Halfblood Legacy

by Rheaume, Laura

  When he was done, he’d start over again, with forms from another school, perhaps some knifework, or something from another empty handed art. It didn’t really matter, as long as he was moving.

  The longer he trained, the faster and harder he kicked, blocked, punched, the slower his mind moved, until it became very still. It seemed like he was empty, but he wasn’t. His mind was full, and strong. And very quiet.

  When he finished stretching, nearly two hours later, he showered off, drinking from the water as it rained down on him, and returned to bed. He carried the quiet with him.

  In the quiet, he could see everything worth seeing, hear the things that were worth listening to, and discover again what things were important.

  When he closed his eyes this time, he wasn’t bombarded with strategies or timeframes or access codes. This time, he was with them, in their home, eating together or playing with the children. Hiking through the trees. Working side by side in the fields or at the computer or on an errand. He was with her. Making her dinner. Making her train. Watching her study. Feeling her arms around him. Pulling in her scent. There was a beautiful woman who would be home and looking for him in seventy-three days. And he would be there, for sure, when she arrived.

  He smiled. He didn’t want to miss the lecture she’d give him for missing her spring break visit. There were going to be some sharp words and her eyes would flash; her heart would be beating and making her cheeks turn to just that color of rose. There would definitely be poking and a quick jerk of the head at the end.

  And then it would be his turn.

  Chapter 8

  “We know that a healthy family shares the drink, the bitter and the sweet, but genius doesn’t like to share, it likes to consume,” Scythe’s father told him.

  “I...I share.”

  “I know, son. Your heart spreads wider than the sky. This is not about that. This is about knowing the nature of what is inside of you, and how it will react to years in the desert. The warrior’s path is not a peaceful one, and your particular condition means that you will embrace it more fully than anyone here in Poinsea. It may be that you can live a normal life, with a family and a typical home. Or, you may find yourself driven, in the way I see you each time I am home: flying through books, pushing yourself physically and mentally, making yourself into something no nine year old has ever been.”

  “I can stop, anytime. I just won’t...I won’t go too far,” Scythe insisted.

  “Will you be satisfied with that? What happens when you are still? Not when you are meditating, but when you are just sitting around doing nothing?”

  Scythe didn’t have to think to answer, he already knew. If he wasn’t training, he was thinking about training, or he was reading about it, or solving some puzzle he had been working on, or making a puzzle to solve. “I am never still,” he confessed with wide eyes.

  His father, perhaps thinking he had gone too far, lay a hand on his arm and gripped it comfortingly, “Don’t worry too much about it, Scythe. You will make your own life, with the family at your back when you leave and waiting at the door when you return. I have only been thinking, son, that there are many ways to use your amazing gifts. Other professions are open to you, ones that are less wrapped in violence, and may afford you more opportunities for a happy family. The desert is not the only path available to you. Your genius is a gift, one that I want you to feel proud to use. I am not telling you to change your mind about next year. I just want you to choose carefully. Just think on it, will you?”

  “Father,” Scythe said seriously.

  The man smiled, recognizing the signs of his son’s powerful determination.

  “I will have a family and I will be a great soldier in the service of the Kin, like you. I can do both.”

  “Good. Then the discussion is done. We move on to trigonometry now.”

  “I have a question, though, father.”

  “Yes?”

  “Are there any halfboods that do what you do?”

  His father thought about how he was going to answer for a long moment, respectfully giving his son’s question sufficient consideration. “I have been waiting for this question, Scythe. You are asking me if your being a halfblood will keep you from finding a life, isn’t that right?”

  That was exactly where Scythe was heading. It was a question that he had been keeping to himself for many years, because he hadn’t known how to ask. By the time he had figured out what words to use, he lacked the courage to do it. He was pretty sure by then that he knew the answer, and he hadn’t wanted to hear his father say something like that to him.

  However, now he was older and his father didn’t like to see him hiding. More than anything, Scythe didn’t want his father to see him cower, so he nodded. “Yes.”

  “There are no halfbloods that do what I do, nor any other job in Poinsea. There is only one within two hundred miles of here, and you are he.”

  Scythe waited, because his father hadn’t answered his question yet.

  “It is taboo to wed a Human, to mix the blood of the Kin with lesser creatures and make a child. It is not illegal. It is just not done.”

  Scythe swallowed. His face was red hot, but he didn’t lift his hands to cool his cheeks. He gave his father his bravest stare and waited.

  “No one will hire you. No one will ask for your help. No one will offer help to you. None of these things will be done out of courtesy, because a halfblood will be given none.”

  “But, my son, I believe that if you make yourself into an honorable man, you can find a life. You have gifts. If you make yourself strong, you will be able to serve. If you make yourself worthy, someone will love you.” His father’s face told him nothing, but his steady heartbeat lent its strength to Scythe. He did not lie.

  “A life for a halfblood, a life like the one you desire, will not be easy to achieve. You will have to find the stamina to secure it.”

  He reached over and laid his other hand on Scythe’s shoulder. The weight of it steadied him. “That is my answer.”

  Scythe nodded. “Thank you, Father.” It was not the answer he had expected, but he thought it was a good answer. It gave him a speck of hope to stubbornly defy the dread that had been sitting on his heart.

  Scythe’s father stopped moving and then faded, but Scythe did not. He looked over at the man who had been sitting on the floor, leaning his back on the wall and watching. “Your father believed this.”

  Scythe nodded.

  The boy tilted his head, “Do you?”

  “I did, and then I didn’t, for a long time.”

  “And now?”

  Scythe shrugged, “Now I just concentrate on living.”

  The boy listened and Scythe felt a buzzing in the back of his head. Then the person who was pretending to be his younger self shook his head. “Not just living. Living well.”

  Scythe didn’t answer.

  “Your father was wise.”

  “He had a lot to teach me. It would have been good to learn more from him.”

  The boy blinked, looking ahead, and then his face fell.

  -----------

  Mercy closed the door and leaned on it. She was about to find out what she was made of. There was no safety net below her now. It was a scary thought; even a net filled with holes like Cord was better than nothing.

  She took a deep breath and let it out, then strode to her desk and sat down. She had cancelled her appointment with Mary and ditched her afternoon classes, just to make sure she was safely in her room if she had any more visions. As luck would have it, she hadn’t had any problems and was able to get a lot of studying done. She had decided to wait another day or two, maybe until the weekend, to decide about going home. Three visions in one day was so outrageous that it had to have been a fluke. If it were, she’d be back to one or two every few days, which was still manageable. Then, she should be able to make it to the end of term.

  Either way, she was going to have to use one of her emergency messages and le
t her family know what was going on. It was a long trip home, and preparations had to be made in advance for her pick up. Also, Scythe would want to know about Cord.

  For a moment, she let herself fantasize about Scythe coming to the city to hunt down Cord; just the thought of seeing him was enough to make her smile stupidly out the window. She shook her head at her own childishness, picked up her pencil and tapped it repeatedly on the open page of her notebook. There was no way he would risk it, and she’d be terrified for him the whole time anyway.

  Besides, she already knew from the vision she had seen earlier that Cord was going to be wandering alone for a while, and that he needed to take this particular trip. So, she was going to recommend in her message that they consider letting him have a free rein for a while. It seemed, now that she thought about it, like the natural outcome for his first unaccompanied assignment, which made her wonder if her mother or maybe even Lena had foreseen it somehow.

  She would send the message tomorrow, go to the bank and take out some of the little money she had left, since she had given all she had to Cord, and visit her outside training schools to drop from their self defense classes. She had decided to cut down on any extra activities; that way she was less likely to be put in vulnerable situations by her visions. She was also going to drop out of the two science classes that she didn’t really need for her degree. That would limit the chances of having another confrontation with Mr. Gibbs as well as hopefully prevent a meeting with his even more dangerous sensitive friend. She really didn’t want to be around him if she had a vision.

  That was about all she could do, until she saw how things were going to go in the next few days. Her only regret was losing the chance to study more under Dr. Everett. She was sure that she could have learned some valuable things, but it just wasn’t worth the risk to her, or her family, if for some reason someone wanted to investigate Karin Horn.

  -----------

  “I think it was Korine something, what does it matter?”

  “Can we check the roster for your class?”

  “You do all the grading, go ahead. It makes no difference, though. If she won’t agree to the study, it’s a waste of time. Speaking of which, do you have those term papers graded?”

  “Just about, another thirty tonight and they’ll be done. I think, I’d like to give it one more try, Dr. Everett. Pete said it was a really strong reading, one of the strongest he’s felt. That is worth a little effort, don’t you think?”

  “Pete is a suck up. He’d say anything to advance in the team.”

  “Nevertheless, I’m going to try to talk to her when her protective boyfriend is not around.”

  “Sounds like a lawsuit waiting to happen, Alan.”

  “I won’t go alone, ma’am, don’t worry.” At her expression, he added, “I mean, Doctor Everett.”

  “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

  Chapter 9

  Not finding her in the light, he followed where the darkness led him. The smoke stung his nose and burned his eyes, and he knew it wasn’t safe, but Scythe stumbled still further into the house, calling, “Mother!”

  The explosions, the gunshots and the screams had coiled themselves around his mind until he was gasping for a thought. All of the good ones had fled, had been scared off, and he was left with the rest, the ones too dumb to run.

  Where was she?

  A shape scurried toward him, making an urgent shushing sound.

  “Mother?”

  A strong hand grabbed the ten year old and yanked him sharply to the floor, where he looked into the wide eyes of his Aunt Dren. “Quiet, boy! They’re just outside. Do you want to get yourself killed?”

  “My mother…where is she?”

  “‘Quiet,’ I said!” She pushed down his head while lifting her own and peering with puffy, red eyes through the smoke. “We have to move out of this room. I can hardly breathe! Here, cover your nose and mouth with this.”

  She shoved a rag over his face and he raised a shaky hand up to hold it in place. She turned and ushered him along the floor toward the kitchen. Inside, they leaned up against a cupboard and peered around the corner at the back door. The smoke was not as thick there, and, through the cracked door, they saw two people in helmets and black uniforms running past, dragging a third that was wounded.

  “Dren,” Scythe whispered, “I need to find my mother.”

  Scythe stood above them and objected loudly, “Wait, boy. Stop. You don’t want to see this.”

  It can’t be helped. This shines in your memories like a beacon.

  When concentrating on ending the memory had no more effect than it had any of the other times, Scythe reached out to grab the boy, but it was like trying to hold onto smoke with his hands. The boy’s body just wisped away for a moment and then returned.

  “Damn it!” For the first time it occurred to Scythe to wonder if he was trapped there.

  The way to the end is through the things that matter; otherwise, the you that I’ll remember won’t be the you that you are, the boy said, as if reciting a well known verse. And there’s no way I’m going to settle for that.

  When Scythe just stared at him, the boy added, Don’t worry, I can take it.

  Everything started moving again.

  “She’s not here,” she hissed back. “The idiot went looking for you. You’ll have to wait here until she comes back.”

  Wait? The thought made him hunch in on himself, his shoulders curving forward and his back pressing painfully against the knobby handle of the door he was leaning against. He shifted his body until it rolled to the side, and tried not to think of what could be happening to his mother out there.

  “Dren, why are the Humans attacking us?”

  “That’s what they do, Scythe. They’re savages.”

  “All of them?”

  “No, stupid boy. Most of them are weak and useless, but some they train to be like beasts.”

  “But, why?” His father had never told him anything like that, and he knew a lot of Humans.

  “Haven’t you been listening? Humans are like animals. They don’t need to have a reason. Look around you. Did we give them reason to burn my home? What did I ever do to a Human? I’ve only ever seen one in my whole life.”

  “My mother isn’t...”

  “Shh!” Someone was approaching from outside and talking in a language Scythe barely recognized. “What are they saying?”

  Scythe listened for a moment to the words floating in through the door. He wasn’t very fluent in Human. The only Human in their settlement was his mother and she spoke Kin.

  “They’re looking for someone, a boy, but they think he can’t be here because of the fire. They are arguing about whether or not they have to search.”

  “I won’t let them take you, Scythe, so don’t worry. Just stay here and we’ll be fine.” She put her arm around him and pulled him closer to her.

  She sucked in a startled breath and lifted her hand off him, finally smelling the blood through the smoke. “Heavens above! Are you hurt, Scythe?”

  His throat closed when he opened his mouth to speak. He tried to look away from the red blood that covered her hand, but only his head would turn. His eyes were fixed on the dark smear that lay across her palm.

  He had finally managed to keep the way it clung to his back from clinging to his mind, but it didn’t look like it was going to allow itself to be ignored anymore. While she ran her hands over him, looking for a wound, he arched his back, trying to get the cold, sticky shirt to peel away from his skin. He tried to not think about how his shirt had gotten wet, why he was so late, or why he was alone, but, what was behind him kept finding its way, fighting its way to the front.

  “Aunt Dren...it’s not mine...”

  “Not yours? Then...” She stopped. He watched her begin to understand: a slow, painful process that left him wondering how the stricken face of a woman who usually had trouble tolerating him could so well mirror what he was feeling inside. “My Scythe..
.”

  Seeing his own pain reflected in front of him seemed to make everything worse, so he closed his eyes. He needed something to hold on to. He needed to find...

  A voice wound its way through the house to them. The Human soldier he had heard talking before yelled, “Scythe! Scythe! Are you in there? Your mother is waiting for you. She sent us to come fetch you, boy. She’s been hurt and needs you right away. She’s calling for you.”

  Mother.

  The blood rushed through his head. He could hear it surging through his ears, a low, whirring sound that blocked out everything else.

  Mother. Was calling.

  His mind fumbled.

  Mother was hurt and needed him.

  He tried to get up, but something was holding him down. He pushed at it, frustrated because it had him all tied up. He kicked and started to scream, and, when he couldn’t hear his own voice, he tried screaming louder. A hand slapped him, hard, and the fog over his mind was knocked away.

  He looked up from where he was pinned on the floor and saw his aunt’s panicked face above him. Then, behind her, a dark creature with a metal face stepped out of the shadows and struck her over the head with the butt of a large gun. She slumped over him instantly, falling heavily on his chest and driving the air out of his lungs. While he tried to suck in a breath, the mask reached down, pulled her off him and tossed her across the floor.

  His sight tied by an invisible string that connected him to her, Scythe watched as his aunt’s limp body slid to a halt against the cabinets. Her empty eyes held him still and so, so cold. Something left him then: it lifted right out of him and was pulled into her deep blue eyes. Now he was the empty one.