We just need him to fulfill the wishes of the Daysun.”
They all thought about Ethan being a fighter with his weak, little arms and wingless body and they laughed. It was a hearty laugh and it distracted Mollet for the time being.
Ethan remained dazed and light headed.
*****
The castle echoed with the sounds of grief as the Master of Defense grasped the wooden table and wept out his soul. He lamented so deeply he was not aware the Queen stood by his side. She also wore the tunic of mourning and refused to wear her crown, as was the custom for her to show grief over losses in the Queendom. Even though she was the royal symbol of all Faeria, she was not above showing comfort to her friend. She put a hand on Budgeron’s back. Her hands were warm and nurturing, but numb to the loss Budgeron felt. Sasha, his only daughter, was sacrificed to the enemy.
Budgeron turned his puffy face toward the Queen.
“I want them dead. All of them dead! Every last crawlie dead before me!”
Sensing the sheer pain of losing his daughter, the Queen nodded. “It shall be done.”
“If I lose my life in the battle for Faeria’s homeland, I have one request. Take my remains, my sword, and my chestplate and burn them into fine ashes. Then go up to the despicable crawlie and pour it in his drink.”
- Excerpt from a Phaenix Warrior’s Journal
XV: Adoki Flashfire: The Man, The Legend
The school bus screeched to a halt and the door opened. Kioko exited to the streets where her apartment complex waited for her. She walked by herself, paying no mind to the other students returning to their homes. Thoughts of today’s fashion and clothing options paraded through her mind as she passed by a few middle class houses built in the historic neighborhood. She began cataloging the socks she owned and which blouses corresponded with each ensemble. These thoughts took her as far as the purple and yellow polka dot socks going with the striped tank top when she noticed a dog walking by itself on the road. It was a coffee brown dog with a metal chain hanging from its collar. The dog walked aimlessly and confused as if it had lost its purpose. It made eye contact with Kioko and whimpered.
Kioko, not wanting to miss an opportunity to pet something cute and furry, edged closer to the dog. It seemed like a safe animal and the collar proved that it was owned by a neighbor, though she wasn’t sure why it was walking around loose. She crept closer to the stranded canine on the sidewalk and offered her hand for it to smell. The dog gave two sniffs to Kioko’s hand and decided that she was friendly. Her hand began to stroke the dog’s fuzzy scalp much to its delight. The dog coughed and a black piece of material fell from its mouth. Kioko inspected the black piece of material lying in dog spit. Though she did not want to touch it, she could read the name that was printed on it. The black material was part of a ripped folder and the name on it was Ethan Mioko.
Kioko remembered Ethan’s story where he mentioned a dog was chasing and brutalizing him. Could this be the dog that was hurting that poor boy? She bent low and cupped the dog’s mouth in her hands.
“Were you terrorizing the young Korean boy?”
The dog offered no response.
She then remembered that Ethan was a no-show the last few days of school. She didn’t forget him entirely, even though it seemed like memories of him were trying to slip from her brain. He was in this neighborhood somewhere. Was he safe? Her last memory of the boy was him lying face up on the parking lot of the bus dismissal loop. There had been blood leaking from his scalp. Then a strange woman with blonde hair carried him away. Something about that robed stranger made her feel warm inside. It was like that stranger knew her and sent out a glance of recognition.
Kioko took a tissue out of her pink book bag and wrapped it around her hand. She knelt over and picked up the wet piece of folder shard. Historically, no boy in her life had deserved the privilege of her examining a saliva covered folder. Ethan was different. He seemed like he needed a friend and there was no one to look after him.
Sure enough, the part of the folder that the dog had chewed on was the name and address of the owner of the folder. Written in pencil was Ethan’s full address. Better yet, the address was two blocks over.
A ten minute walk and Kioko saw exactly why Ethan had been missing. Wedged between two perfectly healthy houses was a burnt and crispy shell of a house. The grass was black and sooty, ashes smeared the windows. Part of the roof had been eaten away by flames and the smell of strong charcoal filled the nose. The worst part about it was that it looked like not a soul in the world cared that Ethan’s house had burned up.
Did this guy owe money to people? Why does no one want to help him? Why do I care about some lonely student?
She realized that Ethan plucked at her heart strings the more she looked at his house. The fire had consumed everything he owned, he was being terrorized by sentient objects and he had that cursed black “X” on his hand. She didn’t understand the purpose of that black mark on his hand, but she knew it was dangerous. High school was hard enough, but that boy made an art out of having a nightmare of a life.
Ethan had to be somewhere suffering and looking for help, but no one was there to answer his cries, she worried. She left the empty house of tragedy after making sure it was empty. She left a note on his door just in case he returned home. A new mission began in Kioko’s mind as she walked away from the eye sore o
f the house.
Ethan needed to be found.
*****
“You’re doing what?!” Caitilin couldn’t believe her ears.
“We have no choice and we need something to ensure the boy will get inside.” Hinson surrendered. The look of desperation was evident in his face.
She lowered her voice so no one nearby would become suspicious. “But you can’t forge that prophecy, it’s…it’s….”
“It’s what?” Hinson inquired. “We can forge a prophecy of the enemy. I remember most of it and you can help me. Just because it’s not on the original paper doesn’t mean it’s any less true. We are just going to pretend that it’s the original.”
“How are we going to do that?”
Hinson ran to the prophecy center, pulled out another Kalhari prophecy and laid it out on the floor.
“You are going to ruin another prophecy?” Caitilin felt dizzy at the thought.
“I have already read the Kalhari prophecies and we don’t need this one. We can just write on the back of it.”
“That’s…that’s…,” she couldn’t get the words out; she just knew it was wrong. A deacon or deaconess never tampered with prophecies.
“I know Caity, but that’s what we need to do or Ethan will perish. Now help me think of what to write. We can write it in Phaenix.”
She dropped her defenses and got on her knees, but something else perked her ears “Wait, we are going to write it in Phaenix? It’s in Bangenese, the Kalhari language.”
Hinson smiled and blew away her care like it was a leaf in a whirlwind. “The Queen won’t trust a Kalhari prophecy. We will change it just a bit. I see nothing wrong with making up a prophecy, using it on the back of an enemy prophecy and changing the original language.”
Caitilin still did, but there was no time left. She found a quill pen and some ink and joined him.
“I hope Gibbs can forgive us.”
They wrote the prophecy, emphasizing parts to help the Queen understand. They had one more task before them. It involved crossing over a cobblestone road, back tracking to the Sprawl and waiting at a white gazebo that had handcrafted oak with Faeria symbols etched into it. The gazebo was where commoners met with the Registral—the local government.
*****
Mollet had found a stick and was fashioning it into a spear with a rock while Ethan was trying to take in the sights with his one good eye, trying hard not to complain about the sticky bandages. The golden brick buildings of the Registral were much different than the treehouses of the forest. These houses had fine gemstones and white rose lattices. Imported shrubs with platinum leaves lined the houses, while giant family emblems proudly told visitors which family belonged in the house.
Within moments a very old Phaenix, whose posture was rickety and bent, hobbled down to the gazebo. He had a light gray beard that seemed more fitting for collecting spider webs than for fashion. He paused when he saw the four Phaenix and then shuddered in pity at the one who was clearly damaged.
“I will be there in a second. Don’t be rushing an old wingy like me.”
He hobbled up the stairs on his own, cane in hand, and took a seat on a white bench within the gazebo.
“I am Dorsaw, the voice of the Queen, how can I assist you?”
Hinson wanted to laugh, because the Registral was not very good at helping anyone. The members were rich, fancy, and completely out of tune with the needs of the East and West. The only time the forest Phaenix saw these old wingers was when the leadership needed to propose a new Queen tax.
“We have found a survivor from the East and we would like your permission for him to be honored by the Queen.”
Mollet snickered. He felt Caitilin’s sharp elbow in the ribs and he covered it with a cough. He couldn’t believe the twig was being decorated for courage.
Dorsaw adjusted his eyes to see the hooded monstrosity. His gaze scanned the bandages and obviously damaged frame.
“What is your name, warrior?”
“Adoki Flashfire, of the archery division,” Caitilin chimed in. “He can’t talk; his throat was ripped out.”
She immediately cursed herself, because there was no proof of that at all.
“By dark arts,” Hinson included. “They used artistry to take apart his throat from the inside. It’s a horrible art, very new and dangerous. We are learning how to counter it. It’s called….”
“Dark throat arts,” Caitilin finished.
Dorsaw’s eyes darted back and forth between the two members of the Religistral. Their story was far-fetched and awkward, but a deacon never lies, so it must have been true. Dorsaw began to fan himself with a gold-rimmed fan. “This is too much for me to take in. Why should Adoki be permitted to see the Queen? He is just a survivor. We will commend him later. The Queen is dreadfully busy with this invasion going on. Also, aren’t the dark throat arts contagious?”
Hinson’s mind raced. He needed to think of something to assure Ethan’s visit with the Queen.
“He invented a Phaenix….”
“A new art…,” Caitilin chimed in.
“That I saw bring back the fallen from the dead,” Mollet finished and smiled to Caitilin with an evil grin. She elbowed him so hard he tripped out of the gazebo.
Dorsaw took out a cloth handkerchief and started to wipe his forehead. He winced at the Phaenix. He looked to see all of the Phaenix nodding in agreement with each other. The story was astonishing. Faeria needed this art and Dorsaw wanted to see it.
“Well, if Mollet says that, I guess it must be true. It can really bring Phaenix back from the dead? What is it called? How does it work?”
Caitilin gave a very bright smile, in hopes of averting suspicion. “We would show you it but, Adoki is the only one who can do it and it takes a voice, which he doesn’t have.”
“He needs his voice,” Hinson started again.
“Which he doesn’t have,” Caitilin mustered.
“Neither of which Adoki can do right now. But he would like to be recognized by the Queen for his efforts,” Hinson finished.
“He doesn’t have his voice.” Caitilin repeated herself just to cover her bases.
Dorsaw was deeply impressed. “This is a very peculiar meeting, but I would be hard pressed to pass this brave soldier up for a Queen visit. If he is as good as you say he is, he will need to get his voice back and share his new art with the soldiers. I am granting you one token of visitation. The message of your arrival will be sent to the Queendom and you will be granted access in the evening. Now, do any of you need counseling in proper Queen meetings?”
It worked! Caitilin’s sweat had drenched the back of her silk robe, but it didn’t matter because it had worked.
“Remember to be 30 paces from the Queen at all times. Do not turn your back to her. Do not speak unless she asks you a question. Hold perfectly still in a bowing pose unless she asks you to stand.”
The deacons thanked him and received the entrance token It had a series of different Phaenix insignias on it to ensure authenticity. Hinson gently hid it in his robe and thanked the Daysun. Nevertheless he imagined Gibbs’ rebuking him.
They found a table in the Sprawl away from any public and sat down. Caitilin brought out a burlap sack filled with vittles. They dug through the sack finding bean sprouts, faerie kiwi and roasted pepper spread. Caitilin promised the bean sprouts she had found were harmless, but Ethan took them cautiously knowing what the last food did to him.
“We have a visit with the Queen!” Hinson whispered.
“Yes, I never prayed it would go this well,” Caitilin beamed.
There was something on Ethan’s mind that he hadn’t understood it. He was going to be in a war. This was really happening and he was smack dab in the middle of it. His palms got sweaty and he started to rub his hands together.
“What are we planning for the battle?” he asked nervously.
Mollet was standing nearby, chewing on some fig leaves when he heard the boy’s insecurity. “Not ju
st any battle, but a battle where we are outnumbered by half.”
Ethan’s stomach suddenly didn’t take the sprout very well.
Caitilin chimed in, “That’s not the point. The point is that we are fighting with the Daysun’s blessing. We obeyed Gibbs’ vision. That means we will see victory.”
Unfortunately, that didn’t ease Ethan’s mind or stomach. “I don’t believe in any of that stuff. No offense, but that religion is not mine.”
Hinson chewed slowly on his roasted pepper. He was not as put off by Ethan’s dismissal of the state religion. “What part of of our monotheistic culture are you having trouble with?”
Ethan drew in a deep breath. “Just because you tell me that this invisible name is doing all this stuff and that I have a kotoma, doesn’t mean I know what you are talking about.”
Caitilin sighed and spoke some annoyed Phaenix to Hinson. He furrowed his brow.
Ethan wasn’t exactly telling the whole truth. Some entity, whether spiritual or mental, had been with him when he was out in the forest by himself. He didn’t want to admit it and give these religious flying nuts a chance to belittle him. He still stuck closely to his reason-centered ways.
“Have any of you sat down and questioned whether this Daysun exists? Earth has a perfectly fine explanation of how life works. There’s no religion or Daysun. It’s just nature.”
Mollet grabbed the back of his neck and squeezed it. “Don’t blaspheme the homeland kotoma or I will take your head.”
Caitilin quickly shooed him away. “It’s not like that at all. You say that science and logic created everything around us, but that doesn’t get rid of a deity that governs everyone around us. That only puts the deity within logic and reason.”
Hinson let his thoughts roll off his tongue. “I can understand why you have so much trouble about this. You probably did not grow up reciting The Shaye, sending vegetable offerings to the village offering or hearing the stories of the great victories. Caitilin and I are steeped in that belief, so it is easy for us to see the fingerprints of a god. You, on the other wing, do not see that so easily. But let me stimulate your graymatter for a second. Suppose that everything you see is a result of...what did you call it?”
The Boy and His Curse Page 20