by E E Rawls
Why Denim’s family lived in the Outskirts, and not the city, he didn’t know or care. Rumors said they’d gotten themselves swamped in debt, and this was their punishment.
“What’re you doing?” asked Denim when Aken didn’t respond. He’d adopted some of the Outskirts’ slang. “Oh wait, that’s right. You’re doing what ya do best: being an odd-ball.”
The groupies laughed at their leader’s joke, as if it were the funniest thing on Eartha.
Aken said, “I thought I smelled something spoiled rotten. Now I know it’s just an aristocrat.”
Denim clenched his mouth shut for a second. “You’re just jealous. One day I’m gonna leave the Outskirts behind, and you’ll still be stuck here in the dirt.” He leaned forward, squinting. “What girly art are ya making this time, anyway? Another rubber ducky?”
The group laughed harder, slapping thighs. Aken gritted his teeth, letting his side bangs hide his face.
“Seriously dude, you look just like your creepy mom with that hair. Does she make rubber duckies, too?” Denim gestured. “Is that how your parents get money? Or is it dirty criminal work they do?”
Aken’s fist hit Denim’s face so hard the boy slammed into the ground.
The groupies leaped back, gasping in shock.
Denim swayed, dazed for a moment, then pushed back up to his feet, refusing any help. “You little punk!”
“Bring it on.” Aken stood ready, motioning with a hand. “Since your mom hasn’t been whacking your behind, I’ll do it for her. You’re long overdue for a spanking, baby.”
A kid in the group laughed, and Denim glared at him with boiling rage, wiping his red nose. It was the last straw.
“Roahhh!” Denim charged, and Aken met him head-on.
Dust clouds rose as they rolled and kicked, punched and yanked.
Kids hollered and urged them on.
Until the battle was pulled apart by an adult who’d rushed over—a parent of one of Denim’s lackeys. But by then, they were both sorely bruised and black-eyed.
“You Scourgeblood!” spat Denim. “I heard about your kind. Everybody hates you—you’re monsters. You and your parents should’ve died with the rest of them!”
“Shut up!” Aken shouted.
“Freak!” Denim said over his shoulder as he was forcibly led off the playground, and the group scurried after him. They added their own insults to echo his:
“Freaky-freak!”
“Freak of nature!”
“Go back to the princess fairytale ya came from!”
“Oh, that was a good one.”
“It was, wasn’t it? Thanks.”
That evening found Aken-Shou getting a scolding by Mom, as she went off on another rant about “not drawing attention.” Someone had tattled about the fight, and now Aken sat at the table staring at the floor and hoping Denim was getting what he deserved too.
“You’re grounded for a month! Do you hear me? No more playground mischief for you!” Mom declared.
Aken made a grumbling noise and crossed his arms tightly. “What did Denim mean by Scourgeblood?” he asked, changing the subject. “I keep hearing that word, and you never bother explaining it. What’s it mean?”
Mom moved back and forth, busying herself cleaning, and the silent seconds ticked by.
“You’re too young to know...” he heard her murmur. And then she half faced him, hands still busy cleaning a table that could never get clean. “We’re different,” she said. “Our powers are...unique, and to most people terrifying. You see, our kind did many bad things in the past, and for that they were hunted down. Only you, I and your father are left, now.”
“You mean, there’s no more? Just us?” he exclaimed. “Why? What bad things happened for everybody to hate us?”
She paused. “Do you remember that old story about the Swan Princess?” He nodded. “The Emperor in that story was a Pureblood, or what people now call a Scourgeblood,” she said.
“That evil Emperor was a Scourgeblood?” Aken’s fingers gripped together. “So it’s true, we’re monsters. I’m related to a monster...”
“Nevermind that, Aken-Shou. Both me and your father have worked hard to be accepted into this vempar society, and we have a place to call home. We mustn’t use our powers for anyone to see—ever. Your blood powers haven’t awakened yet, and won’t for some time, but this Ability you have with clay isn’t good to show off. It’ll only frighten people, and we can’t risk the D.G. League coming to take you away.” She held his gaze. “Do you understand?”
Aken half-nodded. “But I still—”
“Good. Then stop being an idiot, and stay in your room.”
ALONE UPSTAIRS EVERY day after school now, Aken kicked his legs back and forth on the bed. This boredom was brutal, and this claustrophobic wooden box of a room made him want to shriek!
He opened the window, gazing out at the splashings of autumn across the Outskirts and distant grasslands. Stalks were still green where they peeked out from underneath piles of leaves. A vine creeped up the opposite house, its heart-shape leaves glowing as if dipped in blood, burnt around the edges.
With a defiant huff, he climbed onto the narrow windowsill, then twisted around to grab and climb the slanted shingle roof, eventually reaching his favorite perch up by the chimney.
Twreeee~kreeee!
From the rooftop, Aken’s eyes skimmed the clouds until he spotted them: swallows, like little black arrows, careening and soaring through the sky. One of the fastest birds in the world was the red-chested swallow.
No predator would it not out-maneuver, no storm would it not soar through, no gale would it not face. Amidst lightning and thunder, while other birds hid in their shelters, the swallow flew on, with wind currents speeding its fearless flight.
Aken leaned against the brick chimney, resting his arms across it while watching as they flew through a melting crimson sunset sky toward a gold-rimmed horizon. He wished he could follow them there, wherever there led. Nothing was as free as a bird in the sky.
Moisture welled in his eyes. As the sleek creatures shrank smaller and smaller into the sun, he listened to their fading calls, his chin on his arms.
Kreeee...Kwreeee...
Draev Guardians were free like that, too. They didn’t have to hide their powers, or put up with bullies.
They could go anywhere, and face anything.
A shape moved across the distant rooftops off to his left—it moved with ease, with a short cape flapping behind. It must be a Draev out on patrol, checking that all was secure and no enemy humans in sight.
The hatred between vempars and humans was one spanning centuries—maybe longer. Despite being physically weaker than vempars, humans were smart and used their resourceful intellect to create formidable weapons.
Aken rubbed his nose. Vempars needed essence to survive, and taking it by force was the only way to get it—none would willingly donate the stuff. The humans would rather wipe vempars out of existence, first, and the other races would be more than happy to help.
He’d heard snippets of gossip while wandering the daily Outskirts markets: talk of Draeth attempting a truce with other races.
Aken wasn’t holding his breath over it. Vempars would always need essence to survive, and no one wanted to give it to them freely. Instead, rogue humans were threatening to raid their villages and detonate explosives like terrorists. What truce was there to be had? The idea was as absurd as trying to get sabercats and wolves to be friends—a picnic between the two would never end well.
Aken watched as the Draev figure faded from sight. He wondered if it could be Draev Master Nephryte—one of the greatest Ability users and defenders of the kingdom, the hero who had saved countless lives and battled goblins during the Goblin Shadow War. He and the other elite Draev Masters were who had kept goblins away, and who now kept the humans’ technological weapons at bay. He wanted to be a great hero like that, like Master Nephryte. Be seen and acknowledged by people, instead of shunned a
nd treated like a monster.
“Hnn, I’m tired of this.” Aken stretched. “I’m not gonna stay here just cuz I gave some kid a pummeling he was looking for!”
Aken leaped off the roof, and despite it being two-stories high, landed somewhat gracefully on the ground—well, on his head, but at a perfect angle, and he quickly recovered thanks to his body’s fast Healing.
He thought of Denim’s words. “I don’t look that much like Mom, do I?” he muttered grumpily at no one, and went for a stroll through winding dirt streets as the last bit of color from the sinking sun struggled to hold on.
He wandered aimlessly down a narrow alley, hands in worn pockets. “Some important guys have longish hair. I don’t see anybody making fun of them.” He kicked at a pebble.
He huffed and flopped down on the pebbly dirt, head resting back against the brick of whatever building was behind him. Trash bins littered the alley, his nose noticed.
Chr-crnk.
Something rustled from behind one of those bins.
Aken slowly got up and approached the noise, careful not to crunch any glass or paper with his shoes.
The rustling stopped, and he froze, scanning for the culprit.
Yellow eyes glowed from the bin’s shadow, and Aken kept still as twin long teeth followed by whiskers and a pair of paws emerged.
His breath caught. It was a sabercat! A ferocious large cat species of the lands. They usually kept to the forests, feeding off anteleer, boar and such, and sometimes livestock. Farmers hated them, and many feared them. But despite the cat’s wild ferocity, up-close, it was a truly beautiful creature. And this particular one was a small kitten.
Gold-brown fur marked by dark stripes and spots, ears turned up with long furry tips, white painted around eyes and muzzle—it was like an adorable painting. A fuzzy striped tail brushed the ground, and soft paws stepped toward him without a sound.
Aken knelt and spoke softly. “Hi there, little kitty. Where’s your big, scary mom?” He craned his neck around to make sure nothing was creeping up behind him. “Or maybe you got lost? You couldn’t have wandered in here on your own, could you?”
The kitten stared up at him, then approached. He held out his hand, half nervous it might bite. Even though he’d Heal, pain wasn’t pleasant.
The kit paused and looked ready to hiss, but he kept still, and several patient seconds passed.
A cold, wet nose touched his hand, then rubbed against it—a cat’s way of greeting.
“Awww, you’re all alone and need a home, don’t ya?” He rubbed its furry head. “We’ve got a lot in common, you and me.” He smiled. “Misunderstood, alone, branded as monsters... How about you stay with me?”
He leaned forward, a finger pressed to his lips, giving a sly wink. “But we’ll have to keep it a secret.”
Chapter 6
Sabe was a bundle of fun, but keeping a wild animal from being discovered wasn’t as easy as Aken had hoped, even with Sabe’s small house-cat size. Especially when he kept clawing up stuff in his room.
“What in the world ruined these curtains?” Mom demanded.
Aken fast pretended it was him, that crazy battle dreams had him kicking and clawing imaginary opponents in his sleep. As proof, he scratched his fingernails into the sidetable—biting his tongue as wood dug under his nails.
Mom seemed to buy the act, stomping off angrily, and he turned an eye to where Sabe was hiding. “You better appreciate this,” he hissed.
Sabe purred.
He didn’t want to lie, but he was afraid what Mom might do to a saberkitten. He kept Sabe in his closet during school hours, then played with him out in the grasslands beyond the Outskirts, and Sabe followed him on trips to the herbalist in the woods. He caught grasshoppers, snakes and other critters on his own, so Aken didn’t have to worry much about finding food. He shooed Sabe out of sight whenever people were near, and the kit seemed to understand that not every person was nice.
Sabe was a handful, but soon became his best friend. The kit trotted along, white paws keeping up with Aken’s stride as they navigated through the undergrowth one day, the Outer Woods painted autumn yellow around them.
“Wish I could fly instead of walk all this way, y’know? How totally cool would that be!” said Aken.
Gaps of sky poked through the leafy canopy, and Aken pointed up at the birds sailing past. “Like those swallows. That’s what I want to do, soar like the wind!”
Mew. Sabe was shaking his head with a pinched look—his way of strongly disagreeing.
Aken laughed. “What, you’re afraid of flying? But having wings would be so cool.”
GRraow.
Aken’s ears twitched; his merriment cut short.
That growl wasn’t from Sabe...
Throaty rumbles interrupted the woods’ peace, and Aken stumbled to a halt, staring ahead at what suddenly stood in their path.
A pack of feroces.
Hungry. Blood red eyes. Long muzzles brimming with sharp teeth, eager to eat him in one bite. A predator far worse than any sabercat.
Wolf-like, each beast as huge as a bear, four muscular legs. Furry hand-like paws with long claws. They were as good at climbing as they were running, too. He really wished he could sprout wings and fly, right now.
The first feroce stood erect on its hind legs, towering over Aken and Sabe, claws raised for the kill.
Great. Aken should’ve been paying attention to his surroundings, instead of goofing off! Oh well, no use whining now.
The pack of feroces moved forward as one, and he jumped back—there was no time for plans!
He scooped Sabe up in an arm, ducking the feroce’s claws, before veering in the opposite direction of death at a fast run.
Paws galloped and scraped across the woods floor after him. He didn’t dare glance back. He knew he was mere inches from being sliced open. Even with Aken’s unnatural speed, they were gaining on him in long, panther strides. And there was no haven to run to.
‘I thought I’d live longer than this,’ Aken thought, and almost laughed.
Suddenly, a voice that was not a voice spoke, from nowhere and everywhere at once: Use your gift, it said.
Aken’s head jerked, searching for the voice. ‘Gift? How can I...’
Aken wasn’t sure what his hand was doing, or how—he just did it.
Feroce breath approached hot on the nape of his neck. Dread filled Sabe’s liquid eyes. Aken tugged out a clay swallow he’d made and kept in his pocket, and focused: channeling essence through his fingertips into the clay. He tossed the swallow up in the air.
The clay began to grow and stretch midair, until its body became bigger than he was.
The feroces growled, and the first one lunged to wrap its jaws around and snap his neck.
Aken leaped for the swallow—thwmp!—landing on its clay back. And he willed it to fly.
Sabe clung to his chest as he clung to the clay. Branches whipped past them, leaves snagging in his hair, as the clay bird flapped and soared upwards. The green canopy broke, and they sailed into the sky, leaving behind the feroces who snarled in confusion.
Aken let out a breath.
No longer in danger of being eaten, he took a moment to gaze around in awe at the woods below his feet and the big sky overhead.
He was flying.
“Wow...” The air rushed past him as the bird beat its wings. “This is...awesome!” he shouted, fists waving high.
Mrreow!
Sabe clung to him, claws digging in, as the swallow veered toward home, and Aken laughed, filled with pure excitement.
Stopping the ride short of reaching the Outskirts, Aken hopped off and channeled the essence back through his hand into his body.
The clay shrunk, and the bird was once more a little sculpture in his palm.
“The freedom of flight, the realm of the birds...I have it!” He grinned. His strange talent with clay could become more than just a curiousity, after all.
SHOES POISED ON THE edg
e of the roof, with Sabe pacing back and forth nervously at his heels, Aken tossed the clay bird, channeling a string of essence into it.
The bird’s wings spread, growing until it hovered riding-size in the air before him.
“C’mon!” He hopped onto Limitless—the name he’d given the clay swallow—and pulled fearful Sabe along with him. “Away—we—go!”
The swallow flapped forward. Aken’s breath caught in his throat as currents of air washed past him, and a nervous excitement burned inside his chest. As the city’s steepled rooftops began to shrink, cool night wind whipped at his hair and sleeves.
Sprinkled stars and a full moon glistened brightly, more than they ever had from the ground. Exhilaration filled every fiber of his being. With so little holding him up, a simple mistake and he’d fall into death’s embrace.
But he found himself laughing, and higher and higher the bird went, tilting nearly vertical. ‘Up! Faster!’ he willed and held on, one hand grasping each wing, legs dangling freely behind him.
Sabe dug every little sharp hook-claw into the bird’s back, his fur stuck up like a hedgehog and eyes wide saucers, yowling at the crazy boy beside him.
The swallow was a sky rocket, climbing up, up, up...until they touched the tips of silver clouds, and darted like a dolphin through wispy silver oceans.
On the other side of the ocean clouds, Aken had the bird level out and glide steady for a moment, pausing to catch his breath in between laughs.
The spherical moon glowed brighter than a pearl dipped in sunshine, and the distant craters filled his vision. “So, this is what we ground-dwellers miss out on, huh? This whole other view of the world.”
Wet rimmed Aken’s eyes, though he grinned. Sabe’s now frizzy head tilted with a worried look. “Let’s try something more daring,” Aken shouted.
Meeyow! Sabe shrieked. The vempar boy commanded “Down!” and the swallow lurched forward and tilted.
He and Sabe held on tighter, tighter. The bird nose-dived, true as a falling arrow. Speeding to the world below, splitting the air in two. Down, down.
Aken’s wild laugh fought against the wind, and tears streamed from their eyeballs against the rushing, stinging air, their legs waving like flags behind them, arms and paws clinging for dear life.