by A. R. Crebs
“I think we’re all going to be more stuffed than a Thanksgiving turkey.” Karter slapped his hands together.
Though Thanksgiving wasn’t a holiday native to Ives, the people of the land embraced every world holiday. Any excuse to eat and drink in overabundance was good enough for the Sorcēarians.
“And then I will hibernate for a year.” Dovian smirked.
The others laughed at him for it wasn’t a farfetched idea. Dovian had done it before.
Euclid reached into his satchel. “My last night living as a human. I’ve got plenty of leftover cigars and a bottle of whiskey in my bag. How about we play some cards tonight and sleep in tomorrow before we head back?”
Orin, Karter, and Dovian liked the sound of that. Quentin shook his head.
“You boys have fun. If you don’t mind, I’ll be heading home to see my beautiful Valeria. I’ll meet up with you tomorrow at the feast.” Quentin pressed his fist against his chest. “It’s been a pleasure working with you boys. I certainly hope we work together in the future.”
The others mimicked his gesture, and together they all bowed. Quentin smiled and twisted his Frequency Tuner. With a whoosh, he disappeared.
“I certainly hope not,” Euclid grumbled, biting on a cigar.
Dovian rolled his eyes. “Is he that terrible?”
Euclid smiled crookedly, his tongue curling to the side. “Naw, he ain’t so bad.”
Dovian felt his muscles relax and a smile spread across his face.
A series of portals opened, and the trench filled with medics of all rankings. Dovian and the others quickly saluted with a fist to their chests. One of the highest rankings, a woman with seafoam green hair, gave a deep bow.
“You’ve been dismissed. Ives thanks you for your hard work and for the lives you’ve saved. My staff and I will take over from here. Cleanup crews have been sent out to take care of the wounded and make sure the lines have cleared, and no enemies are lingering behind.” Usually, these groups consisted of the low-ranking Scarlet warriors. “Please be sure to return home by early afternoon tomorrow. Festivities will be held in your honor.” The woman smiled brightly. Her eyes drifted to Orin only for a second, and her face lit up with a shade of pink.
Dovian eyed his friend. Orin’s expression held a lopsided grin. There was no doubt he had dealings with this woman before.
“If you need anything from us, don’t hesitate to call,” Dovian spoke.
“Of course! But don’t fret, we’ve got plenty of help,” the woman cheerfully stated.
“Come on, boys!” Euclid waved his arm.
Before any of them could say or do anything else—particularly Orin running his mouth or doing anything too flirtatious—Euclid opened a portal large enough to swallow the four of them whole.
Despite Euclid’s efforts, the night had run shorter than anticipated. They ran through a few games of poker, smoked a box of cigars, and finished off a large bottle of whiskey. They spoke of Ives, food, music, and women. After giving in to peer pressure, Karter loosened up. He told a few dirty jokes, made fun of Euclid and his sour attitude, and even took jabs at Orin and Dovian. It was enjoyable company, but after the third game, Euclid could barely keep his eyes open. It was humorous hearing him argue with himself over his sleepiness, but after the fourth time of his head bobbing, he growled and made his way to his cot. The others had no qualms about doing the same, and by eleven at night they were all fast asleep except for Dovian.
One small window occupied their shared room next to Dovian’s bed. With the light of the moon flooding across him, he held up the purple orchid that I’Lanthe had strangely given him. The scent had faded a little over the years, but it remained enticing. The edges of the petals were a bit darker than they used to be, but the flower still appeared nearly ageless. He twisted the stem, watching the moonlight play against the beauty of the plant.
‘Why did she give me this?’
Obviously enough, I’Lanthe had developed some form of ridiculous feelings for him in the short amount of time they’d known each other. However, she acted as if there were meaning behind the flower. He remembered her words.
“I wish there was more time before you wandered out of my life again.”
Again? When had he left her in the first place? He never knew I’Lanthe, not until his class. Surely there was a reason behind her words.
During his lengthy mission, Dovian had become entranced with her, digging through every possible memory to find a time in which he had been in her life. He could think of nothing. What began as a mere curiosity, became an obsession. He had to figure it out. Like a game, he needed to solve her riddle before he met her again. It was another reason why he was not in a hurry to return home. If he could, he’d wander the Earth for a hundred years just to figure it out. What an idiot he’d seem to be if he approached her tomorrow and still had no idea what she meant. How heartbreaking would that be for her? Apparently, Dovian had entered her life at some point other than the classroom, and he had made a lasting impression on the young woman.
‘When?’ he contemplated.
Dovian closed his eyes, pulling out memories once again. I’Lanthe was practically the same age as Lita, so Dovian only allowed memories from the point of Lita’s birth and after to resurface. He’d gone from his last day in Ives and moved backward day after day, pulling out each memory he had that involved times he wasn’t alone. Surely, I’Lanthe had to have been with Lita when he first met her, so he continued scanning every memory he could of Lita. Most often than not, he was alone with his lavender-haired cousin.
He began to feel hopeless as he looked to his wristband and saw it was after two in the morning. He heaved a sigh and tossed in his bed, pulling the sheet over his shoulder. Closing his eyes, he thought of the times he taught Lita to swim in the waters behind his home. How he missed those waters. Like with everything he taught her, Lita had learned to swim astonishingly fast. She swam like a fish, was even better than Dovian after a couple of weeks.
He couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face. Lita was incredibly young back then, possibly eight or nine. When she was young, she wasn’t allowed much out of Dovian’s sight. He knew nearly everything about her. It suddenly saddened him. This was the longest he had been away from Lita. Fifty years was a long time. What had happened to her while he was gone? Dovian imagined she was furious with him for not visiting. Even during holidays, Dovian refused to come home. He lied to the others in his group and said he would venture home to be with close family only, but Dovian never actually gone. Instead, he mingled with the humans, researching them, watching how they interacted during the holiday seasons. Still, Dovian made sure to sneak home during Christmas and on birthdays to secretly place gifts outside everyone’s door. He had not forgotten them, he cared for them deeply, and he wanted them to know.
Every year he gave his father a new pen and a handcrafted book with ancient parchment. He also left him the largest brownie he could find. He’d often leave for Cyerys and Gaius II a bottle of wine, a pack of exotic beer, and a specialty platter of meats and cheeses. Sir Gaius always received something special that took Dovian most of a year to hunt down during his journeys whether it be an ancient tome, a new Bible, hand carved wooden bookmarks, or an extravagant costume piece. Sir Gaius loved theater, his favorite plays being Shakespearean. Gaius’ love for Rome and the Renaissance was the reason behind Ives’ annual holiday masquerade.
Outside Lita’s bedroom was his final destination during his secret visitations. Knowing Lita, anything and everything he had ever given her was her favorite thing of the year. He spoiled her with stuffed animals, strange toys, electronics, comic books, movies, handheld games, and topped it all off with a box of chocolate truffles. He wondered if she even still liked those types of things. He suddenly felt very lonely.
Perhaps he’d bring home a new swimsuit for her. She did love to swim. But then he shook off the idea. How strange to bring her something like that after fifty years? Perhaps h
e’d give her a hula skirt and a coconut bra from Hawaii. The idea made him snort.
He could still hear the shrill cries of her voice when she was a child.
“Dovian, over here!” she would shout all day long. She made him watch everything. Eventually, he had gotten very good at acting like he was watching while he read a book instead or cooked dinner. Dovian’s body went cold.
“There!” he whispered aloud.
One of the times he had been outside with Lita, the girl had been extraordinarily obnoxious, yelling for his attention nearly all day long. Finally, he sat at the edge of the lake and read while Lita hung from tree branches and swung into the water. She was quite good at it, graceful and impressive, but Dovian had seen it all a thousand times or more. She’d yell his name, he’d acknowledge her, and then she’d splash into the water. They had spent all day at that lake. He only left to make the two of them a picnic where he could watch her from the window of his kitchen. The sun had begun to set on the horizon, and he was halfway through his book Paradise Lost by John Milton before he heard a shrill scream.
It took seconds for Dovian to set his book down, recognize Lita on the shoreline screaming her pretty little head off while pointing out to the water, and then notice another young girl in the middle of the lake splashing for survival. Dovian tore off his coat and jumped into the air, his wings bursting from his dorsal side. He spiraled toward the center of the lake, searching for the other child in the water. By the time he got to the girl, she was completely submerged and sinking. Dovian dove into the lake and found the girl’s hand. With a swift tug, he pulled her out and soared into the air. She coughed, and Dovian helped her to remove the water from her lungs. As they landed on shore, Lita was sobbing miserably and shouting her apologies to both Dovian and the child.
Dovian never learned the other girl’s name, but she had violet eyes. Her hair was light brown with a hint of red. At the time, Dovian felt awful. He had no idea another child had joined Lita in the lake. Most likely, it was the reason why he became so distracted by his book. With a friend nearby, Lita’s need for attention projected onto someone else, and he was allowed some peace and quiet for once.
Lita had shown her friend how to swing from the branches. The little girl knew how to swim, but she wasn’t as proficient as Lita. She made it out to the center but hadn’t enough strength to make it back. It was a good thing Dovian was there, or the poor girl would have drowned. And he couldn’t help but feel like he was to blame.
“My God, I’Lanthe was the little girl,” Dovian mumbled. His eyes quickly scanned the room to see if any of the other men had heard him, but no one stirred. Dovian retracted back into his memories.
After a few minutes of monitoring, the little girl seemed to be perfectly fine. Dovian inspected her time and time again, not wanting to be the one responsible for allowing an adorable little girl to perish under his watch. Though he never learned her name, he mentally nicknamed her ‘Violet’ for her extraordinary eyes.
The child didn’t seem too troubled. After she had settled down from all the coughing, she latched onto Dovian’s sleeve. She knew he had saved her, and though she was too shy to speak at the time, he knew she was thankful. Dovian forbade Lita and the girl from swimming the rest of the evening. Instead, he brought them into his home, gave them towels to dry off and some old clothes of his to wear while their swimsuits dried. He didn’t think much of it as he always allowed Lita to wear his old robes. And while they drank warm tea, he made them creamy tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. He set a fire in one of the guest rooms, and he and the girls curled up together on the couch to listen to music on his father’s old record player. He made them ice-cream sundaes and relented when they begged him to tell them a bedtime story.
‘The story.’ Dovian’s mind wondered what it was he had read to them. He couldn’t help but laugh. It was the story of Mr. Piddles and the Duck!
After telling the girls the story, he motioned to go to bed, but the two of them would not let him go. How children of that age could outlast him, he’d never know. He led them to his mother’s old garden off the side of the cathedral. The rain had pulled in, and the girls were too afraid of the lightning to venture out. To appease them both, he walked out into the storm and plucked a couple of flowers for the two of them–a white daffodil for Lita, a purple orchid for her friend.
Dovian rubbed his forehead. Was that seriously what it was all about? Rather than feeling a flutter in his stomach, Dovian felt it sink. Here was a poor child he had saved from drowning at a very young age. To appease her and Lita for the time being, he plucked flowers for them. How ridiculous! Did that event actually affect her so deeply? He felt sick. She was a mere child in comparison to him. How in the world would he ever be able to look her in the eye and not feel ashamed?
An onslaught of memories flooded his senses as he suddenly remembered all the times the girl he had dubbed Violet had entered his life. It was far more often than he had expected. For some reason, Lita never introduced the two. She must have assumed Dovian knew her name. Slumber parties, whether involving one friend or a group of girls, during all of them I’Lanthe was present. The graduation of specialized courses, I’Lanthe was there. Holidays, I’Lanthe made a temporary stop, her violet eyes scanning the room from behind a doorway. If Dovian looked, the child mysteriously disappeared. This went on for many years outside of the past hundred. Dovian couldn’t recall ever seeing I’Lanthe in any current memories. To a Sorcēarian, current memories could span a typical human’s lifetime. Still, all he remembered was seeing a flash of a little girl whose hair gradually grew into a rich brown the older she got, whose violet eyes glimmered a bit more each year. He never paid her much mind amongst the chaos of his normal life. He felt like an idiot.
Dovian sat in his bed twirling the flower between his fingertips. After a few minutes of deep pondering, he realized that he was the one in control. Yes, I’Lanthe had feelings for him, but for how long? He inadvertently robbed her of her innocence and occupied her mind. He felt like a villain.
Dovian smirked. He always assumed I’Lanthe had control over the situation. No, with his newfound knowledge, he realized he had all the power. Was he a scoundrel for having a beautiful young woman smitten with him? If so, then call him guilty, but he was beginning to find it a little gratifying. Perhaps he should have felt bad. Maybe it was the whiskey, but he certainly didn’t. In fact, he felt good about it.
Dovian tucked the flower away in his knapsack. As he took a lingering look at the full moon, realization finally settled. He was too slow. After all this time, he just now figured out what I’Lanthe meant. After all this time, he couldn’t come sweeping to her feet announcing he finally understood the reasoning behind her gift, the gift that had kept him awake for far too many a night. I’Lanthe most certainly married by now. If not, she at least had a man to call her own. It would be absurd to come bursting back into her life after all this time. No, Dovian wouldn’t pursue this woman’s temptations. He would return home with the satisfaction of knowing he figured it all out. If he came across I’Lanthe, he would smile in admiration at her. When her small children would run by, Dovian would be sure to keep a watchful eye on them, knowing that they’d be just like their mother–adventurous, courageous, and far too smart for their own good.
Dovian scoffed. What did it matter? He’d be better off forgetting I’Lanthe even existed. She was a little girl to him. She was nothing more than his student, and he her teacher. It would be against the rules to pursue a relationship with her. He frowned. No matter how much he tried to convince himself of his thoughts, it still hurt. And he wasn’t sure why.
“Oh, my dear, what spell did you put on me?” Dovian whispered to the moon.
For some reason, he knew she was looking at it as well. Maybe he was a bit sentimental, but the thought alone comforted him enough to bring him to sleep. No matter what happened tomorrow, Dovian would keep his head. He prepared for the worst. And was it so bad to expect
I’Lanthe to be married and with children at this point? Wasn’t it what he wanted all along?
‘No. I really hope she isn’t,’ he thought. His brain berated him for having such thoughts, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit selfish.
Dovian thought that all this time away would help mend the confusion he felt about the woman. Instead, it had the opposite effect. All he wanted to do was arrive home, see her beautiful face, and feed her questions the rest of the evening, and if the moment was right, possibly kiss her.
Now that was the whiskey talking. Dovian would even admit that he was never bold enough to kiss a woman first. He was far too good at second-guessing himself. The thoughts of the next day excited him, made him nervous, but also made him confident. Perhaps he was tired, but he’d be sure to at least talk to I’Lanthe when given a chance.
Finally feeling at peace, his attention led to the waning of the moon. A couple of streaks of light shot across his vision, and the man couldn’t help but make a wish before he fell fast asleep.
"Waiting to be Dismissed"
Chapter 10
Dovian awoke the next morning to the sound of Euclid and the others chatting and laughing. The scent of eggs and freshly baked bread tickled his nostrils. Eyes of cerulean opened to find Orin holding a sandwich in front of his face. Dovian quickly sat up, snatching the food from the man’s hand.
“Better than any alarm clock! I told you it’d work!” Orin beamed.
With a mouth full, Dovian mumbled, “You were making bets on what time I’d wake up?”
Orin leaned against the bedpost. “We all know very well that if we hadn’t woken you, you’d stay in this very spot until next winter.”
Dovian continued eating. He wasn’t going to argue with that.