Girl of Myth and Legend (17 page)

The wind shrieks, bombarding us with more snow. I shiver, despite the coat.

‘I’m guessing the Imperium doesn’t have educational institutes then,’ she says.

‘They do. Most Pulsar don’t bother with it, though.’

‘What do they bother with? Martial arts training? ’Cause I’ve been telling my dad that.’

‘They mostly concentrate on meditation.’

‘
Meditation
? That’s it? What a bore!’

‘Then you’re going to find yourself frequently bored. It’s the way Chosen learn to control their magic. They need to find spiritual balance.’

‘Pff! I’m already spiritual whatever you said. What I need is to learn how to break some ligaments.’

‘Which proves how unfit you are to be a Pulsar.’

‘Oh yeah?’ She jumps off the wall and turns to face me, walking backwards.

‘Pulsar have immense responsibilities. The first is to learn how to discipline their magic, since your whole life will be dedicated to the Imperium.’ Her expression drops, so I keep going. ‘You’re not free to live your life. You are
the
Pulsar, the last one, and the Imperium will never lose sight of you.’

She stops and looks at me, and not just looking, but
searching
. ‘There’s something off about you. I can’t figure it out, but the
tick
in your
tock
is missing, for sure.’

How did the conversation turn onto me?

‘How old are you?’ she asks, walking beside me.

‘…I came some hundred years after the Imperium was founded.’

‘Hmm. Yeah, so, I’m not too good at Chosen history, or any history actually, besides World War II, or was it World War I? Well, it was one of the World Wars. I’ll just go ahead and assume you’re a grandpa.’ She whistles. ‘Hard to believe I’m walking beside someone who’s so ancient. Sure you don’t need a walking stick, old timer?’

I grimace at the name. There is no such thing as an ‘ancient’ or ‘old’ kytaen. Age is insignificant to us.

‘I was told there was a sort of war two hundred years ago where all the Pulsar were killed,’ she says.

‘It wasn’t a war,’ I say, ‘and they were
slaughtered
.’

She ponders this. ‘The fire kytaen, they’re all gone now too, aren’t they? Besides you. Or did I hear that wrong?’

‘No, you didn’t.’

‘So you and me, we’re each one of a kind.’

I cringe at the thought.

‘Why doesn’t that Edman thing make more kytaen?’

‘Ehlmand!’ I snap. ‘And that’s not your concern.’ Well, it isn’t her concern. After the death of all the kytaen who protected Pulsar, besides me, Ehlmand no longer created kytaen, despite the orders from the Imperium. The Imperium may be dominant, but they can’t direct a spirit.

A cold breeze pushes against me. I glance at the girl a few times and notice she’s been staring at me as we’ve been walking. ‘What is it?’ I say.

She smiles although it doesn’t reach her eyes. It hasn’t yet. ‘Have you got a favourite?’

‘What?’ I repeat.

‘Y’know, a favourite keeper.’

In response, I say nothing.

‘Come ooooon,’ she says, poking my arm. ‘Just answer, old man.’

‘Chosen and kytaen avoid conversing unless they’re discussing battle tactics,’ I inform her. ‘That’s a tradition we should
try
to keep.’

‘Meh. I’m not conservative. So, you got one?’

‘…No.’

‘Then why’d you hesitate?’

‘What?’

‘You hesitated when I asked you—’

‘No I didn’t—’

‘I wonder who they were.’

‘I don’t
have
a favourite—’

‘Girl or boy?’

‘Are you trying to irritate me? It won’t benefit you.’

‘Oh ho! You sound scary. Luckily I don’t get intimidated easily.’

‘I noticed—’

‘So, those maidens, huh? Pretty scary stuff. Have you ever fought one?’

Her continuous change of topic bewilders me. ‘I have.’

‘How many underfens overall?’

‘I don’t keep count.’

‘That many?’

I don’t reply.

‘Never really thought of myself having an
enemy
before,’ she says, with a pondering look. ‘Kind of weird, like I have a permanent adversary on the hunt.’

‘Don’t think your only enemy are underfens,’ I say.

‘What other enemies do we have then?’ she asks.

‘Everyone is your enemy, even the Imperium. Then there’re the Imperial rebels. When they hear about you, expect a lot of attention.’

‘Yeah, I already know about that, believe me. But I don’t need to worry now I’ve got a griffin-gargoyle-dragon-whatever-the-hell-you-are on my team,’ she says. ‘Are there any other enemies I should be looking out for?’ She looks as if she is relishing the idea.

‘Many more,’ I tell her. ‘You have no idea.’

Her grin falters and she remains unblinking as she stares at me, and me at her. Damn them. Damn
those eyes
. I’ve seen them before in every Pulsar I’ve ever met, and yet hers are something else, something
more
. Deep with secrets, gleaming with mysteries. She
is
a mystery, her whole existence is. To not know who she is, to not know of the Imperium despite her family being Chosen, is too strange to disregard. Those eyes that hold many unreachable answers, intent on swallowing me up. I have to stop this. I am too intrigued by this strange phenomenon standing beside me, the wind tussling with her loose locks of copper hair. I
cannot
allow myself to be captivated by the mystery of Leonie Woodville.

‘Y’know,’ the girl says, ‘I didn’t realise how bigoted my dad was about kytaen—’

‘He’s not. We
are
a lesser race.’ I don’t know why, but I want to say the opposite of everything this girl says, even if I don’t believe it myself. We are a lesser race only because the Chosen have made it so.

‘I don’t think so,’ she says.

My head snaps in her direction. ‘Stop that,’ I say, standing in place.

‘Stop what?’ she asks.

‘With this
thing
, this niceness.’

‘What d’you—?’

‘I’m kytaen, a tool. You’re Chosen. We’re not
friends
. That kind of word doesn’t exist between our two species. Treat me how you’re supposed to and stop this… act.’

A moment passes, and then she says, ‘I see. So there’s going to be no civility between us, eh?’

‘I’m glad you finally understand.’

‘I didn’t exactly overlook your unsubtle hostility towards me.’

‘Then why bother being
nice
?’

‘I was raised to be polite to elderly people.’

‘Then you should know I’m not old. I’m immortal.’

‘Quit bragging.’

I blink. ‘I wasn’t bragging, I was stating a fact.’

‘It sounded like bragging to me.’

‘It wasn’t.’

‘It sounded like it.’

‘Well it
wasn’t
.’

‘Old men do tend to brag after all.’

‘I wasn’t bragging!’

She gives me an impish grin. ‘They also lose their temper easily.’

I grit my teeth.

‘Sure you don’t want me to go back to being nice?’ she asks.

‘I’m
sure
.’

She shrugs her shoulders. ‘I was just showing you a little hospitality, but if the kytaen wants to be a tool, then I’ll treat
it
like a tool. Stupid pet.’

She walks ahead of me. Even though I seemingly accom-plished a victory, why do I feel like she’s the victor? Maybe because she insulted me. Pet? I’ve heard the most appalling insults towards my kind, well-thought of, complex, gut-wrenching, but
pet
is so simple that it stabs right through me.

However, I don’t want her words to have any meaning. I don’t want her words to matter to me. So, I attempt to stop these claws of temper coiling around me and follow her back towards the temple.

LEONIE

COLOURS OF SORROW

My eyes are closed a little too tightly and my posture is rigid, struggling to keep my back straight as I sit on the blanket of snow. I can imagine my complexion being a little blue, and my lips feel chapped and raw. My nose twitches, my whole body in fact, and I keep biting my cheek. Oh, right, and I’m only wearing a vest and shorts.

I’m sitting on a platform outside one of the temples I’ve forgotten the name of. A stone barrier encircles us, and I hear the trickling of water from a small waterfall nearby. Statues of stargods surround me, staring at me as if telling me to hurry up. I want to say, ‘I am hurrying up, OK?’ But no, no, I shouldn’t be looking at them. I have to keep my eyes closed.

I can hear O’Sah circling around me, feet crunching in the snow. He’s probably trying his best to keep a straight face, though when I did open my eyes I caught his momentary twitches of irritation. Well, be irritated all you want! It was his idea to torture me, not mine. I’ve been doing this on and off for
hours
with no improvement. All I can do is sit here and try to ‘find the peace within’ as O’Sah repeats to me every five damn minutes.

I sigh. ‘I ca-ca-ca-can’t.’

‘You can,’ says O’Sah, keeping a rigid smile on his face. ‘You were so close before. You can do it.’

‘I hate to s-s-spoil your insane optimism, but I
can’t
. I’m fr-freezing to death here!’

‘Not fast enough,’ I hear Korren mutter. O’Sah doesn’t appear to have heard him. Korren is leaning against a column, arms folded with the same frown on his face that I’ve already become familiar with. O’Sah’s human-formed kytaen is beside him, standing in a stiff position as she watches her keeper in silence. I guess Korren’s morbid humour is lost on that one.

‘You need to focus,’ says O’Sah, clasping his hands togeth-er.

‘It’s too co-cold to focus,’ I say. ‘You won’t let me put my c-clothes back on!’

‘They shield you from the environment around us.’

‘For good reason!’

‘You see, meditation, the Art of Reflection, is not only to calm your soul but to connect
your soul with the universe around you.’

‘The only thing co-connecting me to the universe right now is my ice-cold b-butt.’

He tries to keep a straight face, but his frown manages to corrupt his smile. ‘Perhaps we’re doing this the wrong way. Every individual has his or her own way of meditating. Standing or sitting, for example, can be the key to meditation. Why not find a position in which you’re comfortable?’

I lie down.

‘Well, that’s not a conventional position.’

I rest the back of my head on my arms and peer up at the blue sky. ‘Now what?’

‘Now do as we did before. Focus your mind on the sky in this case, and attempt to find your inner peace.’

‘Inner peace,’ I mutter.

‘All Chosen have a connection to the stream of magic that surrounds the universe. We, as Chosen, can tap into this power in order to regulate our own. From it we find stable ground, clear thoughts and rationality: all things that are important when you’re in battle, important even in dealing with government. Allow the magic within you to guide you to the sanctuary that all Chosen seek. Allow your magic to return to its origins, where you’ll find yourself. Connect with it.’

Though it takes a while, I eventually relax. I try to do as O’Sah says: to allow the magic within me to guide me or whatever, but how can I let some foreign power guide me when the only experience I’ve had with my magic is when I didn’t know what it was and thought it was going to kill me? Doesn’t exactly make you want to go out looking for the thing you thought would cause your end—like, your end-end. Even so, I try to reach out to it, to grasp the entity I’ve always unknowingly possessed within me.

It’s like I’m running through the void of my mind, and I know that beyond it are memories I’ve fought to keep distant. I hear them calling me to remember, and I want to, I do, but I’m scared. I’ve no courage to face them. So I keep running.

I soon understand that the magic I possess is like a playful child, mischievous and impish, and that it’s hiding among my memories, knowing that I don’t want to go into them. I can almost imagine it chuckling at my attempts to coax it out. This is the closest I’ve come to willingly encountering my magic, and I’m determined to contend with it, otherwise what was the point of this exercise? Yes, definitely, I’m determined to win this battle… and yet I’m fearful. My memories are like a jewel, a treasure I’ve worked hard to bury in the abyss of my mind. As precious as they are, they’re too much for me to endure—they’ll only crush me. Still.
Still
, I have to do this. I have to try. I have to control my magic, that unruly entity that seems to have a mind of its own. If I don’t learn to control it, then I’ll never learn to be an adept Pulsar, a revered Chosen. I can’t let it have a hold over me, using my fear against me. I just can’t.

Oh God. I’m scared. I’m scared.
I’m scared.

I walk into the abyss.

I’m expecting to be submerged in memories, to drown under their unmerciful weight. That doesn’t happen. I hear sounds from the past, voices that haunt me, and yes, I fear their voices, I weep for them, but they do not immerse me.

Something warm takes me in its grasp, such warmth I have never known but have
forever
known. I’m like a lost child, and this warm entity is the path beneath my feet, showing me the way home. It whispers to me, tells me it’s all right, that there’s nothing to fear. Oh, such
love
! It’s like being cradled in a blanket of starlight. I see nothing, but I feel it flowing through me, becoming me… no, it always
has
been me.