Perdita

‘Ari RUN!’

Arimantha woke in a cold sweat, her heart pounding nearly out of her chest at the old nightmare. That particular memory loved to make an appearance anytime she closed her eyes. Arimantha couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a decent nights sleep. Her body ached with a bone- deep tiredness that wouldn’t ease with stretching. Well, that’s what happens when you fail to save your family and everything you loved in one night, she thought. You don’t sleep. You just relive it every time you have a moments peace. As Ari sat up and scanned the room, she noticed through the pale light filtering in that she was the only one awake. A flash of anger sparked through her and Ari clenched her fists, pressing them to her sides to gain control. Fear was the root of this anger. Whilst Arimantha struggled to sleep, it seemed her company did not share her plight. Closing her eyes and taking a steadying breath she decided waking them all now in a fit of rage might make her feel better in this moment. But she would regret it later, especially if Tali had any say in the matter. Cas stirred next to her at that moment, so Ari decided to move outside before her restlessness woke the entire room. An exaggeration really, there were only five others, her dear easy-going Cassian included. The twins slept against the far wall, Aadi and Aadil holding hands as Ari imagined they had in the womb. Talia and Leif curled close under the mantle, both for warmth and comfort. Ari once wished she could share a love with Cas like Tali and Leif had. Just so she didn’t have to feel so alone. But Cas was Ari’s closest friend, her rock all the same. They had all lost their world together. Their families taken by the same evil. The Malum, dark spirits that had burst through the earth and plagued their world for the past ten moon cycles. They had lived without their families for almost as long as they’d had lived with them now. The Loriet, Arimantha’s tribe, along with the Caeli tribe that Leif belonged to, were the first tribes to be attacked. Most thought this tactical as they were the strongest tribes. This however, brought the terrifying thought that the Malum had been studying them before the attacks. The Alrim, Cas’ tribe, fell soon after. There was no fighting back in the first wave of attacks. How did you fight something you never knew existed? That moved like a shadow in the night, bringing its own terrifying cloud of darkness? The answer is that you don’t. Most screamed, ran and just tried to survive the night. The Loriet tried their best to fight back against the unknown force. To give the other tribes time to escape. Their sacrifice worked. That is why most believed Arimantha to be the last of the Loriet, whilst large portions of other, less threatening tribes, remained. Ari’s sisters voice pierced through her head like an alarm bell. She couldn’t help but see it as a warning, no matter how many times Ari woke to that same command. It was as if her sister was still trying to protect her.

It was a dewy morning, the mist and fog smudging Ari’s vision as she stood sentry outside the old oak door. The lack of vision making everything a little sinister. Subconsciously, Ari’s left hand fell to one of the swords at her belt, Viribus, her favourite blade. Though Ari would never admit to favouritism. Her mother once told her it wouldn’t do to own a jealous blade. Ari believed her. The group had taken shelter in an abandoned farmhouse the night before. The tall but draughty structure doing nothing to hold the icy winds at bay. It had been too clear of a night to build a fire. Instead they had huddled close and thought of warm hearths and soft sheets. The strongholds had been taken by the Malum and the traitors who served them. So it was safest to stay in the rural and wilder areas. Safest not safe. Ari mused, stroking the handle of Viribus as one would a pet. Scouts and spies were everywhere in this new world. Most stuck to their own tribes, never straying far. Strangers were a risk most simply could not afford. Arimantha’s company, The Orphans as they had been, hopefully, affectionally named by those they provided aid to, were different. Ari’s family refused to turn meek or savage in this hell. They chose to keep their freedom and their kindness. Not picking off the weakest among the tribes in order to gain favour and spoils from the scum that ruled. They protected as much as they could. Every family saved, every village and tribe helped lessened the weight in Arimantha’s stomach for the one place she could not protect. Ari was in her eleventh Moon Cycle when the Malum burst through the earth like weeds, to rage terrible war across their beautiful Perdita. Whilst they did not always live in peace the Perditians were not often plagued by the wars of Kings. Not like their neighbours. Ira , west to the Sea, was known for its rich silks and cruel King, King Iridian. Whilst to the south near the Great Forest was the land of Invidia, ruled by the iron fist of Queen Sira, Queen of spices. A sweet name Ari thought, too sweet to give something so foul. They were at each-other’s throats like animals when Arimantha was young. Always fighting over land or some imagined grievance. Never fighting their own battles, instead throwing soldiers at one another like a game of battalion. Their armies would crash upon one another’s land like terrible waves. Perdita, unlike her neighbours, governed itself, proudly. With the guidance of The Council, containing representatives from each of the twelve main tribes. Perditians kept their noses out of the squabbles of vengeful kings and jealous queens. That was before the earth spat out its demons of course. Perdita had no protection. Their neighbours fearing retribution, would not allow refuge. Closing and suring up their borders with frightening efficiency. The two Kingdoms too scared now to fight even each other. The demise of Perdita had brought peace it seemed, to the warring nations. Perdita was alone.