by J. Naomi Ay
"What?" Arsan gasped, while swallowing a huge gulp of air. "I don't understand."
"You will someday, little one. Now, where would you like your kiss?"
The snake's head rose higher so that it might survey the boy's body, and then, deciding upon a leg, he bit the child's thigh.
Arsan screamed, for the snake's teeth were needle-sharp and filled with venom which immediately burned his leg and swept through his body. His cries woke the village, and more importantly, alerted Goom, who raced into the tiny hut to find the boy trembling.
"Snake!" Arsan cried. "A huge one."
"Where? I don't see a snake."
Goom looked around. The sun was just now rising, a splintered yellow light shining through the tiny window and across the floor. There was no one there, certainly not a yellow snake, or one of any other color.
Arsan began to shiver, so much so, he could no longer speak. With a weak and wobbling hand, he pointed at his leg.
Goom touched it, and felt the swelling, as well as the sticky sensation of venom mixed with blood. It was an enormous bite, and it would have been a deadly if Arsan was only a normal child.
"Now is as good a time as any," Goom mumbled, grasping the child's hand and placing it squarely upon the wound. "Concentrate," he ordered. "You are the healer. See the venom purged. Seal the veins, repair the muscles, and close the skin. See it in your mind, and it shall be done by the flesh of your own hand."
Arsan struggled for a moment, his body wracked with tremors, his head floating somewhere above, as if in outer space.
"Do as I say," Goom shouted, pressing the boy's hand deeper into his injured flesh. "Cure thyself, child, for you are the only one who can.”
Miraculously, Arsan’s flesh did as Goom commanded. The wound instantly healed leaving no trace, not even a hint of a scar. The boy’s head cleared, and although he felt a bit winded and short of breath, the poison was purged, as if it had never been.
It was at that moment, while Arsan was pulling himself upright, a memory flooded into his brain, nearly knocking him back down, the same fatigue now as then, draining his body. He recalled a woodland on a bitter night, huge cedar and fir trees blocking the sky. The light of the two moons of Rehnor dimly illuminating the scene.
The MaKennah lay before him, his left leg torn to shreds, the remains of she-bear and her babe by his side, all three losers in this fight.
“Look at him,” someone scoffed, and Arsan turned to see his brother Gavri, a creature not unlike himself. “Why must you do this, Mika? Instead of hastening your time, through this foolishness, you prolong it even more.”
“It’s all because of Cassie,” Arsan replied, although he wasn’t this boy in his memory. In fact, he was fully grown, and had witnessed the passage of time for millions of years.
Gavri made a noise, a sort of scoffing, snorting sound.
“Regardless, you fix him, whilst I fetch his lackeys. I am glad that I am the one only tasked with communications, for Mika and his messes nauseate me.”
Then, he vanished into the air, his presence marked only by a faint haze of silver light, and whisper of great soft wings like Arsan’s own.
“Mika,” Arsan whispered, kneeling at the side of the man who lay in a pool of his and the she-bear’s blood. “Don’t fight me, brother. I will heal you as I have done before.”
He made to place his hand upon the MaKennah’s leg. The femoral artery was nearly ruptured, and momentarily, the mortal body would bleed out.
“Don’t do it,” another voice interrupted, startling Arsan and causing him to draw away. “He won’t appreciate it. He wants to die. If you save him, he’ll curse you, and damn you for all eternity.”
Arsan recognized the voice as that of another brother. Neither was he surprised when he spied the black and gold patterned snake.
“Come now, little brother,” the evil one continued. “Why don’t you join with me? You and I could be a formidable team.”
Arsan wavered only momentarily, for his brother’s voice was honeyed and sweet, convincing to those not on their guard.
“No, I must help him.”
He turned his attention back to the MaKennah, his soul filling with great love for his eldest sibling. Mika was the bravest, the strongest, the wisest, and the one whose countenance shone brighter than any other. Mika was the One Who Was Like, yet still humble enough to realize Who He Wasn’t. His only failing was his love for Cassi’ot, a she-angel of lesser standing, and of no account.
Arsan didn’t understand her attraction, for she had entranced not only Mika, but the evil brother, too. It was this rivalry that preceded the chaos which sent them down.
“Blessed Saint!” Now, a new voice interrupted.
“Oh fuck! Senya, what have you done now?”
Arsan turned to see two mortal men as they ran into the clearing.
“Summon the medics, Berkan,” the elder cried. “And, tell them to hurry. Blessed Saint, Senya. Hold on. If you survive this, I swear, I’m going to lock you in a padded room.”
Then, the man began to pray under his breath. He called out to the Saint, which wasn’t anyone that Arsan knew. It didn’t worry him, as these mortals had a way of inventing gods, which they all found a bit humorous, and mostly, harmless with some exceptions.
While the other man rang medics on his cell, and before they all arrived to cart his brother away, Arsan quickly slipped his hand upon the MaKennah’s thigh, sealing the artery and nothing more, for by doing so, his brother began to stir.
“Go away, Rafa,” he gasped. “Don’t save me again.”
“Hush, Senya,” the mortal replied, thinking the MaKennah had spoken to him.
“You know you’re not finished,” Gavri snapped, having returned from his mission of informing the mortals. “Suck it up, Mika. That’s the message I have for you.”
“Fuck you, Gavri,” Mika replied.
“That sounds like fun,” Gavri retorted. “I suspect that is the sole benefit of owning a mortal body. Might I borrow Cassie for that adventure since you’re incapacitated?”
Mika struggled to rise, reaching for Gavri with his hand.
“What was that, Senya?” One of the mortals leaned in closer, pushing him back down.
From that moment forward, Arsan recalled nothing more. Instead, he returned to both the tiny hut, the child’s body, and Goom’s presence.
“Well, well, well,” Goom exclaimed, his long tail delightedly swishing up and down. “I see that something has occurred in your small brain.”
Indeed, something had, although Arsan wasn’t entirely sure what. In any case, he realized, he was something more than just a Karupta boy.
Chapter 3
Gani was nearly the same size as Goom, with a shock of long dark purple hair that hung down her back, nearly to her tail. When she walked, her hair would swish from side to side, and her tail would bounce up and down excitedly. Arsan loved to watch her walk. The boy would purposely stay behind her, a laugh bubbling up in his throat, filling him with joy, although he wasn't certain why.
Gani liked Arsan too. Even though she was technically too old for schooling, having learned all that a young female ought to know by the age of ten, she begged her grandfather to allow her to join the Karupta boy in his lessons.
"Why do you need this?" Goom had asked, his own lips forcing upward in a smile. The girl was beautiful, her lilac eyes a perfect complement to her hair, just like her great aunt, Goom's sister had once been. And, just like her great-aunt, Goom could refuse her nothing. Unfortunately for the old man, the girl knew it too.
"Why shouldn't I?" Gani challenged. "Have I not a brain too? Is there a reason I must let it go to waste?"
"What use have you of the histories or the wisdom of the Karupta's great father, Karukan? Will you hunt better or feed your babes with this knowledge?" Goom immediately felt regret at the choice of his words, for he could see into the girl's thoughts as if he peered into her brain.
Babes, indeed. Gani g
azed longingly at Arsan, her thick, fetching tail swishing provocatively, brushing and curling against the boy.
Arsan looked up from the long line of ants marching from the sand across his bare feet, his dazed expression shifting into a surprised smile. He blushed deeply, his golden hued skin turning red as if burnt by too much time in the sun, while Gani's tail stroked him feather-like upon his back.
"Oy yoy yoy," Goom mumbled, for this would not do at all. Just like his sister, Gani had entranced the young man, and just as it was with his sister, this was destined for no good.
"Please," the girl begged, her voice directed at the old man, while her eyes sought the boy, requesting his assistance.
And, just like with his sister, Goom felt his own reluctance melt away, for was it not an honor to give the girl to such a man? Yes, it was an honor, an honor beyond anything else in Gani’s life, for this boy, Arsan, like the one before him, was One of Them.
Perhaps, it would not be such a folly after all, Goom reasoned, chewing his lip and considering the girl’s request. This boy was younger, and destined to stay over several years. The elder had come and gone, and at the time was already nearly a man with a man’s needs, a man’s desires, and a prince’s assumption of privilege.
“Alright,” Goom agreed with a heavy sigh, and a swiftly murmured prayer that his granddaughter’s happiness would last longer than a fleeting moment. Grief would inevitably follow, or, maybe not. She was lucky, having been born on a night of the two golden moons, and Arsan had a tender heart, whilst the MaKennah’s had always been as cold and hard as stone.
The youngsters smiled at each other, their faces erupting with delight, savoring the victory they had won, whilst having no idea what that entailed. Gani took Arsan’s hand, wrapping her fingers tightly around it, sending a shiver of excitement down the boy’s spine.
"Come sit beside me as my grandfather teaches us,” she whispered, her voice soft and low, her wet lips close upon the boy’s ear, as she pulled him to the ground.
Arsan, as if struck dumb, did as he was bid, for the touch of Gani’s hand and tail upon his skin made him very nearly senseless.
“I shall tell you about the wars,” Goom began, his eyes upon the trees, avoiding the image of the youngsters for it brought back bitter memories that hurt his heart. In the air, with his fingers, he drew the planets and stars. “First there lived upon the planet of Rozari the Great Father of the Karupta people, Karukan de Kudisha, and his nemesis, the King of Hahr, Markiis Kalila.”
Within a moment, Gani realized her grandfather was correct. She cared not at all to hear of the wars on the distant planet of Rozari, especially the tales of people who had died. Instead, she batted her long purple lashes over her lilac eyes, her mouth set in a lovely smile.
"Arsan," she cooed. "Shall we go play in the waters instead?"
Goom continued his description of the war, as if he had seen it for himself.
“The bombs which Karukan set loose upon the people of Hahr rained down…”
“Arsan?” Gani interrupted.
Poor Goom. Although the war he had not seen in this life, this, he had witnessed once before. In his mind’s eye, Gani was now his sister, whispering and pressing her breasts and tail against the one called Senya, asking for something the girl would not live to regret.
The old man closed his mouth, lowering his hand from the sky where he had drawn the rockets raining down upon Hahr, and the ones which decimated the land of Karupatani.
“Arsan!” Gani demanded.
“Senya!”
Like an echo, Goom heard his sister’s voice, that same delight, the same enchantment, the same coaxing call irresistible to a young man.
Like the elder, at first Arsan resisted, for he found Goom’s stories quite interesting, although he hated to hear of death. However, he waved his hand at the girl, and brushed her lightly away. Leaning closer to the old man, the boy urged him to speak on.
“Did everyone in Hahr die?”
"Not everyone," Goom replied, noting his granddaughter’s pout. The girl was unused to failing with her formidable charms. “Hahr had been well-prepared. They had built the domes and caves, and many went to hide. It was the people of Karupatani that were vanquished by Hahr’s bombs. Only those that came to Rehnor in spaceships lived to begin again. Those were your ancestors, boy. The King, the dukes, and their servants."
"How did they find Rehnor? How did they know which way to go?”
"Are we almost finished for this day?" Gani asked, beginning another attack upon the boy.
Though she was older than he by a few years, Gani was little more than half his size, fitting comfortably in his seated lap, between his outstretched legs, and leaning against his belly. Once there, Gani twisted her long purple hair into a rope, knotting the end with a strap of coconut twine. Then, she turned her fingers and attention on Arsan's unruly tresses, plaiting a long black braid for him to wear down his back.
Goom closed his eyes, this familiar image far too painful. Every day, his sister, like this one, would become bolder in her affections. He recalled the other one's hair plaited the same, the ends knotted with a few strands of thick purple locks, as she sat upon his lap, her nimble fingers and seductive tail tempting him, provoking him on.
He had been shy at first, that one, Senya. He had shirked from the girl's touch, confused by her motives, and her affection. But, she wore him down, melted the ice which surrounded him, chipped into the stone thickly encasing his hard heart. She would never get entirely inside though. No, the walls of him were far too deep for that. He would kill her before he let her near him, burn her with the flames, which erupted from his touch.
This boy, Arsan was different, though, or so Goom dearly hoped. Still, the boy would break her heart, perhaps leaving Goom’s beloved granddaughter as good as dead. No mortal could survive a love to One of Them. A pity it was that They came down to tempt them.
“Grandpa?” Gani nudged the old man. “Have you fallen asleep? Is this story too boring for even you?”
“It’s not boring,” the boy protested. “Will you tell me how they came to find this planet?”
"What matter? You of Karupatani are here now, and all the better for us People of the Dark Continent."
Gani smiled broadly, lacing her long, graceful fingers back into the boy’s hair, unravelling his braid before reweaving it into two.
Goom watched her swift, practice motions, his heart sinking yet more, as he gazed at the boy, so like his elder. With one plait on each side, he could have been mistaken for the other, save the eyes, which on this one were gentle, not filled with fire. His smile was easy too, his face was warm with affection, curiosity blooming, whereas the other had already known all there was to know.
"It is written that they were guided by an angel," Goom replied, his hands once again drawing pictures in the sky. "The One Who is Like was Commanded to save the people and bring them here."
Arsan wriggled excitedly, causing his new plaits to fall apart.
“Oh Arsan!” the girl pouted prettily, beginning her ministrations again.
"The people of Hahr followed, led by a son of Kalila, the King. His name was Mishka, and it was he that called the Mishnese people for himself. Came they all across the stars to this Rehnor. But, they were not ready for peace. No, they brought only their warring to our beautiful planet."
"People are stupid," Gani remarked, combing the boy's hair.
Goom agreed, although he did not say so to the girl, for now she was leaning in to kiss the young boy's cheek.
"You are very handsome, Arsan," she whispered, Goom's old ears catching the words. "I think you are as handsome as the Angel himself."
“Oy yoy yoy yoy.” Goom sighed, for the girl was unaware of the irony of her words. "The lesson is over for this day."
"No," Arsan begged. "Please tell me more. I would like to hear that part again. Tell me about the angel, the One Who is Like, who has been sent down from the Heavens to save the people."
"Not again." Now, it was Gani's turn to sigh. “I am to swim.” She rose and ran to the beach, while Arsan watched her longingly, unsure what he would rather do.
“Go.” Goom rose, as well. Turning his back, he strode away not wishing to witness anymore of his granddaughter’s folly.
He cursed himself for he should have known. Their attraction was too powerful for even the most resolute. He never should have agreed to take the boy, but even he, a man of many years and even more wisdom, was helpless to the charms of the One Who Was Like.
When Arsan was eleven years old, more than four of them passed on the Dark Continent, Goom decided he could teach the boy no more. He had told him all the tales, reciting each of the Great Father Karukan’s books until the child had committed every word to memory.
“I still don’t understand,” Arsan would say, a quizzical expression on his young face. “How did the Angel come to the Great Father and tell him to write this? Tell me more of the story about the Great Father’s sons. I want to hear about the Princes when they arrived upon the new land.”
“I have explained it again and again,” Goom would say, his own patience wearing thin, despite how much he enjoyed the story himself. The young princes and the Great Father’s troubles in the new world without their fancy weapons and toys were amongst the most humorous of all the stories in the Holy Books.
“Please?”
“Alright,” the old man agreed, his fingers never slowing their rapid pace as they wove a new fishing net from the ropes of coconut husks.
Over the course of the year, Goom had twined the fibers during Arsan's lessons, taking nearly the entire winter to weave enough. Now, as the summer came to a close, the old man imagined the bounties of fish which the net would bring.