Awakening the Mare (Fall of Man Book 1) Read online

  “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. I’m here. I have you. Don’t look. Don’t look.” He carried me away.

  I didn’t look. I had already seen enough. And it wouldn’t be the last time.

  8. Being Chosen

  Sandra stood before our class of fourteen, reading from her essay, proud of what she had written and truly believing the words.

  “If I am chosen, I hope it to be as a companion,” she said. “It would be an honor, and my family would be proud. I would be there for my master at his beck and call. Awaiting his needs, giving what I could.”

  Then she shifted her eyes with a certain seductiveness to Iry. Conveying somehow what we all knew. She was interested in being chosen by him. Our class all knew Iry was choosing. He too had come of age and was worthy of choice. They all pined to be his companion or one of his servants or competitors.

  A competitor was the lowest honor of being chosen. Pretty much you were handed your death sentence and it was up to you and your skills on whether you would survive. A competitor was entertainment and protection. After being trained, the competitor fights battles in an arena against human abominations, that was the entertainment part. The protection came when Competitors were like soldiers, ready to battle the Savage Sybaris.

  The Sybaris, the once peaceful species that ruled the Earth, were divided.

  The bad and the worst.

  The civilized and the Savages.

  I looked forward to the day when the Savage broke into the city of the civilized and tore them limb from limb.

  No one knew where the civilized Sybaris lived, not even the Savages.

  All this is what I’d surmised by what little information I had been given.

  I knew we feed them. Our blood flows for their livelihood.

  It was presented to us in a glorified manner that if we are chosen, we are to feel honored. We provide for the Sybaris, and in return, they provide for us.

  Esperanza is proof of that. A sanctuary with food, water, doctors, and no Savages.

  Competitors not only fight the bad, they fight for a spot in Utopia. After so many battles they are awarded with passage there. A place they say is far away, safe from Sybaris of all forms, a place that grows and is full of life that man can appreciate. Sort of like throwing an ape back into a jungle, I was told.

  I believe it’s an island, surrounded by water. If such a place exists, that is where I want to be. Competitors also are not suppliers for the Sybaris. They are not unending faucets of blood dripping into a glass.

  Have a piece of fruit, tap into Vala, her blood is a good year.

  No way. That is not for me.

  My thoughts had drifted and I missed most of Sandra’s essay. The sudden round of applause snapped me out of my daydream state.

  We were almost done with school. We had the test early in the day on Kings and Queens of the Ancients and after that, really, there was no more to learn. Only preparation for being chosen.

  Iry told Sandra that she did a wonderful job. He sat on the corner of his desk, leg swinging, laid back and relaxed. His shoulder length hair was tucked behind his ear on one side, his shirt slightly open. The girls stared at him; I just didn’t see it.

  Each day that passed, I hated that he became more comfortable with us when in fact he was studying us, scouting us, for his perfect long term meals.

  “Vala?” Iry called. “Your turn.”

  “For?”

  “Your final essay on being chosen.”

  I shook my head.

  “Did you forget it?” he asked.

  “No. I didn’t write one.”

  “Was there a problem?” Iry questioned. “I can give you more time. You need this to graduate.”

  “Then I don’t graduate.”

  “Vala,” he said softly, “why didn’t you write one?”

  “This essay was to be on why I want to be chosen and why I should be chosen. Correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “Well, I don’t want to be chosen.”

  As if I had said the most offensive thing, the entire class gasped.

  Iry held out his hand.

  Sandra stood up. “What is your problem?”

  “Sandra,” Iry warned. “Please.”

  “No. Every day she comes in here and every day she gets worse.”

  “That’s because every day I get closer to the selection process.”

  “And you don’t want to be chosen?” Sandra asked. “It’s an honor.”

  “It’s insane.”

  “What do you know?” she snapped.

  “More than you. I’ve been out there. I was old enough to see things. And there is a world out there,” I said. “One we, as men, built.”

  “Then go!” Sandra yelled. “You think this is all bad? You are safe, you have food, medicine to make you well. If you hate it so much here, leave. No one is making you stay.”

  “Sandra!” Iry scolded.

  Sandra shook her head. “No, Iry. She needs to be told. We have been dealing with her decline for a while. Let her go, let her leave Akana. Let her see what living among Savages is like.”

  “I have,” I said.

  “Then if you have, you should stop acting as if the Ancients are like them. You know.”

  “I do. And the Ancients are like them.”

  Sandra’s eyes shifted to Iry.

  “All Sybaris are alike, they look different,” I said.

  Sandra squealed and her hand shot to her chest in a dramatic manner. “Iry, oh my Gods, she said the ‘S’ word. Do something!”

  Again, calm, Iry held up his hand. “Class dismissed.”

  “We still have an hour,” Sandra said.

  “Go home,” Iry instructed. “Class dismissed.”

  The students around me started to stand. Sandra eyed me as she slowly walked by me. “I hope he recommends you to the pen.”

  I waited until she passed, then gathered my things to leave with the others, but somehow I knew it was coming.

  “Not you, Vala.”

  Silently I huffed, making a face that Iry didn’t see.

  “Wait.”

  I wanted to scream, yell, snap ‘what now?’. I didn’t. I waited until all the students had left the room, and Iry walked to the door and closed it.

  I placed my belongings on my desk, folded my arms and waited.

  His stench grew closer and then Iry stood before me. “Step away from the desk.”

  I took a step forward, my head hung low.

  “Vala, I know you are confused. Look at me.”

  “Recommend me to the pen and I’ll run.”

  “I know you will. Look at me.”

  I lifted my head, exhaling in frustration.

  His eyes met mine.. His already huge pupils widened. “I know well that you—”

  “Don’t waste your time.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “It doesn’t work on me.”

  “I’m… I’m sorry. What are you talking about?”

  “That thing that all Sy—I mean Ancients do. You’re staring at me. Trying to get into my mind. Get me under control.”

  He laughed in ridicule.

  “Don’t laugh. Try it.” I opened my eyes wide and stared at him.

  His pupils retracted.

  “It doesn’t work on me. Nito has tried several times. Others too. Doesn’t work. I don’t know why. Now if that will be all…”

  Iry reached out and gently grabbed my arm. It was the first time he ever laid a hand on me. His touch was cold.

  Then I saw a look on his face that I didn’t expect. He quickly pulled his hand from me and inched back, almost in a state of shock.

  I couldn’t determine if he looked in awe of me or frightened.

  “Unbelievable,” he whispered.

  “What? I told you it didn’t work on me.”

  “Not that. I only heard stories, but never encountered one until now.” He tilted his head and squinted his eyes. “Do you not know?”

  �
�Know what?”

  “Vala,” he said. “You’re… you’re a Mare.”

  9. Being Mare

  “What is a Mare?”

  I had been walking a distance from Iry. He’d asked me to join him in a walk so he could speak to me. We moved beyond the school to the tree lined area. The only reason I went was to find out why he, like Nito, called me this.

  Apparently it was something the Sybaris knew and we humans did not.

  “Before I tell you, because you obviously do not know the term, I—”

  “Oh I know the term. Nito has called me that for as long as I can remember.”

  He cocked back with a lock of shock. “She knows?”

  “Of course, if she calls me that.”

  “This is important. Has any other Ancient touched you?”

  “What is a Mare?”

  “Have they?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “This is good.”

  “Iry, what is this? Are you going to tell me soon? Because I have horses to check on.”

  “The myth says that a Mare is not born, they are made. I believe you cannot instill such a thing unless one is born that way. Have you been told any tales at all about your birth?”

  “Other than being born in a truck and having my afterbirth be a diversion?”

  He shook his head. “A story that says someone placed a blessing on you?”

  I hesitated, because that actually sounded familiar. My mother had told me about an old woman who placed a special prayer over me because, in essence, I had spared the camp. I looked up at Iry. “That would be magic and there is no such thing.”

  “I agree. But on the chance magic works, did someone?”

  “I heard a story, yes. Does it make a difference?”

  “It depends. Some say it makes you stronger to be born that way. But I’m certain you have not come into your full abilities or you would know.”

  “You’re talking in circles, Iry.”

  “You are only the second Mare I have met in my lifetime.”

  “How do you know for sure I am one, then, since you’ve only met one?”

  “Two things. You complain of my scent. When did you start to pick it up?”

  “This year.”

  He nodded. “That will cease once you learn to control it. The other way I know… is when I touched you.”

  “Did I burn you?”

  Iry laughed. “Hardly, you jolted me with an immediate sense of feeling good. Like a medicine or the wine your adults drink.”

  “That’s disturbing. So, as a Mare, I make Sy… I mean Ancients feel good?”

  “As a Mare, you are three things. A blessing, a curse, and a weapon. Those who seek to destroy the Ancients will seek to find you. Those who want to draw from you will seek to choose you and keep you, and those who fear you, will kill you.”

  I laughed at the absurdity of what he was saying. There was no magic, no tricks. How could I have this ability, whatever it was? “I do nothing, Iry, honestly. I have no special ability.”

  “You will come into it very soon. When you do, you must learn to control it. You will have the ability to do many things. Move things, travel with your mind, and witness things far away. Just... ” Iry pointed to his temple, “…be thinking it and believing it. For example, if you wanted to hurt me, if you were thinking that you wanted to kill me, then I touched you, the moment my hand lay upon you, I would have been injured. Before you can do that, you need to control it. It will come upon you quickly.”

  “I understand why someone would fear me then, if this is true. What can they draw from me?”

  “An Ancient who is wise and knows what to do with you can keep you safe, and draw from you slowly.”

  “My blood,” I stated bluntly.

  “Yes. Your energy will be shared with the Ancient, until finally they are complete with you and may choose to convert you to an Ancient.”

  That made me shudder. “What if I don’t want my blood to be used that way? If truly I can make my mind do anything, then I could make my blood poison.”

  Iry waved a finger back and forth. “Except that. An Ancient that decides to kill you will drain you quickly and completely, consuming your energy, making the Ancient strong. And you ... " Iry reached for me again and I stepped back, “…you will be transformed into what can be considered the most vicious and vile abomination that man can become. You’ll thirst for blood and flesh, kill without thinking or feeling.”

  I shook my head and just as I wondered who would do that to me, who would drain me quickly, I realized who. “Nito.”

  “Yes.” Iry nodded. “If she has known, then she’s waiting for you to come into full ability. She’s going to choose you.”

  “To kill me.”

  “To take all that you have.”

  “What about my family?” I asked. “She has to provide for them if I am chosen. That is Elder law.”

  “Do you really think she’ll follow those rules if you die?”

  He was trying to scare me and it was working. “I have to go.”

  “Vala, many are going to choose you. If Nito knows you are a Mare, then all Ancients know, and they will all place a bid for you."

  “I’ll run.”

  “They’ll find you.”

  “I’ll cross the water.”

  “Unless you cross an ocean there is no way.”

  “I’ll find a device that floats on water, something, I won’t be chosen.”

  “You will be. You are a Mare. They will hunt you down and take you.”

  “Stop!” My hands shot to my ears. “Why are you doing this? Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because when you are chosen, I need you to pick me. Let me choose you, Vala.” He stepped toward me. “Choosing me is the only way you will not die. Trust me.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  I moved further back, spun as fast as I could, and started to run.

  “Vala! Do not expose yourself. It will be the end of all you know.”

  As much as I didn’t want to hear what he had to say, his words stayed with me, in my heart and in my mind.

  10. The Bag

  I sought solitude in the stables after speaking with Iry. Casey, my horse, waited in his stall. A thoroughbred horse, I was told, one that in the previous world would have ran races and won. He moved swiftly and seamlessly.

  I loved the stables, and everyone had a horse. It was our means of transportation from one town to the next, where we would travel to trade. I suppose that was the reason the Sybaris allowed us to have horses. That was the only thing that made sense, since the Sybaris feared them.

  After feeding Casey a snack, I slipped into the stall and took a brush to his mane. He was beautiful, his coat rich and brown.

  Casey knew me like no other, and knew how I rode. Many times I took him out to run and we’d make it to the next town in less than an hour.

  The stables helped me maintain my sanity, and was the only place I could keep things I never wanted the Sybaris or my mother to find.

  One of them was my bag.

  When I was young, several years after we arrived in Akana, I was digging in the yard as many children do. Not more than a foot down I hit something hard. I continued to dig until I uncovered something metal the length of my forearm. It had a handle and latches. Very clever.

  I called for my mother when I had it fully exposed. I remember the panic on her face when she saw it, like I had found a dead animal or something.

  “A toolbox. We have to get rid of it.”

  “Why?” I asked. “I haven’t even opened it.”

  “If the Ancients come and see that, we will be cast out.”

  How did she know it was a forbidden item without even looking at it?

  “What is it? We don’t even know. Don’t you want to know?”

  “It’s something from the past. Before the Ancients built the cities.”

  Then my mother’s curiosity got the best of her. She look
ed around to see if anyone was watching, and after covering the box with a cloth she carried it into the house.

  I followed her, just as curious.

  She was with child, my sister Sophie, and her large stomach was in the way. She laid the box on the bed and opened it and lifted a sheet of paper from inside. “A time capsule,” she said.

  I reached for the paper and while I could read the words, the manner in which it was written was different. I did, however, recognize the year. 1988. It was written by someone named Janie Morrison.

  “A time capsule,” my mother said again. “This young woman, Janie, buried this box with items from 1988.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “It was a common thing. A school project perhaps,” my mother said. “A way for a person in the future to know what the world was like. It is Janie’s message to the future.”

  “To me, since I found it. She is showing me what the world was like before the event?”

  “Yes, in a way.”

  Enthusiastically I dropped to my knees and peeked in the box. In there were more sheets of paper, a book, a magazine, a small square object with two holes in the middle and what looked like spools of thick string inside. The words on it said ‘Best of Poison.’ I quickly dropped it in case it was still volatile. “Janie Morison took great care,” I said, rubbing my hands. “She is informing us. What is all this?”

  “Nothing.” My mother shut the box. “Can you lift it?”

  I tried and was able to. “Yes.”

  “Then you take it. Take it fast to the ends of Akana and leave it. Get it far away, you hear?”

  “But it teaches us.”

  “It teaches you of things that are forbidden. Now go. I’ll cover the hole.”

  I took hold of the box, slid from the bed, and carried it from the house. I didn’t understand rules and I certainly didn’t understand why this box was forbidden.

  It was history. And a history of man that I wanted to know. Our history.

  In my first rebellious move, I told my mother I had left it at the end of Akana, but I didn’t. I took it to the stable where we kept our horses. The Ancients would never look there because they stayed clear of horses. I kept it there and learned from it.