The Regenerates (10 page)

“Who did you say you two were?” said Claira, crinkling the handkerchief in her palm.

No one said a word. After a painfully long silence, Ven had had enough.

“We’re from Cor. We escaped and we weren’t sure whether it would be safe to tell anyone, so we kept it a secret. I’m sorry.”

Albar put down his cutlery a little louder than Ven would have liked. “You escaped, you say? Last time I checked, only aristocratic snobs get handkerchiefs made of satin. That would make you nobles. What do they call you folks? Highheads?”

Ven didn’t even bother correcting him.

“That’s impressive,” said Kayn, sneering at him.

“Would you shut up?” Ven exclaimed.

“No, I’m curious.” Albar had a glint in his eye. “Why would a noble want to escape Cor? As opposed to someone living in tin shanty-towns?”

This was bad. Ven prayed Kayn would keep his patriotism to himself.

“It doesn’t make a difference whether we’re nobles or not,” said Ven. “We had to get out of there. Someone helped smuggle us out and we’re supposed to meet his partner in a small settlement by Hygon Pass. The point was to get as far away from Cor as we can. As you can tell, we don’t really get out much.” Ven swallowed painfully at his lie.

Kayn said nothing, a small smile forming on his lips.

“Well, that explains your terrible fighting skill, Ven,” said Albar.

If the situation hadn’t been so uncomfortable, Ven probably would have been insulted. He looked at Claira. She clenched her jaw. Walking over to the table, she slammed the handkerchief onto it.

“I hope you weren’t rummaging through my things,” said Kayn, looking at Claira.

Eve picked up a handful of beans from her plate and flung them at Kayn. “Say that again, you little pig–”

“Eve!” Albar gently placed her hand back on the table. Kayn picked up a napkin and wiped the side of his face.

“Actually, no,” said Claira. “I was washing your mud-soaked shirt and found it in your pocket. That wasn’t too bold of me, was it? Doing your laundry? I mean, aren’t you aristocrats terribly afraid of doing your own chores?” She scoffed, her face darkening. “Although, it’s probably not fair of me to judge
all
of you. As the leader, so the people. It’s his fault the rich treat the poor like vermin.”

Ven held his breath. He could have cut the tension with a knife. Kayn’s sneer vanished and his cheeks flushed.

“We don’t mean you any harm, I promise.” Ven fiddled with his cutlery awkwardly. “I completely understand if you want us to leave. We’re extremely grateful for everything you’ve done for us, and I apologize again…for him, and for any trouble we may have caused.” He tilted his head in Kayn’s direction.

Claira’s expression softened at Ven’s words. She sighed and took the empty seat beside him. “I didn’t mean to be so rude,” she said. “It’s not right of me to be so prejudiced. You’re both welcome to stay an extra night. At least until your leg gets a little better, Ven.”

“I think I’m ready to leave, thanks.” Kayn got to his feet.

“Fine with me,” Eve snapped, crossing her arms.

Albar sighed and stood up as well. “Wait, son. This was just a misunderstanding. It’s been cleared up. Let’s forget about it, yes?”

Kayn ignored him. There was a vein twitching in his temple, but it didn’t appear to be out of anger. Ven was in no mood to pity him, but Claira’s comment had to have stung.

“Typical,” said Kayn. “It’s the
poor
people who are the most ignorant.”

Silence.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” said Ven.

“Get out.” Claira’s voice was dangerously quiet.

“Come on, Claira, it’s already dark–” Albar placed a hand on her shoulder which she shoved off.

“I want you both to leave my house. I’m sorry.” Claira opened her cupboard, pulled out a vial and a small clear plastic bag and handed them to Ven. “This is for your leg. I hope it heals soon. I’m sorry to do this to you.”

Ven stood there silently as he took them from her hands, thoroughly confused at what had just happened.

“Yeah,” said Ven after a moment. “We’ll go. Once again, I apologize.” He didn’t turn to look at Eve or Albar. His stomach twisted in shame. Was he sad because Kayn had hurt them or because he would be missing out on another day of hot meals and the chance to sleep on a soft surface? Ven bowed his head.
I was just getting to know them… Is this really all because of her feelings towards Cor?

Ven couldn’t help himself. He turned and took a quick glance at Eve. Her lower lip was quivering. Albar placed a hand to his forehead.

“Thank you,” said Ven softly. “Goodbye.”

T
hey left the beautiful village behind as if nothing had happened. It was better that way, Ven felt. He wasn’t up for discussing Kayn’s lack of manners with him, or the fact that it was Kayn’s fault they had been kicked out. What he
did
want to ask about was what relationship Cor had with Pulma. What had his city done to warrant so much resentment?

Heading north, they walked across the rolling hills, stopping to eat their meals on the soft grass. The beauty of the area alone was making the journey much easier. The fields and hills were dotted with clusters of cottages surrounded by short brick fences. Thin streams flowed in between the scattered residences, and were lined with small white flowers. There was a grandness to the blue sky that was magnified by their surroundings. It was immense and vast, and Ven felt dizzy if he stared at the sky for too long.

While still afraid that Kayn would hold true to his promise and find some way to maim him, Ven slept better every night. His fighting skill was still pathetic, but it was better than knowing nothing at all. In true fashion, Kayn didn’t say a word to Ven for a while. To Ven’s dismay, he insisted that they walk for long periods of time before stopping to rest, and Ven was forced to fight the soreness in his limbs and keep up. While Claira’s medicine was certainly working, every time he felt the burn in his ankles he couldn’t help but remember their poor, destroyed transport pod.

The time they had spent with Claira and the others might have ended badly, but she still reminded Ven painfully of home and of his mother. He missed Florentine blushing at everything he said, or Hans pulling pranks on the soldiers and being chased by them in return. On a couple of nights, he stayed awake, lying on his back and gazing into the sky, pondering the life that had changed in such a short time. He recalled Markis telling him to cherish what he had, because it could all be stolen from him. At the thought of Markis, his blood began to boil.

After a few days had passed, Ven began to notice something strange. The plains they had been traversing still hadn’t ended. According to their map, they should be nearing cliffs of sandstone and yet the endless green field seemed to stretch on continuously.

They had been traveling in circles. Ven had no doubt. Once more, their food had almost been depleted, and the little foreign Koins they had left bought them only meager leftovers from empathetic passersby.

“I knew something was wrong,” said Ven, as they stopped by a stream the next evening. He pulled out the map. “We don’t even know where we are, Kayn.” Ven twitched. It felt weird calling Kayn by his name, devoid of his royal title. “That’s it. The next house we see, we’re asking for directions.”

“I thought you said you were an expert at geography,” Kayn rinsed his hair with the stream water. “You said something stupid about being able to use your knowledge to get us there faster. Was that all a bunch of nonsense?”

“No,” said Ven coolly. “I wasn’t making that up. I’m the one who discovered we’ve been going in circles. Deny it all you want, but we’re lost. There’s something wrong with this map.”

“There is nothing wrong with the map. It’s you.”

“Then explain why we’re back at this stream. It’s been almost three full days.”

Kayn huffed. At this point, Ven didn’t care about being right. He just wanted to make some progress.

“Right. Well, let’s just keep going until we get to civilization. We’ll ask someone where we are and how to get to Lamparth,” said Ven. His whole body ached. It had been days since they had seen or spoken to anyone and he was starving. He irritably kicked at the stones on the ground and watched them splash into the stream.

They were about to start walking again when Ven suddenly noticed something that he was sure wouldn’t be on any map. A short distance away, in the middle of a clearing surrounded by trees, a group of brown, animal-skin tents huddled together.

“What’s that?” said Ven.

“I don’t know.”

“There are people there. Should we go ask for help?”

Ven edged forward to get a better look, but Kayn frowned and held out his arm, blocking him from going any further.

“There’s something wrong. Look.” Kayn pointed to something at the center of the campsite. The sight made Ven’s heart drop into his belly. Lying in the center of the small settlement was a pile of corpses, and beside it, a small stack of belongings.

Ven began to back away. Kayn grabbed his arm.

“We need to get closer.”

“Are you out of your mind? They’re bandits. I overheard Claira and Albar talking about them. They kill you and steal everything you have, and we can’t let them get their hands on the Magistrate’s Dagger.”

“We won’t confront them, we’ll just listen to their conversation. Even if they’re nomadic, they have to make pit stops at cities and towns. They’ll lead us to somewhere where we can ask for directions.”

Ven didn’t like the sound of it. There was far too much at stake. If the bandits got the dagger, it was all over.

They backtracked and headed left into a group of trees. Crouching behind the trees, they slowly peered around, inching forward until they were close enough to hear the group of men talking.

“–Pathetic. They had nothing on them.
Nothing.
Not even a second set of clothing,” said one of the men, biting viciously into a piece of bread.

“Did you kill them all, then?”

“Not all. Some of ’em got away. Not that it matters. They didn’t have anything worth stealing.”

“That one group was a bit weird. Strange, wasn’t it? They were just walkin’ like the living dead, no bags or weapons or anything. Almost felt bad killing ’em. Some put up a fight, but I made them squeal. They wasn’t fighting no more.”

The men laughed.

“Old man Mavery is taking his time. We need to get going soon.”

“Renneth is only a few hours away. If he takes too long, we leave without him. He knows the way.”

Something about their conversation was making Ven’s skin crawl, other than their talk of murdering innocent passersby. A horrible feeling was erupting in his gut, and he couldn’t quite place it.

“Has the fella woken up yet? We need him to wake up. Got to ask him some questions.”

“No. You hit him pretty hard. I wouldn’t be surprised if he never spoke again.” The man laughed.

“You’d better feed him something. He won’t talk if he dies of hunger first. Why don’t you bring him out here? We’ll feed him.” The man leered, a twisted excitement on his face.

One of the men got up from around the campfire and entered a small tent. A few minutes later, he emerged dragging a nearly unconscious man by his bound wrists to the center of the group. One of the bandits poured a bucket of water on him and he awoke, gasping in surprise.

“Wakey wakey,” one of the bandits jeered. The captive man choked and coughed out the water that had entered his mouth. Ven held his breath as one of the bandits grabbed a knife and cut off the ropes around his wrists.

“Talk,” he said. “Where did your friends go? Not very nice of them to abandon you like that.”

“Why do you care where they went? We have nothing to offer you,” the man spluttered.

“One of your bunch had something important. They were hiding it from us. But they got away before we could get ’em. What was it? Because we think it was treasure.”

“It wasn’t riches. We have no use for any of that. It was food.”

“You’re a liar, little man.”

Before the captive could respond, the bandit kicked him in the stomach. He cried out in pain, and was kicked again.

“I’m not lying to you!” cried the man. “I don’t know how to make you believe me, but I promise I’m telling the truth. The woman was carrying food in that bag for our sick and injured. She ran away to get it to them as fast as she could.”

The bandits exchanged glances.

“There’s something off about you folks. How come you was travelling with nothing on you? No money or weapons. Nothing.”

The battered man seemed to be trying to fight the pain in his stomach where he had been kicked. “We’re refugees,” he said. “The people you killed were helpless.”

Waves of horror and realization began to wash over Ven. This man was one of the Sentenced who had escaped through the tunnel on Abolition Day. Others of the Sentenced had never made it to freedom. Just when they’d thought they could begin anew, their lives had been ripped from them by animalistic vermin.

But only one thought was going through Ven’s mind. Were Coralie and her parents among the victims?

“No…”

“Shut up,” said Kayn. “Don’t say anything.”

“We need to get that man. He can take us to the others,” Ven whispered.

“Others? Not a chance. I already made myself clear, we are not confronting them. If those treasure-mongering fools get the dagger, I am going to jump into that fire and drag you with me. We are not saving him. Besides, they are the Sentenced for a reason. Their judgment was unavoidable, no matter what.”

“Listen to me,” Ven whispered, “I am going to make sure Coralie and her parents are alive and there is
nothing
you can do to stop me. Get it?”

Ven didn’t care if Kayn tried to hit him. He wouldn’t dare make a scene, at least not here.

“Alright,” Kayn tilted his head. “I’ll help you get him out of there on one condition. When you’re done interrogating him, we leave him where he is. We don’t help him. You can tell him that part yourself.”

Ven had never hated anyone so much in his entire life. But he knew he needed Kayn’s help. He could never take that whole group of bandits on by himself. He wouldn’t even stand a chance against one of them, let alone a group like this. Breathing slowly, he calmed himself down.