Renzhies

by Mara Duryea

  Sizhirin gazed at Gilanra. “I…”

  Azhanya suddenly stepped onto the beach. “My love, what is going on?” She gazed at Gilanra and her rare pink eyes glinted, as if she would burn Gilanra’s brains out.

  Sizhirin turned to Azhanya, and then to Gilanra. A curse, no matter how far it had gone, could be undone. Beside him stood Azhanya, and before him, the one whom he really loved. What would the consequences have been?

  “She’s their enemy, Sizhirin,” said Azhanya. “They helped us past the enemy Syladins; now you want to let one of their enemies go? She will alarm her tribe. It’s safer for us all this way.”

  Gilanra couldn’t even plead her own cause.

  Sizhirin stared at Gilanra. Redemption waited at the door. It screamed so loudly in his ears that it nigh drowned his thoughts. The battle within him was so powerful it shimmered in his eyes. Sometimes they glinted red, sometimes blue. So many lives hung in the balance, and they all seemed to shout “save her!”—but he looked away.

  “Take her,” he said.

  Gilanra burst into silent tears, and the Syladins shoved the raft into the ocean. The teacher clicked at the blind one to follow.

  Azhanya took Sizhirin’s hand. “I want the city right here.”

  Keeping his eyes averted from Gilanra, Sizhirin touched a tree, and a pale door formed on the bark. He threw it open, revealing a dark nothing behind it.

  “Children,” Azhanya shouted, “children!”

  The dark in the doorway filled with glowing red pinpoints. Eerie laughter tittered as if from an echoing tunnel. Ragged bloody children spewed from the doorway, leaving their filthy prints on the pale door. Their eyes glinted scarlet in the sun. They gathered around Sizhirin and Azhanya. The two parents embraced their whining, snarling children. The waves cut off the ugly scene as the two Syladins bore Gilanra further and further away.

  The teacher’s face hovered over hers. “Safe journey, girl.” She slapped Gilanra in the mouth, and the Syladins sank beneath the waves.

  Gilanra closed her eyes. How long would it take her to die? Why would life hang onto her after what it had done? She had nothing left. Why was it her lot to suffer? How would it have been had she stayed with Sizhirin? She might as well be dead.

  Nobody loved her. Nobody would miss her. Srisair might wonder where she went, and then erect a spiral in her name. Nobody would search for her, though. Bodies were dishonorable. Her mother wouldn’t care. She’d be free to ruin some other child’s life.

  Periods passed by. The sun scorched her skin. Her throat grew sticky. Her poisoned tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Blood spilled from her feet and seeped through the raft’s cracks. The kralikins would eat her feet first. Their jaws would make their way up her legs. They might play with her first, depending on their mood. Why hadn’t they arrived yet?

  Sizhirin had been horrified at her plight, but not enough. Pain and anger raged in her heart anew. Gilanra would have cried, but she was too dehydrated to make tears. The cool ocean water stretched all around, staring and tormenting her.

  Night fell. Stars spread overhead, but none called her home. The moons sailed cool and soft across the sky. Gilanra drifted in and out of consciousness. Her blood had congealed around her feet. It dried on her face and in every cut she’d sustained in the fight. The sun and moons melded into one bright orb in a strangely greenish-yellow sky.

  Haunting music echoed from somewhere. It wailed from the stars; it boomed from below. She floated in a swirling void. Nothing hurt anymore. Over the waves of silvery green, a small flame floated towards her. The haunting music issued from the flame.

  Pekalas always led a person home.

  6

  Something Lost, Something Found

  Gilanra stared at the flame. It sat beside her head and touched her with a tiny hand. Warmth flowed into her. The little flame drew nearer her face. Two black eyes gazed at her, and a small mouth babbled something she couldn’t comprehend. It seemed to issue from the pekalas, and then grew high and tiny. It began to cry.

  A voice called from somewhere. It seemed like the sky had called. Someone knelt beside her. It wasn’t like the little flame. It wasn’t like Sizhirin, either. It was something comfortable, something secure, something safe. Suddenly her hands rested on her stomach. The safe something gathered her in strong arms. She floated through the air, always pressed against the something safe. The flame flickered nearby.

  Cold water brushed Gilanra’s lips. Something rough scraped over her face. Her feet stung, but she couldn’t pull away. Were kralikins eating her? Panic rose to her breast. She screamed and tried to sit up. Two firm hands caught her by the shoulders and pushed her back down.

  “Is okay, Syladin girl,” said a woman. “You safe.”

  “Who’s that?” Gilanra choked out in a raspy voice.

  “Vaylee. Vaylee make you well. Is okay, baby, is okay.” She caressed Gilanra’s face. “You safe. Nothing get you here.”

  “My feet,” Gilanra mumbled. “Wh-where’s my feet?”

  “They okay. I wrap them up. Don’t cry.” Gentle fingers wiped the tears from her face. “Try for to drink this.” Something warm flowed down Gilanra’s throat. Blessed water followed. Gilanra realized she was cupped in someone’s arm. “You sleep now, minamee. Everything be better when you wake up.”

  ***

  Gilanra opened her eyes. Her limbs felt like feathers ready to fly away. Roots stuck out of a dirt ceiling. The walls were made of packed dirt. Bedding of all sorts was scattered throughout the room. Where were her feet? She sat up and yanked the covers from her body. Her feet were bandaged up, the toes sticking out from the dark wrapping. She wiggled them. Pain shot through her feet. Only then did she feel the aches in the rest of her body, and a whimper escaped her lips. The bed was a soft pad lying on the ground.

  She glanced at the opening in the tunnel and screamed. A Veerin with feathery white and black hair stood in the doorway, a bowl in her hands. She wore a green knee-length dress with a hood and black, baggy pants. Gilanra scrambled against the wall. Where was her spear?

  The woman set the bowl down and approached her. “Is okay, minamee. You safe.” She knelt. “We take care of you.”

  Gilanra swallowed. “Wh-what happened?”

  “My grandson find you washed up on the shore on one raft. My son Rezh untie you and bring you here. You here for one week now.”

  Gilanra glanced down at herself. “Wh-why? I’m a Syladin. What are you going to do to me?”

  “Nothing. Is okay now. You safe.”

  Gilanra stared at the woman. Kindness gleamed in her bright green eyes, in every minutia of her gentle face. There was no trace of Itika’s hardness. It melted Gilanra’s protective walls. Every suppressed emotion burst forth in a storm of tears. Vaylee quickly sat on the bed and cradled Gilanra in her arms. They were loving, gentle arms. Arms that held you until all the nightmares went away. Vaylee rocked back and forth. Gilanra buried her face in her shirt like a child.

  “Crying?” said a tiny worried voice. “Hurting?”

  “Yes, minamee,” said Vaylee.

  A warm aura hovered beside Gilanra, and a toy beygar slipped into Gilanra’s hands. “Feel better?”

  Gilanra observed the tiny Berivor standing beside her, and her lips parted. Something in her heart snapped open, and a flood of almost unbearable love for the baby gushed over her soul. Fresh tears coursed down her cheeks, as if she had finally found something precious she had lost. She pulled the baby into her arms, where it hugged her neck and patted her back.

  Someone stood by the tunnel entrance. Gilanra glanced up and beheld a tall, wiry Berivor man with shaggy brown hair and amber eyes. It struck Gilanra odd that his build was similar to a Rykori. Even his coloring was somewhat like one. His Berivor blood saved him from appearing breakable. His baggy clothes were patched in some places, and he too had a hood sewn to his gray shirt.

  “Daddy,” said the toddler, “need toys.” He pointed at Gilanra.

>   Vaylee turned. “Rezh, come here.”

  The Berivor approached. Vaylee patted the floor beside her, and he sat down.

  “This is Rezh, Syladin girl. He the one who bring you here.”

  Gilanra wiped her eyes, but didn’t leave Vaylee’s comforting arms; nor would she relinquish the baby, despite his father’s presence. “Thank you.”

  He smiled. “You’re welcome.” He had a nice smile. In fact, his whole face was nice to look at. His voice was so deep and calming, saturated with a kindness she’d never heard before.

  The baby took the beygar and plopped into Gilanra’s lap.

  “He really likes you,” said Vaylee.

  “He always did,” said Rezh.

  Gilanra gazed at Rezh in perplexity.

  “He was the one who found you,” said Rezh. “He wandered away, and my brother and I had to track him down. We found him on the beach, sitting by your head. He was crying over you.”

  Gilanra touched the baby’s fluffy head. Was he a Cedrite? He had the aura. He belonged to her. A dart of terror shot through her. The Berivor was his father, which meant he had a mother somewhere. Maybe she’d steal the baby and run. No! She wouldn’t break this family apart for anything. A cold pit formed in her stomach.

  “What’s your name?” said Rezh.

  “Gilanra.”

  “You have an Aralian name.”

  Itika’s horrid story loomed, and Gilanra could only nod.

  “You look tired,” said Rezh. “You better sleep some more. We’re leaving in a few days, and you need your strength.”

  Gilanra nodded again.

  Vaylee laid her back down and pulled the covers over her. “Zhin, she has to sleep. Go that side.” Vaylee led the baby by the hand back to Rezh, and then she addressed Gilanra. “If you need something, you call me or Rezh, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Gilanra instantly fell asleep, only to awaken to angry voices arguing outside the bunker. Gilanra pricked her ears. On hearing the word ‘Syladin,’ she crept from her bed. She padded down the tunnel a ways until she could make out words. Rezh’s voice mingled with those of two other men and a woman. Gilanra’s heart sank on hearing the female voice.

  “I will not sleep in there while that Syladin is moving,” said the woman. “She could steal one of us!”

  “She could poison us,” said a man in a sloppy-sounding accent.

  “She’s harmless,” said Rezh. “I spent the whole afternoon with her. She’s not dangerous.”

  “A Syladin that’s not dangerous?” scoffed another man. He sounded big and powerful. “Rezh, you’re not seeing her as she is. Just because she washed up helpless on shore doesn’t mean she’s helpless. Syladins are the most war-like people on this planet. Her enemies put her on that board. They hated her. She did something that made them try to kill her like that.”

  “Zhin likes her.”

  The woman guffawed. “You’re going on the opinion of a toddler? Have you seen Zhin pouncing on things on all fours?”

  “I guess that doesn’t say much for you, Selly. He likes you.”

  Gilanra poked her head out of the tunnel and spotted the speakers among the twisting star trees. All of them were dressed in various earthy colors. Evening light had softened the shadows. The forest looked like a tangle of red tendrils. The gold veins in the leaves glinted like a million yellow eyes. Gilanra grimaced. She wasn’t used to this closeness.

  “Rezh,” said the sloppy-sounding man, “tie her up.” He was a tall lanky Berivor. “Think of Zhin. You said it looked like she liked him. What if you wake up tomorrow and find both of them gone?”

  “Or we find we’re all poisoned,” said Selly. She was a delicate-looking Hatrin. Even her silky black hair seemed feathery.

  “Terros,” said Rezh, “I thought you’d side with me. You always help everybody. I came out of nowhere, and you took me in. She’s a Syladin. How is that worse?”

  A big Miricor with dark skin and brilliant green eyes shifted his weight onto his other foot. “But you weren’t a Syladin.” He had the big powerful voice. He was obviously the oldest. When he spoke, everyone lowered their heads in respect. “She is a Syladin.”

  Rezh bit his lip. “You would’ve helped me anyway.”

  “Syladins kill people. They kidnap them. They poison them. I’ve never heard of one you could trust.” He rested his hand on Rezh’s shoulder. “We don’t know her. Until she proves we can trust her, we have to keep her bound.”

  Gilanra suddenly realized she had no idea who these people were. What would happen if she allowed them to bind her? Would they do unspeakable things to her? She limped away as fast as she could. Living on an island with no unsafe Periods, she had no concept of the dangers prevalent in the forest at night.

  She hadn’t gone far when Rezh called her name somewhere behind her. Being bound underground crashed on her heart. That’s what Syladin men did to the captured women from other tribes, and then they made them wives of whom they chose. She sped up. The wounds in her feet broke open and seeped blood on the forest floor. If she could reach a river, she’d be safe.

  “Gilanra,” Rezh shouted. His voice was so close that she spun around. He and Terros were in pursuit among the trees. “It’s not safe out here.”

  Gilanra hardly heard him and bolted, but her wounded feet slowed her down. Rezh and Terros, being used to this strange terrain, gained on her. She stumbled under winding branches and roots. She bumped her head on some of them. Gilanra couldn’t run properly in this claustrophobic space!

  “Gilanra!” Rezh called.

  “She’ll get us killed,” said Terros.

  Crawling through a tunnel of roots, Gilanra stumbled into a small clearing and skidded to a stop. Not twenty feet away, a hulking humanoid crouched on a star root. Long orange-red fur shrouded it from neckless head to hand-like feet. A spear of dying light shined on beady red eyes.

  7

  The Syladin and the Wanderers

  A guttural “hoop-hoop!” ground from the beast’s cavernous throat. Gilanra jumped, heart springing into her mouth. The humanoid stood on thick muscular legs. Its colossal arms hung past its knees. Thick lips curled back over heavy pointed teeth. The gums were redder than blood.

  A callused hand closed around hers. “Move slowly.” It was Rezh. He pulled her down to a crouching position and back into the tunnel of roots. Before she could get all the way in, the monster barked. The sound hammered on Gilanra’s ears, and she yelped in terror. Rezh jerked her after him.

  “This way,” Terros barked, clambering deeper into the ribbed tunnel.

  The humanoid thrust a powerful hand after them. The thick fingers flicked Gilanra’s back, but caught no hold. The roots and branches shook and bent beneath the beast’s weight as it bounded after them overhead. The air rended with its guttural “hoop-hoop!”

  Its heavy fingers forced through the small openings in the tangle. Wood tore and snapped as the creature ripped up the smaller roots, some as big as a Kabrilor’s arm. Its eyes burned in rage; drooling jaws gnashed. Terros dragged Rezh and Gilanra into a dip. The roots formed a protective dome.

  “It’s going to break through,” said Terros, drawing his hunting knife. He hacked at the thick fingers, but very little blood trickled out. The monster hardly felt the blow. Rezh attacked the fingers with his own knife, cleaving through the deep gash Terros had already made. The creature jerked back, howling.

  It stared at its bloody hand, and fury broiled through its veins. The beast tore up the roots with more vigor, and the small hole became widened enough for a Metirin to fit through.

  “Hurry, Rezh!” Terros chopped at the hand. The creature shoved a head and shoulder into the opening. Gilanra screamed. Rezh hacked the forearm, and the blade stuck. The monster caught his arm and dragged him towards the opening.

  “No!” Terros slashed the arm down to the bone. Shrieking, the monster dropped Rezh, while at the same time swinging its arm to ward off the attacker. It batted Terros
across the face. He tumbled to the ground and lay as though dead. Blood gushed from his nose and mouth. His knife dropped feet from the monster’s reaching hand.

  “Terros!” Rezh scrambled to his side, catching him by the shoulders. “Oh no…no…”

  Gilanra inched forward. What should she do? She didn’t know who these people were. What did they plan to do with her? As far as she knew, they’d taken care of her, but didn’t trust her. In her heart, she remembered how Vaylee had healed and comforted her. Could they be all bad if they had her Iskerkin baby with them? Vaylee wouldn’t allow them to harm her, and the baby would definitely be upset if they did. Rezh didn’t want to tie her up. He’d saved her from the raft.

  She blew on her hands. The air from her lungs turned to light and filled her palms. Pressing her hands to Terros’s broken face, she rubbed his wounds. Every cut and break glowed blue-white. She blew on his hair, and his whole body glimmered. Bending over, she kissed his head. The light slipped inside his body, and the dome became startlingly dark.

  The beast had gotten both shoulders through. Rezh had no time to wonder about Gilanra’s power. He just knew she was willing to help.

  “I need your poison,” Rezh snapped, giving her a broken root. “Bite on it. Let all your poison out!”

  Gilanra slathered clear poison all over the root. Rezh smeared it onto Terros’s knife. As the humanoid shoved its torso through the opening, he slashed it across the face. One of the eyes split open, and the poison swept inside, assaulting its brains.

  The monster couldn’t push itself back out. Whatever was left of the daylight had gone and left them in pitch blackness. The monster’s screeching shuddered into raspy gasps. The body thumped against the ground and roots as an awful stench filled the little dome. The beast slowly quieted until it fell still.

  “Gilanra,” Rezh whispered, “what was it you did to Terros?”

  Gilanra jerked. “He’s okay. I healed him.”