Christopher Smith

Mixni and Glorkim

Novella extract

Part One

11^th Miqim 1303 P.S.W.

Mixni whimpered.

‘Oh, silly girl, up you get.’ A familiar voice wriggled its way through the pain. Mixni’s head felt frazzled, like bugs were fluttering around and bumping her thoughts away. 

She’d been running through the village and had tripped on a wet tree root. She’d fallen on her front, limbs splayed about her. Moving felt weird, as if she were trying to control someone else’s body. Mixni pushed herself up, feeling mud run off her chest.

‘There we go.’

Pain in her chest flared up and Mixni snapped her eyes shut. An uncomfortable ball wormed its way up her throat and burst as she let out a shrill scream. Moments later, warm arms wrapped around her, cutting off the cry.

‘Hush now child. There’s nothing wrong with you.’

Strange shapes were being traced on her back, like fancy stars and circles. Slowly, the pain ebbed away, leaving her thoughts clearer. She opened her eyes and was met with a beautiful face smiling down at her.

‘There we are, how about a smile for Mama?’

Mixni’s mouth twitched as she tried to smile the way her mother liked. Her mother’s laugh fluttered like a butterfly.

‘A good try dear. Tell me, does your chest still hurt?’

Mixni shook her head.

‘See? No pain lasts forever, remember that.’

Her mother leaned forward, creating a shadowy curtain of raven hair. With her eyes clearing, Mixni could make out the purple glow of her mother’s eyes.

‘Good girl. Now let’s get you home for tea.’

***

27^th Qatsi 1302 P.S.W.

Glorkim groaned. His eyes were dry and itchy from too much crying. In the distance, he thought he could hear children shouting and the clash of metal. When he rolled over, chains clanked around his ankles. 

‘Awake, I see,’ said a gruff voice.

Glorkim opened his eyes. A bearded man he’d never met before loomed over him, his face pulled into a sneer.

‘Skinny kids like you don’ usually last long, but I’ll see what I can get out o’ you.’

Glorkim shivered. The man stared at him as if he were a new toy.

‘Where am I? Who are you? Where’s my sister?’ Glorkim asked.

The man’s ugly smile grew wider.

‘Don’ know, don’ care. But think o’ me as your uncle if you like. Uncle Qonzo. I’ll teach you to fight, and if you die, I’ll bury you.’

Glorkim’s head ached, and his stomach roiled at the thought of being related to this man. He could smell the man’s sweat and see the manic glint in his eyes.

‘I want to go home,’ he stammered.

Qonzo’s hand came out of nowhere, lifting Glorkim up by the throat. He struggled to break free, battering the man’s arm with weak fists. He pried at the fingers, but they only squeezed harder. Desperate, the boy scratched at the man’s face, digging pointed nails into Qonzo’s eyes. 

Growling, Qonzo threw Glorkim down, giving the boy a chance to catch his breath. It felt like all his blood had rushed to his head, making him feel dizzy. A shadow fell over him.

‘Took me by surprise kid.’

When Glorkim looked up, he was met by Qonzo’s garish smile. Blood dripped from the corner of his left eye, but the man didn’t seem to care.

‘Looks like there’s a fighter in you after all.’

***

7^th Vìr 1305 P.S.W.

The snake fit perfectly in Mixni’s lap. It was a luscious moss colour and its soft underbelly tickled Mixni’s legs. She giggled and stroked its head. 

There was no one else in the corridor. This part of her home usually had kids running around, kicking up dust and scuffing up the walls, but this late in the day, it was empty. Mixni liked this because then her animal friends would visit. 

She’d never met a snake before. The little reptile slithered up her left arm and rested its diamond head on her shoulder. Mixni smiled.

‘I’m going to call you Mal-Kan,’ she said.

‘Who are you talking to dear?’ came a voice.

Mixni turned and saw her mother standing behind her, wearing white teaching overalls. In a flash, Mal-Kan was gone, seemingly disappearing into the wall. Mixni pouted at her mother.

‘You scared my new friend away,’ she said.

Her mother raised an eyebrow, smiling.

‘Did I? Well, if it is truly your friend, it’ll find its way back to you.’ She held out her arms. ‘Now, up you get. I’m going to teach you to weave.’

Mixni stayed where she was.

‘I want to play with my friend though.’

A flicker of irritation crossed her mother’s face.

‘Enough of that Mixni. Come here.’

Without waiting for a response, Mixni’s mother swept up the girl in her arms, carrying her through the house. For a moment, Mixni imagined herself as a little bird, weightless and soaring in the sky. But soon enough, it was over, and her mother dropped her in the crafting room.

Inside, Mixni saw towering cupboards and chests of drawers propped up on wooden blocks. The back wall was covered in a honeycomb of cubbyholes, packed with scrolls and tools. The room was lit by orbs of white light floating in the air, buzzing softly and occasionally bumping into one another. She watched them. They were just out of arm’s reach, but Mixni didn’t mind. The light felt warm and full of life, making the room feel less stuffy. In the middle, there was a small desk and two wooden stools.

As she’d done a thousand times, her mother slipped past the table, and pulled a well-worn scroll from the wall.

‘Honey, grab some straw from that drawer please. Four bundles will do,’ she said.

Her mother pointed at a drawer off to her left. It was heavy, thunking open as Mixni pulled on the handles, revealing bundles of straw wrapped in twine. She picked out four and brought them to the desk, where her mother was unravelling the scroll. Mixni couldn’t figure out the bigger words, but the pictures looked like instructions for braiding thick hair. 

‘What are we making Mama?’ Mixni asked.

‘Call me Mother Elder, dear. It is important to use titles when appropriate, such as when I am your teacher.’

Mixni scratched her head.

‘Why Mama?’

‘Because I said so.’ Her tone said not to question her again.

‘Yes, Mother Elder,’ Mixni mumbled.

Her mother smiled and patted Mixni’s shoulder.

‘To answer your question, we’ll be weaving straw hats,’ she said, pulling a small pair of shears from a cubbyhole. ‘Most children wouldn’t start crafting until their seventh birth ceremony, but I know my daughter is much more capable than them.’

Mixni felt a ball of warmth form in her chest at her mother’s praise. The Mother Elder sat her down, then dragged the other stool closer. 

‘I’ll show you how to do it first, then you can have a go,’ she said.

Mixni watched as her mother’s fingers danced with the straw. She couldn’t understand what was happening, but soon enough the straw resembled a hat.

When she was done, the Mother Elder placed the accessory on her head, a smug smile on her face.

‘Now, your turn darling.’

Mixni blinked.

‘Can you show me again please?’ she asked.

The Mother Elder shook her head and pushed the instructions across the table.

‘Give it a go. Show me how talented you are.’

Her mother smiled, but Mixni wasn’t sure if she had any to show off. The pictures on the scroll looked like a mess of worms, the straw was rough, and it never bent where she wanted it to. After half an hour, Mixni’s resolve was crumbling. All she’d wanted to do was wander the swamp and play with her friends. Instead, she was stuck with her mother, failing to make a hat. 

After her latest attempt unravelled, she kicked the table leg.

‘Enough of that. This kind of behaviour is beneath you,’ her mother said.

‘I’m tired.’

The Mother Elder shook her head.

‘I understand you’re frustrated, but you mustn’t quit now. Push past all of that and you’ll become a stronger, more determined person for it.’

Mixni shoved the scroll away.

‘I want to go play.’

Her mother scoffed.

‘Don’t be silly Mixni. Playing is for the other children, the ones who grow up to join your flock. If you want lead them, then you must act like a leader.’

Mixni’s cheeks felt hot. Her eyes were wet, drowning the room in a haze of tears.

‘Now then, we are going to stay here all night if we have to until you get this right.’

Mixni wailed in frustration. She threw her straw on the ground and jumped up, kicking the stool against a cupboard.

‘Mixni, wait a second –’

But she had already fled from the crafting room, filling the narrow corridor beyond with her sobs. Someone else called for her, but she didn’t stop. She spotted a small, round door and, not thinking about it, tugged it open and crawled inside.

Curling up into a ball, Mixni hugged her sides, rubbing her forehead against the dirt floor. The cool air made the heat in her face ease away. The pain in her chest dulled and her heart stopped fluttering so quickly. The quiet swallowed her, pushing out the unhappy thoughts and leaving her head empty. After a few moments of deep breaths, Mixni opened her eyes.

The room was shaped like a cup, round and short, with just enough room for her to sit up and stretch out her arms to the side. It was dark and the dirt floor was cool against her legs. Mixni had never been in here before. In fact, she couldn’t think of why she hadn’t come across it before. Maybe it was a pointless storage room her mother had forgotten about. Either way, Mixni was glad she had found this room.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but Mixni knew it was wrong of her to run away from her mother. She knew she needed to apologise.

Slowly, she pushed open the door and crawled out into the torch-lit corridor. When she turned back to close it, her heart jumped. The door was gone, and the room along with it. There wasn’t even an outline of it in the wall. 

‘There you are!’

A slave boy appeared behind Mixni, a look of relief on his face. He had curly blonde hair, and a hand bent the wrong way. He only had a loincloth on: it felt wrong to look at him, but Mixni knew she had to. She wasn’t allowed to look away and give him power over her. 

‘You were looking for me?’ she asked.

‘Yes, your mother sent for you. She’s waiting in the crafting room.’

Mixni’s shoulders sagged. With nothing else to keep her, Mixni followed the boy back to the crafting room.

It was like she had never left, except the straw had all been picked up and placed in front of her stool, back in its original position. Mixni couldn’t look at her mother. She would surely be upset with her, angry even. She would tell Mixni that she wanted a new daughter, a beautiful, kind girl who listened to her.

Mixni heard the swish of robes and felt the air shiver as the Mother Elder stepped closer.

‘I’m sorry Mama,’ she said.

There was a long pause. Mixni counted the seconds away, more and more certain of her mother’s anger.

Her mother’s arms wrapped around her, gently pulling her into a hug.

‘All is forgiven, my dear. It’s my fault, I should have realised you weren’t ready.’

Mixni pulled away, looking up at her mother. There was nothing but love in her eyes and joy in her smile. Something inside Mixni rushed up from her chest to her head, making her feel warm inside. She could see her true mother now, the one who let her have extra apples at tea and combed her hair until it felt like running your hands through a stream. 

‘No Mama, I want to try.’

Her mother’s smile grew wider.

‘You do? Oh, how wonderful. Don’t worry, this time I’ll talk you through the scroll.’

With a tight grip on her arm, her mother sat Mixni down and started explaining the proper braiding techniques, referencing the scroll, and pointing out her daughter’s earlier mistakes. The girl followed along as her mother wove. Like before, she was mesmerised by her mother’s weaving, watching as she tucked, pulled, and twisted until she held a beautiful wide-brimmed straw hat.

Despite her renewed determination, it was a slow process for Mixni. Straw wouldn’t fit through the right holes. The frayed ends poked under her nails and left marks on her palms. An hour in, she pulled the wrong end and collapsed the little lattice work she had. Her mother’s encouragement was quiet but constant throughout.

‘That’s right, through there … Don’t tug too hard now … You’ll be a master in no time.’

After another hour, Mixni was left with sweaty, aching palms, and a misshapen hat with an uneven brim. When she tugged it on, loose ends prodded her head.

‘I love it,’ she said.

Her mother smiled, though it looked tighter than usual.

‘You have definitely achieved more than most during their first session.’ 

Mixni felt a warm feeling spread across her chest.

‘Your next hat will be much better, I’m sure,’ her mother said.

The feeling stopped spreading. Mixni pulled the hat off and turned it around in her hands. It seemed wrong to dismiss what she had made. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to make a new one. 

‘Mother Elder?’

‘Not now dear. Why don’t you run along and ask the cooks to start preparing tea? I’ll tidy up in here.’

Sensing this wasn’t really a suggestion, Mixni slipped off the stool and ran from the crafting room, her hat clenched in her hands.

***

3^rd Xiqui 1303 P.S.W.

‘May I sit here?’ a kid asked.

Glorkim shrugged, so the boy dropped down next to him, balancing his bowl in his lap. Glorkim reckoned this kid was new. His skin was peachy pink, he scratched at his tunic, and when he opened his mouth, Glorkim couldn’t see any missing teeth.

‘Not the nicest food, is it?’ the boy said.

Glorkim shrugged.

‘You’ll get used to it.’

The boy ate a spoonful of grey, watery oats and frowned.

‘Is all the food like this?’

‘Nah, they give us meat and vegetables at evening meal.’

‘That doesn’t sound too bad.’

Glorkim chuckled.

‘If you don’t like flavour,’ he said.

The boy snorted, giving Glorkim a toothy grin.

‘I’m Mora-Kim,’ he said.

‘Glorkim.’

‘Nice to meet you.’

‘Sure.’

The two boys sat in silence, eating. The din of clattering bowls and chatting children enveloped them. Most of the boys grouped up at tables to discuss training, which left Glorkim alone with his thoughts. He preferred it this way. The cafeteria was large enough that he could find a wall bench away from everyone.

‘Do you know anyone else here?’ Mora-Kim asked.

Glorkim frowned.

‘Not really.’

‘Is that why you’re sat by yourself?’

‘I guess.’

‘How about we be friends?’ the boy asked, leaning closer. Glorkim could feel Mora-Kim’s hot breath on his face.

‘Probably not a good idea,’ he said.

‘Why not?’

That was something Foloki, Glorkim’s sister, loved to ask. Why can’t I play with them kids? Why can’t I take apples from the tree? Why don’t we have a hut to sleep in? It used to irritate him, but now he’d do anything to see her again.

‘How old are you?’ Glorkim asked.

‘Six.’

The older boy’s chest tightened. Foloki would be around that age now, assuming she was still alive. Glorkim sighed.

‘You’re better off joining a group,’ he said. Glorkim pointed to a collection of youths about his age. ‘Those guys take in newbies sometimes. But only if you meet their standards.’

Mora-Kim stared at the group, considering it. Then, he pointed to a group of young men hovering around the cafeteria entrance.

‘What about them? They were nice when I came in.’

Glorkim shook his head.

‘Don’t bother, they’ll be gone in a week.’

A guard in the corner of the room banged his spear butt against the wooden floor, and everyone began clearing up. Glorkim felt a tug on his tunic. When he looked at Mora-Kim, he saw the younger boy had turned pale.

‘Please help me,’ he said.

Glorkim bit his lip. If this were Foloki, he’d tell her everything would be okay, that nothing could touch her as long as she were with him. But she wasn’t and Mora-Kim needed honest advice to stay alive.

‘Look, this first week is going to really hurt. The best thing you can do is stay in the middle of the group. If you come first, the handlers will push you harder. If you come last, they’ll treat you like dead weight. Never be last, okay?’

Mora-Kim nodded. He was still pale, but Glorkim could see a spark of determination in his eyes. Glorkim patted the kid’s shoulder, and the pair rose together.

‘Does this mean we’re friends?’ Mora-Kim asked.

The older boy smiled.

‘Yeah, we’re friends.’

For the first time since arriving at the gladiator school, Glorkim didn’t feel alone.

***

21^st Vìr 1306 P.S.W.

Mixni led her mother through a maze of twisted roots and gnarled branches that pointed the girl along a path only she could follow. Her mother lagged behind, grunting in annoyance every time she stumbled or caught her hair on something.

After ten minutes of walking, they emerged in a spot where the canopy of trees broke so that sunlight trickled down to the forest floor, bathing everything in drops of honey. A stream flowed nearby, kicking up a fine spray that cooled the air and left Mixni feeling refreshed whenever she entered the cove.

She wasn’t surprised to find a deer drinking at the bank. Mixni had met a lot of animals who came here to drink, though she didn’t recognise this young buck. It raised its head as they approached, wary of danger. Followed by her mother, Mixni kept low and crept downstream to keep out of the deer’s way.

Once they’d found a quiet spot, the Mother Elder nodded her approval.

‘I can see why you’d come here to centre yourself,’ she said.

Mixni smiled, glad to finally share this place with someone. Her mother stood behind Mixni and laid her hands on her shoulders.

‘Close your eyes now. Don’t focus on trying to do magic. Feel the energy flow running through this land. Get used to how it passes through you and how it feels in your mind. When you’re ready, say the words that come to mind. I’ll be here if you need me.’

Mixni reached up to touch her mother’s hand, who gave it a reassuring squeeze. As long as she had her mother, she knew nothing could go wrong. 

Tamping down her growing excitement, Mixni closed her eyes. At first, all she could feel were her thoughts bouncing around her mind. Beyond herself, there was the gurgle of the stream and the whisp of a stray wind. She could feel the moss between her toes and the warmth of her mother at her back.

Mixni lost track of time. She embraced the swamp, feeling the tremors of every footfall, the hungry maw of every stream, the graceful poise of every tree. Every nesting bird found a home in her arms and the blaze of Zikkern’s light crowned her with eternal youth.

‘Pull it all back now. Find yourself again,’ came a familiar voice.

The words clung to her like leeches. A name flitted by on the wings of a butterfly and slipped into her mind. Mixni. Suddenly, the trees collapsed into her, the stream froze over, and sunlight drained away. She could feel the swamp pulling away as she remembered her humanity.

‘Don’t let go Mixni. Draw the energy in with you.’

Feeling her mother’s presence strengthened Mixni’s resolve. As she drew back, she held onto what felt like a pulse of golden light, rolling it over in her mind. On one side it felt blindingly hot and on the other piercingly cold. As she did, words emerged like tiny flares.

‘Elzz ni-ess yyij vknn,’ she chanted.

A swell of cold energy burst from the orb and rushed into the world. Mixni heard a distressed bleat and opened her eyes to watch as a wave of grey light rippled across the buck. Where the light passed, the fur shimmered and hardened to stone. Mixni’s stomach sank as the young deer became a statue, a monument to its former beauty.

‘Excellent work dear,’ her mother said.

Before she could respond, everything around her shifted out of focus and Mixni collapsed into her mother’s arms.

‘Easy child. Take it slowly.’

The Mother Elder eased her daughter to the ground. Mixni felt so heavy, as if the ground around her were pulling her in.

‘Rest for now. You’ve done such incredible work.’

The last thing Mixni saw before passing out was the pride that shone in her mother’s eyes.