by B. K. Boes
A Forsaken child.
Imrah knew they existed, but she’d never come across one herself. A boy born deformed enough to be discarded in the Lower Sector instead of sent to the Kelda Canyons. Some masters kept them as servants in their households, but many did not. Deformity was a sign of weakness. They were left to earn their way working for crime lords in the Lower Sector.
The mother in her was heartbroken at the sight of him. He stared at her wide-eyed. Imrah put her finger to her lips. The boy looked from her to the group of men and back again.
“Please,” she whispered. “Don’t say anything.”
He backed away from her down the alleyway. “I don’t know you,” he said.
She smiled at him, holding out one hand, careful to keep the orb hidden. A sign of wealth like that wouldn’t do her any favors with criminals. “I won’t hurt you. I just need to get through Dregstown.”
“Avro!” the boy shouted.
“No,” Imrah whispered.
He turned and ran toward the men, yelling, the liquor in the flagon sloshing out of its spout. “There’s a woman spying on you!”
The men stood up straighter. One of them picked up an iron rod leaning against the wall. “What are you talking about, boy?” one of them said.
He pointed back at her. One of the men scurried up a ladder on the side of the building, and the other two walked toward her. Imrah ran, opting to go deeper into the Lower Sector instead of back. There was a garrison on the other side of Dregstown, not too far from the warehouse. She would only approach the garrison as a last measure. They would have to protect her once they saw the Dakkan emblem on her arm, but being discovered would be almost as dangerous as being caught by these strangers.
Fragmented thoughts of hope flitted through her mind as she ran. If I can get out of Dregstown… lose them in the streets… get to Prestis.
Imrah desperately tried to keep track of where she was. She’d studied the map of the Lower Sector her master kept in the library. All of that memorization was now a jumbled mess as she fled, the men still behind her. Not caring anymore if they spotted her orb, Imrah ran with everything she had, begging the Sustainer to protect her, to keep her feet from tripping on the cobblestones.
She turned right and kept running. She looked over her shoulder. No one followed around the corner, but she dared not stop. Another right farther down the road. Still no one behind her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a throughway, a tiny alleyway that connected to the parallel street. She skidded to a stop and ran into the alley, slowing a little, her heart still racing. The silence of the night felt impossible, but she heard no sign of pursuit. Her hands shaking, she leaned her back against the wall.
A man dropped down from the low rooftop into the alleyway. Imrah stifled a scream, her heart jumping into her throat. She glanced up at the rooftop and back at the man. He had been the one to climb the ladder, and he’d followed her where she couldn’t see.
“Now what’s a pretty lady like you doing in Dregstown?” He advanced quickly and pinned Imrah to the wall before she could run. His hands gripped her shoulders tight enough to leave a mark.
“Please, I’m just… lost. I don’t belong here.” Imrah turned her face away from his hot, rancid breath.
“That I can believe,” he said. He let go of her right shoulder and traced a line down her neck with his finger, slipping his hand under the cloak. Imrah held her breath. His hand was calloused, the skin hard and grimy at the same time.
“My master-husband would have you flayed if you dared to hurt me.” Imrah tried to say it with confidence, but her entire body was shaking.
“I’m sure he would,” the man said. “If he knew about it. But a dead woman can’t tell tales, now can she?” His hand roamed down her arm to her hand, where she held the strap to the glow orb. Though Imrah held tightly to it, he ripped the strap from her hands. “This will go for quite a few gold coins,” he said as he held the glow orb by the strap, raising it to his eye level. He still held her pinned against the wall with one hand, but for that moment his attention was on the orb. It was possible he’d never been so close to one before. It illuminated his face in a soft blue light.
Imrah reached with her free hand, the one that had been holding the strap, to the inner pocket of her cloak where the bottle of pepper oil was hidden and quickly uncorked it. Attached to the underside of the cork was a brush of long, thick bristles.
The man turned his attention back to her. “It’s no use struggling,” he said. “No one is coming to help y—”
Imrah, hands shaking, flung the brush out from under her cloak and aimed for his eyes, one long stroke across his face. Some of the oil dripped onto her own hand, stinging her skin. “I can help myself,” she said.
The man screamed, stumbling backwards, and covered his face with both hands. In the process he dropped the orb, shattering it on the cobblestones.
She took her chance, quickly replacing the cork in the bottle, and the bottle back in the pocket in case she needed it again. Imrah ran. She had no light, and she wasn’t sure anymore where she was. But in the moment, she didn’t care. The man’s curses echoed down the streets after her, but he didn’t follow. The oil would have set his eyes on fire, eventually blinding him if he didn’t rinse it immediately with water.
Imrah’s body throbbed with adrenaline, her heart beating loudly inside her chest. She tried to wipe the oil off herself, where it had dripped in a line from her wrist to mid-forearm. The skin was bubbling and swollen already. The world spun as she ran. Her stomach broiled. She slipped into an empty narrow alley, dimly illuminated by a candle flickering from a window. Leaning against the wall for support, skin cold and clammy, Imrah heaved until her stomach was empty, and then some. Her body trembled. She closed her eyes against sickening vertigo and slid down the wall to sit. She breathed in and out, trying to calm herself, holding her burned arm against her chest.
“You all right?” A small voice came from the corner of the dead-end alley.
Imrah opened her eyes to find a little girl step into the candle light. Her first thought was of the boy who had given her away, but this child seemed different. Her brow was furrowed, her eyes concerned instead of frightened. Imrah swallowed bile and tried to smile. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “What are you doing out so late, child?”
“I’m not out,” she said. “I sleep here. My master-father lives here.” She nodded to the sandstone building on her left. “There’s not room for me inside.”
“Where am I? Do you know, little one?” Imrah asked.
“Lender’s Lane,” she said. “My master-father is a powerful lender. Have you come to borrow money?”
“No,” Imrah said. “I’m trying to get to Bazz Harbor. Can you help me?”
“You’re very near the tunnel under the Southern Pass,” the girl said. “If you go down the road a little farther, you’ll run into the wall. Turn right, and you’ll find the tunnel.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“Your dress… it’s a garment of a slave-wife.” The girl smiled wide. “One day, I will go to the Training House and become a slave-wife, too. Maybe even to a Middle Sector man. My mother taught me much before she died.”
Imrah took a deep breath and stood. The girl before her was so proud, so hopeful. Becoming a Middle Sector slave-wife would be an escape from this Lower Sector hellhole. Imrah came closer to her and caressed her hair away from her face. “You’re a very pretty little girl,” she said. “You’ll do well in the Training House. But, can I give you a little advice?”
The girl nodded, eyes wide with anticipation.
“Find out who you are apart from all of this, apart from your master-father. Apart from whatever household you become a part of. You are more than a slave. One day, you’ll need to understand that to really live.” Imrah kissed the top of her head. “May the Sustainer be with you, child.”
The little girl looked up at Imrah. “I don’t understand,” she said.
&
nbsp; “Remember my words. You’ll understand one day.” Imrah’s heart broke a little as she left the alleyway, but the girl had reminded her why she was here. Why she’d risked her life to meet Prestis in Bazz Harbor.
Someone has to fight against all of this. She squared her shoulders and headed toward the Southern Pass. Tonight, I will be that someone.
Chapter Fifty-One
Anakai
Kelda Canyons, Adikea
8th Cycle of Chenack
989 Post Schism
Anakai’s group made it to the base of the wall they were to climb without being noticed by the therbaks above. It helped that the sun had disappeared, that they moved under the light of the moons. Though both Chenack and Almeck shone bright and full, the bluish tint of their light made for good shadows on the canyon floor. There was no screeching or screaming, so Anakai assumed the other groups were safe so far as well.
Their mission was imperative to everyone’s safety. If the four contingents of commanders and slave-sons failed to kill the bull, more females would mate with him and nest nearby inside warrior territory. That couldn’t happen. The boundaries had to stay clearly drawn. If only Anakai could do his due diligence without being under the thumb of Quay’s brother.
Focus, and no matter what Reddin does, you’ll make it out alive.
Anakai breathed steadily as they approached the canyon wall. Near the ground, it was pitch black. The wall curved so the therbak nesting nearby didn’t have a clear line of sight to where they’d be climbing. That was good because about halfway up the plateau, the moonslight would expose them.
They each began to climb. Every handhold chosen until they had more visibility would be a risk. Anakai felt above his head, searching for a good handhold. He secured the snake basket’s leather strap across his body, the basket resting at his hip. Anakai had trained for this, climbing walls in daylight with a blindfold. He took a deep breath. This was different. There was no taking off the blindfold to correct mistakes.
But he began the climb. He could barely see, squinting hard to decide whether or not what he was staring at was a handhold. He kept moving, praying the leather strap held. They needed that basket. There was a soft scuffling every now and then that told Anakai his comrades were moving up the wall at a similar pace. He kept looking to the line above where shadow gave way and moonslight illuminated the rock.
If I can just make it there, I’ll make it to the top.
The two older slave-sons, Zan and Scurr, would be climbing on either side of Reddin. They were both bigger than the true-son, and each had Reddin secured to them by ropes, in case he was to fall. Anakai and Wes had no such protections. It was as if a rock was lodged in Anakai’s throat as he climbed, waiting for the possible scream of someone falling to their death. Though it never came, Anakai couldn’t shake the dread at the mere possibility.
Focus. You have a mission. An important one.
Anakai redoubled his concentration. The targeted therbak nest was around the curve of the canyon wall, and he was closest to the curve. Reddin had told him to edge his way over just enough so that every so often he could make sure the therbak wasn’t moving. Therbaks were creatures of the day, and so the hope was she would stay sleeping.
As soon as Anakai crossed out of the dark shadow and onto the moonslit rock, he checked on their target. He expected her to be a dark blob in the distance, but her nest was in full view of the moons. Anakai had never seen a therbak in the dark, not like this. When they flew overhead, their underbellies were black. But the top of this therbak’s leathery skin had a sheen to it in the night, bluish-black and strangely beautiful. She was curled upon her nest. At first, Anakai thought her asleep, but she lifted her head as he watched, the yellow of her eyes bright, dazzling even, when the moonslight caught them, like jewels glittering from a distance, stars come down to earth. She laid her head back down, the twinkle of her eyes winking out as she closed them.
Anakai turned his attention back to the climb. He was in the light now; it would be a much smoother journey to the top. He glanced to his right, where the older slave-sons were assisting Reddin up the wall. Wes was nowhere to be seen.
He’s just slow. We would have heard him if he fell.
Finally, Anakai reached the top, a few seconds before the older slave-sons pulled Reddin up onto the flat of the plateau. Wes was several minutes behind all of them, but Anakai was glad when he, too, finished the climb.
As Wes crawled onto the flat rock surface, Scurr looked at Anakai. “You climb well, little brother.”
“Thanks,” Anakai said, a little bit of pride filling him up. The older slave-sons only referred to them as little brother when they wanted to be associated with them, when they’d done something worth recognition. “It’s always come natural to me.”
“So I’ve heard,” Reddin spat. “No one likes a show-off.”
“Come now, Commander,” Scurr said. “Your brother needed help during the course, and Anakai gave it to him. What was he supposed to do? Leave Quay to die? That was years ago. We shouldn’t quarrel over the past.”
Apparently, the rivalry between Anakai and Quay was known beyond those initially involved.
“A true-son like Quay would never need help from your kind. Our family’s blood is some of the purest in Adikea.” Reddin sneered. “And besides, who asked for your input, boy?”
Scurr started, but Anakai noted how Zan shook his head once, and firmly. Scurr settled back down but gave Anakai a pat on the back. Wes had caught his breath; it was time to move.
“Come on then, boys,” Reddin said as he stood.
The rest of them followed until they were centered with the overhang below and the nest below that. From above, the overhang concealed half of the therbak, leaving only her long neck and resting head visible.
The four of them worked to anchor their ropes, and then they descended carefully and quietly, down the side of the canyon wall. Descending to the overhang required much less effort and took much less time than climbing up the side of the plateau.
Anakai gripped the rope hand under hand, using his feet to balance himself against the wall. When he got closer to the overhang, the rock split, creating a deep crevice only wide enough for men to fit through one at a time. The leather soles of his sandals made contact with the overhang with a soft padding, barely audible. This entire mission was an exercise in stealth unlike anything he had experienced.
So far… so good.
When everyone was on the ground, they gathered head to head in a small circle, all five of them. Reddin whispered, and they all strained to listen. Even this close, Anakai could barely make out the words.
“Anakai, since you’re so good at this, you get to climb down to the nest. Scurr, you lower him first and then the snake basket. Wes, lay at the edge of the overhang so you can see the therbak. Make a leetosh’s call if she begins to notice what’s going on. You can do that, right?” Reddin asked.
It was an insult. All slave-sons were taught the call, a simple guttural clicking noise. Wes’ face went red out of embarrassment, and he nodded.
“Good,” Reddin continued, keeping his voice barely a whisper. “Zan, you’re with me. If something goes wrong, get me into that crevice.” He turned to Anakai. “Your commander and fellow slave-sons are exposed up here on this overhang. If you screw this up, and she sees us up here, your brothers are going to have to take her down in what’s sure to be a loud confrontation. That will draw the attention of the other three females, alert them to our attack.”
“I won’t let that happen,” Anakai said.
Reddin smiled too wide. “Of course not.” He spoke to the group as a whole. “Are you ready?”
They nodded and mouthed the words, “Yes, Commander.”
Anakai moved to the edge of the overhang, right up next to the wall. He looked back at his team. Reddin was still smiling. Zan was by his side, sword at the ready, his eyes on Scurr instead of Reddin. Wes came up beside him and lowered his bulky frame onto the
ground, getting into position so he could see the therbak in her nest. Scurr gave the rope to Anakai and put a hand on Anakai’s shoulder.
“Don’t worry, little brother. You’ve got this,” he said.
Anakai looked up at Scurr and found a sincerity there he hadn’t expected. He took a deep breath. Scurr let go of his shoulder and handed him one end of the rope, and Anakai stepped to the very edge of the cliff.
Below was a space for him and the basket to land safely, as long as the therbak wasn’t watching. He wrapped the rope around his hips and leaned backwards, sitting as in a sling, while Scurr pulled on the other end. Wes peeked over the side of the rock and gave Anakai the go-ahead. He let himself drop, holding his own weight as he gripped the two sections of the rope tightly together. Scurr lowered him a bit at a time. The whole of the therbak was now visible to Anakai. She was facing the open air, her back to him. Slowly, so as not to make any significant noise, he made his way down to the flat rock where the therbak rested.
Anakai waited for Scurr to lower the snake basket, holding up his hands and cupping it gently when it came within reach. He untied the rope from the basket and looked back up at the therbak. Her great black wings, folded against her back, rose and fell in rhythm with each breath. The two moons, one larger than the other, created a breathtaking scene, light shimmering off her scales as she breathed. The possibility she might notice him, that terrible prospect of her full attention, somehow enhanced Anakai’s awe.
The snake in the basket twitched, bringing Anakai back to the task at hand. He shook his head, scolding himself for the momentary loss of focus. He would need to put the snake in a spot she would notice, where the snake would see the eggs and maybe attempt to snatch one.
Carefully, silently, Anakai moved to the edge of the cliff, coming around her tail end so he would be less visible. Her nest of bones and debris came up to Anakai’s waist. There was only a thin path between the edge of the nest and the edge of the cliff, and most of it was shrouded in shadow. Anakai got down on his hands and knees and began to crawl, moving the basket in front of him. He had to reach over the basket, feeling the rock from nest to drop-off to ensure there was enough room to keep moving. Silence was paramount, his first priority as he inched around the nest.