CHAPTER THREE
‘Will you slow down?” Bellini yelled, as Keryn passed within inches of a coral pillar.
In response, she accelerated, driving the hovercraft wildly between the coral pillars that jutted in rising spires from the surface of the cool, blue water. Tossing her head back and letting the wind whip through her flowing silver hair, she laughed and decelerated. As the hovercraft drifted onto the pearly beach, she cut the engine and let it settle gently to the sand.
“You’re insane!” Bellini’s heart pounded in her chest.
“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy yourself,” Keryn teased, sliding off the side of the hovercraft and smiling as gritty sand crunched underfoot. Closing her eyes, she tipped back her head to let warm sun soak into the red and purple tattoos tracing her barely concealed body.
“If I ever join the military”, Bellini said, disrupting Keryn’s sunning, “I hope I never wind up with you as my pilot. I can only imagine what you’ll do to a spaceship.”
“That much power at my fingertips.” Keryn ran her index finger along her best friend’s blue-and-green tattooed arm. “That’s exciting.”
Bellini knocked away her hand and smiled. “I’ll miss you, Keryn. I know it’s corny and childish, but you’re actually leaving the planet, so I may never see you again.”
Keryn looked at her friend sympathetically. “You’re right. That’s really corny.”
Bellini shoved her playfully, as they began their long walk up the stairwell to the houses built precariously atop the coral rise.
“I know you leave tomorrow, and you still have to pack,” Bellini said, as they climbed the winding stairs, “but promise me….”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be there tonight. Just because I’m not going through it doesn’t mean I won’t be there to witness your Initiation.”
Bellini smiled despite herself before rushing ahead. “I have a ton to do before tonight. See you there.”
“See you tonight!” Keryn called, as Bellini disappeared over the crest of the stairs and hurried home.
Keryn didn’t want to admit it, but she truly would miss her friend. They’d been friends nearly since birth. Both families were deeply involved in off-world trade negotiations, which resulted in the children traveling in similar social circles. For sixteen years, Keryn grew comfortable with the familiar surroundings of Lagurica, the Wyndgaart home world. The thought of leaving for the Fleet Academy on Arcendor simultaneously excited and terrified her. She traveled off world only once with her parents but never left their galaxy. She hated to admit it, but she didn’t know what she was getting into.
Pondering her future, Keryn strolled the rest of the way home and went in to change clothes for the evening and to pack for the rest of her life.
Religious figures carved from the pink and pale-blue coral that encompassed the staircase encircled Keryn, as she climbed the last few stairs to the shrine’s flattened plateau. Male and female figure sat entwined, their legs wrapped around one another while their hands held the typical martial weapons of Wyndgaart warriors-knives, axes, and spears. Keryn looked away from the carvings, disturbed by their perverse amalgamation of sex and war. Their imagery reminded her of the Initiation to come, and a lump of fear swelled in her bosom.
As she neared the rise, a pounding beat reverberated through her, and wild drums kept a steady rhythm in the clearing beyond. Though the moon was covered by clouds threatening rain, a soft glow was cast upon her face, and she finally entered the shrine. The glow, reflecting off two sets of elevated seats that stretched left and right, came from hundreds of small wax candles placed along the waist-high wall surrounding the open-air amphitheater.
Keryn stepped beyond the elevated seats until she reached a set of stairs that wound through the audience and would take her to her place among the already-burgeoning crowd. Her hand resting on the railing, she paused at the base of the stairs. Beyond the short wall, the shrine dropped off to crashing waves below. Candlelight illuminated a sandy stage, where a row of annual Initiates stood. Keryn caught Bellini’s eyes, as she looked over the Initiates, each clothed only in white wrappings wound repeatedly and tightly around their bodies.
Pulling up the end of the silky dress she wore for the occasion, Keryn climbed the steep stairs and found a seat among the throng of spectators. Though respectful silence blanketed the shrine, Keryn saw her own concern mirrored in many of the gathered faces.
Keryn smoothed her soft lavender dress and acted as if the Voice didn’t exist. Ignoring the whispers in her mind, she found her eyes trained on the pathway across from her, through which the Schoolmaster would soon enter. Part of her yearned to cast off her feminine dress and join her friends in the ritual circle, but she knew that a large part of those desires came not from her own wants but from those of the Voice.
Keryn struggled since puberty to identify and separate her own emotions from those of the Voice, to make her own path instead of having it dictated by an invasive presence within her mind. It was a constant battle, one she hoped she could continue to win, as she attended the Fleet Academy.
The drums built to a crashing crescendo. Keryn’s heart beat in rhythm with the pulsing drums, as an elderly Wyndgaart emerged from the pathway opposite the raised seats. As the Schoolmaster raised his weathered hands, the drums ceased pounding, and the shrine was cast into silence, save for the thunderous crashing of waves below.
“May the sun strengthen your body, as the waves strengthen your soul,” he began in traditional prayer.
“There’s power in the Voice,” the audience replied in unison.
Keryn mouthed the words without speaking them, knowing it was better to remain silent than blaspheme within the Shrine of Initiation. She never followed the organized religion of her people as blindly as most expected of the younger generation. Her voiced dissent was one of the primary reasons she found herself sitting among the spectators instead of taking her place as an Initiate.
Two priests emerged from the pathway carrying heavy bundles. The objects were swaddled heavily on coarse, brown fabric, obscuring their shape. Pulling incense sticks from within his robes, the old man lit them in a candle. Thick, blue smoke poured from the incense, and the weathered man waved the sticks back and forth over the bundles, muttering soft prayers. Turning, he walked down the row of Initiates, waving the incense stick in intricate patterns above each candidate.
Returning to the center of the stage, he spoke to the audience, giving a speech that was not only well- rehearsed but repeated each year to a similar crowd. “The annual Initiation has been a time-honored tradition among the Wyndgaart for hundreds of years. The ritual is an important step for our youth on their way to adulthood, but this ritual is more than just a stepping stone in puberty. It’s a significant statement to the dedication and commitment of these Initiates.
“Behind me stands the potential future for our civilization. These future leaders, generals, and honored warriors will guide the path of our society for generations. This is a heavy burden, but one that I can personally guarantee each is ready and willing to accept.”
The Schoolmaster stepped aside, allowing the audience full view of the gathered Initiates. “Each of these Initiates has trained diligently under the combined tutelage of the school’s priests and instructors. They’ve been taught social skills, studied histories of dozens of modern and historic cultures, and trained in fighting styles passed down and improved over hundreds of years of open warfare. They’re prepared in mind, body, and soul to go through the Initiation.
“Only one step remains in their training-the Initiation. Every year, half our students can’t overcome the rigors of Initiation. They’re rejected by their Voice and cast aside as failures. This is a laborious ritual that requires each Initiated to find his internal strength. For some, the sense of family drives them to succeed. For others, they find a previously untapped reserve of dedication that pushes them beyond and above their peers.”
Keryn swallowed hard, a knot forming in her stomach. Bellini was a talented, brilliant warrior, but still, Keryn feared for her safety during the dangerous ritual.
“We gather today to welcome those who complete the Initiation into the fold of the warrior caste. This is also
