New Bloods Boxset

by Michelle Bryan

“Humor me,” I say, still trying to get to the bottom of this.

  “The prophecy, mistress,” Beanie says, stepping forward and talking louder like if he raises his voice I would understand better. “Everybody knows of the prophecy. It is said that one day, the New Bloods would return and reclaim the earth and heal all that has been broken and bring hope from the darkness. It is foretold.”

  Talbert elbows Beanie out of the way angrily. “I was gonna tell ‘er that, Beanie! She weren’t askin’ you. ‘Ow many times I gotta tell ya ‘bout interruptin’ me, eh?”

  Yup. Bat shite crazy, all of ‘em. And what the hell was this prophecy talk? This is just getting stranger and stranger.

  “Let me get this straight,” I say, shaking my head and hoping to clarify the situation. “You stopped wantin’ to kill us ‘cause you think I’m a New Blood, and I’m supposed to heal and reclaim … something?”

  “Aye, that is so,” says Talbert, still shooting Beanie a dirty look as if daring him to answer me again.

  None of this makes a lick of sense. I look at Tater, hoping that he at least can make some reason out of this.

  “Tater, what are they talkin’ ‘bout? Have you ever heard of this so-called prophecy? And why are they all starin’ at me like that?” I whisper.

  Tater studies them for a bit before he answers back in a hushed tone so as they cain’t overhear. “If I would have to guess, girl, I would say they are looking at you in reverence. Every clan, every pocket of humanity, has amassed their own doctrines over time. This group has obviously built a belief system on the basis of New Blood stories, passed down through the years no doubt. I, for one, have not heard of this prophecy per se, but New Bloods have long been associated with healing properties as well as their great strength, that much I do know. These simple … people … have probably taken those stories and expanded on them over time so that your kind has been elevated in status. In other words, my dear, to them, you are as near to the gods as they will ever get.”

  Unbelievable. These creatures thought I was some sort of what? Healer? God? What the hell was I exactly supposed to be? Why would they ever come to believe such a thing? As much as I didn’t want to, I was going to have to look into to this New Blood thing, find out what exactly they thought me to be. And why were they calling me the light? I need answers.

  “A suspected New Blood in our midst, and this is how you treat her? Imbeciles, all of you.”

  This new voice blasts out of the darkness, and we ain’t the only ones to be startled. Talbert and Beanie shrink visibly as the owner of the voice walks into view from the shadows. Well, hobbles is probably a better word. She is old. Older than Grada or anybody else I’d ever seen, so shrunken and wrinkly and bony she looks like a long-dead carcass that has been left to dry out in the sun. Her sparse, gray hair is woven tightly into a bun atop her head, and her dress hangs loosely about her withered frame.

  She leans heavily on a wooden walking stick as she makes her way to us, two others following her closely, ready to catch her at any moment should she fall. But she don’t fall. She brushes past all the others and yanks the lit torch from one of her companion’s hands and comes to stand directly in front of me, studying me with fierce intensity in the torchlight. I wince at the close flame and try to shield my eyes, but she yells at me.

  “Stand still!”

  It shocks me enough that I do as she says. She studies me a bit more like she’s trying to peer into my soul, lays her wrinkled hand on my hair, and then leans back on her heels and cackles so loudly I jump. I think she’s about to fall over she’s leaning so badly. The two others fear the same and try to hold her elbows, but she shoos them away impatiently.

  “It is true. By all that is holy, a New Blood stands in front of us.”

  Talbert slides in eagerly. “It was me, Orakel. I found ‘er I did.”

  Whack! She hits him in the gut with her walking stick, and his breath leaves him with a loud “Oomph,” as he doubles over from the impact.

  “You buffoons nearly killed this child from what I have been told.” She gives a hard look at Beanie who is trying real hard to hold in his laughter. At her glare his grin falls away and he backs up and out of the reach of the walking stick. She certainly is an overpowering presence. She turns her attention back to me, and I find myself under her piercing gaze once again.

  “My apologies, child. These idiots make for quite capable lookouts but truly have shite where their brains should be. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Orakel, and I have been awaiting your arrival for a very long time.”

  Against Tater and Jax’s very vocal objections, I agree to accompany Orakel back to their camp. For some reason I cain’t explain to them, I know she’s true to her word and will not harm any of us regardless of what her people had tried to do to us earlier. Besides, my burning questions far outweigh any fear I might have for our safety. They don’t like it, but they follow along with me; Jax mutters the whole time under his breath and his hand rests on his shooter.

  I try to keep track of our progress, but it ain’t long before I’m lost in the maze of paths and ruins we pass through. If their intent was to remain hidden and unseen in these iron bones, then they had truly succeeded. I ain’t even aware we’re at our destination ‘til Orakel steps aside and says very mannerly, “After you.”

  It looks like we’re just standing at a pile of rubbish and debris ‘til I notice an entryway and steps leading down into darkness. Her companion holding the lit torch goes first to light the way, and I quickly follow, ignoring Jax’s loud whispers behind me. I chuckle quietly to myself as I hear Orakel berate him.

  “Oh, for the gods’ sakes, boy, if we wanted to harm you, we would have done it long ago. I wouldn’t have brought you to my home just to bloody it up. Now, stop your braying and move.”

  He don’t say anything back. I suddenly decide I like this strange old woman.

  We descend down the steep steps, and I find myself wondering how that crippled old woman is able to handle doing so when she passes by me, hanging piggyback on the larger of her two companions. My unbelieving stare is met by her loud cackling as it echoes down the wide tunnel we now find ourselves in. The tunnel is massive, its walls smooth and rounded, definitely no storm cellar. Settler-made to be sure but no idea what it could have possibly been used for. Maybe Tater knew. I will have to ask.

  At the far end of the tunnel, we find ourselves facing a large, metal door with a long arm on it. The man carrying Orakel lifts the arm and slides the door open, and it seems to disappear right into the wall. I don’t have time to be too amazed by this ‘cause by now we find ourselves in a large, cavernous room, so lit up by torches it was almost like stepping into the daylight. But it isn’t the huge room or the dozens of lit torches or the other people waiting inside that amaze me so. It’s the stuff. I cain’t think of no other word to describe it. Settler relics everywhere.

  There are chairs and tables and plenty of other shite, all piled on top of each other, towered so high I fear it’s going to topple at any moment. They are using it to partition off the large room, creating walls and rooms and pathways. The word of our arrival is spreading fast ‘cause more people seem to appear out of the numerous nooks and crannies, eager to get a look at us.

  Orakel is now on her own two feet, and she makes her way through the piles not the least bit concerned about it toppling on top of her, so I reckon it’s safe enough. We follow directly behind her, me and Finn and Cat, and the boy’s eyes are opened so wide I fear they may just pop from his head. I can still hear Jax and Tater behind me, bellyaching with every step we take further into the overflowing room, but I don’t heed them; I’m so entranced by our surroundings.

  I gasp out loud and cover Finn’s eyes as we turn a corner and I suddenly see what I believe to be a naked woman standing at the bottom of one of the piles. I ignore Finn’s indignant “Hey!” as I quickly realize she ain’t a real woman at all. She’s some kinda statue, made out of plastic or such. Finn pulls my h
and away and laughs as I rap on her solid, bent arm with my knuckle, causing it to fall from her body. What the hell? What kinda uses could the settlers have had for a plastic woman? I want to pick up the arm and examine it, but Orakel quickly kicks it out of the way and continues walking.

  We pass a couple of thin, flat, metal boxes, their glass fronts shattered with dozens of spider web cracks. I hear Tater’s amazed, “Moving picture boxes.” and I stop to look. No matter how hard we stare however, we see no moving pictures. I glance over at Tater in disappointment. He must be wrong about that.

  We move on past another pile, and I spot some rubber wheels poking out of this one. They kinda look like the ones Grada had got from the pickin’ grounds once. His he’d attached to his hand cart, but these seem to be joined together with strange metal rods and a set of handles as if it’s meant to be steered. I cain’t even begin to imagine what it was used for. My eyes are drawn to a strange, multi-sided, faded red piece of metal standing at the corner of another pile, and in big white lettering, it spells S T O P.

  Why the hell would you need a piece of metal to tell you to stop? Stop for what? Curious. I ain’t ever seen so much stuff, not even at the pickin’ grounds, and I’m just as bad as Finn. My eyes are wide, trying to take it all in. A brightly colored ball grabs my attention now, and I stop to pick this up. Its heavy weight surprises me, and I study the three perfectly formed holes in its smooth surface but don’t dare put my fingers in. I ain’t sure what it would do. Finn just grins at my questioning look, but I put it back down and hurry to keep up with Orakel, who is moving at a speed that amazes me for someone so old.

  I’m aware of the curious onlookers trailing behind us and how the number keeps growing so that by the time we finally stop in the middle of the huge room, there are at least twenty or thirty other people besides me, Finn, Jax, and Tater. The braver ones walk up to me and touch my hair or take my hand but most hold off, scared by Cat’s presence I’m assuming. Some of them are like Talbert, covered in the sores with blackened lips while others appear to be disease-free. Why? I wonder. What happened to them? Orakel shoos them away, and they listen immediately like they were used to obeying her every command. I’m grateful for that. I ain’t liking all their eyes and hands on me. She then points to the darkly stained table surrounded by eight high-backed chairs sitting in the center of the clearing. There is a big, stone hearth behind the table, and the crackling fire burning in it almost makes the huge room feel homey.

  “Sit,” she says. “You must be hungry.” She gives a slight nod to someone in the mass of people. A very tall, very thin woman with a long, hooked nose steps out of the assembled crowd. She gathers up a stack of clay bowls from the table and wordlessly starts spooning up some sort of broth from the cauldron sitting in the hearth. The smell of it makes my mouth water, but none of us sit as asked. It’s like we’re all of the same mind and hesitate at the thought of taking food from them. As if Orakel can read our thoughts, her cackling laughter fills the room.

  “Do not worry. What they have is not catching.”

  The smell of it is too hard to resist; however, and with an unspoken agreement, we all sit on the strangely padded, soft chairs while the tall woman serves us the stew. I hate to admit it, but I am relieved she shows no signs of the sores on her skin.

  The broth is hot and tasty and filled with chunks of meat I think is wolfling, but I ain’t sure. Orakel enjoys hers as much as we do, though, so I ain’t too worried about the meat’s origin. Even Cat is treated with a charred bone though Finn has to take it to her. None of the others will go anywhere near her. Even the woman serving us goes out of her way to avoid Cat at all costs. Cain’t understand why she’s so afraid. The devil cat ain’t going to bother with her. Cat would probably get more enjoyment out of chewing on a chair leg than that scrawny carcass.

  After she serves all of us, she then approaches Jax again with another bowl, and he flashes her an eager grin. I reckon he’s thinking he’s getting a second helping. Without speaking a word, she knocks his hands away from reaching for the bowl and pulls a cloth from it. None too gently, she starts cleaning his head wound.

  “Ouch. That hurts,’ he whines, but she don’t heed him; she just goes right on cleaning. I cain’t help but chuckle as she stares in disdain down her long nose at Jax’s complaining, and when she’s finally done, she motions for him to hold the cloth to his head while she takes the bloodied bowl away. I raise my eyebrow at his exaggerated winces of pain.

  “What?” he says crossly at my look. “She didn’t have to be so rough.”

  “Cry baby,” I taunt softly, but he chooses to ignore me.

  Orakel waits patiently while we finish eating, but her shrewd eyes don’t leave my face. I can tell she’s eager to talk, but she lets me finish my stew before the questions start.

  “Tell me, child; how is it a New Blood is in our presence right now? What is your name? Where do you come from?” she says.

  “I think we should be the ones asking the questions,” Jax answers before I can, throwing the bloodied cloth on the table. “Like why the hell did your people try to kill me?”

  She sends him a withering look. “Please, if they had wanted you dead, then dead you would be. My people were merely … defending their territory. We are quite used to strangers trespassing through our city and having to protect ourselves and our property.”

  “Hah,” Jax snorts at her. “Attacking and robbing poor, innocent people unfortunate enough to find themselves in your crazy town is more like it.”

  “My name is Tara,” I say, cutting short whatever the old lady is about to say to Jax. I have questions as well. We don’t have time for arguing. “I come from the sand lands—a place called Rivercross. Have you heard of it?”

  She tilts her head, thinking for a bit. “Mayhap … it feels to be a distant memory,” she says finally. “The sand lands, a harsh place indeed. You must be very resourceful, young Tara, to have traveled so far and for so long and have not been killed or captured. The gods truly must be watching over you.”

  I smile at her, but there ain’t no humor in my smile. “Rivercross was attacked by the Prezedant’s Army. My kin either all killed or taken. I don’t think the gods give a damn about what happens to me,” I say.

  She gives me a slight nod. “My condolences on your loss, child, but you couldn’t be more wrong. The gods have guided you here to us. They have sent us a New Blood. That is indeed divine intervention whether you believe it to be or not.”

  “I believe that to be pure shite,” I say shortly and ignore the gasp of Orakel’s two companions, who are still hovering behind her chair. I ain’t sure if they aren’t used to hearing someone speak to her this way or if they’re just scared the gods will smite us where we sit. Orakel don’t seem to take no offense though, just nods at me some more.

  “I think otherwise. So what do you believe has brought you to us then?” she says.

  “Coincidence, happenstance, bad luck?” Tater is the one who answers. “We were on our way to Littlepass when we encountered raiders and … Well, long story short, here we are, guests in your charming abode. Which by the way, I must say I find a little disconcerting to be underground. Does anyone else find that bothersome?” he asks, looking ‘round the table and tugging at the neck of his tunic like he cain’t breathe.

  Orakel gives a loud snort at this. “It is a necessary precaution, little man. The only way we can avoid his ever-searching eyes. You grow accustomed.”

  The tall woman starts circling the table again, this time with tin cups of tea. I pick mine up and sip it. I ain’t quite sure what it’s made from, maybe dandy weed, but it is hot and tasty. Jax eyes her suspiciously as she sets a cup in front of him, but she passes on without incident.

  “What did you mean, Orakel, when you said you have been waitin’ for me to arrive?” I ask the burning question that’s been bothering me. “How did you know I would come here? Are you some sort of seer?”

  “I have been calle
d that among other things.” She laughs again like what she said is side-splitting funny, but I don’t get it. “I didn’t know it would be you per se. The prophecy just said a New Blood would return, and we have waited very patiently. And now, here you are.”

  “Ya ‘ave graced us with yer light, mistress.” The voice comes out of the crowd hovering in the background, and I recognize it from our earlier entanglement. Orakel also notices, and her piercing eyes search the crowd.

  “Talbert, step forward.”

  He does as she asks, Beanie bringing up the rear. The look on their faces clearly saying they both wished he’d kept his mouth shut.

  “The watch?” Her question is curt but he bobs his head up and down.

  “It’s covered, but we need to be ‘ere, Orakel. Please. It’s the light …,” he trails off as if pleading with her to understand. She finally gives him a slight nod, and I can see him sag with relief at her approval. She definitely is the one in charge here. Hopefully, she’s also the one able to answer my questions.

  “What does he mean by ‘the light?’ When we had our earlier … disagreement with your people, they were callin’ me that, the light. What does that mean?” I say.

  “It’s obvious, is it not? A New Blood’s power comes from the light, the aura that shines when your powers are at their peak. Talbert and the others, they witnessed your light, your life force, or Chi as some call it,” she says.

  “But you didn’t. All you did was stare into my eyes, and yet you have yourself convinced I am this New Blood, this thing you been waitin’ for. I think you’re wrong. I think you’ve been waitin’ so long that you have yourselves convinced on the wrong person. I ain’t nuthin’ like Beanie said the prophecy spoke of. I ain’t no healer, no mistress of light …,” I stop talking, not knowing what else to say. She leans forward and studies me with those piercing eyes again.

  “Are you trying to convince me or yourself, child? You are what you are. There is no denying it.”