Strayborn

by E E Rawls

  Then, on a whim, Aken let go...

  MreeeoW! Sabe screeched, watching him fall.

  Falling through a world held by nothing but air, Aken turned his back on the approaching ground to face the wide, deep sky around him—a night ocean of sparkling diamonds—ignoring all else but that beautiful sight, which none but those with wings ever beheld.

  Rooftops were so very small, and the moon above so big, as if time and gravity had come to a complete stop. Though, in reality, he was falling to his death. It felt more like gliding than falling.

  Arms spread out either side, he closed his eyes, soaking in the feel of undulating air against his back and the serene calm surrounding him. His heartbeat hummed. His mind floated in bliss.

  Ba-thump.

  The rooftops neared, the ground grew.

  Ba-thump.

  Roof tiles closer, patterns more defined.

  Ba-thump.

  A patch of ground reaching up, ready to touch him. Blades of green reaching to brush his hand...

  Underneath his falling body, the clay swallow swooped—landing him on its back, while the bird maintained its speed a mere five feet off the ground.

  “Whoa!” Aken rolled over on his stomach, the air knocked from his lungs, and directed the bird to slow down a few notches. The young sabercat growled, glaring up at him with the most enraged, upset face a kitty’s features could muster.

  “Aw, c’mon, Sabe. I knew it’d catch me in time. I wasn’t gonna die. Really! I had it all planned out.” He tried to appease, but Sabe turned his little nose up and away.

  “Don’t get all haughty and mighty with me, you.” He reached down and tickled Sabe’s furry tummy.

  Meuwww! The kit tried to dodge his hand, running in circles on the bird. Aken giggled, rotating on his knees, chasing after Sabe.

  Chapter 7

  As winter drifted by, the cold put a limit on flight time; it was a relief when spring finally blew in. Aken continued practicing flying, daring to venture through storms that came with the seasonal changes, wind and rain pounding like pellets against him, blurring vision, thunder rumbling the air.

  He also continued sculpting clay, completing a five-foot tall eagle—the symbol of courage. Sabe’s tiny claws helped make markings that resembled feathers. It stood out in the grasslands, where people would be less likely to bother it.

  Thoughts of Draevensett still whirled in his mind. Despite what his parents said, he still believed becoming a Draev Guardian would be a good thing. Everyone admired the city’s protectors. People wouldn’t label him monster or Scourgeblood if he became one of the kingdom’s heroes!

  Aken shook his head, and with a yawn fell asleep on the lumpy pillow on his bed.

  He woke to a gloomy overcast sky on the verge of rain, the next morning. And when he opened the closet, Sabe was gone.

  Panic filled his chest. He searched the room, then every corner of the house. Sabe never left his room; only once or twice in the past, when he’d forgotten to shut the closet door all the way. But Sabe had always come right back.

  Then he noticed the window partially open...‘Darn it.’

  Morning passed as he searched the streets, alleys, the park, the school yard. Until there was only one other likely place left: the grasslands beyond the city, where the eagle sculpture stood.

  “Sabe?” He called out across the endless waves of grass. “Buddy?”

  Aken paused to scan the wide, open space. The eagle was missing.

  No—the sculpture had fallen over on its side, cracked. Worry welled in his stomach. Why would it fall? It was too heavy for the wind to push.

  “This blob is yours? I figured as much.”

  He whirled around at the cocky voice. There stood Denim and his lackeys. They were tossing rocks in their hands.

  “I thought I’d teach you a lesson about defacing public property. You’re not supposed to spread your art all over the place, Scourgeblood.” A smirk split Denim’s face, his right hand flipping the rock as if it were a coin.

  “Last I checked, the grasslands were free for all,” said Aken.

  “Ha! Monsters don’t have rights. And last I checked, that’s what you are.”

  Aken’s hands clenched. He tried not to look at the eagle.

  “Did you hear the good news? I’ve just been enrolled in Draevensett. Turns out I have Ability.” Denim held out his palm and a sheet of ice formed around the rock. “Guess I’ll be leavin’ you and this dump behind. A grand destiny awaits me!”

  Aken’s jaw twitched.

  “That aside, you’d better get outta here real quick,” Denim continued. “We just finished off a sabercat, and who knows when more’ll come. I shouldn’t warn a Scourgeblood, but since I’m such a generous soul, it’s my duty,” he said with mock honor.

  “Sabercats!” One of the lackeys whimpered and shook. “That mother’ll be comin’ for her kit soon. She’ll eat us! We should leave—right now.”

  “Knock it off! We’re goin’ soon, okay?” Denim shoved the boy. “It’s not like a cat could kill us.”

  “It can if those long teeth rip your head off!”

  “Whatever,” Denim spat.

  “A...kitten?” Aken’s forehead creased, then darkened. “What did you do?” His hand flew out, grabbing the nearest boy by the collar and shaking him. “The kitten: WHERE is he?”

  Startled, the boy in his fist pointed a shaky finger over toward the sculpture.

  Aken forced himself to look where the boy indicated. It took a moment before he could make out the lump of brown curled in a ball at the eagle’s head. “Ah—!” he exclaimed, and threw the boy aside as he ran to the spot.

  Reaching the brown lump, he stopped, heart a pounding hammer, fear gripping his stomach.

  ‘No...no, not—’ He knelt down.

  It was Sabe. Injured, curled up in a little gold-and-brown ball, slanted eyes tight in pain. “No...Sabe...” He couldn’t speak through the lump in his throat and the tears drowning his chest.

  Gently lifting Sabe—his only friend—he cradled him in his arms, slowly rocking back and forth. “It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay, buddy.” He swallowed. “I’m here. I’m h-h-he-here...” He fought a rush of tears. Sabe’s wounds were bleeding, broken areas, as if hit by rocks. For such a small animal, rocks were dangerous bullets.

  Sabe’s heartbeat felt slow against him, the kitten body so frail in his embrace. He held his breath when Sabe opened his glossy eyes a crack, staring up at him, his friend. The look on his furry face...Sabe seemed to be smiling, one last time.

  Then his gaze went slack and furry body fell limp.

  Aken stared at the lifeless form in his arms. Speechless. Shaken. Broken. His chest feeling like someone had crushed it with a hammer.

  Did Sabe really...?

  Tear after tear pattered, leaving damp marks on the kitten’s fur.

  “Sabe.” He choked as he hugged the kit to himself. His only friend, the only one who cared. Gone.

  ‘I need him.’

  What would Aken do now?

  ‘I’m all alone.’

  Rocks. Who had thrown those rocks? They said they’d just finished off a sabercat...

  Aken’s shoulders shuddered, rage replacing tears.

  When he gently laid Sabe back down, he turned to face the cluster of boys, who now had their backs turned as they fast walked away before any other sabercats could show up.

  “Afraid of a sabercat...” Aken growled. “I’ll give you more than that to be afraid of.”

  His vision grew dark, almost red, as anger enveloped him. “You,” he shouted, his fists white-knuckled, “You killed my friend!” He screamed with such fury that Denim’s group stopped in their tracks to look back.

  A deep hum began rumbling through the eartha beneath their feet.

  “Hey, w-what is that?”

  “An earthquake?”

  “Is that Scourgeblood doing something?”

  The boys looked to Denim, but the aristocrat shove
d them. “Get back to the city.” There was an uneasy look in his eyes. “Go!”

  Aken’s whole body trembled. A red aura swirled around his arms and the ground rumbled harder. He opened his hands and thrust out both palms in a shout.

  “GRAAH!”

  Soil burst up from the ground in a showering fountain of hot red. The burning spout receded only to be followed by another—closer to the boys now running away. Another, and another.

  The boys looked back with open horror as spouts of dirt flew up, heated and melted, becoming lava midair.

  Denim flung out his hands and ice crystals dusted the air, but it was nothing compared to the lava’s heat, and try as he did no more ice would form. “Run!” Denim’s shout rang needlessly. The group ran faster than frightened dogs back toward the city. Dirt-to-lava spouts burst up, chasing after them. Boys tripped and tumbled over themselves, swatting at singed sleeves and pants in their struggle to get away.

  Once the bullies were no more than tiny ants in the distance, the fiery aura dimmed and the tension left Aken’s body. His hands trembled.

  He couldn’t be amazed about what he’d just done. His heart was aching bad. Sabe was gone, and it was his fault. He should’ve been there for Sabe when he needed him, should’ve taken better care of him. Should’ve, should’ve...

  Wet trails glistened down his burning cheeks, as he walked back to where Sabe lay. He sat there for who knew how long, numb and staring at a future with his friend that no longer existed. He’d died so fast—there hadn’t been time to Heal him. Aken wasn’t even sure how to Heal grave injuries like that. An adult could have, if one had been around.

  If...should’ve...

  Aken dug a grave at the fallen eagle’s head; no place could be better. “You were the best, y’know?” He talked while he worked, lumps burning his throat, thinking back to their adventures. That was the only thing keeping him together right now: the memories.

  Finished, he put wild flowers—lemondrops, daisies, bluebells—on the upturned earth. “You’ve got this nice eagle, here, that we made together. An eagle,” his voice broke, “cuz you were an amazing and courageous little friend.”

  He wiped damp cheeks with the back of a dirty hand. “B-but I’ll see you again. I know I will. Lord God’s taking care of you; He cares about the things He creates—even little animals. So, I know I’ll see you again, in heaven.”

  He stood, wiping blurry eyes and runny nose on a short sleeve.

  KH-FOOMmmm-Mmm-Mm!

  Aken jerked as a blast echoed through the air, humming and rippling across the ground.

  It faded to a growling rumble as he stared about in alarm. “What the?”

  It came from the city, from the Outskirts. Flashes of flame and smoke wafted up from one spot among the housing, but he couldn’t tell what had been hit. The echoes of shouts could be heard.

  He saw several dots in the distance hurry into the woods, away from the city—most likely rogue humans, who’d lashed out against vempars for hunting their kind, again. But rogue groups hadn’t been able to make a successful attack against Draethvyle in years.

  How did they manage to get that close to the city and set off an explosive—or whatever it was—without the Draev Guardian League detecting them? Where was that famous hero Nephryte, the one who was supposed to be among the greatest of Draev Guardians?

  Feeling as empty as a hollowed-out shell, Aken started to walk back, his face a mess of tear trails and dirt. He should get home before Mom or Dad noticed, even though every fiber of his being screamed to stay with Sabe.

  Ah, what was he going to do without him? Why bother with this miserable world anymore?

  ‘Change the world,’ whispered a voice. Yes, it had to be changed. If he became a Draev Guardian, he could do that. He would do that.

  Aken’s feet carried him without him barely noticing, taking him up the dirt street as it wove into and through the Outskirts. People were hurrying past, running in the opposite direction or grabbing buckets of water.

  Cold worry trickled down his spine, and he made his pace quicken.

  When he reached and turned the final corner that opened up to his house, a blazing inferno met him.

  Waves of heat thrust out, forcing him back. “What—?” he mouthed. Fire rose where his home should have stood, a skeletal ruin now filling his vision.

  He stumbled back, arms limp at his sides. Numbness made the heat and pain feel far away though he could smell it, see the pillar of smoke and yellow frothing.

  This couldn’t be real...

  Body refusing to respond, he stood there, slack, watching the blaze consume the last remnants of what once had been home. Glass shards reflected the scene as buckets of water fought to drown the inferno.

  ‘Mom...Dad...’

  Chapter 8

  Two things had survived the fiery blaze of his home that day.

  When a northerly wind brought in rain from the mountains, and the cool air let him get close enough to step inside the charred, skeletal house, nothing had been left but metal bits like the stove. Not even a body.

  Neighbors had confirmed that Mom and Dad had been home at the time. Black soot and ash must be all that remained of them.

  Why couldn’t they have escaped? Why couldn’t this have been prevented? Where was the great hero, Master Nephryte?

  Navigating around collapsed ceiling beams, Aken had spotted charred remnants of a bedside table: the one from his room—the second-floor now a littered mess across the foundation. There inside the top drawer, safely intact, was the small glassy orb and old Bible—the items from the hunchback.

  How those had survived...there was no logical explanation. Yet there they were, and now he kept them close, along with the clay swallow in his pocket. Possessions of a life now gone. His new life as an orphan just beginning.

  Something dark stirred inside him, something restless and angry. His goal and dream were distant shards of another lifetime—he could almost forget he’d ever had a dream. Almost.

  Today, Aken kept alert as he wandered the stands, booths and pavilions of the market scattered throughout the Outskirts; his clothes felt dirty as rags, his soul a bundle of calluses and frayed edges.

  He’d had to find food and shelter on his own for days, now; no one wanted to take in or help a Scourgeblood. Aken kept a sharp eye out for any vulnerable produce—apples or bread would make a good meal.

  People along the street gave wary looks as he moved past. They knew what he was, and they knew what he was up to.

  Letting bangs shadow his eyes, Aken surveyed the area ahead: Two people were purchasing loaves from a baker’s stand, distracting the vendor and leaving the other loaves unattended: delicious baguettes cooling from the oven, aroma filling the air.

  This was his chance.

  Tensing his muscles, Aken sprinted toward the stand in a burst of unmatched speed, his right hand snatching a loaf.

  He knew it was wrong. Lord God said never to steal. But his stomach wanted that bread, even if his spirit starved for something more than food, and he was too angry to care.

  “You—!” the vendor shouted after him.

  Aken paused and looked over his shoulder calmly. Too calmly.

  The overweight vendor twice his age hesitated before Aken’s icy glare. A glare that dared him try and take back the baguette.

  The vendor didn’t move. “You’ve no right to have that, Scourgeblood!” he said, fear tinging his voice.

  “Is that a challenge? And here I thought everybody was afraid of monsters.” Aken snapped his fingers.

  Handfuls of dirt shot up into the air, floated and landed upon the bread-laden stand where it crackled into lava-born flames.

  Customers gave a start, backing away from the scene and the strange Ability at work.

  The vendor scrambled to put out the blaze, and Aken hurried on up the street, ready to take a bite out of the warm essence-filled loaf.

  Behind him a gust of wind picked up, blowing down on the burni
ng lava, cooling and smothering the flames instantly.

  The vendor watched with puzzled relief, and when he realized what was happening, a grin spread across his face.

  The same cool gust blew Aken’s hair back, and he squinted against the pressure as he walked. A tall silhouette blocked the path suddenly, making him stop. The gust faded to a breeze, and Aken stared up at the vempar man.

  Fair brown hair rippled to the shoulders, and bangs framed a clean-shaven face. His upturned eyes were as blue as rivers. He stared down at the unruly boy in his path, with a stare that could shake any criminal.

  The loaf fell from Aken’s hand behind his back, where he then tried to hide it behind his shoes.

  ‘Did he see me steal?’ Aken had to shake his head to look away from the river-eye currents, focusing instead on the clothes: A blue swallowtail jacket, and on the open collar perched a rank pin: a silver fang with one curving bat’s wing. The rank pin of a Draev Master. The shoulder cape fastened around him was a pretty thing—dark blue, silver lining, light-weight—but more importantly had an identity pin on the right shoulder, depicting silver wind currents blowing across a moonstone cloud.

  The marks of the Draev Guardian League. Their coat-of-arms no doubt embroidered on the cape’s back, if only this guy would turn around so he could see. But that identity pin, could this be...?

  Aken couldn’t stop staring, and wasn’t sure what he should do, or if he should speak.

  “Did you find him?”

  The call tore his stare away, as an older boy trotted over and posed casually at the Master’s side. Face smooth as wax, he eyed Aken curiously, and Aken swallowed. His maroon hair, with striking red highlights, was cut at odd lengths and angles. Eyes a mulberry shade glowed from under his hooded lids and random bangs.

  His white collared shirt had been rudely sliced up to become a vest; detached black sleeves and white cuffs dangled on both forearms as he crossed them over his chest. Ripped-up pants, and shiny shoes, it was as if the boy’s wardrobe had undergone surgery—one that had gone tragically wrong.