Of Noble Chains (The Ventori Fables)

by Miles, D. L.

  The diner wasn’t that busy, since most graduates were probably out eating at the most expensive places in town, Zia thought. But she didn’t like those places; this place carried too many good memories for her. And memories trumped fancy prices any day.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to go back to school in the fall?” Win suddenly asked, taking Zia away from the blissful atmosphere of the room. The same elderly couple that had been watching her at the library hobbled their way to a booth on the other end of the diner, not even seeming to notice Zia.

  “I’m…sure,” she lied, “I just want to work for a year and really…think about what I want to do.” Zia shrugged, trying to imagine how tonight’s conversation would go. How would she take it? Zia didn’t think it would go very well.

  “Well, alright,” Win said, just as Cashel set their drinks on the white table.

  “Here we are,” he said, “our orders are all set.”

  “As always,” Zia laughed. Her mother picked her glass to her lips, taking a sip. Maybe now would be a good time to test the waters? Zia thought. “So…speaking of school and all…did you hear Hayden is trying to get into the Havilan School of Trade? He’s trying to become a Ven—a Tracker.”

  The liquid spat from Win’s mouth, sending her into a coughing fit. Zia passed a napkin to her as fast as she could and she dabbed it at her mouth, still coughing. As the cloth came away, she tried to hide it, but Zia knew all too well what was there.

  Zia turned quiet, as did Cashel. Nobody said a word, knowing what everyone was thinking. There was no way Zia could tell either of them that she planned on doing exactly what Hayden did. There was no way she could tell them that she had an interview tomorrow with the Havilan School of Trade’s Chief Administrator for Tracking.

  “I’m sorry, mom,” Zia said, “I was just…making conversation is all.”

  “I know, Zia,” Win said, waving her hand at her daughter, “you just caught me off guard. That poor boy has no idea what is in store if he does become a…if he succeeds.”

  “You said his name was Rider?” Cashel asked, careful to watch his wife in case of another attack. “Is he the one that has to pick a clan?”

  Zia nodded her head, glad to get the topic off of Tracking. Hayden was sort of famous among clan members, because it was so rare to be born to two different ones. He would eventually have to pick which would be his official clan, which meant shaming the other. Zia felt a little sorry for him, but really it couldn’t be horrible. She could see in her father’s eyes that he didn’t like the idea of picking a clan though, and the topic was just as upsetting.

  “That must be tough,” he finally said, “for both him and his parents.”

  “Oh yeah,” Zia scoffed, “it must be so horrible to have to pick a clan. Who should it be? The Shakti, the most powerful warriors, or the Jasper, the best Trackers around? Oh…I guess he’ll probably pick the Jasper clan then, huh?”

  “If he wants to become a true Tracker, he will most likely pick them,” Win came in, squeezing her napkin under the table. After a moment she excused herself to the washroom. Zia pursed her lips and watched her mother’s hunched shoulders find their way through the familiar quarters.

  “Sorry,” she said again. Cashel only shrugged her off; Zia would have preferred he scolded her or something. Ever since Donataen died…they never punished her for anything.

  Zia took a sip of her drink, avoiding eye contact and hoping their meals would get there soon.

  In the washroom Win made her way into a stall, needing to take a breath before facing her family. She tossed her bloody cloth into the toilet, and leaned against the cool plastic of the door as she locked it. Her sickness was getting worse; the Tertiary Plague affected less than one per cent of the population, transferred through blood. At one point in time its various strains devastated the humans, but the clans now helped develop a way to combat the disease. Win covered her eyes, thinking of how lucky she had been to meet Cash, a clan member, so their children would never get the plague.

  But the sickness still ravaged her body every day. Nobody in New Havilan even called it the plague that it was; they referred to it as “the sickness”. It shortened the lifespan of those with the sickness which usually meant they never made it past 30, but she had, thanks to the hard work of those at the hospital. But it wasn’t enough to actually save her; she still couldn’t speak the words they had told her at her last visit.

  Win left the stall, finding the bright washroom empty. She patted her face in the mirror, noting the large bags that crouched under her eyes, how her skin almost appeared translucent. She painted a smile on her lips, reminding herself she lived to see her daughter graduate high school. One day at a time, she thought, one day at a time.

  Her bare feet padded against the wooden planks of the Redcreek bridge, splinters digging their way into her toes. The red haired woman kept running, only taking a second to glance over her shoulder as she passed a sign reading “BRIDGE CLOSED: CONSTRUCTION”. Even if she had been looking at it though, she wouldn’t have seen it; there was only one light at the end of the bridge, barely illuminating such a black night.

  The moon hung in the sky, she knew that, but tonight it hid behind the clouds, not daring to look upon this scene. A scream escaped her throat, having bubbled up from the terror. As she reached the end of the bridge a laugh soon followed; her, a skilled Ventori, just screamed out of fear.

  Her laughing soon subsided as she banged her fists on the wooden planks that blocked her way, the bridge broken halfway over the river. What had started out as a beautiful evening wasn’t going to end the way she had planned. Lifting her green gown to prepare for a fight, she decided she wasn’t going to go down easy and pulled a dagger from a sheath on her thigh. If tonight was the night she died…well, she was going to take someone with her.

  Red hair swirling in the night wind, she turned as something hit her. The dagger she loved so much fell to the planks below and glinted under the dimming bulb that hung nearby. Her breath disappeared from her lungs and the boards cracked and crunched under the pressure, along with her ribs. She hadn’t seen what had hit her, a Specter maybe, a big, solid Specter.

  The woman sailed over the water and plummeted down, a man watching her fall. She didn’t scream this time; she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. But as she contacted with the freezing water below she closed her eyes, and let out one last breath; a scream silenced by the rushing waves.

  A blurred image of the man walked away, not even checking to make sure she was dead. He didn’t need to, even she knew she wouldn’t survive this.

  “So how did it go?” Iscah asked from the other end of the phone.

  “It didn’t.”

  “What?”

  Zia could hear the accusation in her voice; hear Iscah telling her how much of a coward she was. Zia explained to her friend what had happened but she still didn’t quite understand. She shifted her body uncomfortable on her bed as she rolled away from her computer. Silence fell upon the phone line before Iscah finally said, “I’m sorry.”

  “For what? This isn’t your fault. I’ll just go to school, work part time…then…”

  “I’m still sorry,” Iscah sighed, “and I know nothing I say will change your mind. So good luck tomorrow. I’ll be rooting for you!”

  “Thanks.” A few minutes later the girls said their goodnights and Zia rolled back to her computer. The first page was open to the Havilan School of Trade’s website, specifically the admission requirements for the Tracker program. She had this page memorized though, and she closed it with a huff.

  The next page Zia came to was the local newspaper. The North Quadrant Gazette was the newspaper for the north half of New Havilan, the predominantly human half. Even though Zia lived up there, she wasn’t exactly human. She was half Medean, on her father’s side. It was something she was very proud of, but her parents thought differently; there were too many people like Joshua’s mother that hated anyone from a clan.r />
  So the only ones that really knew of her heritage were Iscah, a pureblood human, and other clan members like Hayden. Zia’s eyes skimmed over the front page when one article caught her eye.

  Woman jumps from Red Creek Bridge the headline read. Zia clicked the glowing “read more” link and looked over the article. Apparently a woman in her twenties jumped from the bridge leading to the southern half of town just after the annual Ventori Grand Ball earlier this evening. There was no other information, since it had only happened about two hours ago.

  Zia contemplated that a moment, thinking that while she was out with her parents, enjoying dinner and entertainment, this woman was jumping from a bridge…dying. What could have made her jump? Zia wondered. It was rare for a Ventori to commit suicide.

  She continued looking at more articles before going back to look at the Tracker program description. A sigh escaped her lungs as she rested her head on a hand.

  “Our state of the art program will teach clan members how to properly track, arrest and bring in STRAY Specter’s,” Zia read aloud, her voice not giving away any of the excitement she was feeling, “and here you can discover how to survive as a Ventori, and make contacts in the hunting world. Please be aware that this program is only offered to clan members and any pureblood humans need not apply.”

  Zia scrolled the pointer over the “program courses” and clicked. If she managed to ace her interview tomorrow she would be taking classes like Types of Specters I, Proper Bounty Hunter Techniques, Research I, and History I come September. Another sigh and Zia scrolled down to the electives; she would definitely have to take Special Weapons Training as her first semester elective. As she began to daydream about her courses and the people she would meet, a footnote caught her eye.

  “Please also be aware that anyone wishing to take this course is expected to adhere to the belief that not all Specters are evil until given the status of STRAY by the Havilan Board of Justice.” Zia scoffed at the idea. “Yeah, right. Specter’s not evil? I’d like to see that.”

  She closed the screen again and opened up her notes for the interview. Even though she had read these questions and answers at least twenty times a day for the past two months since her interview had been scheduled, Zia still felt the need to do it.

  Her eyes read and reread the words for another hour before she finally went to bed; as if she would actually get any sleep before morning.

  Chapter 3:

  Sitting outside the interview office was nerve-wracking. Zia could feel her hands shaking, her heart trying to beat out of her chest and she swore that if she wasn’t careful, her teeth would begin to chatter. So to try and appear a little more…in control, she clutched her hands together and clenched her mouth shut. Soon though, her entire body began to shake in her borrowed pant-suit.

  “Nervous?” a man next to her asked. Zia jumped, not even realizing someone was sitting there. She had thought she was alone; some Ventori she was. When she managed to catch her breath, she lost it again in his eyes, in his face, in his gorgeous everything.

  Sitting next to her was a twenty-something man with sharp grey eyes and a nose that had been broken one too many times, but it suited him. As he sat there in his worn black leather jacket and worn out jeans his brown hair brushed back, the way he looked at Zia made her feel as if she were the only person in the entire world. She didn’t even care how cliché that was, or that technically they were the only ones in the room. Zia’s interview seemed to be the only one scheduled for the day.

  “A little,” she finally managed after gaping for a moment. “I’ve only had, like, two interviews before this one so…”

  “It’s just an interview,” the man said with a hint of a laugh. Zia turned away from him and focused on the door in front of her; hopefully that would keep her from staring at him. But all it really did was give her a gnawing sensation in her stomach, and reminded her that all of her hopes were riding on the next hour.

  “But it’s an important interview,” Zia found herself saying, “if it doesn’t go well I won’t be able to get into the Tracker program.”

  That seemed to catch his attention. “Tracker program? You want to be a Ventori?”

  “Hells yes,” Zia said and quickly covered her mouth. “I mean, yeah, I do. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

  “Have you ever actually Tracked a Specter?” the man crossed an ankle over the opposite leg and leaned back in the metal chair. His left arm stretched out over the backs of two other chairs, his fingers almost playing with the fake plant that sat on the table next to them. He wasn’t looking at Zia anymore, either.

  “Kind of,” she admitted, scratching at her neck, “I’ve gone out with my brother before, but I was too young to do anything so I usually waited in the car and watched.”

  “Your brother’s Ventori?”

  “Yeah…” Zia paused. Her eyes drifted down to her lap, her body no longer shaking or scared. “Well…he was.”

  “And now you want to follow in his footsteps?” the man began to peer about the room, seeming to be getting bored with their conversation.

  “No,” Zia laughed and it seemed to surprise him. His head turned to face her, eyebrows high. “I want to be a Tracker, but I want to do it my own way. I mean, I know my brother influenced my choice, but I’m not going to end up like he did.”

  The man didn’t say anything and instead seemed to ponder Zia’s words. She didn’t mean she didn’t want to end up in the same place as her brother, but she didn’t want to be the same kind of Tracker he was. Zia planned on being a whole new class of Ventori, whether the Board of Justice approved or not.

  The door clicked open just as the man opened his mouth and a woman emerged. Zia had expected another student to come out, either looking happy or sad about how their interview went, not this middle-aged clan member. On her jacket she wore a pin, identifying her with the Shakti clan, and as a high ranking member. Zia swallowed loudly.

  “We’re ready for you Ms. Noble,” she said and waved Zia inside. Her eyes then fell on the man next to Zia and narrowed. “You’re late, Aeryn.”

  “Sorry,” Aeryn held his hands up and stood. Zia followed after him. “I had things to do.”

  “Get inside already then,” the woman scolded, “you missed two interviews this morning.”

  Aeryn shrugged and sauntered into the room, the young Zia Noble trailing behind him after another look from the Shakti woman. He tried to resist laughing, knowing how terrified she must be; he had caught her swallowing her own fear. When they were both inside, the door slammed shut and Aeryn made his way to the windows, leaning against them casually.

  He watched Kehzia move her way inside the room, taking everything in. He could tell by the way she carried herself that she was better than some of the Ventori he had partnered up with, and at only seventeen. But she wasn’t what he had pictured from Donataen’s description. Donataen always described his sister as a hell-raiser, determined and far from level-headed. Not this…this girl.

  Kehzia was tall though, like her brother, with short chestnut hair and the same bright blue eyes. The way she moved was almost like a dance, and Aeryn could tell she was aware of her surroundings, whether she was conscious of it or not. When she came further into the room she looked out the windows, and for a brief second Aeryn caught a glimpse of bliss on her face. He touched his hand to his lips, hoping to hide his smile.

  Aeryn didn’t care about any of the other interviews today; he was only here for Kehzia Noble.

  The room was exactly what Zia had pictured in her fantasies. It had three people sitting behind a long table, with a single chair facing them for the interviewees. Across the room were a row of windows, none of them open to let in the beautiful summer weather. At least the blinds are up, she thought.

  “Please take a seat, Ms. Noble,” said one of the men behind the table. “I’m Dr. Ivy, this is Father Killian and that is Ms. Madsen.”

  Each person nodded to Zia. She smiled and did the s
ame. Dr. Ivy was the person she really needed to impress; he was the Chief Administrator of the Tracker program. Basically, if he liked her, he could veto everyone else on the board.

  “Hello,” Zia said, sitting down on what felt like the smallest chair in the world; which was saying a lot, considering how often she sat in children’s chairs at the library. “I’m Kehzia Noble.”

  “We are aware,” Ms. Madsen said, shooting a glare in Aeryn’s direction. He remained a mystery by the window. Zia really hoped he wasn’t an interviewer; she hoped he was just there to observe because if he looked into her eyes and asked a question, she was sure she would forget everything.

  “Right,” Zia mumbled, a little taken aback by the board woman’s attitude, “sorry.”

  “Let’s get on with this,” Ms. Madsen continued, and Father Killian narrowed the corner of his eyes towards her. Madsen looked up at Zia over a stack of papers, red fingernails clicking against the sheets. “Why did you choose Havilan School of Trade as your first choice? There are plenty of other schools with adequate programs for a…half human.”

  Zia understood her attitude instantly, but plastered a grin on her face. Her mother always said that you should never stop smiling during times like this, no matter what you felt.

  “Because it’s the best,” Zia replied, already prepared for this question, “the Havilan School of Trade has trained the greatest Tracker’s out there and they also employ the—“

  “Yes, we’ve heard all this before,” Ms. Madsen interrupted, “moving on. Why do you think we should let you into our program over someone else? There are other pureblood clan members that want in as well, so why you?”

  Zia flinched. This sort of racism was not what she had been expecting in an interview; especially an interview with the Havilan School of Trade board members. Did nobody notice what she was doing? Zia flicked her eyes to the other board members, each of them unreadable. She wanted to say something, but her mouth started to dry up and she didn’t know what to say. Zia didn’t have an answer for this question and her mind completely blanked as it searched for reasons she should be let in over someone else.