Sky Child (6 page)

11

When Jet and I finally arrive at the feast, I see Flot sitting with a few of the hunters, eating a bowl of wolf stew and a long piece of corn. I stare up at the ceiling of the feast chamber. It is different from most rooms, because the rock piles that normally grow from the ceiling have been smoothed down. It looks as if someone worked very hard to make it flat.

There are many glowing sticks attached to the walls, making it the brightest room in the Crag, but it is still not as bright as being outside in the sunlight. The tables are old and made of wood, and they are stained with the color of spilled food, beer, and blood.

People begin noticing that I've entered. The noise in the chamber dies down, and the loud talking turns into whispers. I start to worry, and look around. My guess is that word has spread about the dragon. I stand in line for food, and the noise of talking starts to grow again. Maybe things won't be so bad. But then I hear someone say the words 'Sky Child.'

The Sky Child is a story that has been passed down from before the gray ones were new ones. It is about the one who would be given as a gift from the Sky Gods. They will come to the Crag and bring peace and health and food. They will change the lives of the people in the Crag forever. But I couldn't be the Sky Child, because I'm just a normal person.

The realization that people might think that I'm the Sky Child makes my stomach hurt. In a place where being different can get you killed, imagine what it would be like to be seen as a god. I have killed a dragon, and if they think I'm the Sky Child now, I am as good as dead.

I try to forget about it and deal with what I have in front of me, which is waiting for my dinner. I look around and watch people drinking, and eating, and talking. I've never really liked being in the feast chamber, because it reminds me that I don't fit in.

Anyone can sit where they want. It is a good thing, because it allows people from different groups to talk to each other. You also have a better chance of joining with someone outside of your group.

Long ago, people would only join with people from their own group. That caused bad things to happen. It seemed to make the next group of new ones less smart than their parents.

There were also problems with the new one's bodies. Some new ones would be born without enough fingers, or their mouths would be put together wrong, or they would have problems walking. Once they started mixing the groups, the new ones had less problems with their minds and bodies.

Another good rule is that new ones, when they have seen enough snows, can choose either group that their parents belong to. Many people that want children will pick someone outside of their own group to join with, so that their new ones will have a better chance at finding something they are good at.

Sometimes parents from the same group have a new one that is terrible at what they are both good at. This can make the new ones hate their parents. I know that a new one actually killed their parents because they didn't want to work the harvest.

Even though everyone can sit where they want to, if you are a leader, it is expected that you sit at the head table. The head table is different than the others. All of the other tables are long, and can seat many people at them. The head table is square. Each leader has a pair of people from their own group sitting to their right, and to their left.

The people that sit at a leader's sides are there to protect them. They also act as advisors, and only pass along important information or questions. There are many times when one leader has a question for another leader, and the information is already known by the advisors. This saves a lot of time, and allows the leaders to eat.

You must pick your advisors carefully though, because they can provide bad information, or form alliances without your knowledge. In the past, there have even been advisors that set up their leaders to fail, so that they could take their place. When that happens, it seems that someone always dies. Whether it is the old leader, or the lying advisor.

I get my stew, and take some warm bread to go with it. I walk slowly to the head table and notice that it is full, except for Lagan's old seat, the seat between Helm and Mast. They keep their eyes fixed on me as I walk up and sit down. I grab the cup in front of me and fill it with water from a pitcher. Taking a drink, I look around the table.

The leader to my right is Crook, to my left is Vault, and straight across from me is Chaff. Crook and Vault both smile at me as I look at them, but Chaff completely ignores me. While he picks apart his meal, I stare at Chaff's bald spot. Dark, curly red hair runs from ear to ear, around the back of his head. He fills his face with food, acting like nothing has changed. That is fine, let him think that I am beneath him, that I am unimportant.

I decide to do the same to him, show no fear or concern. Pretend that he doesn't even exist. I have found that bullies hate being treated the way that they treat others. It is the surest way to get their attention. So I raise my cup to Crook, and nod my head, then do the same to Vault. Both return the nod.

I have shown respect to both of them, and gave no respect to Chaff. It is funny that I work so hard to stay alive, yet I seem to do things that will most definitely get me killed.

It works though. I catch out of the corner of my eye Chaff looking at me, murder in his eyes. I ignore him and start eating my stew. I know that I have just made an enemy. But I would rather have an enemy in front of me than one trying to kill me from behind. He would have been my enemy no matter what, because I despise him and his sons.

Sickle and Scythe, his sons, are also his advisors. They look at me with the same disgust I feel for them. I am sure that they are both unhappy that I've become a leader before they have. They are no less dangerous than Chaff himself, but they aren't as smart as Chaff. They will never be as good as their father at manipulation and control.

Sickle is shorter and thin, with stringy black hair. His barely grown moustache makes him look like the rats that sometimes hide in the Crag. Scythe is tall and thick of arms, legs and head. His mouth is always open, and I can only guess how many flies have climbed into it, looking for a home.

I smile at each of them, a fake looking smile, so that they know I don't really mean it. Sickle's eyes narrow, and Scythe's brow wrinkles in anger.

Halfway through the meal, Helm rises from his seat.

Helm stands very tall. He is a wall of muscle. His skin is very dark compared to mine, as if he had spent his entire life in the sun. It reminds me of the beautiful, deep shades of tree bark. He wears his beard clean on his cheeks, full around his mouth, and a thumb's length down from his chin. There is gray in it, but not much. I would guess that he has seen as many snows as me, and that many more again.

"People of the Crag," he starts, waiting for the chamber to become silent. "As many of you have heard, we have lost our Leader of the Hunt. Lagan died bravely in battle, killed by the fire of a dragon. In that same battle, we lost many others. But many hunters returned. It is because of Sam's quick thinking and leadership that we are still alive. Sam was the one that brought down the dragon and then showed us the way home. The hunters owe their lives and their loyalty to Sam. To Sam!"

The hunters all stand up, place their right fists on their heart, and slide them downward. It is a sign of loyalty and respect, meaning that they would rather cut out their own heart than to dishonor or be disloyal to me.

I stand up, look around at each of the hunters one at a time. I then return the gesture, so that they know I will honor, respect, and be loyal to them. I realize right then the weight of what it means to lead; that each of their lives are in my hands, and are my responsibility. I will do what needs to be done to make sure that they are all protected and treated as fairly as possible.

"Thank you, but I cannot celebrate this as a victory, for we have still lost many hunters that were good, and loyal, and brave. I will do whatever I can to help the hunters stay safe, so that this sort of tragedy never happens again. The Sky Gods were watching us today, protecting us. They are the ones that deserve your thanks," I say.

Everyone sits back down and continues eating. I go back to eating my stew. I tear off pieces of the bread and dip them in the sauce. It is delicious, and when I finish my meal, there aren't any spots of stew left in my bowl. I swallow the last of my water then lean back in my chair.

I look over at Chaff. Even after Helm's speech he continues acting like I'm not there. I try not to let it bother me, but it makes me realize just how powerful he thinks he is.

I decide to ignore it for now. At some point he will need to talk to me, which I don't look forward to. Better to wait and see what happens than to anger him. I think there have been enough deaths today. I don't want him to try and kill me, and I don't want to have to kill him.

A woman comes up to Chaff. I think her name is Fallow. I believe that she's part of the harvest. She's very thin and sickly looking. Her skin has no color, her eyes have no light.

"Chaff, please, I'm begging you! Please let us eat! My children are starving," says Fallow.

Chaff doesn't look at her.

"Please!" she yells, grabbing his shirt sleeve.

Chaff pulls her fingers away from his clothes.

"Fallow, when your husband died, I gave you a pair of choices: make up for the lost work by having your children tend the fields, or the other... option that we had talked about," said Chaff, licking his lips.

"You're disgusting! I would never do that with you! And my children haven't seen enough snows to work in the fields! You know that," said Fallow.

"I gave you options, and you chose neither. How is that my problem?" asked Chaff, an evil smile on his crooked face.

I start to stand up, but I feel Helm's hand on my arm, holding me down. I quickly turn to look at him, and he looks back. I see both worry and sadness in his eyes. They also tell me not to fight Chaff on this. I turn back to see Fallow crying into her hands.

"Let me know if you change your mind," said Chaff.

She turns and runs away from him. He looks up at each of us.

"I have to keep people motivated somehow. Otherwise they won't work hard. They stand around in the fields all day, talking," said Chaff.

I can feel my face warming, turning red with anger. Chaff looks at me and smiles. I have to shut my eyes and take in some breaths before I can calm the rage inside me. Eventually, I am able to calm down. I stand up, pick up my bowl and add it to the growing stack of used bowls in the corner of the feast chamber. I walk back and sit down at the table. Helm turns to me.

"Sam, I think someone should stand guard for you tonight. In the past, when someone new takes over as a leader, people generally try to kill them. There have been a lot of reasons: jealousy, hatred, fear. One time a new leader for the animals was killed just because the killer was bored. The killer died a day later when his son stabbed him with a spear. People in the Crag are dangerous."

My first instinct is to refuse, and tell him that I can protect myself, but I know better. I know that there really is a good chance that someone will try to kill me tonight. If I fall asleep alone, I may never wake up.

"Okay Helm, at least for tonight, you can post a guard in front of my room," I say.

"And they will also follow you the rest of the night," says Helm.

"I wasn't agreeing to that," I say.

"Look Sam, you don't seem stupid. You know that the Crag is dangerous just walking from room to room. There are so many places a person can hide. So many rooms, so many shadows, so many tunnels. You should let someone walk with you, and make sure that no one tries to attack you."

The last thing I want to do is look weak, like I need someone watching over me all the time. But maybe I do. Maybe I need someone to keep me alive. At least for a while. In a few days people might forget what happened. Maybe they won't treat me like an outcast. Someone to be hated, feared, or even worse: worshipped.

"Fine," I say.

Helm stands up and points at one of the hunters. I think her name is Ebb. He waves her to come over. She stands up and makes her way to us.

"Helm, you have need of me?" asks Ebb.

"Yes. Ebb, this is Sam. I don't know if you have met the new Leader of the Hunt yet," says Helm.