SCREECH
Scream, little Monkey. Scream.
Heterochromatic, golden-brown and silver eyes peeked behind large leaves, watching as the older woman observed the airship floating over the forest from below. Rakshal would glance from her to it and back, wondering with trepidation what was going through his mother’s mind. Though her body was still, fingers like talons while she held muscular arms across her chest, the very air around her simmered with the desire to harm. With her presence facing the open, completely visible, it was as though she was challenging the empire to notice her.
Her hate for the Malaki Faifeth’hai bore historical relevance, going almost three-thousand years back in Rejiseaain history. Observing her and her hateful gaze on the craft was nothing new to him, yet every time, it helped him remember what the Faifeth’hai did to their family—what they did to her. The reminder brought a low, barely audible growl from his throat, and he fixed his eyes upon the ship.
It was more than ten times the size of an average civilian airship, a dead giveaway of its militant purpose. Within that single vehicle were over two hundred troops, all capable of using yousot-yu abilities, and at least half of those were likely capable of giving Rakshal a good fight. For his mother, however, the average and even above-average soldier were less than an ant beneath her foot.
He yearned to be like her one day.
He and his mother didn’t look away even as the ship began turning westward. With his eyesight, he saw the sails rise and shift, catch the wind, and float off at what he guessed was 100 knots. His shoulders eased, eyes trailing down to look at his mother, but her body was still tense, pole still. Only her ankle-length hair moved, white strands waving gently in the summer breeze and clashing against her dark cloak.
Before long, the ship was a dot in the distance even with his advanced sight. He watched his mother, seemingly still staring in the direction they initially found the ship in. But he knew better than to ask questions or move.
His tail flicked nervously behind him, and he brought it closer to his body. What else was out there that she sensed which he could not? Swallowing, he backed a bit further on the branch. He didn’t move his eyes from her form, waiting for the signal.
There it was. It started first with her fingers, straightening and going lax. Then her shoulders, lowering by mere inches, as if she took her first breath. They rose once more, soon falling with a soft exhale.
“They’re gone.”
He finally, briefly, shut his eyes, unfurling his tail from his side.
“Come down, Rakka.”
Smiling, he jumped to a lower branch, taking one down at a time until he landed behind his mother in a crouch on the grass. Not even a leaf fell with him from his skill, and he brushed his hands off as he rose to continue observing her.
She had finally moved her head, but it wasn’t to the west. She looked eastward, and her right ear, stretched with a large silver ring, was twitching. While tempted to speak, he didn’t until she was done surveying and turned towards him with a distant look in her large yellow eyes. She wasn’t looking at him.
“Aiyool?”
She blinked, slowly at first, then slanted her eyes which appeared to decrease their size by two times. He always found that interesting about her “defect”; it changed, unlike most others. Blinking a few more times until the detached expression disappeared in the depths of her eyes, she looked down, meeting his gaze.
“All good?” he asked, but not because he felt that something could be amiss—at least, not relating to soldiers, pirates, or bandits.
“Yeah.” She sighed, cracking her neck. “There’s a foot patrol around.”
He hummed, brows furrowing, and watched her pass by.
She beckoned for him to follow with a nudge of her head. “We still have a long way to go until nightfall.”
He looked to the sky, past the canopies of the trees, and saw a glimpse of the plane Garwados’ dark form in the heavens. Lips pursing, he estimated they had roughly five hours until evening.
For five months, they had traveled around the plane Saheeleth, evading the Malaki Faifeth’hai. He was certain the military and imperial family had no idea who they were; they merely went by rumors of a tall woman and a “boy with a monkey’s tail”. However, that couldn’t be enough to go after them or even investigate.
“Raaki.”
Blinking, he leveled his gaze and spotted the all-black form of his mother further ahead in the forest. He quickly caught up, brushing foliage out of his face while coming to walk in step with her despite her long strides.
They traveled in companionable silence with only the occasional interruption of animals skittering in the forest. He hummed quiet songs as they navigated through thick verdant—songs from his childhood and those picked up from city folk throughout his life.†
He came to a small clearing in the forest, nose twitching as he smelled a dwelling near. Perhaps a farm?
“Rakka…”
His mother’s weary voice brought his head snapping into her direction behind him.
Long hair with white streaks framing her face obscured her features, and she leaned heavily against a tree at the clearing’s edge. He could hear the desperation in her rapid swallows.
“Aiyool?” He quickly approached, noticing through her locks the dimness of her normally bright eyes and how they stared towards the ground.
“Just...thirsty,” she murmured, sliding down until she sat hard on the grass with a groan. She grasped at her throat, touching it over the large black and silver collar around her neck. It was an instinctive gesture she tried not to make around him, but her desire must have been too much for her to bear this time.
He paused, then nodded. Immediately, he reached into his rucksack and rummaged for the map. “We’re near Rendu, right? There should be a village or two nearby.”
Her weary nod prompted him to turn his bag around so it rested on his chest, and he shortly found the map. Unfurling the large, slightly rumpled scroll, he scanned the continent.
“Yeah, there’s an indicator of a dwelling near. Somewhere,” he muttered, lowering to the grass beside her.
She hummed idly. “Abrai.”
“Yeah.” He brought another map, one specifically of the country, from his bag and placed it over the larger one of the plane.
He scanned the region for the countries of Biraan and Shoushtay, finding their spot with ease. He glanced towards the north, above the trees, and conclusively clarified their location upon seeing the green mountaintops. They were close to Rendu Summit, which meant…†
His fingers panned down the paper to a symbol near the mountain’s base. “Abrai Farm. Thought I smelled one” With a nod, he rolled the maps, glancing at his mother.
As if aware he was looking at her, she murmured, “It’s a whiles away.”
“No problem.” With the maps back in his bag, he stood and adjusted it. “Sky’s still light; I’ll make it there and back in maybe…an hour, at most?”
She grunted, displeased.
He passed her a slightly amused look, hands falling to his sides. “You could use the break.”
Another grunt, deeply displeased.
He chuckled and lowered to kiss into her hair. It smelt of the forest. “I’ll be back soon. Just rest.”
Her body rose and fell, but she gave a small nod. “Come back.”
The words were said unintentionally, he was certain. Out of half-conscious habit, more than anything. His expression softened. “I will. Promise.”
Taking a few steps back, he used his senses to scan their location to ensure she was safe. Nothing but animals of the forest.
He turned toward the mountain and ran.
Rakshal found a heavily trodden trail leading into the village after running for a while in the forest. Using it, he continued running, specifically with a technique that made him faster. He had no interest in taking more time than necessary to accomplish his task, especially when his mother was involved. Her “thirst” meant she had gone too long without her vice, and though he didn’t particularly encourage it, he would call himself an enabler.
Enabler. The word brought a deep scowl to his face, but it would be foolish and do no favors to either of them to ignore his role in his mother’s alcoholism. In spite of this, he tried to convince himself otherwise, even now.
I’ll get some food for us, he thought. That’ll do.
The brief shadow of a large bird overhead brought his thoughts back to his mother. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of her favorite owl, Hihin. Seeing it without her could mean one of many things, but.
She’s up to something.
Exhaling heavily from his nose, he decided to deliberately ignore the possibility that his mother was doing something reckless in her condition. For now.
Turning left, he came upon the sight of a large clearing before a few short buildings. He raised his hood and placed an eyepatch from his pocket over his silver eye. He turned his gaze up at Rendu Summit in the greater distance. The sound of murmuring brought his attention to a small hustle of people near the first building, and he gave them a peripheral glance before continuing.
Typical Saheelethin villages appeared rugged, poor, and, if he were honest, dirty. As a nomad who had visited such places throughout his life, however, he knew they were anything but on the inside. Abrai Village seemed no different, and the road ran right through it and over at least three small bridges from what he could see. Buildings and homes were short, no taller than a single floor, and the smell of farm animals had grown stronger since he arrived.
There was also a trace of an even more familiar, highly sought-after smell in the air. He just had to confirm what it indicated.
Eyes turned towards him, scanned him, and mouths moved; nothing different from the usual upon seeing him in smaller locations. Children, as indicated by their short cloaks, running around briefly stopped to stare at his tail, and he flicked it idly, causing one girl to giggle and point.
“Kaa, Kaa, that Akh’s got a tail!”
The girl’s guardian merely grunted and gave him a look of warning before continuing to do whatever their business was. He hid a smile to himself, unable to help but wave at the girl with his tail, causing her to giggle and clap.
Once he came to a place where that other scent became stronger along with the farm smell, he spotted a woman sitting near the first river, staring off somewhere.
“Aki,” he called.
Blinking, she looked his way, listless but relatively alert.
“There’s a farm here, yeah?”
The woman nodded, then pointed towards the west.
“Shiayni.” He gave a nod before following the direction her finger pointed in.
Indeed, both smells were getting stronger. Now that he thought about it, a farm was one of the best covers for illegal alcohol production—particularly Demon’s Milk
If I manage to get it, Keekaa’ll be in a better mood. The thought brought a smile to his face, and he jogged towards the sound of distant mooing. All he could hope was that it wasn’t going to be too expensive.
By the time Rakshal returned to his mother, the air had grown cooler as evening neared. Insects began to chirp, and he sensed the nocturnal animals awaken. He spotted his mother’s black-clad form splayed out in the clearing, lying on her back and humming to herself. He slowed from his run a short distance from her, nose twitching.
This scent…
He frowned, looking over her.
Her eyes were closed, hair crumpled around and beneath her large body in twists and mingled with grass and old leaves; the moment they managed to get to a tavern somewhere, she would undoubtedly give it a thorough cleaning. Hihin hooted, large yellow eyes focusing on him from where she perched in the forest.
All seemed fine, as it did whenever he smelt this particular scent, and his mother was alert. But that was it.
She was alert.
Her eyes opened to look at him as he approached, bright and glowing in the oncoming dark of the realm. She flashed a grin and sat up.
“I smell something good,” she hummed, nostrils twitching. “Could that be…Maikhou Niooyushul?”
This was a strange smell that surrounded her, spicy, prevalent with salt and…something else he couldn’t discern. It wasn’t on her It was around her. Hovering, as if something lingered.
Watching her shake her head to free her hair of some foliage, he couldn’t help but wonder for the umpteenth time if—
“Rakka?” She tilted her head owlishly, blinking much the same.
He smiled, speeding up while reaching into his rucksack. “Yeah, the farmer is behind some production of it,” he explained, sitting in front of her and handing her a red gourd almost as big as his head.
Her tongue stuck up from the corner of her lips upon seeing it, eyes lighting up and growing larger for just a moment. “Nice Must’ve cost some stones.” She hummed, reaching into a pocket.
“Yeah, it was 1,000 obi. The man wanted 1.5, but I managed to—whoa.” He held out his hands, in awe, as she passed him a massive money pouch. He blinked at its weight but intentionally decided not to ask if she had it on her this whole time or if she pillaged it while he was gone.
Popping the gourd’s cork with her teeth, she brought its mouth to her nose and inhaled the fumes with a loud groan, eyelids fluttering. “Gods bless fermentation.” She immediately began to drink.
Glad to see her in a better mood regardless, he brought his bag from his back and into his lap with a smile. His expression dropped as he looked from the pouch of money to his bag. “Where am I going to put this?”
She motioned to his coat and pants, briefly lowering the gourd. “You have pockets”
“So, split it up?”
“Mm hm.” She took a large swig, then put the cork back in. He watched some of the off-white liquid trickle down from the corner of her mouth. Before it could drip from her chin, the long gradient of a half-black tongue slipped from her mouth to lick the alcohol, wasting not a drop.
She seemed to realize what she did, as she momentarily froze. She played it off well enough by glancing away, and then moved to stand.
After bagging his pouch, he was given no choice but to follow her nonchalance, brushing off his backside and moving into a stretch as he stood. He loved it when she showed her “defects”. Aside from her eyes, which she only seemed capable of controlling when she absolutely needed to, he rarely saw them—particularly her tongue. She had so many.
Her eyes. Her tongue. Her toes and toenails, much like her fingertips and fingernails, were also a black gradient, blending into her skintone; she wore gloves for a reason. As she once said during a drunken bout when he was a child, ”Bad enough I got these fuckin’ eyes. No one needs t’know I’m…I’m a fuckin’—" And she silenced herself before she could finish, looking away in shame.
But it stayed with him.
“Oh, I also got some food.” He reached into his bag and took out a small bundle. She blinked at it, and he unraveled the cloth to reveal several homemade buns. “Meat buns. Goat, of course.”
She made a soft, scoff-like laugh. “I’m not hungry.”
He offered her some, the bundle outstretched with a frown. “Aiyool.”
They hadn’t eaten all day.
A dry expression, almost childish, overcame her features, but she sighed and took one. Her throat bobbed as she looked at it, nearly as though it was a foreign object. She caught herself and turned away while biting into it.
“Not bad.”
Liar, he sighed to himself.
Eyes sparkling, he hummed with appreciation at their juicy, robust taste as he took a bite. “We gonna stay here and camp?” he asked between chews.
“No. The patrol is too close.” She looked to the sky, yellow irises moving rapidly as she scanned it for something. When they stopped moving, fixing on something, her eyes narrowed. “Might rain.”
He sniffed the air but didn’t smell anything. His gaze went to the heavens, trying to look for whatever she must have seen.
For as far as he could see, past the landmass Garwados and the even more distant blackness that was Khabeyht, there were stars.
“Come, Rakka.”
He leveled his gaze, stuffing a bun in his mouth while hurrying to catch up to her.
Coming to her side, he saw that she had finished her food. “Was it good?”
Her eye rolled down to look at him, and a small smirk formed on her scarred face. She ruffled his locs. “Glutton. How many’ve you eaten already?”
He whined but didn’t bother swiping her hand away. “Four.”
“I mean before you brought them to me.”
His face slightly warmed. “Seven.”
“Good. Eat, Rakka. I’m alright.” She raised the gourd by its handle. “I have this. Thank you.”
He nodded, eyeing the item as she took the cork off and drank. “I’ll go ahead a bit.”
“Alright.” She focused entirely on the gourd, knocking her head back and taking a few mouthfuls with audible gulps.
He parted from her, continuing to munch on the buns, but slower. He was down to just eight now, but he was grateful the farmer’s partner gave so many.
Once out of his mother’s direct vision, he made a small, somber smile and lowered his head. He recalled the song she was humming and sang it softly to himself.
An urgent hoot brought him out of his musing. Hihin!
“Rakka.”
He barely turned around when his mother appeared at his side.
She had her gourd in hand but was corking it, wiping the remnant alcohol from her chin. “Get on.” She went into a crouch, flipping her hood over her head.
Without hesitation, he climbed up her back, hooking his feet on her hips as she moved to stand.
He had barely secured himself, wrapping his arms around her neck, when she took off, running faster than any speed he was capable of. He kept low on her back, looking around, then into the direction of the summit.
“Wait.” He frowned. “We’re moving away from Rendu?”
“The patrol landed there. We have to go the long way around to get to Biraan.”
He frowned, quieting in thought. “Does that mean we can stop at KaichehTyoo?” he asked after a moment.
They moved swiftly over the land, already out of the forest and in the fields of Halu-Halu Chioumi, surrounded by yellow flowers that shivered as they ran past. Hair whipping about, he waited for her to respond.
He heard the exhale in her chest, then the mutter of, “Yeah Might as well.”
He smiled softly. “Alright.” He rested against her back, curling his tail around her. “Wake me when we get there…”
She didn’t respond, but he sensed her running cadence change. It was familiar, one she had used since he was a child to aid him with falling asleep whenever he held onto her. This brought a wider smile to his face, and he turned his nose into her coat, inhaling her scent.
Metal…alcohol…and something…Keekaa.
Lulled by the movement, he fell into a quick slumber before he could thank her.
A horrific, shrill screech snapped Rakshal to consciousness. Disoriented, he flailed briefly, then realized he was resting supine on grass, and blinked towards the night sky past a canopy of leaves. His senses, roused by the cry, tingled, and he heard the sound echo over the land, demanding attention from the heavens themselves. Swallowing the pit of dread forming inside, he sat upright, then watched something fall from his hair.
It was a flower, or what remained of one. The delicate yellow petals had shattered. Looking at it allowed him to see other items near him as he sat beneath a tree.
A large money pouch that wasn’t his. It was embroidered with a single yellow swirl running through it.
A red gourd, tilted over and likely empty, sat beside it.
A sickle, kept in a simple black sheathe, lay beneath it. It was his mother’s weapon, capable of transforming into a massive, beautiful scythe.
She would never leave it behind.
Tears rapidly welled in his eyes. “Keekaa.”
The unsaid apology rang clearly in his mind.
She’s leaving.
An explosion brought him to his feet. Heart hammering in his chest, his senses guided his eyes into the direction of a mountain looming overhead.
Rendu Mountain.
Eyes darting, reflecting the explosions in the distance, he registered what lay before him.
At the base of the mountain, lights scattered, indicating dwellings. Several were extinguishing, one after another. A large, dark oval entrance to what was undoubtedly KaichehTyoo, the most violent slum in the plane, visibly shuddered from the force of nearby attacks.
His gaze locked on the ships at the mountain’s base, all military. His mother was there, fighting. He sensed it.
His body moved, dashing into the field of flowers between him and the mountain. Between him and his mother.
Another terrible screech emitted from the ships’ direction, causing every flower in the field to shiver audibly, threatening to shatter. He stumbled down the hill at first, then straightened, gaze fixed on the ships.
He didn’t flinch when a fourth ship exploded, joining three on the ground.
He took count. Five in the air near the slums. From the west, six were on the way, moving at high speed, their alarms blaring and searchlights focusing on the fight.
A third screech, and all the flowers shattered, blocking his vision. Her name was on the tip of his tongue when an unnatural power, and the force from the scream, blew him into the field—right back where he started.
“Aiyool!” Heart pounding, he forced himself onto his feet and began to run again. “Aiy—!”
The five ships exploded, the impact and more gusts sending him back to the start of the field.
From the top of his lungs, he tried again. “Aiyool!”
The wind swallowed his call, forcing him to brandish his bou staff and thrust it into the ground. Glasslike petals and grass flew into his face, and he looked away to prevent them from getting in his eyes..
He dared to open them. With a gasp, he ducked, barely missing impalement by a ship’s mast. Other parts of destroyed ships flew by, tumbling over the grass and through the field.
“Keekaa!” he screamed, tasting dust and dirt and smoke “KEEKAA!”
The remaining four ships exploded the second the words left his mouth. Tears flooded his eyes, and he grinded his teeth. It was as if the gods themselves didn’t want him to get to her.
Why?
Mustering his willpower against the overwhelming forces, he jammed his staff into the ground as he moved forward.
How long had she been fighting the empire—alone? Warm tears ran down his cheeks, frustration boiling within.
I promised, Keekaa…
He jumped from the ground to a piece of metal and used the momentum to launch himself into the air. A fourth screech blew him back, but he extended his staff to ground his body.
I promised to stay by your side.
His staff bent back, and he spun around, vaulting himself towards the mountainside. Five of the six westward ships collapsed, as if their engines died, before exploding as the others had. His mother seemed unstoppable.
but she was getting tired. He could sense it. Her keppoo, the indicator of her health, was waning. This meant more than weariness; she was becoming weak on a spiritual level. That never happened to her. Shredding the inside of his mouth with his fangs in frustration, he blinked past the tears in his vision.
Landing, he took a few slow steps forward, watching with a sense of helplessness as a single ship flew away.
With her on it.
“Keekaa.” He swallowed, unable to taste the blood, dirt, and grass in his mouth “I…I promised...”
