Genesis~The Collection

Story Teaser Number One, Submitted By @z_Taki

z_Taki

Book/Novel: Renegade [RALI bk 1] 
Genre: Sci-Fi, Fantasy

Chapter 1.1

"One person can always make a difference."

The words were inscribed everywhere—in the interwoven bars of the front door, on various pieces of jewelry, on the table beneath Xlack—rote and meaningless. He hadn't expected the head scribe to give them voice.

"You believe that, don't you?"

Yeah, Xlack thought, but what kind of difference are you trying to make?

His hands shook, fingers numb. His grip wouldn't last. Maybe clinging to the ceiling hadn't been such a great idea. How long would these old men keep talking?

"Our previous Protector was elderly and wise enough to know when to mind his own business," the head scribe wheezed. He wouldn't be the head scribe much longer. Xlack pictured him scraping out broken down litterbugs in the bowels of the sanitation department.

"There aren't enough Protectors for every city to claim one of their own. Be grateful you were given one at all," Pim Mianlan countered. His face was like a skull, eyes and cheeks sunken, nothing like the subtle curve of Xlack's features or the chiseled visages of the officials to whom he spoke.

The head scribe sniffed, hands folding on the table. "Our current Protector is a child, and Kizmet is a distinguished district."

"The most distinguished on the Napix homeworld, some would say," his underling added, medallion clinking against his wide belt as he leaned forward.

Three scribes lounged on dark divans curved around a low table. Mianlan sat cross-legged in a chair, perpetual scowl deeper than usual. Maybe he didn't like this new restaurant that occupied the bottom floors of this district's tallest tower. Maybe he found its open floorplan and rustic décor distasteful. Maybe it annoyed him that a basket of steaming breadsticks on every table filled the air with a warm, yeasty aroma, or that the din of happy customers made it difficult to hear. Maybe he didn't like the company.

Xlack thought he would very much like one of those buttery breadsticks. Sweat gathered on his brow, dampening his pale curls.

"We have gathered a petition." The head scribe offered a glass pane to Mianlan, and columns of text appeared as the document loaded. "We wish a more experienced Protector be assigned to Kizmet."

Xlack scowled. His grip failed, and his breath snagged in his throat as his hands fell from the ceiling. His knees started to follow, and he concentrated on keeping them attached to the boards above, hanging upside down. As a fan's tilted blade brushed his fingertips, a bundle of pewter and black scales tumbled from his pocket, asleep and unaware it would plop onto the scribes' wooden table a story and a half below.

Xlack caught the beastling around his middle as a white, cloth fan blade swiped just beneath four dangling paws. With a squeak, the beastling wiggled, onyx eyes wide, and his slender tail whipped his savior's wrist.

"Rell, shh," Xlack mouthed. He pulled the beastling to his chest and winced as needle-like claws dug through his jacket.

Below, Mianlan glanced at the offered screen. "Xlack Ekymé has been your Protector for a year n—"

"Don't say his name, or he'll show up," the official sitting left of Mianlan snapped. His gaze darted to every corner, fringes on his pentagonal hat swinging wildly.

No one ever thinks to look up. Actually, their hats likely make that difficult.

With a smirk, Xlack curled into a ball, hands reuniting with the ceiling's mosaic of dark and light slats. His hold slipped once, twice, knees and toes shaking, threatening they would lose their grip as well. Organic materials like wood, even long dead and highly polished, were difficult for his Talent to manipulate.