Of A Different Skin

The Ammal Republic: Chapter 2

"And that's it?" asked Vesilia. "You just woke up in the middle of the jungle?"

"That's right," said Claybrook. "I can't quite remember how I got here, nor why I'm here."

"Let me get this straight," said Vesila. "Full name Claybrook Sokki. Birthdate the 17th Day of Sleeping. Raised by a loving father and mother in a faraway place, surrounded by sands and stone buildings. You were raised among the high class, for you remember being treated quite elegantly. At a certain ripe age, you decided to go outside your nest to retrieve something for your city, but you can't remember what it was. The only thing you recall was a burned wagon with tons of stones and ores, but somehow you lost all your stuff in something that sounded like an attack, based on how you described it. Next thing you know, you were knocked unconscious and awoke minutes later, missing some of your memories. And unfortunately that all I know, for you can't remember everything in exact detail."

Claybrook regretfully nodded. "Correct," he said. "I don't remember much. But hopefully, in due time, I'll get back some pieces of my memory and figure out who I truly am."

"Still, it's good that you remember at least something. Gee, I can't help but feel you're some kind of storybook character," said Vesilia with a shake of her head.

"What do you mean?" Claybrook asked curiously.

"Foreigner, able to use unique powers, mysterious past, and all wrapped with missing memories. Your life would be fantastic for an epic poem."

"I'm not planning to have a biography written about me soon, as epic as it may sound," replied Claybrook. As he looked upwards at the night sky, he could see a certain zone illuminated by many lights. Buildings made of stone and concrete clumped together as a city revealed itself to both of them. "Is that Tempus?"

"Right on," said Vesilia. "Now I suggest you stay here. You won't be able to sneak in carrying two grown men on your back."

"Why would I need to sneak in the city?" asked Claybrook. "I'm with you. That should prove my innocence enough."

"You don't understand," said Vesilia. "Remember what I told you about the Species War? Ammals versus Pretiels? Coldblood versus warmblood? Scales and feathers versus fur and pelt? The moment you get seen by the gate guards, they'll shoot you. You need to remain hidden if you want to survive. You won't realize how many people are out for Pretiel blood since the latest attack. Not even you being a Lazarian will defend your leathery skin."

"About that," said Claybrook. "You keep mentioning that I'm a Lazarian. What makes me so special?"

"Are you kidding me?" she asked.

"No, I'm not," said Claybrook. "Remember, holes."

"Hmm," said Vesilia putting a finger up to her chin. "You'd think the amnesia would leave the more important parts alone," she muttered to herself. "Know what, I can't exactly remember. But once we enter the city, I'll find a book based on Lazarian history. Maybe you can read that. That is, if you can read."

"I've already told you," said Claybrook frustrated, "I can speak, read and write your language. I'm not stupid."

"I'm sorry, I forget!" defended Vesilia. "It's just that the Pretiels appear indigenous. And well, indigenous people--"

"Have their own language," said Claybrook. "Just because they can't speak your tongue doesn't mean they're neanderthals. A culture has its own languages. In fact, they might consider you people barbaric and stupid for not understanding their own writing."

Vesilia shook her head. "Come on, Tempus is half a mile walk from the top of this hill. Maybe we can find something to eat. That stomach of yours is its own animal with all the noise it makes!"

And as if it replied, Claybrook's stomach roared at Vesilia's comment. Claybrook's face got red.

---

"The city sure is beautiful," said Claybrook as he approached closer.

Tempus itself was surrounded by a massive stone wall. Four gates allowed entrance, one for every cardinal direction. At the heart of the city was a massive clock tower that had its face illuminated by large bulbs. None of the lights in the city could match the power the clock tower gave off. Right now the time was showing 10:54. It was as if the city never slept. Not even stars were able to be seen in the sky, the city polluting the air with light. But the stars in no way could match the beauty this nightly civilization could publish at such a dark time.

"Agreed," said Vesilia. "I've lived here my entire life, and I will continue to live here until I die. I want to remain with my husband and my two children forever and ever."

Claybrook looked at her with a surprised glance. "You have kids?" he asked.

She looked at Claybrook, but then slowly turned her head away. "I do," she said so silently, Claybrook almost couldn't hear her. "Etar and Alea."

He decided not to press for any more answers. "I see," he simply said, though he really didn't know what had happened. "Oh god, I'm tired."

Just then, he felt Buris starting to move around. Claybrook let both Buris and Atheos down as he tried to figure out what happened. Buris started to groan as he opened his eyes and looked around. "What?" he asked slowly. "What happened?" He stood back up almost immediately.

"Buris!" exclaimed Vesilia. "You're okay!"

"Wait, what?" asked Buris. "Oh! That's right! I remember." Buris then caught sight of Claybrook and yelped. "Ahh! What's he doing here?"

All Claybrook could do was give a friendly wave. Vesilia came close to comfort Buris. "It's okay," she said. "He won't hurt us!"

Buris moved in between Vesilia and Claybrook, guarding her from him. He pulled out a sword and pointed it at Claybrook, to which the Lazarian responded by placing his hands in the air. "Stay away from her, you freak!" Buris shouted. "I won't let you get near her!"

"I--I'm not going to!" exclaimed Claybrook. "I have no intention of harming anyone!"

Buris got an odd look in his eye. "You?" he asked. "You can speak?

Oh god, thought Claybrook. Here we go again. "Yes I can speak," said Claybrook. "And I know your name, Buris Arduno. Your wife told me quite a bit about you and your life. An archaeologist of 36, you first met her on an expedition in the Atlas Desert. Then you fell in love with her, got engaged on the 18th Day of Hiding, and have two wonderful children, Etar and Alea. And allow me to finally introduce myself, Claybrook Sokki, at your service."

Buris stood glaring at Claybrook for a while. He lowered his blade, backed up and started whispering in Vesilia's ear. "You just saw what happened, am I right?"

"Yes, long before you did."

"But that's impossible!" said Buris in a whisper inaudible to Claybrook. "How can he know Ammalian?"

"Apparently he's bilingual," she said in the same volume as her husband. "He was able to communicate with that Igna attacker of yours."

"Oh yeah, speaking of him, where did he go?"

"He escaped."

"What? I thought Atheos would surely avenge me."

"He tried to. Shot the lizard in the shoulder and the thigh. He would have died if Claybrook hadn't intervened. Knocked Atheos right out, then used magic to heal the Igna."

"He knows magic?" he exclaimed in a whisper Claybrook could hear. Then he lowered the tone of his voice. "First a Lazarian, now a wizard? Next thing you're going to tell me is that he has three balls." He paused. "He didn't drop his pants to prove it, did h--"

"Don't get your hopes up," she cut him. "Anyway, he used that same magic to revive you, so you practically owe your life to Claybrook."

"I owe nothing to a coldblood. They're the reason we're in this war!"

"He saved your life," she reminded him. "Don't be cold like that. The least you can do is help the poor man with some food."

"Hey, excuse me?" said Claybrook. "I'm not here to cause harm."

Buris let out an exhale. "Fine, let's get out of here. It's true that I owe you something, lizard. Just don't remind me." He looked away from Claybrook and instead observes his surroundings. "Where are we anyway?"

"We're outside of Tempus," said Vesilia. "The gates are just a small walk north of us. You can see it there." She finished by pointing toward Tempus

"Right, right. Good that we're back here," said Buris. Hands on his hips, his eyes lit up as he gained a thought. He turned to Claybrook. "Hey, out of curiosity, how old are you?"

"I...I don't know," said Claybrook. "I just remember my birth date, but no year."

"Hmm," said Buris, rubbing his hand against his chin. "Well, judging on the tone of your voice, the shape of your body, and your general attitude and maturity, I'd assume you're about 25. Would I be right in saying that?"

"I don't know," Claybrook repeated. "Like I said, all I remember is a birth date."

"Seems accurate enough," said Vesilia. Just then, Atheos started to shake. He groaned as he looked up, stunned to see Claybrook looking back down at him.

"You!" Before he could charge and attack the lizard, he noticed that Buris was looking right back at him. "Buris?" asked Atheos in shock. "You're--you're alive. How? I saw you die!"

Buris scratched the back of his head. "I didn't really die," he let out.

"No way!" exclaimed Atheos, refusing to believe this had happened. "The Igna! He stabbed you right in the stomach! You should have died right then--!"

"Claybrook," said Vesilia as she stepped forward, "rescued him. The man knows magic, Atheos. He used that power to close up Buris's wound. He was only trying to help."

"Help?" Atheos threw his hands in the air. "Help?! He let a Pretiel get away!"

Claybrook cleared his throat. "I was only trying to prevent another death. I saved your friend. I prove no hostility."

Vesilia pulled in Atheos and told her everything that she told Buris. "You see?" she asked. "He's a roamer. He doesn't know who he's fighting for. He saved my husband. The least you can do is pardon him. I want the lizard unharmed. He has holes in his memory. The poor soul can't remember a thing. He has no direction and no purpose in life, according to him. Can't you spare this one?"

"You realize what a political ****storm would rise if I pardoned a Pretiel?" Atheos asked hotly. "Hell, I don't even think I have that kind of political power! No. He has to go, preferably dead."

"No he doesn't," replied Buris as he heard in on this. The only one who wasn't able to hear the exchange was Claybrook. "Surely you can make an exception?"

Before Atheos could provide an answer, a soft ruckus that slowly got louder and closer arose. A sort of light was traveling from the direction of Tempus right to their location. Once they got into view, Claybrook could see what the entity was. Men holding the strange weapon Atheos had used, swords, and lanterns approached. About ten men, dressed in a similar blue and white uniform that resembled Atheos's clothing, approached the trio. Upon realizing all the strange weapons that he feared, Claybrook started to back away slowly.

"Freeze!" said one of the guards, a browned-furred Broccan decorated much finer than the other guards at his command, but not as eloquent as Atheos's. He pointed his source of light and pointed his weapon. As soon as he realized that Claybrook was there, he pointed his gun to him. "Pretiel!" he shouted.

"No!" said Vesilia as she jumped in the path of the weapon. "He's with us."

"Sorry lady," the man said as she shoved her away and pointed the cold tip up to Claybrook's jaw. "He's a Pretiel. We don't take war prisoners right now. He has no right to live."

"Atheos, do something!" Vesilia urged him.

Atheos sighed. Though he hated Pretiels with a passion, Vesilia had good points. If the lizard's memories were truly empty, then it would be advantageous to fill them in with Ammalian influence. "Put the gun down," he said.

"But sir!" said the Broccan. "Pretiel! He's of a different skin! He's a scourge to the world--"

"He's my prisoner," said Atheos, "and I do not want him hurt. He's my personal servant, and I'll do with him as I please." He grabbed the Broccan's arm and swiped away the weapon. "Now give me that gun. Listen before you go all trigger-happy."

"You realize what outcry would happen for allowing a Pretiel to be seen?"

"Then he won't," said Atheos. He took the gun and shoved it against the man's shoulder. "No one will know about my personal slave," he said to the small troop. "Understood? The moment I hear someone, anyone mention a Lazarian in our city, I'll bury all of you alive in the same pit. Afterwards I'll toss in a barrel of kerosene and light that **** up with you in it. Got it?"

"Yes sir!" the guards said unanimously, but their voices were full with fear. The only one unfazed was the Broccan.

"Now **** off, all of you!" commanded Atheos. All the guards started to depart from the scene. The Broccan looked back once at Claybrook, shook his head in disappointment, then rejoined the others.

What vulgar language! thought Claybrook. He stepped forward, relieved that all those 'guns' were out of sight. "I get the feeling that--"

"Shut it!" Atheos barked at Claybrook. "You've gotten me in a lot of trouble! I'm risking my life for you. You better be worth the time and effort."

"Hey, I didn't ask you to help me!" Claybrook retorted. "If you didn't want me in your city, then I would have gladly left! You didn't give me a chance to speak for myself!"

"You don't deserve a chance," he replied. "And you never will. You're mine now, lizard. Do as I say."

Vesilia intervened. "He belongs to no one," she said as he pushed the two men away from each other. "He's only here to help us with our mission."

This sentence had piqued Claybrook's interest. "Mission?" he asked. "You never mentioned this."

Atheos growled in frustration. "No, I refuse," he said. "Either you take the lizard, or you take me."

Buris gave a snorted laugh. "Giving up so easily, captain?"

It was a good thing that Claybrook seemed interested in the mission, Vesilia thought to herself. Maybe he had turned to them just yet. "Wait here," she said. "We'll find a cloak for you to smuggle you into our home. Then I can explain everything to you, if you're interested."

"Of course," said Claybrook. "As long as it doesn't involve killing, I'm willing to help."

Vesilia grew a smile. Atheos on the other hand let out a single snorted laugh. "What job doesn't involve killing," he mumbled to himself, "especially in these times of war?"