The Kinship of Stars

by Julie Ishaya

  Breath hissed between Kieriell's teeth. His throat tightened. The Nexian inside him sought the freedom to test its limits. "All right, Jarren, good." The words broke upon themselves.

  "Is that really your father that just arrived?"

  Just go away. "Y. . .Yes."

  "That's neat. When are you going to go down and see him?"

  "Soon."

  Jarren's steps paced, lingering, then Kieriell heard a soft, "Pardon me, Maven," before the steps trailed away and new ones approached.

  "Kieriell, open your door." This was Ahrden, his voice hardened with authority.

  Kieriell took another breath and got to his feet. He went to the door and stood beside it before hitting the release. Out in the corridor, Ahrden stepped aside to gesture Adam Asmirrius inside. The crown prince of Nex strode in and looked around, at first not seeing the youth who stood just off behind him staring in near terror.

  "I'll leave you two alone," Ahrden said, and the door closed.

  His pulse catching, Kieriell tried to compose himself.

  "Kieriell," Adam whispered, turning to face his son. His eyes darted back and forth and moved up, starting around his son's waist and moving up to the face. "You have the shift." He sighed and reached out a hand, but the gesture went ignored. "Ah, Kieriell, I'm so sorry I've been away so long."

  "But you were on duty," Kieriell replied with a hard edge in his voice. "Isn't that what you and Mother have always told me to accept?"

  "You know I could not control the length of my absence."

  "So why are you here now?" Kieriell couldn't stop his gaze from traveling over his father's face. He found the sharp jaw line and cheekbones like his own, the dark hair silken and full of wave as it cascaded around the broad shoulders. Kieriell had already developed a strong build, but none so majestic as he found his father's to be. He was tall for his age, but Adam Asmirrius towered over him by at least a head and a half.

  Adam also sported the attire of a Nexian prince. The whispery blue material of his tunic was pipped in silver and black, and his trousers were belted with a thick braid of leather and a shining buckle that bore a nine pointed star. His heavy tapestry-style cloak swept across the floor in his path, while his hair trailed down his back as far as his waist.

  Kieriell frowned, his head tilted in speculation. If Adam's three-year absence had seemed a long time yesterday, it certainly seemed like an eternity now. The figure in Kieriell's memory had worn some indications of wealth, but on top of it a worn long coat, not a cloak, and the hair was much shorter then. Kieriell knew of the Nexian custom of developing a crown mane. The lords each wore their hair at a length respective of his or her station, with the emperor donning the longest mane.

  "Kieriell," Adam began again, "believe me, I have missed you and your mother very much. I tried to send missives as often as I could." His vision meandered over Kieriell's face, clearly examining the features of the partial shift in which Kieriell found himself trapped.

  "Oh yes, missives," Kieriell quipped. "Nothing like receiving a message you can't respond to. What? You expected everything to be fantastic because you finally decided to show up?"

  "I have little control over my schedule, Kieriell. As you will soon see." Quietly he turned and inspected the room. He moved over to the bureau and looked into the mirror shaped like an elongated diamond with the corners rounded inward. Kieriell's reflection stood behind his, staring back anxious for some kind of answer. The air itself struggled between them, but his father merely continued to look around. At the neatly made single bed. At the spiral design tapestry of warm colors hanging on the wall—the only decoration in this pale little room.

  Then he looked back into the mirror at Kieriell's face there just beyond the reflection of his shoulder. "We aren't so different, you and me," he said, and turned from the mirror. Within the space of that simple turn came the soft hiss and withering sound of flesh altering.

  The being standing there now bore a resemblance to Adam Asmirrius in the shape of the face. Now the serpentine eyes were like Kieriell's, but the flesh around them had also shifted to a bluish cast and was patched with tiny clusters of iridescent scales in violet and sapphire. Like beads the formations glistened along the edges of the lashes and fanned out across the face, up through the feathery dark brows and into the hairline. They spread downward along the undersides of the cheekbones and brought out the remaining features of the full mouth and nose which remained soft flesh but with that blue pallor. A few more scales spread down along the neckline, behind the ears, while more appeared on the hands, which had grown talons, and the fingers themselves seemed longer, more fluid. Only the hair and clothes remained unchanged, the whole aspect of the being exotic, beautiful. Terrible.

  "I dealt with the shift alone," Adam said, his voice otherworldly, echoing and hollow. "I know it isn't easy, when you feel like you need to hide from people because you know they'll be afraid of you, or you're afraid you'll embarrass yourself." It was clear what he was intimating on that last statement. He knew about the urges, and the anger, and Kieriell felt all the more frustrated to think that his absentee father might actually understand him. "Nexians are, at our core, primal beings. One little rush of emotion triggers a host of instincts we don't always need. It's hard to deal with in the beginning, but it does get better. I promise you. You'll learn how to tamp it down, control it." Instantly the scales faded from Adam's face. They appeared to melt out along with the blue and absorb into his skin, which became its usual light, smooth and polished tan. The red in his eyes crept back in declining shards, leaving behind the crystalline blue of the irises, and the whites. He drew one hand across the other and pulled free the talons, clutching them, grinding his fist around them. When he opened his hand, little more than yellowish dust trickled from his palm.

  In his awe at so swift a change, Kieriell felt the red pigment begin to drain from his own eyes. It was a strange, warm, flowing sensation he'd become accustomed to these last few weeks. The fire in him died and his own talons began to loosen and shed themselves. They clattered softly to the floor and broke apart though one still clung to his fingertip by a fiber of skin. Soft, newly developed, ordinary fingernails remained. Now fully restored to his normal form, he asked nervously, "Is that as far as you can shift?"

  "There is more to the shift," Adam said, his voice now natural. "At its greatest extent, the Nexian form is said to be terrifying, and it's believed that there is no returning from it."

  "Why?"

  Adam breathed deeply and straightened slightly. "You will understand. We have much ground to cover." He moved closer to Kieriell and lowered his gaze to look directly into the young eyes. "It was brought to my attention that you now demonstrate a new ability, one that is so rare that it only occurs every few millennia."

  Kieriell frowned, examining his father's searching expression. "You mean teleportation."

  "Yes. You can move from one place to another at will and without the aid of any technology. Eventually you will be able to move transdimensionally."

  "Hold it," Kieriell objected. This was the first mention he'd heard of such a thing. "How is that even possible?"

  "There is more, Kieriell, now listen." He reached up and grasped Kieriell's shoulders and held firmly. "Know that I am here because I care about you, and because of this ability you are endangered if you stay here. You require Nexian training and discipline. There is so much we have to talk about, but it can wait until we reach Nex."

  "Nex?" Kieriell's voice shrank with dread.

  "It's time. You are coming home with me." Adam let go of his son and stood back. "I will help you pack if there is anything you want to bring, but you will be provided for there. You will meet your grandsire."

  "Asmodéus?" The idea thrilled Kieriell. But what would he be leaving behind? His mentor, who had supported him, taught him the skills of the mind and how to defend himself. Then there was Jarren, who had just apologized to him so that their friendship could resume. He belonged he
re. Not with his father who had fled three years ago, at least that was how Kieriell saw it. He wanted to hate Adam Asmirrius, send him back to Nex and let him steep there in his diplomatic duties. He said abruptly, "No, I don't want to go."

  Adam lifted one brow and a look of both amusement and surprise shot over his face. Kieriell realized his tone had sounded far more petulant than he'd intended. "Excuse me?" Adam turned and walked to the bureau and pulled open the top drawer. "Did you not hear me just say that you will be endangered if you stay? I don't just mean here, either. I mean anywhere you go. It's safer for you to continue your training on Dyss under supervision." He pulled a white tunic from the drawer and dropped it before the mirror.

  "Stop that." Kieriell scooped up the garment. "Why would I be endangered?"

  "You may know how to teleport from one room to another, but what happens when you accidentally ship yourself into deep space?"

  "I'd ship right back to the planet surface."

  "Provided you have the time to think before the vacuum of space claims you. And if you did manage to think quick and pop back here, you're sure that there's absolutely no risk that you'll end up materializing in the middle of the planet's core? Keep going." He made a beckoning gesture with his hand.

  Kieriell opened his mouth. Shut it. He realized he wasn't going to win this one. He had no answer, and as his cheeks burned with bruised pride, he had to admit it.

  His father was right.

  4

  "What was I thinking?" Adam paced slowly in front of Jenesaazi in the manse library. She sat back against the edge of a Nexian inspired desk of solid onyx and gave him one sympathetic smile after another. "You were right. He knows everything. Damn, I wish I had been that smart at his age."

  Jenesaazi laughed. "You were," she said. "Remember when we were kids? If you weren't telling me what to do, you were trying to set my hair on fire."

  "Not that smart. You convinced me that salt crystals were candy. Remember?" He gave her an accusing look and grinned. Since his last visit she had changed into beige leggings that accentuated her hips and tiny waist, and a silky white shirt that draped around her shoulders and breasts, the collar exposing the length of her elegant neck. It was all Adam could do not to embrace her in a deep kiss and lose himself.

  She laughed again as he made a choking gesture at that last recollection. "You—" she continued between giggles. "You were so thirsty you drank from the garden fountain."

  "Right, and that was when I tried to set your hair on fire." He gave in, reached out to clasp her arm and pull her toward him so fast that the breath jarred from her body. "Ah, what am I going to do?" he repeated with exasperation and buried his face in her shoulder.

  "You're going to get through this," she whispered as she stroked his hair. "You always do."

  "And you?" He raised his head. "How do you feel about all of this? About me taking him to Nex?"

  Something between pain and happiness played across her face, from the little knit in her brow to the corners of her mouth. "I want him to go with you."

  "Really?"

  She laid her head against his shoulder. "No matter how much he denies it, Kieriell needs you now more than ever, and you need him. Perhaps you will find each other on Nex."

  With those words, Adam became still. Numb. His throat knotted. She had always been this way, so patient and gracious. "Jenny, I love you." He kissed her hair.

  "I love you, too. Won't you at least stay another day?"

  "I can't," he murmured painfully with his lips on her ear lobe.

  "I understand," she whispered back.

  Then he lifted her up to sit on the desk and maneuvered himself between her legs, running his hands over her breasts, smoothing the fabric of her shirt between his fingertips.

  "Make love to me," she insisted.

  He caressed her neck and drew her face toward his, kissed her forcefully and long. His passion already peaking, he laid her back gently. In moments he had pulled her leggings off, and he unbuttoned the clasps of his pants as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

  When it was over, he collapsed forward, his hair falling over her in a black veil as he bowed his head and hid his face against her belly. They remained that way for a long time, and he sensed the avalanche of emotions that she held back quietly, the despair and yearning to be with him. But there was also acceptance that she had chosen this, that she had been willing to sacrifice a normal life to be with a Nexian, who had been first like a brother before he became her lover and then her husband. She accepted that he was not hers forever but anchored herself in the moment where he belonged to her completely, and forever didn't matter.

  Watching his son and wife embrace and exchange their good-byes could not have pained Adam more. Silently he swore to himself that everything would be different now. He would spend as much time as possible with Kieriell, who would be tutored in the library and map room on Dyss. This should prove entertaining and educational, particularly to a boy with teleportation abilities, who would one day discover how to traverse dimensional barriers. Nexian mapping techniques established an addictive puzzle, hard to walk away from, as one discovery after another began to unfold. He explained this to Kieriell in the transport on the way to the docks, but upon reaching out his senses to probe how accepting Kieriell was of the situation, he decided to tamp it down. The boy was trembling inside. Mapping the universe sounded too outrageous to him, far beyond the realms in which the young Nexian had grown up. He was thinking about how Valtaer was his home, and though he had always been curious about Nex, actually going there had never been one of his hopes.

  Adam maintained the quiet link with his son, and simply observed without saying anything further.

  The streets of Nall passed beneath the transport, including the brilliant colors of the market place, the sand-colored walls of corporate structures and manses topped with jagged spires. They passed the crystalline Festival Dome, and Adam clearly read Kieriell's thoughts on how he and his friend named Jarren had often referred to it as "the giant crystal tit." Suppressing a smirk so as not to give away that he had been mentally eavesdropping, Adam looked more steeply out the window and watched the dome fade in the distance, noting that there was some truth to that description. The windswept white beaches came into view along with the docks before the transport circled around to land.

  Adam felt a tiny sting in his chest when his next reading was his son giving a silent farewell.

  "There's the ship." His father's voice bled into audience, and Kieriell realized how far away his thoughts had drifted. He threw his father a disgruntled look and then returned to the window. The vessel in question sat peacefully on the water alongside the dock platform from which other sky ships embarked. The Nexian craft's side wings were folded up, its slanted nose just barely dipped into the water. The front windows that bowed out and slanted toward the front resembled eyes. The hull looked almost luminescent, capturing the reflections of its surroundings and disfiguring them in the streamlined angles. It was nothing like the hulkish Nallian barges that clustered nearby.

  Kieriell sat up straighter with the transport's approach. Moments later he was out and hoisting his duffel up onto one shoulder before taking cautious steps forward. His father walked ahead and up the ramp into the side of the ship. A clap of thunder from the south caught his attention. The storm lingered there, having lasted nearly two days, shooting bright flashes of color across the sky.

  Taking long, fast strides, Kieriell cleared the ramp and paused to survey the passenger compartment. The interior walls and floor were made of black, ridged material, and the front panel of wall pulsed as if with a heartbeat. The rear wall behind the chairs held a series of octagonal chambers.

  "You may store your things there," Adam informed him.

  He carried his burden over to the wall and stuffed it into one of the chambers. Immediately an aperture closed over the opening, sealing in the duffel. Then on his father's gesture he took a seat on the right side of the c
raft where the window still looked out at the city.

  Adam checked the sides of the chair and the positioning of Kieriell's arms and legs. "Rifting is not easy on the physical body. Your molecules are dismantled and then reformed as you pass through the portal. You may be a little sick afterwards. It will pass, and there is no harm in it." He stood back, his face almost sympathetic, and Kieriell realized he must be wearing a look of absolute dread. "Engine, issue safety meld on passenger two."

  "So soon, my lord?" the "engine" voice responded.

  "Yes, engine," Adam answered the craft. "Proceed."

  "Gad, what the—" Kieriell suppressed a curse as the seat came to life, adjusting back support to completely adhere to the shape of his spine, while fluid bands reached over his shoulders and down to his waist, encasing the greater part of his body before they appeared to harden into thick ropes of glossy filagree. Others reached around his head from the back, encasing his skull in a partial helmet. Locked into perfect sitting posture, he could only roll his eyes to look around.

  "You have to sit still. That's part of the process for the ship to reassemble your form amid all of the turbulence you'll experience," Adam explained.

  "You really aren't making me feel any better about this," Kieriell said.

  Adam gave a small smile. Then without further word he climbed into his own chair and gave the order for the meld, entering into his own strange and permitted bondage.

  Moments later the ship slid out of port and lifted into the air, droning as it turned a hundred and eighty degrees to face south. It sped away, straight for the storm. The roar of thunder grew with the approach. Pale violet streaks of lightning struck down within sight of Kieriell's window, and he tried to turn his gaze away, but always his wide eyes looked back, too curious.

  The titan wall shimmered into view, the filmy air filtering out much of the daylight, and the water below was covered in a thick spread of fog. Flashes of purple and green emitted from the wall. Kieriell had seen the energy barrier before, on a class trip during which the weather was calm. Seeing this spectacle and traveling within it, however, was the greatest rush Kieriell had ever experienced. The ship bucked to a halt and hovered just beyond the reach of the wall. Heavy winds beat against the sides, building up a hideous roar until neither passenger could hear.