Starlight
On the porch behind him, Joame heard soft laughter and turned to confront the older Kennal; his brother could never leave well enough alone.
“Jamie!” He said sharply. “What's your problem? Why do you care what I do out here?” Joame hadn't planned on praying to the Fates again until after the next festival, but the clear night had been too good to pass up. When he'd snuck out of their small shared room after lights out, it appeared Jamie was sound asleep.
“Because it's stupid, Jo,” Jaime took a step forward and Joame backed up, the porch railing trapping him in a corner. If his older brother wanted a knock-down fight, he'd get it. “It's my job to make sure you know when you're doing something stupid and to make sure you hear about it. Once you get out in the real world, no one will tell you this kind of stuff to your face – you'll just be the weird kid no one likes.”
Joame snorted. Two summers working at the FTL engine plant and Jamie thought he was an expert on the “real” world. From everything Joame had seen and heard, the world his parents and brother lived in was not one he wanted. He'd read the old texts and watched everything he could on the holos about the Fates; it was said that one in a thousand times they heard a prayer and descended from the sky, willing to take along whoever had called them if they could show they were worthy. Though most citizens denied the existence of the Fates, most still prayed to them when tough times came along or when they needed something to go their way. Joame had caught Jamie doing it more than once, though the threat of sibling violence had stayed his tongue from spreading that knowledge to their parents.
“I don't care what anyone thinks of me, Jamie – least of all you. The Fates will come for me, you'll see, and then you'll be sorry!”
“Get to bed,” Jamie growled and raised a large fist. “I don't want to see you out here again tonight.”
Joame didn't bother with a reply, but slugged his brother hard in the arm as he went past, ducking under a return swipe. He was quickly inside the door and safe – Jamie wouldn't risk waking their father with any racket at such a late hour.
Crawling into bed didn't immediately bring sleep, but Joame soon felt a wave of weariness overtake him. Above his bedroom, past the trees and beyond the sky itself, a faint light began to glow.
***
Joame came awake at the soft sounds of speech outside his window. Confusion followed at the pale light flooding his room, and a quick look at the room's small clock told him only three hours had passed since Jamie sent him back to bed. Even if the glow outside had been the right color, there was no way that dawn could have broken – something else was happening.
Soft feet carried him into the main hallway and then to the front door. Peering through its dirty glass showed him Jamie on the porch, head bowed, flanked by two men in flowing white robes. In front of his brother was a woman in red, long hair streaming out behind her even though no nearby trees swayed in stiff breeze.
The Fates!
Joame pulled the door open and stepped out onto creaking wooden beams; the two men in white turned quickly, blue eyes blazing as they raised slender hands.
“Stop.” It was the woman who spoke, her voice a shimmering choir of chords and melodies. “Do not hurt the kin of the one who called.”
“Called?” Joame stepped forward. “I'm the one who called you! Jamie was out here making fun of me for it – he sent me back to bed!”
“Truth?” The woman swung her gaze to Jamie. “Or lies?” She stepped forward and took him by the chin, forcing Jamie to meet her eyes. “Tell me, supplicant.”
“I -” Jamie hesitated.
“If you called,” the woman went on, “speak to me of the farthest star, the one that lays beyond. Tell me its name.”
“Uhh...”
Joame cursed. His brother did not care what lay off-planet – his only goal was to get a good job at the factory. “Lanthor!” He cried, and the woman in red turned her gaze. It took everything Joame had to stand his ground.
“That is correct, young one, but I asked He Who Called Us.” She frowned. “Clearly, he cannot answer. Come, guardians,” she motioned to the two in white, “let us search for a more worthy candidate.”
All three heavenly beings froze for a moment, forms utterly still and then they were gone, vanished as if they had never existed.
“Jo -” Jamie began but Joame was already moving, fist coming up to take his brother in the jaw.
“Don't speak to me, Jamie,” Joame said softly. “Ever again. You've ruined the only dream I ever had, and you didn't even have the decency to speak the truth. I hope you get your job in the factory,” he went on, “I hope you stay there forever. I hope you rot on this planet, alone and unknown.”
Joame knelt at the edge of the porch, hands raised in supplication. “You will find me out here every night, and if you choose to mock me again you will rue the day. We are no longer brothers, Jamie,” he turned his eyes to the starry sky, “we are strangers.”
“Starlight, starbright,” Joame Kennal whispered into the night, “bring down a rain of Fate tonight.” Hope flared – a small thing, but pulsing. They were out there; they had come once. They would come again.
- D
No comments:
Post a Comment