Alright, I am posting this earlier than I planned. Want to know why this is earlier? OK. I have recieved 2 reviews for the last chapter. 2! Not that I am complaining, but I have about 1,000 hits and I only got 2 reviews? So here is the deal - I will not update until I have at least 5 reviews! Honestly, that is not a lot. I mean I could request compensation for the lack of enthusiasim over the last chapter, but I am trying to make this easy.
Thank you krazeeMe and Rosepetals Turn To DoubleEdged Swords for being my reviewers! This is your chapter!
"Love hurts, I thought crazily. Love hurts.
'But I knew that,' I said through blood and tears, still kneeling, hunched with the pain, clinging to my burning bridal flowers. 'You didn't have to tell me that.'"
Winter Rose Patricia A. McKillip
The night was cold. With every breath she could see the tiny crystals of ice fall from her softly parted lips and foam between their faces like the final white spray of the waves that crashed eternally on the sandy coasts. Love blossomed in her heart so that she seemed to swell and feared that before much longer she would break through the very seams of her being. She smiled at the thought. What nonsense could the mind create when it was so caught in the moment? After all, this moment was perfect. Nothing could make her unhappy as long as her love was left to hold her, warm her. It was wound about and through her very soul, her essence. She loved and was loved in return. Suddenly, every pore of the moon's inconstant face was worth speculation and memorization. The tender touch of the wind against her shivering and trembling flesh was the touch of a long lost friend. Everything was slowing beneath her gaze. Life had meaning and was bursting to accomplish it. Every barren branch was hope incarnate as it waited patiently for green leaves to erupt in a wild cacophony from its wrinkled and grey flesh. Everything held a life so innocent and pure she felt that she could spend eternity reveling in it and still find some new wonder. She never wanted to forget this moment. She was so satisfied and content. Never had life been so perfect.
The gentle touch of Akuji's palm against her arm was enough to send shivers of delight down her spine. She loved him so much. She would never leave him. He leaned closer to her until his body was in complete contact with hers. Slowly and tenderly, he wrapped his arms around her as though to keep her safe and near him forever. Her distinct scent of lilies and orange blossoms wafted through the air and engulfed him. He was lost to her forever, and he did not think twice about it. He was hers. He had offered her his heart in hands worn, dirty, and calloused. Despite all his imperfections, she had accepted it with her own delicate hands soft and white. He buried his face in her dark red masses of hair as though the memory was far too sweet for him to contain.
Ayoka Seoras was an unusual woman. Her family hailed from the Copper Isles though she herself was born in Carthak. She was raised with a Carthaki name and did not regret it. After all, it had given her Akuji, the love of her life. For him, she would pluck all the stars from the sky and weave them into a crown noble enough for his head. He was her sun and moon, night and day, and he worshipped her. She was his Earth and sky, and he would die for her, if she but asked. Her pale, alabaster skin fairly glowed in the softness of the moon. The elegance of her throat was hypnotizing and the light in her eyes the color of the jungles at dawn was intoxicating. As well bred and softly raised as she was Ayoka loved nothing more than running free through the jungle with her hair loose and flying wildly behind her. That was how she discovered her wonderful love, the young Professor Chiamaka.
His soft voice deep and magical caressed her ear as he whispered gently, "Perhaps we should return. You seem cold. I would not want you ill."
She leaned her head against his chest and responded with a smile resonating throughout her velveteen voice, "Even if it meant keeping me in bed for days on end?" She loved the way his skin already the color of the dark river soil could flush at her merest of suggestions. The gods knew they done far worse together than simply tempt one another. Still, she loved his innocence.
His full lips brushed the very edge of her ear as he purred back, "And why would I want a wheezing lover when I could have a laughing one?"
The resulting smack reverberated in the winter silence even through the muffling cloth protecting his shoulder from her indignant wrath. Her face was so red and flushed it appeared that the wind had rubbed it raw, and her eyes sparkled suspiciously. Finally, her deep throated laugh rand through the crystalline, chilled air. That laugh began in the depths of her stomach and pulsed outward until it erupted from her throat with a force that made it necessary for her to tilt her head heavenward. Her every emotion was constantly on display. Her every fear and joy, sorrow and delight was flashed upon her face not made for high society's dignity. Akuji loved her every perfection, and her every imperfection. Her failures were a source of curiosity, not rejection. He loved her ever changing ways. He loved her.
In the distance, a soft light began to shine against the horizon. It was like one flame, one tiny candle against the encroaching darkness. At the moment, it appeared like the last remnant of hope and salvation studded into a sky strewn with misery unparalleled. He loved it in that moment; it was a mark of his love for Ayoka because she had saved him from that insufferable blankness. He memorized the moment so that he would never forget, and he never would. It would rest so ingrained in his thoughts and mind that every waking moment would taste its flavor that should have been long forgotten. Even in sleep it would constantly flicker like a tiny candle's flame spluttering in the wind. He would never forget the warm softness of Ayoka curled in his arms as gentle and loving as he could ever have imagined. He memorized the low purr of her complacent breathing as silent and rippling as any cats'. Her hair was silky and smooth like satin against his fingertips. The night turned sightless eyes away from their loving embrace. He could never forget this moment saturated with an elation he had never before experienced. After all, every moment spent in Ayoka's company was new and unexpected.
Before his very eyes, the tiny light battered by the empty night began to spread. Amazement was his first emotion until he smelled the smoke. It burned his lungs like acid and ripped at his eyes as though it were a live thing. Ayoka writhed in his arms as though possessed until she could see the column of black on black stretching wicked fingers to the moon. The soft hope spreading its wings along the ground suddenly was immersed in hate and despair. It was not what it seemed to be. For the first time in his life, his heart had betrayed him. The dull roar of death could be heard in the distance. It flew toward them on wings blacker than the midnight shade, and they knew tonight was the beginning of something new. Tonight, the wheel of change began to spin once more on hinges rusty and decayed. This was the end of life as they had come to know it, they realized as they fled back to the relative safety of the great white house beneath the moon bathed in a sea of red.
The heat of the gathering flames bit and snapped at their ankles. Akuji pulled Ayoka closer and they clung to one another. As the welcome sight of the white manor swam into view through the tendrils of creeping mist, the sound of hooves on stone rang harshly on their ears. Strangers were nearing. With a look into her eyes, Akuji shoved her forward roughly. If they meant harm, they would pass through him first. He had no doubt that he would die in that case, but maybe it would give his love the time she needed to flee. After all, now that he had truly lived, what was there to fear in death?
The strange men drew up beside him within moments after he pushed Ayoka toward safety. She was a brave and headstrong girl, but he knew that this time she would listen to him. She would be safe for now. A man with olive skin reached out and grabbed by the hair with a hand worn and calloused in two identical bands across his palm but soft and smooth everywhere else. His face was obscured in the smoke and night; shadows played across features stretched in a parody of compassion. All that was left in Akuji's world was a powerful arm with a painful grip. A rough shout crossed into his clouded realm, "Salor, we need to get a move on! The rogue Banjiku is up ahead; the woman said he was at the white house were the Lord Seoras lives. Leave this one! He has nothing to do with us!"
"Aye, Captain, but he looks like a few of those half-bloods down in those huts we lit up. Maybe we should keep him? Just in case?" the voice was wheedling and cunning. It was deep and velvety with the perfect amount of uncertainty and decisiveness a man of power liked to hear.
"Very well, keep him," was the gruff response from the rasping voice just up ahead. He was still a darker blur on a canvas of shadow to Akuji's world, but he knew what was going on now. Someone had reported him as a Banjiku setting animals upon the Seoras family. He was responsible for the families without homes or loved ones. He was responsible for his people's deaths. They were coming for him, and they had him but did not know it yet. They were going toward Ayoka. She would see them and do something rash. He could not let that happen. He would be responsible for no more tragedies tonight.
Desperately, he threw himself backward. The was a sickening tearing sound and a searing pain in his scalp as a knot of wiry black hair torn from his flesh. The midnight strands peeked helplessly from the olive skinned youth's fist as Akuji plummeted to his backside. He scrambled furiously to his feet trying as hard as possible to focus on Ayoka and not the throbbing pain on the top of his head. However, it took only seconds for another, sharper pain to lance from the youth's sword hilt to his shoulder blades. For one precarious moment in time, barely long enough for a thought of despair, Akuji balanced before falling into the youth's waiting arms. Ungracefully, the youth with the surname Salor, tossed the helpless man before him on the horse already streaked with sweat and soot. Pain radiated to every nerve ending in his body until his vision throbbed to an unmerciful beat and glazed over with a faint red until the world spun into darkness.
It was only a moment before consciousness poured back into his limp body as if he were standing beneath a waterfall hundreds of feet high. It slammed into his aching muscles and pounded his tender bones. It felt as though it would peel away his flesh and wash away his blood, but he struggled through it to see a house white in the pearly starlight and dead of all but the flaming girl struggling with a horde of women clutching at her arms, clothes, and hair. Any part of her they could reach was grasped for, but Ayoka would not be restrained. Her love was bleeding, immobile over a horse's back and his hands were bound. Tears stood against her face drained of blood and moon white. They danced across her elegant cheekbones and died against her frozen skin like tiny stars, perfect diamonds. She was an angel from Hell; her eyes were only despair and anger. She had lost that human something swirling in the abysses of her eyes. Now, only vengeance tainted the perfection of her face. She had become something no one had ever known; her pain wrapped itself around her and made her into a beauty she had not ever possessed. Her face was frozen in rage; it was a timeless portrait of love and protectiveness no one dared defy. Ayoka was beyond reason; he could see it in her eyes.
Over the clash and clatter, the ringing of steel on stone and hope against desperation, Akuji heard the cold twitter of Madame Seoras, "What did you expect, girl? He is not one of us."
No, he was not. He was something they had no knowledge of and no power over. From the darkness of the jungle, a panther stalked restlessly to the aid of her brother. Along the tree line dark and tormented flashed two eyes the color of molten gold. Slowly, she paced the small distance as though a shadow, a twist of light. Silence was her second nature; secrecy her first. With a lithe leap, she landed neatly upon the unsuspecting beast bearing her hunting brother. His bonds were slashed in moments and he fell immediately to the ground leaving her ample room to sink her teeth into the wildly bucking and frenzied animal. Warm blood welled in her mouth, trickled down her throat. Still, the horse spasmed; its knees buckled and its heart raced. The human shouts meant nothing to her as she reveled in the glory of her kill. Finally, their words meant something as the white hot pain ripped through her pelt and the darkness of death seeped slowly into her mind. She accepted it and told her brother so. His pain was too much for her. He needed to save his mate; she had accepted her end long, long ago when blood was still knew to her tongue.
Tears studded his long, dark lashes as he watched the olive skinned youth stab his savior through the back, severing her spine. She had refused his demands; she had not left as he had requested of her. She had died because of him. He turned to see his beautiful love standing over a man the color of sand; her hands encased in rose red gloves. She lifted her eyes from the lifeless body at her feet. Slowly, she looked into Akuji's eyes, his soul once more. He understood. He wanted to help her, and with the flick of his wrist, he did. The man creeping up behind him fell with a muffled crash to the ground soaked in human and animal blood alike with a stolen knife protruding from his throat. His eyes were wide and staring. Like glass they fogged over slowly and steadily as the cold drowned out the heat of life.
"Go back, love. It's me they want!" he shouted brokenly over the wild cries of rage and death. His black eyes were hard and his deep voice cut through the chaos as though it was a scythe. This was the beginning. He could taste its coppery flavor against the roof of his mouth as he looked into her face white with determination. He was stepping through a door, a passageway, and he did not know how to stop.
"I will not leave you! You are me, just as I am you. If they come for you they come for me." Her voice was soft and comforting as though she spoke to a small child. He did not try to stop her again. He knew a futile battle when he saw one. Once more he returned to the maelstrom of bodies and emotions splayed brokenly about him. It was a patchwork quilt, a puzzle of the utmost complexity. Every movement caused a new reaction and a different outcome. What would happen, he wondered for the briefest of thoughts, if he should turn and step in a direction that was the opposite of where he was moving now? What havoc would that one simple change wreak? He did not dare comprehend it.
All about him men fought and lived. Their each breath pounded into the ever darkening night was new and exquisite. He did not kill another man. He felled two with blows that beckoned them into the realms of the unaware and unconscious. They may have been lucky. After all, they did not hear the scream that rent the relative silence of the bitter cold night swallowing them whole. This shriek was the sound of a creature in pain; it was a deep bellow that sank through flesh into bone and shook the marrow. It was the sound of death clawing its way into the breathing world for one heartbreaking moment.
Akuji spun on his heel the instant he heard the bloodcurdling noise. What his eyes saw was enough to cause his every injury to be ignored. This new wound made them all seem superficial. Ayoka stood, bathed in her own red blood. It ran in a scarlet cascade over her breast and pooled uselessly in her ivory white hands. He ran to her side, tears flowing freely directly from his heart. This was the last. He felt it; his heart had been ripped to pieces and each bloody ribbon screamed as it withered and perished, drowned in its own pool of red liquid. A rapier lay innocently dripping in the olive skinned youth's lax grip. It had pierced her very heart, cutting out the only part of her unwilling to admit defeat. Thin, weakened hands wrapped themselves in his. They were beaded and jeweled with warm, heavy ruby drops that sizzled in the coldness of the night. Her green eyes blazed as life seeped from them. Blood outlined her lips giving them an unnatural hue as her face became paler and paler in the waning night. Suddenly, those scarlet lips moved, "I will always love you, my darling. I am sorry; I must leave."
Absolute silence prevailed as her eyes dimmed and faded into a hollow grey. Tenderly, he shut her eyes with fingertips calloused and worn. Her body was cooling; her blood had stopped flowing. There was no longer a tattered heartbeat pounding determinedly against a ribcage just as broken as the rest of her. As if his words could change it all, he cried, "There is nothing to be sorry for, love. I love you, too, I always will. Please forgive me, please."
His voice faded away into nothing as sobs racked his body. He had never felt such pain before. His world was melting away before his eyes and he was tossed into churning black and red. Her blood pooled around him; it was drowning him, suffocating him. He could not think anymore; there was no light around him, everything was dark. Her hair beneath his hands was coarse and caked with dirt and blood. The dark red ribbon throttled her body stiff and cold in death. It was his fault. She never should have been out there. He had endangered her. He had killed her.
The soldiers stood out of the way. They watched the night dark man bent over the pale beauty crumpled and faded on the ground. They had been wrong. That was the long and short of it. This man was the one they had been called in on, but he was not the tormentor they had been told they would find. In fact, he was the love of the young lady of the house. She had loved him and he had loved her. What cruelty had they committed this night? What atrocity would their souls pay for as they perished and the light ceased to shine from their eyes? Was there truly a way to pay for the slaughter of love? No, they thought not. The captain shook his head deliberately and with a heavy heart as the young man in front of them wept unabashedly at their feet. Lost and alone, he pulled the girl to his chest and sobbed as though he could rid himself of all the pain of losing half of his life through tears. The grizzled captain knew no matter how much of the heart is discharged, the grief and pain would always thrive and throb where the heart once beat. This was the end of love.
The battered captain gruffly stated to the wailing mother, "We will not take the boy. We will forget he even exists. This night was never meant to happen, and we will act as though it has not. Forgive us, we were mistaken." With those words of little sympathy and devoid of compassion, he beckoned his men to leave and act accordingly.
Akuji clutched at the lifeless form of his beloved until the tears slowed and stopped. A dull ache settled into his chest and a sharp pain stabbed whenever he breathed. Why was he still alive and she was not? What gods had envied them so that they took the only part of him he truly loved? Why?
"What have you done?" screeched Madame Seoras. Her eyes were wild and her face was blanched. Her white blonde hair twisted and knotted itself in her face as it fell hysterically from her severe knot at the back of her neck. "What have you done?" she cried frantically.
"Nothing, Madame," he sighed heavily. His body was too weary to respond, to think, right now. Tears had left his mind numb and empty very much like his heart. He could not find it right now. There was no soft hum telling him to have faith, keep hoping. Hope was gone. So was love. "She died to save me. I tried to do the same for her. I failed, just as I have always." The truth hurt. So did love. But he knew that. "They killed her trying to arrest me for terrorizing your household. Someone misled them." Even his voice was dead to his ears.
She cackled. It was ruthless beyond his imagining. Her emerald eyes flashed maniacally against flesh white with shock. "I could not let her love you! What else would you have me do? I needed to get you away from her so she could see the error of her ways. You are no one. She was society, sophistication. You are and will always be wrong for her. But now, look what you have done! You befuddled her with promises you could not keep and lured her into this fate. You destroyed her. No one can bring her back! My only daughter! My baby!" tears flowed down her marble face without a pause or break in her words. She was ripping him to pieces, but he could not stop her. He half believed the words she said.
"You could have let me love her," was all he dared to speak. His voice was thick and hopeless. His love was gone, and he could not save her. No one could. Never again would she look out into the green depths of the jungle and purr to him and him alone. She would never again clutch at his hand as she walked and tilted her head back to look at the thousands of stars, trusting him to guide her. Never again would he wake to find her curled beside him like one of his feline cousins. Her fire had died in his arms. Her last breath had passed through her lips. She would never come back. He was truly alone.
The night passed on. The trees sang and whispered amongst themselves as if sighing a lament for the passing of love. Everything in this world can love. It can feel pain and suffering until the end of time, but it can also feel the joy and pleasure of love. Everything loves. Everything dies. The moon sank into the western sky before Akuji moved again. He was not listening to the soft chime of birds awakening and singing their songs of hope and renewal. Pain and death was all he could feel, all he could think of. A soft head brushed against his shoulder. The tawny fur glistened in the rose dawn as the cat looked up at him from jade green depths. He purred to offer comfort. He wrapped Akuji up in warmth and company as they both spoke of loss and beginning. He promised, with the gift of a name, never to leave Akuji alone completely.
Sweat soaked and terrified, Professor Akuji sat up in bed. Asha looked on, her eyes glowing reassuringly in the darkness. Memories always flooded past his careful walls when sleep finally overcame him. Every day he still thought of her. His every breath still sent a jarring pain through his chest where his heart should be. He knew very well all that was left of it was a memory; the vague feeling that he should feel something in a given situation. Ayoka was gone; he reminded himself firmly and once more felt the familiar tears slipping past his lashes. She has been dead for a long time; his broken remains of a heart screamed their reply. It was too much for a man as tired as he. He was far too tired.
Asha padded her way softly over to his lap and shoved the tangled sheets out of her way. Another dream again, she acknowledged.
"Yes, yet another, but there will still be more and more and more until I can no longer take it and perish in the night."
You sound as though you wish for such a fate.
"I would like to die. I miss her so much, Asha. I cannot sleep for fear of dreaming and seeing her face. I cannot eat for fear of living without her forever. I cannot breathe for fear of never feeling hers against my cheek for all eternity. I am lost, my love."
Yes, you are, but I am not a human. I cannot fully understand this pain you carry. That is why I brought you the girl. She can help you. She hurts, too.
"That is not enough, Asha. I cannot make myself trust her."
Then how can you trust yourself if you cannot trust any other?
"I cannot."
You long for death, but you cannot die. Why is that?
"I am still needed. My people need someone, and I cannot leave them without knowing there is someone to save them. They need hope, my darling Asha. I need hope."
Then wait and hunt. You will find someone. Wait to die and join her until you have taken care of your people.
"You would have me as a martyr? To die willingly before my people knowing there is no hope for me or them, but they are more important than I? My dear one, I died long ago. I am simply waiting for this body to give in."
Promise me you will not leave without trusting at least one other. Promise me that you will stay until the opportune moment. Promise me, brother.
"I promise. I will wait to die until I have fulfilled what is expected of me."
He resigned himself for a weary battle ahead. He closed his eyes slowing, knowing he would remain aware. There would be no more sleep for him tonight. The gentle call of one howler monkey to another far away in the distance reminded him of nothing in particular. After all, there was a time when he could still smile and laugh. Once he lived and did not worry about the troubles of the future, but that was not this time. Now, he waited and hunted. Someone was out there who was going to tip the balance so far that war would be inevitable. He would save his people like he could not save Ayoka all those years ago.
The night sank slowly around the dark haired boy's passage. He was like a shadow made of flesh and blood as he cut through the nocturnal stillness. Not even the moon turned her face to his. Dark storm clouds thrashed behind lashes long and dark enough to veil the tormented orbs in eternal night. Arram Draper stalked beneath a window of the University as he wandered toward his own rooms. His daze was abruptly broken as he heard the tortured cries filter cleanly through the screen of glass. Who called so piteously to the Black God who refused to listen? His feet slowed and his forehead creased in consternation. He knew this wing of the school. It was in the history section, near Professor Chiamaka's classroom. Shrouded in darkness, Arram stepped closer to the smooth stone surface radiating a memory of the sun's heat. His hand left a dusty print damp with apprehension and curiosity. What man shared the pain and turmoil locked behind iron bars within his own heart?
The soft gold glow of a single flame flickered and danced on the black grass. Arram pressed his spine into the steadying stone as if to hold himself up. Never before had he felt the world press upon him the way it did now. He had never had such troubles pool inside him and stink like stagnant waters black with death and decay. It pulled at him; a love wrenching him apart; a new compassion slowly twirling in her enigmatic dance over his heart; fear and dread twisting and curling over themselves as they ripped him to shreds; betrayal whispering softly and barely tainting his darkest thoughts. He had only begun to taste the anguish these bitter pleas promised. However, he was a quick learner.
Arram listened to the quiet, one-sided murmurs behind the gentle glow. The shrieks had stopped. The deep, booming whisper betrayed the speaker to Arram as he listened with a bowed head to the private, heart breaking conversation wafting out past his awareness. The night moved on. Slowly and haltingly, the night paused no longer for the pain of Professor Chiamaka. No longer could Arram wait outside the open window shrouded with night. He had to step into the daylight, if not the lonely, despairing room itself where passions lay buried and hopes haunted with eerie cries.
I had a lot of fun with this one. Hope you did too. Anyway, tell me in a review because I know you remember my arrangement! If I messed anything up, please let me know. I hate it when I have conflicting information, even if it is just a minor detail.