Outliers

by Kate L. Mary

  I should’ve been trying to figure out a way to escape the mess Nyko and I were in, but all I could think about was Indra. It was the result of being in this damn city, and I knew it, but there was nothing I could do to stop the memories from coming. There were too many, and they weren’t all bad. They couldn’t be, not when I’d fallen in love with her inside these walls.

  I remembered the day she’d started at Saffron’s house. She’d taken her mother’s place, but I barely remembered the woman. Before Indra, I’d done my best to ignore the Outliers I worked with. It was easier that way. If I didn’t acknowledge they existed, I didn’t have to look the other way when they were abused. It was the only way I knew how to survive the life I was living without allowing the man I was to be destroyed.

  She changed that.

  I noticed her right away, and not just because she was shorter than most of her people, but because she was beautiful in a way I had never seen before. She was timid, like most Outliers were when they first started working in the city, but she carried herself with grace. Grace. It was a word I’d heard, but a description I had never been able to give to another person until that day.

  I was twenty-six at the time, and living a life surrounded by people I despised. My parents had sent my teenage sister, Elora, to live in the tower with the other untouchables when she was only a day old, and she was the only real friend I could claim. I went to visit her as much as possible, but every visit made my own people look at me with more and more disdain. I was considered a traitor. The other Fortis thought I would bring bad luck to the village and cause more untouchables to be born. They were fools, but I was stuck with them. In our world, you were born into a role and it stayed with you forever. Untouchables, Outlier, Fortis, or Sovereign. That was all there was.

  My mother died six years after Elora’s birth, when I was just sixteen, trying to bring another baby into the world. That child didn’t live, nor was it healthy. When my father saw the lifeless form that had killed my mother, with its tangled limbs and withered fingers and toes, he’d blamed me. It was my fault for continuing to visit my sister. I had cursed them all.

  He beat me with a leather strap that day.

  It wasn’t the first time, nor was it unusual for Fortis children to be beaten by their parents. My father was a fan of harsh punishments, hitting me whenever I didn’t do something to his liking, especially when I didn’t train hard enough. He was a large man, taller and broader than I was, and he’d wanted me to be a reflection of him. He’d wanted me to be as hard and as brutal, and he wasn’t above trying to bang the strength into me.

  I’ve often wondered if the brutality of the Fortis had something to do with the harshness in which we were raised. Did we hate the Outliers for a reason we couldn’t even remember, something that happened centuries ago after the cataclysm, or was it because we hated ourselves and they were a convenient target for our rage?

  For my own part, I’d had to fight to stop the rage from consuming me, and it had taken every bit of strength I had to win.

  From a young age I’d been determined not to turn into one of the brutes I was forced to live among. It hadn’t been easy, not with my father, and it had gotten even more difficult when he was hurt in a grizzard attack, and I took his place inside the city. The brutality I’d witnessed in my village was nothing compared to what happened within these walls. Here, the Outliers were toys for the Fortis and Sovereign. They had no rights, no say in how they were used. They were at the mercy of people who considered them scum and yet had no problem using that scum for their own sick pleasure.

  Three years I had worked in the city before Indra showed up, and in that time I’d learned how to shut out the things happening around me. Outside the walls, my life had improved. I had my own little house, meaning I no longer lived in fear of my father’s daily rages, and I’d also met a few other Fortis men and women who, like me, had managed to hold onto their humanity despite their surroundings. Still, I was drifting, and had it not been for my sister, I might have considered life not worth living.

  Then Indra showed up.

  From the moment I saw her, something in me changed. Short like the Sovereign, but thin and graceful, she stood out as the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Her eyes were the color of the grass surrounding Sovereign Lake, her skin pale, yet tan and freckled from living in the wilds. Inside the city, she wore her brown hair up just like all the other Outliers, but every now and then a wisp of it would escape the bun on top of her head and tickle her face, and I would imagine reaching out to brush it away. Everything about her mesmerized me. The passage markings on her face, the curve of her lips, the way her long fingers took my plate when I held it out to her, how her green eyes peered up at me through long lashes.

  I watched her every day, saw when Lysander touched her at the dinner table and wanted to kill him, a reaction I had never felt before. It had always sickened me to watch him abuse the women in his mother’s house, but I had never wanted to rip him to pieces with my bare hands until he did it to Indra. Had never felt physically sick when he cornered one of the Outlier women in the pantry until she was the one behind that door with him.

  Three years I watched from the shadows before finally getting up the nerve to speak to her. The shock on her face was nothing compared to the disgust in her eyes when she looked at me, and even though I knew she had every right to see me as nothing more than a Fortis guard who wanted to abuse her, I hated myself at that moment. Hated who I was, who I had been born. At that moment, it felt like I was no better than any of the other guards.

  After that, she seemed to watch me as much as I watched her. At dinner, throughout the day, during lunch service. I became desperate to talk to her, to tell her I wasn’t like the other guards, but it was impossible, and I knew it. Fortis guards didn’t talk to Outliers unless it was to order them to do something, usually something humiliating. Talking to her simply for the pleasure of conversation was out of the question.

  Then the boy, Ronan, was caught stealing, and everything changed. I’d been forced to take part in the punishment, forced to hold the child down, and I had hated myself for it. Afterward, I’d retreated to my house, sick over what I’d done. Hating myself and my powerlessness. Then I’d heard the uproar in the village and gone to see what was happening, and had found Indra in Thorin’s clutches. I’d gone to her aid without thinking, but not once had I regretted it. Not just because I’d come to see her as an ideal I could never live up to, but because I was tired of having no say in my life. So I’d saved her from Thorin and helped her carry the boy out of the village.

  That was the day we had our first real conversation. Only it hadn’t gone the way I’d expected, because I realized more than ever before that she saw me as nothing more than a Fortis guard, and chances were, she would never see me as anything else.

  “What are you thinking about?” Nyko asked, breaking the silence that had stretched out between us.

  “Indra,” I said.

  Nyko grunted, and the sound seemed somehow louder in the small space. “She’s a good woman. I know, because I had one, too. Once. A long time ago.”

  “You got lucky,” I said. “There aren’t many Fortis women who are good.”

  “No,” Nyko replied. “There aren’t.”

  Before either of us could say anything else, a hum filled the air. It was low and reminded me of the sound an electroprod gave off, and yet somehow managed to penetrate the thick walls of our cell. In seconds, it had grown, filling the room until it felt like the stone was vibrating.

  I got to my feet, and at my side something shuffled in the darkness, telling me Nyko had stood as well.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  A boom sounded, far away but big enough to shake the building. Specks of rock and dirt rained down on us, and I instinctively covered my head with my arms, afraid the building would collapse. It was followed by a current of electricity sweeping through the room that ca
used every hair on my body to stand up. The sensation faded after a moment, but didn’t go away completely, and when I ran my hand down my arm, tiny shocks of electricity tingled over my skin.

  “Something happened,” I said, remembering the warning Lysander had given us.

  “What?” Nyko asked.

  “I don’t know.” I exhaled, my brain spinning as I thought about the technology these people had. Things I didn’t understand, things I could barely comprehend.

  Inside the government building, the very building I now found myself in, the Sovereign had the technology to make anything they needed. They grew their food in special rooms that had artificial light and rain, and they manufactured things like clothes, shoes, and medicine. Everything that kept the city going was inside this building, and most of it was off limits to the Fortis working in the city. The Sovereign could have anything in here. For all I knew, they could have technology that would wipe the Outliers off the face of the earth with the push of a button.

  I could only pray that wasn’t what had happened.

  5

  Indra

  The hum of electricity, the sobs from my sister and Mira, and the growls of Emori mixed together until it felt like a storm was bearing down on me. At my side, Kale, the Mountari healer, worked. Every touch of his fingers against my flesh stung, but the pain of the wound on my neck was nothing compared to the throb in my heart. In the distance, a translucent, blue bubble shimmered over the city, trapping the man I loved inside and possibly marking him as a traitor in the eyes of the other Outliers. Like Bodhi, Asa would die within those walls, and just like before, I would be powerless to stop it. All these months of hunting the Fortis, of proving I was stronger than people thought I was, were worthless now, because faced with this new development, I was once again nothing but a powerless Outlier. Unable to help the people I loved when they truly needed it.

  “You must hold still,” Kale said, drawing my attention from the bubble.

  Roan stood at his side, creases of worry marring his normally unlined face as he stared down at me. “How bad is it?” the Mountari Head asked, speaking to his healer even though he was staring at me.

  I gasped when more pressure was applied to the wound on my neck, the one left there by a woman who believed my husband had betrayed us. I had been focused on the bubble when Emori’s anger burst out of her, taking me completely by surprise. It had given her the upper hand, given her the chance to run her knife across my neck before I could do anything to stop her.

  “It is a big cut,” Kale told Roan, “but if I can get the bleeding to stop, she should recover.”

  “What do you need?” Zuri’s voice seemed to come from far away, and I had to search to find her in the crowd of people surrounding me. Her usually easy smile was gone, and the creases at the corner of her gray eyes had deepened until she looked a decade older than her age.

  “We must close the wound,” Kale replied. “I need lygan teeth. As many as you can get.”

  Roan stepped back, pulling his knife as he did, his gaze already moving to the Lygan Cliffs at our side. “We will send out a hunting party.”

  Kale pressed his hands harder against my wound and was rewarded with a fresh gush of blood. “You must be quick.”

  Roan’s head bobbed as he shoved his way through the crowd.

  Zuri took his place at my side, clasping my hand in hers while the boom of her husband’s voice rose above the crowd as he called for hunters.

  “They will be back soon,” the wife of the Mountari Head whispered.

  “What—” I coughed and winced at the pain throbbing through me, wanting to know what was going to happen, but unable to say a word.

  “Try not to talk.” Kale’s tone was brusque, but his voice filled with worry.

  “We will use the lygan teeth to close the wound,” Zuri said as if reading my mind. “The smaller ones are perfect for puncturing the skin.”

  The image of Roan’s pierced body flashed through my mind. Two rows of fangs moving up his arms, as well as the dozens decorating his chest.

  In the Mountari village, it was custom for the men to pierce their skin with the two sharpest fangs of each lygan they killed, and the arms and chests of the greatest hunters were usually covered in piercings. The custom was normal to them, but to my people it had always seemed savage and brutal. And yet it could be the only thing that would stop the bleeding.

  Zuri squeezed my hand tighter. “Take heart, Indra, I promise the pain of the piercings will be worth it. It will stop the bleeding and help the cut heal.”

  I nodded then winced when a fresh wave of pain washed over me.

  In the distance, I could hear Emori, still screaming about how my husband had betrayed us. It made sense that she thought that. She had never trusted Asa, after all, and the bubble had appeared only hours after he and Nyko went into the city. Despite the timing, I knew Asa did not do this. He had proven himself trustworthy over and over again. He loved me. Loved me enough to choose my people over his own, and to flee his village even though he could have warned them.

  “Asa—” When I coughed, I was once again urged by Kale not to speak, but I ignored him, my gaze on Zuri. “He did—” Cough. “Not do this.”

  The hand holding mine tightened in a comforting squeeze. “I believe you, Indra. I know he loves you.”

  It reassured me, but only a little. Emori was not alone in her dislike of Asa and the other Fortis men and women who abandoned their own people to stand with us. Linc, as well as a few of the other men we liberated from the Fortis village, were already suspicious, and after this they would have little trouble finding people to stand with them. Possibly even men and women from the other two tribes. What then? Would my still new alliance with the Huni and Mountari be able to withstand this turn of events, or would it crumble the way our alliance with the Trelite had?

  “Do not worry,” Zuri said, as if reading my thoughts. “We will stand with you, Indra. Roan is a man of his word.”

  “But I betrayed him,” I replied, my voice low and weak.

  The Heads of the other tribes, Ontari and Roan, had declared that they would not align themselves with Asa, but I went behind their backs and married him anyway, allowing his people into my tribe. Ultimately, they had forgiven me, but having something like this happen could bring all their doubts about him back.

  Zuri leaned closer to me, lowering her voice. “I know you are aware of the admiration my husband has for you, but I do not think you understand how deep it goes.” I shook my head and started to protest, but the knowing smile she gave me stopped the words from coming out. “It is okay. You do not need to worry. He knows it is something that cannot happen, and I am a secure woman. Plus, I understand him possibly even more than he understands himself. Roan admires strength. It is why he was okay with me overthrowing his previous mate even though he had affection for her. It is also why he finds himself so drawn to you.”

  “I am sorry,” I whispered.

  “Do not be,” Zuri replied.

  Commotion rose up from the crowd, and moments later Roan reappeared. He had the carcass of a lygan thrown over his shoulder, its body so long that its tail went down to the Mountari Head’s knees. When he dropped it to the ground at my side, the creature’s red and purple scales were brilliant in the early morning light, and its mouth gaped open, revealing teeth sharp enough to pierce the skin.

  Roan knelt next to the animal and pulled his knife. “Prepare yourself, Indra. This will hurt, but I know you can take it.”

  I watched as he expertly began cutting the teeth from the animal’s mouth, passing them to the healer as he did. His bare chest and arms were splattered with the blood of his kill, making it look as if his piercings were bleeding, just as they had after we waged war on the Fortis village.

  Nearly twenty years Zuri’s junior, the contrast between Roan and his wife had never been as stark as it was at that moment. Where Zuri’s hair was gray and long, the tangled curls going down to her waist, h
is was dark, without even a streak of gray in it, and cut short. Her skin was freckled with age, but pale, while his was brown and bronzed from the sun. Still, they were both strong. The broad muscles of his shoulders seemed more suited for a Fortis man than an Outlier, and Zuri’s defined arms boasted strength that defied her years on this earth.

  Once enough of the fangs had been cut from the creature’s mouth, Zuri moved aside to give the healer more room. She did not, much to my relief, let go of my hand.

  “Calm your mind,” Kale said as he positioned himself at my side. “If you relax, the pain will not be so great.”

  I closed my eyes, trying to focus on something other than the throbbing in my neck and the agony I knew would soon come.

  Zuri’s hand tightened on mine. “Think of Asa, Indra. Focus on him.”

  It was meant to calm me, but knowing he was in the city and in danger made my body tense even more, so that the first prick of the fang against my skin caused every muscle in me to tighten. I was unprepared for the scream that ripped its way from me with the second one, and even more so for the prick that followed.

  My hand squeezed Zuri’s harder, our bones crushing together, as another jab followed, and then another. Sweat beaded on my forehead, blood ran down my neck, and heat moved over my body. The sun was out now, burning down on us, but I knew the heat had more to do with the pain. It seemed to radiate from within me, starting at the cut and throbbing throughout my body until it felt as if I might lose consciousness.

  “Halfway there,” someone said.

  My mind was too full of pain to register who it was. I clung to the hand clasped in mine, trying to ground myself to something as the healer pierced my skin over and over again.

  I had imagined it would feel more like the prick of the tebori against my face, but this was something else. It was worse than the cut Emori had given me, because it was on top of the already painful wound and it seemed to go on and on. How many fangs the healer had to use to close it I did not know, but it seemed like dozens, and by the time he finally sat back, declaring he had finished, my body was covered in a fine sheen of sweat.