The Triple Rising — Chapter 9
Do you swear to honor this bonding
The day of the Bonding ritual began like any other. Semylyn rose early and dressed quickly. Now, she stood staring out her window at the deep, dark ocean beyond. The fact that this day had come was a betrayal in itself. Could one be betrayed by their own destiny? It seemed so. Today would be her funeral, of sorts. Certainly, the end of the life she’d anticipated with so much joy. Even though the day was expected, it still slithered in far too quickly.
She pressed her fingers against her throbbing temples. In the last few days, she’d spent all her time at Troyak’s side. She’d wiped his forehead, respectfully turned her eyes when they changed his bandages, and when he’d finally awoken from surgery, she had been right there, the first person he saw.
He’d been different since the hunting accident, distant and tense, not at all the boyhood friend he’d always been. Yesterday, the medical team pronounced him strong enough for the bonding ritual. They could no longer prolong the inevitable, their day had come. The presence of the Sun-Dweller pair who were sedated in unawareness hung over them like shadows of death.
She went to the commissary, thinking to have breakfast amid the distraction of a morning crowd, but found their curious, shifting gazes too oppressive to stand. Who could blame them? Everyone in Sitnalta knew this was the day of bonding. She took her steamed grains back to her room, where she ate in shivering silence.
“Semylyn?” A voice from behind her door sounded throughout her apartment. Semylyn wiped her mouth in slow, deliberate motions, and rose to let her guests in.
They came single file, older women of Sitnalta, four in all, to help her prepare for the Bonding ritual. They were meant to represent the four aspects of successful bonding. During the ritual, she would call them by their signified titles.
Honor, the oldest woman, bent nearly double in her long silver shift, carried Semylyn’s Bonding garment folded delicately over her arm.
Knowledge, carried a black basket full of tools to arrange Semylyn’s hair.
Peace, was a tall woman, her long hair like spun silver, twirled around itself down her back. She carried Semylyn’s skin products, creams, and scented oils.
Last of all came, Love, a moon-faced woman with a broad smile. They were all many years her seniors and Semylyn struggled to smile at them warmly.
“We will begin,” Honor said, her voice cracking. Semylyn nodded. She knew the routine and submitted herself to the gentle leadings of her attendants, allowing her mind to go blank.
The walk to the Lifecycle lab resembled a nightmarish parade. Traditionally, the bonded female walked through all the levels of Sitnalta, meeting her intended partner at the athenaeum of Warder Hall, where Omree performed the Bonding ritual before an assembly of guests.
This time though, there would be no assembly, no warm handclasps of congratulations. The Bonding, of necessity, would take place in the lifecycle lab, and Semylyn’s intended partner would be unconscious.
Her steps faltered. This was all wrong.
She met Troyak as they descended the ramp into the Courtyard. He looked regal in his white tunic, his sunken eyes and pale skin making Semylyn glance away in trepidation.
He caught her eye for just a moment as both his attendants and hers led them towards the Channel. She found herself out-striding him, he walked like a man to his death, each step measured and regretted.
Omree awaited them in the lab. He stood between the two opaque capsules that held the male and female Sun Dwellers, his hands clasped behind his back, his face drawn. Troyak’s father, Xerell, stood next to Omree, his ever-present scowl carving deep lines in his aged face.
Their attendants positioned her and Troyak before their fathers. They stood side by side, sleeves brushing. She struggled unsuccessfully to stop trembling and looked everywhere but at the intimidating capsules.
“We do this for Sitnalta,” Omree said hoarsely. Semylyn looked at her father and saw pain glistening in his eyes.
“Troyak, you will be first.” Troyak took a deep breath, and with a glance at Semylyn, crossed the space to stand next to the second capsule.
Omree pressed a few command keys and the capsule righted itself, so that its occupant, the girl, Alexandria, would be in a semi-standing position.
The viewing glass of the capsule opened. Troyak didn’t glance down, instead, he kept his eyes steady on Omree.
Semylyn, however, took in the female’s appearance. Her long blonde hair had been braided in the ceremonial style, mirroring Semylyn’s own. She, too, wore a lavender gown. If it were not for the yellow of her hair and her golden skin, she could have been Sitnaltian.
Troyak’s eyes found Semylyn’s. He looked at her as Omree spoke the traditional oath.
“Troyak, Son of Xerell, You are to be bonded exclusively, and for as long as you live to this female, do you swear to honor this bonding?”
Troyak’s eyes narrowed, his gaze inextricably locked onto Semylyn’s. She could not look away, the Sun-Dweller girl faded into the background as she stared at her childhood friend.
But he was a man now, a warrior in his own right, about to Bond his life to another. Semylyn struggled to keep her thoughts from what Xerell had revealed to her days earlier. She fought to hold back the grieving loss from her eyes, knowing he would respond, and heard him utter the words that sealed his fate.
“I swear it.”
She didn’t realize she had been holding her breath, but there it was, puffing out of her in a great gust.
“Very well. Xerell, the bonding bracelet, please.” Omree held out his hand.
Semylyn could see now that the girl, Alexandria, already had her bracelet placed upon her right arm. Its match, a slate-gray band, was presented to Troyak.
He offered his arm, sliding the white sleeve of his Bonding tunic to his elbow. Still, his eyes never released his hold on hers.
Omree slid the wristband onto Troyak’s arm and snapped it closed.
Troyak sucked in air with a hiss as the bracelet molded to his arm and melded with his skin, becoming part of him. He swayed to the right, grabbing the capsule’s edge to steady his stance. His eyes glistened with a fervor Semylyn had never witnessed, and for the first time since the Bonding ritual had begun, he looked down at the Sun-Dweller girl.
“You are bonded thus before these witnesses in sacred partnership. May your Bond save us all.”
The last line was not part of the ceremonial dialog and Omree’s voice dropped away on the last, desperate word.
Troyak straightened, his expression dazed, his right hand still grasping Alexandria’s capsule.
Omree now motioned for Semylyn to come forward.
No turning back. The thought gave her the strength to move towards her father, to stand next to the capsule that held the Sun-Dweller male, Jag.
The capsule’s viewing panel opened and there he was, his dark brown hair and toasty-brown skin still strange, and alien. Semylyn took a steadying breath as she saw the gleam of his silver Bonding bracelet already clasped around his wrist.
“Semylyn, Daughter of Omree, You are to be bonded exclusively and for as long as you live to this male, do you swear to honor this bonding?”
Semylyn looked at her father. His eyes betrayed his emotion, and she fought the impulse to run from the room screaming her denial for the whole city to hear. She’d just lost her claim to Troyak and knew she’d not yet realized or felt the depth of that loss.
Sitnalta, the last trace of the Great Atlantis, poised at the brink of extinction, called to her… Furious emotion boiled beneath the surface of her composure. She could not shrink back. How could she dishonor the courage of Troyak’s sacrifice and the needs of her people?
She tried to hide her inner misery from those who surrounded her. Cold despair formed like a great barrier reef around her heart, locking everything and everyone out of her private place. Focusing on her destiny as High Guardian, its exclusive allegiance, and chains of duty, she drew her courage around her like a warrior’s cloak. This was not for herself. She was not Semylyn at this moment, the girl who loved Sun-Dweller forests, her beloved friend, and steamed grains in the morning. She was the Hope of Sitnalta, she was a Daughter of Atlantis.
“I swear.” Her voice rang clear, strong like a bell.
Omree offered her the bonding bracelet; it winked at her in the lab’s blue-tinted light, daring her to play the coward.
She stuck out her right arm forcefully, reminding herself to breathe as her father clasped the bracelet on her wrist.
The pain took her by surprise as the bracelet molded with her skin, wrapping itself around her arm, and she could feel its seal, tight and permanent.
The flash behind Semylyn’s eyes nearly knocked her over. She could feel him in her mind like a stone in her brain. Grasping the side of the capsule for support, she stared at the man inside and sensed his consciousness stir to life.
A scream ripped from her throat as one of his hands tore away its restraint and clasped a bone-crushing grip around her wrist. She yanked her arm several times in a panicked frenzy to free herself, without success. She could not even turn away from the open capsule.
The light radiating around him built to an intolerable brightness. It beckoned her forward, seducing her mind, cutting through her barriers. She could feel Jag’s heartbeat as her own heart matched its tempo. His strong mind drug hers relentlessly forward until for the briefest moment, they met as one…shattering her consciousness into a million twinkling specks of light.
Full, mind-blowing clarity jolted Jag awake with the force of a train wreck. Heavy eyelids jerked open and he blinked against the intense brightness, his mouth dry, his hands and feet tingling. He took a visual look at his situation.
His feet and one arm lay against the table secured by a thick strapping. His other hand, free of restraint, held onto something heavy that bent his arm painfully over the edge of the capsule, out of his visual line. He tried releasing it, but his fingers wouldn’t open. The familiar zing streaked through his limbs. He broke from the restraints, the strong gray material tearing away like paper. He leaped over the side of the capsule and immediately tasted tile as his knees buckled and his head slammed to the floor.
Omree, shielding his eyes with his hand, could only stand and watch as the intense light consuming his daughter and the Sun-Dweller began to fluctuate. Heat radiated out from them, blocking any attempt to move closer.
Then, the light vanished in the same sudden manner as it appeared. Semylyn lay deathly still on the floor next to Jag, who groaned and stirred, a residual glow still emanating from their bodies.
“Are you alright?” Omree’s croaking voice echoed within the stillness of the lab. He wanted to get to Semylyn but the heat was still too strong.
“What’s wrong? What’s causing this heat. We’ve got to get Semylyn out of there!” Troyak grabbed Xerell’s sleeve, insisting that he take action.
“Just hold your position. Neither one of them appears to be harmed by it, so let’s wait until it dissipates,” replied Xerell.
“Jag, are you alright?” Omree said with more strength, hoping to penetrate the Sun-Dweller’s daze.
The swiftness of Jag’s movements as he jerked upward to kneel on one leg, took Omree by surprise.
“You’re not in any danger,” he hurried to assure the young man who still held his daughter’s arm captive.
Semylyn’s plaintive moan and the room’s sudden plunge in temperature escalated the prevailing tension. Omree caught Troyak’s movement on his periphery and turned to intercept him a heartbeat before Xerell grabbed the back of his son’s robe.
Turning back to Jag, Omree sought to negotiate the fragile situation. “Jag, listen to me. We mean you no harm. However, I need to check on my daughter’s condition. We won’t touch you, but I must remove the girl to the med lab for examination.”
“No! Jag responded. “If you want her to live, stay back!”
Omree arrested his intent to move toward Semylyn, as did Xerell and Troyak.
Jag stared at the three strangers who were keeping their distance, for the time being. He scanned the room for something familiar with which to pinpoint his location. With frightening certainty, he knew he’d never seen the three strangely robed men, two of which, looked ready to attack him.
“Guardian.” The voice sounded familiar.
“Wh…What?” He looked at the three men who stared blankly back at him.
“You must save her, Guardian. You know what to do. Do it now. She is fading.”
None of the men had spoken aloud or even mouthed those words. Where had the voice come from?
“I am the Warder. You are the Guardian. We are linked in your mind. Act now, Guardian. The girl must live.”
He felt the extra heartbeat tamping out a weak rhythm against his fingers and looked down at the girl beside him, only now fully aware of her presence. His own words echoed in his ears, words that came from nowhere and that meant nothing, at the time. Words he knew to be true, but not how. “If you want her to live, stay back!”
He reached for her, halting when a shout to “Stop” rang through the room. The youngest of the three men broke from their ranks and lunged toward him. Jag threw up his right arm. Whether he intended to defend or combat, he didn’t know. A stinging surge shot through his arm and pooled around his wrist just before a flash of silver light shot toward the attacker, knocking him to his knees.
He turned back to the girl and lifted her limp upper body into his arms. Fear — stark cold fear knotted inside him — She Must Live! The thought pounded against his mind. Then it came — the clear knowledge. As the voice had said, he did know what to do.
Jag gradually lowered his head and rested his forehead against hers. The sense of fulfillment astounded him. A longing dredged from a place beyond reason lodged in his heart. He reached for her right hand and clasped it tightly with his own. Realizing for the first time that they both wore similar wristbands, he aligned his with hers, so that they touched. The stinging surge returned to pool around his wrist, releasing its silver light in delicate strands that wrapped themselves like rows of iridescent bracelets around their joined hands.
On the edge of awareness, he knew the three men waited and watched, not making any move to interfere. It was a good thing because he knew that even if he were to die in the next moment, he could not lift his head from hers, or break the gentle silver strands that bound them together.
He felt it separate. Something intangible and intensely personal moved from his center core, down through the touching wristbands, into the girl. He tried to stop it, but it flowed through his resistance with ease, leaving a disturbing sense that someone, or something, had wandered uninvited through every corner of his soul, stripping from him something he couldn’t name.
Then he felt the movement, the slight flutter of eyelashes against his cheek. He lowered her to see if she was conscious. Her eyes stared back at him, glazed, stunned…alive.
“Jag?” A man’s voice called to him.
Jag turned his head toward the group hovering a few feet away. The man who’d claimed to be the girl’s father stood with his hand stretched toward him.
“Is she okay? Please let me take her to the medics.” Omree pleaded
Jag lifted the girl fully into his arms and rose to his feet. Not ready to relinquish her yet, he pulled her tighter against his chest. He approached the man whose eyes were genuine pools of parental concern.
“Where am I? Who are you?” Jag asked, his voice husky and unsure.
“My name is Omree. I’ll answer all your questions, but first, let us make sure you’re both okay. Can you walk to the med lab?”
“Yes.”
“Give Semylyn to me, I’ll carry her,” Troyak commanded, stepping in front of Jag.
Jag looked at the man whose height and breadth outdistanced his own, and who posed a formidable barrier. Neither did he make an attempt to hide the antagonism rolling off him like a tsunami wave. Which didn’t bother Jag, since he’d taken an instant dislike to the challenger.
“I don’t think so,” Jag replied scornfully and stepped around Troyak.
He looked at the man called Omree. “Show me where you want to take her.”
Omree silently agreed and led the way to the med lab, taking the less crowded ramps. Upon entering, he indicated that Jag should place Semylyn on one of the examination gurneys.
To Jag, the place looked like a hospital ER, nothing threatening or sinister about the room. He walked to the nearest bed and gently lowered the girl onto it. Her eyes were closed again, and he knew she’d slipped back into an unconscious state. He touched her arm and felt her heartbeat with a strong, even rhythm. He moved his hand to lie atop hers where it rested beside her body.
He looked across the room. “Bring me that chair.” A lab attendant rushed to comply and Jag sat down just moments before his legs could betray his weakness.
“Do what you must,” he whispered, barely able now to speak. “But don’t separate us. She still needs me.” This knowledge too was sure, but how he knew it to be so, bewildered him.
“You have done well, Guardian.” The voice didn’t startle him as before. In fact, it felt good to hear someone say he’d done something right. He let his head drop to rest on the bed next to their joined hands. He didn’t resist the encroaching darkness as it drew him toward a calm and soundless place.
To be continued…