by Mara Duryea
Zhin, is your turn now.
6
The Empty City
We stood at the top of a stairway leading into a courtyard filled with rotting meat. A high wall surrounded it. Beyond it were the dark shadows of buildings. Some looked like they had giant bites taken out of them. Leafless trees stuck out of the buildings. I could see a darkened doorway near the top of the wall and guessed there was a stairway leading up to it. Otherwise, the door would make no sense.
I’d seen the bandages on the little Antiminar’s feet, and the sling holding his broken arm. I had no idea what had happened to him, but I knew for certain that Sizhirin had done it.
He was familiar to me. Why a Metirin was familiar confused me, but the urge to protect him as I protected my brother and sisters had seized me. Careful of his arm, I swung him onto my back and hurried down the steps into the courtyard.
My limbs still ached, my whole head felt disgusting and clogged, my stomach suffered from hunger and my tongue was sticky with thirst, but none of it mattered. My only goal was to escape this hideous place.
As I limped through the courtyard, I realized the rotting stink had risen from mutilated bodies. Dark splotches besmirched the area around each corpse.
“Don’t look, Antiminar,” I said.
His face pressed into a bruise on my back, and I winced. “I’m not looking.”
Reaching the wall, I groped in the shadows for the stairs and found it. I wasn’t at its beginning, but I wasn’t about to locate it. The door to the mansion could open at any second.
Climbing onto the stairway, I realized it was extremely narrow. I hugged the rough brick wall and picked my way to the door. I kept my claws extended just in case the stairs decided to give out. Anything could go wrong, and I was too paranoid to ignore it.
I glanced back every five seconds, glad the stairway remained in the shadows. Near the top, at the line between moonlight and shadow, I glanced back one more time. The door itself was exposed to the moon, and I didn’t want anything to see me.
No light illuminated from the shadowy mansion. It had no windows. Three pale figures crawling on the walls sprang into the courtyard. Their eyes winked like small red beacons. I knew what they were, even though they were obscured. Every child did, even if they didn’t know their name: bloodhearts.
“Zhin,” the Antiminar whimpered.
“Sheh!” I hissed.
His arm tightened around my neck as I sliced my wrists. Gilanra had trained me in what I could and should do, but I’d never killed soulless. She’d said as long as I had my killing blood out, the bloodhearts couldn’t put their spell on me. It only dissipated the fear enough for me to think.
As soon as their glowing eyes had turned from my direction, I darted through the splash of moonlight and into the safe confines of the darkened door. Moonlight cut sharp bluish lines through cracks in the ceiling. They were startling contrasts to the opaque darkness around them.
Keeping my hand on the rough wall for direction, I started searching for the way out. My eyes adjusted, and I saw this place was much like a protective wall. It was filled with corridors and stairways. Empty doorways seemed like pitch-black voids. Fear settled in my stomach as I began to realize I was lost. Nobody got out of a protective wall unless they knew their way around, or by luck.
My foot kicked something that scattered across the floor like bits of dry wood. I glanced down with a start. Pale white bones were strewn everywhere. A gnawed skull rolled into a shaft of moonlight and grinned at us.
“Zhin,” the Antiminar squeaked.
Great Cubons, I’d half forgotten he was on my back. “Close your eyes.”
“When are we going to get out?”
“I don’t know.”
Hurrying past the skull, I rounded a corner and screamed as I came face to face with a pair of red eyes. They were slightly taller than me. The thing smelled like carnage in a slaughter house. It slammed into me and smashed me against a wall. The little Antiminar cried out as our weight squished his tiny frame, but he refused to release me.
The bloodheart whacked me across one side of my face and then struck my other cheek. As it threw me to the floor, I remembered my killing blood, but it seemed a distant memory. It was like scrambling for a slippery fish before it flopped back into the water as I slapped out some kind of blade. I didn’t stab it through the chest, but I held my hands up as if to shove it back. The bloodheart ran onto the shaft of blood, squealed once, and fell dead with a sickening thump.
Choking on my own screams, I clawed to the ceiling and ripped through the crumbling stone. The walls were so rough that I was able to brace my feet on them and dig the claws of one hand into them to keep my place. I dug with my free hand. Brick and debris dropped around me and rolled down my back. I wasn’t even thinking about my tiny passenger. Luckily, he had a death grip on me.
At last, I’d made a hole big enough, and scrambled onto the roof. I stood in the middle of the wall. Blue Moon had moved farther west. The dark mansion rose like some kind of monster behind me. In front was an empty city that stretched into the horizon.
The wind stung my bare skin, and I became aware of how sick I was. I didn’t care. I had to get out of here. Someone was crying, and I realized it was the little Antiminar. My mind flashed to his broken arm and how we had smashed him against the wall.
“Just hold on a little bit,” I said. Jogging to the edge of the wall, I dug my claws into it and climbed down. I became aware that I was moving like an orilas, but for some reason I didn’t care. You had to be an orilas to survive in here. I landed with a wet squelch into long grass. Gnarled trees hung over us. Some of them looked like creepy old men with too many wrinkles. I’d never seen trees like these.
I didn’t know where to go, so I just started running. Everything was a mixture of old broken buildings and dead trees: a lifeless forest of wood and stone. Arches collided into trees. Cracked fountains were full of ice and water. Black-splotched stairways led into open sky.
As the courtyard wall grew further away, my aching head whirled and I crashed to the ground. It was like the undulating back of a running kiderrin. The sky seemed to fall and then dart back up.
The little Antiminar crouched beside me and touched my feverish shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“No,” I murmured.
He tugged at my hand. “Let’s go in there.”
An open doorway stood before us, leading into some massive building. It crossed my mind that it might not be safe, but I was too woozy to grasp it. Wobbling to my feet, I let the Antiminar lead me within.
We hadn’t gone two steps inside when a cold hand gripped my wrist and slammed me against the wall. At the same time, the Antiminar was ripped from my fingers. Bloody, glimmering eyes surrounded me. Cold hands clamped on my body and dozens of needles sank into my flesh.
7
The Horde
The pain jerked me out of my fever-induced haze. I knew the little Antiminar had been taken. It was as if Kofirin had been taken. That, more than anything else, jolted desperate life into my frame. Ripping my arm free of the chewing mouths, I swung the blood whip blindly through the dark.
The bloodhearts’ screams shattered the air, and they scattered. Their feet flapped across the floor as their shadows darted out the door.
“Zhin,” the Antiminar wailed.
My heart dropped into my stomach as my ears tracked his voice. A bloodheart about my size was speeding out the door, a small kicking form under his arm. I gave chase.
The moon revealed a Kabrilor with pointed, light-colored ears atop his head and a shaggy tail. A Hatrin bloodheart. I shot blood between his shoulder blades, but it didn’t kill him. The skin only sizzled. This wasn’t a full bloodheart. He was in that dangerous stage of transformation. I knew it, but it didn’t occur to me. My sights were on the Antiminar, and I wasn’t about to let him die.
The Hatrin darted through a hole in a broken wall on the right. The Antiminar’s cries reached a fevere
d pitch. His broken arm was dangling in the shreds of his bandage.
Abandoned buildings, bridges, arches, and gardens of dry fountains whipped past in a blur. It was a blue- and white-streaked canvas alive with the fevered patter of feet.
The Hatrin shouldered through a half-open door into a huge dome. Sky shone through giant craggy holes in the ceiling. A few stars managing to shine despite the bright moon, twinkling in oblivious bliss. The Hatrin raced up a stairway hugging the wall.
My throat was in agony and a stitch stabbed my side, but I tore after him. At the top of the stairs, I took a flying leap at the Hatrin and slammed into his back. We crashed outside and onto a rooftop strewn with pallid skeletons. I wrenched the Antiminar free of the bloodheart’s grasp and threw him clear of his reach. My little friend tumbled into a mound of bones as the Hatrin rolled on top of me. Clutching my throat, he lunged in to bite my face.
I shoved my hands against his jaw. The teeth gnashed inches from my cheek as saliva spat from the Hatrin’s lips. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered that my wrists were still slit. Digging my claws into his face so as not to lose my grip, I willed my blood to crawl into his mouth. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would tear him up. The Hatrin choked and squealed in pain.
My orilas instincts ignited, and I ripped his neck open. Bleed the prey. Throwing the Hatrin to the side, I rolled to my feet and charged. The blood in his mouth kept him from reacting, and I slammed into him. My claws flurried over his body as I forced him backward. With an angry cry, I knocked him off the roof. The Hatrin plummeted into the streets and cracked the ground somewhere in the shadows.
“Zhin,” the Antiminar whimpered.
Turning around, I spotted the Antiminar hurrying towards me, holding his broken arm. It was a long stretch between him and me. Suppose something snatched him before he reached me? Sprinting to him, I caught him up and flitted back into the dome’s shadowy confines.
I had no idea where to go or what to do. Without the tug to give me direction, panic wormed into my breast. It had ever been my anchor. It had kept hope alive during my imprisonment. Where had it gone? The question festered in the back of my mind. A part of me seemed chopped off, and nothing could replace it.
This is probably why an orilas has so many Mys in its lifetime. Once a tug vanishes, it has to find something to fill the void. I glanced at the Antiminar, and a sickening desire to make him a new My slunk over me.
To make a My, I had to do two simple things: choose and then drink the chosen one’s blood. I started in fear. This was why grampa had always wanted me to stand upright and never emmulate an orilas. I shoved the temptation down. I was human, I was a Berivor, I was an Iskerkin. I was not an orilas.
The first thing I needed to do was set the Antiminar’s arm, find a sling for it, and get him warm. There was nothing in the dome, so I headed into the streets. Keeping my wrists open, I searched for a haven.
At this point in time, I had no idea Karijin could find me because of his claim. He knew I was out in the city, but he didn’t tell Sizhirin. The Hatrin would have run out there like a lunatic to find me. Karijin could have led him to me, but it didn’t happen. I think Karijin hoped I’d die in the city. A passive kill would have absolved him from suspicion.
I happened across a building with curtains still hanging in its tall, thin windows. The dead trees on its premises made me think it had probably been a nice place in its day. As I approached open doors hanging on their hinges, I searched for two straight sticks. I’d found them both by the time I reached the entrance.
Flicking my blood inside, I listened for the sounds of startled bloodhearts. Nothing. My ears strained for the slightest sound as I slipped inside, but all remained quiet. It wouldn’t be for long. I’d have to set the Antiminar’s arm here. His cries would alert the soulless.
Tables and chairs were scattered all over the place, like it had been some kind of office in brighter days. Dark stairways led up to unseen stories. Puddles and dead leaves marred the floor.
Gathering the curtains, I shredded some into the bandages and made a sling. I snapped the sticks to length for the broken arm. Once preparations were complete, I sat the Antiminar on a table and put the leftover piece of stick from the splints I’d made between his teeth.
“I’m going to set your arm,” I said. “It’s going to hurt.”
The Antiminar whimpered and his feet rubbed together.
“You ready?”
He shook his head.
Taking a breath, I grated the bones back in place. The Antiminar let loose a piercing shriek as his teeth gouged into the wood. He didn’t run or resist, and I admired him for it. Slapping the sticks on either side of his arm, I bound it up.
Yips and laughter sounded outside and echoed from the other floors. Feet pattered down the stairs as I threw the sling around the Antiminar’s arm and knotted it. Scarlet eyes bobbed in the blackness and flew across the room. The Antiminar screamed and jumped on my back as I arced my blood at the red eyes. Several of them went out as their screeches jarred my ears. Bodies dropped thud-thud-thud and seemed to knock at my pounding heart.
Shadows appeared at the windows and doors as bodies swarmed inside. Their feet pounded across the floor. Tables and chairs clattered in their wake. As my eyes adjusted, I saw forms leaping across the furniture and darting beneath them. If I started screaming, panic would set in and I’d lose control.
“You’re an Iskerkin!” I yelled at myself as I began slashing at the creatures. As long as I kept moving in a circle with my whips of blood, they wouldn’t be able to touch me or the little Metirin clinging to my back.
Bloodhearts sprang at my head, but I decapitated them, hacked them in two, whipped out their stomachs and cleaved through their skulls. Bodies piled around me as cold blood slicked the ground.
The bloodhearts that had come in last finally realized the shrieks and howls were not from feasting fiends, but from dying comrades. They fled howling from the room. Their cries faded on the night air, leaving the Antiminar’s whimpers and my own ragged breathing.
The Antiminar broke down in tears, and my own resolve shattered. Catching hold of him, I cried into his hair. My insides seemed like they’d rotted to crumbling grime. My head whirled, but I was too disgusted to fall into the twitching bodies at my feet.
Stumbling from the buildings, I staggered through the ruins, leaving bloody footprints behind. Where were my mom and dad? I wanted them so bad I felt like I’d go wild. I wanted my gramma and grampa, I wanted my family. They were somewhere far away. Oh, my tug, where was my tug?
Steps appeared before my swimming eyes. As I stumbled up them, fear jolted through me. What if I was walking up the steps to the mansion? No, no, I’d have had to go through the wall first. I was safe, I was safe…who was safe without the tug?
I teetered into some huge room packed full of things I couldn’t make out. A looming stairway housed a big heavy table. If I got big chairs, they could serve as a barrier. Curtains could be used as bedding.
Squeezing the last of my energy, I dragged a heavy curtain under the table and pulled chairs against the openings. With a sigh of relief, I rolled into the curtain. The Antiminar clung to my chest, and I passed out.
***
Light filled my lids, and I cracked my eyes open. Even that small movement drained me. The soft patter of rain reached my ears. Water dripped off the roof and through the holes in the ceiling. The stairs shielded us from the onslaught. For a second, it seemed like my mom and dad were nearby. This was a bunker, and the predators were locked out.
A little hand nudged at my arm. “Zhin? Zhin? I’m hungry.”
The Antiminar was crouched beside my head, flecked with blood and shivering. Gutless awiks, Kofirin’s toy had come to life.
“Rilkin?” I said.
My friend’s brows went up. “Is that my name?”
“Yeah.”
Now it was time to get up. We were going to die if we didn’t move. Great Cubons, I felt
like I was going to die whether I moved or not. As I eased myself up, a freezing aura prickled across my skin. The table jerked up and flew across the room. It crashed to the floor and one of its legs snapped off. Karijin glared down at me, and then he whipped purplish-black blood across my eyes.
8
Karijin
Pain boiled across my face as I fell back screaming. Was I going to melt like those men on the beach? Was I going to go blind? Thorns seemed to skewer straight to my brain. Something sharp stabbed through my back, but never reached my lungs. Karijin cried out in pain and Rilkin’s little hand closed on my fingers.
“Get up, get up!”
I stumbled after him into the freezing rain. It rinsed the stinging blood from my face, and I sucked in air. The thorns pressing into my brain receded. Tentatively, I opened my eyes on a bedraggled Rilkin still pulling me along the cracked gray pavement. It wasn’t until later that I learned Rilkin had jumped on his head and clawed his face. Karijin’s cries still rumbled from the building. Swinging Rilkin into my arm, I broke into a sprint.
Waterfalls gushed from the cracks and crevices in the buildings. They splashed into miniature rivers criss-crossing the corrugated roads. Clouds of air puffed from my mouth as the chill cut my already aching throat.
“Zhin!” Karijin bellowed from somewhere among the buildings. “Zhin!”
A whimper escaped me as my legs buckled. Everything I touched became air, like a dream. This was a nightmare. In a moment, Rezh would shake me awake. I had to keep running until he did.
Sheets of hail billowed from the swirling black clouds. The puddles morphed into lakes. The hailstones gathered on the ground like snow. They pelted my head and stung my shoulders and arms. Keeping my head down, I enclosed Rilkin in my arms to keep him safe. He’d rolled into a shivering ball, heedless of his broken arm.
