Willow's Lament

5.

"Find me proof of this. Bring me a sworn enforcer from whom information can be obtained, whether willingly or by force."

The King's words followed me the entire one hundred and fifty five second journey to the outer gate of Gaeleae, riding on a rift in time to the streets of New York City. By then, there was bright daylight in the human realm, a considerable amount of time having past while I was in conference with my father. City streets congested with cars and commuters welcomed the new day with renewed fervor, once again commencing their self absorbed routines. In comparison to where I had been previously, the atmosphere here was far more inviting. There was no one here who cared to know who or what I was-- they were so caught up in their pressing phone calls, thriving social media accounts and over priced caffeinated beverages.

Everyone enjoyed his or her bubble, connected through the invisible ties of the world wide web and networking for the sake of their own personal gain but not on any other meaningful level. They were oblivious to each other and that allowed me to remain among them inconspicuously.

Tommy answered his cellphone on the second ring when I called. "Are you okay?" came his worried voice on the other end of the line. He was panting as if he were out of breath.

"What's wrong with your breathing?" I countered as I walked briskly. I was certain that I would reach his house in under ten minutes if I walked and in even less time if I cheated and bent the time continuum. Technically, that was exactly what it was or at least, it was the only rationale that adequately explained it in my view. 'Jumping' was not exactly what its name suggested. Portals were not exactly metaphysical bridges between one location and the other because such an explanation could not accurately account for every circumstance. My ability to jump was virtually limitless-- affording me the ability to cross continents, oceans, realms and of course, time zones.

To me it seemed only logical then to assume that time was an inevitable obstacle to encounter in the process. I theorized as a result that when I 'jumped,' I did more than just bridge locations but I joined moments in time, for time itself gave true meaning to distance. Of course, that was neither here nor there and there hadn't been anyone to prove me either wrong or right in that way. Tommy's response came after he inhaled loudly.

"I was jogging," he replied and the response was followed by another exaggerated exhale.

I smiled into the glass screen of the phone, only aware that he was unable to see me. "You jog?"

He kissed his teeth in response. "Don't patronize me, Sera. I happen to think that its really good cardio. It's a healthier way to get the adrenaline flowing that perhaps, other 'alternatives.'

I felt that the last was aimed at me for some reason. He was always vocal about the 'suicide missions' I embarked on daily as prescribed by my occupation.

"Whatever makes you happy," I replied softly. I knew that I was trying my hardest not to laugh but I wasn't sure what it was about his statement that I found particularly comical.

Tommy sighed as if he were exasperated. I suspected that our friendship had aged him by a few years.

"I was worried, Sera. I woke up this morning, having no memory of when or why I had fallen asleep and you weren't there..." he trailed off and I could sense his anxiety like a faint perfume. It excited my attention the way the scent of the pastries in the bakery directly to the left of me did. It strangled my rational thoughts from across the line and I could only think to console him.

"I'm fine," I reassured him. "I promise to tell you what you need to know when I see you."

"Does that mean that you're coming home?" He replied animatedly and there it was: that child-like elation that I could always hear in his voice when the subject of us 'together' became a part of the discussion.

In his eyes, there seemed to be nothing that I had said or could say-- nothing that I have done or could ever do that would make me appear less attractive or less human. Even, dare I say it, less perfect in his teenage mind.

I knew that I would let him down one day and that perhaps, was why I maintained distance.

"You say that as if home were a universal concept for the both of us. I don't have a home in the same sense that you do but, if by that you mean your house then, of course."

By then I was within viewing distance of his house. Tommy was bent over, his hand resting on his knees as he appeared sorely out of breath. Chocolate brown curls fell into his eyes and obscured his gentle face.

"Take deep breaths," I admonished, still looking in his direction. "The position you're in, with your head bent towards the ground like that will never allow you to get enough air in."

I watched him pause for a moment as he slowly erected his posture. He was confused, looking about before finally catching sight of me from where I stood on the sidewalk, two streets ahead of him.

I could see the goofy grin spread across his face even from this distance.

"I haven't got the energy to run to you; which is not to say that I wouldn't but I just can't..." He blurted out in one breath as if it was costly to even speak in compound sentences.

"Then don't," I replied, chuckling. "I will come to you."

"My hero," he lauded playfully, leaning casually against the white fence behind him as he watched me advance.

"Shall I call down a shower of rain to cool you down? Quench your thirst even-- if you're into that of course?"

"You can do that?" The way he asked the question made me think that he actually believed me; as if to say: "what can't you do?"

"Of course not. I have my limits. I'm not that powerful but I'm flattered that you might think that I have the potential to be."

"Mhmmm," he grumbled, perhaps without the right words to say in response.

A thin sheen of sweat covered his olive skin, his arms and mid-thighs exposed by the dark tank top and matching running shorts combo he sported proudly. A pair of bright blue earbuds were stuck in his ears, connected to the smartphone he clutched in his left hand for dear life.

Somehow, as worn out as he looked, he managed to muster enough strength to wrap his arms and slender body around me with his chin resting atop my head. From there, I found out that he was actually a lot sweatier than I had initially assumed.

The sentiment was endearing, though still slightly uncomfortable but the contact made me more in need of a shower than I would have liked to have been.

"You are aware that I don't have any other clothes to change into?" I complained with the left side of my face pressed against his sweaty chest.

"I'm sure there's something of mine that you can wear," he assured me. "Are you hungry?"

I shrugged, not entirely sure if I was. I hadn't had anything to eat since that muffin the night before, so I suppose sustenance was necessary, but my stomach was in knots. The adrenaline coursing through my veins choked and consumed any emotion I felt.

My anxiety tricked my mind and body into believing that I wanted to pursue this cat-and-mouse game around any part of the world. My brain was far too cramped to even consider it.

My exhaustion made me more agreeable. "I can stay for breakfast if that's what you're asking."

His answering grin was dazzling.

Tommy corralled me into the house like I was his favorite pet. His mother wasn't home again but the scent of pancakes from the kitchen was an unmistakable vestige of his presence.

I was sent off to his room again to be waited on like the guest I was meant to be in his home.

It was no less tidy than when I left it the night before and favoring the floor over the bed, I sat cross legged on the carpet.

Lyche blood had dried in thick patches on my shirt and though the dark color was nearly invisible against the black fabric, I could feel it through the cloth and the black tank top I wore beneath it.

Tommy shuffled into the room as I was peeling the turtle neck away from my body and over my head. He stopped in the doorway, a covered tray in his hands and a fork and knife between his lips. He blinked rapidly, hazel eyes following my hands as I let the filthy cloth fall from my fingers.

I frowned, brows creased. "Are you okay?"

He nodded a little too vigorously. "I didn't know you were undressing. I can come back-- give you a little privacy if that's what you need."

"I would hardly consider this undressing." I looked down and saw nothing that was worth hiding. Alabaster skin and small fingers folded in my lap. I inherited a fuller bust from my mother but I wasn't one to flaunt my assets.

I knew that I was sufficiently concealed. Yet, Tommy still looked flustered, a faint blush flooding his cheeks. He was quick to hide his embarrassment, turning his face toward the empty hall.

"I mean, I'm not even shirtless; and I've seen you without a shirt haven't I?"

He laughed a little too harshly. "That's hardly the same thing."

"I can put it back on if it will make you more comfortable." I hadn't expected him to be this innocent-- this awkward.

He sighed and stepped into the room. "No; don't. I'm being childish."

Carefully, he sat across from me, placing the tray between us. "There's just no way you could understand why I'd feel so... excited to have you in my room in a tank top."

"Try me," I challenged him, folding my arms underneath my breasts without thinking.

His wide eyes focused on the motion. "Don't do that." Color flooded his olive cheeks. "You're making it worse."

"I'm sorry, I replied, my hands flopping down to my side. I didn't want to prolong his agony any longer. I suppose I had never seen a human male so bashful before; especially given how tightly most seemed to cling to their fragile masculinity. Tommy in particular was the last person I would peg as being unsure of himself.

Yet, across from me he sat and his embarrassment at being attracted to me seemed to only be exaggerated by the fact that he was equally embarrassed, with being embarrassed in the first place.

I reached out, hesitantly wary that my trying to assure him would seem like pity that he didn't really want.

He let me rest my petite palm on his cheek. His skin was warm with the surge of blood pulsing beneath his skin.

"You're really beautiful, Sera," he sort of grumbled as if he was torn between shouting it from the rooftops and preparing for the rejection he was sure would follow such a bold statement.

"You're beautiful too, Tommy," I shot back, trying to diffuse the palpable tension in the room.

For a moment, I thought it worked and he grinned sweetly. Throwing an arm around my shoulders, he pulled me against his chest in an overly affectionate side hug. Tommy squeezed me against his damp body.

"You make it so hard to be friends with you; to only want to be friends with you, Sera."

I could hear the truth in the way his voice cracked and trembled around the syllables. I could feel it in the way his pulse quickened without recourse.

I started to pull away, wary that the more I condoned this kind of talk, the more those feelings for me would grow and that would only cause him pain. I hadn't the capacity to love him the way he needed to be loved and so I couldn't allow him to assume that I might be able to.

"I'm sure I make it hard for a lot of people."

"But I put up with you," he shrugged. "More so that perhaps a lot of other people do." Absentmindedly, he ran his fingers over the plush, grey carpet, like you would run your hands through blades of grass in a field. It was obvious anxiety. "How was your father?"he mumbled, meeting my eyes.

I stared up at him, watching his hazel eyes study me as if he knew there was no disputing his assessment.

"What makes you think that I saw him?"

He kissed my forehead somberly, like you would with a child who had just recently been orphaned. In a lot of ways, that seemed to make sense. That was exactly who I was, an orphan. My father's absenteeism was a most painful reminder.

"I just know. You are always reluctant to talk about things when it has to do with him and from what little you have shared with me about his position, I figured he was the only person who would have the information you needed."

I made a motion with my head that was caught between a nod and a dismissive shake of the head. "Well, he didn't have anything really," I confessed. "The only reason he gave me what I wanted was because he got the whiff of an impending war."

"A war?" he asked, his attention partially consumed by the pancakes he was methodically cutting in tiny cubes for me."

Exhaling loudly, I replied, "I believe we are on the cusp of one-- the lyches and the last of the Gaelaens; and I fear that humans will be caught in the middle of it regardless."

"Good against evil, light against darkness; the prophesied final duel. Is it that kind of thing?"He raised his brows speculatively.

I smiled. "Its hardly that simple but in a lot of ways, from the outside, that's what it looks like. The rationale behind it is all pretty confusing, perhaps overly complex."

"Explain it to me?" A strange, curious light flickered in his eyes. "No matter how cliched it is, I'd like to hear it."

"It is cliched," I laughed. "Gaelae, my home town was a city founded by an angel. It was intended to be a holdfast, a stronghold of sorts. A place where future warriors would be born and bred to fight their mortal enemies the lyches, vile creatures born of Cain and the Serpent's plot to repay their Creator. In truth, I'm not entirely sure how to account for what should have been some form of incest to initially further the bloodline but, our historical records can prove that we have never reproduced with persons outside of our species. However, that's really near nor there though.

The war has been raging on for thousands of years-- long before I was born and the kings of Gaelae have always ensured that they had a place in the middle of it all; none more so that my father, King Brandon and his father before him, the brute of a ruler named King Maximus. They have always believed that in order to restore balance, lyches had to be exterminated-- at all costs, at the expense of all life and without compromise. However, that has always meant that being one of Gaelae's revered soldiers was more like a life sentence than an occupational choice."

Tommy raised one sharp eyebrow."How could you be forced to give your life for a cause like that?"

"Why does an eighteen year of American boy enlist in his country's army? Give his life for men and women he has never met straight out of high school? Why does he, on the cusp of his manhood, give over his budding young life--one that is writhed with potential, over to the follies and madness of another man's war in another man's country?" I shrugged, answering the my own rhetorical question.

"Maybe because its all he knows; maybe his father and his father's father and his father before him made a similar choice and thus, the one he made was less of an option. By then it feels like birth rite; second nature or like the need for oxygen or for water. Or maybe, it is as simply and nonsensically explained by the ideals of duty and honor. Its a compulsion, Tommy-- one that has no logical basis. Its like something in your blood; in your DNA and for me, it was exactly that: in my genes."

"I didn't know that it was a genetic thing for you guys. So you're born a... um..."

"A Defender," I clarified, with a smile. "And yes. We are born with a gene that is expressed during the beginning of prepubescence. Carriers can be identified fairly easily using a series of successive tests called the Primus and the Selection. The Primus is an all out Gladiator's match, minus the killing of the victor's opponents. Seven combatants in a ring compete in unarmed, hand-to-hand combat with the victor securing his or her title by a tap out or knock out. Its meant to be strictly controlled. Finally, to ensure that the victory was a product of the genetic predisposition as a opposed to superior training or blind luck, the victor is asked to choose from a random selection of seven objects; each object with its own meaning and one of those objects has significance to all members of the Defender line."

"Like identifying an Avatar?" he grinned. "Every Defender in history has chosen a special object for all of time? Is that it?"

"Of course," I scoffed, "just degrade and liken my country's oldest tradition to the fictional practices of a beloved human anime series. I'm sure that's fair."

Tommy laughed," I think its a compliment. The role of the Avatar was selfless-- denying self and desires for the good of all mankind. Being likened to that is admirable, minus perhaps the fact that its a soul sucking occupation."

Again, I shrugged my shoulders. "But its not an occupation is it? I've always known that I needed to be this and when I didn't know, I was reminded of this constantly. I don't know any other choice to make. My people have been slaughtered for many years and we have slaughtered many lyches in return. Sometimes, its more of a m******e than a fight; an obvious imbalance of power that favors you more than it is does your opponent. In those moments, it becomes harder to know-- harder to be assured of the fact that the choice you are making is really the right one. Those moments haunt me."

My head was filled with the pained shrieks of the creatures I had ambushed. Men and women who had been caught unawares by my skill and unwavering loyalty to the orders of my superiors. I killed them all and by my own careful estimates, there were fifty-six souls that I had vanquished whose sins I couldn't truly verify. I was a worn our cog in a machine-- following orders that I had never been able to truly believe and I couldn't image anything being more depressing than that.

"Nothing is worth your soul, Sera." Tommy clenched my right hand in his much larger one. The sympathy on his face was uncomfortable to witness.

"Well its not entirely a fool's errand. There are actual lives that I have managed to protect. I have killed more lyches who have directly been the cause of the disruption and destruction of human property than those whose history was not so well documented. There's a kind of pride in that, albeit a little self righteousness but, at the very least, its comforting to know that my deeds are justified.

I have won just as many times as I have lost. Experience does not mean success and there are parts of my back that are thick with scars that won't heal-- reminders of failures and battles I couldn't not win. I have met with death more than the average individual should. It hasn't been enough to scare me off yet but, the idea of lyches unifying in ways that they hadn't before; establishing hierarchies for leadership and dominance may prove itself to be more than the any confrontation I've ever had. I have no idea to what end or for what purpose this usually solitary race would be inspired to suddenly coalesce. The uncertainty is my greatest burden, especially when I will be forced to lead the charge against the impending threat."

The irony of it all shook me and I grinned sarcastically. "Its a suicide mission if there ever was one, but for my father, its every soldier's finest moment. He couldn't care less about me, as long as he gets the war he had been so been vehemently preaching about."

Tommy was quiet for a little while, absentmindedly playing with his fingers as the gears in his head churned. When he finally spoke, his voice was hollow, a deeper baritone. "Yet you know all of this and have willingly volunteered to enlist in his army?" I don't think there are words to express the dumbfounded look on his face.

"Volunteering? No, this is hardly that sort of thing. I have no intentions of fighting this war-- not unless I am forced to."

"That's not exactly a 'no' Sera." He pushed the plate toward me with more force than was necessary and it collided briefly with my leg.

I accepted it begrudgingly, grabbing a few of the cube shaped pieces that were millimeters away from toppling over the edge of the ceramic vessel. "If you know that you're going to be this angry about it, just stop asking questions that you know you won't like the answers to." The pancakes were definitely banana and delicious, although they were now slightly cooler than I would have liked. I chewed slowly as a means to avoid further contributing to this conversation.

He threw his hands up in frustration. "I just want a straight answer. You're never straight with me where it counts-- not about how you're feeling or when and why you're risking your life. You behave as though this is all completely normal and its scary."

He grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to look at him. "I am scared for you. Can you understand that? Can you understand that I care enough to ask the tough questions?"

Tommy was rarely angry with me. He was always too passive; too tolerant of my interests and my erratic behavior to oppose me. Yet, like a rubber band, strained by too much pressure and for far too long, he was bound to snap. I simply never expected it to happen. I never thought he would raise it me.

"You cannot keep treating me like your invalid of a sidekick, Sera," he bellowed, his cheeks turning red again. "I want to be here for you; whatever you need to discuss. I can take it but you will loose me if you continue to shut me out."

Something in Tommy's hazel eyes seemed far too fragile; a flickering, dying ember that was starved of oxygen. It was as if even as he threatened to walk away from me, the thought of it was far too painful and his pain wounded me. I wanted to reach behind his eyes and grab a hold of that broken part of him. I wanted to cradle his most wounded parts against me until the pain was gone but I couldn't accept the responsibility that it all implied.

I was the source of his pain and I knew that by consoling him now, I would only be rubbing salt into open wounds. Yet, I just couldn't stop myself.

I hugged him, pulling him as close to me as was physically possible. This time I didn't care that he was sweating or that my dress made him uncomfortable and he seemed equally less concerned. He welcomed my embrace, his head nestled between my shoulder and neck.

Tommy spoke with his lips against my skin and to my own surprised I shivered involuntarily as they brushed against my skin. "I know you've never thought of me in that way and you probably never will. I'm content with the possibility that you may never reciprocate what I feel for you but, at the very least, I just want you to acknowledge that I'm here. Just know that I really care."

"Love is pain, Tommy," I confessed, running my fingers through his chocolate curls. "Its not that you ask something of me that this is impossible, I just don't see...I can't promise to always be honest with you. There are things I won't always know how to say but, know that I won't leave you. I will be here."

I couldn't see it but I could tell that he was smiling, because that was who he was. Tommy was mercurial and his emotions were impossible to keep track of; or at least that's how it seemed from the external. It was perfectly normal for him to grin while he's on the cusp of a breakdown.

"I know that you will; you are as loyal as they come." Tommy kissed my cheek. "But let the record show that I never brought up the word love-- you did."