Taimin looked out at the charred remains of his parents. He wondered if Abi intended to take him out there to die.
“This isn’t just about you,” Abi said. “I know it’s hard for you to understand.” She stared into the distance. “I remember when you were little, you were shivering with the fever. I wanted to take you past the firewall and blast the fever out of you. Seemed like a good idea at the time.” She laughed without humor. “Your mother was right. It would have killed you. The fact is, I’ve never liked children. Too dependent. I know nothing about how to give you the things you need. And as for a crippled child . . .” Her mouth twisted. “I don’t know if it’s the right thing for both of us, for me to take care of you. So here’s what I’ve decided.”
Taimin watched her and held his breath as he waited for her next words.
“I’m going to leave you to make the choice yourself,” Abi said. “I’m heading back, and you can either drag your body to the homestead, or you can go out there to die. If you make it back alive, I’ll know you have the determination to carry on, and maybe you’ll be able to survive, even with someone like me to take care of you. If you take yourself into the heat, well . . . that’s your choice.”
Abi squeezed Taimin’s shoulder, and then left him alone beside the firewall.
Much later, as the crimson sun Lux rose above him, Taimin moved inch by inch over the rust-colored landscape. His mouth was dry and he was covered in dust, but as soon as he saw the distant shack and the tall fence surrounding it, he narrowed his eyes and shuffled even faster. A surge of victory coursed through him. He knew he had learned something about himself.
The wasteland was harsh. Only the strongest survived.
He might be crippled, but he had passed his first test. He had the determination to keep going.
2
“Your father was too soft,” Abi said to Taimin as she snipped leaves from her nursery plants. “He didn’t push you hard enough.”
Taimin thought back to the sword practice with his father, the archery instruction from his mother, and the care both his parents took when explaining the harsh rules that governed the wasteland. Taimin had always woken up before the true dawn of Dex and worked as hard as anyone around the homestead.
Yet it was true that Aunt Abi was different. Taimin’s parents had always held her abilities as a fighter in awe. Taimin often wondered how she became so skilled, but she rarely spoke about her past, even when asked directly.
As was sometimes the case, Taimin didn’t know how to respond to his aunt, so he said nothing as she worked her way around the nursery. He knew better than to try to help her; the fenced section of the homestead was small, with makeshift shelves for the gnarled shrubs, cactuses, tubers, and herbs, and it was always his aunt’s place.
“You probably think he was teaching you all he could. If that’s what you think, well, you’re right. But the fact remains that he couldn’t teach you much. I saved your father’s life too many times over the years, and his weakness was always going to catch up with him one day. That day came six months ago, and here we are.”
Taimin had never heard Aunt Abi speak to him in the way she was now. She had generally left him alone while she watched over the homestead, keeping her thoughts to herself.
She wiped her brow, setting the snippers on a hook. She glanced at him and then looked away, muttering to herself. He only heard the words, “. . . fool of a child.”
Taimin leaned on his crutch, keeping the hilt buried under his armpit, as he followed Abi out of the nursery, past the water collector, and through the only door out of the shack. He hurried to keep up with his aunt’s purposeful strides, controlling the pain in his ruined foot and keeping his face like stone.
He watched Abi check every inch of the tall, protective fence, squeezing several thorns to eject fresh tips of purple poison. Nodding to herself, she then carefully peeled aside the gripper vine before exiting the gate. The deep ditch outside the fence was filled with sharp wooden stakes, and only the plank Abi carried under one arm would enable them to leave the homestead. She laid the plank over the ditch and then walked over. As always, she didn’t help Taimin to cross; instead she waited impatiently for him to hobble over the makeshift drawbridge.
Out in the open, there was only a light breeze. Both suns shone fiercely on the reddened landscape. A few pricklethorn bushes and twisted spider trees broke up the vista. Birds, possibly raptors, wheeled in the distance.
Abi turned to face the homestead. “I’ve brought you here to make a few things clear,” she said. “Look at our defenses. Tell me what you see.”
Taimin gathered his thoughts. “The homestead has a ditch around it, and a fence behind the ditch.”
“How deep is the ditch?”
Taimin hesitated. “About twelve feet.”
“How tall is the fence?”
“About the same,” Taimin said.
“Out in the waste, which creatures grow taller than twelve feet?”
Taimin reflected. He once saw a group of bax in the distance, and with his father he had seen tracks from a passing pair of snub-nosed trulls. He wasn’t sure how tall skalen were, but his father had said they preferred to live underground so he doubted they were big.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“You should,” Abi growled. “You can’t build defenses if you don’t know what you’re defending yourself from. Your life depends on knowing your enemies.” She shook her head. “Your father was remiss, but I wonder if it’s my fault.” Abi pointed at the angry red scar that parted her face from her brow to her neck. “Look at this. No, I said look at it.”
Taimin forced himself to look at the ugly gouge.
“Your father did this,” Abi said. Taimin’s eyes went wide. He had always wondered how Abi got her scar, but the one time he had asked his father, Gareth went silent. “No, I don’t mean he did it himself.” She scratched the scar. “Blasted thing itches. Before we built this place, while you were still inside your mother’s belly, we had a camp not far from here. This close to the firewall you get fewer predators, but that doesn’t mean there’s none at all.” She met Taimin’s eyes. “During the night, your mother went into labor, and we were attacked by firehounds. No doubt they came when they heard her cries. I needed Gareth beside me, but he said your mother needed him, which was a lie. What did he know about childbirth? So I stood alone and fought them off.”
Abi shook her head. “I begged him to help me. With two of us fighting they would have been wary, but with just me, the firehounds grew bold. One of them knocked me over while another gored my face with its horns.” Her voice became filled with regret. “I drove them off, but from then on, my life wasn’t my own. I’m no fool. No man would ever want a woman with half a face.”
Taimin had never thought of his aunt ever wanting to find love in the same way his father had found his mother. She was transformed into something more human.
Abi’s manner changed, as if she were shaking off the life she never had. “Despite the attack, this is a good place,” she said. “There’s hunting at the cliffs and deep water if you know how to find it. We built this homestead, close to the firewall where few others go, but I’m the one who knew how to fortify it. Your parents and I fought off attacks over the years, but I was always the one in front.” She stared into the distance. “Tess was a good person, as was your father, but they weren’t suited for this world.” She then looked down at Taimin. “And now I don’t know if you’ve got your father’s spirit.”