Of Noble Chains (The Ventori Fables) (2 page)

“I didn’t think Ventori were allowed to be so petty,” Zia whispered, “besides, it doesn’t matter if you graduated first; I got my acceptance letter before you.”

A smirk in Zia’s direction
and her heart did an unfamiliar hard thump. Hayden shifted in his seat to face her.  He put an arm around the back of her chair and brushed his sandy bangs from his eyes.  Zia would never admit it, but her heart did another little flutter.  He laughed, “You got an interview first, not an acceptance letter.”

“Sorry, but I don’t see the difference,” Zia grew tired of being so close to Hayden, especially with the overwhelming
scent of after-shave.  “By the Light, have you picked a clan yet?”  Hayden flinched and turned back to the stage, removing his arm from Zia’s personal space.  He kept his mouth shut for the rest of graduation.

The reception was held outside, once everyone had gone through the journey of walking across the poorly lit auditorium stage.  Zia had managed to escape any more conversation with Hayden Rider and met up with Iscah first.  She greeted her best friend with a tight, breathtaking hug.

“I’m so happy for you!” Iscah said, pushing Zia back to hold onto her shoulders.  “You graduated early, and from the Light Academy no less!”

“I know!” Zia grabbed Iscah in another hug, her strawberry scented hair flowing everywhere.  “Now all I have to do is survive telling my parents about college and I’m done!”

Iscah pushed her away.  Zia laughed, thinking about how their roles were usually reversed.

“You still haven’t told them?” Iscah asked, her large eyes sharpening on Zia.  “But you’re interview is tomorrow, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Zia said slowly, “I’m going to do it tonight, after dinner.  So don’t say anything!”

Zia waved her hands at Iscah as her parents approached.  Iscah was staring daggers into Zia, and had every right to.  But as Zia’s parents approached, they each plastered an easy smile on their faces.  Win and Cash immediately hugged their daughter, right before they started snapping pictures.

“Alright Win, calm down,” Cashel laughed, taking the camera from his wife’s frail hands.  “I think we have enough photos for now.”

“But I can’t help it, honey,” Win started to pat down the shoulders of her daughters robe, picking off stray hairs or pieces of fluff, “she graduated from Light Academy at only seventeen.  She’s the youngest student to ever do it!”

“Technically there are five of us graduating at
seventeen this year,” Zia burst her mother’s bubble, even though she already knew this.  “But I guess out of all of them I am the youngest by about a month.”

“Oh, I don’t care,” Win whipped Zia into another hug, “I couldn’t be prouder and I got to be here to see it.”

“Ha ha, yeah…” Zia pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.  Knowing what she was thinking, Cashel handed the camera back to Win.  “Let’s get some more photos, yeah?”

Zia spent the rest of the reception with Iscah and her parents, taking small chances to glare at Hayden Rider.

He stood on the opposite side of the courtyard, watching Zia with every chance he got.  From now on he wouldn’t be able to see her on a regular basis, and it made his chest hurt.  But Hayden knew that if she at least got into the Tracker program, there was a slim chance he would get to have classes with her; of course
he
had to get in as well.  Arranging to sit next to her at graduation hadn’t been easy.  He had to convince the girl that was originally supposed to be there to trade spots, and then he had to switch the names on the roster.  Hayden couldn’t believe Zia had thought he was doing it just to say he graduated before her, but then again she had never been able to notice his advances before.  For one of the most popular girls in school, she certainly was oblivious to how others felt towards her; or maybe it was just his feelings she didn’t notice.

A sigh escaped his lungs, and his friend Cal noticed.

“I got a plan,” he announced to Hayden, who finally shifted his gaze away from Zia.

“A plan?” Hayden mocked.  Cal, one of the only other clan members in the school,
always
had a plan.

“Yup, just you wait,” Cal winked, “she’ll be yours in no time!”

Suddenly Hayden noticed his father had disappeared and he glanced around the immediate area.  The man he called dad was already stepping into a sleek limo on the edge of the road, not even turning around to give his only son a wave goodbye.  Hayden grimaced, and Cal jostled him.

“Your mom’s coming over, man,” Cal said, and whirled away with a fresh drink.  Hayden wished he could do the same.

But instead he jumped into action as his mom approached, “Hello, mother.”  He wrapped his arms around her stiff shoulders and she gave him a single pat on the back.  She was of the Shakti clan, and they weren’t known for being…caring.  But she was better than his father, at least.

Her sandy brown hair blew in the light breeze and her lips formed a tight smile, “Congratulations on your graduation, Hayden.  I trust you’ll be choosing your clan soon?” his mother questioned.  Everyone was asking that, even Zia.  But he faked a smile, and nodded.

“Of course.”

“I trust you’ll make the right choice,” she eyed him, her makeup perfection.  He nodded again.

But the truth was he had no idea which clan he would pick.  His gut told him to go in one direction, while his mind told him to go another.  But for now, he would convince his mother he was going to enter the Shakti clan, and become a true member.

“Of course.”

Hayden couldn’t help but wonder what his parents would do when he really did choose.

That night Zia went with her parents to her favourite restaurant to celebrate.  It was half bar, half diner, and had a family feel to it.  Though her father had suggested going to one of New Havilan’s more upscale restaurants, Zia refused;
Stallion’s
had the best burgers, in her opinion.  Plus there was no chance of running into Hayden there.  She squeezed into the blue vinyl booth next to her mother while Cashel retrieved their drinks from the counter.

The diner wasn’t that busy, since most graduates were probably out eating at the most expensive places in town, Zia though
t.  But she didn’t like those places; this place carried too many good memories for her.  And memories trumped fancy prices any day.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go back to school in the fall?” Win suddenly asked, taking Zia away from the blissful atmosphere of the room.  The same elderly couple that had been watching her at the library hobbled their way to a booth on the other end of the diner, n
ot even seeming to notice Zia.

“I’m…sure,” she lied, “I just want to work for a year and really…think about what I want to do.”  Zia shrugged, trying to imagine how tonight’s conversation would go.  How would she take it?  Zia didn’
t think it would go very well.

“Well, alright,” Win said, just as Cashel set th
eir drinks on the white table.

“Here we are,” he said, “our orde
rs are all set.”

“As always,” Zia laughed.  Her mother picked her glass to her lips, taking a sip.  Maybe now would be a good time to test the waters?  Zia thought.  “So…speaking of school and all…did you hear Hayden is trying to get into the Havilan School of Trade?  He’s tryi
ng to become a Ven—a Tracker.”

The liquid spat from Win’s mouth, sending her into a coughing fit.  Zia passed a napkin to her as fast as she could and she dabbed it at her mouth, still coughing.  As the cloth came away, she tried to hid
e it, but Zia knew all too well what was there.

Zia turned quiet, as did Cashel.  Nobody said a word, knowing what everyone was thinking.  There was no way Zia could tell either of them that she planned on doing exactly what Hayden did.  There was no way she could tell them that she had an interview tomorrow with the Havilan School of Trade’s Chi
ef Administrator for Tracking.

“I’m sorry, mom,” Zia said, “I was jus
t…making conversation is all.”

“I know, Zia,” Win said, waving her hand at her daughter,
“you just caught me off guard.  That poor boy has no idea what is in store if he does become a…if he succeeds.”

“You said his name was Rider?” Cashel asked, careful to watch his wife in case of another attack.  “Is he the one that has to pick a cla
n?”

Zia nodded her head, glad to get the topic off of Tracking. 
Hayden was sort of famous among clan members, because it was so rare to be born to two different ones.  He would eventually have to pick which would be his official clan, which meant shaming the other.  Zia felt a little sorry for him, but really it couldn’t be horrible.  She could see in her father’s eyes that he didn’t like the idea of picking a clan though, and the topic was just as upsetting.

“That must be tough,” he finally said, “for both him and his pare
nts.”

“Oh yeah,” Zia scoffed, “it must be so horrible to have to pick a clan.  Who should it be?  The Shakti, the most powerful warriors, or the Jasper, the best Trackers around?  Oh…I guess he’ll probably pi
ck the Jasper clan then, huh?”

“If he wants to become a true Tracker, he will most likely pick them,” Win came in, squeezing her napkin under the table.  After a moment she excused herself to the washroom.  Zia pursed her lips and watched her mother’s hunched shoulders find their way through the famil
iar quarters.

“Sorry,” she said again.  Cashel only shrugged her off; Zia would have preferred he scolded her or something.  Ever since
Donataen died…they never punished her for anything.

Zia took a sip of her drink, avoiding eye contact and hoping their me
als would get there soon.

In the washroom Win made her way into a stall, needing to take a breath before facing her family.  She tossed her bloody cloth into the toilet, and leaned against the cool plastic of the door as she locked it.  Her sickness was getting worse; the Tertiary Plague affected less than one per cent of the population, transferred through blood.  At one point in time its various strains devastated the humans, but the clans now helped develop a way to combat the disease.  Win covered her eyes, thinking of how lucky she had been to meet Cash, a clan member, so their children would never get the plague.

But the sickness still ravaged her body every day.  Nobody in New Havilan even called it the plague that it was; they referred to it as “the sickness”.  It shortened the lifespan of those with
the sickness which usually meant they never made it past 30, but she had, thanks to the hard work of those at the hospital.  But it wasn’t enough to actually save her; she still couldn’t speak the words they had told her at her last visit.

Win left the stall, finding the bright washroom empty.  She patted her face in the mirror, noting the large bags that crouched under her eyes, how her skin almost appeared translucent.  She painted a smile on her lips, reminding herself she lived to see her daughter graduate high school. 
One day at a time
, she thought,
one day at a time.

Her bare feet padded against the wooden planks of the Redcreek bridge, splinters digging their way into her toes.  The red haired woman kept running, only taking a second to glance over her shoulder as she passed a sign reading “BRIDGE CLOSED: CONSTRUCTION”.  Even if she had been looking at it though, she wouldn’t have seen it; there was only one light at the end of the bridge, barely illuminating such a black night.

The moon hung in the sky, she knew that, but tonight it hid behind the clouds, not daring to look upon this scene.  A scream escaped her throat, having bubbled up from the terror.  As she reached
the end of the bridge a laugh soon followed; her, a skilled Ventori, just screamed out of fear.

Her laughing soon subsided as she banged her fists on the wooden planks that blocked her way, the bridge broken halfway over the river.  What had started out as a beautiful evening wasn’t going to end the way she had planned.  Lifting her green gown to prepare for a fight, she decided she wasn’t going to go down easy and pulled a dagger from a sheath on her thigh.  If tonight was the night she died…well, she was going to take someone with her.

Red hair swirling in the night wind, she turned as something hit her.  The dagger she loved so much fell to the planks below and glinted under the dimming bulb that hung nearby.  Her breath disappeared from her lungs and the boards cracked and crunched under the pressure, along with her ribs.  She hadn’t seen what had hit her, a Specter maybe, a big, solid Specter.

The woman sailed over the water and plummeted down, a man watching her fall.  She didn’t scream this time; she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.  But as she contacted with the freezing water below she closed her eyes, and let out one last breath; a scream
silenced by the rushing waves.

A blurred image of the man walked away, not even checking to make sure she was dead.  He didn’t need to, even she kn
ew she wouldn’t survive this.

“So how did it go?” Iscah asked from the other end of the phone.