Renzhies

by Mara Duryea

The haladon howled in the distance. The tug was barreling towards him at unusual speed. Was the haladon chasing his dad? Zhin felt sick. Why was he in a constant state of anxiety these days?

  He shoved through a curtain of thick creepers suspended from a fallen pillar. It had landed on another, creating a tunnel for Zhin to pass. Vines and yellow flowers slapped at his face as he cut through the passage.

  Something clicked in the corridor, but Zhin only half comprehended it. His little one was at stake. He emerged from the tunnel into the sunlight. The tug would find him if he continued his course. He felt more than heard a rumble beneath his feet. The haladon.

  The heady stench of kannin marred the air. Before Zhin’s mind registered it, a thick arm fabricated of gray stitches circled his chest and pinned him against a hulking body. It felt like wood chips woven into a rug. A dark rag smothered Zhin’s face and forced his head against a thick shoulder.

  Zhin clawed at the corrugated hand with his free one in vain. The arm crushing his chest tightened, and his wounds screamed. Boggy darkness enveloped his senses and suffocated him. The fumes stung his eyes. Heavy weights dropped onto his limbs.

  The last thing he knew was the thing easily lifting him off the ground and cradling him like a sleeping child. Zhin’s heart despaired. He couldn’t get help to Sibare in time.

  3

  The Mad Haladon Chase

  Rezh kneaded the kiderrin’s reins without realizing it. He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t relax. Every day rendered him more anxious than the last. He knew he was torturing Zhin, but it didn’t help that his son hadn’t met them already. Rezh would have ignored Ikalkor’s stupid letter, but he’d mentioned Karijin. When you saw Karijin, you saw Sizhirin sooner or later: parasite and host.

  “You doing okay?” said Rindar from where he rode beside him on his own kiderrin.

  “Not really,” said Rezh. He glanced at Gilanra. She lay against the kiderrin frame beside his leg, gazing at the tall, straight trees shading them from the sun, but not the muggy heat. She’d brought the letter home in absolute panic, and the anxiety hadn’t lessened any since. If she found out Ikalkor was making up Cubon, she’d kick him in the crotch. Selly could cry about it all she liked.

  When Gilanra got home that day, Terros had stopped by to show Rezh the new kiderrins he’d purchased. He was the only one who’d kept his head when she broke the news. He’d alerted Rindar and within a Period, the four were on the road to Bellecaro. They would have brought one hundred Sivarins with them, but Zhin had Metirins in company.

  “Gilanra,” said Rindar.

  Gilanra jerked out of her reverie. “Rilkin’s too small to get pummeled by that monster. What if Sizhirin gets hold of him? What will he do to him?” She felt Rezh catch her hand.

  “Is okay, minamee,” said Rindar. “Rilkin gonna be okay. He take care of himself as good as Zhin.”

  “He’s so small. Sizhirin will be extra cruel to him just because he’s Zhin’s brother.”

  “Just hope Ikalkor was being overly stupid,” said Terros. “Maybe nothing’s happening and we’ll find them safe.”

  Gilanra glanced at Rezh, who wasn’t convinced.

  A strange howl rumbled in the distance. It ended in a rough rattle, followed by remote booms.

  Gilanra sat up. “What’s that?”

  The kiderrins glanced towards the southeast, ears pricking and tails snaking back and forth. A horde of paveenies stampeded through the trees and swarmed around them, like a river parting around rocks.

  Boom-boom-boom! The very sky roared, and the kiderrins bolted. Their riders tumbled backwards and slammed against the few bags tied against the frames. A bellowing mountain of gray armor barreled through the forest. Its cry rattled like an avalanche of stones. The four Kabrilors stared in shock. What was a haladon doing out at midday?

  Bunching together, the kiderrins tailed the oldest, which belonged to Terros. In this time of duress, they forgot their masters in favor of the closest thing to an alpha. He was the smartest of them, and darted straight for the haladon.

  The colossal beast skidded to a stop and slammed its elongated head into the ground. Walls of earth jutted into the sky with each impact. As if realizing its prey was escaping, the haladon spun around and bounded after the kiderrins. Its armored tail bludgeoned several trees flat, as if they were made of paper.

  Rezh threw his body over Gilanra’s as the haladon’s claws pounded among the kiderrins like falling houses. The smaller beasts dodged around them, stumbling from the impact.

  Trees gave way to vine-covered towers rocking in the haladon’s madness. The blinding sun revealed the monster in all its terrifying glory. The mirror eyes winked, and then it slammed its head on the pavement. The kiderrins flew off their feet, but landed on all fours. The ruins whipped past like the wind in the riders’ faces.

  As the haladon rammed through a bridge, it shrieked like the wrenching sound of a mountain ripping in half. Rising on two thick legs to the sun, the predator gouged out its own stomach. Blood waved into the streets and rendered them gory rivers. Boom-boom-boom! The haladon smashed its head into several towers. They collapsed in a thunderous cloud of dust. The great beast stood a moment, staring at the sky, and then collapsed. Towers toppled and bridges crumbled in the aftershock.

  The kiderrins continued their panicked flight long after they’d escaped the danger zone. Terros knew his kiderrin needed to stop before the others did; otherwise, they’d run until their hearts burst. Adult kiderrins, or retsinists, would have known they were safe. His scrambling fingers snatched the flapping reins and he yanked back, but the kiderrin ignored it.

  “Great Cubons,” Terros growled. Seizing the spear secured inside the frame, he swung it over the kiderrin’s lowered head and smacked it on the beak.

  The creature squeaked in pain as it stumbled to a halt and sat down. Terros dug his claws into the wooden frame as he propelled onto the kiderrin’s neck. He flopped to the ground and dropped the spear beside him.

  “Gutless awiks,” said Terros breathlessly.

  “Terros!” Rindar pulled up beside him. “You broken down there?”

  “I think I dislocated my claws.”

  “Ow’wap, Terros.”

  Rezh and Gilanra stopped on his other side. Immediately, Terros’s kiderrin covered its head with its claws. The other two stared at the leader with their black bird eyes, secretly laughing that it had been disciplined like an awik.

  Gilanra surveyed their surroundings. “Where are we?”

  Terros gazed at the river in its handmade canal. “Lost.”

  Rezh and Gilanra chuckled, although it was a little strained.

  “There no predators, at least,” said Rindar. “Haladon probably scared everything out. We shouldn’t be far from Bellecaro.”

  Three whistles sounded on the air like bird song breaking the dark night. Gilanra pressed her hand over her heart as the tensions of the last ten days lifted like fog in the sun.

  Rezh let out a long breath. “He’s here.” He answered with three whistles of his own.

  Terros mounted his kiderrin. “Sounds like we follow the canal to reach him.”

  They traced the course of the river until thery came upon a fallen tower bridging the canal. Creepers clogged most of the stone surface. Tendrils hung so thick in some parts that they resembled curtains.

  “Mom, Dad!” Rilkin’s voice hollered. His small, bandaged form burst from one of the curtains and sped across the clearing.

  As capable as Rilkin was, he was the baby in the family. They had carried him in their pockets, on their backs, and could still sit him on their shoulders. He’d slept curled in a ball in the pit of their necks and used their hair as his blanket. It was partly the reason Ikalkor had issues with him. Long after Ikalkor had ceased to be cute, Rilkin was still adorable.

  “Rilkin!” Gilanra leaped off her kiderrin, fell on her knees before him, and crushed him to her breast. “What happened to you? What’s going on?” She caught his face in
her hands. “Where’s Zhin?” Puffing light into her palms, she rubbed it carefully into his head and face.

  Rezh knelt and took Rilkin’s hand. “Was it you signaling us?”

  Rilkin’s grip tightened on Rezh’s fingers. “Something happen to him. Mom, finish healing me later. You have to follow me.”

  Gilanra kissed his head and the light vanished into Rilkin’s frame. His wounds weren’t fully healed, but his bruises had disappeared. The strips of flesh the cannibal had taken from him had partly regrown.

  They darted beneath the hanging creepers and nearly barreled over a Sirilith. His child-like countenance confused the Kabrilors regarding his age. He was on the brink of panic and rubbing his chest in pain.

  After sprinting for nearly three miles, he could taste blood in the back of his throat. The place where the spider had sucked the essence out of him stung. He’d had to sit down and let Rilkin go on ahead.

  “This is N’Nar,” said Rilkin. “He’s one Terlithin. He feel something happen to Zhin.”

  “Dad just left my range while he was in the middle of it,” said N’Nar, speaking to the Kabrilors as if they knew one another. After Zhin’s stories, N’Nar really did feel like he knew them.

  Rilkin’s mind worked a million thoughts a second as a plan took shape. “Zhin’s son Sibare collapsed. He need you, Mom. He one Perilith and can find Zhin. Zhin disappear here.”

  Gilanra sucked her lips in. “Take me to the little one.” She glanced at Rezh, Rindar and Terros. “We’ll be back.”

  Taking Rilkin’s hand, she swung onto her and Rezh’s kiderrin. Rilkin grasped the reins and tore for the library. They reached the rust-colored pot in the courtyard less than three minutes later.

  The Antiminar maneuvered the beast down the stairs and jumped onto the shelves. They flew across the library to the painting of the red and blue fish, where they sprang to the second floor. The kiderrin’s claws raking at the iron rails alerted Vijeren, and he darted out of Sibare’s cul-de-sac.

  Gilanra’s breath caught in her throat at sight of him. Had she been transported into the past? The small N’hai could have been Zhin as a child. Because her son had recollected and claimed the boy, Gilanra’s heart not only remembered, but so did her mind.

  The memory was brief, but so dear. She carried the small N’hai in her arms on a cold winter night. He was bundled in a soft blanket, and she could just see his round cheek and a wild head of black hair. She hummed the song that Vijeren sang to Miranel at bedtime. Smoothing his hair back, she fingered the tiny ear. It looked so funny. Vijeren giggled and his black eyes opened to beam at her. The memory faded away as gently as it had come, and she stood in the library once more.

  Vijeren’s mouth moved. “Gramma.”

  Gilanra sprang from the kiderrin, and she and Vijeren ran to one another with outstretched arms. Catching him up, she squished her cheek into his head. His hair was still as wild as she remembered. It even smelled as she remembered it. The Blue Bush was in it.

  The cool spring breeze of Gilanra’s aura enveloped Vijeren like a blanket. Her comforting arms were the closest he knew to a mother’s embrace. He could have fallen asleep, but Sibare needed her.

  Rilkin led the Syladin into the cul-de-sac where Sibare lay. He wasn’t awake to make eye contact with her, so she couldn’t remember him. Only her Sylex heart remembered. Her hands iced over in alarm at sight of his bluish lips and pallid cheek. Gilanra had to do more than heal.

  She knelt beside the couch. “I’m going to need blood.”

  “Take mine,” said Rilkin.

  “No,” said Vijeren. “Take mine. I haven’t lost any.”

  Miranel held out her plump arm. “You can have mine, too.”

  Gilanra gently lowered the small arm. “No, little minamee. He has enough. Don’t worry.” She looked at Vijeren. “What’s your name?”

  He told her.

  “Vijeren, lie down. Rilkin, prop his feet up.” Turning to Sibare, Gilanra breathed light into her hands.

  “A bookshelf fell on his stomach,” said Rilkin as he propped his nephew’s feet up.

  Gilanra rubbed Sibare’s stomach in certain motions until it began to glow. Pressing two fingers into his abdomen, she made a coaxing motion with her other hand. Light seeped out of Sibare and pooled on the floor. A stream of light whirled from her lips and circled the coaxing hand.

  “Give me your hand, little one,” said Gilanra to Vijeren. He did so, and she breathed light onto it. This doubled the blood Sibare received from Vijeren, without doubling what Vijeren lost. Nevertheless, Gilanra still needed a good amount.

  Lifting Sibare’s hand, she pressed his palm against Vijeren’s and kneaded their hands. This ensured Sibare’s body wouldn’t reject the new blood. As the younger boy’s face paled, the older’s regained color.

  Sibare’s eyes fluttered open and locked on Gilanra. A crooked smile cracked his lips. “Gramma.”

  Gilanra beamed as their precious memory returned. She had planted beautiful flowers, but only one remained after a slurry of ludicrous events. The blossom sported four hundred blood-red petals. The edges were dark purple with hints of cobalt blue. The blossom lightened to jewel pink in the center. It stood on a thick, leafy stem.

  “Look, look!” she told somebody they couldn’t see. “It’s the only one! It survived!”

  Sibare’s little fat self rushed over and plucked the flower before anybody could beat him to it, and held it up to her. “Here, Gramma!”

  Gilanra screamed in horror, and the memory faded.

  “Oh, Great Cubons, boy!” Gilanra cried, releasing Vijeren’s hand.

  Sibare laughed weakly. “I had to give it to you first.”

  Gilanra kissed his head, and the light swept into his body. He sat up and pressed his head.

  “You need to take it easy,” said Gilanra.

  “What happened to Vijeren?” said Sibare.

  The boy smiled weakly. “You sucked out all my blood, you soulless Cubon.”

  Sibare’s brows rose, and he gently touched Vijeren’s head.

  “Now you have to find Zhin,” said Rilkin. “He disappeared.”

  Sibare’s mind shot to the stitched man he’d beheld in his dream and nodded.

  “Rilkin,” said Gilanra, “stay with them.”

  “Yeah.” He wouldn’t trust Ikalkor to do anything.

  Gilanra focused on Sibare. “I’m going to carry you.” Lifting him up, she hurried out of the cul-de-sac and onto the kiderrin.

  Rilkin watched them hop over the railing and dart across the library. The front door swallowed them, abandoning him to anxiety’s company. What could possibly catch the big Berivor? If they found his body…Rilkin shook the thought from his mind and decided to attempt administering lanadin to Ikalkor’s putrid head.

  4

  Filtered Blood Light

  Gilanra pulled up with Sibare beneath the tunnel of fallen pillars. N’Nar’s face noticeably loosened at sight of his brother alive and well. He and the three Kabrilors stood up.

  “Is this the Perilith?” said Terros.

  “Yeah,” said Gilanra.

  Sibare glanced at each Kabrilor, as was his habit when meeting new people. He instantly recognized them from Zhin’s stories. Their hair was short. Their baggy pants were made of pounded grekham hide, so parts were pebbly. Loose-fitting shirts reached almost to their knees.

  Sibare closed his eyes. All he had to do was concentrate on the person he wished to find. Blocking out all noise, he ignored the eyes planted on him.

  “Where are you, where are you?”

  Zhin’s step sounded in his ear, and he looked up. His companions stared at his golden eyes in astonishment, for none of them had ever seen a Perilith. N’Nar had never witnessed Sibare’s powers work like this. He’d been with Zhin when Sibare had used his power on the ship and in the Kosalin when Sibare searched for Vijeren in Bellecaro. It seemed like the gold was alive with undercurrents.

  “What do you see?” said Rezh.r />
  Sibare’s face contorted. “The stitched man. He’s huge, like a mokadut. His bones look broken.” He shivered in revulsion. “He didn’t kill Dad. He’s carrying him that way.” He pointed, eyes tracing what only he could see. He tried to dismount the kiderrin, but Gilanra stopped him.

  “We have to walk,” said Sibare. “The kiderrins won’t follow, and it’s too small in there for them.”

  “I’ll walk,” said Gilanra, “but wait.”

  The Kabrilors sheathed their limbs in arm and leg guards. They donned gray grekham-hide armor, which appeared as knee-length coats. They belted on leather straps, which already carried their projectile weapons, hammers, and fire sticks. Lastly, they slipped on steel helmets. These possessed full faceguards resembling slitty-eyed masks. Spikes lay flush against the sides of the helmets like retsinist spikes. It took them less than a minute to prepare.

  Gilanra pulled Sibare out of the frame and held him. “Now we’re ready.”

  Sibare pointed towards a curtain of creepers. Rezh and Terros took the lead, spears at the ready. Rindar remained in back, thereby keeping Gilanra, Sibare, and N’Nar in the middle.

  Passing through a narrow tunnel, they maneuvered a maze of debris into a small enclosure leading nowhere. Vegetation sprouted from every corner and crevice. A stream of sunlight poked through an opening above them. It could have made a child’s perfect hideout.

  “I won’t walk far, Gramma,” said Sibare, wiggling out of her grasp. He approached a wall made from a fallen pillar. Grasping a rock jutting out of it, he twisted it. The stone transformed into a brass knob. The lines of a door appeared, and then filled in with pallid wood covered in bloody handprints. As Sibare pulled it open, cold air hissed out of a void beyond it.

  Gilanra gasped. “It’s a Renzhie door.”

  Rezh’s mouth worked. “Sizhirin.”

  “But all doors lead to his gate,” said N’Nar. “Why would he bring Dad to his gate?”

  “He’s going to make sure he can’t close it,” said Terros. “Hurry.”