Defenders

     “Nothing ever changes.”

     Rianka spoke the words just as the final, tremulous note of music faded into silence. Xelin, whose head was already cocked over the fiddle, leaned it further to eyeball her in the darkness. As he did so, his wide, toothy grin spread across his face. He shook the bow at her in mock reproach.

     “Oh, you can’t say that, now can you? Things are changing every day. Just think about it- three weeks ago, that patch of grass you’re lying on was covered in snow.”

     “That’s not what I mean, Xe, and you know it. Besides, you can’t use nature as an example. The seasons change every year in the same pattern- perfectly predictable. That’s not what I was talking about.”

     “I hope you’re not poking fun at my playing. I do try to get better, you know.”

     “You play beautifully, stupid. Quit fishing for compliments.”

     “Well, then, what did you mean?” Xelin smirked at her, one eyebrow cocked in a manner she’d only ever seen him capable of.

     “Never mind. It was a stupid thing to say. Forget it.”

     She turned her face away from him, and Xelin could feel her closing off. The trouble with Rianka, he’d long believed, lay solely in the fact that no living soul seemed to know what made her tick. If there was a deeper being within than the demeanor she wore, it was forever locked away from view behind an impenetrable wall of coldness. Though it was Xelin who- arguably- knew her better than anyone, he still had no idea where she came from or why, or how she might feel at any given moment. She was the only person he knew who was almost as loyal to Hamat as he was himself, but from whence this loyalty stemmed he had not a clue. She’d proven herself enough times that he no longer questioned her, yet his lack of knowledge was a thorn in his otherwise unmarred side.

     “What’s bothering you, pal?” He asked, lowering the fiddle from his chin, his voice full of sincerity.

     Rianka looked back at him, studying his familiar form in the moonlight. Xelin was a tall man, towering over her even when standing on level ground. He was thin and lithe, his movements either languid or blindingly quick, depending on his moods, which were many and varied. He wore his usual calf-high black boots, laced with careful precision. His dark canvas pants were tucked into them, reminding her of his uncanny ability to walk anywhere without the slightest sound, if he were so inclined. This night he wore a black long-sleeved shirt of some tightly-knitted fabric, laced at the chest, and a long night-blue lined jacket. Xelin owned an astounding amount of clothing, and she’d never seen him wear the same thing twice in a row. Whenever Rianka teased him for his vanity, he merely smiled his usual charming grin and said nothing. On the subject of his staggering good looks- the milky skin, aquiline nose, alluring blue-violet eyes and their gracefully arched brows, the silky, braided deep blue hair- he had this to say:

     “It’s good for my job. People see me and think I’m too pretty to be any good. Then- pow!- right between the eyes.”

     Aside from Hamat, Xelin was the most skilled killer the Okabokujo Defenders had to offer, though Rianka was not far behind. She, however, made no pretense at hiding her calling. None of the others did. In that- as in many other things- Xelin was unique.

     After a moment of silence, she chose to answer him.

     “You heard what’s bothering me. I’m bored to piss.”

     “Sorry, I should’ve played a jig instead.”

     Seeing Rianka roll her eyes, he hastened to cover his glib response.

     “How come you’re bored?”

     “There’s nothing to do. We go on patrol, we stand around guarding some dumbass cattle or corn or something- but for what? Nobody even tries this place anymore. They’re all scared of Hamat.”

     “That’s a good thing, Rianka. It means were doing our job.”

     “Nothing ever happens anymore, though.”

     “It’s called stability. We want that. Ebanye’s been ecstatic. He’s been trying to get some of the neighboring farms to hire us out, too.”

     “Well, I’m bored. I used to like working here, back when I got some action. Now it all seems routine and worthless.”

     “Rianka, you got shot six months ago.”

     “That was six months ago.”

     Xelin turned a wolfish look on her.

     “Maybe you’d be best off looking for action in another department.”

     “Screw you, Xe.” Rianka turned away from him again.

     Xelin watched in silence as she studied the star dusted sky. Rianka was a small woman, so tiny in fact that the top of her head was just barely level with his shoulder. She rarely wore anything other than black, usually tight leggings with boots, carefully tailored shirts, and form-fitting, flexible corsets. Tonight she wore a black jacket as well, for the spring nights were cold. She owned two, one incredibly plain, used for nights when she was on patrol. The other she wore tonight, adorned with a multitude of zippered pockets. As she and Xelin were given the simple assignment of watching over one of Ebanye’s multiple fields of crops, she left in the earrings that decorated her ears and wore the choker of silver beads from which dangled a simple milk-white teardrop. Rianka had a youthful face, easily ruddied by wind or cold, with a small, plain nose and a pair of closed-off silver-grey eyes. Her straight, lipstick red hair was trimmed neatly just below her ears. Though she was an attractive woman, no one Xelin had ever been aware of had ever ventured so much as to approach her on anything other than business. He attributed this to her cold and distant manner, but it had been two years since he’d attempted to bring up the subject. He’d predicted her response, and was unshaken by it.

     He poked her unceremoniously with the bow.

     “I can tell you something else that’s changed. I saw that new tattoo you’ve got there.”

     He knew the prodding of the bow against the fresh tattoo must’ve hurt Rianka, but as he expected she showed no sign of discomfort. In fact, she said nothing at all.

     “It’s nice. Real well done. The twin suns, isn’t it?”

     “Yeah,” she replied reluctantly.

     “I didn’t realize Jakar was that talented. He’s come a long way.”

     “Iori did it.”

     “Iori? Is that so?”

     “Yeah, you knew he did it, you jackass. Stop playing stupid.”

     Xelin’s eyes narrowed in make-believe inquisition.

     “You see an awful lot of that guy. What’s up?”

     “He amuses me.”

     “I heard he’s insane.”

     Rianka’s response took Xelin by complete surprise.

     “He is. That’s why he amuses me. I can predict what everybody else is gonna say or what they’re gonna do, but Iori- forget it. The guy’s a total freak. It’s funny.”

     “So, wait… That’s why you spend so much time with him?”

     “Sure. The guy’s a laugh a minute.”

     “I thought… maybe-”

     “Oh, come on, Xe. You didn’t think I was attracted to him, did you?”

     “Well, you do see him a lot.”

     “Yeah, cause he amuses me.”

     “That’s it?”

     “Yup. Iori is one of the few interesting people I get exposed to.”

     “Even after everything-”

     “What ‘everything’?” Rianka demanded guardedly. “What? Xe, seriously, you of all people have no right to pretend to be romantic.”

     Xelin, slightly chagrined, quit poking at her.

     “That’s not fair, Rianka.”

     “Fine, you’re hopelessly romantic. You just have a funny way of showing it, right?”

     “It’s not my fault,” Xelin defended himself, feeling his cheeks grow hot.

     “Sure.”

     “It’s not. I do what I’m told. I’m good at what I do, too… Just cause sometimes it makes it hard for… some people to… uh, deal with…” He trailed off, growing less and less coherent.

     “Ah, these trifling questions of faith and fidelity.” Rianka cast her head further backward, now looking straight up into the night sky.

     “Anyways, we’re not talking about me.” Inwardly, Xelin cursed Rianka’s ability to turn every conversation around on him. “We were talking about you and your being bored.”

     “So we were. Well, I’ve said all I’ve got to say on the subject.”

     “That’s it? You’re bored because you think things don’t change?”

     Against Xelin’s expectations, Rianka’s pale eyes met his dark ones.

     “Xe, how long have I been here?”

     “Little over four years now.” Xelin sighed, not breaking eye contact. “I can still remember the day you came to us.”

     It was true. Xelin could picture the night that Rianka had stomped proudly into the settlement as clearly as though it had happened yesterday. He wasn’t on any particular watches that night, so he was in Hamat’s cabin as usual when the young woman was led in by the guards.

     “She’s claiming that she wants to join us,” one of the guards announced, eyeing the newcomer with disdain. It wasn’t that they didn’t accept women- at that time about one third of their body was female- it was that the Okabokujo Defenders only ever invited people to join them. Individuals didn’t take it upon themselves to ask to be included in their ranks.

     Hamat had looked the small woman up and down, his harvest-moon eyes scathing.

     “What makes you think we’d want you?” He asked, his deep voice edged with frost.

     “Because I can kill,” the proud young woman answered, her head held high.

     “Oh, really?”

     “Yes, really. I can kill anyone. Like that guy,” she jerked her head at Xelin, unable to point as she was restricted by the guard. “I can kill him, easy.”

     “Xelin? I doubt it.”

     “Oh, I can. And I will, if it means you’ll take me.”

     “Why do you want to join us?” Hamat gazed at her inquisitively.

     “I want to be a Protector. I heard you guys were the best, so naturally I want to work for you.”

     “Why do you want to be a Protector?”

     “That’s my business. Or we on or not?”

     Hamat continued to study Rianka, his expression one of guarded curiosity.

     “Why did you choose Xelin as your opponent? Answer honestly.”

     Rianka’s gaze held, iced-over and steady.

     “Why? Well, he’s right there, isn’t he? Besides, I can see he’s close to you. Why else would he be lying all over your couch? He might even be your second-in-command. If he bests me, which is doubtful, I can die without shame. If I best him, well- either you guys aren’t nearly as tough as your reputation, or I’m well worthy of a place here. Shall we?”

     After a brief, whispered conversation between Xelin and Hamat, the raven-haired leader turned back to the newcomer.

     “Xelin accepts. I hope you’re prepared to die, whoever you are. You can’t possibly want to join us that badly.”

     “Oh, I do.”

     Xelin and Rianka fought within the confines of a hastily drawn chalk circle in the midst of the cabins where the Okabokujo Defenders resided. They fought with only knives as weapons, and Xelin’s instructions had been quite clear- if it was to be an easy defeat, he was to kill the girl. If not, he was to be careful that they both emerged alive. It was a far fiercer battle than anyone had expected. The unknown young woman was far more skilled than anyone had foreseen. Xelin, taken by surprise, faltered a bit at first, but soon warmed to the challenge. Eventually, the outcome became obvious, even to those that held on to denial the longest.

     She’s going to kill me, he thought, realizing that there was no way he’d best this woman in an evenly matched battle.

     Dropping his knife, bleeding from the wounds Rianka had already inflicted, he grasped her by the shoulders.

     She woke the next day in a rage.

     “What the hell did he do to me?” She demanded to anyone who came near her where she lay on a cot, shaking and sweating. She received no answer save for the sidelong glances and shared smiles of her guards. Even Hamat was completely uncooperative, saying only,

     “Let’s just say that Xelin has a little gift. Lucky for me you chose him. You probably would’ve killed any of my other guys.”

     “I’m thirsty. Gimme some water,” Rianka demanded petulantly.

     “In a while. You still have to wait a bit. We’ve found that drinking anything too soon after coming in contact with this particular weapon induces seizures.”

     “You said it was only gonna be knives.”

     “It was.”

     “But-”

     “Listen, who cares, right? You get what you wanted. I’ll take you on.”

     With his usual insight, Hamat made Xelin Rianka’s tutor. Neither of them were very happy about this at first- Xelin because Rianka proved to be as unruly a pupil as he’d expected and Rianka because she deeply mistrusted Xelin, whom she felt cheated in their fight. However, as time passed they became inseparable. As Hamat had realized, only Xelin possessed enough charm to handle the wayward young woman. Secure as he was in himself, he deflected her taunts with his usual good humor. Nothing she said could ever shake him, and it was her inability to wear him down that eventually won her respect. They developed a relaxed, if frequently silent relationship. Xelin, long used to Hamat’s quiet company, was not troubled by Rianka’s taciturn nature. He often wished, however, that he knew more about her.

     “Four years, huh?” She was saying now. “The time passed pretty quickly.”

     “It does seem to speed up as we get older. How old are you, anyway?”

     He’d asked this question before, and always received the same answer. This night was to be no different.

     “I dunno. Guess I must be around the same age as you. Somewhere near there.”

     “How come you don’t know how old you are?” This he’d never attempted before.

     “Cause I just don’t. I don’t see how it matters, anyway. When the Wish Day comes we all consider ourselves one year older than we were. I’ll bet lots of people don’t know how old they are.”

     “Maybe,” Xelin replied skeptically.

     Rianka said nothing, and he took up his fiddle again, this time playing the tune of one of Hamat’s old foresting songs. He played flawlessly, the music swelling and fading over its measures, haunting in the still night of early spring. The notes flowed out over the fields and into the sky until they were lost in the distance. The ranch where the Defenders lived and worked was no doubt the largest in the country, stretching for miles. On it the owner, Ebanye, and his veritable army of workers raised sheep, cattle, chickens and pigs. They grew numerous crops, among them corn, wheat, barley, oats, pumpkins and potatoes. Situated in the lush central western region of Diasminion, the ranch was a community in itself. Ebanye and his workers lived in houses at the “bottom” of the property.

     Ebanye was one of very few in the country to attempt agriculture on such an enormous scale. Most farmers worked only as much land as they could manage by themselves with their families. Whatever they did not need, they traded, but nothing more. Ebanye began this way, but instead of stopping when he’d reached the extent if the land he could handle on his own, he recruited others to help him. The ranch had now reached such a size that it was well known between the man who started the project and those that arrived later to work the expanding land that success could not be maintained without the cooperation of the workers. Should they so choose, they could easily parcel out the land between them, destroying the founder’s dream in one fell swoop. However, none of them felt this course would be for the best. Ebanye saw to it that profits were divided evenly amongst the families that worked with him. No one living on the property ever went hungry. All lived in warm, comfortable houses. Ebanye and the workers threw themselves wholeheartedly into their duties, and their combined efforts made them all prosperous.

     However, as the ranch grew, so did the problem of holding onto it. There was nothing to prevent someone from suddenly setting up residence on part of the land and claiming it for their own. It wasn’t easy to handle the management of the land and patrol it constantly at the same time. Cattle and crops disappeared in the night without anyone to watch over them. Over time, this became the most pressing trouble on the ranch after bad weather. That is, until Hamat arrived.

     The tall, dark man had come out of the north, leading a band of young people skilled in the arts of woodslore and weaponry. He’d heard tales of Ebanye’s ranch and had come to offer the services of his group. In exchange for housing and basic necessities, the Protectors- as their trade was known- would patrol the land, defending its boundaries and all that lay within. Soon after, the Okabokujo Defenders were born. For seven years they’d watched over the ranch, growing in strength and reputation until few even considered attempting to cross them.

     Xelin let his bow fall away from the fiddle once more. Overtaken by a sudden, constricting worry, he looked down at Rianka again. Her eyes didn’t leave the stars above.

     “You’re not going to leave, are you?” His voice betrayed his insecurity.

     “What? No. Don’t be daft, Xe.”

     Relieved, he smiled widely once more.

     “I was just asking, you know. Some people move on after a while.”

     “I haven’t got anywhere else to go.” Xelin wanted badly to pursue this tidbit, but he wasn’t quick enough, and she continued. “Besides, I guess I kind of like it here. You guys are okay.”

     “Gee, thanks.”

     As they fell silent again, Xelin carefully picked over new topics of conversation. He was about to speak when Rianka sat bolt upright.

     “Did you hear that?” She whispered.

     “No, I… Wait, look.”

     She followed the path of his pointed finger. Below, a figure was moving slowly and with deliberation between a field of corn and an empty pasture.

     “Dumbass is walking right along the path,” Rianka observed.

     “Looks like you’re gonna get your action after all. Let’s go.”