Nexius

Nexius crouched low in the darkness, peering through through a tiny vent into Gypsum’s study. Sweet Lakes of the Surface, the man was vain. His office housed probably half of all the printed books rescued from the fall! And where did he get all that crystal?

The General had issued Nexius intel requirements involving Dr. Gypsum and the Avem Child. But Nexius wasn’t only answering the General's orders. He was satisfying his own curiosity.

The Avem Child was sitting within six feet of him. He could see her—tangled hair, thread bare clothing and all. Her voice was thin and awkward as though she rarely used it. Her hair was plaited neatly, but she had a distinctly feral quality to her looks which he liked very well—not that it mattered what he liked. She was the legend. She must be trustworthy. She had to become an ally.

For Nexius, however, assumptions based on a hackneyed legend really weren’t good enough. He'd waited too long—made too many mistakes to simply blindly follow the supposed Avem Child Savior. He had to observe her for himself and make up his own mind.

And even if she really were as sincere as he hoped she was, she would still need to be better. She would need razor sharp discernment--because right now she was making all the wrong friends. She would need to see through them. It would be some work to pry her away from their highly credible grips. How was he going to get her to trust him over them? How would he persuade her to believe impossible things he couldn’t prove, at least not immediately.

She'd dropped from the surface gripped in the talons of a giant condor! Of course she believed in the impossible. He released the breath he'd been unconsciously holding. After years of practiced lying--he would finally tell the truth.

Sonia

Sonia had meant to be brave, but tears streamed down while she lay in a thin cotton robe, face down upon the exam table. Not one, but two doctors and three nurses stood above, examining her, with particular attention given to her neck wound. Voices spoke in animated whispers and barely restrained excitement as they observed, and probed what Sonia couldn’t.

“Look at the way the skin has hardened at the base of the hold. Have you ever seen anything like it?”

“No. It’s a fingernail-like coating--as hard as an elephant's tusk,” the doctor poked with a sharp instrument. “It’s phenomenal. I doubt if she even felt the talon through that.”

“It’s clear she at least once did. Imagine the pain! Nurse, have her see for a psychiatric evaluation.”

“Good. I’ll make a note to do so.”

“And while you’re at it, we need to make a visual record. Do we have an artist who can sketch this up? Send him in."

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

*

The evaluation went on for what seemed like a long time. When the doctors and nurses finally set down their instruments and notes, and left Sonia alone in the examination room, she sat up on the gurney, gooseflesh raised on her arms and legs. The nurse had taken her tunic. She shivered. How long had it been? Where was Evra? Her nose tingled. Oh no. She wiped the trickle of blood off her upper lip with her bare arm, which did nothing but smear red across both her face. She pinched the bridge of her nose.

It was another long while before Evra poked her head in to the room. “Are you ready--? Is that blood?" Evra's face lit with something fierce. "What have they done to you?"

Sonia flushed red. “I get nose bleeds when I'm nervous.”

"Where are your clothes?”

"Someone took them."

“I’ll be right back.”

A moment later, Evra returned. "I promise that will never happen again." Evra held out a new cotton tunic—bright white like the one Faal had worn, and finely made.

Sonia touched the fabric, her fingers soft. “This is beautiful.”

“It’s for the highest-ranking students in the Academy. Faal has one just like it, but it’s not too good for you. Let’s get try it for fit.”

Sonia struggled into the tunic and stared at it in the mirror. “I’ll never keep it clean.”

Evra’s smile looked proud. “We can always wash it. Wait--let's wash that blood smear." Evra took a cloth out of her handbag and gave it to Sonia, who turned and wiped her face clean. Then she stared at her reflection in the mirror on the door. The tunic did suit her, though it felt weighty.

“Now that you have your tunic, you’re ready to be sworn into the Academy. Every student takes an oath. It doesn’t take long, but you can’t be admitted into classes without it. Come with me.”

Sonia stood in Dr. Gypsum’s office, holding her right arm up while he read her a very lengthy list of Academy rules. Before he finished reading the oath, her arm had tired and began to droop. “Evra, don’t let her arm fall. Prop it up for her.”

Evra helped her raise her arm as he went on and on and on. By the time he finished, Sonia had forgotten most of what she had heard, but she had every intention to keep all the rules. She swore the oath with her arm propped up upon Evra’s shoulder.

Gypsum pumped her weary hand in congratulations. “Welcome to Grater Barren Academy. We’re pleased and honored to have you here with us. Now, you’d best be on your way home, or you’ll soon before you’re late for curfew.”

*

Sonia followed Evra’s quick pace through the streets.

“Evra,” Sonia took a quick breath. “What if I don’t grow wings?”

“Our people. You, my dear, are one of us. And it doesn’t matter about your wings.”

“I think it does.”

Evra hastened her gate. “Not another word. I can imagine what you are feeling. Let’s go home and get some soup and a good night of rest. We'll meet tomorrow’s demons tomorrow, and not a minute sooner.”

Evra chatted the rest of the way to the cottage with an easy, conversational tone, but she couldn't seem to look Sonia in the eye. And Sonia's shoulders throbbed and stung with not quite pain, but the tension of the impossible.

*

When dinner was finished and Sonia lay upon her mat in the dark of the little dwelling, her thoughts raced. Perhaps the people who had escaped Grater Barren’s destruction had survived somewhere at the surface. Was it even possible her mother had known one of them? Did that explain how she was born with amber eyes? And if so, did he survive still? Would he want her? And would she ever be able to find him?

It would take a miracle. Like sprouting wings.

Sonia lay upon her mat, both thinking and trying hard not to. She listened while the currents of the abyss raged. It seemed as if those currents were alive…as if they possessed emotion and intent. And if she had to name the emotion, to call it angry wouldn't go far enough. The wind of the abyss was outraged. The kind of outrage that insisted upon destruction. She didn’t know where or what it touched, but she knew whatever it was couldn’t possibly resist.