The Twisted Vine

by Alyce Caswell

She ran most of the way home, her tears streaking messily over her face.

  • • •

  Kuja frowned as he took in the interior of the temple dedicated to his father, trying not to feel the energy of the Chippers in the building around him. He would not usually have chosen to come to a place like this, but he’d felt an irresistible urge to climb the steps of the temple. After taking a seat, he had listened to the two women talking, clenching his knees harder and harder with each passing moment, until the beautiful one, decked out in deep shades of purple that would make her appear invisible against the night sky of Enoc, had fled, crying.

  ‘Father, I won’t pretend to know every facet of your grand design,’ Kuja murmured. ‘But I don’t see why your followers need to feel this isolated.’ He crushed his eyelids together. ‘At least you never do to them what you do to us. They can love without fearing that it’s part of some plan of yours, without fearing that they’ll get someone killed just by looking at them for too long. I don’t regret helping Sandsa, even though I knew it was impossible to hide him forever, but…it destroyed me…’

  He slipped into his memories, to the day he had been broken.

  • • •

  His rainforests demanded so much care, so much attention. He wanted to bathe them in his uninterrupted presence, but Kuja had to concentrate on concealing the pocket of happiness that contained Sandsa, Callista and their son, Kieran. Kuja continued to protect the Desine and his family, even though he felt like he had been reduced to the consistency of plastic film, stretched so tight a blunt fingernail could have punctured him.

  Though he was struggling, he had not yet reached his breaking point.

  But then Fayay, the Watine, came to Kuja’s worlds.

  The waterfalls fell silent, countless wells ran dry and the humidity thinned until every plant and animal began to wither. Bagara’s people cried out for their god and Kuja had no choice but to come and defend them.

  Fayay was ready for him. The Watine stole Kuja away to an ocean world in a telekinetic grip so powerful it could forcibly move the insubstantial form of a god.

  Even when the pain began, Kuja still believed he was doing the right thing, defying the other gods so that Sandsa might enjoy the life of a mortal and remain a husband and father, the duty he had chosen over the one he had been born with. Sandsa did not yet know he had never needed to abandon his powers or his deserts to be with his wife. He did not yet know he was allowed to experience love so long as he kept guiding his people. And he certainly didn’t know that Callista had kept this knowledge from him because she could not bear to stay with a god when she had married a mere man.

  But Kuja’s belief that his cause was just would not save him. His very being was dashed onto the rocks on the edge of a shore until his soul bore bruises. If he’d been in his human form, he would have broken every bone in his body. And Fayay wasn’t done. He continued to claw and shred the Rforine’s energy until Kuja wished he had a mouth to vent his agony into screams. Unable to take it anymore, he escaped into the part of his presence he’d left with Sandsa and collapsed onto the floor of the family’s quarters on a barren mining moon, exposing its location.

  That Fayay had managed to convince so many of Sandsa’s siblings to come was not surprising. They all felt so strongly that they should be alone, forever watching over the happiness of their subjects, never tasting any of it for themselves. They saw it as their duty to force the desert god back to his rightful path, no matter what. Sandsa’s love had become a distraction, one that no other god should be tempted to chase. It could not go unpunished. Not now, not ever.

  Kuja was a broken shell. His siblings could have destroyed him. But they ignored their youngest brother and instead threatened a man who had once been the most powerful god among them.

  Sandsa became the Desine. He fought his siblings. And he won. But using his powers cost him his humanity. Within seconds, his presence was gone, snatched back by the deserts he had abandoned for so long. Callista sank to the floor, cradling her husband’s limp, empty body.

  ‘Don’t,’ Kuja told his sister-in-law, not entirely sure what he was pleading her not to do.

  Callista’s mind was shielded from him by her unusual powers. All she allowed the Rforine to sense from her was that she would no longer keep Sandsa from the deserts or his people. Kuja’s heart soared. So finally she was accepting all sides of Sandsa — the man, the god and everything in between. Sandsa did not have to abandon any part of himself. No one need suffer his absence.

  Barely a day later, Callista and her son vanished. Not even Sandsa could locate them.

  ‘Don’t make him choose between you and the deserts when he can have both,’ Kuja had meant to say to her that day.

  Now he would never be able tell her, or convince her.

  • • •

  Kuja thought he understood now, years after the fact. Sandsa’s duties required a great deal of his time, meaning that Callista would not always have the man she loved to herself. Worse still, she would have had to contend with a pantheon of gods who might suddenly decide she remained a distraction and needed to be removed altogether. They’d only have to wait until Sandsa left her side.

  It was easy to see why Callista had taken her son with her: she had wanted to shield Kieran from the fear and danger he would have had to endure. No mortal would willingly choose that life for themselves or for their child.

  But why did Fayay, who had threatened to steal Callista’s son and turn him into a weapon, suddenly back off? It wasn’t like the Watine to relinquish a valuable tool that could have helped him defeat the Desine, the sibling he hated most.

  ‘As long as Sandsa’s son remains unaware of his powers, I will not go after him,’ Fayay had promised, a gleam in those blue eyes which were so much paler and crueller than Sandsa’s.

  It had taken time for Kuja to regain his full powers and he’d only managed it with Finara’s help. The Firine had felt badly about what had happened to him, because she’d agreed to confront Sandsa with Fayay. But she hadn’t wanted Kuja to get hurt. Kuja had forgiven her, but he refused to do the same for the Ine or any of his other siblings.

  Kuja dug his knuckles into his thighs. Healed he might be, he was still that scrap of plastic, punctured and ruptured.

  He stood and left the temple celebrating the Creator God, a being who had stood by and done nothing to protect his youngest son.

  • • •

  A thin band of lilac did its best to linger on the horizon, but within moments the sunset gave way to night. The days on Enoc lasted about eighteen Old Earth hours, only a third of which was spent at work or at one of the galaxy-famed universities, but lately they had felt like individual eternities. Fei hooked her fingers over the silver railing on her balcony and willed the system’s star to come back and wash away the dark violet filling the sky. It refused.

  Her apartment belonged to a building popular with TerraCorp employees, as it was near the company’s headquarters and right beside the ocean, on soft chalk-like pebbles. The view was beautiful. But she gained no pleasure from it.

  When she had first moved to Enoc, she had been relieved to leave her mother behind, along with the endless chatter and the backhanded compliments that were well meaning but still designed to alter her behaviour. Now Fei wished her mother would swoop in from somewhere. Berale would be a welcome interruption, loud enough to mask the gentle shhh-shhh noises the sea was making. It reminded her too much of Zareth.

  Fei backed away from the edge of the balcony. But the waves still came for her, demanding that she relax and cast her cares away. Except that she couldn’t. The past clung to her too tightly.

  Shhh-shhh, you did nothing wrong.

  Shhh-shhh, Fei. It’s not about you.

  • • •

  One Old Earth year ago, she was standing in the middle of her apartment, keypass braced between two fingers as she watched him leave the bedroom. The small bag distorting the shape of his shoulder couldn’t possibly hol
d more than a sliver of the items he had filled her apartment with. Most of his things were still strewn over the furniture and floor, like remnants of an explosion.

  ‘I can do long distance, I know I can,’ she said. ‘And Gerasnin isn’t that far. It’s only three days away by starship. I can take leave to visit.’

  ‘It’s not about the distance, Fei.’

  Fei felt her chin wobble. ‘Are you worried your salary from the Agency won’t support us? Zar, I already make more coin-chips than you. We can do this together.’

  But his ebony face was set, determined.

  ‘Don’t do this,’ she pleaded. ‘You know what my dad’s leaving did to me.’

  The keypass slipped from her fingers and stabbed into the plush carpeting that even the queen of this world had on the floor of her bedroom. Nothing was too fine for the employees of TerraCorp.

  Three days later Fei would rip up the carpet, exposing the ugly metal plating underneath.

  ‘Shhh-shhh. I know your dad left to join GLEA.’ Zareth’s dark brown eyes were full of sorrow. Perhaps he was also remembering that he had always told her not to worry, that she could trust him and tell him what she was really thinking. She was glad she’d never been that careless. ‘But when you’re called to the service of the Creator God, it’s impossible to ignore and…look, I can’t say no to this. It’s more than a career. It’s my destiny. My future.’

  ‘A future I have no part in,’ Fei said dully, feeling as though she had been mined hollow.

  ‘Fei…I want to focus on my duty. I can’t let myself be distracted.’

  ‘I get it. Our god’s will is more important than me.’

  ‘No, it’s not like that — I know you don’t understand, but — ’

  ‘Of course I don’t!’ Fei threw herself across the space between them, grabbing his vest and yanking him down for a kiss that he veered away from. ‘I’ve never heard the Creator God calling me to his service! I’ve never…I’ve never heard anything…’ She began to sob.

  ‘Shhh-shhh, it’s okay. Shhh. Goodbye, Feiscina.’

  • • •

  Every day since then she had left an empty apartment to walk to work, shirking the complimentary hovershuttle that TerraCorp provided. Some mornings were frigid on Enoc, others more kind, but at least Fei understood the factors that dictated the daily temperatures on this side of the planet. People were much harder to understand.

  Sighing, Fei retreated into her apartment, the transparent plexiglass door sliding shut behind her. The sounds of the ocean mercifully died.

  She hadn’t made the bed that morning. Fei didn’t care. It wasn’t like anyone else ever saw it. She shed her clothes into an untidy pile then lay back against the silksein sheets that were a favourite import among the Enocian elite. Fei could see why; the fabric felt wonderful on her bare skin. But it still didn’t compare to what her fingers could do.

  During the time she had been alone, she had discovered more things about herself — including and not limited to her love of walking, her dislike of the sea and the fact that her body could sing, if it was given a chance.

  She began to knead her breasts, working them closer together. The contact of skin on skin sent shivers across her chest and around to each armpit, raising a rash of goosebumps. Not to be denied, her scalp tingled, begging for some attention, so she ran her fingers there, through her hair, then over her lips, over her neck and back down to her breasts.

  Her fingers circled a nipple, teasing it, never quite claiming it, driving her mad. When she could finally stand it no more, she pinched her nipple and gasped, tossing her head from side to side. Her other hand flew down her body and delved into the wet well between her legs, lathing her folds with slick moisture.

  Fei squirmed, a moan prying her lips apart. She forced herself to still, then slowly renewed her ministrations. Her touch played along the edge of her labia, to the stretched band of skin beneath her weeping entrance, and then slid back inside her, deeper than before.

  At last she gave complete attention to her swollen clitoris.

  ‘Ah!’ she cried out.

  The resulting throb caused her hips to fly off the bed. Fei buried her hands into the sheets either side of her and tried to calm her breathing. She allowed herself a few more strokes before she once more abandoned her warm core, mewling in disappointment. This process continued, off and on, until she was grinding her mons against the heel of her palm in desperation.

  It was time to stop denying herself.

  Two fingers burrowed into her clenching folds, curving against that soft part inside her. She continued to rub her clitoris slowly, in a circular motion, and quelled her impatience, knowing that if she forced herself to finish now, she would only be rewarded with a small burst. She wanted more. So much more.

  Her body was slick with sweat when it finally happened. The orgasm began low in her abdomen, a heavy, growing promise that then shot out and struck her feet and hands, forcing them to curl. Hot waves of pleasure rolled through her, again and again, until she was spent, her limbs slack on the bed.

  ‘Mmm,’ Fei said, lying there in the aftermath, welcoming the tickle of sleep on her eyelids.

  A smile graced her lips.

  It would not last through her dreams.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘Are you going to dob me in, Kuja? It’s not like anyone got hurt.’

  Kuja turned from watching TerraCorp’s scientists scurry about in the clearing below and bowed his head in greeting at Inesh as the other man entered the open-air watchtower. Inesh’s thoughts were hard, uncompromising. He clearly wasn’t there to enjoy the view of the rainforest on the southern side of the village.

  Over the past five Old Earth years, Kuja had become friends with Inesh and the other villagers and looked forward to spending time with them. He liked that there were no coin-chips inside these palisade walls, that everyone’s needs were provided for and that everyone worked together for the good of the village. If someone was not physically capable of manual labour, then they were given a role no less respected, be it as a teacher or even as an artist whose work could be traded in return for food or other supplies.

  Inesh was the age that Kuja appeared to be, somewhere in his twenties, and had tawny-coloured skin, a feature that was unique in Bagath — most of those living in the village were much paler, like Kuja was. Inesh had been born on the other side of Bagaran, in a village that was known for being heavily armed and antagonistic. But Inesh’s loyalty to Bagath had never been questioned. So long as one contributed and never picked up a weapon, they were welcome.

  ‘No, I don’t think I could stand the sullen silence you would punish me with if I did dob you in,’ Kuja finally answered and dropped onto one of the wide wooden planks forming the floor of the watchtower. The wall here was low enough that he could still keep an eye on the scientists, not that he needed to. The plants in the clearing would tell him if TerraCorp’s employees did something they shouldn’t.

  Inesh arranged himself into a cross-legged position beside Kuja, a deep scowl carved into his face. ‘It’s TerraCorp’s fault for not using better tech. All it took was for one of those loud hoverpads to conk out and the whole starking thing fell.’

  ‘You still think our god doesn’t want them here?’ Kuja asked, lifting a hand to direct Inesh’s gaze to the downed laboratory. The squat buildings that housed the scientists at night sat on a rise above the clearing and were thankfully unaffected. ‘Wouldn’t Bagara want more rainforests under his sway? Rainforests that TerraCorp can create?’

  Inesh shook his head. ‘If Bagara wanted that, he’d make more of them himself.’

  ‘Bagara didn’t make…’ Kuja began.

  ‘The Creator God only dropped a few careless seeds, Kuja!’ Inesh interrupted him. ‘Bagara is the one who looks after us. And I don’t see him creating more rainforests and expanding his control. Clearly he cares about what he has, not what he doesn’t.’

  Kuja opened his mouth, then closed it
again. He couldn’t explain that willing a rainforest into being was a draining process and he would have to pour a ridiculous amount of his energy into simply keeping it alive, especially if the soil beneath his construct was unresponsive. Kuja knew Inesh would not believe him if he said that TerraCorp was a better, more permanent option for altering worlds. So all he said was, ‘TerraCorp is pestering me because of your actions, Inesh.’

  ‘Taking the brunt of it, are you?’ Inesh asked with a snort. ‘That’s your problem. You’re the one who insists on consorting with them all the time.’

  Kuja patted his cheeks with the back of his hand, trying to cool them. He couldn’t remember the heat of his domain ever affecting him like this before. ‘Consorting! No, thank you. Did you know that Dr Lorena Hackett, one of the scientists, tried to seduce me in the showers?’

  Inesh raised his eyebrows. ‘Tried — or succeeded? Judging by that blush, I’d say she failed! But why not, Kuja? You never have any fun.’

  Kuja reluctantly let his lips form a smile. ‘If by “fun” you mean sabotaging a lab and having sex in the showers, which are very slippery by the way, then I think we differ in our definitions.’

  ‘Sounds like she was very slippery too.’

  ‘Inesh!’ Kuja cried, giving the man’s shoulder an indignant shove.

  They laughed together for several minutes before lapsing into a companionable silence. The village was preparing for the midday meal, judging by the clatter of pots and the wafting scent of meat-seeded rice baking inside vine leaves. Kuja’s stomach, which didn’t actually need sustenance, gave a hopeful rumble.

  ‘It is good to hear you laugh,’ Inesh said after a while. ‘You always have this great big shadow on your face.’

  Kuja sighed. ‘Family problems.’

  ‘Bagath is isolated and hard to find — how can your family get at you here?’

  Kuja shook his head sadly. Revealing himself to a mortal was something he could never do, even if it would give him someone to talk to about the mess that was the Galactic Pantheon. Many of his followers were very devout in their worship of him and used their faith as a moral compass. He could not compromise that by showing them how little confidence he had in himself.