(Skeleton Key) Into Elurien (4 page)

Less what? Human?
I glanced down. The dress didn’t do as much for my figure as some, but it did cling to some rather feminine spots. Practical would be better.

As we walked through the gleaming white stone halls of the massive palace (filled with enough airy tapestries, sculpted furniture pieces, and sparkling windows to satisfy any fairy tale princess), the other monsters we passed nodded respectfully to Zinian. I got a few glares, raised lips, and bared fangs, but all in silence. Distaste. Not threats. Still, I clung a little tighter to my terrifying protector.

These are the good guys
, I reminded myself, remembering the terrible spikes on the queen’s boots.

Then we stepped through massive double doors into the streets, and suddenly I wasn’t so certain which side I’d got myself wrapped up with.

T
he fact
that I’d missed the action was only a small mercy.

I stayed close to Zinian, who was at least familiar even if I still wasn’t completely sure I could trust him, and kept my gaze trained on the cobblestone street ahead of me. I’d have to look up some time, become familiar with the incredible variety of faces and bodies we passed, but knew that if I raised my eyes now I would be unable to stop staring. They’d hate that. Anyone would.

A high-sided cart passed, pulled by a pair of minotaurs. I peered inside. Bodies. Human bodies, piled on top of each other in a heap, limbs flopping over the sides. I gagged at the sight, and at the smell of blood rising from the corpses. Not a movie set. Not a dream. This, like nothing else, convinced me that all of this was real.

My stomach somersaulted, and I pressed a hand to my mouth to hold back the stinging bile that rose in my throat. My breath grew shallow, and I gripped Zinian’s arm tight as I fought against the feeling I was about to faint.

He looked down at me. “Horrible, isn’t it?”

I turned away as an ogre nearly twice the size of Auphel and with a far less pleasant personal odour scooped a young woman’s body out of the gutter and tossed her onto a passing cart. I squeezed my eyes closed and took a deep breath that only filled my nose with the stench of death. “Horrible doesn’t begin to cover it. Why?”

“Why did this happen? That’s a question with a complicated answer.”

I released his arm. “You led them, though? You did this?”

His brow furrowed. “General Grys is in charge of everything, but I played my part. I provided information that allowed us to defeat the magical protections around the palace that have made a monster uprising impossible for so long. So yes, in a way I did.”

I turned toward a scraping noise approaching us from behind, and lost my fight against the urge to stare. The creature, which hurried toward us with a shuffling gate and a determined glare, looked like every bone in its body had been broken and poorly set. It opened a mouth filled with broken-off fangs, and reached its twisted hands toward me.

Zinian shoved me against a wall and spun on the creature, spreading his wings to shield me.

“Move along,” he ordered.

A wheezing laugh. “Protecting a human. I knew I hadn’t judged you wrong.” The rasping voice dripped with disdain.

I pressed myself against the wall and wished Zinian had offered me a weapon to go with my new clothes. Something that would at least give me a fighting chance.

The muscles of Zinian’s back shifted as he spread his arms. He hadn’t drawn his sword. “She’s not one of them. This isn’t her fight.”

“They’re all the same.”

I peered from beneath Zinian’s wing and saw one bent and broken foot step forward. In an instant, Zinian had drawn his sword. “Your orders have nothing to do with her.” He spoke as calmly as he had before. “Move on.”

“Or you’ll report me to Grys?”

“Or we’ll deal with this here and now.”

The street had fallen silent, and I imagined that all of the monsters had stopped to watch the scene play out. I hated that they were seeing me hiding, but knew there was nothing else I could do. Those horrible hands could have snapped me in half.

The creature let out a low growl and shuffled away. Zinian sheathed his sword and turned to me.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.” I’d hit the wall hard, but the pain in my shoulder was nothing compared to being torn apart by my worst nightmare. I wasn’t about to complain.

“Good. Stay close. We’ll head back soon.” He offered his arm again, and this time he added the protection of one wing held out, shielding me from curious glances from behind. The gesture, odd as it was, made me feel more relaxed. He was a strange guardian, and I didn’t exactly feel comfortable walking with a monster, but I didn’t doubt that I was safe with him.

We passed another human body. A man, bent backward nearly in half, spine snapped.

“Did they really deserve this?” The words were out before I could second-guess them.

I looked up to find Zinian’s face a hard mask, showing no emotion as he watched the cleanup. “Humans have tortured us for centuries, ripping us from our mothers’ arms, killing our children as punishment for parents’ minor crimes, chaining us and humiliating us. Even those of us with a measure of freedom have lived in fear of the day when they would come and demand our service. At least we were merciful enough to let them die quickly when we finally came for them. It’s better than they deserved.”

And that’s what I am to them,
I realized. I shuddered. No wonder they glared. No wonder I needed a bodyguard.

We rounded a corner and found a handful of pink-skinned creatures of basically human shape, less than half my height, gathered around a heap of human belongings. Their faces ranged from long and thin-nosed to snub-featured, and their bodies from strong to gaunt. They each used one hand to shield their faces from the sunlight as they dug gleefully through the pile, pulling out metals and jewels and anything made of stone, squealing over their finds. They burrowed into the ever-growing pile, which other monsters added to as they cleared out the whitewashed cottages that lined the street.

“Welcome back, pretties!” one of the scavengers exclaimed, and planted a loud kiss on a golden coin.

A centaur who had been dumping a load of clothing on the pile reached down and snatched the coin. “Those will be ours,” he said in a resonant voice, and crossed his arms over his broad chest. As Zinian and I crossed the street and moved around them, I noted that his human skin—which matched the chestnut colour of his horse-hide—was crisscrossed with long, deep scars.

The little creature leapt up, but the centaur held the coin well out of reach. “Gold and gems belong to the gaublings!” squealed the smaller creature. “They come from underground. You can take their grasses and wood, forest-dweller.”

The centaur snorted. “My people mined this gold. If it belongs to anyone, it’s us.”

The imp-like creature—the gaubling, I supposed—snarled. “We’ll see what General Grys says about it.” He dove into the rubbish pile without his prize.

The centaur turned to us. “Major,” he said, and looked at the coin somewhat sheepishly. “We have permission to take what the humans stole from us.”

“And what good will gold do you?” Zinian asked, sounding more curious than accusatory. “Will it bring back those you lost below-ground? Return your sweat and blood to you?”

The centaur clenched his teeth, hardening the muscles of his heavy jaw.

Zinian turned away without an answer, and we continued our journey.

“Do humans in your world use coin?” he asked.

“We do. Gold like that would be worth a lot, I guess.”

He nodded. “We don’t. Monsters, I mean. We’ve always bartered with each other, even between species. Material things only have value because they’re beautiful or useful.” He stopped and sank onto a wooden bench with roses climbing its sides, narrowly avoiding stepping in a puddle of dark blood.

“This is what I feared,” he said, obviously not speaking to me anymore.

“What?”

He hesitated, then seemed to decide I could be trusted with an answer. “Repeating their mistakes. Becoming greedy. Fighting each other. How long until a monster species takes the humans’ place, believing themselves above everyone else?”

I didn’t know what to say to that, but he seemed to want an answer. “I don’t think I can offer advice on peace,” I said. “Humans in my world treat each other horribly. We’re not all bad as individuals, but…” I shrugged. “They say power corrupts, and I guess that’s usually true. Maybe you all can do better.”

Zinian nodded sadly. “I hope so.”

“Did he say that the centaurs worked underground?” I tried to imagine that huge creature in those surroundings, and couldn’t picture it.

Zinian’s shoulders and wings slumped as he leaned forward. “That’s correct. The captured gaublings were thrown in crates and shipped to the farmlands to work the soil and climb the fruit trees, while the centaurs were taken from their bright forests and forced to work in the cramped mines, hauling coal and diamonds and gold.”

“That seems inefficient.” I felt like I was missing something. “They would be stronger workers in their own habitats, wouldn’t they?”

He shrugged. “Efficiency wasn’t the goal. Centaurs working farms might have stayed strong and healthy, and possibly unmanageable. Gaublings working underground would have had the upper hand if they decided to free themselves. So the humans stuffed the creatures of air and sunlight into the dark mines, and put the gaublings out to be blinded and burned by the sun.” He nodded at a pink head that poked out of the heap. “They should be white as snow. They should never have to see the surface.”

My stomach clenched. “So they were easier to control when they were miserable?”

“And weak,” Zinian added. “I have great respect for all of them for finding the strength to join us.” He narrowed his eyes at me, taking me in. “It’s refreshing to meet a human who doesn’t follow the usual ways of thinking. Gives one a glimmer of hope that perhaps things can change for the better.”

Before I could answer, Jaid approached. Her feline tail twitched excitedly, and her grin revealed long, yellow fangs.

“Lieutenant,” Zinian said. “Tell me you bring good news.”

“I do.” She shot me a glare, then returned her attention to Zinian. “Come with me. This should please you.”

We followed, though I had trouble keeping up with their long strides. The flowing skirt of my dress kept tangling up in my legs, and stones and rubbish bit at my feet through the soles of the golden slippers. Still, I didn’t let myself fall behind, and we soon reached an open square lined with shops. The clearing out of human culture was continuing here, but at least the bodies had already been taken away.

A crowd had gathered, and Jaid cleared a path through it for us. In the centre of the square knelt a creature more human in appearance than any I’d seen living so far. A beautiful man, fair-haired, with skin that glowed from within. Wings sprouted from between his shoulder blades, massive and powerful, covered in bright white feathers.

An angel
, I thought, and immediately felt stupid. He wasn’t an angel any more than Zinian was a demon. Still, the name fit.

The creature held his head high even as he knelt in the mud, unmoving. He didn’t object to the situation, or even seem aware of what was happening. Not drugged… just not there.

Jaid stalked forward and took the largest sword I’d ever seen from a half-man, half-deer creature who struggled under its weight.

“Watch,” she said to Zinian. The crowd fell silent. No one asked for last words from the prisoner. Jaid raised the sword and brought it down through the back of his neck, just as Auphel was supposed to do to me last night with her axe.

I clapped my hands over my mouth to hold in a scream, but couldn’t look away. I expected blood. Instead, the angelic figure collapsed, then disappeared. All he left behind was a handful of feathers.

Jaid turned to Zinian with a wild grin. “You see? She’s well and truly gone. We are free!”

Zinian smiled, but it seemed forced. The rest of the crowd erupted into cheers, tears, and embraces. I stuck close under the shelter of Zinian’s outstretched wing, not wanting to be trampled by the others as we moved toward the space the angel had occupied.

“What of these?” he asked, and scooped up a long primary feather. He twirled it between his fingers. “And what of the fact that we’re still killing them? Yes, they’re disappearing when they die. They’re easy to catch now that she’s not directing their actions. But they should have disappeared immediately if Verelle is dead.” He caught another feather beneath his foot and ground it into the dirt. “How certain are we?”

Jaid rolled her eyes and patted Zinian’s arm with one blunt-fingered hand. Her feline face was surprisingly expressive. “You’re still in shock,” she said softly. “We have our victory. I’m sorry you didn’t get to kill her yourself, but it’s over. Have a drink or ten, sleep it off. Then celebrate with us. You’ve earned it.”

Zinian grunted. “I should take Hazel back to the palace.”

The whiskers above one of Jaid’s yellow eyes twitched. “Of course. Do join us when you’re free.” Her tone had turned icy, and I suspected it had everything to do with me.

“Not everyone is going to accept me as easily as you have, are they?” I asked as I hurried again to keep up. Zinian slowed as we got away from the crowd. He still held the feather in one hand.

“No,” he said. “And the sooner you understand that, the better. Try to keep to yourself until we figure out what to do with you.”

“Understood.” I wasn’t about to head out into the streets—or the palace halls, for that matter—without protection.

He didn’t say anything else as we entered the palace, which felt clean and protective after the mess and violence of the streets. When we arrived back at my assigned room, Auphel was waiting. She rose from where she sat on the floor.

“I found food,” she said, gesturing to a plate of roughly chopped root vegetables, all raw, and a chunk of bread. “I had to go to the garden to find anything good. Did you eat already?”

“I’d forgotten all about eating,” I said, but my stomach quickly reminded me that bloody streets outside or no, I hadn’t eaten in far too long. “Thank you so much.” I snatched up the bread.

Zinian nodded and tossed the room key to Auphel, then left us.

“You gave him that?” I asked between mouthfuls, gesturing to the key. The bread was stale, but I ate all of it, then started on a chunk of carrot.

“He gave me an order,” she said. “I’m glad he didn’t hurt you.”

Her grotesque face was a strangely comforting sight. Completely out of place in the well-appointed bedroom, but more pleasant than anything else there. She seemed to have a simple mind, but a kind one, and I was glad to have her guarding me.

We passed the day together. I offered to read to her from the books on the shelves, but we quickly found that human stories weren’t the sort of thing a monster wanted to hear.