For One Nen

by Capri S Bard

  “It was nothing,” Hrilla said.

  “But I saw you, and it was the same as how your mother looked at me when we first loved, and the way she looks at me still,” he said tenderly.

  “What about Mollath, dear?” Movvi, her mother asked. “He’s been very kind. He believes you’ll be joining his path.”

  Hrilla answered quickly. “Yes, I know he’s been kind. He’s not asked for me to join him yet. I just think,” she stopped and pulled at her ear as she always did in moments of stress.

  “What is it daughter? We want to hear what you think,” said her father.

  Tears began falling from Hrilla’s beautiful round dark blue eyes.

  “Oh! Pellin,” she said, which is what she called her father. “I’ve heard of the rumors the Goweli speak of and they scare me so.”

  “But daughter, that will never happen. We plant much and the Giver of Life will be our supply. We will work hard. We will sustain...”

  “But Pellin,” Hrilla interrupted. “Mollath said if it were to come to,” she couldn’t bring herself to speak of such atrocity. “Oh! Mother,” she explained with deep concern, “Mollath said his loyalty is to the Empire.” She cried with great composure and steadiness, but her sadness was apparent. “What shall I do?” she asked her parents.

  Her father put his arm around her shoulder. “You are right, my daughter, to question this now before being joined.”

  Her mother added, “Do you believe that your path lies with Mollath?”

  Hrilla’s lower lip quivered as she slowly confessed. “I once did. But I believe it no more,” she said with steadfastness.

  “And this boy I saw your gaze fall on? Are you meant to join his path?” Her father asked.

  She spoke slowly again but with a growing smile, “I don’t know.” But her parents could see that she almost lost her breath.

  Hrilla avoided Mollath for days; spending time in the fields or in her cave of drops.

  Fbathin, her Hoth friend came for her one morning.

  “I’ve missed you. Are you ill? Mollath has asked about you. Do you need anything?” Fbathin had a way of peppering her friend with questions when she was concerned.

  With a soft voice, Hrilla leaned close to embrace her friend, “My path is uncertain.”

  Hrilla straightened up and faced her friend.

  Slipping her fingers through Hrilla’s, Fbathin squeezed, “Our path is certain my friend.”

  Hrilla felt her feet grow a little more stable, when she realized that whatever path she took in life, her friend would always live in her heart and their hands would always reach out to steady each other.

  “Go,” Hrilla’s mother said. “It will do you good.”

  The two girls ran through the planting fields giggling. Hrilla’s mother watched them a moment with a pleased smile before she returned to her work.

  When they slowed and caught their breath, Fbathin hooked her arm through Hrilla’s and they walked along together.

  “Father says something awful is coming. He worries for all of us,” Fbathin said as they followed the path toward the lake.

  “I feel the same,” Hrilla said. “I feel something isn’t right, and I think Mollath is caught in the throes of it all.”

  “I heard him speak of your joining,” Fbathin said.

  “When? Who was he talking to?” Hrilla asked hastily as she pulled at her ear.

  Fbathin stopped and asked, “Please don’t join his path, Love.” She folded her arms and looked up at Hrilla. “You are a much too special soul for the likes of him. He scares me.”

  Hrilla laid a hand on her friend’s shoulder and agreed, “He’s beginning to scare me as well.”

  Pulling Fbathin’s hand, Hrilla shouted, “Come.” Together, they ran the rest of the distance to the lake.

  Ot was so bright that day, which made the water easily transparent.

  “The whole of the Hoth tribe has joined us today, I see,” Hrilla said laughingly. She loved how the Hoth played. They were the engineers of large contraptions for the Empire, but some of their most amazing work was for pleasure.

  Hrilla stripped her outer clothing off quickly as she and Fbathin ran to a vining cliff where the younger Hoth had built a sling shot large enough to fling someone far out into the water. The girls played until they could barely drag their bodies back to shore. There they lay on the dark sandy beach and laughed with the last of their strength.

  Hrilla was first to let her laughter fade. It was taken from her and driven far away.

  “I wish life could stay like this,” Fbathin said as she felt Hrilla’s emotions, which was their special connection.

  “Yes,” Hrilla agreed.

  Lying back and looking high into the underground sky, brightened by the light of Ot, Hrilla said, “Seems too beautiful to have death so near.”

  “Death?” Fbathin said as she jerked her body to sit upright. The look she gave Hrilla, showed clearly, her terror.

  Hrilla tried to smile her friend’s fear away.

  “Oh, don’t listen to me. You know I prattle on,” Hrilla said with a forced laugh, knowing full well that her friend could feel her true emotion, which at that moment, was worry.

  As much as Fbathin wanted to believe her friend, she also knew that Hrilla always had a way of sensing things; mainly danger.

  It was Hrilla that had saved them from the poison lizards that often hid in light bins for warmth. Fbathin had been about to open the communal light bin to take a stone of light home for her family, when Hrilla had screamed just in time. A gray and yellow lizard crawled out of the top. He was strong enough to push off the lid. Fbathin listened to her friend’s promptings from that time forward.

  “We’ll be fine,” Hrilla said to her friend. She sat up and explained, “I do feel something’s coming, but I know we’ll always be friends. We will always look out for each other, and we’ll be fine.”

  After a quick kiss on Fbathin’s cheek, Hrilla called out, “Race you to the top.” Hrilla raced back to the cliff, where she scurried up the vines to be slung out into the water again. Not far behind was her friend.

  They played until their bodies were again, nearly too tired to make it back to shore.

  After crawling from the water and catching their breath, Hrilla pulled her friend’s wet body into a tight hug and bade her farewell for the day.

  She threw her clothes over her arm and forced her tired body toward home.

  “Hrilla,” Mollath called. “I haven’t seen you in days. I was hoping you’d come to the palace. I wanted to show you the room I’m making ready for us. It’s wonderful. It has a private passage to the great eating hall. And a hidden escape tunnel.” He had caught up with Hrilla and had finished his last line with a quieter voice.

  Her hair was still wet and it fell over her delicate shoulders and down past her waist. It was usually in many braids and then the braids would be pulled back with a string of prish-h, which grew as a vine through the ground.

  Some would gather the vines and soak them with the stems of tenk, which was usually used for a hot drink. However, after boiling the prish-h with the stems, the vine would fall open and lay bare the long tiny fibers that could be woven or braded together to make thread or rope. Hrilla carried her prish-h strings loosely in her hand, so Mollath knew she had just taken her hair down. Hair up or down; either way, Mollath knew she was the most beautiful Anthro he had ever seen. He also knew many others carried his sentiment.

  He had begun to be paranoid like his new employer, Emperor Tapsin. In fact he had begun spending much of his play time with Entic, Tapsin’s son. Between his duties of serving, he and Entic would take their spears and atlatls in a long boat to hunt for the finned carp that the empire thought to be a delicacy; this was only because they didn’t have to pick out all the tiny bones. Their staff of Tsila and Anthro and others had that tedious job.

  While they walked along, Mollath spoke as if he had her confidence.

  “The sparsing is comin
g, you know.” The edict had gone out the day after Hrilla had asked her parents what to do about joining paths with Mollath.

  The edict read:

  “By proclamation of High Priest Tapsin, all tribes shall send all persons between the ages of sixteen and twenty to the celebration ground on the twelfth day of Perta.”

  Hrilla was nineteen and this was the ninth day of the perta. Mollath and Hrilla would be sent. Everyone, even Mollath, believed that Tapsin would proclaim who would be free to have offspring. While Hrilla’s parents and many others grieved over this, they were not prepared for what Tapsin really had planned.

  “My Father wants me home to help Mother with our feeding preparations,” Hrilla said to Mollath. She tried to gracefully dismiss herself from his presence.

  “I could walk with you if you like,” Mollath kindly offered.

  “I’ll be fine. You probably have serving to do in the Palace,” Hrilla answered.

  “Well I do actually. But you will come soon to the Palace to see the room I’m preparing?” Mollath requested with excitement.

  Hrilla nodded and tried to say the word, ‘yes’. But her breath failed her.

  He tried to pull her close to him but Hrilla hurried off saying, “Pellin will be displeased if I tarry.”

  Mollath watched as she raced away not taking notice of how very odd she had acted. He was only thinking of her beauty. Nothing else mattered to him but her, and it only mattered that she was his. When she arrived at home her mother was already in the kitchen rolling grain with dead stones.

  “Asaph picked berries this morning and Billa dried them. They’ve asked for you to put them in the bread.”

  It wasn’t until Hrilla had begun mixing the ingredients with her hands that her mother said, “Dhobin visited today.”

  Just hearing Dhobin’s name made Hrilla’s heart thump loudly like little explosions in her chest.

  “You should talk to Mollath, my dear,” her mother added.

  “I just saw him on my way home,” Hrilla answered.

  There was silence between them while they worked. The bread was baking in the stone of light oven and wonderful smells filled the air and dissipated their weariness. It wasn’t until the bread was out of the oven that Hrilla said, “I didn’t tell him.”

  “Do you want Pellin to go with you?” her mother asked.

  “I thought of this but I don’t want Mollath to believe that Pellin is persuading me. I even thought of taking Dhobin,” Hrilla smiled quickly when she said her love’s name.

  “Are you prepared to take his path?” her mother asked.

  “Yes, Mother, but I don’t want Mollath to believe that I’ve chosen another path because of Dhobin. I want Mollath to know that I am choosing not to join his path and that it’s my decision.”

  There was a bit more silence when Movvi asked, “Will you tell him why?”

  “I must,” said Hrilla. “I just don’t know how.”

  Very early on the morning of sparsing Hrilla visited Mollath at his home. He was making it ready for his path joiner. He was a man in love and his excitement invaded his senses. He had thought of everything. There were many glow stones tucked safely in the light bin. He made glass beads to ornament her hair. They were placed with some rings on the top of a desk, which Mollath had made for her to write and draw on. He knew she loved singing, so he had a reclining couch where she could sing in comfort.

  He even commissioned a weaver to make clothes out of keepa, which was a thread from the fur of the fuzzy worm. Their fur was different shades of dark purple, and when woven, became a beautiful variegated pattern. The dynasty raised fuzzy worms – or rather the Tsila tribe raised them. They were the lowest class of the many tribes.

  297 AE

  Aboard the EGRESS

  “What?” Deni said as she voiced the sting to her Tsila pride. “I’ve never heard this before.”

  “I suppose everyone’s been thought of as lowly at one time or another,” Tala said with a sad seriousness.

  Deni said no more.

  Tala continued to read.

  2,300 BE

  Far below the surface of the planet REEN

  They did the raising and the sheering and the cleaning and the weaving and the tailoring. The dynasty just did the wearing. They were fond of their royal garments, which set them apart from the underlings.

  Mollath had become close to the inner circle and the lives of the ruling family. He assumed that he was permitted to dress in the color of the royals. He was proud of his standing in the palace and thought his standing was solid. Mollath’s only concern was the sparsing. Though he loved his job and his standing in the palace, he also loved Hrilla and wanted so much to add children to their path. He thought the sparsing was meant to tell some of the more unfortunates that they would not be allowed to procreate. While he was agreeable to this new ritual he wished his fate would not steel away his dreams with Hrilla.

  “Path joiner,” Mollath called out when he saw her in the doorway. It was a term young people called their spouse-to-be. It was their version of engagement. Mollath smiled at her but instead, Hrilla had fast approaching tears.

  “No Mollath. You mustn’t call me that,” she replied.

  Mollath said nothing, which made Hrilla uncomfortable and she felt pressed to fill the awkward gap of silence.

  “I’ve been drawn away since the rumor first started about the sparsing,” she said pulling at her ear.

  “You’ve said nothing,” Mollath replied.

  “But I’ve tried many times. You merely thought that I was concerned about the sparsing outcome. But my concern was you.”

  “How do you mean?” Mollath asked with growing offense.

  “We, you, are from a simple people. Our ways, our paths, are simple. And such pleasure we take from our place. Content and pleasant and pleased with life; we are. When you gave your service to Emperor Tapsin you became discontent.”

  “How?” Mollath asked quickly.

  Hrilla was hurting him with her words and her decision. She knew this, but she also knew that saying nothing meant walking a path that would break her heart with every step she took.

  Mollath though, felt betrayed.

  “Tell me, so I can fix it. Is it because you are joining another's path?” Mollath asked.

  “No, that is not the reason.” Hrilla answered and then added, “but I will.”

  A cold determination was set about Mollath, “Then I’ll give myself to the sparsing.”

  “Mollath,” Hrilla quietly said, but Mollath cut off her concern.

  “If we cannot join, then I will never join another.”

  The last of his words were spat from his mouth with growing venom. He raced from the room and down to the celebration ground, where others were just beginning to gather.

  He walked straight up to Emperor Tapsin, himself dressed in a purple tunic. “High Priest Tapsin, I give myself to be sparsed.”

  Tapsin pulled at his thick gray beard as if Mollath was a mere disturbance to his thoughts.

  “But the fighting has not yet begun,” Tapsin said with wrinkles in his forehead that showed his displeasure in being interrupted.

  Mollath’s eyes widened and his gills fluttered.

  “Fighting?” he asked.

  He didn’t realize that Tapsin’s frustration was growing towards him.

  “Yes!” Tapsin answered the boy with harshness of tone.

  Tapsin was growing so annoyed that he felt he should call on this boy, if ever he needed to make an example of a petulant subject. So then, Tapsin asked a question that made Mollath feel as though he would melt away without a care from anyone.

  “And what is your name?”

  “I am Mollath, your son’s friend,” he said with great disappointment.

  Tapsin almost pulled again at his beard as if he were thinking. Then he straightened in complete composure.

  “Ah! Yes my servant,” he said with his head held aloft, as he looked down his nose at the insigni
ficant subject.

  However, fear outweighed Mollath’s dignity and so his pressed the Emperor further.

  “Fighting, my Lord? Sparsing is fighting?”

  Tapsin had turned his gaze away by then and was looking at the growing crowd.

  “I will match you with my son,” he said as though addressing no one but merely organizing his thoughts.

  Tapsin stepped completely away from Mollath, and his giant guards were in step with him. A giant on either side was Tapsin’s usual company. Tapsin planted his feet firmly and at a very small signal, the guards raised their staves high in the air and together they slammed them down to the ground with a cry that made almost the entire crowd crumble. Very rarely did the Emperor show this kind of control and power. The people were wide-eyed. Babies began to cry and small children hid behind their parents.

  Hrilla’s father whispered to her mother, “I wonder why he needs to show such force?”

  Movvi replied in an even softer whisper,” I don’t know but I’m dreadfully afraid.”

  Tapsin had picked the perfect place to unleash such fury. This wide open room had always been a celebration ground so the people were not afraid to come together.

  Still, the most unfortunate reason for Tapsin to choose this place for his atrocities was the fact that it only had one opening for entrance as well as exit.

  Tapsin had the only escape heavily guarded by giants. Tapsin then raised a capricious hand and softly summoned the crowd to come close. Obedience was immediate.

  “Those sparsing come to the center. The rest of you pull back.”

  The ‘rest’ encircled the young ones with a wide space between the inner group and the outer group.

  “I will make two lines for the fighting.”

  Many murmurs began to ripple through both groups. Tapsin’s guards raised their staves and the crowd hushed.

  “He must be pushing them,” Hrilla’s father whispered to those around him.”

  “He has pushed them so often that they don’t question him. Can you hear him pushing the giants?” Pellin asked Fbathin’s father.

  “Yes,” said the tiny Hoth. “His voice is of cruel intent. We must escape.”