Fluid
Two hundred years after the Yandar-K’tul wars. Active thinking in italics. “Mindspeak in italics within quotes.”
My name is Amayine, ‘Night Rain’ in Yandar. I was born a woman but lived as a man in the Taoist Temple of Grey Avalanche, in the Grey Mountains of the planet Yand.
I’m evenblood, the darkest of all Yandar races, the only one in a brotherhood of silvering men. I’m dark-skinned, but my hair has turned from the prominent black of my race to red, and my eyes from blue to amber. Everyone else around me is of a pale complexion, silver-white hair, and wings—if they had wings. Not all men of my species have wings.
My father, Daoshi Mihael, believes that the K’tul mage fires, which burned me and destroyed my village along with most of our world, altered my appearance. The K’tul Wars ended more than two centuries ago, but the marks on me remain to this day.
The brothers of Grey Avalanche were an order of healers, and their skills were needed aplenty. We won the war, but the K’tul left Yand broken and the scant survivors in tatters. The only medical facility at that remote location, the temple became so overwhelmed with casualties that the monks suffered dark days of rationing care.
My father found me in the rubble of my village while foraging for herbs. When he brought me to the temple’s medical compound, I was so damaged that the monks refused me treatment. They gave certain pills to Mihael to ease my passing. But he refused them.
He nursed me for months. My injuries were so grave that even if I survived, my body would be left twisted, and my face scarred. He put me through many treatments and surgeries. When I endured and continued to live against all odds, the brotherhood rallied to my aid. And Daoshi Mihael wanted to keep me and adopt me as his own.
There was a problem with that—my gender. Females were not allowed to live in the brotherhood, but my clever father found a solution. He declared that my gender was fluid and that I would be male while living among them. Consent is always mandatory in such matters, but I readily accepted. I had come to love the old man as my father.
A year after the war ended, our queen journeyed to Cloud Avalanche to present medals and honors to the brotherhood for saving so many lives. I was still completely blind and unable to walk at that time, so my father carried me in his arms to ‘see’ the queen. He took us to the shadows in a corner of the ceremonial chamber so we wouldn’t disturb the proceedings. Huddled quietly, I ‘saw’ what he saw, images he projected into my mind through our bond.
I watched enthralled through his eyes. How glorious was Her Majesty! She brought along her grandson, the prince who had led our planet’s last defense against the K’tul despite his young age. His valor was already in songs. How handsome he was! But did he seem sad?
As the years passed, I regained part of my sight, and Mihael taught me a skill called ‘vision,’ which allowed me to see projected images using my mind and empathy. He also taught me everything he knew about medicine, which herbs to use for what ailment, and how to compound medications. As my vision improved and I regained better control over my arms, hands, and body, he taught me surgical techniques.
It took several more years for me to walk unaided. The day I threw away my canes, the monks celebrated. When my father determined that my body was coordinated and agile enough, he began teaching me sword skills—the ancient technique of our order known as Sword Fingers.
Many more years passed before I regained the use of my wings. I had suffered permanent damage, and flight would never come easily or be masterful. But as only Mihael among the brothers was winged and very few possessed limited teleportation skills, my modest ability became very useful.
On my bicentennial birthday, I took a long flight for herbs to the high peaks of our mountains, where the rarest medicinals grew among the rocks. I had filled my bag to the brim when booming roars from above assaulted my ears—shibal cats! A few prides lived on these mountains. One made its lair on the next peak above me. I had done my best to avoid them. What could have caused such agitation?
I shouldered my sack and made to fly. Suddenly, a shibal jumped from the ledge above and landed practically on top of me. I whirled to flee, but her mate landed on the shelf behind me. He was enormous. I had an instant to decide whether to fight or flee, but the female charged me, and my moment passed. I shut my eyes and braced for death.
A vigorous flutter of wings came from above, and a pair of hands snatched me from shibali jaws. A large eagle dived onto the cats, raking at them. It harassed the shibal, giving my rescuer a few vital moments to fly us to safety. He soared to the highest peaks.
“Striker, to me!” his mindcalls rang loudly.
And I heard that!
I had no time to marvel. The man dived into a cave and crash-landed. We tumbled to the ground, and I rolled over him. The eagle swooped down after us, landing a few steps away and looking fierce. As I rolled over the man, I noticed deep gashes across his chest. My rescue had not come for free. The shibal had raked him with their claws of steel.
His arms around my body went limp, and his breaths came labored. One of his lungs had collapsed. I fumbled at my belt for my medical instruments, but they weren’t there. I had left them behind! What to do? Ah! My dagger was on my belt; I held it up for him to see.
“Your lung has collapsed,” I told him. “I must reinflate it. I need to make a small incision with this.”
I spoke out loud, but he mindspoke his reply.
“Go ahead,” he said, and I heard him again!
How? Only bonded people could mindspeak each other.
Once again, I pushed the mystery aside and quickly searched my bag for a few narcotic leaves, which I gave him to chew. I cut his shirt off and took a deep breath to steady my hand. The eagle crooned from his perch as if to encourage me. I made an incision on the side of his chest and inserted a hollow reed I had found in my sack of herbs. His lung reinflated. He took an easier breath before passing out.
Only then did I think of mindcalling Mihael for help. He teleported beside me. One look at my charge, and his eyes popped.
“Did I do the procedure wrong?” I asked him.
“No, you did it perfectly. Come on, hurry, let’s take His Majesty to the temple.”
His Majesty?! Again, no time to ponder. Mihael brought us to the courtyard of Cloud Avalanche, mindcalling for help. Commotion awaited us. Medic brothers scrambled around us. Two lifted the king from my father’s arms, but His Majesty would not let go of my hand. I tried to pull away, but his grasp was like a vice, tugging me along.
“Let go of his hand, Amayine!” the chief medic scolded me.
“Me let go? It’s him.”
“Ah, Your Majesty, please let go of Brother Amayine,” the medic implored. “This is beyond his skill. We have you.”
He tried to reason like that for a while, but in vain. Our
Grandmaster appeared from nowhere. He touched the king’s temples, and His Majesty went limp. I pried my hand loose. The medics rushed him to the infirmary as Mihael and I stared.
We waited nearby in case they needed us. The eagle came and perched on my shoulder.
“What’s with the bird?” my dad asked.
“The eagle? His name is Striker.”
“How could you possibly know that?”
“He told me, no, I mean, I overheard him…”
Mihael looked at me, perplexed.
“By ‘he,’ you mean the king?” he asked. “Do you know our king? How?”
“I don’t—” I began to reply but didn’t get to finish.
A military detail bearing Yand’s royal arms popped out of teleport
in our courtyard. An officer approached us just as one of our med brothers exited the infirmary to summon me. The king had requested my presence.
I walked to the infirmary apprehensively, with Mihael and the officer on my heels. The king was seated on a cot, waving for me to come closer and for everyone else to leave. My father hesitated, and the officer attempted to guide him out by the elbow. That was a mistake. He had her in knots in less than a heartbeat. You don’t touch a daoshi master.
I started to plead with Mihael to follow the good officer, but the king was faster.
“Please, Master Mihael,” he said to my dad, “allow General Saheera to escort you out. I only wish a few words with your daughter.”
“You mean my son?” Mihael replied, surprised to hear the king call his name. “How do you know my name, Your Majesty?”
His Majesty turned to me, the surprise on his face precious.
“Your son?” he asked. “I thought… no matter. Please, allow me a moment with your son.”
Mihael bowed and backed out the door.
“So you are his son?” His Majesty asked me when we were alone.
“Is this how you hide your identity? In this monastery for so many years?”
“Temple, Your Majesty.”
“What?”
“This is the Temple of the Cloud Avalanche, a Daoist order, Your Majesty. And I don’t hide my identity. I live here. This is my home.”
“But you are female.”
It was not a question. He was affirming that he knew my gender.
“Am I?” I retorted. “I’m a monk, one of the brothers. I live here. No woman is allowed to live here. Why were you stirring up the shibal, Your Majesty?”
“My niece wants a shibali kitten as companion. How long?”
“How long what?”
“Lived here?”
“All my life. How do you know my father’s name?”
“Mihael? From you.”
“I haven’t told you, Your Majesty.”
“You mindcalled him. I heard you.”
“How—”
“Do you not know me? Do you not remember me?” he exclaimed.
His voice started harsh, but it softened.
“Please, love,” he said. “It’s me. Do you not know me?”
His words shook me. He called me ‘love.’ The king of the land somehow took me for one he had loved… and lost? I took a step back. He misread it. He thought he had sparked my memory. He rose from the bed and reached a hand to me.
“I can hear your mindspeak,” he said. “We were bonded; still are.”
As he took the last step and made to touch me, I found myself transfixed. His eyes were so green, his face so… stunning. But was it familiar? No.
Suddenly, Mihael burst through the door with the general right behind him. He yanked me away from the king.
“Please, Your Majesty,” he cried, “my son has taken our vows. You may not touch him.”
The king stepped backward, and his general supported him from falling. He allowed her to escort him to the courtyard, where a palace mage awaited with a teleport. As they blinked away, his mindvoice reached my head.
“We are not done. Expect me soon,” he said.
I was bewildered. How could I hear him?
“I think the king wants you,” Mihael told me, wincing.
“What for?”
“For his wife.”
“You mean husband?”
“No, I mean wife. He needs children. He’s your age and unmarried. The entire realm is holding its breath. But why pursue a man?”
“Am I?” I dared to ask.
“Are you not?” he retorted with a challenging look.
The brotherhood would throw me out instantly if I were not a man.
Two months passed before the first marriage proposal from the King of Yand for Mihael’s son arrived at our temple. Grandmaster didn’t show it to Mihael or me. I learned of it a few months later when Mihael brought me a stack of such letters. All from the king, all for Mihael’s son, and all exclusive. Exclusive!
It stunned me! What did the King of Yand want from a disfigured, fluid monk like me? I couldn’t give him children. He couldn’t possibly find me attractive, with my mangled wings and facial scars and more. My father opined that the king loved me, but how could he? His Majesty had seen me only once!
I walked around dazed for days. The most powerful man in the world wanted me when he could have anyone he wished? The strangest part to comprehend was the issue of children. He and Yand needed an heir. Exclusive marriage to me would preclude that possibility. Even as a woman, I was too damaged to have kids.
At some point, Mihael pointed out that I wouldn’t have to switch genders if I accepted the king’s proposal. His Majesty had proposed to his son. That brought me to my most poignant dilemma. Could I marry a man and remain male? When I was born a woman?
So what was my answer? Could I leave the safety of the temple, my brotherhood, my celibacy? Was I ready to show my scars to the world… to a husband? My answer was no. It was moot, anyway—Grandmaster had already refused the proposals. However, the king would not accept a generic rejection. He wanted it in person from me in two days, ready or not. I was not.
I spent most of my private time over those two days crying and despairing about what to do, how to turn down the king. But even Grandmaster had resigned to my fate. He gave me a lengthy lecture about the finer points of marriage intimacies, between two men, mind you. However, he pointed out that consent was mandatory and that no one had the right to force me to break my vows of celibacy.
If that lecture wasn’t enough, my brothers, the monks, teased me relentlessly.
“Way to go, Amayine,” they’d say. “The king waited all this time for a man to clip his wings.”
Some even broke their vows of silence just to tease me.
Two days of this, and I was a nervous wreck. The king might have been unmarried, but tales of his popularity among women and his, ah, prowess had reached even our temple. How could I, a virgin, a fluid, clip such a man’s wings? But no doubt he could clip mine. I’m not sure which of the two bothered me more.
The king arrived with his private mage. He brought two unicorns, a magnificent black stallion, and a shimmering silver mare. How magical they were! It disarmed me. And His Majesty didn’t appear to be in any exceptional rush to get my answer.
He exchanged greetings with everyone and then focused his gaze on me. He smiled and bowed courteously as if I were a princess and not an invalid fluid daoshi.
“Are you ready for Riverqueen, Master Daoshi?” he asked. “My aunt is expecting us.”
His aunt was the Warleader of Yand! I had felt inadequate before, but this plunged me into sheer panic. I had nothing to wear but my monk’s robes or the good leathers Mihael had made for me many years ago. I was wearing those now.
The panic in my eyes must have shown because the king approached my ear. “No worries, love, I’m here,” he whispered.
He led me to the unicorns, lifted me like I was a feather, and set me atop the silver mare. He hopped onto the black stallion, the mage waved his hand, and we were at Riverqueen.
Riverqueen was aptly named the Jewel of the West, and for good reason. It was truly magical to behold. We stayed at the Panorama Inn, enjoying the luxury of the Royal suite together, but the king provided me with my own bedroom and respected my privacy.
The view from my balcony was breathtaking. Meandering rivers flowed from the surrounding mountains, beautifully segmenting the city. Yildun, our sun, set the city aglow with its gentle palette. As night fell, the city danced with lights; its myriad waters transformed into mirrors, reflecting, intensifying the luminance like so many twinkling stars in the skies of Yand.
We spent a week here as if within a spell. We enjoyed walks in colorful streets along the city’s numerous canals, merchants calling to us from every direction, parading their exotic wares to entice us. We took long boat rides and indulged in sweets and cotton candy at the Queen River Docks. We lunched at Restaurant Row, on street-fare or in quaint little establishments with diverse, exotic cuisines.
In truth, everything was exotic to the eyes of this monk. I savored every moment and couldn’t get enough. None, however, could rival the joy of our quiet dinners on our balconies at the Panorama, enjoying the sunsets and the delectable cuisine, all the while basking in the warmth of the man who delighted in watching my eyes widen at each exquisite bite.
In the afternoons, we rode the unicorns along the trails of the Crystal Mountains that surrounded the city. The paths were narrow, with no open space to gallop, but we often trotted briskly. My mare was magical. Striker flew overhead but sometimes rode on my shoulder or perched behind me on my horse, where I could feel him against my back, between my wings.
One day, on a new path, the king’s unicorn suddenly stopped and bucked, throwing him off. His Majesty was falling headfirst into a pit. I quickly flew off my mount...
