Exiled: Chapter 1

This is it. My new serial novel. My plan is to post new chapters as I write them, because it worked well with my first novel in getting me to actually write on a regular basis and finish the thing. I hope you’ll read along and let me know what you think as we go. And please remember, you’re reading this as I write it. Which means don’t expect it to be perfect. I’ll do my best to make it great, but if you notice something wrong, or have suggestions on how it might be better, please post away in the comments. Thanks! And enjoy!

Talia blinked into the harsh sun as it dried the sweat on her arms. Behind her the men rolled the bolder back into place, cutting her off from her home, her friends, her family. Talia felt tears but pushed them away, knowing that now, more than any other time in her life, she had to be brave.

She stood in a small canyon. Overhead the sky shone grey-green and cloudless, while to her left and right black sandstone walls rose thirty feet, their tops capped by low, dry vegetation. The canyon continued in front of her for a hundred yards more before its gentle turn took it out of sight.

And behind her… Talia looked back as the bolder thudded into place, a huge grey bump now, filling the tunnel through which she’d come, carrying only a small pack of supplies and the memories of the hateful glares of everyone she’d loved. That tunnel was the only way back into the catacombs and then to the valley that had been her people’s sanctuary for a thousand generations, ever since their Makers had sheltered them there against the War.

Talia began walking. It would only grow hotter, she knew, and she needed to find water and shade. That much advice the old ones been willing to give her in their plodding, methodical way. Even now Talia felt sorry for them, sorry that they couldn’t see her gift for what it was.

“Why are they so stupid?” she asked the rocks beneath her feet. Their response came as an echo of her frightened voice.

The dust and rocks of the canyon’s floor felt slippery under her feet,  quickly disavowing her of any notion of climbing out of here. Which meant walking as far as need be, hoping to either find a passable way up or an end to this long gauge in the earth.

Talia wouldn’t die. That’s what they wanted when they sent her out here, even though they denied it. “You live,” her mother had said. “Talia live well. Happy. Out there.” And her mother hugged her then and took her hand as they walked out of their sanctuary.

Her mother banished her from the only home Talia had ever known.

The only home anyone had ever known. Her people told legends of the time before they’d fled at the Makers’ urging in to the tunnels and caverns—and discovered their sanctuary. They told stories of a great civilization of gods, reaching around the world, conquering even the mountains and the seas.

But that’s all they were: legends. Talia had no reason to think her people had ever lived on the open plains or in the forests, outside of the confines of the sanctuary’s valleys. Everyone knew what was out there, the horrors, the awful creatures and the scourging weather of the War. The boogymen and the monsters.

Now Talia Alura would face all of it. Alone.

* * *

The old ones made their decision to banish her three days before. Talia’d been born different. Her people moved slowly through the world, their minds turning over new facts like the rock they’d rolled to block her path. They turned these facts into new ideas with the utmost caution—and at a snail’s pace.

At least, that’s how it felt to Talia. Her mind worked faster, jumping with alacrity from concept to analysis, processing the world at a clip impossible for her parents and indeed for everyone she knew.

Not that Talia was the first. Others had come before and, like her, they’d found themselves outside the sanctuary on the morning of their thirteenth birthdays. Talia’d known it was coming but still felt overwhelmed with fear and guilt when the old made their decision. Nobody knew what had happened to the others sent out into the world beyond. None had tried to return—or they died before making the effort.

Talia’s parents, wrapped in their thick blankets on the cold morning of her birthday, had stared dully at her, mouthing the same word over and over again, the same word as everyone else who accompanied her to the passage: “Out.”

Before they’d come for her, Talia hd filled her sack with hard bread and dried meat. She took a knife, a second pair of shoes, and three empty water skins to compliment the one full one they’d give her as part of the ritual of banishment. She stuffed in a quilt—the only sentimental item she bothered with, a gift from her grandmother—and then cinched the pack closed with a strip of leather.

Now that was all she had to keep herself alive, out here.

* * *

Talia strained for the handhold. She felt her feet slipping, but managed to grab the ledge before the leather of her shoes lost its purchase.

Talia had walked for over two hours before finding this climbing spot. The sun had risen higher until she guessed it now had to be close to noon. During that time, the canyon walls had grown sometimes closer together, sometimes further apart, but never less steep. She’d drank nearly all the water she’d brought, knowing as she did that it was stupid, that she might not find a new source anytime soon. But it comforted her, drinking the cool water. It made her feel, for just a moment, like she was back in the sanctuary, and not lost in the wilderness.

Then she came upon a spot where the cliff face looked as if it at one time featured a waterfall, the rock scored in a deep and wavy groove. It wasn’t enough to make climbing easy, but it did give her something to grab hold of.

She’d now made it half way up, wedging into the crack and squeezing out with her legs, pinning herself in place. She inched further, ascending slowly but without too much difficulty.

When Talia had nearly reached the top, she glanced down. And froze. Something moved down there, near the canyon’s floor. She squinted. A shape—just a shadow—slithered along the rock. Talia glanced around, trying to discover its source, but saw nothing. Just the black rocks of the canyon stretching in both directions, and the green, cloudless sky above.

The shadow twisted and seethed, like oil on a puddle, moving along the wall’s contours, too big to be cast by a person. Talia began desperately to climb again. Whatever it was, she couldn’t let it find her. It felt wrong. Malignant. Unnatural.

She scrambled and twice almost fell, but then she was at the top, pulling herself over the edge and onto the dirt above. She rolled onto her back, let her hands fall to her chest, and closed her eyes, panting. She’d made it.

Some time later, Talia sat up and opened her eyes. She was on a vast plain, stretching in all directions, marred by the deep scare of the canyon, which continued cutting its way through the land until it disappeared over the horizon. Talia was relieved she’d climbed out when she did. If she’d stayed down there, waiting for it to end, she’d have died of thirst.

The plains were not empty. All around her, as far as she could see, rose twisted and grim rock formations, like enormous broken hands clawing out of the earth. Around these she saw what must have been trees, though they looked more like patches of rose crystal covered in moss. In the distance, she could see herds of animals wandering, though she couldn’t make out much more than rough shapes. They appeared slow, however, and for the moment at least, unthreatening.

Beyond them, huge, blocking a great swath of the sky, loomed the corpse of a monster. Talia stared at it, making out great bones bigger than the tallest of the rocks, each covered in enormous scales, shining and metallic, the same color as the sky but a shade darker. It must be hundreds of feet tall, Talia thought. Or more. Was that one of the horrible beasts of War the legends spoke of? She hoped so, because the legends also said all of them had died in the conflict. Whatever that thing was, Talia wanted nothing more than to never encounter one still alive.

Talia got to her feet, brushed dust and sand from her pants and shirt, and checked her supplies. Everything seemed in place. She patted the knife at her waist and began walking, following the canyon.

Little changed by the time she’d grown hungry enough to stop and eat. She dug out one of the strips of meat and chewed it, forcing herself to wash it down with only a few sips from her water skin.

It wasn’t long beyond that, though, that she found what she was looking for. A narrow stream bed ran parallel to the canyon, ending at the cliff. When she got close, she found a small trickle of water running its length, no more than a hand’s width across and only as deep as the length of her thumb. But it was enough. She cried out in excitement and pulled all the skins from her pack. This stream gave her something new to follow.

She was filling the last of the skins when she heard the snap of dry twigs behind her and then the awful screaming howl. Talia spun, fumbling for her knife.