The Orphans of New Lur

by Blake Vanier

  Nero pulls his finger briefly out of his mouth. “It's really cool. How much was it?”

  Sosimo shakes his head. “You don't want to know.” Sosimo puts the sword back in the case. “So, did you remind Saraf we’re going to the second to last day of the Games tomorrow?”

  Nero nods. “What time are we leaving?”

  “A little after eight in the morning. We'll skip the morning Roroonki so you can all sleep in. It's going to be a long day.”

  Yeah… Hopefully that's enough time for Grebson to kick my butt.

  *****

  Nero hurries through the park with his latest broomstick from Saraf's shop. Illi is just peeking over the horizon. He slows as he gets closer.

  I wonder where he is.

  Be careful. He’s hiding.

  Nero stops, readying his stick. There is a flash out of the corner of his eye. He spins to block a ball of Aether. It feels like nothing compared to the Entity's attacks.

  Grebson steps out from behind a grouping of trees. He has a silver gauntlet on each arm. When Nero shifts his perspective, the gauntlets glow red and blue. Grebson himself has a detailed green glow, revealing all of his features. The styk in one hand has a fainter green glow, while the container he holds in his other hand has an extremely bright, pulsing glow. Nero lets his perspective shift back to normal.

  A sliver of a smile touches Grebson’s mouth. “Good. You at least have enough skill to perform Odosa.” Grebson exposes the top of the container, transferring the Aether into his styk.

  Nero lowers his broomstick, smiling. Grebson’s expression grows serious, he thrusts his hand outward and a stream of lightning arcs from one of his gauntlets. Nero throws up his stick. The electricity grabs onto it viciously.

  I’ve never dealt with this before. The attack pushes him back, but he continues to block. His stick begins to vibrate. What am I supposed to do? He starts to draw some of the Aether for strength, but the incoming Aether is coming in faster.

  Grebson cuts the attack, following with two fast-moving balls of fire. With his increased speed and strength, Nero easily blocks them. He dives out of the way of a third, deflecting a fourth straight back at Grebson. Grebson blocks the fireball with a flick of his styk.

  Grebson looks at Nero, surprised. “I guess she was right. Let's see what you can handle.”

  “Who is ‘she?’ Natina?”

  Grebson hurtles another fireball at Nero. Nero blocks it. The attack knocks him off balance. Grebson starts to raise his left arm.

  Great. Not again.

  The electricity races toward Nero. This time, Nero tries to push the energy away from his stick. He feels the attack slam into the wood, knocking him one way and ricocheting off to the side, scorching a tree. Another fireball flies at him, a stream of lightning following behind. He deflects the fireball back into the lightning. The Aether mixes together until it explodes, allowing Nero to move to the side easily.

  That was cool.

  Nero dives, as another fireball zips over his head.

  “Damn, boy. Saraf won't believe this. How much can you take?”

  Nero starts to smile. Three more fireballs fly at his face. He deflects the first fireball into the second. They disappear in a flash of heat. He blocks the third.

  That works awesome. I'm going to have to use that against the Entity.

  He barely pulls his stick up in time as a huge fireball crushes into him. He rolls backward, popping back to his feet quickly. A stream of lightning grabs onto his stick. His hands sting and his teeth begin to chatter as the broomstick is loaded with Aether.

  He rolls to the side, swinging hard. The electricity arcs into the trees. This time, as he reaches his feet, he jumps one more time. He feels the heat from another fireball wash over him. The broomstick vibrates uncomfortably in his hands.

  I'm not sure how much more it can take. What did Saraf say about removing the stored energy? Grebson readies another attack and Nero widens his stance, digging his toes into the ground. BAD IDEA!

  Grebson releases the fireball. Nero swings. The broomstick in his hand feels as though it has hit a moving truck. He clenches his teeth, driving through it. The energy travels painfully up his arms. Suddenly, it calms. Nero opens his eyes. There is a haze of Aether all around him.

  I'm alive! He sees a gigantic ball of Aether flying toward Grebson at incredible speed. “Uh-oh.”

  Grebson's eyes grow large. He pulls up his styk. The ball of energy slams into the stick, knocking Grebson off balance. The energy zips high into the air. Nero watches in amazement.

  Wow…

  BOOM!

  The morning sky lights up as the ball of Aether releases its energy, jostling the treetops. Nero readies himself, looking at Grebson. Fire flares in Grebson's eyes. He shoots out a dangerous stream of lightning at Nero, which latches instantly onto the broomstick. Before Nero can shake it off, two massive fireballs slam into his stick as well. The vibration in Nero’s broomstick reaches a critical point and explodes in his hands, sending him spinning into a bush. He hits his thigh on a rock, landing face down. Every part of Nero’s body aches from millions of pinpricks, his hands feel like they are on fire, his thigh is throbbing, and his ears are ringing. Grebson pulls him out of the bush, a rag doll, and sets him gently on the ground.

  “You alive, boy?”

  Nero grunts, squinting to see. Grebson is standing over him, a touch of concern in his scowl.

  “Sorry. I lost my temper. I’m not as disciplined as I used to be. If it was an even fight, it would have cost me.”

  “You think I could have beat you?”

  “No. I’m saying that if we were evenly matched and I behaved like that, you would’ve won. You still have a lot to learn, and you’re small. If this was a real fight, I would've just cracked your skull and been done with it.”

  Nero holds his head. “You might’ve done it anyway.”

  Grebson looks at his eyes. “You don’t look concussed. I think you’re fine. I’m not usually impressed, but you are more skilled than I could have imagined. Your instincts are good, even though you're timid in normal life. It threw me. I'll have to urge Saraf to let you train fully now, though I'm not sure it would be good for Natina.”

  “Why not?”

  “Your skill is beyond anyone your age, or even years older. You might not be a good challenge for her. Who trained you in Odo?”

  Nero looks around. “Uh, no one.” Grebson gives him a look. “I just played in the forest―by myself.” Grebson is still unconvinced. “I listened very closely to Saraf.”

  “That I can see.” Grebson reaches down, picking up a sliver of Nero's shredded broomstick. “Another thing that made me doubtful was your styk. I thought you were holding a broken broomstick.”

  “I was.”

  Grebson's eyes narrow. He looks closer at the wood. “It does seem to be standard wood. Why were you using it?”

  Nero shrugs. “I'm not sure; it was the only thing I had, and it worked better than a metal shield.”

  “Are you serious?” he asks. His deep voice rattles Nero’s skull.

  “Oh, yes. Metal doesn't work at all when blocking―”

  Grebson throws up his hand. “I know. Every Borukin infant knows. So, the only reason you were using the broomstick was out of convenience?”

  Nero nods.

  “Well, then, I shall be interested to see what you can do with a decent styk. You do realize your Odoki I deflected could have killed someone? You nearly caught me off guard.”

  Nero looks down. “I'm sorry.”

  “It's not your fault. You should just be more careful, so you don't hurt someone by accident. If that had hit me, I would have deserved it for not paying attention. That's probably why I lost my temper. You scared me.”

  “I scared you?”

  “Your attack certainly did.”

  “But aren't great warriors fearless?”

  “Who's to say I'm a great warrior?”

  “I just thought―”


  “No one is fearless, Nero. If they are, then they’re either lying or stupid.” Grebson looks around. “We should get out of here. We’re bound to have drawn some attention.” Grebson turns to leave, but stops. “I need to give you something.” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a shiny brown stone. There are six blue gems evenly spaced around it. “A friend wanted me to give you this.”

  “Who?”

  “It doesn't matter. Just don't lose it. And don't show it to anyone.”

  Nero takes the token, looking at it. He can sense a very faint hint of red Aether when he shifts his perspective. “What is it?”

  “It's a symbol of protection.” Voices float faintly toward them. Grebson turns. “Let's get out of here. People are coming.”

  Nero hobbles back to Sosimo's, his leg aching. He hops in bed with an hour to spare and sleeps peacefully.

  23

  The Games

  Iona

  Iona snaps awake. The Games! She throws off her covers. “Come on, Thea. It’s time to get up!” Thea stirs in the other bed, but moves no further.

  Sosimo, wearing his standard long sleeves, looks up from making breakfast as Iona enters. “Mornin', Iona. Food’s pretty much ready, so help yourself.” Iona grabs a plate, filling it with eggs, bacon, and toast. “I'm going to wake everyone else,” he says.

  She takes a seat at the table by herself. Nero isn't up yet? That's got to be a first.

  A few moments later, Sosimo comes back. The other excited children trickle in behind him. Nero is last. He looks like he just came out of a dryer filled with rocks and dirt. He is fighting to keep his eyes open, limping on one leg.

  Sosimo frowns. “Jeez, Nero, rough dream?”

  “I was fighting...” Nero bites his tongue, looking down. “I just bumped my thigh. It really hurts.”

  “A Charlie horse. Those are the worst,” Sosimo says.

  “What's that?” Korbin asks.

  Ryder turns to Korbin and punches him in the thigh. Korbin falls from his chair in agony. “That's a Charlie horse.”

  Sosimo lets out a short laugh. “My brother and I used to do that all the time. How’d everyone sleep?”

  “What was that giant explosion?” Thea asks. “It woke me up.”

  “Me too,” Ryder says. “The sky was glowing afterward.”

  “I’m not sure,” Sosimo says. “I saw the news before breakfast. They said it was some sort of Aether explosion. Probably some dimwit showing off for the Games. Things like this happen before big events.”

  Iona watches Nero pick at his food without looking up. Maybe it scared him.

  After they finish breakfast and brush their teeth, Sosimo pulls out bikes for all of the children.

  “Why do we have to ride on bikes?” Korbin asks. “Can’t we just take Gracie?”

  “It’ll be much easier to get around on bikes,” Sosimo says. He gives an old purple bike to Korbin. “It’s not far.”

  “Stop whining, Korb,” Ryder says. “It’ll be fun, watch.” He rides a red bike in wobbly circles around the alley.

  Korbin jumps on his bike, mimicking Ryder with an equally unsteady demonstration. They all take a moment to acquaint themselves with their two-wheeled transportation before Sosimo leads them away on his bike, which looks more like a motorcycle. The crowds of people they pass soon overflow onto the streets. No cars are present.

  They reach the cliffs where they see Illi just above the ocean. Its light burns along the water, illuminating the large stone structures.

  Sosimo stops at a bike rack. He pulls out a giant chain, strings their bicycles together, and locks them. Sosimo points to a giant museum of black marble crisscrossed with white lines. Two carved Borukins stand on either side of the large double doors. Each has one hand holding up the roof. “That is the Orinda Museum, where the history of the Games is kept. I’ll show you around before we visit Testrel, the imprisoned Drake. Then we’ll head to our seats in Stone’s Coliseum. Sound good?”

  All but Nero hop in excitement. “Yeah!”

  “Let’s go,” Sosimo and Thea say at the same time.

  “Jinx!” Thea says quickly. “I got you!” She points at Sosimo, running in place.

  “How do I play?”

  “You can’t talk.” Thea runs over and punches Sosimo in the leg. Her hand crumples and she holds it up. “Ahh,” and falls to the ground.

  “Are you okay, Thea?”

  Korbin shakes his head, looking down at her. “She’s dead. I’ve seen this before. Once when an enemy punched Captain Konquer in the stomach, he flexed, and it sent a shockwave through the guy’s body and killed him. Killed him just like that.” He snaps his fingers.

  “Is that so?” Sosimo reaches down and picks her up by the armpits. He tries to set her on her feet, but her legs are limp. Eventually, her head rolls to the side, her tongue flopping out.

  “I’m telling you, she’s deader than a slug in an oven. There’s no hope.”

  “I can see that, but we can’t leave her here.” He throws her over his shoulder. “Maybe we can feed her to Testrel.”

  Thea squirms. “No, Mr. Sosimo, I’m alive. I was just joking.”

  Sosimo sets her down. “That’s good, because I don’t think you would be very tasty.”

  “You wouldn’t really feed me to it, would you?”

  He pats her head. “No, Thea, I was just joking. Let’s go.”

  Sosimo pushes into the flow of people and the children fight to stay in his collapsing wake. They reach the large steps of the museum, then the double doors that make even the Borukins look small. There is a short entryway lined with statues of vicious creatures. Sharp claws, horrible teeth, and spikes reach toward the children from every direction. The creatures look like they will spring to life at any moment.

  Sosimo points as they walk through the entrance. “These are the main creatures the Borukin warrior fights in the current form of the Trial of Orinda.”

  “Are these real monsters?” Korbin asks.

  “No, Korbin. Unfortunately, they are just creatures that have been turned into something violent. In their natural environment, they’d probably leave you alone. Except that one,” Sosimo says. He points to a large bat-creature the size of the children. Its wings are spread; its mouth is an open snarl with sharp serrated teeth. “They’re called Shirako bats. They can be found at the edges of the Tenebrous Miasma. They’re pack hunters and will attack virtually anything. They circle and nip at you until you bleed enough to lose consciousness.”

  Sosimo hurries them through one of many revolving doors to the main chamber that expands in every direction. The magnificence of the stonework and the high dome are quickly diminished by the gruesome decor. The paintings below the curve of the dome are all Borukins covered in gore and battling monsters. Their expressions are wild and lusting for battle as they wade through the death they had caused. Along the perimeter of the floor are statues of life-sized Borukins locked in eternal combat.

  Iona blinks her eyes as her vision turns red. She nearly runs into Sosimo when he stops abruptly. The corners of his mouth turn down and the toothpick in his mouth snaps. The children look at him for several moments until he finally speaks.

  He lets out a breath. “Let’s get through this room quickly. It’s a disappointing display of what Borukins are turning into. In the past, this room was peaceful. It used to be a room for honor, not savagery.”

  He leads them past a series of statues of heavily armored Borukins thrusting bladed and spiked weapons of lurid design. They are all statues of the competitors in the Trial of Orinda.

  Sosimo quickens his pace as he approaches the end.

  “Who's this one? He looks familiar.” Nero stops, pointing to a statue of a Borukin fighting off two flying creatures with razor sharp teeth.

  “No one,” Sosimo says.

  “Hey! It says Grebson,” Nero says. “Is this the same one that I see with Saraf?”

  “It is.”

  “He must be
famous,” Korbin says. “Nero, can you get me his autograph?”

  Iona’s chest grows heavy.

  “What good is fame, Korbin, when you’re not there to protect your family?” He looks at Korbin for a moment before turning away. “Let’s go see Testrel and get out of here.”

  The children look at each other, dumbfounded, before following along. They walk to the back of the museum into another large opening. A sign in red reads: ‘The Borukin Killer.’ A large cage fills the center of a solarium. It is surrounded by Borukins. Red, green, and yellow light coruscates about the room as the serpent-like creature breathes. It is long and coiled more times than Iona can count. Occasionally, an arm or a leg is visible where thick chains hold it in place. It has barbs running along its snout, and two large horns jutting straight back from its forehead.

  “Woo.” Iona moves closer to Ryder. “That’s her? She’s huge.”

  “A truly magnificent race…” Sosimo says.

  “What are those chains doing to her?” Nero asks.

  “They’re keeping her from moving. Duh,” Korbin says.

  “Korbin, you should learn to respect Nero’s questions. He sees things none of us can.”

  Iona glances at Nero, who looks hurt. What does that mean?

  They continue to walk toward the Drake. Iona feels suddenly tired as they get closer to the cage.

  “Ultimately, Korbin, you are right,” Sosimo says, “but there is more to it than just steel. Normally this cage would be no more than tissue paper to her if she wanted to escape, but the chains about her legs are specially made so they continually drain her of Aether. Testrel generates so much Aether they use her to power the surrounding buildings.”

  “Holy moly, that’s a lot of Aether,” Thea says, bouncing on her toes.

  When they reach the Drake’s head, the children lean over the railings, trying to be as close as possible.

  Iona watches her body rise with breaths taken as though they are inconvenient and not worth taking. I’m sorry, Testrel. I wish I could help you.

  Testrel’s eyes open. The Borukins gasp. Iona looks directly into the black iris of an eye almost as big as her head. She cannot move. After a long moment, Testrel lets out a breath, closing her eye.