Legends of the Exiles

by Jesse Teller

  The stones were cold on her feet, the chill crawling up her calves as she walked. She thought of the little boy and looked over her shoulder, then broke out in a run, her feet pounding.

  She climbed the stairs and opened the trap on the roof, peeking up to make sure Getten wasn’t there. His scarred face scared her. She could not bear to see him tonight. She saw the gray wolf of Steppen, and sighed. She climbed the rest of the way up the steps and ran to him. His wolf looked up and yawned before setting its head on its paws again. She jumped the wolf, with arms spread, and leapt at the man’s leg. She wrapped her arms around his thigh and wept.

  “Darling girl, you dreamt of him again,” Steppen said. He pried her away from his thigh and hoisted her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his middle. “Princess Jocelyn, wipe your eyes. You are a big girl now, six years old, and still you run from your nightmares. What will the people say when they see this?”

  “I don’t care, Steppen,” she sobbed. “I am not a brave girl. I need protecting.”

  Steppen walked to the edge of the roof of her father’s house and lifted her to the ledge. She stood atop it, and he smiled at her. She could see his brilliant smile in the light of the moons, and she touched it with her fingers to make sure it was really there. He clamped his lips around her fingers and growled. She giggled, and he pointed out at the night beyond.

  She turned and looked at her city. Her father’s ghetto stretched out before her, and she sighed. She loved her home, loved the streets of Tergor and the people there.

  “Princess, look out. Look at your city.”

  “I’m not a princess, Steppen, just the daughter of a king chief,” she said with a huff. How she longed to be a princess, to live in the castle looming behind her and dress as the ladies of court did. But she was just a warrior’s daughter. She was just Jocelyn Fendis.

  “Is your father my king chief?” he asked.

  She smiled because she knew what was coming. “Yes.” She held back her giggle. He wrapped an arm around her middle and whispered.

  “Then you are my princess. You, I would fight for. You, I would die for.”

  She closed her eyes and drank in the words, a warrior to protect her. How she loved Steppen.

  “You will grow one day to be a powerful woman with a mighty husband and brave sons. Your legacy is might, and you will be studied for generations to come as the woman that changed the world.”

  “How do you know, Steppen?” she whispered.

  “Because I know you,” he said. “Now, I want you to look down.”

  She froze. “I don’t want to,” she said.

  “Yes, you do.”

  She did want to look down. She loved being this high in the air, with the wind around her, seeing the world and feeling the vertigo of the great height. She closed her eyes and looked six stories down at the front of the building. She saw torches burning and four men standing guard below her.

  “Do you feel that thrill of being this high?” he asked.

  The world began spinning left, then right again. She smiled. “Yes, Steppen.”

  He let her go. Her heart stopped. She held her arms out wide, swayed in the wind, and cried out in fear. “Steppen, hold me!”

  “No,” he said. “You are too mighty for my arms. You will turn to me and step off yourself.”

  “I can’t. I’ll fall.”

  “Jocelyn, I want you to turn around right now.” His voice was sweet but his tone brooked no argument. She steadied her breath and turned, twisted in the wind and started to fall. As she fought for balance, he stood with crossed arms, staring at her.

  “I’m gonna fall.” She sobbed.

  “Nonsense. The wind knows better than to try to push you over. Now I want you to jump toward me,” he said. “Do it now.”

  She jumped and landed on the roof. She stood, her whole body shaking, her legs trembling.

  “Go back to bed,” he said.

  She thought of her room and the filthy little boy with black skin and no mouth. He had been trying to get to her since that cut three years ago when she nearly bled out. She had seen him that night, and he had been hunting her since.

  “I don’t want to,” she said. “Can’t I stay here with you?”

  His hard face stared at her before he smiled. “Just a little bit longer,” he said with a chuckle.

  The next day she woke and jumped out of bed. She hated being in bed. Hated every minute of it. She landed on the floor and shimmied into her dress, stuffed her feet into slippers and grabbed her bag. It was too big for her, but she didn’t care. It sagged down to her calves, but she still loved it. She pulled it up so she could run, and sprinted out of her room.

  Down the hall, down the stairs. She twisted at the last moment before bowling into her mother’s handmaiden. She jumped the plant in the center of the foyer and nearly fell as she landed. She rushed into the kitchen, ducked through legs and swinging pots. She slipped through the stands with the day’s bread and climbed the stairs to the balcony overlooking the training yard. Her brothers fought in the courtyard. She stayed long enough to see Luther back Locke into a corner.

  “Luther is going to win again,” she chimed as she ran by the trainers. They grunted as she reached the front corner of the balcony and threw her leg over the edge.

  “Be careful, you fool girl!” the unarmed trainer shouted. She stuck her tongue out at him and shimmied down the ladder. She went six rungs before jumping left, catching the railing of the next balcony. She jumped the railing and hit the ground running. She burst into her mother’s room and rushed through. The door banged loudly as she threw her shoulder into it and exploded out into the hall.

  “You be careful, Jocelyn,” her mother yelled.

  Jocelyn skidded to a stop and waited. Ten gasping breaths and the ladies from the hall walked around the corner.

  “I’m going with you this time.” She placed her fists on her hips and glared. They were nice and they would let her come, but only if she snarled a little.

  The oldest looked at the guard standing beside the door to the street. “Can you come?” she asked.

  He looked at Jocelyn and smiled. He winked at her, and she beamed. “For her,” he said. “Of course.” He bent low to look her in the face. “You hold my hand the entire time and you obey when I tell you it’s time to come home.”

  She nodded. She looked at the patch of his order on his chest. The patch showed the profile of many snarling wolves. He grinned at her. He was of the War Pack, her father’s mightiest warriors, and she decided years ago she was going to marry one of the order. Tonam boasted to her that one day he would be War Pack, and she hoped with all her heart he would. Tonam was so handsome. He would make a wonderful husband.

  This War Pack member’s name was Cresen, and he took her by the hand and led her away. They went to the marketplace in the Flurryfist ghetto. Jocelyn held her excitement poorly. She was going to get to see the Ragoth boys. Wolfless but no less fierce, they were strong and bold. Her Steppen had once told her Ragoth boys had to be braver than most because they had no wolves to keep them safe.

  She grinned as she thought of it. No Ragoth boy was as brave as a boy from her War Pack—wolf or no wolf—but she still liked to look at the Ragoth boys.

  *******

  She was in her father’s throne room. He was talking to Gerber Beastscowl. When the man walked into the room, Jocelyn had ducked behind her father’s throne. Her father’s Blond had walked over in front of her and sat down. She wrapped her arms around it and peered over its head, between its ears.

  “Mighty Oa, King Chief of the Fendis, your good friend Yenna Redfist wishes to discuss the Brotherhood Feast. As his bastay, he has sent me to talk of the festival and his desire to eradicate the tourney from this year’s feast.”

  “We have always striven against our Ragoth brothers in contest. It is a well-loved part of the tradition,” Oa said. “Yet every year Yenna protests and begs off. Does he fear o
ur men so greatly that he cowers from tradition?”

  Gerber grinned. “Our men know few fears and brotherhood is not one of them. This feast is about peace and fellowship, and Yenna seeks to embrace your men, not fight them, be it for sport or any other reason.”

  Jocelyn froze. She could feel something coming. Gerber felt it, too, though father’s wolf did not. The Beastscowl man turned his back on Oa and stepped before the dais where Jocelyn hid. He spun his spear and drove the butt of it into the floor. The relic gleamed in a sudden flash. When Jocelyn’s eyes readjusted to the light, Oa jumped to his feet.

  “Steppen!” he roared, and the door to the throne room was thrown open. Six War Pack members rushed in to surround the figure in the center of the room.

  He was tall with a strange robe that shimmered with reds and purples. A great cap clung tight to his head and gleamed platinum in the light. He carried a large staff with a knotted head carved in the image of a wolf. As she watched, this image changed to a snarling face, then the face of a smiling man that filled her with hope. She smiled and looked the visitor in the eyes. He seemed old, much older than his frame allowed, and he was calmer than any man she had ever seen, as if the secrets of his life had been laid out before him, and he found them fair.

  Oa jumped to his feet and grabbed his mighty hammer. He stomped forward as Gerber stepped up to the dais. The terrifying Beastscowl man stopped before her, putting his back to Jocelyn and holding out his spear. He held it out and across himself, as if barring the way for any who might strive to get past him. He looked the man in the eye. Jocelyn tried to remain very still.

  Her father was yelling. It seemed he did that all the time. He pointed his finger at the door and Gerber looked back at her.

  “If I tell you to run, you run out the door to the left,” Gerber said. His voice sounded even gruffer when it was pointed at her. She could do nothing but crouch and stare. “Girl, do you hear me? Should I give you the word, you run left, out the door, and find your brother.”

  She nodded. Locke, how wonderful it would be to be with Locke. He could keep her safe. She looked at the man in the middle of the room again, who said nothing to her father. He simply stared at her and smiled.

  “Do you want to come with me, Jocelyn?” he asked.

  Oa stopped his yelling and stepped in front of the man, blocking his view of her.

  “Do not talk to my daughter. I will crush your skull with this hammer,” Oa said.

  “I have come for the Demontser. I will teach her about her gifts. I will bring her peace and introduce her to the one she will worship,” the man said. He peeked around Oa’s shoulder and smiled.

  “What in the hells is a Demontser?” Oa said.

  Jocelyn was walking out. She stepped beside Gerber, and he laid a hand on her chest. “Speak from here, child,” he said.

  She glanced up at him with a puzzled look on her face. She had never been told she could speak before.

  “Why do you want me?” she asked.

  “You cannot have my daughter,” Oa said. “Steppen, take him into custody and—”

  “If your men touch me, they will be killed outright,” the man said. “I have warned you, and please know it is fact. To lay a hand upon my skin is to die. I have not come to fight you or kill you. I am a peaceful creature. My aim is instruction. I wish to teach the Demontser and prepare her for The Escape.”

  “You want to take my daughter?”

  The man turned to Oa and nodded. “Very much.”

  “And what of the man she is to marry? What of the children she will have?”

  “Your daughter has a greater destiny laid out for her than marrying a man and pushing out children. She will save many lives. She will move the world,” the man said. He was still looking at Jocelyn. She shook her head.

  “You have the wrong girl. I’m supposed to get married. I am not a warrior. I’m not important,” she said. Gerber snorted but said nothing.

  “When was the last time you saw him?” the man asked.

  Oa was talking, but she could not hear him. Her ears rang out like a bell. Her head swelled, and she thought she would be sick. Her fear yawned out before her, and she stared into it, seeing a large pit in a massive room. There was singing. And the boy was coming for her.

  “Who is he?” Jocelyn said. Her father turned to look at her. She looked at the strange man. “Make the boy go away. I don’t want to see him anymore.”

  “It is not as simple as that,” the man said.

  “Stop talking to my daughter or I will crush your skull. Maybe you will kill me when I touch you, but that doesn’t change the fact that your skull will be a broken bowl of stew.”

  The man ignored her father. He kept his eyes locked on her. She knew then she would go with him. She was going to walk away from her entire life and go with this man. A deep sadness came over her, and she almost wept. The man nodded at her and smiled a sad smile before opening his arms and blinking out in a flash of darkness.

  “Are you okay, girl?” Gerber asked. She shoved her way past him. Her father knelt, opened his arms to her, and she ran right past them. She ran to Steppen, and he scooped her up from the floor and wrapped his strong arms around her. She sobbed as he whispered in her ear. “I will help you,” he said. She nodded and cried muffled tears.

  That night she waited until the moons were high and the building quiet. She waited for all to fall asleep before she pulled back the covers and dropped out of her bed fully clothed. She threw the long strap of her bag over her head, grabbed her jacket. She tugged them all on and opened the door. She made her way quiet as a breath until she reached the steps to the trap. She tapped on the door and it opened. Steppen was there. He descended the stairs and lifted her into his arms.

  “Crawl around back,” he said.

  She gripped him and moved her way around him until she clung to his back. He threw his cloak over her and carried her down the hall.

  “You come home after he has taught you all you want to learn,” Steppen said. “You remember your people and your loves. All of the things you love are important, and all of the people. We will come looking for you in the morning, so run and don’t look back.” He walked out of the building and into the streets. “You are destined for a grand life. You are clever. You are brave. And you are worth fighting for, even if it is you that needs to do the fighting.” He walked her out of the ghettos. He kept walking, and she felt his shoulders trembling.

  “I love you, princess. I will come looking for you. I will wander the world looking for you, and when you are done with your lessons, you come find me,” Steppen said.

  She cried. “Yes, Steppen. But how will I find you?”

  “Didn’t I just tell you that you were clever?”

  He cried when he kissed her nose and set her down on the grasses outside of Tergor. She looked up at the tree line a hundred yards away and saw the man from the throne room standing with his staff waiting for her. He had a little girl with him, and she seemed to glow in the moonlight.

  “Go now. And don’t be scared. You’re a princess. You’re royalty.”

  She kissed him and ran to the strange man and the glowing little girl.

  She reached the tree line out of breath. The run had not brought her gasping. Jocelyn could run for weeks. It was the pounding of her heart, the rush in her chest, the not knowing what was next, or how she would deal with the coming of the rest. She stood before the man, and he looked her in the eye.

  “I will not make the boy go away,” the man said.

  Her heart deflated, and she opened her mouth to speak. She did not know what she might say, but she was used to talking when she was nervous.

  “Mind your mouth. The things you say from this day forward will be important. You will treat them as such and not throw words around carelessly.”

  She didn’t like that, but she shut her mouth.

  “I will teach you to face him, to look him in his eyes and hear.”

  She didn’t like
that idea, but she might be able to find a way to convince the man otherwise later. She had always been good at convincing people to give her what she wanted.

  “What do I call you?” she asked.

  “You will call me master,” he said.

  “Who is she?” Jocelyn asked. She looked at the little girl, fear rising up around her. This girl was beautiful. Blonde hair flowed across her shoulders. Her eyes were green and bright. Her smile seemed a permanent fixture on her face. She wore a white dress that, though she stood in a forest, was not dirty at the lower hem.

  Jocelyn always wanted blonde hair, or really anything lighter than the black she always had. The kids in the ghetto called her Dark Soul because of her black eyes. She looked at this perfect girl and her jealousy swelled. Though she wanted to be this girl, she did not hate her. Jocelyn smiled at her and wished for friendship.

  “If you want to know her name, you must ask her yourself. Again, I will say, words are powerful. Use them to your benefit or demise,” Master said. “Come now. The night lingers and we must be far from this place when the sun rises. Oa knows no equal in terms of overreacting.”

  She did not like that.

  Through the forest he walked too fast for her. “Master, might you walk a little slower? I can’t keep up.”

  “You will keep up for you have no other choice. The world will make demands on you. Your supreme being will make demands on you. You must meet them or fail as his prophet.”

  She did not know this word, but she did not want to ask, words being as important as they were. She would get a better answer at another time.

  They walked the forest, and she finally gave up on walking and broke into a slow jog. He kept moving, and for an hour they moved, before they came out on the other side of the woods to a great field. A carriage like the ones she had seen in town waited for her, and her heart jumped as she realized she would be riding in it. She had always wanted to ride in a carriage.