Renzhies

by Mara Duryea

  It smashed a crater into the ground. The impact heaved N’Nar across a small clearing as pillars smashed around him. He screamed, but his voice carried nowhere. The haladon stood again and careened its head into the crater. Rocks shot off the ground and pelted N’Nar on landing. Again, the great head heaved into the air and shot back into the crater.

  The haladon swung around, tail knocking pillars and towers in half as it rocketed back to the north. N’Nar laid still, ears ringing and nausea setting in. Rocks buried him. Two pillars had landed on either side of him and had caught a third pillar from crushing the Sirilith.

  Pain cut through his head as a memory surfaced. N’Nar’s surroundings warped into a clean white house with cool stone floors. Endless windows peered out into the night. Some of the windows made up entire walls. Flowing blue curtains hung over them. Mirilite gleamed dimly on the pale walls. The night colored the curtains darker than in the day. The windows were all closed, so the curtains were still.

  Sitting up, he wondered where he was. A little voice made fighting noises, and N’Nar turned around. He saw himself, a baby who could sit up, but N’Nar didn’t know if he could walk yet.

  A small Antiminar boy around six or seven hurried through the halls towards him and crouched beside him. N’Nar recognized him immediately: Rilkin.

  “N’Nar, N’Nar,” he said, “there’s an ugly man outside.”

  “No there’s not,” said the baby N’Nar in baby babble, but Rilkin could understand him. To both N’Nars, the baby spoke perfectly.

  “No, no, look.”

  Rilkin helped N’Nar to his feet. Keeping hold of the small, fat hand, the Antiminar pulled him to one of the windows. He hefted N’Nar onto a loveseat under it and cracked the curtain open.

  The mirilite on the walls dimly illuminated a Hatrin man grinning behind a hedge. His eyes were milky and his face scarred, with fresh stitches on still-healing wounds. He held a sinewy hand out, as if beckoning to him. The man had no soul.

  “Dad, Dad, Dad!” N’Nar and his baby self screamed. He stumbled backward and landed on his back. He jerked into the present, still shouting for his dad. He opened his eyes and beheld the rubble pressing on either side of him. He kicked and shoved the sharp rocks away from him and scrambled out into the humid sunshine.

  He sucked in air and tilted his face to the blue sky. “Gutless awiks.”

  He reached his rattled senses out to feel the comfort of his family’s souls. Their anxiety struck him like a stick to the face, but they were all there, alive and well. Only Sibare was isolated in the underground library, and he was writhing in pain.

  As N’Nar sped to the library entrance, he guessed Sibare was near the bottom of the steps. He found the stairwell full of debris, but still intact. He picked his way down it, nearly tripping on loose stone and pebbles, and stepped into the library. Most of the mural lay shattered across the floor. Many of the bookshelves had tipped over.

  Lying in a pile of glass was Sibare, a colossal bookshelf crushing his stomach. His eyes were closed, and he was covered in fresh cuts.

  “Sibare!” N’Nar darted to his side and the boy opened his eyes.

  “N’Nar,” he moaned, “it hurts.” There was blood on his teeth.

  “I’ll get Dad.” N’Nar dashed back upstairs. Zhin and the others were near, searching for him and Sibare, no doubt. He emerged from the stairwell and hollered across the courtyard. “Sibare’s hurt! He’s down in the library!”

  He felt their souls start and speed towards him. Without waiting for them to appear, N’Nar loped back down to Sibare and crouched beside him to avoid slicing his knees in the glass.

  “Zhin’s coming,” said N’Nar. “He’ll be here soon.”

  “You mean Dad,” said Sibare.

  N’Nar started. “What?”

  “You called him ‘dad.’” Sibare smiled, though it was strained because of the pain. “It’s the only way it feels right, isn’t it.”

  N’Nar grabbed the end of his tail. “But I do have a dad, somewhere.”

  The stairwell crunched with falling rocks and debris as the others neared.

  “No, you don’t,” said Sibare. “He never came for you. You always said he would come, but he didn’t.” Sibare grabbed N’Nar’s wrist. “But maybe one did anyway.”

  “But Zhin’s my brother.”

  “Then why did you call him that?”

  “I…I don’t know.”

  “I do.”

  Zhin’s aura enveloped them. His face contorted in horror, but he didn’t lose his head. He seized the bookshelf’s edge and struggled to lift it. He groaned as his wounded shoulder screamed in pain. Fresh blood seeped through the bandages, but the Berivor powered through it.

  “Pull him out!” Zhin snapped when he’d lifted the bookshelf high enough. Rilkin, N’Nar, and Vijeren dragged Sibare out. Zhin dropped the bookshelf with a heavy thud and crouched beside his son.

  “My stomach hurts,” said Sibare.

  Zhin’s heart went into his mouth. The bookshelf was too big and heavy for a Metirin. He could only hope Sibare’s Syladin side would kick in. Carefully lifting Sibare into his arms, he carried him to the vozhrith. He could fix the outside cuts, but something had happened to Sibare inside, and Zhin didn’t know how to fix that.

  14

  What is a Renzhie

  It was silent in the vozhrith as everyone slept in the nearby beds. Zhin had made Sibare as comfortable as possible and now sat beside him, unable to sleep. He worked on the blood pendant; his mind swallowed in thought. His dad had come closer, and Zhin trusted Rezh had brought his mother with him. She would come. She’d be too worried not to, especially if her tiniest baby Rilkin had no legs and was eaten alive. She could heal Sibare. The danger lay in Sibare’s blood loss. He’d already lost too much in Bellecaro. His heart...Zhin wiped a stray tear from his cheek.

  Sibare squirmed and opened his eyes. He looked around as if he didn’t know where he was for a moment. “Dad?”

  “Here, Sibare,” said Zhin.

  “I feel sick.”

  “I know.” Setting the pendant aside and closing his wrist, Zhin wet a rag in cool water and pressed it to Sibare’s face. The boy sucked in air, and his eyes focused on the Berivor.

  “I always knew,” said Sibare.

  Zhin’s brows contracted. “What did you know?”

  “That you were half orilas.”

  “What?”

  Sibare swallowed. “When I burned Karijin on the ship, I saw a million things. I couldn’t make sense of most of it, but some things were very clear. I saw you crawl out of your monster mother. At the same time, I was you. I stood in everybody’s place for whatever memory I Read. Because I stood in everybody’s place, I knew whose place I was in.”

  Zhin’s lower lip trembled. “And you called for me anyway?”

  “I’ll always call for you. I’ll follow you anywhere. You’re my sakreen. You came for me in Visseria when I thought there was no hope left. You saved me from the bloodhearts in Bellecaro. You were familiar to me, and there was nobody else who could be my dad but you. There’s nobody else I’d want to be my dad. I’d always known it, even though I couldn’t remember it until we fell off the waterfall. I love you, Dad. Nothing can change it.”

  Sitting on the bed, Zhin gathered Sibare to his breast. “My son, my son. I love you.”

  Sibare pressed his face into Zhin’s shirt and breathed in. In this way, his stomach didn’t hurt so much. His head felt as if it floated without his body. His father’s arms kept him anchored, kept him from drifting away.

  There was still more on his mind, and he had to tell, or he couldn’t be easy. “Dad?”

  “What?”

  Sibare’s mouth screwed up. “I’m so sorry I didn’t say anything to you. I should have told you I knew what you were, and then you wouldn’t have had to suffer. I came down to the library because I was so ashamed of myself. I could have used my Perilith powers for your good instead of just disobeying you. I
’ve been Reading everybody.” Tears dribbled down Sibare’s cheeks.

  Zhin tangled his fingers into Sibare’s wild hair. “Did your eyes hurt?”

  “A little bit.”

  Zhin examined Sibare’s tears. “I see no red.” He drew Sibare’s head against him once more. “Don’t be afraid, Sibare. My dad will be here soon, and he’s probably bringing my mom with him. She’ll heal you.” Zhin gazed at the wall, and his eyes grew heavy. It seemed holding his little one was the only way he could relax, as if his arms were all that kept Sibare’s spirit inside him.

  ***

  Zhin woke with a start and immediately checked Sibare, who slept in his arms like an infant. The boy was still alive. Zhin examined his lips to make sure they weren’t turning blue. He felt Sibare’s pulse, and his stomach twisted. It was faster than it should have been. He glanced at Vijeren, who rolled over and scratched his stomach. Zhin always thought that if he lost Vijeren again, he’d go mad. Could he repeat it with Sibare? Desperation rose to his throat. If stupid Barv were still alive, Zhin would run out to meet his parents right now and bring them here, haladon or no haladon.

  Zhin needed to relieve himself. Setting Sibare down, he stretched his aching muscles and used the toilet. When he returned, he found N’Nar awake and sitting up. Out of everyone, Zhin hadn’t found out whether or not the Sirilith cared about his orilas bloodline. It seemed N’Nar didn’t. The Sirilith treated him exactly the same as before.

  Something was wrong, though, but Zhin couldn’t pinpoint it. It had nothing to do with his orilas blood. This “thing” had started soon after they’d killed Karijin.

  “N’Nar,” said Zhin softly, “are you all right?”

  The Sirilith didn’t look up. “I got a memory back.” He ran his finger across the bedsheet. “There was an ugly man. He…he scared me so bad that even after the memory went away, I was still screaming. He was standing outside a window and smiling. He didn’t have a soul.”

  Zhin pulled up a chair. “Were you in the compound?”

  “No, I was a baby. Rilkin was with me. He was bigger than me back then. He was about six or seven. He’s my brother, but he’s also yours. How is that? How did he end up with you, and why did I end up in Visseria?”

  “I found Rilkin in a Child City,” said Zhin. “Or rather, he found me. He was seven. He spoke Zherwor with a perfect accent.”

  “And in my memory, he spoke Aralian perfectly. Why does he talk the way he does now?”

  Zhin picked the end of the sheet. “When you’re in a Child City, you don’t get out mentally unscathed. Rilkin embraced the Vaylanian ways afterward, because it was far from what had traumatized him. It’s a mental pillow for him to speak as he does. Anybody who met him would believe he’s pure Vaylanian.”

  N’Nar frowned. “He forgot me?”

  “Something bad happened to him. I don’t know whether or not he remembers it. He never speaks of what happened before the Child City, but it was Sizhirin who took him.”

  “Can you tell me?”

  “I will, in the morning.”

  N’Nar lay down. “D—Zhin, how did Sizhirin get you? You told us everything but that.”

  The Berivor glanced sideways at him, but decided N’Nar cutting himself off was of no consequence. “After my dad remembered, the very sight of me filled him with revulsion. He pushed me away. It opened me up to the bloodhearts. Because of my mother’s love, I was neither a bloodheart candidate nor good to eat. So they took me to their Renzhie.”

  “A Renzhie?”

  “That’s what Sizhirin is. He and Azhanya are joint Renzhies of a Midnight Gate. Their child was a Perilith. When they killed her, they opened a gate and became soulless themselves. That’s why Sizhirin lost his Iskerkin powers. My dad could feel the warm flickers because he was the only one who could bring Sizhirin back. Because the Perilith was a child and her own parents killed her, the gate was a bloodheart gate. They’re the parents of a Midnight Gate, and the bloodhearts are their children.”

  “So every bloodheart Renzhie murdered their own child?”

  “Yeah. They’re the most despicable of Renzhies. Sizhirin and Azhanya had years to expand their territory. They use Renzhie Doors to send their bloodhearts into the world.

  “Each door leads to other places, but Sizhirin or Azhanya needs to have a starting point, travel to the ending point, and then connect the two points with a Renzhie Door. They defend their gate with a special door, designed to get you lost because it leads into a nightmare world of their own making. People who wander into those doors only get out through pure luck.”

  N’Nar shivered, not wanting to hear about those doors. “How do you kill a Renzhie?”

  “By closing their gate.”

  “So the bloodhearts who took you?”

  “The bloodhearts who took me, their Renzhie was Sizhirin. He recognized me, never knowing what I was or whose son I was. He put me into a birthing chamber to start changing me into a bloodheart. It was that mouth in the basement where Karijin changed into a Nri Kryne. My family thought I was dead. Only after my dad found my shirt in his bag did his sorrow grow so great that the tug broke through Sizhirin’s spell over me.”

  “Hm,” said N’Nar. “So the reason for your alienation brought you home again.”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s good you’re half orilas,” said N’Nar.

  Zhin scratched his head. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  N’Nar touched the marks the Kosalin spider had left on his chest. The place where its abdomen had pressed into him appeared slightly burned. “It was good for everybody.” Had it not been for Zhin, his essence would be out on the market right now. The thought made N’Nar sick.

  “Does it still hurt?” said Zhin.

  “It’s better. The haladon almost crushing me didn’t aggravate it. It hurt my arm, though, but I gave it another medicine bath. So your mother can heal me?”

  “She can.”

  N’Nar smiled, and lay back down. He pulled the thin blanket over him, but left his feet out. He hated covering them when he slept, unless he was afraid. He wasn’t afraid anymore.

  Zhin touched the Sirilith’s head. “Good night, N’Nar.”

  “Good night.”

  The Berivor checked on each Metirin before settling into his bed by the door and falling asleep.

  N’Nar opened his eyes a sliver and rested them on Rilkin. The end of the Antiminar’s shaggy, red-brown tail mimicked the swishing of a pendulum.

  What happened to you? N’Nar thought. Maybe tomorrow, they could figure it out.

  15

  They Were Familiar

  Vijeren stretched until his back arched and sat up. His wild hair fell around his face and he rubbed his eyes and cheeks. He didn’t always show a serious side, and avoided it as a rule. Still, he worried. His first care was to check on Sibare. Glancing at the bed beside his, Vijeren’s heart caught in his throat. Sibare was as pale as death. There was only one thing Vijeren could think of doing.

  Leaping from his bed and onto Sibare’s, Vijeren delivered a sharp slap to Sibare’s face. The sound jerked his family awake as Sibare cried out. Vijeren sprang back to his bed before Sibare could smack him.

  “Zhesspet, Vijeren, what was that for?” he growled.

  Vijeren wondered at Sibare knowing it was him, but he said, “You almost committed incest with the orilas who took you.”

  “What?”

  “The orilas who took you was Dad’s monster mother. She wanted you, of all people! You’re not even big enough for her.”

  Sibare frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” The entire revelation was lost on Sibare as his mind focused on his manhood.

  “Maybe she wanted to eat you instead.”

  “Why, because you were too sour?”

  “I’m an acquired taste.” Vijeren stuck his tongue out at him.

  “Like a slok fish,” said Sibare.

  Zhin joined them, Sibare’s paleness threatening to panic him. He knew
what Vijeren was doing, and decided to contribute.

  “No,” he said. “She wanted Sibare to be her baby, like I was. A Metirin My for a Kabrilor orilas is a baby. An orilas can’t make another orilas a My, since it has no soul, but it calls the new baby My.”

  “She called you ‘baby’ and not ‘My,’” said Sibare.

  “Because I was already born to her. You weren’t. She would have called you ‘baby’ after she shoved you into her stomach so she could give birth to you.”

  “H-how do you know that?” Sibare squeaked as he spiraled into denial.

  “You find out things as a Sivarin.”

  Sibare had almost forgotten Zhin and Rilkin were Sivarins: a special branch of law enforcement from Vaylania. They were a secret team that dealt with Kabrilor/Metirin problems, as well as finding and disposing of soulless monsters. If they got in trouble, they were more or less on their own so their secret could be kept.

  “Can I be a Sivarin?” said Vijeren.

  “If you train really hard and discipline yourself,” said Zhin.

  Vijeren tapped his fingers together in thought. “I could kill orilases for a livng.”

  “You could,” said Zhin with a smile. The way Vijeren had taken up haladons, the boy would take his training just as ardently.

  Miranel skipped to Zhin’s side and pulled on his pant leg. She was much too short to reach his belt, and Rilkin had had to help her get off her bed.

  “Zhin,” she said, “do you have more stories?”

  Zhin glanced at N’Nar as he thought of Rilkin, and then he cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

  Miranel clapped her hands in anticipation.

  “Rilkin,” said Zhin.

  “What?”

  “N’Nar got a memory back. And you were in it.”

  The room hushed as all eyes darted from Rilkin to N’Nar. The Sirilith took a breath and related the memory as calmly and as clearly as possible. The Antiminar listened in silence, and then he had to sit down.