“That’s what you said,” he answered, still unsure.
Keyrin nodded, adding, “As for the Human, I’m sure you were comforted, but not by a stranger, not by someone just passing by.”
“No, that’s true. It was a friend.”
“Did you ever feel that connection with a Human stranger?”
“No,” Scythe answered, the first signs of confusion drifting across his face.
Smug in his conviction, the man led them on wordlessly.
Shortly, they reached the end of a series of halls, halting in front of a door guarded by a Red Guard. Keyrin took a key out of his pocket and nodded to the guard. Then he used it to unlock the door. Suddenly bereft of any mirth, he stood to the side, saying, “I think it will be just me and Scythe this time, gentlemen.
“We’ll be waiting here,” Smoke said to Scythe reassuringly, which ironically caused a nervous flutter to burst to life inside of him.
Scythe nodded, but, taking in the sober looks on the guards around him, hesitated. He took a breath, embracing his calm, turned and entered. Keyrin followed.
The door closed gently behind him and Scythe heard a soft jingle as a set of keys were deposited in Keyrin’s pocket. He looked around, relieved to see that it was just an average hospital room. He was surprised to find a pair of normal looking doctors attending to two of the three patients. A host of machines, accompanied by the typical whirring and beeping sounds that always put him on edge, were lined up along the walls of the room, clustered on both sides of each bed. Portable screens stood between each bed, affording some privacy for the patients. One of the doctors finished with her task and joined them in the center of the room, where Keyrin and Scythe, by unspoken consent, waited.
“My Young Lord,” the doctor asked, “may I assist you in some way?”
“Just a visit, Snow, thank you. How are they today?”
“The same as before, I’m afraid. Gered continues to worsen, despite treatment; his expectancy is down to two months on the outside. Both women are stable.”
“Would you attend us?” he asked, heading toward the first bed.
“Surely.”
Scythe and Doctor Snow followed Keyrin’s lead, stopping at the foot of the first metal bed. A Kin man about thirty years old lay unmoving on the bed. Several machines were linked to him at his head, chest, and arm. A feeding tube and waste bag were also attached to him. His color was washed out and his arms, face and neck were bone thin.
Keyrin began talking, and for the first time his voice droned emotionlessly, “A little over a half year ago, five patients were delivered to the Kin by a Human from the city. The woman had been involved in keeping them alive, with the use of Human machinery, for over two years. Prior to being in her care, and periodically during the time she was with them, they were tortured, mutilated and experimented upon by Human researchers.”
Scythe felt the blood rush out of his head. He reached out to steady himself on the bed, his hand grasping the metal bar tightly.
“Apparently, she felt some measure of guilt over her role in their abuse, so she went to great lengths to return them secretly to the Kin. She spent months planning for this, as well as invested a great deal of her money bribing Humans to assist her or look the other way. Over the course of a week, she faked their deaths and had them brought to a secret warehouse. When she had as many as she could safely transport, she loaded them into a large truck and exited the city with false papers. Having researched the location of Poinsea, she easily found her way to the road that you took to get here. She was stopped by our scouts, her truck was searched, she was thoroughly interrogated with the help of a Human translator she had brought with her, and then she was violently executed, as was the translator. We were later to regret that action, as we still had many questions and no way to get answers.
“Gered was thought to have died in the last Human raid, some three years ago. His home had been completely burned and his absence led his family to believe he had perished in the fire. It has since been determined that this reasoning accounted for a total of thirty-five Kin deaths, which are now considered abductions.”
Scythe felt his knees collapsing. Bile rose from his stomach, burning his throat. Strong hands steered him to a chair, which he gratefully fell into, grabbing his throbbing head.
“Doctor, could you explain the nature of the injuries sustained?”
Doctor Snow, who was also pale, nodded, “Yes, My Lord.” She turned to the man in front of them and recited, “Gered has been operated on twelve times, all of which are estimated to have taken place within an eight month period. He has tissue damage in all major organs of the chest and abdomen, as well as in the genitalia and brain. He appears to have been the test subject for a variety of experiments, the last of which targeted his immune system.”
Scythe squeezed his eyes shut, his teeth grating. It can’t be true. A hand rested on his head, stroking his hair.
“He is currently in a coma and will soon achieve a final resting state, due to kidney and liver failure, complicated by resistance to treatment for a common bacterial infection.”
Keyrin’s voice was filled with pity, “Can you go on, Scythe? We can leave at any time.”
“It...it can’t be true.” Scythe looked up, pleading for a kinder truth.
“I’m sorry, but it is, Scythe.”
“No. No one would do that.” No. No. No. Without warning, the smell of disinfectant, bodily fluids, and another, unidentifiable acrid odor overwhelmed him. Suddenly afraid of vomiting, Scythe shut his mouth and looked down and away from the bed.
“I wish that were true.” After a moment he said, “That will be all, doctor. I’m terribly sorry for putting you through that again.”
“My Young Lord.” Scythe heard her walk woodenly over to her station, where she sat heavily on a chair, causing its legs to screech on the tile floor.
“Do I have to see the others, the women?”
“Just one, I think. Come.” Keyrin took a hold of Scythe’s elbow, drawing him out of his chair and across the room to the third bed.
“Why?” Scythe asked. Something in Keyrin's face and voice terrified him. He planted his feet and resisted the pull on his arm.
“Because this is why you’re here.”
“In the infirmary?” Scythe grasped at his inner calm, but it had already shattered.
“No, here in Poinsea. This is why those Humans were taken, Scythe.” Easily yanking him forward, Keyrin dragged him toward the bed and pulled aside the barrier.
Scythe’s heart stopped, just stopped in his chest, at the sight of the woman before him. Then it started beating like a rabbit, and his lungs, like a pair of competitive foxes not to be outdone, started to race against it. He didn’t hear his own frantic panting or the urgent voices calling; he didn’t feel the sting in his arm. He was deaf to them, deaf and blind to everything except the pain.
Then, mercifully, it all went away.
Chapter 9
Scythe never knew how sweet nothing could be until it abandoned him, and the empty spaces of his mind slowly, horribly, began filling up with something real. The pounding of his head he detested at first, and a low moan escaped him in protest. But in the next instant, voices pushed their way in, sparking recognition, hinting at things he’d seen. Panicked, he reached up, clamping his hands over his ears, yearning for the simple pain of a headache. Like a flash flood, the real terror hit him. Each voice pulled with it a string of memories, which, like tentacles, slithered around each other before weaving together into an undulating, repulsive fabric of what was.
Evil.
A raid to capture innocent Kin, stealing their lives, wrecking the lives of their loved ones.
A raid to gather subjects for experimentation.
A raid in which hundreds were killed, homes were destroyed, fear and hatred were etched into the memories of a people.
A raid in which he was brought back to live in luxury. His hands spasmed, clutching his ears, and his
nails tore into the soft flesh. The smell of his blood and the feel of it under his nails made his eyes roll in ecstasy behind closed lids.
Yes, that feels right. Pain for me, too. Pain took his mind away, if only for those few seconds, from the things that really hurt.
He dug deeper, until hands tugged at his arms, pulling them away. Voices shouted nearby, but he didn’t let them in. He wouldn’t trust them this time. Enraged at being trapped, his eyes flew open, but he saw only shapes in the light. His teeth clamped on his lip, spilling blood into his mouth, but it was not enough. He roared his frustration, sending pink spittle spraying out at them.
He lifted himself up, turning at the waist to pull one of those who was holding him off balance. A quick twist back, aiming high, and his elbow made impact, hard and with a satisfying crunch; two hands fell off. A new scent of blood filled his nostrils, and he smiled triumphantly. His vision cleared enough for him to set his eyes on the remaining person holding his left arm, a man he recognized vaguely. His voice, steel and ice, rose from somewhere deep inside of him, “Let go.”
“Scythe...” Rend pleaded, worried. A weakness.
Scythe took his free hand and laid it over one of the hands on his arm, a gentle gesture which softened the man’s caution. Then, in a lightning fast movement, he wrapped his left hand around the back of the man’s forearm, gripped the hand he was holding so it couldn’t move, and lunged forward, bringing the whole weight of his body against Rend’s now trapped and twisted wrist.
A loud snap, a louder scream and he was free, pushing himself onto his feet and heading for the door. The sound of movement behind him didn’t interest him, only escaping did. Run. Get away from this place.
There was a sharp, heavy pain on his neck, and then nothing.
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Scythe stood in the mist, deciding. The fog chilled him, wonderfully distancing him from the painful truth. Soft voices drifted around him, floating near to tantalize him, then retreating. Finally, he latched onto them and anchored himself.
“We should have gone in with him.”
“It’s not like we had a choice.”
Sigh. “I know, but we should have found a way.”
For a moment, he considered retreating into the fog again; however, the numbness that surrounded him, protected him, wasn’t wearing off, so he decided he could face them after all.
Scythe opened his eyes, squinting until they adjusted to the light. He found he could turn his heavy head if he did it slowly, but a pulsing pain extended up from his neck and made him close his eyes again. He tried to lift his hand to cover his lids, but he couldn’t move his arm. Peeking through his eyelids, he looked down his body to see that his hands were strapped to an infirmary bed. He sighed, letting his heavy lids fall closed again.
A tentative voice, lacking its usual mirth, said, “Welcome back.”
Scythe whispered, “Smoke...”
“We’re here, Scythe, me and the one armed wonder.”
Scythe’s face contorted with regret, “Rend, I’m so sorry...”
“Yeah, well, you weren’t yourself, so don’t sweat it.”
“I remember everything, but I still can’t explain what happened to me...”
“You freaked out in a big way. Scared the shit out of us, too, if you want to know the truth.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking...”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, and it will be later, trust me, you took us both out in less than twenty seconds, and that’s damn impressive.”
“Yeah, that really hurt our pride, you know?”
“Don’t worry, though. We’ll be consoling ourselves when the bet pays off.”
“Do you guys ever stop fooling around?”
“Um...no,” Smoke said, as if the answer were obvious.
He opened his eyes again, turning his head to take in Rend, whose arm was bandaged from the hand to just below the shoulder. “Got the elbow, too?”
Rend smiled, “Oh, yeah. You really know what you’re doing. It was nice work, actually.”
“I really feel bad about that.”
“Hey, what about me?” complained Smoke. Scythe turned to look at Smoke, the bottom right half of whose face was swollen and bruised, his lips red and puffy. “Got me right in the chops. Even stunned me for a second when you snapped my head back into this fella.” He tapped a bulky machine beside him.
“Geez, Smoke, I’m sorry about that, too. I mean, you guys are my only friends here...” Scythe closed his eyes and let the tears seep through them, not caring if it meant he was not Blade material.
“We’re feeling pretty bad too about what happened to you before. We should have warned you, or something, so you wouldn’t have been so shocked.”
“Nothing would have helped. Nothing can change how horrible it is.” He started to cry, his eyes squeezed shut and face screwed up. He futilely tried to pull his arm up to cover his face again, and finally settled for turning his head into the pillow.
“Here, let’s get these off,” Rend said. “Help me out, Smoke.”
They untied his restraints, and Scythe curled up in a ball, hugging the pillow to his face, ignoring the painful swelling in his mouth and the stinging around his ears. Within moments, he was crying full out.
He felt like everything that had been beating on him from the outside was somehow inside of him, bursting its way out: the pain of his mother’s death and horror of what people would do to each other, fear of being unwanted and alone and the dread of being murdered, the guilt for having been spared when people he knew and loved weren’t and the aching shame for having survived it all. Fear, pain, and guilt poured out of him until he was an empty shell. Without knowing when, he rolled into oblivion.
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When Scythe woke up again the next morning, he was alone in the infirmary room. His body still felt sore from the previous day’s workout, but, strangely, he felt more clear headed than he had in a long time. He threw the uncomfortably warm covers off himself, grateful that he wasn’t hooked up to any machines, and looked around. A new uniform was folded neatly on a small dresser by the door and he quickly put it on, along with his shoes. He cleared his throat to get the attention of the guard outside the door.
The door was opened by Lex, who said, “I thought I heard you moving around. I guess we’re leaving?”
“I told Leandra I’d report at seven and I’m already late. Mind if we head out?”
“Don’t you think you should shower?”
“Well, I’m feeling bad about being late...”
“You’ll feel worse if you show up smelling like that. Shower first, then we’ll report. Trust me, you have an excuse, for today only.”
“Okay, thanks.” Scythe followed Lex out into the hall. He found that he was just a few rooms away from his Aunt Dren’s room, the one with a guard and a lock that opened with keys that Keyrin carried around in his pocket. He bet Keyrin carried those around so that the jingling would keep reminding him of that room.
He didn’t need a reminder. He couldn’t get the sight of her on that hospital bed out of his head. She hadn’t died on the night he had been taken. She had lived, and she had been abducted, too. What he wanted to know was how he had ended up in a nice apartment in Menelaus, but she had been selected for experimentation.
He turned on his heel, and a cold wind swept through him, keeping the pain in sight but not in touch; it was a little chilly, but it got the job done.
Moments later, he approached the room where he had seen the little girl the day before. He passed by without turning his head or slowing down.
They quickly made their way back to Scythe’s quarters, where he took an extremely quick shower and redressed. Nodding to Lex as well as a second Blade, Yemin, who had appeared to escort him, Scythe hurried to the training facility.
“You’re late,” Leandra commented when he entered the room to see a training exercise in full swing. Five Blades, including Smoke, Ungol, and Dur
n were tracing a complicated route through the upper catwalks, each with a large backpack strapped to their back. Leandra called up, “Pride, get the package and bring it to me immediately.”
Pride turned and used a rope to climb to the upper level, where he picked up what looked like a fairly heavy bundle, tied it across his chest, and made his way down.
“That’s enough. This is too easy for you. We need a body. Sleepyhead, get up there, first level, along the north wall.”
Scythe didn’t hesitate. He ran to the ladder that would get him there the fastest, climbed it and sprinted across the catwalk easily.
“Now, I want you to take turns carrying him to the second level. Next, we’ll bring him down. Sleepyhead, you’re to be dead weight, you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Ungol, you’re first.”
An hour later, Scythe was taking another long run with a double pack, this time with Smoke and Lex.
“I’m just gonna give you my money now,” joked Lex.
“Might as well,” laughed Smoke. “It’s been mine for a day, anyway.”
Scythe let a small grin out, before saying, “Smoke, can you help me spot problem situations? What do I need to look for?”
“Sure. First, everything is a possible problem; if you keep that in mind, you won’t be surprised easily. Second, not everything is a problem; if you keep that in mind, you won’t act like a paranoid rabbit. Third...”
“Lex?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you help me spot problem situations? I’m really motivated, these days.”
Halfblood Heritage Page 11