Belvedor and the Four Corners (Belvedor Saga Book 1) (40 page)

Arianna and Lessa moved closer and saw that a jagged, white line shined on his dark skin at the base of his knuckle, ending at his wrist.

“What is it?” asked Arianna as she traced the line from one end to the other. The mark reminded her of the pointed peaks of Blancoren.

“This is a souvenir of my birthright and a reminder that I’m half of a whole. My life began somewhere else other than as a slave of the Four Corners,” he said. His voice stayed sturdy and the veins in his arms bulged as he tightened his fist.

“And mine too,” said a weak voice.

All three looked over to see Demetrius sitting upright and awake, listening to the conversation. He used the fabric of his already dirtied cloak to wipe his hands and face free of all the filth as he bent down to kneel in front of his brother. Jeom unfurled his balled fist and held it out in front of him as if routine, and Demetrius copied his movement, taking his left hand and placing it firm against his.

Arianna and Lessa gaped as they realized the boys’ uncanny bond. Demetrius had the exact same marking as those mysterious lines on Jeom, only his stood out in a black shimmer on his light skin. As their hands mirrored each other, Arianna saw the marks formed a picture when united together.

“It’s a star,” said Lessa as she gawked at the perfect six-pointed emblem.

Her words seem to shake the two boys out of their reverie, and Jeom pulled Demetrius into a long embrace. They sobbed onto each other’s shoulders in a humbling scene while Arianna and Lessa tried to appear invisible in their intimate moment. A minute or so passed and the brothers wiped away their tears, trying to recover their façade of masculinity.

Arianna rolled her eyes.
Boys will be boys.

“Ladies,” said Jeom. “Allow me to introduce you to my brother, Demetrius Kane.” Jeom placed both hands on his shoulders.

Despite his feeble look, Demetrius had quite a strong grip as he shook their hands.

“Pleasure to meet you,” said the girls.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he said with a slight bow as he surveyed them.

His eyes scanned the girls from their feet to their heads, but it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Now I see the resemblance,” whispered Arianna to Lessa as they both blushed under his scrutiny.

Under all the scruffiness, he looked quite handsome, but he needed a shower and a good meal.

“So how do you feel?” asked Lessa, bringing his attention back to her face.

“Much better now,” he said. “It’s amazing what some food and good company will do to you.” He patted Jeom on the back. “I believe I have you to thank for reviving me.” He bowed low to Lessa who laughed at his audacity. “I was almost about to let go, but then I heard your voices… just in time. I hadn’t eaten or drank anything in days. You all saved my life.”

“It was nothing,” said Lessa, flushing crimson.

“You must still be hungry,” said Arianna. “In fact, I think we all better have a bite to eat.”

She unpacked the leftovers they’d been saving from their earlier feast in the Creator’s District, spreading it out before them on the bench. Stomachs rumbled all around her as the idea of food crept to the forefront of their minds. Lessa and Arianna had packed a large amount from their surreptitious banquet, and they still had a little bit leftover from Cyn as well. There would be no shortage of food for all four of them.

“Dig in!” she sang as she chomped down on some cold chicken and passed around water.

Demetrius thanked her with his mouth already stuffed with food, and Arianna saw the color flush back to his skin. The atmosphere uplifted tenfold as the four shared their first meal together in the dusty waiting room.

“For old time’s sake,” said Lessa with a sly smile on her face. She pulled out a large bottle of unopened red wine.

Arianna raised an eyebrow at her, and Lessa laughed.

“I swiped it from the kitchens while we were gathering food. I wanted to save it for something special and now seems as good a time as any,” she said, popping the cork with her thumb.

It exploded in a welcome burst of sound echoing throughout the wooden space. The cork landed at their feet, and Arianna passed around small goblets.

After Lessa poured everyone a generous portion, she issued a toast. “To the Kane brothers… may you never be divided again!” she said as she raised her glass to Jeom and Demetrius.

“To my new family,” said Jeom. “May we journey this new world together.” He nodded to his brother and the girls as they raised their glasses in unison.

“To new beginnings,” said Demetrius in a voice rejuvenated with life. He held his glass high in the air to join the others.

“To stolen freedom!” finished Arianna with a restored passion in her heart.

They all clinked their goblets together, the sound of the thin metal chiming in their ears as the wine sloshed onto the floor.

“Cheers,” said Arianna. 

They all tilted their heads, finishing their wine in one swig. Lessa poured more as they chattered away in happy conversation, trying to avoid the onset of fear waiting impatiently at bay.

“So, Demetrius…” said Lessa, turning on her usual charisma. “Care to tell us how you ended up down here?” She tried to charm the details out of him as she laced her voice with the silky, honeyed sound which appealed to so many.

Everyone leaned in, anxious to hear his tale.

“Well,” he said. “That’s an awfully long story.” He smiled with his eyes, massaging his chin as a smirk played across his mouth. “Are you sure you want to hear it?”

“Enlighten us,” said Arianna, mimicking Lessa’s strategy. She couldn’t wait to hear his recollection of events. “I think we have plenty of time.”

“If you insist,” he said, patting his belly. He took a deep breath, and everyone held theirs as he began to tell his series of unfortunate events.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“Not so funny now, are you,” said a woman in an icy voice. She dressed in elegant, white robes trimmed in olive silk, and her long hair slicked back into a stiff ponytail at the top of her head. She narrowed her already slanted eyes at the boy working the grounds. “You may have survived the Free Falls Festivals, but that doesn’t mean I won’t hesitate to make sure you live out your miserable life in a similar Hell. Next time you want to make a foolery of one of my training sessions, I’ll bury you in that dirt you love so much. Understood, Demetrius?” Her voice sounded frigid as she stood staring down at him with her hands on her hips.

“Yes, Mistress,” said Demetrius as he continued to scrape at the earth with his scythe. The night grew cold and the ground muddied from the snow, but his skin broke out in a sweat under the warmth of his cloak as he hacked away at the earth.  

“That’s what I thought,” she said. “Now this better be finished by the time the bell sounds, or the regulators can deal with you. Maybe you’ll discover some respect under all that mud after a few more hours of hard labor.” She turned on her heels, leaving him to his chores.

The night settled in, but he could still make out his trainer’s pasty skin as the light of the moon trickled down through the clouds before she turned the corner. He watched, transfixed on the jade stitching of a snake coiled around the stem of a rose at the back of her robes, spitting as the last of her cloak disappeared from sight.

He was alone.

By this time, all of the other slaves had cleared out to the Dining Hall, and his stomach grumbled at the thought of another missed meal. He enjoyed the peaceful quiet though. Only the sounds of mud and rocks shifting at his feet and the howling wind were noticeable. If he could ignore the mountains who mocked him in his loneliness, he might’ve felt content, but he couldn’t. They continued to look down on him as he worked.

As a slave to the Agrarian’s District, he felt accustomed to spending most of his days in what they called the Dead Land. The vast, empty space filled with nothing but mud and dirt, but the slaves spent most of their time there training to work the land. In such a harsh environment, not much could be drawn from the earth, but those slaves who could will any bit of life into the Dead Land almost always earned their freedom to practice their talents elsewhere in the Olleb.

He scooped up some dirt, letting the grains fall through his fingers as he remembered the day he summoned the rare snowflower to life. Despite his natural green-thumb, his smart mouth always got him into trouble. He wanted to live life on his own terms in contradiction to the shackles of the Jar. Nevertheless, his gifts to be able to motivate things to grow from the Dead Land couldn’t outshine his punishable behavior.

On this day, his mistress instructed him to perform a double-shift digging in the Dead Land using his scythe, the only tool ever allowed to him since his first day in the district. He just thanked the gods he hadn’t been thrown in the waterwasp den again to gather eggs.

The eggs of the waterwasp gave a great advantage in livening up the earth they were trying to cultivate, but their sting proved deadly. Those who suffered the severe punishment of entering the den without a suit normally spent many hours in the Wellness Center thereafter. Worst so, most people didn’t survive. Many years ago, Demetrius had endured the waterwasp penalty, and he knew better than to gloat that he lived through it.

As time ticked on, his hair and skin became muddied, mirroring the ground. His hands became blistered and rough from gripping the hilt of the scythe for so long, and his back ached from hunching over all day. Again and again he let the blade of his tool bite the ground, and it crunched and sloshed at his growing force. All of his anger and passion went into every strike as the silent night overflowed with all of the unpleasant memories he had ever experienced there. So often he kept them at bay with a jest or a smile, but tonight his past and predicament overwhelmed him.

As the ground reacted time and time again to his thunderous blows, he felt the earth shift under his feet. Before he could stop his next swing to investigate, the blade collided with another smash to the earth. He felt his whole body lurch as he fell through the ground in a waterfall of rubble and mud.

Blinking as he lay sprawled on the rocky floor, the dirt burned his eyes. He shook his head of the stars dancing before him and took a moment to recover from the shock of his tumble beneath the world. Gathering his strength, he began to yell for help.

Demetrius slumped, knowing the Dead Land to be quite far from the center of town where all of the people crowded at night. After a few minutes of relentless screaming, his voice dried and cracked like the mud on his skin, and he gave up. He closed his mouth and laid his voice to rest, not wanting to waste another breath.

His eyes wandered up towards the small hole where the bright moon stayed visible, and he rubbed at the new bruises all over his skin. Not knowing what else to do, Demetrius pulled his cloak tighter around his body, placing himself under the moon which shed him in a protective light, keeping the heavy darkness at bay. He cleared his throat and started to sing through broken sobs, praying that the Olleb would not swallow him whole:

I’m a little bird, flying in the sky.

Up, above the mountains, to the other side.

The air here is sweet, and it’s warmer by the sun.

Nobody can catch me. No one, no one….

He stuttered, choking back his fears as his voice trailed off, resonating far throughout the tunnels surrounding him. He hung on to the last glimpse of the white moon as a gray cloud moved to shadow him in complete darkness.

“I sat in the dark for a long time, scared as ever,” said Demetrius, “but I decided to just wait ‘til morning. I knew more slaves would be coming down to train. But… then I saw this light.” He gazed up at the ceiling.

“What do you mean a light?” said Jeom, hanging onto his every word.

“I mean, right before my eyes, a trail of green light shot out from nowhere and whizzed through the cave. It lit up everything around me, and what can I say? Curiosity got the best of me. Found myself meandering along with it.” He wriggled his hand through the air like a fish as he recalled the events.