CHAPTER THREE
Savena
When Coh woke up, he felt like he’d surfaced from a depth he’d never managed before. His ears hurt and he shook his head, unsure of where on earth such a sensation came from.
He looked around, something along his spine tingling, but he could see nothing amiss. The only thing different was the fact the sun wasn’t even out yet.
He shrugged to himself and he crawled out of bed, as the pain in his head faded to oblivion; blasted away like a spider web in a rain storm.
When he looked around, however, he noticed something was off. Like he was seeing through the colored glass of church windows, he could see something else. He couldn’t describe it and it went away before he could figure out what it was.
He shook himself, and then went about dressing—careful about his bandage, his sore side, and about maneuvering around in the dark.
His side throbbed.
He couldn’t believe it had only been three days since his accident.
#
Wandering into the kitchen, Coh smiled at his mother.
She grinned back, but that weary glint remained steadfast in her eyes. “Good morning, honey,” she chimed.
“Morning,” he said. He eyed her watchfully. She’d been easy to upset since his accident. She was wearing a plain-looking dress as per usual, but her hair, normally carefully groomed into a braided bun atop her head--much like a snake curled on a rock--was loose down her back. He shook his head, then stalked over to the table and took up a seat by Mark.
Coh paused, surprised, and tilted his head.
He gawked at his eldest brother, who just stared back at him, completely at ease. But Mark always seemed comfortable. Today, in his over-sized shirt and with his brown hair a mess, he seemed more so than normal.
“What are you doing up so early?” he asked, still watching him.
He then noticed, belatedly, that Mark was chewing; jaw working and emitting small popping noises at random. So he was eating.
But--still.
Mark took a sip of his drink, and then turned, dark eyes lit.
“Happy birthday,” he said, grinning.
Coh blinked. Then blinked again. “What?”
“It’s your birthday. I wanted to get up early to celebrate it with you.” Mark looked thoughtful. “Plus, we have to go to Savena.”
“That will be okay, right?”
Coh started. His mother was watching him, close; brows drawn together. He smiled, trying to reassure her. “I keep telling you I feel fine. So it will be perfectly okay--because I’m fine.” He noticed he was sounding like Luke, saying he was fine all the time, but you had to pick up your habits from someone, right?
She just shook her head and went back to whatever it was she was doing. He didn’t get much of a chance to see exactly what, because the next thing he knew he had Luke --speak of the devil--all up in his personal space. However, that was probably the most normal thing to happen since the little attack, so he welcomed it.
Sort of.
Luke rocked back on his heels. “Happy birthday, little brother—you’re a year closer to hanging out in the graveyard already!”
“Get off me!” He pushed at him--sent him falling, smack onto one of the much-abused and ancient former-pub-stools.
“Luke!”
Coh winced and he was pretty sure both of his brothers winced along with him when their mother shrieked.
Luke just stared at their frazzled mother for a long moment. “Yeah, Mum?” he asked, as he snatched up a biscuit.
Mom just looked between him and Coh. “Don’t talk about death at the breakfast table.”
“Sure,” Luke said. He then leaned on Coh.
Coh narrowed his eyes. “What exactly are you doing?”
“Getting close so we can scheme,” Luke said, rolling his eyes. “Okay, what do you want me to steal for your birthday present?”
“Shove off,” Coh said. He shoved half a biscuit in his mouth and Luke just huffed beside him.
He glanced sideways at the middle-child of his family. His hair was parted right--unlike Mark’s. He seemed to be filled with energy, too, as he about vibrated in his seat, much unlike either of the two awake.
He ate and watched as the last member of the family entered. His father--adoptive father, if he was being honest about it. Jacob, known as Jacob Gray or Jacob of Tariq if he went into any big town. A tall man. Longish dark brown hair, beard of the same color, but with gray and white mottled. Tanned skin, russet from working under the sun, and dark, amber eyes.
If Coh hadn’t had black eyes, golden-toned skin, or a much-too-round face, maybe he would blend in. But he didn’t. He was a gangly-looking Northerner, not a Virenian.
Thankfully, no one here seemed to care. They never had, so it wasn’t like they’d bring it up--but still. And with all the people who’d he’d later learned tried to cast him off--claiming he was some changeling--he decided he should be very, very grateful.
The fact he’d lived here thirteen years, in this shanty cabin on the edge of the Damis Forest, hit him as hard as that beast hit him days before.
He shivered.
“You okay, Coh?” Luke asked beside him; a smear of berry juice on his face.
Coh chuckled, then fell into hysterics.
“Didn’t realize that was a joke,” Luke muttered, looking miffed.
#
Coh’s father literally growled. The giant chestnut stallion he was trying to ensnare in the harness just looked back dumbly.
“Come here, you stupid animal,” he said, as he tugged on the halter of the giant chestnut stallion. At the light yanks, the animal took one step forward, but Coh realized his dad was far too gentle to appropriately manhandle the white-faced beastie.
“He hates being hooked up to the buggy, you know,” his mother said.
Coh glanced to the side. She was up sitting on the bench seat, looking prim looking in a empire-waisted gray calico dress, something she’d changed into. He took note of that, only because he didn’t have much else to do. He also took note of how she’d put her hair into a velvet sheath that tied at the base of her neck. Dad must’ve got her a present.
He shrugged, then looked around.
Him and his brothers--well, they were already up in the said buggy. They just weren’t as comfortable. Not that his mum looked very comfortable, either.
Luke was sitting on the opposite side of him and Mark was in the left corner. They had been sort of squashed back there with the vegetables that were ready, opposed to the still developing lot that took their sweet time till harvest, and the hay was poking Coh in his back end. He chose not to mention it--too humiliating. Otherwise, Luke looked like he was about to snap--face twisted into an expression that wasn’t the least appealing. Sweat was even gathering on his forehead. But Luke--he’d never liked tight spaces.
“But he has to be hooked up to the buggy. Ever since I had to put down Clarisse last season, we only have him and Ginger.” Coh barely heard the back-and-forth, but Dad’s voice getting louder for that bit caught his attention. He chose to ignore it after that. Getting ready to go places was never a joyous occasion. Best to block it out. The squabbles were annoying on average.
“Hey, Luke,” Mark said. One of Coh’s eyebrows rose. He had one of the sugar beets in his hands, seemingly for no particular reason.
“Yeah, what is it?” Luke stared, eyes slightly narrowed.
“Beet?” Mark asked, sticking the vegetable in Luke’s face.
“You’re lucky I don’t feel like hitting you.”
Coh chuckled, then shook his head at the pair. His mother finally responded. She gasped and let out a squeaky “Boys! Behave yourselves!”
He laughed a little harder, only for Luke to kick him in the shin. “Ouch!”
“Stop being weird!” was Luke’s retort. “I swear, I thought we’d have to donate you to the church for an exorcism this morn. Don’t make me think of actually doing that.”
Coh just kept laughing.
#
“Welcome to Savena, the dreariest place currently existing,” Mark said.
Luke snapped something at him, but Coh just looked out over the edge of the box.
He was about ready to agree with Mark, but it wasn’t like he’d seen very many places. But going from the gray tint to the landscape, rough cobblestone roads, and rotten stench, he was pretty sure it must be in the top ten. Even their horses, color-matching and well-muscled, seemed to make a scene as the buggy caught the road and the buggy lurched onto the street. Gray houses stood like crooked teeth, windows gaping and dark, and bystanders just watched with wide eyes. A few dirty children even tried to reach out and touch their horses, even as his father upped the pace with a twist of his hands. He’d forgotten how rough this town was.
“Why are we here again?” his mother asked upfront.
“We get more money for crops here. They need the food,” his father replied, much quieter.
Coh just wrinkled his nose as a particularly horrid smell drifted their way.
“Let’s just get to town square quickly,” his mother said. She shifted in her seat and eyed the seemingly vacant houses warily.
“I’m working on it.”
#
Town square was better--somewhat. The stone and brick buildings stood straighter than their own house and the tans and cheery reds livened up the place. They even seemed a bit better put together, these homes. But the smell of old fish, rotten eggs, and waste crept up out of the pathways and snaky roads and ruined the pretty picture.
Coh shuddered a bit. “Do I need to do anything?” He leaned back on the buggy.
“Well, that fox keeps digging at the coop. Maybe you could get us some new wire and wood, to fix up the damage?” his father suggested.
“Yeah, I could do that.” The hardware store was on the main strip; away from the women with ragged hair and yellowed nails, feral cats with gleaming eyes, and, not being polite, freaks he knew were just a street away. It was safe. He felt himself relax with that, then felt like a girl. That is, he knew Luke would mock him for being a girl. Not that he could say anything. He was the one that didn’t like shooting the poor, innocent rabbits.
That being said, no one wanted to wander the streets of Savena that wasn’t born-and-raised there.
“Good. Here are two coppers.” His dad handed him the small copper coins.
Coh stuffed them into one of his pockets, before moving to stand beside his old man..
“Do I have anything to do?” Luke asked.
“Stay with the buggy and watch it,” Dad instructed. Coh and him both watched a pair of ragged young boys come up and mockingly whinny at the horses, before one reached out and tugged experimentally at their harness. “And watch the horses,” Dad tacked on.
Luke smiled, “Things aren’t that bad, right?”
Coh wished his brother was facing the right direction. Yeah, it is that bad, Luke. Look behind your bloody shoulder.
“They make things no one is buying and the taxes are high. It’s that bad,” Dad said simply, before walking off. He took their mother by the arm and the pair went off.
Coh listened as Luke gulped. “Right,” he said, then rubbed his hands on the front of his shirt.
“I’ll just be down the street, I’ll keep an eye on you,” Coh said.
“You’re currently an invalid. What could you do? I’ll be fine, anyway. I am taller than you. And older.” Luke shot him a pointed look, daring him to question him it would appear.
Coh snorted and just walked off. Not going to rise to that bait. “Keep your back to the cart, Luke!” he called.
“Sure, boss!” Luke’s voice echoed funnily as he reached the dry goods store, but he could hear every bit of sarcasm it held.
He turned back to his brother, who was leaning against the cart, and he flicked two fingers at him; before going back on his way.
Silent insults were quite amazing and, going from Luke’s hard to hear spluttering behind him he’d gotten his point across.
#
Being in Mr. Phios’ store was always interesting. The interior always seemed brighter than outside, for instance—but the warm tawny-beige paint might have something to do with that. And with dust motes hanging in the air, all sorts of tools, bags of grain lining the walls, and dried plants hanging overhead it seemed like an almost exotic atmosphere. Said plants also caused some sort of smell to constantly hang about; a sweet, spicy, and harsh scent combined, so different from the stink outside.
He also had the luck of standing in line behind two people, probably travelers, who were speaking in a harsher tongue he couldn’t decipher, which only added to the air of the place. However, if the shop was warmth, these two seemed to be ice--and that had nothing to do with the fact they had almost silvery blond hair. In fact, he couldn’t name what it was about them, but they stood out in stark contrast against the relaxed, muted background. Both had their muscular arms tensed and they didn’t seem to stop moving. If their hands weren’t trailing along the aisles on either sides, their irises kept moving from one direction to the other.
Needless to say, they were beginning to make Coh a little anxious. He felt like he should have caught on to something. Like their shiftiness had a reason, but he couldn’t see it.
The only two other people in the shop—a man in a gray cloak who was busy looking at something and Mr. Phios—didn’t seem as frantic, however. That helped a bit.
Coh then heard a ringing behind him and looked back. The door had opened, sending the bell above it into a noisy tizzy, and in walked in one of his least favorite people and two of said person’s friends. His gut clenched automatically, which did nothing for his chest-and-stomach wound, and he took a minute step back.
When the oak door closed quietly behind him, Adair shot him a vicious smile. “Hello, Northern scum. How are you today?”
Coh glanced away and pulled the wood planks and coil of chicken wire closer. He wasn’t sure if he was doing it for the protection, against getting hurt in his bad side, or just because he didn’t want Adair knocking them out of his grip.
“That’s right. Look at my shoes.”
Coh winced and one of Adair’s cronies gave him a shove, nearly knocking him into the shelves beside him. He glanced up and glared at the boy. The kid was stockier than Adair, with eyes too small for his face and wore clothes that were filthy with dirt. He was also a good head taller than him.
“Leave me alone, would you?” Coh asked, wishing he sounded more like a spitting snake at the moment. Wishing his voice didn’t shake.
Adair just shook his head at him, a smirk marring his face. “Don’t think so. Now move out of the line and let us normal people go first, abdul.”
Coh’s eyes widened. Even one of the men in front turned and snarled something back at Adair.
Adair didn’t seem in the least bit concerned by him, but he seemed to tense a little as the larger male traveler stared him down.
Good. It isn’t just me.
“Go get what my father wanted,” Adair whispered, glancing sideways at the scrawnier of his friends.
“Sure,” the boy said, before wandering off.
Coh watched the interaction and his grip tightened further on the goods in his arms. The thought of “Why do you let him order you around?” also hit him. But he ignored it.
“Well? Why are you still standing there?” Adair raised a golden eyebrow and crossed his arms over his narrow chest.
“I don’t have to move. I have just as much right to stand here as you,” Coh retorted, even as the ox-like friend of Adair’s scowled.
He couldn’t help but be a bit more confident knowing that the two men behind him at least were somewhat on his side. He shrunk under the glare aimed his way, nonetheless.
“Oh, you think so? I think you need to move.” Adair smirked.
Coh opened his mouth to snap back, when, to his surprise, Adair put his hands straight on his chest and shoved him—right back into the aisle. The air was knocked out of him completely and his side burned.
“You two—stop that!” Mr. Phios squeaked from somewhere up ahead.
Coh couldn’t find a response, as he stared into the face of his nemesis. Adair’s eyes were sharp and perhaps a bit too bright. He looked furious--no, malicious.
“Don’t you argue with me, you understand?” he spoke slowly.
Coh just stared, too shocked to respond yet.
“Oh, right, you’re much too stupid to understand, aren’t you?”
He growled, “I’m not an idiot.”
“Sure you aren’t.” Adair smiled. “Something was wrong with you to make your parents abandon you, though, wasn’t there? I guess they were upset that they’d messed up and reproduced more filth like themselves. I mean, who would want to make another abdul?”
“Shut up!” Something was crawling under Coh’s skin. He glanced at his forearms but saw nothing. He’d felt it, though—he still was. He’d felt it two nights ago.
“Excuse me?”
He shoved Adair, sending him flying into the lither of the foreigners.
“Stay off!” the man barked and he swatted Adair away, like he was some sort of bug.
Adair had fallen on his back end and he looked shocked. Seconds later, he just looked sly. “Oh no, I think I’ve hurt my wrist.” He cradled one arm. “When my dad hears about this he’ll be quite mad. And to think we practically feed your family.”
Coh saw red. There was no way else to explain it. He dropped his own things and his hands balled into fists. “You—you shut up. You’re such a conceited beast. I can’t even insult you enough. Leave them out of this!”
He looked to the foreigner for help. He’d made him fall, after all. Coh’d pushed him, but he had finished the job. He got no response, except for a look of confusion..
His eyes darted back to Adair’s face, to see him roll his eyes. “Oh, Coh, can’t you see he won’t like that either?”
The stocky friend snickered.
“Dalian,” some small voice whispered in Coh’s ear. It sounded like rustling leaves, blowing along the ground, and it sent chills down his spine. Everything seemed to freeze. Then it snapped back to life.
Coh lurched back, stumbling over his own feet, as a flurry of movement too fast for his eyes to make sense of happened.
Bang. The two shelves across from him seemed to be blasted back; wood cracking, tools going everywhere, white flour flying into the air.
Adair just seemed to have disappeared in the mess.
Coh’s eyes widened. No one around made a sound. He could see the two men, standing close and watching curiously back a bit and Mr. Phios with wide, fish-like eyes behind spectacles, just staring—flour dusting his graying hair. Adair’s friends just seemed to have frozen on the spot, one having dropped a metallic object, perhaps the thing Adair’s father had wanted.
Coh swallowed hard, thoughts racing through his brain.
“What did you do?” The larger of Adair’s friends looked beyond horrified. Coh felt the creeping sensation come back.
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Like Hades you didn’t,” the boy scoffed.
A movement in the rubble started and the scrawnier of the boys lunged forward. “Adair—you okay?”
A groan came from the mess, followed by coughing. “No, of course I’m not.”
Coh gulped again and he looked around. The two men were chatting amongst themselves now—pointing at him, Mr. Phios was still stuck in place, and Adair’s two friends were unburying their friend.
Coh looked down at the chicken wire and wood. He shook his head, then padded over to the counter. He put the coppers there, then went back to collect what he’d come for--the things he’d dropped in his rage.
He went to the door, walking around the man in the gray cloak who had somehow managed to get in between the aisles in the chaos, and he put his hand on the door knob.
“Coh Gray, stop; I need to talk to you!” Mr. Phios called.
He let the door slam behind him.
#
Coh walked along the cobblestone road outside the shop. His legs were shaking and he kept somehow getting his feet sliding out from under him, but he managed to get to the cart without too much trouble.
Luke spotted him and grinned, before coming around from where he’d been petting Ginger’s shoulder.
“Hey! So you got the stuff. That’s good.” Luke bobbed his head. Then he seemed to freeze like the others had in the shop, eyes curious--expressive as ever. “Coh, why are you talking to yourself?”
Coh shut his mouth. He hadn’t even noticed that he had been talking. He just shook his head and put the planks in the back. Then the wire.
Luke sidled up closer, face scrunched. “What’s up?”
Coh just moved away, hands moving to clutch at his own clothing. “I probably should get out of here until Mom and Dad get back. Uh, keep up the good work.”
“What? Why?”
Coh heard two women start chatting loudly--directly behind him.
“You think a Daka did it?”
“No, no. A Daka wouldn’t be in a dry goods store.”
“They have to get their food somewhere, don’t they, and how do you know what they wouldn’t do? They do whatever they want. Did you hear what they did to--”
He gulped and glanced over his right shoulder. Luke turned beside him. They both just watched as the ladies shook their heads, almost in tandem--neither of them willing to continue that path of thought it seemed.
Then one started again, the darker haired of the two, “I heard it through the wall—a big bang. The paint even started peeling, Mildred. It must have been magic.”
The woman, Mildred, tossed her honey-gold curls. “It could have been some creature, like a dragon.”
“A dragon couldn’t fit into a store, you dimwit.”
“Coh,” Luke drew out, “what are they talking about?” Luke’s eyes flickered from woman to woman, then back to him. He looked confused...and scared.
“I’ll tell you later.” Coh didn’t think, he just turned tail and bolted—setting off at a dead sprint even as his bandage pulled painfully taut across his side.
“Coh, what in the world are you doing?” Luke’s probable-yell sounded like a whisper behind him.
He just ducked into the nearest alley, completely ignoring his worried brother.
#
As he raced forward on the straight shot, dodging clothes strung between the too, too close walls, waste, and the occasional bone or metal scrap, he couldn’t help but think. So he sped up, trying to get his feet pounding hard enough, heart thumping fast enough, that those thoughts just blew away. It didn’t work. And he didn’t see the crate until he was on top of it. His eyes shot wide and he hopped, a reflex. His feet landed on loose, ill-placed parchment paper and he skidded into a wall. His shoulder rammed the thing and he winced, eyes snapping shut. His hands stung, where they’d hit the rough, damp stone.
He let out a long exhale and tried to control his scared shaking. He hadn’t expected that. He’d gotten what he’d wanted, though--everything but the racing thought of, I almost hit a wall!, was gone. His heart was also hammering quite nicely behind his ribcage.
He let out another shaky breath and glanced around.
A red tabby tomcat glowered at him from his throne--a stack of three rotting crates. The buildings on either side of him leaned together as if they would soon need to hold each other up, something that made him start to sweat a bit more. He looked up. A sliver of sky was visible from above, making the narrow pathway as lit as twilight.
Coh shook himself and just wandered to the nearest set of stairs. Three, smooth-from-age dark steps, half covered in rubbish.
He sat on the clean side and scooted some of the trash away with his foot. He then glanced over his shoulder. The black painted door inset in the stone alcove had cobwebs hanging from it like chandeliers. No one had been there in a while, then. There was even a rusted deadbolt on the outside and there was a gold keyhole beneath it.
He wasn’t sure why you needed a lock on the inside and the outside and he didn’t want to find out.
He dropped his head to his knees and tried to relax.
His effort didn’t last long.
“Excuse me?”
His body tensed.
Looking up, he saw the man. He was a downright pudgy bloke, older, maybe forty-something, and fat. He brought with him the smell of dead flowers and he wore a purple silk waistcoat.
He immediately disliked him, even as he immediately felt horrid in his sweaty woolen clothes, with his dirty hands and boots, and probable flour in his hair.
“Yes, sir?”
“Could you move a bit?”
Coh scooted over. Then the thought hit him. “Why?”
“I need to get in.” The man pointed at the door.
Coh just blinked. “Okay then.”
The man nodded briefly, then hopped up the stairs, not even bothering with the first step. Coh wanted to laugh, as the man’s short legs seemed quite unfit for such a thing, but he stayed silent. He was alone and who in Razira knew what the man might do if he laughed at him? He had a cane, not that he used it. He could whack him over the head easy with a cane like that--knock him out cold. Then what? And that he didn’t want to know, either.
He heard a jingle of keys, but he didn’t look back. Listening to the loud creak as the door’s hinges protested, he wanted to cover his eyes--just to make sure he didn’t.
Wait, when did it get sunny? He stared at the amber lights dancing on the steps and gulped. It was as if the Creator wanted to break his resolve. He, of course, looked back. Who wouldn’t?
He saw a flash of orange and burgundy, of shelves, then the door was slammed shut and the light was back to being dreary.
He gulped again, for good measure, and found another place to sit, across the way. The tom, who he quickly noticed had one ear and blazing copper eyes, didn’t like that and hissed at him, before running off. But he ignored him. It wasn’t like he’d run at him.
He was a bit too stunned to think about a cat.
What in Razira was in there?
At that thought, he felt like smacking himself. He was already deep enough in trouble as it were. He didn’t need to go and stick his nose in places it didn’t belong on top of everything else.
#
“There you are!”
Coh almost jumped out of his skin at the shout. He whirled, only to spot Luke stalking towards him, looking downright peeved.
“I’ve been looking all over for you and I was sure Mum was going to skin my hide because you got yourself lost and I saw you last and she’s already on my case enough as it is--”
“Luke, calm down. I’m okay. No evil hag tried to bake me in a mince pie. Let’s just go back,” Coh said, with as much fake calm he could muster.
Luke glared at him and Coh was inadvertently reminded of that tomcat. “Glad you seem so laid-back about it. Come on. Mark is in a tizzy and Da is, too. Mum--I don’t even have a word for her.”
Coh flushed. “How bad is it?”
Luke sighed--loudly. “You’ll have to ask Mark--who was almost fired just now. Don’t you know that’s the only way we stay above water? And Brige--his lady-friend--is Adair’s sister, need I remind you. There’s already enough bad blood--”
“He started it!”
“I don’t bloody care who--” Luke stopped, eyes widening. “Gah, I just sounded like Da.”
Coh tried out a small grin, then stood up and padded over. “Let’s just go,” he repeated.
Luke shrugged. “Sounds good enough for me,” he said. He didn’t sound like he meant it, though.
“I’m sorry if I scared you.”
“Yeah, yeah. I just need to get used to it. Come on, Hop-along.”
“Pardon?”
“You’re limping.”
“Oh” was all Coh could think of saying. He blinked and looked down at his feet. He did only have his weight on his left foot. Do I ever stop hurting myself these days?
“You’re really the most oblivious person I’ve ever met.” Luke clapped him on the shoulder, then made little tsk sounds.
Coh smacked him.
///
PRONUNCIATION GUIDE:
Phios--FEE-os.
Dalian--DAL-ian.
Savena--SA-vena.
Adair--a-DAIR.
AN: Thank you for reading once again (especially if you've read the other two chapters!) and I hope you're liking my half-baked novel so far. I have some of the fourth chapter edited (I think) and a good many chapters written in PART TWO (Mirabella's part), which I might post soon. (Ideas on where they'd go would be nice.)
Also, if you notice the time of everything is a bit off, tell me. I'm working out the kinks in the time-line. It was previously, like, "Oh, you got gashes in your side! OH NOES!", and a chapter later, "Let's go to town where you can carry heavy objects for us!"
...Yeah.
