Cannibal Kings - A Dark Coming of Age Fantasy

NADYA

I often find comfort in Kaki’s predictability.

Carrying a green glowshroom lamp, I venture towards the blockaded section of the Fortress. The Tyn Wing is what the nobles call it, named after the class for the most fractured Souls.

Most of the Fortress is wide, sprawling, and beautiful. It’s Mecraentos’ capital, a city within a building, made over the course of two hundred cycles, Kaki’s tutors have said. I don’t know how many legs long it is, or how tall it reaches towards the sky, but it is large enough for thousands of families to be housed. The Fortress is built like one giant elongated circle–Kaki called it a cylinder or something–with over a hundred floors with hundreds of room that reach up, up, up into the sky until it almost feels like you can’t see it anymore. The outskirt of it is all roofed, but the courtyard is not. So we can always see the sky. And we are never fully protected from the storms.

Kaki’s never to be seen in the public eye when it rains, whether it be a sprinkle or a raging storm that leaves us all hiding out in the shelters, waiting for the rumble. He likes to seclude himself dozens and dozens of floors and rooms away from the pestering fanatics and non-fanatics and fussy teachers and advisors that he thinks occupy too much of his time.

He’ll be sitting in the near-dark with a stack of books. He probably forgot a lantern, so he’s probably squinting, hoping the slowly clouding Suns will stay risen just long enough for him to finish one more chapter. Or, if he’s not reading, he will be staring at the wall, thinking. He can do that for hours.

I rush into the Tyn Wing to keep the rain off me, my hands over my hair, which is already frizzing into an unstylish mess. If I ruin this dress, Missus Yarna will probably keep me from going out for a whole cycle.

The Tyn Wing is the most battered down and beaten from the War, the least renovated. And I don’t think it’ll ever be. It’s the smallest of the ten wings, only built to reach fifteen stories, but was cut down to seven. The top of it’s been brutally broken down into jagged edges and unfinished wood scalings.

Kaki said his tutors said that there were a lot of poisonous animals that lived here, so the air was once toxic. It must not be anymore if we’re still alive, cycles into our habit of sneaking where we are not supposed to.

I bound up the spiraling staircase, ignoring the creepy shadows that form from my lamp. Phantoms three times my size follow me, silent against the loudness of my footsteps. I channel the energy of the plague to speed myself up. My gift. When I do so, it doesn’t feel like my feet are feet anymore.

I have to pause for a second to breathe.

I have lesser plague symptoms than most my age–just some rotting in my ear and a weakness in my knees, ironically. I try to take advantage of my gift while I still can.

Kaki always changes the room he resides in. It’s a pattern, he says, a pattern he’s observed in nature, but I still cannot figure it out. He always reminds me, there’s seventy rooms in total in the wing. On the first day, he was in the very first room. He was there the second day too. Then it was the second room. Then it was the third, and I thought that was the pattern. But then he went to the fifth room. Then the eighth. The thirteenth, the twenty-first, the thirty-fourth, the fifty-fifth, then back to the eighth. The ninth. The fourteenth. I do not actually care enough to remember which rooms he has been in on which days, but he likes to remind me. He will remind me again today. This is another way he is predictable.

His pattern is predictable, he admits so, I just have to figure it out.

Because I cannot read the printed letters that indicate the numbers, I have to count each door that I come across.

The rain is distracting, but I don’t think he’s on the first floor, so I travel up the second. I pass by each of the doors before stopping at the seventh, the seventeenth in total.

I press the door open with my shoulder, the lamp jingling against my leg.

“I found you,” I say.

Kaki smiles at me. “You did! Faster than usual, too.”

This room is bigger than my own quarters. It is circle shaped and completely unfurnished, except for a torn up drape and a tarp over a dusty blob. He sits in the far-back corner, beneath a window for light. I was right. A stack of books to his side. Right again. He wears an expensive looking coat of white hair but, other than that, it’s clear he didn’t put much effort into his appearance. His long, dark hair is pulled back for better reading but reveals his big forehead. And he smells a bit.

I don’t mind. I take a seat beside him. I’ve smelt worse doing his laundry.

Kaki’s a little older than me but treats me like we’re the same thirteen, like we are really equals, even though he’s the son of an Enlightened, Pure as can be, and I am his maid-in-training.

“Seventeen?” I ask.

“You still don’t get it?”

I frown. “Not all of us are smart, Kaki.”

“You’re plenty smart.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You just need to be taught.” He waves his book.

I shake my head. “My eyes will burn.”

He looks above my head, towards the open window. Rain coming through it patters against us, but the awning keeps most of it away. “The storm’s going to get worse, I think.”

“Every time you say something like that, you make it harder for me to believe you do not bring about these rains.”

He laughs.

Since Kaki isn’t infected or shows any signs of Impurity in his Soul, people argue a lot over whether or not he is Enlightened or Soulless. Whether he is damned or was born into godhood. It can’t be godhood, though, since the prophecies claim only three Enlighteneds can walk this realm at a time. one god-child representing each sun, Kirill and Gerasim, and one god-child representing the eight moons. And those three are already here. Enlightened Daniya, Enlightened Alranath, and Enlightened Everleigh–Kaki’s aunt.

Some say that his existence as a potential Enlightened brings about devastating weather, or fires, or any other such anomaly. It is the Suns telling us he should not walk among us, that he is improbable. Others say that he is a miracle, proof that the plague may not last forever. Some believe that he is a bad omen, that he possesses the power to take away the gifts that the plague grants, like my fast feet.

I don’t really care either way, but him saying things like this, like he’s a prophet, scares me.

“It’s not that hard to figure out,” he says. “It’s something I’ve noticed over many cycles.”

“I’m scared to ask what you mean by that.”

“But you just did.”

“I suppose.”

“Here. Look.” He stands up and turns towards the window. A real gentleman would offer to help a lady up, I muse, though I suppose I am not much of a lady. I stand at his side. “Those clouds? They’re dark. Really dark and long, you see? I think the wind changed directions too, but I’m not sure. But it always storms when the clouds get like that.”

“That is Gerasim giving us warning to take shelter, that He is hiding,” I say, shaking my head. “Of course the clouds go dark. The Suns are in hiding.”

He shrugs. “Maybe so. Either way, it’ll be raining for a while.”

We sit back down and he takes the book into his lap. I rest my head against the wall, content with just watching him. He says I should try to think of stories myself, but I don’t think I have an imagination. That is another thing that only smart people have, I’ve tried to explain, but he doesn’t believe me.

He opens the book and hums lightly beneath his breath. I look over to catch a glimpse, to see if this is one of the books with written works or just a blank page. This one is just a blank page. most of the books he reads are blank pages. I know very little about reading, or books, so I figure that this is some higher-level text.

“Which one is this?” I ask.

He’s allowed to give me summaries of his books, just not read them to me. It is actually quite enjoyable, listening about something that’s not really there.

He has a total of thirteen books. I remember that because he can’t tell me the titles, so he tells me, “This is book number one” or “This is book number twelve.”

“It’s a new book,” he says. “It’s an old journal I found.”

“Oh,” I say. “Where did you find it?”

He glances at me, a cheeky grin coming over him. “In an old memorial. An unfamiliar one.”

“Kaki!” I cry, wanting to swat him on the arm the same way Missus Yarna does to me, except I cannot because Kaki is of Gerasim blood and I’m of Ospry.

“I know, I know,” he says. “It’s not that bad, Nadya, really. And the book is interesting. It’s–”

“You’re going to get into so much trouble,” I say crossly.

“Maybe. But who’s going to know? You won’t tell anyone that I’m reading these, right?”

“Maybe I will. You’ll get into so much trouble.”

“You’ve said that twice and we both know it’s not true.”

“Then you’ll get whoever is selling them to you in trouble.”

His eyes glint. “Do you not want to know what it’s about?”

“I suppose.”

“I suppose,” he mocks. “So nonchalant, Nadya. Like you aren’t utterly curious.”

“Just for that, I don’t want to know.”

“Alright then.”

He’s stubborn, but I am stubborner, and he’s always much too excitable when he comes across any sort of new, illegally sourced information to not share it with me. I just have to wait out the upcoming silence.

Eventually, I close my eyes, wondering if I can get away with a nap before Missus Yarna finds out I am hiding out with a boy well above my class.

“It’s about the Javimoe desert,” Kaki says eventually.

I do not open my eyes, but I smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I can’t really quite understand it yet, but whoever wrote this says that the people in Javimoe used to be rich nomads. Or I think that is what it says. The meaning isn’t quite clear to me yet.”

“What’s a nomad?”

“I think they are traders? Or something? I am not sure. I’ll have to ask Enlightened Alranath.”

“Nomad sounds like the name of an old man,” I say.

Kaki chuckles. “Yes. A little bit.”

“A man with a really big stomach and whose got a beard and whose skin is gray and who has very big eyes,” I say. “Like Father Dash.”

Kaki bursts into laughter entirely. “Or Mister Gernum.”

“Or!” I pause for dramatic effect. “Mister Vu.”

“Nadya!” Kaki cries, but he doubles over, unable to contain himself.

“Poor Mister Vu,” I muse. “Everyone says he used to be so handsome. I just really can’t imagine it.”

“He’s certainly a character,” Kaki agrees. “Even his irises have eyelashes.”

And we leave that at that.

Kaki shuts the book on his lap. “I don’t think these nomads looked anything like Mister Vu or Mister Gernum. They were supposed to be great travelers. Apparently, back then, Javimoe was expansive and thriving, a city much more revered than Mecraentos.”

“That must have been a long time ago.” I glance at the tattered, disintegrating front cover. “The book looks really old, like it’s about to come apart.”

“It probably is.”

A sudden whipping sound comes from outside, the intense road of an angry Sun. A flash of white illuminates the small room, then another, then one more. I wince at each, pressing my hands to my ears. The room grows much, much colder. I yearn for a fire.

“See? Told you,” Kaki says with a smug smile.

“Don’t be proud of a fake prophecy,” I say. “Wipe that smile off.”

He sticks his tongue out at me. “You are such a stickler sometimes.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I should probably go back,” I say. “Missus Yarna will look for me to make sure I didn’t ruin her pretty skirt, and I have a lot of washing up to do.”

“It’s raining too hard for you to walk around the courtyard. Missus Yarna won’t miss you that badly.”

“Oh, she will.”

Something in my expression must have soured, for Kaki says, “Yes, she loves you. She has given me many talks about how I need to be a proper gentleman and master and leave you alone, especially before we both grow into adolescence.”

It’s ironic, that lowly, Impure Missus Yarna is willing to talk to a Pure, noble boy about being proper.

“I don’t get how adolescence will change anything,” I say, standing up. “We’ll still be us, just a little older.”

“I don’t get it either.” He stretches, tousles his hair, and grins at me. “Either way, I’ve done a horrible job at leaving you alone.”

“That’s because I’m the only one in the whole Fortress that can sit through your long, nonsensical talks about grass patterns and Javimoe nomads.”

“I could certainly go on much longer about the nomads, if you’d like. I’ve barely touched the surface, and I’m sure I’ll only learn more. I’ve hardly gotten through this book.”

Kaki reads his thirteen books over and over until he has them completely memorized, blank page to blank page. It must be why he has such a thick head. Only thick heads are strong enough to carry all that and never forget.

“Spare me.” But I stay put.

***

Mecraentos storms go just as fast as they come. When Kirill and Gerasim have decided to reveal themselves once more and the rain’s calmed to a happy drizzle, Kaki and I make our way down the tower and back into the civilized world.

“Missus Yarna will be mad,” I lament for the third time, ducking as Kaki tries to mess with my bun. “Stop that! You are such a boy!”

Kaki laughs and reaches out an arm again. I flinch and he pulls away. “I can tell Yarna you were keeping me calm during the storm as wretched company.”

“Wretched?” I say as we enter the courtyard, the Suns blazing down on us. “I don’t suppose she’ll like that answer. She’ll make it weird.”

“I suppose that’s her own fault then.”

The courtyard is always hustle and bustle. I hate having to navigate it when I am carrying clothes-baskets or paints or freshly braided laurels for the noble children, but Kaki says this is nothing compared to the overcrowded nature of the rest of Mecraentos City.

With the Fortress being isolated as it is, with its wall that tower legs and legs into the air, it’s sometimes hard to remember that there is a whole world beyond it. I mean, we have vendors of our own, craftsmen, artists, jesters and other entertainment right here. Lots of servants and maids and advisors and janitors to keep the Fortress running while noble families work with the Court and the Industries to keep our world Pure and our politics in check.

Kaki started sneaking out into Mecraentos City about a peaking ago, purchasing books illegally, ones that were not approved by the Industries.

I feel a sudden tug on the back of my scalp as my hair uncoils. I whirl around at the laughing Kaki and say, “You are so annoying sometimes!”

“I can redo it for you if you’d like.”

“I don’t want your hands on my head.”

“Yes, well–wait, Nadya!”

I start running at full-speed, letting the plague simmer deeper into my bones, my feet moving at a pace which Kaki will simply never be able to match.

The plague kills us all, eventually, after we go insane and rabid, but the Suns provided us all a gifted curated to each person as a final mercy before our peoples were damned. When the plague gets you, you can turn physically. Those people grow an unnatural amount of hair, with beasty eyes and sharp teeth and black tongues. Then they start to yell in booming voices and they can break your neck with their bare hands. Finally succumbing to the plague is supposedly the worst pain a man can experience.

So I suppose using your gift would be the most euphoric. I have tried to explain this feeling before to Kaki, as he is always curious. I can’t. The closest it would be is the adrenaline rush Kaki and I felt when we accidentally ate a few noreburry leaves.

I dodge servant women that live in my wing. I dodge a few gruffy old men and a man pushing carts of fermenting flesh. I leap over the spiky gray roots that are growing into our dirt paths, spreading out like veins–not even our soils could escape the plague. If I were to step on one, it would burn through my Soul completely, but I am agile enough to avoid it.

Sometimes I’ll watch the noble children during their physical training sessions after I have set up their routes and course obstacles. I am always tempted to run them myself. This is close enough.

I glance over my shoulder and see Kaki lagging legs away. I laugh. He doesn’t give up, though. He will keep running and running until I stop or my knees give out.

When I reach the end of the courtyard, my knees are screaming in pain, so I stop, ignoring the glares around me. I sit on top of a resting sharpener’s block. After a few minutes of waiting, I frown and stop atop it.

Oh no.

Kaki stands in the middle of a half-circle slowly enclosing in on him. Most are women, servant women and Mothers of the Temples, but some are probably clerks or Industry workers. All of them have decaying, wrinkled skin coupled with black growths or perpetually bleeding eyes or misshapen limbs. Kaki’s brows are drawn and he wears a smile, but it’s clear in his eyes he is praying for the posse to go away. I make my way towards him, shoving through the bystanders.

“–please join us in prayer, Lightened Bakiyoria!” says one woman with sunken eyes. “Your Purity will let us be seen favorably by the Suns. Please!”

“Yes, just this once,” another woman says.

“Oh, how you’ve grown! Look at the radiance of his skin, so smooth, filled with so much life!”

One points to the sky. “The rains have been sent as a message, a reminder of our Suns’ power. Please, join us for prayer. We want to keep our clear skies.”

I let out a breath. I am religious, far more than Kaki, but these women go against the whole point of Purification. We are to work towards Enlightenment with good morals, hard work, and intent. Not by riding the already-Pure and non-fractured.

I tap Kaki on the shoulder. he and his women turn towards me. I am suddenly aware of how small I am, always being a little shorter than the rest of the kids my age.

“Lightened Bakiyoria,” I say. “I would humbly like to remind you that we have your suit fitting scheduled in an hour. Before that, you must have a bath as you are rancid, your face must be cleaned up, and–that hair! Something simply must be done, please. You look dreadful. You cannot present yourself to the Court looking like a beat up old hag that–”

“Right, right, I understand,” he interrupts. He glances at the women sheepishly. “I really must attend to this. Sorry, Missuses and Misters.”

There comes a bunch of protests and a few nods of understanding. I straighten my back and walk with as much authority as I can muster as Kaki follows behind.

When we’re a good enough distance away, Kaki says, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Lightened,” I say. “They’re only the first group.”

“I know.” Kaki sighs. “I am going to have to leave you soon for tutoring.”

“Better be there early before anyone else tries to speak to you.”

“Yeah. I suppose. I’ll walk you to the Ospry Wing first.” He frowns. “Do I really smell that bad?”

Most of the servants reside in this wing. As always, the younger servants send odd looks our way. They work for their own noble families, but most do not get as close with their masters and mistresses as I have with Kaki–I am also lucky because most do not have their master being a direct descendant of a real Enlightened.

The young ones have stopped questioning our going-abouts-together, but many still see us as improper. For Kaki to be even near the Osrpy Wing is seen as horrendously below his station and completely unfit. I should be escorting him. It would do well to serve my Soul, to not fracture it even more by my pride being stoked by prancing about with such a boy.

My Soul is slightly less fractured than other Ospry, but the sheer imbalance between a ten percent fracture and Kaki’s zero is unforgivable. I know I would be looking down if any of my fellow servants were hanging out with Pure-Souled nobles in the casual manner I find myself.

My cheeks burn a little as we enter the wing.

“Maybe you should leave,” I say. “You’ll be late for your lesson.”

Kaki shrugs. “I learn far less in those lessons than I do from self-study.”

That’s because you read those illegal books, I muse but say nothing.

The Ospry Wing is well-decorated, with stone walls painted with burnt yellow and red, depicting the rising and setting of the fifth moon which our class was named after. The Doors were once painted glorious, vibrant colors but are now faded and, since we don’t have much production in natural paints and oils anymore, they cannot be redone despite the Industry of Aesthetics promising to do so for the last ten cycles. There are over five-hundred rooms littered across twenty-five stories in this Wing. Not all were salvageable after the War, but they do their job. Kaki likes to stop and observe the murals for hours at a time.

He does so now.

“Come on, Kaki,” I say.

“I am going to master the art of painting one day, when my mind is a little more free,” he says, not turning towards me. “I am going to master the art of many things.”

“I’m sure you will.” And I mean it. He’s stubborn and annoying but he’s the smartest boy I’ve ever met.

“Excuse me?” a soft voices comes from behind.

Standing behind us is a woman I’ve seen time and time again. She has unusual hair that’s light and golden, and pale freckled skin–a complete contrast to most in Mecraentos. Dark black spots run up and down her arms and legs, revealed beneath the skin-dress she wears. They seem like flowers blossoming on her skin. Her eyes are large and, where they are typically white, the plague has turned them yellow, almost matching to her hair.

Right now, those eyes are thick and puffy, and there are white streaks drawn onto those black-spotted cheeks.

I search for her name but I cannot find it.

One thing about Kaki is that he never forgets a face. “Miss Gennadi? Are you alright?”

Gennadi. That’s right. A personal servant for Enlightened Everleigh.

“Enlightened Everleigh wishes to see you in lieu of your lesson, Lightened,” she says. “I was sent to fetch you.”

“Oh. Thank you.” She nods curtly. “You look like you’ve been crying.”

I want to elbow him. Pressing is not very gentlemanly.

But Miss Gennadi just smiles, a crooked one. “Yes, I have been. But it’s alright. I’ll feel much better once you’ve been attended to, Lightened.”

“Is it alright if Nadya accompanies me?”

Miss Gennadi glances at me. “I’m… not sure if Enlightened Everleigh wants this to be a private or public conversation.”

“Well, might as well bring her along then.”

“I am not sure if that’s a good idea, Lightened.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea either, Lightened,” I say. Missus Yarna will get on both of us again and I’ll be missing more work and it’s not proper of me to be playing around instead of working.

Kaki smirks a little at my use of his formal title, but it dissipates a second later. “I’d rather you come, but you don’t have to. Aunt Everleigh can talk to Missus Yarna for you.”

“We must get moving,” Miss Gennadi says. “Nadya may come. She’s at your beckon and call, not Yarna’s. I’ll talk to the crone, if need be.”

“The crone?” I repeat, surprised. Kaki laughs, then tries to stifle it.

A hand quickly comes over Miss Gennadi’s mouth. She uses the back of it to wipe her slightly-wet face. “I’m sorry. Truly sorry, my mind has been so foggy. Please, excuse anything that comes out of my mouth.”

“No,” Kaki says. “You’re exactly right.”

“Kaki!” I hiss.

“Nadya!” Suddenly, he starts to speed-walk ahead. “You’d better start walking faster if you want to keep up.”

“Suns,” I mutter under my breath.

Miss Gennadi walks alongside us in an amused silence.