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He might have put his days at the orphan house behind him and gone on to become an Herbsian Maestran if not for two facts.

His habits and tastes were so disgusting that even the boys with iron stomachs would turn green at the sight of his lunch.

He also worshipped the feared and hated outcast Voorik as his hero.

His association with that future tyrant started when he was just another anonymous victim to six bigger brutes determined to make him surrender his lunch pail.

"What's he got in there?"

"The way Matron dotes on him? He's probably got an apple and a cookie."

"Think he'll rat us out like he did that skinny kid?"

"Not if he knows what's good for him."

They upended the pail, gasping in disgust.

"This bread is green!

"His apple's got more worms than fruit."

"Argh! Maggot pie. That thing's got to be at least a month old!"

The biggest boy crossed his arms and scowled. "What you playing at Wendell? You thought you could hide the good stuff from us, huh? You got it hidden in your pockets. Want us to beat it out of you?"

"Beat it out of him anyways, Morry."

"Guy's a freak."

Skreev flinched and turned out his pockets. Three pale worms wriggled their way out of the poorly sewn lining to land in the freshly turned mud. They immediately began to burrow.

"My friends like the dark. They're all I have, honest."

Another boy brought his foot down hard on a passing ant. "Oops, I killed Wendy's pal."

Skreev's face flushed. "My name is Skreev. I renounce my parents and the name they gave me."

They all laughed an ugly laugh. "Well...it's a name that suits you. Skreev. Sounds like a name for some exotic fungus."

Skreev stared at his shoes and didn't say anything.

"I think Squick sounds even better though. That's what you are, Wendy. You're a big, stinking pile of..."

"Hey, Morry. Check out the new kid."

The new boy's outfit spoke of former wealth and long, dusty days on the road. His eyes slid over the gathered group and away. He paused only when the bullies surrounded him, forcing him to a stop.

"This here street is ours, friend. You want to walk through it, you gotta pay a tax."

Bold orange eyes looked him up and down. "Tax?"

"Yeah. You slow or something? A tax. Farmers pay the Harvest Tax so they can keep their little plots of dirt. You got to pay the road tax so we don't lay you flat in the dirt. Coins, candy, whatever you got on you. Pay up."

"This is the Alphan's Road. You don't own it."

"Alphan's not here to collect but we'll make sure he gets his share. Now cough it up."

"No."

The leader's mouth opened and closed a few times. "I didn't ask if you wanted to pay the tax. I said pay up. It's six against one. You might be taller than we are but a good, strong wind would blow you halfway to the sea."

"You're welcome to try and take payment from me, if you're honestly that stupid."

Skreev watched in awe as he flattened all six boys with barely any effort.

"That was amazing! How'd you do it?"

The tall boy shrugged. "They're used to weak targets...like you. They've no clue how to defend themselves."

"What's your name?"

"Voorik. I'm on my way to the capital. I have business there."

"I've never been to the capital...or outside this village, really. My name's Wendell but that was the name my useless parents gave me. I go by Skreev. It means 'fungus' in the old tongue."

Voorik looked him over, taking in the contents of his lunch pail. "Yes. The name fits."

"Wait! Take me with you. I can be useful. I'll do whatever dirty work you don't want to do. I can crawl into dark spaces. I'll clean out the pockets of the idiots you bring down. If you tie them up for me, I'll even give them a licking for you."

Voorik was torn between amusement and irritation. "Even if I did want a henchman, why would I pick you?"

"I'll do anything you say. Anything...in exchange for your protection."

"Even if I say I'm on my way to kill a man?"

Skreev smiled. "I'll mop the floor for you when you get done."

credits

Lea

Pureflower