Gods of Dusk

A/N: Like chapter 1, this was written about a year ago. Any suggestions, greatly appreciated.

Gods of Dusk

2


“When do you think actual training will begin?” One of the boys nearby whispered. Others around them spoke in hushed voices to each other, loud enough to be just barely heard over the sounds of brushes, scrubbing hard at the stone floor.

“Never. I think it was all a joke and we are only going to be servants for the rest of our lives!” A second replied, cursing and dropping his brush into one of the several cold buckets of soapy water, “All we’ve done since we started is pray and clean!”

Arleon said nothing, pushed his brush away from his body, using both hands to apply enough pressure to remove the grime from the floor. It wasn’t really his place to speak anyway. None of the boys interacted with him much, save Xion and Kahyo. But he rarely saw them.

Just after passing the final test, all the boys were divided into several different groups, and he quickly found himself without the companionship of either. It had been days since he’d last spoke to calm Xion. Even longer since seeing Kahyo at all. He wondered what the other two were doing right now.

I hope they’re having just as much fun. He frowned and gave another violent shove to the brush.

~~*~~

Sweat poured out of him, drenching his tunic as he pushed the shovel into the pile and threw it into the flames. Muscles burned as he worked on filling up his tenth straight hour. They’d break them soon, he hoped. Maybe even let them end for the day.

Sweeping back his black hair, Kahyo paused for a moment to catch his breath, returning the glare that an Ika shi sent his way. Damn you all anyway.

Red eyes burned into the Ika shi as they turned away. He wasn’t built for this kind of work, damn it! People of noble blood weren’t bred to do these hard, strength-requiring tasks.

“You.” Kahyo’s eyes turned to look at the source of the voice. A mid-ranking Ika shi approached, looming over him. He hated being shorter than all the adults around here, and he rebelled against the normal bow by leaning on his shovel and looking at the warrior, bored.

“Yeah?”

“Your presence is required.”

“I’m busy.” He picked up the shovel again and dug into the pile.

“The High Lord demands it.”
Shit. He turned his bored eyes back again. “Fine.” He let the shovel fall from him, where it clanged loudly against the floor, forgotten as he walked away.

~~*~~

“This is a pressing matter, you must realize.” The High Lord’s eyebrows sunk lower than Kahyo would have thought a normal human could do. He folded his arms and sat back in his throne-like office chair. Cold, calm eyes studied the student.

“There’s nothing wrong here. I’m just like all of the others.”

The High Lord leaned forward, “But surely, Yo-”

“I will NOT be segregated and given special privileges!” Kahyo shot forward in his chair, hands gripping the arms till his knuckles were almost white, “I came here to be like everyone else, damn you. I won’t accept anything else!”

The High Lord reclined in his seat, “Are you sure? Once you confirm this, there will be no going back.”

Kahyo paused. Was this what he really wanted? Yes, damn it. It was. He growled and said, “I won’t go back. Not now, not ever. I won’t be like I was before!” He rose and left, not waiting for the escort that had brought him, or a reply which would have come from the High Lord.

“As you wish.” The High Lord muttered wearily, and forced a smile, before he waved his hand to dismiss the escort.

~~*~~

“I want HIM, damn you! How hard is it to understand?” A silver bowl flew across the room, slammed into the stone wall, barely missing the guard’s shoulder. The guard’s eyebrow went up, as he looked down at the metal that rolled listlessly to his feet.

“Your aim has improved, sire.”

“Shut up, Bolkan.” Soft footsteps paced, tracing the pattern of straight lines that appeared in the hand-woven rug that filled most of the floor.

The guard named Bolkan lifted his eyes upwards, seeing the vision that he had always seen.

The one who paced was wrapped in a deep red robe, hidden underneath layers of red, gauzy fabric. Feet wore red, hand-sewn slippers that had a bit of a curl to the tip. The legs beneath the layers of red were bare, although impossible to see until the figure spun angrily, letting the cloth billow outwards. Hands, soft and delicate like a woman’s, were angrily gripped into fists at the lithe figure’s sides. Eyes burned a hard green, like emeralds, hidden beneath a fiery collection of hair, which burned in a hundred different shades of red and gold and brown.

“M’lord…” Bolkan tried again.

“Do not speak.” The figure moving suddenly came at him, “Do NOT speak. I wish to hear none of it! Not until I know where HE IS!”

Bolkan took a casual step backwards, “Now, m’lord, sit and have something to drink or eat before you collapse.”

The man grumbled, but obliged, silently floating over to a huge oak-carved table and sitting himself down, glaring at the food.

Bolkan hoped it wouldn’t burst into flames. He bent and picked up the silver bowl, pausing as his distorted reflection was cast back on him. The black hair and beard tended to cover most of the signs of ageing, although no amount could possibly hide the crow’s feet that were very apparent around his eyes, since his eyebrows had at some point decided to thin out. His armor-covered shoulders were a silver glint that created a thousand mirroring images, one inside the other, of the same man. He frowned and returned the bowl to the table.

“You put an awfully bad dent into that. Cook’ll have your hide, royalty or not.”

The man at the table huffed, but Bolkan was sure he saw a tiny smile at the edge of his lips, before it quickly flitted away, and was covered by the deep frown again, as he reached out and picked up a fork.

“It’s been ten years, Bolkan. Ten damn years since he’s shown himself.” The hand gripped the fork, “Ten damn years TOO LONG!”

“M’lord. Calm down, it won’t do any good to suffer yourself like this.”

“Just…” A hand went to the pale forehead, as emerald eyes vanished beneath closing lids, “Just find him…damn it.” The fork returned to the table, and the hand that held it rested on top of it, “Please.”

“I will do what I can, Lord Shiyoi.” Bolkan set a heavy hand on the younger man’s shoulder, before he was shrugged off and dismissed.

~~*~~

Almost three months passed before the chores were lightened and they began to find other things to occupy the students. But already, Arleon was seeing the effects of the cleaning they endured. His muscles were beginning to define, were beginning to clear away the childhood fat that had lined them. His stomach muscles were tightening into the beginnings of a well-defined chest, and he found himself able to run for longer distances than he had thought possible, before the sweat and loss of breath became a bother.

They began to put them into classrooms, dividing the students differently than they had for the first three months. He was thrilled of find Xion lowering himself into a desk nearby on the first day. Xion had said nothing, only winked a hello and turned silent attention onto the Ika shi.

Class was about history, mostly. History and religion and how the two intertwined. They had a bit of Language, just enough to ensure that everyone could read short messages, and plenty of math to keep numbers in their minds long after the curfew came at night.

What time wasn’t in class, was spent with large numbers of Ika shi, who ran them until they had no more breath, and then made them exercise until they were close to collapsing.

Arleon found the thrill in all of it.

But his favorite part was the time afterwards, when the sun began to set. After the meal was done, after they had finished cleaning the dishes, was the only time he could actually talk to Xion.

They would sit on the mats in the always unlit sleeping chamber the two shared with the other boys in their class and talk. Or sometimes, not. They’d just sit, sometimes, just listening to the workings of the Temple as it shut down for the night.

“I saw Kahyo today.” Xion said one night, as he fell back onto the mat, “He looks even stronger now.”

Arleon blinked, “Really? I haven’t seen him for ages.”

Xion nodded, “he was out near the training field, walking with some others of his classmates. I wonder what kind of schedule he runs on?”

Arleon shrugged, “Who knows.” He groaned and rolled his arm, “I’m so damn sooooore. Why’d they have to pick on me today?”

“They were from the Lin-atash ika. Or did you not notice? They must have held onto their grudge.” Xion smirked, “After all, you almost made it to safety.”

“Yep.” He stretched his arms over his head and fell back onto his own mat, “Shows how good I am. Almost outsmarted the bastards.”

Xion laughed, “Almost, being the key word. But…in the end, you were no match.”

“Hey!” Arleon protested, but then fell silent, staring up at the ceiling, “You think he’s okay?” His voice was soft and it startled Xion a little.

“He?”

“Kahyo.”

“Yeah. He’s fine. Isn’t it obvious that he can take care of himself?”

“I dunno.” One of Arleon’s hands stretched towards the ceiling as he spoke, studying the way the soft light from the doorway fell onto his fingers, “He seemed like he had a lot of anger in him.”

“Perhaps it’s gone now?”

“Ha. Fat chance of that, isn’t it?”

Xion giggled again, “True.”

Arleon rolled on his side and looked at the other boy, “I think all of us have a lot of anger in us.”

“That’s why we came here.” Xion replied, eyes matching Arleon’s in the shadows, “The Goddess will take that anger away. Will put that energy to a better use.”

“How do you think She’ll do that?”

“That is Her own secret.”

Arleon rolled onto his back again, “It seems everyone’s got secrets.”

Xion just watched him silently, until curfew was called and the other boys filtered into the room.

~~*~~

Morning dawned, and life stirred in the chambers, and began to seep into the hallways. Murmurs of voices leaked into the walls, and clung there with all the other words ever spoken in the history of the Temple. The students were called to prayer, and went dutifully, dipping low into their expected positions as the Ika shi filtered past, and formed their own ranks in an orderly fashion that was only beginning to appear among the new ones.

Arleon was the late riser of the day, stumbling in behind his ‘mates to take the final position in the back of the room, nearest the door. The boy next to him glared at him, as if ashamed of his presence.

But there was nothing that could be done as the High Lord began to chant. And the voices around them swirled to life and beckoned to the Goddess for her mercy for any sins that had been committed yesterday and that would continue or be born today.

All of it was boring, really. Doing the same thing every day, repeating the same words and gestures, all of it dulled the hell out of the first few hours of the morning. As the High Lord began a speech of encouragement, Arleon dared a glance around.

It was curious. He hadn’t seen the man with the blue cloth since the first day. Surely a man of that status would attend the prayers? Or maybe he was above all that and held a private ceremony, perhaps with his followers. After several years as a lower Ika shi is wasn’t rare for them to search out one of the higher ranking ones to learn from them. Surely the one with the blue cloth had many students.

Red eyes found his blank stare and he had to blink. A perfectly designed eyebrow arched, before Arleon realized who it was he was looking at. Black hair, tugged back into a ponytail, much longer than he remembered. What he could see of the figure was all tan skin and the beginnings of well defined muscles.

Kahyo.

Arleon must have looked surprised, because Kahyo smiled at him. In a friendly way, not in the challenging way he was used to. Arleon ducked his head, glancing back up again in time to see Kahyo grin to himself and turn away. Halfway across a room, how had the two sets of eyes found each other in the mass of other figures?

Ah well. Whatever.

Arleon tried to focus, tried to keep track of what was being said. And then he felt a heavy presence at his shoulder, and looked to find an Ika shi, looking down on him. He leaned to him, “Go fetch water.” And shoved a bucket into his hands. Arleon opened his mouth to protest, but the look he was getting sharpened into a glare, “You are not listening anyway.”

Arleon nodded, remembered a quick bow, then darted out the door, feeling inquiring eyes bore into his back.

~~*~~

He tightened the final binding of cloth, then pushed himself off his hard bed and turned to the door. Another day, Mother. How much longer must I endure this?

There was no answer, like always.

So he stepped out the door, to do as he wished. To do as She had told him to do until Her rein was finally dead and a new dawn would finally come.

~~*~~

The Great Lords, Arleon ran through the memorized words from class, something to pass the time as he walked, watch over all of the Goddesses people. They are the ones who answer directly to her. The High Lords come next, answering the Great Lords, their glory just as important, just toned down in their complexity of duty unto Her. The Ika shi come last, guardians who face the world to be Her hand. The Enlightened ones who are Her sword and strength. Who are Her hand and passion.

He completed the phrase several times, smiling to himself as he perfected any mistakes he had made the first time through. The water that he had been commanded to retrieve came from a well on the other side of the compound, out in the gardens, and became a goal for him to be there and back before the service was ended.

Two Ika shi of a higher rank than he was used to seeing passed him, acting oblivious to his presence, and looking deep in conversation. He turned to watch them, admiring their flowing beauty, and began to walk again.

He should have known better.

A door opened behind him, and he suddenly met a wall.

Arleon stumbled back, ducking into a bow, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Silence answered him. He looked up, and took a startled step backwards.

Deep blue eyes studied him, blue cloth, more than he had seen before, seemed to grow out of the thousands of other colors, as if emerging directly from his body. Blonde hair fell carelessly across his face.

“I’m so very sorry!” he ducked into another bow.

“We seem to keep returning to this same greeting.” The deep voice that he had forgotten returned, and triggered something deep in him, “Your name?”

“I’m very sorry, sir.”

“I gathered that.”

Arleon forced himself to look up again, and was instantly consumed by the dark eyes.

~~*~~

Him again. He frowned, studying the child. It seems he has adjusted to the training. It is a shame.

“Your name. Tell me.”

“A…Arleon, sir.”

Lion of Sand. Figured. Lion of clumsiness was more like it.

But it was peculiar, though. When the idiot had run into him, a feeling similar to their first encounter tore through him. Demanding his attention. Something was special about this one.

This might require some of his time.

He smiled to himself, and saw the boy shrink back, and let the smile fade away, “Learn to watch your step, Arleon.” He said gruffly, then moved to the side and continued on his way.

Definitely someone to keep an eye on. And maybe, if he was right, he wouldn’t have to watch him from a distance.