An Elegy of Fate Read online

  The thought of being the first man on the back of a Sandwyrk was overwhelming. Rollond was taught to fear these things, but already, as he gripped a thick tendril of its dreadlocked mane and hoisted himself onto Kiyurim's back, he learned that they were more than mere desert nuisances.

  As soon as Rollond's weight settled on him, Kiyurim stabbed his arms into the sand and hurtled forth. He skimmed over the desert; a swift yet graceless ride.

  Rollond squeezed Ashenzsi, even as the wyrk slowed. They passed through a narrow tunnel, going deep into the mountains to an open cavern. An opening at the top provided sunlight and in the distance was a broad and high plateau. Water rushed down all around it from the gap in the cavern ceiling, and Rollond gawked at it, awed.

  An abysmal chasm separated the plateau from the rest of the cavern. The routes to the raised platform were narrow, smoothed wooden poles covered in moss. The mere sight of these poles made Rollond's stomach churn, even as Kiyurim deftly coiled around and pulled himself onward. Finally the beast stopped at the top of the plateau, where the winding pole dove into shoddy clay mortar.

  Rollond's temples ached seconds after Ashenzsi and So'yi dropped into the swarming mass of Kyusoakin. They all looked so much alike that he lost sight of Ashenzsi in a sea of sandy complexions. Even So'yi's tangled red locks were swallowed in a tumult of black dreads. Rollond hesitated to dismount.

  "Get off!" Kiyurim bellowed, and threw Rollond into a bubbling pool of mud.

  He thudded face down and laid in the muck. Contemptuous laughter sounded all around him: Uunani kyisoulaat.

  When the voices of the Kyusoa became faint, Rollond dragged himself from the mud. He came to a pristine, warm spring of water and knelt down, cupping his hands and rinsing his face. Only after did he look up and notice the scowling visages of the Kyusoakin who congregated there. They growled and dispersed, and Rollond slunk into the pool. He stripped off the last of his clothes, and settled in the pool's sand bed, sulking over his welcome. He sighed and leaned back.

  Six little fingers squeezed his shoulder. So'yi perched on Rollond and nosed through his hair.

  "What are you doing up there?" he asked.

  "Looking for you," she said.

  "Well? Did you find me?" he chuckled.

  She bowed over the top of his head and unleashed a tiny roar, meaning to nip his nose, but lost her footing and plunged into the water.

  He smiled at her playful attitude, dampening his desire to sulk.

  "May I join you?" A voice snared Rollond's brief joy as words rolled from a thin and narrow, serpentine tongue bearing a neutral Gyutal accent so perfect it made Rollond's skin crawl.

  "Yes," he said. He couldn't help watching with intense intrigue, as she unwrapped the towel around her sleek body and settled stark naked in the water beside him.

  "I am Asaliael, but you may call me Asalai." She offered her hand and Rollond stared at her four fingers.

  Finally he shook it. "I'm —"

  "I know you." Asa smiled. "I was the one who severed your birth cord. You likely don't remember me, Rollond, but I do recall you, as do a number of others you don't know.

  He furrowed his brows. "Look, I don't care what you're talking about, and I'm not about to accept some ominous typhod bile from some wised-up, washed down freak that I don't know." He snatched his pants and wadded them over his hips, rising from the water. "Heik," he swore, "I'm going home." He set one foot on the sand bank when his eyes settled on So'yi's face. Her ears were back and her visage was a let down one.

  He stopped. Why? What more did she want from him?

  "Why are you here, Rollond?" Asalai asked.

  "I…" He had no idea what to respond with. Except that he liked being around So'yi, and Ashenzsi wasn't half bad. "I was bought here — I asked and I made a decision that I wanted to learn."

  "Then why go back?"

  "Because that is where I belong," he said, his tone strong, authoritative.

  Asalai met his stern, challenging gaze with her unshaken visage. "In the life that you hate…?"

  He shook his head. "What do you know?" he growled.

  "A lot," she said. "You don't fear becoming Neisam, you abhor it — because it means bondage, it means slavery, and you cannot yet bear it. So why do you insist on returning to the machine that will imprison you?"

  Rollond was dumbfounded. "Because… I was born to —"

  "Destiny is a death sentence," Asalai said. "You are here because you chose to be; the little one adores you because you chose to help her; the older one offers you Brotherhood because you chose to treat him like an equal. Now, as then, and for times to come, you have choices to make and consequences to see through."

  He crouched, silent, and Asalai peered into his fascination.

  "Don't let anyone fool you into thinking that because you were born, you were born a slave to predesign," she said.

  He said nothing.

  "You're welcome to stay."

  Rollond plopped down on the sandbank, yet cradling his pants in place. "There are things that I have to see to," he said. As if he had ever lifted a finger, willingly, towards his duties as prince.

  Asalai nodded. "Maybe I can see to them for you?"

  He perked his eyebrows and looked at her. "Sounds good, but how?" Sarcasm rang in his voice, and his lips curled into a smug grin.

  "I will ask of you because I require it."

  His visage turned into a deep frown. She was serious, and he almost knew what was coming next. He didn't like it. Though he could barely understand why, as Asalai reached out to him, her open hand expecting to receive. "The Ra'ol stone of Alekzandrya."

  It was the proof of princehood; the emblem of authenticity; the rock that signaled who he was to the whole world. And, it was his only link back to home. "You're asking me to renounce my family," Rollond said.

  "I'm asking you to own yourself," she softly replied. Her open hand represented what he wanted, and he knew it. But freedom does not come without price, and he was well aware of what he was handing over, for the most part. He took her hand and clutched it.

  "You understand what this means?"

  "Yes," he said, "yes I do."

  "The Tsamiiq and the Schyiqar will gather the commune soon."

  He helped Asalai up.

  "I wouldn't bother getting dressed if I were you, the Kyusoa will take it as marked shame."

  Rollond narrowed his eyes. "You want me to go naked?"

  "M'hm." Asalai nodded.

  He watched her leave until a familiar hand patted his calf. So'yi reached up and Rollond tentatively gave her his pants. She solemnly waddled over to the edge of the plateau, dropped his pants over and wiped her hands clean. Then she hopped over to him and took hold of his hand, leading him towards the gathering.

  Rollond's presence did more than drive the collective apart; he silenced them, bringing forth a multitude of scowling, furious and distraught faces with each step. So'yi stayed perched on his shoulder as he drew near to a lowered pit. In it were three large spheres. Two of them were occupied.

  "Uunan," hissed a female voice from atop the highest floating sphere. Her voice seethed with disdain, and he still stepped forward. "What boldness drives you here?"

  "Madness," he said, pulling his shoulders back and raising his neck. "What else could it be?"

  The Tsamiiq laughed. "Yes, what else can it be? For you are not welcome here." She dropped down from the sphere and landed gracefully on the palms of her hands and feet. At first she approached him, prowling, like a lioness, then she stood and got near to him, face-to-face. "Tell me why we should not rend your flesh like the animals you Uunani think we are?"

  "Because if you were animals, you would have shredded me before I stopped here." He pointed to where he stood. "Obviously you're curious to know what I have to say, why I'm here, what I have to do with anything."

  She arched her brows and shifted her weight back. "Yes."

  "I'm curious to know that, too," he said.


  "Tschoka, that is no way to treat your guest." Asalai sat, cross-legged on the sphere that hovered closest to the ground.

  "He is not my guest," Tschoka said.

  "Either slit his throat and be done with it, or come back to your perch and accept that he is among your kin as a guest," Asalai said.

  He watched her face contort into a vicious, beasty scowl, her keen teeth bared forth. She raised her talons, her steely fingers bent, and he showed no fear. No emotion, placid as a calm lake, looking into her eyes. What large, sparkling, and outraged pink irises she had. They were beautiful, and Rollond respected that.

  "Feh!" Tschoka pushed him. "You are not worth the death by my claw." She flattened her ears back and looked away from his abysmally deep, cobalt eyes. She went back to her sphere.

  "I'm glad that's over," Asalai said. "Now to explain," she said, unsheathing a long, curved and ornate, bony dagger at her thigh. "This might cause a wee pain and discomfort. Nothing you can't handle, right?" She palmed his chest, her fingers curling, feeling for where to stab. She drew the knife back, and the muscles of Rollond's chest tensed.

  The razor tip of the blade barely touched his chest, when an overwhelming, but not blinding light erupted between them. Asalai stepped back, shielding her eyes with her arm.

  — Asalai, a voice said. It was soft like the rush of a creek over stones, and yet commanding, authoritative. Asalai, tell me that you do not actually plan to extract a Ra'ol stone from where I have put it. Or have you gotten this bold over the years?

  "Yes, I have planned —"

  — Silly Xei-girl, said the voice. But more than that, what a stubborn and self-confident man, to think that you would stand there and actually subject yourself to being stabbed, multiple times, in the center of your chest for a rock that doesn't even belong to the nation you originated from.

  Rollond looked at Asalai funny. "What?"

  — But it is hard to imagine what you can't see as I am speaking to you. The voice chuckled. But we Alyi are not of any discernible shape. The best I can give you, is this.

  It was like smoke and mist, as it rose from the ground, liquid, twisting and writhing. It alternated a full range of colors, but was dominantly burgundy-violet and gold-orange. It emanated out of the ground, between Rollond and Asalai, and it snaked up high, until it bent and seemed to peer down at Rollond.

  "What are you?" Rollond asked.

  — More important is who am I; we Alyi are masters of Aelyth, and by extension, the Aelyth speaks by our will. So you know what it is that I am. As for who, my name is Dyiij. And I have for some time taken a considerable interest in you, Prince. You have shown much promise, especially since your friend there offered you something sincere, and even he has been in my eye for quite some time.

  "What do you want?" Rollond grunted.

  — The well-being of my world and all that dwell in it, Dyiij said, and your willing cooperation.

  "Why do you need a man to cooperate with you? I've heard rumors of you Alyi; you're mighty spirit beings."

  — This is true. I could do it all myself. But this is not about me; it is about you, and others that are now, and others that have yet to come. Even those who will die have a significant role in this.

  "Sounds like you're offering me a binding fate."

  — No, not a destiny, but a choice. If you would accept my offer, and cooperate with me, I will assure your and Ashenzsi's escape from the one who drives the clockwork design. From the golden eyes of Fate you will be hidden. But know that this being put before you comes with grave consequences.

  "What kind of consequences?"

  — Ones that are best left unheard of. But if you must know… Should you refuse, to Alekzandrya you will return, and for a time, it will proceed as usual. The pressure to be Neisam will loom over you, until the day that you inherit the nation of your namesake. You will take for yourself a wife, because it is required that you produce an heir. But Destiny, Mokallai, will come and Alekzandrya will be as toys in his hand.

  "That does sound terrible…" Rollond rubbed his chin. "Mokallai, you say? What's the deal with him?"

  — Aeons ago, an Aelythian being, a Megynsei, a spirit creature lesser than we Alyi, was commissioned to preside over the affairs of the domain of my sister. Mokallai is that spirit, and the manipulation of, and assurance of specific events, is his power. At first he managed her domain well, but soon enough he became so enamored with himself that he figured himself unstoppable.

  — When my sister returned to her domain, unspeakable things were taking place amongst the physical beings. And these things happening were all in connection to the veneration of Mokallai. He has since been utterly transformed into a dilapidated spirit, no longer recognized as a Megynsei. But during the hour of his execution, he boldly fled here.

  Rollond sat down cross-legged. Dyiij had his rapt attention. Even when the message was grave, her voice remained in some way uplifting and soothing.

  — Mokallai is evil, she said, sorrowfully. And no matter what, he must be destroyed. Or else, the things that happened to my sister's peoples will happen to you. And I do not want any of you to suffer; you are precious to me. However, I will not bring about the end of Mokallai any which way, nor with just anyone.

  — This is why I have come to you, Rollond, Dyiij said, her tone serious. You will not be the champion of my will, the Harbinger of Mokallai's undoing. You, instead, will become a stronghold, and under your shadow, all kinds of beings will take refuge. During your time as Bastion and Overlord, the one who will be my Champion will emerge. You will love him, and he will be like a son to you.

  — All I ask for in return is that you give him back to me.

  Rollond glanced at Ashenzsi. The other Kyusoa kept themselves crouched low, their bellies flat to the rocks, but he stood, his ears moving frontward and back, uncertain. As it was a strange thing to comprehend. And yet, both of them were curious to see how, exactly, these things the Alyi spoke of would turn about.

  'Well? What do you think?' Rollond asked.

  Ashenzsi shrugged. 'If an Alyi speaks, so it must be true.'

  Rollond grunted. 'You blindly accept this — this thing's word as truth?'

  'Perhaps I do,' Ashenzsi grinned, 'More than that, I have settled in my rou'u that whatever you do, I want to be with you.'

  '… Why?'

  'I want to know where your story ends. Be it by life or death, I wish to see you through.'

  "Alright," Rollond sighed, "I accept."

  Distortion.

  Kneitun, the capitol of Konstaniah, the nation of the hellish marshland, Malzeyur;

  Dyinaacvas, the 46th day, to Melvas, the 47th day of the month of Ristvarr;

  What went down in the 452nd year into the Seventh Epoch of the terrestrial stage, Dyjian;

  The events surrounding Arlen, Lellayla, Sara, and Yonathael

  Deep in slumber, his eyes flickered.

  It was a dark and cold place. A tumultuous mist crept along the ground, and he held his arms to his chest and shivered. "Hello?" He called into the endless void. His voice echoed hollowly, and he received no response. He kept walking in one direction. "Hello? Is someone out there?" He called out again.

  His eyes watered, and he kept on. Until finally, two figures stood in the distance. One was a Kyusoa, he could tell, and the other appeared human, except that when the silhouette of the man became clear to him, he knew the white-haired man wasn't all that he seemed. By the shape of his eyes, and the dark lines of his eyelids, like a woman wearing eyeliner, he was part Xei.

  He reached out to rest his hand on the man's shoulder, when the brilliance of colors, such radiance, burst forth from the man and the Kyusoa. He held his arm over his violet-burgundy eyes, at first, but as his vision adjusted, he recognized it:

  "Dyiij," he said. "My Alyi, please, please help me — please! You don't know — you don't know, the things that he has done through me; the things I have done, because of him!" He got down on his knees, and the wetness
of his eyes flowed down his cheeks. "Conceal me in death, Dyiij, I beg you — before he returns, before he returns!"

  — Shh, Dyiij shushed him. A tendril of color brushed his tear-stained and wary face. I know it is not you, Yonathael.

  He shivered and wept.

  — Just a little while longer and it will be over, I promise.

  "How much longer will you allow me to be used? And with these evils, will I see punishment? You know me — you know me, my heart is not this bitter!"

  — Hush now, Yonathael, and know that you are dear to me. You must wait because I do not wish to see you swept up in the eternal death of that one. Just a little more patience, and it will be done. Be quiet, and slumber; forget what you saw, and know that I am for you.