Chapter XVI

The next seven cycles went by faster than I could have ever anticipated. I became engrossed in my training and focused on nothing else. Brindel felt as though I had pulled away from him, but every time he brought it up I just explained to him that my training and preparation was the only thing that could guarantee us a future. If I died on the battlefield, we wouldn’t have much of a life together after all. He thought this to be callous but didn’t argue because he knew deep down that I was right.

Vea’ayr and I got along surprisingly well during our technical training and as that fifth cycle pressed on I regrettably realized that she was right: not only about the necessity of her action, but about us being more alike than I had originally realized. Jushara and I grew almost inseparable outside of training hours. If she was not at my penthouse, I was at hers discussing strategy, sparring, telling stories about Fortitude or listening to her stories of her pre-thorns life. She became my closest friend second only to Brindel.
During my seventh cycle of training I, much to my surprise, became rather close with Cesylla as well. I had become skilled enough in combat to where even Jushara could no longer best me, so I would fight her and Deran simultaneously, or her and Brindel, or her and Cesylla. It helped me to develop a very well-rounded fighting style and to be able to combat against anything.

I trained with my respective trainers during the light and sparred with my comrades every night. I barely slept, though at first it was not from lack of trying. Every time I would fall asleep, dreams of Vea’ayr would creep into my head and I would become a vessel for actions which were not my own. Not all were bad. In fact, most weren’t, but I felt more unrest when I had these dreams than when I did not sleep at all. I tried to talk to Jushara about it, but she seemed more disturbed than concerned. Eventually I spoke to Brindel about the depth of these dreams, but he of course wanted to discuss the scientific implications of a shared memory rather than actually discussing anything substantial with me. Maybe he was right… Maybe I had pushed him away too much in this turn. I even mentioned it to Aurilianni once, but soon realized that she was far too close to Vea’ayr to be trusted with sensitive information.

I eventually found some peace of mind when I was trying to discuss my issues one night with Brindel and Cesylla came in. “Perhaps your being upset is a good thing.” She spoke with that voice of hers, that powerful yet soft tone that commands all other sounds cease as her voice is now all that matters. Mid conversation, Brindel and I fell completely silent and focused our gazes, our ears, and our hearts toward her. “Pardon the intrusion, but I thought maybe you being upset is really what defines you. You and Vea’ayr share so many similarities, even down to the way you think. I have spent enough time around you both to know that you are almost one in the same. The keyword here though is not same but rather almost. You care Sha’ayr. You care above all else. You care about what is right, not just what is objectively beneficial. You care about your comrades and not just about how they can help you achieve your goals. You even care about Vea’ayr and you care about the idea that she could possibly be using you.”

My uneasiness must have begun to show because she stopped and apologized. “Sorry if I am overstepping my bounds Zetha.” I shook my head vigorously and pled. “Not at all Cesylla, you are a friend and a respected comrade. Your opinion is not only heard, but valued. Please, I insist you continue.”

She went on for some time recollecting times where I had proven my distinctness and where Vea’ayr would have or did fail to be equally compassionate. As she ended her monologue, I embraced her with tears on my cheeks. “Thank you so much Cesylla. You have no idea how much it means to me to hear you say all this. I have felt distressed about this for so long.” As I turned my head to rest against the side of her neck, I caught Brindel’s eye and he lowered his head, seemingly ashamed that he was not the one to be my emotional crutch in this time of weakness.

The final cycle of my training proved to be the most difficult by far. It was my endurance training and it was with Brindel. I still loved Brindel with all my heart, but my heart had become a low priority for me and it showed. To make matters worse, Brindel realized that this was the most time we had gotten to spend together over the course of the turn, but he also knew that he had to shut off any feelings toward me or the training could not be successful. I soon learned why he was feared in battle and why my father had been so fond of him as a soldier. For this training, I was not allowed to fight back, only to defend myself until I was too exhausted, then to defend myself more and more. Brindel changed from the compassionate, sensitive companion I had come to know him as into a sadistic, ruthless tormentor. My hands became calloused and I developed scars from unblocked whips which turned into stronger tissue. Every one of my muscles ached at the end of each rote, and each night he would tend to my wounds and rub my sore legs. Then, once lightbreak came, he would become that beast of a warrior again. I knew it was necessary to strengthen me and to test my willpower, but it was so hard to see someone I loved so much present themselves with so much hatred toward me. I couldn’t help but question: was this all just an act for the training or did he secretly resent me for pushing him away? I began to regret my focus on my development, but then I thought about all that was at stake. I thought about all the Wilvaroks and Tilverhans who were going to suffer if we didn’t fix the Council. I knew it was all worth it, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

I counted down the rotations for that last cycle, anxiously waiting for that rote to come when I could finally see Brindel again and not Alpha General Brindel. Finally the rotation arrived: the end of my training. Though my actual training was complete, one more cycle remained until my rank was officially decided. The first half of the cycle was spent recovering, resting, and spending time with my friends. Oddly enough, that torment of a cycle spent training with Brindel had helped to strengthen us not only in battle, but as a couple. It proved to me that he was just as serious about this movement as I was and that he was willing to do whatever it took to succeed. More importantly, it showed me how much I needed the sensitive, compassionate, goofy Brindel to come home to and helped to solidify my respect in him as a warrior. We had become a truly formidable team and had even started developing a cooperative fighting style. Though I know those fifteen rotations were supposed to be rest and recovery, I honestly feel most at ease in the heat of a spar… and to think just over a turn ago I had never even been in a fight.

The last fifteen cycles were spent in the simulator, trying to beat my previous scores for each of the previous attempts. After all the training I had endured, beating each and every one of my own bests was not at all difficult. However, the overall ranking scores were determined by the speed and rate of success in these trials and I would not know until the pruning ceremony.

The pruning ceremony normally took place when one was initiated into the officer rankings, but my case was a special exception given my instant initiation. I woke at lightbreak that rotation to a strangely silent penthouse. Usually Deran and Brindel were in the kitchen arguing about the superiority of Tilverhan or Wilvarok cuisine or Jushara and Brindel would be playing Thrones in the living area, a game that focused on the strategy of battle in different terrains and unpredictable scenarios. This rotation though, the only sound was my own breath against the thin air.

I pulled myself out of bed, still sore from the strenuous fifteen rotes of pushing myself beyond my limits in every aspect to prove my worth. I felt confident, anxious, proud, and nervous all at once. I went to the closet and pulled out my armor, put it on, and put on the prism silk robe that Vea’ayr had given me what felt like so long ago now. With a deep breath and a final curl of my toes against the cold floor, I put on my boots and left the penthouse.

The streets of Shellentar were unnervingly silent. The ceremony was still half an hour away so I had plenty of time to walk to the HUB building without any concern of being late. I had initially wanted to walk with Brindel, Jushara, Deran, and Cesylla but they must have already gone without me. I took advantage of the rare moment of silence and thought about everything which had transpired over the past turn and got so lost in thought I found myself standing in front of the HUB doors before I even realized I had taken a step.
As I boarded the GMFE, I called out to take me to the banquet hall. The banquet hall took up an entire level on the HUB and could easily house thousands of people, given that they were at least half Wilvaroks. The GMFE jolted up and I walked through two large pitrinium doors and into a banquet hall. The sight that awaited was more than I could have ever prepared for.

The entire hall was adorned in beautiful cloth roses and tightly braided “vines” made of silk and Tilverhan hair woven together. There was an entire buffet of food for Tilverhans and Wilvaroks alike and everyone had decorated their armor with jewels, silk garments, and paints. Even considering the extravagance of my robe, I still felt under dressed for the occasion. Every person from Shellentar was there. I saw people I had yet to even meet. There were hundreds, even thousands of supporters. It was hard not to get emotional at the sight of the revolution before me.

As I stepped forward, the doors shut behind me and every eye turned its gaze upon me. A roar of conversation instantly muted to nothing and the sound of every knee simultaneously echoing as it touched the ground filled the air. From the crowd, two very familiar Wilvaroks and Tilverhans rose: Brindel, Cesylla, Jushara, and Deran. They all walked through the crowd and embraced me. “Welcome to your ceremony my love.” Brindel’s words had the familiar and missed feeling to them that had been vacant for the past turn… or perhaps I was just not listening. My lips quivered as I smiled and nodded in acknowledgment and appreciation. “Well, now what?” I thought I had spoken quietly enough for just us to hear, but had misjudged both the intensity of the silence surrounding us and the dynamic of my voice. “Now,” Vea’ayr boomed from a large throne-like chair at the end of the banquet hall with an identical chair beside it, “you take your rightful seat at my side and this ceremony can begin.”

With that, all the people in the hall rose to their feet and cleared a path to the other end of the banquet hall. Some clapped, some cheered, some shouted their battle cries and some recited the words of our oath. The roar was chaotic, bordering on overwhelming.
I approached Vea’ayr and she stood and hugged me. This was the first time she had hugged me since our disagreement during my training. Many cycles have passed since then and I have forgiven and even thanked her since. I still didn’t trust her completely, but I did feel at least vaguely positive about our relationship.

As I sat beside her the roar slowly settled to a whisper and then to silence as she raised her hand. “Sha’ayr, we are all proud of your growth this past turn. In honor of your hard work and success in your training, we will be announcing your new rankings and your official position in our ranks. You will need to choose a presenter, an announcer, and the ceremonial toaster from our officers. Who do you choose?” Without hesitation or excess thought I blurted out my answer. “Brindel shall be my presenter for he has been by my side since before this even began and no other is as suited as he to do so. My announcer should be someone who truly knows their way around the spoken word and could be none other than the beautiful Cesylla and my toaster will be my closest friend and dearest comrade Jushara.”

Vea’ayr forced a smile upon her face and was quite obviously upset that she was not picked for any of the roles, but I did not let her apparent disapproval spoil the moment for me. My three closest friends stepped forward and the ceremony commenced. Brindel stood on the platform directly to my side, Cesylla stood at the front of the stage on which the chair sat, and Jushara sat at the only empty table with four spots. Tables for mixed company were often set up for Wilvaroks to stand and Tilverhans to lay flat so both can reach the table. Cesylla stepped forward and cleared her throat signaling the silence to continue. “When Sha’ayr came to us a turn ago, many of you doubted her abilities, but she quickly and very sternly showed you her strength and fervor, and most importantly her mercy and compassion. Mercy is a strange thing, isn’t it? Not only is it the most difficult form of forgiveness one can extend, but it also is an acceptance of a difference in opinion and a repression of our base instincts. Wilvaroks and Tilverhans alike are somewhat violent by nature, and when one wrongs us, we seek to make them pay for their mishaps. Mercy is something we all need to extend as one day we may all need it extended to us, especially with the struggles to come. I am honored to call Sha’ayr a comrade and a friend. She has shown her ability to extend that mercy in all her simulations and in her actions. It was the first show of her character she showed us. If I could, could I have Deran step forward?”

Deran stood, shocked by his summons, and stepped onto the platform. “Sergeant Regent Deran, when you first met Sha’ayr you challenged her position, stating you believed Jushara was a more suited candidate for Lieutenant Commander. Today, she stands before you and her position is to be either solidified or contested. Seeing her grow and seeing who she has become I wanted to ask you personally how you now felt.” Tears welled up in Deran’s eyes as he began to speak. “A turn ago I was undeserving of my rank. I was foolish and judgmental and I did not give Sha’ayr a chance to show us who she really was and what she was capable of. It took her only minutes to completely change my mind and since then she has become one of my dearest friends and allies. I would kill for her and I would die for her. She is a true leader and entirely deserving of the rank she has been given. That being said, I do not feel like her position as Leutenant Commander should be solidified today.“ Heads turned so quickly to Deran that I swear you could hear a snap in the air. Everyone was shocked, but none more than I and Jushara. I was hurt, but Jushara was angry. Beyond angry. A roar of commotion sounded through the hall until Cesylla raised her hand, silencing the crowd instantaneously.

“Deran,” Cesylla inquired with a tinge of pain in her voice, “what makes you say this?” Suddeny my pain changed to genuine concern as I saw Deran’s shoulders begin to shake. He looked as he did the first day I arrived, after our battle as we sat and talked of his life before the revolution. He swallowed his fear and uneasiness in one hard gulp and continued with a surprising decisiveness. “I feel as though Sha’ayr is most suited to be our leader.”

As the last word escaped his lips, it swept through the banquet hall and executed any sound left in the room. I could feel the temperature drop as Vea’ayr’s eyes fell upon me. She stood and smiled, an offputting, sinister, jagged curve. “Very well Deran. Are there any others who agree with this change of power?” The calm of her voice was an unwelcome surprise. A less unwelcome surprise was how many people stood. About half of the Tilverhans and a third of the Wilvaroks in the hall stood from their tables and nodded their heads. Vea’ayr’s stoic calm was unbroken. “Very well,” she said unwaivering, “Let us finish this ceremony and firstlight we will have an official duel for command of the Thorns.”

The banquet hall erupted in a roar of cheers. Deran returned to his seat at the table and Jushara hugged him tightly for at least ten seconds then slapped him hard across the face. “Deran, you fool!” Her voice was angry and shaking, but her eyes shone with pride and agreement. “Do you not think about consequence?” Deran, in a rarely profound moment responded softly, “I only think about consequence Jushara.”

After a few moments, once the roar of the hall was at least quiet enough for her to be heard, Cesylla once again silenced the crowd with her serene voice, continuing her speech as if nothing had even happened. “A commander shows bravery and courage on the field of battle. I Councilor should show wisdom and humility in the decisions they make. A friend should show compassion and forgiveness and understanding in times of weakness and show reinforcement, support, and example in times of strength. A true leader—one that captures our very hearts and souls—must captivate and exemplify all of these qualities. I see no other than Sha’ayr who could better fit this definition. None.”

With her final word, she turned her gaze from the audience, past me, and to Vea’ayr. The crowd only saw the back of her head for her final statement and thus did not notice the jab toward Vea’ayr, but I did… and more concerning so did she. I could see Vea’ayr’s eyes flaring up and could feel her aura shifting, but she forced a rough smile across her face and joined the rest of the hall in clapping. After a good twenty seconds, she rose her hand and the clapping ceased. Cesylla continued. “Sha’ayr, please stand.” I stood and looked at her for further instruction. “Your rankings are as follows, from weakest to strongest. Your endurance, the raw grit of battle, the will to survive when all will is gone. For Grit you receive five thorns. Your ability to be unseen and to covertly disable and reroute security protocols, the silence which serves the master, for your Subterfuge you receive six thorns. Your composure under pressure and ability to persuade those around you is excellent. You had a wonderful tutor after all.” The crowd laughed as she smiled at me. “For Composure you receive seven thorns. Your intellect is to be envied and your understanding of technology has proven to be more than adept. A savant of seven thorns. Your battle planning and your quick decision making in the face of danger have earned you eight thorns in Strategy. Given your new and never-before-implemented fighting style, your whip weaving and blade bending have been combined into a single category named, appropriately, Sha’barage. For this new fighting style, you receive eight thorns. The magnearch is a powerful weapon which you have made even more powerful by cleverly combining with the tip of your whip. Given this new take on the magnearch and using whips, as well as your natural talent and brilliant ingenuity, both your Magnearch and Ingenuity have been given a rank of nine thorns. My opening statement already highlighted the reasons for your next ranking. You receive ten thorns for your leadership.”
She paused for a moment and looked to Vea’ayr, who nodded in agreement to an unknown wordless conversation they were having. Turning back to the crowd she finished her presentation, everyone’s hearts heavy with anticipation, none more so than my own. “And finally, my friends and comrades, we come to her greatest strength. Our ranking system was not made to measure someone of her abilities in mind flaying and thought blocking. She maxed out the rankings on every simulation and even broke the simulator on more than one occasion. Given her immeasurable abilities in this field and our Officers’ experience in trying to combat her, we present a one-of-a-kind ranking of fifteen thorns to Sha’ayr.”

The crowd exploded into a roar of cheering and clapping and my hands went to cover my mouth in excitement. I couldn’t help but to jump up and down a bit in hearing the results of my training. I had surpassed or met my expectations in every single field and could not believe my final scoring. “Sha’ayr, at a total of 87 thorns, you are now ranked at 9 thorns. Brindel, if you would do the honor.” Brindel grabbed my hands with his lower two hands and his upper two attached a permanent badge to my uniform with an instant-bonding cohesive. He then picked me up and held me close to his chest. His breath brushed my ears as he whispered, “I am so proud of you Sha’ayr. I love you.”

He put me down and I looked deep into his eyes. I could see his pride, but hidden behind it a tinge of worry. “I love you too Brindel.” I smiled, though I knew something was weighing on him. I could only hope he would let me know what was bothering him after the ceremony. For now, it was time to celebrate.

Jushara raised her glass and we joined her at the table. “A toast to our Lieutenant Commander. She is the best person I know and I have no doubt in my mind that she will be a fearless and wondrous leader. May her enemies reconsider their stances, else be knocked off their feet. Thorns of the rose!” Everyone simultaneously chanted, “Thorns of the rose!” and with that took a drink from their glasses.

For the rest of the ceremony, every person must have found their way to our table to individually congratulate me. It made conversation with my table hard, but perhaps that was a good thing. If I am to be a leader, it is important that the people I am leading know that they can approach me after all.

After a few hours, the commotion died down and I was able to focus again on my group. We talked about the training and our favorite and least favorite moments. We made jokes, laughed, and recanted the past turn. I never thought I could meet people like the ones I met here. Aurilianni and Damerion bantered back and forth the way they always did. Finally Brindel had seen enough. “OH by the void, just kiss already and get it over with!” Damerion’s mouth gaped open in surprise, and Aurilianni glared at Brindel. Her glare quickly turned to a smirk as she spun and grabbed Damerion, bringing her head up to his and giving him a deep kiss on his still gaping mouth. At first he seemed horrified, but his eyes closed and he embraced Aurilianni. “That’s more like it!” exclaimed Brindel as he held his glass high. We all cheered and laughed, but I could see through Brindel’s cheery façade. Still, I decided to focus on the celebration at hand and enjoy the night. I am glad I did, because that would be the last night for a long time that any of us have reason to celebrate.

Chapter IX

When we reached the double doors, Doran touched nodes built into the décor of the grand doors in a specific pattern and a scanner appeared.  He put his eye in front of the scanner and an affirming beep came from the door.  As it did, large, visible gears in the door began to turn and the doors opened to what appeared to be an entire miniature city.  “Welcome to Shellentar.”

The layout of Shellentar was mesmerizing.  There were beautiful trees lining the walkways and fountains in the center of the round intersections.  There were walking lanes for Wilvaroks and jump pads for Tilverhans placed higher up with marked landing areas near each of the main corridor. I saw a large multi-board near each entrance.  I walked up to the one closest to me and pressed it.  Interactive Map of Shellentar.

I began exploring the layout of the city and committing it to memory.  Shellentar was round and was set up in five layers.  In the first, outermost layer were residential buildings and exits to the surface.  The second layer consisted of what appeared to be shops and markets selling different berries, grains, and other necessities as well as beautiful woven works crafted for Tilverhans and Wilvaroks alike.  There also appeared to be shops which sold weapons and armor, something I had never seen before on Fortitude.  The third layer was home to a few different restaurants and different entertainment venues.  The fourth layer contained all military buildings and equipment prepared for the revolution.  Here there were training grounds for Wilvaroks, Tilverhans, and mixed training grounds for both to compete and cooperate in.  The final layer was a tower which reached at least thirty levels into the air.  From this building, cables ran to each entrance which powered electro-magnetic carts shooting to and from the entrances.  This building was the HUB building and contained the war room along with many other rooms, including a police system, a judicial system, and even an employment center.

“Alright Deran, Let’s go to the War Room.  Should we take a cart or walk?”  He gave me a look of intrigued respect.  “You were only looking at the map for a few seconds and you already know where we are going?  Impressive.”  I gave him an affirming nod and a half smile, then we proceeded to the cart dock.

We boarded the cart which jolted us to the top of the HUB building in less than a minute.  We were greeted by another group of Wilvaroks and Tilverhans, all but one of which bowed as we stepped off the cart.  The one who did not was a beautiful Wilvarok with intricate prism silk threads adorning her horns and wrapping around her forehead and shoulders.  She ran to the cart and wrapped her arms around Deran, helping him out.  “Deran!  What did that basha__ow!”  Her words were cut short by Deran’s hand pressing into her shoulder.  “Show respect to your new Lieutenant Commander Jushara.”  Her concern dropped like an ingot of pitrinium and she threw Deran to the floor then turned a boiling glare to me.  Vea’ayr looked as though she was about to speak, but I cut her off before she could.  “Jushara, I am Sha’ayr.  Deran challenged me to combat for your right to my title and was defeated.  If you feel my leadership is inadequate, I will gladly battle you for this position.”  Her eyes flickered as she toed the line of metamorphosis, then she clenched her hands together hard and stood high on her toes, forcefully flexing all of her muscles.  She held this position for at least twenty seconds until her eyes returned to a strange purple color and she fell back to the flats of her feet.

“I see.”  Her voice was almost alarmingly calm.  “Deran is a fierce fighter, though a bit short-sighted at times.  For now I will gladly follow and obey, but if you do not prove to be an asset to this movement, know I will challenge you and I will succeed.”  I respectfully nodded my head and replied, “I would expect no differently.”  Vea’ayr could not remain silent any longer.  “Now, if we could continue with our plan…”  Her words were quiet and concise, yet still somehow intimidating enough to have every one of us immediately turn and follow her.

As she walked up to the door at the end of the room, it slid open automatically and revealed an opening in the center.  As she walked to the ledge, I expected her to wait for an elevator platform to come up, but she jumped off the edge and was followed by all the other members of our group.  As they jumped, they fell only a few hands and were suspended in the air.  “Well Sha’ayr, are you coming?”  I looked at her and nodded, then nervously jumped off the ledge as well.  Vea’ayr’s voice resounded loudly.  “War Room, with haste.”  As she did we began to fall and I let out a shrill scream.  My hand dug into Brindel’s wing and his arm wrapped around me.  We slowed to a stop and were floating in front of another doorway.  “A little unnerving the first time, right?  Gravitational Field Manipulation Elevator, or just GFME.  A technology Vea’ayr developed as a way of eliminating threats.  Your voice has to be found in the system for it not to drop you to your death and even if it is, ending your route with anything other than “with haste” will drop everyone except for you to their death at twice the speed of free-fall.  Fast enough to actually liquefy you on impact.”

I slowly nodded my head, my eyes still full of panic. “So you couldn’t have warned me?”  Brindel smiled and replied smarmily, “well, I could have, but it wouldn’t have been nearly as fun.”  I realized that the gravitational field had pushed us over the walkway and I put my feet on solid ground again.

As my feet touched the pitrinium floor, my panic subsided and I stood tall, trying to maintain at least a fraction of dignity.  Deran came up beside me and whispered, “It’s alright Zetha, we all had the same reaction our first time on the GFMA.”  I felt a bit of relief, not just in that I felt less alone in my embarrassment, but also in Deran’s support even after our initial meeting.  Vea’ayr walked up to the double doors at the end of the pathway, closed her eyes, and pushed her hands against the doors.  After a few seconds the doors quickly slid open and revealed a large dome-shaped room on the other side.

The room had chairs only around the perimeter and had electronic nodes at each chair.  One chair was much more ornate than the rest, with the chair to its left almost equal in its majesty.  Vea’ayr walked to the largest chair and motioned for me to sit in the one to the left.  I sat and watched her apply the nodes to her hands, then copied the process.

The rest of the group followed suit, and before long everyone was ready to begin the meeting, stoic and still like garden statues.  With a wave of her hand, the lights in the room faded to complete darkness for just a moment until the room lit up with a beautiful map of our galaxy.  “Alright, we have our new Lieutenant Commander joining us today, I would like introductions from all of our officers.  All but Sha’ayr, report in ranking order.  I am Vea’ayr, Commander of the Thorns and founder of Shellentar.”  Jushara sat to my left and stood to introduce herself.  As she stood, a bio of her rank, qualifications, skills, and achievements appeared in the cloud of stars.  “I am Jushara, Commander Regent of the Thorns, ten thorn master of subterfuge and sabotage, mind flaying, and bending blades.  My greatest asset is my mind, and my greatest unforgotten deficit is my grit.  I strive to teach others my strengths and to humbly learn from their expertise in my weaknesses to further strengthen our cause as a whole.”  Brindel sat to her left and stood next.  “I am Brindel, ten thorn master in grit and leadership.  My greatest asset is my physical prowess and my greatest unforgotten deficit is my magnearch knowledge.  I strive to teach others my strengths and to humbly learn from their expertise in my weaknesses to further strengthen our cause as a whole.”

“Fhandrick, Beta General.  Ten thorns for Mind Flaying and use of the Magnearch.  Just awful with bending blades.  Will teach you to wield a Magnearch if you will teach me to twirl a dagger.”  I recognized Fhandrick from the docking area.  His unorthodox introduction in the war room greatly contrasted that of our first encounter, but no one seemed to act as though it were out of the ordinary.

The next officer was stunning.  She was a Tilverhan, standing a few hands taller than Brindel, but with a much leaner build.  She wore a woven silk garment which flowed down her back like trickles of water down a rock face.  Her muscular structure was much more lean than Brindel’s, but her smaller frame would definitely make her more dexterous.  Her hair was braided into beautiful strands, each with its own unique braiding pattern.  She was beautiful, and as I looked about the War Room I could see I was not the only one who thought so.  I felt a pit in my stomach as I noticed Brindel’s unwavering eyes.  “General Regent Cesylla!  Ten thorns for composure, my weakness in blocking thoughts.  I will always work with my Wilvarokan comrades to strengthen my mental shield and will teach all my fellow thorns how to stay at peace and focus on the goal as opposed to the obstacles preceding.”  It was evident that she had earned her thorns of composure.  Her voice was sweet and persuasive, yet still firm and confident.  The way Brindel looked at her I hated to like her, but I couldn’t help myself.

The next to stand was a shorter but much broader and stronger built Tilverhan than I was accustomed to seeing.  He appeared to be much more powerful than Brindel and had scars covering his body.  His voice bellowed with a depth that caused the webbing of my feet to vibrate.  “ALPHA SERGEANT DAMERION!  NINE THORNS FOR WHIPS, ARCHES, AND GRIT.  I NEVER WASTE TIME BLOCKING THOUGHTS.  THOUGHTS NEED NOT BE BLOCKED IF THE ATTACKER IS ALREADY DEAD.  I DON’T GIVE THEM TIME TO THINK, ONLY TIME TO BLEED.”  I could feel my eyes welling up from the intensity of his voice.  The entire room shook as he sat back down.

Another female Tilverhan stood up.  She was small in height and frame compared to the other Tilverhans, but had very powerful looking legs.  She had two fairly large daggers strapped to her back perpendicular to the ground and two much larger blades crossed above them.  Her eyes were narrow and her hair cut short and spiked in all directions with the tips dyed different colors.  “Aurilianni, Beta Sergeant reporting.  Nine thorns in bending blades and strategizing, unforgotten deficit is whips.  Just can’t seem to get the hang of em’ if you know what I mean.  Created my own style of blade fighting for Tilverhans though if any of you wanna trade in your whips.”  She nodded at Damerion and cracked a smile.  “How about you muscles?  You could cleave someone in half with one swipe!”  Damerion’s stern face did not falter as he replied, “I PREFER TO KILL FROM A DISTANCE, LESS TIME FOR THEM TO REACT.”  Aurilianni responded with quick, sharp wit, “Yeah, how’s that working out for you big guy?  Seem to have a lot more scars than I do.  Ah well, maybe we can have a tutor session sometime?  You show me your whips, I show you my swords, split a bottle of wine, grab a bite to eat?”  Vea’ayr cleared her throat and Aurilianni turned her head.  “Sorry Commander, got caught up in the moment, y’know?”  As she sat down and winked at Damerion, I could almost swear I saw him smile a bit.

Finally Deran stood slowly.  He still seemed shaken from before and his voice was strained with pain.  “I am Deran, Sergeant Regent.  I have eight thorns in bending blades and using a magnearch.  My greatest deficit, officially, is my grit ability, but in light of recent events I would say unofficially is my arrogance.  I am sorry, Sha’ayr.”  I smiled and nodded to Deran as he sat.  He forced a grin across his face, though he was almost too weak to do so.  I did not realize how draining a mental attack, or mind flaying as they were calling it, could be.

The circle had made its way back to Vea’ayr.  I was excited to see what her standings were and wondered how the rankings were decided.  As her bio appeared, I was amazed.  “Commander Vea’ayr, ten thorn savant, strategist, and leader with ten thorns in ingenuity.  My weakest unforgotten deficit is my mind flaying, but I will be revaluating at the end of this cycle.  I am pleased to introduce a new captain to our ranks.  Every, please join me in welcoming Sha’ayr as our new Lieutenant Commander.  Though not yet officially evaluated, I know she will surpass all our further expectations for mind flaying and, once taught our shadow walking techniques, will be a master of subterfuge.  Like me, she was born with talents that far surpass that of any natural Wilvarok.  You will be in charge of training her for the next Turn.  You have each been given a training schedule for this Turn, uploaded straight to your multi-boards.  Every cycle she will be retested, and if by the end of the Turn she has yet to prove herself, she will be demoted to Sergeant Regent and the next in line at that point in time will be promoted to Lieutenant Commander.  Do we have any objections to these changes?  Open floor rights apply.”

Vea’ayr motioned for me to stand.  As I stood, Jushara sprung from her seat.  “I pledged my loyalty to the Thorns and to Vea’ayr’s leadership.  Without her, we would still be under persecution; disorganized, scared, and each alone.  We would have a goal but not purpose, an idea but not an ideal.  I trust her judgment and urge you all to do the same.  Welcome, Zetha.”  The other captains stood and used their right hand or hands to grab their left shoulder forcefully.  “Welcome, Zetha!”  The words resounded and reverberated through the dome room, causing chills to run across my skin.

Vea’ayr held her hands up and the room fell silent as the display in the middle faded.  “Now, a toast to our new Officer.  Deran?”  Deran opened a hidden panel in the wall and presented a bottle which he passed down to Vea’ayr.  She took a long drink and proclaimed, “To the thorns!  We are the natural growths along the stem of our society, representing the painful truth.”  The bottle went back to Deran, who took a drink as well.  “We are the ones who truly protect that society, though to those looking to destroy it we are simply a nuisance.”  Next was Aurilianni.  “Even if one of us is removed, the rose lives.  Even if we are all removed, the rose still lives.”  Damerion: “BUT THEN WHAT PROTECTS THE ROSE? NOTHING. WE ARE ITS ONLY REAL PROTECTION.”  Cesylla: “And even in our destruction, we will leave a sore festering in our enemies.”  Fhandrick: “And our sacrifice will be noticed, and those who see it will begin to question.”  Brindel:  “Why would anyone destroy the rose, the perfect representation of harmony and beauty?”  Jushara: “They will realize the rose cannot be destroyed, for they are part of it.  The roots do not dig deeper to spite the bloom, but rather to nourish it.  The bloom does not flourish to spite the roots, but rather to give them purpose and reward for their hard work.  The thorns do not exist to harm individuals, but rather to protect and preserve this balance.”  She handed me the bottle and whispered into my ear what I needed to say.  I took a drink of what I soon found to be an unsettlingly bitter and viscous liquid.  “We are the thorns of the rose and we will protect our garden.”  At that moment, all the Officers shouted “Thorns of the Rose!” and Vea’ayr motioned her hands for all to be seated.

As we sat back down, Vea’ayr grabbed my arm to keep me standing.  “Sha’ayr you are dismissed.  I want you to become familiar with Shellentar and you cannot do so from this room.  I wanted you to meet everyone, however we are discussing plans already in motion for the remainder of the meeting.”  I nodded and replied, “Understood Vea’ayr.  Could Brindel come with me to show me around?  It is all a bit overwhelming and I don’t want to get lost.”  This was a rouse to talk to Brindel alone as I had already committed the map of Shellentar to memory, but it seemed to backfire.  “As our Alpha General, Brindel must be present for this meeting.  Deran has only been a Captain for a few cycles and I am certain Jushara will be willing to catch him up to speed.  Deran, do you have the energy to complete this task?”  I tried to get a reading on his thoughts to see if I could see if he was really up to it, but to my surprise I was unable to read him.  “Of course Vea’ayr.”  Deran forced himself out of his seat and removed the nodes connecting him to the War Room.  I did the same and followed him back to the GFME.

As we were about to step off the platform, I grabbed Deran’s shoulder and turned him to face me.  “Deran, are you sure you are okay?  You look completely drained.”  He nodded his head, almost falling over has he did.  “I am fine, I just need something to eat and some sleep.  I will show you around a bit, we can go get some food, then I will show you to your new home and will go get some rest.”  I reluctantly nodded my head and we both stepped off the platform and into the GFME.

We hovered for a full minute until an alarm sounded.  “PLEASE STATE DESTINATION”.  I nudged Deran and he shook his head violently to try and regain his focus.  “Sorry Sha’ayr.  Ground Floor, with Haaa__.”  I looked over and saw that he had fallen unconscious.  I grabbed his arm and tried to reach for the platform, but it was too late.  My eyes dilated and filled with panic as my inevitable demise grew closer and closer.  One day in the Thorns, and I am already going to become a casualty of war.

Thorns by Kevin Copenhaver is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.

Chapter I

Looking through the window of my room at the forbidden planets which Station 000402 (Fortitude to inhabitants) patrol, a single tear rolled down my soft, pale cheek.  I had been losing sleep and, as a result, color the past few cycles.  A cycle ago my skin had a beautiful, dulled glow and the color of the inside of a watermelon; not quite red, not quite pink… the perfect complexion of a well sought after Wilvarok.  Now, pasty and almost white, I am a disaster.  I look and feel like death and yesterote my anxiety got so bad I quit producing silk in mid-knit.  My horns haven’t turned black yet, but they are a little darker than they were just a few rotations ago.  My mom had always told me to come see her immediately when they did turn black, though I am not sure why.

Mom and dad worry light and night about my health.  They tried to talk to me, but I couldn’t bear to speak of it.  They thought I was just acting out as part of my coming-of-age teenage angst and fed me some psychobabble about it being perfectly natural for a child my age to become detached from her parents or, in my situation, wonder what her real parents were like.  If only they knew what I was dealing with, if only they could understand.  I loved them and in my mind they always have been and always will be my real parents.  That love, that irreplaceable connection I feel with them, that unconditional, indefinite gratitude I have for them bringing me in when I had nothing, when I was nothing.  That is why I cannot bring myself to burden them with the details and the dangers of what has truly been bothering me.

No name on the file, no return-tracker data, and no way to trace the IP.  The document had been professionally wiped, as if it were an official document from a Kerhah Agent or even a GECO.  The mail contained a picture of a simple haiku written on a piece of Wilvarokan silk fabric being suspended between a pair of horns.

The blood of your blood

Still alive, but not for long  

Soon you’ll understand

The signature was a drawing of Wilvarokan horns with a single drop of blood between them making an H.  I read the note over and over again, took a screenshot of the signature, and deleted the file.  The words were branded into my mind forever, but I could tell no one.  Whoever sent this to me wanted me to read it and no one else.

Unable to sleep, I decided to go for a walk.  Since it was night time and I had no worries of running into anyone too prim and proper, I decided to save the hassle of wearing my headdress.  Only the eldest of the Tilverhans minded if I didn’t anyway.  No one else really understood their protest, since they had never been around any other Wilvaroks and had definitely never lived with any.  The elders, however, still remembered when the Wilvaroks and the Tilverhans lived in harmony with one another before the Great Migration from the forbidden planets.

One of the elders, a storyteller, often spoke of his remembrance of pre-migration when the children would ask about my headdress.  He had woven a tale he would recall, always flexing, playing, and making faces at all the right moments.  Though he was a bit biased and narcissistic, even I must admit he can tell a captivating, memorable story.

“In these forgotten times, the two species mingled on one another’s home planet.  The Wilvaroks viewed themselves as ‘superior in intelligence but equal in rights’.  Though most Wilvaroks and Tilverhans did not even acknowledge the existence of this divide, there were many Wilvarok who maintained illusions of grandeur and generally pompous attitudes.

In exchange for their valuable silks and technological advances, the Wilvaroks were permitted to do harmless, non-intrusive scientific studies on the Tilverhans.  They were intrigued by their culture, their mannerisms, and especially by their physical prowess and magnificent hybrid of reptilian and mammalian traits.  I quote a certain lovely Wilvarokan scientist’s journal.  Green scales covering their broad hindquarters and lower torso flow seamlessly into vibrant purple flesh which encompasses their entire upper body. 

They have four scaled legs stemming from their lower body.  Their hind legs are extremely powerful with muscular feet, each of which has six digits tipped by curved, non-retractable claws and a seventh, much larger claw extending downward from the top of their heel which is jointed and capable of movement much like a bird’s talon.  Their front legs are much more slender and have long, webbed feet, each with only four digits and straight claws.  The bottoms of their front feet are scaled with teethed scales, providing them with excellent traction and allowing for quick and sudden turns, bursts, cuts, and stops.  

Gigantic, bat-like wings with straight barbs at the tip are folded gracefully against their sides.  Though they are incapable of flight, they can use their strong hind legs to leap high into the air and then use their wings to glide, allowing them to travel great distances in short time with little expended energy.

Their upper bodies are usually slender and have four appendages as well.  Each arm has two elbows as opposed to one, allowing their arms to bend in almost any imaginable direction.  Their hands have short, knife-like nails on each of their five fingers and thumb.  Their faces are beautiful and, sans the creases in their cheeks, completely smooth skinned—much like our own.  Their eyes have slit-pupils and are amber or hazel in color. 

Most amazing of all, from the top and back of their head they have something they refer to as hair sprouting out.  It is like fur, except extremely long and soft.  It reminds me of a permanent fixture of silk combined with the texture of a mammal’s coat.  They can cut it, pull it, twist it, turn it, and braid it with other strands, just like silk.  Many of the women make extravagant weaves and the men typically either keep theirs cut short or in tight weaves so it does not restrict them in battle.  They are truly magnificent beings.”

After flexing and posing through the majority of the account of the Tilverhans ‘obvious physical prowess’ he would smile reminiscently and stumble for his place in his own story.  “Oh…where was I… right, the headdresses, right.  They followed strange rules of social status, etiquette, and discretion to remain ‘politically correct’ as they call it.  Since Wilvarokan horns play a large role in their mating rituals, they were considered profane to show in public, so they were required to keep them covered at all times.”

The elders tell children all sorts of different stories of pre-migration, but this one was by far my favorite.  I see a lot of myself in the scientist who allegedly wrote the pseudo-voluptuous description of the Tilverhans.  However, magical tales of a mystical land where animals roamed in fields of grass, where Tilverhans farmed and robots didn’t exist beyond a non-sentient state and weren’t even advanced enough to till a field, where everyone had less cares, less worries, and real sunlight, did have a certain allure.  They ate of the earth and drank of the water which flowed naturally from gigantic lakes and rivers.  Their claws unwrapped and their barbs unfiled, the Tilverhans lived entirely free, oblivious to the problems just on the horizon and in the company of the beautiful and intelligent Wilvaroks.  To think one rotation soon, once the last of the Tilverhan elders pass on, those stories will be speculated and thought of as nothing more than fairy tales.

Immersed in my recollection of stories and thoughts of pre-migration, I had finished half my walk without even noticing.  Fortitude was a small space station designed specifically for Tilverhans, so it was difficult to travel as a Wilvarok to some of the upper levels.  Most of the inhabitants were very friendly and I never had to look hard to get a ride to the higher platforms during the light, but come nightfall I usually had to just walk a lap around the ground level.  At a comfortable gallop it took about twenty minutes for a Tilverhan to complete a lap compared to my staggering, savory three hours.

With each step on the cold pitrinium floor, I spread my toes so my webs would press against the cold metal.  Such a wonderful feeling to have the cold, pitrinium steel against my feet.  All three toes spread wide, claws retracted, and completely relaxed so my webs can make full contact with the floor, I walked slowly savoring each step—each chill running slowly from my toes up to the base of my horns, like a dry wick soaking up oil and longing to be ignited.  These slow walks at night were a self-indulgence no one else could really understand.  I had never even spoken to another Wilvarok and, other than the occasional ambassador, had never seen one.  The elders say “we have dangerous minds” but I have never felt like this was true.  Yes, we are very intelligent and yes, there are accounts in history where Wilvaroks have done horrible things, but so have the Tilverhans.  Besides, without the Wilvaroks they would still think that the Tilverhans are the only “intelligent” life force in the galaxy.  I couldn’t understand where they were coming from but I liken my ability to comprehend their reasoning to their ability to understand why I would walk around at night with a vacant, satisfied look upon my face.

Even with my walk, I couldn’t relax entirely.  There were too many thoughts running through my head.  Did I have siblings I did not know about?  I had always wondered growing up if I had been separated from some sisters at birth.  Did I have living grandmothers? Aunts? Nieces? And whose horns held the haiku?  Did my birth parents die because of some ill will toward my family? What if that is the case?  That’s it!  What if they are wiping out my biological family one at a time?  What if they do kill whoever they have held then come for me?  How will I protect myself? More importantly, how will I protect my parents and my friends and the rest of the Tilverhans at Fortitude? My birth parents were probably GECOs whose identities were discovered and they were killed by political anarchists.  I can’t let them fall to danger, but what can I do?  I am trapped, I am nothing.  People call me a bashakai behind my back.  Not most, but some.  All the elders do.  They hate Wilvaroks.  I shouldn’t be here.  I don’t belong here.  I don’t deserve the love of my parents or the life I live.  They should have just eliminated me.  At least then I would not burden anyone with my worthless existence.

My mind continued to wander and my subconscious only became more and more self-destructive.  I was actually feeling physical pain from what my mind was doing.  I tried to stop thinking and couldn’t.  My vision blurred in and out of focus like a magnifying glass was rapidly being brought closer and farther from my eyes.  I kept walking.  My head started pounding and my thoughts became like screams in my own mind.  What started as idle chatter had become a verbal assault in third person.  I began to stumble and could not hold myself up anymore.  I fell to my knees, holding the sides of my head, writhing in pain.  My heart was racing, my skin was hot to the touch, and I couldn’t open my eyes.  The throbbing pain in my head epitomized into a sudden, sharp pain going all the way down my spine.  The pain was so intense my eyes forced themselves wide open.  I could see my reflection clearly in the polished steel floor.  My skin was blood red, my horns black, and my eyes as white as stars.  This is it.  The message didn’t matter.  My death came sooner and somehow at the mercy of my own mind.  The last thing I remember wasn’t the feeling of my head hitting the steel floor, but the sound of a loud hum resonating inside my head like an archaic tuning fork.

“Sha’ayr, Sha’ayr can you hear me?  Sha’ayr, nod if you can hear me.” I leaned up and weakly nodded.  “Thank goodness, she’s conscious mister and misses Ellehar.  Eyes are responsive to movement, color is changing properly to light stimulus, skin is pink and horns are white.  I think she is okay.”

Everything was muffled and I felt like I must have been out for at least a cycle.  “Mom.  Dad.  I love you.”  They ran to my bed and wrapped their arms around me.  “Oh we love you too flower!  Luckily a couple of the guys were out past hours sparring in the ground level halls or you may have not have been found in time.  They said they heard a non-Tilverhan scream and came running to your aid.  One went home to avoid getting in trouble and asked that no one spoke of who it was.  Given the circumstances, it was agreed upon to keep a secret.  The other hasn’t left your side since you were brought in.  You are lucky to have such a devoted admirer.”

A surprisingly muscular Tilverhan reached his bottom right hand out to shake mine.  I took hold of his hand as he spoke.  “I am glad you are awake, my name is__”

“Brindel.  As you heard I am Sha’ayr, it is a pleasure to me__ wait.  How did I know your name?  Oh, right you must have said it while I was passed out.  Thank you so much for saving me, I owe you my life.”  I smiled a weak smile at Brindel, but a worried look seemed to have spread across the faces of everyone in the room.  Brindel forced a smile, said his farewells, and went on his way.  “Mom, what’s wrong?  Why are you guys looking at me like that?

My father put his upper right hand on her shoulder.  “Should we tell her dear?”

“I don’t see how we have a choice now.”

“True, but what of the letter, we cannot just dump all this on her at once, she is only seventeen.  She isn’t even a woman yet!”

“Again, I do not see how we have a choice now.”

“I knew this rote would come I just… I never imagined time had passed so quickly.”

“Enough!” I shouted with a surprising authority I did not know my body was capable of at full strength, yet less at my weakened state. “I am your child; I am not some bashakai to be talked about as if I am not even here!  What in the name of the stars is going on here?  What the j’karn are you talking about?  Tell me!”  As my mother started weeping my anger subsided instantaneously.  “I…I’m sorry mom.  This has been a rough cycle, well, was a rough cycle until I passed out.  I don’t even know what rotation it is now.”  My mother quit crying and actually let out a laugh and smiled.  “Dear, you have only been unconscious for eighteen hours!  You passed out on rotation twelve of cycle three, it is only rote thirteen now!”

“But, I dreamt, I dreamt a whole world.  Rotations and cycles passed in my dreams.  There’s no way…”

“That is allegedly common with a bad Wilvarokan attack”, interjected the doctor, “There was a case in a medical journal that claimed a young lady was once out for three cycles after being attacked by a Wilvarokan anarchist.  In those three cycles, she developed methods for warping space-time which allowed her to develop the plans for the black hole slingshot technology we use now to travel between star systems.  A hundred turns’ worth of research at least—in three cycles.”

“How could I have been attacked by a Wilvarok?  I am the only Wilvarok here, right?” My mom let out a deep sigh and lay down in the floor beside me placing her top left hand on my shoulder.  “Honey, you…you attacked yourself.”

“I would never commit suicide!  I have just been stressed mom, you have to believe me!  I was just walking and I got dizzy and passed out, that is all!  I swear!”

“I know honey, you didn’t do it consciously or on purpose.  Oh stars, how do I explain this?  The elders…when they say you are dangerous, they are not being mean.  They are right.  Wilvaroks are very dangerous, especially in mixed company.  It is one of the reasons for the separation of species during the Great Migration.

“I don’t understand.”

“I know you don’t dear, just listen and I will explain everything I can.”  My father, who had been holding my hand on the other side of the bed, let go and left the room.  He could see my confusion and could sense my innocence and ignorance being drained from me.  He couldn’t take it.  But how did I know exactly what he was feeling?  Not just speculate, but know for sure.  How could I?

“When Wilvaroks come of age, as you know their horns turn and point forward instead of outward and their silk turns from white to a beautiful array of color two rotations per cycle.  These are the physical changes that take place, it is natural and every Wilvarok experiences it.  Well, those are only the physical changes that take place.

It could be a turn after, it could be twenty turns after, but once a Wilvarok’s mind has matured, it too goes through a change.  This change is brought upon through extreme euphoria, sadness, anger, jealousy, introspection, or any other strong emotional stimuli.  On Wilvarokan stations, they are surrounded by other Wilvaroks who can sense these changes and can immediately help them process them correctly.  You didn’t have that assistance, so your change became a full-fledged attack.  Luckily it was toward yourself.”

I burst into tears. “LUCKILY?!  You wanted me to die didn’t you?  To rid you of the mistake you made when you adopted a dirty bashakai like me!”  Her top left hand still gently on my shoulder, her bottom left came forward with untraceable speed and struck me across the face.  I said nothing, my tears ceased, and I could feel a trickle of blood running from my nose.  My mother had never struck me and I was mortified.  I could feel her anger.  What was going on?

“Sha’ayr, if I EVER hear you refer to yourself as a bashakai, I swear to stars I will declaw you and take a notch out of your horns, do I make myself clear?”  I nodded vigorously and apologetically.  “I said luckily because if you would have been experiencing any of the dark four, you could have killed any Tilverhan on Fortitude and no one would have known what happened, not even you, so it could have happened again and again.  I had hoped that I would be there to help console you when the change began, but I wasn’t.  So THAT is why you are lucky it was toward yourself.”

I was ashamed, amazed, and still confused.  “What are the dark four?”

“Emotion is broken down into four main groups; happiness and depression; love and hatred; courage and fear; hope and anxiety.  Each of these has a positive and a negative side, referred to respectively as ‘the light four’ and ‘the dark four’.  That is the dangerous weapon of the Wilvaroks.  Some Wilvaroks are drawn to light, some to dark, and some have a mix of both.  Up until recently, I had never seen any of the dark four in you, but for the past cycle I have been worried that perhaps your mind was evolving into maturity and with it came changes I could not help you with or explain.”

“Why are you just now telling me this?  If I had known about all of this I may have been more prepared when it happened.  Why would you keep this from me?”

“It is never spoken of before the maturity process; that is the way of the Wilvaroks.  It is thought, and occasionally proven by violations of this rule, that self-awareness of the potential dangers Wilvaroks possess before their mind has time to mature on its own can lead them to become power-hungry and malevolent and have much higher chances of evolving into the dark four.  Now, one of your dispositions, at least, is in the dark.  I need to know which one it is.”

“Anxiety.  It has to be.  I was very worried about…something before it happened.  I was having a panic attack and I became incapable of controlling my own thoughts.  My subconscious divided itself and angst started being driven into my head relentlessly.  That is when my vision blurred and I passed out.”

“Oh thank stars!  That is the best outcome I could have hoped for.  You are still the same loving, smiling, courageous, obsessive daughter I raised!”  We both started laughing.  “Well I suppose that is better than me being a hateful, mopey, compulsive brat!”  We both laughed jauntily for a bit before the seriousness of the situation caught up with us.  We acknowledged this realization with a deep sigh as I nodded to mom gesturing for her to continue.

“Where was I?  Ahh, yes, clairvoyance!”

“You have to be kidding me?  I am not psychic just because I hit puberty.  That is ridiculous.”

“No, of course not, the brain is too complex for true psychic abilities to exist in ANY species, even the Wilvaroks.  No, that is merely what the mental maturation process is called, and for good reason.  Brindel, the stunning young man who saved you, never once spoke his name to the doctor.  Or to me, or to anyone here.  He signed in as an X because he didn’t want to waste time filling out his information and did not know yours.  So you saw that on your own.”

“So let me see if I understand this.  I was a normal teenage girl, then my horns turned, my silk prismed, and all of the sudden I can read people’s minds?  What part of that makes any sense?  And I thought you said I wasn’t a mind reader.”

“You aren’t.  Well, you are in a sense, but not inclusively.”

“Mom, I am not an all-inclusive mind reader so you’re going to have to elaborate.”  She smirked at me shaking her head playfully.  “Alright smart mouth, you can read thoughts, but not processes.  Whenever you are about to speak or you are feeling a really strong emotion, you will say whatever you are about to say or whatever you are feeling aloud-within-your-head.  Wilvaroks are so in tune with their brains and other people’s brains they can latch on to this single thought stream and can feel what others are thinking.  It is theorized that all creatures have this ability but only the Wilvarokan mind is powerful enough to translate these feelings into actual words.  Hence why everybody gets uneasy feelings or premonitions from time to time.  It is just them retrieving these messages but being incapable of translation.”

I looked at her, puzzled.  “So, I am able of picking up one what people want to say or are about to say.  Interesting… but I don’t see how that led to me being in this condition.  Explain to me how I attacked myself.  How does pseudo-mind reading become a weapon anyways?”

“Well, that is actually a subset of development.  The dark four control your attack force. When you collapsed, did you notice any strange physical changes?”

“Yeah.  My horns turned black and my skin red, and my eyes were bled of color.  It was really frightening.”

“You went into Wilvarokan attack mode.”

“Now I have modes?  Clairvoyance and multiple settings?  I am not some sort of j’karn machine am I?”

“No dear, nothing like that.  Many Wilvaroks refer to this ‘mode’ as ‘the metamorphose’.  Think of it like this: when anyone gets mad, regardless of species, they have a rush of enzymes and hormones that make them stronger and more agile, right?  Well, that is their “attack mode”.  In mature Wilvaroks it is just much more intense and changes the way their mind works temporarily.  For a short time your mind__”

“My mind ceases to be mine.  It detaches from my body and works on its own.  It does whatever the stars it wants with no regard for me.  That is what happened, right?  I get it now.  My mind attacks the mind of others, it goes rogue and just starts breaking others apart psychologically.  No wonder Wilvaroks would become power hungry with this kind of information.  No wonder Tilverhani elders hate us.  We ARE dangerous, to others and ourselves.”

“Generally, yes, that is the gist of it.  However, there is one key detail you are off on.  See, the reason you lost complete control is the attack was focused inward.  Normally your mind stays completely in your control, you gain power of your subconscious, and it links with their subconscious.  At this point you can make a conscious decision to attack one of their light four emotions with an overabundance of dark emotion.”

“That’s awful.  You mean Wilvaroks fight other organic creatures with their mind?  They break them down so much that it kills them?”

“Eventually, yes it does.”

“Why didn’t the Tilverhans design robots to wipe us out then?  If we can only hurt organic creatures, it would have been in their best interest.”

“Well, it isn’t spoken of now but they did.  Apparently, when Wilvaroks go into attack mode they can link their subconscious to a machine’s attack module in its AI.  When this happens, they can take control of it and wreak havoc.  Granted, it is from what I have come to understand a different process and is more difficult for a Wilvarok to do, but the results are catastrophic.”  We were both silent for a good couple of minutes.  Finally, I had to break the tension.  “Wow.  I want to be mad, I want to be furious at the Tilverhans for trying to kill my entire species, but I cannot blame them.  Why has everyone been so nice to me here?  Well, most everyone.  No wonder some of the kids at school call me the sha’bashakai.  Wilvaroks are more of a threat to existence than any beast and any disease.  If we can virtually hack into the mind of any creature or machine, how did the Tilverhans prevent a hostile takeover?”

“Well, not all Wilvaroks are bad.  Many sided with the Tilverhans in political debates back on the forbidden planets.  As you know, Tilverhans and Wilvaroks can mate amongst one another, though since all Wilvaroks are female only Wilvarok children can be born from the mating ritual.  So, many Wilvaroks took Tilverhan husbands and wives and shared with the Tilverhans the secret to combating against the Wilvaroks.

See, even though it only dampens the attacks from the Wilvaroks, the countermeasure is simple: ignore your instincts to be drawn toward the dark four during combat and pick a light emotion and just think about something that invokes it as hard as you can.”

“Mom.  Not to be cynical or anything, but that seems like it would just delay the inevitable.”

“Well there is an interesting point I am getting to.  Wilvaroks can access the subconscious only during attack mode, so any conscious thoughts will not be detectable.  So they cannot tell which of the light four you are focusing on.  So when they try to attack your subconscious you have a one in four chance of picking the antithetical emotion they choose.  If you succeed in this, it delivers a powerful blow to their subconscious, causing them to suffer the agony they would have inflicted on you and temporarily breaking their mental connection, allowing you to attack.”

“But isn’t emotion more complicated than that?  How can you say that any feeling is just a part of one of these four categories?  Feelings and emotions are much more complex, right?”

“Yes and no.  Every feeling you have has a primary emotion and has other emotional influences as well.  The gamble is, if the emotion you fabricate to protect yourself isn’t strong enough in any of the light four, it will not effectively harm the Wilvarok, but can dampen the effects of their attack.  So, complex emotional focus can be a defensive action whereas pinpointed emotional focus can be offensive, leaving you mostly vulnerable.”

I lifted my hands and leaned over the bed slowly and carefully so I wouldn’t lose balance and fall and hugged my mother’s upper torso.  “Thank you for telling me all of this mom.  It is a lot to deal with and a lot to understand, but I think I get it all.  I assume my ability to process this and the relief of stress I have been feeling all cycle is a direct result of the clairvoyance?”  She smiled, tears filled her eyes, and her nictitating membrane slid across to wipe them away.  “I love you dear.”

“I love you too, mom.”

“Ventreus, the letter,” my father said as he re-entered the room, “we have to tell her.”  Dad came up to the bed with a piece of silk parchment in his hand.  The vent in the hospital room made the edges of the parchment dance lightly and carelessly in his hand.  I stared at the parchment, filled with a sense of peace knowing more about who I was.  As the parchment danced, the bottom corner turned up.  Suddenly, all tranquility was gone.  I could feel the colors shifting wildly in my eyes.  My heart began pounding.  I thought I was going to pass out again, but fought my headache and managed to open my mouth just enough to let out a scream, but my vocal cords seized up.  Breathily panting, I tried and tried but just could not make a noise.  My eyes were fixated on the parchment, my throat was dry, and my parents were screaming at me to try and discern what was wrong.  Their voices echoed in rapid waves, as if I were inside a pipe they were yelling into.  Finally I was able to utter one word:

“H.”

Thorns by Kevin Copenhaver is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.

Chapter II

 

I could feel my skin heating up and knew I had to suppress my natural instincts to let my subconscious take over.  I closed my eyes and thought of my night time walks, of my father letting me ride on his back as he glided through the free fields, the rich, oxygen-producing ecosystem maintained at the highest level of the station.  I remembered how I felt when my father punched one of the elders in the face for saying he was nothing but a glorified animal for letting me ride on his back.  Luckily the council had grown fond of me and sided with my dad on the issue.

A feeling of control came over me.  My color faded back to a pale red, my horns turned white again, and my eyes went back to their natural fiery orange.  “Honey! Are you alright?  What is the matter?!” My father exclaimed, relieved but still concerned for my fit.  “I am fine dad.  I was hoping I wouldn’t have to get you involved, but I guess it can no longer be avoided.  I have seen that insignia before.  Mom, hand me your multi-board.”  She handed me the well-polished, pitrinium-reinforced glass board and I pressed the button on the side, lining my eyes up with the laser module.

Data processing…………………………………………………

……………recognized, please state your name for verification.

“Sha’ayr Ellehar. ID code 5172. Wilvarok.”  …Voice Identification confirmed, welcome Sha’ayr.

     I quickly linked the multi-board to my personal console and opened the image I had taken.  “See? Right there.  I received a message with that symbol ten rotes ago.  That is why I have been so distant.  That is what triggered all this anxiety.  I don’t know who sent it or what they wanted, I just know they are Wilvarokan and dangerous.”  My mother put all four hands to her mouth, letting in a fast, whimpering breath.  “What did the message say sweetheart?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Honey, we are your parents.  You can tell us, we want to help, we want to find out what this is about.”  I glared at my mother and felt my eyes shifting.  I could see my reflection in the steel cabinet behind her.  My skin was red, horns black, and eyes solid white.  “I am already in enough danger with this message.  That is all you need to know.  I am NOT going to endanger my family too, do you understand?”  My mother flinched, backed into the corner, and sat down on her hind legs submissively.  “I’m sorry dear.  I won’t ask again, please just don’t look at me like that.”

It was a strange feeling.  When I went into this state of metamorphose, I did so with complete intention and felt an all-encompassing sense of attunement.  It wasn’t like when I attacked myself, I had control of my subconscious and it did not feel disengaged whatsoever.  The world slowed down around me and I could see people’s emotional core.  I could not translate, but I could sense their vulnerabilities, their fears, their weaknesses.  It resembled an infrared viewer, but instead of heat signatures it was picking up emotional vulnerabilities.  It was truly amazing.

Realizing the immediate ramifications of my actions, I quickly focused my energy on positive energy and returned to my normal state.  Seeing my mother I immediately felt awful.  “I am so sorry mom!  I was just trying to get my point across, I didn’t mean to scare you.”  Standing slowly, she approached the edge of the bed and resumed her position of the floor beside me, holding my hand.  My father said nothing and just laid the letter down on the bed.

Last drop, final breath

     Roots severed, new seeds can sprout

     It’s our time to grow

I let in a quivering breath, bit my lip, and forced back my tears.  “She certainly has an affinity for poetics.”   

Mom looked at me puzzled, but knew not to ask any questions.  “She said you would understand what it meant.”  Suddenly I realized the true, horrific implications of the situation.  My eyes opened wide, full of chaos and panic.  “She said?  You spoke to her?  Who is she?  What did she look like?  Is she here to kill me?  Oh stars! J’karn!  How did she even get here?”

“She has her own ship, a very unique and mysterious vessel.”  My father finally decided to join the conversation.  “I have never seen anything like it.  It had an altered drive core which manipulated space-time all around the vessel instead of just in front of it, making it impossible to get an accurate reading on its proximity or size until it comes into full view.  Being that the ship is solid black, it was at the docking station before we realized it was even there!  It moved so quietly, so smoothly.  The ship itself looked like a saucer with a large sphere in the center and huge sails protruding up from the top, down from the bottom, and wings slanting back.  It was massive!  I am assuming the sails were used to manipulate space-time, either that or they are purely aesthetic, or maybe they help steer in conjunction with the wings and thrusters…  I know not enough about ships to properly deduce their purpose and seeing as how this technology was unheard of before, how could I?  Ha-ha, I mean seriously, the amount of power needed just to distort space-time in front of a vessel is astronomical, yet less to distort it all ar__”

“Oh enough about the j’karn ship!”  My mother glared at him and reverted to the subjects at hand to subdue my concern.  “We don’t know what she looked like.  She wore a beautiful, extravagant shroud made entirely of prism silk.  It must have been worth at least fifty thousand Feryhns, if not more.  She has absolutely no interest in killing you and was very kind.  She handed us this parchment and told us to give it to you.  She said you would understand.  She spoke eloquently and never showed her face, all you could see were her glowing eyes.”

“What color were her eyes?”

“Well.  It’s hard to say.  The shroud made it hard to tell for sure, it was prism silk after all”

“What else did she say?”

“Nothing. Just to give you the parchment.”  I paused for a moment, took a few deep breaths and looked at my mother unconvinced.  “You seem to be taking this rather well.  Do you not find it the least bit strange that out of nowhere a Wilvarok with an undetectable ship made of unheard of technology, a priceless shroud, no identity, and a parchment WRITTEN IN BLOOD shows up out of the black to deliver a parchment to me, a basha…errr…orphan, on a small space station patrolling the forbidden planets?  How can she fly without government tags on her ship, without shipID software?  Why would she even be allowed to dock?  How are you guys NOT freaking out about this? What are you not telling me?”

“Honey, we are telling you everything.  She was given permission because she gave the council a peace offering.  Given the quality of her shroud, I am guessing it was a large amount of prism silk.  They would be fools not to let her board.  Just get some rest, you have had a long rotation and there is a lot you need to think about I am sure.  Just lie down, get some sleep, and if you want to talk more later we can.”

“How do you know she doesn’t want to kill me?  No parent would dismiss such a claim without absolute assurance.  If she didn’t say anything else to you, how could you possibly discern that she really does not want me dead?”  My mother looked frustrated but was thinking about other things to cloud her mind so I couldn’t pick up on anything significant.  “She…I just do.  Get some rest.”

I don’t remember falling asleep, but I must have drifted off while trying to process everything I had heard.  I kept thinking about the last line in this stranger’s haiku.  It’s our time to grow.  Who was she?  Did she mean her and me when she said “our” or did she mean an entire group of people I don’t know about?  And what is this growth she spoke of?  It seems too convenient that she sent these messages during the process of me achieving my clairvoyance.  All that was clear is that she knew something about me and about my past that I needed to know.

I leaned up and sat at the edge of the hospital gurney, my legs dangling far from the edge of the T-shaped bed.      My body could only take up a small portion of the large beds, designed to accommodate an adult Tilverhan.  They didn’t really have much to cater to a Wilvarok in the hospital.  It was intriguing to see all of the medical instruments used on Tilverhans.  I had never really thought about just how accepting Fortitude had been allowing me to grow up here.  They always made me feel so welcome that it never occurred to me, but looking around this room I saw the numerous T-shaped gurneys, beds with eight tie down straps, and instruments I could not even comprehend using.

I decided I wanted to go home and called for the doctor.  “Sha’ayr, is everything alright?  You look more lively than yesterote, your complexion has returned to normal.  Let me check your vitals……okay, good.  You seem to be much, much better.”  I squeezed my arms around the doctor’s neck and smiled.  “Thank you so much for everything.  Your patience, your kindness, and your help.  You have my gratitude.”  He chuckled and patted me on the back.  “Well, it is my job.  Speaking of which, I have agreed to waive all charges for your treatment on one condition that your parents said I would have to discuss with you.”  I let go of his neck and looked at him disgustedly.  “What. Condition.”  He laughed robustly and patted my back playfully, though a bit harder than I think he meant.  “No, no nothing like that girl.  Goodness, I am not THAT depraved!  After seeing that beautiful prism silk shroud worn by the mysterious Wilvarok that came by your room I decided I knew just what to get my wife for our anniversary.  I could never afford a garment of such intricacy, but perhaps you could make my wife a bandana to hold her hair back of prism silk?  There is no pressure if that is an unreasonable request though, just a thought!  It isn’t…offensive to ask a Wilvarok for garments made of their silk is it?”

I put my hands on the edge of the bed and sprung myself forward chirpily and patted the doctor on his side.  “I would be honored to present you with a garment for your wife.  How long have you been married and what is her name?”

“Oh, thank you Sha’ayr, her name is Lyvonne and in two cycles we will have been together for ten full turns.”

“Alright, I will use my plain silks for the embroidery and prism silk for the bandana.  How about this:

For my dear Lyvonne. 

A blink of the eye to love

Ten turns gone too fast

“Perfect!  Well, you are free to go whenever you please.  Oh, by the way, it is night time.  I stayed to make sure someone was here when you woke up.  Would you like a ride back home?”  I looked down at my feet and fanned my toes back and forth for a few seconds smiling impishly, then looked up at the doctor with my eyes, still facing the floor.  “No thanks doc, I appreciate the offer, but I really need a walk after these few rotations.”  He laughed, shook his head, smiled, and bid me farewell.

As soon as I felt sure I was out of the doctor’s line of sight, I spread my toes and pressed my webs into the floor firmly.  It felt wonderful to be walking again.  I looked up toward the free fields, let my eyes shut, and walked serenely through the halls.  I honestly felt at peace with everything that had happened, even the strange haikus.  I know my parents were keeping something from me, and it was still disconcerting, but I decided it best not to dwell on it.  Whatever is happening, whatever is going to play out, I can sleep easily knowing it will reveal itself to me in due time.  There is nothing I can do to stop it and nothing I can do to change it, I just have to be patient and my health cannot endure me being anxious about what the future has in store for me.  I will just have to wait and see.

The hospital was about an hour and a half walk from our chambers, so I had plenty of time to enjoy myself.  I felt my happiness returning, the weight of all these problems being lifted.  I couldn’t explain it.  It was all too serious to just let go, but my subconscious decided otherwise.  I started dancing through the halls, carelessly running my toes softly across the pitrinium floors in half circle sweeps, bounding, pirouetting, and humming a tune quietly.

“Hey nice moves!” I heard a familiar voice exclaim.  Startled and embarrassed I stumbled to walk forward again, nearly falling backwards.  “Brindel!  What are you doing out here.”  He swooped down from one of the upper levels and landed in front of me.  “Oh you know, this and that.  You know, since I saved your life ‘n’ all I think that earns me, like, three wishes or something right?”  I rolled my eyes and smiled.  “I’m a Wilvarok Brindel, not a genie.  Since when are you so playful anyways?  Last I saw you, you were all stone-faced and stiff scaled.  What happened to that?”

“I was nervous and worried about you and rightly freaked out all at the same time!  You were reading my mind!  That kind of stuff isn’t okay.  Your parents talked to me while you were asleep and explained the whole Wilvarok clairvoyance thing.  That is a pretty neat j’karn trick!  Shame it is so limited though, you can’t even blow stuff up with your mind.”  I just laughed, unable to decide what to even say to this knight in jester’s armor.

“So yeah, about those three wishes.  That is fair right?”  I put my hands behind my back and leaned against the wall beside me.  I had never really had any of the boys in my classes flirt back with me.  I mean, I always figured to most Tilverhans I wasn’t particularly attractive, being an entirely different species and all.  I had tried to flirt on more than one occasion in the past, but gave up on it a few turns ago when it was obviously not going anywhere.  It was nice to be getting some attention for once, and from someone so smarmily charming.  I loved a good sense of humor.

“Tell yah what, oh brave knight.  Since I am not a genie, I cannot grant you ANY wishes, but I will grant you three questions instead.  Anything you want to know about me, I will answer with utmost honesty.  The only condition is you have to use all three questions right now.”  He put two hands on his hips, stroked his chin with one, and scratched his head with the last.  I was a little taken back by his pensive stance.  I assumed he would just ask three silly questions and be done with his little joke, but he was really putting a lot of thought into this.  I stood quietly for about a minute.

“Okay.  I got it.”  He clapped his top two hands together in front of him.  “First question:  What is it like to sleep on your back?”  I raised one eyelid and looked at him inquisitively.  “You have free range to ask me any three questions and want to know what it is like to sleep on my back?”

“Well yeah!  Tilverhans can’t exactly sleep on our backs, yah know.  Our middle vertebrae doesn’t allow for us to bend in a way where we can actually lay on our backs.  It is either left side or right side when we go to bed.  I mean, we COULD lay on our stomachs, but that isn’t really comfortable, and when you were laying on that hospital bed I had my serious concerned face on because I was worried, but in the back of my head I was just saying ‘that is SO COOL! I wonder what it would be like to sleep on your back?!”

“You know Brindel, I had never really thought about that.  I guess that is something you never get to experience.  Well, I don’t really know how to describe what it is like, but my favorite thing about it is probably that both my ears are off my pillow, so I can hear music and sounds easily.  Makes it easier to be alert.  Also, it is nice to be able to sit up without having to get out of bed.  It also gives me this sense of balance I can’t achieve laying on my side.  Pressure is equally distributed across my entire body symmetrically, and it just feels nice.  You know, I had never really put that much thought into it before you asked.”

“Oh wow, that is amazing!  Such an awesome answer too.  J’karn I am jealous, I want to sleep on MY back.  Maybe if I fell asleep on like, a pyramid or something!”  I burst out laughing.  I couldn’t help it, just the image of this huge, muscular Tilverhan sprawled out on top of a pyramid with his arms flopped around in all directions and his legs sticking straight in the air.  “Do you have any idea how ridiculous you would look Brindel?  Come on, be serious now!”

“Hahaha, yeah I guess I would look kinda silly.”

“Yeah maybe a little.  One down, two to go.”  He looked at me and smiled menacingly.  “So, you said you had to answer with utmost honesty right?”  I returned his gaze of mischief.  “Yep.  Two down, one to go.”

“Oh, come ON Sha’ayr, that isn’t fair!  No way, that doesn’t count.  J’karn!”

“It sure does. Last question Brindel.”  He huffed and crossed all four arms in front of him.  “Fine, fine.  You got me on that one.  Last question then.  Do you think I am cute?”  I turned my head away, blushing.  “Oh come on Sha’ayr, don’t go getting all white-faced on me, you can be honest you won’t hurt my feelings.”

“I…I.”  I couldn’t even say anything.  I had never actually told anyone I was interested in them.  I didn’t want them to think I was weird.  I mean, I had heard stories of Wilvaroks and Tilverhans falling in love and dating and whatnot, but that was during pre-migration.  This is a different time with actual walls between the species, not just arbitrary divides.  Truth was though, I did think he was cute.  Really cute, actually.  I had never seen a Tilverhan with such a dark shade of green.  Also, I do believe he is the only Tilverhan I have seen with a brindle pattern on his skin. The beautiful mix of light and dark purple really draws the eye.  I couldn’t resist.

“Very much so,” I finally said under my breath.  He grinned at me showing all his knife-like teeth.  “Well, I think you are pretty sweet too.  If you would be so kind as to indulge me, I would like to propose a compromise.”  Curiously, I looked deep into his eyes for a few moments then nodded.  “Well, you kind of tricked me out of a question, so I will give you a ride home in exchange for my question back.  But you have to let me wait until you get home for me to ask.  Deal?”  I pushed myself off the wall slowly, walked up to him, and shook one of his hands with a smile.  “Deal.”

He spread his wings slightly so I could climb them and sit on his back.  He then folded them back in around my legs to hold me in place and began galloping down the hall.  The breeze felt nice after being stuck in that bed for the past few rotations and even now it still amazed me just how fast Tilverhans can run.  I wrapped my arms around his upper torso and laid my head against his upper back and leaned my body off to one side to see the world in front of me, flying by so quickly.

He ran for what seemed to only be a minute and came to a slow trot, then stopped in front of my chambers.  “Well this is your stop.  Thanks for talking to me, I had a lot of fun Sha’ayr.”  He unfolded his wings and I used one as a slide to reach the floor.  “Me too Brindel.  I needed some fun in my life this cycle.  Thanks for keeping my mind off everything that has been going on.”  He lay down on the ground so he could hug me.  Even still he had to hold his bottom hands out for me to stand on just so I could wrap my arms around his neck.  I held him a bit too long for it to come across as just a friendly hug.  It wasn’t intentional, it just felt nice to be held for once.  As he loosened his grip, I kissed him on the cheek before he lowered me back to the ground.  I looked into his eyes for a moment, smiled, and turned to walk inside.

“So, uh, Sha’ayr.  About that question.”  I kept walking without turning around.  “You can pick me up here tomorrow night, two hours before the synthesized light-rotation ends.  You can pick where we go.”  He laughed and galloped away gleefully.

“Sha’ayr!  I am so glad you made it home.  Did I hear you talking to someone outside?  Oh.  Ohhh wow, you are absolutely glowing and your eyes are flashing blue, it was a boy wasn’t it?”  I smiled at my mom and hugged her.  “You know, what’s the fun of being clairvoyant if you can just look at my eyes and do the same thing to me?  Anyways, I agreed to your ‘arrangement’ with the doctor.”  My mom sat me down on my chair and raised her eyes at me.  “Ahh yes, the bandana.  Nice evasion, but I do believe I asked about a certain boy that obviously has caught your fancy.  So, who was it?  Anyone I know?  And what the stars are they doing out so late?!”  I swayed back and forth in my chair a little, looking toward my mother but vacantly passed her, recollecting the thoughts of the night.  “Brindel was out playing again, I think he likes to glide around the top levels and can’t do so with all the hustle and bustle during the light-rotation.  We talked for a bit and he gave me a ride home.”  She smiled at me debasingly and brushed the back of her hand across my face.  “Oh honey, please don’t get your hopes up too much.  Tilverhans don’t date Wilvaroks anymore.  I know that is hard for you, but remember how hurt you were when Raschall turned you down a few turns ago?  I remember.  I also remember having to explain to his parents why I broke four of his fingers.”

“I STILL think you overreacted.  All he did was call me a_”

“I know what he called you, and he may call you that behind your back, but I will clip his j’karn wings if he ever calls you that again to my face.  Anyway, I just don’t want to see you get your hopes up and get hurt again.”  I jumped up out of my chair, and looked to the ground, pretending to be disheartened.  “Oh, honey, I am sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”  I sniffled a little for show.  “Oh, I know mother, I just… I just wish I could live a normal life.  You know?  Of course n_” I couldn’t contain myself anymore and started laughing.  My mother looked at me, confused and bewildered.  “We are going out tomorrow night!”

The rest of the night I finally got to have the girl time boy talk with mom I had always wanted to have.  She told me lavishly inappropriate stories of her when she was my age, of times her heart was broken, of her ridiculous infatuation with the “love of her life” who she now barely remembers what he looks like, and about meeting my father twenty turns ago.  After a few hours of talking she began yawning and her eyelids were beginning to close.  “I need to go to bed honey, I am so happy for you.  Such a sexy boy too with that brindle skin.  I have never seen that in a Tilverhan either!  You should get some sleep too you know.”  I casually shook my head.  “No thanks, I pretty much just woke up and am still in hormone overdrive.  The edges of my irises are STILL blue.”  I looked at mom and we smiled at one another, then our smiles faded into worry simultaneously.  “Hey mom, can I ask you a question before you go to bed?”

“One more question honey, then I have to go.  I haven’t slept since you went to the hospital.”

“The Wilvarok that came.  Why didn’t you tell me she came to the hospital?  I don’t think the doctor meant to say anything, but when he asked me to make his bandana he said ‘After seeing that beautiful prism silk shroud worn by the mysterious Wilvarok that came by your room’.  Why did she come to see me in the hospital?”  My mom took a deep breath and swallowed hard, but a few tears still escaped her eyes.  She stood quietly for a moment, exhaled a long sigh, and reluctantly replied, “I promise we can talk about it in the morning, but I am far too tired to discuss this tonight.  Try to sleep if you can.  I know you aren’t tired but you have had a bit of a hectic cycle.”  She walked in her room and shut the door.

I went to my room and lay down on my back.  My mind was erratic.  Between all the good things happening, all the strange events, and all the ominous messages and implications, I really didn’t know how I was supposed to feel.  My brain was stressed.  I was happy in general, but still worried and could not shake whatever it was that made mom cry.  What could it be that is so hard for her to talk to me about?  I don’t understand.  Hopefully tomorrow it would be made clear though.

I didn’t sleep all night, I just thought about everything going on.  When I heard stirring in the living quarters, I went to see if it was mom.  “Hey honey, your mom will be out in a bit.  I am heading off to work.  She said she needed to talk to you about stuff.  Hop a ride up to the pipes if you need me.”  Dad patted my shoulder gently and left.

A few moments later mom came out of the bedroom and lay down on the mat facing my chair.  I sat down and looked at her.  We both had the same solemn, distressed look on our faces.  “Her name is Vea’ayr.  She has been looking for you for quite some time.  She came to make sure you were alive and doing well, that is how I know she isn’t going to hurt you in any way.  She loves you.”  I was floored.  “So is she my birth mother?  Is that what the ayr in my name is, a last name in Wilvarokan?”

“Not exactly…”  Her face soured and she hesitated to utter her next sentence.  “It means ‘ill-born’ in the old languages.  Sha means first and Vea means second.  It’s… It is a way of naming unnamed children.”  I could feel my eyes shifting to white and quickly pushed back my urge to undergo metamorphosis.  I had suspected that I was never wanted, but to think that the entirety of my existence I have been living without even having a name.  I could feel a pit hardening in my stomach.  “How can I have no name?  Everyone has a name, every Wilvarok and Tilverhan that has lived.  Was I really less than nothing to the Wilvaroks?  Why?”

“I don’t know the answers to that, but that doesn’t matter.  You are everything to your father and me.  As for the name given, it was given to you for a reason.  Most of the time they just abandon unwanted children and shun them, leaving them to die or find a way to survive on their own; no name at all, no existence, just abandonment.  You were named because you were feared.  You are an anomaly.  Your parents didn’t die, your parent died.  A Wilvarok scientist—your birth mother—found a way to self-replicate and create a child with each horn.  To do so, she had to kill herself.  Before doing so she had genetically enhanced her blood with every living creature she could find. The theory was that your strengths would be amplified drastically and from what we have seen it worked, at least in a sense.  That is why your attack on yourself was so bad and why I cowered when you morphed at the hospital.  Your mental abilities are apparently well above that of any average Wilvarok.  That is what Vea’ayr was checking when she was here.  She told us to protect you and thanked us for keeping you safe.  We told her she was welcome to come visit anytime, but she said she had to be alone for now.”

I began sobbing and continued for quite some time.  My mother approached me and tried to console me, but to little avail.  I pushed her away and she returned to her mat knowing I needed my space.  This was just too much.  Everything else I could handle, but now to find out how horrible the Wilvaroks actually are?  Abandoning children at birth because they are unwanted?  How could that possibly be allowed be the Galactic Enforcement Council?  I could not even fathom a justification for such an act!  Wilvaroks are dangerous, sick, and obviously pure evil.  Never before had I been ashamed of what I was, but never before had I truly understood.

After about twenty minutes I quit crying enough to stutter a question.  “M-mom.  H-how can I find Vea’ayr?  I need t-to see her and talk to her.  I need answers.”  She wrapped her arms around me and rubbed my back, resting my head on her shoulder.  “She said it will be soon, don’t worry.  She said ‘tell her that on the eighteenth turn a decision must be made. I will explain then.’  I smiled a little.  “Is that all she said?  Be honest this time mom.”

“No, she also wanted me to give you this letter after I explained everything.  She sealed it and wrote it on her own silks.  She said ‘make sure she opens it alone, I have been wanting to give this to her for the past five turns, when I found out the truth about us.  Tell her she can read it when she is ready, just be sure it is before her eighteenth turnrote.’  It is enhanced with some form of technology where the letters will only appear when a drop of your blood is applied to the seal.”

I took the letter, put it in my pocket, and looked at mom with disappointment.  “If all this was so important to tell me, why did you lie to me about it?  Why didn’t you just tell me upfront about everything going on?  I deserve that.”  She looked down, ashamed, then held my hands between the four of hers and looked me in the eyes.  Her eyes misted up as she spoke.  “I just don’t want to lose you Sha’ayr.”  She hugged me tight and I could feel her tears on my back.  “You won’t lose me, mom don’t worry.”

She hugged me tighter, but I pushed her away forcibly.  I realized my look of shock before she saw it and quickly put on an ashamed face.  “What is wrong dear?” she said in a calming voice.  “I just need to process all this, that’s all.  It is still just too much for me.  I really need my space mom, sorry.”  She leaned forward to pat me on the shoulder and I flinched and pulled away so she stopped mid movement and walked to the door.  “I will be back later, get some rest.”

As she left, I immediately went to my room and locked the door.  Vea’ayr needed to come sooner.  She needed to answer these questions and let me know what was going on with my mind.  When I was walking inside after my ride home, Brindel was thinking “Would you go on a date with me?” which I heard airily spoken in my mind.  After answering, in an even more resonant voice, I heard him think “I have been watching your walks for many cycles, trying to find my courage.  You won’t be like her, right?”  Somehow my brain was able to process subconscious and conscious thought during times when I am experiencing severe emotional turmoil or bliss.  That must be part of what Vea’ayr spoke of, part of this enhanced strength.

I thought back to that final moment before mom left and tears filled my fearful eyes.  I sat up on the bed with my knees against my chest and my arms wrapped snugly around them, staring mortified at the door as that final thought ran through my head, still barely able to believe it.  After she had said she didn’t want to lose me and I told her she wouldn’t, I heard her subconscious voice, ethereal and sinister:

 

“I wouldn’t be so sure, you filthy bashakai.”

Thorns by Kevin Copenhaver is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.

Chapter III

 

Dear Sha’ayr,          

I had hoped to hand this letter to you myself, but circumstance got in the way.  I wove this parchment myself and encoded it so the words would only appear to someone who shares my genetic make-up.  You aren’t safe.  I cannot say who for I do not yet know, but someone is trying to kill us both.  I came to make sure you were alive.  I wish I could have come sooner, I really do, but it took me so long to find you.  I have to wait until you have reached your eighteenth turn to see you again.  I am going to ask you to come with me when I do.  The details as to why cannot be explained through a simple letter so I will have to tell you in person when I return on your turnrote.  All I can tell you is you will have to make an important decision other than coming with me.  That, too, will be discussed further in person.

     I know you have some questions, but I cannot help you with all of them yet.  Know this: Wilvaroks are not as evil as your ‘mother’ is making them sound.  Yes, in our culture children are abandoned, but it is at force of our governmental system and is based on a high chance of them becoming traitors.  There are two tyrannical political groups feuding for power in the Wilvarokan star systems and anyone born of parents who support opposing groups are taken by Galactic Enforcement Council Officers.  The officers are bound by lifelink against killing innocents, but that doesn’t stop them from leaving them to die on their own.  Please do not think it is an action we all support. 

     My ship which your father was so infatuated with is a design I created.  Where you were born with the capability of supreme clairvoyance, I was gifted with supreme intelligence.  The design is too dangerous to ever share with anybody of government, so I destroyed the plans after it was created.  I named her “Veasha”.

     The blood used to write the first two messages was Wilvarokan blood and was shed by my own blade.  Our mother was not the first to experiment with the creation of an evolutionarily advanced child.  Her mother had tried similar projects and had given birth to eight children.  Six of the eight were killed by her own hands after birth because they were ‘failed experiments’ but the seventh and eighth seemed to have promise.  Our mother was not a bad person, she was just determined.  When she reached clairvoyance, her emotional disposition was true light.  She had no dark emotional tendencies whatsoever.  In fact, she was not even capable of going through metamorphosis voluntarily.  Realizing she was an abomination, she killed herself to give birth to us. 

     Her sister had the opposite experience.  With nothing but darkness fueling her, once she had her metamorphose she never returned to a relaxed state.  Her skin turned as black as space itself and her eyes glowed red.  She had the same capabilities you had, but spent many turns toning her abilities to something beyond anything I could imagine.  She spent these turns in hiding and planned to overthrow the GEC itself.  Her blood composed the messages.

      I am sure you are wondering how I found you, how I know all of this, and why I want you to come with me, but all of that will have to be discussed in person.  The only details I can tell you about the information I received is this: do not trust your ‘mother’.  You may have already caught a glimpse of her subconscious, but it may take a long time for those abilities to come to full culmination.  Her name appeared numerous times in my research and none of it was good.  She isn’t to be trusted, but she knows I will destroy your entire station if any harm comes to you.  Just do not trust her with ANY information.

     I did a little research on some of the other Tilverhans there at 000402 and found nothing negative.  Your father checks out to be a good person, please do not tell him any of this though.  He will endanger you by telling your ‘mother’ and I cannot allow that.  The Tilverhan who found you has been following you.  I could sense it when we met.  He did not seem alarming, probably just fascinated by you, but do be careful. 

I gave your father a beautiful and rare necklace made of crystalized prism silk.  When a Wilvarok dies, their silk gland turns to a solid stone, petrifying any silk inside.  When I severed the last root binding us to our past, she happened to be prisming at the time.  I carved the stone into a pair horns and encoded a tracking device into it.  Ask your father for it.  I told him it was a turnrote gift for you, but if you ask him now I know he will give it to you.

My time at your station is nearing its end.  They only allowed me five hours dock time, and I still need to go back by your chambers to drop this letter off.  Please be careful Sha’ayr.  I know you have not met me, but know I love you and I will, if you allow me, protect you.  Strange to think that you are almost eighteen turns old and are just now finding out you have a sister, and a twin at that!  I will see you soon, try to put all of this out of your mind and enjoy yourself.  I promise you that you will be safe once you get that necklace from your father.  It has…other surprises as well.  Once you do, do NOT take it off for any reason.  Not even sleep.

Love,

Vea’ayr

As I read the last words of her letter, I slowly pressed the silk against my chest and smiled contently.  Even with everything that has happened, is happening, and is inevitably about to unfold, I felt a tranquility overcome me.  I had a sister who loved me and cared about me.  I had discovered something inside me I did not know existed, a dormant well of emotion I had never felt; a biological bond that surpassed in intensity any contrived or developed feelings.  I closed my eyes, took a few deep breaths, and absorbed the true fervor of the moment.

As I exhaled a conclusive breath and opened my eyes, I immediately realized the importance of the final statement in Vea’ayr’s letter: I had to get that necklace.  A new and well warranted fear of my mother took a strong hold of me, but I decided to fight through it and put my trust in Vea’ayr that upon getting my necklace I would be safe.  I could feel my throat drying up from the anxiety and swallowed hard hoping to force my worries to the pit of my stomach where they would stay.  It helped, but I knew it would not last long.  I went to the sink, splashed some water into my face, and cupped my hands taking a long drink from my webs.

It took all the willpower I had to step outside the door of our chambers, not knowing what to expect on the other side.   Though Fortitude was the same station it had always been, it seemed as though overnight it had been transformed into an alien station.  If my own mother was not who she seemed to be, what of everyone else?  Brindel, my father, and the elders were the only ones I felt I could trust: the elders because they had always been up front about their disdain for my kind, my father because he truly did love me and I loved him, and Brindel because, well, honestly I do not know why.  I just had this feeling in me that he could be trusted, and I rarely ignore my intuition.

As I took a look around, it was clearly midlight.  Tilverhans galloped at full speed down the ground level halls, leaped quickly into the air, latching onto the jump pads on the walls and rocketing themselves to the upper levels.  I always had to move carefully as to not get trampled.  Though the Tilverhans had become accustomed to my presence it was still hard to avoid stepping on something half your size when you were in such a hurry.

Over the turns I had found that if I hold up my hand and whistle then loudly declare my destination a friendly Tilverhan would pick me up, place me on his or her back, and take me there promptly.  I only used this to get to the upper levels since I was incapable of jumping more than a few hands from the ground.  I stepped out to the center of the passageway and extended my hand.  Letting out a surprisingly audible and shrill whistle, I shouted “The Upper Pipes!” and soon a strong, familiar hand whisked me up and onto his back.

“Going to see your dad, I presume?”  I could feel myself blushing white.  “Hey Brindel.  Don’t you have, I don’t know, classes or responsibilities or work or something you have to attend to?  Surely the council doesn’t allow you to just follow around alien girls all rotation long, right?”  He leapt forcefully from the ground, a good fifty hands into the air, gripped a jump pad, and sprang off again and continued in such a manner until, in mere moments, we were at the upper pipes.

His upper hands reached over his back and grabbed a hold of my waist.  He stood me abruptly in front of him and had a surprisingly serious but friendly look on his face.  “Sha’ayr, I am actually not at liberty to discuss my affairs in the company of others, but if you would like to talk about it tonight, I know a place we can chat.”  I do not know if it is an adapted trait from being around my father with his scientific affinity or if it is an innate Wilvarokan trait, but my curiosity will overcome my good sense and better judgment every time.  I smiled giddily and shouted “That sounds perfect!”  Realizing I was acting the part of an enamored schoolgirl, I quickly pulled back my excitement and put on a languid expression.  Brindel laughed and went back to his fool-hearty, smarmy persona.

“I actually do not have anything else to do right now, with my carefree lifestyle of alien-stalking and foolish behavior so, um, do you want me to take you the rest of the way to where your dad is working?  It is really no trouble at all and a twenty second glide for me, a ten minute walk for you, assuming you know what section he is in.  If not, I understand, just thought you might want to save the trouble.”

“Sounds great Brindel,” I said with a smile returning to my face.  I honestly was not trying to save the trouble.  In fact, normally I would never give up the chance to curl my toes around the cold steel pipes, vibrating softly with the rush of water flowing through.  Oddly enough though, I enjoyed the sensation of Brindel’s soft but leathery wings wrapped warmly over my legs even more so than the feel of cold pipes.  As he lifted me up and placed me on his back, my smile faded as a thought crossed my mind: I sure hope my draw to him isn’t clouding my instincts.  True, he saved my life, but he was only able to do so because he was following me… What am I getting myself in to?

Almost as quickly as my worries took hold of me, their grip released as I felt the wind slice through the thin silk of my headdress and rush across my horns.  Suddenly I felt his bottom arms wrap around me, one in front and one behind, grabbing the other lower elbow in each hand to form a sort of harness around my body.  His upper hands then reached back and grabbed the respective upper elbows of the lower arms.  I had never really thought about how astounding this level of flexibility was until now.  “Grab my arms Sha’ayr!”  He spoke with authority, much like a parent telling you to strap in when a shuttle takes off.  I listened astutely and grabbed a tight hold of his arms.

With a powerful leap higher than any Tilverhan had taken me, he propelled himself at least seventy hands into the air.  A loud, feral grunt exhibited just how straining such a feat was.  I felt a slight tinge of panic as I felt his wings lift from my legs, but squeezed down with my feet and hands and remembered his arms were securing me to his back.  He soared with astonishing speed to a spot in the middle of the pipe works and hooked his back talons around one of the larger pipes, stopping us abruptly.

His top hands released his bottom arms and he grabbed my waist, simultaneously loosening his bottom arms and lifting me over his head to set me in front of him.  He bowed and waved his hand in a satirical, knightly gesture.  “Milady!”  I couldn’t help but burst into laughter.  “Brindel my man, I take it you exercised extreme caution whilst gliding my daughter over here in such a manner?  I know you are one of the toughest Tilverhans on Fortitude, but I would hate to have to show you just how wet you are behind the wings on a battlefield.”  Brindel’s stature quickly went from jest to a pose of fear and respect I never thought him capable of and had never seen toward my father.  “Sir, yes sir.  I shall stand on the platform and await your signal.  Upon your command I will return your daughter to the ground level, safety uncompromised.  My sincere apologies if I have offended or demeaned you or your daughter in any way sir.”  I looked at my father, somewhat bewildered, and awaited a response.  “At ease Brindel, you have done nothing wrong.  I appreciate the services you have done for me and my daughter and commend you in your continued efforts to protect.  That will be all for now, kindly retire to your previously stated post, I need a word in private with my daughter.”  Brindel bowed his head to my father, smiled at me sheepishly, and leapt somewhere entirely out of sight.

A little disconcerted, I looked at my father.  “Um, dad?  What exactly was that about?”  His surprising professionalism faded back to his usual playfulness.  “Your old man pulls rank around here.  Those younger ones respect me ‘cause they know I am a force to be reckoned with when I have a whip and a couple of swords.  What brings you up here anyways, is something wrong?”  I could tell he didn’t really want to discuss what actually just happened and was doing a good job of hiding his emotions because I couldn’t sense a thing from him.  “Well, Vea’ayr said she made me a beautiful necklace for my turnrote and told me I should ask for it early.  She said you had it.”  He exhaled in a relieved sigh and hugged me.  “Is that all flower, you had me worried.”

As my father let out a complex and shrill pattern of whistles, Brindel reappeared and knelt.  “How may I be of service, sir?”  My father smacked Brindel on the back jovially and with a hearty laugh exclaimed, “Enough with the formalities Brindel.  The necklace I left with you for safekeeping, I trust you still have it?”  Brindel reached his hand under his wing and pulled out the most beautiful piece of jewelry I had ever seen.  My father smiled and nodded to him approvingly.  “If you would please do the honors.”  I turned my back to Brindel and waited.  His upper hands softly brushed the nape of my neck as he pulled the back of my headdress up and his lower hands slowly and carefully draped the short chain over my collar bones and clasped the necklace in place.  I exhaled a heavy breath with a satisfied smile on my face, then remembered whose company I was in and quickly adjusted my expression accordingly.

“Very good.  If that is all I will have Brindel take you to the ground level again.” I nodded to father, he nodded to Brindel, and before I could even say goodbye I was standing on the ground level again.  “See you tonight Sha’ayr.  Now that you have your necklace on I must attend to other duties.”  My curiosity was uncontainable.  “Brindel, what is going on?”  He sighed, searched for the right words, and carefully said, “Listen, all I can tell you right now is this: I know just how important that necklace is to you.”  He looked deep into my eyes and I could tell he was trying to get me to read him.  I also know even more than you about what it does.  We will discuss it tonight.  I gave him a single nod, acknowledging that I had received his message, and turned to walk away.

Oddly enough, just wearing the necklace made me feel completely at ease with the entire situation.  I had assumed I would need to convince myself to trust Vea’ayr and that any safe feeling would be a convincing façade at best, but I truly did feel safe with the necklace on.  It felt like she was here with me, protecting me in person.

The necklace was spectacular to behold.  The stone was a very glossy swirl of every imaginable color, none of which seemed to blend or mix in an aesthetically displeasing fashion.  The chain was a shiny, silver pitrinium alloy, thin-knitted with another even thinner chain wrapping around it like a vine up a tree trunk.  In the middle of the horns was a small red stone, held by the middle of the horns to form an H, almost mirroring the insignia Vea’ayr used.  I assumed the red stone is what held the tracking device linked to her, but what other mysteries did the necklace hold?  What else could a necklace, even one as beautiful as this, really do?  Why did father give it to Brindel instead of keeping it himself?  I had to get to my classes, so I figured between that and working on my knitting I could keep myself occupied until tonight when my questions could be answered.  Besides, I was starting to prism and needed to make that bandana for the Doctor, so I shouldn’t waste any time on getting started.

When I arrived at class I sat in my assigned seat, got out my multi-board, and loaded our study books along with my homework.  As soon as everything was prepared on my screen I pulled the knitting needles from my headdress and began knitting the bandana.  Normally they did not allow me to knit during class time, but when I was prisming they allowed it.  Otherwise I would suffer a severe deficit in my and my family’s income.  As I knitted I paid little attention to what the teacher was saying and thought instead about how excited I was to be going out with Brindel tonight.

I wonder where he is going to take me.  There are quite a few nice restaurants on the mid-levels, but I did not think that allowed for the seclusion necessary to tell me the distinct secrets of his work and school schedule, or rather lack thereof.  Actually, the more I thought about it the more I realized that there was not a single place on the station where complete privacy is possible.  Not that I knew of anyway.  I guess I would have to wait and find out exactly what his plans are.

“Sha’ayr, what did you get for number thirty two?”  I looked down at my multi-board and replied, “I got 78.12 with a margin of error of .04 ma’am.”  The teacher nodded and smiled, winking at me over the top frame of her eye monitor.  “Very good as always Sha’ayr.  As you can see if you take the number of trial runs here…” her voice droned off into the background and I continued my thoughts of what my night could bring.

“Class is over young Tilverhans.  Please remember to upload your homework to the primary grading console.  Upon doing so, your assignments for tomorrow will be in your multi-board.  Failure to do so will result in immediate disciplinary action and a message transmitted to your parents.  Enjoy the rest of the light and have a good night.”

I stepped up to the console. “Sha’ayr, assignment upload.”  I held my multi-board up to the console.  A few beeps later a loud chime occurred and my grades appeared on my multi-board. “100% on all assignments.  Well met.”  I smiled with a feeling of accomplishment.  As of right now I was at the head of the class in every subject and in many cases, especially science and math, knew even more than my teachers.  It felt good to know my intelligence surpassed that of my peers, not due to narcissism, but rather because the ability to help anyone and everyone with their classwork helped ease the difficulty of fitting in in an alien environment.

I had a nervous knot tie up in my stomach as I thought about my arrival at my chambers.  It had only just then occurred to me that my mother would be home.  It felt strange not to trust her now after so many turns of unconditional love and loyalty.  It was actually painful to think that these past seventeen turns had been a lie to her.  I took my shaky hand and grasped the pendant of my necklace firmly, reflected on the words of Vea’ayr’s letter, took a deep breath, and felt my angst wash away.

I stood at the door going to the chambers for a moment and gathered myself.  This is no big deal, just go inside and act normal.  Nothing has changed, nothing is different.  As long as you do not show her you are scared or upset she will not suspect anything.  Just be normal.  I sighed and opened the door, taking a confident step forward.  “Mom, I am home!”  I shouted through the seemingly vacant house as I walked straight to my personal chambers to put my things down on my bed.

As I placed my multi-board on the bed and turned to go to the kitchen, I nearly jumped out of my skin to see my mother standing directly behind me.  “Goodness mother, you scared the silk out of me!  You sure are sneaky this rote.”  She laughed and hugged me.  “Oh, stop it.  How was class?  What did you do this rotation?”  I pulled out the bandana I had completed during class and showed her.  “All done, now all I need to do is wait until I am not prisming and embroider it for the doctor.”  My mother took the bandana from my hand daintily and looked it over.  “No knots… no pulled threads… stitching is even on all edges… this is brilliant work!  I suppose your mind being at a new stage has improved your stitch-work.  Fantastic job sweetie.”

She handed the bandana back to me and I took a close look at it.  She was right and I had not even noticed.  My stitch-work, technique, and final result had improved drastically.  I thanked her, smiled proudly, and filled her in on the boring details of my school rotation.  Even though it was all a façade at this point, it felt nice to have someone who would listen to the events of my rote.

“I see your father gave you your necklace already.  What beautiful craftsmanship!  I wonder how she solidified prism silk like that.  I have never seen such a feat.  I should have known that he wouldn’t be able to hold onto it until your turnrote.  I tried to hold onto it instead, but he insisted and PROMISED me he would not give it to you until the time was appropriate.  Oh, he is in for an earful tonight.”

I began feeling uncomfortable so to avoid showing signs of emotional distress I quickly changed the subject.  “Speaking of tonight… I have my date with Brindel.”  The way her eyes lit up almost made me forget about the insincerity of her excitement.  “Oh, I know JUST what you should wear!  Remember when you were doing your studies of the plants and animals gathered by DNA probes from far-off star systems?  You made a headdress that depicted a field of flowers so beautiful that the Council voted immediately upon seeing it to biologically recreate the seeds and grow roses here on Fortitude.  Something which displays such beauty is perfect for a first date.”

I smiled slyly at my mother and sarcastically said, “Why would I want to display something which may try to overshadow MY beauty?  I may just wear no headdress and my school robes.”  With a disapproving glare she grumbled, “Well smart horns, what did you have in mind?”  I went to my closet and pulled out a black bag.  Reaching inside I pulled out a hooded shroud and showed my mother.  She was entirely speechless for a good minute or so.  “That’s… that is the robe that Vea’ayr was wearing!  How did you get it?  Oh my goodness, it is so beautiful.  I never got a chance to look at the embroidery before.  I wonder what land she is illustrating here.  I have never before seen such magnificently terrifying creatures.  And what does the word at the bottom of the picture mean?”

I took the robe back and studied it.  I had found the package in my closet the night I got home from the hospital but felt it best not to tell anyone.  I only glimpsed inside and didn’t really take the time to look at the robe.  It did have a beautiful landscape sewn into it with dyed silks, wrapping around the entirety of the robe.  There were gigantic rivers and lakes, huge trees, flowers everywhere, and gigantic, frightening looking tusked creatures as tall as the trees themselves wandering the land.  It must have taken entire cycles, possibly even turns to recreate this scene.  There are no planets known which permit life forms, so where did she find such a picture?

“Yvarrhiln,” I whispered under my breath as I ran my hand across the word, embroidered in the same prism silk used to fashion the canvas of the dress.  “What could it possibly mean?” mother said with a true fascination in her voice I had never heard before.  I didn’t want to show too much curiosity, so I shrugged and plainly said, “I don’t know, but I do know one thing.  I am going to look GREAT in this dress, and I know it will contour me well, seeing as how it did belong to Vea’ayr.”  My mother laughed at my childish dismissal of the significance of the image and smiled.  “I have some chores to get caught up on, get your homework done before you go out.”  I let out an annoyed huff.  “When do I EVER not finish my homework mother?”  She wittily replied, “When do you EVER have a date?”  I teasingly hit her with my pillow and she left the room, laughing with contentment.  As soon as she left I shut and locked the door and began working on my studies.

I finished my schoolwork and told my multi-board to go into clock mode.  An effervescent calendar, chart, and digitized time displayed two hands above the surface of my desk.  I was shocked to see there were only three hours left until lightfade.  I hurriedly began getting ready for my date.  I ran to my closet and grabbed the dress to put it on.  I wrapped my horns with a plain headdress and slid the dress on quickly.  The hood would be covering the headdress anyway, I just didn’t want the horns to pull any threads.

Stumbling to my vanity, I looked through my jewelry to decide what pieces I should wear.  I opened my drawer to find a jewelry box I had never seen before.  The insignia Vea’ayr had used on her letters was on it.  Curiously and carefully, I slowly opened the box.

Inside was a beautiful jewelry set made of prism crystals to match my necklace.  The earrings were simple, large teardrops with a single deep red gemstone hanging elegantly from the bottom of each, giving the appearance that the tear itself were shedding a tear.  There were two bracelets, each resembling a vine of ivy winding up the forearm with bright prism crystal roses and green gemstone leaves.  I put on the bracelets and the earrings then reached in to get my favorite piece of all.  It was a choker, about two thumbs wide.  The glossy stones were shaped like thorns and alternated between being upward and downward pointing.  They were hanging inside what appeared to be two dried stems, going all the way around the neck and enclosing the thorns between them.  It fit me perfectly.  In the bottom of the box was a hand written note on plain parchment.

Sha’ayr, these were made from the prism crystal left over when I made your pendant and various stones I have collected throughout my travels.  I thought they would be appropriate for any occasion momentous enough for you to be searching for jewelry.  This and the shroud were left in your room by one of my contacts on Fortitude.  Since I discovered your whereabouts I developed connections in secret to some of the higher up members of the council as a way of discretely keeping track of your safety and progress.  I hope to see you wearing these and the dress I made on your turnrote.  Oh, and these pieces are purely cosmetic, so don’t lose them!  No tracking devices to help if you do.

Love,

Vea’ayr

     My eyes watered up as I read the last of the letter.  I folded it carefully along its creases and put it back in the box.  Looking through the floor of my closet, I found a pair of boots to wear with my outfit.  I sat on my bed and began loosening the laces.  I could get away with going on walks and to classes without shoes, but some of the less tolerant store and restaurant owners thought my webbed feet would be a “cesspool for bacteria.”  As I looked down at my feet I reminisced about the feeling of Brindel’s wings pressed firmly against my bare feet and tucked the laces back inside my shoes.  Shoes were not actually necessary anyway since Tilverhans didn’t even have them and if we went anywhere where someone is going to be offended, I doubt they would be brave enough to say anything with Brindel right there.

After applying some blue blush and a splash of perfume, I looked at my clock to see I had about twenty minutes to spare before my date.  I knew Brindel may show up early but still decided to enjoy a short walk before the date began.  I figured, if nothing else he would be gliding through the hallways anyway and would see me near my chambers if I were not back in time.

I stepped outside the chambers and spread my webs, slowly pressing my feet against the cold steel, closing my eyes, and smiling.  As I opened my eyes and exhaled I blushed, suddenly realizing it was still light time.  People were staring in awe at my dress, sending me to the brink of a panic attack.  Whereas most girls would love the attention, I was not most girls.  Actually, the fact I am not most girls is what validates my disdain for the spotlight.  Nothing makes you feel more like an outcast than having every single eye in view focused in on you.  I understood they were staring mostly in admiration of my exquisite dress and jewelry, for most had never seen such pure prism silk woven in such a detailed manner, but regardless of connotation the glares made me feel extremely uneasy.  I should have considered this before I chose my outfit.

I looked down at the ground and started breathing rapidly.  I could feel each breath entering and burning my lungs, my heart was pounding in my chest so hard that it was rattling my pendant.  It took about two minutes, but I finally regulated my breathing and my stomach began to settle again.

When I looked up I saw Brindel standing majestically in front of me.  He was wearing a beautiful necklace made of two gigantic talons of a fallen Tilverhan almost coming together in the middle of his chest holding a stone between them oddly similar to a much larger version of the one in my pendant.  He seemed rather unimpressed with my outfit but ecstatic to see me nonetheless.  Still, it was a little disheartening that every set of eyes but the one I truly wanted had been staring at me in adoration.  He turned and looked at the small crowd of people staring and with a simple gesture of his head they took off like startled children.  It was odd to see the respect he commanded amongst these Tilverhan and even odder to then consider how my father commanded such respect from him.

His hand brushed the side of my face and his finger gently lifted my chin to look him in the eyes.  “My apologies for their lewd behavior.”  I smiled a little and nervously responded, “Thank you.  Do you, um, do you not like my outfit?  You didn’t seem very fond of it.”  He looked at me, his eyes more full of sincerity and esteem than I have ever seen in anyone’s eyes.  “Sha’ayr, your outfit is magnificent.  It just saddens me to think that no one else sees what I see is all.”  I turned my head inquisitively and said, “Oh yeah, and exactly what is it you see?”

“I see a woman whose beauty so far surpasses the allure of any cloth, any jewels, or any stones that such trinkets, in comparison, are mere trifles.  To be surprised by the splendor of your outfit is to prove that one has never truly noticed you before and that, my dear Sha’ayr, is a true calamity.”  I blushed and looked down again, only this time I was not panicked, merely overwhelmed by his words.  “I am sorry if I offended you,” he said with a certain despair in his voice, “I assure you it was not my intention.”

I looked up at him with a happy tear in my eye, now cheerful and enthusiastic about our night.  “Your words suit me well Brindel, I have just never received such an eloquent compliment before.  Thank you for making me feel better.”  I held my hands up submissively, waiting for him to hug me.  Instead, he swooped me up onto his back, wrapped his lower arms around me, and thrust us both full speed to a level about forty hands above us where all the restaurants were built, lifted me off his back, and placed me in front of him.

“I have a plan for our night together, but we still have a little over two hours until lightfade begins, so where do you want to eat?  My treat of course, anywhere in the station.”  I responded sheepishly, “I honestly have never been on a date before.  Where do you want to go?”  He turned his head to face me.  “A date?  So you consider tonight a date then?”  For the third time that night I showed him the top of my hood as I buried my head in embarrassment.  “Sorry, I thought that is what we… of course it isn’t a date, why would an attractive Tilverhan ask out an alien anyway?  I am such a j’karn idiot.”  He quickly realized what he had implied and apologetically stammered, “Oh, no no no, I didn’t mean it like that Sha’ayr, I was just flattered that you wanted this to be a date.  I didn’t know what to expect honestly and didn’t really know if you even… well, if you even found Tilverhans to be, um, pleasing, or attractive or whatever.  I mean, I know you said I was cute, but lots of things are cute… all sorts of different animals, and even some plants…”  My mind quickly settled and I leaned up to peck a kiss on his cheek.  “I don’t.  I mean, not in such a general sense as finding the entire species attractive.  Like anyone, there are men and women I find to be more and less attractive than others.  I just find myself smitten with a certain Tilverhan who is as unique amongst his own race as I am.  How did you get these beautiful stripes anyway?”  I realized I had been inadvertently running my fingers gently up and down the stripes on his side, paused for a slight moment, and decided to continue until I heard an objection.

“That is part of what I will discuss later, can’t really talk about it in the company of others.  I am glad you like them, most people view me as unnatural because of it, others think nothing of it, and occasionally I am lucky enough to find a girl who is enamored with me over it.”  He smiled and winked at me, causing me to giggle giddily and cover my mouth with my hands.  I had always tried to avoid such actions because I wanted to be taken seriously, but I guess I had just never realized how blissful it made you feel to be complimented by someone you are truly fond of.  The emotional rush was even more satiating than the physical gratification of cold steel beneath my webs.

“So, you’ve never been out to eat at a fancy place before, eh?  Well, I suppose the only gentlemanly thing for me to do is take you to the most excessively pompous restaurant on the station.”  He placed me on his back, secured me in place, and leapt up again, gliding toward a very crowded jump pad on the wall adjacent to a magnificent archway with the words “Rivystrrome Reservation Verification” embossed into the banner above.  As soon as we hit the jump pad, two Tilverhans about to reach the well-dressed gentleman greeting people at the door and scanning retinas for reservations looked over at us, nodded, and leapt back to the jump pad we were on.  With this, Brindel nodded back and took their spot on the platform.

“Ahh, sir Brindel, thank you for gracing us with your presence.  I will see to it that you are escorted to your table by our finest staff.”  He smiled and replied, “Thank you Grell, we will be sitting by the lightfade peninsula.”  Grell took out a multi-board, typed something into it, and nodded to Brindel.  “Certainly sir, we just need to verify which table to set.  Is this business as usual or are you actually here on pleasure?”  Grell laughed and Brindel playfully boxed with him.  “Pleasure for once Grell, believe it or not even I can get a date occasionally.”  Grell then looked at me, smiled, looked back at Brindel and candidly said, “I must say Brindel, I never suspected you would ever be here on pleasure you mule, and I must say that any man not envious of the beauty of your date is either blind or a bloody fool.”  I pulled my head back a little, hiding my face beneath the shadow of my shroud and said, “Thank you sir.”

“No Miss Sha’ayr, thank you.  I just got verification, they have loaded your table customized for a pleasure visit onto a hover platform and secured it above the lightfade peninsula.”  No sooner had he spoken the words two stunning male Tilverhan and two beautiful females met us to lead us to the table.  “So Brindel, you come here often I presume.  They didn’t do a retina scan, didn’t ask for a reservation, and have secured you the best seat in the house from what it sounds.  Anything you want to tell me?”  He sighed and replied, “More than you know Sha’ayr, but later.”  Realizing I had struck a chord, I decided to not ask any personal questions until after our date, but he still seemed a bit unsettled.

The restaurant was immaculate and astounding.  Instead of waiters or waitresses refilling drinks, anywhere from two to twenty non-sentient robotic fountains hovered in a circle above each table.  The cups were small for Tilverhan hands and could hold only enough for two mouthfuls at most, but upon sitting the cup down onto what appeared to be an electronic coaster all the patrons had to do was say what drink they wanted and the corresponding robot would spin down, grab the cup, and hold it underneath one of the streams.

I pointed at the drink fountains and exclaimed, “That is amazing!”  Brindle chuckled a little and replied, “Sha’ayr, just wait until you see our table.”  I hugged his neck and closed my eyes.  “I will not look until we are seated then, I want to be surprised.”  He laughed some more and kept walking.

After a couple minute walk, he tapped me on the shoulder.  “Hold on tight, this is going to be quite an experience with your eyes closed.”  I clinched down and felt the platform we were standing on begin moving upward at a high velocity.  An automated voice emanated from the platform.  “At the tone, please brace yourself for a gravitational flip.”  A few seconds later a loud beep rang out and the platform turned upside down.  For a split second I felt us falling and then felt gravity reverse and pin us against the platform.  I squeezed down excitedly now aware of where we were.

“Alright, open your eyes.”  As I did, I could see that we were in a small bubble contained behind one of the waterfalls in the free fields.  The view was magnificent.  As the water rushed passed us, mist rolled down the water facing hemisphere of the bubble.  In the other direction you could see the life-core beginning to set behind the edge of the free fields.  I always thought it stupidly sentimental to design the life-core in such a way that it had the effect of setting much like the suns did on the forbidden planets, but seeing it from this vantage point really brought out a mysticism that I had never been able to appreciate or even realize before.

“It’s…It is perfect Brindel.  How did you get such an amazing seat with the restaurant this busy?”  He picked me up off his back and sat me in the chair across from him. “And where did you find a chair?”  He lay down on the mat on his stomach and smiled.  “Those two questions I can only answer vaguely for now.  I did not get this seat, it was made for me exclusively and you are not the first Wilvarok to be here.  However, this is the first time I have used it for pleasure as opposed to business and must say the accommodations are much more to my liking.”  Candles of all different color flame were floating around us sinuously like seeds in a gentle breeze.

“Brindel, I have something I need to say.  I think it will make things easier.”  He looked at me, surprised and somewhat taken back by my statement.  I continued, “I don’t want you to feel uneasy about anything around me, and I may have inadvertently discovered I can read into more than just immediate thoughts.  As of now this is involuntary but I believe I can find a way to control it.  What I am getting at is I want to promise you now that I will never intentionally read you, be it on a conscious or subconscious level.  I trust you and know you would never keep anything from me that I really needed to know.  It is unfair of me to read you like that and I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

He smiled and seemed extremely relieved.  “Thank you Sha’ayr, but may I ask you something?  What prompted this?”  I reached across the table and took hold of his hand.  “I like you a lot Brindel.  I have since you rescued me, and not just because you saved my life.  You are not like any Tilverhan I have met here and I am not sure what it is yet, but I know that us meeting is the start of something significant.  I feel like I already kind of knew you, it is strange.  Even if it is just a close friendship, which frankly I hope it is more, I want to be honest with you and I want you to be able to trust me.”  He placed another hand on top of mine and smiled.  “You know, most girls aren’t so upfront about being interested in someone.”  I laughed and pushed my hood back a little with my other hand so he could see my face clearly.  “Well, if you haven’t noticed I am not quite like other girls and am extremely inexperienced in this field so you will have to overlook my blatant unprofessionalism.”

“Oh, I suppose I can do that,” he chuckled, “but only if you agree to overlook my ambiguous statements about my personal life and temporary evasions of any topic relating to such.”

“Agreed.”

We ate and talked mostly of my upbringing, my life, my feelings of loneliness even in rooms of people, and pretty much every other detail of what made me who I was.  Brindel listened, laughed, and even became legitimately angry with those whom I spoke of wronging me throughout my life.  When I told him about the one time I worked up the courage to ask someone out and about how Raschall had called me an ignorant bashakai for thinking he would ever be interested in an alien freak, I thought Brindel was going to go back to the parlor, have him brought to the restaurant, and beat him to death.  “That dirty piece of j’karn!” he said furiously, “I will strangle him with his own wings if he ever disrespects you like that again!”

After we were finished with our meal a second hover platform came up with a blanket, two elegant glasses, and an icebox with a very expensive bottle of wine within.  We stepped to the platform and the one with our table descended into the long pipeline leading up to our little bubble.  The sun had set and you could see the stars and forbidden planets from the sides of the dome and the entire station through the ceiling.  We continued to talk about my life for a good two hours as we finished off our bottle of wine and I decided my curiosity could handle no more.  “Okay, it is now officially nighttime.  So, please let us go to where we can talk about YOU.  I have been talking about me for a good four hours now and I have so many questions!”  I leaned over the left side of my legs, putting my palms on the blanket beside me, and looked up at him with a pitiful look in my eyes.  I stood up, leaned toward his ear, wrapped my hands around his neck petting him softly and whispered in an only half jesting seductive tone, “I can’t wait any longer.”

He grinned mischievously and reached into his satchel pulling out a multi-board.  After a few minutes of typing, the multi-board went through an extremely comprehensive security scan and finally chimed.  As it chimed, the bubble we were in opened up and I felt the mist of the waterfall against my face.  The hover platform, unable to function in the natural gravity of the free fields, fell to the floor below it, comprised of the former top of the bubble, now folded underneath us.  We stepped off onto the grounds of the free fields and Brindel grabbed my hands, placing me gently on his back.  “Are you sure you are ready for this?”  I squeezed his neck tightly and rubbed my feet against his sides then excitedly said “Yes, let’s go!”  He wrapped his arms around me and formed handles like he did at the pipes and said, “Hold on, this is going to be a little…different for you.”

He sprang high into the air, sixty hands at least, and spread his wings.  We started gliding away from the waterfall and toward the center of the free fields.  We were in a steady glide for about twenty seconds when I felt a sudden jolt up and down.  I looked over and panicked as I saw his wings flapping about vigorously.  “Brindel, are you okay?  What’s wrong?”  He was too strained to say more than one word. “Watch.”

I looked down to see we were only fifteen hands or so from the ground.  As the rocks grew closer, I grew more and more scared, not knowing if we were going to crash into the harsh terrain below.  I closed my eyes for about thirty seconds, foreseeing our painful and possibly fatal crash landing.  When I opened them again, confused as to how we hadn’t crashed, I looked down to see that the rocks below were now at least fifty hands away, and climbing.  We were flying!

No Tilverhan I had met was capable of flight and according to our anatomy studies it was not possible.  Their wings are not designed for flight and the muscle structure at the base could not produce the force needed.  Furthermore, the vigorous flapping would normally snap the bones of any Tilverhan foolish enough to try.  Yet somehow, we were flying and we were soaring higher and higher.  As I calmed down, I became very pleasantly aware that the motion of flying not only caused my feet to rub across Brindel’s underwings—the supple patches right before skin transforms to scales—but also the wind produced softly fanned my webs.  My body quivered as the intense ecstasy of the sensation pulsed through me.  I let my eyelids close and enjoyed the breeze.

My moment of guilty pleasure was abruptly and unexpectedly interrupted by the feeling of us landing.  “We’re here.”  I opened my eyes and looked over the edge of the surface we were standing on.  Upon doing so, I dug my fingers into the side of Brindel’s neck up to the first knuckle, leaving visible indentions.  “We are at least a thousand hands from the j’karn ground, how is that even possible?  How can you fly?  What the stars are we even standing on?  And is that a pond beside you?  How is there a pond up here?  This is impossible.  Nothing about this situation makes any sense whatsoever.  We died didn’t we?  We died and this is some eternal final mind trick of my brain isn’t it?”  Dismissing the seriousness of the situation and the dismay in my voice, Brindel laughed and said, “Finally I can answer some questions for you.  Where do you want me to start?”  I calmed down slowly, stepped off his back and onto the platform, and motioned for him to lie down.  When he did, I leaned up against him resting my back on his chest, looked up at him looking down at me, and nervously smiled.  As his arms wrapped around me over my shoulders, my fears subsided and I replied, “Start at the beginning.”

Thorns by Kevin Copenhaver is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.

Chapter IV

 

“Alright, the beginning.  I am telling you this in confidence and secrecy with a level of trust you do not yet understand, so please give me your word that what I tell you will remain between us and only us.”  I looked up at him and very authoritatively said, “You have my word.”  He reached one of his hands into his satchel, pulled out a canteen, filled it from the surprisingly clear pond beside him, and took a long drink.

“All right, I will tell you about me, but please wait until I get all this out before asking questions.  I do not want to respond to anything out of context and give the wrong impression.  My name is not Brindel, but I must always be called that.  In fear of you accidentally repeating my first name in conversation or a Wilvarokan reading you, I will simply say it is O.  My last name, however, you have heard many times before.  My name is O Tridealle.  My father is Councilor Ygorn Tridealle, first in line to the Tsar and probably the most well-known member of our government.  He does not claim me, however, and so I was sent from the GEC station to another station to be raised as O and was not allowed to return until my eighteenth turnrote.  Even now I am not allowed to speak publicly of Ygorn being my father, though the entire council already knows.  He has decreed that speaking my name validates my existence and that such an act would be punishable by death.

My childhood was not easy, but made me who I am.  I was raised on a military base as a soldier, but spent most of my time studying neurobiological/electrical integration.  Though Wilvaroks and Tilverhans are at peace, this is a field of study thought to be the best way to create a weapon against the Wilvaroks if they ever did decide to attack a Tilverhan base.  By the time I reached my twelfth turnrote I had become the youngest Tilverhan to ever publish an article in a scientific journal.  Upon doing so, I immediately started receiving messages from one keenly interested Wilvarok who told me her name was ‘of little concern’ so I just started calling her Olico.  It started as a joke but seemed to stick.

Olico requested that I send her all of my study notes on NBEI and, in exchange, she would send me her notes on the practical implications of such technology along with a frighteningly large sum of Feryhns.  Deciding it best not to question why she wanted my notes or why a mysterious eight-turn Wilvarok had such a large sum of money at her disposal I agreed, not even expecting her offer to be honored.  The next rotation the Council Director called to interrogate me as to the nature of a multi-million Feryhn transaction from an unallocated account.  Now, signing your name ‘of little concern’ is illusive enough, but GECOs cannot even get accounts untraceable by the Council.  I explained that a scientist who wished to remain anonymous had paid me for my research and for research assistance and I would be unable to explain beyond that.  Given they Council cannot legally seize any assets unless direct evidence of a crime has taken place, they left the issue alone at that point and told me to ‘tread lightly’.

The next morning I found a new multi-board in my chambers with the word ‘Brindel’ on the back.  It had all of my study notes organized and filed and all of Olico’s notes as well along with the linkcom for a private transfer circuit.  She had gone above and beyond any sort of research I could have come up with on my own.  She had schematics, diagrams, study charts, spreadsheets, and scenario-based field test results.  It was astounding that someone who was only eight turns could come up with so much.

I read through the data again and again.  I committed the notes to memory and the formulas burnt into my very soul.  I could take data, plug it in, and figure out the likelihood of success for NBEI concepts off the top of my head.  For three turns we never met and communicated solely through a private console or multi-board.  We took the science world by force and before long even Wilvarokan scientists were asking for my assistance in projects.  I made more money than the Chancellor himself doing these projects and helping Olico.  Exaggeration aside, by my fifteenth turnrote I had acquired no less than two-hundred million Feryhns.

On my fifteenth turnrote, a peculiar message arrived on my multi-board.  ‘We must leave at once.  I discovered a breakthrough, prep for surgery.’  I found this a bit odd, but disregarded it as one of Olico’s weird games which she was fond of and kept studying.  Moments later four military escorts showed up at my door to take me to the docking bay.  Upon arrival I saw a shrouded Wilvarok, only the tips of her horns and bright orange eyes visible.  Without argument or hesitation, I boarded her ship.  I had at this point never met a Wilvarok and had only heard the horror stories told by the Elders, so I thought it wise to simply consent.

She did not talk to me, even when I attempted to engage her in conversation.  We traveled until we were past the edge of station radio frequency and military jurisdiction.  ‘So do you trust me?’ she said over her shoulder.  ‘I have a project for you, a revolution.’  I nervously nodded and she asked me to sign a consent form.  My scientific curiosity swayed my better senses as usual and I signed.  The next thing I knew I was unconscious.

When I woke up I was strapped to a table and paralyzed.  Unable to move my neck, I shifted my eyes around erratically trying to get a general idea as to my surroundings.  I began to panic as I saw my wings had been ripped from me and were suspended like an exhibit at a museum above me.  Strange wires held them in place and what looked like frayed tendons dangled from the bases.  I began to cry silent tears and knew my end had come.  Realizing I was awake, Olico walked back into view and petted me on the neck or side.  I couldn’t feel it so I am not sure which.  ‘Don’t worry O, soon enough your wings and skin will be reattached.  Oh, right.  Yeah, your skin is peeled up too, I needed access to your muscular and nervous systems.’  I desperately tried to scream but my vocal chords had been paralyzed as well.  ‘I had to paralyze everything other than your brain, otherwise the nerves would try to reject integration.  That was the issue, what we couldn’t see!  However, if my theory proves to be correct, boosting the electrodes once the process is complete should not only reboot your nervous system but automatically repair your severed spine and from thereon overpower the electrodes with glucose.’

Oddly enough, hearing her talk about all of this calmed me down immensely.  I thought back to all of the conversations we had shared on NBEI and realized she was, in fact, correct.  In theory, according to our research and our formulae, it is plausible that such actions could work.  We had never even considered it before, not once, but it had a certain potential and once I was able to process and understand what was going on, I became excited about the experiment.

Seeing the relief in my eyes, she knew I shared her vision and set up mirrors so I could watch her work.  For at least a cycle she pumped sustenance straight into my stomach and worked tirelessly on making intricate wire-weaves reinforced with her own silk dyed a dark purple and green.  She worked them into my muscles, my tendons, and my wings.  As she worked she displayed the blueprints of what she was doing on a monitor directly in front of me.  It was brilliant!

Once she got all the weaves finished, she reattached my wings and showed me that the electrodes, if the process worked, would not only erase all my scars, but prevent me from easily sustaining any future wounds.  She then walked in front of me again, looked me in the eyes, and injected me with some sort of tranquilizer.  The last thing I remember is her saying, ‘You don’t want to be awake for this O,’ and then everything going black.

What seemed to be cycles later I woke up from a series of wild, erratic dreams.  Upon awaking, I stood from my bed, still lightheaded.  At first it didn’t even occur to me that I was standing after all that had happened.  It was almost as if my body felt like it was just a dream, an illusion, a fabrication created by my obsession with my research.  Once it set in that I was standing again I shouted excitedly for Olico to come back to the room.  ‘It worked Olico!  Look at me, I am alive and can move every muscle just as before, I just feel stronger and healthier and…oh stars, I want to try it out.’

‘My name is Vea’ayr.  You trusted me with your life and, whether or not you realize it yet, I am now trusting you with mine.  I am relieved to see you survived the procedure.  I hate to say it, but even I was nervous about the outcome.’  I turned and saw her standing there with her hood down.  She looked like you, but had a much different personality and a certain fire in her eyes.  It wasn’t hatred or even anger, but a driven sort of rage that to this day still gives me chills.  She had tattoos resembling thorny vines in detailed patterns across her face and down her arms.

She did some cognition tests on me, asking me what my turnrote was, where I was, what rotation I boarded her ship.  Everything checked out.  In fact, my memory was better than it had ever been.  I realized I had no idea how long I had been out so I asked her to see a display.  She showed emotion for the first time in any conversation we had ever had.  ‘You almost didn’t make it.  The process proved to be too hard for an average body to handle.  Luckily, your upbringing gave you extra muscle mass needed to take to the process.’  Annoyed with her evasion of the issue, I asked again.  ‘It has been three turns O.’

I was unable to even fathom how that could be possible.  No wonder I felt different, I was a full three hands taller than I was when I boarded.  My hair had grown long and she had braided it, I suppose for fun since Wilvaroks do not have hair.  ‘Your name is Brindel now.  You can never go by O again, do you understand?  We are on our way to station 000402, locally known as Fortitude.  There a secret Tilverhan training is taking place and you will become part of this training regime.  It is a new style of combat that will tailor you into the perfect warrior.  Seeing as how you are already well ahead of the curb as far as studies go and you are already eighteen turns now, you will be enrolled directly into the training program.  You are the first outsider to be accepted into the group.  I will come back once every few cycles to check on your status.  Knowing you would accept this task, I deposited another hundred mil into your account.  You will be the richest Tilverhan of the station.  Oh, there is a Wilvarok there too, adopted apparently.  Weird, but of little concern.’

I could not turn down the offer.  Being a soldier, training and studying was all I knew and she had already paid me such a generous sum it seemed like the thing to do.  So that is how I got to Fortitude.  Once I was here, I noticed you almost immediately.  You were fourteen turns at the time.  Unable to muster the courage to so much as approach you, I stayed near the upper levels and just avoided seeing you for the first cycle I was here.

Vea’ayr returned to Fortitude one cycle to the exact rotation of my arrival to check on my progress.  I told her about my progress then told her about you.  I told her that I didn’t realize all Wilvaroks had orange eyes and ’ayr at the end of their names.  Suddenly my head started pounding in agony and I found myself keeled over on the ground.  ‘What was her full name Brindel, tell me or I swear to the stars I will melt that sorry tumor you call a brain.’  Through screams of agony I shouted ‘Sha’ayr!’ and my headache dissipated immediately.  ‘So she is alive.’  She didn’t speak much of our research for the next three turns, only said that she had a different project she was working on and had to study a lot of history to do so.  Every time a Wilvarokan ambassador showed up, it was actually just her coming to check on my progress.

About two turns ago she showed up with her eyes glowing white and asked me to go somewhere private.  I had actually just finished the construction of this little masterpiece we are resting on and took her here to talk about whatever the situation was.  Even she was impressed with my ability to fly.  It takes a lot to impress Vea’ayr.  When we got here she said she needed to assign me a new task and said she would pay anything necessary.  I refused to accept without knowing the details.  ‘Sha’ayr is my sister.  She doesn’t know about me and she will not until I deem it necessary.  If I catch wind you have told her I promise you I will destroy this entire station and not even lose rest over it.  I need someone to watch over her and protect her if need be, hopefully it will not come to that.  I found out some disturbing information and need her to be guarded.  Please, be discrete about it and try not to make yourself noticed if at all possible.  What is your price Brindel?’

Before you get the wrong idea, I did not accept any money for this task and told her that you seemed to be interesting and intelligent and that I would do it for the mere satisfaction of ensuring you are protected.  That is when I started watching you to make sure you stayed safe.  I didn’t really know what I was waiting for or looking for, but that is how it all happened.  That is how I got here, that is who I am, and now you know I already know your sister even better than you do.  I probably know more about you than you do, but Vea’ayr asked me not to tell you anything about your life, she wants to be the one.  She knows everything I do, and that is why she gave your father the necklace.  She knew he would give it to me for safekeeping.  She also knows how good of a man your father is.”

He looked down at me and saw the tears streaming from my eyes, running down his arms.  I tried to force his arms off of me, but he just squeezed tighter holding me in place.  “You j’karn bashakip!  You knew for FIVE TURNS that I had a sister and never even told me!  You STALKED me for two turns and never even as much as approached me!  You are disgusting, let go of me!”  I screamed and tried with all my might to force his arms apart but I couldn’t.  I could feel my skin turning red and my eyes turning white.  Instead of forcing it back, I threw myself into metamorphosis.

Snapping my head back, I looked into his eyes.  Just as I was about to start fraying his mind apart, I felt a tear hit my skin and instantly morphed back.  “I am so sorry Sha’ayr.  I wanted to tell you, so bad, I wanted to approach you.  I couldn’t though.  Not because of some stupid agreement, but because Vea’ayr told me how detrimental it was to your safety that I didn’t.  If you want to hate me, I understand, but you have to understand that after watching over you for two turns, this night is the first time I have been able to tell you everything I always thought you deserved to know and it is the first time I haven’t hated myself for all of this.  I can’t let you go, you will fall and die or starve up here alone, but if you want I will take you home and never speak to you again.”

My heart sank into my stomach as I saw this powerful, masculine Tilverhan sobbing, his soul dripping down with every tear.  He trusted me with all of this when he could have remained quiet forever.  Much like he had with my sister, he entrusted his very life to me and here I was getting irate with him… and for what reason?  Simply because I was incapable of handling the details he had divulged to me.  I let go of his arm and started petting his neck.

“Brindel, let me face you.” His arms loosened reluctantly and I stood and turned to look him in the eyes.  Both our eyes were full of tears which shone like diamonds in the dim light emitted from the main part of the station.  I reached my hand up slowly and ran my fingertips across his cheek.  His eyes dropped out of line with mine and I gently yet sternly said, “Look at me Brindel.”  Our eyes met again and I leaned forward slowly, kissing him on the cheek opposite my hand.  Slowly I moved my lips up, just below his ear and kissed him again.  He lowered his head a little more, and I let his earlobe part my lips.  “I love you, Brindel.”

“And I, you Sha’ayr.”  His lower hands grabbed my waist firmly and his upper hands ran gradually up my cheeks and over the top of my head, his pinkies pressing against the base of my horns.  He pushed lightly at the base of my horns, softly coercing my head to tilt back.  My heart pounded with anticipation and longing.  I bit my bottom lip and let out a whimpered breath. His head turned slowly, deliberately, and he leaned his body in, closing his eyes.  Unable to contain myself any longer, I grabbed onto his neck and pulled myself up, pushing my lips against his.  As his lips gently forced mine apart, his tongue ran smoothly across my gums, then the tip of my tongue, then the roof of my mouth.  A blind wanderer driven by sheer ambition and unreserved eagerness, taking care to note each and every minute detail as he maps a new found paradise.  I, too, could not help but explore. I surrendered my inquisitive mind to my experimental body and soon became lost in blissful indulgence.

After a timeless, fervent kiss, I ran my hands down his neck and across his chest, not resting until I came to his lower shoulders.  Lightly pushing on his arms, he loosened his grip on my waists, allowing my body to flow softly through his hands.  As my feet touched the ground, I lost my balance and began to fall down.  My legs were still shaky.  To stop from falling completely, I grabbed hold of Brindel’s hand and pirouetted, falling instead with my back against his warm body.  I wrapped his arms around me again and rested my head against his abdomen.  My heart was still pounding furiously in my chest, my lips still moist and a little salty from the tears tasted off his cheek.  I sucked on my bottom lip, savoring the intimacy of the moment.   I closed my eyes and absorbed the tranquility that had filled me.

The next thing I remember was Brindel gently nudging me awake.  “Hey Sha’ayr, you fell asleep.  We need to get back soon, it is almost lightbreak.”  For a moment I wondered if the kiss was all just a dream, but as I stood up, turned around, and stretched, Brindel placed his hands on the bend of my back, leaned forward, and kissed me again.  I wrapped my arms around him and whispered in his ear, “Thank you for trusting me.”  I could feel the muscles in his cheeks contract as he smiled and he squeezed me tightly, lifting me slightly off the ground.

He took hold of my hands and placed me on his back, harnessed me in place, and leapt upward.  At the arc of his jump, we began floating weightlessly for a moment.  “Um, Brindel…” He quickly realized why I was surprised and interjected, “Oh I forgot to answer one of your first questions!  This is a large hover platform I designed.  Normally, as you know, it would not be capable of sustaining itself in the gravity of the free fields, but the design of the fields allows for a thin layer of gravitational optimization.  Since the gravity in the free fields is flipped, allowing us to see the fields from inside the station, there is a spot a hundred hands from the glass that allows for a strong enough gravitational pull to keep things stabilized but a weak enough draw so that, with enough time and hard work, that hover platform can maintain height.  Right now, we are just barely within the gravitational pull of the free fields and soon we will start our descent.”

Soon was right.  Within seconds we began to fall, slowly at first, but exponentially faster to the free field’s gravitational pull of fifty hands per second per second. Brindel’s arms squeezed tightly around me and my fingertips clinched firmly around his upper biceps.  As the ground grew closer, Brindel spread his wings and dropped his hindquarters, causing us to sail forward swiftly.  Instead of returning to the waterfall, we sailed instead to the public entrance of the free fields.  “Restaurant closed a while back, so the pod is no longer open.”

As we reached the landing platform, Brindel touched his feet to the ground and began galloping, slowing himself down with every step.  Soon the gallop turned to a comfortable trot, then to a halt.  “So Brindel, how did you get the restaurant to build that special room for you?”  He rubbed his hand on the back of his head and tittered, “I, uh.  I didn’t exactly get them to build JUST the room.  I got them to build all the rooms, the platforms, the tables, and everything else.  I financed the entire restaurant and even helped in the design.  The fountain robots were a side project I made when I was a teenager to keep me from having to go get drinks during my studies.  Your sister actually helped with the design quite a bit, mainly the gyroscopic aspects.  I always struggled with those concepts, I guess since Tilverhans have an awkward sense of balance to begin with.”

“Oh.  Well, where did you come up with the name Rivystrrome?  It sounds very elegant, but is a little odd to say the least.”

“Well,” he replied, “You know that light rumble from the waterfall along the outside wall of the restaurant?”  I nodded.  “The distant thunder reminded me of the storms spoken of occurring on planets before the Great Migration and the idea of lightning and whatnot has always enticed me, so I named it Rivystrrome, an anagram of Stormy River.”  I couldn’t help but to be impressed.  “You are rich, beautiful, strong, and intelligent.  How did I get so lucky as to win your affection?”

“You didn’t win anything, you earned my affection.  You are the only individual in this entire station whom I feel I could actually learn from.  Also, I find the beauty of Wilvaroks to far surpass that of Tilverhans.  Furthermore, you are the only person here who has ever truly made me laugh.  How could I not fall for you?”  He turned his head and began galloping, bounding, and soaring to my chambers.

Once we arrived at my door, I jumped off his back and stepped in front of him.  He knelt, lifted my gently, and kissed me.  “Goodnight Sha’ayr.  Can I see you tomorrow?”  I snorted as I laughed and covered my face, embarrassed.  “Sorry!  I just thought that was funny.  I mean, you know, how could you not see me?”  Realizing the irony of his statement he began chortling as well.  There we were, in one another’s embrace, laughing maniacally at a silly play on words with not a care in the world.  “Tell you what Brindel, how about you just keep an eye on me by spending time with me.  I don’t have class tomorrow and I am sure you will be close by anyway, so just swoop down, pick me up, and we can hang out wherever you please.  Sound good?”  With a final kiss on the forehead he lowered me to the ground and replied, “Sounds perfect.  I love you Sha’ayr.”

“And I, you Brindel.”

Thorns by Kevin Copenhaver is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.

Chapter V

 

I woke up the next morning feeling more rested and at peace than I had in a very long time.  Last night was emotional, intense, and perfect.  It is true that I was very hampered by everything I had heard, but upon reflection I realized that he quite possibly cared more for me than any other person in this galaxy, let alone this station.  I decided that it would be best to focus on the positive aspects of the situation rather than all the ambiguity over which I had absolutely no control.  He was kind, chivalrous, and treated me with dignity and respect, but most importantly of all he never made me feel like I didn’t belong.  I had never really felt true acceptance before, and all I know is now I never want to stop feeling it.

This feeling did worry me though.  Was I too fast to claim I love him?  I told someone I LOVE them!  I never even thought I could find someone to date, let alone love.  What if the only reason I think I love him is because he treats me well and makes me feel as though I belong here?  Of course, isn’t that the reason you should love someone? What do I even know about love?  I felt strong emotions for him, even after knowing him for such a short time, but perhaps that was just lust.  I really did feel like I loved him, I was just so new to the very concept that I wouldn’t help but worry.

The next few cycles flew by faster than I had wished.  During the light, I went to class as usual and at night I spent my evenings with Brindel.  Sometimes we would go for walks, sometimes we would play games in the free fields, sometimes we would even just run about youthfully through the hallways.  Most nights, however, we would go to his pavilion in the free fields and look over the land, talking.  He told me stories about my sister, about his research, and about his training.  The stories, of course, were riddled with holes and omissions because he “couldn’t disclose certain details with me”, but I honestly did not mind.  I understood.  Besides, he had a very theatric, comedic way of telling stories that kept me smiling.

The more time we spent together, the less time I wanted to spend apart.  My father was very supportive of our relationship, for he was rather fond of Brindel, but contrary to her initial reaction, ‘mother’ did not approve at all.  She thought it was ‘unhealthy to outcast myself even more’ by parading around with some ‘mutant gene.’  An interesting standpoint considering she had previously expressed a bit of admiration for his appearance, but I knew she just wanted to keep me isolated for her own sinister agenda.  Her disapproval actually made my life easier, giving me justification in ignoring and avoiding her and allowing me to express some of my anger toward her without fear of seeming out of character.

Things were going well and I felt truly happy for once.  Brindel and I had become best friends as well as lovers, though the most physical we had gotten was a little heavy kissing.  It wasn’t until the morning of cycle seven, rotation ten that everything started to spiral out of control.  That day severed my connection to my entire past and started me on a path completely foreign to anything I had ever known.

I woke up and went to my classes as usual and anticipated my night with Brindel.  We had made plans to go see a band play at his restaurant which Brindel had invited especially for me.  I had only heard them play before on mediaboards and couldn’t wait to actually see them in person.  I waited and waited for class to let out and though the seconds seemed to drag on for as long as possible, the chime finally sounded and off I went to meet Brindel.

As soon as I stepped outside, Brindel grabbed my shoulder and spun me around.  Judging by the unprecedented force with which he grabbed me, it was obvious something was amiss.  “Sha’ayr, something is wrong.  I went to withdraw some funds to pay the band for their performance tonight and my account has been locked.  Over two hundred million Feryhn just sitting in my account, locked, with no explanation as to why.  When I asked the teller questions she just responded ‘I am not authorized to say anymore’ to everything I asked.  Also, a ship boarded the station today.  I have never asked you to do anything like this before, but I need your help.  You have to go to the docking station and see what is up, use your clairvoyance if you can.”

I began petting the side of his front leg.  “Calm down Brindel, you know I would do anything I could to help you.  Give me a ride to the docking station and I will take care of everything.  Once I process it all, I will send you a message on your multi-board letting you know what is going on.”  He knelt down, hugged me tight, and lifted me onto his back.  “Thank you my love.”

With an ardent fury, he galloped full speed to the docking bay.  Instead of trying to weave in and out of the people littering the halls, he would leap high in the air and glide over them, tactfully planning each leap to allow for a safe landing area.  He arrived in a notable amount of time and panted heavily.  I had never seen Brindel out of breath before and could only imagine what he was feeling.  I leapt down from his back and stood by the doorway, waiting anxiously to see what I could see.  By the time I turned around to look at Brindel he was gone.  I already knew where he was going.

Moments later a ship pulled into the docking station with a GEC emblem painted on the side.  Usually GECOs travel by fighter ships, but this ship was elegant, cutting-edge, and unique.  As it pulled up I saw a tall, strong Tilverhan dressed in a formal military robe with many medals dangling from it like tassels on a tapestry step off with a Tilverhan to each side of him and, much to my surprise, a Wilvarok riding on both of their backs.  Each Wilvarok had a solid black shroud covering them entirely, save the tips of their horns.  Their eyes glowed yellow underneath the hood and even from a distance their presence made me uneasy.  I grasped my pendant and stood on the inside of the doorway.

A few moments later, once the ship was checked in, I saw them rounding the corner.  As they did I realized exactly what was going on.  “Mister Tridealle, I must say it is an honor to have you aboard our humble station, but it is my duty as the eldest of this council to inquire as to why you are here?”  As he passed me, he turned to the elder and replied arrogantly, “As elder council member you should know that the GEC overrules all your laws, regulations, and customs, thus I have no need nor desire to answer your frivolous questions.  I need to see a certain Tilverhan in your training program… my son.”

The halls fell silent.  Never before had Councilor Tridealle made public reference to his son.  I decided now was a good time to focus my energy and see what I could read from him.  Oryntho, I know of your research, I know of your plans, and I will NOT let the Council be shamed by your existence.  You need to die.

Oryntho… had to be Brindel.  I still needed information, I couldn’t just leave now.  “But Councilor, I never knew you had a son and cannot expect to know who he is without a name.”

“HIS NAME is unimportant and SO ARE YOU!  With one gesture, one simple twist of my hand, the two Wilvaroks in my company can tear you apart and I will personally skin you as I relish in your final breath.  Now take me to the training grounds!  I need to find my son.  Assemble all of your recruits, I can pick him out easily.”  One of the Wilvaroks spotted me and I turned to run.  I had to find a safe place to message Brindel and warn him, but it was too late.  As I began to run, my head began to throb and I fell to my knees.  When I turned, I saw two sets of glowing red eyes from beneath the hoods.  Metamorphose.  As my brain began to itch, I knew I needed to defend myself.  I quickly focused all my thoughts to those of hope.  I thought of all the days that I spent alone and how Brindel had saved me from my own loneliness.  I thought of all the possibilities our future held and how grateful I was to have met him.

As I became more and more lost in thought my head hurt less and less.  After about a minute, I realized my headache was gone and looked up.  One Wilvarok had shifted back to normal and the other was laying on the ground clinching her head.  “Interesting,” boomed the deep voice of Councilor Tridealle, “A Wilvarok on a station full of Tilverhans, and one who knows how to fight back.  You must be Sha’ayr.  Come with me if you want to live, or die here.”  One of the elders stepped between me and the Councilor.  “Now hold on, you cannot threaten the lives of our citizens!  GEC or not, all GECOs are required to uphold the laws and to never harm the innocent!  I ask you to retract your statement and proceed with peace in mind or trouble shall find you.”

As soon as the words had escaped the elder’s lips, a whip from the Councilor’s bottom right hand wrapped around his neck, digging barbs deep into his skin.  “That is what I love about the term ‘innocent’.  Who is to say who is and who is not innocent?  You have all been harboring a fugitive, so I could claim you all as guilty and execute every single one of you where you stand.  Now, if you favor your life and the lives of those on your station, I suggest you take me to your training grounds immediately and call a meeting of all your recruits.”  As the whip released from the Elder’s throat, he nodded and pulled out his multi-pad.  Soon, over loudspeakers installed throughout the station his voice boomed.  “All Tilverhans in training please report to the grounds.  Those confused, disregard this message.”

Immediately a good number of the male and female Tilverhans lining the hall had disappeared upwards.  I turned to walk away and was grabbed by one of the Councilor’s sentinels.  “Not likely, Sha’ayr.  You’re coming with me.  As long as I hold your life in my hands, your sister will be close behind.”  I shook violently.  At first I thought it was panic and fear, but then I realized as I caught my darkening reflection in the glass, it was pure, unrestrained anger.

Unlike Brindel’s gentle arms, the unknown Tilverhan threw me haphazardly under one arm and followed the Councilor and the Elder to the higher platforms.  I was unable to focus my energy, my thoughts were too strong and my rage too coarse.  I couldn’t pull it back and could not control my metamorphosis.  I tried to pull myself back but just slipped deeper and deeper into a state of rage.  Finally we stopped moving and I was dropped abruptly on the ground.  “Sha’ayr!”

With the simple sound of my father’s voice I regained control.  I stood and looked at him, standing in the center of a large arena.  “What in the stars are you doing Ygorn?  Are you mad?!  That is my daughter!”  A sick silence filled the air as all eyes fell upon my father.  “How DARE you address me by my first name!”  Surprisingly, my father laughed.  “Oh Ygorn, I remember when I was teaching you how to hold a whip.  You think you are something special, with your medals, your badges, your titles, but I was the one who saved your scales more oft than not.  Then, after years of friendship, you toss me and our whole brigade aside.  Now YOU claim to be the hero?  You are a glorified j’karn coward!”

“ENOUGH!  I did what had to be done, something you were never capable of Ellehar.  Always so noble, so honorable, but YOU couldn’t save them either.  You disobeyed a direct order and only avoided a dishonorable discharge because of me.  I am not here for you, though.  Not this time.  I am here for him.”  In the confusion and heat of the moment I had failed to see Brindel was standing right behind my father.  “Hello O.”  Brindel stepped forward, his pupils widening and narrowing rapidly, much like a disgruntled bird.  “Councilor, why are you here?”

“He is here to kill you Brindel.”  I spoke without thinking of the consequences I was quickly made aware of by the sharp claws of the Tilverhan standing beside me.  “Ahh, the little bashakai read my thoughts at the docking station.  Must be your girlfriend.  You spent so much time with Vea’ayr I figured she was yours, but I suppose one just isn’t enough for you.  You just had to have both the ill-born girls.  You don’t have to die though, you just have to let me have them.  Both.”

“That isn’t going to happen.” Brindel’s voice shook with an authority and rage I did not know he possessed.  “Not only will I not let you have them, but by the rights of the Council, I challenge you to single combat.  To deny my challenge is a public admittance of your cowardice and you must leave this station at once, regardless of rank.”  Without a second though, the Councilor threw his robes to the ground, revealing two swords and two whips he had strapped underneath.  “I accept.”

I began sobbing uncontrollably.  I could not stand the thought that my Brindel may soon be fighting the Councilor.  Under his robes and behind his pious words he seems like the battles are long since behind him, but unrobed and showing his form concealed by the loose-fitting cloth it is apparent that Brindel gets his build from his father.  Scars from battle riddled his sides, muscles pushing the scars through the surface.  He was in far better shape than any Tilverhan I had yet seen, hold one.  He spun the swords and twisted the whips to his every precise and deliberate whim.  Brindel was most likely stronger and faster due to his enhancements, but I knew he didn’t have the training necessary to defeat him.  My tears streamed down my cheeks, dampening the top of my dress.  Then I heard my father’s voice.

“I cannot let that happen Ygorn.  You will not be fighting Brindel today.”  The Councilor laughed and replied, “You cannot break the rules of a challenge Ellehar, what do you propose?”  My father stepped forward to the center of the Arena.  “As Brindel’s commander and trainer I have the right to substitute myself in his place on the battlefield.  I invoke this right and shall fight in his stead.”  Brindel ran out to the field and pushed my father over.  “I can’t let you do this, I have to face him.”  My father pulled himself to his feet and pushed his head beside Brindel’s.  I saw his lips move, whispering something in his ear, and Brindel nodded, a tear on his cheek, and he hugged my father.  “Yes sir.”  With a booming voice and a powerful thrust, my father knocked Brindel to the ground and sliding at least twenty hands and shouted, “leave this arena at once Brindel, THAT is an ORDER!”  Brindel stood, tears welling in his eyes, nodded and sulked out of the ring.

My heart sank again.  Either my father or my love had to go against the Councilor.  Neither I doubted, but I knew the Councilor was strong.  I also knew he would not be afraid to fight dirty.  Brindel sat behind me, then laid his front legs around me and I sat pressing my back against him.  As I sat down and felt his arms wrap around me, I wiped the tears from my eyes.  “What did my father say to you Brindel?”

“Read me.”  Reluctantly, I nodded and focused my mind to align with his.  In accordance with the vow I had made to him, I had not read him in quite some time, so it was a little difficult to get myself to connect.  Once I did he simply resonated to me, I trust you to watch over my daughter.  If this goes wrong, you and Vea’ayr need to get her out of Fortitude for good.  My breath quivered, but I knew my father was right.  Only Brindel could get me out of this place now, and my life was in his hands.

As Ygorn stepped into the center of the arena and stood in front of my father, the crowd around us began to shout angrily and hiss at him.  My father held up a hand and the crowd went silent.  He took off his robes to reveal two swords and only one whip.  Confused, I looked up at Brindel.  “New style of fighting, remember?  You will see.”  Brindel was extremely worried but could not hide his slight excitement of seeing my father implementing their new fighting style in a real fight.  Was he really that strong? Was he good enough to defeat the Councilor?

As he put the swords in his upper left and right hand, the whip went to his lower left and his lower right rose up with what appeared to be a dome of pale purple light.  “That is a Kinetic Deflector,” Brindel stated, “Capable of reversing almost any amount of force directed toward it.  If a whip lashed toward him and he reflects it, it lashes violently back toward his attacker.  Same with a swords strike, only instead of lashing freely it tends to either disarm or stagger the opponent, depending on their skill and strength.”  I looked up at Brindel, still panicked, and asked, “Why is the dome so small?  I mean, it seems like making it at least a little larger would make it more effective.  Right now it is only about twice as big around as his fist, he has to be dead on with it to be effective.  Will it really even work?”  He looked down at me, somewhat puzzled by my interest in the deflector and replied, “Current technology prevents us from making it larger without compromising its deflective properties.  Eventually we would like to make them a little bigger, but that is, for now, only a dream.”  With the sound of a horn, my eyes shot back to the center of the arena.  The fight had begun.

As soon as the horn sounded, my father and the Councilor both shot backwards and whips went forward.  My father’s single whip was deflected by Ygorn’s right whip and Ygorn’s left whip spun wildly back toward him, barely missing his own face as the deflector caught the tip right at the crack.  Ygorn actually stumbled for a second, realizing the true potential of this new fighting style, but quickly smiled and sprung forward.  With a swing from his swords, my father dove to the side avoiding the slashes.  As he did, a whip came around his body.  I tensed up, thinking he was already done for, but he held the Kinetic Deflector between him and the whip and it spun back out and twirled in a circle around Ygorn.

“The KD shield is extremely powerful and effective against whips.  If used properly, you are really fighting with three weapons plus however many your opponent has.  Your father is the best with a KDS in the entire galaxy.”  Hearing Brindel’s words made me feel a little relieved and gave me a glimmer of hope.  Perhaps my father can pull this off after all.

The battle pressed on, both diving in with slashing attacks then back out with whip attacks, neither able to land a blow.  Both men were strong and fearless and it was obvious they had trained together.  My father had never spoken of his past with the GEC, but seeing how the Councilor turned out, I can understand why.  To be betrayed by your own friend and comrade must be devastating.

The fight continued in this manner for about an hour.  Neither seemed to be showing any signs of fatigue or weakness other than sweat drenching both their bodies, both pushed on vigorously, and both defended flawlessly.  Finally, my father had a break of luck.  As the Councilor’s foot slipped in one of his jumps away, his eyes fell off my father for the slightest moment as he stumbled.  As soon as they did, my father’s whip caught hold of his wing.  Only a split second of an opportunity, but it was enough to give my father the upper hand.  Once the barb at the tip dug into Ygorn’s wing, my father pressed a button at the top of the handle.  The whip had a series of metal wires which shot out, weaving through the wing and hooking into it.  The Councilor wailed in pain as the whip snagged him.  Then, my father pressed a second button which caused the bottom of the whip to shoot a spike into the ground at high velocity.  He set the base of the whip where the spike went through and you could see the handle drilling itself firmly into the ground.  Finally, he pressed a button on the very top of the handle causing the whip to start to recede inside the handle and pulling the Councilor in to approximately ten hands.  I cheered as I saw my father’s inevitable victory.  “Brindel!  He has him, he’s going to win!”  Brindel’s stern, concerned expression turned to one of delight as he saw my father’s victory unfolding.

Suddenly my father fell to his stomach, his two upper hands dropping his swords and grabbing his head.  I jumped up nervously.  As I looked at him, I knew the Wilvaroks were interfering, but didn’t know where they had gone.  I began looking around frantically and Brindel stood up and abruptly placed me on his back.  As he leapt in the air, the Councilor wrapped his whips around each of my father’s wings and secured him in such a way that he was pinned to the ground, unable to move in any direction.

Brindel soared over the center of the arena and then, for the first time in public eye, began flying directly over the center.  Cheers and boos turned to silence as all looked up at Brindel.  In the break of excitement, he caught eye of the two Wilvaroks and swooped toward them.  In a split second, we were standing with the Wilvaroks pinned to the ground under Brindel’s powerful wings.  One was killed on impact, a talon going through her neck and the other was gasping for air.  Unable to maintain contact, she was useless.  Brindel and I both turned to see what was happening in the fight.

As my eyes looked to the center of the arena, time seemed to slow to a crawl.  The Councilor had taken the opportunity of my father’s state of impairment to press a sword against his throat and strip him of his last two defenses.  I looked up at the Councilor, tears swelling in my eyes.  “Stop this,” I let out in a whispered scream.  He didn’t listen.

As the blade slid through my father’s neck, I fell to my knees, unable to think or breathe or even move.  Sounds faded, surroundings blurred, all I could see was my father’s face and the blood pouring down his chest.  I began to shake uncontrollably.  Brindel jumped forward, over me to attack Ygorn, forgetting in the heat of the moment that one of the Wilvaroks was still alive, and now unrestrained.  Midflight he fell to the ground in pain and Ygorn approached him, my father’s blood still dripping from his blade.

“NOOOOOO!” I shrilled out, my words becoming a howl of wrath.  I morphed and threw all my emotion into a burst of horror.  I suspected if he knew how to defend himself he would know I am angry and try to fight against hatred.  After making a connection to him I could see a map of all his insecurities and psychically started breaking him down.  I watched as he fell to his stomach and began to cry.  I watched as his tears turned from clear to red.  Soon his eyes filled with blood, his ears and nose began bleeding as well.  His breath became staggered and panicked until he finally collapsed onto one side.  With a powerful blink, I returned to my former self and saw his body, surrounded by sticky, thick blood—and what I can only presume to be a mixture of pureed organs—dripping from every orifice.  I ran to my father’s side.

Wrapping my arms around him, his blood staining my clothes, I wept against his neck.  How could the Councilor do this?  How could he use the Wilvaroks to fight for him?  Then I worriedly stood and looked at where Brindel had fallen.  He was standing, staring away from me and into the silent crowd.  I quickly regained my composure and realized this was not the time for grieving.  I had just killed Councilor Tridealle, second in command to the Tsar.  How could I explain that to the Council?  How could I leave the station alive now?

I looked at Brindel then looked in the direction he was staring.  There she stood, the last of the two Wilvaroks dead at her feet.  Her hands held daggers, curved like the thorns of my necklace with barbs coming out of the pommels, both dripping with fresh blood.  Her face was the same as mine, just darker and with black tattoos running down toward her body.  Her eyes were glowing the bright orange I had seen so many times in the mirror.  Vea’ayr, here in the flesh, here on Fortitude.

“Sha’ayr, we need to go, now!”  Brindel swept me up, leapt toward Vea’ayr, grabbed her arm, and off we went, galloping through the halls.  My mind was aching with everything going on.  Tears started streaming from my face and splashing back onto Vea’ayr behind us.  “I am sorry I couldn’t save him, I got here too late.  I wanted so bad to save him, I did.  I wish I could have gotten here sooner Sha’ayr.  General Ellehar will be remembered fondly by many.”

“He wasn’t just a General!  He was my father… He raised me, he loved me, and he was the best j’karn father anyone could hope for.  Now he is dead, and I don’t know why, or what any of this has to do with me, but as far as I can tell, this is my fault somehow, and yours, and maybe even Brindel’s.  I don’t even want to exist right now.  Just… toss me off to be executed.”  Vea’ayr’s fingertips dug into my sides with force I didn’t realize capable from a Wilvarok.  “So you want your father to have died in vain?  Is that it?  He died PROTECTING you Sha’ayr, are you really too selfish to realize the implications of that?  He died protecting US.  All of us.  Without his sacrifice, this entire station would have been destroyed.  Now the Council will know that Tridealle died in a battle, rules broken first by him then by you.  You can stay and explain things to the authorities if you feel you must, but they may not side with you and you may be executed.”

Her hands loosened their grip and I took in a deep breath.  I could feel my own blood slowly seeping out into my clothes.  “Sorry, I am sorry.  You are right, I just… I can’t concentrate or focus or think… this is all happening so fast and_”

“And NOTHING Sha’ayr!  Good stars, we do not have time for your self-pitying fahreet.  Yes, this is happening fast, yes your father is dead, but there is so much more going on here than you can even begin to comprehend.  You need to pull yourself together because Brindel and I both need you.”

I bit my lip to stop it from quivering, took a deep breath to push back the tears, and exhaled.  Vea’ayr began to rub my arms and her voice softened.  “I need to know if you will come with me.  I need your help, but I understand my battles are not your own, and I cannot guarantee your safety if we travel together, but I can promise you I will protect you with my own life.”

I closed my eyes and focused my thoughts inwards. I thought of everything happening and of my father, of the letters, of all the information I had learned this past turn.  I was now only a cycle away from being eighteen turns.  Her visit came sooner and on worse terms than I had hoped, so I didn’t have time to ask her the questions I needed to ask.  I managed a smile, though no one saw, and replied, “My better judgment is doomed to be trumped by my inquisitive mind.  I will come with you, on the condition that you tell me what I need to know.”

Vea’ayr hugged my torso and replied “I will tell you more than you ever wanted to know, trust me.  I had one final question, and though I know your initial answer is yes, I need you to consider all the ramifications of your decision.  Brindel has sworn to protect you with his life, but if you ask him to stay behind he will.  It is your decision.  I could use his expertise and assistance in furthering my research, but that can be done from anywhere.  If he comes with us, he will be in far more danger than us since we will be facing mostly Wilvaroks.  Few Tilverhans match him in battle I am sure, but Wilvarokan warriors are a different force altogether and even with his advanced intellect it may be hard for him to combat.  I mean, look at how dangerous just two Sentinels can be.  Imagine the dangers a whole army could pose.  Furthermore, if he stays here he will face no charges as he did not break any laws and he will take your father’s place as Commander and trainer of the recruits.”

I hugged my arms around Brindel’s neck.  “Brindel, even if I told you to stay, would you?”  He responded with sharp objectivity, “I have fulfilled my obligation to protect you until your sister could take you in.  In doing so, I fell in love with you.  I will follow you to the depths of a black hole if you so choose, but if you wish for me to let you go, I will let you go.  Just know, the moment you do I will be dead already anyway.  You’ve given me purpose these past few cycles Sha’ayr and I don’t think that I can go back to the trite life I used to live.  I will, however, respect your wishes.”

I hugged him tighter and turned my head to look at Vea’ayr.  “Then I would have him with us.  I don’t want to lose the last Tilverhan I love.”  Vea’ayr nodded, seeming almost annoyed at our shows of affection.  Her hands rested on my head and she looked me in the eyes.  “Sorry about this Sha’ayr, for now it is for the best.”  As I tried to process what she meant, my vision blurred and quickly faded to black and the last thing I remember was my head falling against Brindel’s neck.

Thorns by Kevin Copenhaver is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.