Girl of Myth and Legend

by Giselle Simlett

  ‘Now, if you allow it, great Pulsar,’ he says, with an air of satisfaction, ‘I would like to sleep.’

  After hearing that, I’m not too sure I want to continue our conversation. ‘Yeah…’

  Before I close the door, he says, ‘I look forward to the soul-binding, keeper.’ I glance back at him: he’s settling on the rickety bench. I’m already not thrilled with the prospect of the soul-bind, and even less so now I’ve found out the personality of the soul I’m attaching mine to, but now… now the prospect of being a keeper is utterly unwelcome.

  _________________

  ‘No, Pegasus, down!’ I snap.

  Pegasus has been locked in my room since we arrived two days ago. It took some of my great persuasion skills—OK, I just asserted my Pulsarness—to get him released, and one of my promises was that he would be settled. I’m chewing on my words now. Settled? No. Of course not. He runs around the Breakfast Room, bouncing off the chairs and clambering over small shrines, jumping on me several times and almost knocking me over. There’s no point calming him down; he wouldn’t understand. Magens’ faces are hidden from me, and they go about serving us our breakfast without a word, but the Thrones who sit at the table are chewing their lips, clenching and unclenching their hands, trying not to look at the mutt.

  ‘What’s his name?’ Jacob asks me.

  ‘Pegasus,’ I reply.

  ‘Cool name!’ I decide I like Jacob. ‘Why’d you call him that?’

  ‘I read about him in a myth,’ I say, ‘he sprung out of Medusa’s head or something.’

  ‘Oh. Did he really?’

  ‘Well, not this Pegasus. Another one. A human cut her head off,’—I slice my finger across my neck—‘and out came a horse with wings.’

  ‘Cool.’

  ‘Cool indeed.’

  Pegasus starts to whine loudly when Magen bring out more food.

  ‘I’ll take him outside,’ says Dad. ‘He might need some fresh air.’

  ‘OK, thanks,’ I say, wishing I hadn’t brought the damn mutt down here. Dad’s not on good terms with Pegasus—The Shirts of Many Holes is a legacy Pegasus will pass down to his children—but he tolerates him for me.

  I haven’t been able to look Dad in the eye since this morning. When I left Korren’s shed last night, I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. I kept imagining a stupid scene: me, in my prime, playing a futuristic video game, and then my heartbeat just stops and there is not another one to replace it. What if it doesn’t work that way, though? What if, instead, you got really ill and, for like a year, you just suffered until death finally decided to claim you? That would suck.

  So, I went to Dad. His room was so small compared to mine that I felt guilty. For a moment I wondered if I should just leave and unsay in my head what Korren had said. I woke Dad, though.

  And when I did, I was surprised to find I had tears in my eyes. I felt so stupid, crying in front of him again, but I couldn’t help it. I’d been so immersed in the perks of being a Pulsar that I had disregarded my duty, and on top of that I had discovered the truth behind the soul-binding.

  ‘I can’t do it!’ I cried. ‘I don’t want to have a soul-binding.’

  Dad put his arm around my shoulders. He hasn’t always been able to be affectionate with me, both of us having to build that part of our relationship, but it was comforting, feeling his presence rather than just assuming it was there.

  ‘We of power have to bind to a kytaen, Leonie,’ he said. ‘I wish we didn’t, but it’s vital we have a shield.’

  ‘I don’t want a shield,’ I sniffled. ‘Maybe I need one. Maybe. That doesn’t mean I want one. I don’t want to do it. How did you even do it?’

  ‘Because it was my duty,’ he said.

  ‘Screw duty!’ I wiped my nose.

  ‘I thought you wanted to go to the Imperium.’

  ‘I do!’

  ‘I thought you liked the idea of being a Pulsar.’

  ‘I do…’

  ‘Then you have to soul-bind.’

  ‘I don’t want to die young!’ And it hit me that Dad had only a few years left. I gave him another hug as I cried.

  ‘You need to be brave. A Pulsar is always brave.’

  Brave.

  Do I really know the meaning of the word? What is it to be brave? Does it mean to be fearless? How am I supposed to be fearless when all I feel is fear?

  After breakfast, I go back to my room and find Korren standing outside the door with his arms folded. He begins to unfold them when he sees me, as if he shouldn’t be standing so nonchalantly, but resumes his stance, rebellious. I could almost laugh; it’s strange that I, a teenager who is usually doing the rebelling, am facing my own teenage uprising, despite him being centuries old. His frown is as severe as ever, and I wonder if kytaen even know how to smile.

  I try not to release the emotions screaming inside of me. There is so much in me right now that I feel like I might burst, but I have to remain ‘dignified’. Though I’m looking at the kytaen that will take half of my life away, it’s not his doing, it’s not his fault and he was only informing me.

  ‘Morning,’ I say.

  He continues to stare at me, looking for something. I want to turn away from his gaze, but it always seems to hold me in place. He is an ancient being of magic and myth, and I am just some ignorant, yes, ignorant girl who has been thrust into this world he has forever known. He’s been soul-bound to legends, to Pulsar who changed the world—probably. No wonder he has no respect for me.

  But then, the way he looks at me, it’s like he sees some-thing there, something that stirs his curiosity, a magic he can’t understand.

  My cheeks warm and I clear my throat. ‘How’d you sleep?’

  He says nothing, being obstinate.

  ‘Not very well, I guess,’ I mutter. ‘I didn’t want you in there, but even as a Pulsar I couldn’t get anyone to change their mind. Besides, I doubt you would’ve appreciated any help from me.’

  Still, no response.

  I sigh. ‘I get it, you’re—’

  ‘Ah. I found you, my Lady.’ I turn to see O’Sah approach-ing us, his kytaen behind him in human form.

  ‘Behold the ball and chain,’ I say under my breath.

  ‘I came to remind you that your training begins in the next hour. Shall I meet you in the Welcoming Hall?’

  ‘Sure. I’ll be there.’

  He bows his head and leaves. Not even a glance at Korren, I note.

  ‘That guy acts obedient and all that,’ I say to Korren, ‘but you can totally see he wants to punch me in the face.’

  ‘He’d protect you with his life,’ he says. ‘You should be grateful for him.’

  I blink, surprised. ‘I thought you’d hate him.’

  ‘Hate is a privilege for those who are free.’

  ‘And you’re not?’

  ‘You can’t see the chains and shackles that bind me?’

  ‘You’re really intense, y’know that? I wish I could come up with stuff so heavy. It makes way more of an impact.’

  A loud bark. A rush of paws scraping against the marble floor. The big mass of fur runs towards Korren, tongue lolling, a giddy look in his eyes. I don’t have time to react. Neither, I thought, would Korren, but he does. As Pegasus leaps into the air to jump on him, Korren sidesteps out of the way, and Pegasus slams against the wall. Most dogs would be dispirited by such an epic fail, but not Peg. Undeterred, he clumsily turns back to the impassive kytaen, but as he makes his leap, Korren dodges him again. Pegasus shakes his head, his tail wagging as he looks at Korren with admiration, keeping his distance from his new idol.

  ‘Pegasus likes to make a grand entrance,’ I say, rubbing the back of my neck. ‘Peg, meet our new friend.’

  Needless to say, Korren does not look amused.

  Dad runs round the corner, gasping for air. ‘Th-there he is. I tried to grab him but… too fast!’

  I laugh. ‘Thanks for looking after him.’

  We go into my room
and Dad sits on the luxurious sofa, catching his breath. I sit on the edge of my bed, glancing at Korren, who stands near the door. Pegasus sits near him. Traitor, I think.

  ‘There’s something I wanted to give you,’ says Dad.

  ‘Ooo! A present?’ I say.

  ‘Sort of.’ He hands me a small green case. I open it.

  ‘Are these contact lenses?’ I ask.

  ‘I ordered them for you back home, before we came here.’

  ‘Wait. That thing you wanted me to pick up from the post office,’ I say, ‘was it this?’

  He nods.

  ‘So you got these knowing I’d awaken soon, and knowing I’d hate the colour of my eyes?’ I shiver. ‘That is so weird.’

  ‘I didn’t know you’d hate them,’ he says. ‘I guessed.’

  I put the case on the bed next to me. ‘Thanks, Dad. But I think I’m getting used to them, my new eye colour, I mean.’

  He smiles. ‘Good. So, lessons today! Excited?’

  ‘I guess,’ I reply. ‘I just think it’ll be an anti-climax.’

  ‘It’s not all about fighting, Leonie.’

  ‘I know, I know.’

  ‘You’ll probably learn a lot about underfens.’

  ‘Oh right. Harriad mentioned them the other day. They’re like demons, right?’

  ‘In a way. Do you remember their names?’

  ‘Um…’

  ‘He did tell you them.’

  ‘Right… um… there are three types of them?’

  Dad nods. ‘Go on.’

  ‘There’s the, um, akaliys?’

  ‘Good. Did you know they’re what began the vampire legends in the human realm?’

  I shake my head. ‘That’s cool.’

  ‘Then there are the windwisps.’

  ‘They come in the form of orbs? And… hmm…’ I look at the ceiling, ‘and they pass through your body to whisk your energy away.’

  ‘But why are they dangerous?’

  ‘Um, ’cause they move in groups?’

  ‘Yes. One can take so much energy from you that when the next one attacks, you’re probably going to die.’

  ‘How encouraging.’

  ‘And… maidens.’ Even when he says it, there is fear in his voice. ‘The most powerful of the underfens. They came after the Imperium was formed. They trap you in labyrinths of chaos, slowly destroying you inside out until you’re an empty shell, with no consciousness or feeling. They take your life, too, if you’re lucky. Make sure they unquestionably make an impression on you—they are our kind’s greatest enemy.’

  ‘Where do they come from?’ I ask.

  ‘Well, there’re many unexplainable things in our world, and they are one of them.’

  ‘Learning about them isn’t going to actually help me defeat them, though. I mean, wouldn’t it be better for me to learn some techniques to kill the underfed things?’

  ‘Underfens, Leonie, and O’Sah’s already told you that you won’t be expected to face underfens until you’re properly trained and your magic has surfaced, so there’s no rush.’

  I think about that for a moment, about my, what you call it, duty or whatever, and how one day I’ll be expected to protect others from such things as maidens. Korren said a Pulsar’s sole purpose was to protect the Imperium, the Chosen race. I never really gave it much thought; the idea of me being a Protector of Lives is so distant and unreal.

  I look at Korren and realise that, as my kytaen, he has an enforced duty of his own, too: to risk his life to protect mine. I frown at the thought; frown because I never considered that he has to give his life for my own; frown, because no one would care if he did.

  KORREN

  SOMETHING ELSE, SOMETHING MORE

  As the girl changes in her room, O’Sah takes me outside. The wind is cold against my skin, like tiny shards of ice pressing into me.

  ‘The Pulsar will be commencing her training today,’ he tells me. ‘A few days after you’ve made the soul-binding, you’ll train together. It’s important that you both work as a unit. I don’t want any of this misbehaviour you seem intent on showing. It’s not right for your kind to be acting so dishonourably. Do your duty. Do it properly. That is all that’s meant for you.’

  Though this isn’t the first time a Chosen has reminded me of the reason for my existence, I feel satisfied. He’s noticing me as an independent being rather than just a kytaen, even having to remind me of what I am. That has to be an indication that my plan is on course. I can always make him think me insufficient to protect her if it comes to it. In fact, if underfens did happen to attack us, I could just let her die.

  No. I couldn’t let her die knowing I could’ve saved her. It’s not about returning home in dishonour—if the Imperium decides not to kill me—it’s because her death wouldn’t make me feel good. It wouldn’t bring me satisfaction. I wouldn’t care if she died, but if her death was a result of my inaction, how could I call myself a kytaen?

  How can I even now…?

  A few minutes later the girl comes outside. I take a quick look at her attire: fur boots, some sort of cap on her head with a peak protruding, and a large sweater, a ravenous monster drawn on it. I raise my eyebrow. Her hair is flowing past her shoulders in an almost chaotic way, but not unappealingly. Her burgundy eyes remind me of the way she stood in the moons’ delicate light last night, how it made them glisten and gleam and ignited something in me, drawing me closer to her.

  Here it is again, that something. I feel it as a physical thing, like how the moons move the tides, and I can almost see it between us. What is it? Why is it pulling pulling pulling?

  ‘Are you constipated or something?’ she asks, observing my face.

  I break away from my thoughts, grimacing at her. She’s holding a coat out to me. I glare at it as if she’s giving me poison, and I’m about to reject her offer when the cold breeze hits my body. I snatch the coat from her and put it on. Reluctantly.

  ‘I can’t believe I have to do this stupid Art of Reflection thing with O’Sah,’ she mutters. ‘Oh, hey, I forgot to ask what he had to say to you yesterday.’

  I don’t reply.

  She scrutinises me but doesn’t make further comment. ‘Want to go for a walk?’

  ‘Why are you asking me?’ I didn’t mean to say it aloud.

  She raises an eyebrow. ‘You may not want to, obviously.’

  She begins walking down the temple steps that are dusted in snow. I hesitate. She’s given me a choice, and if I choose not to go with her, then I’m not doing anything wrong.

  Nonetheless, I follow.

  She goes to the top of the waterfall, standing on the small wall that protects us from falling in, and walks along it. I stay on the pathway behind her.

  ‘Before I found out I was Chosen, I went to college. D’you know what that is? College, I mean.’

  I don’t make any gesture to speak.

  ‘It’s a place where we fight to the death.’ I look at her. It takes a moment for her impassive face to crumble, and she laughs. ‘Nah. It’s an educational institute,’ she says. I glare. ‘I did physical education, aka sports. It’s not that I like it. I mean, yeah, sports is fun and all, but it’s not something I’d want to make a career out of, y’know? Like, I wouldn’t want to be a coach or something. I just, I dunno, I just thought if I was going to do something, sports would be pretty cool.’

  The wind shrieks, bombarding us with more snow. I shiver, despite the coat.

  ‘I’m guessing the Imperium doesn’t have educational institutes then,’ she says.

  ‘They do. Most Pulsar don’t bother with it, though.’

  ‘What do they bother with? Martial arts training? ’Cause I’ve been telling my dad that.’

  ‘They mostly concentrate on meditation.’

  ‘Meditation? That’s it? What a bore!’

  ‘Then you’re going to find yourself frequently bored. It’s the way Chosen learn to control their magic. They need to find spiritual balance.’

&n
bsp; ‘Pff! I’m already spiritual whatever you said. What I need is to learn how to break some ligaments.’

  ‘Which proves how unfit you are to be a Pulsar.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ She jumps off the wall and turns to face me, walking backwards.

  ‘Pulsar have immense responsibilities. The first is to learn how to discipline their magic, since your whole life will be dedicated to the Imperium.’ Her expression drops, so I keep going. ‘You’re not free to live your life. You are the Pulsar, the last one, and the Imperium will never lose sight of you.’

  She stops and looks at me, and not just looking, but searching. ‘There’s something off about you. I can’t figure it out, but the tick in your tock is missing, for sure.’

  How did the conversation turn onto me?

  ‘How old are you?’ she asks, walking beside me.

  ‘…I came some hundred years after the Imperium was founded.’

  ‘Hmm. Yeah, so, I’m not too good at Chosen history, or any history actually, besides World War II, or was it World War I? Well, it was one of the World Wars. I’ll just go ahead and assume you’re a grandpa.’ She whistles. ‘Hard to believe I’m walking beside someone who’s so ancient. Sure you don’t need a walking stick, old timer?’

  I grimace at the name. There is no such thing as an ‘ancient’ or ‘old’ kytaen. Age is insignificant to us.

  ‘I was told there was a sort of war two hundred years ago where all the Pulsar were killed,’ she says.

  ‘It wasn’t a war,’ I say, ‘and they were slaughtered.’

  She ponders this. ‘The fire kytaen, they’re all gone now too, aren’t they? Besides you. Or did I hear that wrong?’

  ‘No, you didn’t.’

  ‘So you and me, we’re each one of a kind.’

  I cringe at the thought.

  ‘Why doesn’t that Edman thing make more kytaen?’

  ‘Ehlmand!’ I snap. ‘And that’s not your concern.’ Well, it isn’t her concern. After the death of all the kytaen who protected Pulsar, besides me, Ehlmand no longer created kytaen, despite the orders from the Imperium. The Imperium may be dominant, but they can’t direct a spirit.