The Hidden Prophecy Trilogy

4. A Bittersweet Boon-1

Zaid stood at the edge of the practice ring, watching the older boys attempt every possible maneuver to take each other to the ground. The soft sand did little to cushion the falls, but still more so than dull bone swords that they cracked against their skinny arms.

Zaid ran along the length of the gate, trying to keep up with them and see through the slats. His breath came quickly, but he grinned the whole time anyway. The practice ring and the barracks surrounding them sat on the north side of the city in a tight cluster of limestone. It housed the military as well as the younger pupils who had yet to receive the red markings of a full warrior.

As he ran along watching the pupils practice, Zaid imagined himself, a few years older and training along with them, swinging massive, ridged bone swords and walking through the city in markings of red paint. People would look on in awe as he passed by, and his mother and brother would smile as he came home and praise him—

A slight hand fell onto his shoulder, effectively startling him out of his daydream.

What are you doing here, little brother? Amir stood behind him, blocking out the sun that attempted to blind Zaid. He had to shield his eyes against the halo shining around his brother.

What are you doing here, little brother?Just watching, Zaid said sheepishly. In truth, only pupils were supposed to be in the training grounds, and Zaid was most certainly not a pupil. At eleven years old, he had not manifested any of his abilities yet, which was a year later than normal. Most children manifested during their tenth year, and his latency was the sole point of scrutiny of his classmates.

Just watching, Amir had manifested by the time he was nine, something almost unheard of. And his ability to calm even the most frazzled of demeanors was something their mother cherished in her constant worry over her youngest son. Amir’s ability was a bit broader than that; he could feel the emotions of those around him. So far, he hadn’t been able to influence any of those emotions other than as a calming balm, but that was enough. Better to be gentle than do something you’d regret, their mother would say.

. Better to be gentle than do something you’d regret,Come, you are not supposed to be here, Amir said, attempting to be stern. But at fifteen, he had a hard time keeping the slight smile from his face when his little brother was around, even if he was rarely around anymore to see him.

Come, you are not supposed to be here, When they were younger, they had been much closer. Their father had died when Zaid was a baby, but their mother did just fine on her own. At least from their eyes. They would run through the city barefoot and steal fruit from vendors on the main road. They would climb the baobab trees and the Aurastones and swim in the warm, clear pools of water in the plazas. Of course, it never took long for the guards to chase them away.

It was on one such excursion that Zaid had decided he wanted to be in the warrior class. As he and Amir were running away from a menacing-looking guard with an obsidian-tipped spear, they collided with a wall of muscle and fell to the ground. Looking up, they found a giant of a man. At nearly seven feet tall, the warrior looked like a chiseled god from mythology. The red warpaint markings swirled over his chest and biceps in intricate patterns.

There weren’t nearly as many warriors as one would think, though. From his studies, Zaid knew that the Anunnaki population was dwindling, and the city that could hold millions only housed a few hundred thousand now. The warrior class was difficult to move into as well. One needed to have abilities that were useful to the military as well as a tough state of mind. Everyone knew how hard it was to become a pupil, so when the warriors in red paint strode through the city, everyone stopped in awe. Very similarly to Amir and Zaid at that moment.

The warrior had scolded them and told them not to climb the Aurastones anymore, but all Zaid remembered was the look on the faces of those around them. The guard who had been chasing them had stopped and bowed his head in respect. A vendor across the street stopped his shouting, and a woman carrying a child had paused to stare as well. Zaid wanted someone to look at him the same way they looked at the warrior now. Like he was someone.

was As soon as Amir was old enough, he started to fill the fatherly role that was absent in their lives. Well, at least he tried. Their mother worked as a tailor at the edge of the city, the furthest you could go while still being in the psychic barrier. Any further, and you would be in the slums, not that he would mind living there. It was more interesting anyway. But they had just enough from her work to eat and retain their house. Amir became ambitious, though, wanting to make more money and increase their standing enough to move to one of the more central plazas. All the houses there were massive.

Amir started to spend more time away from home meeting with people he swore could help them, and soon they would be swimming in shillings, and Mother could wear the finest fabrics. The irony was that Mother had no intention of leaving. She had married their father and spent the beginning of their lives in their little home. It was small but bright and not too close to the training grounds that permanently smelled of sweat.

As Amir steered Zaid away from the training grounds and back toward one of the long boulevards that ran through the city, he kept a hand on his shoulder. The steady calm that emanated from his brother’s hand was grounding after watching the fighting pupils. They stopped at a vendor, and Amir bought them a few guakal, fist-sized, ridge-shelled, lime-green fruits with little red spikes on the outside. Once broken into, Zaid sank his teeth into the sweet flesh of the interior of the guakal.

guakal,guakal.They sat on the edge of the street in the shade of a baobab and watched throngs of people moving along. Merchants called out wares, miners returning from the Aurastone quarries, and scholars in blue paints moved about in groups. From where they sat, they could see the top of the Grand Hall poking about a set of buildings in the center of the city. Zaid knew that the Elders resided in the hall and never left, but his best friend Khalil had sworn he had seen one walking down an adjects street just the night before. Zaid had laughed at him.

Suddenly people started muttering and moving to the sides of the street, sending glares or furtive glances toward the man walking through. Zaid had to stand up to see who it was and almost dropped his guakal.

guakal.A short man walked down the center of the boulevard in human clothes. And if the clothes didn’t give it away, he could see the man’s mark on his right arm. It looked the same as everyone else’s, a mandala with a pair of eyes in the center, but it extended out in all directions, the edges of the mandala twisting out further was an abundance of detail to cover the majority of his arm.

Venari. They were the only ones with marks like that and the only ones who wore the stiff, dull fabric of human clothes.

VenariAs the man moved past where they were sitting, people pushed to get away from them. The venari were few in number, fewer than they had ever been. Their unusual tattoos and connection to the human world made them… dirty in the minds of Rhaptans. They kept to themselves and only returned between missions, which were frequent. No one knew exactly how one became venari, but Kahlil had told Zaid once that if you had an ability they were interested in, they would show up at your doorstep and take you away right then and there. They very rarely let anyone opt out of it; you needed to have pretty extreme extenuating circumstances or a pardon from one of the Elders themselves.

venarivenariIf you were taken, your family would start to receive similar treatment of being considered unlucky. Zaid knew that the job was important. Many ubir went out and caused havoc in the human world, threatening Rhapta’s precarious position, but the stigma that came with being venari was almost as unappealing.

venari Zaid watched the man’s retreating back and prayed for a warrior’s ability.

* * *

A few weeks later, Zaid crept around the back of the barracks, keeping an eye out for any trainers that might kick him out again.

It was the only day of the week he didn’t have school. All children in Rhapta attended six days a week until they were fifteen. At that point, they could either continue on their studies to become a scholar or begin an apprenticeship. It was at that time that many young boys attempted to showcase their abilities in the warrior’s training grounds, hoping to be picked as a pupil. It was nearing the end of the school year with a month-long reprieve soon, and many boys were doing just that right now.

Zaid just wanted to take a look. It wouldn’t hurt anybody. Just a peek.

A crowd was forming around one of the training rings while trainers stood just inside, barking orders at a pair of teenage boys sparring in the ring. As Zaid wiggled his way through the mass of people, he could see flashes of light followed by a ripple of laughter through the crowd. It was rare to hear that much sound in this part of the city. People generally only spoke through Auras and left the verbal speech to the slums. He finally burst through to the front and saw what everyone was laughing at.

A gangly boy was trying to showcase his ability to the older warriors, but unfortunately, it looked like all he was doing was flashing sparks of light in his opponent’s face as he got close. It did nothing more than momentarily distract his opponent.

The opponent, on the other hand, grinned before the colors of his skin shifted, and he vanished. It was Feroz. The crowd gasped and clapped. Feroz was one of several older boys who frequently got Zaid in trouble. They liked to humiliate him by reminding him of the fact he hadn’t gotten his ability yet. Zaid hoped he lost but wasn’t expecting it.

The first boy spun around looking for Feroz, and Zaid could see a ripple on the ground.

He wasn’t exactly invisible, just shifting the colors around him like camouflage. The first boy suddenly grunted and fell to the ground clutching his stomach. He had lost.

Feroz came back into view, raising a fist in the air in triumph. The crowd cheered again. There was no doubt he would be picked to train as a pupil.

Zaid moved back, trying to get out of view before Feroz saw him. If he did—

Zaid Hatem! a voice called. He half debated making a run for it, but the crowd turned to look at where Feroz was pointing, which happened to be right at Zaid. Master, Feroz said, looking toward the nearest trainer. It looks like little Zaid would like to demonstrate his abilities. A few people who knew about Zaid’s….condition laughed.

Zaid Hatem! Master, It looks like little Zaid would like to demonstrate his abilities. The trainer walked into view. It was Maheer, a stocky man with his hair shorn close to his head. Zaid knew his hands were covered in scars from years of training with the obsidian weapons. Those hands had frequently thrown him out of the training grounds.