This marks Tey's part of the narrative, and is the longest chapter yet, so I will be posting it in three parts.
Chapter two part B needs more reviews, so look at that first. Granted, the two aren't very connected. You could probably read this chapter right after chapter one and not miss anything.
The End of Time
Part One: The City
Chapter Three: Presulis
Tey wandered through the narrow alleys of Theratolia’s Foreign Quarter, his head down, his mind racing.
It’d been a day since the trip to the marketplace with Nendo—and now Nendo was gone. Tey was still at a loss to explain what had happened back there. All he knew was that three magical bombs had detonated and he’d fallen unconscious. When Tey had awoken, the first thing he’d done was scramble through the rubble, calling Nendo’s name, searching wildly for his friend.
But not finding him. After several hours, hot with exhaustion and dust-covered, Tey had to concede defeat. Nendo was gone. He’d even, in desperation, been turning over the bent and broken bodies, even though he didn’t want to believe that Nendo had died. But he hadn’t found any sign of Nendo, dead or alive. Then before Tey could continue his searching, the blue-uniformed guards had arrived and began beating at everyone they could strike with their swords, ordering the civilians away from the crime scene so the officials could investigate.
Since he didn’t know what else to do, Tey had taken to the city streets.
He didn’t feel much, in particular—which was strange, seeing as he’d just lost his best and only friend. All he felt was a numb hollowness gnawing in his chest. He felt that he wasn’t really there: He was walking, placing one foot in front of the other, but it was as if his mind had been detached from his body. He was a ghost, floating above the jumbled stalls crammed against the mud-brick walls surrounding him, heedless of the pungent scents of spices and the chatter of a dozen different conversations in varying languages.
A part of Tey couldn’t accept it: Nendo couldn’t be gone. As far as Tey remembered, ever since he’d been six or so, his life had been spent with Nendo. After Nendo had rescued Tey from a group of bullying dockworker boys, Tey had never been away from Nendo’s side for longer than half a day.
“Watch it!” snarled a small man in a turban as Tey accidentally bumped into him. Tey cast the man a sidelong glance before continuing ahead.
He didn’t know what had let him to the Foreign Quarter. It was home to emigrants from the land of Ajyad south of the desert, the islands to the east, and the southernmost continent, as well as nomadic Wanderers passing through. The streets were narrow and crooked and always packed with islander vendors hawking charms, Ajyadi women stirring bowls of spicy meat stews, and Wanderer bards strumming high, clear notes on zrithas. Tey had rarely gone to the Foreign Quarter before, since the vendors there were known to have sharp eyes, and the residents generally didn’t welcome native Theratolians, who they collectively viewed as guards and oppressors. Already, some were giving him evil looks: a group of old Wanderer men sipping glasses of strong-smelling tea in front of him had even surreptitiously drawn knives.
Tey didn’t want to hurt anyone, though. He didn’t even know why he was here, except that wandering around doing nothing felt better than sitting down doing nothing. At least, maybe, he told himself, he could uncover some clue to lead him to Nendo. The chances of that were slim, but it was better than giving in to despair. He had to believe there was a chance he’d find Nendo. He had to believe that something—some external force—had taken Nendo from him.
Nendo would never leave him voluntarily…
“Hey, little boy, you look lonely,” giggled a young woman to his left, opening an islander-style fan over her face. She was an islander woman, small-boned, pale and dark-eyed, and dressed in the elaborate robes favored by islanders. “I can give you companionship…”
Tey knew exactly what she meant by “companionship”, and quickly walked away.
“This ‘cursed city, can’t wait to get outta here soon I can,” grumbled an old Ajyadi restaurateur stirring a pot of bubbling spicy stew. “Swear these guards get worse, every day—”
A group of younger men gathered in a circle around the restaurateur replied in sharp, high-pitched Ajyadi—to Tey, the language sounded like shattering glass. He paused to watch the conversation, trying to ignore the grumbling in his belly the smell of the pungent stew inspired.
The old man said an emphatic sentence in Ajyadi that sounded like a curse. “Them guards, they poking up an’ down the Quarter, hunting foreigners. Think one of us did it. All they ask about, who made bomb, call us all criminals…”
They were talking about the explosion, Tey realized. He slunk closer, hiding behind the wood frame of an empty charm hawker’s stall beside the old man’s restaurant. Maybe they’d offer a clue as to what happened to Nendo.
“It wasn’t us,” spat one of the young men. “Probably one of those people, what do you call ‘em again—”
“You mean, the rebels who want us to join the Coalition?” Tey blinked in surprise at this new voice—it wasn’t as heavily accented as the others, and held a kind of lazy confidence that caused something inside Tey to shiver. “Why would they want to set off a bomb in the Yeral Marketplace? It’s not important, not flashy enough.”
Another young man spoke in a long stream of Ajyadi, that only stopped after a surly, Wanderer-accented voice discontentedly piped up, “No spy talk, please.”
This set off a hubbub of angry voices, some in Ajyadi, some in Mainlander, all shouting insults at the Wanderer. Tey chanced a peek at the scene—a man in a Wanderer’s loose robes was huddled at the edge of the group, his dark bushy eyebrows furrowed as he glowered at the others.
“It’s not spy talk,” snarled one young man. “No matter what the guards all say.”
“What, you calling me a Mainlander-lover?” growled the Wanderer.
Another angry hubbub, sounding like a cacophony of shattering windows. Tey winced and rubbed at his ears, wondering if he shouldn’t get up and leave if the conversation was going to turn away from the bombing to politics. He’d never cared about politics—it didn’t affect him, now, did it? And matters concerning the Coalition of Worlds were nothing but politics to him.
“People, people,” said the lazily confident voice. “Calm down. We’re all in this together. We’re all foreigners here—degenerates, if the mayor is to be believed. Ajyadi or Wanderer or islander.”
“Well said,” grunted the old man, and the young men all made rather noncommittal sounds of agreement. “So this bombing—you think not rebels—”
“I can’t say for sure,” said the confident young man, “but I don’t think so.” He added something in a staccato burst of Ajyadi, which caused all the young men (save the lone Wanderer) to burst into raucous laughter.
“What’d you say?” The Wanderer sounded discontent.
“Just that the rebels would rather ravage an expensive harlot than a cheap five-pend one,” replied the confident voice calmly. Tey squirmed inside; he didn’t like talk about sex at all, which set him apart from most other street boys, many who regularly took prostitutes and bragged about their “conquests”.
“Are you a rebel?” said another young man.
“What? Me?” The confident young man laughed. Tey was struck by the sudden longing to sneak a glance at him from behind the frame, but forced the impulse down. “No way. I might not like this world’s government much, but I like the Coalition even less.”
“Rebels shouldn’t be ‘plaining,” piped up the old man. “They getting their way, every day we cozy more an’ more with Coalition.” He practically spat the last word; Tey shuddered.
By now the conversation was nothing but politics. Suppressing a sigh, Tey gripped the edges of the wooden frame and began hauling himself up, prepared to leave this political meeting and find more concrete clues to Nendo—but as he stood, the flimsy frame emitted a loud creak.
Tey froze, his blood running cold. Behind him, the animated conversation ground to a halt. He could imagine the men all turning in his direction, staring with dark, suspicious eyes at the boy hiding behind the stall…
They would, Tey realized with a jolt, think that he was a government spy.
Move! Move, dammit, move! his mind was screeching, but his muscles seemed to have turned to water. He could only cling tighter to the creaking wood, splinters digging into his palms. With senses honed from years of street life, Tey heard quiet footfalls approach the stall. He tensed, trying to force strength back in his legs—
Before with a burst of crackling wood a knife struck straight through the frame, snagging several of his dark brown curls. Tey’s scream died in his throat and he yanked with all his force away from the stall, hissing in pain as a lock of hair was torn clean off his head. Something warm and wet coursed down his neck, but he didn’t care; all that mattered to him was running, getting out of here before they killed him.
Tey stumbled forward, but then a shadow fell over him and someone was standing in front of him, blocking his way. He turned, wildly trying to veer away from the person, but the next thing he knew a pair of hands had tightened around his neck and slammed him, full force, against the stall. Tey convulsed and cried out as splinters dug in his back and pain jarred down his spine.
“Did I get him?” yelled a voice from behind him.
“No, you idiot—” called a voice Tey recognized as the Wanderer.
But all Tey could focus on were the long dark fingers pressing into his throat, cutting off his air and leaving behind bruises, and a face leaning only inches from his own, an earth-brown face with a sharply regal nose and dark eyes burning like coals. Burning with hatred…
“You,” hissed the man, tightening his fingers into Tey’s throat; Tey fought the urge to gag. “Who are you?”
“Nghh-gaaackk—” was all Tey could manage, with the limited amount of air he could suck in. He wanted to say something—anything—to lessen the pressure on his throat, but couldn’t get enough air to speak. His head spun, and black spots began dancing in his vision.
The man’s face was filling up Tey’s field of vision, his breath hot and pungent with spices against Tey’s face. “Give me one reason—one reason—why I shouldn’t break your neck right here and now.”
All Tey could manage with the air he was getting was a desperate hollow whistling. The man, displeased, shook him, striking Tey’s head against the wooden several times. Stars burst in his vision and his stomach felt like it was trying to escape through his blocked throat.
“Is he a spy, Jyuna?” called a voice. For the first time, the man strangling Tey looked up and away, turning to face the group of young men—some with weapons drawn—watching the scene.
“What else could he be?” said the man—Jyuna?—sounding disgusted.
“Why don’t you let him talk?” said the Wanderer.
“Of course.” And then, miraculously, Jyuna eased his grip on Tey’s neck, slowly releasing the boy. Startled by the loss of contact, Tey slid and hit the ground, landing hard in the dust. He breathed deeply, sucking in greedy gulps of heavy hot air and massaging his bruised neck.
Tey didn’t have time to rejoice in being released, though, before a rough kick was aimed at his side. He yelped and tried dodging another kick, reacting by instinct, but then a fistful of his hair was grabbed and he was hauled back up and spun around to face his captor.
It was Jyuna. Now that Tey wasn’t being strangled, he got his first good look at the man and saw, to his surprise, that he was younger than Tey had expected: he couldn’t be much older than twenty. He was tall, though, towering over his comrades by at least half a head, and to Tey’s surprise bore a shock of flaming, waist-length red hair tied back in a ponytail. The short vest he wore was open in front, exposing a toned, earth-brown chest covered with intricate dark tattoos in abstract curlicues. Similar tattoos covered his muscular arms.
Tey found himself lost in the elaborate designs curling like snakes over Jyuna’s torso, a tiny part of his mind wondering what they meant, before the hand seizing his hair tightened and threw him, hard, against the stall again. Tey grit his teeth as the impact jarred him from scalp to toes.
“Who’re you working for, Mainlander?” snarled Jyuna. He was, Tey realized in a distant way, the same young man who’d spoken with such lazy confidence. “The mayor? The council? The rebels?”
Tey shook his head, dragging himself to a sitting position. He felt tender and sore all over, but suspected that he’d only be hurting more after Jyuna and his bunch were through with him.
“Lying,” spat the old man, who was leaning over his stewpot and watching the proceedings hungrily. The young men were surrounding him, their expressions just as hungry. Tey shivered; they were expecting a lynching.
“You’re a liar,” said Jyuna flatly, stepping closer to Tey. Tey rolled out of the way, in case Jyuna decided to kick him again.
“I’m not—I’m not lying!” he yelled, finding his voice. “I swear. I’m not a rebel or spy or anything. I was just—I was just—I’m looking for my friend!”
He had no idea what had prompted those words; they had just slipped out and now he couldn’t take them back. Jyuna loomed above him, arms akimbo, tilting his head in mock curiosity.
“Really? And is your friend a spy too?” His voice was low, silky. Dangerous.
Tey shivered. “No. No, his name is Nendo, he’s my best friend, I’m looking for him, all right? I didn’t—I’m not spying for anyone. I just thought, maybe, you’d know where he is…”
“Nendo? That’s a Mainlander name,” said Jyuna. “We wouldn’t know any Mainlanders, kid, unless they’re guards.”
Tey’s heart sank. No doubt, this group—foreign agitators, it seemed—didn’t know anything more than what they’d previously said. They wouldn’t help him find Nendo. They’d probably kill him first.
“He’s probably making that story up,” said one young man.
“Kill him, Jyuna,” urged the Wanderer.
“Hmm…well, one little mouse is nothing,” said Jyuna, seemingly speaking to himself. “It’s better to be—what do you Mainlanders say?—ah, better safe than sorry.”
With that, he took a step forward, and drew from his belt a sharp, wickedly curved dagger. He twirled the dagger several times, making a show of admiring how it gleamed in the sun, before striding to where Tey lay curled up in the dust.
I’m going to die. The realization stabbed him like a frozen arrow. It gave him strength, though, the wild strength born of desperation: as Jyuna approached, Tey kicked out, hooking his foot around the Ajyadi’s ankle. With an astonished curse, Jyuna stumbled and almost fell, though righted himself in time by gripping the wall. By that time, Tey had leapt to a standing position.
“Oh, the little mouse has some fight left in him,” said Jyuna, twirling his dagger again.
“I haven’t done anything wrong,” said Tey heatedly. “All I want is to find Nendo again. You’re in the way.”
He didn’t know where this concrete sense of purpose had come from, and in a way it almost scared him. Tey almost never was decisive. Why should he be, when Nendo had always made all the decisions for the two of them? Tey was content to just listen, and follow.
“You’re really fixated on this ‘Nendo’ ina, aren’t you?” said Jyuna with an unpleasant chuckle. Tey didn’t recognize the word, but he could understand Jyuna’s condescending tone.
“Nendo’s my friend. I want to find him. You’ve got the wrong impression. I’m not a spy.”
Jyuna just stared back at Tey, blinking, uncomprehending. Behind Tey, the other young men were staring as well, their eyes wide as those of monkeybirds.
But then, before Tey could figure out what was going on, Jyuna strode right up to him and grabbed Tey by the forearm. Tey yelped and tried pulling his arm free of Jyuna’s grip, but Jyuna continued striding through the alleyway, not caring if he bumped into people, focused only on his destination, wherever that might be.
“Hey—where are you taking me?” sputtered Tey, trying, and failing, to yank his arm free of Jyuna’s grip.
“Jyuna!” called the old man after Jyuna’s retreating back. “Where you going?”
“Taking care of the spy,” said Jyuna, flashing his comrades a cold smile. Something inside Tey shivered when he saw that smile: it was the smile of a predator about to devour his prey.
“Where—let go—” Tey tugged on Jyuna’s arm, but he might as well have been fighting a statue. He felt the stone hardness of Jyuna’s muscles beneath his own slimmer hands, and realized just what he was trying to fight against: A seasoned warrior, with years of experience and no qualms about killing.
Jyuna took a turn that led him and Tey into a much narrower alley, one with barely enough space for Tey to spread his arms. No one was in this alleyway; the sudden dissonance from the clamor in the main street to the muffled silence of this alley was jarring. Jyuna continued dragging Tey along until they were in the center of the alley.
“Going to kill me here?” said Tey roughly when Jyuna stopped.
Much to Tey’s surprise, Jyuna turned to look Tey in the eye and said, “I’m not going to kill you.”
“What?” yelled Tey, taking an astonished step backwards. “But you said—”
“What I say and what I do aren’t the same thing,” said Jyuna, with another lazy twirl of his dagger. “Honestly, kid—you intrigue me.”
“Me? What?” But…but there’s nothing special about me. I’m not special, I’m not different at all. I’m just a normal street boy. Not like Nendo…
Not like Nendo, who knew magic and reading. Some of the street kids who Nendo and Tey often hung around liked to speculate about Nendo’s history: Maybe he was the son of wealthy parents orphaned in the plague twelve years back, or the bastard child of a house of nobility, or something equally as ridiculous. Nendo, however, didn’t give a whit about the theories of his origin; he’d always said that what mattered wasn’t the past but what he did with his present. And Tey went along with Nendo’s attitude, as he always had. He could never imagine opposing Nendo.
“Yeah,” said Jyuna, shrugging slightly. “I don’t think you’re a spy. You’re too stupid to be a spy.”
Tey narrowed his eyes at Jyuna, none too pleased by the insult. Jyuna went on, though, heedless of Tey’s displeasure.
“Like I said earlier, you’re very focused on this Nendo, hmm? I can tell. You’ve got—what do you call it—kijya na dak. Resolve.”
No, I don’t, thought Tey. I don’t have anything. Just Nendo.
“I mean, most street kids, when I threaten them, they just run away. But you stood up back there. You stood up to me,” continued Jyuna. There was something to his voice, a quality that Tey didn’t recognize—admiration? But that couldn’t be right…
“I just wanted to find Nendo,” said Tey, congratulating himself on keeping his voice even. And it was true; he didn’t want anything except to find his friend again.
“Kijya na dak,” said Jyuna again, that near-admiring quality not leaving his voice. Then, quieter: “We could help you.”
“You?” Rage rose within Tey like a whiplash. “You tried to kill me! You and your little—discussion group there or whatever—”
“Not them,” said Jyuna, waving a dismissive hand in the general direction of the main street. “I mean us. Presulis.”
To Tey, Jyuna was speaking utter nonsense. “Us”? “Presulis”? What was Presulis—an Ajyadi word? Whatever it was, it sounded dangerous, and vaguely threatening. Tey tensed, preparing to run.
Jyuna had, to Tey’s surprise, turned away from Tey, and was busying himself with searching through one of the pouches he wore on his belt. Looking for a weapon? He’d replaced his dagger, after all, in its sheath… Tey turned away from Jyuna to face the alley’s exit, sucking in a deep breath in preparation for a wild dash.
But then Jyuna’s voice called imperiously. “Hey, turn around, kid.”
Tey did, feeling mutinous. Jyuna was beckoning at Tey with an outstretched finger, and, unwillingly, Tey stepped closer. To his surprise, he saw that Jyuna had slid on a pair of strange golden gauntlets that resembled solid gold bands on Jyuna’s wrists and gold encasing each finger, all connected by spidery thin lines of gold. Tey vaguely wondered if Jyuna wasn’t going to pummel him to death with those gauntlets—they didn’t look very lethal.
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Okay, here's another chapter I both love and hate. I do like the first part much better than the rest of the chapter, which just turned into this giant "meet the family" deal...O_o Anyway, I like Jyuna's character, so I'm happy to have introduced him.
The thing I'm worrying the most about, besides the action scenes, is the little "discussion group" scene. I'm always wary about doing exposition through dialogue because I have to balance between the dialogue sounding natural and the exposition making sense. I fear that what the discussion group is saying doesn't make any sense at all. And I also fear that Tey's voice isn't distinct enough from Nendo's.
Next part, if anyone's curious, you'll find out what Presulis is. Again, I'll love forever any one of you who reviews, and I'll happily return reviews for anyone who finishes reviewing. ^^
You know what I'm about to say - dialogue tags are a little too enthusiastic, some repetition, etc.
