Chapter 09: A Promise

Status: First Draft
Last Edited: Nov. 9th, 2025
Content Warnings: Fantasy Violence, Fantasy Racism, Loss of a Loved One,

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Death and Mild Body Horror Discussed

Chapter 9

The color of the sky had begun to change, heralding the coming night. Kalolin fought to keep her wits about her, though exhaustion threatened to overtake her.

She heard the Benni boy return before she saw him in the dim forest below. He untied the rope that held Kalolin aloft and let it out gently. The ride down was still jerky and uncomfortable for her, but she did her best to ready herself within the confines of the wooden cage.

It met the ground with a solid thump that Kalolin could feel up into her teeth. He approached the door of the cage with a water skin slung over his shoulder. Without concern, he unlatched the door and raised it up with one arm. Latching it open, he crouched down and ducked inside.

Kalolin tensed up as he crawled towards her. He swung the water skin down from his shoulder and offered it to her, but she didn’t move to take it. He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes, then untied the cord from the mouth of the water skin. He poured out a little of the water into his other hand, as though to prove to her that it was water.

When she remained still, he furrowed his brow in annoyance and moved even closer. Whether he was preparing to put the water skin in her hand by force, or worse, the water directly in her mouth, it didn’t end up mattering.

Kalolin waited until her captor was on top of her, his upper half over her outstretched legs. With all the force she could muster she pulled her knees in towards herself, catching the back of his load-bearing arm. He toppled down onto her lap, water spilling out of the water skin and onto the dirt below the bars of the cage.

He cried out, and she grabbed at his pale wrist, pulling it down to the floor of the cage. He had left her gag beside her when he removed it some time before, time enough for Kalolin to tie it firmly to one of the wooden rods in the floor. The other end of the gag she had worked into a miniature noose.

Digging her fingernails into his flesh, she shoved his hand through the loop. All of his weight was on her. She was eternally grateful that Benni were so small, and that she had spent so much time hauling bushels of apples. She wriggled out from underneath him, scrabbled toward the door of the cage, and he lunged after her. The noose went taut with a painful snap, but he grabbed a fistful of her black hair with his free hand.

Kalolin turned and sunk her teeth rabidly into his exposed forearm. He didn’t cry out in pain, flinching just enough for her to escape his grasp. She practically tumbled out onto the bare ground before struggling to her feet.

When she released it, the door slammed shut with a thud that echoed through the forest. Her hurried hands shaking, she locked it closed. She considered, for the briefest moment, trying to raise the cage with the Benni inside, but there was no way she would have the strength to do so. She had to hope that the knot she had tied and the latch at the bottom of the door would buy her enough time.

She took a moment to get her bearings before she ran in the direction she hoped was back towards the main mass of the Benni camp.

Kalolin was used to running around trees and dodging low-hanging branches. Apple trees, low to the ground and laden with heavy fruit, were notorious for the injuries they could cause at exactly head-height. So when Kalolin’s face collided with something unexpectedly in her path, she was stunned not only by the force of the collision, which was enough to drop her to the ground, but also by her new-found ineptitude.

It was a relief, then, to see that what she had hit wasn’t a stray branch, but a pale, well-muscled Benni arm. A man stepped out from behind a tree and looked down at her with wide, confused eyes, like he wasn’t sure what he was looking at.

When she tried to sit up, the Benni placed a foot onto her chest and pushed her back down to the ground. He shouted something over his shoulder. Grabbing at the back of his knee, Kalolin tried to pull the leg from her chest. The man fell forward, but it was a controlled fall. He landed on her stomach, knocking the wind out of her.

She flung her arms at him uselessly, and when that didn't work, she smacked her knees ineffectually into his back. The leaves rustled around them and more figures appeared in the edges of her vision. They didn’t move to help the man, and he didn’t need them to.

He kept his weight on Kalolin’s stomach, pressing on her diaphragm. She lost breath with each movement, and couldn’t get it back. Her limbs failed her as she had to fight for wheezing gasps. When her arms dropped, exhausted, to the ground beside her head, the Benni flipped her over roughly. Still panting for air, Kalolin sucked pine litter into her mouth. Coughing and sputtering, she was pulled roughly to her feet and her hands were bound behind her back.

“Control. Your. Woman!” Ti’ifa was seething as she shoved Kalolin to the ground.

Kalolin caught herself on her hands and knees, already sore from her escape, now even more so.

Ainjrejeu was sitting cross-legged on the dark slate ground. His hair and clothes had changed; he was now mostly naked but also somehow dressed up. The fanciful braiding of his hair appeared ceremonial, less practical than the other Benni around him.

Eyes big with shock and confusion, Ainjrejeu looked back at Kalolin, then up at his Aunt.

“She escapes!” Ti’ifa continued shouting. “She attacks! She bites my idiot son! Not if you control her, I fear two Kaimera will be my problem!” Her ears were turning dusky gray with anger.

“Yes, Ahhk Ti’ifa. My apologies,” Ainjrejeu nodded his head in deference and gestured for Kalolin to sit beside him.

As Kalolin scooted over next to him, Ti’ifa stormed off, her feet slapping loudly against the rocky ground for effect. A few other Benni remained on the overlook, not far from an unnerving drop, piling sticks and wood together in what appeared to be preparation for a bonfire.

Ainjrejeu lowered his voice as he turned to Kalolin. “Have you actually been an imbecile this whole time?” He narrowed his warm hazel eyes at her. In this place filled with androgynous, ethereal beauty, he was a welcome sight: real, and familiar, and warm. Not warm, actually. He looked cold, his brown skin almost as washed out as his white-skinned relatives. It took Kalolin a moment, taking him in with worried eyes, to realize that some of this was artificial. Dark makeup underneath his eyes and in the hollows of his cheeks gave him the look of having not eaten or slept in many days. With relief, Kalolin reminded herself that she had, in fact, seen him do so.

“Must be,” Kalolin smiled up at him. She wanted to kiss him again.

“You are seemingly incapable of following even the most basic of commands,” he hissed at her.

“I had to make sure you were alright,” protested Kalolin. “You’re the one who got us all captured in the first place.”

Ainjrejeu scoffed. “I have a plan, and it’s going quite well, thank you. You, on the other hand, have managed to...what? Bite my cousin? Or were there any other astounding accomplishments I should be made aware of?”

“Your cousin?” Kalolin laughed. “That explains the resemblance.”

“Thank you.” He nodded, taking what she’d said as a compliment.

"It turned out how I wanted, anyhow," shrugged Kalolin.

"Oh, did it?" Ainjrejeu raised a copper eyebrow. "All that fuss just to...sit next to me all night?" His tone started off sarcastic, but faltered as he realized it was true.

Kalolin smiled bashfully, in a way that was unlike her. "It was awfully boring in that cage. I'll be happier here."

“We’ll see,” Ainjrejeu frowned.

The last rays of sunlight were about to disappear behind the jagged silhouettes of evergreen trees when a whisper came from the treeline. The young man who had captured Kalolin, Ainjrejeu’s cousin, was calling to them furtively. Teeth marks were still visible on his arm, an ugly charcoal gray.

“Ainjrru,” he waved.

With a huff, Ainjrejeu got to his feet and went to meet him. They exchanged a few words in Benni, too quietly for Kalolin to make anything out, not that she would have understood anything she heard if she’d been able to.

Ainjrejeu returned with a full water skin and tossed it onto Kalolin’s lap before dropping back to his seat on the ground.

“It is pretty cute, the way he struggles to say your name,” teased Kalolin.

The response she received what not what she expected. Ainjrejeu furrowed his brow, his gaze twitching between her two eyes with confusion. “What?” he asked after a moment of thought.

“His accent,” Kalolin clarified. “He says your name funny.”

“He is saying my name.”

“No, your name is…” Kalolin paused. She thought back, trying to recall the times she had heard his name. It dawned on her that there was exactly one person she had never heard say it.

“What are you talking about?” There was growing concern in his face.

“But Miar says it this way!” Kalolin protested. “And Tareuk, and everyone! It’s not like I made it up!”

Ainjrejeu’s face broke into laughter. “But imagine if you had.” He paused to catch his breath. “It’s true, that is what all my Sarnain legal documents say. But my mother named me Ainjrru Ailan, so that will always be my name. It’s actually been really nice to hear it said properly again.”

Kalolin sighed with exasperation. “You do enjoy it when I make a fool of myself, don’t you?”

“Very much,” he grinned.

“Say it again for me,” said Kalolin.

“Ainjrru,” he trilled.

I’d need to be a bird or a cat to make a noise like that, Kalolin thought. Perhaps both.

“Aintjerrrrru,” she tried to replicate the sounds slowly. “Ainjer—Aintr—Ainjr...hu.”

“Is your tongue just the mangled corpse of a dead fish?” he smirked. “It would explain the smell.”

“Oh, hex you, it’s hard,” Kalolin giggled and shoved him by the shoulder. “I can see why someone just made up Ainjrejeu and ran with it.” She took a deep breath. “Ainjru,” she said simply. “Your name is Ainjru.”

He laughed. “No extra letters, at least.”

“I’m afraid it won’t get any closer without you reaching a hand in my mouth and folding my tongue up all which-ways yourself.”

“I doubt it would do any good,” Ainjru smiled, “though it does sound like a fun activity for a rainy day.”

He lowered his voice to an expectant whisper. "They're almost done.” The wood for the bonfire at the edge of the rocky overlook was piled high now, the Benni around it preparing to light it.

"They will light the fire with the last rays of the sun,” Ainjru explained. “It is my duty to sit awake the entire night and protect the fire. Aitan says the smoke from the fire will guide my mother’s soul back to the land the Benni came from.” He made an odd face, as though he didn’t believe the words he was saying. “If you sit bronamh with me tonight, you won’t be allowed to stand up until morning, understand?”

Kalolin nodded obediently.

“If you cannot, I would prefer you leave now. You can spend the night,” he grimaced, “with my cousin. You will be safe with him.”

Kalolin shook her head.

“Alright,” sighed Ainjru. “Wait here.” He stood up and padded over to the other Benni on bare feet, now streaked with dirt in a way they hadn’t been even once back in Hanzo. The Benni received him, not exactly warmly, but as though his presence was expected. He handed one of them a small something that had been balled up in his hand, and then another moved toward him with a knife.

Kalolin was on her feet before she saw, with relief, the knife being used to saw through a thin braid that hung down below Ainjru’s ear. He winced painfully anyway as the knife broke through the last strands and the braid pulled away from him.

Kalolin sat back down and in the utter, eerie quiet all eyes looked to the sky. As the last ray of sunlight was lost behind a tall tree, the bonfire burst into flame, casting its flickering orange glow on the mountainside. Ainjru’s braid was cast into the fire and from it smoke swirled up into the sky to meet the stars.

Once the fire had reached its full intensity, crackling greedily through the neatly arranged logs that fed it, the other Benni left the clearing without a word. Ainjru returned to sit beside Kalolin on the cold ground. After a moment, he shuffled closer to the warmth of the fire, and she followed in silence.

The wavering of the flames seemed to mark the passage of time, a passage that was unbelievably slow. A sliver of moon rose against the black sky, surrounded by milky swirls of stars. If Kalolin stared into it she thought she could see it move, ever so imperceptibly. But, every time she blinked, the moon was back in the same place.

“This is...your mother’s funeral?” Kalolin asked. Her voice seemed to break the silence like the shattering of glass. She grimaced, but it was already done.

“Yes,” Ainjru replied. “Only ten years overdue.”

“I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say.

“I appreciate it,” he replied, his voice measured and cold, his face expressionless.

“I’ve only been to one funeral before,” Kalolin said softly, “and never a Benni one.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” said Ainjru.

“Oh, no, I barely knew her.” Kalolin shook her head. “Aideulin. She was Farmer Rhomeili’s son’s second wife.” Kalolin’s voice fell to a whisper in the quiet air, almost drowned out by the crackling of the fire. “She died in childbirth, or, before, I guess. The baby was coming but it was still inside her when she died. They cut it out of her, but it was too late.”

Kalolin shook her shoulders, warding off a shudder. “I was only there because Farmer Rhomeili fetched my brothers to dig the grave. It was just a hole, really. They threw her in, and then threw the baby in afterward. Her eyes were still open when they read her final rites and when I looked into them...it was like I was the one down there in that grave.”

“You saw a reaper, then,” said Ainjru, gently.

“What?”

“That’s what they say, at least,” he added, with a small smile. “When a reaper comes to reclaim the soul of the departed, they hide their reflection in the deceased’s eyes behind an omen of the witness’s death.”

“So I really did see my own death?” Kalolin’s eyes were wide, reflecting the flickering flame.

“One, perhaps.” Ainjru shrugged. “It does not mean that’s how you will die. Only one possible fate of many.” He grinned and shook his head. “It better not. Elsewise I’ve got a grim fate lined up for myself.”

“Of course.” Kalolin breathed a sigh of relief, and sat up straighter. “I’ve already changed my fate, after all.”

“Is that so?” The smile dropped from Ainjru’s face, and he let his eyes wander to the fire. “Do you remember the final rites they read?”

“I—” She wanted to say she wasn’t sure, but it would be a lie. “Every word.”

“I’d like to hear them.”

“Yes, sehr.” Kalolin took a deep breath and looked deeply into the fire.

There was a tiny sound from beside her and Kalolin turned. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust back to the darkness of the night, encroaching in around the fire.

She thought perhaps Ainjru objected to something in her recitation, but instead found his eyes closed and his head resting on his knees, like a child listening to a bedtime story. His arms were wrapped so tightly around himself that she could see the lack of circulation where his fingers were indenting into his flesh. Shivering came and went in fits, like he was too tired to keep it up for very long.

Kalolin swung off her woolen vest. She had to press it into Ainjru’s side for him to notice. His eyelids flickered open.

“Aren’t you supposed to stay awake all night?” she chided.

“I was just resting my eyes.” He managed a weak smile and then repositioned himself into a less comfortable position.

“Put this on.” She pushed her vest at him again.

He merely shook his head at her. Whether it was a part of the ritual or just his stubborn pride didn’t make a difference. In this, and probably in all other things, there was no convincing him. Kalolin put the vest back on with a sigh, then moved closer to Ainjru and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He jerked, once, startled, but made no attempt to push her away.

The morning came suddenly, then. Kalolin sat upright, at first thinking the fire had done something very unusual to make even the sky so bright. After a moment she realized she must have fallen asleep while sitting up, her head on Ainjru’s shoulder.

“Good morning.” Ainjru leaned in close and whispered in Kalolin’s ear. His breath was hot enough to fog up the morning air, but not as hot as his skin as he nestled his face into the side of her neck.

“Good morning, sehr,” replied Kalolin, trying not to sound out of breath despite her sudden racing pulse.

“Sleep well?” he asked her. There were dark circles beneath his tired, unfocused eyes, but they were brighter than the night before. More hopeful. Or hungry.

“I’m...not really sure, since I was asleep for most of it.”

He laughed and pulled away from her. “You better have, else you ruined my shoulder for no good reason.” He stretched his arm over his head and grimaced.

The sky was a light periwinkle, with only a few gray clouds on the horizon. A heavy mist lay below the rocky outcrop like a white ocean. The bonfire was burning low, a soft orange glow peeking out from the lowest ring of logs. They were still stretching their legs in front of the dwindling fire when Ti'ifa and her son stepped out from the treeline behind them. The bags under Ti’ifa’s eyes suggested she had been up through the entire night as well.

“Not have I denied you bronamh,” Ti’ifa declared, coming to halt before Ainjru. “Now leave.”

Ainjru’s eyebrows shot up, his whole face stricken. "But I have so many questions!" he protested. "I need to hear the Benni stories!"

"Not you are Benni," Ti’ifa replied, her face cold as ice.

"I am Teveri’ine," Ainjru insisted. "The call is in my bones. I deserve to be taught the Teveri’ine histories." The fire behind him seemed to crackle louder.

Ti’ifa shook her head. "You are Tarshti’il. You are a danger here."

"Please," he begged. His voice was growing louder, more desperate. He was a moment away from dropping to his knees. "Just one hour. For my mother. Teach me the stories that she could not."

Ti’ifa’s face was unmoved, but beside her, Ainjru’s cousin, Aitan, wore a face like a sea of constant, uncomfortable emotion.

"Your companions are taken to the edge of Ben. You go to them now, or they will be killed."

"But...shhk." Ainjru audibly gritted his teeth. There was a dark, angry energy in the air around him. It sapped the color from the morning sky and the heat from the flame. After a moment he stomped a foot and let out a single wordless scream, like a banshi’s wail.

"Fine," he took a deep breath. "We are leaving peacefully.” His voice was cold, emotionless, as though someone else was speaking through him.

Ainjru was given a few moments to change back into his own clothing before his aunt and cousin escorted them out of the clearing to where other, more heavily armed, Benni were waiting for them.

They marched through the forest in silence. Peaceful birdsong filled the air, the creatures oblivious to the tension which kept multiple spear-tips pointed at Ainjru’s back.

It took about half an hour for them to reach the other end of the Green Pass, where the forest was again constricted by towering walls of rock. At the narrowest point stood Tareuk and Kalem, their hands still bound as they waited under several pairs of watchful eyes.

"Glad to see you are alright, sehr," said Tareuk. Three of the Benni around him flinched just at the deep rumble of his voice.

"Your doubts cause me offense," Ainjru smirked as he approached them. Arrogance was plastered over his face like paint so thick Kalolin could no longer see through it, even though she knew better. "We have safe passage through the Green Pass, precisely as I said we would."

Surrounded by a small sea of effeminate Benni men and women the Sarnains appeared strikingly tall and burly. Despite looking like an even mixture between Kalem and Aitan, Ainjru didn’t really fit with either group, half of both but somehow not part of either.

He set about untying the ropes that bound Tareuk’s hands. The Benni beside him skittered back like alley cats.

Ti’ifa waited in silence while Kalem’s bindings were undone as well. The musician rubbed uncomfortably at the red marks left on his wrists, and he also seemed to be slightly leaning, favoring one leg.

“Now, Tarshti’il,” she declared. “Leave. Or die.”

It might have been uncharacteristically gracious of the Benni to have brought them across to the North end of the Green Pass rather than simply dumping them back out the way they’d come. It seemed that grace was running out.

“Of course,” Ainjru nodded. He was unable to keep the sarcastic tone out of his voice entirely.

Aitan and another young Benni man handed the outsiders back the packs they had been carrying before their capture, though they were substantially lighter now.

Ainjru gestured for the others to start walking ahead of him. Kalolin moved forward hesitantly, but kept her eyes on him warily over her shoulder. Despite the ineffectiveness of her previous attempts, she would not hesitate to throw a punch at a Benni face if she got the opportunity.

Ainjru turned back to the crowd of Benni, but only with his upper half, to reassure them he still intended to leave. Kalolin could see the moment he steeled his courage by the set in his shoulders.

“I will promise you now, Ahhk, as I promised my mother then.” The air was charged, like the moment before a lightning strike.

“I will find Brashei’il.”

A rumbling storm of whispers broke out in the gathered Benni. They recognized something in what was said. Many looked with concern for Ti’ifa to translate further, but she did not. Instead, her entire face grew dark with anger and she growled, wordlessly, like a wolf about to attack.

Ainjru did not flinch, but turned slowly to make his way out of the Green Pass with his head held high. Only a moment later, (they’d made it less than ten feet) the sound of running footsteps startled them from behind. Ainjru jumped, and Kalolin cried out. Neither was fast enough to react.

The figure grabbed Ainjru, making contact with enough force that Ainjru stumbled forward a few steps. He might have fallen over if the figure hadn’t wrapped their arms tightly around him. Tareuk bristled, moving to tear the attacker off his patron, but Ainjru held up a hand to stop him.

Aitan buried his face in Ainjru’s back between his shoulder blades. After a few seconds, he released him. Ainjru turned to meet him, looking at a slight downward angle into his cousin’s big, sad eyes.

Aitan said something in Benni, his voice soft and affectionate. Without reply, Ainjru bit his lip and narrowed his eyes, as though holding back tears. He hadn’t once come close to crying at his mother’s funeral the night before.

Aitan pulled something out from a pocket: a huge, red-brown hawk feather, almost the length of his forearm. There was a small hook fashioned to the end of it, and he worked the hook gently through a piercing in Ainjru’s ear until it mirrored the blue feather in his own. A silent moment passed between the cousins before Aitan turned and marched back to his mother.

Ainjru looked away, his heavy feet making progress down the mountain more from gravity than his own power.

A single slap rang out into the forest behind them, loud enough to cow the birds in the treetops from singing. Ainjru flinched at the yelp of pain that accompanied it, but he kept moving forward, and did not look back.

When Kalolin dared to do so, she found all the Benni were gone, as if they had never been.