Chapter 1
The only view of the outside world I’ve ever had is the rough-hewn oval skylight set directly above the center of the Alphanax Orphanage’s common area. Crimson sunlight beams through the opening, painting a complementary shape of the unyielding stone floor. It’s a far more comfortable resting place than the cold corners of the wide room, where condensation drips into soggy mounds of rags. Beds, the Headmistress calls them.
Sitting on the floor, I settle against Fallah’s leathery flank. My best friend is a Quiloh: bigger than all the other children and twice as strong, with four stubby legs poking from a round torso and a blue stripe tracing her spine. Her triangular head is tipped with huge nostrils beneath milky, sightless eyes. And floppy, yet surprisingly articulate, ears indicate her mood.
Her head swivels toward me, ears twitching as she grins.
“Aren’t you glad you have a friend as big as me?” she rumbles in her native tongue, tilting her head at the children we’d kicked out of our spot in the sun. They try to take it every day, but Fallah is just too large.
“Hey! I watched your back!” I stumble over the reply. She’s managed to teach me some Quiloh over the years, but my parts aren’t meant for the same sounds. Fallah understands, however, and that’s enough to keep the others from eavesdropping when we don’t want them to.
“Sure,” she teases, before dropping her meaty chin to the worn stone floor. “As long as we’re the ones in the sun.”
I nod in agreement.
“How long?” Fallah asks after a moment; the same question she asks every day.
“This is day 3745 in the sun,” I answer.
Before that–before Fallah arrived–I crouched in the cold, damp shadows, teased and bullied by all the other children. For as long as I can remember. And maybe even before that. Back then, Ki’leh was the one in the sun. He stared at us now with blood-red eyes, a bristling nest of white feathers framing a hooked beak that gleamed like liquid gold.
Fallah smiles, but shakes her head. “You know that’s not the number I asked for. How long until–”
“Freedom,” I finish for her, readjusting the number in my head. “Only 725 days left.”
Rough, sun-warmed skin shifts under my shoulder blades. “So close.”
The daily exchange is a ritual. A reminder. A promise.
I squint up at the sun. The sky framing it is pink and traced with wispy gray clouds. One day, we’ll stand under the open sky together. Free. Able to go wherever we please.
“Tell me about Quil again,” I say.
“You know I barely remember my home,” Fallah replies.
“Please?!” I plead. “I like hearing about what you do remember.”
“Well”–Fallah shifts under me–“Quil is warm, and there’s always a gentle breeze blowing across the fields. The soil is soft, and loose, and cool. Nice to lay on…”
“It sounds like paradise,” I breathe. Compared to the stone prison of Alphanax, at least: the only home I’ve ever known. But even if Quil is the only other place I ever get to see, I’ll be happy. Because Fallah and I will be together. And free, instead of just two more unwanted orphans waiting for a Kaisin to give them a ‘home’.
“There are other places besides Quil,” Fallah says, turning her wide face to me, ears raised. “I’m sure there’s a planet full of other smooth-skins.”
The made-up name tugs my mouth into a frown, but neither of us know how else to describe what I am or have any idea where I come from.
“How do we even know there are any more like me out there?” I ask.
“There have to be,” she says, “somewhere.”
Her heartwarming insistence brings a smile to my face. Fallah has always been adamant about finding others like me once we leave. She says it’s important I know more about my kind. I want that more than anything, but I’m not confident like she is–not enough to get my hopes up, anyway. But even if we never find another ‘smooth skin’ beyond these walls, I’ll be happy as long as we’re together.
“Maybe,” I concede.
Fallah returns the smile and opens her mouth to say something else when the jingle of keys pierces the air. A heartbeat later, the heavy iron door at the far edge of the room creaks open, and the Headmistress stalks into view. A wicked grin twists her thin lips, pulling them apart to reveal jagged, yellowing teeth.
That look is never a good sign.
Jittery blue eyes sweep the room in a silent warning as two other Kaisin saunter in on her heels, just as tall, pale, and appraising.
“This is what I have,” the Headmistress says, in a lazy drawl.
“No others?”
The Kaisin who asked is covered from head to toe in a dusty jumpsuit and wrapped in a tattered, shapeless coat the same shade of brown as the stone walls.
The Headmistress crosses her wiry arms over a slender torso. “What did you have in mind?”
“You got anything large?” the other Kaisin asks. He wears ill-fitting slacks and a baggy shirt that makes his torso seem miniscule.
Fallah stiffens under me.
“You’ll be fine,” I whisper.
“How do you know?”
“I just know,” I soothe, patting her side.
Fallah nods, but the nervous flops of her ears suggest she isn’t convinced. “What about you?”
“I’m an ‘anomaly’, remember?”
That was the Headmistress’ name for me. She mumbled it in passing, like a curse, or a sickness to be excised. But for some reason, the Headmistress always makes it a point to divert attention away from me. And most Kaisin that do give me more than a lingering glance are disgusted by whatever I am. Maybe it’s my smooth skin. Or my thick mane of raven hair. Or my dark eyes.
But these Kaisin don’t seem to notice, or care, as their eyes sweep over me. Then again, I’m not big like Fallah. I swallow the lump rising in my throat.
“The Rhandannan,” Tattered Coat says, pointing at Ki’leh.
Oversized Shirt shakes his head. “They look big, but they’re all feathers. Also, hollow bones.”
Tattered Coat gives a thoughtful frown and scans the room again. His gaze lands on Fallah, and her flank hardens like stone against my back.
“What about the Quiloh?”
Suddenly, the lump is so big that it’s hard to breathe.
“Maybe.” Oversized Shirt turns to the Headmistress. “Can we get a closer look?”
“Of course.”
She walks toward us, keys jingling like death bells.
“Out of the way,” she snaps at me. Then her glare shifts to Fallah. “Stand up.”
Fallah’s milky-white eyes widen as I scramble toward the edge of the crimson circle, and when I turn, she’s trembling.
“You’re fine,” I call in her native tongue, my heart drumming in time with the deepest, soothing notes of the words.
“Quiet,” the Headmistress hisses.
All the warmth drains from my body as the Kaisin inspect Fallah. My skin crawls as they run spider-like fingers across the leathery hump of her flank, along her bright blue stripe running down her spine, and toy with the simple wooden pendant always hanging around her neck. She’s quiet, but every other inch screams distress: her big ears press flat against her bald head; her prominent brow draws down above narrowed eyes; her lips press into a thin line; her wide shoulders hunch in a defensive posture; and all four of her legs are bent slightly. She’s ready to bolt, but there’s nowhere to run.
Oversized Shirt, hands still on Fallah’s back, glances sidelong at the Headmistress. “Can this one carry a load?”
“All of the children can.”
“Can any of the others carry as much?” Tattered Coat presses.
“I don’t know,” the Headmistress growls, “but these are the only children I have. Find one. Or don’t. But don’t waste my time.”
The pair converses in the Kaisin native tongue, a scratchy grumble that’s so familiar I can almost grasp its meaning; always could. But comprehension hovers just out of reach. Finally, Tattered Coat turns back to the Headmistress.
“We’ll take the Quiloh.”
My heart skips a beat. This isn’t right. This isn’t supposed to happen. Fallah and I are going to leave Alphanax together. Be free together. But if they take her away, I’ll be left alone. And she’ll be all alone with these Kaisin, wherever they take her. No. That can’t happen! But, I’m frozen in place, as if my feet have fused with the smooth stone of Alphanax. All I can do is watch as the Headmistress replies.
“The fee is fifteen hundred credits.”
“So much?” Tattered Coat complains.
“Surely, only a thousand will do,” Oversized Shirt offers.
“Fifteen hundred, or you leave without the Quiloh,” the Headmistress snaps, planting balled fists on her hips.
“Fine,” Tattered Coat grumbles, pulling a pouch off of his hip and dumping the contents into her cupped hand. “That should be enough.”
Maybe it isn’t. Maybe they’ll be short and the Headmistress will send them away without Fallah. The glimmer of hope dwindles with each counted credit. But then, the Headmistress finishes and raises an eyebrow.
“Fourteen hundred.” She glares at the two Kaisin. “And I suppose you didn’t bring a credit more?”
It isn’t enough! Fallah will stay!
They both grin.
“What do you say?” Oversized shirt asks.
“Do we have a deal?” Tattered shirt adds.
She lets out a heavy sigh. “Go ahead. Take her. Before I change my mind.”
The Kaisin bow their heads in thanks. Their mouths move, but the words are muffled, as if uttered far away. Then, they turn to Fallah.
But… No! They didn’t have enough. The Headmistress was supposed to turn them away!
“Wait!” I cry, leaping in front of her. “Take me too! I can carry as much as she can! More!”
“Out of the way!” Tattered Coat growls.
“Scrawny pest!” Oversized Shirt shoves me with rough, spindly hands.
Fallah’s milky eyes widen in terror as unfamiliar hands nudge her away from the sun’s warmth. Then, her wide lips open in a panicked cry. “Aiko! What do we do?”
“Run!” I shout in reply.
Fallah bucks away from Tattered Coat and Oversized Shirt. The Headmistress’ cry for her to stop is drowned by the pair’s angry barks and the sudden babbling roar of children. They cheer as Fallah sprints for the open door and freedom. It’s always left open, because no child has ever tried to escape. Fallah will be the first.
And I’ll be the second.
My two legs aren’t as strong as Fallah’s four, but I’m quick enough to keep up with her headlong rush. I yank the iron door shut behind me, pausing long enough for the solid click of the latch to echo in the empty hall. Then, I’m on Fallah’s heels.
“Do you know where you’re going?” I pant at her wide flank.
She shakes her head, then says, “I’m not letting them take me.”
Tears flash in her sightless eyes.
“No,” I agree. “We’re supposed to leave together, so that’s what we’re going to do.”
There’s a junction at the end of the hall. Left is a short offshoot that ends at a narrow door. A dead end. But right stretches further in the distance.
“That way,” I cry, pointing.
We hurry along a hallway with dripping stone walls and crumbling floors. Up ahead is a set of wooden double doors. Maybe that’s the way out? It has to be! Harsh voices echo behind us, joined by a chorus of pounding feet. But freedom is only a few dozen paces away. We’re going to make it!
Stumbling to a stop in front of the door, I shoot a glance over my shoulder. The Headmistress is in sight, flanked by Tattered Coat and Oversized Shirt.
Fallah’s ears flick at the chorus of footsteps. “Hurry!”
I fumble with the latch. Why is it so hard to grip and turn? Why is the door so heavy? Why is the air so thick? Why are my legs so shaky? My hands tremble as the latch turns. And turns. And turns. Then, the door is open and we’re outside.
Worn paving stones trace a path to a ship in the distance. It belongs to the Kaisin. More mill around the base of an extended ramp, their stark white skin at odds with the ruddy landscape and the crimson sunlight.
“Not that way,” I say, gripping Fallah’s shoulder and steering her off the path.
The gentle slope of loose dirt and rock stretches on forever. In the far distance, what looks like a mountain range reaches for the sky. Between, there’s nothing but barren wasteland.
I skip a step staring at the open expanse. How will we survive out there? Can we? A glance over my shoulder reveals the alternative: Fallah will be taken away, and I’ll return to the dank cold of Alphanax.
No. We don’t have a choice.
I clap a hand on Fallah’s wide flank and urge her on between gasped breaths. “Don’t…stop…”
She trundles ahead and I use the hand on her back to keep myself upright. I can hear Tattered Coat, Oversized Shirt, and the Headmistress in our wake, but they’re falling behind. On even ground, in a straight line, they might have been faster, but Fallah’s four legs make up for, in stability, what she lacks in raw speed.
“We’re going to make it,” I pant. “Just–”
My words are cut off by loud pops. Geysers of dust and dirt explode around us. The echoing chorus is joined by the Headmistress’ shrill shouts that I can’t make out over the pulse pounding in my ears. I hunch and squint, but don’t stop.
Ahead, the slope steepens, then swoops behind a mound of stones. Fallah slips, stumbles, and plants her feet to keep from falling. For an instant, she’s as stiff as a statue. Then, there’s a top. A zip. A muffled thump as something hits her leathery hide. She wavers. Falls.
She doesn’t move. She doesn’t get up. And as I shuffle the handful of steps toward her, the ruddy dirt darkens. Is that…blood? The parched ground guzzles her life eagerly, and the breeze pushes fine sand against her limp form as if trying to swallow her whole. I collapse to the moist patch of ground and place a hand on her side.
“Fallah?”
Her sightless eyes blink and swivel toward the sound of my voice. “Aiko?”
“I’m here,” I say. “You’re going to be alright.”
“Go,” she wheezes. “Be free.”
“I can’t. I won’t.”
“Run.” Her eyes flutter. “Before it’s too late.”
“Not without you!” I cry, wrapping my arms around her and struggling to heave her back onto her feet.
But…Fallah doesn’t respond. Or move. Or breathe.
“No!”
This isn’t supposed to happen! None of this was supposed to happen!
Reaching out, I brush limp ears back from her face and look into her milky-white eyes. They’re beyond sighless, staring, glassy and empty, into the rosy sky. All of a sudden, my chest tightens and a lump the size of the sun lodges in my throat. I suck a shuddering breath around it and try to swallow. I can’t. My hands shake. My eyes are dry. They burn. Blur with tears.
Fallah is…gone? How can she be gone? We made a promise…
Somewhere in the distance, I hear the scrabble of boots. Then, a familiar voice.
“You fools! What have you done?”
“She ran,” someone snaps. “We have no use for runners.”
“It wasn’t your place.” That’s the Headmistress.
“We paid for the Quiloh,” another voice chimes in. “How about the other one? Want us to deal with it as well?”
The Headmistress spit something in the Kaisin tongue. Boots scuff on stone. Metal clatters on the ground.
“Take your credits and go.”
There’s a moment of silence, then a grumble from one of the Kaisin. Boots scrape anew. Metal clinks as it’s gathered. Finally, footsteps retreat into the distance.
Fingers close around my bicep in an iron grip that should hurt. And the way I’m yanked upright should prompt a cry of pain. But I’m numb. My bare feet no longer feel the shards of stone underfoot. My suddenly dry eyes don’t water when the breeze tosses sand into them. And the crimson sun’s light no longer warms me. I’m cold. Empty.
I glance up at the Headmistress’ face. It’s creased with anger. Jittery blue eyes flick down to me, then quickly return to Alphanax. Her grip tightens. Her pace quickens.
From a distance, the orphanage is no more than a squat rectangle of brown stone against a flat horizon. This is the first time I’ve seen it from the outside. It’s so unassuming. Yet, the mundane collection of bricks seems more sinister now. Without Fallah, Alphanax isn’t a place I can call home. It might as well be a tomb, because the freedom I dreamed of for so long is pointless now. Before, even if I was the only ‘smooth skin’ at the orphanage–maybe anywhere–at least I had Fallah.
Now, I’m really, truly all alone.
Chase Gamwell 