Outcast_Keepers of the Stone_Book One

by Andrew Anzur Clement

  Now the time had come.

  For years, she had watched and memorized the patterns of the guards who patrolled the village perimeter. Over the past few weeks she had stockpiled water and scraps of food, mostly stale roti. Along with these reserves, she had managed to spirit away a short knife, unnoticed.

  The village was sleeping. As the guard moved away from the camp’s only point of egress through the dense foliage, Malka made her move.

  Stepping silently, as she had learned to do in the classes, Malka exited the family’s hut and ran for the path leading out of the village. Reaching it, she continued moving and, once she had judged that she had made it a sufficient distance down the narrow path, turned right and clawed her way into the undergrowth. She did not think that she had been seen.

  It was slow, difficult going. The knife she had brought proved insufficient to the task of helping to clear her way. Branches scratched at her skin. Blood now dripped from several gashes.

  Time stretched on. Malka continued to claw her way forward. It seemed like hours since she had left the camp; the girl noticed that daylight had begun to thread its way through the dense canopy of trees above her head. It grew warm and she quickly used up most of the water she had brought in a battered metal container.

  Doggedly she pressed forward. Then, abruptly, she stopped, barely avoiding the scaled creature that dropped from the tree branches above, to the ground directly in front of her. A dark shade of tan, the snake appeared to regard her with its beady eyes. After a moment, it raised the front section of its body, preparing to strike.

  Malka was terrified. Acting half on instinct, she threw the knife in her hand downward at the serpent. It struck the snake’s head, killing it instantly. Breathing heavily, the girl continued on. Her mouth was now parched. Her reserves of water were exhausted.

  Finally, she entered a clearing in the dense foliage. The ground was covered in leaves from the trees that rose above her head. Malka started across it.

  And then she was falling. The girl found herself in the bottom of a muddy pit, surrounded by sheer walls about five times her height.

  More hours passed. Malka didn’t know what to do. Most of her food had been lost in the mud when she fell; there appeared to be no way to scale the walls of the pit.

  Eventually, a crudely fashioned rope dropped in front of Malka’s face. She looked up. Two Thags leaned over the pit, staring down at her. She recognized one of them as Husain, their leader; the other was Zaima. Husain and his mate, Hamda, had been unable to have children of their own. It was widely rumored throughout the camp that Husain would select the village’s star pupil to take over as Master in the event of his passing.

  She didn’t want to go back to the camp, especially with the two Thags who stood at the top of the hole. But, it didn’t appear that she had any options other than staying in the pit. Malka grabbed the rope and felt it being pulled taut.

  When she reached the top, Husain wordlessly grabbed her under the shoulders, hauling her over the edge. Almost immediately, Zaima kicked her in the torso.

  “Traitor! We take you in, allow you to train with us. This is how you repay us. With an attempt at escape. Pathetic. I’ll teach you not to resist.” Not for the first time, Malka noticed that Zaima, instead of simply being incensed, almost seemed to be enjoying herself. As if Malka’s flight had given the camp native an excuse to justify her punishing behavior. The blue-eyed girl remained lying on her stomach, offering no resistance.

  Her brown eyes gleaming, Zaima raised her foot back, intending to deliver another kick, which she let forth.

  Just before her foot could connect with Malka’s ribcage for a second time, the escapee raised her hand outward, grabbing hold of Zaima’s ankle. She jerked it towards the brown-eyed girl’s body, knocking her assailant to the ground. Then, Malka rose to face the camp native, who was doing her best to hide the shock she was currently experiencing. This was the first time Malka had ever fought back against her.

  “How dare you resist…,” Zaima pulled her hand back, preparing to retaliate.

  Then, two large hands separated them.

  “Malka, Zaima, it is time for us to go.” Husain turned in a direction facing away from the camp and began slashing a way through the foliage with a long curved blade. Zaima glared at the non-Thag before moving to follow.

  Seeing the direction Husain was taking, Malka’s hopes initially rose. Maybe they would set her free. Then she realized what was happening. The girl had learned the reasoning behind what they were doing in the lessons at the camp. They would move in the opposite direction of the village, connecting with the main road at a point farther away from it, before turning back towards the settlement, so as not to leave an obvious path directly from the trap to the Thag’s village. This was a tactic meant to mislead any suspicious eyes as to the camp’s location.

  They walked in silence for a time.

  “You are aware, Malka,” he said at length. There was a glint of humor in his eye. “We built those traps to keep people out. It appears that you have now shown them to have a second purpose.”

  The girl remained silent at first. Then, she gave in to her curiosity and decided to ask a question: “How did you find me?”

  “It was simple,” came the reply. “We tracked your trail. You left very little trace, but we were still able to follow. I must say, for a child of your years, you got quite far, using only your hands and a cooking knife. We found the serpent you killed. Quite a feat. It is one of the most dangerous in this region.”

  He stopped talking for a minute, looking down on her, as if in contemplation.

  “You have great potential, Malka,” he intoned quietly.

  “What? Then why did I fall in a hole?”

  “Potential?” Zaima barely hid the surprise and disgust she clearly felt upon hearing her Master’s statement. “Master, how can you say that of one who holds our ways in contempt and does not share our values?”

  In response, Husain told the other Thag to stop and wait for a moment. He walked to a tree with smooth green bark, indicating that Malka should follow.

  “The wood of this tree is quite supple,” he said in English, bending it to demonstrate its flexibility on one of its lower branches. “When it encounters obstructions as it grows, it bends around them. As such, it grows to great height. But,” the Thags’ leader moved to press it directly against a thin tree trunk with both hands, “should this branch decide to oppose, openly, that which it encounters….”

  A snapping noise could be heard as the green branch eventually broke. “Not only has it not used its abilities to its own advantage, it has failed in accomplishing a task, which its environment sanctions.”

  “You’re saying that it’s impossible to escape?” Malka asked.

  Husain smiled sadly. “We reach our potential by cultivating our natural abilities. Such cannot be done until we recognize the circumstances in which we find ourselves. It is only then that we might change them.”

  Malka looked pensive.

  “Your abilities could one day come to surpass my own, Malka, if you would apply yourself. What I have seen today demonstrates that you are among the most gifted youths in our camp. I can teach you to harness those talents, if you would only be willing to learn.”

  Malka remained silent. She thought she understood. Eventually, she moved her head upwards. Looking her Master directly in the eye, she nodded.

  “Very well,” he replied. “Instead of going to lessons with the other children tomorrow, come to my dwelling after breakfast. Your knife may have killed the serpent. However, from the position of the blade, you still have much to learn about the throwing of them. We will begin with that.”

  The Thag followed her Master the rest of the way back to the camp. Zaima followed. Being able to speak only Tamil, she had no idea of the agreement that had just transpired. The old family that took care of Malka helped her get cleaned up and fed her, as if she had never tried to escape.

  Next mor
ning, the trainings that would come to define her life over the next eight years began.

  ***

  A man walked by the area where Malka stood in the shadows. He was youngish, no older than thirty, and wore a clean pressed, immaculate black suit. He looked like a promising target, she decided. Leaving her location in the shadows, she moved into step alongside him.

  “Excuse me,” she announced herself in an urgent sounding voice, trying to make her accent sound especially apparent. “Could you show me fastest way to the passenger port?”

  “Down there.” He pointed down the street. “Then left. It will be on your right. It isn’t far.”

  “Thank you,” Malka continued gratefully. “But, I am incredibly lost. Do you think I could impose upon your kindness to show me?”

  The man hesitated for a time. For a moment the Thag worried her ploy would fail. Finally, the black-suited figure responded: “Well...all right.”

  “I thank you again. May I ask your name?”

  He told her and as they walked, Antonia trailed them. Malka kept asking questions. Not that she really cared. She knew it always worked best when a target was caught completely off guard.

  As they walked toward the water, the two neared a narrow alleyway. The man did not appear to notice it. However, Malka knew exactly where it was, having reconnoitered the area when designing her ploy. As the man continued talking, the Thag discreetly moved her hand toward her left pocket, extracting the brass doorknob she had taken from the ship’s cabin and inserting it into the knot of fabric in the sash that she kept tied around her waist.

  Just as they were passing the alleyway, Malka undid the sash and, in a blur of motion, swung its weighted end around the man’s neck, pulling him into the dimly lit lane.

  Having knocked him off balance, it was easy for the much smaller Thag to pull him to the ground and begin to use the sash to cut off his supply of air. He kicked and flailed furiously at first, but unable to dislodge the fabric from his neck, his movements soon grew more sporadic. Eventually he lost consciousness.

  Just as Malka began to loosen her hold on the sash, intending to check her mark for any valuables, a long blade swooped down just inches in front of the girl’s nose, cutting a light gash across the cheek of the man that now lay before her.

  Malka criticized herself even as she felt her heart sink. She should have realized that her plan would have provided an opportunity for whomever she had felt watching her to set a trap. Even worse, it turned out that her opponent was one of the Shadow Warriors.

  The Urumi had found her.

  Even as this passed through her head, Malka rose, disentangling her sash from the man’s neck and bracing her back against the wall. Almost instantly, she was ready for the fight that was surely to come. The blade, which she could now see was indeed wielded by an indefinite dark figure, arced up. It seemed to twist 90 degrees on its axis before coming back down, again passing within inches of the Thag’s face as she dodged it.

  Malka assessed her situation. The weapon that the Urumi used had greater reach than her sash. That left her with one option.

  Instantly, her hand went to the dagger she had stashed in her right boot. In one motion she removed it, aimed, and threw.

  A deep wail emanated from the figure. Malka surmised that she had injured it. Whatever wound she had managed to make, however, seemed to be inconsequential. It brought the blade down again; Malka feared that this time the weapon would hit its mark. She ran in the only direction she could – deeper into the alley. Antonia followed, yowling behind her.

  Suddenly a wall came up in front of her. It was a dead end. Malka kicked herself again. She should have thought to check for an escape route.

  She turned, her back facing the wall. The Thag crouched, sash pulled taut between both of her hands. It may not have been an effective defense against the Shadow Warrior. But, she had to try. To protect the object she still carried in her satchel.

  The dark figure was less than a second behind her. It brought its blade up, curving in a high arc.

  Lashing out with the weighted end of her bloodred fabric, Malka caught the tip of the blade as it sailed towards her. She had intended to use the sash to wrest the weapon from the clutches of her opponent. But, that was not what happened. The dark figure used the momentum of the blade against the Thag, sending it at Malka faster than she could pull or exert force on it. At the last instant, Malka ducked and, knocked off balance, fell to the ground. The blade struck the brick wall where she had been standing with an audible scraping sound.

  Malka tried to get up but she noticed that the Urumi’s flexible weapon was again coming directly at her arm. There was no time to avoid it again. In that instant, she noticed that Antonia stood to one side of the figure. The Urumi seemed not to have noticed.

  And then the cat was gone. In its place stood a young woman, looking not much older than Malka, her hands raised in a combative position. Her white skin contrasted with long black hair and the form-fitting two-piece black garment she wore. A small blue pendant lay around her neck. She moved toward the Urumi faster than even Malka thought possible. The woman’s black hair swirled behind her as she landed blow after successful blow on the dark figure, forcing it to drop its weapon.

  The fight continued. Its newest participant avoided many blows without seeming to make an effort, while landing more than a share of her own. In a blur of movement, she raised her foot as high as her waist in a side kick, finally knocking the dark figure to the ground. There, it lost all form, becoming invisible.

  Malka, who had watched the entire display with an open mouth, stared at the fight’s victor, her eyes wide in shock.

  “Who….”

  “No time,” the black-haired girl cut her off. “Run.”

  Ten

  They had run for no more than twelve minutes, though it had seemed longer to Malka. Still processing what she had seen, a thousand questions raced through her mind.

  After the Urumi became invisible, she and the mysterious being that now ran beside her had dashed back down the alley. Malka had paused to pick up her knife. The man she had strangled into unconsciousness was gone, apparently having come to his senses.

  They had turned right, heading down the street away from the water, pushing people out of the way as they fled. Eventually, the buildings on either side of them became less ornate, and traffic more sparse. Malka no longer felt that they were being observed covertly. She had escaped. The Thag only wished she knew how.

  Grabbing the mysterious girl next to her, Malka stopped.

  The black-haired figure slowed, shaking off Malka’s hand almost angrily.

  “What is it? We have to keep moving.”

  “Not until you tell me who you are and what in the name of the Goddess just happened back there!” Malka practically shouted the question.

  “Seeing as we’re being pursued by a deadly warrior with supernatural powers, don’t you think that question can wait a bit?” She spoke with a slight accent, which was most definitely not subcontinental, but was otherwise difficult to place. Her voice carried a sarcastic lilt.

  “It is not following us.”

  “You’re sure?” The unknown girl asked the question by bringing her voice downward, making her doubt clear.

  “Yes. I have been taught to trust my instincts.”

  The black-haired girl looked around her, evidently assuring herself that what Malka had determined was the case.

  “All right. Zitar and Arunesh sent me here to protect you, a task that can be best described as mind-numbingly boring for roughly the past two months. As for what just happened? You just dropped your guard and almost got killed by an Urumi. I saved your life. You’re welcome. Now you’ve stopped me in the middle of a street to pester me with questions when it still could be threatening us. Satisfied?”

  They turned and began to walk in the same direction they had been running. Malka felt assured, both from her explanation and earlier actions, that the being walking besid
e her was not her enemy. But, she was far from through with her questions, its attitude notwithstanding.

  “Who sent you? And two months? The only one who has been around me for that long was...wait. You are Antonia, are you not.” The last sentence was a declaratory statement.

  Even so, it sounded crazy as she said it. In the Thag’s camp, Malka had heard the stories of wild cats that could take the form of humans. Nell, after Malka had taken on the guise of her twin sister following the Invisible Circus, had told Malka of her escape from the Thag’s camp. Nell claimed that she had been aided by a being very much like those described in the stories. One of these beings – Balu, the Thag recalled – had been there to help save Nell during the Invisible Circus. Malka was no stranger to mysticism. Still, she had always been told that these creatures were a danger. It was difficult for Malka to believe that the felinoid standing before her could both be what she appeared to be and be an ally at the same time.

  “I just told you. Arunesh and Zitar. You know, the ones who run the Society? Also, yes, two months, and will you stop calling me that! The name’s Liza!”

  “How was I supposed to know that!”

  “What? You thought that just because I never bothered to tell you my name, I’d be fine with whatever you came up with?”

  Malka tried to ignore Liza’s comment. Her eyes narrowed.

  “If all of this is true, why did you not reveal yourself sooner?”

  In response, Liza continued walking for a few steps, pausing to turn her head back toward Malka with a bored, indifferent stare. Then, she kept moving.

  Allowing her shoulders to cave slightly, Malka sighed, and after a second’s hesitation followed her.