Chapter 2 – Amira
As soon as I met with Mnemon Rai, I sent a letter to our father, informing him of Jaret's death. I knew that it would take several months for him to receive the news and I wanted my message to arrive on The Blessed Isle before I did. I said nothing of my brother turning on me. His notoriously impulsive son being killed by the fae was something my father would understand. I didn't dare confess what had really happened. In truth, I did not believe that he could stand to lose both of us at once.
I was permitted to rest until I felt well enough to travel, at which point I was responsible for bringing my brother's remains home. Being that ours is a military House, the Cathak cemetery is somewhat larger than most of those in the Imperial City. Even still, it is reserved exclusively for the Dragonblooded members of the family. Jaret would be interred with our elder sister and some cousins who'd been killed at Thorns. Our father would deliver a heartfelt tribute to his valor, Aunt Garel would write his story into her books, and every year after Calibration Jaret's mother would bring flowers to his grave. When I died, I knew that there would be no such ceremony for me. I would be buried wherever I fell, and my name would be forgotten.
Had I ever dwelt on my death before? I could not remember if I had, but I knew for certain that it had never felt more immanent. Someone would learn the secret that I was trying to bury, and since I knew I could not bring myself to raise my sword against a friend or family member, I would be cut down like a rabid dog.
Mnemon Rai immediately promoted me back to my old rank, giving me not only the two Scales that Jaret had commanded, but another hundred soldiers formerly assigned to a Dragonblood he'd dismissed. He did not actually name me "Fanglord", but he implied that he would like to. I said very little and listened obediently as Mnemon Rai explained that he wanted to see how I would handle myself if I were given more power and responsibility.
I did not object to the honor, but hearing soldiers whispering about my sudden promotion did not sit well with me. I barely slept for weeks. Though I carried out my new duties without complaint, everyone from the camp followers who handled our baggage to the Winglord himself knew that I was Jaret's keeper. They were all as kind to me as soldiers ever were, which is to say that they left me alone. Perhaps they thought that I was blaming myself for my brother's death.
But the truth was, I could not even think of Jaret. Whenever I closed my eyes for longer than a heartbeat, images flooded into my mind and familiar voices rang in my ears. At first I thought I was hallucinating from the drugs I had been given, but the feeling that came over me as I drifted between waking and sleep was more akin to accessing an unstoppable torrent of memories, the memories of my past self.
I first dreamt that I was the commander of a great army. That in itself was not unusual for me. I imagine that most ambitious young soldiers fantasize about such things. The problem was, in days past I had seen myself serving the Realm, making my father proud, and bringing great honor to House Cathak. Following Jaret's death… well, I didn't know what I was seeing! My lessons in history led me to believe that I was witnessing a time long before the rise of the Shogunate. Still, what I remembered was so different from anything Aunt Garel had ever taught me about.
The city I lived in was staggeringly beautiful. My life was a whirlwind of grand campaigns and state events. Everyone I spoke to treated me with the utmost respect and I lived in a magnificent palace overlooking a pristine blue river and rolling green hills.
Always at my side was a weapon of surpassing beauty, a daiklave with a six-foot blade forged of a lustrous golden metal that I recognized as orichalcum. The magical ore was exceedingly rare and known for its tremendous weight. No mortal or Dragonblood could hope to wield such a blade, which left me with only one conclusion. In the life that I was remembering, I had been one of the Forsaken Anathema. Or... what were the words that my past self would have used?
Dawn Caste. Solar.
The first night that I slept soundly, I dreamt of a woman. I'd sensed for some time that she was present when I returned to my palace, but she always seemed to be sitting or standing somewhere where I could not see her face. I knew that she would sometimes rest her head on my shoulder as I watched the sun rise – the sound of her breathing was unmistakable, and the sensation of her fingers trailing along the back of my neck was intimately familiar to me. I could find no words to describe how those early morning memories made me feel, except that I was more at peace than I had ever been. There was a certain "rightness" in the world that had too long eluded me.
"Where do you want to go for breakfast?" My lover asked.
I turned my head slowly, taking in her appearance. She was dressed in a form-fitting gown of dark blue silk that accentuated all of her curves.Her hair was silver and cut so that it made her peculiar ears very difficult to ignore. Like her golden eyes, they would have better suited a wolf than a woman. And yet despite how strange she looked, she was still beautiful to me. Her lips were especially enticing.
"How about Calypsis?" I suggested, naming a place that I knew was very far away.
"It'll take us all day to get there." She replied. "Don't you have to meet with Perfect this afternoon?"
"I've already canceled." I replied. "In fact,I've canceled every one of my appointments until the fifth of Ascending Fire. I've also taken the liberty of clearing up your schedule."
"You took a whole month off?" She gasped. "Who are you, and what have you done with my Alexander?" She demanded, her hands on her hips.
The moment she called me that name, I began thinking of myself as "Alexander" instead of Loren.
"What?Amira, you said you wanted to get away,and so I arranged it!Though I can't imagine what we're going to do with so much free time!"I teased.
"Oh, I'm sure we'll think of something!" She knocked me right out of my chair and onto the floor.
I woke before sunrise. That was not particularly unusual for me, but my heart was racing. I found myself searching for Amira before I realized that the woman I was remembering had probably been dead for at least a thousand years. Then my eyes came to rest on a familiar pair of scuffed boots.
"Hey, Boss." My student smirked, watching me with amusement. "Roach" was fifteen years old, a short, wiry, Murqai boy with unruly hair and a smile permanently fixed on his face. I'd found him in the desert five years ago while marching back from Chiarascuro and he'd been following me ever since. By official rule, there were no servants or masters in The Winds, but Mnemon Rai had made a rare exception for Roach, mostly because he had nowhere else to go.
Though in a Wing of a thousand soldiers it is impossible to know everyone, Roach rose to the challenge. Claiming The Winds as his new tribe, he quickly learned the rules of the camp and could track down any man or woman within minutes. Widely recognized as the whore's son "protégé" of the House Cathak "disappointment", Roach was also teased mercilessly. Some of the things people said about him were downright cruel, but Roach never seemed to mind. His response to everything was to make a joke of it, and his sharp sense of humor won him some peace. From the time of our first meeting, he'd decided that I was the only officer he needed to impress, and he considered it his solemn duty to anticipate my every need, a trait of his which I found irritating.
"Roach, what time is it?" I wondered.
"Fifth bell." He informed me. "Talonlord Ozai thought you looked sick. Told me to keep you in bed."
I'd never slept past fifth bell before.
"My head is killing me." I groaned, slowly sitting up.
"So who's this "Amira"?" Roach teased.
I felt all the warmth drain out of my face at the sound of that name.
Roach laughed. "Easy, easy! I won't say anything! She's married, eh?"
I didn't answer that question, but Roach evidentially thought that the expression on my face told him everything. Of course, being only fifteen years old, Roach didn't know anything about women, but inexperience would not stop him from acting like an expert on the subject.
"Heh. Didn't know you had it in you, Boss." He helped me to my feet. "How's your wound today?"
I slowly stood up. I was still a little dizzy, but I figured that some fresh air would probably clear my head. "Better. I think I'm going to go for a walk." I decided.
"I'll come along!" Roach volunteered. "You know, you're not all that steady on your feet yet." He followed close to my heels as if he were expecting me to fall.
"Roach, I've been wounded before!" I informed him, though that was an understatement. I'd sustained many serious injuries in my years with The Winds, mostly because I preferred to be on the front line. "I know what my body can take, and right now I'm going down to the river for a bath!"
Roach grimaced, and I suspected that it was because I had used the terrible word "bath". Like most Southerners, Roach did not like to wash as often as I considered civilized.
"I promise, I'll be back before the sun comes up!" I sighed. "If I'm not, you can come find me."
Strange as it seemed, I knew the precise time in the space of a heartbeat and was certain that I could make it down to the river and back again before the first rays of light passed over the mountains to the east. What I could not explain was how I knew.
"You got it, Boss!" Roach gave a little salute.
I smiled slightly. My student was shaping into an exceptional soldier. For the first year that he'd been attached to The Winds, I'd used him as a groom for my horse, thinking of him as I thought of all the servants in my father's house. But by the time that Roach was twelve, he'd become fluent in High Realm and had started inquiring about Mnemon Rai's tactics. I made him read all the books that I'd read at Paisap's Stair and began teaching him how to wield a sword, not like a common thug, but like a Dynast.
Even if he was irreverent and mischievous, Roach was far smarter than anyone gave him credit for. I had noticed how Old Thunderstormer already watched him. Though he would wait for me to suggest that Roach was ready, I did not doubt that Mnemon Rai would soon see my student put in lamellar and officially sworn into the Winds.
As soon as I was beyond sight of our camp, I ran as if my life depended on it, putting as much distance as I could between myself and The Winds. I followed the river until it began to wind deep into the forest. No one would believe that I had recovered as quickly as I had. I wasn't even slowed down by the war wounds I'd had for years.
When I was sure that I hadn't been followed, I knelt on the grassy bank and stared into the deep blue water. There was something I had to do that I didn't dare attempt unless I knew I was alone.
My dreams had begun planting seeds of doubt in my heart. I was beginning to wonder how much of what had happened at the mine was real and how much I'd only imagined. I knew I had to act decisively or I risked going completely insane. I clenched my fists so tightly that I dug my nails into my palms. I could still sense that I had a power inside of me. Though I wished it would, that feeling had never gone away. But what was it? Perhaps I could speak with the thing that had chosen me as its host.
"Reveal yourself, monster!" I ordered out loud.
Nothing happened.
Was I possessed or wasn't I?
I decided that I should probably avoid throwing about the names of the demons that I was familiar with, lest I accidentally call one of them from the bowels of Malfeas. I sat in silence for a moment, and then I scoffed at my stupidity.
There was another answer, a much simpler one! If things that I saw in my ceaseless dreams were real, I'd Exalted… and at age thirty, no less! I knew that what made the Dragonblooded different from ordinary mortals was a gift called Essence, a power breathed into them by the Elemental Dragons. Using Essence was an act of will, a conscious decision. Fire-Aspects like my father and brother could burn like torches. Wind and Water-Aspects became raging tempests, Earth-Aspects were immovable as stone and Wood-Aspects could poison or heal with only a touch.
The way I felt matched every description I had ever heard of Exaltation. Whatever it was within me was not parasitic or alien. It felt like a part of me, as natural as my heartbeat! I knew that I could choose to see the golden light that flowed through my veins, just as easily as I could choose to sit up, stand, or lie down.
Mark. I thought to myself.
I felt a pinch just above my nose. It was almost like blinking, more startling than painful. I stared at my reflection in the slow-moving, dark water… the unmistakable demon brand flickering right between my eyes. The shape reminded me at once of a stylized morning sun, being exactly the same soft, white color.
Was that what I become? Sun-Chosen? And how could such a thing be evil? For the briefest of moments I saw my face superimposed upon the face of my past self. I was struck by how much I looked like him… or was it he who looked like me?
A rustle in the bushes drew my attention. I looked up and caught sight of a large silver wolf watching me with fiercely intelligent, intensely familiar yellow eyes. I picked myself up slowly and began to walk away. When I glanced over my shoulder to see if the wolf was still following me, I swallowed the lump that rose up in my throat. The beast was gone and standing in its place was the woman from my dreams. She wore a short dress of white linen, tawny leather sandals which laced all the way up to her knees and a fine velvet coat with silver buttons in her favorite shade of dark blue. Her hair was cut boyishly short and I would have named her a rogue if her poise has not been so extraordinary. She carried herself like a queen. Except for her attire, she wouldn't have looked out of place standing before the Scarlet Empress. The tattoos which covered her skin glowed in the fading light of the moon.
"Alexander?" She put her hand to her heart. I didn't respond. What could I have said? Did I dare admit that I was beginning to doubt who I actually was?
With the grace of a dragonfly, Amira skimmed across the surface of the water, her feet barely breaking its surface. She seemed like a ghost to me, intangible until she collapsed into my arms, sobbing uncontrollably. The warmth of her body and her smell left me convinced that she was no spirit or illusion, but a living, breathing woman. I didn't have the heart to let go of her. I suspect in some ways I needed her at that moment even more than she needed me.
It wasn't until she stopped crying and looked up at me that I understood. The time that I remembered Amira from was centuries ago. No mere mortal or even Dragonblood could have possibly survived so long! My hand brushed something soft and I realized that she had a tail. I didn't know I'd missed something so important. She was a demon, a shape-changing Lunar!
"Anathema?" I whispered fearfully, drawing away from her.
"Alexander?" She stepped back slightly herself, as if she feared that she had been deceived.
"Go away, Trickster!" I ordered, shaken.
"It is you, isn't it? Don't you recognize me?" As I started walking, she followed after me. "Have I changed that much?" The desperation in her voice was horrible. I almost couldn't bear it. If I didn't leave immediately, I was either going to choke on my own words or start crying myself.
"I don't know you, demon!" I snapped. What I had spoken was a half-truth and I knew it. While the part of me that was still Loren knew that I had to put as much distance between the Anathema and myself as possible, the part of me that was Alexander did not want to let her go.
Why was I hurting her? Even if she was a demon, what I'd said made me feel like a monster! Amira stared at me as if I'd run a sword through her heart. Immediately, I wanted to apologize. But before I could find the words I needed, she ran off into the dark.
I went back to camp and dutifully returned to bed. It was difficult to get back to sleep, and I woke several times in a state of extreme distress, the name "Amira" still on my lips. Once I thought I heard her crying, but she was nowhere to be seen.
Over the course of the next few days, my life returned to normal, or at least as normal as it ever would be again. I'd been serving under Mnemon Rai for years and had many close friends among the Winds. If I had wanted to, I could have easily pretend that Jaret was still at home, still infuriating Aunt Garel and making our father threaten to disown him. But I knew that was not the case.
He was dead.
I was dead too, or at least I knew I would be if my family ever discovered what had happened to me. The thought of that kept me on my toes, and I threw myself into my new responsibilities. My wounds healed perfectly, my dreams ceased for a time, and I began to ask myself if had I really changed. For certain, I could run a longer distance, jump further and I seemed to be breaking a large number of swords... but none of that was proof that I'd actually become a demon. The invisible mark on my brow was another matter entirely and my brief encounter with the woman from my dreams was even more difficult to forget.
Then, just as I had almost banished her from my thoughts, Amira returned. I was standing watch in the hours just before sunset when a little sparrow suddenly landed in the brush behind me. It followed me in a suspicious manner as I walked the perimeter of our camp and when I finally stopped at my assigned post, I noticed that its eyes were golden.
I blinked twice and when I could see clearly again, the little bird was gone and Amira was in its place. She did not stand, someone would certainly have seen her if she had dared to… but she did wink at me, obviously pleased that I had noticed her. She was wagging her tail back and forth like a dog.
"You again? What are you doing here?" I hissed, my voice no louder than a whisper.
"I came to see you." She replied.
"Why? I've already told you, I'm not who you think I am." I argued. She gave me a very painful look and I immediately wished that I could take back the words I'd just spoken. Observing the expression on my face, Amira grinned. Has she caught me in my lie?
"Go away!" I snapped, turning away from her. "I could sound the alarm right now! Have you killed!" I added.
"You won't." She retorted. As the perimeter guard turned, she seized the back of my cloak and forced me behind a stack of crates. I nearly retaliated, but then I felt her fingers tight on my throat and decided against any sudden movements. She was very strong and very skilled, that much was obvious. If I chose to fight her, there was a good chance I would not win.
"I know you better than you know yourself, Alexander." Amira informed me.
"You've obviously mistaken me for someone else. My name is Loren." I said. "Cathak Loren." I gave the name of my House in the same arrogant tone of voice that my father often used.
"Whatever your name is, you're still you." She whispered. The sensation of her nimble fingers running from my throat up to my lips made it exceptionally difficult for me to resist kissing her. "I've missed you so much!" She whispered in my ear. I almost lost the ability to stand at that moment, and nearly tripping over my own feet brought me crashing back down to reality.
"Stop it!" I protested, trying to convince myself that what I felt for the demoness was the product of horrible sorcery. I'd never been so weak in the presence of any woman, let alone one that I suspected might kill me!
Of course, I'd never desired any woman as I desired Amira. In my waking life, I'd never had a very serious relationship, but in my dreams I was reliving a centuries-long love affair that made even the most legendary romances seem small and insignificant by comparison.
"Denial's a dangerous thing, Alexander, especially for one of us." Releasing me, Amira slipped a thick bracelet off of her wrist and it unfolded into a silver rod about five inches long. "Does this look familiar? Oh, I bet you remember! This is my stupid stick. It's a kinder, gentler way of reminding someone that they're being stupid, stupid, stupid!" Each time she spoke that word she slapped the stick against her palm and it doubled in size until it was the length of a fighting staff.
"I don't give a damn about your stupid… stupid stick!" I protested, not wanting to admit that I knew I'd seen that weapon before and was already anticipating that she was about to hit me with it. "I am not Alexander! I'm nothing like you!"
Much faster than I had anticipated, Amira whapped me soundly across the back of the head with her stick. "Stupid!"
"Ow!" I protested. I wasn't injured, but my brains were a little rattled.
"Well, that made me feel better!" She replied with a mischievous smirk. "Although you are technically right… we've always been complete opposites! But that's why we balance, you understand? That's why we're perfect Mates."
That was it, the word I wanted. It meant more than "lover" or even "wife".
I didn't realize how close the two of us had come once again until Amira reached out and put her hand on my cheek, her trembling fingertips tracing the line of my jaw and coming to rest again on my lips. Again, I found myself wanting to kiss her, to fall completely into the darkness that surrounded her. Her eyes burned like warm candlelight and I did not doubt that succumbing to her advances would be an experience well worth going to hell for. That is... if I were willing to accept damnation.
"Don't touch me, Anathema!" I snapped.
"Feh! You're just mad because I interrupted your sulk!" Amira slinked around behind me and wrapped her arms around my neck. "What if I make it up to you?" She teased seductively. The most skilled courtesan in the Imperial City could not have done it better. I very nearly dropped my guard again.
I took her wrists and forced her off of me, shoving her towards the trees.
"Damnit, Amira!" I shouted before I could stop myself. It occurred to me that she had never actually said her name and by speaking it I'd just proven her beloved "Alexander" was inside my head. There would be no living with her now.
"Ahah!" Amira exclaimed, pointing at me and bouncing up and down with glee. "Liar!"
"Sir?" A young soldier inquired, turning the corner. "Are you quite all right?"
"It's nothing." I replied quickly, hoping that Amira had the sense to flee. Though I did not trust her, I could not turn her over to Mnemon Rai who would certainly kill her without hesitation. Amira was powerfully beautiful. It would have been an unbearable thing to see such perfect skin torn and covered in blood and those mesmerizing golden eyes without the light of life in them. I remembered that she had nearly died in my arms once before, and I felt compelled to protect her. Or no... all of that had happened to Alexander! Why couldn't I tell the difference between his memories and my own?
"Continue with your patrol!" I ordered. The young soldier nodded and went on his way.
When I turned back to where she had been, Amira had vanished without a trace.
I slept well that night, undisturbed by dreams of the past. It had been very cold in my tent for some weeks, but when I woke in the morning I felt as warm as I would have been next to a fire at home. There were traces of silver hairs on my blanket and I noticed several canine footprints leading off towards the river. Even after I'd cursed at her and pushed her away twice, Amira had secretly curled up at the foot of my cot. Clearly, she was incorrigible.
A single red rose lay next to my sword. I smiled slightly despite myself.
It was very difficult not to be swept into Alexander's love for Amira, especially when she tormented and teased me. It was not only a physical attraction either, although that was the part I found most distracting. I could scarcely keep my mind on affairs of the present, as much as I desired to see her again. I decided I would try to kiss her once before I departed for home, just to see if the taste of her lips was as sweet as I remembered it, like the very first peach of summer.
But she never returned.
Five days after Amira's second visit, my ship arrived and I set sail for the Blessed Isle. I expected that Amira would make an appearance until we were miles out on the open sea. I couldn't decide if I wanted her to stop me or not.
At the same time that I knew I was fulfilling my duty to my family, I also feared that I was running away from something much bigger and infinitely more important than the affairs of House Cathak. For lack of a better way to put it, I smelled a touch of destiny in the air.