Fall (Cold Mark 1)

His gaze said what I knew.

My world was forever changed and my welfare was now in my own hands. I prayed to Mother Joyal that my training would keep me from being killed by the brutal Mian. Walking with a purpose of survival to my step, I glanced over my shoulder to Jax as the President called another name.

Jax’s gaze never left me as I walked through the door on the left side of the room. To the Mian.

Silently shutting the door behind me, I peered directly ahead. I had never seen a Mian in person. Down the long and brightly lit hallway, there was one standing where the walkway ended and opened into another room within the building. My feet would not move as I stared.

This Mian had to be seven feet tall, his very height intimidating compared to my five foot, two inch frame. He wore an imperial black robe with red embroidered embellishments. From my studies, I knew that the Mian were separated in warring factions of the east and the west. Though the stitched crest on his robe was a symbol of the planet Triaz, not of the two factions. This Mian was a delegate of the two, a litigator between the east and the west, but by the tattoo that rested next to his left eye, it clearly depicted a round symbol with a line through it. His origin was from the west. If he had been from the east, he would have worn the tattoo of a star next to his right eye.

And his blue eyes, they glowed softly.

It intimidated me further, seeing the blue and white of his gaze so crisply. The Mian were predominately of the night. They slept during the day, because their eyes were particularly sensitive to light. Their vision was ten times better than a Human’s, along with their strength. Every weakness that a Human had, they did not. They were superior to Humans in physicality.

The Mian’s expression did not falter from stern impatience as he lifted one of his hands and gestured for me to move forward with a sharp flick of his wrist. He definitely did not seem impressed by me as his glowing gaze roved up and down my smaller stature. His mouth opened, and he barked in a heavy accent, “Come.”

I jerked forward, keeping my eyes on his. At least, he had spoken in English. While I had tested early for a proficiency in languages, and had learned Mianese, I still was not comfortable speaking it. I could understand the dialect fine, but my speech still faltered when trying to express certain phrases. In other words, I was not a natural at their language. I’d had to work for it in class. Nearing the end of the hallway, I heard the door open and shut behind me, another Human coming through.

The Mian in front of me glanced over my head, and appeared more pleased with what he saw. I had seen the man who had been called directly after me. He was much more robust than me in build, all muscle and strength. The Mian pointed to my left, glancing at me with disdain. “Over there, girl.”

I tried not to stare at his ears, which were pointed at the top, and nodded my head in silent treaty. Walking past him, I felt my stomach roll again, the nausea making me grimace. Inside this room, that was as large as the conference hall, there were many Mian. The space was bare of furnishings, except for two tables that lined the left and the right sides of the room. Behind each table, there were Mian who wore the same robes as the first Mian, all litigators of the east and the west. The direction I had been pointed to, all the Mian bore the symbol of the west, with the circle and line through it tattooed near their left eye.

Exhaling gradually, I ignored the stares of the Mian who were assessing me. I moved toward the start of the long table on my left where it appeared I should begin. The Mian there did not appear quite as gruff as the first man, but the scar edging down his jaw made my eyes falter. It was a nasty mark, appearing to have been made with a blunt knife, the red line thick and garish.

The Mian merely stared, and asked in Mianese, “Are you done gawking, Human?”

My gaze snapped up to his. I spoke slowly, concentrating on his language. “I apologize.”

He lifted a red brow, his short, flame-colored hair the same shade as his scar. “Your name.”

“Braita Valorn.”

“Spell it.”

I swallowed and did as told.

He typed it into his halo-pad. “Lay your head on the table.”

My blink was gradual. I understood him fine, even in his language. “Why?”

That red brow lifted again. “You don’t get to ask why, slave. Just do it.”

His words hit me hard. Slave. My body wanted so badly to tremble, but I did not allow it to. I had read about slaves in Earth’s history. It was not a pleasant thought. I really might puke. “Slave?”

His brutal features scrunched. “Did you just call me a ‘cow’?”

Oh, Mother Joyal. I concentrated once more, and spoke slowly this time. “No. I apologize. My question was, am I to be a slave? Are the Humans picked here today to be slaves on Triaz?”

“Of course.” He peered down his nose at me. “It is far better than being thrown onto the streets. You should be thankful the Mian leaders decided on this.” I stared. He appeared adamant about his words. Sadly, he was probably right from my teachings. He placed the halo-pad on the desk and lifted a long silver rod. He picked two black identical rings from a silver box full of rings, and then slid them down the end of the rod. They clinked as they hit the flat end of the tool. A halo-pad rose into the air and he typed in my name, then gestured to the table. “Do as I said. Lay your head on the table. Face down and move your hair aside. You’re a female so you’ll be receiving the Cold Mark.”

My eyes widened on their own accord. Females of the Mian society received a Cold Mark when they were born. The Mian population were governed by men. There were always two men to a household, how they were picked to be together the Humans still did not understand. But they were together for life. Underneath that same household, the ruling two men were allowed ten women to protect. They called the two men Vaq and the ten women their Harem. From what I understood, it was an honor to be picked as part of a Harem. Their Vaq were always there to protect and shelter them.

As if reading my mind, the Mian smirked. “It is highly doubtful that you will be picked for a Harem.” His glowing gaze gradually raked over my frame. “You appear to be hardly past puberty.”

Even while his lingering gaze confused me, I lifted my chin high. “I’m eighteen years old.” My eyes narrowed the smallest bit when he snorted. “I’m well past,” I whispered the scandalizing word, “puberty, thank you very much.”

If he could, he actually appeared amused at the flush on my cheeks. “Do as I said.”