Evening Sparring
From all around the back courtyard of the Zeybek estate, Lumi can hear the locusts trill loudly. They’re gettin’ antsy, he thinks, wondering if they feel the overbearing afternoon heat same as him. He tries to focus on the sharp sound, to sink into his surroundings, before he returns his attention to Rashid across the courtyard from him.
When he was young, he spent many hours sparring in the Dolman jungles with his brother, Sevrin, which sometimes brewed into vicious beatings. At the temple, he trained in spear-fighting with Hasim, who was a strict teacher, but Lumi knew he was treated well in the end. During this first training session with Rashid, Lumi had realized he would not receive similar treatment from this new mentor.
For the fourth or fifth time, Lumi attempts to approach his opponent, spear held tightly in hand. Baiting him with exaggerated movement, he crouches into a low, wide stance, meant to meet a broad range of attacks. Rashid stomps forward to meet him at the center, while he swings his silvery shamshir menacingly in one hand. Lumi drops to his back foot, loose sand crunching beneath the bare sole.
Rashid reaches arms’ length and swings wide, forcing Lumi to raise his spear and block the blow—off-balance. “Ya may be quick,” Rashid growls, “but y’re not takin’ this seriously! What is goin’ to make ya get serious, Lumi?” Spittle flies from his mouth as he bellows.
Lumi could tell that Rashid was right and that he was losing steam by avoiding direct return attacks. What was the alternative: beat down an old man with a limp in a practice bout? Lumi disengages, and bites back, “Shut up! I am taking this seriously!”
“Seems to me y’re more interested in dressin’ up than in fightin’ like a warrior!” Rashid exclaims. “Think Khimi’ll come to the rescue if ya dance around me like a Dolman whore?” He gestures with his sword up and down at Lumi’s practice attire.
For their training, Lumi had decided to wear the traditional Dolman garb Hasim had given before he left the temple with Khimi. Hasim had explained that the design was intended to augment graceful movement in combat, while the hanging panels of fabric act to confuse the eye. Its dense black silk wraps and drapes over his body, suspended from a thick golden band at his neck. The ring holds the fabric in place as it swings in motion, although the matching black loincloth seems much less secure with its string-ties.
Lumi had thought Khimi might like the look of it on him, but it had not factored into his training plans; he feels himself blushing fast. “Th-this is traditional battle-dress used in—”
“Pay! Attention!” Rashid demands, punctuating his words with swipes of his blade. His next swing, it catches the haft Lumi’s spear, and Rashid takes the opportunity to smash the buckler in his other arm into Lumi’s cheekbone.
Stumbling backwards from the blow, Lumi places a hand on his swelling face before assuming his stance once more. “Wh-what the hells, Rashid?” he slurs out from his bruised mouth.
“Are we sparrin’, boy, or is y’r spear for show?” Rashid asks, not stopping his approach for Lumi’s pain. “I’ve trained whelps a long time. I know what it takes to get y’r attention: ya need be in real danger.”
With a grimace, Lumi lets out a roar of frustration. “Real danger, huh?” he spits. He points his spear towards Rashid. His fingers tense on the shaft, heat builds inside of him.
Rashid does not let his posture slack. “I trained Khimi when he was a boy; I was hard on him, he rose to the occasion, and now I can trust his strength! Can ya prove to me the same, Lumi? I haven’t seen it yet,” Rashid shouts.
Lumi groans out in pain. “It doesn’t have to be like this. Maybe I’m going easy on you!” Lumi worries he can feel a nosebleed coming on. He tilts up his chin and sniffs; he can smell the salt in the air and the summer foliage. With his attention off Rashid, he sees a small crowd has gathered in the pavilion—guards and house staff both. He tries to ignore them. With a clearer head, he returns his focus to bout. He is going to make me look like a fool, he thinks. He readies his spear once more.
Rashid takes a defensive stance, leaving his sword arm hanging to the side. Lumi darts forward decisively, blending Hasim’s sidewinding Dolman footwork with long aslan strides. He launches at him. Rashid attempts to interrupt the engage with sword-swings, but Lumi spins instead. Dragging the spear around him, the pole connects with the side of Rashid’s knee. Rashid collapses. Lumi attempts a follow-up jab upward with the spear point, but Rashid rolls frantically out of the way of Lumi’s thrust. The planes of his metallic breastplate clink together and dust fills the air about the sandy courtyard. The crowd winces audibly.
Lumi takes a little bit of pride in winning the upper hand. He crouches once again, spear tip poised, and waits for Rashid to stand. Rashid rises to his knees inelegantly: he dashes the buckler away from him into the sand and leans on the bare arm for support. When he makes it to his feet, he takes the hilt of the shamshir in both hands and angles it at Lumi.
“Again!” Rashid calls. “Come at me!” He takes a wider stance than before, and Lumi can see his leather caligae are covered in sand and dust. He stares into Rashid’s eyes and he can feel the rage bubbling. Lumi takes a deep breath before he rushes forward. The distance between the combatants passes in a blink. Lumi attempts a series of stabs with his spear, but each one gets intercepted by Rashid’s sturdy sword-stance and then glances off of his metalled breastplate. Their grunts and cries ring out in the hushed space. Discouraged that his strikes had failed to find purchase, Lumi backpedals, waving his spear defensively. Rashid takes the brief opening to retaliate. His first return swing is brutal: Lumi manages to deflect, but the force of it feels like it dislocated his shoulder. He falters. Rashid swings again, building momentum, and Lumi dodges. He somersaults to the side, trying to maintain a safer distance—he fails. The third slash connects. There is a scream from the crowd; the sand is littered with fresh blood.
Lumi staggers to stand, as the large wound across his side pulses with pain. He drives the butt of the spear into the sand and leans on it, while he applies pressure with his free hand to the gash at his hip. His brow pinches in anger and pain. “So this is just sparring? This hurts!” he screams. The effort of yelling almost knocks him off balance again.
Rashid spits into the sand and shrugs. “I told ya,” he replies, “to take this seriously. Didn’t I?”
“You’re mad!” Lumi yells back. “No way did you train Khimi like this! Not unless you gave him those scars, huh?”
“Don’t speak of Lord Zeybek like that, aslan!” Rashid shouts, his wrinkled cheeks glow with renewed anger; he prepares for another assault. “They say y’r people are fierce fighters,” he spits. “What went wrong with ya?”
Something in Lumi snaps, maybe his last thread of propriety. He splays his fingers against his side and murmurs a phrase he doesn’t understand, one that leaps to mind unbidden. Warmth springs from his fingertips, radiating outwards along his side, and the wound begins to steam. It vanishes with a sudden swell of heat, as the flesh mends itself, covered by a pale blue glow. He stands, more taut than before, dignified. He draws up the spear from the ground and points its tip boldly in Rashid’s direction. Any fondness he had felt is now gone: Rashid’s intentions are clear. Lumi shuts his eyes, his heart thudding in his chest, and whispers a familiar incantation. Under his closed eyelids, a pale light shines through enough to be visible. When he finishes, he glances around to see he has conjured three spectral lances that float alongside him, cast with an otherworldly aura. The spears had been a gift from the goddess in his thoughts, she who had offered him the means to beckon their holy presence, among other things.
Rashid’s expression settles. “Well, well! Who taught you to do that, lad?” he calls out across the yard. “Gods be good, haven’t seen that trick since Saint Davani at the Inquisition of—”
Lumi flicks forward the tip of the spear in hand, as if directing in front of him. With that little intention, a spectral lance shoots toward Rashid. His expression tells Lumi that he is finally caught off-guard; with panicked eyes, he raises his sword and shouts a rushed incantation, that forms a shimmering barrier around him. When his barrier connects with the possessed weapon, it withstands the force of the blow but only barely, straining to hold its momentum. Another scream from an onlooker. The other two lances zing through the air to follow, and Lumi charges behind them, spear in hand and poised to strike. Rashid dodges the arcs of the ghostly lances and evades each one narrowly, before he moves to meet the brunt of Lumi’s assault. When he swings his shamshir into their incoming collision, Lumi notices that he whispers another incantation under his breath.
Lumi blocks with his spear haft and their weapons meet—but he is caught off-guard when a burst of concussive force swells from the place where they connect. The courtyard’s sand at their feet erupts around them, and Lumi is propelled backward by the boom. He drops the spear from in his hands and slides on the ground a distance away from Rashid. The impact leaves him dazed, but he regains his focus when searing pain starts down the side of his leg. Lumi realizes the skin had dragged across the sand when he was thrown and had developed a kind of pocked burn. He lifts his gaze from his leg and the ground to glare at the panting Rashid, standing perfectly upright from where they clashed.
He clenches his fist tightly enough that his nails break the skin at his palm. With a growl, he sends the spectral lances flying once more, relentless as they strike Rashid’s plated armor. He can see when they collapse Rashid’s weak shield spell, to pummel at his body. The force of the attack drives him to his knees. He attempts to counter each volley, but his arms are obviously flagging: the sound of each spear connecting with his chest-plate grows sharper and sharper. Lumi stands from the ground, while he presses his nails deeper into his flesh. He can hear his pulse in his ears; he wants nothing more than to bring his pompous mentor to heel. The anger makes him dizzy. Who does he think he is? Who does he think he is fighting? Lumi begins stalking forward, hampered by his aching leg. The pain has him biting his lip, and it too starts to bleed where his teeth meet the skin.
Lumi raises his hand, buzzing with power, and he feels how the simple gesture stills the spears’ assault. “This is what you wanted, Rashid?” he says, his eyes ablaze. “Yield, old man!” His tail lashes behind him, betraying his unbalanced state.
Rashid laughs. “I yield, Lumi,” he mutters, pushing himself to his knees and spitting to the side. He points his shamshir into the sand, its sharp blade glinting in the sunlight. “Does this outcome satisfy ya? As I suspected, y’ve not even a semblance of control in y’r fightin’,” he adds, meeting Lumi’s eyes with his own. “If I were ya, I’d be ashamed. Perhaps I shouldn’t have expected more,” he taunts with a cocky smirk. “Demi-humans and all—it’s just your nature.”
“Y-you hurt me. What was I supposed to do?” Lumi pleads angrily, clenching his fist even tighter as blood drips onto the sand below his battered palm. “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?”
Rashid lets out a heavy sigh. “My ‘plan’ was to bring out your strength in a controlled way.” He forces himself upright, wincing in pain. “Khimi gave me a responsibility and this is how I saw best to accomplish that. Ya needed the push. What you did with it is y’r own responsibility,” he adds, brushing himself down.
Lumi trembles with rage. “Great. Then we’re done here,” he growls, turning away from Rashid and skulking off. He releases the clenched fist and the spears dissipate into a mist behind him.
Rashid calls out to him as he walks away. “Sorry, lad! Nothing personal!”
He angrily kicks up his spear back into his hands and departs from the courtyard, heading towards Khimi’s chamber. Of course, that means he has to pass through the throng of spectators. He earns a few gasps when he shoulders past the crowd. Their gaze follows him, panicked and suspicious, and it makes Lumi’s skin crawl. He knows, before morning, everyone within the estate will have heard about what happened. When Lumi moves out of sight from the courtyard, he breaks into a run.
Why did that have to go that way? he thinks, thoughts racing. Why would he treat me like that, if he wasn’t trying to humiliate me? When he reaches their residence, he takes the doorknocker in hand, but he can feel his grip tremble on the brass loop. Were they all just waiting for me to react like I did? He throws open the door and shuts it behind him just as fast, that a bang rings out from the impact. Lumi lets his spear fall to the floor and it clatters over the tiles. Unexpected tears drip down his bruised face. He slams his back against the heavy door and wipes at his eyes with his forearm. He thinks on his relationship with Khimi: they were supposed to support each other, and yet he finds himself constantly alone when it matters most. He can’t help but wonder if this is all that their life together would be.
With the tears out of his eyes, he can see a water-like illusion that dances across the room: Khimi had once pointed out how evening light will shine through the blue glass set into the ceiling and it creates this unusual rippling effect. Lumi walks to sit by the small bathing pool, peeling off his bloody clothes, while he tries to settle his whirling thoughts. He wishes that Khimi could have been there with him in the courtyard—surely he would have stood by him, defended him from Rashid’s games. Physically, his wounds will heal, and he had noticed in the past that healing often takes less time for him than it does for other people, even if they hurt just the same. But he doesn’t need Khimi to fight his battles for him; he needs someone on his side. Was Khimi looking out for him as well as he looks out for himself?
He places the pile of heavy black fabric on the side of the pool, before he slips naked into the tepid water. His head dips beneath the surface. Already the water clouds with the grime coming off of him, turning rusty and muddy. How many times will I wonder if this was all a mistake? he thinks. His toes reach the tile floor at the center of the wading pool. In a state, he pounds his heels against the slick surface. Dunking his head all the way below the water, he lets out a scream of anguish. He waits a beat. Maybe he feels a little better now.
All done, he pulls himself up and climbs out into the room. Water drips from his hair and skin onto the floor as he makes his way to the bed, head in his hands. His leg still throbs with pain along the scrape and his tail drags on the floor. He collapses onto the silken sheets, exhausted, and gazes up at the window once more. Through the panes, he can make out the stars twinkling in the twilight sky and a soft glow from the Sisters, the twin moons casting a blue tint over everything in the room. As he follows the rippling light, he has to wonder if he’s still in the wading pool, drowning.
He turns over in bed. He is actively getting the linens wet and he can’t be bothered to care. When he settles, underneath him he feels something rigid and heavy. With a huff, he rifles through the mussed sheets to move the object. When he finds it, he lifts it up to look at what was on the bed before he lied down. His eyes fall upon a pair of golden armbands, attached together with ribbon and a slip of parchment. He holds it close to his eyes to read it under the moonslight. There is a whole note there, but the only bit he can read is: Lumi. He recognizes Khimi’s scrawling script and it’s enough to lighten his mood, even a little, but why would Khimi leave him a note?
As he straightens up, he slips a cool metal band up his wet arm until it rests snug. The other, he rolls over in his hands, taking in the small details of their craftsmanship. He does feel relieved to know he is on Khimi’s mind, but he can’t help to wonder if this is another attempt to avoid spending time with him. His thumbs drift fondly over striations in the gold and gems inlaid in the design. Don’t think like that! He pinches his eyes closed and shoves the second band up his arm. This means something! After all his exertion, he tosses and turns in bed until sleep takes hold of him.
***
His sleep is empty and dreamless. Even unconscious, when he feels movement on the bed next to him, his anxiety pulls him awake. On instinct he grabs at the presence on the bed, but it pulls away.
His nose twitches: he can smell Khimi’s scent. Opening his eyes, he can see Khimi’s face through darkness in shades of gray. He feels his ears twitch with excitement, until he remembers the circumstances of the day, and then his heart sinks. Khimi sits further away on the mattress than before, his hands tucked in his lap. He wears a somber expression that Lumi doesn’t recognize. Lumi’s hand curls inward, and he pulls it away from Khimi, embarrassed.
Lumi grimaces as he asks, “Is something wrong?” His voice is uncharacteristically quiet.
“Lumi,” Khimi sighs. Lumi doesn’t like hearing his name said so sadly. “I apologize. Does my face give me away entirely?”
Lumi sits up in bed, trying to seem casual and unbothered. “Sorry to call you out on it,” he whispers. “What did you want to talk about?”
Khimi taps his bicep, the same spot on Lumi’s arm where he had secured the band. “I see you found my gift. Do you like them?”
“I do! I like ‘em, a lot,” he replies, eager to please. As he thinks back on the present, though, he remembers his skepticism. “B-but I couldn’t read the note. Did you forget?”
“Oh,” Khimi says in response. It catches in Lumi’s throat. “I apologize, again. It slipped my mind. What I wrote was unimportant, regardless; I wanted to tell you how much you mean to me.”
“M’glad. Not really in the mood, though,” he murmurs. He is glad that Khimi can’t see his expression right now. “What did you want to talk about?”
Khimi rubs his temples and hesitates before finally speaking in a hushed tone, “I heard about everything that happened today. I worry this was too much for you.”
“Wh-what ‘everything’?” Lumi asks, his ears flattening in defiance. I knew it. His tail slaps against the silken sheets, thumping loud in the nighttime quiet.
“You said it yourself: you told me you wondered if it was a mistake, that I brought you here so soon,” Khimi begins carefully, not meeting Lumi’s eyes. “Whether that is true or not, we might need space from each other,” he whispers. Lumi can see how he inches away from him, towards the wading pool.
“Space?” Lumi coughs out. “We’ve had nothing but space from each other!” His ears lie flat against his head, rankled. He knows exactly what this is about: Rashid.
Khimi wrings his hands in his lap. “I can stay in the main house until we have this better thought out. Nothing has to change right now,” he says anxiously.
“Don’t worry about it,” Lumi snarls, his face twisting in anger. “I know what you’re trying to say. You stay in your chambers and I’ll find somewhere else to be.”
“Lumi, you’re taking this too far,” Khimi interrupts in a whisper. “I am trying to find the best solution for us. This is all so much.”
“‘Too far’?” Lumi grips his tail, tugging on it sharply. “What did Rashid tell you, huh? That I’m a menace?”
“Rashid did not have to tell me much. The guards were gracious enough to inform me. What he did tell me is that he thinks you need ‘time to mature’. I cannot say I agree with him, but—”
“Rashid doesn’t know what he’s talking about!” Lumi replies. His panic is spiking. “Why would you listen to him over me? He’s just an old fool!”
“Rashid is my advisor, Lumi,” replies Khimi with a huff. “I cannot make unilateral decisions when they affect so many people; even when I disagree with him, I have to heed to his counsel.”
“D-do you have to?” Lumi sits up abruptly, his fingers ripping at the sheets. “R-Rashid,” he whimpers, “he doesn’t like me—he only tolerates me. He thinks I’m not good enough for you, Khimi!”
He groans and leaps out of the damp bed. From around the room, he collects his belongings before turning to face Khimi with a shake of his head. What am I doing? He throws the chiton over his head and runs a hand through his hair; he doesn’t know what to say, but he needs to leave.
“Where are you going?” Khimi asks, standing in the darkness.
Lumi chuckles bitterly. “I’ll go to the shrine and do my duty, I guess.” Tears well in his eyes and he’s glad Khimi is unaware, like he is of everything. “Did you think that maybe you need space, not me?” he shouts. His tail flicks behind him, aggravated. He can feel how the hair stands on end. He has never felt like this around Khimi before. He stomps to the doors before he turns back one more time. “Is this really what you want?” His hand drops to his side, and he attempts to steady his breathing.
“Lumi, this is not what I want,” Khimi begins, walking towards the door in the darkness. “I want only to help you be happy. Every time I have seen you, you are aggravated, exhausted, distant or all three,” he whispers. “I don’t want you to be so high-strung.”
“I’m high-strung?!” Lumi shouts, turning on his heels. “I’ve never met anyone more high-strung. You’re constantly busy—and then you come back angry, and we just dance around each other and—it hasn’t even been a full season’s time!” As he opens the door, his voice drops, but loses none of the desperation. “Why haven’t you asked if I’m okay? I needed you, Khimi.”
“Lumi, you should—” Khimi’s words are cut off as the door slams shut, leaving him alone in the darkness.
Lumi walks past the gatehouse, his bare feet stirring up clouds of dusty earth along the worn path. He thought he might have heard Khimi calling to him from past the door but he paid it no mind. The weight of his heart seems to physically pull him down as he turns onto the cobbled streets of the city. He feels so confused that he can hardly remember the way to the shrine: he stops several passers-by, pleading for guidance with a hand pressed to his furrowed brow.
Desperation creeps into Lumi’s thoughts as he tries to recall any recognizable landmarks or notable details that could lead him in the right direction. This is what he wanted. He wanted space. He wanted time. He wanted me to leave. I was a fool. I misunderstood her. That goddess was wrong, it isn’t him. It wasn’t him. The tears finally fall down his cheek and splash the sand-covered cobbles, but barely a trace remains as he passes. Lost, he glances back once more at the shadow of the Zeybek estate. I’m so stupid. This isn’t my world, he thinks before he continues walking, and holds his head as high as he can manage, Rashid’s words echoing loudly in his mind, ‘it’s just your nature.’ A deep pained growl emanates from Lumi’s throat, his fangs press against his tongue, the rusty taste of blood fills his mouth.
Vespers
Hours later, Lumi fumbles his way to the shrine. The illuminated pathway displays the majestic foliage around the area. He looks up at the carved stone archway, from which water trickles down in neat lengthy rows as if by magick. He sighs, unamused, and walks beneath the dripping screen of rain. The brief wetness on his face feels cool, yet irritating. He shakes out the uncovered portion of his tail to wick away any remaining moisture from the fur. Khimi is such a jerk, he thinks to himself, flicking his tail once more with added aggression, and he continues following the winding path that hugs the small creek. The pebbled bottom glimmers beneath the clear water, reeds and flowering plants bending gently along the banks.
Ahead, the shrine looms, bathed in soft lantern light. Lumi stops short, inhaling deeply, forcing himself to remember Saint Nina’s teachings. Breathe, Lumi. Exhale. Release the feelings you harbor. He repeats the mantra, over and over, but the more he tries to empty himself, the more his emotions press against the fragile dam he built. This is all so much. A sharp sob wrenches free from his throat. His vision blurs, a sharp, stinging heat behind his eyes. Not now. Not here. He presses his forearm against his mouth, biting down hard—too hard. Tears spill freely, hot trails against his cheeks. His rounded ears droop as his fangs pierce soft flesh, the taste of rust flooding his tongue.
A broken sound escapes him, some kind of unvoluntary, strangled breath. Lumi clamps a hand over his mouth and his ears flatten. He backs up until his shoulders can feel the cool sandstone of a pillar, and then he slides down pressed against it to the ground. With his eyes squeezed shut, he listens—tries to lose himself in the sounds around him. The buzz of the city; the rhythmic babble of the creek; distant voices rising and falling, merchants haggling over wares; the steady hum of footsteps against cobblestone. Lumi opens his eyes. He needs to stand up, to do something, else he will drown in the tide of his own thoughts.
He struggles to his feet. As he walks forward, the path narrows, bordered with palms that hang over the stone walkway. Near the shrine’s heart, the low murmur of chants reaches his ears, the sound swelling as he rounds the bend. A small amphitheater nestled within the sacred space, its steps worn smooth by years of devoted study, is full of acolytes. They kneel in prayer before faceless statues of their gods; different prayer verses overlap in soft, melodic hums. Lumi hesitates, but eventually walks forward. From the group, a few figures hear his approach and turn their heads toward him.
One of them breaks from the group, her arms spreading wide. “Lumi! This is a surprise.” Cecilia’s voice is warm, familiar. She closes the distance to pull him in for a tight embrace. “You look as though you have been through the hells, my friend,” she murmurs, her grip firm, steady.
Lumi lets himself sink into the touch. “I feel like it, too.”
Cecilia hums sympathetically, her arms tightening. “Vespers will end shortly: we can retire to my dorm. Zalabia, and tea? You can tell me your troubles.”
He wants to say yes but thinks better of it. “I’m just here for, uh, space.” He glances at the other acolytes as they bow their heads and resume their prayers.
Cecilia pulls back, her expression gentle. “Saint Nina asked that I look after you in Rhaz, Lumi. You would not burden me.”
Lumi opens his mouth to respond, but she’s already backing away, slipping back toward the statues. “W-wait—”
“Think on it!” she calls over her shoulder, before she vanishes into the throng of kneeling figures.
Lumi adjourns to the amphitheater, taking a seat on the sandstone steps. He leans back, somehow calmed with just the little interaction, despite his exhaustion after his night wandering the streets. Eventually, he climbs higher into the stands and tucks himself into the shadows between two staircases—not enough to hide completely, but it gets him out of view. The city’s glow spills into the sky, washing out the stars. The acolytes at the Temple of Life had always spoken of Rhaz’s brilliance, but he had never imagined it would be so blinding.
He pulls a spare tunic from his rucksack and drapes it over his face, wanting to block out the light. But no matter how he shifts, no matter how tightly he squeezes his eyes shut, sleep remains just out of reach. His thoughts loop endlessly like a nightmare. His throat tightens. He grips the fabric between his teeth, biting down hard and holding in everything that threatens to escape.
It does not feel long to Lumi before the sunrise alerts him to the time. Unsure of how many hours he laid there in a state of half-sleep, he gathers the few belongings he laid out and drags himself down from the stands, back towards the shrine entrance.
“Going somewhere?”
Lumi almost trips. When he turns to face the voice he sees an elderly woman approaching him: her heavy teal robes and her veil cover thick grey hair and wizened dun skin. “I apologize, m-ma’am, I didn’t see ya there. Good mornin’,” he whispers meekly. “Yes, I was about to go back into… Into the city,” he adds quickly, feeling panicked.
She studies him with knowing eyes. “Good morning to you, young man. They call me Acolyte Trissa. Would you tell me your name?”
He shuffles his feet. “I am Acolyte Lumi. Hello, ma’am.”
A slight smile from her. “Hello, Acolyte Lumi,” she replies cordially. “I’ve heard of our aslan guest who visits for vespers. We old folks here rise with the lark. Like as not our paths would never cross. Maybe it’s the gods’ blessing that we could meet this fine day,” she continues. “I thought I might’ve seen you sleeping in the amphitheater. I assumed you were an initiate, perhaps a child who lost track of time. But you are not a child, and my intuition tells me there’s a story here.” She sits on the cushioned stone bench with her hands in her lap. “I’d like to hear such a story, I think, if you’d indulge me. You seem a polite young man.”
Lumi grips the string of his rucksack, his shoulders tightening. Can I refuse some old lady I’ve never met? Maybe it’s her expression that softens his resolve. Lumi sits on the ground beside her, drops his rucksack to the floor, and hesitantly begins his story. Before he knows it, he had spent most of the morning recounting the past few months to the elderly woman, as they share a portion of the dried meats and cheeses in his bag he smuggled out of the Zeybek estate. He tells her of how he came to meet Khimi and why he now lives in Rhaz, though he leaves out much of his troubles at the temple.
Trissa listens without interruption, nodding sagely, her lined face unreadable. Only when Lumi falls silent does she finally speak. “That was quite the story; I was right to ask it of you. Thank you for begrudging an old woman her simple pleasures,” she demures, and places a weathered hand over his. Her skin is warm, calloused from years of work. Lumi realizes he had teared up while telling his story and he wipes at his eyes with the other hand. “What I’m hearing from you is that you care very much for this Khimi. Sometimes, what we’re most prepared to give someone, that is what they need least. If the boy wants time, Lumi, you can give him time.”
Lumi growls under his breath. “But he thinks he’s doing it for my benefit!” His tail flicks, agitated. “He’s just a foolish man. A stupid, foolish, annoying man!”
Trissa chuckles. “Would you know,” she starts, “we often put our insecurities onto those we hold close. I imagine he cares for you, as you do him, and you both struggle to show it. You said yourself he isn’t schooled in the ways of love. His inexperience betrays him and it smothers you.”
Lumi tilts his head, brow furrowing. “That’s… That’s so frustrating. He overcomplicates everything!” His gaze drops to his lap and whines, “I would do anything for him.”
“I’m sure you would, dear.” She pats his hand again. “This could be for the best. It is possible you startled him out from his stupor.”
“I know, I know his heart, but I can’t figure out his head,” Lumi mutters. “We’ve barely seen each other since coming to Rhaz… and then Rashid—ugh, I know it was Rashid,” he adds darkly.
“Yes, the elder statesman. I have heard it said: it is a smart man that listens to his advisors,” Trissa says. “It is a wise man that follows the path of his heart.” She squeezes his fingers. “Let’s pray they can both be wise, too.”
Lumi huffs. “Then I’ll pray the gods smite Khimi with wisdom!” He throws his hands skyward. “You heard me!”
Trissa cackles, easing herself to her feet. “Let’s hope no one gets smote.” She dusts off her robes. “Take care, Lumi. The shrine will always welcome you, and so will I.” She leans into press a dry kiss to his cheek.
Lumi’s ears twitch. He can smell the cinnamon she used to perfume her robes. “Thank you,” he murmurs, flustered, “I might take you up on that, Acolyte Trissa. It’ll be like I’m back in the jungle, sleeping under the stars!”
She moseys past Lumi, her hands tucked into her sleeves, to attend the morning services. As she shuffles away, Lumi’s gaze shifts to the faceless statues in the courtyard. Hopefully one of you can offer some guidance. He steps forward, brushing past lush greenery, where acolytes sit to prune an ancient ironwood tree; they greet him with a nod and he returns it. Then, behind him—movement. Lumi can hear as two figures rush towards him, clanking armor and urgent strides. Lumi stiffens. An uneasy feeling washes over him. He had never before been approached by anyone wearing armor like this.
“Is there an aslan here? I heard there was an aslan here,” calls out a youthful voice across the courtyard. As the source nears, Lumi can see mahogany-furred ears, standing alert, and a cropped tail bouncing behind him. “You! Aslan!” he yells. “We need to talk to you!” He bounds over, while his traveling tunic bounces around his shoulders.Lumi eyes him warily. He recognizes the man is a canis, like the attendant at Yad’s and Pasha’s tavern. Internally, Lumi corrects himself: not an attendant, probably, but a slave. Indentured servitude was common across the Desert Cities, it had once been explained to him, especially in big ones like Rhaz. Before Lumi can respond, a slightly taller man comes up behind the canis and elbows him in the ribs. He has bright copper hair and sharp, handsome features. It was his armor that Lumi had heard from afar.“Shut it!” he hisses. “Don’t scare the kid.”
Lumi’s tail flicks out with shock. “Uh?”
“Don’t be alarmed,” the canis says. He steps closer to Lumi with his palms raised in a gesture of peace; Lumi can see the sweat on his tan skin. “We heard tell of some aslan in town who fought like a monster. Is that you? Must be, since you’re certainly the first aslan I’ve ever seen.” He taps the shotel at his waist. “I hear we’re part of the same Order, but I’ve never heard of an aslan acolyte!”
Lumi chest swells with pride; he liked that kind of rumor. “A monster, eh? Ya, I fight pretty good,” he replies. “I’ve never touched a sword, though; all I know are spears.” Then, after a thoughtful tilt of his head, he adds, “You’re saying you don’t know me, but I was at the temple for ages and I never crossed paths with either of you”
“Mido, back up,” the soldier man says with a laugh. “Hello there, acolyte! I am Augustus. I hail from Loria. My friend is the canis Mido, from Gomorrah.” He gestures toward the other man with a polite wave. “We are travelers and we recently arrived in Rhaz. We have been away a long time. I am not sure how young you are, but you may as well have been a toddler, when we were last at the Temple of Life.”
“I’m not that young,” Lumi mutters under his breath.
“Augustus, you know I don’t say I’m from Gomorrah,” Mido chimes in, his pointed ears twitching. “Being born somewhere doesn’t make it your home. We were raised together in Loria. Wait, what’s your name?”
Lumi studies them carefully. “Lumi. Are you both clerics?”
“I’m a cleric,” Mido says haughtily. “The muscley one is oath-bound. I had a calling and he’s been following me around ever since.”
Lumi’s ears twitch, recalling his interactions with cleric Eustes the grouch. “Oath-bound?” he echoes warily. “I don’t know that one.”
Augustus hand-waves it away. “Think nothing of it! I took an oath to protect the weak and make good in the world!”
Mido snorts. “You’re a real hero, Augustus.”
Lumi smirks. “An oath? Who to?”
“To me,” Mido groans while he drags a hand down his face. “You tell me to back up and then you go and ramble like this.”
Augustus steps in front of Mido and claps his hands together. “Anyway! We arrived in Rhaz a few nights ago. All last night we heard rumor of an aslan warrior who took on ten men. Come to find out he is an acolyte at this very shrine!” He grins at Lumi. “We could not let go of an opportunity like that. You are much smaller than I would have assumed. Are most aslan this short?”
“Shut up!” Mido scolds, jabbing him in the shoulder.
Lumi’s ears lower. “No, it’s fine,” he mutters. “Most aslan don’t look like me. There were members of my tribe who weighed three times as much as you.”
Augustus raises an eyebrow. “Are you mixed-breed, perhaps? Is that the word for it?”
Mido stares at him in disgust. By the gods, only you’d ask someone their race with so little tact.” He glances at Lumi. “He’s probably still growing”
Lumi’s tail thuds against his leg, irritation creeping in. “You keep calling me a kid, but I’m an adult.”
“Ah, the runt of the litter,” Augustus replies with fake thoughtfulness. Lumi stares him down. “Oh, it was just a jest, friend! No need to look so glum.”
Lumi sighs and crosses his arms. “Hilarious. I dunno how much I can teach you two,” he admits, looking them over. “My tribe never thought I was much of a fighter.”
“So, were those rumors not true?” Mido asks. “I heard you used magick and weapons in your fight. I can barely use either. Augustus spends all his time making sure I don’t get mugged.”
“Well, maybe I can show you something,” Lumi says with a shrug, “Though I’ve never worn armor like yours.” He shoots Augustus a look up and down.
“All the better. A totally different fighting style! We have a landing spot on the city outskirts. Would you like to adjourn there?” Augustus suggests, clapping a hand on Lumi’s shoulder. “You will be perfectly safe with us!”
Lumi tilts his head and collects his bag from the floor. “Lead the way, I guess,” he replies, with a tight smile. Then, shifting his weight, he asks, “So, are you two… together?”
Mido & Augustus
Augustus snorts as he swings down his training sword. “Together? Mido and I!” Lumi deflects the strike with his spear, frowning. Augustus can barely contain his laughter. “I could scarcely believe my ears.”
“Augustus, it is not that funny!” Mido snaps.
“You two just—seem close,” Lumi interjects with an awkward laugh. From the shrine Mido, Augustus, and Lumi had made their way to a small, ramshackle barn pressed against the towering sandstone outer walls of Rhaz. As they had neared, Lumi had recognized immediately the sorry state of the place: wooden planks, warped and pockmarked with rot, are haphazardly laid across the hay-strewn floor; gaping holes in the ceiling let in shafts of sunlight that slice through the murky interior, illuminating dust motes swirling in the stagnant air. Two empty stalls house Augustus and Mido’s travel gear, their belongings spilling into adjacent spaces—a cook pot blackened from repeated use, rough-spun clothes draped over splintering railings. The others host horses, uneasy at the thuds of wooden training weapons, who huff and stomp in place. It’s a far cry from the comforts Lumi had begun to enjoy, but hardly the worst conditions he’s endured.
Lumi jabs twice with the spear, first blow glancing off Augustus’s breastplate, and the second landing cleanly at his throat. Augustus reels back with a curse, while Lumi’s tail sways languidly behind him.
Mido smirks, sliding off his seat on a wooden railing by the oats. “You’re much quicker than our other sparring partners,” he says, chuckling. “Why did you say you weren’t talented?”
Lumi grins. “Never said I wasn’t talented,” he corrects. “Everyone else in my tribe was just stronger than me!” He punctuates the statement with a sharp shout, before he leaps into an airborne assault. Augustus slips around it, panting.
Even without his eyes on him, Lumi can hear when Mido’s amusement becomes more contemplative.“What they say of aslan must be true, then,” he murmurs. “A fully trained aslan warrior could go toe-to-toe with three men at once.”
“You exaggerate,” Lumi scoffs. “Aslan aren’t so different from other beastkin—bigger, brawnier, maybe. I’ve heard we don’t live as long as other races.”
Augustus slaps his own face a few times, maybe psyching himself up. “Exchanging your longevity for heightened martial prowess,” he muses aloud. “How fearsome!”
“I suppose,” Lumi shrugs. He can sense Augustus flagging and tilts his head toward Mido. “Want your turn?”
Mido grimaces, his short tail twitching. “I—uh—not sure.” He presses a hand to his freckled face. “I doubt I’d land a blow on you if I tried.”
“Are you shy?” Lumi teases, resting his training spear across his shoulders.
“Yes, Mido, tap in,” Augustus goads, dropping to the ground with a dramatic thud. He tosses the training sword toward his friend. “I am having the most fun, getting trounced by a pipsqueak boy.”
Lumi bristles, his tail flicking. “P-pipsqueak!” He puffs his cheeks indignantly. “Tell that to the end of my spear!”
Augustus waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t be childish. I yield, Acolyle Lumi. And to someone who must be six years my junior, at least! I can let Mido take his turn at the boy wonder.”
Mido sighs. “You’re a real gentleman, Augustus.” With a resigned huff, he takes up the wooden sword, spins it once in his grip, and settles into a combat stance.
Lumi can tell immediately he doesn’t have real combat training. How did two clerics of the famous Temple of Life manage to get around with no experience or skill? Is it that easy to travel around? Every wandering cleric he had known, they were known for bad attitudes and rugged demeanors. At least these two were fun, he supposes.
His thoughts cut short as Mido lunges with a shout, swinging at him without warning. Lumi dodges his haphazard slice and watches the arc of it. Mido can’t pull back and continues the follow-through on the blow, all the way until the wooden blade smacks against the floor. With a sharp crack, a deep split shows along its length, splintering onto the barn floor.
“Oh, now you’ve done it, you lummox,” Augustus groans. He drops his head into his hands. “That was our only training sword!”
Mido winces, shaking out his arm from the impact. “How are you with fistfighting?” he suggests, but Lumi can see his tail betrays his anxiousness. Lumi plants a hand on his hip. “We could always spar with the real thing.” His gaze flickers toward the horse stall where their blades rest.
“What! That’s dangerous,” Mido exclaims, ears flattening. “Do you always spar with real weapons? Do you want to get hurt?”
Lumi barks out a laugh at the hesitation. “I haven’t sparred with dummy swords for a long time. Woulda assumed you guys are always dealing with dangerous situations on your travels,” He shrugs, twirling his spear idly in his fingers. “What’s the worst that could happen? Anyway, I need the experience, too,” he mutters to himself.
Mido exhales sharply, rolling his shoulders. “If you insist,” he says. Mido plucks the weapons from the stall. He hands Lumi the sharp spear, hefting the weight uncomfortably until it is out of his grasp, and then he rights his shotel in his hands. The steel hums as he turns to Lumi, and his stance shifts. “Don’t go easy on me. Or do, whatever.”
The sand on the planks shifts beneath the turn of Lumi’s feet and he lunges forward. Mido’s shotel whirls to deflect, but Lumi moves with cocky effortlessness as he twists to swinging the blunt end of his spear. Its impact connects squarely with Mido’s face, to the sound of a sickening thud. Mido stumbles backward, blood spurting from his nose. He sucks in a sharp breath, swaying as a crimson trail trickles over his lips and chin.
“I yield!” he shouts, one hand clamping over his injury. “Hells, this is how you train all the time! Real weapons,” he moans. His words are muffled behind his bloodied palm. “O-oh, this hurts.”
Lumi freezes, horror dawning in his expression. “M-mido, I’m so sorry,” he stammers, rushing forward, “let me help.” Without waiting for permission, he presses a hand over Mido’s. A soft incantation spills from his lips before he can think. His eyes glow with that familiar pale blue light of his magick until it flickers between his fingers just the same. He can feel when its warmth spreads over Mido’s face, and the bleeding ceases abruptly.
From the sidelines, Augustus rolls onto his back in the hay, knocked over with laughter. “Oh, Mido! You were so brave! Oh, he really gave it to you,” he guffaws.
Mido exhales slowly, cheeks warming at the gentle touch. “Thank you,” he murmurs, barely meeting Lumi’s gaze. “You’re a better healer than me.” His brow furrows. “Just how early did you start learning to use magick like that?”
Lumi blinks, caught off guard. “I-I don’t know.” His voice drops to a whisper. “Doesn’t some of it just, uh, come to you? Like the words, the phrases, do they ever spring into your mind before you know it?”
Mido’s ears lower while he leans into the healing touch. “No. It isn’t that way for me at all. I have to study every second I have free, and even then, I can’t perform some of the most basic spells.” He exhales and glances away. “Memorizing incantations by heart, it’s torture. And you do it so easily.”
Guilt twists in Lumi’s chest. He shifts uncomfortably. “Sorry about your nose. And the magick, Mido, but I think it’ll come to you in time.” Augustus brushes off the straw unceremoniously. “Thank you for sharing the day with us,” he says as he pulls himself up from the floor. His breastplate clanks behind Lumi as he approaches the pair knelt down together. “You are more than welcome to stay with us, for the night. You never mentioned where you make your bed, but our host the farmer seems he could always use another helping hand.”
Mido perks up. “It would be great to have someone other than Augustus to talk to,” he teases.
Lumi pulls away from Mido as the glow at his hands dims. He tugs at his tail, ears drooping. “I broke your nose…” He glances away from the two. “As much as I’d love to take you up on the offer, I’m happy at the shrine,” Lumi replies, straightening. “Also, I don’t care much for the smell.”
“It takes getting used to,” Mido says with a shrug, “but it isn’t all bad. I am a canis, after all.”
“He complains more of my smell after I miss a bath,” chimes in Augustus. Lumi shifts his weight, antsy to leave. “And to honor your curiosity,” Augustus begins, ruffling his sunset hair, “Mido and I were reared together. I can understand why it might seem odd, a beastkin and man seeming so close,” he says, looking at Mido. “Since you were so sporting to spar with us, I thought an explanation owed.”
Mido sighs. “Augustus conveniently leaves out that I did have feelings for him when we were younger,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. Lumi’s eyes go a little wide. “But I moved past it. Much simpler to be friends.”
Lumi’s ears droop further. “Sorry to bring it up. That sounds… complicated?” His fingers curl around the tuft of fur at the tip of his tail. “At least you worked it out.”
Augustus slings an arm over Mido’s shoulders, lowering his voice. “I, of course, was flattered and gave the possibility thought, but I’m simply not attracted to men,” he murmurs.
Mido snorts. “I’ve noticed. Your type is ‘women who won’t give you the time of day’.”
Lumi exhales, his tail flicking restlessly. “That sounds tough.” He hesitates before adding, “Love is complicated, huh? I’ve been dealing with something, too, with someone I care about.”
Augustus raises an eyebrow. “Might we lend your troubles an ear?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at Lumi. “I am sure, between the two of us, we would be able to provide some solace. After all, Mido’s calling is to offer counsel to those who need it.”
“I should eat something, probably,” Lumi says, pressing his hand against his stomach. “I shared the little bit of food I brought with Acolyte Trissa,” he chuckles nervously. He turns towards the barn door as Mido speaks up.
“I can cook up a stew! If you have some time,” Mido calls after him, “and plus, I get to hear your story,” he adds, smiling at Lumi.
Lumi turns back, managing to appear meek. “It’s not like I have plans,” he says, shrugging. “Sure.”The three gather around the cookpot as Mido puts together a piecemeal stew. As they cook and wait, Lumi opens up and recounts his arrival in Rhaz. He tells the two men about the difficulties amidst him and Khimi, how they had hardly seen each other. Though their brief moments together had all been passionate and joyful, Lumi had often felt that Khimi had strained to be around him. He stares into the cookfire as he brings up Rashid and the old advisor’s meddling; the embers crackle softly as his voice cracks, the flame flickering against the worn edges of his thoughts. Mido listens intently, only absently stirring the bubbling broth with a wooden spoon. He tosses in bits of dried meat, a handful of nearly-rotten vegetables, and—to Lumi’s horror—a very rotten apple, which splashes into the pot with an unceremonious plop.
Mido pushes his dark hair from his eyes, his ears twitching slightly. Lumi notices Mido breaks eye contact before he speaks. “So, correct me if I’m wrong.” He stirs the pot absently, his voice edged with skepticism. “Your only solution is to go back to him and do the exact same thing over again?”
Lumi nods slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. “That is, if he’ll even take me. He clearly needs time to figure things out for himself. I knew this wouldn’t be easy for him. He’s very logical and cautious.”
Augustus sighs. “Lumi, at the end of this month, we plan to leave Rhaz with another cleric. If you have any interest in joining, we would love to bring you with us. I can tell that you would make a strong asset on the journey.” Lumi’s heart swells at the offer. He hadn’t considered traveling with a cleric before, but the idea has a certain appeal. “Where are you headed?” he asks, tilting his head.
Augustus chuckles, his smirk lopsided. “Wheresoever the winds take us,” he says with a dramatic flourish. “Mido and I will be making our way through the Desert Cities, offering aid to whomever we can—maybe spread a touch of divine wisdom along the way. I know Mido has plans for Gomorrah, that perhaps we find his lost family there.”
Mido snorts, lifting a spoonful of stew to his lips. “Sure, ‘plans’. I agree with him, though: if things don’t go the way you’re hoping, we’d love to have you with us. I’d love to have you with us.” He tastes the stew, considering for a moment. “It’s about done, I think.”
Lumi runs a hand through his hair, exhaling softly. “I’ll think on it. Thank you,” he murmurs, accepting a wooden bowl from Augustus. He forces a smile. “Maybe Khimi will make up his mind soon.”
Mido doesn’t bother masking his doubt when he scoffs. “From the way you made it sound, his duty comes first. I wouldn’t get your hopes up too much for him.” He ladles stew into Lumi’s bowl, his expression unreadable.
“Oh, Mido, you’ll infect him with your pessimism,” Augustus interjects, clapping a hand on Lumi’s shoulder. “He falls hopelessly in love with anyone who shows any interest. Falls head over heels. When there’s no one waiting in the wings he tends to get prickly.”
“Augustus!” Mido snaps, his ears flattening as he shoots a glare. “Way to tell all my personal business, you horse’s ass.”
Augustus smiles back at him winningly. “Lumi shared his mess—only right we reciprocate.”
Mido smirks, baring his fangs. “Then shall I regale him with all your unsuccessful cunt-diving? At least I can find a man to be interested in me. You may as well start taking cock with your track record.”
“You wish!”
Mido growls, baring his fangs at Augustus, who laughs in return.
Lumi chuckles softly, shaking his head. “The life of a traveler sounds exhausting, though.” He sighs, swirling his stew with his spoon. “When I was with my tribe in the south, we traveled all over and it was nice to be surrounded by the open skies. I guess I’ve gotten comfortable now.”
Mido’s expression shifts to something gentler. “Then I hope it all works out for you,” he says, meeting Lumi’s gaze over the steam rising from their bowls.
Lumi takes a deep breath, staring down at his murky stew before nodding. “Right.”