I sit across from him. It's still very dark, but slowly, a flicker of blue light begins to illuminate the room. Dilandau is turning the knob on the base of a gas candle.
There is a long moment of silence. My eyes are cast downwards towards the floor. I can't stand to look now that I don't know what's going to happen. All at once, I am afraid again.
I can still feel his eyes on me. I close my eyes for a brief moment and breathe, trying to slow my heartbeat.
"Look at me." Dilandau says. The sound of an order still lingers in his voice.
I flinch back in my seat a bit, and then I turn to look.
Dilandau's hand still lingers by the base of the candle. He's leaning forwards on the table, and his face seems set in stone. It's almost emotionless.
Words fly through my head at such lightning speeds that I don't have time to organize them into anything that makes sense. Our eyes are locked.
Dilandau leans back in his seat and crosses his arms.
He tosses his head in the direction of his bedside table, "Get me some wine."
I slowly stand up and head towards the table, upon which rests an empty glass and a half-full bottle of rosé wine. I pick it up, and on an impulse sniff the opening of the bottle. The smell reminds me of the first time we kissed. I take a brief glance back at Dilandau, who is sitting very still and appears to be deep in thought. I wonder just how much of this he drinks in one day in order to forget things like this. Or at least push them back into the far corners of his mind. The memory of the taste on his lips lingers still by mine. It did taste kind of good...
I pour the wine into the glass.
Replacing the bottle to its former position, I walk to him and set the glass on the table in front of him. Without a word, he picks it up and drinks, closing his eyes. They are opened again as the glass is set back on the table, a little less full than it was.
"Now go," he says, not looking at me.
I'm struck by the command.
"Excuse me?" I ask.
"Get out." He says stiffly, picking up the glass again.
I stand in shocked consideration for a moment... Then make my decision.
"No," I say.
The wine stops on the threshold of Dilandau's mouth. The glass is lowered and he turns towards me, eyelids lowered, eyebrows raised, a wide, disbelieving smile distorting his features.
"What?" he asks in a hushed voice.
The smile scares me. Can I turn back now?
"I won't go." I say.
"How dare you..." Dilandau's voice is so quiet now I can barely hear it. He rises to his feet, and his left hand grasps and twists my ear. My knees bend from the sudden flash of pain in the side of my head. His whispers become yells. "You little whore. GET OUT!" He pushes me away again.
I stumble and fall to my knees, my face buried in my hands. My shoulders begin to shake, my breath becomes staggered. I'm crying.
Thoughts, words, faces, feelings. I can't even tell what I'm really doing anymore. I leap to my feet, charge towards him, take his head in my hands and press my lips against his. My tears wet both our faces.
"What-" he starts as we are disconnected for a fraction of a second. I'm pressing against him so close I feel I might knock him over. His hands are grasping at the edges of the table with what seems to be all of their might. Dilandau stumbles sideways and we begin moving towards the wall as one. As my left hand brushes through and occasionally grasps onto clumps of his hair, my right hand begins to undo the top of my uniform. It falls off with the belt that holds my scabbard and sword, and bare skin meets leather. His back is now pressed to the wall, and I to him.
Up until now, Dilandau had always been the challenger. Like he was daring me to let him enter me, like I was doing it at my own risk, and if I didn't survive it, it would be my own fault.
This time it is I who is the challenger.
His lips caress my shoulders, and the metallic coldness of the tiara embraces the side of my neck.
"Dilandau..." I breathe before our lips meet again. My hand begins to undo the top of his uniform...
"Oh, God...!" We disconnect. I open my eyes and move again, spurred on by what I assume has been an outburst of passion. But I stop when I notice Dilandau looks anything but passionate. He is suddenly looking away from me, his eyes wide and his breath coming quicker than it should. I can only blame a flicker of the candle on the fact that his eyes seem to change- drastically- for half a second.
In one sharp, quick motion, he's looking back at me, a dazed, dead countenace on his features. I'm frozen.
Then all at once he grabs hold of me and kisses me, harder and deeper than he ever has, as if it's the last time he'll kiss anyone. As if this kiss is essential to his survival.
We fall into each other. We make love. And it is pure.
But not as pure as it could have been.
*
Morning.
The Vione floats softly over the landscape below, just as it always has. But in the air is a feeling of the need for patience, and readiness. Tomorrow is the attack on Fried.
It seems like so long ago that I first encountered my new friends. So much has happened since then. And thinking of my conversation with Kestrel yesterday, I realize that now is the time to get everything finished.
If not everything, at least as much as I can.
"Viole...? I'm ready to talk about it."
We don't have much time to talk right now- only the amount of time it takes to walk to the training room- but it's the principle of the matter that counts. I need to get back in the group one way or another.
Viole smiles. "I figured you would be sooner or later."
A pause.
"So do you love him?"
I start at the sudden question. But then I realize that I should have expected someone like Viole to be so direct.
"Yes. I think I do."
Another pause.
"I saved his life once, you know that?"
"Huh?"
"Back when there were only five of us... Raphael, Migel, Malenla, Chesta, and I... We were out fighting a dragon. Lord Dilandau got hit by its tail and flew against a tree. It went for him with the spike, but I pushed him out of the way..."
Woah. "Did you get hurt at all?"
"No, thank God... The dragon's spike hit the tree instead... But I've kind of been on Lord Dilandau's little 'favorites list' ever since. I think in his own militaristic, twisted way, he's grateful to me for saving his life.
"You know, I didn't find it too hard to believe when I found out about you two," she says, a smile in her eyes.
"You didn't?"
"No," she shakes her head, "I don't really know why... It's just that there seemed to be something different about you. That separated you from all the rest of us."
So I was separate from the beginning.
As always, Viole seems to read my mind, "Don't worry about it, Cherandle..." she says, climbing into her guymelef, "I just wanted to make sure you weren't getting hurt."
*
Viole snrks and turns away as the rest of us stare. Gatti, Kestrel, Rafael, Viole, Palem, and I seem to have stumbled upon a rather private meeting in a side hallway.
The two of them notice us and move away from each other. "What's the matter, Zarain? Thought you were the only one playing army games?" Malenla asks bitterly, turning on me. She then turns on her heel and storms away, smoothing back her hair, which is disheveled. Chesta, meanwhile, gives us a weak smile and saunters off in the same direction.
"Oooh... kay..." Is Rafael's comment.
*
The soft notes of Kestrel's guitar fill the air. Soft conversations carry on elsewhere in the room. I lie on my front in bed, my toes brushing the bottom of Gatti's mattress. I am writing a letter.
Dear Father,
I apologize for not writing to you for so long. So much has happened. There's so much I want to say.
I suppose you know about the attack on Fried taking place tomorrow. It will have already happened when you relieve this. Who knows where it will go from there? It seems I'm only sure of a small number of things recently.
Have you seen Mother lately? If you have, how is she? I hope she's getting along okay without us.
Dad... Whatever happens tomorrow, I just want you to know that I love you, and I know you love me. I thank you for your years of guidance, your patience after I left, your acceptance when I returned to you. And for your sword. it has become my dearest possession.
Thank you, Father, for your knowledge. And your love.
Your Daughter,
Cherandle Zarain
*
Another day. Another dawn. There's a chill in the humid air.
Hardly any words are spoken as we all rise from our bunks and dress. It seems the time for frivolities and ties of friendship is over. Now there's only that military barrier. We are a team. A guymelef unit. Bound by honor and trust, but not by friendship. Not today.
Of course, we all still know in our hearts and minds of the times we have shared. the memories of laughter, inside jokes that developed during long conversations in the barracks, the things we discussed over meals. There are some among the group that we consider our best friends; perhaps the first one we met upon our arrival, someone we fought during training who provided a challenge, or simply our bunk groupmates.
But not today. Today we are all equal, all trusting of each other, no matter what has happened in the past.
I think of them all: Gatti, the first one I met, who rescued me, who if it wasn't for I would not be here. Viole, who I consider a best friend and a big sister, who would lead me along when I was lost, who always has advice in a hard time. Kestrel, an expert swordsman and a good friend, whose battered guitar would serenade us to sleep some nights. Malenla, a new-found friend of mine, whose ice-cold wall was broken down by the warmth of laughter. Palem, a shy little girl with a heart of gold and an inner warrior spirit. Corran the joker, Alix the talker, Xori the philosopher, Chesta, Julie, Guimel, Dalet, and Raphael...
The one who is gone has left a hole in the past.
We fight for him today.
The only one who speaks, besides Dilandau as he orders us all to prepare for battle, is Viole, who, in her usual matter-of-fact tone, sums up everyone's mutual feelings as we climb into our guymelefs.
"Well.. here we go."
There is a long moment of silence. My eyes are cast downwards towards the floor. I can't stand to look now that I don't know what's going to happen. All at once, I am afraid again.
I can still feel his eyes on me. I close my eyes for a brief moment and breathe, trying to slow my heartbeat.
"Look at me." Dilandau says. The sound of an order still lingers in his voice.
I flinch back in my seat a bit, and then I turn to look.
Dilandau's hand still lingers by the base of the candle. He's leaning forwards on the table, and his face seems set in stone. It's almost emotionless.
Words fly through my head at such lightning speeds that I don't have time to organize them into anything that makes sense. Our eyes are locked.
Dilandau leans back in his seat and crosses his arms.
He tosses his head in the direction of his bedside table, "Get me some wine."
I slowly stand up and head towards the table, upon which rests an empty glass and a half-full bottle of rosé wine. I pick it up, and on an impulse sniff the opening of the bottle. The smell reminds me of the first time we kissed. I take a brief glance back at Dilandau, who is sitting very still and appears to be deep in thought. I wonder just how much of this he drinks in one day in order to forget things like this. Or at least push them back into the far corners of his mind. The memory of the taste on his lips lingers still by mine. It did taste kind of good...
I pour the wine into the glass.
Replacing the bottle to its former position, I walk to him and set the glass on the table in front of him. Without a word, he picks it up and drinks, closing his eyes. They are opened again as the glass is set back on the table, a little less full than it was.
"Now go," he says, not looking at me.
I'm struck by the command.
"Excuse me?" I ask.
"Get out." He says stiffly, picking up the glass again.
I stand in shocked consideration for a moment... Then make my decision.
"No," I say.
The wine stops on the threshold of Dilandau's mouth. The glass is lowered and he turns towards me, eyelids lowered, eyebrows raised, a wide, disbelieving smile distorting his features.
"What?" he asks in a hushed voice.
The smile scares me. Can I turn back now?
"I won't go." I say.
"How dare you..." Dilandau's voice is so quiet now I can barely hear it. He rises to his feet, and his left hand grasps and twists my ear. My knees bend from the sudden flash of pain in the side of my head. His whispers become yells. "You little whore. GET OUT!" He pushes me away again.
I stumble and fall to my knees, my face buried in my hands. My shoulders begin to shake, my breath becomes staggered. I'm crying.
Thoughts, words, faces, feelings. I can't even tell what I'm really doing anymore. I leap to my feet, charge towards him, take his head in my hands and press my lips against his. My tears wet both our faces.
"What-" he starts as we are disconnected for a fraction of a second. I'm pressing against him so close I feel I might knock him over. His hands are grasping at the edges of the table with what seems to be all of their might. Dilandau stumbles sideways and we begin moving towards the wall as one. As my left hand brushes through and occasionally grasps onto clumps of his hair, my right hand begins to undo the top of my uniform. It falls off with the belt that holds my scabbard and sword, and bare skin meets leather. His back is now pressed to the wall, and I to him.
Up until now, Dilandau had always been the challenger. Like he was daring me to let him enter me, like I was doing it at my own risk, and if I didn't survive it, it would be my own fault.
This time it is I who is the challenger.
His lips caress my shoulders, and the metallic coldness of the tiara embraces the side of my neck.
"Dilandau..." I breathe before our lips meet again. My hand begins to undo the top of his uniform...
"Oh, God...!" We disconnect. I open my eyes and move again, spurred on by what I assume has been an outburst of passion. But I stop when I notice Dilandau looks anything but passionate. He is suddenly looking away from me, his eyes wide and his breath coming quicker than it should. I can only blame a flicker of the candle on the fact that his eyes seem to change- drastically- for half a second.
In one sharp, quick motion, he's looking back at me, a dazed, dead countenace on his features. I'm frozen.
Then all at once he grabs hold of me and kisses me, harder and deeper than he ever has, as if it's the last time he'll kiss anyone. As if this kiss is essential to his survival.
We fall into each other. We make love. And it is pure.
But not as pure as it could have been.
*
Morning.
The Vione floats softly over the landscape below, just as it always has. But in the air is a feeling of the need for patience, and readiness. Tomorrow is the attack on Fried.
It seems like so long ago that I first encountered my new friends. So much has happened since then. And thinking of my conversation with Kestrel yesterday, I realize that now is the time to get everything finished.
If not everything, at least as much as I can.
"Viole...? I'm ready to talk about it."
We don't have much time to talk right now- only the amount of time it takes to walk to the training room- but it's the principle of the matter that counts. I need to get back in the group one way or another.
Viole smiles. "I figured you would be sooner or later."
A pause.
"So do you love him?"
I start at the sudden question. But then I realize that I should have expected someone like Viole to be so direct.
"Yes. I think I do."
Another pause.
"I saved his life once, you know that?"
"Huh?"
"Back when there were only five of us... Raphael, Migel, Malenla, Chesta, and I... We were out fighting a dragon. Lord Dilandau got hit by its tail and flew against a tree. It went for him with the spike, but I pushed him out of the way..."
Woah. "Did you get hurt at all?"
"No, thank God... The dragon's spike hit the tree instead... But I've kind of been on Lord Dilandau's little 'favorites list' ever since. I think in his own militaristic, twisted way, he's grateful to me for saving his life.
"You know, I didn't find it too hard to believe when I found out about you two," she says, a smile in her eyes.
"You didn't?"
"No," she shakes her head, "I don't really know why... It's just that there seemed to be something different about you. That separated you from all the rest of us."
So I was separate from the beginning.
As always, Viole seems to read my mind, "Don't worry about it, Cherandle..." she says, climbing into her guymelef, "I just wanted to make sure you weren't getting hurt."
*
Viole snrks and turns away as the rest of us stare. Gatti, Kestrel, Rafael, Viole, Palem, and I seem to have stumbled upon a rather private meeting in a side hallway.
The two of them notice us and move away from each other. "What's the matter, Zarain? Thought you were the only one playing army games?" Malenla asks bitterly, turning on me. She then turns on her heel and storms away, smoothing back her hair, which is disheveled. Chesta, meanwhile, gives us a weak smile and saunters off in the same direction.
"Oooh... kay..." Is Rafael's comment.
*
The soft notes of Kestrel's guitar fill the air. Soft conversations carry on elsewhere in the room. I lie on my front in bed, my toes brushing the bottom of Gatti's mattress. I am writing a letter.
Dear Father,
I apologize for not writing to you for so long. So much has happened. There's so much I want to say.
I suppose you know about the attack on Fried taking place tomorrow. It will have already happened when you relieve this. Who knows where it will go from there? It seems I'm only sure of a small number of things recently.
Have you seen Mother lately? If you have, how is she? I hope she's getting along okay without us.
Dad... Whatever happens tomorrow, I just want you to know that I love you, and I know you love me. I thank you for your years of guidance, your patience after I left, your acceptance when I returned to you. And for your sword. it has become my dearest possession.
Thank you, Father, for your knowledge. And your love.
Your Daughter,
Cherandle Zarain
*
Another day. Another dawn. There's a chill in the humid air.
Hardly any words are spoken as we all rise from our bunks and dress. It seems the time for frivolities and ties of friendship is over. Now there's only that military barrier. We are a team. A guymelef unit. Bound by honor and trust, but not by friendship. Not today.
Of course, we all still know in our hearts and minds of the times we have shared. the memories of laughter, inside jokes that developed during long conversations in the barracks, the things we discussed over meals. There are some among the group that we consider our best friends; perhaps the first one we met upon our arrival, someone we fought during training who provided a challenge, or simply our bunk groupmates.
But not today. Today we are all equal, all trusting of each other, no matter what has happened in the past.
I think of them all: Gatti, the first one I met, who rescued me, who if it wasn't for I would not be here. Viole, who I consider a best friend and a big sister, who would lead me along when I was lost, who always has advice in a hard time. Kestrel, an expert swordsman and a good friend, whose battered guitar would serenade us to sleep some nights. Malenla, a new-found friend of mine, whose ice-cold wall was broken down by the warmth of laughter. Palem, a shy little girl with a heart of gold and an inner warrior spirit. Corran the joker, Alix the talker, Xori the philosopher, Chesta, Julie, Guimel, Dalet, and Raphael...
The one who is gone has left a hole in the past.
We fight for him today.
The only one who speaks, besides Dilandau as he orders us all to prepare for battle, is Viole, who, in her usual matter-of-fact tone, sums up everyone's mutual feelings as we climb into our guymelefs.
"Well.. here we go."
