Dragon Aster Trilogy

32: KENSHE AND PRISCA



Cirrus stopped walking through the streets when Kenshe did, not being able to distinguish any of the haphazard houses from each other. Most of the Harbor was hiding in their homes, using what firewood and burnable things they could find to stay warm. The snow blocked off most entrances to the buildings, but they weren’t the only ones outside. He looked up to a closed window, where what looked like an ayame child was humming to the silent snow around her.

“Like I said earlier, Gwa is a complete idiot. As you can see for yourself, she’s only nine years old.” Kenshe looked up to the little girl, and it wasn’t until he spoke to her that she took more interest in them. “Prisca.”

“Kenshe? Is that you?” she asked as her eyes grew wider.

Kenshe smiled in turn, and Cirrus panicked when she jumped from the high window, landing on her feet with the agility of a cat. Then she ran to get a closer look at Kenshe. “I knew you were gorgeous!” Then the small girl hugged Kenshe as if her life depended on him.

Cirrus remained quiet, fearing his curse with talking to females could make this simple find and retrieve into a complete mess.

“Who is this guy?” Prisca asked, looking at Cirrus. “What a weird eye color.” Without warning, she grabbed Cirrus’ long, blond hair and yanked him down to her level to get a better look. She may have been just a little over a third his height, but she had a mean grip. “I like his hair. You will be in my Pack too.”

Cirrus gulped, and Kenshe tried not to laugh out loud. “It’s the sign of a good Novaist—eh, Caller,” he quickly corrected to the phelan words, “when they can see what they want in the future at such a young age.”

Prisca finished braiding a few strands of Cirrus’ hair while humming, before finally releasing him.

“Is your dad around?” Kenshe asked.

“He’s inside. Come come,” Prisca urged, and caught Kenshe’s hand to pull him inside.

Cirrus gave a precautionary look around and followed after the little ayame and Kenshe. He entered the two floor house and looked at the old, grayed wood walls that made the place feel more like a shack. The decaying support beams looked like they could give out at any moment.

“I’ll go get him. Oh, before I do, you remember his condition, right?” Prisca asked Kenshe.

“Yes,” he replied.

“I’ll be right back,” Prisca said and ran off from the kitchen to head upstairs.

Cirrus looked at Kenshe with his curiosity drawn to the ‘condition’ they seemed to only know, as he sat down at the small table.

“Tank doesn’t talk anymore. Supposedly he lost his voice to the Black Death on the Torian Continent, when Simera took Serena from them.”

Cirrus remembered the day. He was still young, but he was there when Simera made the split decision that he wanted Serena, and that meant taking her from Hain and his Pack. Only now did it occur to him how many memories Hain had blocked from where their paths had crossed in the past. Cirrus regretted coming along, fearing this phelan would recognize him, and it would ignite a fight. Is it an injury that can be healed or…?

“No one is sure. He won’t have Urio or any Sano so much as look at him. I think it was his pride that was actually taken, but I guess he hides it with the loss of his voice. Older phelan get strange sometimes in ways I don’t yet understand,” Kenshe finished with a shrug.

Cirrus and Kenshe waited it out in relative silence then, until a footstep shook the ceiling overhead. The next one shook the entire house. He looked at Kenshe with concern. Just how big is this guy?

Kenshe didn’t answer, only nodded in the direction of the stairs.

Cirrus thought that the stairs would cave in and snap from the giant phelan somnus who descended them. His dark hair was tied back in all its dry curls, and his dull red eyes gave him the appearance that he was at least a hundred years old. He stared at Cirrus for a while, before looking at Kenshe. Both of them looked to talk it out by psi, before Tank looked back at Cirrus with furrowed eyebrows. Cirrus got to his feet, not wanting to be caught sitting down if this got ugly. By Aragmoth’s grace alone, he wasn’t still the scrawniness of his last encounter with this phelan.

“So this…is where Fate comes around?”

Cirrus didn’t get the chance to answer, as Tank grabbed his neck and lifted him off of the ground by it. His strength and speed was uncanny.

“He’s the Fay’s Bond,” Kenshe said, trying to calm Tank down.

“I should break his neck,” Tank stated. “Which is undeserving considering the pain…you left me and the rest of my Pack in.” But Tank didn’t snap his neck and only set him back down.

Cirrus coughed and then rubbed his neck to make sure it was still there.

“Your kind is nothing less than a blight on this world.” Tank then looked at Kenshe.

“We need a good Runner to help escort a train to the town of Helios,” Kenshe said.

‘Helios? What would you want there?’

“We need a Gate to get to Earth,” Kenshe replied.

Tank nodded in understanding. “I will see Serena’s daughter. I wish to ask the Caelestis what draws her to the side of the dragons like it did her mother.” ‘Prisca pack some of our clothes together. We’re going on a train ride.’

“Yay!” she jumped up in excitement and ran upstairs.

“Is it safe to bring a child along with us?” Kenshe asked in concern.

‘My daughter is safer with me then staying home alone.’

“And I can Call!” Prisca hollered from upstairs.

‘And she can Call, a bit.’ “I am sorry about what happened to Hain. Your father was the best of us,” Tank continued in words.

“Thanks,” Kenshe replied, not wanting to go further into the topic of his father. “He died saving Sybl, and I like to think that it will count in the afterlife for him.”

Tank looked briefly at the floor. ‘Your father may have been a mercenary, as we all were back then, but he was a saint compared to the others I have seen.’

Prisca came nearly tumbling down the stairs with the loaded bag on her back. The little girl set the bag down, then leaned against it to catch her breath.

Tank went over to his daughter and picked up the bag as if it were a mere lunchbox to his size, and then went to get his sword that hung over the fireplace. ‘Will there be any chance of seeing the Black Death during this?’ he asked, looking at Cirrus.

“Unless Earth has miraculously allowed him to fly around, not likely,” Cirrus answered. He didn’t add anything about Simera being his father and he was unsure if Kenshe already had.

‘Is that what happened to that wretched bastard?’ Tank said with an amused laugh in his psi. ‘I suppose there is a place for everything, even diabolical creatures such as that one. If they managed to imprison him, I suppose it’s a more fitting punishment than death. Best to keep his soul where it can’t harm anyone else.’

Kenshe picked up Prisca and set her over his head and onto his shoulders. Prisca clung cheerfully onto his messy hair, and he ducked through the doorway out.

Cirrus and Tank had another stare down, and Tank could likely see just by his eyes alone whose son he was, but he said nothing more. He got the sickening feeling that this was going to be the most stressful ride of his life. Cirrus left the house to find Kenshe waiting for him with a questioning look in his eyes. “What?”

“I think I figured out your curse when it comes to females.”

“Really?” Cirrus asked, without enthusiasm.

“If Prisca here thinks you’re pretty, that means that you’re likely prettier than the majority of females. They don’t like losing along those lines.”

Cirrus only let out a long sigh, as he didn’t know how ‘pretty’ he might stay if Tank got a hold of him again.