The Azureans

by R Gene Curtis

  In the end, Mom corralled me. She wore a dark red sweater and her straight, brown hair was curled in at the bottom, like it was most of the time. Mom was always so confident, always so pretty. She picked me up and carried me into my bedroom. She forced me to sit on the ground. I did, and then I leaned back so my wet hair went up against her bare legs.

  “You’re getting me all wet!” she protested. I giggled. Teasing would delay talking about practice.

  The brush started its work, and Mom said, “We have something important to talk about tonight.”

  I groaned, but Mom surprised me by asking me about my flower tattoo. We talked for nearly an hour after that. We came up with all kinds of ideas of where it might have come from. She never mentioned I was adopted.

  “Someday,” I told her, “I’m going on an adventure and I will figure out how I got this!”

  I remember her laugh. “I’m sure you could, sweet girl. But, if you went away, I’d miss you too much.”

  Tears wet my face and fall onto my bare legs. They make me cold as they run down my legs and onto my feet. I came on the adventure, but I didn’t find out anything, and I’m the one missing Mom too much.

  ✽✽✽

  I jolt awake when the door to my cell opens. I sit up quickly and wrap myself into a ball.

  The light from a torch floods the room, reflecting off smooth, greenish walls. After days in darkness, my eyes hurt from the light. I squint and manage to get one eye open, but all I can see is me, cornered and naked in an empty room, and a huge man with a torch and a plate.

  A plate.

  Food.

  “Brought you some dinner, lady,” the man says.

  I meet his gaze momentarily, but I don’t say anything.

  He shrugs and puts the plate on the floor before slamming the door and leaving. Once I’m alone in darkness again, I uncoil and crawl over to the plate. Whatever is on it is cold and hard, but it fills my tummy. I’m not sure if I feel better or worse after eating it.

  Still, it wasn’t nearly enough. I probe every inch of the plate, and then the ground around it, wishing for something more. The only thing I find is something small, about the size of a small marble.

  A rock.

  Can I do anything with a rock? It must have dislodged from the man’s boot. I’ve felt my way around this cell so many times I’m certain it wasn’t here before.

  I close my eyes, picturing the landscape around the gate. Even in the dimming light, the mountains were slightly green. That meant they had some kind of mineral in them, though I don’t know what makes rocks green.

  I rub the rock between my hands. I feel it take my consciousness, but I can’t do anything with it. Still hungry, I put it in my mouth.

  Which was dumb. The rock is not food, and my mouth is quickly coated in nasty tasting dirt.

  I spit the rock back into my hand, fighting my despair. I’m stuck in here until Arujan comes. They won’t let me starve, but they aren’t going to feed me much.

  I startle and drop the rock. Carefully, I reach back down, and I can easily find it. It’s hot. Really hot. I try to hold it, but my fingers burn. And then it starts to emanate red light and I can see myself and the cave around me in the dim light.

  Saliva. Saliva is one of the hemazuric fluids, and it’s reacting with this rock.

  And it’s still heating up.

  Impulsively, I pick up the rock and shove it into the keyhole of the door on my cell. The rock is so hot that my fingers blister as I push it in. I’m not sure what I expect to happen, but I watch as the rock glows brighter. I put my burnt fingers into my mouth, but my mouth isn’t very cool, so I put them on the stone ground. That relieves the pain a little.

  The room is heating up. I have been cold for days, but now I’m almost comfortable.

  It gets hotter.

  I move away from the door, back to the opposite corner. The light from the rock reflects off my bare skin. Sweat beads start to form and run down my body.

  The metal surrounding the lock and keyhole are glowing now.

  The wooden door bursts into flame.

  I choke and press my body against the floor as smoke fills the room. The light from the fire blazes, lighting the room and nearly scorching my skin. Sweat cascades run down my body and the floor starts to heat up. I cough in the smoke and wonder if these are my last moments alive. And then the fire starts to dim and the smoke starts to clear.

  I approach the embers around the doorway, careful to use the waning light to maneuver my bare feet around the fallen ash and smoldering door until I step into the hallway.

  I’m free!

  Frigid air hits my bare skin and freezes my sweat.

  I reach down and touch the floor. It’s rocky, but it’s also covered in dirt! I run my fingers over the floor, gathering dirt and feeling it take my consciousness. It doesn’t take more than a few minutes before the burns on my hands and feet are healed.

  The light from the fire is out now, but I’m not staying here. I head down the tunnel slowly, carefully probing each step before I take it. I don’t want to end up dead at the bottom of some ravine and I don’t know where this tunnel leads.

  Finally, I see light. I move slowly to it. Slowly, a guard comes into view. He doesn’t see me as I creep forward. It’s the guard who brought me the rock, and he’s alone, eating dinner in a large chair propped against a wall that has about 20 keys dangling on hooks.

  I run my hand along the wall until I find a place sharp enough to draw a little blood. The blood mixes with the dirt, I take the consciousness. The guard still hasn’t seen me. I throw the dirt at the guard.

  I close my eyes, letting my consciousness fly through the air with the dirt and then hit the guard. He’s healthy and strong. No concern from the dirt. But, I have a concern, and I push the dirt to his eyes. The next time he blinks I push the dirt, and I feel the eyes start to grow extra skin. The skin slides back up the eye, but I keep it growing. When he blinks the next time, I attach it to the bottom eyelid. The guard grunts, but I push and the skin keeps growing. Within a matter of seconds, the guard’s eyelids are sealed shut.

  I step into the room. He’s fumbling around, cursing.

  There’s no way I would have been able to do that four months ago!

  “Stop moving,” I say, “and be quiet. If you ever want to see again, you will do as I say.”

  The guard curses and steps in my direction, swinging his arms. “Why you little,” he mutters, cursing.

  I close my eyes and find the dirt still in the man. I move down his body and break his ankle.

  I open my eyes as he crumples to the ground.

  “I need you to stop goofing off,” I say, “and listen to me. I can kill you now, or you can help me. What will it be?” My heart beats harder at the thought of killing him, and I shudder at the thought of carrying through on my threat. I’ve killed before, but that doesn’t mean I want to do it again.

  The man lies on the ground moaning. He doesn’t move or say anything. He isn’t easy to work with.

  “Give me your tunic.”

  He doesn’t move.

  I break his other ankle.

  He yells and writhes in pain, but he does start to remove his tunic. Anxious to finally have something on my body, I grab the tunic and pull before it is all the way off of him. He shouts and pushes his arms down as he grabs my arm. His grip is strong on my arm as he pulls me into him, putting one arm around my neck. I scream as he pulls me into his body, but I have the presence of mind to get my consciousness into the dirt and into him. After months of practice all winter, it isn’t hard to find his shoulders.

  I dislocate them both by pushing the bone right out of the socket.

  His arms go limp, and he lets go of me as he sags into the dirt. He doesn’t move again, but he groans something terrible. I hope there aren’t other guards nearby, but I should have thought of that before I started screaming.

  My skin stings, and I’m unnerved from losing power over my body
again. I’m coming to hate that feeling.

  “I’m going to take off your tunic.”

  This time he listens, and he lets me take his tunic and put it on. It’s much bigger than me, and it’s heavy, but it covers me. None of his other clothes will do me any good.

  “Tell me where Ler and Dynd are. If you do I’ll put your arms back together.”

  The man moans.

  “Tell me.”

  “Fourteen.”

  I put his arms back into their sockets and grab the keys to fourteen. Cell fourteen is just down the hall. The keys turn in the door.

  And then I stop. What if the man sent me to the wrong cell? I turn the key back to the locked position.

  “Is that you?” I ask.

  “Lydia?” Dynd’s deep voice responds.

  The guard told me the truth. Might have been like him to direct me to a serial killer’s cell.

  “Ler?”

  “Here. What’s going on?”

  “We’re breaking out of here. Are you both okay?” I turn the key and push open the door.

  “Yes,” Dynd says and walks out of the cell, fully clothed. I turn and lead the way back to the entrance where the guard lies on the floor, still moaning.

  “Would you carry him back in your cell?” I ask, and I throw the keys to Ler. He pockets them, and then he and Dynd carry the man back to cell fourteen. I transfer consciousness to the man as they pass me, and once he’s locked up I heal his ankles and his eyes.

  No one will believe his story, and he will probably end up dead anyway. But, we can’t let him out—he’s already proven that he isn’t very willing to bargain.

  “Well,” Dynd mutters as he comes back into the room. “We’re not going to make it anywhere in this snow with you dressed like that. Did those men hurt you?” The anger in his eyes glows just as bright as the torch in the corner.

  I shake my head.

  “I want to strangle that guard,” Dynd says.

  “Don’t.” I reach out and touch his hand. Doing so makes me feel weirdly angry. I pull my hand back and my head clears.

  “They didn’t hurt me,” I say. “We need to get out of here, and we need to find my clothes. I got something at the cavern I must get back before we leave.”

  Dynd leads the way upstairs and out of the mountain jail. The large door creaks as he forces it open. A full moon lights a dark sky. We step out into the night, but we find no one. Apparently, they only have the one guard.

  The freezing air rushes through my ill-fitting clothes the minute I’m out of the mountain. My feet go numb in the snow, and the wind pushes the cold into every bone of my body. Even my blood freezes in my veins.

  “What about Turina?” Ler whispers as we start walking toward the village. “We need to find her. Do you think she’s in the jail?”

  They don’t know. I shake my head. “She’s not in the jail.”

  “What?”

  “She betrayed us. She plans to turn us over to Arujan.”

  “Figures,” Dynd grumbles. “There was always something odd about that woman.”

  The two men exchange glances. Ler looks disappointed, but Dynd’s glance is ice cold.

  My body is ice cold; I pass the men and move quickly toward the city. I don’t know where Turina might be hiding, but I have to find her to get the map and key—if she hasn’t destroyed them already.

  I have no idea where she is. I stop next to a small house at the edge of the village and the men stop beside me. We don’t say anything—we just look out over the rows of houses and wonder where Turina might be and how we can find her without being sent back into the mountain to wait for Arujan.

  I jump when a voice calls through a window of the house.

  “Who are you?” It’s a girl’s voice. “What are you doing out here after curfew?”

  She sounds like Turina, but she isn’t Turina. Perhaps it’s her accent, but it sounds like more than that.

  “Can you take us to Turina?”

  “Who are you?”

  “The Blue Princess.”

  The girl doesn’t answer. Did she leave? Are we about to be surrounded by guards? I groan and take a step back so I can see the window. I can’t see anything inside.

  “How many people are in your house?” I ask.

  “Just me.” She’s still there.

  “Will you take us to Turina?”

  More silence. I strain my ears, but I don’t hear anything.

  Just when I’m about to ask another question, she speaks again. “You’ve escaped from the jail.”

  I bend over and get some dirt to rub in my fingers. The dirt wants to take my consciousness, but I stay focused on the girl. I don’t want to hurt her, but I will if I have to. I have hurt so many people lately, it seems like part of me now. I think back to the guard, how quickly I broke his bones.

  I put him back together, though. I’m not a monster.

  But I left him there, locked up. And I’m using violence to get what I want. That makes me a terrible person, doesn’t it?

  “My sister says you are a fraud.”

  “I’m not,” I say. My sister. Is she referring to Turina?

  “I don’t know how you got out of the jail.”

  I’m getting frustrated with how slow this conversation is going. If she is stalling, we’re going to be in trouble soon.

  “Are you going to help us?” I ask.

  “I know where Turina put your clothes.”

  Silence. I take a step toward the window.

  “If you prove that you are the blue princess, I’ll help you.”

  The kindness in her expression, and the hatred that showed when she mentioned Turina, convinces me to believe her. My mind races, and I feel excited as I think about my feet in shoes instead of snow and me out of this city instead of trapped in it.

  “I escaped from the jail and freed my friends. What other proof do you need?” I say softly.

  More silence. “I knew I couldn’t trust Turina,” she finally says. “Not since she slept with Arujan. She’s changed so much lately.”

  The sound of footsteps retreating, and then, moments later, the door to the house opens, and the girl comes out. She looks a lot like Turina. I nod to Dynd and Ler, and we follow cautiously as she leads us to the center of the city.

  I can’t feel my feet or legs, but I know they must still be there because they propel me forward. The tunic keeps my torso warm, but so much of my body is exposed. I need tights and shoes. I need a tunic that will fit my shape. I need the wind to stop blowing cold air through me.

  We stop at a house and the girl waves for us to hide. We crouch in the shadows of the house across the street as she tries the door. Finding it unlocked, she tiptoes in and emerges a couple minutes later holding my ripped-up tights, shoes, and tunic, along with a new set.

  I take my old tunic from her and carefully maneuver it so I can reach my hand into the secret pocket.

  The map and key are still there. They didn’t find it.

  I look up to thank the girl, but she’s gone. I’m alone with Dynd and Ler again. I hand Ler the map, and he hands me the second pair of clothes. Not bothering to worry about modesty, I throw off the guard’s tunic, put on my new wardrobe, and we leave the city for good.

  16 Intercepted

  Karl

  Light rain hits our faces as we step up to the mountain. I can’t believe that I’m back here. After everything. After being trapped in Wynn’s castle, after Buen sacrificing his life, after nearly being killed by the guards at the gate.

  It has been ten days since we left the castle. We’ve scavenged for food and gone without sleep as we snuck through miles and miles of forest. I wouldn’t have made it here without Somrusee. She knew which roads to take and which to avoid. Thanks to her, we’ve never been lost.

  Growing up as the child of a traveling village authority has some perks. Aside from the fact that her entire family was killed by Wynn.

  I step up on the ledge of the mountain and re
ach down to Somrusee. She takes my hand, and I pull her up. Her hand stops at the ledge and her fingers slip out of my grasp.

  In that instant, all the excitement and accomplishment around getting here evaporates. I sink to the ground and put my head in my hands. Somrusee cannot go through the wall into the mountains.

  I push myself back up. I step off the ledge and try to push her up. I try to carry her. I try to throw her.

  Each time my body moves through, but Somrusee stays behind.

  I sit on the ledge and bury my face in my hands. We’re so close!

  Somrusee clears her throat, but I don’t look up. She’s going to sacrifice herself now. She’s going to say I can’t save her—she’s going to say she’s destined to die like her family, and that I’ve done her a favor by bringing her here so she can die where they died. She will say that what I’ve done is enough.

  “No!” I shout, leaping off the ledge. I will not be defeated like this. We have come too far; we have sacrificed too much. I won’t let Somrusee sacrifice herself for me. Not like Buen.

  “No,” I say again. I can’t make out her face in the dark. “I won’t let you leave me here. We’re staying together.”

  “We have no other option,” she whispers. I hate how defeated she sounds.

  “There must be a way. We’ll figure it out.”

  “You don’t understand,” she says, but I cut her off. I’m tired and cold and soaked from the rain.

  “No,” I say. “You don’t understand. If you die, I die with you. We can’t be this close only to give up now.”

  “Karu, you’re being foolish,” she pleads. Pleads with me to leave her. Pleads with me to abandon her after she gave so much to get me here. To use her and then leave her, like a slave girl.

  No. “You will not die. Surely people have been able to get into the mountains before.”

  I stand, towering over Somrusee’s frame, which is unmoving, barely visible on the log where she sits. Wind rushes through the trees.

  “The town is about three miles from here,” she says. “I have friends there who are loyal to my father. Or were. They might help us. It’s dangerous, though. Goluken lives there.”