The Omega Bond (Book Five in the Omega Game series)

Chapter 11

Part 2: Zenny

Fair

The Yellow Islands

Present…

Being another person wasn’t as simple as I thought it would be. Two weeks in the sea passed by slowly, while I tried to acclimate to all the new changes surrounding me. For starters, it was hard to answer others when they called me by the name of Zenny. During dinner time it was especially hard to follow the Betas conversation and catch the right moment when they had asked me about something. Usually I tried to only nod or shake my head if I was asked directly for my opinion and that strategy served me well for the entire trip. People started to feel at ease around me because they thought I was shy. I was fine with only listening and talking as little as I could. Better that, than revealing I had the worst accent in the history of foreigner’s accents. In my free time I worked all the time on lowering my pitch and speaking low. I also started reading books in the Yellow Island dialect. Their scripture was a lot easier to understand than their language. They usually used symbols to express open representations of words.

One symbol could have multiple meanings considering its context. The symbol to express affection could also mean family, home and strangely enough food. I guessed that the Yellow Islands natives really loved food. Or maybe they used food to express affection? The list of possibilities went on and on. Little by little I started to observe their mannerisms. They were extremely punctual, all the damn time. Even a couple of minutes late could be frowned upon. They also valued age when speaking. As the youngest member of the group I always had to speak formally to my elders. Even elders considered their age when talking among them and only Alkodila-who was the oldest member of the commitive- had the right to speak informally to others. He didn’t though, he was extremely respectful to everyone.

They always washed their hands and feet before eating and offered alcohol among them because serving alcohol to oneself could bring bad luck. I asked Alkodila about that strange custom of theirs one night, when he asked me to pour him a drink. They were all sharing Oruve, a fermented alcohol made out of grains that seemed to me a lot similar to the Coscus that Maccana people liked. It looked creamy and white, with a powerful scent of alcohol and perfumed spices. I poured Alkodila a glass and he smiled, nodding his head in gratitude.

“You only drink if you are happy and healthy,” explained Alkodila, sipping from his glass, “Filling your own glass means you don’t have others to share your happiness with. You are tempting the fates if you fill your own glass. It means you are selfishly wasting money on your own, instead of doing it with friends. Our grandparents believed that if you drink on your own, you would end up lonely and unhealthy. So, we always pour a glass for our friends and that way we all stay happy and strong.”

They didn’t share food the same way they did alcohol though. Nobody could touch the food until the older person first served himself and only then the others could eat. They never touch food directly with their hands and rarely talk while eating. Mealtimes became very strange while I watched them eat and imitated their traditions. I slowly became friends with Alkodila, who seemed always patient to answer all of my questions.

“Why do you wear robes instead of pants? Why do you say you are thankful for the food before eating it and not after? Why do the Yellow Islanders like the color red so much? Is it true that brides are married in red instead of white like in other countries? Why did the symbol to write water also meant balance and gratitude? Why did they never talk during meals?” All my questions were answered little by little during our trip.

I learned that men and women used robes only during official ceremonies or while traveling in official missions from the crown. That the habitants from the main island favored pants and shirts to work, and military kilts to fight. Then I learned you always had to show gratitude for the food when it was presented to you, so the cook could understand you were thankful for his job regardless of the flavor or taste of the food. And then I learned weird things that I could hardly understand. Alkodila explained to me that red was the color of blood and in the Island, blood meant life. Wearing red was a way to celebrate life and wearing white was discouraged since white was the color of death in a corpse’s face. And then of course that water was what joined all the islands in balance and that we always had to be grateful to water for joining us together.

About not talking while eating Alkodila only frowned and looked at me as if I’ve lost my mind.

“How can you possibly do two things at once?”

I didn’t know how to answer that. I couldn’t imagine Nira staying still and only eating without speaking about how good the food was or all the stories about the different places where she had tasted exotic plates. I enjoyed listening to others speak while I ate. I missed the way the Wolfsons had always shared war time stories during meal times and laughed at stories of their military training. I missed speaking in the Maccana tongue, which was full of changes in pitch and melodic intonations that made even simple stories fun to listen to. I missed my family. I missed my friends. I missed Ang.

Spending the nights all by myself was especially hard. Back in the Dark Desert I usually slept with Lira and Lori. We stayed awake until very late, reading books and enjoying late night snacks. Staying up with them had been one of the funniest things to do back in the City of Leukos. Omegas didn’t like sleeping alone and I found it hard to find sleep during our journey. I ended up going back to deck and studying the night sky while I tried to imagine what Ang was doing right then. From everyone I missed him the most.

I entertained myself by making up stories about my friends and family. I imagined Ang, Zeke and Killuna in their missions, saving lost princesses and fighting against horrible beasts. I imagined Nira bickering with Aros over silly, small things like the fact he liked to leave his clothes all over the house and always forgot to pick them up. I imagined Didoka and Kun, reading together at the light of a fire. Katala and Noctis, walking through the Gilmesh Forest while holding hands.

Time passed by slowly. Days turned into weeks while I grew used to speaking and eating like a native from the Yellow Islands. And then, before I could prepare myself for the discombobulating impression of seeing the Yellow Islands for the first time, we finally arrived at the main island. I honestly didn’t know what to expect. It took me by surprise when one day I saw a dense fog that spread through the sea, making it impossible to see through. The sailors maneuvered our ship with a destristry that floored me. Only natives would have been able to sail such a big ship through gray rocks and such a dense fog. Little by little we moved and suddenly the fog dissipated, revealing an imposing land covered in the greenest grass and gray rocks, from where I could see seagulls perched at guard.

The water seemed to be bluer around the land, inviting people to swim near the shores. The shallows were filled with small fishing boats and fishermen that were either working or sleeping, with straw hats that covered them from the punishing sun over our head. By the embankment I could see a modern looking pier, far more advanced than the one at the Gray Harbors. Iron poles had been stationed around the wide bridges that interconnected each pier in a net of impressive engineering. The main entrance to the island was marked by a tall arch made out of gray rocks. Red banners with the symbol of the nine islands floated in the air and from afar, near a higher city that ruled over the entire island, was an incredible palace from where I could see red flags waving in the distance.

I sniffed the air, smiling at the scent of salty water and fried fish that came from the island. The closer we got, the more hectic the island looked. Sellers yelled their goods while they walked around the harbor. Red lanterns made out of paper hung from columns all over the city. They were not lit up right then but I imagined that by night they would be amazing to watch. From afar I could see footmen carrying other people in rickshaws, directing themselves by the same lanterns that seemed to organize the chaotic streets in some sort of order. The market was close to the harbor and even this far I could see the white smoke coming from the cooking ovens and the smell of meat being roasted.

By the time we finally landed I was smiling from ear to ear. This was by far the most amazing city I’d ever seen. I couldn’t wait to explore it. I moved with the rest of the commitive, getting ready to follow them to the palace where Alkodila was supposed to contact the king and tell him everything about his encounter with the Wolf. I knew already Aros had created some sort of crazy coverup for the explosion I set off the day Didoka activated my powers. I was sure that by then Kotani also knew that whatever story Alkodila would say was only a bunch of lies. Still we all had to play our part.

Our group was starting to walk together when Alkodila stopped by the front of our party, smiling and waving his hand to someone I couldn’t see in the crowd. I saw a big hand wave back and the movement set my Omega instinct on. My breath hitched in my throat when King Alkotanila himself emerged from the crowd of merchants surrounding the market plaza. He looked even taller than what I remembered and as terrifying as my memory recalled. That morning he was dressed in a black kilt and a simple cotton shirt that revealed some of his muscular chest. His hair was braided to the back and like always he wasn’t wearing any jewelry. It didn’t even surprise me the fact he was walking barefoot and had no guards behind him. And somehow, even without a crown, even without a large commitive of guards the crowd opened for him and the voice of his people whispered “make way for the king...make way for the king…”. People touched him while he passed them, as if he were a god, as if his royal blood made him divine in a way that no other mortal will ever be.

He stopped when he reached Alkodila, towering a couple of feet over the smaller Beta. The king placed a hand over the right shoulder of the diplomat and then nodded at the man. Alkodila nodded back, keeping his head down out of respect to his king.

“My king, we have news from the Dark Desert,” informed Alkodila, to which the king responded with a short nod. Kotani took a step back then, studying the commitive with those wise eyes that seemed to see more in people than what others could see. His golden eyes found me and for a fleeting moment we stared at each other. It was only a short moment, nothing more than the acknowledgment of my presence and then he was talking with Alkodila as if I hadn’t been there at all. I felt...disappointed. Maybe it had been my imagination but I thought we had both shared a moment the last time we had seen each other. Then again, it could have been my imagination. He was a king, the power of the Yellow Islands and I was just...I wasn’t even sure who I was anymore.

“The fishermen need my help at the shallows,” informed Kotani and his voice was like a sucker punch to my stomach. It was a good thing my scent had been concealed or he would have a direct confirmation of how impressed my Omega Instinct was by his true Alpha scent and power. Kotani started walking away. He walked with firm steps as if everything came easy to him, as he controlled the world, the road under his feet and the air that impulsed him, “We would discuss those news at dinner. Come over and share my meal with the other fishermen.”

“Nothing would please more, my king,” said Alkodila with a smile and then Kotani was off, running down the road and jumping over a city wall to reach the piers faster. Everyone looked after him, myself included. He was just...incredible. I could sense the devotion his people felt towards him. It was impossible to ignore. Everyone looked at him in awe. When he passed by, others could only look. I’d never seen a king like Kotani. I’d never seen someone so powerful, running to help poor men to fish in the sea.

I smiled a bit, watching him talk with fishermen by the harbor.

Then I covered my lips with a hand, concealing that wicked smile that I couldn’t quite understand where it had come from. Alkodila waved a hand at us to follow him and everyone turned after him.

“Come on everybody,” he called over his shoulder, “we have a long way to go before we reach the servant’s quarter.”