Remains of Urth Read online

  “Strays?” Kohl asks in a tone that challenges.

  “Yes. Stray humans. That is what you are, isn’t it?” the tall, thin man asks matter-of-factly.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask and do not mask my annoyance.

  Faint color touches the man’s cheeks and he jerks back ever so slightly. “Oh, uh, don’t worry. There are a few strays who work here that I’ve found use for.” He clears his throat and shifts his weight from one leg to the next. “You won’t be alone if we use you.”

  “Use? In what?” I raise my voice, my annoyance growing with every bumbling word he speaks. He doesn’t seem to have a clue how irritating his demeanor is. I find it infuriating. And judging from the small muscle twitching around Kohl’s jaw, he does too.

  “In working on the advancement of our technology,” he states as if I should just know this information.

  I look at him incredulously and bite back a string of hostile words. I need one question answered before that. “What is a stray human?” I speak slowly and enunciate each word.

  The man holds my gaze for several beats. He hesitates then answers. “It’s a human who was found living in the wild.”

  “In the wild?” Kohl erupts. “Like we’re animals?” His voice rumbles like thunder and fills the warehouse. Several heads turn and gawk at us. “What are you?”

  Hand flying to his chest, the man looks aghast at the question. “I’m not a stray.”

  “Then what are you?” I demand.

  “Look, we’re getting off topic here.” Crimson bands streak his cheeks. “My name is Aaron. I’m a bred human. Bred humans are different.”

  “Bred humans?” Kohl’s voice teeters on the brink of outrage. This detail is not lost on Aaron, and even though Kohl is bound at the wrists, he is still an impressive and intimidating person.

  “The humans chosen to breed me were the ones who were deemed fit to reproduce. Most of the humans here are like me. We are the ones responsible for the advancement of all you see around you.” He splays long arms at his sides. “We’ve restored electricity to this building and have put hundreds of vehicles back on the streets.” Rolling his hand forward, he gestures for us to follow. “Come with me. Let me show you around.” Aaron gives the Urthmen guards a nod. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.” They acknowledge him by raising a stubby thumb in the air to show approval, though I can’t imagine why the reed-thin bred human wouldn’t be fine given that we’re shackled. Whatever the reason, he waves us to follow him. We shuffle forward and walk behind him toward the area where I count about twenty humans working on automobiles. “We work tirelessly to get more and more vehicles in use.” He gazes at the assembly line, hope filling his eyes. “Some time in the future, there will be working automobiles in every Urthman city on the planet.” Pride in his tone backs the hope in his gaze. I feel like gagging. “I’m happy to do my part in the advancement of technology.” He repeats the same word. Advancement. It’s as if it’s been ingrained in his vocabulary, planted there strategically. I find it as ridiculous as it is detestable that he stands before me, so filled with pride he seems delusional, and not only behaves as though his breeding bests mine, but that he works for the very species that’s systematically killing off his own kind.

  “Huh,” I snicker. “Technology that the Urthmen benefit from. Not you. Not your own kind.”

  “They are my kind,” he replies. “I’m a bred human.”

  If my wrists weren’t handcuffed, I’d have slapped my palm to my forehead. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. It’s absolutely insane. “Do you hear yourself?” I want to throttle him for his stupidity.

  “Hear myself with what?” Aaron asks confusedly.

  “You’re a slave, just like any other. But you’re too stupid to even realize it,” I lash out.

  “I beg your pardon.” Aaron’s right hand flies to his chest and covers his heart. “I am bred,” he starts to protest and for a minute I wonder whether he’ll stomp his foot like a frustrated child. Fortunately, Kohl interrupts him before he does.

  “You’re a slave. Used to build things for the Urthmen because they’re too dumb to do it themselves.” My brother’s voice is a clap of thunder that causes Aaron to jump.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Aaron attempts feebly.

  “Is it?” Kohl persists. “Look around. Why do you think only humans work here?” Kohl doesn’t wait for an answer to his question. “They need you to do what they can’t do, to figure things out and use brains they don’t have.”

  “No, no,” Aaron shakes his head, vehemently disagreeing. “Urthmen are too busy to do any of this. It’s why we’re here, why we’re bred. So they don’t have to waste their time.”

  I stare at Aaron blankly, too dumbfounded to respond. Kohl responds. “What a fool!” He says it loud enough for Aaron to hear. Ordinarily, I’d cringe. But today, I don’t. Aaron is a fool. He’s smart enough to not react to Kohl, however. Instead, he resumes taking us on a tour of the building and informing us that he’ll let us try different stations. He leads us to a station where metal weapons with long cylindrical tubes line worktables. Nodding and smiling like a proud parent, Aaron says, “Here we have our weapons post. Guns that have been collected over many years are repaired and restored here.” He sweeps his hand out to the side in a gesture that demands our attention focus on the work being done. As far as I know, a gun hasn’t been spotted, much less used, in about a hundred and fifty years. I can’t believe any are in existence. And that Aaron is smiling like an idiot about it, proud that his workers are repairing and restoring weapons that will more effectively and efficiently annihilate his species.

  Unable to contain my annoyance at his stupidity, I say, “Aaron, you’re proud of this?” I point at the station.

  A faint blush touches his cheeks. “Yes, yes I am. I’m very proud of the work taking place here,” he beams.

  “So you’re proud to make guns that Urthmen will use to murder humans?” Disgust coats each word I’ve spoken.

  “No, no,” Aaron stammers. “They’re used to keep proper order.”

  My eyes lock on him, widened in disbelief. “Proper order.” I repeat the phrase he just used, allowing all I see and all that I’ve heard to sink in. “The Urthmen trust you with working guns that could easily be used on them?”

  Expression horrorstruck, Aaron shakes his head. “We would never!” He mumbles the word “no” several times then continues. “Even with a gun we couldn’t defeat an Urthman! We wouldn’t even try.” He begins pacing, making an odd gesture that resembles flapping. I find myself conflicted by what compels me more, the concern that all his flapping will cause him to take flight, or the fact that he views Urthmen as indomitable. That a weapon as lethal as a gun couldn’t kill one.

  As Aaron continues to blather to himself, Kohl leans and whispers, “This guy is out of his mind.”

  “But he can’t be. He’s a bred human,” I reply, facing him with a sarcastic smile.

  Kohl chuckles. It’s a deep, hearty sound.

  “I’d like to punch this bred human, just to shut him up. Knock some sense into him. Whichever happens first.” Kohl shakes his head, his gaze returning to Aaron briefly. “Or knock him out and take as many guns as I can carry.”

  My head whips in Kohl’s direction. Our eyes lock. Then we look to the weapon post once again. “I wonder how many guns are here, how many have been built and restored and are housed right here in this building.”

  “I bet there are a lot.” Kohl replies.

  I glance left and right. Few Urthmen are visible and are distant, chatting and eating and not really monitoring what’s around them. I’m about to share that with Kohl on the off chance he hasn’t noticed it already when Aaron, composed anew and urging us to follow him, returns. “Come now. There’s much to see.”

  We are led around briefly before we’re unshackled and urged to join the automobile workers. Aaron explains that working on automobiles suits a skill set as limited as the ones
we have. From where I stand the skill set for these workers appears vast and intricate. I take little stock in his opinion. Since he’s opened his mouth, stupidity has flowed like a rushing river. The day is spent helping to assemble vehicles. I catch on quickly and, though I hate to admit it, find the work interesting. “We need to be here instead of the arena. We need to make ourselves useful,” I quietly state the obvious to Kohl, Pike and Ara as we work side by side.

  “We need to do everything we can to learn,” Pike agrees.

  “We need to find out where everything is stored here,” Kohl mumbles under his breath so that only I hear him. I immediately know he’s referring to the guns. I don’t know how an act as brazen as getting one gun out of the facility would occur but the prospect sends a small tremor of hope through me.

  After the day is over, we are chained once again and led back to the truck. Inside, in the dark, sweltering heat, I try to fill my lungs. I worry what the night will hold. I worry about Ara, about what Cas will attempt. Still, a small part of me is excited to return to see Reyna. I know I can’t allow feelings for her to cloud my judgment. I need to keep my sights set on work at the warehouse and residing there. I cannot allow my family to be slaughtered in the area, no matter how much I want to see Reyna.

  Chapter 11

  The truck rattles to a stop and the door rolls open. There’s an immediate tug on the line connecting my brothers and sister and I. My wrists lurch ahead of my body and I lose my balance, stumbling forward and landing on my knees. The fall is hard. Without my hands to brace me and absorb some of the fall, my kneecaps take the brunt of my weight, the impact. Small bursts of light appear behind my eyelids when I squeeze them shut in pain. I want to wince. To curse or cry out. But I don’t. I hold it in, stuffing it down deep into a distant and darkening part of me. I rise slowly, but rise, nevertheless, and follow a path I don’t recognize, largely in part because instead of seeing a wide open courtyard, covered with grass, I see all the male members from the cell there. They appear to be sparring. The clack of wooden weapons and the grunts of exertion echo. I look behind me, trying to catch Kohl’s attention, but his eyes are riveted to the exercises, or more specifically, Cas. The Urthmen slow to a stop, watching what’s happening. They watch Cas. Sunlight gleams off sweat-slickened skin. With every swing of his sword, every muscle in his body bulges and flexes, his face a mask of concentration, of some unnamed but fevered thirst for violence. For blood. His movements are fluid despite his size and as dexterous as any swordsman I’ve ever seen. His gaze flickers from the man he battles and in the instant that he catches sight of us, a sinister smile curves his lips. He points to us, pausing for just a split second. The gesture, though innocuous on the surface, chills the marrow in my bones. Cas lunges forward, wielding two wooden swords, and slashes his opponent’s left cheek. He spins, crouches and whacks his knees with such force the man collapses into a heap, crying out and dropping his weapon. He’s promptly gripped by his arms and dragged away by Urthman. He’s replaced by two men this time. Two capable-looking men, though smaller and less muscular, square off with Cas. They circle him, eyes never leaving his hands, and size him up. After one full turn, they both strike simultaneously. Cas handles both with ease, blocking one while sidestepping the other. He turns and comes up from behind, slicing at the throat of one. Since the blade is made of wood, the wound isn’t deadly. Still the man drops his weapon and clutches his neck, blood coloring his hands crimson. Cas descends on the one who remains with the stealth and viciousness of a Night Lurker. He extends one arm, swinging his hand in a wide arc while gripping his weapon tightly and, in one lightning fast motion, sends the blade crashing into the back of the man’s head. A loud slapping sound rips through the ether. The force of the shot knocks the man down. Though he is down and the match is technically over, mercy is not shown. Cas descends on him. Holding the blade in his hand and driving the butt of the handle into the man’s mouth. Blood and teeth spray. The man howls out then doubles over. When he does, Cas flings both swords to the ground and sets about kicking the man in his head again and again. The man pleads for him to stop but he is dauntless. Only when an Urthman guard screams, “Enough!” Cas stops. Sweat pours from his brow and his black hair is wet. His posture straightens and he acknowledges the Urthman respectfully. Within seconds, however, the weight of his stare presses me. He glares at us. I stare back unflinchingly, though after the display I just witnessed, I’m not proud to admit it but I’m scared of him. Cas mouths two words. You’re dead. The corners of his lips hook upward into an arrogant sneer. My scalp shrinks and the fine hairs on my body stand on end. My brothers and I are marked for death. Cas has us in his crosshairs. Any doubt about that has effectively been erased.

  “I can’t believe how easily he handled those men.” Wonder and fear touch my brother, Pike’s voice.

  “He’s good,” Kohl says more to himself than anyone else.

  “What?” I ask to be sure I hear correctly.

  “I said he’s good. But being good at killing humans is nothing to be proud of. Or to celebrate.”

  “That’s for sure,” Pike adds. “I’ve never seen anyone move like him.”

  “Dad was better.” A note of defensiveness creeps into Kohl’s voice at mention of our father and his skills as a swordsman. As if catching himself, he softens. “Cas is big. And he’s strong. But Dad is faster.”

  “Was,” Pike corrects, his voice cracking with emotion. “Dad was faster.”

  “Was,” Kohl acknowledges ruefully. “Dad was faster. And an honorable man who would’ve put Cas down before he ever had the chance to become what he is.”

  “The guy’s a monster,” I agree.

  “I don’t want to fight him,” Pike admits. “I know I sound like a coward and Dad would be ashamed to hear me say that. But I don’t think I’d win. I don’t think I’d stand a chance.”

  Kohl looks over his shoulder at his youngest brother. “Not wanting to fight him doesn’t make you a coward. It makes you smart. I think that part of being a good fighter is learning which battles to fight. There’s never a point to fighting a battle you know you can’t win. It’s suicide.”

  “But still—” Pike starts.

  “But nothing,” Kohl cuts him off. “I’ll do everything I can to keep you out of the arena altogether. But I’ll sacrifice my life to keep you from facing him. You got that?”

  Pike nods.

  “I said, you got that?” Kohl leans in and places his face in front of Pike’s. At first his expression is hard. But as soon as Pike’s gaze meets his, a broad, reassuring smile rounds his cheeks.

  “I got it.” Pike fights smiling back, but it’s no use. Kohl’s smile is infectious and goofier the wider it grows.

  “Good,” Kohl says and finally backs away just as we’re led from the sparring area.

  The loud thwack of a sword draws our attention back to where Cas practices with yet another man. Though practice seems to be a term used too loosely. Demolish would be a more apt description of what he does. He demolishes and demoralizes.

  “Wow,” Pike says. His eyes widen before he winces at a gush of blood the sprays from what I guess is a busted nose. Screaming ensues. The screams of a man whose nose has been destroyed. “That’s bad.”

  “Ouch,” is all Kohl says. But I detect a small shiver of something. I’m not sure whether it’s awe or fear. Or a combination of the two. Both are understandable. Cas is terror inducing, yet I marvel at his skill and the sick force that drives him to lust for the blood of his own people. I shake my head and feel a tug at the line. We’re receiving a not-so-subtle hint to hurry our pace.

  The Urthmen look over their shoulders at us, at the expressions on our faces, and snicker. A few comments are spoken quietly. We’re referred to as dead people walking. All I can think of is how easily Cas handled his opponents. And how savagely. He delighted in inflicting pain. That much was evident. I look at Kohl. He’s tall and strapping. The strongest and largest man I’ve ever known. But
Cas has more training and skill. The combination is impossible to ignore. It plagues my mind as the four of us are brought back through the tunnel. The damp stench and the narrowness of the passageway doesn’t faze me. Not when I know Kohl, Pike, Ara or I will face Cas in the arena soon. I have to keep us out of there. Kohl made a promise to Pike, and it’s one I’ll help him keep. I have to make sure we remain useful and helpful at the warehouse, even if we’re little more than slaves working toward making the Urthmen’s lives better. It’s the only solution I can come up with. And it’s hardly a solution. A problem still remains. Regardless of where we spend our days, our nights will always be spent in the cell. With Cas. And with the threat of Krono, the night guard who takes women from the cell while they sleep at night. His image is burned in my mind and comes rushing to the forefront of my thoughts when Ara is unshackled and thrown into her cell. I flinch and my chest tightens. My eyes remain on her as my own cuffs are unlocked. Then Pike and Kohl’s are as well. Not long after the cell door closes, the jingle of keys is heard and it opens again. Cas and the others who sparred in the courtyard return. Our gazes clash as soon as he enters.

  “You’re dead, all of you,” Cas says with the calm of a coiled serpent. “You have one more day before we meet in the arena.”

  His words are icy fingers that grip my throat like a vise, clenching it and tightening until I feel as if only threads of air are passing through. Before I can open my mouth and form words, the Urthman at the cell door says, “They won’t be going in the arena just yet. They’re needed in the Task Center.”

  “Cowards!” Cas screams. “Don’t have any honor at all? Hiding out at the Task Center,” Cas spits.

  “Honor?” I ask.

  Cas narrows his eyes to lethal slashes. “You owe me the right to avenge my friends.”

  “We owe you nothing!” Kohl roars. “You’re the coward who butchers your own kind.”

  “Enough!” the Urthman shouts. “You,” he points to Kohl then points to the far corner, “over there!” Then he points to Cas. “And you can stay over there.” He points to the opposite corner of the cell. “There better not be any trouble from either of you,” he threatens and doesn’t need to finish his sentence. The consequences have been made clear to all of us. I watch as the guard’s form disappears down the tunnel. Releasing a stream of air between pursed lips, the tight feeling in my throat dissipates. I close my eyes for a moment and rub my temples with my fingertips. When I open them, I feel eyes upon me. Reyna glowers at me.