Nine- Tristram

It rained the first week of my exile; drenching freezing rain that seems to freeze your inner being, or perhaps that was my banishment talking... Anyways, it had picked up from the gentle shower earlier. The branding itself was quick, the shape of a skull branded on the back of my left hand. Then the ceremonial knife, no more than an inch, carved an x in my palm. A death certificate was signed... I was now dead. They handed me the knife, the final piece in my supplies yet, sadly, useless for any real purpose. I was lead out into the rain where I would join six members of the royal guard to the western border, a three day journey.

It was silent. None of the guards spoke to me even though three of them served under me and another was my friend in the academy. They were all stoic and silent; their only purpose to deliver me to the border. Other than that, I was dead. They didn't speak to me, didn't give me food or water, didn't help me if I stumbled. I started to worry about how I would survive in the jungle that served as our western border. My knife was useless, serving only as a reminder of my betrayal. I had no knapsack, no water skin, no protection from the elements. I was dead.

We arrived at the border around noon on the third day. The rain hadn't let up and the fear of survival was even heavier on me. I looked out at the forest; its vibrant green, its tall thin trees, its strange noises... I heard footsteps behind me and noticed a presence on my right. It was Leno, my friend from the academy. We met on our first day,we were bunk mates. He was an excellent strategist and swordsman and would have been a great general had it not been for his fear of horses. We trained and studied together and even after the academy, we were good friends. He dropped a small crate, no larger than a knapsack, beside me, though he did not look at me. I looked around at the others, the first time I had seen their faces the entire trip. They were all sad. Each one was looking at the ground, not out of humiliation or pity, but in honor. They were showing their honor for me, their appreciation for strength in the face of death. Strength? I was dying inside. I wanted to run... but I didn't, perhaps that was this strength they saw.

Without acknowledging me, Leno spoke. "Let it never be said that we punish those who do good." He looked at the crate and spoke to the others, "I believe we're all packed up and ready to go. Lets go home." And with that they left, leaving the crate behind. An unexpected, and forbidden  gift no doubt with some basic supplies. Perhaps I'm not dead... certainly not to those who love me. I'm just gone to them, moved far away. I looked again at the forest. The trees made a canopy: a good shelter from the rain. I picked up my crate and crossed the border...

A weight lifted from my shoulders and I ran in the rain.

Eight - Tarka

Grabbing my bow and arrows, I ran out the door and practically flew down the ladder connecting my hut to the ground and dashed to the outskirts of the village for my weekly escape from everyday life. I stopped at the gate. Even though I had escaped the village many times, none of us were technically allowed out of there, unless you were a Viridi leader leaving town for "important business," whatever that may have been. I looked all around me to see if there was anyone around to see me leave. Nobody. I started walking tardily out of the gate, when I heard soft crunching and squeaking behind me. I held my breath as I turned around. A Viridi salesman with a fruit cart was walking away from me, probably towards the marketplace. I released my breath; none of the common people really cared what I did. As far as they were concerned, I did not exist. And I was okay with that. However, the elders were a different story altogether. I was a troublemaker to them. Not being caught by anyone, I stepped through the barrier between me and temporary peace and freedom. 

Deciding to enjoy my stroll through the outskirts of town, I took my sweet time making my way through the Viridi jungle. About ten to fifteen minutes into the walk, I came upon the tree. OUR tree. Sighing, I climbed up the branches to a good enough height to where I wouldn't feel uncomfortable sitting or standing there for a while. Was this the branch? I sat down, my scaly legs sprawled out, my tail hanging off the edge, and my eyes closed. "So many memories," I thought. This was my real home. 

He slid down on the branch above my own head. He could tell something was wrong. "What has happened, Tarka?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well you're not exactly your spitfire self today."

How could I tell Damian what was happening? My mother had passed on from a severe illness; we were all grieving. I was also turning 15 in a few days, and the Viridi tradition says I have to move out and support myself after that. I hated it. My father was completely unsympathetic to my current plight, even though I was the only family he had left. I hated him even more. 

I clenched my teeth. "There's a lot that's happened."

"I heard about your mother's passing. I am very sorry. I cannot even imagine your grief." His tail bopped me on the head. I looked up at him, with a slight smile on my face. Intentional or not, everything he did made me feel better about things, at least for a little while. He gave me that smirk of his. 

"How can I help?" He climbed down beside me on my branch and looked at me with those temporarily tamed green eyes. I shook my head. "I wish I knew. Maybe you could wave your hand over me and make us both disappear from this place forever?" 

He chuckled. "I can make some magic, but not like that." He put his scaly arm around my shoulder. Chills ran through my already cold-blooded body. "Like what?"

"Well, I can make things disappear for a little while." I gave him a quizzical look. The mischief came back to his eyes, and before I could stop him, he tickled me all over. I squealed with delight, screaming for him to stop at least a dozen times, but I didn't really want him to. After five minutes, we stopped, both out of breath laughing. 

Before I knew what I was doing, I said, "I love you, Damian." He stopped laughing and looked me in the eyes; uncertainty replaced the mischief. My eyes widened. What did I just say? What have I done? I quickly stood up on the branch, grabbing a hold of the trunk with my claws trying to balance myself. "I think I have to go." 

He reached for and grabbed my wrist. "Why? I want to talk about this." My worried eyes looked down at my feet. I sat down again, my head buried in my knees. "I shouldn't have said that."

"No, no! I'm so glad you did. Because I feel the same way." I perked up and lifted my head. What? 'Can this be true?' my eyes asked him. "I truly do. Ever since I laid eyes on you in the marketplace. Your hair, your eyes, everything caught my attention. Spending these last few months with you have been my safe haven. YOU are my safe haven, Tarka." He took my hands in his. "I've been wanting to tell you for so long, but . . . I didn't know what you would think. But now I know." His smile was brighter than the sunlight peaking through the top of the jungle's trees at that moment. 

Glowing with relief and delight, I smiled back. 

My ears picked up the sound of running footsteps through the jungle beneath me. I opened my eyes and quickly stood up, turning my head just in time to see something . . . or someone . . . come racing towards the tree I was standing in. The creature slowed down to a complete stop a few feet from the tree. He looked around, probably to make sure that he was alone and then knelt down, putting his hand gently against the tree bark.

I touched my hand to my bow, crouching down on my branch, trying to keep myself hidden. "Is that what I think it is?" I thought to myself. "Surely this is not a . . . young Palkin man?" I had read about them and have seen pictures of them in books but had never seen one in person before. I stared at the creature on his knees twenty-five feet below me. Grief had overtaken him, whatever had happened to him. Surprisingly, every minute I spent gazing at this pathetic being, there was a throbbing ache that grew within my chest. It grew so much that I had to draw in a long, deep breath. I took care not to make it too loud, for fear he would hear me. 

Then, the young Palkin blubbered about something; I couldn't make out what it was he said. He then became enraged and hit the tree's trunk with his fist. He shriveled back in pain, also recognizing his anger, but then became even more angry and started thrashing around, kicking the jungle floor, tearing nearby plants to bits. Then, when his madness ended a few minutes later, grief consumed him again, and he slid down the trunk of the tree I was hiding in. With his sandy head of hair in his scrawny, long fingers, he wept. 

Another strange feeling came over me: I had the urge to help this poor soul, take him in my arms and stroke the back of his hair and tell him that everything would be alright. I shook my head, laughing inside at myself. "Why would you want to help another creature, especially a strange one like him? No one cares about you, no one needs you; even if they did, they would just manipulate you to get what they want, and then they'd leave you in the dust. Who cares about this Palkin?" 

I reasoned with myself in my head, telling myself that I was just curious. I was so curious that I ended up watching over him as the darkness of nightfall came, with the young Palkin falling asleep right under the branch I was sitting on. 

Seven - Alden

When I got back to our small village I searched for my brother Fastus. I know him and I don't really get a long, but when it comes down to it he's the only person I could trust at a moment like this. When the balance of everything we have known is about to be destroyed, having a brother in the guard somehow feels comforting.

Nearing the edge of town I saw my brother, and nearly collapsed before him whilst grabbing at the thin white cotton shirt of a scientist. My lungs heaved violently, trying to recover from the long run to and across town.

Fastus took hold of my arm and yanked me up. "What is going on with you?" He asked, eyebrows furrowed.

I look about frantically, making sure no others were around. "It's Callow. I heard him speaking with the leader of the Viridi, Lesion." I gasped, the burning sensation in my lungs starting to recede a little. Fastus merely looked unpleased, so I went on. "Lesion persuaded Callow to go to war with the Brackin people."

"Our leader would never be so stupid." Fastus reasoned. "Callow and Nami are good friends."

I nodded. "I know, I know, but something doesn't seem right. Lesion said Nami is planning for a war, and if we do not strike first we will be destroyed. Callow may not recognize it, but surely this is a tactic to destroy the both of our cultures, leaving the Viridi to just... take over everything!" I exclaimed.

Some armed guards started to head towards us, prepared for the venture to the Brackin territory.

"Look," Fastus whispered in an urgent tone, "Do not do anything until I return. I will be back in three days. Surely nothing will happen between then and now, so don't speak of this to anyone, do you hear me?" I nodded, looking my brother in the eyes. "Good. I can't ruin my first chance as an acting scientist, now can I?"

"Are you kidding me!" I blurted. "After all I've said, you still care more about your duty?" I cried.

"Well maybe if you ever heeded to your job, you'd understand how it feels to be responsible." He said curtly. "Just stay quiet until I get back." He huffed, walking towards his group of guards and heading out into the desert.

Regardless of how hurt I felt, I stayed silent those three days, watching everyone go about their business as usual, as if nothing in the world could ever go wrong. How unfortunate for them. When the fourth day came, and there was no sign of my brother I began to ask my parents where he was, and after getting over the shock of my talking to them, they simply soothed me and said to think nothing of it. Maybe he was just collecting something new and excited. But then five days passed, and there was still no sign of his return. I fidgeted most of the day, but when the sixth day came and nothing was heard, I marched into the guard's tent, fully intending to find out where my brother was.

"Tell me where my brother is." I demanded, staring the head guard in the face, which was only a little higher than my own.

He looked at me, taking his awkwardly large helmet off of his head. His mouth kind of twisted in a way that was unusual for the carefree way most carried on, and my stomach began to knot and twist.

I continued to stand my ground, refusing to let my unease get the best of me. "Tell me!"

"He's not coming back, son."

I stood there for what felt a life-time, a life-time filled with the echo of those words. Not coming back? My breathes came quick as anger pumped through my veins. I took hold of the wooden table that held sign-up sheets for guard application, and threw into the side of the tent. "What do you mean he's not coming back?"

Other guard were quickly upon me, holding me back from lashing out any further. "He was killed on the job."

My chest heaved in anger. "This is all stupid Callow's fault! It's all your fault! Everyone is just going to die, and it's all his fault!"

The caring face of the head guard suddenly turned to stone. "If you speak those words again you will be banished without a second thought."

"Good! You're all a bunch of stupid idiots who can't even see how stupid your leader really is!" I said, spitting in his face.

Suddenly Callow was standing in the doorway of the tent, looking almost sympathetic. "I fear we have a traitor in our midst. Bring him to the center of town, you know what must be down."

The guards ushered me out towards to middle of our village. People had already gathered there, hearing the commotion. I glanced around, trying to spot the faces of my parents, but they were no where in sight. One of the guards pushed me down onto my knees, and ripped the sleeve from my left arm, revealing my left shoulder. Callow stood in between me and the people, holding a heated metal rod.

"Some of you may know Alden, that he is a waste of space in our village and cannot even make it to a job well suited to him. Well it seems that he is also a traitor, and as you all know, traitors must be marked." Callow moved behind me as one of the other guards grabbed my hair to keep my head down. Callow raised the rod. "This shows that Alden is no longer welcome to our people." He then dropped the rod onto my flesh, burning away the color to leave an inflamed red skin in the shape of fire, as others have before me. "Now, Alden." Callow said, as guards lifted me from the ground tears of anger and pain resentfully sliding down my face. "You are no longer welcome in this town, or any other Palkin establishment."

Six- Tristram

Water slowly dripped through the window into my cell. It was raining outside, gently so that you could still smell the pine trees. What a beautiful smell, pine trees and rain. I would miss it. My face was pressed against the bars, not yearning for the freedom I'd have too soon but to smell the trees one last time before entering the musty and soiled smells of the prison. A little rain couldn't keep the Juma from coming to give me my last rights. And he did come; dressed in his steel colored shawl and square hat.

 "Tristram, I am here to deliver your last rights and prepare you for your banishment. Lets begin." He signaled for me to sit on the bench installed in the cell. A servant brought him a chair from the guard room. The Juma, speaking in the old language, prayed over me and poured water mixed with iron shavings on my head. The last rights... A ridiculous ritual reminding us of Earth's power over us all. Somehow I feel the Palkins prove our religion wrong with their mastery over the desert. I could have even said as much since I'm already being banished, but it is wiser to hold my tongue. Hasn't my rashness gotten me in enough trouble already? Finally the Juma finishes and it is time to prepare me for the cleaving ceremony. 

The Juma lists off the items taken from me: my iron boots, several pairs of armor, All my clothes, my house down by the river, the little bit of gold I had saved for Elane (I wonder if she weeps for me...) and, of course, my sword crafted by my father's father, the sign of our family honor. It would go to my younger brother now. He then handed me my new possessions  A green cloak, gray trousers, leather boots, and a brown tunic. Not gloves. My brand must be clearly visible on my left hand. Soon they'll give me my brand and the knife with which they will cut me out of our race. Cut me out of humanity. The knife that will kill Tristram of the Brackins.

I stand up, ready to go through the cleaving ceremony, to go with honor, when I notice the Juma smiling wickedly at me. I recognize him, Yumi's son, Rolan? Ronald? Hector? It doesn't matter. I beat him in the tournament to join the guardian guild, he wasn't fit to be a member of the royal guard, too conniving. He would be a better suited in the aristocracy but he clearly chose religion. No wonder he smiles, he's getting his revenge for me beating him. For the first time I am worried by the upcoming ceremony. The Juma has a lot of control and I worry how much pain he'll cause me, both physical and emotional... it doesn't matter, I deserve it.

With that last thought, I exit the prison and enter the town square.

Five - Tarka

I grabbed the ripped dishrag from my washbowl and started wiping down what I had left of my supper on my small eating table. It really wasn't that dirty, but it made me feel somewhat productive so I didn't stop myself. Maybe I could earn a living cleaning huts. Who am I kidding? Everyone is suspicious of each other; no one in my tribe would trust anyone to clean their huts for them.

I needed to find SOMETHING worthwhile to keep me occupied. This moping around has been going on for long enough.

I looked at myself as I braided my long dark hair down my back.

"Your hair is the most beautiful out of anyone else I know." I stared back at him in my mirror while he stroked it with his own beautiful claws. I let a smile escape. 

"I think it's coarse and not worth taking care of."

"I completely disagree. It is like the Nebesa Falls; radiant, heavenly, lovely. Also like you. I would very much like to take you there someday."

"In your dreams," I threw my comb at him with a smirk. He caught it with that one-sided crack of a smile he had. 

If only I had said yes!

~

I slid on a heavy jacket over my clothes, for it was cooler today in the Viridi jungle than in recent days. I was running out of papayas, which were my favorite fruit, and needed to go to the market. I slung my satchel over my shoulder, and climbed down from my hut. It was not too far a walking distance, only about a ten minute walk. The brisk breeze sent chills through my scales, but it was a welcoming sensation.

I had reached the marketplace just in time for the afternoon rush. I took my time, taking small and slow steps through this sacred place. I passed by the apple cart and stopped.

I grabbed what I thought seemed to be the best looking piece of fruit in front of me. 

"Looks like I've found the best looking one, too." I looked up to match a face with the masculine voice. Sure enough, I met a pair of mischievous green eyes, already set on me. Shaggy black hair almost covered both of them. 

I didn't know how to respond, so I didn't. My introversion got the better of me. I walked past Impish Eyes nonchalantly. I found myself stopping at the tent where they sold the papayas, examining one and then putting it in my basket. I felt like I was being watched, so I turned around, and there he was again. 

"Don't you have anything better to do than to follow around girls? You know that could be taken in a really bad way."

He chuckled. "The girl's got some fire. And what might this flame's name be?"

"Tarka. Just Tarka."

"Ahh. Just Tarka. Lovely name. It just rolls off the tongue. Juuusssstarrr-kaaaah." 

I rolled my eyes and tried to pay the owner of the papayas, when Impish Eyes cut in. "I'll take care of that for her." The owner raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. I gave the intruder a questioning look. He then gave me the biggest cheesy grin I have ever seen anyone give me. It was the first time someone smiled at me in months. 

"So now that you know my name, might I know the name of the gentlelizard who paid for my fruit?"

"Damian. Just Damian." 

"Hmm, lovely name. Just rolls off my tongue."

~

"Miss, hello, you want something?" The papaya tent owner looked at me.

"Oh, sorry. I'll take 4."