KLEMENTIN AND THE FIRELORDS,
by Dany G. Zuwen
has "8373" words.
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Beyond the smoky horizon, the mountains
were on fire. When Jon and his small army arrived in viewing distance of the
village, the red sky roared like a hungry monster. Fireballs the size of small
dwellings streaked out of fast-scattering clouds to crash on an ashen
background. The explosions rippled into the ground like waves into a pond. Jon
peeked behind his shoulders. Aynee's eyes were riveted on the sky, the two
sparkling emeralds reduced to mere slits as she squinted to counter the
overcast clouds. Something in her stare troubled Jon. Something he had never
seen once on her face since he had known her.
Fear.
Jon sank his heels into his impala's sides. "Let's go!" he shouted and all one hundred of his men followed him down the mountain.
Under the heavy paws of the galloping impalas, the ground shook anew. Hopefully they weren't too late. This was Jon’s last chance to die with peace. He clenched his jaws as a shiver ran through the scales of his impala. Perhaps he should have stayed inside the kingdom after all. Perhaps he should have accepted his dark fate. One blow and his head would have rolled away. An unmarked grave for the undeserving bastard he was. But he had sworn an oath to the king, and more importantly, to the people. Serve and protect. He had served all his worth. If only, for one last time -- even while embracing Death herself in a final dreaded dance, he could fulfill his duty, the basis for his entire life. Protect.
#
When they neared the village's gates, everyone was gathered outside. Lord Bayens, the king's brother, was already seated on his throne, four bulky slaves sitting nearby, ready to lift him in the air. Jon exchanged a quick look with Aynee before dismounting his impala and marching toward Lord Bayens. Two guards covered in thick and shiny armor jumped in his path. Jon smiled. "I have come to lend assistance."
He wanted to add that if he wanted them dead, it would be a matter of positioning his body where their constrained limbs could not reach. Yet he did not. Lord Bayens, a fat man with a bald head and a beard thick enough to compensate for the lack of hair, slowly rose from his seat. He walked toward Jon and stood behind his guards.
He moisturized his lips, repeatedly running his tongue over them. "Tell me, Commander, is my brother's bride as sweet as she looks?"
Jon ignored him. Instead, he glanced over the crowd, estimating how many people were gathered before him, how many were too weak to walk, and of those rare able how many could carry enough to spare the impalas. As he was finishing up the head-count, something in the far distance, beyond the far limits of the village, caught his eye.
"My Lord, why is there smoke rising from that dwelling?" Jon pointed to a small house at the base of a black mountain. Other, thicker columns of smoke swayed toward the sky as if the land was covered in tiny volcanoes, but the smaller, white trail was what intrigued Jon.
"Do not concern yourself with that, Commander." Lord Bayens made a waving gesture with his hand. "The only people you need to worry about are accounted for."
Jon glanced at his soldiers behind him. He nodded to his lieutenant, seeking support, but the man ignored him. No surprise there. Honor was everything to these men and Jon had lost his when he had confessed his crimes. All he could do now was his duty, distribute the villagers in small groups with a fair amount of weak walkers in each, load the disabled on impalas, and head back home to the kingdom, to safety for all and a swift death for him.
"With all due respect, my Lord, it is the people I have sworn to protect. It seems to me there is still at least one person in there." Once more, Jon nodded toward the dwelling with a beige roof.
Lord Bayens cursed under his breath. "It's nothing, Commander. It's too late for her. It might take you a day to get there, if the ground doesn't melt under your feet. All for what?"
"People said we shouldn't come get you," Jon replied calmly. "They said the fires would swallow us before we reached you. Aren't you glad we did not heed their warnings?"
"But my brother sent you. If it were up to you, I'm sure you would still have his wife's legs entwined around your waist."
The words stung, but Jon remained calm. "Either way, my Lord, I decide when a situation is hopeless. How many people are trapped inside the dwelling?"
Lord Bayens raised a finger and a group of teenagers rushed to his side. "Tell him."
The children were quiet at first, but when the king's brother exhaled loudly, there wasn't enough air to carry the flow of their words. "She's alone," said one of them, his s's transformed into f's by the hole gaping where his front teeth should be. "She's a witch," said another. "And she steals children," said a girl. "And she eats them. Sometimes you can hear them scream in the night."
Jon raised his fist and his men rushed into the crowd of villagers. Moments later, the soldiers had scattered among the people and formed a secure line, two soldiers for every twenty people, ready to walk back to the kingdom. Jon sighed. He wanted to avoid asking because he knew the answer awaiting him, but alone he was going to die long before he could help the woman the village had abandoned.
"Who will come fight one last battle at my side?"
The thick silence hurt more than Jon had anticipated. Once, no earlier than three moons past, each man in the line would have massacred ten others for the privilege to die alongside Jon. Now, they only spared him their spit because they knew their heads would tumble off their shoulders before the phlegm left their mouths.
"I will, Commander." Aynee dismounted her impala and dragged the animal to where Jon stood.
He closed his eyes for a brief moment. "I ask that you remain with the column."
A faint smile crawled about Lord Bayens's face and a blinding rage washed over Jon.
"If you ask, Commander, I must refuse. Unless you command otherwise, I will fight with you until death or victory." She added a wicked smile and narrowed her eyes at Jon. "Whichever comes first."
Jon snapped his head in her direction, but Aynee avoided his eyes. He pressed his lips together until he felt the blood leave them. When the rage inside became manageable, he faced Lord Bayens. "My Lord, my second in command will escort you safely to the kingdom."
"Commander Silentdeath," said the king's brother, all color deserting his cheeks, his nagging smile wiped off his piggy-like face. "Trotting off to that house with only a woman is suicide. You have a duty to--"
"Serve the king and protect his people. And as you have said yourself, I have more than served him." Jon added a wide, forced smile to his comment.
"I will not let you do as you please."
"And who will stop me?" Jon rested his hand on the handle of his sword and the conversation ended at once. He may have lost the respect that a lifetime in service to the king had earned him, but at least the name Silentdeath still inspired fear.
#
When Aynee and Jon emerged at the other end of the village, he turned back and peered at the line of villagers and soldiers, snaking around a green mountain, almost out of sight where the kingdom was prosperous and peaceful. They looked like ants from where he stood. His impala shivered when her paws touched down on the warm, ash-gray soil. He stroked her back, pulled slightly on the reins, and following Aynee, brought the animal to a small gallop.
Aynee's red hair flowed behind her like a flame in the wind. She wore a leather skirt that left her legs mostly uncovered and boots that climbed up to her knees. Her bust was buried under leather armor, reinforced with darkwood splinters. Much lighter but near as strong as the heavier, metal ones. Her scabbard, shielding her precious sword, dug its way out of her right shoulder where she could easily grab it in case of need. Aynee's impala, a beautiful beast, leaped like a feline predator, her silver-gray scales reflecting the sun, blinding Jon when the light hit at the right angle. Her paws sank in the black ash and created small puffs that floated in the air before the wind scattered them.
Jon tightened his legs around his impala and she accelerated. It was still raining fire, but now Jon was used to the fireballs. When they crashed into the distant ground, Jon barely felt their shock waves. The small dwelling got closer with each leap of his impala. The smoke they had seen earlier was one that was gushing out of a chimney poking out of a straw-covered roof. Circular, jagged stones were bound with gray mortar into the walls of the house. A perfect circle of green grass surrounded the dwelling, isolated in an ocean of scorched earth. Around the dwelling, the heavens kept hurling fireballs to the earth, reddening the area where they smashed, melting the rock which then quickly faded from incandescent-orange to its normal washed-out brown.
Could there be some truth to the children's claims. Could it be that Jon was headed to his death in a futile attempt to rescue a witch who didn't seem in need? A witch who'd later dine on his and Aynee's corpses? None of it mattered. Serve and protect, he kept repeating to himself. Besides, there was no such thing as witchcraft. His grandfather used to tell him stories about wondrous wizards and witches, but that's exactly what they were--stories.
He was now galloping alongside Aynee. She looked at him and beamed with a crooked smile. It had been a long time since one of their little competitions. And so without exchanging a word, the wager was set. The first to reach the green circle ahead wins. Aynee raised her body and leaned forward, appearing to whisper something into her impala's ear. The animal's slender body, similar to that of a mountain cheetah, sprang forward. Jon smiled before caressing his impala above the head. "Come on, girl," he said, "make me proud."
#
When Jon dismounted, avoiding Aynee's victorious grin, his impala skittered away at once, happy to munch on the grass which seemed greener than in Jon's most vivid dreams. The hair standing on his neck, Jon followed Aynee's lead by drawing his sword as slowly as he could to avoid making a noise. He threw a quick look in the impalas' direction. They were busy in a silent sustenance. Each on either side of the large wooden door, Jon and Aynee approached with caution. The door burst open and Jon raised his blade. The contrast between the intense light outside and the pitch blackness inside the house prevented Jon from making out any shape that might be waiting to slaughter them. He drew back and signaled to Aynee to do the same. A small figure then appeared, inching out of the darkness. After a few moments during which Jon held his sword high, ready to strike if need be, a woman appeared. She wore a dress the color of a midday sky, so vivid that Jon refused to believe it was made of cloth. Her feet were bare and covered in a layer of dust. But however spectacular the sleeveless dress was, Jon's mouth refused to close for an entirely different reason.
"Your skin," Aynee said, voicing the incredulity inhabiting Jon's mind.
The woman smiled but did not say a word.
"How is it possible?" Wondering if it was wise, Jon sheathed his sword.
After a sideway glance, Aynee did the same.
The woman nodded. "I am the last of my kind. The last in this area of your world." She added a small frown to her nod, like she knew things Jon's couldn't fathom. Her skin was the color of the soil on a spring morning after farmers had turned it to plant crops. A deep, rich brown, full of promises and secrets and wonders.
Jon shook his head, trying to clear it. Mother always told him what a horrible thing it was to stare. "We have come to escort you inside the kingdom where you will be protected."
The woman spread her arms, showing their intact surroundings. "And we are thankful for your valorous act. But as you can see, we do not require your assistance." She made to turn back and go inside, no doubt believing all had been said, when Aynee cleared her throat.
"Are you here alone, my lady?"
Jon frowned. He was not used to hearing Aynee's voice tinted with kindness. Then again, most of the time he heard her voice screaming for blood. Mostly someone else's.
"Lady?" The woman tilted her head, as if she were studying the word, rolling it on her tongue to taste it. In the end she mustn't have cared for it, for she said: "I am no such thing. Call me Klementin. And no, I am not here alone." She turned her head to the house. "Children, come out now." She turned again, facing Aynee and Jon before adding: "we are safe."
Like droplets out of a dried out spring, the children trickled out the door. Some teenagers, but most toddlers crawling on four limbs surrounded Klementin, all looking at her as if she were their daily bread. Jon's memory jumped back to the allegations made by other children back at the village. Could it be true?
"My..." Aynee let the words die on her lips when the woman shifted her look to set it on her. "You cannot stay here." She pointed at the heavens where the sun was creeping behind the horizon and the clouds replacing it with a fiery glow. From time to time, a ball of smoking fire would dash across the skyline.
"And where would you have us go?" Klementin turned in a complete circle, studying with an exaggerated frown the blackened terrain all around. "This here is our last protection."
Jon decided to intervene. "It is true that you have had much luck, my lady," he coughed, trying to erase his slip of the tongue, "but you will not last another day."
Klementin raised an eyebrow. "Luck, is it?"
The children who had been calm until then quickly got used to Jon and Aynee and were now jumping around, playing what seemed to be their usual games as if the sky had never caught fire.
"If not luck, then what? Should we believe the villagers? Are you a witch who eats children?"
At the mention of the word witch, some of the more grown children started chuckling until a dry look from Klementin silenced them.
"Stories we spread around," she said once she noticed Aynee eying the laughing young boys and girls. "All of us here are the unwanted, abandoned, or discarded. We fend for ourselves and welcome the solitude."
Jon let out a longer breath. "I must insist. This is a very dangerous place to be."
In a swift move, he unsheathed his sword, drawing every child's attention, and pointed it at the clouds where another ball of fire had just pierced through. He followed it with the point of his sword until it met the horizon with an intense glow.
Klementin waited for the cries of wonder to die off before she spoke in a deep, ominous voice. "The world is a very dangerous place to be today. What do you think has set the sky afire?"
"We don't worry about such matters," Aynee said. "We'd rather worry about putting as much distance between us and the fire." Her cold, dry tone made it clear she was losing patience. Jon looked at her, but quickly turned away, remembering her words earlier. Unless you command otherwise...
"You can't outrun fire, my dear."
Jon made a step forward. "Perhaps you want to stay, but you can't condemn these children along with you. At least let us--"
Klementin widened her stance, as if ready to fight. Jon's first instinct was to raise his sword, but he had come here for a glorious death. Nothing about plunging his blade inside the unarmed woman's belly rhymed with glory. "My lady, we have no wish to fight you. We only ask that you hear reason."
After a few seconds during which Jon exchanged puzzled looks with Aynee, Klementin burst into laughter like a girl in the midst of her courtship. "You don't understand," she said after a while, wiping her wet cheeks. "There soon won't be anywhere to go. They will scatter in the heavens, and their wrath..." She paused and her eyes drifted upward, as if trying to reach an elusive piece of memory. "Unimaginable anger accumulated for centuries, a revenge that has been ravaging worlds and destroying civilizations, reaching everywhere but your ears--that hatred will drown the whole land. And this world will end like the others did."
Jon shivered. When he peered at Aynee, he spied a quivering hand before she tucked it behind her back. Sometime during Klementin's eerie monologue the children had fallen dead silent, which added another dark dimension to the already heavy atmosphere.
"What revenge? Whose wrath?" There was something like fury in Aynee's voice. Perhaps anger of having let a middle-aged woman scare her with mere words when hordes of men wielding axes couldn't do the trick.
"Humans are so ignorant," Klementin said, shaking her head with a disapproving furrow of her brow. "We ignore everything and focus on nothing but our little existence. There are things, my children, things that you don't and can never understand. There are worlds besides, inside, and beyond your own. And boundaries between those worlds have turned to smoke. The Fire Lords will destroy everything. They will storm through this world, leaving nothing behind, and worse, no one to turn that void into something again."
Aynee had inched closer to Jon. He wanted to reach his hand and hold hers. But if he did such a thing, she would cut off his arm with no further discussion.
"Spare me your disbelief and arguments for reason. I am done trying to warn. I only want to be one of those who stay behind, who shall build this world when the Lords have gone. As long as I live, nothing shall happen to these children who have entrusted their lives to me. If you wish to stay, I could use your strength. But if you want to leave, you will have to do so alone."
Klementin spread her legs further, lowering her upper body until her knee caps stood at the corners of straight angles. She brought her arms closer to her torso and joined the palms as she closed her eyes. After the barely disguised threat Klementin had uttered, Jon assumed her position could only be a fighting stance that he did not recognize. Aynee seemed as confused as he. A small wind rose around them and his muscles tensed. Before he realized what was happening, Jon was trapped inside his own body. He couldn't move to save his life.
As if inside a dream, Jon felt his body turn, his field of vision scrolling to the right until Aynee appeared in the center. The effect stopped as suddenly as it had started. Aynee, wide-eyed, nostrils flaring, and apparently as paralyzed as Jon himself, was boiling with rage a few steps from him. Then she hovered over the ground. Like a flake of ash above stirred charcoal, she floated out of visibility. And then Jon's stomach tightened and the ground dissolved under him. And he too was drifting upward, heading toward Aynee. Anticipating a clash, he closed his eyes. But as delicately as a leaf does on the surface of a lake, his forehead came to rest against Aynee's. When they both opened their eyes at the same time, Jon wished he could feel her nose against his forever, but his eyelids grew heavy and he fell into slumber.
#
Jon dreamed of Tristan. Terribly tragic Tristan. When he awoke, Jon sighed and pushed the thought of his brother aside. He rolled on the bed, ready to jump out and assess the situation, but froze instead. Klementin sat on a chair, lurking over him as if she wanted to whisper something into his ear. At once, he retracted to the other end of the bed. "What are you doing?"
Her eyes were closed and she only opened them after she started speaking. "There's a good chance you may stay with us."
"No, there is not. We are leaving right now, witch."
Klementin shook her head when Jon cursed at her, the way a mother would at a stubborn child. "It is night and your impalas are tired," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. Jon fluttered his head in all directions, searching for his weapons.
"Looking for this?"
The sword, still shielded in its black scabbard, laid in Klementin's lap where Jon could have sworn there was nothing before. She handed it to him.
"Why did you attack us?"
"I needed to know your intentions. Your friend was getting agitated. No time to use words... There are so many reasons for what I did, but what I did not was attack you."
Jon opened his mouth to argue, but he scrutinized his body first. He was lying in a bed with immaculate linen which smelled of wild herbs and flowers; he was wearing washed clothes and the skin on his face was smooth and clean; and above all, he didn't remember feeling this rested since the whole affair with the queen. When he looked up, Klementin was smiling at him. A gentle smile, an understanding smile, a motherly smile. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't guess at Klementin's age. She wasn't a girl or a young woman, but he couldn't bring himself to call her old either--not even in his own head.
"You are a good man, Jon Silentdeath. It's a pity they gave you such an ugly name."
"I chose it, Lady." Jon didn't see the point in asking how she knew his name. "And most men in the kingdom would argue about my being a good--"
"But you and I are not those men, are we?" She narrowed her eyes at him.
Jon nodded. He took the hand she was extending toward him, and she hauled him up with no apparent effort. Once up, he saw that his bed was one among dozens others. Children, from babies to young men and women about to enter adulthood were sleeping tight. Some were snoring loudly while others lay so still one could have thought them dead. Klementin spread a greedy, loving look over them and guided Jon toward another room. In the new room, an open space in the wall showed the outside of the house where Aynee was walking from one end of the green patch -- where the impalas were tied -- to the other. Jon tilted his head toward the sky. Still far away, but much closer than earlier, a fiery rain still washed the land.
"I woke her up first," Klementin said. "After our talk, she insisted on keeping watch."
Jon smiled. "It's what she does best. Part of why I'm still alive."
Klementin kept her stare on Aynee's silhouette, the corners of her mouth curling into a sad smile. "She has known much suffering, has she not?"
Jon looked at Klementin, but she refused to take her eyes off Aynee. "She has."
Silence blanketed them, with only the tremors of the earth to disrupt it, like a rock tumbling down a faraway mountain. Klementin was about to say something when Jon opened his mouth. He laid out his hand, offering her to go first, but she insisted he speaks.
"What is going on? Who are you? I know there is no such thing as witchcraft, but I cannot explain the things I see, the things you do, or even you. Brown people like you do not exist."
"Oh, but we do, Jon Silentdeath, even here in your world. My kin live farther than you could reach on the back of your fastest impalas if you spent a lifetime at it."
Jon scratched what he believed to be his bristly beard only to find smooth skin. He massaged his jaw instead. "What does that mean, my world?"
"There are many a world like this one, Jon Silentdeath. Each has its own rules. Some have the Power -- what you call magic -- and many don't. Others have it but in limited amount." She finally turned her eyes away from Aynee outside and set them on Jon. "All worlds only have one thing in common, the Fire Lords. They are what give a world its power. They are what keep the inside of the land warm, give the soil its fertility -- they are the reason a world lives."
"But I thought they were bad."
"They are capricious beings. Their rage and hatred one kind for the other is what keeps their war going. You see, Jon Silentdeath, in the beginning of time, when the Land was growing cold, powerful mages created two kinds of Fire Lords. They distilled unspeakable hatred inside them and cast them to the depths of the earth to spit their fire in an eternal battle."
"To keep the land warm?"
"To keep us alive."
"And what happened?"
"No one knows. Some say the descendants of the original mages realized the inside of the world had grown hot enough and freed the Lords. Others say that just as the cohesion of the first world weakened to create innumerable other versions, the prison holding the Lords weakened to the point where they could escape. And I believe that their hatred for us who imprisoned them for eons has surpassed that which they harbor for each other."
Jon couldn't believe what he was hearing. But why would Klementin lie? And all that he had witnessed... "What about your world?"
"It happened fast. We had legions, best wielders of the Power, trained since their childhoods for the return of the Lords. Yet our world was consumed in less than three moons."
Jon shook his head. This had to be a nightmare. "And you knew about them?"
"Most worlds do."
"We don't."
"Because this is the last world. Beyond yours, there's only the Black Emptiness, where the Lords will hopefully meet their demise."
John sighed. "Why are you still alive?"
Klementin glanced out the window at Aynee before riveting her look back on Jon. "Because my partner, the most powerful wielder of our world, who spent his life training the legion I told you about, loved me with a love that knows no boundaries. Because I love every child sleeping there," she spared a furtive look to the room they had left, "with the same love."
Jon opened his mouth to ask what that had to do with her survival, but Klementin was quicker. "And we will survive because we now have the two of you." She smacked her hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently, surprising Jon with the strength in her fingers. "Go to her. There is no weakness in affection, Jon Silentdeath. And no guilt should be had for requited lust. But there is cowardice in running away from words. Tell her everything."
#
There was a clear spot in the sky where the fiery clouds seemed to make way for the empty vastness of the night sky, a perfect circle above Klementin's house. Stars shone, precious stones stuck on a black veil. Jon stood behind the door, his head tilted back, mesmerized by the tiny lights. A few steps away, sitting on the grass with her sword next to her, Aynee also gaped at the heavens. Jon tip-toed to where she sat.
"I still have a few hours on my watch," she said.
Jon shook his head. He wondered what had made him think he could sneak up on her. She was as alert as a mountain fox, even when asleep -- especially when asleep.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" She set her eyes on him. Her hair framed her face and rested on her shoulders.
Jon nodded. "Stunning." He joined her on the ground, facing her, turning his back on the void of night. He wasn't worried about the blind spot he created by doing so. Not with Aynee around. To further rely on her skills, he set his sword between them, where it would be hard to reach should an assailant come from behind. They stared at each other for a while.
"Do you remember the promise I made when I started training you?" Jon asked.
Aynee shifted her shoulders and looked away. "Yes, Commander, I remember."
"What did I swear on my life?"
She stayed silent and when Jon was about to repeat, she said: "You promised you would never command me."
"And why did I say that?"
She jerked her head in his direction, her lips pressed so tightly together they were a bloodless, white line. "Commander..."
"Answer me."
"You know why."
"But do you?"
She was silent for a while longer. "I attacked one of your men when he tried to command me."
"But we had just rescued you." Jon would never forget the dozens of girls they had found inside that terrible house. They had only come across it because his impala had wondered off, looking for water on a particularly dry day.
"Commander, please. I don't want to think about it."
Jon understood. Ten years they had fought side by side, and not once had he felt the need to dig up that particular past. But her earlier words still simmered inside his mind.
"I saw what they did to you. And the way you reacted when Oreg told you to fetch him some water -- which was a perfectly reasonable command for someone who had just saved your life." Aynee did not speak. "Do you remember what you told me when I denied him permission to beat you, when I told him to let me do the honors?"
"You know that I can never forget those words, Commander. If this is about what I said back at the village, I was angry because you refused--"
"Just tell me what you said." She remained silent. Jon smiled with a furious satisfaction. "Or do you want me to command this to you as well?"
Aynee gritted her teeth and flared her nostrils. "I said you could beat me every day for the rest of my life, but I'd rather die than let a man give me another command."
"And what did I--"
"You swore you would not do that... for as long as you lived." Her voice shook and she looked away again. And this time she kept her face hidden, staring into the blackness around them.
"I have searched for the reason you could say such words to me when you know what a promise means to me. And though it eluded me for a while, in the end I think I understand." He exhaled and broke in a brief chuckle before he continued. "I have been stripped of my honor. I am just a man now. You wonder if, for all these years, I have been lying to you. You think I will abuse your trust if given the opportunity." Jon was glad Aynee was looking away, because he could not bear for her to see the emotions painted on his face as he pictured himself the way she must see him. He waited for her to react. Only silence and an occasional roar in the sky echoed his words. A fireball fell form the heavens and trailed an orange tail until it hit the ground a few leagues way. The ground shook, the impalas shifted in their sleep, and still Aynee said nothing. Upon closer inspection, Jon saw her shoulders tremble. He leaned in further, first thinking she was crying -- a sight to behold -- only to realize she was laughing. White-hot rage invaded him and he sprang to his feet.
"Commander, please. It is just that out of what you just said, there is not even one shred of truth." She burst into an all-out laughter, clawing at her stomach with both hands, tears welling up in her eyes.
Seeing Aynee so joyful, Jon quickly lost his anger and sat back. "It is not a laughing matter," he said with a smile of his own.
"It is, Commander." Her laugh died off and she turned serious and Jon was almost sorry for that. "Stripped of your honor? You fucked the queen." She shook her head, her orange locks swirling around her head. "So what? The men who branded you honor-less do not know what the word means. In my eyes, it would require all of them to amount to one of you."
It took a few shallow breaths for Jon to find his voice. "But it's immoral. She is not mine, she--"
"She does not belong to anyone. She spread her legs for you, did she not? You did not force yourself into her." The silence grew thicker until at last, Aynee sighed and said: "It is as unjust as it is naive to blame someone for love. When it is a case of the heart, Commander, it matters not whether man or woman--we are equal fools."
Jon smiled, tilting his head down so she wouldn't notice. "Then, if you do not resent me for that, why curse me to break an oath I made to you? Why spit on our bond, the only thing..." He could not finish his sentence so he let it trail, knowing she had grasped his meaning.
Aynee got to her knees, picked up her sword, and jumped to her feet. "It is very simple, Commander," she said, beaming with a smile that did not much look like one, "it was the only way you would let me come along."
Jon took the hand she was extending to help him up. "But why want to come? I have nothing to lose. If we get back to the kingdom, my head will fall no matter what. But you..."
A shadow of sadness wrapped Aynee's face for an instant before she chased it with a shake of her head. "That, Jon, is also very simple. I am a fool."
She turned and headed for the door. Jon tried to decipher her meaning, the squinted eyes when she said the last word, the smile that followed, half-chagrined and half-proud, but he could not make sense of it. Klementin's words seeped into his mind like rain in the fibers of his clothes. Tell her everything. Besides, in the whole world or in all the others if they existed, there was no one; no one for whom Jon cared enough to tell the truth. No one but Aynee.
"Aynee!"
Her footsteps died and she half-turned her head in his direction.
"It was for love that I lost my honor--but not love for that heartless bitch of a queen."
Aynee did not move, only closed her eyes for an instant, as if she were examining his words. "You and the queen--"
"Never happened. A man was seen leaving her chambers. I was tasked with the investigation." He smiled because it felt good to let it out. "Tristan."
She nodded again, biting her lower lip, as if punishing herself for not figuring it out herself. "That idiot. Does he love her?"
"Madly."
"Her?"
Jon turned away from Aynee, tilted his head back, and stared at the stars again. Some of them shone a pale green light, reminding him of Aynee's eyes. "I have no idea," he whispered. "What do I know about love?"
#
After Aynee had vanished behind the door and clouds veiled the stars away from Jon, he started pacing around the house, walking along the perfect line delimiting scorched earth and evergreen blades of grass. The balls of fire had multiplied and their blasts resonated more strongly, but one had yet to land inside the protected perimeter. Dawn found him swimming in dark thoughts about his brother and the royal couple. When the ground shook more violently and a sudden burst of orange heat sent Jon crashing on his behind, he understood what Klementin had meant before; the storm was now breaking. He heard the door open and footsteps race toward him. Probably Aynee. Jon's eyes were riveted on the space between him and a scarlet sky. There was a shimmering light that seemed to form a barely visible barrier. Jon followed the path traced by the thin layer and noticed it looked like a bubble enclosing the house-- own to the rainbow-shaded surface. Where the bubble ended, the earth beyond was now liquid. Thousands and thousands of balls hurled down and crashed into the ground, sinking in the molten earth like a stone would in a lake. Klementin's house was but a tiny island in the middle of a raging, fiery sea.
"What is this madness?" Aynee helped Jon to his feet and together they stared at the unbelievable scene before their eyes.
Mountains eroded into an ocean and everything as far as Jon's eyes could see turned to a shade of orange. Only the inside of the bubble, Klementin's house and the small garden around it, stayed shielded as if they stood behind a barrier of magic. Klementin came out of the house. She was followed by the most daring children while the others whimpered inside where Jon half-wanted to join them. Those who followed Klementin hung at her side as if their lives depended on it. The youngest, those still untainted by the claim of pride, even reached their hands to clutch at something of hers--her hand if available, a piece of clothing as a last resort. Jon squinted when he turned his eyes back toward the outside.
"This is what the entire world will look like when the Fire Lords are finished with it."
"Isn't there something you can do?" Aynee asked.
Klementin raised her eyebrows. "This is beyond me."
"But you have magic," Aynee insisted, taking one step toward Klementin.
"The Power is awarded to us in various forms, my dear child. No matter who you are or what you choose to do with your Power, there are tasks that simply cannot be accomplished by a certain form of it."
"Can you do something or not?" Jon asked, frustrated by Klementin's vague replies.
"I wish I could explain it better, but in short I cannot."
Aynee sighed heavily. She took her sword out of her scabbard and flipped the blade between her hands. Reflected against the blade, streaks of reddish light danced on her face. A lump settled inside Jon’s throat. He wished he had commanded her to leave after all. But would she really be safe if she were back in the kingdom?
"The kingdom has fallen by now," Klementin said, her stare set on Jon as if she were reading his mind.
"Will your magic hold?" There, he had said it. Magic. Such a small word, such endless possibilities.
Klementin smiled the way an opponent would after a decisive move in a strategic game. "As I have said, there are many forms of what you call magic. Each wielder draws his or her strength from something. Sometimes an idea and sometimes a person."
"Will it hold?" Aynee repeated, returning her sword to its scabbard. Jon clenched his fists. Seeing resignation painted on Aynee's face hurt more than he thought it possible.
Klementin ignored Aynee's question as well as her impatient tone. "My Power is most strong when I use it to protect. I can heal at a decent rate, but I waste much energy and yield little result. But to protect, I can do most anything." She spread her arms and showed them the barrier, which sparkled even more when balls of fire struck it and bounced off to die in the ocean of liquid fire.
"Does this mean it will hold?" Jon asked once more.
"No."
"Then why the speech?" Aynee's teeth were clenched together as she said those words, narrowing her eyes at Klementin.
The witch with a brown skin shook her head, a little smile dancing on her lips. "You must understand why and how it works. I cannot hold the barrier against the full wrath of the Lords. But you can."
Aynee opened her mouth, but at first no word came forth. "Me?"
"No."
"Me?" Jon asked, hitting his fist against his heart.
"You both."
Before Jon could inquire about Klementin's meaning, sounds of thunder breaking in the near sky claimed his attention. When he looked, he wished he could wake up, somewhere, anywhere--even that time when Aynee had thrust her foot in his ribs to tell him that a dozen barbarians had circled them, waging him three meals that she could kill more than he. But when he closed and opened his eyes, the same sight inundated his field of vision. The sweet light of dawn had vanished, swallowed by thick, black smoke posing as clouds. And every now and then, much like the jumping fish Jon liked to look at when he was a boy, creatures splashed out of the clouds, dove toward the glowing earth, and spat out something black before expanding huge, membranous wings and soaring back behind the smoky clouds. The black projectile, spheres of sorts dashed toward the ground first trailing a tail of smoke then bursting into flames.
"What are those?" Aynee asked.
Jon bit his lips. "The Fire Lords."
"Exactly," Klementin agreed.
As Jon was about to ask how they could possibly fight such an enemy on a ground where they would burn before sinking, two creatures broke out of the cloud and charged at the bubble. Along the way, they spat those impala-sized stones at the barrier. As the projectiles hit the barrier, terrible quakes forced everyone to crouch closer to the grass. Between two such impacts, Jon managed to peek at one of the creatures. It looked like a lizard -- a hundred times bigger. Its body was covered in what looked like black thorns, and as it opened its mouth, Jon glanced at a rim of sharp, arm-sized teeth before another sphere rushed out. The beast fluttered its wings, gray membranes stretched between long bones, and shot into the sky, two long tails winding in its wake. The claws on each of its six legs scraped against the barrier as it stormed by, producing a sound unlike anything Jon had ever heard, mixture of a man undergoing torture and the clash of swords during battle. And when it roared, Jon now understood why he hadn't seen any lightning before what he had taken for thunder.
Klementin's face decomposed. "This is what I feared."
"This cannot be happening," Aynee said, her eyes as wide as those of a person losing her mind.
"They have grown aware of our presence."
"We are the only thing that has not burned or melted," Jon said. "Why does it surprise you?"
"Because my barrier should have protected us from their senses. But they are far too many and powerful for me."
Jon remembered her statement moments before. "You said that Aynee and I could defeat them. How?" He drew his sword and pressed his lips together. He had come here intending to die after all.
"This is not the time for weapons and violence, Jon Silentdeath. Put your sword away."
With a confused look, Jon obeyed.
"How can we fight without our weapons?" Aynee asked, echoing the frustration inside Jon's mind.
"Neither of you asked where I draw my Power."
"I suppose we had other things in mind." With that, Aynee ducked closer to the ground as another ball smashed against the barrier and washed it with flames. For an instant, it looked as though the whole exterior world was fire alone. In the back, still tied to the walls, the impalas recoiled against the walls of the house, shuddering with fear.
Seeing Klementin remain silent, Jon sighed. "Where do you draw your magic?"
"From love."
A longer silence hung in the air. Jon looked at Aynee to see if he had misunderstood, but she seemed equally unsure.
"My partner trained me in the arts of wielding. His love made me strong and while he was still alive I kept our village safe from the Fire Lords. But when he died..." Her voice broke down and tears welled up in her eyes. "I could not hold a barrier that big. So the elders told me to cross worlds and keep going until I came upon love once more, for they knew that was the secret to my power."
"Did you find it again?"
"I found the children. I loved them and they loved me and I took them into the next world, hoping that if I found enough of them and loved them it would be enough to stand against the Lords until they left."
"Did it work?"
Klementin shook her head. "We always ended up collecting what we could and crossing on to the next world. But this is the last. And though I would give my life for any one of these children, it is not enough to hold the Lords at bay."
For another short moment, there was nothing but the sound of flames whipping the air, reducing everything to ash or lava.
"What do you want from us?" Aynee asked.
"I want what you have but refuse to give. I want the only thing that can save us all and help us rebuild after the Lords have gone. I want your love."
"Then take it," Jon said, anchoring his feet in the soft earth, wondering how much of the heat he would feel before the orange waves splashing against the barrier like water on a jagged shore consumed him.
"You do not take love, John Silentdeath. It is given. It is accepted."
Jon looked at Aynee, fearing he understood where Klementin was headed. Their eyes met briefly, but Aynee darted hers away at once. Jon turned toward Klementin and opened his mouth to protest.
"Spare me your denials. There is nothing to fear in love. It is the purest of Power, of magic if you will. You do not realize the blessing you are ignoring. You cannot imagine what price I would pay to hold mine once more." Klementin said those words in a calm voice, hugging the children around her in a tighter embrace, the tears in her eyes finally breaking free to roll on her cheeks.
Jon looked at Aynee again. She was looking away from him. His heart raced inside his chest and everything but Aynee seemed to fade away. He took one step toward her and she coiled back. Or did she? He froze. He remembered her look when he had rescued her on the day of his first command. Desperation and hatred and hopelessness. With a sharp pain inside his chest, he pictured her mutilated, naked body. A body she did not care to cover anymore. He remembered the way her eyes had met his as he blanketed her with his cloak. And the years it had taken for those eyes to light up again. The years before she stopped throwing herself at anything that could kill her. He wanted to believe that his protection and friendship had amounted to something in that progress. That when he had sworn never to command her, refusing Oreg the right to touch her even as his command was still new and shaky, showing her that he was his own man--he wanted to believe that all that accounted for some of who she was now. He could not let her see him as one of those savages he had slaughtered on that dreadful day, a monster praying on her flesh. Once more he turned toward Klementin, decided to deny her--but she spoke first. "No one can guess at what is in another's heart."
Jon's palms were sweating now. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He took yet another step in Aynee's direction with his eyes closed. This close, she could slay him before he spoke one word of apology. It was as good a way to go as any. Better, in fact, than what awaited them if he did nothing. When he opened his eyes, something cold plunged into his stomach. He thought Aynee had jammed her dagger inside him. But it was the shock of seeing her lock eyes with him and her trembling lips set into a smile. Out of the corners of his eyes, Jon saw thousands of the creatures, flying lizards, Fire Lords, or whatever they were, rushing for the shimmering bubble in the midst of hell. And he didn't care. He raised his hand and cupped Aynee's face. She covered it with her own, tilted her head to press it against his palm, and closed her eyes.
Jon took one final step. Aynee's breasts now pressed against his chest when she exhaled. As the lizards targeted the bubble with a continuous blast of exploding stones, Aynee leaned in closer, and Jon's heart stopped. For a moment. And he was where he was supposed to be. And the kingdom, Tristan's foolishness, or his lost honor did not matter. When Klementin spoke, her voice was cheerful despite the seemingly inextinguishable fire that had swallowed the bubble.
"Do not cry, my children," she whispered, "we will rebuild it all."
Jon sank his heels into his impala's sides. "Let's go!" he shouted and all one hundred of his men followed him down the mountain.
Under the heavy paws of the galloping impalas, the ground shook anew. Hopefully they weren't too late. This was Jon’s last chance to die with peace. He clenched his jaws as a shiver ran through the scales of his impala. Perhaps he should have stayed inside the kingdom after all. Perhaps he should have accepted his dark fate. One blow and his head would have rolled away. An unmarked grave for the undeserving bastard he was. But he had sworn an oath to the king, and more importantly, to the people. Serve and protect. He had served all his worth. If only, for one last time -- even while embracing Death herself in a final dreaded dance, he could fulfill his duty, the basis for his entire life. Protect.
#
When they neared the village's gates, everyone was gathered outside. Lord Bayens, the king's brother, was already seated on his throne, four bulky slaves sitting nearby, ready to lift him in the air. Jon exchanged a quick look with Aynee before dismounting his impala and marching toward Lord Bayens. Two guards covered in thick and shiny armor jumped in his path. Jon smiled. "I have come to lend assistance."
He wanted to add that if he wanted them dead, it would be a matter of positioning his body where their constrained limbs could not reach. Yet he did not. Lord Bayens, a fat man with a bald head and a beard thick enough to compensate for the lack of hair, slowly rose from his seat. He walked toward Jon and stood behind his guards.
He moisturized his lips, repeatedly running his tongue over them. "Tell me, Commander, is my brother's bride as sweet as she looks?"
Jon ignored him. Instead, he glanced over the crowd, estimating how many people were gathered before him, how many were too weak to walk, and of those rare able how many could carry enough to spare the impalas. As he was finishing up the head-count, something in the far distance, beyond the far limits of the village, caught his eye.
"My Lord, why is there smoke rising from that dwelling?" Jon pointed to a small house at the base of a black mountain. Other, thicker columns of smoke swayed toward the sky as if the land was covered in tiny volcanoes, but the smaller, white trail was what intrigued Jon.
"Do not concern yourself with that, Commander." Lord Bayens made a waving gesture with his hand. "The only people you need to worry about are accounted for."
Jon glanced at his soldiers behind him. He nodded to his lieutenant, seeking support, but the man ignored him. No surprise there. Honor was everything to these men and Jon had lost his when he had confessed his crimes. All he could do now was his duty, distribute the villagers in small groups with a fair amount of weak walkers in each, load the disabled on impalas, and head back home to the kingdom, to safety for all and a swift death for him.
"With all due respect, my Lord, it is the people I have sworn to protect. It seems to me there is still at least one person in there." Once more, Jon nodded toward the dwelling with a beige roof.
Lord Bayens cursed under his breath. "It's nothing, Commander. It's too late for her. It might take you a day to get there, if the ground doesn't melt under your feet. All for what?"
"People said we shouldn't come get you," Jon replied calmly. "They said the fires would swallow us before we reached you. Aren't you glad we did not heed their warnings?"
"But my brother sent you. If it were up to you, I'm sure you would still have his wife's legs entwined around your waist."
The words stung, but Jon remained calm. "Either way, my Lord, I decide when a situation is hopeless. How many people are trapped inside the dwelling?"
Lord Bayens raised a finger and a group of teenagers rushed to his side. "Tell him."
The children were quiet at first, but when the king's brother exhaled loudly, there wasn't enough air to carry the flow of their words. "She's alone," said one of them, his s's transformed into f's by the hole gaping where his front teeth should be. "She's a witch," said another. "And she steals children," said a girl. "And she eats them. Sometimes you can hear them scream in the night."
Jon raised his fist and his men rushed into the crowd of villagers. Moments later, the soldiers had scattered among the people and formed a secure line, two soldiers for every twenty people, ready to walk back to the kingdom. Jon sighed. He wanted to avoid asking because he knew the answer awaiting him, but alone he was going to die long before he could help the woman the village had abandoned.
"Who will come fight one last battle at my side?"
The thick silence hurt more than Jon had anticipated. Once, no earlier than three moons past, each man in the line would have massacred ten others for the privilege to die alongside Jon. Now, they only spared him their spit because they knew their heads would tumble off their shoulders before the phlegm left their mouths.
"I will, Commander." Aynee dismounted her impala and dragged the animal to where Jon stood.
He closed his eyes for a brief moment. "I ask that you remain with the column."
A faint smile crawled about Lord Bayens's face and a blinding rage washed over Jon.
"If you ask, Commander, I must refuse. Unless you command otherwise, I will fight with you until death or victory." She added a wicked smile and narrowed her eyes at Jon. "Whichever comes first."
Jon snapped his head in her direction, but Aynee avoided his eyes. He pressed his lips together until he felt the blood leave them. When the rage inside became manageable, he faced Lord Bayens. "My Lord, my second in command will escort you safely to the kingdom."
"Commander Silentdeath," said the king's brother, all color deserting his cheeks, his nagging smile wiped off his piggy-like face. "Trotting off to that house with only a woman is suicide. You have a duty to--"
"Serve the king and protect his people. And as you have said yourself, I have more than served him." Jon added a wide, forced smile to his comment.
"I will not let you do as you please."
"And who will stop me?" Jon rested his hand on the handle of his sword and the conversation ended at once. He may have lost the respect that a lifetime in service to the king had earned him, but at least the name Silentdeath still inspired fear.
#
When Aynee and Jon emerged at the other end of the village, he turned back and peered at the line of villagers and soldiers, snaking around a green mountain, almost out of sight where the kingdom was prosperous and peaceful. They looked like ants from where he stood. His impala shivered when her paws touched down on the warm, ash-gray soil. He stroked her back, pulled slightly on the reins, and following Aynee, brought the animal to a small gallop.
Aynee's red hair flowed behind her like a flame in the wind. She wore a leather skirt that left her legs mostly uncovered and boots that climbed up to her knees. Her bust was buried under leather armor, reinforced with darkwood splinters. Much lighter but near as strong as the heavier, metal ones. Her scabbard, shielding her precious sword, dug its way out of her right shoulder where she could easily grab it in case of need. Aynee's impala, a beautiful beast, leaped like a feline predator, her silver-gray scales reflecting the sun, blinding Jon when the light hit at the right angle. Her paws sank in the black ash and created small puffs that floated in the air before the wind scattered them.
Jon tightened his legs around his impala and she accelerated. It was still raining fire, but now Jon was used to the fireballs. When they crashed into the distant ground, Jon barely felt their shock waves. The small dwelling got closer with each leap of his impala. The smoke they had seen earlier was one that was gushing out of a chimney poking out of a straw-covered roof. Circular, jagged stones were bound with gray mortar into the walls of the house. A perfect circle of green grass surrounded the dwelling, isolated in an ocean of scorched earth. Around the dwelling, the heavens kept hurling fireballs to the earth, reddening the area where they smashed, melting the rock which then quickly faded from incandescent-orange to its normal washed-out brown.
Could there be some truth to the children's claims. Could it be that Jon was headed to his death in a futile attempt to rescue a witch who didn't seem in need? A witch who'd later dine on his and Aynee's corpses? None of it mattered. Serve and protect, he kept repeating to himself. Besides, there was no such thing as witchcraft. His grandfather used to tell him stories about wondrous wizards and witches, but that's exactly what they were--stories.
He was now galloping alongside Aynee. She looked at him and beamed with a crooked smile. It had been a long time since one of their little competitions. And so without exchanging a word, the wager was set. The first to reach the green circle ahead wins. Aynee raised her body and leaned forward, appearing to whisper something into her impala's ear. The animal's slender body, similar to that of a mountain cheetah, sprang forward. Jon smiled before caressing his impala above the head. "Come on, girl," he said, "make me proud."
#
When Jon dismounted, avoiding Aynee's victorious grin, his impala skittered away at once, happy to munch on the grass which seemed greener than in Jon's most vivid dreams. The hair standing on his neck, Jon followed Aynee's lead by drawing his sword as slowly as he could to avoid making a noise. He threw a quick look in the impalas' direction. They were busy in a silent sustenance. Each on either side of the large wooden door, Jon and Aynee approached with caution. The door burst open and Jon raised his blade. The contrast between the intense light outside and the pitch blackness inside the house prevented Jon from making out any shape that might be waiting to slaughter them. He drew back and signaled to Aynee to do the same. A small figure then appeared, inching out of the darkness. After a few moments during which Jon held his sword high, ready to strike if need be, a woman appeared. She wore a dress the color of a midday sky, so vivid that Jon refused to believe it was made of cloth. Her feet were bare and covered in a layer of dust. But however spectacular the sleeveless dress was, Jon's mouth refused to close for an entirely different reason.
"Your skin," Aynee said, voicing the incredulity inhabiting Jon's mind.
The woman smiled but did not say a word.
"How is it possible?" Wondering if it was wise, Jon sheathed his sword.
After a sideway glance, Aynee did the same.
The woman nodded. "I am the last of my kind. The last in this area of your world." She added a small frown to her nod, like she knew things Jon's couldn't fathom. Her skin was the color of the soil on a spring morning after farmers had turned it to plant crops. A deep, rich brown, full of promises and secrets and wonders.
Jon shook his head, trying to clear it. Mother always told him what a horrible thing it was to stare. "We have come to escort you inside the kingdom where you will be protected."
The woman spread her arms, showing their intact surroundings. "And we are thankful for your valorous act. But as you can see, we do not require your assistance." She made to turn back and go inside, no doubt believing all had been said, when Aynee cleared her throat.
"Are you here alone, my lady?"
Jon frowned. He was not used to hearing Aynee's voice tinted with kindness. Then again, most of the time he heard her voice screaming for blood. Mostly someone else's.
"Lady?" The woman tilted her head, as if she were studying the word, rolling it on her tongue to taste it. In the end she mustn't have cared for it, for she said: "I am no such thing. Call me Klementin. And no, I am not here alone." She turned her head to the house. "Children, come out now." She turned again, facing Aynee and Jon before adding: "we are safe."
Like droplets out of a dried out spring, the children trickled out the door. Some teenagers, but most toddlers crawling on four limbs surrounded Klementin, all looking at her as if she were their daily bread. Jon's memory jumped back to the allegations made by other children back at the village. Could it be true?
"My..." Aynee let the words die on her lips when the woman shifted her look to set it on her. "You cannot stay here." She pointed at the heavens where the sun was creeping behind the horizon and the clouds replacing it with a fiery glow. From time to time, a ball of smoking fire would dash across the skyline.
"And where would you have us go?" Klementin turned in a complete circle, studying with an exaggerated frown the blackened terrain all around. "This here is our last protection."
Jon decided to intervene. "It is true that you have had much luck, my lady," he coughed, trying to erase his slip of the tongue, "but you will not last another day."
Klementin raised an eyebrow. "Luck, is it?"
The children who had been calm until then quickly got used to Jon and Aynee and were now jumping around, playing what seemed to be their usual games as if the sky had never caught fire.
"If not luck, then what? Should we believe the villagers? Are you a witch who eats children?"
At the mention of the word witch, some of the more grown children started chuckling until a dry look from Klementin silenced them.
"Stories we spread around," she said once she noticed Aynee eying the laughing young boys and girls. "All of us here are the unwanted, abandoned, or discarded. We fend for ourselves and welcome the solitude."
Jon let out a longer breath. "I must insist. This is a very dangerous place to be."
In a swift move, he unsheathed his sword, drawing every child's attention, and pointed it at the clouds where another ball of fire had just pierced through. He followed it with the point of his sword until it met the horizon with an intense glow.
Klementin waited for the cries of wonder to die off before she spoke in a deep, ominous voice. "The world is a very dangerous place to be today. What do you think has set the sky afire?"
"We don't worry about such matters," Aynee said. "We'd rather worry about putting as much distance between us and the fire." Her cold, dry tone made it clear she was losing patience. Jon looked at her, but quickly turned away, remembering her words earlier. Unless you command otherwise...
"You can't outrun fire, my dear."
Jon made a step forward. "Perhaps you want to stay, but you can't condemn these children along with you. At least let us--"
Klementin widened her stance, as if ready to fight. Jon's first instinct was to raise his sword, but he had come here for a glorious death. Nothing about plunging his blade inside the unarmed woman's belly rhymed with glory. "My lady, we have no wish to fight you. We only ask that you hear reason."
After a few seconds during which Jon exchanged puzzled looks with Aynee, Klementin burst into laughter like a girl in the midst of her courtship. "You don't understand," she said after a while, wiping her wet cheeks. "There soon won't be anywhere to go. They will scatter in the heavens, and their wrath..." She paused and her eyes drifted upward, as if trying to reach an elusive piece of memory. "Unimaginable anger accumulated for centuries, a revenge that has been ravaging worlds and destroying civilizations, reaching everywhere but your ears--that hatred will drown the whole land. And this world will end like the others did."
Jon shivered. When he peered at Aynee, he spied a quivering hand before she tucked it behind her back. Sometime during Klementin's eerie monologue the children had fallen dead silent, which added another dark dimension to the already heavy atmosphere.
"What revenge? Whose wrath?" There was something like fury in Aynee's voice. Perhaps anger of having let a middle-aged woman scare her with mere words when hordes of men wielding axes couldn't do the trick.
"Humans are so ignorant," Klementin said, shaking her head with a disapproving furrow of her brow. "We ignore everything and focus on nothing but our little existence. There are things, my children, things that you don't and can never understand. There are worlds besides, inside, and beyond your own. And boundaries between those worlds have turned to smoke. The Fire Lords will destroy everything. They will storm through this world, leaving nothing behind, and worse, no one to turn that void into something again."
Aynee had inched closer to Jon. He wanted to reach his hand and hold hers. But if he did such a thing, she would cut off his arm with no further discussion.
"Spare me your disbelief and arguments for reason. I am done trying to warn. I only want to be one of those who stay behind, who shall build this world when the Lords have gone. As long as I live, nothing shall happen to these children who have entrusted their lives to me. If you wish to stay, I could use your strength. But if you want to leave, you will have to do so alone."
Klementin spread her legs further, lowering her upper body until her knee caps stood at the corners of straight angles. She brought her arms closer to her torso and joined the palms as she closed her eyes. After the barely disguised threat Klementin had uttered, Jon assumed her position could only be a fighting stance that he did not recognize. Aynee seemed as confused as he. A small wind rose around them and his muscles tensed. Before he realized what was happening, Jon was trapped inside his own body. He couldn't move to save his life.
As if inside a dream, Jon felt his body turn, his field of vision scrolling to the right until Aynee appeared in the center. The effect stopped as suddenly as it had started. Aynee, wide-eyed, nostrils flaring, and apparently as paralyzed as Jon himself, was boiling with rage a few steps from him. Then she hovered over the ground. Like a flake of ash above stirred charcoal, she floated out of visibility. And then Jon's stomach tightened and the ground dissolved under him. And he too was drifting upward, heading toward Aynee. Anticipating a clash, he closed his eyes. But as delicately as a leaf does on the surface of a lake, his forehead came to rest against Aynee's. When they both opened their eyes at the same time, Jon wished he could feel her nose against his forever, but his eyelids grew heavy and he fell into slumber.
#
Jon dreamed of Tristan. Terribly tragic Tristan. When he awoke, Jon sighed and pushed the thought of his brother aside. He rolled on the bed, ready to jump out and assess the situation, but froze instead. Klementin sat on a chair, lurking over him as if she wanted to whisper something into his ear. At once, he retracted to the other end of the bed. "What are you doing?"
Her eyes were closed and she only opened them after she started speaking. "There's a good chance you may stay with us."
"No, there is not. We are leaving right now, witch."
Klementin shook her head when Jon cursed at her, the way a mother would at a stubborn child. "It is night and your impalas are tired," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. Jon fluttered his head in all directions, searching for his weapons.
"Looking for this?"
The sword, still shielded in its black scabbard, laid in Klementin's lap where Jon could have sworn there was nothing before. She handed it to him.
"Why did you attack us?"
"I needed to know your intentions. Your friend was getting agitated. No time to use words... There are so many reasons for what I did, but what I did not was attack you."
Jon opened his mouth to argue, but he scrutinized his body first. He was lying in a bed with immaculate linen which smelled of wild herbs and flowers; he was wearing washed clothes and the skin on his face was smooth and clean; and above all, he didn't remember feeling this rested since the whole affair with the queen. When he looked up, Klementin was smiling at him. A gentle smile, an understanding smile, a motherly smile. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't guess at Klementin's age. She wasn't a girl or a young woman, but he couldn't bring himself to call her old either--not even in his own head.
"You are a good man, Jon Silentdeath. It's a pity they gave you such an ugly name."
"I chose it, Lady." Jon didn't see the point in asking how she knew his name. "And most men in the kingdom would argue about my being a good--"
"But you and I are not those men, are we?" She narrowed her eyes at him.
Jon nodded. He took the hand she was extending toward him, and she hauled him up with no apparent effort. Once up, he saw that his bed was one among dozens others. Children, from babies to young men and women about to enter adulthood were sleeping tight. Some were snoring loudly while others lay so still one could have thought them dead. Klementin spread a greedy, loving look over them and guided Jon toward another room. In the new room, an open space in the wall showed the outside of the house where Aynee was walking from one end of the green patch -- where the impalas were tied -- to the other. Jon tilted his head toward the sky. Still far away, but much closer than earlier, a fiery rain still washed the land.
"I woke her up first," Klementin said. "After our talk, she insisted on keeping watch."
Jon smiled. "It's what she does best. Part of why I'm still alive."
Klementin kept her stare on Aynee's silhouette, the corners of her mouth curling into a sad smile. "She has known much suffering, has she not?"
Jon looked at Klementin, but she refused to take her eyes off Aynee. "She has."
Silence blanketed them, with only the tremors of the earth to disrupt it, like a rock tumbling down a faraway mountain. Klementin was about to say something when Jon opened his mouth. He laid out his hand, offering her to go first, but she insisted he speaks.
"What is going on? Who are you? I know there is no such thing as witchcraft, but I cannot explain the things I see, the things you do, or even you. Brown people like you do not exist."
"Oh, but we do, Jon Silentdeath, even here in your world. My kin live farther than you could reach on the back of your fastest impalas if you spent a lifetime at it."
Jon scratched what he believed to be his bristly beard only to find smooth skin. He massaged his jaw instead. "What does that mean, my world?"
"There are many a world like this one, Jon Silentdeath. Each has its own rules. Some have the Power -- what you call magic -- and many don't. Others have it but in limited amount." She finally turned her eyes away from Aynee outside and set them on Jon. "All worlds only have one thing in common, the Fire Lords. They are what give a world its power. They are what keep the inside of the land warm, give the soil its fertility -- they are the reason a world lives."
"But I thought they were bad."
"They are capricious beings. Their rage and hatred one kind for the other is what keeps their war going. You see, Jon Silentdeath, in the beginning of time, when the Land was growing cold, powerful mages created two kinds of Fire Lords. They distilled unspeakable hatred inside them and cast them to the depths of the earth to spit their fire in an eternal battle."
"To keep the land warm?"
"To keep us alive."
"And what happened?"
"No one knows. Some say the descendants of the original mages realized the inside of the world had grown hot enough and freed the Lords. Others say that just as the cohesion of the first world weakened to create innumerable other versions, the prison holding the Lords weakened to the point where they could escape. And I believe that their hatred for us who imprisoned them for eons has surpassed that which they harbor for each other."
Jon couldn't believe what he was hearing. But why would Klementin lie? And all that he had witnessed... "What about your world?"
"It happened fast. We had legions, best wielders of the Power, trained since their childhoods for the return of the Lords. Yet our world was consumed in less than three moons."
Jon shook his head. This had to be a nightmare. "And you knew about them?"
"Most worlds do."
"We don't."
"Because this is the last world. Beyond yours, there's only the Black Emptiness, where the Lords will hopefully meet their demise."
John sighed. "Why are you still alive?"
Klementin glanced out the window at Aynee before riveting her look back on Jon. "Because my partner, the most powerful wielder of our world, who spent his life training the legion I told you about, loved me with a love that knows no boundaries. Because I love every child sleeping there," she spared a furtive look to the room they had left, "with the same love."
Jon opened his mouth to ask what that had to do with her survival, but Klementin was quicker. "And we will survive because we now have the two of you." She smacked her hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently, surprising Jon with the strength in her fingers. "Go to her. There is no weakness in affection, Jon Silentdeath. And no guilt should be had for requited lust. But there is cowardice in running away from words. Tell her everything."
#
There was a clear spot in the sky where the fiery clouds seemed to make way for the empty vastness of the night sky, a perfect circle above Klementin's house. Stars shone, precious stones stuck on a black veil. Jon stood behind the door, his head tilted back, mesmerized by the tiny lights. A few steps away, sitting on the grass with her sword next to her, Aynee also gaped at the heavens. Jon tip-toed to where she sat.
"I still have a few hours on my watch," she said.
Jon shook his head. He wondered what had made him think he could sneak up on her. She was as alert as a mountain fox, even when asleep -- especially when asleep.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" She set her eyes on him. Her hair framed her face and rested on her shoulders.
Jon nodded. "Stunning." He joined her on the ground, facing her, turning his back on the void of night. He wasn't worried about the blind spot he created by doing so. Not with Aynee around. To further rely on her skills, he set his sword between them, where it would be hard to reach should an assailant come from behind. They stared at each other for a while.
"Do you remember the promise I made when I started training you?" Jon asked.
Aynee shifted her shoulders and looked away. "Yes, Commander, I remember."
"What did I swear on my life?"
She stayed silent and when Jon was about to repeat, she said: "You promised you would never command me."
"And why did I say that?"
She jerked her head in his direction, her lips pressed so tightly together they were a bloodless, white line. "Commander..."
"Answer me."
"You know why."
"But do you?"
She was silent for a while longer. "I attacked one of your men when he tried to command me."
"But we had just rescued you." Jon would never forget the dozens of girls they had found inside that terrible house. They had only come across it because his impala had wondered off, looking for water on a particularly dry day.
"Commander, please. I don't want to think about it."
Jon understood. Ten years they had fought side by side, and not once had he felt the need to dig up that particular past. But her earlier words still simmered inside his mind.
"I saw what they did to you. And the way you reacted when Oreg told you to fetch him some water -- which was a perfectly reasonable command for someone who had just saved your life." Aynee did not speak. "Do you remember what you told me when I denied him permission to beat you, when I told him to let me do the honors?"
"You know that I can never forget those words, Commander. If this is about what I said back at the village, I was angry because you refused--"
"Just tell me what you said." She remained silent. Jon smiled with a furious satisfaction. "Or do you want me to command this to you as well?"
Aynee gritted her teeth and flared her nostrils. "I said you could beat me every day for the rest of my life, but I'd rather die than let a man give me another command."
"And what did I--"
"You swore you would not do that... for as long as you lived." Her voice shook and she looked away again. And this time she kept her face hidden, staring into the blackness around them.
"I have searched for the reason you could say such words to me when you know what a promise means to me. And though it eluded me for a while, in the end I think I understand." He exhaled and broke in a brief chuckle before he continued. "I have been stripped of my honor. I am just a man now. You wonder if, for all these years, I have been lying to you. You think I will abuse your trust if given the opportunity." Jon was glad Aynee was looking away, because he could not bear for her to see the emotions painted on his face as he pictured himself the way she must see him. He waited for her to react. Only silence and an occasional roar in the sky echoed his words. A fireball fell form the heavens and trailed an orange tail until it hit the ground a few leagues way. The ground shook, the impalas shifted in their sleep, and still Aynee said nothing. Upon closer inspection, Jon saw her shoulders tremble. He leaned in further, first thinking she was crying -- a sight to behold -- only to realize she was laughing. White-hot rage invaded him and he sprang to his feet.
"Commander, please. It is just that out of what you just said, there is not even one shred of truth." She burst into an all-out laughter, clawing at her stomach with both hands, tears welling up in her eyes.
Seeing Aynee so joyful, Jon quickly lost his anger and sat back. "It is not a laughing matter," he said with a smile of his own.
"It is, Commander." Her laugh died off and she turned serious and Jon was almost sorry for that. "Stripped of your honor? You fucked the queen." She shook her head, her orange locks swirling around her head. "So what? The men who branded you honor-less do not know what the word means. In my eyes, it would require all of them to amount to one of you."
It took a few shallow breaths for Jon to find his voice. "But it's immoral. She is not mine, she--"
"She does not belong to anyone. She spread her legs for you, did she not? You did not force yourself into her." The silence grew thicker until at last, Aynee sighed and said: "It is as unjust as it is naive to blame someone for love. When it is a case of the heart, Commander, it matters not whether man or woman--we are equal fools."
Jon smiled, tilting his head down so she wouldn't notice. "Then, if you do not resent me for that, why curse me to break an oath I made to you? Why spit on our bond, the only thing..." He could not finish his sentence so he let it trail, knowing she had grasped his meaning.
Aynee got to her knees, picked up her sword, and jumped to her feet. "It is very simple, Commander," she said, beaming with a smile that did not much look like one, "it was the only way you would let me come along."
Jon took the hand she was extending to help him up. "But why want to come? I have nothing to lose. If we get back to the kingdom, my head will fall no matter what. But you..."
A shadow of sadness wrapped Aynee's face for an instant before she chased it with a shake of her head. "That, Jon, is also very simple. I am a fool."
She turned and headed for the door. Jon tried to decipher her meaning, the squinted eyes when she said the last word, the smile that followed, half-chagrined and half-proud, but he could not make sense of it. Klementin's words seeped into his mind like rain in the fibers of his clothes. Tell her everything. Besides, in the whole world or in all the others if they existed, there was no one; no one for whom Jon cared enough to tell the truth. No one but Aynee.
"Aynee!"
Her footsteps died and she half-turned her head in his direction.
"It was for love that I lost my honor--but not love for that heartless bitch of a queen."
Aynee did not move, only closed her eyes for an instant, as if she were examining his words. "You and the queen--"
"Never happened. A man was seen leaving her chambers. I was tasked with the investigation." He smiled because it felt good to let it out. "Tristan."
She nodded again, biting her lower lip, as if punishing herself for not figuring it out herself. "That idiot. Does he love her?"
"Madly."
"Her?"
Jon turned away from Aynee, tilted his head back, and stared at the stars again. Some of them shone a pale green light, reminding him of Aynee's eyes. "I have no idea," he whispered. "What do I know about love?"
#
After Aynee had vanished behind the door and clouds veiled the stars away from Jon, he started pacing around the house, walking along the perfect line delimiting scorched earth and evergreen blades of grass. The balls of fire had multiplied and their blasts resonated more strongly, but one had yet to land inside the protected perimeter. Dawn found him swimming in dark thoughts about his brother and the royal couple. When the ground shook more violently and a sudden burst of orange heat sent Jon crashing on his behind, he understood what Klementin had meant before; the storm was now breaking. He heard the door open and footsteps race toward him. Probably Aynee. Jon's eyes were riveted on the space between him and a scarlet sky. There was a shimmering light that seemed to form a barely visible barrier. Jon followed the path traced by the thin layer and noticed it looked like a bubble enclosing the house-- own to the rainbow-shaded surface. Where the bubble ended, the earth beyond was now liquid. Thousands and thousands of balls hurled down and crashed into the ground, sinking in the molten earth like a stone would in a lake. Klementin's house was but a tiny island in the middle of a raging, fiery sea.
"What is this madness?" Aynee helped Jon to his feet and together they stared at the unbelievable scene before their eyes.
Mountains eroded into an ocean and everything as far as Jon's eyes could see turned to a shade of orange. Only the inside of the bubble, Klementin's house and the small garden around it, stayed shielded as if they stood behind a barrier of magic. Klementin came out of the house. She was followed by the most daring children while the others whimpered inside where Jon half-wanted to join them. Those who followed Klementin hung at her side as if their lives depended on it. The youngest, those still untainted by the claim of pride, even reached their hands to clutch at something of hers--her hand if available, a piece of clothing as a last resort. Jon squinted when he turned his eyes back toward the outside.
"This is what the entire world will look like when the Fire Lords are finished with it."
"Isn't there something you can do?" Aynee asked.
Klementin raised her eyebrows. "This is beyond me."
"But you have magic," Aynee insisted, taking one step toward Klementin.
"The Power is awarded to us in various forms, my dear child. No matter who you are or what you choose to do with your Power, there are tasks that simply cannot be accomplished by a certain form of it."
"Can you do something or not?" Jon asked, frustrated by Klementin's vague replies.
"I wish I could explain it better, but in short I cannot."
Aynee sighed heavily. She took her sword out of her scabbard and flipped the blade between her hands. Reflected against the blade, streaks of reddish light danced on her face. A lump settled inside Jon’s throat. He wished he had commanded her to leave after all. But would she really be safe if she were back in the kingdom?
"The kingdom has fallen by now," Klementin said, her stare set on Jon as if she were reading his mind.
"Will your magic hold?" There, he had said it. Magic. Such a small word, such endless possibilities.
Klementin smiled the way an opponent would after a decisive move in a strategic game. "As I have said, there are many forms of what you call magic. Each wielder draws his or her strength from something. Sometimes an idea and sometimes a person."
"Will it hold?" Aynee repeated, returning her sword to its scabbard. Jon clenched his fists. Seeing resignation painted on Aynee's face hurt more than he thought it possible.
Klementin ignored Aynee's question as well as her impatient tone. "My Power is most strong when I use it to protect. I can heal at a decent rate, but I waste much energy and yield little result. But to protect, I can do most anything." She spread her arms and showed them the barrier, which sparkled even more when balls of fire struck it and bounced off to die in the ocean of liquid fire.
"Does this mean it will hold?" Jon asked once more.
"No."
"Then why the speech?" Aynee's teeth were clenched together as she said those words, narrowing her eyes at Klementin.
The witch with a brown skin shook her head, a little smile dancing on her lips. "You must understand why and how it works. I cannot hold the barrier against the full wrath of the Lords. But you can."
Aynee opened her mouth, but at first no word came forth. "Me?"
"No."
"Me?" Jon asked, hitting his fist against his heart.
"You both."
Before Jon could inquire about Klementin's meaning, sounds of thunder breaking in the near sky claimed his attention. When he looked, he wished he could wake up, somewhere, anywhere--even that time when Aynee had thrust her foot in his ribs to tell him that a dozen barbarians had circled them, waging him three meals that she could kill more than he. But when he closed and opened his eyes, the same sight inundated his field of vision. The sweet light of dawn had vanished, swallowed by thick, black smoke posing as clouds. And every now and then, much like the jumping fish Jon liked to look at when he was a boy, creatures splashed out of the clouds, dove toward the glowing earth, and spat out something black before expanding huge, membranous wings and soaring back behind the smoky clouds. The black projectile, spheres of sorts dashed toward the ground first trailing a tail of smoke then bursting into flames.
"What are those?" Aynee asked.
Jon bit his lips. "The Fire Lords."
"Exactly," Klementin agreed.
As Jon was about to ask how they could possibly fight such an enemy on a ground where they would burn before sinking, two creatures broke out of the cloud and charged at the bubble. Along the way, they spat those impala-sized stones at the barrier. As the projectiles hit the barrier, terrible quakes forced everyone to crouch closer to the grass. Between two such impacts, Jon managed to peek at one of the creatures. It looked like a lizard -- a hundred times bigger. Its body was covered in what looked like black thorns, and as it opened its mouth, Jon glanced at a rim of sharp, arm-sized teeth before another sphere rushed out. The beast fluttered its wings, gray membranes stretched between long bones, and shot into the sky, two long tails winding in its wake. The claws on each of its six legs scraped against the barrier as it stormed by, producing a sound unlike anything Jon had ever heard, mixture of a man undergoing torture and the clash of swords during battle. And when it roared, Jon now understood why he hadn't seen any lightning before what he had taken for thunder.
Klementin's face decomposed. "This is what I feared."
"This cannot be happening," Aynee said, her eyes as wide as those of a person losing her mind.
"They have grown aware of our presence."
"We are the only thing that has not burned or melted," Jon said. "Why does it surprise you?"
"Because my barrier should have protected us from their senses. But they are far too many and powerful for me."
Jon remembered her statement moments before. "You said that Aynee and I could defeat them. How?" He drew his sword and pressed his lips together. He had come here intending to die after all.
"This is not the time for weapons and violence, Jon Silentdeath. Put your sword away."
With a confused look, Jon obeyed.
"How can we fight without our weapons?" Aynee asked, echoing the frustration inside Jon's mind.
"Neither of you asked where I draw my Power."
"I suppose we had other things in mind." With that, Aynee ducked closer to the ground as another ball smashed against the barrier and washed it with flames. For an instant, it looked as though the whole exterior world was fire alone. In the back, still tied to the walls, the impalas recoiled against the walls of the house, shuddering with fear.
Seeing Klementin remain silent, Jon sighed. "Where do you draw your magic?"
"From love."
A longer silence hung in the air. Jon looked at Aynee to see if he had misunderstood, but she seemed equally unsure.
"My partner trained me in the arts of wielding. His love made me strong and while he was still alive I kept our village safe from the Fire Lords. But when he died..." Her voice broke down and tears welled up in her eyes. "I could not hold a barrier that big. So the elders told me to cross worlds and keep going until I came upon love once more, for they knew that was the secret to my power."
"Did you find it again?"
"I found the children. I loved them and they loved me and I took them into the next world, hoping that if I found enough of them and loved them it would be enough to stand against the Lords until they left."
"Did it work?"
Klementin shook her head. "We always ended up collecting what we could and crossing on to the next world. But this is the last. And though I would give my life for any one of these children, it is not enough to hold the Lords at bay."
For another short moment, there was nothing but the sound of flames whipping the air, reducing everything to ash or lava.
"What do you want from us?" Aynee asked.
"I want what you have but refuse to give. I want the only thing that can save us all and help us rebuild after the Lords have gone. I want your love."
"Then take it," Jon said, anchoring his feet in the soft earth, wondering how much of the heat he would feel before the orange waves splashing against the barrier like water on a jagged shore consumed him.
"You do not take love, John Silentdeath. It is given. It is accepted."
Jon looked at Aynee, fearing he understood where Klementin was headed. Their eyes met briefly, but Aynee darted hers away at once. Jon turned toward Klementin and opened his mouth to protest.
"Spare me your denials. There is nothing to fear in love. It is the purest of Power, of magic if you will. You do not realize the blessing you are ignoring. You cannot imagine what price I would pay to hold mine once more." Klementin said those words in a calm voice, hugging the children around her in a tighter embrace, the tears in her eyes finally breaking free to roll on her cheeks.
Jon looked at Aynee again. She was looking away from him. His heart raced inside his chest and everything but Aynee seemed to fade away. He took one step toward her and she coiled back. Or did she? He froze. He remembered her look when he had rescued her on the day of his first command. Desperation and hatred and hopelessness. With a sharp pain inside his chest, he pictured her mutilated, naked body. A body she did not care to cover anymore. He remembered the way her eyes had met his as he blanketed her with his cloak. And the years it had taken for those eyes to light up again. The years before she stopped throwing herself at anything that could kill her. He wanted to believe that his protection and friendship had amounted to something in that progress. That when he had sworn never to command her, refusing Oreg the right to touch her even as his command was still new and shaky, showing her that he was his own man--he wanted to believe that all that accounted for some of who she was now. He could not let her see him as one of those savages he had slaughtered on that dreadful day, a monster praying on her flesh. Once more he turned toward Klementin, decided to deny her--but she spoke first. "No one can guess at what is in another's heart."
Jon's palms were sweating now. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He took yet another step in Aynee's direction with his eyes closed. This close, she could slay him before he spoke one word of apology. It was as good a way to go as any. Better, in fact, than what awaited them if he did nothing. When he opened his eyes, something cold plunged into his stomach. He thought Aynee had jammed her dagger inside him. But it was the shock of seeing her lock eyes with him and her trembling lips set into a smile. Out of the corners of his eyes, Jon saw thousands of the creatures, flying lizards, Fire Lords, or whatever they were, rushing for the shimmering bubble in the midst of hell. And he didn't care. He raised his hand and cupped Aynee's face. She covered it with her own, tilted her head to press it against his palm, and closed her eyes.
Jon took one final step. Aynee's breasts now pressed against his chest when she exhaled. As the lizards targeted the bubble with a continuous blast of exploding stones, Aynee leaned in closer, and Jon's heart stopped. For a moment. And he was where he was supposed to be. And the kingdom, Tristan's foolishness, or his lost honor did not matter. When Klementin spoke, her voice was cheerful despite the seemingly inextinguishable fire that had swallowed the bubble.
"Do not cry, my children," she whispered, "we will rebuild it all."
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About the Author: Dany G. Zuwen (born Gaston Ndanyuzwe) is the
author of the 2010 French science fiction novel Mantax.
He received an honorable mention for his short story Poor Man’s Freedom in the 2010 Lorian Hemingway competition and has sold short fiction to Daily Science Fiction and
Crossed Genres Publications. Dany was born in
Gitarama, Rwanda. He landed in Belgium in 1995, and has been living in Brussels
ever since. When he's not writing or reading, Dany enjoys movies of all genres,
web and graphic design, and fancies himself a culinary experimentalist. You can
learn more about him by visiting his website: www.danyzuwen.com
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