Outlier

by L. J. Hachmeister

  “Why are the Nezra going outside the wall?” he wondered out loud.

  “And torturing animals and infecting the Soushin.”

  Sulo gave her the side-eye but didn’t contend her assumption.

  “I’ll ask around,” he said, scanning the horizon. “See if I can’t get some intel from one of the Shifters serving the death-dealers.”

  “Good,” she said.

  “Whoa,” he said as she turned to go. “You interrupted my hunt and you’ve got nothing to offer in return?”

  Nya clenched her jaw. No, she had nothing. At least nothing that would satisfy a Shifter or possibly give him something to barter with to get back in the Realm unharmed.

  Unless…

  She thought of that new girl, and the great beast she commanded. Akoto—or whatever stupid name she had assigned. She’d never seen an animal like him.

  He’s rare, unseen.

  Valuable…

  Her gut pulled her in one direction as her needs yanked her the opposite way.

  The girl is useless in battle, she thought, remembering how Sen froze under attack. But that beast could be trained.

  Thinking of Sho, of what he would do in her situation, she made her decision of whom to sell out.

  “New runaway wants to join our group. Goes by Sen. You could return her for a reward.”

  “Nya…” Sahib whispered, a look of confusion and concern pinching up his eyebrows.

  This is survival, she thought, not looking at her companion.

  Sulo’s eyes widened. “Sen—as in Senzo Hikari? I heard she’d gone missing.”

  The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t summon any details. “Isn’t that a boy’s name?”

  “I know of her,” Sahib chimed in. “She’s Kajar Hikari’s daughter.”

  “What? She’s the daughter of the Lightning Guild chancellor? I thought he had a son.”

  “No—he wanted a son… He did everything he could to make her what she’s not,” Sulo said.

  “Wait—how do you know so much about her?” Nya asked.

  The spark of emotion in his eyes surprised her. “I knew her mother,” he said, his voice tightening.

  Nya felt her hands twitch for the twin blades strapped to her back, and the eight throwing knives secured to her belt and thighs. He’s not going for it. “Where does that leave us then?”

  The Shifter didn’t answer right away, his eyes focusing on something beyond her, well past the horizon. “Keep her.”

  “Someone that valuable?”

  Sulo looked her dead in the eye, all the gruffness returning to his voice. “I found out where they take them.”

  “Who?” Sahib said, leaning into their conversation.

  Nya slapped her hand over Sahib’s mouth. “I thought I told you not to talk.”

  “Outliers, kid,” Sulo answered. “The ones that don’t escape the Realm. They take them to a place called ‘the Sanctum’ at the base of Hirak mountain, just inside the western Garden Mazes.”

  Having never heard of such a place, Nya cast her doubt into her response. “All Outliers are killed. You’re saying there’s something worse?”

  Sulo nodded. “There are worse things than death, Nya.”

  That she could agree on.

  “How did you find out?” she asked. Some part of her, which she refused to give recognition, sent her stomach into a nervous flutter.

  Anger flashed across Sulo’s eyes. She heard a low, baritone rumble, saw the black hair on his chest thicken. Something about that question inflamed him enough to trigger a shift, but he flexed his fists, and fought against the change.

  “You owe me,” he said, barely getting the words out through gritted teeth.

  Nya firmed up her voice. “I’ll make it up to you. I’m good for my word.”

  Tipping his head back, Sulo allowed himself to fall back into his own fury. Golden quills erupted alongside great lengths of brown fur. Nya grabbed Sahib and took off as the sounds of stretching skin and cracking and reshaping bones echoed across the canyon.

  The bully bear’s roars followed them for the first several miles, but once they reached the edge of the high desert, the thunderous clashes of a lightning storm brewing on Hirak mountain drowned out Sulo’s rage.

  “Why would you sell out the new girl?” Sahib asked, wiping the sweat from his brow as she stopped to assess the route. “We haven’t even given her a chance to—”

  “She’s not one of us,” she said. Not minding the coldness of her tone, she added: “Don’t you ever question me again.”

  Sahib took a step back, his head tilting to the side as he tried to comprehend her hostility. When she wouldn’t acknowledge him any further, he broke out into a sprint, running as fast as he could back toward their camp. Within seconds his long, lanky figure turned into a speck against the red sand and stone.

  He’s going to pay for that, she thought, kicking back into a run. Not that she could even hope to catch up to him until camp.

  After only a few minutes she slowed to a stop, her heart beating madly in her chest. Exhaustion and hunger faded away as Sulo’s words rewound and played again, over and over, in her mind: “The ones that don’t escape the Realm. They take them to a place called ‘the Sanctum’…”

  She looked straight east, out to the sun, her eyes burning as she stared into the fiery orange disk.

  They don’t kill Outliers.

  Terrible and wonderful possibilities filled her mind.

  Sho.

  With all her strength, she closed her eyes and fought the surge of emotion, but to no avail. She felt his muscular arm around waist, his calloused hand cupping her cheek as if he stood right in front of her.

  “There are worse things than death, Nya.”

  Sulo’s warning pushed away all other senses, leaving her with the pitting fear she hadn’t felt since her parents’ arrest, before she had learned to control her emotions.

  “I’m coming, Sho,” she said, digging her fingernails into her palms hard enough to draw blood. Once her heart rate steadied, and she found her breath again, she looked back to Hirak mountain, back to the great blue wall separating the Realm, and whispered. “And we’ll end this ugly world together.”

  Chapter 7

  Sen woke up with a start, bewildered by sight of the stone spires scraping against the starry night sky, and the unfamiliar—and mostly unpleasant—smells competing with the smoky aroma of evening campfires. As she tried to roll onto her shoulder, the gigantic black tail draped across her hips stopped her movement, and she remembered her circumstances.

  How long have I been asleep?

  From the scratchiness of her throat, and the stiffness of her body, it could have been more than a day.

  “Akoto,” she said, looking up to the beast partially curled up around her. Her friend stirred, but only cracked open his eyes for a second before falling back asleep with a huff.

  The last happenings came back in a rush: Emerging from the cradel poison daze in the middle of a horrifying battle. Freezing under attack, only to be saved by Nya, the teenage warrior who could take down an army with her two silver swords. The medicine woman’s harsh words: “You’ll not find solace out here, child.” Tending to the dying woman, wishing with all her heart that she could do more than just stay by her side as she slipped away.

  “Where is—?” Sen looked to her right, but instead of the sick woman, she found a depression in the ratty animal hide next to her.

  Maybe she got up?

  “Sen,” the medicine woman said, rounding past the campfire. Holding the end of her dress up, she walked toward Sen with a purpose. “Come with me.”

  Oh no… she thought, heart sinking at grave expression on Natsugra’s face.

  Frightened, but not knowing why, Sen pressed back into Akoto, wanting him to wake back up. But he wouldn’t stir, not even when she shook one of his paws, or lifted his eyelid.

  “Don’t bother; I gave him a tranquilizer. You won’t be able to wake
him until tomorrow morning.”

  “Why?” Sen said, holding on tight to Akoto’s flaccid arm.

  The medicine woman looked her up and down, weariness inflected in her serious tone. “It’s time for your Determining.”

  Sen shrunk into herself, shoulders caving in as her spine rounded out, legs pressing against her chest. She wanted to scream, but no breath would come up from her lungs.

  No—impossible—

  They’re Outliers! There aren’t supposed to be the same rules here.

  “Come, child,” Natsugra said, turning back around and heading off toward the circle of Chakoans gathering near the central fire.

  “Akoto,” she whispered, trying one last time to wake her friend with a vigorous shake. No luck. Instead, his tongue flopped out of the side of his mouth, and he snored so loudly that it dispersed the wake of vultures picking over the unattended remains of the battlefield.

  Sen couldn’t find the volition to budge.

  Why would they do this to me?

  —I’ll fail.

  (I’ll die.)

  “Hey, pssst.”

  Sen snapped her head to the left. A boy not too much older than her, but bearing similar ink and scars to the rest of the clan, paused as he walked toward the central fire. Keeping his eyes trained ahead, he whispered: “They already know who you are.”

  Sen didn’t know how to interpret what he said. At the moment, it seemed like a warning, but as his words sunk in, a visceral heat started up in her belly, and moved out to her limbs and face.

  No, they don’t, she thought, cheeks flushing with anger. Not her old schoolmates, not her teachers—and especially not her parents. Nobody did. But that didn’t stop anyone from telling her who she was or wasn’t.

  “You are not what I had hoped,” she remembered her father saying as he turned away from her and stared out of his office window, hands clasped behind his back. “What have I done to deserve you?”

  Sen got to her feet, leaving Akoto behind as she walked right up to the remaining clan members in a semi-circle around the central campfire. The man with the bushy white beard stared expectantly at her from behind the fire, holding something bundled in a ceremonial cloth under one of his arms. Natsugra stood to his left, and Nya, with an especially brooding expression, to his right. The rest of the clan fanned out on either side, fresh war paint darkening their faces, including the boy who had whispered to her just moments ago. Something about his round cheeks and bright blue eyes looked familiar, but she didn’t have time to put any more thought to it.

  With a wave of his hand, the clan leader commanded the remaining Chakoans to sit. Upset and confused, Sen remained standing, pulling at the ragged strings at the end of her shirt, waiting for the chief to say something.

  What am I supposed to do?

  Seconds passed like hours as the waning moon poked through the clouds and rock spires, casting amorphous shadows across the high desert.

  Stop messing with me, she thought, angry and terrified of what the Chakoan leader could possibly want her to do for their version of the Determining. If she had gone through with the one back in the Realm, she would have been brought before the council of elders from each of the denoms. After looking her over, the council would have decided which test she should take for her Trials: Swarm, Virid, Guild, Order.

  If I even got that far.

  Even now, trembling before the Chakoan clan, she didn’t see how they could suspect anything from her, even a lesser ability to Shift.

  Don’t you see? I’m nothing! she wanted to scream, tears forming in her eyes.

  “I am Osan, chief of the Chakoa,” the old man finally said, resting his hands in his lap. “Why do you come to us?”

  Sen summoned all of her strength to answer, but little more than a mouse squeak came out. “Because… I’m shadowless.”

  All except Osan answered her in unison: “Without a shadow, I seek only the comfort of darkness, and the freedom of its emptiness.”

  Osan grabbed the bundle he had set down beside him and tossed it over the fire. A crude sword, spear, and broken battle axe landed near her feet, in addition to four sealed jars that tumbled out of the ceremonial cloth. “Choose one.”

  Every muscle in her body stiffened. She had weathered her fair share of bullies and physical harassment at school, but no altercation had ever devolved into a full-blown fight. And since she didn’t have any brother or sisters, or cousins that paid her any notice, she’d never tested herself beyond her father’s trials in the Scylan grove. But practicing breathing techniques and channeling stances didn’t compare to a bloody fight where she faced graver injuries than electric shock.

  “I don’t fight,” she said, surprised that the words made it past her tight throat.

  Nya stood up, saluted Osan, and then assumed a position opposite of Sen, on the far side of the fire. In an ordinary moment, Nya could level anyone with her gaze, but now, with her twin blades drawn and blue eyes shadowed by a streak of black war paint, Sen felt smaller and weaker than ever before.

  “W-why are you doing this?” Sen asked, shuffling back.

  The other warriors stood and spread out, making a circle around Sen, Nya, and the roaring fire. A low hum started amongst them, building in intensity, strumming her fears.

  “Fight or die,” Nya said, spinning her blades around in an impressive display. The other warriors hooted and hollered, chanting phrases in foreign tongues that only seemed to liven the fire and darken Nya’s face.

  Sen looked back, past the unbreakable circle of warriors, to where her sleeping friend lay. Wake up, Akoto!

  A blade swished past her face, nicking her chin. The pain shocked her back a few more steps as Nya continued to hack and slash at Sen.

  “Stop, please!”

  Adrenalized with primal fear, Sen dodged Nya’s attack while frantically searching for something—anything—to help her stop the fight. She scrambled across the ground, rolling every which way. Sand got in her hair, face, and mouth, choking her breath and obscuring her sight. But as the warrior’s blades sliced closer and closer to their mark, a chill gripped her heart and she realized her worst fear: I fight or die.

  Cold sweat broke out across her brow as she backed up on her hands and feet, moving dangerously close to the fire. Just behind her lay the weapons and the mysterious jars, to her right, the central campfire.

  “Stop!” Sen screamed, flailing out as Nya spun on of the blades behind her back and geared up for a final blow.

  Something broke inside of her as the blade came screaming down toward her head. A rush of energy came out from a place beyond her perceptions, undamming her fears, and awakening all of her senses at once. The jars behind her shattered, the fire blazing up to the stars. She heard every heartbeat, every halted breath as light exploded all around and inside her, and radiant beams shot forth from behind her closed eyes.

  Heaving for breath, she waited and waited for the pain, the death strike, that never came. Instead, she felt pressure against her body, something coarse rubbing up against her skin. When she opened her eyes, she found herself underneath a great wall of fur, trapped by a spiked tail and a furious growl.

  Akoto?

  Nya and the warriors shouted at each other.

  “I thought you tranquilized him!”

  “How did he do that—?”

  “The fire—he came from the fire!”

  Osan’s voice rose above all the rest. “Stand down!”

  From her limited vantage point, Sen peeked out between Akoto’s arms and saw Nya scrambling back to her feet, sand all over her face, hair and clothes, as if she had been blasted backward. The rest of the warriors followed suit as Nya moved away from the agitated beast, slowing lowering her weapons.

  What just happened?

  Sen didn’t believe her gut feeling, or the tingling sensation coursing through her body. Did Akoto and I… Did he just travel through light?

  —No way.

  But as she shimmied out from
underneath his body, an iridescent swirl appeared on her palms.

  Impossible, she told herself once the swirl faded.

  Still shaking, she got to her feet and placed her hands on Akoto’s chest as he barked and growled at the Chakoans.

  “No, please—no more,” she said. When he calmed, she turned to Osan. “I don’t want to fight.”

  Osan looked at her with a conflicted expression of fear and wonder. “What is that great beast?”

  Sen didn’t know how to answer, keeping herself close to her friend.

  “Please—we don’t want to cause trouble. I just—we just—needed…” She wanted to finish the sentence but couldn’t, the words sticking to the lump forming in her throat.

  “She’s dangerous,” Nya said, pointing one of her blades at the pair, “and that thing is even more dangerous.”

  Osan closed his eyes, pressing his hands together and bringing them to his chest. Swaying side to side, he mumbled to himself, then opened his eyes and lifted his hands to the stars. All but the crackling fire fell silent as they waited for his decision.

  Keeping his hands together, the Chakoan chief walked back to the ceremonial cloth. Sen didn’t understand his action as he meticulously inspected the shattered jars and the spilled contents. Coiled plants, scurrying ants, a moldy, severed crow’s head, and the seeds of a Scylan tree. Aside from their broken containers, all of the items appeared unaffected by the strange event.

  “She is shadowless,” he announced with satisfaction.

  I don’t understand, she thought, confused at how he could draw such a conclusion.

  All the warriors, save Nya, fell to their knees, shaking their fists at the stars as they chanted and cried.

  “But what about that thing?” Nya countered. “We don’t know what it is, or what it’s capable of.”

  “He’s not dangerous!” Sen said, her voice rising.

  Osan pointed an arthritic finger at Sen. “How can you be certain of that if you don’t know what he is?”

  The question bothered her in a way she didn’t expect. Am I too trusting?

  Looking in Akoto’s one good eye, the yellow iris with the blue sheen, she lost sight of his canine teeth, or his blackened wings and foreboding stature. Instead, she felt the strength of his arms, the sensation of flying through the air on his back, the way his entire body eclipsed hers as he protected her at her most vulnerable.