Chapter 3: The Screams that Haunt Me

Finding a Sand-bol game in Landen wasn’t difficult. I walked through the dirty and dingy streets and alleys, I searched for the rare flat and open spaces of the city, most of them with a stone floor but few were hard soil with sparse, tan grasses. I came across a lively group of teenage boys that weren’t under the thrall of Sorcos, the drug the Kryans gave humans to pacify them.

Landen is situated far to the south, and the heat can be oppressive. After a few hours, I wore only my trousers, removing my boots and shirt, the pale skin of my torso slick with sweat, my hair matted flat on my scalp.

The majority of the players were local Veraden boys, the rest from Lior. I was the only one with Manahem coloring and features. They all possessed skill, which made for a challenging and physical game. Sand-bol doesn’t allow direct punches or kicking of other players, but everything else is fair game.

It was what I needed, the release of energy and aggression. Having to get back to the shoemaker’s to pack what few things I owned, I left after the conclusion of a an afternoon match, taking more than a few bruises, scrapes, and a satisfying ache in my muscles and joints.

Pulling my shirt over my head and wiggling my feet into the boots, I stretched and wound my way through the ancient seaport city of Landen.

The sun faded into the afternoon, and a light and refreshing breeze swept through the streets, clearing away enough of the stench that I felt an uncommon moment of contentment.

Then I heard the scream.

My eyes widened and tightened. I swung my head around to the sound, a familiar sound, a sound from my memory as fresh as the day it happened.

I rounded a corner and gazed down an alley. There, just beyond the street in the shadows, two Cityguard elves were beating a woman with short sticks. The woman cowered, ducking her head down and holding a bundle in her arms. One elf stood behind her and struck down. The other stood next to her, staring and grinning, his hands on his hips, a stick in his hand. Their swords hung at their hips.

Another sound accompanied her scream, the whimper of a child. The bundle was a baby.

I froze half turned toward them, some five mitres away, and every muscle in my body tensed. My fists clenched ... and unclenched with fingers like claws ... then clenched again.

The scream wasn’t my mother, and I had no idea what the woman had done. A part of my brain argued for Uncle Reyan. Was she a criminal? And even if she wasn’t, it was foolish and reckless to get involved, dangerous. Cityguard beat humans all the time. Would I stop every instance? Could I even stop one?

The rest of me didn’t care about logic and dismissed the thoughts. My eyes closed for a couple seconds, and I was transported back to a cave in another country.

This time, I had no one to protect. Carys and the others were safe on the other side of the city. I was alone.

The woman screamed once more. The baby cried out.

I couldn’t feel my bruises anymore, no longer had any aches or pains.

Opening my eyes, I rolled my shoulders and walked slowly on an angle that would place me further out of the Cityguard view while also drawing me closer. They didn’t seem to be paying attention, but even if they were, I would appear to be a young man walking past them.