by Shea Malloy
“A fight is no good if you don’t think you’re the best shit a dunnya put down, ah.”
He laughs, the sound booming over the open air. He turns to instruct the recruits on what they just saw while I stand silently, half-aware of his words.
Seca’s sky is never fully blue like I’ve seen in the southern regions of Rur. It’s usually a stark light-grey, as if it’s doing its best to imitate the white that permanently covers the ground. Breathing in deeply, the cold air filling my lungs is crisp, fresh and calming. It seeps through the thin material of my tunic, but it feels good on my warm skin from the sparring. My legs and feet are protected from the cold by leathers and boots just like Figor and the others.
We are gathered near the base of Yndirravyaka. The Halves of Vyaka. A great mountain split almost evenly into two by a ravine. Although the Secan people inhabit the mountains in this ice-laden region, the two halves contain a significant portion of the Secan population.
At his request, Figor and I return to our on-guard stances. We are about to go through the motions at a slower pace so the recruits can follow every movement closely, but a shout interrupt us.
A Secan male vaults over a tall mound of snow and races toward us, his long white hair flying wildly behind him. Figor and I straighten as he approaches. He stops before me, bending low at the waist. His brown, long-sleeved robes with the hemming down to the ankles marks him as a novitiate in the Holy Order. I’m mildly amazed he managed to run as fast as he did hindered by so much cloth.
“Ta Konai, my apologies for interrupting but I bring sad news,” he says right away. He casts an anxious gaze over the several pairs of curious eyes directed our way then leans close, dropping his voice. “Two have been found dead. Drakila.”
I frown, troubled by the news. “Where are they?” Then I turn to Figor. “I have to leave, Figor. There has been an unfortunate incident.”
Figor nods. He doesn’t ask if I need assistance. He barks at the recruits that they’re to occupy themselves in his absence as he follows me with the novitiate.
The novitiate leads us to the leftmost and smallest half of Vyaka. We hurry into the inside through the entrance at the base and up the stone stairways.
Standing just outside a den’s entrance are a small group of Secan people. Some surround a female who is kneeling on the floor, trembling and crying loudly into her hands. The sound is familiar, filled with deep sadness and loss. My kaha cried the same way. A tight heaviness forms in my chest as the memories that refuse to stay buried unearth themselves.
“That is the mother,” says the novitiate quietly. “She found them.”
I nod. “Stay with her and comfort her. Figor and I will take care of the rest.”
“Yes, ta Konai,” he says and bows before moving toward the crying mother.
The other Secan greet me with respect as I pass, their features solemn. Figor and I enter the den. The fire pit for the den is not lit, so it is gloomy and a chill hangs in the air. The home is modest and not as brightly decorated as some of the others in Seca. The furs are worn down from overuse as though they’ve not been replaced in years, the furniture sparse. Yet it is clean and cared for.
Lying on the floor are two figures, a male and a female. My fingers curl into tight fists at my sides. The smallest of the two, the male, is one of my youngest rah’s playmate. In this young male’s place I picture Zavi and it intensifies my anger.
Figor swears beneath his breath. We are both fearsome warriors who have faced death countless times, who have taken the lives of others, who have witnessed gruesome ways a life can end. But it is still an unsettling sight of two young souls staring blindly at the stone ceiling, their lips slack as though their last sounds were screams.
It is even worse to consider that their mother who endured the pain to give them life encountered them this way.
Kneeling, I channel some of my energy toward my palms and create a safur. The bright ball of warm light sits in my palm as I investigate the drakila. They are both pale. Much paler than is usual for a Secan. The sun isn’t as friendly to us as it is in the warmer Rur regions like Andrasar, but no healthy Secan looks as white as snow as these children do.
“Why are their lips so blue?” asks Figor. He points at their hands. “So are their fingers.”
I touch the shrunken cheek of the female. Strands of her white hair are dyed black, a popular style prevalent among older drakila. She appears no older than sixteen enur. A young female on the cusp of adulthood. Her flesh is shrivelled and clammy. Streaks of dark blood dry on her upper lip and the corners of her mouth.
“I have seen the blue lips and fingers before—severe blood loss,” I say, frowning at their dimpled skin. “But these two… it’s as if they were sucked dry.”
I search the exposed areas on their bodies for any open wounds, reluctant to unclothe them. As a Rur being, there is no shame in nakedness. However removing their clothing feels similar to desecrating their bodies.
There are no bruises, scratches or injuries on their person. Their clothing is dry, no visible blood. Figor and I scour the rest of the den. No signs of a struggle anywhere. Whoever killed these children did it so quickly, they had no chance or ability to fight. The male is still young and might not have acquired the Shift yet, but the female would be old enough to do so unless she was an Unshifted Rur being. She would have shifted to her dragon form and defended herself and her rah.
“Perhaps it was someone they knew. A family member or a friend.” Figor says, scowling. “Their toha or kaha…”
I shake my head. “Not the mother. Her grief is too real.”
“Could be putting on a convincing act.”
“You think the worst of others too easily.”
“And you, my friend, have the soft, naive heart of a drakila.” He smiles tightly. “Except when you’re fighting. Then your draki is a fearsome and vengeful monster.”
Instant regret shines in his eyes the moment he speaks the words. He fumbles his way through an apology, but I pat his shoulder in a friendly gesture to cut him off. He is not the reason why I can longer shift, why my draki no longer answers my calls.
The blame rests on my shoulders because of what I’ve done.
“Assign guards to the mother and ascertain the father’s identity and whereabouts,” I order him. “See if you can get any information from her, though I doubt she will be able to speak coherently at the moment. I will have medics inspect the children further as well as speak with others to locate this threat to our people.”
3
Xia
—
If true love exists, mine would be solitude.
Nothing more peaceful and satisfying than being by myself. It was tough getting some alone time when I lived at the Andrak. In a building that is a literal village, someone is always around.
The only time I appreciated company was at work. My team and I were as efficient as the machines we maintained. Sure I was always careful, but it was reassuring to know somebody was nearby to help in the event I got fried.
My dad was never like me. He loved people—being around them, talking to them, laughing it up with them.
Yuck.
When he wasn’t a pile of ash yet, he nagged at me to be more social. This really meaningful look would come over his face and he’d say random shit like, “Isolation is desolation, xiăo Xia.” Didn’t matter to him that I’m already in my twenties, I was always little Xia to him.
And, I tried. I made the effort to be friendly to others when I could. Something my dad and I had in common—aside from the love of electrical work—was that we strove to make each other happy. Our tiny family of two was all we had.
Thing is, what my dad didn’t know or refused to accept is that nobody entertains and understands me better than me. If I don’t want to be around anyone or I don’t feel like talking, solitude accepts this, solitude stays quiet.
Solitude leaves me the fuck alone.
“…do you think? Xia?”
My fingers tighten around my bag’s strap but I keep walking.
“Xia?”
Slow, deep breaths.
Push down that anger.
Push it all the way to the soles of my feet where I can stand on it and keep it in control.
“Xia, could you please stop ignoring me?”
Finally, I come to an abrupt halt.
“What is it now, Tess?”
My tone is as sharp and icy as the chill nipping at our skin. Tess bites her lips together and her shoulders droop. Her hazel eyes shine with hurt and irritation. She hugs herself. Maybe not only to insulate herself from the cold, but my anger too.
In all honesty, I haven’t been on my best behaviour with her since the crash. Despite her attempts to break my silence, I haven’t spoken to her since the cruiser’s explosion the day before.
I’m mad at her for multiple reasons. I didn’t want her to tag along with me on my journey and yet she did. She promised to take me to Tarro, instead she led us off-course. Because of her we nearly died. Because of her we’re completely lost and have been walking for several hours with only some weird-tasting sour fruit in our stomachs.
These things are forgivable, especially after she’s apologized sincerely countless times. And I know giving her the cold shoulder is not the most adult thing to do but… fuck it. The truth is, even if we hadn’t encountered any misfortune, I’d still be mad because I just don’t want her around.
I don’t want to be around her.
She’s the sister of the only male I ever considered more than a friend. I really tried hard not to, but every time I look at her, I see Jogen’s features and remember that he’s dead.
That my father’s dead too.
Guess you couldn’t overcome after all.
“I said I think we should turn back,” she says.
Her patient voice only incenses me further. If I were to look deeper, I’d realize it’s not Tess that makes me angry. What angers me is knowing I’m being a total bitch for no good reason. That I can’t control myself from chasing away the only person who’s stuck around me so far.
“Turn back for what?”
“Shelter.” She points a thumb over her shoulder. “I think I saw a cave about an hour ago—”
“No.”
I turn away from her and resume walking.
Forward.
Always forward.
The only thing behind me is failure.
“Why not?” She hurries to keep pace with me. “We don’t know where we’re going.”
“Whose fault is that?”
“How many times do I have to apologize, Xia?” She makes a sound of exasperation. “Look, before the crash, the map indicated we were headed north toward Seca.” She points at the snow-covered mountains that are closer now. The ones I saw before Betsy tried to murder us. I’ve been walking toward them, some sort of pull commanding me forward. “I think we’re close because it’s getting colder. If we head back we can avoid freezing to death.”
“Turning back would be the stupidest thing we could do.” I point at the sky. “See those clouds? That’s a storm coming. We’ll be caught in it backtracking our way to some cave you thought you saw.” I shrug. “But if you want to go back, you go right on ahead. Don’t let me stop you.”
Tess clamps her hand on my forearm and forces me to stop walking. Her fingers dig into my flesh as she shoves her face close to mine. Her eyebrows draw together in a deep scowl, the hurt in her eyes from before morph into fury.
“Why are you being such an asshole?” she spits.
I try to wrench my hand away from her grip, but her years working in the cruiser station has made her strong.
“If you don’t like the way I am then maybe you need to let go of my arm and get away from me, Tess.”
“Maybe you need to get over yourself.” She sneers. “You think I’m stupid? I know this isn’t just about the crash. You think you’re the only one who lost someone important so therefore you have the right to be shitty to everyone. You lost your dad, but I lost my brother, too. Did you ever think about that? I guess not because you’re so wrapped up in your self-pity that you don’t give a shit about anybody else.”
She releases my hand in disgust. She trembles with outrage, her eyes glistening with tears. Her expression thaws the mean-spiritedness and indifference freezing my heart.
A small voice begs me to be better than this, to repair the damage I’m causing before it’s too late. But everyone has flaws and mine is the tendency to stand in the centre of an important bridge while I set it on fire.
“Exactly,” I say coldly. “I only care about me. I don’t have any time or patience for whiny little babies. So leave if you want to. I don’t give a shit. I didn’t want you to come with me, anyway. You were only good enough for the ride you had. Now that it’s gone, your company isn’t necessary.”
“Kahafura bless Jogen’s soul he didn’t live long enough to see what an awful person you could be, Xia. I hope a draki finds you and gobbles you up whole. But maybe it’ll just spit you right the fuck out as soon as it tastes how nasty and bitter you are.”
Yeah, I deserve that, but I recoil like if she slapped me, anyway. Kind and cheerful almost to a fault, Tess must have really dug deep to say something so terrible. Her words don’t hurt as much as knowing I’m the one who caused her to say them.
With a parting glare, Tess spins away. Her long hair swings from her sharp movement, grazing me. She storms off in the direction we came leaving me with an unpleasant, leaden sensation in my stomach.
The things I said to her replay in my head over and over in the quiet. Each iteration sounds worse than the one before. Shame weighs heavy on my chest and I take a few steps in her direction.
I’m sorry.
I’m so sorry.
I didn’t mean those awful things I said, Tess.
You’re right.
I’m hurting so I hurt in return.
Come back.
Please.
The words rise to my throat and stay there, never going further, never leaving my lips. Tess’ long legs carry her away from me swiftly until she disappears behind a cluster of bushes.
In Tess’ absence, apathy returns even stronger, hardening my heart all over again.
Thank the goddess she’s finally gone.
I don’t need her.
I don’t need anyone.
I’m fine on my own.
I’ll always be alone.
I prefer it this way.
So I resume walking.
It could be an hour or several that passes, but I don’t know because I don’t have a timepiece. I worry about Tess and second-guess my decision to carry on without her, but I keep going. Eventually, the dusting of snow covering the dirt and dead leaves on the floor confirms that I’m in Seca.
Soon, I’m surrounded by a knee-high snow blanket spread far and wide in every direction, the dry, fresh air filling my lungs.
No trees, no civilization, no shelter despite my belief I’d find one and prove to myself that my plan was better than Tess’.
All I see is beautiful, blinding, terrifying stretches of white. It forms soft hills and dips into valleys. In the distance, three nearly identical, imposing mountains shrouded in ice reach for the metal-grey sky.
Some sort of cave might be in one of those mountains, though I probably might freeze first before I make it all the way over there. Still, I soldier on, my trek disturbing the snow blanket’s smooth surface.
The persistent cold claws at my face. It seeps through my rapidly dampening coveralls and sinks deep into my bones.
My eyes itch and my throat is parched. My teeth click together constantly because I can’t stop shivering. I don’t dare free my hands from under my arms to wipe away the liquid that’s leaking from my nose and freezing on my upper lip.
To make matters worse, snow drifts down and the wind strengthens from the approaching storm. The gusts are so cold I gasp out loud when they hit m
e. Even if I finally decided to take Tess’ advice and turn back now, I’ll be caught in the storm, anyway.
“W-well, I’m f-f-fucked.”
The irony doesn’t escape me. My dad got roasted alive and I’ll literally become the frozen bitch I already am. My dad appreciated dark humour. Maybe if we meet again, we’ll have a good laugh about it.
I left Andrasar with no clue where I was going. I just wanted to get away. Far away as possible and it felt like I’d never get far enough. I guess you can’t just pack up and leave and expect the bad memories not to follow.
But memories can’t exist if you’re dead. Neither can guilt and disappointment. Knowing these things makes dying a lot easier to accept. Actually, I’m relieved. My stupid actions took my dad from me. Jogen perished as a result. And now Tess is gone too.
This is my punishment.
This is exactly what I deserve.
The bleak sky turns dark. The snowfall becomes heavier, but my face is so numb I can barely feel them on my skin.
The wind howls in anger, grabs hold of me, pushes and pulls me, slaps me. I duck my head and hunch my shoulders to weather its attacks as I stagger forward.
I can’t see where I’m going anymore. My feet are heavy blocks of stone in my wet shoes. Whatever energy I have is being sucked away greedily by the cold.
The next step I take doesn’t meet solid ground. A violent shove from the wind unbalances me.
Tumbling, I scream on my way down a snowy decline. My fall ends with a soft thump that sends snow fluttering everywhere. It covers me, accompanied by the snow that’s already drifting down from the sky.
My heavy, rapid breathing slows, but I don’t bother getting up.
What’s the point?
I can’t go on.
I don’t want to.
Maybe the strange pull I felt to come here was death calling again.
This time I guess I’ll really answer the bastard.
4
Adan
—
Mist rises from the ravine below, obscuring its terrifying darkness. The cold air is refreshing at this height, and the view of the surrounding mountains covered in white is beautiful and calming.