1THE RAGE OF BROKEN HEARTS
For some, change happens all at once. Even when the one who changes is happy, often those around them suffer, unable to see through their own narrow view of who that person is.
Trials of the Innocent, Shemi of Vylari
The distinctive scent of lovemaking mingled with the sweet aroma of cinnamon, a familiar scent that frequently trickled into the halls from beneath the door. And if you could smell it, you knew not to knock. But it was precisely what had prompted Belkar to enter uninvited.
In the far corner of the tiny austere bedroom, atop a thin, white pedestal, rested a stone brazier filled with smoldering embers, which heated a bronze bowl of water with four cinnamon sticks poking over the edge.
The bed was a disheveled mess, the sheets wadded up and kicked against the footboard and the blanket on the floor along with most of the pillows. The body of a young woman, no older than twenty, her flesh still glistening with sweat, was lying facedown, arms splayed. She was pretty—athletic, dark skin, with tight curls trimmed neatly above the shoulders.
Belkar didn’t recognize her but assumed she was a new arrival from Nivania or perhaps Gath. Crossing the room, he stood beside the bed and glared down at the naked form. Gradually his hand drifted to his belt, but reason got the better of him as the tip of his finger touched the handle of the small knife.
A raging tempest of emotion coursed through his veins: hatred, anger, confusion. But most of all, he felt rejected and hurt. How could she do this to him? What was so special about this … newcomer? This powerless nobody?
The youth stirred, and Belkar felt a tingle in his chest, prompting a sudden compulsion to flee the room so as to hide the embarrassment and shame he was certain were plain for all to see. But his feet would not obey his command. All he could do was stare down, his face contorted in a display of crazed jealousy.
The girl’s eyes fluttered open and a contented smile stretched across her lips, accompanied by a soft sigh. She rolled onto her back and stretched, not seeing Belkar until after letting out a groggy, sleep-soddened yawn. She scrambled back against the headboard, eyes darting around the room. But this frenzy only lasted a few seconds, and she quickly calmed down, looking most relieved to see who it was. Though why she should be was as much a mystery to Belkar as her identity.
“What are you doing?” she said, squinting up at Belkar and rubbing the stiffness from her neck. Her voice was softly rich and pleasing to the ears, with a maturity of timbre that was a bit disarming and out of place for one so young.
But Belkar was neither pleased nor disarmed, and his restraint was now being tested to its limits by this impertinent question. “Where is she?” The ever so slight tremor in his tone was the only indication that he was a hair’s breadth away from plunging a knife into this usurper’s chest.
“I am the only one here,” she replied.
“I can see that. I’m not blind.” The youth did not appear intimidated, and oddly unsurprised to see him. “I asked you a question. Where is she?”
“There is no need for anger,” she said, blinking and rubbing her face, the remnants of sleep still clinging to her consciousness.
Again, Belkar’s hand drifted toward his knife. “You don’t tell me what there’s a need for. Do you know who I am?”
“I think you should calm down,” she said, noticing the weapon. “You don’t want to do anything foolish.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down,” Belkar snapped hotly. “You think you’re special? You think because she took you into her bed that it gives you the right to speak to me any way you want?”
She held up a hand. “I haven’t spoken to you in any way at all. I just need you to calm down.” She tilted her head at the knife.
Belkar pulled the blade from its sheath and tossed it at her feet. Holding his hands out to his sides, fingers spread, he brought forth twin flames that hovered near his palms. “I don’t need steel to send you to the depths.”
There wasn’t a soul in the enclave who wouldn’t have been terrified in that moment, with one notable exception. But whoever this was, she simply sat up and retrieved a blue cotton robe that was wadded up on the floor on the other side of the bed.
“You need to leave,” she said, tying the robe snuggly around her waist and crossing over to a small cabinet in the far corner of the chamber, inside of which waited a bottle of wine and two glasses. “You can come back when you are not so angry.”
Belkar had never cast an elemental spell at a living being before. Violence was only permitted when used in self-defense. Twice this rule had been violated since the enclave was built, and both Thaumas were now exiled to Bathor Island and would remain there for the rest of their lives. But in his moment of rage, consequences were not a consideration.
“Is everything all right?”
He hadn’t heard the door open. But had it not, the arrogant young girl now sipping the wine Belkar had spent weeks procuring as a gift two years prior would have been a charred stump. Extinguishing the flames, he spun to see Vandra Marvo, her raven hair tucked beneath a white cotton cap and wrapped up in an emerald green satin robe with matching slippers.
“What do you want, Vandra?” Belkar demanded.
Vandra was a most talented bard, one of the finest in the High Order of Kylor, to be so young—only recently turning twenty-five. It was then Belkar noticed her lute resting in a chair near a dresser opposite the bed. She typically did not stay at the enclave during a visit, preferring a nearby cabin built by her older brother, a Thaumas who lived there.
“I would ask you the same question,” she said, her eyes shifting from Belkar to the young woman.
“I’m here to see Kylor.” It was quickly beginning to look as if he had misinterpreted the situation; a mistake that had nearly turned him into a murderer.
The young girl lowered her head. “I haven’t had the chance to explain yet.”
Vandra looked uneasy. Turning slightly, she reached for the doorknob. “Should I leave?”
“Please,” the young woman said.
The way she smiled at Vandra further confirmed that Belkar had misunderstood what he’d seen.
Vandra gave Belkar a guilty look, then hurried away, one hand gripping tightly at the collar of her robe.
“Do you have permission to be in here?” Belkar asked in a firm, reprimanding tone. Misunderstanding or not, this was Kylor’s private chamber. Though given her indulgent nature, he doubted Kylor would discipline or even scold them over the infraction. Still, Vandra at least should know to show some respect. If she wanted to bed someone, she should take them to her own home. Or at least use a vacant room, of which there were many.
The girl drained the glass and gestured to a small table, where Kylor often would eat her breakfast. “We need to talk.”
“I think you should get dressed,” Belkar said. “You shouldn’t be in here without permission.”
“Please, sit, Belkar.”
“You know me?” He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing her carefully, noting the way she was looking at him, her expression one of familiarity.
“Of course I know you,” she replied.
“I don’t know what Vandra told you,” Belkar said, now becoming irritated. “But this is Kylor’s chamber. I don’t think she would—”
“I am Kylor.”
It took several seconds for the words to have any impact. The claim was ridiculous. And yet there was no lie in the young woman’s eyes.
“Don’t be absurd,” Belkar scoffed, refusing to accept something so utterly outlandish. “Tell me where she is right now or you’ll be on your way back to wherever it is you came from by tomorrow.”
“I know this is hard,” she said with a sad smile. “I wanted to tell you before your trip to Ur Minosa. But you left in such a hurry. And you weren’t due to return until next week. I wouldn’t have wanted you to find out this way.”
Belkar could neither move nor speak. He didn’t want to believe it. But it was true. Impossible as it seemed, the young woman standing there, hand propped against the back of the chair and holding an empty wineglass, was precisely who she claimed to be.
Kylor set the glass on the table and crossed over to stand in front of him. Even her walk was the same. The way she placed her left hand on her hip. All the tiny gestures that Belkar delighted in noticing. They were unmistakable. And now that she was close enough for him to see them clearly, so were her eyes.
“I know this is confusing for you,” Kylor said. She reached out and touched Belkar’s cheek.
Belkar blinked hard, then grabbed Kylor’s wrist, shoving her hand away. “What have you done?”
Kylor moved a small step closer, but Belkar jumped quickly back.
“I am sorry,” Kylor said. “But I told you this was a possibility.”
Belkar’s disbelief was gradually being displaced by anger. “You said you might change again. You never said…” Kylor had told him that one day she would shed her form; take on a new one. And at the time, he’d thought he understood. But seeing it manifested in front of his own eyes, he simply could not accept it. All signs of the woman she had been were gone. This reflection of youth and vigor had supplanted the grace and maturity he had known and loved. She was even younger than the day they had met.
“All things change, Belkar,” Kylor responded. She looked hurt by Belkar’s reaction. “For me, the change is more dramatic than it is for humankind. You know this better than anyone.”
Belkar knew Kylor was not human. In fact, he derived a great deal of pride in being the only one in the order who knew this as fact rather than rumor. Not that Kylor kept it a secret. But those who would hear it never believed; not even when they heard it from Kylor’s own mouth. But he had seen things, wondrous things, that made it impossible to doubt.
“But why?”
“My time in my other body was at an end,” she explained. “And I was spending a great deal of time with Vandra. As we grew closer, I felt it best to begin with her from a place of renewal. It felt like the right choice, for both of us.”
“And how did I factor in on your decision?” Belkar snapped. “You find a new lover and that’s it? You cast me aside completely?”
Kylor shook her head. “Not at all. But we had already agreed our romantic relationship was ended. There seemed no reason to remain as I was.”
Belkar felt a cold knot form in the pit of his stomach. It was true that they had agreed not to continue their romantic involvement—but it had been in the heat of an argument, his words spoken in haste. In fact, he had returned early so as to repair the damage he’d caused.
“So you move on as if I had never been? Did I mean nothing to you?”
“Of course you meant something to me,” she said. “My life has been greatly enriched through our time together. When we met, I was inspired by you. Your passion. Your strength of will.” A faint smile drifted across her lips. “I actually stayed in that form far longer than intended because of you.”
“I’m supposed to be flattered by that?” he shouted, face flushed and heart thudding madly.
“That’s not what I meant,” Kylor said.
“So what happened? I no longer inspire you? You’re inspired by Vandra now? Is that it?”
Kylor let slip a long sigh. “That’s not it at all. Vandra is different. She ignites a part of me I have ignored for too long. Where you are an inferno, she is the sea. Both beautiful and mysterious. Both powerful. But not the same.”
Never before had Belkar felt so utterly dejected and small. He was easily the most powerful Thaumas in the order. His name was known by the rulers of every nation in Lamoria, spoken only with respect and awe. The wisdom of his council had brokered a peace that had saved the lives of countless people. There was scarcely a door that was not thrown open at his approach or a hall not prepared for a celebration upon receiving word of his coming. Whereas Vandra … she hadn’t traveled outside the Sylerian border in years. She didn’t even visit the Bard Hall. Sure, she was talented, but timid and unable to express herself without an instrument in hand. How could Kylor prefer such a meek little mouse? He refused to accept it.
“We have been together for more than twenty years,” Belkar pointed out. “And you expect me to believe you no longer love me?”
“Of course I love you,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “But I have changed. My needs have changed.”
Belkar removed Kylor’s hand, but this time held it tight. “I can fulfill them. I swear it.”
She lifted Belkar’s hand to her lips and gave his fingertips a tender kiss. “Our time is over, and you must find a way to move on. Grow beyond what we had together. Allow the memories to help you find a new path for yourself.”
He released Kylor’s hand and quickly turned to conceal the tears welling in his eyes. “So you want me to leave the enclave?”
“That is not what I meant,” she said. “This is your home, and it always will be.”
Belkar had never felt the sting of desperation; the hollow ache left behind when betrayed by the person you loved most in the world; the helplessness of being utterly impotent and powerless to change what had happened. In his mind, the love he shared with Kylor would never die. An unchanging constant that he could always count on. But it was all a lie. He was old. Used up. To be replaced by someone new. Someone younger.
“I cannot bear to see you in pain,” Kylor said. She reached out, but withdrew when Belkar jerked his shoulder. “Please. Tell me what I can do.”
Copyright © 2022 by Brian D. Anderson
