Spirits of Falajen
Page 43
Maybe tomorrow will be better, she thought, repeating the words she so often had told Livian in the orphanage.
-:- -:- -:-
Ekani paced the carpeted floor of his cabin from his desk to the door and back again. The normally neat compartment was littered with clothes, papers, and books. Papers lay scattered all over the desk, letters from his father. Ekani had spent the better part of two days tracking down every letter he had received, searching for any mention or hint of a brother. He sat in the chair behind the desk, placing his head in his hands.
For as long as he could remember, it had always just been the two of them. His father never even dated anyone. Sometimes, Ekani thought he could recall a woman’s soft voice, singing jibberish.
Suddenly, he stood and stormed to the door. His hand was on the lock when he hesitated. Reconsidering, he went to the bed and flopped down, ignoring the small jab of an object in his back. He closed his eyes, trying to think back.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” a younger Ekani yelled at Simtel. His friend’s nose was spouting blood, and there was a nasty cut on his lip.
Simtel touched his face gingerly. “It probably looks worse than it feels.” He tried to grin and winced instead.
“You realize your mother is going to kill us,” Ekani said matter-of-factly, crossing his arms.
Shrugging, Simtel began the walk to his apartment. Ekani hurried to catch up to him. “Didn’t think he could hit that hard,” Simtel muttered. They walked the rest of the way in silence.
The street was mostly quiet. A few cats prowled around, hissing at the boys when they walked too close. The buildings in their neighborhood looked run down, as though a flood had covered them at one point, and the sun took a very long time to dry them. They stopped at a four-story brick apartment complex. Simtel’s parents were the building managers, so it actually looked quite nice compared to the surrounding ones. Every year, the boys were enlisted to re-paint the trim and cut down the plants that tried to threaten to climb up the walls.
Ekani paused at Simtel’s door. He turned to his friend, who suddenly seemed pale and much less confident than a few moments before. “Do you want help?” he offered.
Simtel gulped but shook his head. “Time to face the lioness,” he said and opened the door.
Ekani went next door to his own apartment. It was dark. His father was still at work. Ekani lit the lamp and, ignoring the clothes tossed on the couch, went into the dining nook to sit by the wall, the closest to Simtel’s living room.
The walls were thin, so he had no trouble hearing Simtel’s mother screech, “Aderok, what have I told you about fighting!” There was a pause as he seemed to try to reply. “I don’t care what the reason was, you have no business getting into scraps!”
“Would you just lay off me?” He yelled. “I’m tired of you hollering at me all the time!”
Ekani heard the door open and quickly tried to appear like he was cleaning the table. He looked over at his father and said brightly, “Hi, Pop, how was your day?”
Jiridian gave him a knowing look and nodded next door. “I heard Amora down the hall. Aderok was in trouble again?”
Ekani quit pretending to clean. “He got into a fight with three of the guys in class. I tried to help, but he wouldn’t let me.”
“You don’t speak to your mother that way!” They heard through the wall. “Where do you think you are going?”
“To Vorsen’s. I’m not dealing with this right now.”
The dull thud of a door slamming met their ears. Moments later, their own opened and closed. Simtel stormed into the kitchen and grabbed a drink from the icebox. Sitting at the table, he cracked it open and said, “Suppose you heard all that.”
Jiridian, not even phased, put his coat over the third chair. He moved to the other side of the room and began to pull out dishes to make their evening meal.
Ekani knew better than to say anything. Simtel needed the time to just sort out his own anger. “You’re so lucky you don’t have to deal with that,” he said. “I bet your mother would have been just as chill as your father.” Ekani glared at his friend. Suddenly realizing Jiridian was in the room, Simtel looked up and started to apologize.
“There is no need to apologize,” Jiridian said with a sad smile. “If Ekani’s mother could be here, she would be. You should consider yourself lucky to have both Amora and Darelek in your life.” He looked down at his hands. “Being a parent is no easy task. The best anyone can do is whatever they can to make sure their child survives. A child has to push the boundaries to learn. Sometimes we forget what that was like.”
Ekani opened his mouth to say something, but his father suddenly grinned at the two boys. “How about we visit your favorite food vendor? Or will you be able to eat with that busted lip, Aderok?” he teased. His tone was light, but Ekani could see the faraway look that remained in his eyes.
That evening, Ekani caught a glimpse of his father on his knees in his room. He held a box, and his shoulders shook. Ekani never told anyone what he’d seen.
A knock on the door brought Ekani out of his reverie. He ignored it, but the person on the other side was persistent. “It’s me,” he heard Simtel call out. “Come on, quit being an ornery badger or I’ll keep badgering you.”
Ekani smiled in spite of himself. He rolled off the bed and went to the door. Upon opening it and seeing Sulica standing next to his old friend, he began to close the door again. Simtel stuck his foot out. He gave Ekani a reproving look.
Sighing, Ekani let go of the door and stepped back, letting the two into the cabin. Simtel took one glance and grinned. “This is more like the Vorsen I know.” Sulica remained impassive.
“Is there a reason you’re here?” Ekani said, a little harsher than he intended. He noticed Sulica flinch slightly and regretted nothing.
“So you’re upset that your father didn’t tell you about Etane-”
“Etyne,” Sulica corrected.
Simtel shrugged. “Whichever. Point is,” he said to Ekani, “you didn’t know. But it just so happens that you have a first-hand account of what your brother is like right here.” He gestured to Sulica.
Ekani’s face was stone. “You’re the only brother I need,” he told Simtel.
-:- -:- -:-
Lieutenant Vazeley saluted Captain Sen Asel upon her arrival at the desert camp with her two Dominion guards. After a quick debrief, the guards, along with the horse loaned to Sen Asel, departed the camp to return to Southwest Harbor.
She returned the salute then handed the navy officer the written orders given to her by Lieutenant Commander Jeksan and proceeded to greet her senior enlisted commanders. She wiped at the sweat beading on her forehead from the heat of the desert. She couldn’t wait to change into her summer light-weight uniform, if she could locate it first.
“It’s about time you returned, Ma’am, I’m so tired of Mr. Vazeley’s ongoing sea stories,” Sergeant First Class Kile teased. “Not to mention Master Chief Riquez and Chief Baderstoff’s additional navy banter! I’ve been so alone and drowning in a sea of navy.”
Brisethi chuckled at her stout sergeant. “I feel your pain, Kile, I really do.” She mentioned to him her short trip on the DSV Sovereign, to commiserate in his pain of being surrounded by chatty sailors.
Upon reading the in-depth orders stating that Captain Sen Asel was not allowed to command the division without his supervision, Lieutenant Vazeley nodded, acknowledging his responsibility to her. “I think I can handle the duty of playing officer guardian to you for two years. Anything beats the desolate watchstanding at Post Four, briefing the colonel every other day on the vast amounts of nothing going on,” he told her.
“I appreciate it, Sir,” she replied, shouldering her pack. “Are the rest of my belongings on one of those wagons?”
He looked in the direction she pointed and nodded. “Chief, take her pack and help us with the rest of her stuff,” he ordered, walking them to the canopy of horses and wagons.
Abyss snorted into Brisethi’s hand when she greeted him, letting her stroke his face. “I missed you, too, old friend. Thank you for taking my father to safety,” she whispered. Abyss bumped his nose against her shoulder.
Chief Baderstoff climbed into the wagon to search for the captain’s other belongings. He handed her tent to the lieutenant then shouldered her pack of uniforms and gear to set her up at a suitable space in the sand near the command tent.
Sergeant Kile assisted the chief in propping her tent up to help her settle in. “Thank you, gentlemen,” she smiled to them and crawled inside her small sleeping area. She dumped her bag of uniforms and traveling equipment, all of it smelling of campfire smoke and the outdoors. She swiftly changed into the airy red uniform trimmed in black cording and donned her hood. She straightened her collar device portraying her captain rank before stepping outside into the dry, bright desert air.
She joined the others in the command tent for the remainder of the afternoon to debrief them of her last two months away from Sariadne, leaving as much detail out as possible if only to suppress any thought to pity her. She commended the commanders when she learned that not one recruit had been sent home in her absence; in fact, the recruits had been motivated to surpass her standards in an effort to impress their captain upon her return.
Master Chief Riquez accompanied his captain around the camp to reacquaint her with the division recruits. Each of them gladly saluted her, welcoming her back. She returned every salute with a smile, overjoyed to see their faces and be reminded that she was in her element once again.
Brisethi instructed her enlisted commanders to have the recruits form up for combat training. She felt a strong need to ensure that each soldier could fend off the most basic of attacks from any bandit, pirate, or enemy soldier. The ten females in her division would especially receive her critical attention in attempt to effectively train them in offensive techniques.
“It’s not enough to defend against the enemy,” she shouted above the clatter of recruits practicing one of her new moves without the use of weapons. “You need to be able to take them out before they can touch you! If someone has the intent to harm you, they will stop at nothing to disable you. Take it upon yourself to prevent that harm by any means necessary!”
Brisethi eyed recruit Sergeant Talmin. She had caught on to the combat training faster than her fellow recruits, earning her quick promotions. She studied the recruit’s moves, finding no error in her training. “Very good, Talmin. Have you had prior training in combat arts?”
Sergeant Talmin nodded. “From my uncle, Ma’am.”
Brisethi brought her hand up to her chin in thought, “Carry on,” she finally ordered. She strolled over toward the other commanders and rolled her shoulders. She picked up her sword and nodded to the navy officer. “Lieutenant, care to dance?”
“Yeah, sure,” he lightheartedly replied and unsheathed his own sword. “I’ll defend first?”
She nodded and drew back her sword at eye level, bending at her knees and preparing her muscles for the attack. In a blink of an eye she leapt toward her counterpart, forcing him to fall back instantly in an effort to deflect her sword. He had to keep stumbling backwards to dodge her ferocious attacks while simultaneously deflecting her quick strikes. He severely underestimated the rehabilitated captain.
He had finally managed to catch her sword hand and pry the weapon from her solid grip. Forcefully pushing her back, he caused her to stumble to so he could catch his breath. “Cursed spirits, Sen Asel, did they enhance your body somehow?” Lieutenant Vazeley jested.
The enlisted commanders snickered among one another, not remotely surprised by her quick restoration. Chief Baderstoff was first to speak, “This is the tamed version of Ms. Sen Asel. You should see what she does to Captain Vorsen.”
“What you army captains do in your alone time is none of my concern,” Vazeley retorted while ducking from another vicious swing of her bare fist.
“You’re terribly out of practice, Sir,” she quipped, easing up on him.
“Only a tad,” he stammered.
“Dammit, get over here, Master Chief,” she ordered for a new sparring partner.
“Shit,” Master Chief Riquez muttered under his breath.
The master chief was even more out of practice than the lieutenant, sloppily attacking her and slowing down within minutes. Chief Baderstoff stepped in to save his master chief of further humiliation. He deflected her every swing, advancing his own sword against her, forcing her to step back. A thin smile formed on her lips as she glared under her brow at the young chief. They burst into motion once more in an attempt to wear the other down.
“Gah, fuck,” Brisethi stammered when she lost her sword. She ducked his swing and kicked upward, landing her foot on the knuckles of his sword-wielding hand. They were both without weapons now but continued to fight hand-to-hand. She leapt into the air in a quick spin, kicking at his torso.
The chief recovered quickly by throwing fists toward her abdomen but she blocked every one of them. She caught his final two swings in a tight grasp to pull him toward her knee. He flipped into her to avoid crashing his face into her knee and landed atop of her, holding her down by her neck. She swiftly wriggled her way from his grasp shoved him face first into the ground. Both had taken a moment to catch their breaths and wipe sweat from their faces.
“Well fought, Chief,” she complimented him and helped him to his feet. He nodded his thanks and reciprocated the compliment.
Chapter X
It was dark again when Ibrienne woke. She had spent most of the trip in darkness, and she was growing accustomed to it, even finding it peaceful. During the day, people were always coming and going, disturbing her already uncomfortable sleep. Sometimes they would stop and throw food in it for her, but they usually forgot for days at a time. She soon learned to ration what little was given to make it last as long as possible.
Limbs aching, she stretched as much as she could in the container. It was large enough for her to sit or lay down curled up, but not enough for her to stand. As the days and nights passed, she could feel her body weaken. She was able to use her mystic to heal the splinters and scabs that formed, but even the strength to do that was dwindling away. There was no way to heal a starving stomach.
It was cool at night. She could feel a breeze come in through an open porthole, filling her nostrils with the salty air. Laying on her back, she stretched her arms up to the top of the box. Then she scrunched her upper body into one corner and put her legs in the opposite one. They tingled as the numbness left them. As she did every time she woke, she wondered how much longer it would be until they reached their destination.
Before setting sail, Ibrienne’s captors had tried everything to get her to reveal where Kanilas had gone, including physical and mental torture. More than once, she had to keep herself from laughing at their ridiculous threats.
“When Sariadne falls, I will personally find every last one of your family and make sure their deaths are as painful as possible,” one had said at one point. She had only stared blankly in return. When that didn’t work, he resorted to striking at her repeatedly with a piece of coiled leather. She made an exaggerated show of the pain he was inflicting, when in reality it felt more like a minor pinch, so fast was her self-healing.
Finally, the main Kiaran gang leader had made an appearance for the first time since locking Ibrienne in the storage room. For several moments, he studied her. She was strung up between two columns, dirty and wasting away slowly. Finally, the man approached her, stopping in front of her face. “Do you realize,” he said deliberately, “Trenn left you here to die? You are protecting a coward who lets a woman take his deserved punishment.”
Ibrienne, who had shied away from conflict all her l
ife, wondered how her friends would have handled the situation. Brisethi would have fought tooth and nail, burning everyone alive. Sulica would have demanded release and somehow would have gotten it. Korteni was too sly and quick to ever be caught in this kind of predicament in the first place, and even if she had been, she’d have chatted up the guards so quick they would have let her go.
A slow grin spread across her face. “At least he always had the courage to face me without binds,” she said in a raspy voice that she could hardly recognize as her own.
The Kiaran backhanded her. She simply spat a spot of blood onto his tan shoes. “Which one is really the coward?” she asked as he turned away from her. She hoped his shoes were ruined.
Soon after, the henchmen came back and cut her down. She forced herself to try to fight, but her body was beyond weak. They merely laughed at her feeble attempts and unceremoniously placed her in the crate with a little bit of food and a flagon of water. No one had spoken to her at length since then, leaving her to her own thoughts. The solitude was poison to her. For years, she’d always had someone with her, even at the orphanage. Eventually, she came back to the idea that Trenn had truly abandoned her after she’d saved his life.
It weighed heavily on her mind as the ship continued its travel on the rocky seas. The sadness turned to bitterness. “I should have never even been there,” she would mutter to herself in the darkness. Then the regret went further back. “I should have stayed in Sariadne instead of joining Sulica. What was I thinking?”
The next morning she was given her food ration, an abnormally large amount compared to her regular meal. She eyed it suspiciously after it was dropped in. The server said something in Kiaran that she couldn’t quite catch, though it sounded like he was laughing. Her stomach growled loudly. Against her better judgment, she ate as much as she could until her swollen stomach was stretched tight. Suddenly sleepy, she curled up and passed out once more.