A brief Ja'aisen family history...
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Ithai’an Ithir Iaan Khelir did not often leave the island, though he ventured out more than most. He knew it was practically a death wish each time he made contact with a human colony, but the temptation of the wide world beyond his secluded home was too great. It called to him, the adventure. If he was honest, he even enjoyed the aspect of danger that came with each visit, too. He could not take part in the daily activities of those that plodded along their daily business below him as he sat perched on a clay-tiled rooftop, but he liked to watch them anyway. Like watching a colony of ants, he thought. Each one with a mission and purpose. Ithir did not know the language either, or at least not very well. He knew a couple words, but nothing that would suffice for conversation or even doing business. Not that he could do that either. One look at his eyes and, at best, he’d be shooed away. At worst, the soldiers would come.
None of that mattered today. He had a mission of his own and nothing would keep him from it.
Ithir did not come to the coastal town to watch little human ants, nor did he come for an adventure. He came for a prize. On the rooftops, he stalked his prey, watching the movements of the people below to try and determine patterns or flow, estimate timing, and to visualize a route. Ithir was not a thief typically—at home, he was considered an honorable man who made good on his word and saw to others’ needs. But here, he had nothing to trade, no skills to barter, not even language to communicate or money to spend. In order to get anything here, he had to steal. It was a reality he’d accepted long ago, since he first started visiting human settlements.
There. Ithir saw his target. The timing was perfect, the way was clear. He shifted to a gray and white gull and dove off the edge of the roof, swooping down on outstretched wings towards a tiny wheeled cart with some kind of shade above it like a fabric, artificial tree. Stacked neatly on top were little packages wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine, one of which he scooped up with his beak and swept away, ignoring the owner’s disgruntled shouts at what the old man thought was only a bird. Success.
Ithir made the flight home quickly, his prize secured. Today was the day. He’d been plucking up the courage for weeks, but today, now, at last, he was going to ask Y’virianae Y’vira Val Ja’aisen to dance with him. And this pilfered box of sweet chocolate candy would be his offering. If that didn’t impress her, he didn’t know what would. Tonight was the first night of summer, and there was going to be a grand celebration around a fire so large, he imagined its light could be seen from the mainland. There would be food, drink, song, and lots of dancing in general, though for a man to ask a lady to dance with him specifically was another matter entirely. And even if it killed him, he was going to ask Y’vira.
The summer celebration was a communal event and everyone attended. Children of all ages were allowed to stay up as late as they could possibly bear, and by the end of the night it was common for there to be young ones littered all around the beach, curled up beside the fire, slouched against logs, or reclined in a nearby hammock, as they simply slept where they nodded off instead of being carried off to their beds. Stories were told, music was played, and it was very common for young men to finally work up the courage to begin courting the woman of his choice. So common, in fact, that young women who suspected that they might have a suitor approach them would make necklaces of shells or carved stone and leather and would bring them to the event, keeping them close at hand to give as a token if her favored man approached her. Ithir hoped that there would be a necklace for him.
In his natural form now, Ithir concealed the box close to his bare chest as he moved quickly to his little shed of a home, stashing his prize underneath a blanket. Right. Now all he had to do was wait for the set of the sun. Wait, and overthink, he thought to himself. He couldn’t imagine his embarrassment if she didn’t accept his invitation. Or, just as awful, if someone else came to her first. It took a lot for the more withdrawn man to come out and speak his feelings plainly and vulnerably in general, but he’d had his eye on Y’vira for a long time now and knew her well. There was no doubt in his mind that he loved her. But if she didn’t feel that way about him…?
“Ithir!”
He whirled, taking in a tiny gasp.
“Well? Did you get it?” His best friend, Tonivan stood in the narrow doorway, holding the woven curtain aside. The grin on his face was brilliant, enough to make Ithir feel self-conscious and gawked at.
“I did. But you can’t tell anyone! I want it to be a surprise.”
“Yeah? Or are you just saying that so you can leave yourself the option of backing out?” Tonivan laughed, giving his friend a playful shove. “I’m not going to let you. You haven’t stopped talking about this for a whole week, so I’ll make you do it.”
Ithir sighed. “Well, you might have to. What if she says no? Or worse, what if she’s got someone else..?”
“No no, none of that. Look, I got you a present. Actually, more US a present.” Tonivan grinned wickedly, taking a worn bottle with a dark liquid inside from behind his back. Both men smiled as Tonivan stepped inside, letting the curtain fall over the doorless entry.
The bottle was gone by evening. By then, they were feeling warm, giddy, and a little dizzy—ready for the merriment that was to come. The smell of woodsmoke, stronger than usual, flooded the air of the whole island, mingling with the toothsome scent of roasted meat. And the whole island was a buzz of activity as they congregated around a huge fire on the widest section of beach. When they arrived, already there was music playing—bamboo flutes, big drums of pig rawhide and wood, and the soft chanting of a few singers.
He didn’t see her yet. He was scanning the crowd for her, picking a set of pork ribs clean when a soft voice spoke to him from behind.
“You seem even quieter than usual, Ithir.” It was the elder, an ancient woman with long white hair and wrinkled, leathery skin. “Got something on your mind...?” Her tone was playful. Knowing.
“Sorry Ama, I’ve um, had a bit to drink...” he said, struggling to give a respectful salute by touching his fingers to his forehead and dropping them to his chest.
“Yes,” she smiled. “Haven’t we all. You know, rumor has it she’s been hoping you would ask her to dance this summersday. Are you?”
Ithir nearly jumped out of his skin. “Wha!? I uh, she....she has? You know...?”
The elder laughed. “I know everything that happens on this little island, Ithir. And you should know, I approve. You’d be good for each other. She needs someone strong that can tame her spirit, and you need someone wild to ignite yours....anyway....seeing as how she just arrived, I’ll take my leave...” she was grinning mischievously as she sidled away slowly.
She was right. Ithir looked across the fire to see her curly blonde hair reflecting the dying sunlight as she, chatting and laughing with her friends, joined the throng. Sun and stars, she was beautiful. She stood taller than most, and her skirt and the band that covered her chest were simple, unadorned, and even a little worn. Others had beaded tops, or dyed patterns in their skirts, but not her. There was a simple elegance about her that he loved. An unpretentious, diamond-in-the-rough kind of air that made her feel genuine at all times. And the elder was right—she was wild. Bold, outspoken, courageous, and always sought to seek new limits.
His feet moved. His mind raced with exactly what he would say, but she found him first and threw her arms around him. “Happy Summersday! Where is Tonivan?”
And with her words, he felt his tension melt. “Oh you know, eating too much, drinking too much—the usual. Oh, so I went to a human town today and I brought something back I thought you’d like.”
Her smile was brilliant and her eyes lit up curiously. “Did you now?” He held out the box of chocolates from behind his back and she unwrapped the tiny package. Inside was a hefty chunk of dark chocolate with a candied cherry embedded on the top.
“Is that...?”
“I guess they call it Cho..colate..?”
“Yes! I hear this is a rare thing! You got it for me?” When he nodded, Y’vira broke it in half and handed him one chunk. They smiled and ate, relishing the bittersweet, creamy flavor.
“Come!” He said after a moment. “There’s food to be had and drink to be drunk!” He led her away to where the barbecue pit was gently smoking, trying to ignore the expectant stares of her friends as they walked.
For a while, Ithir forgot about his nerves. They enjoyed the company of both each other and the people around them, ate their fill, watched two talented shifters tell a story or two, and most of all, they drank. Ithir was feeling even more lightheaded than he was, but he was happy beyond reason. And then, when the darkness had fully set in, the ever present sound of flutes stopped, and around the fire, drums pounded even louder. Circles of dancers formed, stomping their bare feet to the rhythm and clapping their hands. Closer to the firelight, individual pairs slowly began to form. His time had come.
Ithir stood, his eyes sparkling as they looked into hers. She was still seated on a piece of driftwood, looking at him with an expression that was almost...wolfish and hungry. How fitting. He grabbed her hand and pulled her up, drawing her in until he could feel her breath on his face. His voice was low. “Dance with me. With me an no one else.”
Y’vira grinned wickedly, leaning in to kiss him hard; she caught a bit of his lip in her teeth playfully. “I thought you’d never ask, you old bastard.” She reached out and fastened a necklace made of leather, a carved stone, and two shells around his neck, then bounded off closer to the fire with the grace of a doe. He followed even as she turned back to face him, stomping her feet to the drums and sending sprays of sand up with each step.
The world halted. In that moment, there was nothing but the sound of the drums and his pounding heart to match, and her. Her golden hair flung out as she spun, her hips swayed hypnotically. He was chanting, she was chanting, and others nearby joined in their song like a form of applause—they all knew what was happening here. He was out of breath but it didn’t matter. All that he cared about was matching her movements, swaying with her and pounding the earth with his feet like it was a fire to be put out. Their bodies were close. He could feel her heat and she his. The night air felt toxic in the most beautiful way, and he had lost all hesitation, inhibition, fear, and doubt.
“Come and dance with me, Ithai’an.” She used his third name and he thought his heart was going to explode. “Dance with me, and I will make you a Ja’aisen for all eternity.”
She did not mean dance like the kind they were doing now, and he knew it. His heart pounded harder. She was his, and he was hers. “Y’virianae...” he breathed, and in a flash, the two were a pair of swallows that leapt into the night sky and flew tight circles, chasing each other into the sea, where they plunged below the waves, only to surface again as a pair of nimble seals darting through the water. They were dragons. They were great-winged albatross. They were snakes and lithe black jungle-cats, wolves and dolphins, shifting effortlessly from one form to the next in perfect unison, their fluid movements seeming almost choreographed and liquid. And as they flew as cyradan further inland, bioluminescent stripes flashing and pulsating bright, festive red, they did not hear their friends below whooping and hollering at them excitedly. Everyone knew what that meant.
—
Ithai’an Ithir Iaan Ja’aisen. Her sister, her only living family member, and the village elder had given them their blessing the following afternoon, and neither of them had been happier in their whole lives. She moved from her hut shared with her sister to Ithai’an’s and would help him whittle wooden tools and utensils while he would help her dry, pulp, roast, and grind coffee beans—both of which they traded for meat, metal tools, fabric, and anything else they needed. They’d created a life together, and everything seemed perfect.
That is, until a ship was spotted on the horizon.
Everyone on the island knew that meant trouble. Nobody came there to trade or to resupply or rest, though once they had a survivor of a shipwrecked vessel drift onshore, and they fashioned him a quick raft and sent him away despite his terror of them. It wasn’t that vokurians were unfriendly, it was more that the world was not friendly to them. Visitors meant violence, and they were good at responding in kind. They had time to prepare, unlike other times in the past where ships came in the night. But this one played its hand too early, and that spelled death for the incoming ship.
Y’virianae swung in their little woven hammock, sitting up with her legs straddling the fabric. She’d been like that for some time, staring out at the slowly approaching ship. Ever the warrior at heart, Ithai’an was pacing. “What if…” she mused, tossing a braided lock of hair behind her shoulder. “What if we met them at sea? Fought them there. Stopped them from even coming here?”
Ithai’an stopped, considering this as his eyes drifted to the horizon. “Maybe. But if they’re a wayward merchant ship that doesn’t know we’re here, I’d hate to call attention to ourselves. There’s currents out there that cause them to drift—we’ve seen it before.”
“Yes…” she said, her eyes still fixated and a dark edge to her tone. “But last time one came, I lost my family. You lost your father. Is that the kind of life you want for our little girl?” She traced a finger along her belly, which had not yet begun to show signs of pregnancy.
“Girl!?” This brought a smile to his face. “Who says it will be a girl?”
“My sister thinks so. She’s got a feeling.”
“Well Vanei told ME it would be a boy. But…no. No, that’s not what I want. I want to watch HIM grow.”
Y’virianae kicked the sand and a spray of it leapt towards him, pelting his ankle gently. “I want to watch HER grow too. So why don’t we get over there and take that ship down before it comes?”
Ithai’an shook his head. “Vanae wouldn’t approve. That’s seeking out a fight, that’s not our way. That’s not my way.”
“Well, it’s mine.” Y’virianae stood. “We don’t need to tell her. We go on our own, quietly. And no one else needs to engage. No one else here needs to die. At the very least, come with me to back me up, and I’LL do the dirty work.”
That convinced him, and the two slipped into the sea, shifting in unison to a pair of dolphins so they could traverse the distance without being seen by anyone. But when they got there, instead of shifting to a huge whale that could ram a hole in the wooden hull or a dragon to burn it down, Y’virianae shifted to a seabird and quietly boarded the ship, leaving Ithai’an alone beneath the waves. She found the captain’s cabin and, changing to her natural form, she walked straight in like she owned the place. The captain was inside, studying a map with a man in a plumed hat and they both looked up at her, stunned. Surely, she had to be a ghost. After all, there were no women on the ship. But then he saw her eyes, and his own widened.
“You…turn. You turn or death.” She didn’t know many words in Carisian, but she knew those, her accent thick.
The man yelled something, pulling out a large, thin sword and advancing on her. She shifted to a black wolf and snarled, head lowered, ears back, but she was backing up, looking for room to maneuver. Her ears twitched, and she turned to see a score of men with swords and one with a loud stick—gun, she thought it was called— closing in on her from behind. Y’virianae calculated her next move, but she didn’t need to.
There was an explosive splash of water off the starboard side of the ship as, from the sapphire depths, emerged a large and very angry Cyradan. Water rolled off the smooth matte black scales like droplets of water dancing along hot steel as the momentum gained from underwater kept him rocketing skyward. The droplets glittered in the sunlight around him like thousands of tiny diamonds. The bioluminescent stripes along his body pulsed and flashed an angry red, strobing wildly as he let loose a chilling, angry cry. The sound was both deep, thunderous and resonating, and shrill, piercing, and ear-splitting, like two different discordant instruments voicing at the same time. Ithai’an folded his wings and leveled, coming to land hard on the gunnel of the ship with his black talons splintering into the wood. The whole vessel rocked, throwing many of the sailors off their feet, though he still saw one make a charge for the wolf Y’virianae.
Anger boiled in him. How dare someone attempt to attack her. To attack them. Ithai’an was a quiet, aloof man, content to go about his own business. But not then. Then, he saw his love, and he saw his enemy, and he knew the two could not coexist in his world. His triangular head snapped out like a striking snake and took the offender in his dark maw. He felt the wet crunch resonate through his dark gray teeth and hot blood spill over the curve of his lips and onto the deck. The taste of blood in that moment was intoxicating. Throwing the punctured corpse into the other crew members with enough force to knock several down, then snatched up the man standing beside the captain, who now looked pale as dead coral. Crunch. He was standing over Y’virianae now, tail whipping, stripes flashing, wings outspread. Another roar sounded; the men on deck clapped their hands over their ears.
The wolf beneath him was now a woman, and she deftly rolled out from beneath the shelter of his girth and swung herself up onto his back. She was still snarling. “TURN.” They both saw the captain nod, realizing he’d been outgunned. Seeing them, Y’virianae determined they were not prepared for a raid, as many of them lacked The Sticks that were so common to raiders. She guessed they were either lost, or they thought they’d come upon an uninhabited island. Lucky for them, she thought. If she had any inkling that they meant to attack, they would all die. But these, if they turned, she would let go.
The captain began giving what she assumed were orders to his men, because they all started moving and puling at the ropes. Both of them felt the ship lurch, list to one side, and turn about. The moment they did, the two intruders were skyborne and gone. They had escaped death today. Or at least, most of them had.
The pair returned home, avoiding anyone who looked like they wanted to ask what they’d done. Ithai’an had blood on his face, smearing his chin and neck still. Inside their little hut, he began to clean himself.
“What was that? I had it handled just fine. You didn’t even want to go!” Y’virianae asked him, hand on her hips.
“I don’t want you fighting anymore.” His tone was hard. Cold.
She snorted. “You do not own me. What’s changed?”
Ithai’an looked up from the little basin of water where he was scrubbing the blood off. “You,” he said, his eyes directing towards her belly. Despite his earlier tone, his eyes were pleading.
Y’virianae melted. She’d been building up her defiance, ready to argue whatever point he made. After all, who was he to tell her she could not fight? To defend those she loved? He couldn’t ask that of her. But when she followed his gaze, understood what he meant, she had no words of challenge. She sighed. “And I suppose you’re going to be the one protecting me? ….Us…?” She was teasing him a little.
Ithai’an stood, face dripping with cool water as he took her face gently between his two wet hands. Her azure eyes had such fire to them, even now. He liked that about her. “My Soul,” he said gently though his face was grave. “This world will have to kill me first if it wants either of you.”
——
The village elder, Vanei, slowly lowered herself to a kneel onto the woven grass mat where Y’virianae reclined beside the still form of her (finally) sleeping son. The toddler lay spread-eagle on his back, breathing rhythmically in the comfort of the shade and the breeze. Vanei laughed softly. “You look exhausted, Y’vira. Wishing you had a girl, now?”
The younger woman gave a soft groan, letting her head hang. “Yes. He’s a nightmare when he gets tired.”
“I wasn’t aware he ever did,” Vanei replied with a smile.
“No. Not really. He just gets even wilder when he needs a nap. Do you know, he bit me while trying to get him to lay down, just now?” She showed off the red marks on her hand in exasperation. “Esiah’s boy is a lamb—why’s mine got to be a demon? Is this my punishment for my wild youth?”
“Yes.” Both women shared a soft laugh. “He’s got Ithir’s steel and your fire. Have you decided on a name that fits him yet?”
Y’virianae pursed her lips in thought, absently stroking her little boy’s pale curls with one slender hand. “We’ve been thinking about that as he’s gotten older…but we can’t decide. Maybe you can help. We’ve debated between Istavienn and Rheoaan. What do you think?”
Istavienn meant ‘immovable stone’ and Rheoaan meant ‘the spark that starts a flame’. To both of these, Vanei laughed softly. “Fitting, both of them. But I think…” She traced one wrinkled finger over the boy’s arm with a feather’s touch. “I think he’s got too much wild spirit to be Istavienn. He is a Rheoaan, to me.”
Y’virianae’s lips played in a delicate smile, and as she said the name again to herself, it felt right. “Yes. Rheoaan. Rheoaan…Rohaan…Rio Ja’aisen. That will be his name.”
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Ithai’an Ithir Iaan Khelir did not often leave the island, though he ventured out more than most. He knew it was practically a death wish each time he made contact with a human colony, but the temptation of the wide world beyond his secluded home was too great. It called to him, the adventure. If he was honest, he even enjoyed the aspect of danger that came with each visit, too. He could not take part in the daily activities of those that plodded along their daily business below him as he sat perched on a clay-tiled rooftop, but he liked to watch them anyway. Like watching a colony of ants, he thought. Each one with a mission and purpose. Ithir did not know the language either, or at least not very well. He knew a couple words, but nothing that would suffice for conversation or even doing business. Not that he could do that either. One look at his eyes and, at best, he’d be shooed away. At worst, the soldiers would come.
None of that mattered today. He had a mission of his own and nothing would keep him from it.
Ithir did not come to the coastal town to watch little human ants, nor did he come for an adventure. He came for a prize. On the rooftops, he stalked his prey, watching the movements of the people below to try and determine patterns or flow, estimate timing, and to visualize a route. Ithir was not a thief typically—at home, he was considered an honorable man who made good on his word and saw to others’ needs. But here, he had nothing to trade, no skills to barter, not even language to communicate or money to spend. In order to get anything here, he had to steal. It was a reality he’d accepted long ago, since he first started visiting human settlements.
There. Ithir saw his target. The timing was perfect, the way was clear. He shifted to a gray and white gull and dove off the edge of the roof, swooping down on outstretched wings towards a tiny wheeled cart with some kind of shade above it like a fabric, artificial tree. Stacked neatly on top were little packages wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine, one of which he scooped up with his beak and swept away, ignoring the owner’s disgruntled shouts at what the old man thought was only a bird. Success.
Ithir made the flight home quickly, his prize secured. Today was the day. He’d been plucking up the courage for weeks, but today, now, at last, he was going to ask Y’virianae Y’vira Val Ja’aisen to dance with him. And this pilfered box of sweet chocolate candy would be his offering. If that didn’t impress her, he didn’t know what would. Tonight was the first night of summer, and there was going to be a grand celebration around a fire so large, he imagined its light could be seen from the mainland. There would be food, drink, song, and lots of dancing in general, though for a man to ask a lady to dance with him specifically was another matter entirely. And even if it killed him, he was going to ask Y’vira.
The summer celebration was a communal event and everyone attended. Children of all ages were allowed to stay up as late as they could possibly bear, and by the end of the night it was common for there to be young ones littered all around the beach, curled up beside the fire, slouched against logs, or reclined in a nearby hammock, as they simply slept where they nodded off instead of being carried off to their beds. Stories were told, music was played, and it was very common for young men to finally work up the courage to begin courting the woman of his choice. So common, in fact, that young women who suspected that they might have a suitor approach them would make necklaces of shells or carved stone and leather and would bring them to the event, keeping them close at hand to give as a token if her favored man approached her. Ithir hoped that there would be a necklace for him.
In his natural form now, Ithir concealed the box close to his bare chest as he moved quickly to his little shed of a home, stashing his prize underneath a blanket. Right. Now all he had to do was wait for the set of the sun. Wait, and overthink, he thought to himself. He couldn’t imagine his embarrassment if she didn’t accept his invitation. Or, just as awful, if someone else came to her first. It took a lot for the more withdrawn man to come out and speak his feelings plainly and vulnerably in general, but he’d had his eye on Y’vira for a long time now and knew her well. There was no doubt in his mind that he loved her. But if she didn’t feel that way about him…?
“Ithir!”
He whirled, taking in a tiny gasp.
“Well? Did you get it?” His best friend, Tonivan stood in the narrow doorway, holding the woven curtain aside. The grin on his face was brilliant, enough to make Ithir feel self-conscious and gawked at.
“I did. But you can’t tell anyone! I want it to be a surprise.”
“Yeah? Or are you just saying that so you can leave yourself the option of backing out?” Tonivan laughed, giving his friend a playful shove. “I’m not going to let you. You haven’t stopped talking about this for a whole week, so I’ll make you do it.”
Ithir sighed. “Well, you might have to. What if she says no? Or worse, what if she’s got someone else..?”
“No no, none of that. Look, I got you a present. Actually, more US a present.” Tonivan grinned wickedly, taking a worn bottle with a dark liquid inside from behind his back. Both men smiled as Tonivan stepped inside, letting the curtain fall over the doorless entry.
The bottle was gone by evening. By then, they were feeling warm, giddy, and a little dizzy—ready for the merriment that was to come. The smell of woodsmoke, stronger than usual, flooded the air of the whole island, mingling with the toothsome scent of roasted meat. And the whole island was a buzz of activity as they congregated around a huge fire on the widest section of beach. When they arrived, already there was music playing—bamboo flutes, big drums of pig rawhide and wood, and the soft chanting of a few singers.
He didn’t see her yet. He was scanning the crowd for her, picking a set of pork ribs clean when a soft voice spoke to him from behind.
“You seem even quieter than usual, Ithir.” It was the elder, an ancient woman with long white hair and wrinkled, leathery skin. “Got something on your mind...?” Her tone was playful. Knowing.
“Sorry Ama, I’ve um, had a bit to drink...” he said, struggling to give a respectful salute by touching his fingers to his forehead and dropping them to his chest.
“Yes,” she smiled. “Haven’t we all. You know, rumor has it she’s been hoping you would ask her to dance this summersday. Are you?”
Ithir nearly jumped out of his skin. “Wha!? I uh, she....she has? You know...?”
The elder laughed. “I know everything that happens on this little island, Ithir. And you should know, I approve. You’d be good for each other. She needs someone strong that can tame her spirit, and you need someone wild to ignite yours....anyway....seeing as how she just arrived, I’ll take my leave...” she was grinning mischievously as she sidled away slowly.
She was right. Ithir looked across the fire to see her curly blonde hair reflecting the dying sunlight as she, chatting and laughing with her friends, joined the throng. Sun and stars, she was beautiful. She stood taller than most, and her skirt and the band that covered her chest were simple, unadorned, and even a little worn. Others had beaded tops, or dyed patterns in their skirts, but not her. There was a simple elegance about her that he loved. An unpretentious, diamond-in-the-rough kind of air that made her feel genuine at all times. And the elder was right—she was wild. Bold, outspoken, courageous, and always sought to seek new limits.
His feet moved. His mind raced with exactly what he would say, but she found him first and threw her arms around him. “Happy Summersday! Where is Tonivan?”
And with her words, he felt his tension melt. “Oh you know, eating too much, drinking too much—the usual. Oh, so I went to a human town today and I brought something back I thought you’d like.”
Her smile was brilliant and her eyes lit up curiously. “Did you now?” He held out the box of chocolates from behind his back and she unwrapped the tiny package. Inside was a hefty chunk of dark chocolate with a candied cherry embedded on the top.
“Is that...?”
“I guess they call it Cho..colate..?”
“Yes! I hear this is a rare thing! You got it for me?” When he nodded, Y’vira broke it in half and handed him one chunk. They smiled and ate, relishing the bittersweet, creamy flavor.
“Come!” He said after a moment. “There’s food to be had and drink to be drunk!” He led her away to where the barbecue pit was gently smoking, trying to ignore the expectant stares of her friends as they walked.
For a while, Ithir forgot about his nerves. They enjoyed the company of both each other and the people around them, ate their fill, watched two talented shifters tell a story or two, and most of all, they drank. Ithir was feeling even more lightheaded than he was, but he was happy beyond reason. And then, when the darkness had fully set in, the ever present sound of flutes stopped, and around the fire, drums pounded even louder. Circles of dancers formed, stomping their bare feet to the rhythm and clapping their hands. Closer to the firelight, individual pairs slowly began to form. His time had come.
Ithir stood, his eyes sparkling as they looked into hers. She was still seated on a piece of driftwood, looking at him with an expression that was almost...wolfish and hungry. How fitting. He grabbed her hand and pulled her up, drawing her in until he could feel her breath on his face. His voice was low. “Dance with me. With me an no one else.”
Y’vira grinned wickedly, leaning in to kiss him hard; she caught a bit of his lip in her teeth playfully. “I thought you’d never ask, you old bastard.” She reached out and fastened a necklace made of leather, a carved stone, and two shells around his neck, then bounded off closer to the fire with the grace of a doe. He followed even as she turned back to face him, stomping her feet to the drums and sending sprays of sand up with each step.
The world halted. In that moment, there was nothing but the sound of the drums and his pounding heart to match, and her. Her golden hair flung out as she spun, her hips swayed hypnotically. He was chanting, she was chanting, and others nearby joined in their song like a form of applause—they all knew what was happening here. He was out of breath but it didn’t matter. All that he cared about was matching her movements, swaying with her and pounding the earth with his feet like it was a fire to be put out. Their bodies were close. He could feel her heat and she his. The night air felt toxic in the most beautiful way, and he had lost all hesitation, inhibition, fear, and doubt.
“Come and dance with me, Ithai’an.” She used his third name and he thought his heart was going to explode. “Dance with me, and I will make you a Ja’aisen for all eternity.”
She did not mean dance like the kind they were doing now, and he knew it. His heart pounded harder. She was his, and he was hers. “Y’virianae...” he breathed, and in a flash, the two were a pair of swallows that leapt into the night sky and flew tight circles, chasing each other into the sea, where they plunged below the waves, only to surface again as a pair of nimble seals darting through the water. They were dragons. They were great-winged albatross. They were snakes and lithe black jungle-cats, wolves and dolphins, shifting effortlessly from one form to the next in perfect unison, their fluid movements seeming almost choreographed and liquid. And as they flew as cyradan further inland, bioluminescent stripes flashing and pulsating bright, festive red, they did not hear their friends below whooping and hollering at them excitedly. Everyone knew what that meant.
—
Ithai’an Ithir Iaan Ja’aisen. Her sister, her only living family member, and the village elder had given them their blessing the following afternoon, and neither of them had been happier in their whole lives. She moved from her hut shared with her sister to Ithai’an’s and would help him whittle wooden tools and utensils while he would help her dry, pulp, roast, and grind coffee beans—both of which they traded for meat, metal tools, fabric, and anything else they needed. They’d created a life together, and everything seemed perfect.
That is, until a ship was spotted on the horizon.
Everyone on the island knew that meant trouble. Nobody came there to trade or to resupply or rest, though once they had a survivor of a shipwrecked vessel drift onshore, and they fashioned him a quick raft and sent him away despite his terror of them. It wasn’t that vokurians were unfriendly, it was more that the world was not friendly to them. Visitors meant violence, and they were good at responding in kind. They had time to prepare, unlike other times in the past where ships came in the night. But this one played its hand too early, and that spelled death for the incoming ship.
Y’virianae swung in their little woven hammock, sitting up with her legs straddling the fabric. She’d been like that for some time, staring out at the slowly approaching ship. Ever the warrior at heart, Ithai’an was pacing. “What if…” she mused, tossing a braided lock of hair behind her shoulder. “What if we met them at sea? Fought them there. Stopped them from even coming here?”
Ithai’an stopped, considering this as his eyes drifted to the horizon. “Maybe. But if they’re a wayward merchant ship that doesn’t know we’re here, I’d hate to call attention to ourselves. There’s currents out there that cause them to drift—we’ve seen it before.”
“Yes…” she said, her eyes still fixated and a dark edge to her tone. “But last time one came, I lost my family. You lost your father. Is that the kind of life you want for our little girl?” She traced a finger along her belly, which had not yet begun to show signs of pregnancy.
“Girl!?” This brought a smile to his face. “Who says it will be a girl?”
“My sister thinks so. She’s got a feeling.”
“Well Vanei told ME it would be a boy. But…no. No, that’s not what I want. I want to watch HIM grow.”
Y’virianae kicked the sand and a spray of it leapt towards him, pelting his ankle gently. “I want to watch HER grow too. So why don’t we get over there and take that ship down before it comes?”
Ithai’an shook his head. “Vanae wouldn’t approve. That’s seeking out a fight, that’s not our way. That’s not my way.”
“Well, it’s mine.” Y’virianae stood. “We don’t need to tell her. We go on our own, quietly. And no one else needs to engage. No one else here needs to die. At the very least, come with me to back me up, and I’LL do the dirty work.”
That convinced him, and the two slipped into the sea, shifting in unison to a pair of dolphins so they could traverse the distance without being seen by anyone. But when they got there, instead of shifting to a huge whale that could ram a hole in the wooden hull or a dragon to burn it down, Y’virianae shifted to a seabird and quietly boarded the ship, leaving Ithai’an alone beneath the waves. She found the captain’s cabin and, changing to her natural form, she walked straight in like she owned the place. The captain was inside, studying a map with a man in a plumed hat and they both looked up at her, stunned. Surely, she had to be a ghost. After all, there were no women on the ship. But then he saw her eyes, and his own widened.
“You…turn. You turn or death.” She didn’t know many words in Carisian, but she knew those, her accent thick.
The man yelled something, pulling out a large, thin sword and advancing on her. She shifted to a black wolf and snarled, head lowered, ears back, but she was backing up, looking for room to maneuver. Her ears twitched, and she turned to see a score of men with swords and one with a loud stick—gun, she thought it was called— closing in on her from behind. Y’virianae calculated her next move, but she didn’t need to.
There was an explosive splash of water off the starboard side of the ship as, from the sapphire depths, emerged a large and very angry Cyradan. Water rolled off the smooth matte black scales like droplets of water dancing along hot steel as the momentum gained from underwater kept him rocketing skyward. The droplets glittered in the sunlight around him like thousands of tiny diamonds. The bioluminescent stripes along his body pulsed and flashed an angry red, strobing wildly as he let loose a chilling, angry cry. The sound was both deep, thunderous and resonating, and shrill, piercing, and ear-splitting, like two different discordant instruments voicing at the same time. Ithai’an folded his wings and leveled, coming to land hard on the gunnel of the ship with his black talons splintering into the wood. The whole vessel rocked, throwing many of the sailors off their feet, though he still saw one make a charge for the wolf Y’virianae.
Anger boiled in him. How dare someone attempt to attack her. To attack them. Ithai’an was a quiet, aloof man, content to go about his own business. But not then. Then, he saw his love, and he saw his enemy, and he knew the two could not coexist in his world. His triangular head snapped out like a striking snake and took the offender in his dark maw. He felt the wet crunch resonate through his dark gray teeth and hot blood spill over the curve of his lips and onto the deck. The taste of blood in that moment was intoxicating. Throwing the punctured corpse into the other crew members with enough force to knock several down, then snatched up the man standing beside the captain, who now looked pale as dead coral. Crunch. He was standing over Y’virianae now, tail whipping, stripes flashing, wings outspread. Another roar sounded; the men on deck clapped their hands over their ears.
The wolf beneath him was now a woman, and she deftly rolled out from beneath the shelter of his girth and swung herself up onto his back. She was still snarling. “TURN.” They both saw the captain nod, realizing he’d been outgunned. Seeing them, Y’virianae determined they were not prepared for a raid, as many of them lacked The Sticks that were so common to raiders. She guessed they were either lost, or they thought they’d come upon an uninhabited island. Lucky for them, she thought. If she had any inkling that they meant to attack, they would all die. But these, if they turned, she would let go.
The captain began giving what she assumed were orders to his men, because they all started moving and puling at the ropes. Both of them felt the ship lurch, list to one side, and turn about. The moment they did, the two intruders were skyborne and gone. They had escaped death today. Or at least, most of them had.
The pair returned home, avoiding anyone who looked like they wanted to ask what they’d done. Ithai’an had blood on his face, smearing his chin and neck still. Inside their little hut, he began to clean himself.
“What was that? I had it handled just fine. You didn’t even want to go!” Y’virianae asked him, hand on her hips.
“I don’t want you fighting anymore.” His tone was hard. Cold.
She snorted. “You do not own me. What’s changed?”
Ithai’an looked up from the little basin of water where he was scrubbing the blood off. “You,” he said, his eyes directing towards her belly. Despite his earlier tone, his eyes were pleading.
Y’virianae melted. She’d been building up her defiance, ready to argue whatever point he made. After all, who was he to tell her she could not fight? To defend those she loved? He couldn’t ask that of her. But when she followed his gaze, understood what he meant, she had no words of challenge. She sighed. “And I suppose you’re going to be the one protecting me? ….Us…?” She was teasing him a little.
Ithai’an stood, face dripping with cool water as he took her face gently between his two wet hands. Her azure eyes had such fire to them, even now. He liked that about her. “My Soul,” he said gently though his face was grave. “This world will have to kill me first if it wants either of you.”
——
The village elder, Vanei, slowly lowered herself to a kneel onto the woven grass mat where Y’virianae reclined beside the still form of her (finally) sleeping son. The toddler lay spread-eagle on his back, breathing rhythmically in the comfort of the shade and the breeze. Vanei laughed softly. “You look exhausted, Y’vira. Wishing you had a girl, now?”
The younger woman gave a soft groan, letting her head hang. “Yes. He’s a nightmare when he gets tired.”
“I wasn’t aware he ever did,” Vanei replied with a smile.
“No. Not really. He just gets even wilder when he needs a nap. Do you know, he bit me while trying to get him to lay down, just now?” She showed off the red marks on her hand in exasperation. “Esiah’s boy is a lamb—why’s mine got to be a demon? Is this my punishment for my wild youth?”
“Yes.” Both women shared a soft laugh. “He’s got Ithir’s steel and your fire. Have you decided on a name that fits him yet?”
Y’virianae pursed her lips in thought, absently stroking her little boy’s pale curls with one slender hand. “We’ve been thinking about that as he’s gotten older…but we can’t decide. Maybe you can help. We’ve debated between Istavienn and Rheoaan. What do you think?”
Istavienn meant ‘immovable stone’ and Rheoaan meant ‘the spark that starts a flame’. To both of these, Vanei laughed softly. “Fitting, both of them. But I think…” She traced one wrinkled finger over the boy’s arm with a feather’s touch. “I think he’s got too much wild spirit to be Istavienn. He is a Rheoaan, to me.”
Y’virianae’s lips played in a delicate smile, and as she said the name again to herself, it felt right. “Yes. Rheoaan. Rheoaan…Rohaan…Rio Ja’aisen. That will be his name.”
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