Strayborn

by E E Rawls

She gave a start, feeling like she’d been slapped.

  “What?” she screeched, then covered her mouth, hoping no walls had heard. “Are you serious? I can’t— No. No no no!” From her seat on the bed, she grabbed the nearest pillow, hugging it tight to her chest and shaking her head vigorously.

  “Don’t worry. They’ll accept you, same as I do,” Aken assured, his smile trying to ease her nerves.

  “How can you be so sure?” she snapped.

  “I’ve been with them long enough to know,” he tried to appease. “They’ve never been hateful toward slaves, and they don’t say mean things about other races. I know they won’t hate you. And besides that, none of their families were killed by humans—they’ve got no reason to hold a grudge against you.”

  She eyed him doubtfully.

  “We’re on the same Floor—we will be for years. They need to know you can’t do all the things vempars can. Like not being able to Heal yourself or others: that’s a weakness Harlow’s gotta be aware of, to keep both you and us safe.”

  She looked down at the rug, rubbing her left wrist.

  “Erm, not that you can’t take care of yourself in a fight or anything. I just mean, if you do get hurt, then you’ll need somebody there to Heal you. And when we have to fight humans...I know it won’t be easy for you.”

  Cyrus gripped her arm, leaving a red mark. Aken was right, being realistic. The way things were now, she was more of a burden than a comrade to Harlow—and secrets only made it worse.

  She chewed her lip. There were only two options: Let Harlow find out the hard way one day while putting them at risk, or tell them and get it over with.

  ‘Which is the right choice, Lord God?’

  She released her arm and faced Aken. “I want this to be my home. I’ll defend it.” She tried to sound firm and unwavering. “I’m gonna work my behind off. No matter who we face, even if it is other humans, I’ll support team Harlow any way I can. I want to live as my mother did, and accept the vempar half of me.”

  Aken watched the new determination set on her face, and she watched the moonlight play across his cheek.

  “I believe you, Cy.”

  She brightened. “I need more time until I’m sure Harlow will accept me. Then I’ll tell them,” she said. “We’re still in training, so it’s not like I have to rush and say anything right now.”

  Aken looked up to the ceiling. “Or...”

  “Or what?”

  “Or you could win a request from the king to give you citizenship.”

  “Huh?”

  “At the Festival Duel: the winner is granted one request from the King. If you become a citizen of the Kingdom of Draeth, then you’ll have equal rights same as any vempar, and you won’t have to live in hiding.”

  She stared at him. “Enter the Duel, are you crazy? I’d be squashed like a bug!”

  However, becoming a citizen did sound smart. No one could enslave her or throw her out of the city, then.

  “At least try,” he said.

  Cyrus rubbed at her wrists nervously. “I don’t know...”

  Scrtch.

  Something scratched the door, and they both went still.

  Aken inched forward on tiptoe. Soon as he reached the door, he flung it open.

  There, leaning against the door frame, was Lykale.

  The older boy adjusted his glasses with a tell-tale smirk. “Been keeping a secret from us, have you, Cyrus?” he said. “I couldn’t help but overhear a few things...”

  Chapter 23

  It was almost curfew, yet all of Harlow was in the study room when Cyrus and Aken entered. Lykale stood like a towering wall behind them.

  He’d given her the choice of either telling them the truth herself, or letting him. And so, here she was, about to spill the truth beans. But what if Harlow didn’t want a half-human among them? She’d need to flee the city before they could alert the authorities.

  Cyrus spotted Zartanian at a little chessboard table, opposite Mamoru, considering his next move. Bakoa busied himself learning how to use watercolors, and leaving a mess on the alcove table. Some warmth filled her at the quaint sight, but not enough to quell the fear pounding in her chest.

  The only person not present was the Master, and she wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

  “Go on.” Aken nudged her forward before Lykale could say anything.

  She tried not to appear nervous—that was the last thing she wanted them to see. “Um, hey guys.” Her voice came out timid and shaky, betraying her. She wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor and disappear.

  Only Mamoru and Zartanian turned in their chairs.

  “Listen up!” Aken shouted, nearly giving her a heart attack. “Our comrade’s got something to say. Yeah, I’m talking to you too, Snobby-pants.”

  Hercule glared from near a window.

  All eyes were on Cyrus now—vempar eyes. Being the center of attention stinks, but this was far worse. ‘To think I came here hoping to lay low and be invisible,’ she thought wryly.

  She fumbled for words. “I sort of...lied to you all.” It was the only way her frazzled brain could think to begin. She gripped her arm, vision focused on the grape-red carpet underfoot.

  Lykale folded his arms across his chest impatiently.

  Her dry throat tried to swallow. “I have Elemental Manipulation Ability, as vempar blood runs through my veins. But the truth is, I’m not fully vempar.” She spoke the last part in a rush, as if to lessen the blow.

  Their pointed ears twitched, catching every word. The room fell silent as a graveyard.

  “I am...”—she cringed with every fiber of her being—“...half-human.”

  In the following silence, a single cricket chirped beyond the windowpanes. Cricket. Crick-cricket.

  Bakoa’s jaw dropped to the floor.

  Zartanian went wide-eyed as if struck by lightning.

  Hercule looked as if he’d discovered a cockroach.

  Mamoru showed the faintest curl in the corner of his lips.

  The silence seemed to drag on. The stares, the cricket...she wanted to go outside and smack that stupid bug, and then run as fast as she could out of Draethvyle.

  “Human? He’s tainted with human blood?” The first to speak was Hercule, and the way he said it— Cyrus took a step back.

  “Really?” Bakoa sounded uneasy.

  “Does the principal know of this?” questioned Lykale. She couldn’t move to shake her head. “Well, this is a very serious matter then, isn’t it?” Lamplight reflected off the lense of his glasses.

  “I...I just...” She tried to speak, but every jaw muscle stiffened in fear. They watched as she swayed and almost lost balance, gripping the door frame.

  “I’ll go and report this. Lock him up, in the meantime,” said Hercule.

  No...no no! She turned, shoes squeaking as she hurried out into the hallway. Aken was wrong—they hated her just as much as the people of Elvenstone did!

  She raced across the carpet and tiles, her steps echoing down the corridor.

  THE REDHEAD VANISHED down the corridor, out of Aken’s sight and his outstretched hand. He clenched his fist and rounded on the room and those inside.

  “What the heck was that? Lock him up? Cyrus hasn’t done anything to deserve that! If anybody here has a reason to hate humans, it’s me—my parents were killed by them, in case you forgot. But I’m not blaming Cy for something he had nothing to do with.”

  When no one reacted, Aken urged them, “C’mon, give him a chance! Isn’t that one of the things Nephryte’s been teaching us: not to judge based on race?”

  He confronted the sand boy. “Bak. Cy’s been nothing but friendly and accepting of you and your hyper-happy ways. Hardly anybody else in this school does.”

  Bak hung his head in regret. “He’s been a good friend, even if I haven’t known him long. I’d like to know him longer.”

  Aken turned beside him. “And you, Zartin. Cy went out of his way to cheer you up and be a friend.
Did you even show him why you wear a hat all the time? Were you afraid he wouldn’t accept you if you did? Yet here you are judging him?”

  Zartanian tugged his hat closer around his head. His gaze didn’t lift from the floor. “Cyrus seems like a kind person. I—I want to trust him and give him a chance. I just wish he hadn’t lied to us.”

  “He didn’t lie! He just...didn’t say things upfront. And for good reason—he knew this would happen,” Aken gestured. “Lykale, Cyrus takes your fashion advice and pretends to be interested in your science stuff, when no one else is.”

  “No one else is? Science is knowledge! How can no one else be interested?” Lykale snorted. “Well, I will confess that Cyrus has more potential than you when it comes to brain usage and Ability—that’s for certain.”

  “I’ll ignore that snide remark.” Aken smirked. “So, shouldn’t we keep a member who likes science and who has great Ability potential?”

  Lykale frowned, fidgeted, and frowned some more. “I suppose I could cast my vote to keep the little half-blood, but only if everyone else agrees.”

  Aken gave an approving nod.

  “Look at you lot,” Hercule spat, “fawning over a human as if he were some little brother. How repulsive. He should be turned over to the Guard.”

  Mamoru, having been quiet until then, rose to face the nobleson. “What did you say?”

  “Humans are the enemy, more so than any other race—and I refuse to harbor an enemy.” Hercule held his chin high.

  Mamoru’s eyelid twitched. “More so? You should read up on your history books before speaking, Hercule, or have you forgotten the Goblin Shadow War?”

  “Why are you defending a boy who lied to us—who lied to the entire school?” Hercule demanded.

  Zartanian shifted uncomfortably, Lykale looked to the ceiling, and Bakoa rocked on the heels of his feet.

  “He’s part of Harlow, that’s why! Cy’s one of us,” Aken shot back.

  “A human can never be one of us.”

  “He’s half-vempar! You can’t just dismiss that.”

  “Enough!” Mamoru’s command brought the room to silence. “If anyone outside of Harlow finds out about this, Cyrus’s life will be in danger. The higher-ups might assume he’s a spy for the humans, and who can say what they’d do?”

  Aken swallowed. Bak and Zartin shared a look.

  “Those in favor of keeping Cyrus in Harlow, and keeping his secret safe, raise your hand,” said Mamoru.

  All hands steadily rose, except for Hercule’s.

  “The majority wins. Follow through with it, Hercule, unless you no longer wish to be on our Floor,” Mamoru told him. “I wonder what people might think of an unstable student who switches Floors, though? Couldn’t be good for the noble image.”

  “Don’t threaten me...” A tendril of steam escaped Hercule’s ears, and he crossed his arms and turned his chin away. “Fine. Keep your rotten secret.”

  CYRUS GRABBED THE HANDMADE bunny with its hidden pouch and necklace contents and stuffed it into her backpack, along with an extra set of clothes, before pulling on a jacket and opening the window.

  She climbed out and landed on the spiral walkway’s roof just below, then hastily followed as it spiraled down to the moon courtyard. At the end, there was a tumble as she dropped down and rolled to the courtyard grass.

  Picking herself up, she entered the nearest door and hallway, and tried to picture the map of the school in her head. An exit door came up, and she hurried out into the school’s front courtyard.

  Several servants were moving about, but preoccupied with chores; none paid her any mind as she slipped past and down the paved path, making her way to the main gate.

  “Cyrus!” A voice called, and she tensed just before a hand caught her shoulder. “You don’t have to leave.”

  She spun to face Aken. “Yes, I do.” She reached for the gate, and he stopped her again.

  “We just talked it over. We voted to keep your secret so you can stay in Harlow,” he insisted. She gave him a look, and gripped one of the gate’s curled iron bars. “Only Hercule protested, but don’t worry. He won’t tattle—it’d be too embarrassing for him.”

  “Oh, so I’m an embarrassment now?”

  “What? No! That’s not— Why would you think that?” he floundered.

  She pulled on the gate, and his hand covered hers to stop it opening.

  “Please, Cy, don’t go. We need you here—I need you here.”

  “Did you see the way they looked at me? Afraid, disgusted, as if I wasn’t the same person anymore. As if I didn’t belong in this world—as if no one would miss me if I left it.” Her cheeks were damp. “Do you have any idea what that feels like?”

  Aken’s features softened, and he steered her by the shoulders to embrace her. “Of course I do. That’s been every day of my life.” His chest was warm against her cheek as her tears rolled onto his shirt. “But you can’t give up. Things can only get better if you keep working at it.”

  Her shoulders shuddered involuntarily. “It’s too hard...”

  “I know.” He patted her back. “But you don’t have to struggle through it alone. Lord God brought you here for a reason. I know that’s a very Nephryte thing to say, but I believe it’s true. You have value.”

  Cyrus looked up at him. All this time she’d hated herself for being different, for being ridiculed by others. She had let people determine her value. But God had given her life just as He’d given them life, and that meant she had value, no matter what anybody else thought. Why had it taken her so long to acknowledge that?

  “Thanks, Aken. You know, sometimes you actually sound smart.”

  He grinned.

  A buzzing sound drew near them. The cotton pixit came out of its nest. “Noisy! You noisy! Go away, go away!” It swatted at them.

  Chapter 24

  Cyrus re-entered the study room, with Aken flanking her. Mamoru was the first to meet her, bowing his head. “We apologize for frightening you, Cyrus. You’ve been a kind friend, and we want to give you a chance to belong here. Some of us just needed a little time to think it over.”

  Her nerves eased a small bit. “Thank you, Mamoru. Thank you, all of you.”

  Bakoa bounded up from the floor. “So, you’re like one of those creatures that’s two things mixed into one, right? Like a turtle-dove, fire-ant, or toad-hog?” One finger reached to poke her arm. “What should we call you? Vemphu? Humapar? Vehuman—?”

  “Baka,” Aken slapped the finger away. “Stop saying stupid-baka things.”

  The genie boy blinked in response, completely oblivious.

  Lykale studied her ears closely before stepping back and taking a quick up-down look. “How could I miss it? I’m supposed to be the genius here. I’ve brought shame onto myself and my brilliant intellect.”

  Cyrus was starting to feel overcrowded.

  Chair legs scraped back as Zartanian rose and his pale, thin form came to a stop before her. His eyes fair as winter’s morning briefly met hers. “Will you still be our friend, Cyrus? You won’t resent us?”

  Her heart melted into a puddle of feelings. “I’d love to stay friends with you, Zartanian. Always.”

  The shy boy smiled back. Not a full, beaming smile like Aken’s, but for someone who kept smiles hidden, it may as well have been the biggest.

  Hercule was watching, arms crossed and leaning against the left wall. “Answer me this, Cyrus,” he spoke, and she felt a stab of heat cross the room. “If you had been honest with the school from the start, would they have harmed you?”

  She stared at him.

  “You have a powerful Ability, and that makes you valuable. Both Principal Han and the Draev Grandmaster might have taken you in and let you become a citizen—if you had been honest.”

  Her mouth slackened as Hercule’s words sank in. Had she gone about all of this the wrong way? Her hand gripped her forearm.

  She shouldn’t have lied...she should’ve trusted God was in control, and
been honest. The realization hit like a mound of crushing rocks.

  Mamoru fixed him with a hard glare. “You don’t know that.”

  “No, we don’t,” Hercule said with a faint smirk, and glanced her way. “And now, we never will.” He turned and strode out the study, hands in pockets.

  Mamoru watched him leave, then turned to her. “Ignore him. He’s just trying to upset you. But there is one more person who should know your secret, if you’re up to it now.”

  CYRUS TAPPED HER FIST lightly on the wood-paneled door. At a “Come in,” she ventured inside the dorm flat, hands trembling.

  The door let into a small kitchen space. She crossed the tiled floor, until it melted to carpet inside a living room, decked in gothic and elegant furnishings, like most of Draevensett.

  She waited, searching for the owner. To the left of the kitchen stood an open doorway, leading into what looked like the insides of a dimly lit tower. She poked her head inside. The curved walls resembled a miniature library—it wasn’t a large space, yet books packed every curve of the stone surface more than nine-feet up. She craned her head back; there was no ceiling as the tower rose up and up, old as an attic and dotted with little windows along the way. An iron rail staircase spiraled up the wall to vanish at the tower’s top.

  She was tempted to climb it, but spotted the Master waiting patiently for her at a desk that had too many drawers and stacks of paper, which he thumbed through—those were probably Harlow’s test results, and work from the older grade classes he sometimes helped train. A small rhombus window showed the night sky above the Master’s head.

  Without looking up, he spoke. “A good evening to you, student Cyrus. I hope learning the Landing Technique was not too difficult?”

  How did he know it was her, without looking or hearing her voice? Mamoru had done the same thing. Was there something odd about the way she walked? She pouted.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to teach you properly in an E.M. Study class. But my other students have gone over the exercise so many times, it wouldn’t be fair to start them from the beginning.”