Chapter 22: Sensitivities

Menja lay curled up on her side under an ash tree at the garden of the estate they called their home. Her back was snuggled into Bosko’s side as he lay dozing behind her. Her eyes were open but her gaze was blank.

I don’t understand. You love Atady and want him to be your daddy. He loves you too and he wants to be your daddy. Why are you sad?

“Because it’s not real, I’m a bastard,” Menja answered sniffling.

There are no dragons, no faeries and no bastards on Calmyra. I never made one.

“If there are no bastards, then who is my father?” Menja asked.

Atady

“No, my real father!”

Atady is your real father.

“You’re lying. He never met my mamma before I was born. I’m not of his blood, I am a bastard.”

I’m not lying. You are of his blood and I can prove it.

Menja’s hand opened and a tiny spark of golden light appeared on her palm. The spark discharged its light with a puff and Menja blinked in surprise as a little, four-winged creature sat on her palm.

“A dragonfly!”

Yes, a dragonfly, but a special one. It’s a Menaie, a seeker.

“A magic dragonfly!” Menja squealed. “Outch!” She squealed again as the little creature suddenly bit her. “The dragonfly bit me, why did she do that?” Menja asked watching the insect flying away.

It’s a Menaie and that’s what they do. She tasted your blood and will search for it now.

“What happens when she finds it?”

When she finds it, the Menaie goes to sleep in a cocoon and becomes a Banjie.

“What is a Banjie?”

A Banjie is a queen of the Menaie.

“Oh, like a queen bee!”

Yes, and like a queen bee she will found a hive, a Menaie-Hive.

Menja scrutinized the tiny bite mark on her hand and didn’t say anything for a while.

“You made that all up, didn’t you?” She finally asked.

Yes, I am Ghania and that’s what I do. I make things up and they become real.

Menja and the voice in her head fell silent. She watched the garden, the trees, the blossoming flowers and dozed off listening to Bosko’s soft snoring. Sometime later she awoke to a peck on the tip of her nose and the familiar sound of a deep rumbling voice.

“Something curious happened to me on my way here. I got bitten by a very strange dragonfly and then it became even stranger. Look,” Roban said.

He showed her what he held in his hand and Menja’s stared at the golden cocoon on his palm.

“I think it’s magic and reminded me of you because I know you love everything magic. I want you to have it.”

Roban pinned it to her dress right above her heart.

“See, a golden brooch. Somehow I already knew it belongs to you,” he told her grinning.

Menja jumped up, clutched his neck and with a puzzled look on his face Roban held the crying girl to his chest.

The two men sat in opposite positions at a small round table studying each other intently.

“Great Fusan Rhogunata, how do you feel with your dreams so close to becoming reality,” Djargis asked a small smile on his lips.

“You were always my enemy, but I always respected you as an honorable man. Today you are here and I wonder if my dreams are as far away from reality as my belief in your honor,” Rhogunata replied, the sound of his voice tired not hostile.

“I never was a dreamer but your dreams were a powerful weapon and most of our people are following your visions. I regarded your alliance with the Manthakin Empire a terrible mistake and saw my chance, so I joined the enemy forces. I still believe you made a mistake, but I know that I made one as well.

You doubt my honor because of this secret meeting, but the truth is I lost my honor on a little rise north-east of Notabir. That’s where I watched as a young girl executed my best friend and I did nothing. She had her reasons, but it wasn’t her reasons that made me do nothing. It was fear. Fear for the alliance, fear for my clan and fear for my own life. I lost my honor in fear of Athea Maghon, High Protector of Northern Vernya, and a fourteen-year-old girl.

Let me ease your worries, I’m not here to bargain and betray my allies. I am no Fusan anymore, my nephew now leads the Clan, and I’m just an old, weary Ogusi. An old enemy who wants to say goodbye to the man I most respected in my life.”

Djargis was still smiling mildly but his exhaustion had become visible. Rhogunata watched him intently.

“I can see that you lost something but it wasn’t your honor and you didn’t come as an old enemy. You came as a friend and an Ogusi, deeply worried about our people, because that’s what you lost, your hope for the future of our nation. I was blinded by my dreams of glory. No longer dreaming I am awake now and I see the same as you. You are right; the alliance with the Manthakin is a mistake.

Whoever will win this war it won’t be the Ogusi.

I wish I could go with you leaving my dreams behind, but I can’t. I led my people here following my vision and I will lead them through this war. They have followed too long and can’t find their way home to Ogus without having seen the ashes of my dreams.”

They drank some tea and talked some more, mostly exchanging memories of their youth. Djargis left shortly after sundown, riding home to Ogus.

It was late afternoon they had just returned home. It had been a long day and night without sleep and she was tired and hungry. Athea had just entered her room to wash and change clothes, getting ready for an early evening meal and hopefully an early night rest, when she heard someone knocking on her door.

Jenaya delivered her message without any preamble upon entering the room.

“I couldn’t do it.”

“What exactly couldn’t you do, and what did you do instead?” Athea asked furrowing her brow.

“I couldn’t abandon Marny to a life as human cattle at the hands of the Norgar. I left her in the middle of the camp and ran away like the coward I am,” Jenaya answered dejectedly.

“I don’t understand. You say you couldn’t abandon her but then you tell me that’s what you did, and it’s also exactly what I told you to do. Well, not the ‘running away like a coward’ part, but to take her to the Norgar camp and to leave her there,” Athea stated looking confused.

“I didn’t execute your punishment on her, I fled!” Jenaya yelled.

“I hear you just fine, no reason to shout, and like I said, you did what I told you to do. I can’t see a reason for you to apologize, but if what you said was meant as a complaint, then I have to wonder why you volunteered for the job. What is it Jenaya?” Athea asked calmly.

“Yes, I volunteered. I volunteered after I beat Hassika almost to death. I volunteered because what you told me to do was something I knew the old Jenaya never could have done. I am happy for the first time of my life but who am I? Am I still Jenaya, a being with genuine feelings, or am I just a shadow of your brother and all I feel are his emotions?” She asked her eyes pleading for an answer.

“So you’re not here to apologize or complain, you want to talk about your feelings, and you come to me to do that?” At first Athea sounded astonished but then she sighed. “I guess it makes sense. I doubt there is anyone who knows more than I do about struggling with foreign emotions.”

She sat down on her bed and gestured for Jenaya to join her.

“Are you still Jenaya? Yes, you are, otherwise you wouldn’t be here and feel the need to ask that question. You are Jenaya, but you are not the Jenaya you were before you became a Vampire. The bond to my brother changed you and you will continue to change. The real question is how to change without becoming someone the Jenaya you are doesn’t want to become; to gain something without losing everything. You are...”

Interrupting herself Athea jumped off the bed. Hands clenched into fists and cursing under her breath she paced around the room.

“I am fourteen, and until a half year ago I hadn’t made a sole decision in my life on my own. A half year later I’m responsible for ten thousands of people and they are dying because of my decisions. However, I’m still a little girl, a little girl with an evil twin lurking in the shadows of my mind. I’ve killed people, beheaded and scared them to death. A little girl but also a monster, and I can’t fall asleep at night unless my big brother cradles me because I’m scared to death as well!”

Athea stopped shouting, deeply exhaled and sat down on the bed next to Jenaya again.

“You and I ... we are both children growing up and the only guidance we have is the other children around us,” she said looking down at the empty palms in her lap.

“I was an only child the first time I was born and became an orphan when I was two. This time I’ve many siblings and my sire is alive, even if he is a child like me. You see, everything about my second chance at life is much better than the first time. We all protect and take care of each other. Chaos does too, because we’re a family and your evil twin is a part of it as well,” Jenaya told her smiling gently.

“I know. She’s doing all the things I couldn’t do but know they have to be done. I just wish she wouldn’t like it so much,” Athea said returning the smile with a strained one of her own.

“It’s not her choosing to like or dislike, it’s who she is. Do you blame your brother for loving to fight and kill?”

“Of course I do, I blame him every time he’s fighting. Roban means everything to me, and since he does, he also is to blame for everything that happens,” Athea huffed.

“If you look at it like that it sounds quite reasonable,” Jenaya replied laughing. “Thank you Athea, I feel much better after talking to you.”

“You’re welcome. Next time you feel confused and angry simply do like I do, blame Roban, it always helps.” Athea giggled in response.

Not a single sound and no warmth but she didn’t feel cold. She didn’t feel anything. How long had she been here, wherever ‘here‘ was? A few days or a hundred years, there was no sense of time either. She remembered Athea telling her about her immortal home, but this didn’t feel like home. Rhabina sat in absolute darkness, memories her only company. She should feel panic, should feel scared out of her mind, close to insanity, but Rhabina felt calm. Maybe she already was insane. That would be harsh, not only dead but insane as well. But somehow she knew she wasn’t insane - dead, yes, but not insane. Her memories were crystal clear. From the day she was born until a little girl had murdered her. She wondered why she didn’t feel rage or at least curiosity about the reasons for the little girl to kill her, but she didn’t. The cycle completed it started anew. No sound, no warmth, no time, no rage, no curiosity, nothing, not even boredom, she didn’t feel anything.

“Very unfortunate, that’s what it is,” a male voice interrupted.

“Unfortunate? It’s a damn mess striving to become a disaster!” A female voice commented.

“Whatever, we can’t keep her in concourse. There are laws even we have to obey. The judgment is ours,” the man replied.

“We are responsible for her death. That’s a rather unfortunate circumstance for an impartial judgment but only one of our minor troubles. The list is long and getting longer.”

“I won’t argue the points on your list, but the fact remains that she is dead, she is here, and we have to judge her.”

Out of nowhere a table appeared in the center of naught. A pair of scales was placed on it, its bowls in perfect balance.

“Rhabina, daughter of Assanka, your life as a human has ended but before your soul can continue its voyage it has to be judged. Everything you did, everything you thought, everything you are.”

Balkhor and Messaya held out their hands and dropped a ball into the two bowls, one black, and one white. They were staring at the pair of scales, as was Rhabina, but nothing happened. No balancing, no tilt to either side, the scale didn’t move at all.

“Tell me this isn’t happening! We are the judges of the Underworld, the dead belong to us!” Balkhor bellowed kicking against the scales of justice and the balls jumped out of the bowls.

“No one ever contested our claim but it seems that this time there is someone else,” Messaya calmly stated, watching the black and the white ball rolling across an invisible floor until they disappeared in darkness.

Balkhor deeply exhaled. “This whole damn mess is growing out of proportion. What do we do about the girl?”

“There is nothing we can do at the moment. We can’t send her on her merry way so we have to keep her in limbo,” Messaya answered. “You know there was a battle last night and thousands are awaiting judgment.”

“I know. I just hope that, although Chaos and Destruction were involved in the battle, there won’t be any new problems,” Balkhor grunted.

“Let’s hope so,” Messaya agreed. “By the way, ever heard of a Vermurak?”

“A what, a Vermurak? No, never.”

Rhabina heard Balkhor answer. It was the last sound she heard as they left her in darkness. For how long she would never know without a sense of time. Her memories returned starting a new cycle.

Roban, Menja on his lap, sat at the big table in the kitchen. As was her custom, Menja pointed out things she wanted to have but were out of reach for the short range of her arms. While Denyssa and Meyra had joined them at the table, Patessa and Nigulla were still busy placing food on it. No one was eating yet. They all were waiting for the rest of the family to arrive - all but Bosko. Lacking any form of table manners, the big dog had already gorged half of his dinner. He also was the only one who didn’t pay any attention to the next two family members entering the kitchen.

Hassika arrived heavily leaning on Chalissa. Her face was littered with bruises and one eye swollen shut. Everyone could see her distinctively limping as Chalissa led her across the room to take a seat at the table. Hassika carefully sat down opposite from Roban and returned his placid gaze blinking through her less damaged eye. They looked at each other but didn’t say anything. The others kept silent as well and for a while Bosko noisily enjoying his meal was the only sound in the room. A short while until Roban ended it with a heartfelt exclamation.