Chapter 2
The Stranger

 

"Get up, you useless idiot!" Darren opened his eyes, jerked from sleep. Above him, he saw the round face of Father Theosius flushed with anger. His two chins were trembling with rage. "Where have you been hanging around again? I didn't permit you to sneak out! What if someone saw you and told them? We stick our necks out for you, and this is the way you want to repay us, you ungrateful litter!"

Darren jumped up from the bed, feeling a sudden blast of fear wrapping around his heart and squeezing it.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered, recoiling from the mighty man's anger.

"If you don't care about our goodness in any way, then at least be useful and bring us something of value! Do you think I let you sleep here and eat for free?"

The big man yanked him out of bed and jerked him to his feet, then threw him to the floor. Darren fell, painfully hitting his side.

"Where's my payment?" the man roared, standing over the boy, glancing at him with the small bulging eyes that looked like tiny black buttons sewn over his greasy, drunken face. Darren turned to him, trembling with anger mixed with fear which was pouring through his veins.

Father Theosius was rarely sober. All the money the boys brough him he used to spend on the worst kind of liquor and whatever was left out of the money he used in buying the cheapest scraps which he fed the boys with, but at least the boys have something to eat and a place to sleep. They wouldn't live long on the streets of Nigron ruled by thieves and murderers. They would've been stabbed for slightly better shoes or robbed down to their underwear. They have a shelter here, although it wasn't very enjoyable, but better than none. Father Theosius paid a lot of tribute to all sorts of bandits to avoid his shelter with a wide berth and let him do what he wants. There were no laws in Nigron, except for one. If you want to survive, you have to be smarter than the others.

Darren jumped up from the floor in a flash, facing the big man and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the contorted faces of the other boys who were standing in the doorway, watching the scene with interest. They must've informed Father Theosius that Darren had sneaked out once again. The man swung to try to hit Darren in the face, but the boy cleverly leaped backward, backing up into the boys' bedroom filled with bunks.

In the past Darren used to be really scared of this man, of his fists and his leather belt which he used to beat them with for the most trivial reasons. Now he was afraid too but he had already learned that when Father Theosius was completely drunk, he could defend himself against him.

"How dare you come back here with nothing for me?" Father Theosius yelled. "You're a useless carcass! You don't qualify even for cleaning latrines!"

Darren dodged another blow. He felt icy fear mingled with fiery anger in his stomach, creating an unpredictable mixture.

"If I'm so useless, why didn't you let me die in this basement?" he exclaimed in a brittle voice. "You'd have one less mouth to feed!"

Father Theosius stopped, blinking in surprise. It rarely happened that any of the charges raised their voice to him. And it happened far too often with Darren. Especially after what'd happened when he was nine.

"How dare you talk to me like that?" the man roared, lunging at the boy like a battering ram.

Darren leaped backward, but the bed behind him prevented him from escaping and the heavy fist of Father Theosius hit him in the jaw, throwing him backward with such force that he rolled over the bed and fell to the floor on the other side. For a moment Darren was besotted and he heard only soft murmurs of malicious satisfaction around him and the heavy breathing of the gasping man.

"Do you think we have been struggling with you for so many years to not to get anything in return?" Father Theosius drawled, panting heavily. "As soon as you turn sixteen, you will be sold to the slave trader from Tacos, and finally, everything we had to put into your breeding over the years will pay us back!"

Darren felt as if something hot had poured over his neck and face, pressing into his nostrils and mouth, preventing him from catching his breath.

What? They want to sell him as... a slave? But, but...

"Now get out, since you're crawling out of here at night and don't come back until you bring something worth selling, otherwise, I'll beat you up so hard you'll remember it for much longer than the last time!" the man shouted.

Darren could hear chuckles and contemptuous snorts all around him.

Slave - the worst of the worst. Someone who is completely useless. Someone so useless that he can't even direct his fate.

His jaw was throbbing with unbearable pain, and his cut lip was hurting so much as if it wasn't blood that was leaking from it, but lava. He could hear Father Theosius' shuffling footsteps receding.

He will be sold. They will take his freedom completely, put him in chains, and hand him over to someone who will become his master.

He struggled to his feet, and with staggering steps - ignoring the insulting words and the laughter flowing in the air - he walked toward the exit of the asylum. It was only when the icy rain hit his burning face that he realized he was outside.

He walked on, wading through the slippery, soggy mud that covered the marshy road that was named a street.

He needs to run away. He can't stay here. He can't! He won't let them... they can't... but where should he run away to? What is he supposed to do? Everyone in the neighborhood knows what he looks like. One word is enough and thugs from the local gangs will find him and drag him back to Father Theosius. He won't hide anywhere. Not with such eyes. They're like stigmas that can't be erased and will follow him wherever he tries to go. He will be recognized immediately everywhere. They're like shackles.

He stopped and looked up at the sky, letting the cold rain cool down his cut lip and the pain radiating from it. He closed his eyes, feeling the cool water trickling down his face, cleansing it of dirt and blood.

He won't run away. He'll never get away from here. There was not a single place in all of Helion where someone like him could find his place. He's a useless misfit to the Mongrels - a Cursed One they need to avoid. He's a Black Mongrel to the rest of the castes - a Black Mongrel who has no rights except for the right to live and work all his life so that they can live in wealth and prosperity for themselves. There is no place in the world for someone like him. There is not a single person who cares about his fate.

He still remembers those strange events that happened once a year during his birthday, when Father Theosius and Mother Octavia suddenly changed their attitude toward him. They fed him much better, give him new clothes, make him clean himself well, and take him to the adoption room - a special room in the asylum, which was closed all year round, but it was opened once in a while when there was someone who would like to adopt one of the boys living in the shelter. There was one big bed there, with a real mattress filled with a real straw and a real, soft, and warm-down comforter.

He remembers that there were toys there - woody horses and knights in lopsided armor, but they were the only toys he could play with, in his entire life, so to him, they looked like the most wonderful gifts from the gods. He was playing with them, cherishing every moment. He remembers being allowed to stay there until the door opened and a tall, unfamiliar man appeared in the doorway. He doesn't remember what Mother Octavia and Father Theosius talked about with this man, but he remembers the stranger always left the room after a few moments.

Although Darren was smiling as much as he could, no one ever wanted to adopt him. Nobody wanted to get him out of here. The stranger always left on the same day, Darren was forcibly pulled out of the room, dressed in his old, torn clothes, and headed to work but that was a long time ago. It ended after the incident that'd happened when he was seven.

The sudden pounding of hooves and the neighing of the horse snapped him out of his thoughts and forced him to turn around abruptly. He saw a huge fawn steed. Rushing straight at him. Mud was crackling from under his hooves in all directions. The rider, dressed in a green cloak and a hood, pulled the reins down, trying to stop his horse, but the mud was too slippery for the stallion to stop immediately. Darren lunged to the side, falling into the slushy mud and avoiding being trampled at the last moment.

The rider stopped and turned to face Darren who was struggling to get up from the muddy road.

"What are you doing, boy? Nobody told you not to stand like that in the middle of the road?"

Darren stared at the steed in disbelief. A horse in Nigron? Nobody could afford such an animal here. The rider looked like he wasn't from around here either. Darren saw several sword scabbards strapped to the horse's saddle and a long strong bow.

The rider pulled off his hood and Darren felt the air rush into his lungs, bursting them with terror. An Emeralde! His long reddish-chestnut hair tied in a ponytail was flowing over his shoulders in wet strands. It took Darren a moment to realize that he'd been staring at the stranger with eyes wide open. He looked down, mumbling an apology, but it was too late.

"Your eyes!" the rider gasped.

Not again! They can't recognize him! No one can know that he is the Cursed One who caused that accident eight years ago!

He turned over and ran away.

"Wait!" he heard a distant call behind him, but it only forced him to accelerate, turn into high thickets and move away from this place as quickly as possible.
He stopped in the Oak Forest. Soaked in the rain, he leaned his back against one of the trees and fell onto the soft moss.

It was close...

What was an Emeralde doing here? The members of the other castes rarely ventured into the Black Mongrels' area. Well, hardly ever. Only the Brunnites were seen occasionally because they were the managers of the mines and farmlands on which the Mongrels worked. The truth is that there were several Hyacinthes' country manors in the area, but the Black Mongrels couldn't get close to them. Only a few of them worked there as farmworkers, horse-boys, or servants.

What could an Emeralde be looking for in their village? There was nothing of interest here. Maybe he needed shelter from the rain?

The road to the capital city ran nearby. Though it could take three weeks of a horseback ride to get there - as the travelers said. Darren sometimes dreamed that one of the passing carts could take him away and that he never has to come back here again.

He should seek shelter and wait out the rain. There was an abandoned fox hole nearby. He knew the forest almost as well as the asylum. He used to spend almost every free moment here. As soon as it clears up, he will try to find something to eat. His stomach was twisting with hunger. He's used to this feeling, though it's always an unpleasant experience.

It ceased raining around noon and the curtains of steel-gray clouds slowly faded to the sides, revealing the juicy blue sky and warming the chilled earth with the rays of the sun.

Darren crawled out of his shelter and with a sigh he lay down on the undergrowth. He was laying on the moss for a long time, warming himself with the rays of the sun and listening to the calming sounds of the forest.

He was alone here, but there seemed to be no place in the world more filled with life. He was listening to the chirping of birds, the distant tapping of woodpeckers, the howling and barking of predators, the sound of the wind moving branches and leaves, the buzzing of insects emerging from their hiding places in trees barks. He wasn't lonely. He was surrounded by life. He felt much lonelier among people because they always mocked him and pointed him out with fingers. A misfit who shouldn't even exist.

He tried to approach them few times. He wanted to know something about their lives to which he had been barred, but no one even tried to listen to him. Nobody wanted to know anything about him. Everyone noticed only his crystal eyes, dark complexion, and ebony-black hair. No one was interested in what he had to say or what he wanted from them. Everyone immediately called him a misfit, the Cursed One, a lousy specimen of the Evil One because he didn't look like them. Nobody ever bothered to ask him about his name or who he was.

Now he no longer cared about their pathetic lives at all. He had his own life here in this forest and in his own head. He had no interest in them, and they had no interest in him. At least he was alone here. Only when he was alone he felt relaxed and safe. He didn't have to tense himself and wait for their attacks, he didn't have to gnarl and show them his fangs to make them leave him alone.

He opened his eyes and looked at the leaves moving in the wind high above his head. The sun's rays were dancing between them in a shaky spectacle, casting a mosaic of shadows across his face.

He has to get out of here. He won't allow them to take away from him what he had built for himself in this place - to take away the touch of the wind on his skin and the calming rustle of the eaves. They won't take it away from him! They won't put a collar around his neck! He will bite it through and run away every time they try to.
They won't break him.

**********

It was already dark as he was sneaking along the wall which separated the orphanage from the fields. He had a plan. He only needs his stuff. A blocky stone knife he had made himself, which - along with a few coins he had dug out of the mud by the road - was now hidden under a musty hard mattress of his bunk. He must have it to bind fish caught in the river. He will have to eat something on the way, those few coins were his greatest treasure. He didn't know how much value they have, but he hoped they would help him survive for a few months at least. He also needs shoes, he's going to pick them up from under Gil's bed. The boy was the best thief and had the neatest shoes. He should also have some kind of cover, preferably with a hood, to hide his filthy origin.

He stopped against the side of the building and listened, hearing something that shouldn't be here. The horse's snorting.

No, it must've been his imagination. Where would a horse come from in this place?

He was listening for a moment longer, and when the snort didn't come again, he moved on. He climbed the barrel and put his finger in the gap between the door frames to pry the hook, and at the same moment he heard a loud slam of the door, and from the darkness of the corridor emerged... an Emeralde.

Darren's heart leaped into his throat as he ducked abruptly so the man couldn't see him. He heard hurried footsteps, then a quick shuffle, in which he recognized the nervous gait of Father Theosius and his servile voice, crying out in a raised whisper.

"Wait, my Lord! He surely--"

The man stopped next to the window where Darren was huddling, and the boy heard the deep, angry voice of the stranger.

"I'm tired of waiting. I'll look for him by myself."

"But the payment..." Father Theosius stammered and Darren heard a note of panic in his voice.

"He's escaped and you don't even know where to find him! You won't get a penny if I don't find him safe and sound!"

Darren felt a stab of fear. It has to be that slave trader who came for Darren to buy him! But... but he thought he still had some time, that he would manage to get out of here...

He slowly stepped down from the barrel, trying to be as quiet as possible, when he heard the exit door hitting the wall and the sounds of footsteps slapping through the courtyard.

Darren began to slowly back away toward the deep shadow cast by the wall when he heard Father Theosius' shaky voice.

"You cannot deprive us of payment for this enormous sacrifice which we made in the upbringing of this evil brood! I want money now, right now! We've been struggling with him for fifteen years! With his abnormality and his curse! You don't even know what we went through to keep him alive after what he did eight years ago! Where have you been back then? You left us with him, and no one from your kind has come to pay us for our toil since then! That damn kid almost destroyed what my pretty wife and I had been building for so many years! Where's the money for the damage he's done?! Where?!"

Darren froze.

What... what were they talking about?

The footsteps stopped and turned abruptly, and after a while, the darkness was torn apart by the muffled gurgling of Father Theosius, and the angry voice of the stranger.

"You pathetic bastard! We left him in your care to keep him safe here, and as far as I can say, anywhere else in Helion he would be safer than in that stinky hole you call an orphanage! After that incident, we had to step back to not bring even more attention to him, believing that it would be best for him. You thought we wouldn't come back for him, did you? Were you scared that you wouldn't get a single penny anymore? Let me tell you something, you drunken worm! I have so much gold in this purse that you could build a palace that you've never dreamed of and live in luxury until the end of your miserable life. That's how much this boy is worth! But you won't get a penny if I don't find him and make sure he was treated well here!"

Darren heard the sound of a lumpy body falling into the mud. He pressed a hand to his mouth, trying to smother into his black glove a heavy sigh escaping from his lungs. His heart was beating madly, hitting painfully against the rib cage of his emaciated body. His eyes wide open, he was staring into the darkness, feeling its fingers pressing against his throat, obstructing his breath and don't let his voice get out of him.

Who is this man? What is he talking about?

Darren could hear Father Theosius' harsh breathing and footsteps retreating. He wasn't able to move. He was just standing there, with his back pressed against the wall, plunged in the darkness, filled with the galloping thoughts which were ramming his mind with a thousand voices shouting over each other.

He should run away, because he didn't know that man. What if what he'd heard wasn't saying the truth about him? What if it meant something completely different? What if this is really a slave trader and the man's going to take Darren away and...

Darren should run away from here as soon as possible and not looking back! But, but...

Finally, only one voice emerged from beneath the maddening storm - the hoarse cry of his trembling soul.

"Wait, my lord!"

The steps stopped. Darren cringed more, squeezing his smarting eyes shut as he tried to catch his breath.

He shouldn't have done this. No one should find him. No one should know.

He slumped over the cold stones of the wall and pulled his legs up, trying to hide in the safe darkness. He heard slow footsteps. They were approaching him but he didn't dare to open his eyes. He shut them very tightly, sinking into the familiar darkness because what was approaching him might've taken him out of the darkness and... Yes, he wanted it, though he was terribly afraid of it.

The footsteps stopped in front of him. Then a soft, gentle voice reached his ears.

"Darren?"

He took a deep breath of courage that was soaked with a scent of the night surrounding him, and then he opened his eyes. The man in front of him gasped. His celadon eyes widened in disbelief, staring at the crystals glistening in the darkness.

"It's you," the man whispered and his lips surrounded by coppery reddish stubble curled into a soft smile. He slowly dropped to one knee, as he was afraid that any sudden movement might scare the boy huddled in the darkness. "It's okay. I'll take you out of here. Come to me."

Darren was staring in horror at the hand reached out to him. He groaned and leaned back, trying to sink into the darkness.

"Oh, excuse me. I forgot." The man smiled at him and brushed back a thick mane of chestnut red hair that fell over his face. "I'd like to let you sleep before we hit the road, but I can't stay in this lousy place any longer, and you?"

Darren was staring at him in bewilderment. An Emeralde, a real Emeralde was talking to him. To Darren. As if Darren was at least equal to him.

The man frowned and asked after a while "You can speak, can't you?"

Darren swallowed his fear and whispered "Y-yeah."

"Great! Let's go then!" The man patted his knee and with an elastic movement got up from the mud.

Darren was staring at his broad shoulders as the man was walking away. He was so enormous that in Darren's eyes he seemed to be some mythical giant who descended to the lands of Helion to complete a task that no one else wanted to take on. To find the Cursed One. But why? What was the man going to do with him? It doesn't matter. The main thing was that he wanted to get Darren out of here. Wherever it would be, it surely wouldn't be any worse than this place.

He slowly rose from the ground, his knees buckling under him. He moved forward, emerging from the shadows and following the stranger. When he'd gone out to the courtyard, he saw the man throwing several gold coins on the body of Father Theosius, who was still lying in the mud, panting and wheezing.

"We owe you only these few coins," he said. "For keeping him safe and sound. You deserve nothing more, you smelly bastard."

Darren was watching as the man who had been his lifelong keeper, whose fists Darren had felt on his body way too many times tightened his fingers on the coins lying in the mud and fished them out with trembling excitement. Darren was watching this and had a feeling as if he was dreaming some strange dream.

"I guess you can't ride horses?" The stranger asked as he untied his fawn horse from the fence. Darren shook his head in affirmation. "Well, then I'll teach you on the way. We will have a lot of time. There is a two-week ride to Lavrance."

Darren frowned, He'd heard the name somewhere. It was probably the name of some city in Helion. Darren had heard of cities but had never been to any. He had heard that cities were much bigger than his village but he couldn't imagine how much bigger.

"Do you want to take something with you?" The boy heard a methodical question.

He turned and looked at the darkened walls of the place where he had spent his entire life. He saw faces of the boys awakened by the noises stuck to the dirty windows.

No. There was nothing he wanted to take with him from this place anymore. He wanted to leave everything there. He shook his head, turning his face to the man.

"Alright, let's go then," the Emeralde said, then he grabbed the bridle and began to lead his horse outside the shelter. Darren ran after him. He couldn't keep up with his long strides. His head reached only to the man's elbow.

As they stepped into the track, the boy couldn't help but glance back one last time. The hated building has been consuming by the darkness, but such darkness that nothing can chase it away... and let it remain in the dark forever.