Evanescent

by Carlyle Labuschagne

  “It’s blistering out there.” She smiled at me, catching me gaze at her golden skin dappled with moisture in the creases of her neck, dark, fine hairs plastered to its glossy surface. Subconsciously, my hand trailed over my neck in the hopes I might feel signs of life on my skin. Anaya kept her stare on me as I snapped out of it by blinking back hot moisture from my eyelids. I gave her the once-over while she hovered over Maya with a small, metallic bottle, dangling it in front of her nose. She groaned softly as she sat up, staring at me, her beautiful face inches away from mine.

  I smiled wryly. “You okay?” I rested my hand on her shoulder, risking an outburst, because it was time to unravel all the secrets and the mess I had gotten myself into. Maya had answers, she knew what I was and the longer I held back, the more dangerous it was becoming. I had felt it almost unleash for the smallest reason just moments ago. I needed her awake, and perhaps the human inside of me missed her, felt some form of sympathy toward the beautiful grieving girl.

  Nothing. There was absolutely nothing; no smile, no sigh, no recognition of any kind from her.

  “I think you have overdosed her on the peace elixir.” My lips pursed as I shot Anaya a look. “Get her off the drugs.”

  “She needs time,” she tried to assure me.

  I shook my head. Anaya didn’t understand, no one could possibly know what it was like. If Maya had been exposed in some way to the Shadow, she had no time. The more time elapsed, staying under whatever spell entrapped her, calling toward the disease… I hated thinking that it could ruin her life, too. One thing was for sure, the feeling was overwhelmingly strong, it was not forced, it was raw and natural, the feeling to protect Maya had been there before the mess inside of my head came alive. I, too, felt some form of grief that with all my abilities, I was useless in healing her. It was unfair. I had so much, but in her case it was clearly not enough.

  “You are wrong!” I said, stomping past Anaya.

  Kronan was still waiting patiently by the door at the top of the stairs. I looked up, craning my neck and stared into cropped, black hair. His dark shirt a twisted reminder of how our lives had been built on lies, secrets and hidden identities. Turquoise and pearl beads were now strung around his wrist instead of looped around his neck. Strange how a color could change someone’s perception of a person. His traditional, royal purple Minoan caftan and long beard were absent. A symbol that everything was short lived.

  “You will get used to seeing me like this,” he said grinning.

  A few steps up I stopped, tying the laces of my oversized pair of borrowed boots. The oxblood color too, a sick reminder of what I was. I had no past and no present, just went through the motions; the emotions, waiting, wanting to become this girl everyone willed me to be. To be the one. I almost laughed out loud at how stupid it sounded, but I couldn’t, I had known the pull of destiny, the force and magnitude shoved me deeper into the lasso of what awaited me. To lose a past I never had was only the beginning. I blinked back hollow tears, the prophecy was unfolding and all the signs were there; the rebirth of our planet, the turn of minds, the war, the growth of abilities, and soon more of my kind’s changed gene would be activated. As far as it concerned me, I had that same feeling – like I didn’t belong, and in a way it was right I didn’t belong like that. I housed a beast hovering beneath the surface, turning my mind against others – a mechanical vessel harboring destructive powers. I needed to get to Legentium, I needed to know what my disease was intended to do. Mom’s journals had not made any sense to me these days, I just couldn’t understand her rants anymore. With each step I took, I felt my disease clawing its way out of me. I knew what it wanted more than anything and for now, its target was exactly in line with mine. Troy. And although the motives were different, our goal was the same.

  “Maya?” Anaya’s sickening, honeyed tone rang out through the bottom cabin as I hovered on the stairs.

  I froze, cringing, and stayed to listen before climbing anymore stairs. Resting my head back against the dark, wooden wall, I waited for any response from Maya – nothing, as I expected. A loud sigh escaped me. Pulling my bag over my shoulder, I headed up the stairs and followed Kronan to the upper deck. Our footsteps clattered on the floorboards as we hit the top landing, the deck plunged in a soft, purple hue of early morning freshness. Day had finally broken and like the universe that kept on unfolding, broken or not, the wheel of destiny kept turning. But the previous night’s nightmare remained concrete, anchored inside me, and I already knew what it meant. This thing inside of me was going to take us all down. Slowly, one by one, the young warriors and soldiers were waking up. I noticed a small group of undergraduates and recognized them as the boys from the Science/English School. The DNA symbol on their white shirt, a dead giveaway of what faction they belonged to. Soft coughs emanated from around us, signs that last night’s events, the attacks in the city, the fire and smoke, were all too real. As we walked through the crowd, Kronan wanted to hook his arm in mine but I pretended to be distracted, thereby avoiding his touch and his telepathic connection, too. I caught a boy’s dark-eyed stare as he pulled his bag closed. I kept my hard stare on him, making him shift uncomfortably, making him look the other way while sitting on his haunches, guarding a wooden crate. His cargo pants, black boots and distinct overgrown brush cut, identified him as one of the military boys. Not Jaguar, though, he was younger – a lot younger, and his existence proved that the breeding programs were still happening. I winced at the sight of our military stamp, a circle of numerical symbols entombed in what looked like an iron-winged bird, wide steel wings reaching from one side of the wooden crate to the other. Ironic – on Earth a bird would symbolize freedom. Yeah, my over-obsessiveness of Earth’s history would come in handy someday. Narrowing my eyes on the symbol, I let it tug on a memory I knew was hidden somewhere inside of me. Sounds around me slowly phased out, like that moment just before you faint. It all becomes hazy, white, and then I am sucked into the memory. The last time that sign was shoved in my face was weeks after my mysterious attempt at suicide, the bewitching. It had then come back to me as real as the loss of feeling on my skin. I was escorted through the military base by Anaya and Tatos, sent to live my ‘Change’ out with the Minoans. How had I not seen that there was a mutiny forming back then already? The Council knew I was evolving into something they would not be able to control, it was planned all along. I pushed the memory from my mind. The last thought leaving a bitter taste in my mind. I hated the idea that I had played right into their hands.

  “Where is Troy?” I dared ask after last night’s shameful outburst.

  “He took a few recruits to set up camp on shore last night.” That is all Kronan gave me.

  “Okay,” I answered mechanically, my lips pulled tight in anger.

  Tatos, Willard and Rion greeted us as we headed toward the side of the ship. The heavy iron railing pulled back with a loud slide, a tiny shudder, and released a steel ramp onto the pier. The purple morning glow radiated back from the dark steelwork. Once the ramp was fully extended, Kronan and Tatos led the way to the docks. I stared at the lean muscles on Tatos’ naked back as he gripped the railing with one hand and clasped his bow with the other. Willard came closer to take my arm, but I automatically shifted from his contact. The sound of footsteps echoed throughout the misty valley as we walked the docks, the crisp scent of dew on luscious, golden inflorescences. The three-meter high golden grass met us on either side as we hit the red, sand footpath into the village. Purplish-red stems and yellow awns engulfed us in a canvas of an African painting I had seen in a book once. Golden, grainy fingers meeting soft, blue mist as it blanketed the valley. Gray clouds swept over lilac skies above, the gentle rustle of the calming breeze stretched into the depth of the valley. The brilliant world I found myself in almost made me forget about the war looming ahead. Soon enough the unmistakable claws, the familiar coil and turn of anticipation in my gut tasted like bile. This reinforced the lure of revenge on the man who started it all
– like a brutal knife in the head, a constant ache for sweet release – its throbbing inevitably left me dizzy. The deeper we went into the Zulu village the heavier my emotions became, the kind you do not want to relive. The kingdom would always be the birthplace of the thing I carried inside me, of my one deadly mistake. To pull myself from its grip, my mind moved automatically to seek distraction from something that felt a lot like pain – I identified the grass as Hyperthelia Dissoluta. I took particular note of the fact that this species of grass was highly flammable during the dry season. Fire was now a fear I could not dampen after the previous night’s display of its destructive power. Staring up at the accumulating dark clouds, I reassured myself that the dry season was lost. Our seasons, after so many stagnant cycles, had played havoc on our planet. Zulu warriors nodded in greeting as we passed through the edge of the yellow grasslands. Silver spearheads glinting in the morning rays met the very tips of the grass, and all I could think of was how great it must feel to ram that spear into someone’s side. The hunger of my disease was overtaking me way too quickly. My fingers brushed against glossy stems, and instead of feeling the smooth surface; numbness to the touch mocked me. You know what you are, so why are you fighting it? Looking behind me to find the voice, the tip of the ship’s main mast peeked over the edge of yellow, thatching grass. I met the brown eyes of two Zulu warriors walking behind us, not forgetting for one minute that they might have been the very men that beat me down once before. When I said I forgave and would eventually forget – I lied. I forged a sincere smile, while thinking how easy it would be to send a bolt of power right through their hearts. I turned my head, my eyes studying Willard’s dark features for a while. I wondered if I could push his mind to grab his bow and release an arrow into each of their chests. I bumped into something in front of me and looked up. Kronan stood with a thick scowl between his dark brows. Obviously, his telepathic connection lasted longer than I had thought. I narrowed my eyes on his hazel disapproval, not feeling the rush of adrenalin one should get when caught.

  “You read my mind,” I said to him with bitterness.

  “Yes, Ava, I did.” His tone firm.

  “I wish you wouldn’t,” I said, and for some reason a smile crept over my face. Soon he won’t want to.

  Crossing his arms over his chest, he said, “You need to stop whatever is happening to you, the power lies in your control.” It was not a request.

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Don’t tempt him!” Tatos shot back, his eyes still on the path ahead.

  As scared as I should have been of Kronan, he was also a gentle being and the threat was lost on me.

  I pushed past him. “I am thirsty, so let’s just get there already.”

  I could feel their stares burn holes in my back, the echo of footsteps seemed that much louder from that moment on. Beneath Kronan’s black boots, the dust rose and then settled on top of the dark, glossy surface, evidence of his limp. He must have gotten hurt in the battle last night. Why hadn’t he healed himself?

  “If you haven’t noticed, we are but a handful in this revolution, we need to spare any and all energy we have,” Tatos said from beside me, answering my thoughts.

  But I knew it was just a guess from his part. Perhaps my disease had something to do with the inability of warlocks from healing themselves?

  “I wish you would all stop violating my mind like that!” I was past tired of it.

  Tatos still did not grant me his gaze. “Well, once you have learned to control yourself, perhaps then, we will.”

  I ignored his complacent tone.

  “So, you would rather I suffer?” I frowned on this thought.

  “Indeed.” He nodded, sweat dripping from his brows. He gently wiped it with the back of his hand, turquoise beads and tan, leather straps strung all the way up dark, golden wrists. I stared at the life beneath his blue veins, the tiny throbbing of existence beneath the smooth surface. I heard and felt his pulse pounding. I was now obsessed with the living.

  “I never asked before, but why and how are the Minoans and Zulus in possession of leather and animal pelts? It is banned for our people,” I said in a condescending tone, implying that animals were extinct, because of just that reason.

  Knuckles turned white as he gripped the leather strapped bow, beads and feathers twisted beneath his firm adjustment. “Our planet had its own species of fish and animal life once, but the core of Poseidon was poisoned a very long time ago. When humans landed here, the Council’s promise of a thriving planet was short-lived.” His gaze met mine with a sideways glance. “But you know how this game works for your Council – they give so that they can take. Their way of keeping control.”

  My gaze continued to study his facial expression, but he was always so carefully hidden behind gorgeous eyes. For an unheeding race bound by the purpose of destiny, he seemed to not take the journey there too well either. We had all lost something in the beginnings of battle.

  Golden grasslands gave way to colorful huts and thatch roofs; soft, gray smoke fogging up the village as fires prepared the meals for the day. We were greeted by tall Zulu warriors and the young queen. Thandiwe leaned in to give me a huge hug, one hand happily placed on her stomach.

  She smiled. “We are stockpiling cooked meals for the great hunger that is upon us.” Now it all clicked into place. “They give so that they may take.”

  With the destruction of Vista, they had cut off all food supplies to and from the city. I looked over her shoulder in the midst of her extended embrace, and I could not help but feel a sense of warmth each time I witnessed how the new kingdom was everything the old one was not. There was so much hope and promise within its villagers, within the Zulu people. I now knew why their tribe had lasted the ruins of Earth, and why they would last on Poseidon, too. Survival was in their blood. The sun had risen, and the white wisps of dissolving fog and gray smoke was starting to lift, leaving a bright yellow and green glow over the land. Purple skies bled into a soft, light purple, lining the dark clouds with a radiant pink glimmer. Thandiwe smiled while rubbing her rounded belly. We all knew the child was from her late husband – Isithunzi, but no one wanted or dared tell her to give it up, however, the thought left a knot in one’s throat. Her beautiful dark skin shimmered in the early morning light as she turned to lock her arm in mine, leading me through small footpaths cut into the ground.

  “How is your sister?” she asked lightly.

  My silence was all she needed.

  “There are things I can do…” she started.

  My vicious glare cut her off. “Don’t you dare. I won’t allow you to use witchcraft on my sister.” I shook my head. “Or anyone for that matter. You have no idea what it is capable of.”

  There was more I wanted to say, but swallowed my words forcefully.

  She raised an eyebrow. “I know what you went through, what you have seen. I, too, was its prisoner. His prisoner. But there is the good kind, the other side of that magic…” she began, but I cut her off once again.

  “Yeah, well Nomsa thought so too, and look where that got me and your people.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t expect you to Thandiwe, you know nothing else.” I moved my gaze from her.

  “Explain, please.” She lifted big, brown eyes to me.

  My glare hit her hard, just thinking of it twisted the invisible knife in my gut. “Muti killings.”

  “We do not practice…”

  “It will come back to that, I assure you.” My fist pulled tight against my body.

  “As long as I am queen, it will not.”

  I looked at her stomach. “And how long do you think that will be?”

  She swallowed. The uncomfortable silence between us grew like a thick wall of bitter poison, pushing us apart. “Murder for any reason whatsoever is a dark place, it affects you and spreads like a disease. It breeds malice and chaos. I know this, I feel it’s afflictions every day of my existence.”

 
She stared at me, suddenly wordless.

  “What if the good and dark magic collide? What is left in its wake?”

  “I am sorry for what happened to you,” she said.

  I just nodded. I did not deserve sympathy. Moving past her, I kept following the trail ahead on my own. One side of the Zulu village was cleared to make space for our base of operations. Dozens of brown and beige tents had already been erected. On the other side, Zulu warrior guards surrounded the perimeter just beyond and to the east of the village. Robert, David and Greg, emerged from behind a brown tent’s material flap.

  Greg swore. “I could eat an entire goat right now!”

  “The goats are not for eating,” I heard one of the Zulu guards spit out.

  “Chill dude,” Robert said. “Just a saying.”

  He pulled his shirt free from where it was tucked into his belt and wiped sweat from his forehead, all the while staring the warrior in the face with a mocking smile. The movement of Robert’s arms was always in a flexing style, one to show off his excellent physique. I grinned. He was very in love with himself, an honorable quality in some, not on those who flaunted it all the time.

  The Zulu kept his gaze on the perimeter. “With your kind, there is no promise.”

  “What?” Dave pushed toward the warrior who stood erect in a threatening manner.

  The Zulu scoffed.

  “Anele!” Queen Thandiwe said to him in her native language, and for the first time I understood the word to mean stop. I could understand Zulu now?

  “There is no judgment in this kingdom.” She nodded to the boys.

  “Okay, boys! Cool it, or I’ll have to knock the lot of you out!” Kronan shouted as he came up behind me.

  “Be my guest.” David did not back down.

  “Boys,” Kronan reprimanded, “we are guests here.”