Measure of a Messenger ch 2: I am Your Shadow

At the utterance of the word lightcurver, the troopers raised their weapons and warily surveyed their surroundings as they squeezed closer to Wen. They hid him well, every one of them taller than him, and he a whole head taller than Zah.

Wen’s face scrunched. “Forgive me, but you sound ridiculous.”

Zah froze, hurt and annoyed and at a loss for anything he could say aloud. He had well been taught the respect that must be shown Ravi, especially in front of others. As his father had once lectured, “Wen Kimidjee will one day lead all Aylata in Amoya. He may even succeed the Ravida and hold all five territories in his grasp.”

So no, he could not say any of the disrespectful things he now thought.

“Regardless,” Wen went on, “I’m not leaving you here in these”—he paused, steely eyes roving the stained floor, the ceiling that was the witness of a thousand screams—“glorious accommodations.”

Despite the reassuring words, Zah noticed the subtle shift in the Ravi’s manner: a readied stance, a less focused gaze.

Wen’s eyesight, though above average, was not his most distinguished sense. His prized Talent, Kinetics, showed him details Zah could only imagine. Wen could feel the signature movements of matter and energy around him, and it was with this sense he searched now for Zah’s lightcurver.

Wen Kimidjee believed him.

Gratitude fell over Zah, as if the burden slowly-but-surely crushing him had been slightly tipped, as if the one shoving could push it all away if he just kept at it. Hope dared rise within him, churning in an odd mixture of emotions. He couldn’t truly believe they would all get out of this alive, and with so many innocents already dead, how dare he have hope for himself.

Yet, hope was there nonetheless, driving him forward as Wen gestured for him to abandon the cell.

Zah stepped into the company of troopers, each still bearing weapons. Throughout his life, these had been safety, a comfort. After the experience of this week, they were no longer.

As he walked with them, he inspected each man carefully. He knew none of them. Had they come with Wen from wherever he had been?

It was not uncommon to see a variety of descents in a troop. For them, one’s native territory had no bearing on one’s assignment. Among these six, only one had features considered typical of the Amoya: a tall, lean build, hair like white silk, dark skin and eyes, these latter narrow and set wide, reaching nearly to prominent ears. At one time, the Amoya were the people of the far north, their land now claimed by Skaelao. They were reputed as adventurous and observant, their conclusions and subsequent actions expedient but seldom thorough or accurate.

It was this cultural mindset that placed Zah in such danger: guilty because at first glance, evidence seemed to point to him.

Had Wen chosen these varied troopers with that in mind? The Fifth Ravi was not a planner. He was a reactor, good at thinking on his feet. He didn’t start the action, but he went with it, finding loopholes and backdoors through the plans of others.

Zah’s confidence swelled. That lightcurver had started this. Wen Kimidjee would finish it.

***

All systems failing, the screen reported.

Next to the words, a pulsing pair of numbers counted down the moments he had left to save this vessel.

He had no intention of saving it.

“The Fifth Ravi I will leave to you,” the lightcurver’s master had said, as if speaking of an inheritance. “Those of Amoya are of little use to me. With them, I will allow your cleverness a turn.”

It would be no straightforward attack. For starters, coming close to Wen Kimidjee without him being aware would be difficult enough, and even if the lightcurver were to fatally wound the Fifth Ravi, little would be accomplished. Yes, Wen Kimidjee would be dead, but the one ranked sixth would simply take his place.

It would prove nothing that was not already felt and believed. They would hunt down the lightcurver, hailing the death of their beloved Ravi as evidence of what they had long ago concluded: Every lightcurver was a monster and needed to die.

Instead, he would make them question those they loved. Those they trusted, relied upon.

“Sometimes change needs a decoy,” his master had explained.

So far from the capital, Amoya was the oft-forgotten territory. With no land on the Napix homeworld, they were considered practically foreign.

But everyone was looking now.

***

Was anyone watching?

The footsteps were almost silent, even to Zah’s overly sensitive ears. These troopers surrounding him were highly trained, likely from the High Defender’s legion or of the Refraction Leader’s own guard, lent to his Ravi nephew.

As far as Zah could tell, Wen’s footfalls actually were silent, and he couldn’t help but wonder if there was a reason for their stealth. His heart pounded, adrenaline and Magni-specific chemicals racing through his veins. He wanted to run, though reason told him that was stupid. His legs didn’t care; they shook, ready to go. He could outrun them all.

No. That was ridiculous. He clenched his fists, those shaking, too, and forced himself to listen to their steps, to match pace with those around him. He counted the beats, adding, dividing, factoring in echoes. The streams of numbers helped calm him, diverting his mind from crazy notions. They told him how far he walked, where he was, kept him focused, alert.

“Kimidjee.” Zah’s version of a whisper was not what most people considered audible, so he made a conscious effort to speak loud enough for the Ravi to hear, but no louder.

Wen’s opaque eyes snapped to him in acknowledgement.

“Do my interrogators know you took me from the cell?”

Wen grimaced. “They were not in favor of it.”

“We’re a long way from it now. How far are we going?”

“Not far enough to reach genuine safety, Zah,” a voice breathed as arms wrapped around his neck. That was all the warning he had, but it was enough. This was a voice and a scent and an embrace he had known all his life.

“Lu!” he whispered, hugging her tightly before stepping back to see for himself that she was unharmed.

He should have known his twin would be here, as much as he might wish Wen would put her someplace safe. She was Wen’s shadow, everywhere he was.

Wrapped in a row of chignons along the back of her head, every hair was in place, even the brindle bangs cascading across her round face. To Zah’s relief, no bruises or cuts were manifest on her dark skin, of which more showed than was ship appropriate.

Her lacy slate shorts and skirt didn’t extend near the black leggings secured just above her knees, a silver-buckled strap there matching her simple onyx belt. Bejeweled sandals left her feet mostly bare, and her sleeveless vest didn’t quite reach her waist. The exposed skin of her biceps prickled, arm warmers stretching from wrist to elbow not much help against the air’s stiff touch.

Zah shrugged out of his jacket and dropped it over his sister’s shoulders as they continued to march.

“Thank you. Why is it so cold on this ship?”

“Defender Mesadu is an Ice Aylata. He equates cold with orderliness and efficiency.”

Zah glanced at the others in their proper ship attire, the troopers in their mottled gray jumpsuits. His and Wen’s uniforms were variations of that—black dappled glossy and dull. His Messenger scarf had been confiscated, but its clips were still evident on the shoulders of the jacket Makalu now wore.

“Why’d you wear that anyway?” he grumbled, his sister’s sensitive ears the only ones capable of catching his words. “If there was a breech and you were sucked out into space—”

“This outfit was a wedding gift from Grandma.”

That explained everything. If Makalu wasn’t publicly seen wearing her recent gift, Grandma would ensure everyone heard just how horrible a granddaughter she had.

Wen and Makalu had been married a little over three weeks before, and it was a strange thought to Zah, that his sister was now somebody’s wife. He doubted the Ravi would understand. Wen’s sister had married the Ravida before Wen had been born, and he had seen her in person maybe three times throughout his life.

Wen stopped, and before he could utter a warning, an ambush sprung. Those Wen had brought with him reacted without any spoken command, some pushing into the fray, others dropping back to defend their Ravi.

Wen caught Makalu’s arm and pulled her behind him. Zah followed, a spinning kick knocking a shooter from its master’s grasp. As his feet reunited with the floor, he jabbed two fingers into the reeling trooper’s stomach, angling up under his rib cage, and the man doubled over.

The trooper behind him fired, but Zah had already dropped to the ground, turning to see that Makalu was out of harm’s way. She crouched next to Wen, who looked barely conscious.

Chaos reigned. Zah could barely tell the troopers apart, dropping one by one around him, and the ones he knew, the ones he had called his friends, were the ones shooting at him.

Keeping low, he grabbed his sister’s wrist and ran. Makalu screamed at him to stop, to let go, but he pretended he didn’t hear her. He wove through the maze-like corridors and he made it around three corners before she resorted to falling over and lying there as dead weight.

“Get up, Makalu.” His eyes scanned the hall, ears sure a stampede of searchers would stream around every corner any moment now, though he couldn’t hear anything over his own heartbeat.

“How could you just abandon Wen like that?” Makalu hissed. “And you made me do the same.”

“They won’t hurt him.”

“But they did!” She wrenched free of his grasp.

“They won’t hurt a Ravi,” Zah repeated, “but if they catch me, they’ll kill me. I need to stay alive and free if I’m going to figure this out and fix whatever’s left before more terrible things happen.”

“Like what more terrible things?” Fear filled her entire expression but could not wipe away the firm set of her jaw.

Zah’s defiance responded, mirroring her expression. He knew they had the same curved shape to their face and shaded eyes, small nose and pouty lips. They were both petite, though Makalu’s figure was softer and more ample. They would not be easily mistaken for one another, but no one could deny they were related.

He shook his head, backing up a step. “Kimidjee is safer with those troopers. That’s all I’ll say. Hurry up, Lu.”

She didn’t budge. “I’m going back to Wen.”

Zah paused, then nodded. “You’re likely safer with the troopers, too.”

Her too-keen gaze flicked over him. Could she see the solemnity in his movements, the worry?

“What scares you so?”

He would not tell her of the nightmare that would have her be a widow, the monster that had turned his life upside-down in mere moments. She was a sheltered, fragile thing. Would she even understand?

“I need to find Defender Mesadu.”

***

There had to be a misunderstanding. It wasn’t right to turn troopers against one another. It was like what he saw the Refraction Leaders doing in their disputes: Skaelao versus Yakru or Atetu, or Atetu versus Amoya. They were all Napix. The conglomeration of descents among the troopers was a prime example of that. Wen would not divide them further.

As soon as he was sure Zah had left, he ordered his guard stand down. Fighting for consciousness, he surrendered in good faith, but they hadn’t been aiming at Zah. They had meant for the Ridduxe in their darts to incapacitate Wen, to steal his connection to the world.

Ridduxe was the worst of drugs for an Aylata. It attacked what in him was Magni and left him with less than what was not. For those as Magni as the Ravi, it was like dying slowly, cell by cell, lost and alone.

They had locked his limbs in cuffs, but he barely noticed. He tried hard to listen to those who spoke to him, to focus so he could figure out what was happening, but darkness beckoned to him. An empty chill threatened to swallow him. Its touch hurt, and he fought it.

He was losing.

Mesadu’s legion was small and close-knit. Wen understood that one of their three ships had failed, those on it gone with no battle, no warning. They had a recording of Wen’s likeness commanding that ship destroy itself. With their Defender incapacitated and their other Aylata dead or accused, outrage had turned this army into little better than a mob.

Wen knew he hadn’t done it, but that was all the rationality the darkness would allow him.

He had almost fallen completely into that void, its hands clawing at him, when the cuffs on his arms released.

He peered through barely open eyes to see Makalu’s worried face. How strange for her to be this close and he unable to feel her life-signature. Someone yelled at her in a threatening tone, but he didn’t focus enough on the words to understand them. No one dared touch her. Sereh, female of the Aylata race, were sacrosanct.

“Can you hear me, Wen?” She kissed his cheek. “They told me what they gave you, what they charged you with and why.”

“Framed,” he slurred, and a voice in the furthest depths of his mind whispered Zah’s name. Thus planted, the doubt grew rapidly, fertilized by the pain, towing anger, sharp, an anchor to focus his drowning thoughts. “Zah framed me,” he said, timbre gaining strength.

“No. Don’t dare think that. Be rational.”

He tried, but his head hurt. Every part of him hurt. As contradictory as it was, cold darkness formed a fire slowly eating away at him.

He closed his eyes, and she kissed him again, whispering close to his ear, “Our guard told me Zah warned you of a lightcurver. The lightcurver framed you, Wen, not my brother.”

“Your brother’s word is the only proof we have of this lightcurver,” Wen breathed. He knew she would hear him. It seemed she could hear even his most silent thought at times.

“Messengers always tell the truth,” she quoted.

“That’s not the case anymore. I doubt it was ever true.”

“It’s true to Zah.” Her grip on his hands tightened. He barely felt it. “You know it is. You know him.”

He heard the certainty in her tone, though the words were fuzzy and lost their meaning.

“I can’t think, Lu,” he sobbed, and she wrapped her arms around him.

“You’re shaking.”

He tried not to, but his mind was such a blurry mess. She was right there, and he couldn’t feel her. He couldn’t feel anything, only pain.

“Don’t let go, Lu,” he pleaded.

“I am your shadow. How can I leave you?”

Continued in Chapter 3: To See in the Dark

Thank you for reading!