1
Alayna Jameson
Friday 18th January, Year 825.
A burnt-out sign lay in my tattered front yard, its face to the sky. Mum's eyebrows knitted together in anger as she looked down at the smouldering pile of trash. Barely visible beneath the scorch marks were the words 'Welcome to Harroworth Central College.' Someone had scrawled 'Scabs not welcome' underneath.
It was pretty obvious I was not liked by my peers.
In Central Harroworth, I wasn't welcome, but in the surrounding slums, I was. Anyone from Central would turn their noses up at the clusters of hand-built, wooden houses surrounding the city, but brick and mortar made them blind to beauty and community. Outer Harroworth was a sprawling collection of shanties kept afloat by The Grange, our large marketplace. We were surrounded by woodland with muddy meadows tucked in every crevice. These meadows were tranquil, disturbed only by the mountain-fed river that ran through the slums, separating us from the inner city. Central Harroworth got decent hospitals, schools, and important government buildings. We got meadows filled with monsters. Still, the meadows were pretty in the summer when they didn't look like frozen bogs.
Living in the slums wasn't too bad; I had more chances of getting run over if I lived in Central. Although that was probably a better way to go in the times I lived in.
Riley shot water from his palms, joining the neighbours who had come running with their buckets at the sight of flames licking up the side of our house.
"We don't need any more water," Mum called to my big brother, Ben. "It's gone out."
The neighbours quickly dispersed, muttering about the Central assholes who had tried to burn my house down. Ben grumbled unintelligible swears and poured the bucket of water over Kithry's water trough. The chestnut horse greeted him with a friendly nicker as he patted her nose, still glaring at the sludgy mess in our front yard.
"Alayna, what did you do to them?" Ben accused.
I glared at him. "It's not my fault I got into Central College. I'm just trying to get an education!"
I also told Rob I'd set him on fire when he tried to trip me at the top of a flight of stairs.
"I think you should leave that school," Mum sighed.
We'd had this argument a lot. I was one of two scabs who went to Central Harroworth College and I was not wasting the chance. The cowards mostly left me alone at school. Physically, anyway. If mummy or daddy found out about their behaviour, they might lose allowances or car privileges.
"Not happening, Mum."
"Who did it?" Ben nodded to the burnt sign.
"It could be a whole bunch of them, but I can count on one hand who'd actually dare."
"I want names," he said, his jaw tight and grey eyes narrow.
"What is going on here?" An imposing figure from the Day Guard interrupted, wearing a sour expression like he'd sucked on a lemon. His pristine grey suit with a navy armband marked him as one of the jobsworths. The kinder members of the Day Guard didn't usually give a shit about ironing their shirts.
"There was a little fire," Mum replied without bothering to smile. "Nothing to concern yourself with."
"A fire put out by a familiar," the Guard's tone was sharp as he eyed Riley. "You're not registered."
Panic flashed across Riley's face before he grabbed the officer and started chanting in the foreign tongue all familiar innately knew. The Guard's eyes glazed momentarily before Riley stepped away, tousling his messy blonde hair.
"Fuck sake, Riley," Ben swore, rushing to us. "What have you done to him?"
"Easy fix. Just wiped his memory," Riley shrugged.
"How do you know that spell?" Mum arched an eyebrow sceptically.
"Borrowed a memory grimoire from a guy in Central," a nervous grin split his face.
Borrowed, my ass.
"And what did that spell just cost you?" Ben grumbled.
His grin widened, "I'll never know. Memory spells cost one of my memories."
All extrinsic magic cost something. I hoped he'd forgotten the weather forecast rather than his Mum's name.
"That was stupid," I observed.
"It was that or the noose. I know which one I'd prefer," Riley shrugged. "But I should probably... not be here. Catch you later Julie! Bye Alayna. And don't kill the guy, Ben," Riley threw over his shoulder, running back to his house quicker than a cat with its tail on fire before the Guard became lucid again.
"He has a death wish," I muttered.
Ben spat more profanities under his breath as he snapped his fingers in front of the Day Guard's face.
"Don't you even get involved," Mum grumbled, shouldering him aside.
She took a deep breath before animating her expression with the falsest smile I'd ever seen on a person. She threw her arms around the Guard's neck and squealed uncharacteristically, her blue eyes flashing with fake gratitude-calling him a hero and thanking him for putting out the fire. Ben didn't even try to mask his scoff.
Eventually, the man pushed Mum roughly away. "Hands off me, scab," he spat with venom.
I clutched Ben's arm, aware of the handgun at the Guard's belt. Any sudden move from Ben and we'd be scraping him off the floor. Mum knew it too, standing in front of my stupid brother and blocking his path to the even stupider Day Guard. I could feel every muscle in Ben's arm coil like a spring under my grip.
"Consider yourself lucky," the Guard continued as he turned away. "Next time I'll let your shack burn down."
He didn't bother looking back—probably a good thing considering Ben's glare could've set rain on fire.
"Shouldn't we tell him the truth?" I asked as soon as he turned the street corner. "Someone from Central did this."
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Ben barked a humourless laugh, but it was Mum who replied. "So they can make some quick ven when they're bribed by the cretins that did this? No, not after last time."
The last time: someone threw bricks through the front window.
Heavy, slate-grey clouds overhead finally started the icy downpour that had been due all day.
"Great timing," Ben grumbled as he ushered me and Mum back into the house.
Once inside, Ben's hand snatched a wooden bat propped against the coat stand, his knuckles whitening around the grip.
"Who did it?" he pressed me again, his voice a low rumble of contained anger.
Mum put one hand on the bat and the other on his shoulder. She didn't actually try to restrain him; Ben was closer to the seven-foot mark than six and any effort would have been pointless. Nevertheless, he halted at her touch.
"You aren't going anywhere looking for a fight. This is bad enough for Alayna without you being strung up at the neck for being an idiot," Mum chastised.
He huffed, a stormy expression clouding his pale face as he relinquished the bat into Mum's waiting hand.
"When Dad gets back..." He mumbled under his breath.
"He'll get an earful too if he thinks riling up is smart," she retorted. "Anyway, it's almost sundown; nobody's doing nothing today."
"Sundown's at what time?" I asked.
"Four, forty-seven," Mum said.
She hadn't removed her hand from Ben. His stance was all defiance, muscles tensed like steel cables under my touch as I looped my arm through his, trying to lead him away. He resisted for a heartbeat before giving in to my tug down the hall with resigned irritation.
The clock read just after four. Dad needed to be quick or he'd be in trouble. People in Vakoso knew to be indoors before sundown. Mum went catatonic if we weren't home at least half an hour beforehand. You took your life in your hands at night in Vakoso.
Folklore about the Umbrith used to be just that: stories you'd tell naughty kids to scare them straight. Fast and silent creatures that preferred the flesh of kids. And if one was on the prowl, you wouldn't even know until someone vanished—sometimes a scrap of clothing or a bloodied limb was left behind, but that was it. Night after night, these nightmares swarmed Vakoso.
Over in Lambent, across the Cursed Sea, they were spared from Umbrith. Their borders sealed up tight to keep us and our problems out. Lambent were happy to let us deal with murderous night beasts alone, installing their own government to run our cities and pretend they were doing anything to help us.
When I was young, I thought Umbrith were just a myth to keep an eye on naughty children. But then two years back, Hayley Trodder got torn apart. She was Ben's best mate; they salvaged pieces of her. Whatever light lived in Ben went out with Hayley; my brother wasn't the same after that night. The only time I saw him happy was in the early mornings when he snuck back into the house and thought nobody noticed. I put it down to him having a secret boyfriend he didn't want to share with us. If umbrith weren't bad enough, getting caught after dark by the Night Guard was no joke either; they'd bleed you dry with fines or lock you up over nothing. For scabs like us, it didn't take much to end up with chains on your ankles or worse. And Ben knew it too. He needed to be careful. I wondered what creative way Mum would kill him when she realised he'd been sneaking out.
The soft glow from our old yellow lamp flickered weakly against shadows on the worn-out chair Ben sat on. I watched him from across the room as his fingers danced lazily over guitar strings, trying to drown out the tick-tack of rain against our battered roof. His narrow, grey eyes were fixed on the window in case any more arsonists stopped by. His thin lips were pressed in a hard line with his auburn hair hanging shaggy across his face, needing a cut.
Ben noticed me watching him.
"Yeah?" he said.
I just wanted him to be happy again.
"Crack a smile, Ben," I coaxed with a half-smile, hoping it'd be contagious.
For an instant, his lips twitched into something genuine, eyes softening like he remembered how joy felt for just a second before the walls came crashing back around him. He plastered a cheesy grin on his face for a few seconds before letting it drop entirely, picking at the guitar strings again.
"It's been weeks since you missed my eighteenth birthday because of your job," I emphasised the word, knowing he hated working as a carpenter at Dad's local lumberyard. "That's a milestone birthday! You said you would make it up to me by taking me to Franco's for food. I'm hungry. Let's go now."
"No," Ben bluntly replied.
My mouth turned down at the corners, and I stood up, exasperated at the angry robot man. I tried to walk away, but he lay back, reaching over the tattered couch and grabbing my wrist to stop me from leaving. Glancing back at him, I found a different, more friendly face.
"Sorry, you little runt," he said with slightly brighter eyes. "I just meant that we wouldn't have much time to eat if we went now; it's after four in the afternoon. Mum would probably tackle us before we reached the end of the yard anyway. I promise I'll take you soon. On a weekend. Then you'll have as much time as you want."
"Fine, big runt," I replied sulkily.
He grinned at my childishness but released my wrist and played a happier tune on his guitar. Succeeding in breaking his terrible mood slightly and scoring a free meal, I smirked as I left the room.
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Dad smiled at Mum while she cooked dinner, trying hard to get back in her good books. After he made it home, three minutes before sundown, Mum ripped him a new one for fifteen minutes and sarcastically offered to teach him how to use his watch. Before long, she got around to telling him about the assholes from my school who were bullying me again. A long and heated discussion jumped from reasons why he should find whoever was responsible and beat them up with Ben, to reasons why I "shouldn't be going to that stupid college anyway," to Mum getting annoyed he was late home again.
We sat in silence for a while at the small kitchen table before Mum spoke. "I'm working late on Monday, so I'll need to stay at Mayrina's to save me coming back in the dark."
"Julie, that's well over your hours this month," Dad grumbled.
"Yeah, but I got a half day today so swings and roundabouts. Anyway, we need the money if you want the roof fixed-"
"I'll sort the roof," Dad interrupted. "Or I'll go down the pits for some extra shifts."
"Nate, don't be daft. You'll do your back in again, and that'll be another month you can't work. Then what?" Mum countered, shutting Dad up.
"I'll fix the roof," Ben muttered, not looking up from his plate. The calloused skin on his hands and the scars criss-crossing his knuckles spoke volumes about the hours he'd done in the mines. "I'm not going down the pit, though. I've done more than my time this week."
Mining was our last resort. Every family in Outer had their quota of hours to clock each week in Central's gold mines, just enough to cover bread and butter expenses. Ben shouldered most of our load, with Dad filling in the gaps around his time at the lumberyard. Mum had a pass because of her job at the Hawes' place. I wriggled out of it whenever I could because of college. Unless Dad and Ben fell short on hours, I steered clear except for occasional stints on the weekends. That barcode Central branded on me when I turned sixteen meant I could clock in whenever if needed, though nobody would catch me dead down there unless my hand was forced.
Scabs like us weren't worth squat to Central; they wouldn't cough up gloves, let alone proper gear for the tunnels. And none of their own ever dirtied their hands with mine work—it was always us from Outer doing the dirty work. If you weren't keen on becoming human moles for Central, you might as well toss yourself in a cell. The Day Guard had a knack for sniffing out shirkers; next thing you knew people would vanish or get arrested for some made-up charge. It was like that all over the country. Scabs living in slums worked to the bone while Elites lived in their ivory towers.
"Or I can work a few extra hours, and we can avoid putting family members on the rickety roof or down the mines," Mum barked. "Mayrina's my best mate. She's better to me than she should be; I'm hardly overworked."
It was no secret Dad and Ben weren't fans of Mum's employers. She worked as a personal assistant for one of the richest families in Harroworth, the Hawes family. In exchange for her services, she received a good paying wage for a scab, and her children got a free education—a perk we would never normally be able to afford. My brother missed out age-wise—now twenty-five, he hadn't been to school since he was nine when they scrapped free education. But I'd been reaping those benefits at college for a while now.
This used to intrigue people at college. But once they caught on just how "scab poor" we were, this made me unfit to speak with my peers or even make eye contact with them, apparently. I preferred it when they kept to themselves. When they didn't, my temper got the best of me, and then bricks came through the window or burning signs appeared outside my house. My temper did not help my cause...
I sunk into the couch after dinner and closed my eyes, taking in the lingering smell of garlic from the kitchen. It made my stomach rumble, and I shifted uncomfortably, still hungry, on the decrepit fabric sofa. We were rationing food this week, and the portions were tiny. All the money had gone towards fixing the smashed window, and now the roof was falling apart. At least the fire hadn't done any damage a lick of paint couldn't fix.
I started counting the days until I finished college and could try applying for a Lambentian job visa. One hundred and sixty-four left.