Schism: The Battle for Darracia (Book 1)

by Cash, Michael Phillip

  Slowly small colored lights popped on, defining the city skyscape, as the day was waning. Only the castle used white lights. Randam crystals kept the city a mile above the red planet and separated from its less civilized inhabitants below. These small crystals, a gift from the Elements, powered the entire city of Syos. They were mined from the trees on the planet by the Quyroos. Darracians led the world, and the Quyroos, the people of the trees, did the labor. Syos was a busy metropolis, a great financial hub. V’sair saw vehicles move from port to port, taking Darracians from work to home. In the distance the residential area floated in clusters over the great Hixom Sea, which covered most of the planet. Air buses moved the Quyroos back to the planet after a weary workday. They couldn’t travel back unless Darracians powered the shuttles. This system kept the two societies separate and subjugated the Quyroos to the will of the Darracians.

  The Quyroos were divided into two distinct groups, Tree Dwellers and Bottom Dwellers. The Tree Dwellers lived in the tall branches of the Desa Forest in huts attached to the bark of the tree resting between the leafy branches. They used all the resources the planet had to offer. Whatever they harvested was controlled by a Quyroo league that traded only with Darracians, who then controlled all prices. The Bottom Dwellers often were outcasts, thrown from their clans to live on the floor of the forest, eating only what they could forage.

  The Darracians had built a complex city here in the clouds, with its many storied buildings floating over the mountaintops, and its vast ocean, never to be touched by the unpredictability of the land.

  In the distance, Aqin, the giant dormant volcano, smoked sulkily. It had erupted eons ago, long before the Darracians had seized control of the planet. Small illegal Quyroo villages dotted its craggy, red hills, stubbornly clinging to their rocky walls. The Quyroos were forbidden to build on the sacred land of the great volcano, but many of the Bottom Dwellers persisted in breaking the law and tested the limits of Darracian patience and strength.

  The Darracians were a prosperous people, wily as they were smart, and ruled the planet with their wits as well as their brawn, though many claimed it was only by the grace of the Elements alone. They had been the dominant force for more than a thousand years, when V’sair’s long-ago ancestor, Carnor the First, had harnessed the power of the Elements to overcome the civil wars that were destroying Darracia.

  V’sair took in the might of his father’s army and smiled, knowing the Elements were not always on the side of the righteous so much as on the side with the greatest warriors. Whatever his beliefs, without the support of his kingdom, a hollow crown would rest upon his head. Without the test of the Fireblade, he may not be considered powerful enough to lead these people. His parents never had even let him hold a Fireblade, even if he knew he had the strength to light it with his warrior’s heart. A heaviness rested in his chest. Darracians respected might and despised weakness.

  He looked at the army of guards that surrounded the many towers, their granite faces all the same dark gray of his father. The Darracians’ tough pebbled skin and huge mass made them formidable enemies. He wondered whether they would they put their faith in him when the time came. Sradda willing, he thought automatically, his father should live another two hundred years, but when the time came for him to be crowned, would he have the support of these beings? They were a cold people; it was strange that his sire had taken his mother, the peaceable and pliant Planta woman, as his mate.

  Reading his thoughts, Reminda smiled and said, “You’re wondering how your father chose me?” Her forked tongue touched the tip of her full lips. V’sair had the thick, solid tongue of his Darracian ancestors and had loved trying to catch his mother’s serpent-like appendage when he was a child. She smiled, and her cheeks dimpled.

  “It’s not fair that you know all my thoughts.” He had the grace to blush the palest blue. The darkening shadows, however, painted his face violet.

  “Even if I were not Planta, I would know your every thought, Vsos. You are my son.” She pressed her smooth forehead against his. “Tell me of the storms that are brewing behind your fine eyes.”

  V’sair ducked his head away, embarrassed that the guards might have seen his mother’s affection. “Stop. I told you I am not a child. Am I not allowed a modicum of privacy?” He stalked down the wide terrace, feeling the heat of the two setting suns on his face, even at this distance. If he wasn’t careful, he would burn, as both he and his mother could not withstand the strong rays of both suns.

  “You cannot compete with the strength of the Darracians. They will destroy you,” his mother said, as she calmly followed him.

  “Please lower your voice.” He turned to her, wanting to keep their discussion private. “How am I to be accepted as a leader if you won’t let me take part in the Fireblade?”

  “Aeeehe.” She nodded with great understanding. “You worry about the Fireblade. You have no need of that. You are Drakko’s son, descendant of the mighty Carnor. You are an heir to the Elements. You have no need to prove yourself with the Fireblade.”

  “Oh, no, Mo’mo.” In a rush of emotion, he stopped her, and she smiled at his slip from manhood. “Don’t you understand? I have to take my place beside my cousins. If I don’t, they never will respect me. Aside from that, Zayden is equally the heir to the Elements. People would rush to his banner.”

  “Nonsense, V’sair. I adore Zayden, but he is just your father’s by-blow. He is an outstanding warrior and will make an able counselor to aide you, but the stain of his bastardy never will allow him kingship. What talk is this? The Darracians must respect you. You are going to be their anointed king,” she chided him.

  V’sair leaned against the balustrade of the terrace and gazed at the whole of Syos spread out before him. One by one more lights from the buildings flickered on, and the city in the clouds looked like diamonds strewn across a purple velvet. “I am not Darracian,” he said.

  “Oh, Voso, of course—”

  “Hear me out, please, Mo’mo.” He stopped her, and she came up to stand next to him, her slim body buffeted by the hot winds. Shading her sensitive eyes from the blazing sunset with the delicate webbing between her fingers, she shook her head. “Go on.” She scanned the deepening sky, the orange flames of the two suns giving way to a mauve twilight.

  “I am not like them.” He gestured to the hulking guard standing nearby, his dark gaze intent on the vista before them. “They don’t understand my intellect. I am a hybrid. I am not a Planta like you either.” He showed her the corded muscles of his arm then flexed his individual digits, finally making a fist. He watched a smile light up her face then turned to look up at the dull sky and gestured toward the descending suns. “Look, Mo’mo. The two suns of our planet. Rast, rich with energy—its strength puts the weak shine of Nost to shame. Zayden and my cousins are Rast.” He hung his head, and she wanted to stroke his ivory-haired pate. “I am the weakling. I am Nost. I am not even like the Quyroos.”

  “Thank the Elements for that, my son!” Reminda said with a tinkling laugh. “Who would want to spend their days swinging from tree to tree, living in their limited world?”

  “Don’t you see? I am a nobody. I am not acceptable for any of our species. I am an anomaly.”

  “You are the best of every world, a combination of all that’s the finest of what we each have to offer. Your father and I have discussed this from the day you were born. You cannot compete with the Darracian might, so we have developed your intellect.” She looked at him sideways, her eyes glittering. “Emmicus had retired, and Dado brought him back just for you. You know he tutored your father and uncle. You are the new Darracia. You will change this world with your will and fine mind. You will bring it into the present. The Quyroos want to move into the new century as equals, and they need a perceptive leader to ease the entire planet forward. Just think of what you could accomplish when all the species work together. Think of the medicine and science, and the trade that will open up with other planets. We can’t be tak
en seriously in the galaxy as long as some of our inhabitants are oppressed. You are special. I have known that from the moment they put you in my arms. I have worked so hard for this, and things are finally changing here…” She twirled a long strand of her white hair until it curled charmingly around her triangular face. They stood in silence for a bit, watching the many stars begin to dot the blackness of the sky. She smoothed back her hair, taking it out of the ribbon that secured it at the base of her delicate neck so that it fell like a cloak around her. “It’s your universe.”

  V’sair stared out into the horizon, knowing his mother had brought the first breath of change to his land in ten thousand years. Society had fractured here, and the two species had separated—one the oppressor, the other the oppressed. There never had been a thought for change until Reminda gently had introduced ideas of enlightenment in her salons. Many a noble had sat at her table, and with good food, drink, and conversation, she was able to slowly urge prejudice and intolerance to give way to acceptance. She had rocked this planet to its foundation. V’sair looked at her serene face; he loved her with all of his being. Reminda turned to face him, a gentle smile on her lips, her elegant hand caressing his forearm. “Your suns are burning me, Vsos. I cannot stay out any longer.”

  Chapter 3

  V’sair walked before his mother and, waving his hand, reopened the portal so they once again found themselves in the cooler confines of the castle. They walked a small distance, making an attractive couple. One might almost think them brother and sister. They had entered the vast throne room. A fire blazed in the hearth that spanned an entire wall. Drakko had installed it for his wife, who found the cold Darracia nights intolerable. V’sair looked longingly at the roaring flames but knew it would be rude to walk away from his mother.

  A group of musicians played softly in the corner, and Darracians wandered from group to group. The court was full today. V’sair knew they were to have important visitors, and his parents had demanded every general and all the important noble families to be there tonight. The room buzzed with conversation. Quyroo servants with trays of food and steaming drinks mingled among the crowds. It was an elegant court—his mother had made it so—with beautiful women dressed in an array of colors, fanning themselves with the fashionable handheld discs they used to keep cool. Three Darracian females danced in a section of the room, their bodies swaying to the gentle music Reminda had chosen. A Quyroo handmaiden stood just beside the arch of the doorway and held out a small jar filled with a glistening liquid. V’sair recognized her and nodded to the girl who was never far from his mother’s side.

  “Ah, Tulani, you read my thoughts.” Reminda smiled at her.

  The girl ducked her head, her auburn braids bobbing around her wiry body. She was red skinned and had the black star-shaped eyes of her people. She was dressed in servant garb, a white one-shouldered draped toga, and looked as out of place as V’sair. The prince stared at her, his blue gaze intense. He watched how she moved, his interested eyes following her lithe figure. Reminda stopped to observe her handmaiden and her son. There was an energy there; she felt it pulse along her spine, and not for the first time. The room crackled with it. Though Tulani stood with her head bowed, Reminda watched with amusement as the girl stole a glance at her son, appraising his chisled form. His muscular chest looked well defined under his blue tunic, which set off his dusky skin.

  As always, V’sair was oblivious to any interest in him. He was completely without guile, a rare find on Darracia. He brushed back his shaggy white mane unselfconsciously, unaware that the girl was watching him almost breathlessly. He was handsome, by any planet’s standards—this his mother knew. Ah, look, but don’t touch, Tulani, the queen thought. I have plans for you yet. “Tulani!” she called out sharply, “attend to me.”

  The servant didn’t answer Reminda but obediently went to her side, her eyes downcast. She held the glass jar in the palm of her small hand, a cloth in the other, her face impassive. Reminda dipped her fingertips into the fluid and wiped them down her face, bringing relief to its heated surface. Her orange tattoos stood out starkly, irritated by the heat. She offered the jar to her son, who declined the cooling salve with a shake of his head.

  “I’ll never understand why anyone would want to burn themselves red,” she said with a sniff. She glanced sideways at her handmaiden and her son, a smile once again on her lips. She watched Tulani bristle, knowing she was baiting her and enjoying every minute of it. She liked her and recently had watched her perk up when V’sair entered a room. The girl vibrated with desire; she was beautiful and smart.

  When Reminda had taken Tulani under her wing so many years ago, she hadn’t expected to love her as she did. She had brought her up as if she were her daughter, which had angered many of her husband’s people. She wondered whether V’sair had really noticed her as a female yet. Certainly tonight was the first time she had seen his attraction to her.

  Tall, with the long legs of her people, Tulani had a slim torso and small rounded breasts that were bound by her dress—just as an appropriate Darracian servant should appear. Reminda knew these clothes were uncomfortable for the Quyroos. They were used to wearing narrow fiber strips that covered only their loins. The girl was bright; that’s why Reminda had succored her fifteen years ago. Her parents had been starving, desperate, thrown from their clan to roam the forest floor, becoming Bottom Dwellers, the lowest caste on the planet. Mori, the girl’s father, was a corrupt, lazy chieftain, despised by many. He had cheated his village, and they had lost a valuable hunting domain. Tulani’s grandmother, the high priestess Bobbien, maintained her rank, but barely, and served Reminda in many ways. When Bobbien feared Mori intended to sell the girl, she brought her to the castle and asked Reminda to hide her. The queen was beholden to the witch woman and took Tulani as a personal servant. Reminda had a long relationship with Bobbien that stretched back to the days when she first arrived as a bride to Darracia. Bobbien had eased her way with potions and salves when Reminda’s delicate skin was scorched by the hard rays of the suns. While they both knew the task was beneath the girl’s noble background, the role protected her from the dangers of the Desa Forest, and she grew educated in court life. Reminda never had regretted her decision; the girl proved to be an able maid as well as a trusted confidant.

  She watched Tulani from under her long lashes. While the girl’s head was demurely bowed, her eyes stole glimpses of V’sair. She would be good for him. He had not been initiated yet; Drakko had spoken of it but had done nothing, and that old fool Emmicus cared only for learning. It was time for her son to become a man, and while he could be injured competing in the Fireblade against an oversize monkey of a Darracian, he certainly could increase his confidence with her handmaiden. Who knew where it might go from there?

  It was late already; evening was descending. Reminda knew what she had to do. She worried her bottom lip; she’d never sent him to the planet below without a full complement of guards, but the queen accepted that the time had come, and timing was everything. She warred inside her mind as she thought about letting V’sair go to the Desa, but looking at Tulani gave her peace. Sometimes things just fell into place. An idea formed in her head; perhaps she had a new way to work out the restlessness from her child and appease Tulani’s curiosity as well.

  “V’sair,” she commanded, “I have need of more Glacien ointment. It is running low.”

  Tulani looked up, her dark eyes wide in her face. What Reminda had said was untrue, but when she caught her queen’s dancing eyes, she stilled her tongue.

  “Take my girl,” Reminda told her son. “Yes, go with Tulani, and bring me some from the Deep Fells.”

  “The Deep Fells? It’s past sunset. Surely one of your—”

  She turned an angry face to V’sair. “What? Does a mother ask too much from a son?” she demanded loudly, and the music stopped. “Are you afraid to go to the planet’s surface?” she said, lowering her voice.

  V’sair’s pale skin turned a
darker shade of blue. Clearly embarrassed by her question, he shook his head. She shot a fierce glare at the bandleader and nodded regally for him to resume. He hurriedly motioned for the group to again play the gentle wind instruments.

  The door opened, and King Drakko, his son Zayden, and two high-level Petrion guards flanking them entered the room, bringing a draft of cool air that always seemed to envelop the king. V’sair saw Drakko’s eyes light up upon spying Reminda. His half-brother was much older than him and a perfect specimen of Darracian manhood. Tall and imposing, he smiled at V’sair, his amber eyes twinkling. Zayden looked so much like the king that from a distance they could be confused. Drakko had allowed him a royal braid, and he wore it proudly. V’sair saw Zayden scan the room, knowing he was looking for someone, and registered surprise when his half-brother’s eyes rested on the well-dressed back of a female. V’sair couldn’t make out who it was at this distance.

  He watched his mother shiver with delight. Her eyes glowed when they settled on her husband’s broad chest. Drakko was a mountain of a man, with shoulders so wide that V’sair used to pretend he was swinging from one treetop to another, just like a Quyroo, when he was a youngster. He wore his pitch-black hair in a thick royal braid that reached the middle of his wide back. Of late V’sair had noticed a few silver stands entwined in the dark locks.

  A strict, firm disciplinarian, his father demanded loyalty, bravery, and hard work from everyone in his charge. The only individual who openly defied Drakko was his twin brother, Staf Nuen, the grand mestor. He was V’sair’s uncle and a heartbeat away from being the heir—V’sair’s heartbeat.

  Tulani dropped to her knees, but both Reminda and V’sair dipped one knee only.