(Is that his ship?) I asked, pointing to a fighter that circled the base like a vulture, coming down for a slow and precise landing.
We were all standing in the civilian terminal of the airbase. Most of it had been taken over by the military. My parents often said how sad it was that there were so few civilian routes and shiplines left. I didn't know any differently. This was my first visit, and I was excited.
(Forlay, keep him still,) my father snapped, watching the arrivals board with his main eyes, scanning the sky with his stalks. I shirked away from him in shame. My mother touched my shoulder and glared at my father. He turned a stalk eye to me apologetically.
(No, Aximili,) my father said. (That is not his ship.)
I looked up at my mother. Her jaw was set, her eyes narrowed. I'd never seen her so serious. And I'd never seen my father so happy.
(What does he look like?) I asked my mother privately. She closed her main eyes.
(You will soon see, my son,) she responded.
I was nervous. I did not know why. When my family had heard that Elfangor was alive, something had changed. My father talked to me more. He began to ask me how I felt. How my day was. What happened at my daily lessons. If the females were being kind to me. What subjects were my favorite. Which I excelled at best. Before he had found out that Elfangor was alive, he only asked me if I was hungry or if I was ready for sleep.
Mother had been warmer. Quiet, still, but aware. Sometimes, when she thought I was asleep, she would wrap me in her arms and weep. For a long time, I had pretended to stay asleep and simply let her, but recently I'd begun to hold her in return. This made her weep more. I didn't know how to make her stop.
They'd received the message nearly two months before, and a loud argument had followed. They were both very angry and very happy. Charged with energy, they flung their tails at each other, sometimes hitting. My mother gashed my father across the chest, and I scrambled deeply inside of the scoop, terrified of what they were doing, and that they might lash out at me. She ran over immediately and pressed her hands against the wound, and he wrapped her in his arms. They calmed down. I wanted to help, to tell them it was all right, but I didn't know how.
A large, flat, disc-shaped transport rose over the horizon. A beam of sunlight reflected off of it and blinded me for a moment. My father perked up, stalk eyes zipping, tail curling and unbinding like a proboscis. My mother grasped my shoulders tightly and held me back.
(That, Aximili, is your brother's ship!)
He leapt forward and galloped to the barricades that kept civilian families out of the terminal. Two warriors, strapped with Shredders, met him there. He gestured futilely with his arms, snapping his tail forward like a child would. They pushed him back, and for some reason, it made me very sad.
The hovercraft landed, spewing steam and exhaust for what seemed like hours. I was excited, but now that my father had made such a physical display, I felt like I had to remain calm for some reason. It felt like it was his day. Not mine.
So I stood back with my mother, whose grip was becoming strong and almost painful. I stood back and waited as the hatch opened and a few armed guards came and stood at attention. I watched as a large, weary, legendary War-Prince emerged, looking both grim and elated. I watched as he moved aside, turning a stalk eye behind him.
I watched as Prince Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul stepped out of the ship.
My mother's hands released and she walked forward, leaving me behind. I wasn't sure what to do. I didn't know whether I needed her permission to follow, or whether it was simply expected. I wrung my hands together nervously, dug my hooves in the grass. I didn't know what to do, but I kept watching him.
My father had almost pushed past the warriors, and greeted my brother with a strong, unsettling hug. He was in direct line of the exhaust pipes and burned his flanks, but he didn't care. My mother thanked the warriors guarding the barricade and followed through, approaching him slowly but constantly, meeting him and kissing him on the cheek. He returned the gesture. She put her hands against his chest, then made fists, then buried her forehead into him. I watched him the whole time. His expression did not change.
He looked up at me. I looked back.
(Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill,) he said to me. I looked away, but then I checked back with a stalk eye.
(Yes,) I responded.
(Come here, little brother.)
I did not know him. I'd heard a lot about him, but he was stranger and more foreign than neighbors I'd never spoken with. He was a warrior, and most of them terrified me. He had been to the stars. He'd seen more than I could imagine, he had done things that even my teachers couldn't describe.
But I followed his invitation.
I stood beside my mother, blocking myself from view. Mother put a hand on my back.
(He is shy,) she said to my brother.
Elfangor moved to my side. I buried my face in her flanks. He kneeled so he could address me. I watched him with my stalk eye.
(It's all right, Aximili. I'm nervous too.)
Mother laughed, bright now, and turned me to face him. (This is what he looks like, Aximili.)
I gazed closely. He was smiling, but it was not happy. It became less happy the more he watched me.
(I'm sorry I wasn't here,) he said to me privately. I was surprised. Why would he apologize for fighting in the war? For becoming a hero? He'd done his people and military proud.
(You were always here,) I said to him.
I'd meant to comfort him. To forgive him. A very troubled look came over his face, and he stood straight up.
(Let's go home,) my father said.
They talked for a long time that night. My father laughed, appearing decades younger. My mother was enjoying herself, but kept a worried stalk eye reserved for me. Elfangor did, too. I didn't say much. This wasn't my family. These were not the people I had known. This man was a stranger, and he had changed my parents into strangers, too. I felt sick. I felt like my real family had been stolen away, like I'd been kidnapped. I couldn't laugh with them.
I didn't sleep that night. It's ordinary for Andalites. Especially children.
The next morning, Mother and Father left early to feed. They told Elfangor to sleep in. They didn't know that he'd been awake long before them.
He and I watched each other for a long time. He stood in one empty corner of the scoop that no one stepped near. I stood in mine. I thought we would stare at each other all day, but then he spoke.
(How old are you now, Aximili?)
(Old enough to be in the academy,) I said proudly. I didn't know why I felt the need to prove myself to him. I didn't know why I wanted to impress him.
(Do you like the academy?)
I waved my stalk eyes in a gesture of ambivalence. (I get to walk there by myself.)
(Freedom,) he sighed. (Yes. Freedom is a good thing.)
I watched him for a while, not sure how to respond, or if he even wanted me to.
(What is space like, Elfangor?)
(It is big.)
(Yes,) I said. (In school, we learned that the universe is expanding faster than we can measure it.)
He smiled. (You must have been distracted during that particular lesson.)
I was confused. I twitched my tail in the air.
(I never much liked school, either. I wanted to be a warrior.)
I suddenly felt a connection to him. A deep trust and companionship. (Yes,) I said. (That is what I want.)
Elfangor smiled, looking outside the scoop. Distant. (Do you want to go visit my old guide tree?)
(Hala-Fala?) I asked.
(Ah, you know him,) Elfangor said.
I waved my stalk eyes again. His eyes narrowed.
(Let us go before Mother and Father get back. I have a feeling they're afraid to let me out of their sight.)
(Why would they be afraid of that?) I asked.
A pained look came to his eyes, but then he smiled again. (They think I'm going to run off without saying goodbye.)
Elfangor and I left the scoop. At our pace, his guide tree was about fifteen minutes away. We walked side by side, mainly in silence. Elfangor's stalk eyes watched the sky. Mine watched the ground.
(Why do you want to be a warrior, Aximili?) He finally asked, sparing a stalk eye for me.
(Yeerk scum must die,) I responded customarily. That is what all the other children said during the mid-day exercise period. I had forgotten that I was supposed to have a better, more austere, more mature answer.
(It wasn't me, was it?) He asked.
(You?)
(Do you want to be a warrior because that is what I chose to be?)
I stopped. He did too.
(Yeerk scum…)
(Must die, yes,) he sighed. (Don't let Father make choices for you. Don't let him deify me. He has a misguided sense of pride. Follow your hearts, Aximili, not his.)
I felt hurt. I didn't know why he was telling me this. Father wasn't wrong about anything.
(There he is,) Elfangor said suddenly, breaking into a trot. I followed suit. There, just as he said, was Hala-Fala. He stopped about a meter in front of it. I stood behind him.
(He doesn't know you,) Elfangor whispered. (Didn't Father pass him to you when I disappeared?)
(Mother wanted him to, but Father refused.)
Elfangor's stalk eye dipped in sadness again. He moved to kneel in front of his guide tree, and pressed his hands against it.
(He's older,) he said. (You can feel it in his bark. He's been lonely without me. You should have spoken to him, Aximili, even without Father's permission.)
(I'm not allowed to leave the scoop…)
Elfangor's face became serious, grave. I stood back, watching him. He kneeled in front of the tree for a long time, stroking the bark. After a while, he pressed his forehead against it. Wound his tail vulnerably around his flanks. I began to grow frightened. A warrior should not allow himself to appear so emotional. So sad. After a while more, he began to shiver. He was crying.
I almost turned away in shame. This was not how I pictured my heroic brother, the one who nearly sacrificed himself to undo the catastrophe of the Abomination. This was not how a hero behaved. But something about his openness, his grief, his weakness seemed even stronger and more impressive than a stoic warrior with good posture and a strong tail. Something about this crippled honesty was very brave. I still felt ashamed, but I did not leave him.
He stroked the tree for a long time, finally turning a stalk eye back to me.
(Come here, little brother.) I dragged my hooves but obeyed him. (Sit.)
I did as I was told. Elfangor lifted my hand with his and pressed it against the tree.
The tree was heavy. I can't think of how else to describe it. It acted as a medium between Elfangor and I, feeding into me what Elfangor fed into it. I didn't understand. I felt happiness undone by loss, love undone by…something. I felt power and fear. I felt bravery and cowardice. I felt something deeply complex, unable to be explained by convenient labels like "hero" or "traitor."
I didn't understand it all, but I looked at him for a long time. He wasn't a stranger anymore. He was my brother.
(Aximili,) he whispered after a while, still heaving through sobs, face wet and bloated with tears. (Do you think it is better to have loved and lost? Or never to have loved at all?)
I watched him for a moment, now suddenly and painfully aware that not only did he have a past, but it had been very unpleasant.
(I have an instructor in school,) I said. (He says that every experience is worth something, even if we think it is pointless or painful. That lessons can be found in unlikely places, and we should never shut ourselves off from life, even if it seems to always hurt us.)
(A teacher told you that?)
(He is my favorite instructor.)
Elfangor's stalk eyes lifted, and he smiled at me. He put a hand on my shoulder and rose to his hooves.
(I thought I'd lost everything,) he said through a sigh. (I thought he'd taken everything from me. I thought my service, my return would come at an infinite price.)
I didn't know what he was talking about, so I didn't respond, but I rose to my hooves as well.
(You're just like me, Aximili. Aren't you?)
(No. Your eyes are green.)
He laughed for a very long time. I didn't mean it as a joke. It was true, after all.
(If you want to be a warrior, little brother, I will allow no other besides myself to be your Prince.)
(Really?) I gasped. (I get to have a hero for a Prince?)
(No. No hero,) he said as he turned around and began to head home. (Just Elfangor.)