“Was that actually necessary?”
“You try and stop him from chasing down Curtis.”
The van goes silent again. Only the tires kicking up dirt and gravel and the various machines echoing back inside remain. That and the jangling of the chains holding Raven in place. The passed out male’s left temple slightly swollen from a not so kind whack to the head from a certain friend. Instead some of the group work tirelessly to keep the young womans body as stitched together as possible, despite the large amount of blood loss.
“She’s lost way too much blood to still be fighting like this.”
“We are all well aware, that technically, she should’ve kicked it by now. Not sure why she hasn’t.”
They eye her curiously looking for anything to explain why her heart has yet to give out. The color in her skin completely drained, injuries purpling over the hour it’s taken them to get out of the desert without being killed themselves. Even now, they’re still warily listening to the ground as the truck speeds through nothing but sand. Closer now to the city closest to the desert itself. The sooner they can get there, the better several of them will feel. Fink shuffles to the back of the van, eyes cast on the tan dust billowing out from the tires. No one has been entirely sure what he;s looking for, but the stinging tension of his stare is enough to tell them to keep their mouths shut.
“Kyollis, you might want to drive a little faster.”
There’s a simple grunt from the young man whose hair shifts from dark green at the top to pastel at the ends. A bet gone wrong that he seems to have embraced wholeheartedly. The armored vehicle barely has the chance to go faster when it’s nearly forced to a stop. A steel appendage has managed to work it’s way around the handles of the doors. Tugging with such ferocity that trying to hold them in place won’t do any good.
“Now’s a good time to actually wear a seatbelt or something. Or ya know, drive?”
Cynical Fink is a rare sight. His eye twitches as he watches in slight agitation. The doors spring free of their hinges the truck finally lurching away and speeding down the dirt road. The driver grumbles, something about it being a pain in the ass. Although, the loss of several pieces of equipment doesn’t seem to phase anyone. Thankful enough the sudden propelled speed drives them over the dividing line between desert and city. Several sighs of relief are cut short in a crash that empties the back of the truck, excluding of course the chained Raven and Camellia’s makeshift bed which she had been secured to.
Electric blues stare down the vehicle painted a vivid red orange. He wasn’t expecting more of them. The first group had proved to be quite difficult to get rid of. And now there are more. A scowl breaks across his face. The jeers of those around him as the truck smokes from the front. The rest of it nearly crushed into itself. Moving like that, there’s no chance anyone survived being stopped like that. A man drops from the drivers side and without regards for his own injuries dashes for the side of the armored truck, struggling to yank a door open. For several minutes with the hysterical crowd he watches this man struggle, nearly amused when the door opens. Watching the man duck aside in time to not have the door throw him back. He raises a snowy brow watching the scene before him unfold. Three others emerge from behind the truck supporting each other. A single raised hand quiets the entire group. A young woman is pulled out the side door. Well, she’s definitely dead and that’s nothing to do with us. At least let them mourn.
A spark of orange tumbles out followed by what looks like a splash of white. The figures are moving rapidly, more than any human eye can comprehend. He can hear snippets of swearing and yelling and anxious laughter. And then there’s panic. Full blown panic. Sure enough he catches a familiar voice on the wind. Even as it registers several of the bystanders suddenly move forward. Their alterations telling him who’s who.
“Crow…is that Raven?”
“Vylaro, have everyone stay back. I want to make sure of this myself.”
Calculated steps lead him towards the chaos he had a hand in creating. There’s a small wind pick up,but nothing too severe. None of the uninvited group looks up for several moments. The clearing of his throat drawing some of them to look up. Many of them painted in utter confusion.
“R-Raven?”
“Now, that would be odd. Not quite.”
Raven’s attention remains on the still unconscious woman he’s cradling. It takes a moment for his eyes to recognize the frail figure.
“Oh, Crow, you’re alive. Makes sense I guess.”
“Fink? You’ve grown considering the last time we saw you, you were actually running away from Hyle.”
“Yeah, not sorry. I did what I had to to save myself.”
Crow rolls his eyes before settling one hand on Raven’s shoulder. Eyes skimming the damage done to the young woman he’d nearly had crushed to death. Even from where he’s standing it’s safe to say that she couldn’t have survived what ever she went through.
“If she dies, Crow, I’ll personally murder you. Brother or not.”
“Well, that’s some way of greeting me I guess. But I’m quite sure she was dead when this was done. Besides how the hell was I to know any of you were inside.”
The older of the duplicates shrugs. Sarcasm laced through innocent words.
“She was functioning in the truck before it was destroyed. Pulse and everything. We were trying to get her to Voyle. She needs medical attention and fast.”
“They’ve been driven off. I’m not letting them in here. E.A.C is just as bad as Hyle labs.”
“Crow! She’s fucking family! Are you-”
“I’m not saying she can’t get help, but I’m not letting heathens in here. There are too many of us to risk it.” As he speaks several groups of people come forward. Their appearances familiar to the eye. Silver and black scaled skin belonging to a petite woman that Raven was sure had been burned severely when a machine exploded. Another whose skin is entirely translucent revealing beneath it a skeleton dancing with what looks like electric eels. Both of them have hair that’s sun-kissed yellow and eyes a startling array of chrome and rouge. One of the two females smiles revealing nothing but jagged teeth.
“Raven, you remember Vylaro and Rykeel. If you’ll let them, they can move her somewhere safe. It’s better the rest of you get acquainted with the city itself.”
“What makes it different from Farkensth?”
Crow pivots moving just enough to expose the crowd of onlookers. A striking majority of which have some defect from experimentation. Some with unnoticeable tell tales and others with angry visible ones. From tails to ears, extra appendages, and in some cases less. There’s a ring of them, watching with fear, anger, hatred, concern, and wonder. For years we hid, from the time we were kids. This is our place. For those behind him he can sense the awe and admiration. And also the sheer fear. He’d been taught from the very start that there is fear in numbers and by far of they wanted they could take E.A.C down. However, he has bigger concerns now. Many of which stem from the towering building at the far end of the city.
The elders drag behind him, whispering amongst themselves. The sound grating through his ears. The village is several days' walk from Farkensth. By their mode of transport, a set of horses that have seen better years, the time is shortened. Still, he doesn’t want to hear these older men grumble about him. Frowning, he glances around. This is his first time in the city. His empty eye sockets filled with water, giving him the appearance of actual eyes. That much he’d learned to control. Made it less harder on his eyes to learn the trick. He listens carefully to their ramblings, complaints of how he should’ve made a better plea to the king. Because pleading with a tyrant who kills even his own kin will win us favor. With a gentle exhale he slips off on his own. Bare feet padding along the stone pathway. He’s more surprised that his appearance doesn’t draw anyone’s attention. No one stops to question him about the strangeness of him having water for hair. There are no remarks about him using water for eyes in place of the ones he no longer has access to. Not a single inquiry about the blue splotches that have marred his dark skin. A smile melts onto his lips, the first in a very long time. Here the buildings are closer together. Much different from back home where livestock and homes blend together.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
He takes note that there aren’t large animals roaming around. Rather birds and small rodents. And while some of the pavement is sharp, it doesn’t hurt him much in any way, that is except for the glass that he stops to pull from the heels of his exposed feet. All he can do is take everything in. The buildings, the smells, the acidic taste of city air, and the sounds. All of it startlingly overwhelming. Yet he pushes on, delving further into a place unfamiliar to him. A small cafe catches his eye. The people inside, now that he looks closer at them, varying in appearances. All of them different just as he is. Small lips fall into an o shape, he turns precariously to look at his surroundings. Very few seemed to blend in as normal humans. He had yet to see a person that acted the way the elders did.
A ringing bell draws his attention. A woman stands in the open doorway of the cafe. Crooked grin exposing canines meant for wolves. Her hair is shaggy and eyes two different colors.
“You look both lost and rather awed. Are you alright?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Smiling she tugs the young boy inside, watching that no one dares to try and come harm him. Her customers barely bat an eye, only a couple glancing down at his barren feet.
“Tilathayne, that’s my name. Yours?”
“Saiyel, you have a village name, but I’ve never seen you before.”
“Roksev isn’t the only village around ya know.”
“I’m not from Roksev.”
Heads around the tiny space lift. They all knew the story of what had happened to Roksev. Destroyed in a civil war amongst the villagers and those ruined by the chemicals of Hyle lab. Barteslene has been an escape for those suffering the damage of the king's demand. As far as any knew Roksev had been the only affected village besides Joliere. Cities had escaped the rampant poisoning. All water and crops had been diverted back to smaller places and newer materials had been provided from outside the kingdom.
“Tha’ so?”
He nods, forgetting that he’s literally a head pooling with water. A man nearest to the counter where he stands. He smells vaguely of mint, raspberry, and mold. The only visible eye on his face reminding him of a glitter-filled glass ball. The hair covering the other eye is stringy and graying.
“Then where are you from? Villagers don’t really come up here.”
“Mynvielle, east of the desert.”
Suddenly he’s reminded that he’d been dragged up here by the elders of his village. A groan escapes his tiny body. The amount of yelling that they’ll do when they find him. Truly their own fault. He will never hear the end of it. Still, he seems complacent to leave the space he’s in. Feeling more at home here than in the village itself.
“They told us the place had been wiped out. Most of Hyle’s chemicals were dumped straight into the irrigation out that way.”
“I wouldn’t know. I’m merely 15 in age. If that’s the case no one is saying anything about it.”
His shrug is enough to tell anyone listening that the village itself is not all it seems. As questions are asked, he answers. The only thing he knows is the truth. These people take it all in. Many sitting with a quiet storm brewing behind their eyes. He’s unsure as to why. The death toll in his village seemed common to him. Even the amount of survivors seemed simple enough. That is until a very small figure sat on one of the tables speaks up.
“There shouldn’t be fully grown adults who know the history of a condemned place. There shouldn’t even be people living east of the desert. The fact you live in a village full of children only affected by Hyle labs’ dumping and none of the infant's born show signs of defects-”
“Let alone mutations.”
“-yes that too, says there’s more going on than any of you know.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does. If they’re giving you and the other children the poisoned water, and keeping the cleaner water for themselves and livestock.”
He shakes his head. Surely that isn’t the case.
“Your elders never once made a complaint to the king before, correct?
“No.”
“Yet, the very moment you show signs. Signs of being able to manipulate the water, they panic. They brought you here for a reason.”
“To get help.”
“To save their own asses.”
Panic and stress fight for dominance. These people don’t know him. They haven’t been in the village. What exactly could they know about what’s going on? And yet, his mother has spent her whole life protecting him from them. Even when they pried her fingers from his small wrist to drag him here. Not only that she’d never once been sick in her life as far as he knew. And yet when his skin began splotching her health started deteriorating. The life leaving her eyes. Mother?
“Crow, where the hell are we going?”
“I need to pick something up before we go where we’re headed. It-shit.”
As they round a corner onto a narrower street their feet spill into nothing but water. Natural instinct says a pipes burst, yet the sight before them clearly says otherwise. The street is overflowing and somehow it hasn’t transferred anywhere else. With the utmost care, they move into the street. With his brother and those he’s allowed of E.A.C to enter close behind him, he moves to where it seems the water is stemming from. A group of elderly men he’s not seen before stands cowering in fear at the feet of a boy whose hair is currently liquid and engulfing his entire body.
“Tila, what the hell is going on?”
“If I could get him under control I’ll gladly explain.”
“May I?”
Fink cautiously steps towards the smaller boy. Not daring to hesitate when the child’s gaze falls on him. It’s a simple gesture, reaching his hand out. However, it’s something he wishes someone had done for him. The boy is evidently cautious, but takes the hand going limp the moment he does so. Water rushes into the surrounding streets, running freely without his hold. The cowering men lift their heads, an attempt to thank him. Except the words don’t form. Not with Crow standing before them carrying a throwing knife and glaring fire at them.
“I don’t recognize you. Who are you?”
“We’re from a village east of the desert. We came to see the king for a favor. And yet he denied us. Please, we just wish to take the boy home to his mother.”
“I’d feel safer if he stayed here. You can send for her if you wish.”
“He is our responsibility. He doesn’t know any-”
“Because of what you’ve done to him. Funny, you fear the very thing you created. I assume he’s not the first one either.”
“Fink, shut up. Not your place.”
“It’s exactly the same thing all over again. Minus Hyle himself.”
“FINK!”
“WHAT?! AM I NOT ALLOWED TO BE ANGRY? WE THOUGHT THIS SHIT WAS OVER? WHY IN THE HELL ARE PEOPLE STILL TRYING?”
Raven grabs hold of his friend, pulling him back against him. Careful of the young boy he’s holding tight to. There’s no telling what the normally docile male will do in a fit of rage. This isn’t the boy he knew before. Even as the men stand Raven holds back his own urge to beat them half to death. What the hell is wrong with these people. Will the lives of children never be sacred?