Jumbus
Crimson Flame
dragonpiece
Guardian Angel Haruki
Echotech71
Fallenreaper
Creative Chaos
Ti
Pirouette
Clunk.
Clatter.
Thump!
This was war in the Empire of Tantiac, and it looked surprisingly normal. The wagon train between Tanythen, Soisanda, and Yandreluul saw business even at the worst of times but, with the ban on unsanctioned teleportation, it was suddenly booming. The nineteen-year-old leaned back in her seat, trying to catch something like sleep, but she'd have needed to chemically douse herself in serotonin to have so much as a chance.
Clunk.
Clatter.
Thump!
And then, a new sound: "Hah. Aaahah. Aaaaah Aaaahah. Whaaaaa!"
Momentarily, she thought about turning off her ears. On some level they still rang with the words of the general: equal parts commendation and rebuke. You charmed them, Dichora, like we hoped you would. How approving he'd sounded, for once. But these Ersand'Enise yanii have very short memories when it comes to the good and very long ones when it comes to the bad. She'd not known what to say, so she'd simply nodded. You sure you didn't let them charm you back? She'd spoken against the accusation, for that was effectively what it had been, even with its somewhat informal tone. She'd requested that she be sent into the theatre with Chad and Miret. Nowhere else I'd rather send you, kid, but I craft the tactics, not the strategies.
Request denied.
And so she'd asked if she might return home for a week, as a morale exercise, but Chad had been sent in her stead, as a member of the winning team at the Trials. Her performance, in comparison, had been an embarrassment. Fuck your embarrassment. Those people were tough. Plus, she'd sworn she'd do things differently from last time: no big dark magic, no intimidating or bullying people. She, Miret, and Chad had been sent there to both charm and succeed. They'd decided that Chad would succeed, and the cousins would charm. Tyrel would always be granted her gilded cage. Chad's status depended on his personal success.
Request denied.
They had been seen too much together recently, as if they were exclusively each other's in the fashion of yanii and some consoi. It was scandalous and, like a child, she needed to be managed for her own good and the two of them temporarily separated. Chad had done his part, bedding Juulet, Seviin, and half a dozen yanii girls. He'd have made a pass at Penny too were it not for Ashon. He'd done it to be convincing, she knew, and because it was right to share oneself and one's love, even if one kept a luush'elar. And yet... Tyrel thumped her head against the side of the passenger car, groaning as a baby continued to wail over the desperate coos of its mother, two old men yammered loudly in the dialect of Osai, and a trio of children continued to chase each other around halfheartedly, with nothing better to do. Who had Tyrel given the gift of herself to, the general had asked. If she were a bit more generous, he had added, then perhaps her leave could be considered...
Request denied.
She'd been offered leave for Saliac, where her aunt, uncle, and a few cousins lived. She'd been denied teleport permission, hence the wagon train. Avatar of the Fallen Goddess she scoffed inwardly, but it was something. Most people couldn't simply request leave for nothing other than a desire to see family in the midst of a war. All around flew the banners of the Siip'suuras. Children painted them in school between making maps of Consoi lands, learning about the people and the animals there, and training in war games. Jaadas, Juuras, Tan'daxii: the words were on everyone's lips. Victory, Justice, Deliverance. They were so eager to give up their luxuries. They were so eager to drill or work extended hours. They were so united in imagination at what they might finally achieve now that the thousand-year plan had been put into action. Tyrel knew, as she watched a little boy tag a little girl on the soldier - "Caught you, Yanii-jexoff!" - that it was not so simple a picture; nothing ever was. And yet... maybe they could do it. The consoi might hate them for it for some time. Some might fight back - she'd already seen where they had - but their kings were cruel and corrupt. Their nations were failed. Addiction, pestilence, poverty, and chaos stalked their lands. What did they fight for? Why did they fight? Was it for their own stubborn pride or was it something as nebulous and ill-defined as a sense of identity.
A high-pitched shriek from the baby caused her to drape her spare shirt over her head. She tapped her boot rhythmically on the floor in annoyance. "Hyco faiyiil luun'ithan..." she hummed to herself.
"Duun juu saluuv!" came a reply, and Tyrel cracked an eye open. It was 'Yanii'jexoff' from earlier. The little girl, unbidden, had slid into the empty seat to her right and was smiling tentatively up at her. She must've been no more than five or six. "Holum duul alax." The child grinned. "You look really sleepy. I'm sleepy too."
From a seat some ways down, a bedraggled-looking woman leaned forward. "Tyrel, leave the nice lady alone!"
The 'nice lady' started at that. Tyrel wasn't a rare name, but it was not common either. She pushed off from the soft upholstery and leaned forward. "Oh, it's no worry. I can't sleep anyhow, and she's being sweet."
The woman replied with a nod and a grateful look, twisting to shout at the boy. "Maxan! Maxan, here!" She twisted back to Tyrel - perhaps both Tyrels. "Sorry! And thank you." Her voice rose. "Tyrel!" The girl perked up and the teenager forced herself not to. "You don't bother her with silly things, okay?"
She rolled her eyes. "Okaaaayyy, mom." Then, it was just the two of them. "So, you're Tyrel, hmm?"
The girl arched an eyebrow and nodded. "What's your name?"
"Well, I'll give you a clue: it's something to do with winter."
"Telaxii?"
She shook her head.
"Well, mine's a winter name too. It means snow."
Tyrel the elder nodded. "I'll give you a second clue: when your mother called you, she called me too."
The girl's eyes widened. "Tyrel! You're Tyrel too!" Both Tyrels smiled at each other. "Well, I didn't think I'd meet another Tyrel today! I only know two: One's my grandmother and the other was in my class last year but now she's in a different class."
"I knew I'd meet another Tyrel today," the older of the two responded. "In fact, as soon as I saw you, I thought, 'that's another Tyrel, for sure.'"
The child looked skeptical. "Really?" she pressed, and Tyrel nodded. "They say we all come out when it's winter, you know."
"My mom calls me 'snow angel'," she confirmed, kicking her feet back and forth. If the bench had some nice upholstery - a necessity for what was effectively a sleeper wagon - It was still a basic thing, with empty space beneath. She kept kicking back and forth, humming a little tune and looking at her senior expectantly. "It's a way to practice music," she declared. "I use my legs to keep time." She glanced at Tyrel's lone leg. "Did you learn the same way?" she asked, and the teenager decided to mess with her a little bit by nodding. "I think everybody does."
"Oh," was all that she received in return and there was a long pause filled only with her slight disappointment. "Why do you have one leg?"
Kids. An adult would've blushed to ask such a question. A five-year-old did not. Tyrel felt a small finger poke her stump. "It's so squishy!" The girl made a face of endless amusement.
"Tyrel..."
"Yeah?"
"Did I say you could poke me?"
"Sorry." There was another pause. Then: "Sooo..."
"Well, you see there, buckaroo," the Avatar of Vyshta began, "one time, when I was just a weeeeee little nugget of a person, roundabout your age, I made me the mistake of gettin' a murderpenguin as a pet."
"You have a murderpenguin!?"
"Had, past tense, and I think you may be missing the point of this here story."
"Oh." The child shook her head. "It bited off your leg, right?"
Tyrel scowled. "Well now you've gone and ruined it."
"Sorry..."
"So anyways, I had me a great big honkin' murderpenguin, with flappy little wings and a long swingy neck and a sharp snappy beak."
"What was his name?"
"Mortimer Montgomery Masterson-Murderpenguin, Esquire."
Little Tyrel blinked.
"Monty, for short."
"Oh. My dowsingjay is named Berry."
"Well that's a nice name," Tyrel senior lied. It was boring. It was, in fact, only nice because an adorable little kid had clearly named it. "Anyhow, one day, I decided to take ol' Monty there for a swim."
"By yourself!?"
"Yeah," the teenager responded. "Why not?"
"But you said you were six?"
"Five, actually."
"But you said you were my age."
One mystery solved. "Oh. I thought you were five."
"Nuh-uh! I'm six and one quarter, actually."
"Well alrighty then. So, anyhow, I took him out for a swim -"
"You could swim?"
"Yes, Tyrel."
"Okay, Tyrel. Wow. I can't swim."
"Well, I could."
"I can run fast." She looked over at the older girl's missing leg smugly.
"Good for you. Have a cookie."
"Do you really have cookies or is that just some grownup thing to say?"
"Some grownup thing to say." She smiled tightly. "So, I was taking Monty out for a swim and -"
"My mom never lets me go out on my own."
"That's because you don't have a murderpenguin."
"Neither do you... anymore."
Child, I swear to Shiin, screw the story. I am going to destroy you with facts and logic. She went with something a touch more conciliatory, however. "Am I going to tell the story or are you gonna try to guess it?"
"What was it about, again?"
It was at that moment that Tyrel the elder knew she was beaten. "Oh, it was just about how badly I wanted murderpenguin eggs."
"Are they really yummy?" The child bounced up and down on her seat.
"I wouldn't know. I never got to eat them."
The girl's eyes widened. "Why?"
"Well, you see, I was an expert fisherman back then and -"
"Why not fishergirl?" Little Tyrel blinked in earnest curiosity. "Why's it always 'man' for everything?"
That was... actually not a bad point, the older Tyrel allowed. "Because, otherwise, men won't feel special and important, so we let them have it."
"That's dumb. How about girls?"
"Well, we're a bit tougher than them.'
The child nodded dubiously.
"So anyhow, I went swimmin' with that there murderpenguin Mortimer."
"Monty."
"Both names are okay."
"But you said Monty before."
"Whose penguin was he?"
Little Tyrel rolled her eyes.
"So, there's nothing that murderpenguins like better than tasselfish and I decided to catch me one o' them big suckers!"
"To feed Monty?"
Tyrel nodded. "Exactly! So I took out my bait and dangled it in the water. Can you guess what that bait was?"
"Miss? Are you the Avatar of Vyshta?"
With that, the last of Tyrel's confidence was shattered, though she wasn't quite certain if it was confidence in herself or in children. She sighed. "Nope," she lied, aware of her duty to not be noticed. "Just some random girl with one leg."
"Oh," the child replied. "Are you sure?"
Tyrel arched an eyebrow. "I think I know who I am." Immediately, profound questions leapt to mind. Immediately, she brushed past them.
"Oh, it's just 'cause I'm named after her and she's my hero."
Tyrel swallowed. Shit. "Tyrel, lean in close for a second." The girl did so and she whispered something in her ear. Their eyes met, the smaller one's wide. "You can't tell anyone, okay?"
It was a cold somnes, snow already coating the ground. Behind Tyrel, the wagon was receding into the distance, its flickering lamps becoming faint. Three other figures - anonymous people - had separated almost immediately, hurrying home in the cold and the dark, arms wrapped around themselves. The teenager's breath came out in wispy white puffs and her footsteps crunched in the fresh white snow. She twisted on the spot, eyes roving about her surroundings: the distant line of leafless trees, the glowing partial orbs of the moons, and the line of footprints she had left to connect her to the wagonway station. She knew the way back by heart. Likely, she could navigate it blindfolded. In the distance, perched amid the giant branches of Aldreth, Daxodreth, and Luudreth lay Saliac. There, lay her old home and Miret's. There, people knew her. There, she could simply be Tyrel.
