The Last Taint - Chapter 1
(Warning: a nearly 5000 word introduction to The Last Taint that I really ought to post more about because it’s literally complete...
I’m looking to build a tag list for this! So if you want to be tagged in the future, please let me know! )
‘Flower of deception’. That was what Kriesian flowers were called in other countries: a flower that grew more beautiful as it died. One lay on the ground. The grey petals crumpled and dry, purple and yellow veins creeping across them as it decomposed. The dark centre was still perfectly round, and the stalk still a soft green, even as pieces of it had already been shattered onto the pavement.
Seth didn’t notice it. He didn’t notice the lone drying flower that had fallen to rest against his thin sandals. Didn’t notice the space it had left in the garland hanging between the buildings either side of him. He barely even noticed the sting in his thigh from the tight grip of the little boy hiding behind him. Neither of them knew whether to run or simply remain frozen and wait for their fates to be decided by the three figures fighting before their eyes.
The girl still held a mostly eaten apple core in one hand. A single line of juice rolled down her thumb as she threw her body forwards towards the two men she faced. Her free fist collided with the first man’s stomach, and she hopped to the side, wriggling her shoulders in some sort of horribly inappropriate celebratory dance as he double over in pain. Her colourless eyes held a bright glee watching the man coughing, winded. The second man lunged for her. The smile fell from her eyes, and she ducked out of his reach, taking a swift bite of the apple as she moved. Her leg rose, heel kicking out. It slammed into the second man’s hip and he gave a cry of pain, staggering. Fury burned in the man’s eyes, and his head snapped around. His gaze pierced through Seth.
The Eighth Guard would know him now.
Seth was so stupid. All these years spent working and hiding, clinging to his freedom, and he’d gone and thrown it all away to stand up for some boy he didn’t even know. He should have walked away. He should have forgotten it. Curse his morals; they were going to get him killed one day.
And maybe today was that day.
“Hey!”
The sharp voice pulled Seth out of his bitter thoughts. For a brief moment, his eyes locked with the strange girl’s before she was distracted by the men reaching for her again. Seth didn’t understand. Where had she even come from? What sort of lunatic jumped to the aid of two strangers being hauled away by the Eighth Guard?
“Why am I– ojkza!” She stumbled backwards to avoid another grab, smashing into a stone shop wall. She hissed. “Get your ass–” Both men came at her. Her elbow met the first’s jaw. She threw her weight against him to avoid the other man, spinning to meet Seth’s eyes once more. Her tacky violet hair fell over her face. “Go!”
The boy’s fingers dug deeper into his thigh.
And Seth moved.
He grabbed the boy as he turned. He shouted in pain as Seth half carried, half dragged him down the street as fast as his legs could move. Faster. He had to go faster.
The back streets of Xalder were quiet. With the light growing faint, everyone would already be in the palace square, watching the Year’s End ceremony… The ceremony that Seth was definitely late for. He gritted his teeth; he couldn’t even worry about the silent treatment he’d get from Asher,
The Guard had seen his face, seen his uniform, so now there was no more hiding. Only running. The boy had a chance. He was young. He was poor. He was nothing. A nothing could be overlooked. But Seth? The age that he was? The position he held? They’d not let a slip-up like Seth Osklin remain as he was.
Only once his throat burned from gasping in air did Seth stop. He looked around, certain they were clear for now, even if dread still hung-over Seth.
People said the Eighth Guard didn’t go on hunts anymore. The Abbey of the Seven Orders was reformed, had been for nearly two hundred years now, only sending their Guard out to preach or to pick up reported ‘problems’ across the Descodian countries. Perhaps the hunts weren’t what the had been centuries ago: they didn’t break down doors, strip babes bare searching for the spot of unnatural pigmentation of their skin, but hunt they did.
He looked down at the young boy, standing shaking and breathless before Seth. He was stiff, uneasy, but his hand still gripped the belt of Seth’s trousers, still was reassured by the presence of someone like Seth. It was his shorts that had done it – allowed to get too short on a growing lad, until the tiniest hint of a discoloured curl on his knee peeked out beneath the hemline. Most would overlook it, but the Eighth Guard’s eyes searched everywhere for Taints.
Seth rubbed at the spot behind his ear.
The boy looked at him like Seth was his last hope. He was wrong; there was no more hope for people like them.
“Go. Hide.”
It was all Seth could say. The child could only have been seven? Eight maybe? But Tainted children always seemed older – taught young how fragile their freedom was. Born into a world they had to fear. The boy paled, as if reality started to crumble around him, and then turned, running down a back street and disappearing.
The sky was turning pale, and Seth whispered a curse as he turned, hurrying back towards the city centre – even if every inch of him screamed to run as far as possible. He wasn’t a kid anymore: he couldn’t just run and hide. He could have sworn the sands of Friday were starting to fall around him, the timer on his freedom finally nearing its end, but he had a job to do today. The closer he got to the palace square, the more alive Xalder finally became. Garlands of flowers still hung across the streets between buildings – already dying after a mere day out in the desert sun. As Seth’s eyes drifted over them, his fingers brushed the pin on his collar: the image of an aster flower was stamped in gold, a symbol of his position as the Prince’s Hyron. And a symbol that had made him far too recognisable today.
He flattened down the dark olive shirt of his uniform, glad that the sand-marks on his pale trousers wouldn’t raise too much suspicion. Smiles and greetings from those he passed, far too polite for someone of his rank, only served to make him feel more exposed, but as he rounded one last corner into the packed square, he hoped he could just blend into the swarming crowd.
Along the sides of the square stood countless tables and stalls, the rich scent of food filling the air – all covered over for now, protected from the sand in the breeze and the heat of the day by cloths and sheets. Food was for later, after the sunset, when Xalder’s population would remain out in the square all night, waiting for the sun to rise on a new year. The square was surrounded by some of the tallest and most expensive buildings in the city: from windows of inns, shops, and houses, people leaned out to get a good view – waving flags and dropping flowers down onto the crowd below, shouting blessings back and forth. At the front of the square stood the towering stone palace walls, the grand orange stone of the palace a bright and extravagant contrast to the greys and whites of the city. Years End was a rare time in Xalder when faces were no longer all familiar. The country held little else for tourists or visitors to see, and thus this was the only time of year Seth walked through the crowd and didn’t seem like the most foreign face.
The crowd’s attention was focused on the platform in front of the palace walls and the people who stood atop it. Seth looked around, watching as people gestured in pray, muttered or chanted to themselves. There was no point in trying to get any closer. He’d missed the ceremony in its entirety. Heart sinking, Seth dared to shift his gaze to the youngest person on the platform.
Prince Asher may not have been Tainted, but he had an uncanny ability to always spot Seth, no matter how big the crowd. He stood rigid beside his parents – unflinching as the wax of his candle started to drip onto his hands – in the reds of the country’s patron: Saturday. His smile was one all the people knew well, but Seth knew it better, and the one Asher wore today was painfully forced. Tense, stiff, uncertain. Seth mouthed an apology that Asher must have caught, for his mask faltered slightly. The rich golden eyes of the royal bloodline were apparent even from Seth’s distance, as was the disappointment in them. It stung.
Queen Rosalie lifted her hands to silence the crowd, her expression soft and kind as always. “And so, we say goodbye to this year. In my position as head of the Xalderian dynasty, I offer you, our people, the richest food and drink to welcome the New Year. Be happy and together, and my family and I will take on the weight of your prayers tonight, so you may enjoy it to the full. Goodnight.”
The crowd erupted into cheers, and there followed more shouts of blessings and good will upon the royal family as they began to leave – Asher’s eyes lingered on Seth until the last minute, until his father ushered him away, and he shot one more smile to the people. He played the part well for them.
Scratching the spot behind his ear once more, Seth starting to move to the edge of the crowd once again.
“Hey, Tainted Boy.”
His body froze. The words a sharp jab. Eyes wide with fear, he turned, only to find a cold grey gaze staring back at him, the thin face framed by the awful violet hair.
“Wow, okay,” the girl scoffed. “First rule of hiding from the Eighth Guard? Don’t answer to that.”
Seth immediately scanned the people around them, checking for any sort of reaction or a glimpse of pale brown uniforms moving towards him. There were only celebrations to find. It seemed to be of no concern to the girl though, who was more focused on untangling a few strands of her hair.
“I’m not Tainted,” Seth hissed.
“Sure you’re not…” the girl nodded. She prodded Seth in the chest. “How many people do you think stand up against the Abbey and their pet guardsmen? The only people stupid enough to help stupid Tainted kids are stupid Tainted kids.”
Seth flinched. “Is that why you jumped in to help us?”
“Obviously. Well, that and there’s something really satisfying about punching someone who is convinced no one is gutsy enough to punch them.” She sighed wistfully, at ease, as if she hadn’t just admitted to being one of the most hunted humans in the world. It turned Seth’s stomach.
“Thank you for helping the boy, but I have somewhere to be.”
He turned, but each step he took was only followed by the girl, so he stopped again, frowning at her.
“You’re going to the palace, right?” she asked, smile bright. “The outfit gives it away.”
Seth stilled again. He looked over the girl, his stomach twisting at the thought of someone like her knowing even the slightest bit about him. Her clothes said plenty about her as it was: her the hooded cloak around her neck was tattered and filthy, and the shirt and trousers beneath bore strange markings and tears, almost like singes. Clothing and tanned skin alike was covered in dark smudges that Seth couldn’t even begin to guess at. Her complexion wasn’t dark enough to be from Xalder, and the walking boots she wore would never be worn in the flat, sandy streets, and the dead grey colour of her eyes was like nothing Seth had seen in any of the seven Descodian countries.
Her lips quirked upwards, and she stepped closer, slipping her arm through Seth’s. He flinched. “Let go.”
He tried to pull back, but her hold was a lot stronger than her bony limbs implied.
“I will. But I’m gonna walk you home first.”
There was a darkness shadowing her tone that made Seth’s feet move in tandem with hers as she began walking directly through the busy crowd, as opposed to finding a way around it. Her hold was tight. Grip firm. And Seth couldn’t ignore how strangely warm she was. No, not warm. Hot. Maybe she was overheating in her layers, unsuited to the desert sun, because her arm felt like it was radiating heat.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m only hear to clear my conscience so later, when I hear some stupid palace servant has been dragged off to a much-awaited life of pain and torture at the Abbey, I don’t feel guilty.”
Her voice was quieter now. She wore an easy expression, smiling as she spoke, appearing to anyone else that she was having a pleasant stroll with a friend perhaps. But her words chilled Seth to the bone. He fixed her with a dull stare.
“I didn’t do anything wrong.”
She raised an eyebrow at his words. It was true though. No matter how much Seth regretted it, he truly didn’t believe he’d done anything wrong in saving that boy. He wasn’t about to let this stranger, who’d done the same thing, tell him otherwise.
“I said you were stupid. I didn’t say you did anything wrong,” the girl said slowly. “The world would be a far better place if more people did what you did. And if more people did, more… ‘acceptable’ people, perhaps I wouldn’t need to be here, confirming that you do in fact know just what you did in putting yourself on their radar.”
Seth looked away, up to the towering palace walls as they grew closer. They were tall and thick, built from stone that had stood the tests of time for centuries. No one in history had ever managed to breach the walls of Xalder’s royal palace. It was no wonder Seth felt so safe behind those walls. No wonder that he’d forgotten he wore a uniform, not armour, and a respected pin, not a crown. A brief moment of madness, of a pathetic crushing moral compass, and he had found himself in the one place he’d promised everyone he’d never end up. On the top of the Eighth Guard’s wanted list.
No one managed to stay hidden for their entire nineteen years of life. The Abbey and their Guard didn’t let that happen. Someone left unnoticed for that long was what they feared the most.
Seth swore he could feel the fear wrapping itself around his throat, and as they reached the gates of the palace, the girl let go of him at last.
“They won’t get me here,” he said, sure of that much. Royalty and leading families were exempt from the Abbey’s reach, so long as they could prove the Taint was harmless and they kept it hidden from the world. Maybe Seth wasn’t royalty himself, but behind those walls, nothing could happen to him. Asher wouldn’t let it. It was the only reason his grandmother had signed away his custody before she died.
“It’ll be harder for them, but not impossible. I knew who you were thanks to that,” She motioned to the aster flower pin on his shirt. “but the Eighth Guard are trained to learn about their targets from just a glance. They’ll know who you are. They’ll know what protections you have. And they’ll already be working to break through them.”
At the gates, Captain Joran peered over at them curiously. This was wasting even more time.
“None of this sounds like a warning,” Seth muttered. “It’s just reiterating what I already know.”
The girl scoffed, shaking her head. “Yet you’re still walking that way, instead of running straight to Willsend?”
Willsend. The God’s Overflow. The place so abandoned by the Siblings, that the Abbey didn’t dare touch. It was the only place Tainted were completely safe from them. How many times had he heard the suggestion?
“We should move to Willsend, love. It’s safer for him.”
“Send him away. He’ll be out of their reach, and out of our hair.”
“Willsend could protect you, Seth. I’d go with you, if you asked. If it would let you sleep at night.”
The two of them held one another’s gazes. The girl seemed to be searching for something, and eventually, she smiled. “You’ll not listen, huh?”
Seth shook his head.
“Fair enough. I’ve done my part. Conscience officially cleared.” Turning on her heel, she wandered back towards the busy crowd, pausing and glancing back with a grin. “At least it’ll take them a while to find your mark. But only if stop scratching it.”
As she tapped behind her right ear, Seth’s blood ran cold. Slowly, he lowered his hand, not having even realised it had been there, scratching away again as if he could remove the sign of the Taint from his skin.
Unable to watch as she laughed, Seth turned quickly, hurrying towards the gate. Most people were leaving the palace, workers and guards who had the evening off, as per tradition. They called out in greeting to Seth, offering him thanks and pats on the back as they passed, though he knew he didn’t deserve it that much. Only the highest ranking men and women remained working during the Year’s End. Captain Joran stood with a knowing smile on his face, which only served to unnerve Seth further.
“His lordship looks hotter than Saturday’s flame, Seth. Better have a good excuse for missing the blessing. And I don’t think seeing a girl counts.” He laughed, smacking Seth on the back as he walked past. Seth could only force a smile.
The gates started to close behind him as the last few stragglers left the palace grounds, and Seth slipped in before they shut, moving swiftly through the fore-garden – the luscious and rich plantation the best possible show of prosperity in Xalder. The grand doors were still ajar, held open by the Headwoman, who tutted impatiently as Seth stepped inside. She locked the doors shut behind him: they’d been waiting.
The main hall of Xalder’s palace was sparse but the space engulfing. Polished deep oak floors shimmered in the candlelight from the three silver chandeliers, but the pale orange stone of the walls were left bare and undecorated aside from an odd wooden frame for rich green climbing plants. In the centre of the main hall, the floors bore a great circular pattern burnt into the wood. An emblem of the sun. Lynt and Verona, heads of staff, and hyrons to the Grand Duke and Queen respectively, were working together to lift the great trap door in the very centre of the emblem, grunting at the weight.
The royals themselves all turned to Seth as he approached. The expressions worn by the Queen and the Duke might have been amused, or maybe expectant, but Seth cared more for what the final royal present was feeling.
The way Asher averted his gaze was enough to tell Seth that the silent treatment had started.
“I’m surprised you got through the square so quickly, Seth,” Duke Jerome started. “You were right at the back when I spotted you.”
“People moved aside pretty quickly for me, Sire,” Seth explained, ignoring the eyerolls and tuts that cascaded around the room at the title. Seth had long stopped reacting to it, and they’d all long stopped trying to remind Seth he didn’t need to use formalities when it was just the six of them. Hyrons and those they served had a bond, they always said, and that bond apparently didn’t have room for bureaucracies.
Verona pulled her hair loose from its clip, only to carefully redo it again. “Seth’s about to pray on their behalf. I’m sure they would have carried him to sunset prayers if necessary.”
“Tone, Verona,” the Queen smiled. “They deserve their break.”
There was a mutter from Verona Seth didn’t quite hear, but it earned her a prod in the ribs from the Queen. Now the six had assembled, and the Headwoman took up position on a small stool she placed by the trap door – for she would be the only one on watch inside tonight – Duke Jerome offered the Queen his arm and they started the descend underground. Lynt and Verona followed, leaving Seth alone with Asher.
Looking over at him, Seth found himself victim to that stare again: a look somewhere between anger and hurt, but worse than either. He didn’t expect Asher to speak yet, not when the Headwoman or the others heading down might overhear, so he wasn’t surprised when Asher turned sharply and began to head down, leaving Seth to trail after him.
The stairs were large and winding, uneven in size, but at least smooth and easy on their thin sandals after hundreds of years of use. The odd candle sat in crevices in the walls, offering the bare minimum of light needed to make the descent into the maze of tunnels and caverns that lay under the oasis city of Xalder. It was deep, in the very lowest of these caverns, that the cities only water reserves lay. Those sacred pools had been the life source of Xalder’s desert people since Saturday had brought the country of fire to creation. The depths of the water was sealed off to all but the most noble and trusted few, but the caves systems that ran in the ground above them were the prayer caverns of Xalder: transformed into places of worship by the first settlers of the country. The first few doors they passed on their way down were bolted shut: passages that led into the shallower gathering caves that the general public used across all of the city. The second layer down was another door, this one open, for the small cavern the palace workers and guards were permitted to use. At the third layer, when the walls at last began to feel a little cooler, a touch damper, hinting at the water below, was a small hollow that held a handful of doors. Doors that Seth and his party came to a stop at.
Traditionally, only members of the royal bloodline were permitted to pray in here, but a few generations ago, the royals invited their hyrons to join them. Lynt said it was an attempt to show just how much trust and understanding there was between the royals and their ‘other halves’: the servants who acted as everything from a shoe-shiner to a best friend.
Hyrons or not, traditions still stood though, and here there was no communal prayer cavern, but smaller, contained hollows. The Queen and Duke moved towards the first door, Lynt and Verona to a second, and Asher to a third. Seth stayed put.
Lynt reminded everyone he would knock when their time was up, and they the four elders moved into their rooms. Asher and Seth stayed still, listening to the bolts sliding across each door, before their eyes met.
It was apparent Asher expected Seth to speak first.
“If you’re still mad, I can join Lynt and Verona,” Seth offered, though he knew it was an empty one – he just needed to get Asher talking.
It worked. Asher’s frown deepened from one of upset to irritation. He scoffed. “Cut it out.”
He turned, heading inside the prayer room, and Seth followed without further question. Asher shut and locked the door behind them.
The cavern was a small one, meant for private prayer, and the only light in the room was the single candle sitting in the niche at the far wall. Beneath if stood a stone altar, the seven markings – one for each Sibling – etched into the surface. On each marking sat a bowl of the corresponding element, and before the entire setup lay a hand-woven straw mat: thin ribbons of gold and red weaving through the pale yellow, as symbolic of the Xalderian royal bloodline.
Before Seth could move to the mat, Asher grabbed his shirt, stopping him.
“You missed the blessing.”
Asher’s voice betrayed him: the pain clear.
“I did,” Seth said. “I’m sorry.”
“You know I wanted you to bless me.” Asher took the golden circlet off his brow and tossed it over the door handle. The sound of metal scraping together as it swung made Seth cringe.
It was traditional for the King or Queen to bless their children until they took the throne, but Seth knew Asher had wanted to lead the change in that: to give more public duties to hyrons. In a way, he was touched by the notion that Asher trusted him that much, but he knew there were other reasons. Ones that weren’t quite as noble. Still, no matter what Seth thought of that, the fact remained he’d hurt Asher.
“I know,” Seth said finally, lowering his gaze. “I let you down. I’m sorry, Asher.”
With a heavy sigh, Asher’s expression softened a little. Being out of the moment and shut away from ever-watching eyes always eased Asher anyway. He huffed once more, shooting Seth one less accusatory glance. “Mum got the ash in my eyes.”
Seth fought back a laugh. “How?”
“She dumped a massive handful on me. Look, it’s probably still in my hair.” Asher stepped forward, bowing his head, and sure enough, amongst the golden hair was a good amount of pale grey ash. Laughing now, Seth tried to brush the worst of it away.
“Next Year’s End, I’ll be sure to be more careful.”
The words did enough by way of smoothing any remaining tension away, and Asher smiled, his focus shifting to the task it should have been on.
The two of them knelt on the mat. Seth waited as Asher took some of the dust from the bowl of Tuesday, sprinkling it over his head before pressing his hands together and falling silent in prayer. Whilst in public blessings like the Year’s End one, Asher had to use Saturday’s ash – since Saturday was the patron of both Xalder and its royal house – in the privacy of the caverns, Asher was able to reach for the Sibling whose name he was actually born under like everyone else.
As for Seth, he reached for the seventh bowl. He took a pinch of Sunday’s chalk and let it fall over his head before he too fell into prayer.
He ran through the usual songs in his head: the Call of the Siblings, Sunday’s Laws, Xalder’s Prayer, until he finally moved onto his private thoughts. In the place where he usually gave thanks for Asher’s friendship, the royals’ kindness, and wishes for his grandparents’ and father’s peaceful rest, Seth found himself begging. Begging that he wouldn’t have to fear the Eighth Guard. Begging that the burning behind his ear would stop.
As always, not for a second did he feel like anyone was listening.
When he at last opened his eyes, hands slumping into his lap. The last pleas drifted from his thoughts, unanswered and probably unheard, and Seth became aware that Asher was looking at him. When he watched him like that, Asher’s golden eyes felt even more unnatural: like they might spy Seth’s innermost thoughts if Seth wasn’t careful. He pushed himself to his feet.
“Sorry, Asher. You should have just said something if you were done. Has Lynt already knocked?”
“Yeah, but you looked like you were praying really hard.”
“Well… we are supposed to be praying on behalf of the whole country. It makes sense to.”
Asher hummed noncommittally, eyes turning to stare at the altar. “You never did explain why you weren’t at the blessing. You looked pale when I saw you…” He looked back up at Seth. “You still do. Like you saw a ghost.”
Not so much a ghost as an omen, Seth decided. His fingers dipped lightly into Sunday’s chalk, rubbing the white specks between his fingers. Even this didn’t feel like it connected him to the Sibling whose name he carried.
Whose Taint he carried.
Word would get around. If the girl with violet hair was right, they’d reach the palace before long. It would upset Asher, any mention of the Abbey and Taints did, but he deserved to have the warning that the Guard would come breaking down the palace gates.
So, Seth was honest.
“The Eighth Guard are in the city. And they know I’m Tainted.”
The Last Taint is my baby you’ve no idea. This is the work I’m thinking of asking around for some betas for, so I’m leaving this here for people to get a taste! Spoiler alert: This world is everything to me, and as much as I love the lesser men series for their dragons, the kin verse holds a very very special place in my heart, and it’s so in detail, I can literally tell you events than happened in specific years.
Again, if you want to be tagged, please hit me up! And if you think you would be interested in beta-ing this, please let me know, and I’ll tag you in my beta search post! ^^