by Odin Oxthorn
His nerves jolted as Fariem’s stealthy hands undid the clasp of his bandage, and he met their irritated glare reprimanding his sudden movement. With an apologetic whimper, he relaxed his shoulders, letting them finish unwrapping the injury.
The skin beneath had no trace of a puncture wound, but the thorn had left a net of darkened veins in its wake. Swollen red streambeds bordered their pathways, forming a grisly web enveloping his shoulder.
Fariem plucked his wrist with disturbingly cold fingers and turned it over, waving a device at his palm. His hand shook in their grip, fingers twitching as the sensory beams investigated his skin. Keeping the urge to pull away at bay, he gathered scraps of courage to test the conversational waters.
“I’m sorry I got in the way.”
“You did nothing wrong.” Fariem dropped his hand, shaking their head as they recorded their notes.
Not the response he was expecting. “I’ll, uh, head back and not trouble you any longer.”
“Try it. I’m due for a laugh.” They snorted, stepping back with an inviting gesture.
Garrett didn’t pick up the snide tone as he pulled himself upright. His mass increased tenfold as he slid his wavering legs over the edge of the bed. Communication lines severed between his brain and his body, and he did not feel his toe touch the floor. Or Fariem diving underneath him as his shoulders dipped.
They scoffed as they gruffly rolled him back on the gurney. “Lay down.”
“Okay.” His brain fluttered with the attempt to carry a conversation. “So, are you Nara’s… parents?”
Fariem wrinkled their face. “The human is so noisy.”
“Sorry.”
“And needlessly guilty.”
He chewed the inside of his cheek in response.
“You should be fine in the morning to move around.” They shook their head admonishingly and walked out the door.
“Thank you.”
Fariem hesitated, glancing over their shoulder. They analyzed the human’s tone, performing intangible calculations concealed by their stony expression. “Go to sleep.”
##4.1##
“We have not come to a unified conclusion.” The image of the Councilor of Science shrugged at Nara from the screen. “Your unannounced arrival has stirred up possibilities that have never been accounted for, and we simply need more time to consider it.”
“You wanted Loremaster’s voice and now you have it.” Pangs flicked across Nara’s cheeks as she restrained a scowl.
“It’s just not as simple as that, Savant. I am sorry.” The channel went dark, giving a final response.
Nara slammed her fist on the desk, unleashing a torrent of hot air from her nostrils. It would be more effective to gain respect from a wall. If she wanted to get anywhere, she would have to do it the hard way and gain the trust of each remaining representative individually. But with Abberon and GaPFed spreading their pestilence over the planet, she did not have the luxury of time to ease into their favor.
She was about to quiet her wrath with another draught of intemperance when her computer blared with the summons. With a growl, she accepted the call, meeting the solemn expression of Fariem.
“I’ll take better care of your human.”
Nara waved them off. “I’m sure they’ll be fine.”
“Listen, I know I shouldn’t be prodding, but—”
“No, you shouldn’t.”
Fariem pressed harder. “They are a liability.”
“I am aware.” Nara cracked the tab off another beverage. “I’ll deal with it if it arises.”
They tsked at Nara’s self-destructive display. “You really need time away from this mess. Deal with all that baggage you carry.”
“And when do I have time for that?”
“You’ve been dealing with all this political refuse for years.” They folded their arms, projecting their sympathy with a frown. “And Xannat only knows what else from your life on a human planet.”
Nara grumbled at the assessment, resting her head in her hand. Fariem had long been absolved of the responsibility of being her caretaker, but their insistence never ceased. It made her uncomfortable to have someone exert the effort to care beyond contractual obligation.
“Your indulgences are an impediment,” Fariem chastised as they watched her gulp down the carton. “If you insist on working despite your obvious exhaustion, I could prescribe—”
She dropped her hand down on the desk. A splash of the liquor dribbled down her fingers. “Absolutely not.”
“Fine.” They sighed, letting their frustration stiffen their posture. “You should get some air to clear your thoughts, at least. Maybe find some familiarity at the training grounds.”
Irritation dissolved into sorrow as Nara considered the proposal. Her feelings toward the Council were clear, but she didn’t get the chance to see those under her command before her banishment. To atone. As far as everyone knew, twelve of their fellow soldiers had died because of her.
“Well, I can see you have other matters to attend to.” Fariem bowed their head, aware of the distress they had caused.
“Fariem, please be courteous to Garrett. That’s all I ask.”
With an affirming nod, Fariem closed the channel.
“God damn it.” She slung a torrent of curses as she stomped to her feet. After ordering another drink from the food servo, she lurched into the patio and stared out into the glittering forest.
While it wasn’t fair of her to desert Garrett in this unfamiliar world, she refused to accept total responsibility. He made his choice when he stepped onto the Armored Wake, and he should suffer the consequences of his curiosity.
But the human considered her a friend, a title she was beyond uncomfortable carrying. This language didn’t have a name for friends, only colleagues and subordinates. While some interpreted that as a liberty to be as intimate or platonic as they pleased, she preferred to keep those around her at a distance and instead fill the isolation with duty and work. It was comforting to her, a routine sense of order she could rely on.
She pressed a palm onto a pane of glass, summoning a dot of light on the material. It snapped to the side, tracing a square around her hand. The material shielding her palm disappeared with a whisper, permitting the elements to creep into the room with a cooling breeze.
She inhaled the air, letting the woodsy perfume of the earth wash away her thoughts. A gentle tinkle of the crystalline leaves danced around her ears, playing a medley of icy tones harmonious to her melancholy.
Her fickle state of ease was jolted away by an obnoxious flurry of knocks on the front door. She scrunched her face at the interruption, muttering indignantly as she stormed off to answer the summons.
Two individuals from her command greeted her as she opened the door, one her most excitable scouts, Elerick, and the other, Lieutenant Tek, standing unusually quiet and stiff.
“It’s true!” Elerick repeatedly smacked Tek in the chest with a friendly back hand. “I told you!”
Nara blinked the astonishment from her face. “What are you doing here?”
“Jav’ril sent us over.” Elerick’s lips stretched into a devious smirk. “Or rather, I pestered him until he spilled his guts about the rumors.”
“Did he, now?” Ice seized her nerves.
“Kestra’s been made Warlord.” They beamed and shoved Tek forward, who obliged the force. “They were doing border control when you left until trade was closed. Now they’re plotting out waypoints to explore in space whenever we finally get access to the fleet.”
Nara tilted her head curiously. Tek to Kestra. Eager Force to Calculated Strike. It must have taken quite a feat to have such a contrasting name change.
“Congratulations on your advancement and Renaming,” Nara cautiously bade.
Kestra gave a meek shrug. “It wasn’t much of an achievement.”
Apprehension warmed the silence. She was looking at a recognizable character in Kestra, despite the unusual wall of caution toward
her presence, the uncertainty radiating beyond their aura.
Back when she was active, Nara had longed to be Renamed. The hours spent hoping to erase Eternal Red from their tongues. Sleepless was only a minor upgrade. Nothing was preferred.
Elerick stepped in to break the tension, reaching for her hand. “Some infantry units made an encampment in the woods. Please come spar with us!”
“I don’t think that’s appropriate.” She stepped back. “How many of the others know of my presence?”
“Just a handful. Jav’ril expressed the need for discretion. It’s only a small gathering.” They tried to beam through her concern. “Just like old times.”
Old times. Her heart sank. “I—”
“Come now, the car is waiting!” Elerick flailed their wrist in her direction. “They all brought down a beast for the occasion. It should be ready by the time we arrive!”
Nara glanced at the quiet warlord, who offered a nervous smile. They were glad to see her, but their mind was reeling with questions.
It was no use. She couldn’t avoid them forever. “For only a little while.”
“Of course, of course!” Barely waiting for her response, Elerick pulled her along, slipping their arm around hers.
Kestra accompanied her other side, linking around her other arm, and relief began to seep into their posture.
##4.2##
The journey was uncomfortable despite Elerick’s attempts to keep the brevity at bay. Nara let them fill the vehicle with noise as she watched the blur of trees. The machinery pattered quietly as the treads skirted around the dense brush below, taking care not to crush the living carpet with its pronged slats.
Elerick spoke of the activities the soldiers partook in, the combat techniques they had studied reflecting her previous guidance, the games they had re-enacted. Nothing political. The upper ranks had kept them busy with idle tasks to hide the Council’s indecisive quarreling. Strange, but not unexpected.
They arrived at a small clearing where prefabricated shelters and cooking arenas jutted out from living quarter cubes, hardly a scene of battle against the wilderness. Soldiers darted from station to station, performing their tasks in a display of efficiency. Some assembled containers and refrigeration units from storage in preparation for leftovers, while others cleaned dining areas for the makeshift feast.
Several people tended to a bonfire, flames licking a massive quadrupedal creature impaled through a spit. The beast was built like a living war machine, its long, lean limbs ideal for deftly skirting through the woods to spring upon its prey. Due to its infamous ferocity, it would have taken the collective effort of every soldier at the camp to bring it down without casualties. But a hunt of this size was reserved for a special occasion and the aftermath worth every struggle.
A circle of rocky scales and chitinous plating surrounded the blaze, the armor of the beast providing insulation for the earth against the inferno. Three soldiers operated the crank of the spit to rotate it over the fire, while another splashed a fatty elixir over the meat to keep it hydrated, the athletic creature possessing a scant amount of fat to insulate it against the flames. The crackles and hisses of dripping oils kept the tempo of the smoke riddled orchestra, dancing in harmony with the charred perfume wafting into the atmosphere.
Heads turned as the trio exited the vehicle, the crew chirped noises of excitement as they watched the visitors approach.
“Warlord!” A member of the infantry rushed over, soon to be followed by the others. “Welcome back!”
Aion, Dev’lin, Volma… she remembered them all.
“I…” Words protested from leaving her tongue as she examined their faces. Relief swirled with eager attention bombarded her spirits. It was as if nothing had happened. “It’s Savant now.”
Elevated gasps wisped out of glittering faces upon hearing the proclamation. She was overwhelmed with their hunger for answers, their curiosity clawing at her.
“Come! The meal is almost ready. Why don’t we sit by the fire?” Elerick ushered her to the head of the dining station.
Excited chattering followed her as she slid into her seat, The gathering dispersed to make the final preparations for the meal. The warm reception flooded her skin with discomfort, a lash of shame tore into her brain.
The tension in her posture loosened slightly as she watched the plates assemble at the table. Steaming mounds of succulent meat seeped an earthy aroma into the atmosphere, the tang of bitter herbs speckling the savory perfume.
Charred vegetation began to appear, forming a structured fortification around the centerpiece. Poached fruits foraged from the neighboring trees glistened in the rigged spotlights. Stacks of preservation jars of fermented garnishes bathed in in colorful fluids, their vibrancy warning of their potency. All was flourished with gallons of fizzing berry juices to wash everything down.
The familiar smells and sounds teased her senses, something she had taken for granted when she considered this place her home. She had gained an appreciation for culinary arts from her stay on Arcadia. Taste was one of the human pleasures she could understand and even grew a fondness for.
Kestra slid to the seat at her side, a worrisome frown shading their face as they passed a plate to her. She stared down at the table, burying herself in the sounds and textures. The tide of conversation was appeased by the sound of clattering silverware and munching noises accented with grunts of enjoyment. The revelry magnified as the soldiers chatted among themselves between mouthfuls of food, some not bothering to finish chewing before continuing. Just like old times.
She poked around the plate, admiring the meal and allowing herself to soak in the casual atmosphere. Could it go back to the way it was?
Feeling more secure with everyone distracted, Nara sampled a piece of the steaming meat, letting the nature-cured meat dissolve on her tongue. The tension in her muscles relaxed as the smoky taste soothed her senses. But the sensation faded as something flickered at the corner of her vision.
As she looked up, her eyes moved to a group of three speaking in hushed voices, avoiding her gaze as they contemplated an inaudible plot. The soldier to one side nudged the center individual in the ribs, evoking a scathing glare. Nara met gaze of the trio, who shrank back into their meals.
“Is anything the matter?” Nara challenged. The soldier on the right glanced back at their two companions avoiding the question then inhaled a fortifying breath.
“Forgive me, Savant,” they addressed her with hopeful eyes. “But we would all like to know, what happened? We were led to believe that you had died.”
Silence pierced through her heart as everyone halted mid-bite. Eyes moved to the speaker and then to her. Too polite to agree but yearning to know more.
“Rahksha,” Kestra warned with an icy glare. “Savant is probably overwhelmed by this meeting. Be mindful of your questions.”
The soldier hung their head ashamedly. “Apologies, Savant.”
“It’s—” Nara cleared the snakes of nausea constricting her throat. “Didn’t the Council tell you?”
“We’ve heard no word from the Council since…” Rahksha looked down in remorse. “Since you and the shadow units were reported dead.”
Aches spasmed across her chest as she struggled to inhale her breath. So much for normalcy.
“Nothing is broadcast anymore,” Kestra added. “Everyone’s in a holding pattern until we get orders from higher up. Even I don’t have enough clearance to find out more.”
“We know the Council hates working with you, but to think you’ve been here the whole time...” another lamented. “Why didn’t you come back to us?”
The plea resounded through her ears, their ignorant faces staring back at her. In all her years of command, she’d never let her guard down around them, concealing her inner turmoil. But she could no longer hold it in. She had to tell them. They deserved to know.
She covered her mouth, beating back the tremors from her voice. “They told me I killed them all.”
No one moved.
“I... I don’t know what happened myself.” Her hesitation rattled spirits around her. “They kept me sedated for the duration of the trial. They thought I was Fevered. They—”
A gasp choked out her words as her throat seized shut, bile searing her tongue. Words could not illuminate the severity of her sins. She thought she had come to terms with the ordeal, but faced with the score of those she had wronged, it was no use. They needed to know.
Tar pulled at her limbs as she rose from her seat. Her fingers trembled as she fought to unbind the clasps of her uniform. She turned her back toward her observers, slipping the garment off her shoulders to reveal her final judgment.
Four plates of bone were supposed to protect her back from assailants, but a mass of scarred trenches took the place of the one that had once covered her right shoulder. It was a ritual used to mark those who were considered a danger to society, a traitor among kindred. She was forever incomplete, a reminder of her deeds literally torn from her flesh.
“I am no longer one of you.” Needles prickled her skin as their eyes scanned over the crevasses of her flesh.
Her jaw clenched as she heard someone rise. Footsteps quietly approached, but she could not gather the courage to face them.
A startled gasp propelled from her lungs as the pressure of cool fingertips brushed against the mark. Their hand slithered down her back, chills sparking against her skin as they wrapped around her waist. She turned her head to find Kestra glaring at the earth with a vehement expression.
“Something is wrong.” They brought her close, squeezing her hard. “We need to fix this.”
The gesture clashed against her soul like the fall of a hammer. Calculated Strike.
For decades, she’d repressed her thoughts and emotions, hiding them from the outside world. But control slipped away from her grasp, frozen inside this alien gesture of intimacy. Tears streamed from her cheeks, her defiant eyes saturating her skin with the salted memories of the past.