The Long Lost

by Rebecca Woods

  What if it had been the strangeness of the door that alerted me, that and the blood red letters daubed on the wall?

  There again, if I really tried, I could remember hazy, fuzzy things from when I was very small that I been suppressed through fear and self-hatred. I had, like any woman in the New World, been brought up to respect the authority of the Defenders of the New World Faith and to despise anything that contravened the tenets of the Holy Book. This included witchcraft. Not wanting to appear different in any way had informed my actions from the second I was old enough for accountability.

  However, thin flashes of memory from a time before then still existed, like remnants of snow left after the sun has melted it away. What had I been able to do before I learnt the art of self-censorship?

  It would have been nothing spectacular. The fact that I lived at all was testament to that fact. I did not know what I was going to do when my training started. I had visions of being sent back to my world in disgrace, of Khalashaya looking at me with disappointment and saying “I expected so much from the Long-Lost”.

  I shook my head to try and banish the thoughts from my brain.

  I looked at Khalashaya, he was chatting to Woodarch. Prenaslavka had also come over and was joining in the conversation. I saw glance over to me and then look back at her son, she smiled.

  Khalashaya turned to me.

  “What is this place?” I said.

  “It’s a place for people that don’t want their magic amputated like a bad leg”. He looked away, a harsh expression briefly crossing his face. I wondered again about his scars and found myself reaching up to touch his face. My fingers made contact with his skin before I realised what I had done and gasped, pulling my hand away quickly.

  “I…apologise” I said quickly, “Why did I do that?”

  He smiled and took my hand; he slowly drew out two of my fingers and put them back on his face.

  “Don’t think about why”.

  “I have never…” I began, not knowing how to phrase the sentence. It was like my hands were magnetically drawn to his face, to navigating every line, every contour of his scars and mouth.

  “Look around”, he said softly. I obeyed and saw that the face touching was something that seemed acceptable in their culture, the men did it to each other and so…so did the couples. I felt a lurch in my stomach at the idea. I had never considered myself fit for marriage, the Defenders had seen to that. In front of my father I had always expressed my dismay at the prospect of being unfit but privately I had always been relieved that I would never have to submit to the touch of another man, feel unfamiliar and unwanted hands traversing my body like a possession.

  Maybe this place was bringing out the Falaira in me.

  I saw Gleema Leeh suddenly signal to her warriors and realised it was probably time to go. Woodarch and Khalashaya looked at each other and stood up; Woodarch clearly taking his time. Prenaslavka straightened her cloak.

  “How are we travelling?” She said.

  “Bird” said Khalashaya.

  She grimaced.

  “We could get there much quicker”.

  “I think we should play it their way for now, earn their trust. They might need us but they don’t like us”. Khalashaya finished speaking and grimaced. Gleema Leeh looked over, a strange expression on her face.

  “We’ll need to be careful with how we do things in the city, just until they realise we’re not a threat”.

  “Not a threat?” said Woodarch, unsmiling.

  Prenaslavka shook her head meaningfully.

  “They have just lost their leader to the Eurikaya” I said to Prenaslavka, feeling nervous as I spoke. “They need us more than we need them.”

  “We?” said Woodarch, looking at me in the way that a Defender would have looked at an elderly woman. A sharp look from Khalashaya stopped his from saying more.

  I was too overwhelmed with the events of the day to feel much hurt at his attitude towards me. I just looked at him in exactly the same way he looked at me, hoping to match his obvious distain.

  “Yes, we” I said. “I lost my father to the Eurikaya. I want to see them destroyed as much as you do”.

  He eyed me with unconcealed hatred now.

  “You’re not one of us Auriana. You never were and you never will be. You’re just…an echo of what was”. He walked away, leaving Khalashaya and I staring at each other, Khalashaya did not look shocked but there was anger in his eyes.

  “He does not know what you have suffered”, he said.

  “That is no excuse!” I said, feeling anger inside me. “He has no reason whatsoever to speak to me like that. I’m surprised at you for allowing him to say such things”.

  I was hurt as well if I was being honest with myself. I had expected Khalashaya to stand up for me as I would have done for him. Surely we had been through enough together. He seemed to read my thoughts and looked regretful.

  “I am on your side Auriana, things here are just a little more complicated than is easy to explain. There is a lot of bad blood between the tribe and the Gleema, many Falaira also felt the Long Lost were no better than rats deserting a sinking ship. Others saw them as brave heroes seeking a new world in order to survive. Woodarch is of the former persuasion I am afraid. He opposed my attempts to break through the barrier and rescue you. He opposes you now, I am sorry”.

  “Why does he want to train me then?”

  “He wishes to do his best for the cause, regardless of his own personal feelings. He is a man whose bravery is without comparison”.

  The intense look on his made me realise that there was nothing more I could say to Khalashaya about his friend. I was going to have to put up with him until my training was over. Maybe I would turn him into an insect when we were done. I put the angry thought away.

  Gleema Leeh approached, she looked wary still but not as much she had when we had first arrived.

  “We have to go”, she said to Khalashaya. “Can you take us back to the bird?”

  I did not even see him wave his hand. One minute we were standing by the huge bonfire, the next we were standing by our avian conveyance. Gleema Leeh and warriors hopped on quickly, the tribespeople, Khalashaya and I followed. Gleema Leeh looked strangely back at the camp and I thought I saw a look of sadness cross her face for a second.

  I was not looking forward to being in such close quarters with Woodarch after his outburst and steeled myself for a few hours of ignoring his hatred.

  I sat down between Khalashaya and Prenaslavka.

  I fell asleep as soon as we rose into the air.

  I was woken up by the screeching of birds and rested, not opening my eyes for a second. I heard muttered voices – Khalashaya’s and Woodarch’s - discussing something furiously. The voices echoed slightly, telling me that they were communicating telepathically. I could only catch little bits and pieces, not that I was trying to listen, I really was not. I opened my eyes and went to catch Khalashaya’s to indicate that I could hear in case he wanted to keep the conversation private.

  Their eyes were closed, the perfect disguise to fool the vigilant warriors who were relaxed but staying aware of their surroundings.

  I closed my eyes again and told myself that I was trying not to listen. It was disrespectful; Khalashaya was the only friend I had ever had. However I couldn’t stop myself from feeling intrigued; Woodarch clearly hated me. He hated the very idea of me and had been vocally uninhibited in his expression of that. The chance to get the measure of him when he did not know I was listening was proving to be too much temptation to resist.

  I attempted to tune in; the only way to describe the sensation of stepping into two alien minds is to imagine a strong reaching sensation in a dark pool of moving water. I am reaching for two lights at the same time and attempting to grab both in each hand. It tires me very quickly but I manage to do it.

  “Not sure how to approach it” Khalashaya said sadly. “She doesn’t know, she has no idea of the danger she’s in, of the
danger we’re all in”.

  “Why is she here?” said Woodarch nastily. “Why have you exposed us, your friends, and your brothers to this danger? Yes, she’s lived on another world her whole life but she’s not a Falaira. She’s not one of us”.

  “She is. She has more potential than even we sensed through the breach. She could sense things about me just by touching me – even when we first met. She accepted the disruption to her world so gracefully that it shocked me. She’s had an incredibly hard life”.

  “So have we all” Woodarch drawled. “Living on the edge, worrying about the Gleema, knowing we were condemned to die for being what we naturally are!”

  “She has suffered equally. She deserves the right to fight for her people Woodarch”.

  “I won’t pretend to be unsympathetic; she has gone through horrible things. I can sense it though. There's something...about her that I can't fathom. The others don’t see it yet but I don’t know how much longer-” Woodarch was interrupted.

  “We don’t know for sure yet. Let’s not be hasty. She wants to help”.

  I opened my eyes and moved, in a bid to let Khalashaya know I was awake and then fixed him with a meaningful look as his eyes met mine. He paled as he read my expression.

  We started to descend as I lost control and felt tears burning the back of my eyelids. Khalashaya took my hand and I looked away. I didn’t know what to make of the conversation I had overheard but I felt betrayed. I felt as if my friend and rescuer had let me down in a big way. He was defending me for sure, but this was something new. There was something he suspected about me that I did not know.

  The tears broke their banks and felt hot against my already burning skin. What did I not know? What danger was I in that I didn’t know about? Khalashaya had told me so much about our battle, about the evil of the Eurikaya. How could he keep things from me and discuss them with the man who hated me? How could he betray my trust like that?

  Until I met Khalashaya I had no expectations with regards to being treated politely or even as a human being. I had spent my life hiding, rebelling and pretending to anything other than I really was, unable even to show my father who I really was.

  He had treated me kindly, spoken to me as an equal and given me a sense of security I had never ever had.

  As we touched the ground with a jolt I tore my hand from Khalashaya’s.

  “I’ll see you for training in the morning” I said to Woodarch, making it clear in my tone that I had heard what he had said.

  “Sunrise” he said, lifting his chin defiantly; he was evidently unrepentant. “Let’s find out what you can do”.

  I nodded to Gleema Leeh and left the conveyance. She looked at me curiously and I did not want to linger to have to tell her what was on my mind. Although it struck me just then that she may have understood some of what I was experiencing. I wondered how much any of the Gleema remembered about their magic before it was removed.

  As we walked into the building we had been staying in, I saw Khalashaya trying to speak quickly and quietly to Woodarch. They could carry on discussing me like I was a danger to all of them. I wanted to sleep.

  I begged leave and went. I entered my bedroom and lay down on the bed, not knowing what I was going to do.

  Tears burned once more as I considered my options; I could go back home or stay here and fight. Home had nothing for me except death and I wanted to fight for the Falaira.

  I hadn’t known them long but I wanted to help them defeat their enemies. I wanted to put things right for them. It was a feeling that was almost disconnected from me, from any logic. I had felt a burning desire to help the condemned women of Zafiya because of my helplessness at the execution of my mother and my ill treatment afterwards. I had wanted to stop anyone else suffering in that way.

  The strong feelings I had started to develop for the Falaira had intensified on meeting Prenaslavka and being welcomed by the tribe of outsiders, they were my people now. I would fight for them regardless of Khalashaya’s betrayal.

  I got up off the bed and walked over to the window; opening the curtains and double doors I stepped outside into the cool garden, feeling the cool night air caress my burning skin. The air was rich with the spicy scent of flowers and I could hear birds in the distance.

  The night was still. This was such a beautiful place, I was surrounded by flowers and I could make out other dwellings in the distance beyond the graveyard. I wondered what sort of city this was. Having only either been a prisoner or travelling, I had no idea who the Gleema were and how the city was run. I resolved to ask Khalashaya the next day before remembering the conversation I had overheard.

  I could sense reverberations from the city behind me, behind this building; reverberations that emanated through the thick night and made me curious. The city was a large, multi-headed sleeping thing but I could almost sense its dreams; sense the Falaira as they worked, walked the streets and enjoyed the sights and moonlit gardens. I found I wanted to be part of it, even if from a distance; I was good at hiding myself if I did not wish to be seen.

  I considered this while I found a chair in the garden and brought it over to my balcony, sitting down to think. I did not know what I was going to do about Khalashaya. I considered requesting the aforementioned apartment in the city and living there, far from Khalashaya and the hateful Woodarch, but I knew this would not help me in my quest to be trained up and prove myself to these people. I would have to weather his hatred and push it aside, just like I had done all my life.

  The stars twinkled beautifully, friendly but otherworldly celestial eyes looking down upon the tiny person that I was. I was on a different world, this really hit me at this moment and I felt myself start to shiver as my brain processed this reality.

  “Auriana,” said a voice I recognised as Khalashaya’s. It was coming from back inside my room. I ignored him, let him come to me. I breathed deeply and tried to suppress the wave of emotion that rose to the surface simply on hearing his voice. He was starting to have an effect on me that I could no longer push away. It unnerved me and made me feel that perhaps I did not know myself in the way that I had always thought I did. I did not know what this feeling was, just that I loved being around him and that I was afraid of that feeling because I had never had it quite in this way before.

  I heard footsteps behind me and then the door opened. He stepped out onto the balcony and sat himself down on the stone ground.

  He looked at me searchingly.

  “You heard our conversation”. His face and mouth were hard but his eyes were full of dancing emotions that fought each other for supremacy. I had thought I would be able to handle this after some minutes away from him but it was not to be.

  I ignored him, he could wait until I had composed myself enough to speak rationally and take control of the situation. I stood up and walked out into the garden, climbing over the shallow stone balcony as I had done before. Springy footsteps behind me indicated that he had followed.

  I headed in the same direction we had walked the other night; down some stone steps and onto a lane towards the lake.

  He touched my arm gently, the touch unnerved me more than anything. I did not like being touched when I was angry.

  “Go!”. I shouted loudly.

  “Look, you heard bits and pieces of a conversation you were not meant to overhear,” his tone was soft but laced with irritation.

  “I heard the right parts I think”, I said. “You and Woodarch are worried I am something bad.”

  He released me and walked down to the lake. Now I was walking fast in a bid to catch him up.

  “Just tell me what was so important about me you could not talk to me about it”. I said, the hurt obvious in my voice. I hated that, what was happening to the version of myself that knew when to hide vulnerabilities?

  He turned to me, his face full of anger.

  “No, Auriana. What is it you are not telling me? Why do you have these attacks of weakness? Why are you on your own in the dream?
”

  I was confused. “I do not know the answers to your questions. Why would I hide from you? I have trusted you with my life. I have followed you across the universe for answers”. I could hear the slight pleading tone in my voice as I beseeched him to believe me and I hated myself for it. This self-hatred curdled and became anger that I directed at him. I walked away in a bid to control it, hoping the cool night air would cool me down.

  He followed me, grabbed me by both arms and forced me to sit down by the lake. He sat down beside me, anger in his face that he was clearly trying to control.

  “Something else followed us across the universe as well” he snapped. “There was another death today, a male servant. He served you this morning. Happened around the same time you went weak on the way to the tribe this morning”.

  I sat down beside the water. Another Falaira had died, another death caused by our arrival. We had brought the Eurikaya with us, we were responsible. Now Geebani lay dead.

  “I” I began, but I had no clue what to say next.

  “Woodarch felt something about you. He felt something about you that I didn’t”

  “How could there be anything I haven’t told you? You’ve read my mind. I’ve told you…things about my life”. I felt my voice break as his betrayal hit me again.

  He looked away, his face betraying nothing.

  “I trusted you”. I said, steeling myself once more.

  He looked up at the sky and then closed his eyes. We sat in silence for some time.

  Khalashaya was right about one thing; he had uncovered a connection that I had not seen or perhaps tried not to think about. My sudden horrible periods of weakness always coincided with a death by the Eurikaya. It was like I was sensitive to it.

  However, if Khalashaya was right and that Eurikaya had been living on New Earth for years then why had it not attacked before? Why had I never felt the weakness before that first time on the day my father was murdered by the creature?

  His accusatory tone when discussing the dream was strange however. I could not help the contents of my dreams any more than I could help my height or hair colour.