Polathrin's Ruins
Part One: Bonded

They deserve to lose what they can’t protect, Zak thought to himself as he crept out of the darkness and into the light.

He had to be quick, so he took his steps three at a time, lunging forward like an animal on the hunt. Sweat dripped down his face, but he didn’t care to wipe it clean. He had barely escaped the confines of someone’s hovel. It didn’t matter who, only what they had. In his arms, he kept dusty jars, with sloshing liquid ready to be released, tight against his chest. This was greater than gold. At least in this world.

The Polathrin heat had started to wane, but he couldn’t stop. Someone could be on his trail; they could have realized there was an intruder. He could take them on. His strength was unmatched by anyone else, but he would rather get away without being noticed. Zak was strong, but he didn’t want to find himself against more enemies than even he could manage.

A hole in the ground, really that’s all it was. Someone dug and dug and dug, and then covered it with debris. Smart, but not smart enough. Zak could see the tracks of two feet entering and exiting, and that was all he needed to see. It was easy to spot a fellow Fighter – they were always sure of themselves and in a hurry. Didn’t matter who. Didn’t matter why. They had food, and Zak needed food.

He was a great distance away, barely cutting across the large desert space of sand and rocks that provided no place to hide. He was almost free. There was only a small gap left before the spines of dead buildings would provide relief. The cool air rushed in from the shady spots ahead and Zak could feel his body slowly loosening.

A shuffle of feet nearby startled him. He barely had time to breathe before his open hand swung out toward the sound, catching a person by the throat. The jars suddenly became one with his chest as he pushed the stranger to the ground. A flash of faded purple robes flurried in the air before everything stopped.

Zak first checked his jars – they were unharmed. He scanned around him for any other signs of life, but the desert was silent. He turned his eyes to the person on the ground.

The stranger struggled under his hand, eyes open and shocked. He was trying to yell, while his hands groped against Zak’s tight fingers. It wasn’t a Fighter, it was a Fibber; a person of no importance whatsoever. A wanderer. A lunatic. A nothing.

Zak paused, his breath fast, the jars painfully etched into his skin. They weren’t broken, and the Fibber hadn’t meant to disturb him. He gritted his teeth. This person was not his enemy, but he couldn’t be a friend. Zak could let him go, after all, the crazy man had survived this long after war and genocide. Zak examined the tanned face nearly the texture of leather; the eyes were as faded as the robes, and his teeth were almost completely gone. His hair was broken off in chunks, and he had whole finger nails missing. Zak’s stomach flipped.

This man was alive, but not living. He was a soulless entity mindlessly walking the desert, disturbing a survivor who needed stealth and speed and silence. The man scratched against Zak’s determined hand, his breath running short under the grasp.

Zak increased the pressure, and the man became more panicked. It was fast. A snap, and release. The Fibber’s hands collapsed, his eyes growing dark as his chest stopped. Zak released his hand, but his knuckles still glared under the dark skin of his hands. His own strength surprised him sometimes.

He turned, his shoulders tense, and his eyes searching for others. One Fibber was random, but he couldn’t be sure there weren’t others around. Perhaps this was a trap laid by the original owners of the jars. Perhaps it was just convenient. He couldn’t think about it too long.

He jumped up, running as fast as his legs would carry him. He would have a while to go, but he couldn’t stop, not even for a moment.

If I keep thinking the way I am, I’ll drive myself insane, Zak thought. He dashed past the start of crumbled buildings and jumped swiftly over the broken stone and metal that scattered the place. The desert was empty, yet completely full. Life was either small and hidden or grand and ominous in this place.

Polathrin was mostly dry and cracked land, though pieces of the old world lay about every inch. If you didn’t stare, everything seemed to mesh into plain rock mixed into the sand and dirt, but if you took too long, you’d see the remains. Zak could remember when the world was civilized; he could still smell the smoke billowing from tall buildings, and hear the rush of people trying to get to work in the mornings only to run again home in the evening. He remembered it all, including the day it all fell.

Boom. Distant and quiet; there didn’t even seem cause for concern until the next one, and the one after. An endless series of explosions that rocked the ground and shook the air. Zak could hardly recall where he was or who he was with, but he could never forget the way the blasts rumbled his bones for weeks. Buildings exploded or tumbled in a series until hardly anything stood at all. Schools, businesses, stores, almost everything dissipated into its base materials, painted red with blood.

Arji – the mother planet – had attacked. It wasn’t in the way one might think, but instead the most important buildings across the world. The source of money and life, turned into weapons to destroy the planet. Zak had never seen the way it was done, but he had noticed the most important of Arji being called away only weeks before. They flew off in droves for the mother planet, leaving behind the Polathrinites they had enslaved and tricked. Every person watched the sky as the ships disappeared like birds fleeing danger, and everyone knew in their hearts something would happen. Nobody had the right guess though.

Zak always heard the way the adults talked in secret, even his own mother cursing the invaders when people were beaten or arrested without warrant. Arji was a plague and a guide. They gave something to take twice as much, always ensuring that the people of Polathrin would have a losing hand in the game. Zak was young when the world was civilized, but he was far from stupid. The wealthy and elite of Arji escaped the planet before destruction, and they didn’t care about what remained ten years later.

Zak’s eyes darted to the horizon for a split second, as if trying to make eye contact with the thieves and murderers, but the planet wasn’t even in the sky yet. Arji would be rising in a matter of hours as the sor set. Her bright glow would streak across their sky, taunting them for another night with her beauty and health while Polathrin remained in death and chaos.

Skipping through the largest of old stone and bones, Zak was more cautious as he slowed. The market that remained was unrecognizable, but easy to hide in. Enemies could be anywhere, and the place crawled with Fibbers. These people where nicknamed so due to their insanity – sellers by trade from Arji who were deserted here when the higher class left. They were clad in mostly purple robes, wandering around aimlessly as though they were still trying to run their shops. Some still stood guard in their place, now in ruins; their tattered purple robes fading and dirtied with age. There were not many left, and fewer each day as they starved or disappeared. The Fibbers were hardly a threat, but in Polathrin, you couldn’t dismiss anything or anyone. They were usually a distraction Fighters would use, or meat for those who couldn’t find anything else.

When the parade of mishappen stones and caved complexes became scarce, Zak made a sharp turn. He slid under a rusted fence marked with a DO NOT ENTER sign.

There was a time when it was enforced, but like the rest of the past, it was forgotten and hung limp. It was now a sad decorative item that swayed as Zak slipped through an opening in the fence. The old metal fence stood to guard a deserted building and broken pavement, tilting forward or backward at different points. Curled, pointed wires stood out on top, falling off wherever it wanted.

Open land spread out between the fence and the building it protected. Bits of black stone pavement decorated with broken, white paint sprawled out, cracked and dusty until the grey cement of the building began to show through. It was like an old puzzle no one would care to solve.

The structure itself was an old labortor, or a laboratory in the new tongue. It was a place where Arji scientists enlisted Polathrin workers to create things that were supposed to help society. Everything was always quickly removed from the planet after production, at least that’s what he had seen. During the brief time Zak had watched, they had been a great place to trade labor for money, as his uncle had done for years, but now they were nothing but a hazard. A reminder of Polathrin’s great tragedy.

The size of the building was immense, with two towers on either side. The center structure was wider than it was tall, but the very middle of the roof lay a circle of metal arms wrenched up and out to point to the sky. Whatever glass that used to cover the top was gone, the arms all that prevailed of a dome. The tower to the right was still standing but leaned against the main building like a tired giant. The other tower lay in shambles facing away from its companions. Both oozed a disgusting chemical combination. The substance continuously soaked into the ground, and probably would for centuries to come.

It was between the collapsed tower and main building Zak would slip through. The open ground between the fence and the buildings appeared to be the same, but as Zak made his way toward the latter, it changed dramatically. The ground, originally sturdy, became more saturated until Zak found himself jumping from rock to rock. The putrid liquid that dumped from the towers altered the dirt to create a sea of bubbling mud of unknown depth. Only the cement stones from the fallen tower could withstand it, and he was sure to use it to his advantage, as he always had.

A green film clung to the ruins as if a shroud on a cold child. It gave the impression of poisonous air, though there was never a clear conclusion whether it was poisonous. Zak held his breath as he passed. He would take a risk elsewhere.

Clearing the cement stones to land on river rocks, he released his breath and looked out at the water. Clear, blue ripples reflected a cloudy day as the tide moved in and out with ease. Nothing but the water could be seen to the left, but as Zak turned right, a dark form blocked out the rest of the water and sky.

It was a ship; an old water carrier with ripped sails, rotting wood, missing rope, and gaping holes, but it was a boat, nonetheless. Ensuring the jars were still safe in the crook of his left arm, Zak jogged toward the ship’s remainder of rope tied to the land.

The deserted building Zak had passed made the perfect hiding spot for the ship. Though he hadn’t placed the ship there himself, he couldn’t imagine a better location. The water and wind kept the gases at bay while the gases and fence kept other intruders at bay. As far as the fence stretched on either side was nothing but rocks against water. For now, it was perfect.

Nothing on Polathrin was forever except death, Zak reminded himself sharply. He had to keep himself grounded.

The ship was the best option, though the open water would be the greatest advantage. The land was dangerous, full of Fleshers and Fighters. The sea would mean safety from outside danger, as long as there was someone to steer. Though the condition of the current ship was lacking, there was also the limited knowledge of the would-be crew.

Zak whistled lightly. Three familiar faces peered over the rickety side of the dying fort. Blue, gold and white. They all shared the same relieved expression.

Zak began to climb, pulling himself up with only one hand while the other guarded the jars. Hauling himself clear to the top, he could barely see over into the main deck of the ship when Rozmo reached out an awkward hand to accept the heavy jars. He was careful not to make it look as though he was helping Zak aboard.

As Rozmo took the food, Zak easily slipped over the edge, his aged boots slamming onto the deck. Immediately, his eyes scanned the ship to check for any sign of intrusion while Rozmo, Akio, and Ramza drew close to the jars with curious eyes.

Zak watched his friends. Ramza flipped her long blond hair, periodically looking from the jars to Zak and back. She seemed skeptical of his treasure. Ramza was always ready to judge Zak, but he knew he could withstand it. Her hair hung from a black binding made from ripped fabric; the shiny strands caught the sor as they hung together. Her face was slightly red in the cheeks – she must have been out in the sor all day. She looked almost small next to Akio and Rozmo, yet her stature was no reflection of her worth as a Fighter. When your eyes dipped down on her form, the outline was decorated with various weapons strapped to her; she was up to about five guns and three hidden knives most days, more if she left the ship.

“Where did you find such well-preserved food?” Rozmo quizzed. His tone was not judgmental like his sister’s stare, but instead a pure question. Rozmo reminded Zak of a bug sometimes; his eyes were large, and their depth held something mysterious. His skin was a gentle blue, but a large contrast to his pale white sister, Ramza. Blond wafts of hair stood out on Rozmo, as did his blue eyes, and both matched his sister perfectly. Ramza and Rozmo were the only blood relatives on the ship, though their skin and intelligence could fool anyone.

Ramza held a suspicious gaze while Rozmo remained curious.

Zak stood upright, placing his hands on his hips as he took a big gulp of air. “Someone had it stored away, so I took it.”

Ramza’s voice was nearly squeaking as she pressed. “Who did you steal from?”

Zak sniffed. “I didn’t take names, and no one was home. I was in and out before anyone could notice.”

Rozmo blinked with his inner eyelids – something he did when he was nervous. “This is quite a discovery, as these fruits and vegetables are no longer found on Polathrin.”

Zak smirked. “I know, I saw it and I knew we could use it.”

Ramza crossed her arms and her lips tightened. Akio remained silent, his eyes darting from the jars to Ramza; Rozmo said nothing but waited for his sister. They didn’t approve. Why couldn’t they be grateful? Zak had gone through extreme lengths to guarantee they would eat well. They were far from starving, but Zak wouldn’t let them get that far. He would do anything to keep them all alive and healthy. That was the least he could do.

“Zak,” Ramza started slowly, her voice growing tired. “Akio has been catching fish lately. It’s not the tastiest, but we shouldn’t be risking ourselves and stealing from others so boldly.” Her tone softened. “Thank you, though.”

Akio nodded, smiling gently. Rozmo gave a curt nod.

Zak raised his chin. At least they would take it and enjoy it.

“Mia will be glad for something other than fish,” Akio chuckled. Akio’s golden skin shimmered in the light. He had thick black hair, shining black eyes, thin black lips, brittle black nails, and the most memorable skin color possible. Looking directly at him was like glaring at the sor as it hung in the dull blue sky, which at times was annoying. Akio was golden naturally, just as Zak's tone was dark brown; Akio shimmered, though it was not in a metallic way. He wore dark clothes usually to cover his brightness so he would be less visible to enemies, but on the ship, he was comfortable in only a thin shirt and pants.

Akio was the tallest in the group, though only the second strongest physically; no one in the group could defeat Zak – at least not yet. Akio had a bulky build and two swords always attached to his hips. Even as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the two blades swung in their holsters to tap against Akio’s knees.

Zak wondered if Akio was used to the sensation of his swords clanging against his body; he personally could not imagine carrying around a weapon. It seemed odd to settle on an object, but if something happened to cross his path that suited him, Zak would be glad for it.

Akio’s swords were his father’s and he was used to them from training as a child; Zak had only his strength and even that did not come from his father.

“We need to be more careful now, though,” Akio’s eyes met Zak’s. “Since you don’t know who it was you stole from.”

Ramza’s hair whipped as she turned to look at Zak. Her face was more calm, but her eyes still held their intensity. She may have agreed to accept the jars, but by no means did she excuse Zak. He almost wanted to smile, but he wouldn’t.

“You should have made sure the Fighters weren’t beyond our abilities. It was a decent blickret –”

“The word is investment,” Zak corrected.

“Stealing isn’t an investment,” Ramza argued. She would always be the last one to back down.

Zak’s eyebrows raised. “So, you’re opposed to stealing now? Would you rather we bought our food?”

Akio and Rozmo’s attention darted to Ramza while they seemed to both lean back. This was not a fight they wanted to be a part of, and for good reason. Zak was the strongest physically, he could outmatch anyone on Polathrin in physical strength, but Ramza was always pushing him. She wanted more of Zak, but he wasn’t always willing to concede. Zak was the leader. Everyone else was to fall in line if they wanted to survive.

Ramza folded her arms again, tilting her chin up. “I’m not opposed to stealing as long as we’re smart. You went in alone and you say you have no idea who you went up against. We could have targeted someone extremely powerful.” She paused as though the words were struggling to form, but Zak heard them long before they could escape. “Someone who is eager to kill.”

That was it. The big deal. The reason they all held the jars with shaky hands; the purpose behind worried eyes. It was always there, even if no one had to say it out loud – the fear of losing another person. Zak wouldn’t let it happen. Never again would he fail them. A cut on his upper arm suddenly began to sting with recognition.

“Trust me,” Zak snarled. “If I felt like we weren’t able to handle it, I wouldn’t have stolen it.”

The tone set all three on alert, their faces suddenly sparking with the kind of knowledge only a family can gain. He wished he could tell them, reassure them that he’d rather die than let anything happen, but there was no way to form the emotion into words. Instead, the group dispersed in silence. Zak’s words were final. He climbed up the mast, Akio dropped to the deck to sharpen his swords, Rozmo darted off to the stern, and Ramza settled with the jars. From his perch at the top of the mast, Zak could see the expanse of the ship and beyond.

Zak would protect all of them, even if it was from themselves.

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