"Forbidden Hearts, Part 2" by Ben Cameron

      Kaska spent the night fitfully, and awoke on the morn of the Gathering red-eyed and bleary.  From the hammock, he glanced warily out the window at the sunlight trickling through the enormous trees.  The constant throb of the Call had subsided till it was little more than a vague irritation, but it was still there.

      He still knew nothing of what was to happen today.  It was one of the rules of the Calling and the Promised: each must pass by themselves.

      He dressed alone, donning the auburn tunic of the Issira clan but left his feet bare.  Stepping outside onto the hanging walkways at least a thirtypace high, Kaska couldn’t tell which he was more worried of: the unknown people and magnificent city of Amarana, or the coming test.  Or the height.

      A sudden, irrational urge rushed into his stomach: a mixture of fear and homesickness.  In response, the Call flared into life, lancing pain into his side and reminding Kaska of what he was here for.

      Dwarfed by the sheer size of the trees and people around him, Kaska haltingly descended the rope ladder from his door.  Afraid to look down, it took many curses, from him, as well as from those above, before an embarrassed and thankful Kaska made it to the ground.

      Groups of dancers moved rhythmically to the sounds of pipes, harping stringed instruments and the famous two-man drums of the desert clans.  Friendly competitions between unique elemental mastery and the specialised weapons of opposing clans held the attention and cheers of those ringed around.  Between, through and underneath the trees of Amarana, friends and couples reunited to re-forged old friendships.  Between all this, Kaska moved timidly, skirting the battles and keeping his body still despite the music, unsure of how he was supposed to act in this crowd of the unknown and unexpected.

      All he knew was he was to make it to the temple in the very centre of Amarana.

      It wasn’t hard to find his way there.  It’s towering sandstone structure was constructed around the tallest tree in the forest.  From there radiated the canopy bridges and forest pathways, so even if Kaska hadn’t been able to see the fae lights hung from silver branches, it would have been easy to find.

      When he reached the Temple, it’s immediate vicinity devoid of people, he only hesitated a moment before entering the open stone doors leading into the middle of the tree.  Inside, guttering flames and voices lit his way.

      Those voices soon revealed themselves as Promised, following their Call like himself.  They sat cross-legged around the circular room.  Carved from the very centre of the tree, the polished wood of the walls shone in the firelight from the centre of the room.  Shyly, unsure of how to speak to strangers, he sat down in one of the empty spaces.

      He glanced quickly at the woman next to him.  She wore the green of the forest-kind and seemed perfectly at ease, chatting animatedly and happily with those around her.

      Kaska turned away and stared down at his feet, feeling his unease gnaw hungrily at his stomach.

      “…Kinnara”

      He hesitated briefly then looked up, seeing the girl next to him looking at him.

      “Excuse me?”

      She smiled, easing his discomfort with her obvious enthusiasm to be here.  “My name’s Kinnara.”

      “Greetings, Kinnara.  My name’s Kaska.  May the Ancients know you for true.”  He held his palm up in the traditional greeting of the Promised.

      She laughed, and returned the gesture with the merest trace of a smile on her face.  “Why so formal, Kaska?  You’re not Chosen yet, there’s no need.”

      “My father’s an Elder… I guess he drilled it into me.”

      “Oh, I see.  Care to join us?” she indicated those she’d been speaking with.

      Kaska looked up at the smiling faces of the other Called.  So many new people…  “You know, I…ah, want some time alone, you know, to think.”

      “If you want – not that it’ll help you.”  She held her palm up, in a return of his original formalism, a light-hearted mockery lightened further by her grin and twinkling eyes.  Kaska was left to his thoughts and churning stomach.

      A woman entered, the Mother as Kaska could tell by her body tattoos.  She held up her palm in greeting.  Those in the circular room quietened immediately.

      “May the Ancients know you for true.”  The Called, some twenty to thirty in total, repeated the phrase and gesture.  “A phrase never uttered with more truth than at this moment, for today the Ancients will decide whether you’re worthy of their gifts.

       “Today, you will face your fears and if you emerge triumphant will be declared amongst the Promised as having been Called and been Chosen.  You will become the Promised, as your ancestors did before you, as did their ancestors, back to when the Ancients originally Chose our mothers.”

      From behind her entered five Promised on silent feet, each bearing a basket of mushrooms and a pail of water.  Once those had been left in the centre of the room, they left as quietly as they’d come.

       “Eat and drink.”  The Mother spoke again, commanding them.

      Kaska was incapable of refusing – it was one of the Promised’s survival tactic in their isolated existence: an ingrained inability to refuse commands from their Mother, the protector and guardian of the Promised as a whole.

      He swallowed two of the small mushrooms, followed by a cup of the water.  The effects were almost instantaneous.

*

      He was in a land of shadows, shapes and mist.  Pine trees surrounded him.

      Darker than the Issathrian, the trees blocked out all light, leaving him plunged in a world where spectral beasts loomed out shadows and eyes leered in the gloom.  Somewhere in the background he could feel the tug of his desert-eagle, but he still felt utterly alone in this forsaken place.

      Muffled by the mist, a faint voice, female, quavered through the trees.  Filled with terror, it set his teeth on edge and his heart racing.  Kaska spun, trying to determine the sound’s direction.  If only this were the desert…

      Choosing randomly, he stumbled over root and branch, losing himself ever deeper in the shadowy land.  Her voice crescendoed, and Kaska rushed forward faster, believing himself to be getting closer.

      A twig snapped behind him… he stopped immediately, praying the screaming would stop.  It didn’t, but he heard nothing further, and headed left by mistake in this misty world where everything looked the same.

      Through the trees, a beast howled, and Kaska thought he heard patting footsteps echoing his.  Again he stopped, but he heard nothing except the endless scream.

      Fear began to creep up on him, as he realised he had no idea where he was going.  He lurched off through the shadows, faster than before.

      A branch crashed to the ground.  It’s sound ricocheted, a sharp crack in the muffled world Kaska ran through.

      He picked up his pace yet further, his breathing increasing, and changed direction yet again as horror lapped at his heels.  The darkness crept in further, and he found trees looming suddenly out of the mist.

      With a twist, he tripped through the trees into a clearing. 

      A final shriek, louder than before, and the forest was left in deathly silence.

      Another crack, this one louder in the misty darkness.  Then another.

      Kaska picked himself up, breathing hard.  He looked over his shoulder at where he’d come from and nearly stumbled into a pit.

      Had he not been listening so intently for the noises behind him, he would have missed it, a faint call from the hole.

      “Help...”

      Whatever she had to say next was drowned out by the thud of heavy paws hitting the ground and heavy breathing.  Terror gripped him and he spun wildly.

      Kaska contemplated escape for himself, and almost ran back into the forest.  It was a second cry that drew him back.  “Please, help…”

      Taking a final look over his shoulder, he dropped into the hole, plunging down it’s side into the darkness.

      It took a while for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

      “Kinnara?”  Despite the darkness, her figure and face were unmistakable.

      She whimpered in pain, and moaned as another crash echoed down the hole from above.

      “Shhh… my father’s a healer.  What happened?”

      Too pained for words, Kinnara pointed to her leg, broken in her uncontrolled fall.

      There was little he could do for that, instead, he comforted her as best possible and prayed to the Ancients as they waited for their predator above.

      “Pray, Kinnara.  It’s all we have left.”

      A final crash and both could hear the pad of paws approaching the hole.

      The meagre light from above abruptly vanished as hungry jaws leered over the edge.

      Darkness and coldness rushed in on Kaska…

*

      Kaska woke to the sound of moaning.  The other Called lay around, moving fitfully in their dreams.  A few lay awake, pushing themselves meekly up to look at where they were.

      Beside him, Kinnara stirred awake and gasped in pain.  Her leg lay twisted unnaturally against itself.  She caught Kaska’s eye and nodded.

      “Thank you,” she whispered, and then closed her eyes, breathing deeply.

~ * ~ * ~

      The celebration greeting the new Promised lasted well into the night.  The few that didn’t pass were ignored.  The two that didn’t survive were buried unceremoniously.  The Promised held no place for those who didn’t further their race.

      Kinnara’s leg was healed by one of the healers and she and Kaska spent most of the evening dancing around the fires of celebration and of Solstice.

      With the approval of the Ancients through his prayer, most of Kaska’s shyness had disappeared, along with his childhood.  Now he, and Kinnara, were full members of their respective tribes with the powers of the elements at their fingertips.

      The next two days passed in a flurry.  He and Kinnara spent more and more time with each other, eventually laying together to consummate both Solstice and their desire for each other born out of survival.

      As the fires of the Gathering carried their passion to the heavens, Kaska felt his powers erupt and he spun a wind through the grove in which they lay.  The overhead branches blew out of the way, leaving the skies visible before the two lovers together.  The fires of the Ancients swept in shimmering colours across the stars and full moon.

      At that moment, in Kinnara’s arms, Kaska felt more at ease than he had done since leaving Issira’s oasis.

      He brushed the hair out of her eyes and stared at her.

      “You know we aren’t allowed to continue this.”

      “There’s always next year.  And Cicero, can always carry messages between us.”

      Kinnara snuggled against him, and thought it over.  “If you’re willing… I am.”

~ * ~ * ~

      Kaska returned to Issira’s oasis as one of the Promised and with a note folded securely away in his pocket.  It was to be the first of months of similar notes, each one delivered by Cicero.

      On one of those trips, Kaska reached the top of the ravine and found his way barred by his Illydras.

      “How long did you plan to keep this up, Kaska?”  Illydras’ tone was quiet, yet far from soft.

      “Keep what up?”  Kaska’s mind rocked with the question.  How had they been discovered?

      “Your relationship!  Don’t lie to me.”

      Caught in the open, without an alibi, Kaska nodded. 

      “Those who can’t obey the rules have no place within the Promised.  They’re set up for a reason, to maintain our culture as the original Promised were Chosen to do.  Nor are the Promised for those too weak to control their urges.”

       “What’s to happen, father?”

       “I have no choice.  You knew the rules and you ignored them.”

      Kaska’s eyes widened.  “No… you can’t.  You couldn’t.”

      “I have no choice.”  He held up the palm of his hand.  “May the Ancients find you in truth.”

      Illydras brought called upon the Ancients and brought forth the full force of his power.  It rocked through Illydras’ body and shot out to Kaska who vainly warded it with his hands.  Power and light flowed through the air and encompassed Kaska.  It hissed through the air, spinning wildly in its ferocity before slamming into his body.

      “Leave, Kaska.  You’re no longer welcome in the lands of the Promised.”

~ * ~ * ~

      Cicero felt the connection to Kaska severe, but their bond had been so strong that he refused to leave from where he’d last seen Kaska.

      The days passed, and he grew thinner.  But still, he sat there, perched in the canopy lest Kaska return.

      That was where he died, still clutching the last letter Kaska had written but had yet to give instruction on where to take it to.  Amongst the silver-blue petals of the acacias bush where Cicero lay, the beautiful calligraphy of his love-letter she would never receive could still be discerned:

      Dearest Kinnara…