Utopia Falling, page 23
Tossing a small branch on the heap of the inferno, the fire-maiden’s eyes, deep red and black, blinked open. Her head rolled back with laughter that burned at Reyne’s core. “No. You tease me, little man, with morsels. I-We demand tribute,” she screamed, flames shooting from her mouth. Tilting her fire-head back, she roared, releasing a blaze high into the air.
“My friend, I will pay your price, but first tell me of what you know of the brothers on this farm,” Mera replied.
“No!” she roared again. But this time, Mera pulled his arm back from the flames, her full figure now standing amongst the conflagration. Beautiful and terrifying, yet mesmerizing to Reyne as both the spectacle of a fire-being that spoke and of the most sensuous female form he had ever seen. Eddies of red, deep yellow, orange, whirling, riding, shifting intense colors played along her skin, forming:
Her face.
Her hair.
Her neck.
Her breasts.
Her torso.
Her thighs.
Her legs. Her long, sensual legs.
It all held Reyne’s attention. He couldn’t look away.
Again, Reyne noticed her voice. It spoke and hissed words. At times it sounded deep, sultry, crackling, and at other times rose to a high-pitched whine, but it was always alluring to his ears.
“These brothers, one of them here with you, tends us well. Now, tribute.” Other flame beings, one after another, rose by her side up to the height of her hips. Tongues of flame licked at her thighs and in between them. She moaned in delight before the smaller beings fell back into the orgy pit.
“The young man here does not believe his own eyes. Tell him something only important to him he might not know, and I’ll pay your price. Tell him something secret, special. Prove to him your type reveals all that is locked away in the wood, the living matter that sees all that goes on around them. Prove to him you are real.”
This time, she took a more seductive approach as she held out her hands and reached for Mera’s face. Yet he did not flinch. Orange, red, and yellow flame-skin reached out as smaller flares flickered off her fire-fingertips. She stroked his face, yet the heat did not burn him. He smiled as she reached to pull his lips to hers.
“Tribute,” she hissed in a whisper.
Mera held out his other hand. It appeared to touch nothing of solid substance, melting in between her ample breasts. Yet he pushed the fire-woman back with little effort.
“Meratoruc,” her words softly slithered and crackled, “please, I-We am-are dying as we speak. I-We need tribute.”
“I will feed you well tonight, but first tell him as I asked.”
An arm shot out from the base of the bonfire as though reaching for the pile of logs, but the fire-arm couldn’t remain formed as it moved further from the pit. “Ahhhh,” she screamed out a sizzle in a high-pitched screech, having failed to gain the pile of branches.
“So be it.” The fire queen closed her eyes, tilted her head back before snapping it forward as both eyes shot opened—burning a look into Reyne’s soul. “Of the girl. They both love. The other brother, not here. He hides his feelings.” She stopped. Waited. Then demanded, “I-We speak true of what I-We know of what the wood reveals. Now, tribute!” she shrieked as a conflagration of a thousand Firaché shot upward at her command, taking shape, cavorting, screaming before dying down to a flicker.
Reyne’s eyes bulged in reaction at the manifestation. Stunned at the revelation, his mind reeled. Nausea reached from his gut and threatened to explode at what she claimed. Daedyn? Mithany? No!
Mera spoke to the fire-maiden, “You’ve done well. I will speak with your kind again and will offer praise of you when I do.” Mera let go of her fire-form, releasing the Firaché queen.
She slipped through his grasp. The fire queen’s form settled down into the communal pit, and a multitude of fire-bodies consumed it. Her form disappeared from Reyne’s eyes. Her words spit out from the center of the fire with her final words trailing off, “Tribute.”
In a single motion, Mera threw the entire pile of branches onto the bonfire. With a roar of embers and flame, Reyne thought he heard laughter. Fire flickered high into the sky, turning back the approaching dusk.
“They haven’t gone, you know. We’re just not seeing them as we did a moment ago. I released them, but the lives you saw are still dancing and playing as we speak. They are celebrating the brief lives they have. What you saw, you might think of as debauchery. Not really. They’re just making the best of what little time they have. They showed us forms you and I can understand. They don’t live as the bodies you and I saw. They live in the natural state you see now.”
“Is it possible that I just saw that? That was real? And Daedyn, feelings for Mithany? I’m not sure which one is more unreal.”
“They’re as real as you and I. And what she told you is true as well. But I showed this to you because I’m out of time, and I need you to see past the world you know to accept some of what I’m going to tell you. It might seem impossible to you right now. It’s not a trick. It’s real. You’re in danger. I showed you the Firaché so you might look at the world and know there is so much more to it, and well beyond. I am challenging what you believe, so you might accept what I have to say. It’ll be hard to believe any of it. If things were different, if we had more time, if I got to you sooner, perhaps there’s a different way. But the girl Arek called Neladith is a problem. She’s a dangerous assassin who is here now, and she wants you. Dead. I can guarantee she’s not alone. I have to take you away from here so they can’t find you.”
“My head is spinning, and I can hardly believe any of it. And that shit about Daedyn. You said it’s real. How can you know that?”
“I don’t, but I know the Firaché speak the truth, and they’ve never lied to me before. I believe her every word.”
“Nothin’ makes sense at the moment. I need time. Now you say someone wants to kill me. Why? What did I ever do? Doesn’t add up. And that fire-babe, holy shit, I can’t believe what I saw.”
With his head hanging low, Mera stated firmly, “We don’t have time. You don’t have time.”
“Leave me alone! I need time.” Reyne’s face couldn’t hide his inner devastation at the revelation about Daedyn’s feelings for Mithany.
“You don’t have any. Promise me, before the night is out, we’ll finish this conversation. There’s so much more I need to share with you.”
“Maybe… Maybe.”
“Before we go, let me—”
“How can that fire-babe be real? How could she know Daedyn’s still in love with Mithany after all these years? He wouldn’t do that to me.”
“She spoke of Daedyn’s hidden love for Mithany. The Firaché showed you something real. They knew more than you about Daedyn’s feelings. Or was it something you already guessed? You said it yourself. He’s indifferent to this marriage. Why isn’t he happy about it? If the Firaché are right, your brother’s been hiding it from you. If they spoke true, you must accept that what you saw was real. And if the Firaché are real, consider the danger you are in… is very real.”
“I gotta admit, I thought he just resented her, you know, rejecting him. All these years later, I never guessed he still carried a torch. He took his shot, lost, and gave up. So I took my shot with her. She picked me.”
“Understand this: what you saw was true. She spoke of you beyond what I know of you two.” Mera rubbed this hand along the arm just pulled from the fire. “And it wasn’t without a considerable cost to me to show you the Firaché. They don’t burn my flesh, but let me tell you, their bite hurts like hell. It takes a considerable effort to do what I did, and I’ll pay the price over the next few days.”
“Okay. I’ll admit I saw something. What, I don’t know.”
Mera nodded as the two men stared into the fire, watching the flames rise even higher now they had left the Firaché to themselves. “You asked for time. You don’t have any, but I get it. Your head’s spinning. Take a few moments. Talk to Mithany and Daedyn. You and I have to talk more later tonight. When we do, I’ll share what I can about the Firaché and why I think—no, why I know, you’re in danger.”
Reyne was confused about what he saw, what he heard, and even more so confused about Mera’s warning. His head was swimming, and the implications for what he believed was real could all come undone. Although not prepared to deal with any of it, he couldn’t turn away from what he had to think about.
Witness to the Firaché captured his attention. Their reality couldn’t be denied. Mera played that card just right. Reyne didn’t want to give in to Mera’s challenge, but the tug he felt from the Firaché was strong. Reyne wondered, was it worth listening to the rest of Mera’s stories to better understand what he’d just experienced?
Reyne didn’t know what to do. But what if it changed his life? He didn’t want that. He was happy here in his childhood home; in the life he once had with his parents; the life he has with his brother and with Mithany; the only home he’d ever known. And he was to marry the woman he loved in just days.
Reyne had always been inquisitive from the moment he came into this world. But even now, after witnessing the miracle of the Firaché, he wanted nothing to disrupt his life, to muddle his plans. He was going to marry Mithany, have children, grow alphen nuts, and live a happy, quiet life. He wanted a life with the woman he loved and nothing was going to change that.
Thoughts of the Firaché wouldn’t let go of him though. He considered, Should I hear what Mera has to say? I’m still not leaving, no matter what he says.
His resolve was firm enough. He could take whatever Mera could throw at him. He could listen and stay the course. Marrying Mithany is going to happen, no matter what Mera says.
Truth would mean consequences. But if I don’t hear any of it, I don’t have to do anything about it. Everything could stay the same.
Of course, if Mera is right, assassins could be real as well.
Reyne paused before concluding, I gotta know.
Leaving the fire pit and the Firaché behind, Reyne and Mera walked toward the house. Although Mera did most of the talking, he didn’t believe everything Mera told him, but he listened.
While Mera explained the nature of the Firaché, the two of them took up steps on the porch as impromptu seats. Mera shared little pieces of his background. He struggled with one revelation more than anything Mera said. Mera’s words reset Reyne’s history, crashing against the rocks of disbelief. As he listened, he hardened himself to Mera’s words.
I am NOT leaving Mithany or Daedyn. Reyne’s mind was fighting Mera at every word. I am not leaving this place. As much as he tried to make himself believe his own inner thoughts, he knew he was not being honest with himself. In his confusion, he did the only thing he could. He steeled his resolve and said, “Mera. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
“Then you’re dead.”
Belle of the Ball
Teth: 27th day of the Salmon Moon
Kaythlin
Kaythlin and her husband Madrotti Tomelai were among the honored guests of First Lord Jerithan Cree at the Feast of Teth Banquette, the final event of the day. High-ranking religious and secular leaders from the four corners of Tartica, accompanied by their respective staffs according to custom, were all in attendance. Whomever orchestrated Chancellor Tomelai’s assassination would be in the gathering of dignitaries; Kaythlin was certain of it and, even more so, determined to ferret out their identity.
First Lord Jerithan held the fete in the Palace’s Grand Glen Hall. Kaythlin, with her arm locked under her husband’s, marveled at the walls, the ceiling, and even the floor as each contributed to an extraordinary mural scene, reminding her and every attendee of the power of nature and of humanity’s place in it.
A basic tenant of the Temple of Life placed humankind as only one of the many creatures of the world, created in equality, beholden to Mother Earth, for sustenance, shelter, and life. The room dwarfed Kaythlin—as it did all in attendance—under a dome masterfully crafted, sitting one hundred feet above the floor. Her eyes followed the giant sequoias of The Stand depicted across the main wall with an opening resembling The Gate at the main entrance to the room. She reflected on the army of long forgotten artisans who painstakingly reproduced every needle of every tree in such exactness that it proved difficult to discern the reproduction as an artifact.
The unbroken mural rose from the floor, flowed up the walls to reach the top of the dome—every inch in vivid color. Treetops seemed to change hue based on the light penetrating through the strategically placed windows high off the ground, as a ring of glass encircling the dome. On the far wall, opposite the depiction of The Stand, stood the Razors: an impenetrable mountain range bordering Teth to the north. The Razors dwarfed both the city itself and even the majesty of The Stand. Its peaks, many over twenty thousand feet, stood as a reminder of the power of Mother Earth. The Bay of Synn, as recreated on the western floor of the Grand Glen Hall, served as a transition from The Stand and the Razors. The Bay of Synn, a natural wonder, afforded access to the city-state for the vast commerce moving in out of Teth each day.
Kaythlin swept her red high-heel clad foot over the view of Teth as though seen from above like the goddess herself looking down on the city. Tile inlay expertly recreated the Grand Protisium as it traversed the length between The Stand and the Temple Palace, including the spoked roads leading to and from the Palace, the hub of the city. The fields and farmlands standing between the city proper and the Razors, which made up the natural basin sitting between the Razors and the Bay of Synn, were a breathtaking representation of the outlying communities.
Kaythlin caught sight of Jerithan Cree huddled with his supporters, including several of the Prudents who made up his power base. A stroke of Tomelai’s hand, signaling to him she’d noticed something he should take note of. Amused at how they fawned over the First Lord, she collected and stored away the insights she gathered from her observations.
Kaythlin kept her ears piqued in all directions as the festival banquet afforded every attendee the opportunity to impress any other attendee. Played right, the evening offered the chance to propel a lesser Prudent to a higher status or, for the more carnally focused, a chance to acquire mating privileges for the night. Played wrong, doomed one to the back-benches of Temple leadership for years to come or at worst, one more evening in an empty bed. Kaythlin mused, reflecting on those who usually played the game of flesh and others whose lust ran deeper than skin and always played for power. As the Feast of Teth Banquet rolled along, and the candidates vied for position, Kaythlin took it all in. She and Tomelai, arm-in-arm, weaved in and out of the players as they roamed the room, soaking in the sights, the words, and the whispers.
She observed Prudent Serco intentionally turn away from Prudent Hansel’s approach. Moments later, she watched Serco catch sight of Prudent Beezup, and head off in his direction.
Tomelai leaned in, whispering into her ear, “Watch for clues. We still do not know who amongst these vultures sent those men in after me this morning. Secrets and powerful forces are at play. The game master is somewhere in this room.”
He didn’t need to remind her of their shared objective of the evening, to flush out candidates. With her arm under his, she pulled him in close and teased, “Oh, my love, you know I only have eyes for you.” She ran her long, thin fingers through the graying hair of his temple. “It makes you appear distinguished.”
“You sure I am not just getting old?”
“You wear it well, dear. It gives off a stately, experienced leader vibe. So does the black suit, the long tails, the white shirt, and I love the sash.”
“Now I know you are fucking with me.”
“No. Maybe. Well, you are so handsome. You have me, you are correct, I’ve always hated the sash. But you pull off the entire ensemble nicely. You men have it so easy. You put on a dark suit, white shirt, and you appear so polished. What I had to go through, not even close.”
“And the results are a testament to your natural beauty and not of the effort.”
“You are too sweet, my love.”
“The two of us standing here, the Chancellor of Adelle with the First Lady on his arm. Who do you think they are looking at? It certainly is not the guy with the distinguished graying temples.”
“Of course they are.” Lady Kaythlin raised up on her toes, scrunching them into the front points of her high-heels, to kiss Tomelai on the cheek.
The dressmaker slit Kaythlin’s long silk gown up the right side, intending to expose one long, slender, silky-smooth leg—just as the First Lady commissioned it. The effect commanded attention with each step she took. Thin, sheer material clung to her upper frame, only releasing its grip from her body just below the hipline. Fabric, shaped and colored to resemble the yellow and orange leaves of autumn, adorned her dress. The vivid colors seemed painted on as fabric rolled over her backside. Her dress clung there, rounded and perfect, before gracefully falling loosely to her ankles. Curved hips, set in motion when she walked, created the impression of flowing liquid amber. Form-fitting silk clung to her bosom accompanied by a low neckline that afforded an ample amount of cleavage to compete for attention. Thin straps of her sleeveless gown crossed along her back, far below the First Lady’s shoulders.
Kaythlin understood the effects the female form could have on both men and women alike—and she counted on it. Although the male physique could achieve a similar level of notice—just not this night. While overt sexuality pervaded Tartican culture as a consequence of repopulation insisted upon civilization, its ever-present display didn’t inure human nature to its prurient appeal or release any who Kaythlin ensnared in her trap. Once in her grasp, as the ambushed spewed mindless chatter, attempting to impress her towards their own ends, she readily disarmed her captives, extracting unguarded tidbits of information.
To Kaythlin’s way of thinking, sexuality, like intelligence or ambition, were mere tools to be employed by those who possessed them and were both willing and skillful enough to do so. She possessed all three, and put all into play as she wandered the room, supported by her co-conspirator husband at her side—a choice she made—as a means to an end.
