He shakes his head. "It is still . . . faded. Difficult to . . . reach." He pauses. "I remember . . . war. Devastation. Then I was . . . taken." Another pause as he leaves me, his mind absorbed in whatever memory he can reach. "I was . . . a . . . slave," he says in a low voice, horror in his eyes as they meet mine again.
My heart breaks for him. "It's okay," I reassure him, wrapping my arms around him and holding him close, his head cushioned against my chest. There's nothing I can do about what happened to him, though I so wish there was. All I can do is comfort him now. "You're safe now. You don't have to think about it anymore." I kiss his forehead, pressing my cheek against him.
I feel terrible for making him remember in the first place. My curiosity wasn't a good enough reason to make him recall painful memories. Maybe some of them were better left buried.
"My treasure," he says raggedly, his arms coming around my waist to squeeze me, pulling me even closer to him.
I run my fingers through his soft hair, wishing I could take away all that hurt for him. His memories are only just starting to come back. He's going to have years and years of terrible experiences coming back to him, seeping back into his conscious mind. Maybe the bijass isn't a curse. Or not completely a curse. Maybe it's also a blessing. A way to deal with the terrible in a way to keep the mind intact. A necessary defense mechanism.
"What about . . . my treasure?" Ryuth murmurs, raising his head after long moments.
"What about me?" I repeat.
"How did you . . . come . . . here?" He gestures around us, his eyes inquisitive.
"To Tajss?" I clarify. He nods. "Well. We left Earth, our home planet, on a ship. The plan was to reach a planet that we could colonize. Where the last remaining population of humans could survive and grow."
"Hu-mans," Ryuth repeats, focusing on my lips. "My treasure is hu-mans?"
I smile. "Yes, I'm human," I confirm. "Anyway, the planet we aimed for was so far away that whole generations of humans lived and died on that ship. And even more were going spend their entire lives on it before we would ever reach our destination. Including me. All I ever knew, all I was ever supposed to know, was that ship."
His eyes are intensely focused on me as I speak. I can see he's trying to separate every word, understand what it means. What I'm trying to tell him.
"Then why . . . here?" he asks again. "Not . . . right planet."
He's right. It isn't. My mouth tightens as I remember the attack on our ship. How many died. The smoke, the screams.
"We were attacked. By pirates. The Zzlo."
His snarl makes me pause, his face twisting in rage at the mention of his captors. Of the people who enslaved him.
"Zzlo," he spits out. "Must kill the Zzlo."
I rub his arm, hoping to calm him down. Not that I disagree with the sentiment.
"I'll be the last one to try to stop you from killing the Zzlo," I agree softly. He starts to calm as I talk, as I touch him. Coming back to himself again. I continue. "After they attacked, our ship crash-landed here on Tajss. And we've been here ever since."
Something about my tone must have alerted him that I'm not exactly ecstatic about that fact.
"You do not . . . like . . . Tajss?" he asks, his focus on my face sharp once again.
I sigh, shaking my head. "When we were on the ship, I complained just like everyone else did. About the food, about the close quarters, the lack of privacy. The desire to be outside, to travel like we saw in the movies we watched." I shake my head. "I never thought I'd actually ever get off that ship. I was born on it and meant to spend my entire life on it. To procreate, ensure that the race continued. To be a cog in the wheel of that well-oiled machine." I shake my head, remembering what now feel like much more minor complaints. I guess when death is a very real possibility, it puts everything into harsh perspective. "But Tajss . . . life here is hard, Ryuth. Really hard." I laugh as I look away from his eyes. "I'm sure you know that. But I'm not used to . . . this." I gesture around us. "The heat, the dangers, the lack of water. Maybe not here, but everywhere else." I look back at him, wondering if he understands or if I sound like a complete ninny. "It makes me miss the ship." I laugh harshly, shaking my head. "I never thought I would say those words if I was ever planet side. It's like a sick cosmic joke, you know? Here's what you always wished for. Don't you regret it now?"
A small silence.
It gives me room to regret saying all that. I immediately feel like a heel for complaining. Ryuth has been through so much more than I have.
"I am . . . sorry," he says quietly. "Tajss is not . . . easy."
I snort. "Understatement of the century." I study his face, comforted by just the sight of it. "I'm really glad you're coming out of the bijass, Ryuth. I feel so much less alone here," I say softly.
He nods, his hand moving down to rest on the small of my back.
"I am . . . glad. I want my treasure to . . . be . . . happy."
I've heard the other Zmaj call their women their treasures. I feel all warm and glowy inside knowing he feels like that towards me.
But . . .
"Ryuth . . . " I reach back to take his hand in mine, pulling it up to rest against my chest, against my heart. I know he isn't going to like this. But I have to say it. "You know what would make me happy?"
He shakes his head.
"What does . . . my treasure . . . want?" he asks, his gaze intent.
I need to just spit it out. "I really . . . care about you Ryuth."
He smiles, his face softening. "I care about my treasure too," he agrees.
I smile back, feeling even worse. "But we can't live here by ourselves forever. We need the support of a group." I take a deep breath, my hand gripping his tightly. "I want to go back to my friends, Ryuth."
I can see only a flash of the pain he feels before his face shuts down almost immediately.
And I wonder if I've made a huge mistake.
14
Ryuth
She wants to . . . leave? Why does my treasure want to leave? "You want to go . . . back?" I repeat, frustrated that words are so difficult for me to find when I want to say so much.
The words swim around in my head, the right ones drifting away when I want them. I need to be able to talk. To convince her to stay.
She looks down, her hair, so shiny and bright, falling over her beautiful face in a thin veil. "Yes," she says in that same quiet voice.
I struggle with that thought. She wants to return to the Tribe? The same Tribe that imprisoned me, kept me in a cage like I was an animal? She wants to go back to them?
"Do I not . . . provide for you?" I ask, pushing the hurt aside. If she feels like this, I must make her not feel like this. Perhaps I can convince her staying here is a good idea. "We have water, food. We have shelter," I say, looking around at the structure. Yes, it is not completely intact, but it still provides enough shelter for us. Perhaps I should build us something else?
"Oh, Ryuth," my treasure sighs, lifting her face and smiling at me, her eyes a little wet. "Yes, you are an excellent provider," she agrees. "You've kept us alive. You've kept me alive despite everything. I know I'm mostly dead weight out here."
I scowl. I do not know exactly what she means, but I do know that she is insulting herself somehow. I do not like that. Not at all.
"You are my treasure. I want to take care of you," I say, this time the words coming more easily.
And I mean them.
"That's . . . so sweet," she replies, smiling at me as her thumb rubs the back of my hand. "And I'm not saying I want to leave you. I want you to come back with me."
I shake my head, leaning back from her.
"Go back to . . . prison?" I ask, appalled at the thought. "I will not go back to the Tribe. No."
She nods. "I understand why you would feel that way, Ryuth," she agrees, her face solemn, her tone serious. "But when they see that you're talking, when they see that you are no longer lost to the bijass . . . they won't lock you up again.
I promise they won't."
I clench my jaw.
"You cannot promise that," I finally say. "They will not like how I . . . left."
A small silence.
"Maybe they won't," she says slowly. "But you weren't quite in your right mind," she points out. "They can’t hold you responsible for your actions when you weren't fully functioning."
I do not know if that is true. I left quite violently, though I would do it again if it meant freedom. And time with Mei, my treasure.
"What if they do?" I ask. "What if they . . . hold me responsible?"
She grins, the smile unexpected. "Then we'll break out again," she says. "I'll help you escape this time." Her smile fades. "But we have to try. I want to be around my friends, around other people. With you." She licks her lips and I follow the movement, feeling a stirring at the sight even though I was just well satisfied. It seems as if I cannot get enough of my treasure. "It isn't just my friends back there," she adds, almost hesitantly. "Your brother Ragnar is there too. Remember?"
Ragnar.
A flash of his face, a familiar scent. His voice. Him protecting me. The memory of him feeding me patiently even as he chained me down.
Ragnar.
Yes.
Brother.
"And it isn't like we won't come back here," she continues. "I think we should tell them about this place, tell them it's a good place to make another base. There's so much water here, and then there's this building," she says, looking around with a smile. "We can take back some of that plat you found, show them what is here for them if they come."
The excitement in her voice is clear.
But something is wrong. I frown as I try to figure out what that is. Something is trying to pierce the fog.
She wants to bring her friends back here.
She wants to . . . move her friends here.
A feel a sharp pain in my head.
There's something . . .
A rush of images, of emotions, rages through me.
Life, death, destruction.
Betrayal.
War.
So much of it.
Pain, fear, determination.
Loss.
I . . . remember.
I remember so much.
Maybe not everything . . .
But enough to know what I have to do.
What my path needs to be.
I come back to myself.
It has only been moments, but I feel like it has been a lifetime. I am a different person now. We are the sum of our experiences after all. I focus on my treasure's beautiful face. Her big pretty eyes, her lush lips. This new me still wants her. She is perfect.
"Ryuth?" my treasure asks, her eyes hopeful. "What is it?"
I need to take her away from here. This place is death.
"We will leave," I say abruptly, the flood of memory bringing with it an ease to my words. They flow through naturally now, not through the painful barrier, the fog that has been keeping me prisoner.
I finally have some clarity.
Her face brightens and she presses her laughing mouth against mine. Love for her floods through me. She is indeed a treasure. My treasure.
"Thank you, Ryuth," she says, pulling back. "Thank you."
I nod, feeling badly that I am keeping my true motivation from her. But it is for the best. It is for her own good. It is what must be done. What my duty demands I do.
"Let us prepare," I say, helping her sit up. "Running through the desert with no supplies may not have been my finest moment."
She giggles, the sound bright and happy. It fills me with joy even as I feel another pang of guilt.
"Cut yourself a break," she teases as she gets to her feet. "You weren't exactly firing on all cylinders."
"I do not know what that means," I say honestly. "But it is true I behaved in a . . . less than intelligent manner."
She shakes her head, smiling as she dresses.
"A less than intelligent manner?" she repeats. "I don't even know who you are anymore," she teases.
I smile back, but the words cut deep. No. She truly does not know who I am anymore. Or she would not care for me. I am quiet, feeling the loss of what is to come. I find myself wanting to linger, wanting to hold on to this time we have alone.
But we cannot stay here.
We do not have much to pack so it does not take us long. Food, water, knives, and the lochaber are all we need to take with us. I make sure to lead her over to the fruit tree that we had gathered the lychnara from. There is no reason she cannot take the fruits to her friends. She is so excited about the prospect that I want to do this for her. Small, sweet mouthfuls, lychnara had always been a favorite of mine, ever since I was a small child.
That was . . . very long ago now.
Many lifetimes ago.
Once my treasure—Mei, I repeat to myself in my mind—has packed her bag with the small fruits to her satisfaction, we continue on.
"I can carry you," I insist as we walk towards the edge of the oasis.
"I'm sure you can, Tarzan," she retorts. "But it's not just me this time. We have supplies," she points out, holding up her laden bag. "And you have that too," she says, gesturing to the lochaber I have gripped in one hand.
Hmm.
She is right. Except for one thing.
"I am Ryuth. Not Tar-zan."
She looks over at me. And laughs. "Okay. Got it. Not Tarzan."
I don’t understand her laughter, but it is enough that she is happy.
We pass through the line of trees that define the edge of the oasis not much later. The desert is a vast expanse of red, ridged sand dunes as far as the eye can see. It is beautiful, dangerous. It is the home I dreamed of when the Zzlo held me captive on a faraway world. Despite the Devastation and all the destruction it wrought, Tajss still looks the same at its heart, here in the desert.
"Here we go," Mei mutters. She is not nearly as impressed with the sight. Her tone is uneasy.
I shrug to myself. Her soft, pink skin is not made for this environment, and she does not have any wings or a tail to make travel easier. I would worry too if I was built like her. How will she move?
We walk out onto the sand as I watch her from the corner of my eye. Mei immediately starts to slow, her feet sinking into the sand with every step, her weight ensuring the trek will be a difficult one. I can see how much effort it takes for her to move forward. There must be a better means to do this.
"If you wrap your arm around my waist, I can help take some of your weight so you do not sink in the sand," I offer, moving to her side. "The journey will be swifter," I add to try to convince her.
She huffs out a breath as she complies.
"I'm so not built for this," she mutters, echoing my previous thoughts.
"It is not a problem," I reassure her. "I am. I will help you."
She smiles, her eyes clear and bright. I am glad she is happy. She leans in to kiss my cheek. And I feel a glow in the vicinity of my hearts.
"You are so sweet, Ryuth," she sighs. "Thank you."
I nod, not knowing what else to say. Of course I will take care of my treasure. Even though she won't be mine for much longer. I feel a sharp pain at that and quickly try to bury it.
I cannot change what must be done, no matter how much it may pain me. I try not to think of it as we move smoothly across the dunes, now that I can lighten her weight with my wings.
As we pick up speed, I consider how best to broach the subject of our inevitable separation.
"And then, she said that—"
"You should not care for me," I say, interrupting her talk. I have noticed my treasure—Mei—enjoys speaking. And I enjoy listening to the sound of her light voice.
"What?" she asks, turning her head to look up at me, her eyes wide with confusion. I do not think this conversation will be one where I will enjoy listening to her.
"I am not worthy of you," I continue, forcing the words out. It is true. But it still hurts to drive thi
s wedge between us.
"I don't care for you Ryuth," she says, anger tinging her voice.
"You . . . do not?" I repeat, the words like a knife to my chest.
She does not care for me?
The pain at these words is deep. But perhaps it is for the better if—
"No, I do not care for you. I love you," she says fiercely, slapping her hand on my chest in a stinging admonishment.
She . . . loves me? I feel the bloom of hope, of ecstasy. And the immediate death of both as reality crashes down upon me once again. I cannot have her. Even if she loves me. And I do love her. My treasure. Would that I could be with her.
"You should not love me," I say, my throat tight as I say the words.
A heavy pause.
"Don't tell me how to feel," she finally says, the tinge of anger turning into a fury clear in her voice.
"There will be someone else for you, someone better than me," I try to explain.
"What are you saying, Ryuth?" she asks, the fury now turning to hurt. That is so much worse than the anger. I do not want her to hurt. I do not want to be the one to hurt her. "Do you . . . not want me?" She laughs, though the sound is ugly rather than joyful. "Was this all just the equivalent of a Zmaj one-night stand? Are you tired of me already?"
I growl at the thought. Does she think I would simply use her in such a manner and then throw her away? Is that what she thinks of me?
I open my mouth to refute the insult, but then bite the words back. Perhaps it is better if she thinks the worst of me. I am, after all, beyond redemption. And I have a duty I must fulfill. One that she cannot be with me for. It will be easier for her if she thinks I am so cruel. Even if my hearts cry out against any cruelty to her.
"I am not worthy of you," I say instead, rather than arguing against her accusation. "You are perfect and perfection is what you deserve." I shake my head. "I wish I was more than I am," I say softly, meaning every word.
"Bullshit," she throws out, her voice ragged now as she looks away, shaking her head. "That's just bullshit, Ryuth." She takes in a shaky breath. "I thought you were . . .” She presses her lips together, not finishing her thought. Turning her head away from me.
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