Aisha: The Celestial War

Damsel will continue next week, April 18. In the meantime, enjoy a peek at one of my other unpublished novel manuscripts, Aisha: The Celestial War (This is mature fiction, and Not Safe For Work)...

Drum Beats One: For Princess Aisha

Prince Zyrcon exhaled soft and warm as he watched his riding instructor round the yard.  Her elephant, a matron named Shirik slowed from a frenzied gallop to a saunter when she thrust her hips forward and spoke the command.  Tun’rilly had an alluring air about her and a peculiar habit of thrusting her chest out and up when she spoke.  Perhaps she imagined herself a bull, raising the head and trunk in challenge so that people would ignore her body and listen to her self. 

An evolution of a kind, necessary for a woman so distracting to make herself seem brusque.  King Balim had told his son once.  Immediately after, the King roughly reminded Zyrcon to stop staring at the woman.

“Did you see?  That is the way to execute a gallop.  The way you tried before could have hobbled Aisha before she even grew to mounting age.”

Mount.  That word made Zyrcon smirk.

“Eyes up here, boy.  If you weren’t the prince, I’d call you a pervert to your face.” Rider Tun’rilly tossed her head at Zyrcon and thrust her mango breasts at him again.

“I was watching.  The command is huptha, right?”

Tun’rilly nodded.  Zyrcon turned to the elephant calf behind him, named Aisha.  She was just a baby, only a month old, but she was the same height as Zyrcon who wasn’t a man yet.

“Huptha!” Zyrcon raised both arms over his head and tossed his head back the way his father the King did.

Aisha swung her trunk playfully in front of her then let it slap noisily against her furry head.  She flapped her ears and seemed to be laughing at her master.

“Huptha!” Zyrcon said again, and stamped his foot.

Ridemistress Tun’rilly shook her head.  Savage golden dreaded locks fell over her shoulders.  “You imitate your father in practice only… he speaks from the heart, from where the fate of Bul’dirin touches him.  I warn you, it is no act, Prince Zyrcon.”

Zyrcon saw how animated his teacher got when he failed and so failed some more during that hour, until she finally sucked her teeth and pushed him aside.

Tun’rilly wrapped both her long tanned arms around the calf’s neck once lessons were done and fearlessly pressed her clean cheek against the mussed baby elephant fur on Aisha’s head.  Another thunderclap above.

“Dear girl, you know of Bul’dirin don’t you?  He was your grandfather, yes?”

Aisha left off swinging her trunk.  She seemed to calm.

“Yes… the great Bul’dirin who walks the sky.  He is the strongest animal spirit.  The power of fate he balances on two white tusks, each the length of the firmament.  Under his feet, he tamps flat the will of the crocodile, the ibis, the silverback gorilla… all the spirits.  He is speaking to you now, isn’t he?”

“He is telling her to behave.” Zyrcon answered for his elephant.

Tun’rilly came up slowly from the calf and smiled.  Zyrcon was so distracted by the revelation that he forgot to shield his gaze from where it had been fixed on his teacher’s backside.  The woman sighed, indulgent.  “Your first vision.  I congratulate you, prince.” She watched him carefully. “Can you hear what else Aisha is saying?”

Zyrcon furrowed his dark eyebrows together and listened.  His skin was like red mud in the rainy season and his hair black like obsidian.  His bright almond eyes were large with long lashes.  “She is afraid.”

Tun’rilly became worried.  “Of what, Zyrcon?  We must mind a mount’s instinct, always.”

Zyrcon tried to focus, but then he shook his head.  “I’ve lost it.”

Tun’rilly turned back to Aisha and rubbed the calf’s underbelly rhythmically.  She began to sing to her.

Aisha, Aisha…

“What does that do, Ridemistress?”

It was a while before Tun’rilly came out of her trance.  “Nothing, really.  I just adore her.  She is cute, isn’t she?  I hope that she calms down.  Perhaps it is just that she misses her mother.”

Both Zyrcon and Tun’rilly glanced at the bulging black mare grazing across the yard.  Aisha stretched her little trunk out to her mother.  For a moment, the two people saw what she saw, and the round sides of the mare looked warm, the musk of the grown elephant smelled very good, like when they embraced their own mothers as children.  In that celestial moment of connection, Zyrcon saw his mother the Queen, and Tun’rilly saw her mother Cavalry-General Irielle and they both felt the childlike terror of being separated from the maternal, even if just a few feet away across the elephant yard.

“Huptha.” Zyrcon was saying before he even realized it.

The little calf shook itself free of Tun’rilly and trotted across the yard.  Aisha trumpeted happily and tried to hide underneath her mother, but she was already getting too big for it.

“Well done, my Prince.”

Zyrcon frowned.  “Aisha made me do it.  Again.”

Ridemaster Tun’rilly laughed, delighted.  “In all my years of training, I never saw an elephant order about her rider.  You two have a rare connection.”  She patted Zyrcon’s shoulder.  “That’s it for today, then.  Her mother still minds her, but tomorrow I will begin teaching you how to clean and care for your elephant.  Will you be ready?”

Prince Zyrcon raised his right arm and pressed the back of his hand against his forehead in salute. Tun’rilly trumpeted silently back, imitating an Elphanti war mount.  Then she marched away.

Prince Zyrcon pretended to clean Aisha’s yard until he heard the well water begin to slosh out behind the rushes.  It was faint, but he did know it.  At that moment, he dropped the broom and ran to the women’s bath house.  Before approaching the back wall, he checked in all directions.  No one was around.  Just the dark green shadows of the low jungle bush and ferns that crowded close together at the top of the mountain.  He got onto his belly and crawled, then lay in the thick ferns pressed up against the reed hut that surrounded the well and drain that the women who worked in the stables used.  Like always, he waited until he heard Tun’rilly singing before he got started. 

Aisha, Aisha…

And the woman made all kinds of variations to her voice, singing many songs with only the name of the Elphanti tribe’s youngest calf.  She really did love her, as did everyone.  Prince Zyrcon took a deep breath, then unfastened his pants.  He rolled over onto his side and peered through the one break in the reeds.  It was just substantial enough for him to see what he wanted.  Then his arm snaked down between his legs, and his hand pushed the fabric of his trousers aside.

Waiting for Tun’rilly to finally face him was torture.  Zyrcon stared at her soap covered buttocks it seemed forever.  He imagined himself between them, the way bulls mated.  It made him smile.

Aisha, Aisha…

Tun’rilly turned around, and lifted her arms above her head.  She was washing her hair, he was in luck.  Zyrcon nearly lost himself at the prospect of having even more time with her than usual.  Tun’rilly had the largest breasts Zyrcon had ever seen on a woman.  He’d been coming to the women’s bath house at the same time nearly every day for a year.  One day, after his first week of lessons, he was burning up with curiosity to see his teacher’s exceptional breasts—and she made him call her the Ridemistress--and so decided that he was royalty and had a right to it.  That he’d never been caught only emboldened the young man, and when beautiful women like Tun’rilly bathed, he felt like he was the king already, with amazing power that no one could see but every one believed in.  The heat of the jungle went straight to the top of Zyrcon’s head as he watched Tun’rilly rub her hands all over the dark bar of soap and then caress her palms over her body.  She reached a hand between her legs and Zyrcon could have yelled… but she was just cleaning herself.  Many times, Zyrcon wondered if women needed to do what he was doing now.  It felt so good, he couldn’t imagine going a day or an entire lifetime without it.  His thumb felt wet over the head of his phallus.

No… not yet… he grimaced.

Tun’rilly’s hands glided backwards, palm first over her hips, then she reversed the direction of her hands as they crossed her belly and her fingertips inched toward her erect nipples.  She pressed them in.  Zyrcon’s eyes went wide.  He looked at her face for the first time.  She was moaning softly, tongue at the back of her throat, enjoying how she touched herself.

The horrible frenzied bugle of an elephant filled Zyrcon’s ears, raised the hair on the back of his neck and ripped apart his mind.  Without really meaning to, he came.

“Aisha!” he yelled.  Zyrcon rolled out of the bushes and raced back to the elephant yard.  He didn’t think.

“Zyrcon?” Tun’rilly heard and saw the young man at the last moment.  She swore.

“Aisha!” Zyrcon kept shouting.  His voice was angry, he felt the rage building in him.  His mind saw the dagger and the blood.  The dark shadow of large feet, like black treetrunks obscured his vision.  He felt Aisha’s wiry baby fur, as if it were his own scalp brushing up against the belly of her mother.  The comforting trunk that caressed her was as warm and loving as his own mother’s arm.  Next, it waved about, warding the intruder off, but it was too late.  Aisha could no longer fit underneath her mother.

“Aisha, Aisha,” Zyrcon mourned, his face was torn with grief when Tun’rilly caught up with him at last. 

The Ridermistress saw the poor creature’s throat, slit open by a crude dagger that had been left behind.  The calf’s mother galloped about in a frenzy and the other mares in the yard on the mountain top became alarmed too.  They started to stampede.

“Stay them!  Someone stay the elephants, before they do more harm!” Tunrilly shouted orders to other students who were coming to see the commotion.  Tun’rilly was in her hastily drawn on soggy clothing.

She knelt and held onto Prince Zyrcon and his slain mount.  He screamed and cried out.  His pants were open and the woman he wanted was pressed against him but he no longer cared.  All he could see was Aisha lying in a pool of her own dark blood.

Above them, the great Bul’dirin roared and the tears of heaven burst forth from gray thunderheads.  The old elephant spirit is now murdered too. 

Drum Beats Two: And the great-bull in the sky

The thunder bellowed and snapped.  Angry wind tore out of the sky and uprooted trees.  The lake swelled and flooded in the lowlands.  Those were the reports the Elphanti rangers brought King Balim.  Prince Zyrcon stood beside his father, head bowed before Aisha’s dressed corpse.  His mother, Queen Alypsa frowned under her black raven feather headdress.  The entire royal family wore linen robes dyed as black as Zyrcon’s hair.

There was no music.  The elephants associated drums with dancing and celebration and it would be foolish to upset them now.  One by one, the long procession of stalwart warriors rode his mare inside the heart of the mountain, into the throne room.  All the elephants in the army were allowed to take as much time as they needed to mourn.  What the animals thought, especially in a time like this was tantamount.  King Balim parted just before Aisha’s mother came.  Zyrcon remembered that his father’s eyes were wet when he turned to leave.  Zyrcon’s head hung back, lolled to the side as he watched his father in a daze.  The King did not comfort his son, not once.

Queen Alypsa gently pushed Zyrcon forward then.  Aisha’s mother, named Stoneheart looked at him expectantly.

“As her rider, I extend my condolences…” Zyrcon tried to say, but he was overcome with emotion.

Stoneheart curled her trunk under her chin as if she were drinking water.  The beast looked nervous.  Darthud, Stoneheart’s rider leaned over in the saddle and patted his mare.  Then, Rider Darthud looked down his nose at Zyrcon.  He sneered.

“She’s too upset for your words, can’t you see?”

Prince Zyrcon looked up at his mother.  The Queen blinked but stared straight ahead as if she were by herself.

“Yes sir.”

“And for what?  Because you had to touch yourself!” Darthud’s voice rang out and echoed off the walls.  The thunder gathered in the distance.  Each clap of thunder and lightning came more quickly.  The storm was coming to a head over the mountain itself.  The other riders sat erect atop their mares.  Though they looked like steel, some of their faces were pale or completely drained of emotion.

No one was surprised at Darthud’s words.  The whole village knew why Zyrcon had not been there for Aisha when the assassin came.

“You will be king.  You will be King!” Darthud shouted over Stoneheart.  She lowered her trunk and caressed her dead daughter’s little head.

“Have you no shame?  Have you no pride?  You must outgrow your uselessness and embrace manhood the right way.  And how will you even do that now?  With no elephant to ride, and the great Bul’dirin lost in his death throes as we speak.  And who shall replace him?  A babe… just a little baby to contend with the other animal spirits.  Her afterlife will be torture, Zyrcon.” Then Darthud wept.

Prince Zyrcon wringed his hands behind his back. 

“My beautiful daughter is not through with you yet, Zyrcon.” Darthud spoke with his eyes closed.  The anger had been pushed out of his voice and he sounded gentle, forgiving.  It was Stoneheart talking.  “Think of her in everything that you do.  Perhaps the soul link you established with her before she left this world will give her some comfort.”

“A babe!  Just a babe to contend with the crocodiles and the jaguar!”  Darthud suddenly burst forth through his own channeling of the elephant’s voice.

“Be at peace, Darthud!” Stoneheart’s inner voice had a unique tone.  The difference between herself and her rider was unmistakable.  Zyrcon would have been able to speak with Aisha’s inner voice as well, with time.  But he’d had only one vision.  That was not enough to know her voice and her heart.

Stoneheart continued, “Aisha was delighted by you.  She will not stop loving you from beyond the firmament.  Nor will I.  When Bul’dirin calms, she will be a full spirit, and the luck of fate will rest with her.  I believe that she has good memories of you to guide her, and that her soul will be at rest.”  Stoneheart swung her trunk up and Zyrcon hopped back a step.  One wasn’t raised around elephants without learning to avoid trunks at all costs.  The black trunk rested on Zyrcon’s shoulder though, wrapped around the back of his neck and stroked his hair.  It was like the mare had done with Aisha countless times.

“I forgive you.”

People around the room started mumbling.  Queen Alypsa flinched and looked at Stoneheart in shock.

“Words too kind for my son—” she began to object humbly.

“And Aisha forgives you as well.” Darthud said with Stoneheart’s voice.  The strong mare, still big with her baby weight backed away from the casket of her daughter then.  Then she walked away.

“A queen like I am… you thank her, Zyrcon.  Stoneheart has saved your life this day.” His mother told him.

Zyrcon did thank the mare.  Darthud put a hand on his hip and lilted as Stoneheart’s shoulders roved under him.  His wild ponytail swayed but he would not turn his head to acknowledge the prince.   Across the throne room, Tun’rilly greeted Darthud silently when he pulled his mount up next to hers.

The room hushed and even the thunder subsided when Bul’moann entered the room.  Zyrcon’s father rode the bull elephant majestically.  The king bent the elbow of one arm, fist to hip.  With the other, he held the spear of Elphanti.  The long ivory pike had been carved from the tusk of the first bull and sire of the entire royal herd, Bul’von.  He was the patriarch of this herd, and his great grandson was now the bearer of the spear.  There were other sons but they lived in bachelor herds at the base of the mountain and were not destined to breed.  Bul’moann had been the most powerful, the most fierce.  He was the one meant to die one day in the ritual war ceremony of the cosmos, not little Aisha.  Now fate itself was upset.

“Aisha, little daughter of this tribe.  I beg that your spirit not wrest in its grave.  All of us here, riders and elephants loved you deeply.  We cherish you.  It grieves us, it pains us and alarms us that someone would come to the sacred mountain and kill a fate-beast!  We will find your murderer, and the world will know justice again.  I also ask that you show mercy towards my son.  I know that he loved you as well.”  Then, King Balim covered his face with his hand.  His confident stature wilted and his shoulders shook.  His high ponytail fell over his arm.  His other hand trembled, and it seemed that the spear of Elphanti would crash to the floor and break, but the King forced his grasp to be firm, though Bul’moann was not so strong.

“Aisha.”  Bul’moann’s voice rolled deep up from King Balim’s throat and was full with passion.  It was exactly opposite of his father’s thunder, hollow and sad.  “My daughter, I loved you.  I lived each day proud to know that I would give my life for you in the arena.  I rejoiced in the day that I would become a great spirit and guide the Elphanti.  My tusks were ready for the fight.  But you… you have gone before me, and my heart aches for you, my littlest daughter, daughter of everyone in the Elphanti.”  Then, Zyrcon’s father wept.  It was a strange thing to see because his father never cried.  Zyrcon had to remind himself that it was Bul’moann crying.  That was not any more comforting, that the bull elephant himself should cry.

“The crocodile will try to rip you apart.  Stay out of his water.  The Ibis will harry you to no end.  Fear and honor the Ibis, for it is the only way you will keep yourself.  The dolphin will tease you, but my dearest, take heart.  The silverback will try to beat you… oh so horrible!  That I should tell my own daughter to accept the beatings.  But you cannot avoid it, Aisha.  You were not meant to rule as I was.  You were not bred to bear the burden of the war of fate, the Celestial War.  Oh, my heart aches for you little one.  But you must find a way to be strong like your mother.  Be strong and remember that she is still here in this world, with myself and your aunties… please do not let the anger of your situation consume you and then take revenge on us.  Please be as strong as Bul’dirin when you wake again in the new life.  I do not know what else to say…” Bul’moann faltered.

King Balim straightened again.  His tear-stained face was calm and hard.  He looked at his son finally.

Zyrcon would remember that desolate look for the rest of his life.

“I know what to say.  I know what must be done.” King Balim said to Bul’moann.

“Huptha!” he commanded and tossed his head back.  He thrust his hands upward, stretched his arms to the sky.  Lightning struck then, and thunder cracked directly over head.  The white carved spear of Elphanti drew the reflection of white lighting that struck outside in a flash from everywhere in the dark throne room.  The riders tried to remain calm, tried not to be frightened by Bul’dirin’s death wrath.  If they did not welcome it, they would offend the powerful elephant spirit and his living descendants.

Bul’moann obeyed his rider.  He wrapped his trunk around the log handle of  Aisha’s crypt basket.  Then, he lifted her up from before the throne and took a long time turning himself around to face the door.  Gold bangles around the bull’s large feet clanged loudly and competed with the thunder and lightning as he processed out with his daughter’s body.  One by one, the other elephants followed in the order that they had come in. 

Ridemistress Tun’rilly looked over her shoulder at Zyrcon and mouthed her goodbye.

When they were all gone, Queen Alypsa said to her son, “Come to me, Zyrcon.”  And Zyrcon embraced his mother, free to cry like a boy at last.

Drum Beats Three: For those left, being bad

Prince Zyrcon watched Tun’rilly as she lounged in her hammock.  She was chewing on a long stalk of fresh hay that had been harvested for the elephants. 

“You’re not cleaning elephant dung are you?” she chided him. 

Zyrcon was a grown man now.  He knew better than to stare.  That didn’t mean he avoided it though.  He was just far better at not getting caught.  The prince returned to sweeping.

Zyrcon smiled.  He and the Ridemistress had grown close since his father the King stopped talking to him.  He’d been disavowed of the crown, but he kept his title since King Balim and the Queen were not able to have another child.  They were getting old but the whole tribe talked about how they kept trying.

“The Crocs are going to be angry with us for going through their lands for hay… won’t there be war?”

Tun’rilly yawned.  “There is always war, my prince.” 

Zyrcon loved that she still called him that. 

“War for rain, war for harvest, war for drought, war for… for babies.” She frowned at that revelation.  “Holding a ceremonial war to win the luck of the gods… killing other people so you can produce an heir is a bit backwards, isn’t it?”

Zyrcon scowled.  “You’re telling me.  Haven’t enough of our people fled to the wilderness or attempted to become Crocs or Jaguars even?  He’s going to lose everyone on this mountain in his effort to replace me.”

Tun’rilly closed her eyes.  “Zyrcon, as beautiful as you are… you could never be replaced.”

Zyrcon stopped sweeping.  He looked at his once riding instructor.  She was still beautiful, and just as round and lithe as his last day of lessons.  But Zyrcon did not like to think of that day, when Aisha died.  Several years had passed since.  At first, the tribe was hopeful that the calf spirit would speak to him and then they would know if she was angry with the tribe for letting her die or not.  But she said nothing.  Her actions were clear, however.  Droughts and plagues for the Elphanti tribe were pretty much a slap in the face.  Aisha hated them all.  They dethroned Zyrcon immediately and King Balim forbade anyone to speak the calf spirit’s name.

Zyrcon didn’t think of himself as lucky for having a job with the elephants, even if he was never going to be allowed to ride one.  It was only Tun’rilly that kept him from running off and becoming some jaguar’s dinner in the jungle below the mountain.

“I have something to ask you.” Tun’rilly announced.  She sat up and tossed her head, thrust forward her large chest again.  Zyrcon was sure he could see through her simple white linen shirt if he tried, so he didn’t.

“Yes, Ridemistress?”

“This question may shame you, but I would very much like to know the answer.  I have been wondering for many years… why me?  Why did you go to the bathhouse to look at only me?”

Zyrcon laughed.  “It’s not so embarrassing.  I am not royalty anymore because I wanted a woman that I was too young and too silly to have.  I thought I had a right to you, so I had sex with you in my own way…” then Zyrcon really did seem amused.  “I had my two hands around my kingdom that day.  I didn’t even know it… But please don’t be offended.  I didn’t single you out.  At that age, any woman would do.”

Tun’rilly seemed unhappy with this answer.  “It was brave of you, to defy your father like that.  You demanded your throne even when he said Aisha herself forbade it.”

Zyrcon stopped sweeping.  He understood.

“I think I’m finished for tonight, if you like…” he fumbled for a way to express his intentions.  “I will be right back.” He said quietly and rushed off to the men’s bath house.

Zyrcon was nervous and took too long getting ready.  When he returned, the sun was down and Tun’rilly was not there.  He tossed his long hair out of his face and swore softly.  Zyrcon ate a cold dinner of salty jerky and fresh fruit that Tun’rilly had brought him.  She was about nine years his elder, but she was always more than tolerant of him.  Zyrcon always wondered why that was… she was the one person who should be most resentful of him.  Instead, she seemed to understand.  She cared a great deal how he fared. 

Zyrcon was sure that he now knew why.  He lay awake that night in his hammock tied high up in the stable house.  If he still smelled like dung, would she care?  Zyrcon sighed and rolled onto his side.  He thought of Tun’rilly until his humble dwelling faded from his vision.  She was all he could see, and she was naked for him, happy for him.  He tried not to think of how his hand felt…

Mount.

Zyrcon stopped.  The impulse filled his mind, he couldn’t let go of it.  He dropped to the floor, left the hammock swinging.  Without thinking, he skulked through the dark village, down the wide streets to the Cavalry-General’s house.

Ridemaster Tun’rilly woke to a hand over her mouth.  She panicked at first, but then her eyes adjusted to the darkness.  Zyrcon smiled down at her.

“My prince,” she startled.

“Call me that again,” he said, and crawled onto her simple pallet next to her.

Tun’rilly at first resisted his kisses.  “My mother is right there.  How can you be so bold?”

Zyrcon already had all his clothes off.  “Do you think I care?  I don’t even remember coming over here, but here I am and here you are… unless this isn’t what you meant earlier… when you said I was beautiful?” he whispered.

Tun’rilly thought about that.  “At first I was just worried about you, but… you grew up.” She stroked the side of his face.  “Now you are a man and handsome as well as a pervert.” She laughed, then her features became anguished.  “But now you are so alone, a tragedy.  I think that what happened to you, what the king did was wrong.”

Zyrcon laughed too.  The old Cavalry-General stirred in her sleep only inches across the small hut.

“I’ve never done this before.” Zyrcon admitted after they kissed feverishly for a while.

Tun’rilly’s white teeth were easy to see in the dark.  “I will teach you then.” She reached for the covers and drew them up.  The beautiful woman stroked Zyrcon with her fingers, teasing him.  Whether he could keep quiet or not became some game.  Mesmerized, Zyrcon smoothed his hands up and down the sides of his once riding instructor.  Mount.  The word came to him again, and he snickered.

“What’s so funny?” Tun’rilly teased. 

“Just this.” Zyrcon answered and seized her nipple in his mouth.  He pressed his tongue against it, the way he remembered she liked it.  Tun’rilly moaned and her mother grunted in her sleep.

“Oh, my prince.” She whispered in Zyrcon’s ear, then hurried to mount him.  They joined many times that night.  By the time dawn came Zyrcon had learned his lesson.  He fell asleep ontop of his teacher.

That morning, Zyrcon woke to firm hands shoving at his shoulders.  Tun’rilly was arguing with her esteemed mother.  Zyrcon laughed at them as he put his clothes back on and was shooed out of the hut.  People walking through the streets started humming with the gossip immediately:  the prince had become a man.

Drum Beats Four: She catches you, you will die

Of course, Zyrcon’s parents wanted to see him after that.

He was startled to see his mother with child.  She did not get up to greet him.  His father King Balim stood and nodded.  Zyrcon refused to bow.

“You are as evil as the Crocs, do you know that?” Balim reproached his son.

“I don’t bow to people who pretend I don’t exist.  If you can’t see me, then why bother?”

Balim frowned.  “As you can see, Queen Alypsa will be having a child.  There is no need for you to go on drawing attention to yourself.  You aren’t the heir any more.”

“Hello son.” Queen Alypsa smiled.  She seemed to be in a great deal of pain.

“Mother?  Are you alright?” Zyrcon worried.

“You are not her son!” King Balim thundered.

Zyrcon ignored his father.  “Is it safe for you to be with child?  What if you lose this baby as well?” his voice lowered.

Mounted Elphanti guard shifted weight on their elephants near the door.

Zyrcon became conscious of himself then, standing in the place where Aisha’s body had laid, five years ago.

“I am healthy, am I not?” the Queen forced a smile.

“What are you doing to her!” Zyrcon flared.  “Can’t you see that fate does not favor another heir?  My mother is going to die because you won’t listen to Aisha!”

“That name is forbidden!”

Zyrcon balled his bare hands into fists.  His raggedy linen clothing was filthy and needed mending, but he had his father’s smooth brow and sharp jaw.  “That name is valuable!  It is precious!  Have you not considered that she is angry with us, for forgetting her?  At least that is how it must seem to Aisha.”

“Do you dare pretend to know fate when she only gave you one vision?  When you went off to play with yourself, you shirked your eternal responsibility to your other half.  You gave up the privilege of knowing the future when you failed Aisha.”

“If you knew the future so well for having so many visions from Bul’moann, then why didn’t you stop me from abandoning my mount?”  Zyrcon inquired shrewdly. 

King Balim said nothing.

“I thought so.”  Zyrcon boldly surmised.  “You aren’t perfect, just like your son.  Nor was your father, or his son…” Zyrcon grinned wickedly.  “All of us are just guessing, aren’t we?  The Animal Spirits die in the arena to bring rain or birth, or prosperity… not one was felled by nature.  We aren’t any better off for controlling fate.”

“The kingdom is suffering because of you and your failure.  Do not blame that on your ancestors.”

Zyrcon scowled.  “I am my own man.”

“Today, because of that foolish Tun’rilly.  How can she be so capable a trainer and fall in love with her student like that?  It’s disgusting.”

“Take that back!”

King Balim waited for his son’s irrational words to fade in echoes.  He wanted Zyrcon to know that he sounded like a child.

“Balim, please… just let him go.  Leave him alone.” Queen Alypsa doubled over then.

“Mother!” 

“Escort him out.  Take him back to the stables.”

Zyrcon backed away slowly from the throne, his eyes fixed on his agonizing mother.  “Listen to Aisha…” he mouthed, without realizing it.  Zyrcon shook his head then, trying to cast off the intense impulse to shout it at his father.  A large mare elephant came and obscured his view then.  The rider gestured for him to go with his spear.  Zyrcon skirted the swinging trunk, and darted out of the cave.

Later that week, Queen Alypsa died. 

Prince Zyrcon was not invited to the funerary service but his father summoned him immediately after.

Zyrcon spent his savings on a black robe so that he could mourn for his mother, even if his father refused to include him.  A slender leather thong was tied across his forehead.  His wild black hair had been combed with sandalwood and soaked in balm.  That had been Tun’rilly’s way of sharing condolences.  Various villagers had whispered their prayers to Zyrcon as well.  It seemed more people than ever were willing to acknowledge him as Prince now.  The king could have but one mate, and she bear him but one anointed heir unless another was brought forth.  The new heir had died in Queen Alypsa’s womb, and the two of them gone to the place of Nothingness to the West, a void beyond this realm and even the realm of the Animal Spirits like Aisha.

Five Elphanti war mounts stood along the walls of the circular throne room cavern.  These mares wore black dressage and their riders had long black cloaks swathed over their armor.  King Balim stood as soon as Zyrcon entered the throne room, and thrust his arm out to the door.

“You are banished.  Get out.”

Zyrcon flinched.  He hadn’t even a chance to kneel before his father… and now this?

“Where is my mother?”

“She was not your mother!”

“Where is she?” Zyrcon yelled.  The echoes jostled the elephants waiting patiently along the walls.  “Am I to assume that she still lives?  Her death is but a rumor to me without evidence of the lifeless body, or the ashes… is this how you wish me to be your son?  To even take my mother away from me in death?”

King Balim seethed.  He took careful angry steps down from his throne.  He stood in the place where Aisha had lay, and where Zyrcon’s mother doubtless lay when Bul’moann came to take her off to the burial grounds too.

His father pointed again.  “There is no Prince Zyrcon.  There never was.  You are banished!”

“I stand here before you.  I exist.” Zyrcon pinched his arm as if to prove he was flesh and bone. 

His father never dropped his arm.

“Then whom are you throwing out of the Elphanti tribe?  A specter, a ghost?”  No response from his father.

“If you put me out, you might as well toss me off the side of this mountain!  Without a tribe I am prey to any fate that would have me!  Is that what you want?  To kill your son?”

“You might live.” King Balim almost smiled.  “If a Croc takes pity and swallows you whole… you could live on in his stomach forever.  Or… if a panther hangs you up from a tree to revisit the rest of you as a tidbit later… oh, you could live a very long time in the Wild.  How you live, and whether or not you live… that is no longer my concern.”

Zyrcon swayed on his feet.  His mind raced with fear.  He saw white teeth and claws slash at him.  He saw lightning strike and splinter his bones.  The golden sun set too fast in the West and crashed against the horizon, into a thousand gleaming pieces like a mirror.

Zyrcon opened his mouth to curse his father, but that is not what came out.  “This place is an altar.” And he stepped forward, placing his foot on the spot where Queen Alypsa, Aisha, and many others of their tribe had lay sleeping with death before waking again in the next realm.  “A sacrifice must be made to clean it.  My servant shall bring it forth, at the right time, at the very moment when it is most needed.  And then you will kneel.  You will kneel inside the mountain that is also kneeling.  Bone and rock alike will break to make it right again.”

Zyrcon had not heard his own words, but his father had.  “Lend me a spear!” he shouted to the mounted guard nearest him.  Zyrcon recognized the desolate look in his father’s face.  As they say, the lion had turned against his cub.  Zyrcon ran for his life.  He ran from the mountain.

Bul’moann’s rogue sons were put to work at the base of the mountain.  They felled trees and dragged logs when the village buildings rotted from the rain.  Others formed a caravan that visited the friendly tribes and brought trade goods to the mountain.  Still more went on independent forgaging missions to retrieve fruit for the mares on the mountain top.  Elephants eat so much that the bulls were constantly moving.  It was not surprising when some escaped and went feral in the jungle.  Being Bul’moann’s son was a blessing in strength and presence only.  The actual destiny of the bull who would never mate or see the top of the mountain was a curse.

As Zyrcon watched them from high in a fig tree, he felt he understood how Bul’moann’s sons felt.  Tun’rilly sat beside him.

“Thank you for finding me, though I am not sure what good it will do.” Zyrcon lay his head on the woman’s shoulder.

Tun’rilly had been crying for the last hour.  “I did not believe until today… there are rumors enough but I never believed that our king was cruel.”

Zyrcon said nothing.

“Zyrcon…” Tun’rilly hesitated.  She waited for him to look into her eyes before going on, “I do not want to tell you this, but I may never again have the opportunity—”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Zyrcon, hush.  Please listen to me.  I love you.”

Zyrcon sat up.

“I am not sure when it happened.  I don’t know why it happened… but when you finally came to my bed, I understood.  I wish that… our loins never parted.” She inhaled slowly, then ran her fingers through Zyrcon’s watery hair. 

Zyrcon smiled a little.  “In a way they didn’t… we were together every night and some days… before my mother left this world.”

Tun’rilly carefully crawled past Zyrcon, so that her back rested against the trunk of the fig tree.  Then she faced him.  She opened her mouth to say something but Zyrcon didn’t hear it.

Mount.  The word filled his mind.  The energy burst inside of him.  A consuming flame seared his loins and he ached to have it sated.  He lifted his mourning robe, pushed the loincloth aside.  He entered Tun’rilly before she was ready for it.  She whimpered in surprise but that quickly turned to moaning.  Zyrcon saw her but didn’t see her.  He felt the pleasure coursing through him.  It pushed at the pain in his heart, then finally overwhelmed his resistance.  It took over his mind, let naked instinct have its way.  When he came, it felt like a veil had been lifted from his life.  A blinding white remained.  It was so empty, so clear.  The last time he felt so blameless was before Aisha died.

The memory of her death no longer hurt him. 

Tun’rilly lurched forward abruptly and begged Zyrcon to stop.  He didn’t want to, he was not finished with her yet, but the prince in him forced instinct aside and he gently withdrew.

“Are you alright?” Zyrcon asked his teacher, breathless.

Tun’rilly leaned elbows on her thighs.  Her pupils roved to the top of her head where she gazed at Zyrcon, a wild woman.

“Who are you?” she asked him.

“A man of course.  A man you made, no less.” 

Tun’rilly leaned back against the tree, and reached out to gently stroke Zyrcon’s arm with weak fingertips.

“You will live in the Wild as long as you use that gift… the gift you gave me.” She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes when the tears came, forced a smile.

Zyrcon was afraid to look at her crying too. “You won’t go with me?”

Tun’rilly waited a long time before answering.  “I can’t. My place is with the tribe, and the mares.”

“You mean to reject me, because I am too dangerous.”

“No--Zyrcon never believe that.  I care deeply for you… but yours is a fate worse than death.  Surely, you understand why I cannot?” she begged.

Zyrcon leaned over the branch and took in the view of the forest below them.  Then, he spat over the side.

“I’m not coming back.” He wiped his mouth, then spat again.

Tun’rilly cringed at his boy’s game, and averted her eyes.

“It must be what Aisha wants then—”

“She told me to mount you.”  He blurt out.

Tun’rilly cleared her throat.

“She told me to do it on the first night, and just now… But I thought it was my choice to listen to her.”

“Zyrcon… Aisha is dead.  Furthermore, she is an omnipotent Animal Spirit now.  She cares very little about what we do, with the Celestial War raging about her.  It would be like ordering around a gnat.  Don’t you remember your lessons?  Fate does not work in that way.”

“She killed my mother too.  I knew she was going to do it… but it was in my father’s hands.”

“Zyrcon, you’re talking madness!”

“I’m not mad!” he laughed, he was so frustrated with her disbelief.  “I just know… she’s controlling me, the same way she always used to.  And I can’t even be angry with her, because it was all my fault.  Now she’s playing a game with my life, out of revenge.”  He leaned over and spat again.

“Zyrcon, my prince, I believe it is time for me to go.” Tun’rilly leaned over and kissed his cheek.  Zyrcon refused to see her leave.  He was tempted to spit on his teacher’s elephant as it passed underneath the fig tree, but he could not.

Damn you, Aisha!

As soon as he thought the profanity, thunder clapped loud just above his head.  When it started to rain, Zyrcon childishly pulled the skirt of his mourning robe over his head.  His naked torso was exposed to the elements, but he didn’t care.  The black dye bled onto his red skin, and he screamed out a bold, manly cussing at the storm, at Tun’rilly, his weak mother, his heartless father, at this life… and then cheered his own stupidity in the end—for beneath that-all, he could still enjoy that his pumping, stained rib cage looked exactly like it was in tiger stripes.

Zyrcon dropped himself through leaves' crash, for stories. Bit sticks in the corners of his mouth. Then, ran out to meet the lightning on-fours, snot-nosed and snarling.