Wern, Fir of Marla: 28 Xiven

“Kayin, get up you lazy boy!” Of course, just when he was about to rescue the villagers, his aunt’s voice broke through his dream world. Instead of the brightly colored castle, he was thrust into a dim hut. The room had a distinct chill, more than usual. The moons, Orinel and Irinel, still loomed in the velvety dark sky. “Get up, I said! Come on!” He was pulled by his arm before he could even open his eyes. The world spun, dense and foggy. Aunt Aayin didn’t sound mad or anything, but her voice was taught like tight string on an old instrument. Why was there so much commotion outside? Was that why she was waking him up?

“Whatsgungon?” he muttered incoherently. His cot nearly pulled him back under the covers.

“There’s been an assassination.”

“A whazination?” He was hardly listening, sliding his feet to follow his aunt as he matted his hair against his head. Why was everyone talking so loud?

“Prince Sahtin, the King’s son, was just assassinated.” Her nephew finally looked up at her, jaw dropping open as if he were a guppy out of water. “These horrible years are over, Kayin!” Finally, her excitement broke through, and she pulled him into a tight hug. Kayin’s eyes bulged at the shock. The dark times usually lasted a hundred years, according to what the Namuh of the Future had said, but this time it only lasted thirty! Now he understood why all around the hut, he heard people chattering with excitement. “No more poverty, no more edias, no more war—there will be a new queen, someone else can fix this—this mess!” She released him with a sob of joy in her voice as he stumbled onto the floor with a squelch from the icy floor mat.

“Aunt Aayin, I thought that killing people was…?” He blinked slowly, suddenly second-guessing himself. Just yesterday, she was so upset at the village doctor from potentially stealing from them. Now, suddenly, stealing lives was fine? Everyone else seemed fine with it…..

“Well, yes, it’s bad…but not for him. He was wicked. Ever since his mother died and he took over, we’ve desperately needed a good, strong queen.” The sudden change in gears had him staring at her with droopy eyes. “And Dania’s father is going to come back now that the war is over. Everyone’s coming home safely.” She sniffled and struggled to compose herself, wiping her tears away.

“Everyone?” Kayin echoed. Aunt Aayin pulled his arm to the water basin for him to wash his face. The cold water helped make opening his eyes easier, but he couldn’t suppress a longing to return to his warm and comfortable cot.

“Well, not everyone. We lost a lot of good warriors out there, protecting us.” Kayin wiped his wet face on his arm and waited for her to do the same. The moment she was done, she grabbed his hand and tugged him to the wool door. “Come on, the King is rounding everyone up.”

The two stepped through the doorway, into the buzzing village. From the many scattered huts and farms around their city of Yatora came thousands of people, females and males with skin from the color of charcoal to the color of the clouds, crying infants and bent elders, walking together in a massive crowd in one direction: the castle. He’d never seen everyone out, together like this, illuminated by torches and moonlight.

“My people!” a booming voice in the distance rang, no more than half a kilometer off. Kayin jumped, looking for the source of the sound.

“He’s using what’s called a Voice Enhancer. It’s a potion to make your voice extra loud,” Aunt Aayin explained quickly as they fell into the massive crowd. Kayin couldn’t glance into the distance that she pointed in; there were far too many people way taller than him.

The man from before continued, “There has been a great tragedy upon our doorstep tonight.” Though his voice was softer, it was just as loud.

“Oh, it’s the King!” whispered the little girl in front of Kayin. “Is he still at the castle?”

Her mother nodded and pat her shoulder.

“Yes, he’s still at his castle. I bet he’s surrounded by a hundred guards, still.”

The king continued, “My son has been killed and we have ended the war with Wakino! Though now is not yet a time for grieving. We have surrendered, and under these new terms, they now control the forest up until the river’s east bank. No citizen of Yatora, should they value their life, may go beyond the river any longer.” Though the crowd around them immediately burst into a confused uproar, the king couldn’t hear them, not that their voice would matter anyway.

“Wait, Useki had a farm there—does that mean?”

“People lived there—” As the adults began to panic at the implications, Kayin furrowed his brows and looked to Aunt Aayin. She kept her gaze forward, rubbing his back as they slowly moved with the crowd.

“Does that mean they’re dead?” he asked her quickly. She shook her head.

“I don’t think they’re dead, Kayin.” Oh. Well, that wasn’t so bad, then. Why did she look so miserable? It would be awful to lose a home, but worse to lose a life.

The King continued, “I am too old and frail to rule for too much longer. We must find a new leader, one to bring us to the Golden Age. I present to you, our hope: Tidesa, please step forward.” Kayin bounced at Aunt Aayin’s side, pulling on her arm. It frustrated him to not be able to see what was happening, so he poured that frustration into excitement and tugged a little too hard.

“I know her!” Kayin exclaimed in a near whisper.

“Yes you do,” Aunt Aayin responded curtly, calming him with a glance. He stopped tugging her, and instead resorted to bouncing quietly in place. She sighed at the gathering neighbors, passively watching them soothe themselves with the new announcement. It took everyone a lot longer to move on from the news about the river.

“I like her; she was nice to me. She told me I’m supposed to have two kids and be a carpenter!” He managed, if he bounced high enough, to see the walls of the castle in the distance just over the shoulder of the mother in front of him.

“Yes, Kayin. I was there.” She didn’t seem to be in the mood to talk about Tidesa and her kindness, but Kayin continued to jump, higher and higher to try and catch a glance of what was happening.

The King said, “No, she is not the new heir to the throne—yes, she has the white hair—she is a Namuh of the Future!” Those that didn’t gasp or cheer, whispered excitedly. Kayin guessed that Tidesa addressed anyone nearby, but he was too far to see more than her light blue dress and her bright white hair. She had a very slight way of smiling, Kayin remembered, which was odd. Someone with power like that, he would assume would love attention. But she didn’t command attention any more than any noble.

Kayin settled down into the slow walk with everyone else, resigning to the lackluster view.

“She didn’t know anything about my parents, though,” Kayin remembered from that day they met. She gave so many answers to him, but not ones that really mattered.

“Of course she didn’t,” said Aunt Aayin. Even though the King used a Voice Enhancer Potion and could be clearly heard by everyone, Aunt Aayin seemed to struggle, even cupping a hand behind her ear to help.

“But she’s a Namuh of the Future,” Kayin continued.

“She sure is,” Aayin answered flatly, waving at him to be quiet.

“Shouldn’t she know that stuff?” Almost as if she was answering, Tidesa finally called to the crowd with her own Voice Enhancer.

“People of Yatora, I will have to ask you to line up one by one, only the children, please, so that I can see the futures of their lives. This will determine who will lead us to the Golden Age.” Aunt Aayin stirred a bit next to him, urging him forward a bit faster to get through the crowd.

“Can you believe it, Daddy?” a little girl exclaimed next to Kayin.

“It’s too good to be true, isn’t it?” Kayin agreed. Finally, something to look forward to!

“It certainly is.” Aayin cleared her throat, glancing down to her nephew. “Well, no matter. Come on, it’s time to calm down.” She gave him an unconvincing smile and pulled him a little more into an organized fashion, right behind the neighbor girl ahead as she and the other parents in line kept to the edge of the road. “Let’s see if our very own Kayin becomes a prince, eh?” She chortled as if it was a joke. Kayin’s stomach filled with a strange sourness at her retort.

They stopped, nearly two kilometers away from the palace, in the ever-growing line of children waiting to get their futures read. This would definitely take all day, and Rinesa had yet to poke above the mushroomtops. Kayin groaned when he saw the long and twisted line in front of him.

“I don’t see why she doesn’t just read into the future to see who she picks.” He rubbed his eyes. Aayin sighed.

“You know it doesn’t work that way. If she doesn’t see you, touch you, she can’t see your future. She has to keep looking until she finds who has that future. You know, when she read yours….” Aunt Aayin hesitated, a look of sad realization washing over her features. “I—mean—I’m—I’m sorry, Kayin.” He already had his future read, and Tidesa said nothing about him being important. He remembered the day clearly as if his memory was nothing but a path lit by daylight.

He remembered her hand, without a touch of dirt under her nails or in the wrinkles of her knuckles, touching his shoulder and staring off into the distance. He remembered her far-away voice, as if she was reciting something from a book: “You will be an amazing father, Kayin. You will raise two kids.” And then, suddenly, her gaze was on him and she had a smile that seemed to light the entire hut up. “Yes, you will be very...important. You will fix many peoples’ homes.” He’d never seen someone look so pleased or excited for anything when it came to him; her gaze was almost comforting. Tidesa was positively glowing that day, as if the light from her dress extended to her face.

“I’m sorry, little one,” Aunt Aayin repeated, pulling him out of his memories.

Kayin huffed. “Why do I even have to be in line, then?” His aunt frowned.

“This is one authority we can’t question right now,” was her answer. It had always been a dream of his to be someone powerful—at least a warrior, if not a Thane of Yatora or something! But now that he knew his future hadn’t included people calling him a leader. No, he was just going to be ordinary, “important” to people whose homes he built, like Tidesa said. Homes like the huts that scattered around him, where people lazily leaned against them in wait for results that might be in their favor—not like him. If Tidesa knew who the heir was, he would have been picked and this line wasn’t necessary.

As he pulled his elbows in toward himself, Kayin took comfort in the usual numbness that stained his skin when out in the cold like this. Rinesa would bathe the morning in light soon; her reminder of warmth would make it harder to ignore the ice. The two moons, Orinel and Irinel, were bright enough to illuminate the faces of all the excited children gathering in a two-kilometers long line all the way to the kingdom’s walls. One lucky child, most likely a little girl, got to become a noble. This would be the last morning they felt the cold like this.

But it certainly wouldn’t be Kayin.