Renzhies

by Mara Duryea

  Catching him under the arms, it lifted him off the floor and admired him. Rezh struggled feebly in its grip. His strength and nerves were played out.

  Sizhirin rounded the corner. “No!” He rushed the orilas, but it grinned and flung Rezh over its shoulder. Leaping easily over the flat roofs of the individual rooms, it landed in the alley behind the Grid. Sizhirin’s cries reached Rezh’s numb ears, but the Hatrin couldn’t keep up.

  The orilas pressed a panel, and the secret door leading to the beach slid open. It waited, watching the hall for Sizhirin. When he finally appeared, the orilas shot him a malignant grin and sped down the gloomy stairwell. Sizhirin’s despairing cry echoed after them, but it meant nothing to Rezh.

  For one year, he was with the orilas and never divulged the details of it, and he never will. The next part of his tale begins here.

  Rain flooded the orilas’s nest. Stone walls rose high around it. Dead grass, sticks and mud filled the nest. Huge with child, the orilas dragged Rezh’s emaciated frame into a shallow cave. She propped him against a wall and fastened his wrists to a pair of posts on either side of him.

  Moaning in pain, she lay down not far away and wailed. She kicked at the wall as claws bulged from her stomach.

  Rezh screamed. “Oh, please, help me!” He jerked at his unyielding bonds. The monster’s flesh flopped open like a gory, budding flower. Guts mounded on the filthy floor. A creature crawled out, slicked with bloody fur and entrails. Sharp teeth hung past its chin. It crouched beside the twitching bulk of its mother, screeching like a squeaky whistle.

  Another bloody creature crawled forth from the stomach. It was smaller, like a normal Kabrilor child. Rezh pressed his face into his arm.

  The whining monster beside the mother howled like bending, scraping metal. Rezh’s head jerked up. The newborn orilas was already charging him. It leaped at his legs with outstretched claws.

  He kicked at the creature, but it clamped its jaws on him and worried his flesh. Its claws shredded down his legs. Rezh would die here, eaten alive by a monster. This was the end to his nightmare, and yet he still struggled to live. The thing crawled up his stomach. It tore at his arms and gnawed on the rope to reach his wrist.

  Rezh suddenly realized it might gnaw his hand off. He jerked at the rope and it snapped. One arm was free. Gouging his claws into the thing’s neck, he shoved its head into the wall. It snarled and slashed at his arm as it struggled to break free. Rezh pounded its head against the stone. Its eyes lost focus and he did it again, but he couldn’t do it hard enough. His feeble strength was flowing out with his blood. His broken rib, where the orilas had struck him when he had tried to escape, sparked in pain.

  The creature pushed against his arm. Its gnashing teeth flecked his own blood back into his face. His arm slowly bent as a dream-like veil washed over his surroundings. If only he could wake up and find himself at home, with his mom and dad the way they used to be. He could tell them of this nightmare. They would laugh and assure him it was impossible. Sizhirin would take him to the beach and tell him tales of killing soulless. His mother would pack a big lunch, and hide a surprise inside.

  “My! My!” The voice was small and high. Warmth touched Rezh’s soul, and a child crawled between him and the monster. The constant, paralyzing fear plaguing Rezh lifted just enough for him to gather his wits.

  The new orilas considered the tiny thing in confusion, and then slunk away. Rezh stared in dismay, and then the baby embraced his middle. The bloody child’s flaming aura burrowed deep into Rezh’s trembling heart. He clutched it to him, only half comprehending the small mouth sucking at his torn shoulder.

  For a moment, the horrors surrounding him didn’t exist. He was safe. Sizhirin’s lost fire had transferred into this squishy thing nestled in his arm. Because of this, Rezh knew it was a boy.

  Rezh’s coherent thoughts only reached as far as this. He glanced at the broken rope dangling from the pole where his wrist had been bound. Freedom was near. Releasing the baby, he clawed at the other rope until it snapped. He set the baby on the ground, figuring it would follow. It was time to get out of this place. Summoning the last of his strength, he dragged himself through the filthy nest of slimy grass, leaves, and mud. The baby climbed onto his back and held on tight.

  The walls of the nest appeared through the mist. A narrow pass led out of the prison. Rezh focused on it, refusing to rest. Freezing autumn rain pelted his back, except where the warm baby sat. It wouldn’t stay warm for long in this frozen downpour. Where was it warm? He couldn’t let the baby die of exposure like Sizhirin’s dead child had.

  Rezh’s smoking breath curled away into the icy wind. He sank his claws into the muddy ground, gritting his teeth with every movement. Sparking pain shot up and down his body as his vision swam in and out of focus. The baby suddenly slid off his back and crawled ahead of him. It moved several rocks out of his way.

  The rain had washed the blood and gunk from the child’s body. It was a real child, with round cheeks and a mass of dripping hair as black as the orilas’s. Shivers ran through the little body.

  Setting his jaw, Rezh struggled to his feet. His head swam, and he staggered against a boulder. He held onto it for several minutes, and then focused on the baby. Picking it up, he tried to keep it as warm as he could. The baby curled into a ball.

  Fastening his amber eyes back on the pass, Rezh lurched forward. It never seemed to draw any closer. His stride felt like it was an inch long. The rain thickened. The cold hurt his aching bones. His broken bone scraped at his lung. The baby whimpered. Rezh’s head whirled and he toppled over, but landed against a stone wall. He’d entered the pass.

  Holding the rock wall with one hand, he forced himself forward. There had to be something outside of the prison. A warm place. What time was it? It was dark from the rain and cloud cover, but he could still see. Maybe it was Golden Sun? Where was he? Was anybody out in this that could let him in?

  He walked on and on. The baby’s whimpers echoed his own agony. He had to make it somehow. The ground gave way beneath him. It melded with the sky. The black telarin trees melted into a mass of ink. Somehow, Rezh continued walking.

  A large form on four legs loped through the storm somewhere up ahead. A kiderrin? It had a rider with it.

  “Stop! Wait!” Rezh’s voice sounded rough and scratchy. “Wait! Help me!”

  The beast halted, and Rezh collapsed in the freezing mud. The baby pushed his shoulder and pulled at his hand, but nothing.

  The ground rumbled, and someone in a heavy jacket landed beside him. “Ehy! Ehy, you dead?” It was a man’s voice. He rolled Rezh on his back. Two brilliant green, black-rimmed eyes gazed into his face. Work-worn fingers felt his pulse. “Hold on.” He took the baby first, and then lifted Rezh off the ground. The man bore him up the kiderrin tail and laid him in a corner of the frame. He dug a heavy jacket out of his packs and covered Rezh with it. “Your baby okay. Here.” He set a bundle beside Rezh, and then took the kiderrin reins. He shouted at the beast and it lunged forward.

  Rezh gazed at the baby as it stared back at him from its bundle. It babbled, as if asking if he was okay. Its aura expanded, attempting to make him warm.

  “What your name?” said the man.

  “Rezh.”

  “I’m Rindar. There’s one city close by. I get you to the vozhrith and you’ll be all right. They get you something for to eat, too.”

  “Rindar,” Rezh whispered, “thank you.” With that, his strength utterly failed him.

  12

  The Secret

  Zhin’s lower lip trembled as he stared at his feet. He could feel his family’s eyes boring into him. His breath came in short bursts as he labored to the finish of his tale. “My dad never knew if I was truly his son, but now he did.” Zhin’s throat choked up. “I didn’t look like him because…because I pulled my mother’s side. I was her in human form.” He gripped his arms and said savagely, “I sucked his blood to turn my own dad into a My. It’s why I have
a tug. Every orilas does, and that’s why they always know where their My’s are, no matter how far or where they run.”

  Rising to his feet on wobbly legs, Zhin wandered across the garden. It seemed hazy. He was a small boat cut off from the main ship and lost in a mocking sun’s fog. There was a reason people feared him. He was indeed a monster, and they could sense it.

  His dad had shunned him for it. He’d stopped holding him, loving him, playing with him. That night, Zhin had tried to crawl into his dad’s lap, and the man had shoved him away.

  Something had broken inside Zhin, broken him enough to catch the bloodhearts’ attention. How could he not expect the same from the Metirins? Zhin rubbed his chest and leaned his hand against a cool wall. He had stepped into the shade without realizing it. He had no idea where he was.

  A sob broke from his lips and he slid down the wall, burying his face into his knees. The wind whispered quietly through the halls of ruined stone. He’d faced his greatest fear, and to what end? Some things should have been left unsaid. He was half orilas. He’d crawled from his mother’s womb to suck on his own father’s blood like a newborn child’s milk.

  However much of a monster he was, he would relinquish his claim on his sons if they desired it. He would find them good homes to go to before…Zhin couldn’t finish the thought as a wave of fresh pain clenched him in its relentless grip. This was why he could never marry. What woman could abide wedding an orilas? A monster could crawl out of her, for all he knew.

  Tiny hands rested on Zhin’s arm. He sniffled as he looked to his side. Miranel gazed up at him, the edges of her small mouth tugging down.

  “Don’t cry, Zhin,” she said. “It’s sad.” Tiny tears squeezed from the corners of her green eyes.

  Zhin rested his hand around her shoulders and pulled her to him. “Miranel, I…”

  “Everybody’s crying, and they won’t stop. I even kissed Vijeren on the head and he didn’t scream. You have to make them stop.”

  “I can’t.”

  “But you can do anything.” Miranel took Zhin’s hand and pulled on it. Zhin stood up, unable to shove her away, and followed her to a little copse of bushes shaded by broken pillars. Soft sobs reached his ears, and he came upon Vijeren huddled on the ground, hugging his knees.

  Zhin’s throat spasmed. The boy probably realized he’d been freed from one monster only to land into the hands of another. He slowly approached, bracing himself for Vijeren to flinch away from him. The thought brought fresh tears to his eyes.

  His aura fell over Vijeren, and the boy scrambled to his side. He flung his arms around Zhin as far as they would go.

  Zhin’s mouth fell open a little. “Vijeren, you still love me?”

  “I love you no matter what.”

  Zhin knelt and stared at Vijeren. “But…but I’m…”

  Vijeren took Zhin’s face in his hands. “I don’t care what you are. Nobody can replace you. I remembered you, and I woke up in the tower without you. You left me in Cedris, and then you left me again.” Vijeren’s mouth trembled. “Don’t go again.” His eyes squeezed shut and he crumpled into Zhin, who caught him to his chest. The Berivor sucked in air as if he’d been underwater a long time.

  “I’ll never leave you,” said Zhin softly. “You’ll always be my little one. Don’t cry.”

  Vijeren held onto Zhin’s shirt, listening to his powerful heartbeat and a yellow bird twittering among the golden flowers sprawling across the ruin’s stone walls. His half-moon eyes traveled up a tower, resting on each empty window.

  “Dad?”

  “What?”

  Vijeren focused on the vestiges of a purple curtain flapping in a high window. “Your monster mother knew where you were all the time, like she was checking on you. Would she have saved you from the m’kriths?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What made her come get you in the Kosalin?”

  “I guess she was annoyed with me. I was making a really bad orilas.”

  Vijeren’s gaze traveled across the tower’s red-tiled roof, as if she might be checking on his dad right now. “What happened to her?”

  Zhin tilted his son’s face up to his. “You killed her on the ship.”

  ***

  Rilkin watched his feet float in the canal, ears drooping and tail lying limply behind him. Nobody with a tail was supposed to do that, or somebody could step on it. In his Kabrilor family, he had to take especial care, because they wouldn’t see him at all. His heart was heavy: for his brother, his dad, and the whole situation. They had suffered and everyone knew this, so why had they not seen fit to tell him? Surely they didn’t believe his love and loyalty were fickle?

  The stench of unwashed drunken body loomed behind him, and Ikalkor chuckled. “Zhin really did it this time. He wasn’t supposed to ever tell anybody. He gets too sentimental.”

  “Go away, Ikalkor,” said Rilkin. “I can’t breathe.”

  “I wonder why nobody told you? Everybody in the band knows. I always knew.”

  Rilkin pinched his nose as anger flared. “I don’t know, and who cares?”

  “Maybe it’s because you just one Metirin they picked out of a Child City. At least Zhin has blood ties to the band. You’re just a hangnail.”

  “Shut up!”

  “It just goes to show Zhin trusts me more than you.”

  Rilkin jumped to his feet. His wounds pinched, but he didn’t care. “If you weren’t Ikalkor, I might believe you!” Despite these bold words, Ikalkor was voicing Rilkin’s hidden fears.

  Ikalkor grinned. “They only kept you because Zhin was crying.”

  “Maybe in the beginning.”

  “Then they should have told you. The band keeps its secrets, and you one outcast! You always been! Everybody had to do extra for you. Everybody might go to the Kosalin if somebody saw you. Rilkin, you one pest.” He laughed aloud. Triumph over the Metirin was rare, and Ikalkor would bask in every second of it.

  As Ikalkor held his stomach in glee, the hot Iskerkin aura burned his back and his mirth cut short. He spun around and came face to face with his brother’s furious visage.

  “Oh, Zhin!” Ikalkor stuck his grimy fingers in his mouth.

  “Get out of here,” Zhin growled.

  Ikalkor scuttled away.

  Zhin turned his gaze on Rilkin, who seemed reduced to a waif. “Vijeren, Miranel, let me talk to Rilkin alone.”

  The two hurried away in Ikalkor’s general direction. He screeched a few seconds later.

  “Well?” said Zhin a little hesitantly. “What are you thinking?”

  The Antiminar gazed at the broken tiles at his feet as a frown tugged at the edges of his mouth. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Rilkin breathed in. “Was it because I’m one Metirin?”

  Zhin’s jaw tightened. “Yes.”

  Rilkin’s face screwed up as he caught his tail in his hands. “Is true what Ikalkor said, then? I’m one hangnail?”

  Zhin knelt at eye level with Rilkin. “Everybody else was stuck to me, but you aren’t. You’re a Metirin. You could leave when you chose. If you knew what I was, what was to stop you from running off?” Zhin sucked in air. “Nobody wanted to lose you. I didn’t want to lose you. It was wrong to keep it from you, and I know it’s made me like Sizhirin and an orilas at the same time.” Zhin stared at his knees, and his voice cracked. “I’m sorry.”

  Rilkin dashed salt drops from his cheeks. “Zhin, I always on your side. You my brother, and is all I see.” He lifted Zhin’s chin. “You save me when I was one small Antiminar. You keep me safe from other Kabrilors and make sure Ikalkor not step on me. You keep me from drowning. No orilas can do that, and no Sizhirin.”

  Rilkin and Zhin embraced one another. The Antiminar rested his head on his brother’s shoulder. Rilkin had seen older sisters become second mothers to their siblings. For him, Zhin was like his second father. It was he who watched him the most, and Rilkin derived as much comfort from his brother as he did from his father. Was this how it had been b
etween Karijin and Zhin? In losing Karijin, had Zhin lost someone as dear to him as Zhin was dear to Rilkin? The Antiminar shuddered at the thought, and his arms tightened around his brother’s neck.

  ***

  Everyone had been so upset that N’Nar had to find a secluded spot so he could properly block them out. He had succeeded, but his own emotions were in shambles. It had been shocking to find out Zhin was half orilas. An Iskerkin with a soulless mother wasn’t something that happened often.

  It wasn’t this that upset him, though.

  N’Nar decided to stay still in his safe place until he heard somebody call for him, but it never happened. The haladon’s eerie howl shocked his ears and ended in a raspy rattle, which kicked tremors through the ground. What felt like a living wave slammed his senses and covered the area.

  N’Nar leaped to his feet and raced in Zhin’s general direction. He couldn’t feel anybody but the haladon. Their souls were drowned out like the stars when the moon was full.

  Boom-boom-boom!

  N’Nar’s feet flew off the ground, and he landed on his elbow. The stitches along his stabbed arm nearly ripped apart. The sun vanished as if storm clouds had moved in. The howl thundered above him, and N’Nar looked up.

  13

  “…maybe one did anyway.”

  Not ten feet beside N’Nar was an armored gray lizard foot nearly thirty or forty feet long. Claws curved into the ground, creating a lengthy tunnel. The leg was squat and bent, so the belly was close to the ground. It was as thick as one of the great towers gracing the ruin. Parts of the leg were pebbly, like a grekham’s hide.

  High above that, as if it touched the sky, was a colossal shoulder and a neverending wall of steely armor reaching half a mile back. The head was like a rectangle, smoothing into long jaws stuffed with thick, sharp teeth. A globe shined in the sun like a mirror, marking the beast’s eye.

  It stood on its hind legs. Its great body stretched towards the sun, and then it screeched. The sound rattled N’Nar’s brain and changed his heartbeat. And then the hammer-like head swung down.