Ertanians

Nike spends a good while puzzling over where he has seen Svea before he realises it’s not the woman he finds familiar; it’s her sword.
It’s a day like any other on the road: the sun is hot, the beer is watered, the innkeeper is greedy and the lunch guests are yelling and pawing at the poor waitress like all of the above was her fault. Some three hundred years ago, Nike would have told them to stop and happily got in a fist fight over it. But those days are gone. Now that he travels alone, he has to watch his back and pick his battles. A knife in the gut could actually be a problem for him nowadays, not to mention losing a limb. Oh how the mighty have fallen…
Nike’s musings are interrupted when, much to Nike’s surprise, someone else stands up to the common injustice. From the corner of the room a hooded woman grows: “Leave the girl alone.”
The rest of the guests look over, but seeing she won’t do anything else, they settle for ignoring her. The waitress retreats to the kitchen for a moment before she brings another round of watered beer. When she bends over to collect the empty glasses, one of the guests grabs her ass and squeezes as if to prove a point. The waitress squeals and the woman stands up. She walks over to the guest, a burly blue Ynt who barely fits onto his chair, and tells him something in a low voice. The Ynt sneers at her in response.
“Piss off,” he says. “I’m not gonna hit a girl.”
The woman straightens. “Oh, it’s that old song again…” she says out loud. “What, you’re afraid the girl might hit back?” When this doesn’t earn her response, she continues in a derisive tone: “Sure, have it your way. Let today be the day you ran from a girl’s challenge. I guess it can’t be helped. You do look like you can barely hold the spoon. Don’t let your mother see you this way. It would break her heart.” She laughs at him from beneath her hood.
The Ynt strikes the table with his claw. “Very well, outside it is!” he barks and gets up.
The woman chuckles and exits the inn first. As she’s walking past Nike, she lifts her cape to check on a sword strapped to her side. Nike can’t see under her hood, but he gets the feeling that he knows her from somewhere.
Outside the Ynt tries to talk the woman out of fighting him. She doesn’t budge, so he says that a true Ynt always fights with a spear and to the death. She says that’s alright with her; she’s armed, too; and she shows him her sword. Nike can see that the Ynt clearly just wants to go back inside and finish his lunch. Groping a waitress is a terribly trivial matter to die over. But this woman keeps goading him as if she had a death wish and he can’t let her trample all over his pride. Finally, after considerable stalling, he brandishes his spear and tells her to defend herself.
The moment she draws her sword, Nike recognises the flame-shaped guard and it dawns on him why he finds her so familiar. With a dramatic flare she tears her cape off, and he already knows that he’ll see black goggles and a red-eyed snake underneath. And his anticipation is proven right for the third time when her sword bursts into flame.
“En garde, little bug!” the woman shouts. “I am Svea, daughter of Stein and Kafendre, the Guardian of Fire, and you really should have left that girl alone!”
The Ynt screeches with terror. He drops his spear, opens his wing-case and takes to the air before you can say “cinder”. Svea bursts out laughing. She jabs her burning sword into the ground and, leaning against it, she cackles merrily.
“Gets them every time!” she says. “Hey, little bug! Come back! I know your folk is afraid of fire. I wasn’t going to hurt you. You still have a soup to finish.”
When the blue Ynt isn’t coming back, she sighs and flicks the flames off her sword. “Move along now,” she tells the spectators and goes to pick her cape up from the dusty ground.
It takes Svea a while to come back inside the inn. Nike is wondering if she has gone after the Ynt when she enters, cape bundled under her arm, frowning like a storm. She plops down on her seat and glares at her beer. The waitress scurries to her side; the two whisper until Svea’s frown eases and she passes the bundled cape to the waitress.
Nike smiles to himself, picks his glass up and walks over to Svea’s table.
“You tore the buckle off, didn’t you?” he says. “I’m Nike, son of free will. Mind if I sit here?”
Svea grunts. She doesn’t offer him a chair but she doesn’t tell him to beat it either, so Nike takes his chances and sits. “Was it that obvious?” Svea asks begrudgingly.
“Not really. I just used to be big on capes myself,” Nike says. “I know what happens when you rip it off like that.”
“Hm,” Svea says, obviously not keen on small talk. “Do you want something?”
“I just wanted to ask how Razi’s doing.”
Svea’s entire demeanour changes. She perks up. Her snake – her familiar – fixates its gaze firmly on Nike. “You’ve met Razi?” she says. “Where? And when?”
“Uh, about two years ago. Far away from here, I don’t remember what the world was called.”
A relieved smile spreads across Svea’s face. “She’s okay… that’s good to hear. How did she look? Does she still carry that menhir around?”
“She looked fine, and yes, she does,” Nike says, somewhat taken aback. “You’re her sister, right? Just how long haven’t you seen her?”
“For nine years!” Svea exclaims with a wide smile. “It’s been such a long time. I expected we would cross roads more often, you know? But either the universe is really big, or…” She breaks off, then continues. “The five of us were supposed to meet up five years ago. But when I got there, the place literally didn’t exist anymore and I couldn’t find anyone… Luckily, Aini planned for two meetings! So I’m heading there right now and I really hope they’re gonna be there.”
“Can I come along with you?”
Svea gives him a surprised look. Then she coughs, sits back and the friendly spell fades. “Why?” she asks cautiously.
Nike shrugs. “I’d just like to see Razi again.”
Svea looks him up and down a few times. Finally she asks: “How did you meet her?”
“On the road,” Nike says. “She saved a village from being flooded.”
Svea appears thoughtful, then she shrugs her shoulders and says: “Do you have a horse?”
“No, but I can run like one.”
She cocks a small grin. “We’ll see about that.”
Svea’s horse is a chestnut morgan and, naturally, it leaves Nike in the dust. The hoophead is afraid the Fire Guardian might leave him behind entirely, but he finds her waiting at the first crossroad not twenty kilometres from the inn.
“I thought you’d give up,” she says, a little impressed, and hops up into the saddle. “Try to keep up. We’ve got a long way ahead of us.”
It takes them over three weeks to reach the designated meeting spot. During that time, Nike learns almost nothing about Svea. The woman really isn’t a talker; she rides and eats in silence, sleeps alone and never parts with her sword. He can tell, however, that she’s excited to reunite with her family. So he puts in that little extra effort and runs faster than he usually would. Slowly it wears on him. But he can still match the morgan’s speed, granted that Svea doesn’t drive it like crazy.
They’re cantering across a wide grassy plane when Svea stops and points toward the horizon.
“See that tree? That’s where we’re meeting!” she says, and her voice is bubbly with excitement. “I’ll race you there!”
She pays no heed to Nike’s protests; she spurs her morgan and leaves the hoophead in the dust again. Nike sighs and continues running at his somewhat-higher-than-usual speed. He isn’t going to bust a nut over being impatient.
Svea doesn’t reach the tree before him anyway. He catches up to her about two thirds of the way as she’s leading her morgan by the bridle. The horse is soaked with sweat, its legs shaking and mouth frothing. Nike falls into step beside them and he can’t deny himself the pleasure of saying: “And that’s why you don’t sprint unless you have to.” Svea doesn’t appreciate the wisdom; she scowls at him and says nothing.
The tree is taller than Nike expected. Huge and ancient, it towers over a small inn. Svea barely wastes time tying her exhausted morgan to a pole before she barges inside. Nike ties the horse properly, though he expects that it isn’t going anywhere anytime soon, and follows Svea inside.
Inside there’s a bundle of people with snakes and goggles who are hugging each other and laughing happily. Razi’s there, with her menhir leaning against the wall. Nike counts five goggled people in total and concludes that Svea was the last to arrive.
“You’re late!” Razi says as if on cue. “I’ve already been here for two weeks. Where have you been?”
“It’s not my fault,” Svea says and points at Nike. “He slowed me down.”
Razi glances at him and she smiles widely. “Nike! It’s good to see you.” She makes her way toward him, extending her hand.
“It’s good to see you, too,” Nike says, shaking her hand. To his surprise, Razi clasps the back of his neck and pulls him down toward her. By all means it looks like she’s going to kiss him, but she just bumps her goggles against his eyes. When she pulls away and sees his expression, she starts and chuckles in embarrassment.

“Oh! Sorry, force of habit,” she says, stepping back.
“Hold on,” Svea calls from the huddle and her tone is nothing but jealous. “I was told you’ve met. How close are the two of you exactly?”
“None of your business, sister,” Razi says. “Come here guys, I’ll introduce you.”
Razi’s remaining siblings are a young woman who’s missing half of her limbs, an energetic man who carries her on his hip and a serious man with a sweet smile. Nike forgets immediately who is who, but it doesn’t really matter. He’s offered a spot crammed between Razi and one of her brothers, which suits him just fine. The five Guardians chat as if they didn’t have a care in the world. The taciturn Svea suddenly spins tales like a master storyteller, Razi and her crippled sister banter good-naturedly, and Nike is pretty sure both of the brothers are flirting with him. At some point there’s a hand on his thigh; it’s gone before he can take a look who it belongs to.

As alcohol levels rise, the conversation turns from hard-to-follow to downright confusing. Not only doesn’t Nike know half the terms (why do they keep calling Razi a tyrant?), he also has problems with reading the mood. He knows that the eyes in their heads are blind and he should make eye contact with the serpentine familiars instead. But the snake faces seem stony to him. If they emote, he can’t read them. Plus it’s so strange to have the voice coming from another place than below the eyes…
When the five Guardians decide to go outside and have a free-for-all, it comes as a relief more than anything. One of the two brothers lingers behind, fishing for something in his bag.
“Ah, there we go,” he says and pulls out a small book bound between two slates of stone. He offers it to Nike. “If you get bored of watching us goof off, read this.”
“What is it?”
“The history of our world. I copied it from our Wall of Records. Have you read the Wall lately?”
Nike shakes his head.
The man clicks his tongue. “You need to know your history if you want to navigate the future,” he says. “Especially if you’re after Razi.” And he gives him a searching look.
Nike shrugs. “I’ll read it.”
“Do that.”
Nike settles on a bench outside the inn, overlooking the sea of grass which is tinted golden by the drooping sun. In the distance, the five Guardians are preparing for their free-for-all. Nike can see Svea’s burning sword on the ground level and two figures darting about up in the air. He opens the stone-bound book and begins reading.

The history of Ertan (excerpt from the Wall of Records)

The first generation of fifth-age Guardians was born on the planet Ertan.
Ertan was one of the thousands of worlds created by Arven, and perhaps it was because of the creator’s renowned rush that its inhabitants suffered from an inborn, incurable disease. As soon as the eyes of their newborns were exposed to the planet’s atmosphere, they became inflamed and they would fester painfully until the baby went completely blind. The first Ertanians fervently searched for a way to reverse or prevent the process, but it was an impossible task. Some parents fell into despair. They smothered their wailing babies, saying that swift death was a fate better than a lifetime of agony.
But two doctors rose against this dreadful practice. They were a husband and wife, a surgeon called Briar and a physiotherapist called Tyra. They advocated that parents shouldn’t smother their children, but rather provide them as test subject to their experimental research. In response Briar and Tyra were called monsters and their house was tagged with paint and rotten eggs. But in the end, most parents found it easier to entrust their doomed offsprings to the two doctors than to commit an unforgivable sin. And so the Haven, the ghastly research facility, was created.
Few knew what kind of research was conducted in the Haven. Few wanted to know. Over the next three years, sixty-eight babies were taken inside its walls never to be seen again. Briar and Tyra assured everybody that they were working on a cure for the disease, but when a mass grave was found in their backyard, they were nearly lynched by a terrified crowd. Briar, who protected his wife, almost succumbed to his wounds after he got her to safety. Only Tyra’s warm, soft hands saved his life. The two doctors never left the Haven afterward. Ertanians hoped that they would starve to death, but their hopes fell flat. Lights came alive in the Haven’s windows year after year and the wind carried ungodly screams which made one’s blood freeze.
Truth to be told, however, the households which raised children were no better off. No one could ease the intolerable suffering which the disease brought to infants. Few parents had the strength to go on day after day, swamped with the smell, gore and perpetual screaming. If a woman became pregnant, she would be berated: why did she bring children into this world? It was her fault for not staying clean! It was a better fate for the people of Ertan to disappear from the face of their planet quietly and peacefully.
The public opinion was as split as ever as the people of Ertan argued endlessly. They had been given life by Arven; they shouldn’t waste it simply because it was hard and painful! But in spite of that reassurance, hundreds of pregnant women were abandoned when their time of strife drew near. Such poor lasses couldn’t bear the thought of facing their future alone. They would go into the woods and return some time later, childless. There were no questions asked, but many suspected the truth. The lonely mothers-to-be sought the Haven and gave birth there, leaving the newborn child in the care of Briar and Tyra. Out of all the grim options they had, this one seemed like the best. At the very least it gave them hope that their sacrifice would contribute to something larger than themselves. In a world which was dying so soon after being born, hope for a better future was their only comfort.
Eventually the lands surrounding the Haven were abandoned and nothing was heard from Briar and Tyra for forty years. The Haven was forgotten while a new, decimated generation of Ertanians grew to adulthood. They were used to living in darkness and constant, head-splitting pain. Those who couldn’t shoulder it went mad or killed themselves. The original generation of Ertanians watched them struggle and they knew it was only a matter of time before death claimed the people of Ertan.
That was when the lost children returned.
There were about a hundred of them, people of all ages between five and forty. They were a strange-looking group. All of them had linen bandages wrapped around their heads, impregnated with something oily which smelled of fish. What was even stranger, each carried an erdack viper curled atop their shoulders.
When they reached the first settlement, its few inhabitants hid in their houses and watched them suspiciously. Eventually an old man, once created by Arven to be a soldier, stepped forward to speak:
“Who are you, viper-bearers?”
A woman, the oldest among the bunch, answered him:
“We are the children of Briar and Tyra. Our honoured parents have died and we have decided to leave our home. Don’t be scared! We bring joyful news. Mother and father have found a way to fight back pain and turn destiny. They have returned our sight.”
The old soldier sneered at her. Her linen-wrapped eyes were just as blind as every child’s! “Well then, tell me, viper-bearer,” he said. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
The viper resting on the woman’s shoulder raised its head and looked straight at the old man. After a tense moment, the woman said: “You do not have any fingers left to hold up.”
“She can see!” the old man cried out in awe. “Who are you?”
The woman smiled and said: “We are the children you have once lost. Will you give us food and shelter?”
The lost children were immediately taken in. To the raring Ertanians they spoke of the wondrous result of their parents’ research. Through heart-wrenching trial and error Briar and Tyra had learned to implant a young erdack viper into a newborn child’s body so that it became an additional limb. The viper’s spinal cord was connected to the child’s at the back of the child’s neck, so the child could see everything the viper saw, smell everything the viper smelled and feel everything the viper felt. They called their fifth limb a familiar, and through its clear red eyes they had regained sight. The lost children held they key to Ertan’s future, for Briar and Tyra had taught them everything they knew. The two cursed doctors had made sure to pass their blood-stained redemption on.
The lost children immediately set to work. They found all women in the neighbourhood who were delivering soon and split up into groups of two which attended each of them. The lost children who had learned from Briar had nimble, strong hands that never shook. The ones who had learned from Tyra had warm, soft hands that took pain away. When a woman’s time was nearing, the two children would find an erdack viper’s nest and collect its eggs. As soon as the woman went into labour, the eggs were placed under a hot lamp. The one that hatched just before the baby was born was selected to become the familiar.
As soon as the baby slid out of the womb, his or her bright blue eyes dimmed and the baby began crying with pain which would eventually turn into burning agony. But before that could come to pass, a child of Tyra wrapped clean linen cloth soaked with painkilling oil around the child’s head. This eased the pain and lulled the newborn to fall asleep on the mother’s belly. Then the child of Briar cut the newborn’s back open and connected its spinal chord to the viper’s. After the wounds were sewn shut, the child of Tyra taught the parents how to exercise with their child so that the familiar’s attachment succeeded. Six weeks later, it was decided whether the child would live or die. Half of the operations failed; the children first became paralysed from the neck down and then their hearts stopped beating. The infants who survived were blessed by the following words before the lost children moved on to another expecting mother:
“In the name of Patrick, Gloria, Neve, Maki, Callum, Undi, Chelsea, Rowan, Lawrence, Zakariya, Jerry, Maddie, Robbie, Carlan, Marshall, April, Sharon, Josh, Caleb, Farmer, Abby, Tabitha, Katherine, Keller, Kian, Aliyah, Harta, Herbert, Jose, Fiona, Hason, Dewey, Tommy, Felix, Carolie, Willard, Marie, Connor, Megan, Saman, Hanson, Frost, Isabelle, Iqra, Arjun, Isaiah, Fella, Yusuf, Ronan, Anna, Olive, Ruby, Kieron, House, Renee, Melody, Kyle, Weeks, Andrew, Dominica, Lorenzo, Polly, Connie, Rich, Jac, Kaitlyn, Hassan, Rachael, Edgar, Lachlan, Bella, Eve, Helena, Amaan, Stephen, Hanna, Sam, Diana, Hano, Sana, Scarlett, Austin, Jenna, Omar, Ibrahim, Vanessa, Eden, Maximilian, Sloan, Claoud, Hafsa, Khadija, Jane, Curtis, Dein, Louise, Edrei, Tristan, Amy, Ashley, Craig, Ismail, Kye, Hampton, Aiden, Theresa, Rebekah, Gray, Ellie-May, Alpha, Mathew, Edda, Lois, Owain, Yasin, Annath, Sara, Seth, Hannah, Heather, Bettar, Jack, Ray, Ted, Homer, Jimmy, Otto, Clara, Ellis, Will, Andre, Luke, Kane, Harmony, Tanisha, Frazer, Jay, Alannah, Martin, Courtney, Geron, Annie, Daniel, Aadam, Adil, Louisa, Reynolds, Rhonda, Reuben, Autumn, Carl, Sophia, Zara, Orla, Louis, Ricky, Jonathan, Carrie, Angus, Darcie, Euan, Elohi, Mohamed, Muhammad, Julian, Adam, Tilly, Walters, Dean, Robert, Droa, Jodie, Maryam, Donald, Sabrina, Olivia, Veronica, Allen, Natalia, Calvin, Troy, Charles, Mooney, Elizabeth, Chris, Harrell, Lily, Phoebe, Aron, Freya, Katie, Sienna, May, David, Jesse, Rowe, Summer, Montgomery, Tallulah, Hermione, Amira, Josie, Meghan, Kaitlin, Ebony, Kira, Joel, Kirby, Alfie, Lacey, Herman, Simpson, Betty, Dale, Zach, Christine, Phillip, Daniella, Matteo, Warren, Umar, Max, Kitty, Gethin, Shawn, Georgie, Bonnie, Jasper, Harold, Ash, Kathleen, Rita, Morgan, Abida, Benjamin, Zack, Sadie, Jean, Byron, Savannah, Joshua, Carver, Frankie, Catherine, Erica, Mccarty, Roman, Cerys, Paula, Alexander, Gary, Solomon, Haleema, Joe, Elve, Maxwell, Myers, Steven, Carmen, Morse, Chavez, Neal, Robin, Harriet, Lee, Evangeline, Elsa, Nadia, Jake, Lena, Rhea, Fleur, Anastasia, Lucia, Lucas, Marvin, Porter, Alvarado, Nina, Mark, Harriy, Sana, Clay, Rafael, Owen, Leonie, Patricia, Lauren, Scott, Harris, Estrada, Jessie, Keith, Chloe, Henry, Hellon, Alicia, Linda, Vincent, Aaliyah, Sarah, Evan, Jeremy, Mitchell, Russell, Baldwin, Tianna, Willie, Jeffrey, Mariam, Kenneth, Leonard, Fred, Eva, Nora, Kyran, Keira, Alice, Holly, Musa, Naomi, Zoe, Everett, Feli, Tanya, David, Roy, Francis, Lindsey, Moha, Alyssa, Ronald, Beleth, Frederick, Dennis, Boyer, Tia, Stella, Natasha, Vaughn, Rangel, Ernest, Alec, Adrian, Carlos, Ciara, Dominic, Zak, William, Libby, Freddy, Claudia, Jenson, Molly, Christina, Farhan, Jack, Leroy, George, Vincent, Margie, Ellie, Oliver, Hussain, Conner, Dalton, Terry, Hasan, Edoni, Nannie, Jacob, Rhys, Aisha, Susan, Yahya, Hashim, Charlotte, Tyler, Potts, Ebomui, Cooper, Iona, Cox, Cara, Noah, Bethany, Rosa, Faye, Eleanor, Monica, Irene, Theo, Aoife, Stefan, Maxim, Vang, Hatfield, Jim, Kayleigh, Jason, Elias, Malaki, Trasta, Nicolas, Ciaran, Hartfa, Aaron, Ralph, Haroon, Abellia, Velaz, Eddie, Poppy, Penelope, Gerald, Erika, Peari, Connolly, Abdul, Calum, Stanley, Aliya, Higgi, Hamma, Ibra, Grover, Tony, Samuel, Lloyd, Aysha, Zachary, Bernard and Gemma, blessed be thy eyes. May you live happily.”
The lost children spread their craft and hope among the people of Ertan like wildfire. A decade later, there wasn’t a child who didn’t receive a familiar at birth. It was unfortunate that adults and older children couldn’t undergo the operation. Their nervous systems were already set in stone so they would never learn how to use the familiar. But even they benefited from the painkilling oil Tyra had invented, which was now brewed by the gallons. As new generations of surgeons and physiotherapists were trained, the death toll of the familiar implantation decreased until, two hundred years later, it was nearly zero. Briar and Tyra’s blood-curdling research had saved the people of Ertan from extinction.
The Haven stands to this day, as if the ground refused to take it. It is haunted by the endless suffering and deepest pains of the 433 children who died at the hands of Briar and Tyra before their research was complete. Their names are still recited six weeks after every familiar implantation. It’s a chore more than anything, but Briar’s and Tyra’s followers (now called simply briars and tyras) insist on it. During their medical training they are taught to always honour the sacrifice, and so they recite “the four hundred names” in spite of the annoyed and bored parents. Every now and then Ertanians try to abolish the tradition of the four hundred names, but they are never successful. After all, briars and tyras hold a large political power, since every Ertanian needs their medical attention lest the dark age resume.
Now a few days into the fifth age, an Ertanian woman called Kafendre fell gravely sick. She had always been healthy and strong, but the illness tore at her body like a savage animal. Her skin lost all colour and her voice turned raspy. On the third night, Kafendre took her final breath in her husband’s arms and fell still. The man, called Stein, began mourning. But in a minute he felt her stir again.
“I’m sorry,” Kafendre said with a faint smile, “I must have fallen asleep.” Stein embraced her and thanked Quater for the miracle as his tears of sorrow turned into tears of happiness.
Kafendre’s state began improving until, a month later, she was as healthy as a fiddle. Another three months passed and she told her husband that she was with a child.
They named their first daughter Raznedeadra, Razi for short. Giving her such a long unpronounceable name was Stein’s idea. His family had a long-standing tradition of embarrassing their children by ridiculous names; Stein’s full name was Steinelwaldumrist. Since he couldn’t get back at his father, he vented his frustration by insisting Raznedeadra was a wonderful name, and thus perpetuated his family’s tradition.
As every Ertanian child, Razi received a familiar at birth. She fumbled with the dark purplish viper at first but, as every child, before long she learned to move it just as well as her arms and legs. On her third birthday, she got her first goggles. Airtight, black and sleek, they had been invented some fifty years prior to replace the traditional linen bandages. They had since become an irreplaceable accessory for all but the most old-fashioned Ertanians. Their inside was filled to the brim with painkilling oil (much improved since the times of Briar and Tyra). They allowed no air in, which eased the inflammation, and they protected the “other eyes” from mechanical harm. Razi wore her goggles proudly and never took them off.
Half a year later, Razi got an even greater gift – a sister called Sveasilovudie, Svea for short. Stein and Kafendre immediately noticed that their two daughters had something in common. Razi had a spiral-shaped birthmark on the top of her left hand. When she was born Stein and Kafendre had dismissed it as a strange coincidence, but now Svea had a birthmark on the same place as well, only of a different shape. The concerned parents sought the advice of Ertanian elders, and thus they learned that their children sported the ancient symbols of earth and fire. It was quite possible, the elders said, that Razi and Svea would grow up to become the Guardians of Earth and Fire. To that Stein and Kafendre replied that both of their daughters were completely normal children. But the elders warned them that even though their powers hadn’t manifested yet, they could come to light any day. The two of them should be ready. There was no telling what would happen.
Razi grew to love Svea fiercely, and though she was still a wee girl herself, she always wanted to take care of her. One day Kafendre left the little Svea in Razi’s care while she went outside to hang the laundry. She was nearly done when she heard screaming from the house. She rushed back and found Razi cradling her sister, rocking her back and forth.
“Mama!” Razi cried out when she saw Kafendre. “Svea messed up her bandages. Help me, she’s crying so much…”
Kafendre stopped only to stroke the back of Razi’s neck and then hurried to get fresh bandages and painkilling oil. When she returned, she was surprised that Svea was crying much softer than before. She prepared everything for the redressing and braced herself before she took the creased bandages off as quickly as she could. She was prepared for blood-curdling screams when the air touched Svea’s other eyes. But the baby didn’t wail half as loudly as she should have. While Razi was holding Svea up, Kafendre wrapped new bandages around Svea’s little head and wondered at this stroke of good luck. Then she noticed that something else was off. Razi’s eyes – the eyes of her familiar – weren’t red. They were as green as emeralds.
When Kafendre finished redressing Svea’s other eyes, Razi lay her little sister down carefully and curled up around her. “I’m so tired, mama,” she said before she fell swiftly asleep.
Kafendre was perplexed by this episode. She told everything to Stein in the evening and they both decided to wait until Razi woke up from her deep slumber. When she finally stirred and opened her eyes, they asked:
“What did you do, little girl? What happened with Svea?”
Razi replied: “I just wanted her to stop crying… Where is she? Is she okay? I have to see her…” She wouldn’t calm down until she made sure Svea was alright. Then she put her tiny finger to her tiny lips and said: “Mama? How is your back?”
“Like always,” Kafendre said. “It hurts but it’s nothing bad.”
“Let me have a look,” Razi insisted.
Kafendre smiled and sat on the bed. Razi climbed up behind her and ran her tiny hands along her mama’s hurting back. She blinked a few times… and her eyes turned green again.
“I can help you,” she said. “Hold still.”
Kafendre felt a strange warmth permeating her stiff muscles, like she was sitting with her back to the fire. Her back pains, which had started back when she was bearing Razi, began melting away. She sighed with relief. A few minutes later she felt better than she had in years. Finally Razi yawned and crawled onto her lap.
“I’m tired,” she said, curled up and fell deeply asleep again.
That was when Stein and Kafendre came to believe that their children would truly grow up to become the Guardians.
As time went on, both Razi and Svea became quite the handfuls. Razi was bossy and overprotective while Svea was moody and defiant. Soon after finding her talent for healing, Razi discovered her ability of telekinesis as well. Nothing was safe from her grasp. Often she would steal cookies hidden in the topmost shelves. Even more often she would drop things and break them, so she was soon forbidden her to use telekinesis inside the house. This, of course, didn’t stop Razi, who always knew better. Secretly she began teaching her sister to use her fire powers as well. But when they set the bedsheets on fire and Svea began crying with terror instead of dousing them, even Razi had to admit that everything had its time.
“Mama, when will you give us more brothers and sisters?” Razi would ask Kafendre every once in a while. “There’s supposed to be five of us.” She counted on her fingers: “Earth, fire, water, air and invisible forces.”
And Kafendre would smile and stroke Razi’s head. “One day, little earthling.”
Razi learned the sad truth when a tyra visited the house and she overheard his conversation with Kafendre. The illness which had once nearly slain Kafendre hadn’t disappeared from her body. It seemed like it never would. It lurked in her muscles and internal organs, waiting for its opportunity. It was too risky for her to have any more children, the tyra said, and Kafendre nodded sadly.
Hearing this, the seven-year-old Razi’s heart filled with compassion and defiance. She wouldn’t let fate toy with her family like that! There were always five sibling Guardians, one for each element, and this incarnation would be no different!
At the dinner, Razi announced: “Mama, papa, I want to become a tyra.”
Stein chuckled and patted the back of Razi’s neck. “You have to finish school first.”
“No, I don’t. I’ll become a tyra instead so that I can help mama have more babies,” Razi said with a conviction only a child can muster. Stein and Kafendre looked at each other. Then Kafendre smiled.
“You will make for a wonderful tyra, Razi,” she said. “You have the warmest, softest hands I have ever known.”
Thus Razi’s tyra education began. While Svea dilly-dallied about, picking fights and burning everyone but herself, her older sister studied diligently. Every Friday evening she would come home from cram school and give her mother a relaxing massage. Her eyes sparkled green as she healed all that she could. Afterward she would slump and sleep for most of Saturday. And her hard work was paying off. Year after year, Kafendre felt herself grow stronger. On Razi’s tenth birthday, Kafendre whispered to her that she would have another sibling.
Kafendre nearly miscarried thrice but Razi saved her each time. Despite her slim age, she was becoming the family’s tyra and one of the town’s most renowned citizens. Her hands were the softest and the warmest, but her will was iron and her word was law. It was thanks to her tireless efforts that eventually Kafendre gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Stein named him Itsellenisaan, Itsel for short.
Itsel was still tiny when Kafendre’s belly swelled again and a mere year and a day later, another boy followed suit. This one was named Insattamirko, Insa for short. Itsel and Insa grew inseparable. They shared everything, from clothes and food to first words. They would fight just as often as get along swell, and it was in those fights that they first called upon their elemental powers. As their birthmarks had already betrayed, Itsel was the Guardian of Air and Insa was the Guardian of Water. Itsel, being the older one, always had a bit of an upper hand, but Insa was a slippery thing (literally). They were best friends from the time they could crawl.
Seeing that Kafendre had her hands full with the two boys, Razi stopped asking for the fifth sibling for a time. But when Itsel and Insa began attending pre-school (together in the same class, because Itsel wouldn’t leave Insa’s side), she began suspecting that despite her selfless help her mother wasn’t terribly keen on bearing the last Guardian. Another year trickled past and Razi confronted her mother angrily. She had to deliver the Guardian of Invisible Forces! What Razi didn’t expect was that Kafendre would burst out angrily:
“Insolent girl! That is no way to speak to your mother! It isn’t my duty to give you another sibling, and it isn’t your right to demand one. I never wanted to have so many children. Your father and I barely earn enough to feed the four of you. You will not ask me to bend to your every whim, not in such a tone!”
Stunned and on the verge of tears, Razi ran away. She returned very late, and found Kafendre awake with worry in the kitchen.
“Mama,” Razi said, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know we were falling on hard times. I can get a part-time job to help you and dad out. I’m not a full tyra yet, but I’m sure people will find my healing useful.”
Kafendre embraced her daughter and said: “Your healing demands you give a part of yourself. Don’t sell it to strangers. I’m sorry for shouting at you. You don’t have to get a job, love. Just focus on school and be patient. I don’t know when I’ll be ready to give you your last sibling. But when I am, you’ll know it first.”
When Razi turned fourteen, she was faced with a difficult choice. As a gifted tyra student and an emerging celebrity, she was offered a scholarship at the Haven Medical School. Located near the ruins of the ancient Haven, it was the most prestigious school of Ertan. It was also quite literally on the other end of the world. If Razi accepted the scholarship, she would have to leave her mother behind, and she just didn’t know how well Kafendre would hold up without her regular healing. In the end, however, she decided that her family was strong enough to get by without her. Seen off by half of her hometown, Razi got on a train and left.
Without Razi’s stern leadership, things got a little wilder in Stein and Kafendre’s household. Svea had always had a thing for protecting the weak and unfortunate, but usually she only targeted bullies. Now she managed to get involved with an actual crime syndicate, and on one of her vigilante escapades she got in way over head. She would have been hurt badly if she didn’t suddenly conjure a fiery sword out of thin air. Both she and the two boys thought that the sword was madly cool; Stein and Kafendre disagreed. What was worse, Svea then took it into her head to become a swordswoman. Her parents betrayed her from such a career, arguing that she was still bad at controlling her fire powers and she was likely to hurt someone. But Svea scoffed at that sentiment. She needed to learn fighting precisely so that she would get better at controlling her fire! And thus her noble quests added another crease to her parents’ foreheads.
On the next autumn, just as Razi’s third year at the Haven Medical began, Kafendre fell ill. Stein recognised the symptoms right away – it was the same sudden illness that had nearly killed her once. Doctors couldn’t help her then and they couldn’t help her now either. An express letter was sent to Razi immediately, but it was a lost cause; there was no way she would arrive in time. The illness progressed just as quickly and violently as the first time. On the morning of the second day, the six-year-old Itsel disobeyed his parents and took to the air. He commanded the winds to carry him to Razi’s school, fast like an arrow. He got lost, however, and he could find his way neither to the school nor to his home.
On the third night, Kafendre took her final breath in her husband’s arms and fell still. Stein, Svea and Insa began mourning. But in a minute, the fiery Svea raised her head.
“What’s this?” she said. “Who is this?”
There was no response. Stein was about to chide his daughter for being disrespectful at her mother’s deathbed when Insa said: “I can feel him, too. Who are you, stranger? Why have you come?”
“That’s no stranger,” Svea said in awe. “That is Quater himself.”
And then, for the second time in his life, Stein felt his wife’s dead body stir in his arms. Kafendre opened her eyes and said: “Oh dear… did I fall asleep again?”
By the time the terrified Razi arrived, Kafendre was well on her way to recovery. Razi tended to her first. After she slept it off, she took Svea along on a journey to find the lost Itsel. The three siblings returned a few weeks later. Svea refused to dismiss her sword from then on, and instead she took it with her everywhere she went.
In the safety of her home, Razi broke down. The worst had come to pass – her mother had nearly died and Itsel had gone through his own fair share of hardships. All because Razi had left her family. She swore that she would never leave them again. Even without finishing her studies, she had enough experience to find a job as a tyra apprentice. It would mean throwing away all of her effort until now, but she couldn’t bear the thought that Kafendre’s brush with death was her fault. Her family tried to talk her out of it, but Razi knew better… like she always did.
When Razi discovered not three months later that Kafendre was with a child, she couldn’t help but recall the circumstances of her own birth. She spoke of it to no one, but a dark suspicion took root in her heart.
Kafendre’s fifth and last child was a strong girl. Stein named her Aintdonnensali, Aini for short. Aini was everyone’s darling, Itsel and Insa’s most of all. The boys loved playing with her and took her along almost everywhere they went. She was smart and well-behaved, if a little mischievous at times. Things were really looking up for a change. But then another disaster struck.
While Itsel, Insa and Aini were playing hide-and-seek in the woods, a hungry beast came upon them. It sneaked up on the five-year-old Aini and leaped, sinking its fangs into her familiar. Aini cried out in shock and pain. The best snapped its jaws and broke the viper’s neck. Aini’s world went dark and she nearly fainted. But Ertanians were taught to weather pain from early childhood. Aini’s element called to her; sparks danced along her arms as she was preparing for the beast’s next strike. She heard it coming and assumed it would go for the neck again. But she was wrong. In the next second, Aini was on the ground and the beast was chewing on her legs as if they were bubblegum.
Overcoming faintness once again, Aini concentrated all of her will to hurt in her hands and fumbled about. But be it her inexperience or confusion, she only managed to jolt the beast and make it angry. The next thing she knew, her left arm was being shredded by the beast’s claws. Her familiar followed suit, ripped out at the base of her neck. Her consciousness fading, Aini knew that her last remaining right hand had to kill now. She didn’t realise that her brothers had heard her fighting and were coming to the rescue. Blinded by pain, she didn’t see Itsel blow the beast away with a powerful gust of air. She didn’t see Insa run toward her and take her outstretched hand. All she saw as the built-up electricity discharged into her brother was white light. Then she finally passed out.
Itsel cried out in horror when Insa crumpled to the ground. He turned away from the toppled beast and dashed to his siblings. While he was trying to rouse his brother, the beast shook its head and got to its feet again. Then it charged at the meddling boy.
Itsel thrust his arms forward, trying to blow the beast back again. But the beast dug its claws into the ground and advanced despite the howling gale. Itsel shoved the wind harder, but his heart was wavering with fear for his brother and sister. The beast swept its sharp claws and carved up both his forearms. As his left wrist was nearly taken off, Itsel realised that the beast could really slay him there and then. And if he fell, there would be no one left to save Insa and Aini.
The courage to defy death brings terrible strength. The next thing Itsel knew, trees were breaking under his gale’s might. The beast flew up into the air; it lolled and turned jerking its legs uselessly. With a vengeful shout, Itsel sent it plummeting down onto one of the broken trunks. The splintered wood pierced the beast. It convulsed and screeched but it couldn’t wrench itself free. When Itsel saw that it wasn’t going anywhere anymore, he stilled the tempest and rushed back to his siblings.
“Aini, Insa!” he called, but he got no response. He lulled the winds around him to a complete still and listened close. Neither of his siblings were breathing. “No…” he sobbed. “No! I have to get Razi!”
A pair of wings sprouted from his shoulder blades and he sprang into the air. Faster than a hawk, he made his way toward the doctor’s office where Razi worked. He found her and the doctor taking a break under a spruce tree.
“Razi!” he shouted. “You have to come with me! Aini and Insa are dying!”
Razi leapt to her feet. “Where?”
“Wait, take me with you!” the doctor said, but Itsel had already gripped Razi’s arms, swept his wings and risen into the air.
When the two Guardians arrived at the site of carnage, Razi immediately set to work. She instructed Itsel to press Insa’s chest hard and regularly while she attended the mangled Aini. After a while the smitten Insa stirred and coughed, but Aini remained motionless. Razi wiped her brow and took her white coat off, wrapping Aini in it like a terrible, bloodied package.
“Itsel, take her to the doctor’s office,” she said, exhausted. “I can’t do any more.”
Both Aini and Insa survived the incident, but with dire consequences. The town’s briars had to amputate both of Aini’s legs, one above the knee, one below it, her left arm above the elbow and her familiar entirely. Insa was treated with severe lightning burns all along his right hand and forearm; the meandering scar never faded and he lost most sensitivity in the hand. Itsel didn’t escape unscathed either. The gashes in his forearms, aggravated by carrying both Razi and Aini, healed into broad angry scars. But neither of the brothers complained. It was Aini they worried about.
After the little girl woke up, she spent most of her time lying motionless. She would get up for food and drink, physical needs and rehabilitative exercises, but other than that she lost all interest in the world around her. One evening Razi told her:
“Aini? I know that everything looks dark to you right now. But you have to go on. It isn’t over yet. After you heal, we can fit you with prosthetics. I don’t know if anyone will give you a new familiar, but if any briar will, I’ll find them. You can still lead a great life. So don’t give up.”
Turning her head toward her sister’s voice, Aini smiled and said: “I haven’t given up. I’m just looking at all these things. I didn’t notice them before. They’re so beautiful, you wouldn’t believe.”
“How?” Razi asked. “Your eyes are gone.”
Aini shrugged. “I don’t know. But they are all around me. I can see you, too. Faintly… but I can.”
As Razi promised, after a time Aini was given prosthetics. She didn’t like them; she said they were hard and made her clumsy. Whenever she could, she would take them off and ask her family to carry her around instead. Razi didn’t like to see it and Stein, Kafendre and Svea were usually busy, but Itsel and Insa obliged happily. They took Aini along to school, brought her to her private lessons and took care of everything she needed. It was little trouble; Aini was always quiet and calm, strangely mature for her age just like Razi had once been. Before Itsel and Insa knew it, Aini had become their leader despite her age and state. She had a way about her, like she could see more than others. She never got another familiar, but it was like she didn’t need one in the first place.
In time Razi noticed a curious thing. Aini was slowly taking the reigns over her family from her hands. Even the fiery Svea was accommodating Aini’s whims, even though she usually deferred to no one but Razi. Before long the oldest and the youngest sisters began butting heads. At first Razi couldn’t believe she actually had to fight for authority with a mere child. Aini was just eight! But there was no way around it. Aini was an alpha and as the Guardian of Invisible Forces, she asked for her rightful position as the leader of the Guardians.
The two sisters’ rivalry grew into an animosity that no one was happy about. The family, and by extension the entire town, became polarised. Some supported Razi, a well-known tyra with the warmest, softest hands you have ever seen. But those who met Aini, perched proudly atop Itsel or Insa’s shoulders, couldn’t help but be swayed by her charm. Where Razi was strict, Aini was opportunistic. Where Razi offered a second chance, Aini made a deterrent example. Where Razi went alone, Aini moved in a group.
One winter Sunday at breakfast, Aini said: “Razi, will you carry me to Quater’s shrine?”
Razi frowned and replied: “I’ll go there with you, but only if you walk on your own two feet.”
Aini sighed. “Very well. If I slip on the ice, will you catch me?”
“I will.”
When they reached Quater’s shrine, Aini sat in the snow and unfastened her prosthetic legs.
“Why have we come here?” Razi asked.
“You always say that I’m just a little girl,” Aini said, looking up to the bleak sky. “I want to show you why that isn’t true. Let’s wait here. He promised that he would come today.”
They waited together, among the bare trees, by the quiet shrine. When they grew cold, Aini fastened her legs on and they played catch. It was nice, just the two of them. It was like they could get along if they had nothing to fight over.
After a time Aini raised her head. “He’s here.”
Razi looked around. “Who?”
“You’ll see.”
It took a few seconds before Razi gasped and looked to the shrine. “No.”
“Oh yes.” Aini walked toward the shrine and bowed. “Hello, creator. Thank you for coming here on my behalf.”
A distant thought, like the sun’s warm rays, touched Razi’s consciousness. Hello. Welcome. It was wordless and indistinct, and yet so majestic that Razi sank to her knees at once.
“Quater,” she whispered. The warm thought lingered for a while more, then disappeared. And yet, Quater’s presence didn’t fade. Both the sisters gazed at the shrine, Razi disbelieving, Aini thoughtful.
“He says we were supposed to be born together,” Aini said. “When mother first became pregnant. She had twins, me and you.”
“What happened to you?” Razi asked, tongue leaden.
Aini shrugged. “You’re the doctor. You should know.”
Razi looked down.
“He’s also angry with us,” Aini said. “We have lingered at the same spot for too long. The only one who has done any good in the world was Svea, and she was always scolded for it.”
“I have done some good in the world!” Razi protested. “I’m a tyra. My hands take pain away.”
Aini cocked her head to the side, as if listening, and said, as if repeating: “You aren’t a tyra. You haven’t even finished high school. And you have only ever healed mother, father and the four of us. The good you have spread was that of your own hands, not that of your element.”
“You know that’s complicated!” Razi objected. “I’m still banned by the city council from doing any construction works because I’d rob people of their jobs. And don’t you remember what happened when Itsel and Insa tried to control the weather? Svea’s element is simply good for nothing but punishment, fire is that way!”
“You’re right, our hands are tied while we remain here,” Aini said mildly. “That’s exactly why we should leave this place and help people elsewhere. Quater created us to protect his creation. We have to fulfil his intent.”
“And leave our home?” Razi asked, pale.
“No,” Aini said. “Leave Ertan.”
Razi stared at the shrine, wordless. “No,” she uttered finally. “If I leave Ertan, mother will…”
“You don’t know that,” Aini said. “And even if you did, there’s nothing you can do about it. We were meant to help all of Quater’s people. We always were. There’s nothing you can do. It’s our destiny.”
Razi shook her head silently. Aini turned her back to the shrine and went to hug her older sister.
“We don’t have to go today,” she said. “Or tomorrow. There are still things we need to finish here. I have to learn to walk properly and Itsel and Insa should finish school.” She smiled. “The same goes for you, actually. Quater wishes that you become a real tyra. That scholarship had better still be valid.”
Razi sobbed into her little sister’s embrace. “Aini, I don’t know if I can do it.”
“That’s why you have me,” Aini said. “Trust me. I can see where this road goes. It’s long and winding, but everything will turn out for the best in the end.”
And thus the long fight was finally over. Aini, by then ten years old, became the Guardian leader and spokesperson while Razi left for Haven Medical to finish her studies. A year and a half later Razi, Itsel and Insa graduated. And on the day of Razi’s 30th birthday, the five Guardians said goodbye to their parents and left Ertan.

Nike leans back against the bench and stares at the red sky for a long time.
The sun has long set when the Guardians return to the inn. The little Aini (not so little anymore, Nike observes) is riding atop her brother’s shoulders. Nike checks the man’s arms and finds an angry meandering scar extending from the fingertips up to the elbow. That’s… Insa, then. The one who had given him the book. Itsel and Razi are carrying Svea between them. The Fire Guardian trips and curses; it seems like she can’t put weight on one of her legs. She collapses on a chair, leans back and groans. Wordlessly Nike passes her his glass of beer. She says thanks and drinks thirstily.
“What happened?” Nike asks.
“What does it look like?” Razi retorts. “She sprained her ankle! Where is the… oh nevermind, I’ll do it myself. Here, bite into this.” She hands Svea a roll of bandage. “Itsel, Insa, hold her. Svea, are you ready? Okay, one, two, three.”
There’s a dull crack and Svea grunts and pales. She doesn’t cry out or whimper, however. She just starts taking deep breaths.
“Good, that was the worst of it,” Razi says, palpating the swollen ankle. “Give me a moment to bandage your foot and I’ll heal you right afterward.”
While Razi’s working, Aini scoots closer to Nike on the bench. She nods toward the stone-bound book on the table before him. “I see Insa’s taken some liberties,” she says quietly so the others don’t overhear. “What do you think of our people’s history?”
“It’s gruesome,” Nike says.
“It is,” Aini agrees. “And what do you think of our history?”
“The five of you? I don’t know what to think. I barely know any of you.” Nike pauses. “Is everything in here true?”
Aini shrugs. “It’s the Wall of Records. It doesn’t lie.”
“So you nearly killed Insa once?”
“I did.”
“And you can speak to Quater?”
“I can. Funny you should ask in that order.”
“And your mother died twice?”
There’s a noticeable pause before Aini says: “She did. But let me ask you something in return. Why did Insa give you this book?”
“He said I should know your history if I’m after Razi,” Nike says. He looks over at the Earth Guardian. She doesn’t seem to hear them, being utterly focused on healing Svea’s ankle.
“I see,” Aini says. She raises her voice back to a normal level and says: “Insa. Why did you give Nike that book?”
Insa shrugs. “I thought he might get bored.”
Nike can practically hear Aini rolling her eyes when she says: “Sure, so you let him read the four hundred names. Don’t lie to me, Insa. Why did you give him the book?”
Everyone looks at Insa at that. The Water Guardian seems to shrink under their stares. “I… ugh, fine! It’s because I know who Nike is. Alright? I read about him on the Wall of Records. It didn’t seem fair that I know everything about him and he doesn’t know anything about us. So I thought I might level the ground.”
“Oh,” Aini says with interest and turns to back Nike. “So you also enjoy the privilege of having your most personal secrets divulged by the Wall?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Nike says. “I haven’t read the Wall in a long time.”
“Which section are you in?” Itsel asks with interest.
Nike plays with his glass and suddenly he’s tempted to lie. He doesn’t care for the drama his answer will elicit. He doesn’t care for what Insa has read about him on the Wall. He just wants to be Nike, son of free will, unburdened by whatever he was once created to be… and whom he has lost along the way.
Then he laughs at himself, and he says: “Hoborg’s section. I’m from the Neverhood.”
The five Guardians fall silent.
“Insa,” Aini says finally. “I’ll ask one more time. Why did you give Nike that book?”
Insa sighs. “Because he knew the previous generation, let their names rot forever. I wanted to make it clear that we aren’t like them.”
To Nike’s surprise, Aini laughs in relief. She’s got a nice laugh, like jingle bells. “That’s why?” she asks. “Silly Insa! Of course he knows we aren’t like them! You’d have to be stupid to think we are anything like the Neverhood generation. I made very sure of that.”
“I don’t know,” Razi pipes up, looking up from her work on Svea’s ankle. “When I met Nike for the first time, he asked if I remembered anything from the previous Earth Guardian’s life.”
“And?” Aini says.
“I yelled at him.”
“As you should have,” Aini nods in satisfaction. “Very well, let’s put this behind us! Insa, is there anything we should know from Nike’s history?”
Before Nike can stop Insa, the man nods vigorously and says: “Yes. Who is Klogg, really?”
Nike draws a blank for a second. “Why do you ask?” he says finally.
“Because it’s Klogg who destroyed the Emperor, and no one knows how! The Wall says you and Klogg travelled the universe together for centuries. I can’t believe I came upon a Neverhoodian of all people. How old are you? I wouldn’t guess more than thirty, but that’s the thing with you immortals…”
“Excuse my brother,” Itsel says, grabbing Insa by the familiar and tugging him backward, “he’s a total historian geek and he pops a boner whenever he gets wind of new info.”
“No, I don’t-”
“Yeeaah no, I can see what’s happening under the table.”
Aini sighs. “Boys,” she tells Nike with a smile.
Over the brothers’ bickering Razi asks: “How old are you, Nike?”
“Something over 1100,” Nike says. “Closer to 1200 probably.”
Razi whistles. “I can see why you’d lose count at that point.”
Eventually Aini tells Itsel and Insa to take it outside, which they do. When Razi finishes healing Svea, the two sisters bide Aini and Nike good night and they go up the stairs. The innkeeper stops by the table a few minutes later.
“You two should go to sleep, too,” he says. “It’s getting late and tomorrow is another day.”
“I’m waiting for my brothers to come back,” Aini says. “Nike?”
“Do you have a free room?” Nike asks.
The innkeeper shakes his head. “I’m afraid this is a tiny establishment. I have two rooms, and they’re taken by your friends. But if you can make do with just a bed, there are six beds and five Guardian so there should still be one left. Let’s see… if the ladies sleep in one room, there should be a free bed in the gentlemen’s room.”
Aini snickers. “Gentlemen,” she repeats.
“That’s fine,” Nike says. “I’ll sleep outside.”
“As you like it.”
When the innkeeper leaves, Aini asks: “Don’t you want to sleep together with Razi? I was actually sleeping with Itsel and Insa. You can have the bed in the ladies room, no problem.”
Nike huffs. “Why do you all keep insisting that Razi and I have something going on? Seriously, we met once. For a day.”
“Ah yes, so she says, too,” Aini says. “But we all saw how she greeted you.” She pats the back of her neck. “You wouldn’t know, but this is a special place to us Ertanians. If you took someone’s familiar and jerked real hard, you could rip it right out. I should know,” she says dryly, running her hand over her bare throat. “People get very anxious when a stranger touches their familiar. And the greeting Razi used, you know…” She indicates pulling someone close and bumping foreheads with them. “…it’s pretty much only for family and lovers. So we all assumed that you and Razi had something going on and met more than once.”
“Huh,” Nike says. “I wonder why she did that. We really are just friends.”
“Maybe she was excited from meeting Svea.”
“Maybe.”
It’s then that Itsel and Insa burst back inside. They are covered in brown and green stains as if they have been wrestling in the grass.
“Okay, here’s the deal!” Itsel says.
“We can’t agree on who should have you,” Insa follows up. “And I’m done arguing with this airhead. Nike, who would you rather spend the night with? Pick me and I’ll show you the most skilled tongue on all of Ertan.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Itsel says. “He’d just ask you boring history questions all night! Spend the night with me and we’ll soar the sky! Literally if you want.”
Nike draws a blank once more. Aini snickers into her palm next to him. When she notices Nike’s indignant look, she waves her hand and says: “Don’t mind me. They’re just that way. Well? Which one would you pick?”
“Yes, which one?” Itsel says.
“Neither?” Nike says.
“Dammit!” Itsel exclaims. “It’s like Razi said, he’s a faithful one.”
“I thought he would at least hesitate,” Insa says sadly. “So who’s the girl? Or guy. Or bug. Or whatever you’re choosing over me, Itsel and Razi.”
Nike lifts his hands up. “That must be a misunderstanding. I don’t have anyone.” In his mind, he adds: for the first time in 700 years.
The boys goggle at him. Then they turn to each other.
“He’s single!”
“Yeah I heard him. Are you up to raising the stakes?”
“Hell yeah!”
They turn back to Nike and Itsel says: “Let me rephrase the question. Which one of us will you sleep with tonight?”
“How about both?” Aini suggests. “You’re all going to share the same room anyway.” When Nike gives her a perplexed look, she doesn’t even blush. “What? I grew up with the two of them. This isn’t any worse than half of their ideas.”
Itsel and Insa seem equally perplexed by her suggestion.
“Dude, is that even legal?” Insa asks.
Itsel grins. “Do I hear a forfeit?”
“Hell no. I’m up for it if you are. Not like I’ll see anything new anyway.”
“Yeah. And then Nike can decide which one he liked better!”
The two turn to Nike, awaiting the verdict. The hoophead pinches his forehead.
“What if I’m too tired to sleep with either of you?”
Immediately Insa replies: “Then I call bullshit, because you’re a Neverhoodian. You’re immortal and live forever, a few weeks of fast travel can’t be anything to you.”
Nike smirks at that. “I’m not what I used to be.” He considers their proposal. It’s true that it has been a long time…
“Just so we’re clear,” Aini says, interrupting his thoughts. “They will take no for an answer.” She glares at her brothers. “They’re powerful things, but they’re professionals. They won’t force themselves on you. They’re just excited that they can fight over something again.”
“What? No!” Itsel says. “Nononono, Nike – it’s just that you’re really hot!”
“You’re so big,” Insa says dreamily. “I can’t help but wonder what else is big.”
Nike has to laugh at that. “You guys know nothing of Neverhoodian bodies, don’t you?”
“No, unfortunately,” Insa says. “The Wall isn’t very informative on that topic.”
“You might be surprised.”
“Are you saying you’ve decided?”
“Yeah, I guess I have,” Nike says, a little surprised at himself. “What the heck. You’re pretty cute. And I don’t want to make this the day I declined a threesome with two Guardians. Especially if one of them promises the most skilled tongue on all of Ertan.”
“Haha, you’re gonna get it,” Insa says, eyes lighting up.
Itsel, on the other hand, crosses his arms. “Insa,” he mopes, “he called us cute!”
“He’s fifty times older than us,” Insa tells his brother. “I think he has a right to call us cute.”
“Wait, doesn’t that make him too old for us? What was the rule, divided by two plus seven?”
“Do I hear a forfeit?”
“You wish!”
They all ascend the stairs to the upper floor. Quietly Insa opens the ladies’ room and sets Aini down on the bed. She whispers something to him; Insa smiles and nods. Gently he closes the door again.
“She says we should keep it down, else Razi might come and tuck us in.”

When Nike wakes up on the following morning, it’s late. It’s late as in, it isn’t morning anymore. He finds a tray with a sweet bun and inconsolably cold coffee next to his bed. There’s a note saying: “Hope we didn’t destroy you too much… Storm” There’s a picture of a rainy cloud next to their initials that has Nike smile. He stretches out and finds that yes, they did destroy him. Utterly and lovably. He’s going to be sore for the entire day, but he supposes it was worth it.
When he comes downstairs, he finds Razi leafing through Insa’s stone-bound book.
“Where is everyone?” Nike asks and sits down gingerly. Razi looks him up and down, her eyes stopping at his middle, and it has him wonder just how much she knows about last night.
“They went for a walk,” she says. “I can’t imagine where. There’s nothing but grass around here.”
“Why didn’t you go with them?”
“Frankly, because Itsel and Insa asked me to stay behind and make sure you were okay.” She shrugs. “But also because I wanted to talk to you.” She reaches out and cups the back of his neck. Comforting heat starts spilling down Nike’s spine as her eyes turn green. He leans on the table and slumps over.
“What did you want to talk about?” he asks.
She doesn’t answer for a while. The heat swirls around Nike’s body. “Mum is dead,” she says finally. “Aini told us in the morning. I thought you should know.”
Nike reaches over and takes her hand. “I’m sorry,” he says.
Razi squeezes back and heaves a deep sigh. “I knew it would happen. It was just a matter of when and… how much it would hurt.” She falls silent. Her familiar turns toward the book and its head moves from side to side lightly. A wry smile twists Razi’s lips. “She spoke of it to no one,” she reads, “but a dark suspicion took root in her heart. Hah, even the stupid Wall knows. You know what? I’ll – I’ll say it. The Wall is probably writing out my thoughts as we speak anyway. I might as well say it out loud.” She sits up straighter. “Quater let mum die because she has fulfilled what he wanted from her,” she says in a loud, shaky voice. “No more miracles. Just death. I can’t believe… I can’t believe the total dickhead of a child I used to be. I can’t believe all the things I told her, and how she would always smile…”
Gently Nike shrugs off Razi’s hand and embraces her instead. Razi hides in his arms and draws a sob. She fights her tears all the way, crying more with her breath than her eyes. Tentatively Nike rests his palm on the nape of her neck; she stiffens at first, but then she sags against him again. Her familiar slithers on top of his hand, its red eyes open, dry and unblinking.
“Sorry,” Razi says finally, pushing herself upright. “You got the brunt of it. I just can’t cry in front of my family.”
“We’re even now,” Nike says.
Razi smiles faintly as she recalls their first encounter. “True.”
They sit in silence for a while. Then Razi clears her throat and cups the back of Nike’s neck again. “Anyway,” she says as her eyes turn green once more, “that’s not what I wanted to talk about. Back when we first met, you asked me to come to the Neverhood with you. I was wondering if the offer still stands.”
Surprised, Nike says: “I thought you didn’t want to go.”
“I’ve changed my mind. I’ve been wondering if I could learn anything about healing there. Maybe immortal bodies just work differently. Plus,” she says and smiles, “who doesn’t want to see the neighbourhood that lasts forever? It’s said that a swig from the Neverhood fountain will cure any illness.”
Nike chuckles. “They say that?”
“And more,” Razi assures him. “Will you take me there?”
Nike stares at his hands. To return to the Neverhood? So quickly after he left? And with a Guardian of Earth to boot? What would Klogg say to that? What would happen if Razi saw what remained of the Garden? Would she… would she remember anything?
“Nike,” Razi says, squeezing the nape of his neck very gently. Her hands really are so soft and warm.
Nike wipes at his eyes. He doesn’t have the privilege of having no tears to cry. “Are you sure?” he asks. “Everyone who still remembers Arig will probably ask you about him.”
Razi sighs. “I expect as much,” she says. “It’s fine. It’s worth the chance to learn something new. I just don’t want to squander this opportunity. I didn’t think I’d run into you again. I’ve been scolding myself for the past two years for letting you go.”
Nike is silent for a while before he asks: “How long do Ertanians live?”
“About a hundred years. Why?”
He stares at his hands: exactly the same as when he first saw them, over a millennium ago.
“I didn’t think I’d meet you again either,” he says.
He thinks how his hands will be exactly the same a hundred years later, when Razi is long dead and another Guardian of Earth is born, and suddenly he feels very old.

Zpět na povídky