Renzhies

by Mara Duryea

  “One peace is being negotiated between the Miricors and the Veerins.”

  Rindar was dumbfounded. “Peace?”

  “In faith of that peace, both sides have forgiven the prisoners that breeched the Veerin-Miricor laws and reinstated them in their functions. The Semrin send us to find you. He say you one good Sivarin and is one shame we had to imprison you in the first place.”

  Rindar’s mouth fell open. “No, is not real. This is true?”

  Terros and Rezh glanced at one another. What would this mean for the band?

  “Is very true,” said Arencor. “You no longer one outlaw, Semrin Rindar. We come to bring you home.”

  “But I have one family now. I still have my Veerin wife. I not leaving her. I not leaving my sons.” He indicated Terros and Rezh.

  “And you won’t,” said Arencor. “The Semrin say, whoever with him, bring them, too. Because the restrictions lifted, your wife and family be under Sivarin protection.”

  “I have one Syladin daughter.”

  Arencor didn’t look disturbed in the least. “She not kill you yet. The Semrin say, everybody.” Arencor hopped off his kiderrin and laid his spear on the ground. He then reached over it and held up his forearm. This was the Miricor sign of total and complete honesty. For Rindar to show his complete trust, he just had to knock Arencor’s forearm with his own. If Arencor breached this trust, it would be a reflection on the Sivarins. Rindar knocked forearms with him.

  “Is good to have you back, Semrin,” said Arencor with a smile. The electricity in the air dissipated, and the Sivarins moved back.

  “What you doing out here?” said Rindar. “Hunting?”

  “No. We in the town and hear there one group of twenty wanderers kidnapping young Berivor males between fourteen and sixteen.”

  Rezh stiffened. “What?”

  “Nobody see them again. Is strange, because usually wanderers kidnap women and children. These only focus on the one age group of boys and the one race. They spotted near here. We see you three and thought maybe it was you, so we were gonna interrogate you.”

  “Zhin!” Rezh cried. “Dad, there’s twenty of them!” He rushed to his kiderrin with Terros on his heels.

  “My grandson fits the description of the kidnapped boys,” said Rindar as he raced after his sons.

  “Let’s go,” Arencor snapped at the Sivarins. They turned in a body and followed after the three wanderers.

  ***

  I’d stopped the kiderrin in confusion. My dad’s anxiety had given way to relief, and now panic. The only thing I could fathom was that he was unhurt. What now? Rezh suddenly began racing towards me. Gutless awiks, I wasn’t even supposed to be out here. It’d be better if he found me at home instead of out here like some confused awik.

  Turning the kiderrin around, I hurried home. As I passed through two stands of timisree trees, about twenty Kabrilors dressed in dirty, patched jackets swarmed around the kiderrin and seized its reins. Several of them caught my arms and dragged me from the kiderrin. As soon as my feet touched the ground, every man within reach of me beat me senseless.

  2

  The Claim

  My vision blurred back together. It took me several minutes to comprehend I was lying on something moving. Rainy sky and naked branches whipped by overhead. Throbbing pain seeped into my face, back, and shoulders. It trickled into my stomach and down my legs. Each bone ached like they’d been bruised.

  “Dad,” I moaned.

  A rough hand pressed against my aching mouth. I smelled rotting flesh under the nails and my stomach twisted. I tried to shove the hand away, but my arm felt like it was made of air. It had no strength at all.

  “Nobody’s coming, boy,” said a man. “Just relax and go to sleep.”

  Raspy chuckles echoed around me. The rotten smell, the cold air, my own pain, all swirled into an unrecognizable vortex.

  The next thing I knew, someone had my jaw gripped in rough fingers. I opened my eyes and beheld a Berivor man peering into my face. His teeth and breath were rotten. I lay on the ground beside a cooking fire. Human arms roasted on spits. Strange animal-like people crouched beneath the dripping trees, watching the meat cook. A savage light glimmered in their ravenous eyes.

  “This one fits the description,” said the Berivor. “Take him to the northern coast.”

  “Wha-what are you talking about?” I whispered.

  “Someone’s looking for you,” said the Berivor.

  My thoughts immediately rushed to Sizhirin and I tried to shove the Berivor away, but he caught my wrists.

  “This one would have made good eating,” he said.

  Two Adenzhens seized my arms and yanked me to my feet. Stabbing pains gouged into my body and I nearly blacked out. The two paid no heed, but marched me up a kiderrin’s tail, where they threw me into the frame driven by a Hatrin man. I writhed on the filthy blanket as the driver sped into the rain.

  From here on, it was just me and the three kidnappers. We traveled for three days, and not once did they let me eat or drink. By the time we reached the northern beach, I suffered from a high fever. It was warmer here, because this was the beginning of the Baker’s Strip, but I was so feverish I was cold. The sky was overcast, and warm sprinkles tickled my face.

  Dropping me into the sand, they waited. Time passed as I slipped in and out of consciousness. Somewhere between my dreaming and waking, an aura like sharp ice points hit me.

  “Sakreen Sizhirin, Sakreen Karijin,” said one of the men, “our band has found yet another Berivor of the right age.”

  My heart lunged into my mouth. That freezing aura knelt beside me and turned me on my back. I could hardly recognize Karijin. Where he’d been youthful and innocent, he now seemed older than normal, and hard lines cut his face. His once kind eyes were cruel and heartless. He wore a long jacket, which seemed odd in the warm weather.

  “This is the one,” said Karijin.

  No sooner had Karijin declared it than Sizhirin’s face loomed over mine and he gripped me around the shoulders. His eyes were milky white. An unhealed scar ran down the side of his face. It looked stitched with flesh.

  “It is him, it is him!” he cried, and then he frowned. “They have mistreated him. Kill them, my son.”

  The Hatrin, who’d never dismounted the kiderrin, whirled the beast around and darted into the forest, straight for the tug. The two Adenzhens raced after him, screaming for him to stop, but in vain. The kiderrin vanished from sight in less than a second.

  Karijin didn’t bother with the driver. He was satisfied with the Adenzhens. He whipped purplish black blood around their heads and necks. Working like acid, the blood ate through their faces towards their brains. Bits of liquefied flesh dropped to the sand, where they shriveled and solidified.

  The two Adenzhens stumbled for the forest, hopelessly thinking they could escape. Karijin watched them, grinning with pleasure. Just when they thought he wouldn’t attack, he pounced. The long tails of his jacket flew behind him like hellish wings. They wailed as they careened into the sand. Crack! Crack! He broke into their skulls and scooped their brains out in chunks. As he stuffed the gray, slimy masses into his mouth, Karijin grew wider and taller.

  I’d watched in silence, unable to believe this was my reality. If I could just wake up, I’d never make fun of Ikalkor again. Sizhirin’s hand curled around my face and turned it to his.

  “K’lar, I have missed you more than I can articulate. Why did you run away from me? I have showed you time and again, I have declared it over and over, how much I love you and wish you with me. And yet, you have broken my heart. Why is this so?”

  “My name is Zhin,” I said softly, “and I didn’t choose you. You kidnapped me. You hurt my dad. You hurt my mom. You hurt Karijin.” My voice grew louder as anger mounted, but I didn’t have the energy for a full out scream. “You turned him into a Nri Kryne! You took my brother from me!”

  Karijin turned from his gruesome feast and stared at me.

&nb
sp; Sizhirin’s visage contorted and he slapped me in the mouth. “How could you accuse me of thievery? Is it a sin to bring your own family members home to you? No, Zhin, it is no sin, and I shall never let you go!” Shoving my hair from my burning forehead, he kissed it. Nothing happened. Sizhirin gazed at me in confusion. “Karijin, why is this so? I have placed the claiming kiss on his brow, but it is dormant.”

  Karijin joined him. “Not dormant. You have lost the power to claim, Father.”

  It didn’t seem to faze Sizhirin. “Then you must do it. You must claim him as your brother, for you still belong to me.”

  Karijin let out a heavy breath. “Very well.” He sounded reluctant, but knelt beside me.

  “Karijin, no!” I cried. “Let me go. You can reverse your curse. You don’t have to stay with Sizhirin! You can get your killing blood back. Come with me—” Sizhirin covered my mouth with one hand.

  “Do it, my son,” he said.

  A flicker of sorrow passed Karijin’s brow. For a brief moment, his freezing aura became less cold. Hope rose to my heart. If Karijin sided with me, he would come home with me. He would be my brother again. He would become a part of the band.

  “Do not let your sacrifice for him be in vain,” said Sizhirin.

  I shook my head.

  Maybe if Karijin had let me go, if he had saved me from Sizhirin, his curse would have weakened. He could have overcome it. Karijin could have saved himself. Instead, he fought off the last of his love for me and kissed my forehead.

  Fiery knives sliced through my skull and exploded like small bombs. Their sparks splashed down the inside of my shoulders. They cut into the base of my skull, and every tendon burned. The heat rose until my blood seared with scorching heat. My body arched as I screamed like some inhuman beast.

  ***

  Crying out, I sat up in a large windowless room made of brass. A small fireplace crackled at the foot of the golden bed I was sunk into. The sheets gleamed like wet ice. Where was I? As I shoved my hand through my hair, I felt a bandage circling my head. Something was missing. I was empty. I pressed my hand to my chest. No, no, no, the tug was gone. Why? Where was Rezh?

  Panic gripped me in its shuddering fingers. “Dad, where are you?” I tried to swing my feet off the bed, but they jerked to a stop. They were chained to the bottom of the bed. I wrenched at the chains like a madman. “No, no!” I crumpled into a ball, still holding onto the chains. “Where are you? Where…?” I burst into wild sobs.

  3

  Wanderers and Sivarins

  Terros gazed at the ground under the stand of timisree trees where I’d been taken. “Here it is. They took Zhin’s kiderrin to the southeast, but this is his blood here. They put him on another kiderrin and took him north.”

  Rindar’s eyes narrowed. “We have to go back to the bunker. Our family needs to know, and Zhin hurt bad. We need Gilanra with us. Terros, wait for us.”

  “I’ll go with you,” said Arencor. “The rest of you stay here.”

  The three raced back to the bunker. Kofirin waved from where he was waiting for me. Hopping off his kiderrin, Rezh scooped him up and hurried inside.

  “Where’s Zhin?” said Kofirin.

  “Something happened to him, baby. You need to stay inside.”

  “Is he hurt?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you mean he’s hurt?” Gilanra cried, having heard them from inside. She met them in the tunnel.

  “Wanderers stole him,” said Rezh. “Terros picked up his trail. He’s really hurt, and you need to come.”

  Gilanra’s cheeks turned ashen white, but she didn’t freeze up or ask a million questions. She would ask those later. Running inside, she began gathering up her weapons and dressing for the cold. Rezh and Rindar followed. They needed extra weapons for what they thought would be a bloody battle. Twenty wanderers was a force to be reckoned with.

  Rindar recounted everything to Vaylee as they readied for their journey. The whole time, Arencor had examined the bunker. To him, we were living in squalor.

  “I can deliver the baby,” said Vaylee. “You just bring the minamee back.”

  Rindar kissed her and then turned to leave.

  “Semrin Rindar,” said Arencor, “let some of my Sivarins escort your family to the town. The people not help wanderers, but they will help the ones we save from them. The people believe us, we Sivarins. When you return, we go home to Vaylania. All of us. The rest of my men will help you.”

  “Thank you,” said Rindar. He didn’t ask how the Sivarins would do it. There was no reason to.

  In less than fifteen minutes, half of Arencor’s men were moving everyone out of the bunker, and the rest were racing after me.

  Terros followed the trail, and by the end of the day, they came upon the wanderers’ encampment. Everyone stayed back among the trees as Rezh and Terros scouted ahead. They found two dozen cannibals gnawing on human bones in various places around the camp. Nearest the fire sat the Berivor leader. Among wanderers, the leader usually had the spot near the fire.

  Slinking back to the others, Rezh and Terros reported their findings.

  “Let’s get him,” said Terros. “They’ll hand Zhin back if we have their leader. If we rush in and grab him, they won’t attack. We can negotiate Zhin’s release.”

  “Right,” said Arencor.

  Without ceremony, wanderers and Sivarins barreled through the encampment. Rezh lassoed the Berivor around the neck and wrenched him against his kiderrin. He pressed a long curved knife into his neck as his comrades surrounded them.

  “Stay back,” Rindar barked at the other wanderers, “or we cut his head off!”

  “What do you want?” one of the men cried.

  Gilanra pulled her gray hood off to reveal her blue Syladin hair. “You stole my son, a Berivor of fifteen. Bring him out to me!”

  “Great Cubons,” the man squeaked. “H-he, we…”

  “Bring him out!”

  The Berivor leader groaned as Rezh dug the knife into his skin. Blood began trickling down his neck.

  “Three of our men took him north. There’s a man who collects them. We don’t know what he does. Our leader made a deal with him.”

  “Is this true?” Rezh hissed in the leader’s ear.

  “Yes. My men took him a couple of Periods ago.”

  “Take us there, or I saw your head off.”

  The leader cringed. “Okay.” He figured a Sivarin wouldn’t saw somebody’s head off, but another wanderer had him prisoner. Rezh dragged him up by the neck and bound him hand and foot as Terros tied his neck to the frame. “Now point the way!”

  The Berivor pointed with his bound wrists and the troop of wanderers and Sivarins darted into the forest. The cannibals immediately scrambled to gather their things together. They didn’t want to be there when the Sivarins came back.

  They traveled for three days, always just behind me. As they neared the beach, a wanderer on kiderrin back charged through the forest in utter panic. Two of the Sivarins headed him off. The kiderrin was out of control and so ran between them. They snatched the Hatrin off, and he dangled between them.

  “Let me go, let me go, he’s coming!”

  “Who’s coming?” Rindar snapped.

  “The man with acid blood,” said the Berivor prisoner. “The one collecting the boys.”

  “Take us there.”

  “I can’t go back!” the Hatrin wailed.

  “Yes, you will,” said one of the Sivarins who’d caught him. They bound his shivering limbs and tossed him into a kiderrin frame like a sack of laundry. They headed towards the beach and stepped onto the shores a few minutes later.

  “He crosses the sea,” said the Berivor, pointing. “Across Syladin waters.”

  Rezh stared at the beach. “Gilanra, this is where we found you.”

  Gilanra started as her mind flickered back to her island, the island that had been overrun with bloodhearts. Chills ran down her spine.

  “You can’t cross,”
said the Berivor. “Make my death painless.”

  “It’ll be painless,” said Terros. Taking the Berivor’s head, he snapped the neck. He did the same for the Hatrin. It took all his willpower not to make them squeal first, for he knew they’d harmed me.

  “We can cross this,” said Gilanra. “At night, when the pekalas are singing. The Syladins will be asleep and hiding from predators. We have to make rafts and paddle across. We have until night.”

  “Do you know where this place is?” said Arencor.

  Gilanra nodded. “It’s a Child City.” She squirmed. “It didn’t used to be.”

  ***

  As night fell, and the lonely sound of the pekalas drifted over the open ocean, wanderers and Sivarins heaved their rafts into the water and paddled towards the fated island.

  Your turn, Rilkin.

  4

  Brass Corridors

  I not remember anything but the giant brass room with the bed and the fireplace. There is no window and the ceiling stretches to one point above me, like I inside one arrowhead. My right arm lies in one sling. One big bandage circles my head. My mouth hurting. When I lick my lips, I taste too many thin cuts. The most thing hurting is my heart. I betrayed and abandoned, but by who?

  Time passes and I not aware there is something more outside this brass cell. Tears threaten my eyes, but I not know who to call. Panic rises and falls inside me, like one fountain constantly sucking up its own water to spit it out again. Each time, the water becomes more rancid.

  The whole wall on one side of the room opens. It has one brass handle. I hardly comprehend is one door. It makes no noise. It not even look heavy. One Hatrin woman walks in carrying one red bag. It remind me of one heart, but is not beating. This brass body of my room is not alive.

  The woman has long brown hair full of gold streaks. Her eyes are large and pink, so pink they almost red. She blends in with the brass walls, except those eyes. There something wrong with her, but I too small to think what it is. I just know. As she sits on the bed, I cower away from her. She not care.