Banished

My breath rasps loudly in my ears as I push through an ever thickening underbrush. The clumps of palms are growing closer together now, forcing me to weave a narrow path through their smooth purple trunks. The wide bladed fan shaped fronds are the easiest to push through. Flat and smooth, the fans are sturdy enough to use them to move other, more obnoxious plants out of the way. The dangling whip-like vines that hang from the palms look unassuming but sport sharp barbs that scratch or try to embed themselves in my skin. I quickly learn to avoid those.

I can see at most two feet in front of me despite my enhanced eyesight and I briefly consider turning back. I know I am being every bit as foolhardy as Khane but I need to expel some of this wildness in me. So I push on, needing to be alone, away from the complexities of our group’s dynamics. Everything is changing. Everything I thought I knew is proving to be in question. What did I trust? Who? Questions and insecurities swirl through my mind, a maddening clutter that holds no answers. My life up to this point has been solely focused on training for my Trial and Banishment. I hadn’t ever considered what life might be like if I survived and had to make a life for myself in the wilds. I feel at odds with myself and everyone else, as though we living on borrowed time.

I continue in what I think to be a straight direction until I notice a violet glow to the darkening air before me. Night is coming on and I know I am being reckless but now my curiosity is piked. The closer I get, the more vibrant the color becomes. There is an almost hypnotic quality to it, a pulsing….but not quite. I swipe at a vine, cursing as it opens a line of red across the palm of my hand, and step through some fanned fronds to a unexpected sight.

Before me, the fog has lifted somewhat, perhaps burned off by the bright, luminous liquid below. It isn’t large, at least the portion I can see, but the pond before me is the single most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Shifting layers of glowing, intense purple and darker indigo colors slide around each other like living things. It is silent here. A bubble of quiet energy held in, protected by the thick press of palms and tropical thicket.

The fog layer acts like a glass dome, reflecting the moving colors below, keeping the outside world at bay. It is strange and so outside my experience that I stand motionless for a while, soaking it in. For the first time in my life I wondered at a world so much larger than myself. There is so much I don’t know. Is there a god? The feel of this place has a sacred, almost mystical enchantment to it. It would be so easy to lay down my lifelong anger and turn to a less violent existence. I wait, tempting fate, but no glowing figure presents itself, so I take my time absorbing the beauty, reveling at the stillness within myself.

Eventually, I grow tired of standing around. A sense of peace has replaced the wild feeling that had been consuming me. I can breathe now at least. I look around noting a narrow sandy shoreline. It is full night now so the only light comes from the shifting colors of the pond. It makes the sand look like dried blood which doesn’t harmonize well with the beautiful colors of the water and unsettles me a little. It breaks the spell to a degree so I decided to investigate the area more. I place my feet with care as I followed the water’s edge, unwilling to disturb the flow of colors with my dirty boots. Around a copse of short growing vegetation, the sand devolves to a thick muck making it more difficult to walk. It is slower going and I have to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other for fear of loosing my balance. The pond looks beautiful but Aito’s serious voice nags at the back of my skull, reminding me that pretty things should be avoided.

I am nearly around a stand of mini purple palms when I hear the sound. I freeze, listening. Absolute silence had become the norm and now the soft keening is out of place. Is it a hurt animal? I turn my head, trying to locate where the sound is coming from. My eyes travel the water line, looking for a shape that doesn’t fit the local vegetation. I squint, slowly scanning the pond’s edge, analyzing shapes, hoping it is one I would recognize. Hoping there won’t be a tentacle.

A huddled mass catches my eye. It is Khane! I am sure of it! I would recognize the outline of his double sided ax anywhere. My serene mood evaporates. All my anger from the past two days of suffering comes flooding back and I stomp my way through the grasping mud toward him. He hears me and stops sniffling.

“Keira?”

My expression must have given him some clue. I watch him unbuckle his ax and hold it before him.

“Stop. Wait. What are you doing? Why are you…” Streaks of wetness line his cheeks and his weakness only adds more fuel to the fire. I am beyond myself, so filled with fury and indignation I can’t speak. I storm toward him, slogging through the sucking mud, my blood singing for vengeance. I want him to pay for leaving me solely responsible for the safety of our group and for the misery of long days with Fish strapped to my raw back. All reason has burned away.

I hadn’t meant to let it go so far. My emotions had been a churning mess ever since I’d faced the beast and been left standing. Alive. I’d become untethered from everything I thought I knew. With freedom and life had come pain and disorientation. These are excuses, I know this. But I can only plead that a sort of madness overcame me…

And I twist.

Electric coldfire races down my spine, unlocking my twist as it goes. I feel a cool wetness as the curve of my newly formed wings lift up, the motion smooth even as I gasp with the pain of ripping flesh. The strange power I’d felt before is back, thrumming inside me like the pounding of a drum. Shards of power and light rise with my wings, reflected the luminescent glow of the pond, blue and purple violence. With shimmering wings of steel and death, I spring.

And hit a solid wall, stunning me. Khane uses my temporary inaction to his advantage. He swings his ax, a glancing blow, pulled at the last moment or it would have knocked me out cold or killed me. Instead, I fly through the air and splash face up in the pond, my back and wings completely submerged. I gasped, stunned, allowing a dribble of pond water to slide down my throat. It tastes of nothing and of everything. It is as though I have tasted life itself. It’s thickness slides down my throat like a slug and I swallow instinctively. A mistake. This is not water.

I exploded from the liquid, the glowing stuff sticking to me, eating at my tender back like acid. My back arches in an agony so extreme there are no words. I fling my wings wide, screaming as the acid tears me apart, barely registering Khane on the shore, screaming with me. I lurch and stumble into Khane’s strong arms… and pass out.

I wake to the feel of sunlight on my outer lids, soft morning light. Where am I? Slowly, other sensations make themselves known. Strong arms cradle me gently, protectively, and a hard body presses against mine. I snuggled back into the warmth but my eyes flick open in surprise. I guess what I’d heard about men in the morning is true. Part of Khane is most definitely awake. Embarrassed, I consider putting some space between us but I am too comfortable to move. Even so, I must have moved a little, alerting Khane that I am awake.

He grunts sleepily and I turn in his arms to regard his face. How could I have been so wrong about him?

Khane wakes to my orange eyes starring into his. He smiles in lazy contentment, handsome and mischievous at the same time.

“You’re an empath.” I accuse softly. “You shared my pain last night, that’s why you were screaming.”

The revelation had come in sudden blinding shock, and now feelings of wonder and regret war within me. That day we had sparred and he’d put me in the infirmary with a broken rib… he’d felt it just as much as I had. I couldn’t imagine it. Every blow he landed on an opponent he felt as well. How could he do it? How did he get up the next day to fight again? I reach out, my fingertips grazing the stubble along his jaw, his gray eyes turning silvery at my touch.

I am suddenly reminded of the hard muscle poking me in the side and scoot back in embarrassment. We have a safe two feet between us now, yet the tension still vibrates. Relationships and intimacy had not been encouraged in the compound, though I know many people hooked up. I just wasn’t one of them. Despite Monkey’s teachings of living life to the fullest, I had been focused entirely on survival.

“Keira.”

Khane reaches out and gently strokes my arm. I shiver at his touch and allow myself a moment to wonder, to fantasize about what it might be like to lay with Khane. Heat flushes my cheeks and I glance away, suddenly unsure of myself. When I turn back he is unbuckling his leather harness, a piece of it falls away in his hands and with a soft smile he nods at me.

“What?” Is it my turn to take something off? Are we really going to do this?

Khane holds out the strips of soft leather like a peace offering.

“You’re naked from the waist up.”

“What!” I glance down and am hugely surprised to see he is right. What little bit of tattered cloth I’d been wearing before is gone now, eaten away by the pond’s beautiful acid. Nudity in itself isn’t an issue for me. The baths at the compound had been communal after all, but the energy between us certainly puts a new light on things.

“Here, turn around. I’ll start it for you.” Khane gestures for me to turn and as I do I hear his intake of breath.

My shoulders sag as I imagine the horror my back must look like now. It no longer burns, in fact, there was no particular feeling at all but after the unspeakable pain of the pond’s acid it couldn’t be good. Then his fingers touched me, feather light as they trace the outline of my wings. Delicately, his thumb brushes the tips, the raised edges of my embedded knives. The hair on my arms stands up and I sit motionless, waiting for some exclamation of disgust.

“Beautiful.”

“What?” My head pops up in surprise.

“Your knives… they’re… they look like actual wings. Maybe from a bird of prey…” He pauses. “A blue and steel bird of prey.” His voice holds no hint of sarcasm. I can’t imagine what he means. Has the acid actually knit me back together, healed me?

“They’re like a tattoo, a raised tattoo of wings and…” He jerks back suddenly. “Ouch!”

I glance back over my shoulder to see him sucking his thumb and the image makes me laugh.

“Not downy soft, however.” He smiles ruefully and drapes the leather strap around my neck.