Chapter 33: Old Friends

Content warning: this chapter contains a scene of disturbing violence.

Tarek’s head spun, and a formless, freezing dread filled him. He was on his stomach in the dirt with his hands bound behind his back. A quick jerk let him know that the cords trapping his hands were tied to his feet, as well. He was trussed up like a javelina for roasting. His mouth was full of a wad of something held in by a cruelly tight gag-strap. Is it the Shinsok? Did they find out we took the bread? Or have the Iktaka have been tracking us all along? He wanted to shake his head to clear it, but the sharp throb at the base of his skull told him that was a bad idea. Why do they always have to hit me in the head?

The sobs weren’t Tavi’s – he’d have recognized that sound – so they had to be coming from Bachi. Tarek reared his head up out of the dirt and looked toward the sound, but the fire was still burning just an arm’s length away in that direction, and he could see nothing beyond but a confused jumble of shadow. The fear in Tarek’s chest solidified. He tried to call Bachi’s name, but the sound was nothing but a garbled grunt trapped behind his gag. He couldn’t understand the paralyzing fear within him. It seemed even deeper and more cutting than the situation merited. He’d never been one to freeze when danger threatened, but he was frozen now.

Tarek saw a flicker of movement in the periphery of his vision, a flash of skin reflected in the firelight. Suddenly pain blazed in his shoulders as someone hauled on the ropes that held him and roughly flipped him over onto his back. The pain of landing on top of his bound wrists stole his breath and left sparks of light swimming in his vision. A large shape dressed in furry skins loomed over him, and a wash of sour breath wafted over his face. It smelled of charcoal.

“Hello, grub.”

It was Kanga.

Tarek stared up at him, and a noise escaped from behind his gag. It sounded to his own ears like the whine of a cornered animal.

Kanga grinned his too-white grin and gripped Tarek’s face with hard fingers. “Not even a hello for an old friend?”

For a moment Tarek wondered if this was another nightmare, but the pain he felt was too real. How can this be real? His terror mounted and it was all he could do to keep from screaming.

“All these moons I’ve been dreaming of this moment, and somehow you manage to disappoint.” Kanga withdrew his hand and spat on Tarek’s face. “I should have killed you in your sleep.”

Tavi! Tarek rolled from one side to the other, looking around as best he could with his limbs bound. He could see nothing but fire and dirt and Kanga. The sobs had faded to a dull whimpering noise.

“Shut up over there,” Kanga called, following his gaze. “You’re disturbing my reunion.” He grimaced down at Tarek. “Your new friend may be the most useless human I’ve ever seen. I break a single finger and he falls into a pile and wets himself. I suppose I can understand wanting to surround yourself with fools and broken things. It must make you feel better. Or are you keeping him around so you can suck the life out of him? You’re a leech with legs. You sicken me.”

Tarek could feel him. His heartbeat, his breath, his anger… his fear. He’s afraid of me! It wasn’t his own terror that was choking him, it was Kanga’s.

A rational part of him awoke then and started whispering to him. Of course he’s scared. Think! You can make him run off a cliff or stab himself with his own knife. You nearly killed him. He wants revenge, but he’s terrified you’ll escape him somehow.  For all Kanga’s tenacity and simmering rage, Tarek had always been able to outmaneuver him. So do it again. The voice in his head sounded very much like Tavi.

Tarek fixed Kanga with a glare and tried to shout stop. It came out as a hoarse, formless yell, but he put all his intention into it.

“What was that, grub?” Kanga leaned in and slapped him. “Didn’t quite catch that.”

Words were useless. Tarek focused his thoughts and cast them at the big man like a club. STOP. Kanga didn’t seem to notice. Tarek thought of the dangerous, unpredictable mist-hart ring on his smallest finger, but without blood to make it work, it might as well have been made of chert.

Kanga sat back on his heels, sighing with satisfaction. “Can’t tell me what to do if you can’t talk! I’ve had so long to think about this, I hardly know where to start.” He chewed his lip in thought. “Oh, I watched your parents hang. That was fun.”

Tarek closed his eyes as if he could keep the words out, but they pierced him anyway. He’d known it was bound to happen, but to hear it said aloud, and by Kanga of all people, made their deaths real in a way he’d been able to squirm away from before.

Kanga was watching him avidly, relishing his pain. Tarek could feel the cold worm of ugly satisfaction wriggle in his rival’s heart. “And as soon as I healed, I took Yaretzi to my house and tied her up. Her mamah complained, but what was she going to do? I didn’t let my little woman outside for two whole moons. Her belly’s getting big by now, I’m sure.” Kanga leaned in close. “If it’s a boy I’m going to name him Tarek and beat him every day.”

Tarek screamed behind his gag, throwing himself against his bonds, desperately wanting to gouge out his eyes, rip out his tongue. His heart felt as if it were going to burst and fail. Please, Ones Beneath. Please, no.

And then he caught the barest shift in Kanga’s gaze, a hesitation, a shying-away when he looked into the man’s eyes. Tarek probed with his mind at the formless sense he had of Kanga’s emotions and found a furtive black thread winding through the roiling mass of fear and anger. It’s a lie. He’s lying.

The relief was so immediate and intense that he started to laugh. Kanga’s face twisted in rage, and he took Tarek by the collar of the shirt, jamming his head and shoulders into the dirt.

“Shut up! I did! And she liked it. Said I was better than you’d ever been.”

Tarek looked him in the eyes, loaded his expression with all the dismissive scorn he could muster, and made a derisive huh sound behind his gag.

Kanga broke away from the stare, letting Tarek slump to the ground as he stood up, feigning nonchalance. “Your little river rat of a brother ran away as soon as he saw me. It’s like he just couldn’t wait to get away from you. Ones Beneath, if I were your brother, I’d slit your throat and then throw myself in the river for good measure.” He sauntered beyond the campfire and kicked at something out of sight. Bachi’s whimpering turned back into full-fledged crying. Tarek gritted his teeth at the sound. The dirt under his hands held nothing larger than a pebble. Nothing to cut himself with; no way to get his blood onto the mist-hart ring. Think, Tarek. Think!

Kanga drew his stone knife as he loped back to Tarek’s side. He seemed happy – friendly, almost. He always got chummy when he managed to get the upper hand. “You’ve dragged me halfway across the Land, grub, and I’m going to cut on you for exactly as many days as I’ve been tracking you.” He crouched beside Tarek, the sharp blade dangling from his fist. “Should I give you a taste of what it’s going to be like?” Moving slowly, theatrically, he cut Tarek’s shirt down the center, exposing his skin.

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Kanga was going to cut him. Torture him. Gibbering fear welled up inside that was completely his own. Not again. I can’t, not again. He bit into the dirty rag in his mouth, struggling for control of himself. He’s going to cut you. Accept it. Figure out how to use it. His mind raced. Maybe if I can spill some blood in the dirt, I can get it onto my hands. Onto the ring.

Then the knife tip dug into the muscle of his right breast, catching him by surprise, and he screamed. The pain was bad, but the fear of the pain was worse. Tarek choked and gagged on the fabric in his mouth, thrashing in panic. All thought fled.

Kanga stayed right there, watching him avidly, fascinated by his pain and fear. His eyes flicked from Tarek’s face down to the blood running in a stream down his skin and back again. He nodded to himself and pinned Tarek to the ground by his shoulders, knife still tightly in his grip.

“You took something from me,” he whispered, his breath hot on Tarek’s face. “I’m going to take it back. All of it.”

Then he ducked his head, put out his tongue, and licked the blood from Tarek’s chest, his warm, slimy mouth probing at the wound he’d just made. Tarek gasped and shuddered, bucking as hard as he could to dislodge the man.

Kanga held him down easily and leaned back of his own accord, spitting to the side. “Pfaugh. You taste like a dead rat bloated with swamp water. The way you tried to suck every last drop out of me, I thought blood must taste like honey mead.” He flashed a smile, his pearly teeth edged with red. “I guess only mine does.”

Hoping he didn’t look suspicious, Tarek twisted away from Kanga, angling his torso so that the blood dribbled across his shoulder and into the dirt. How can I get my hands that high?

Kanga didn’t notice. “How come I always knew where you were, grub? Did you infect me, make me like you? All I had to do was walk in a straight line and I knew I’d find you. Never thought you’d go so far. I hate these hills. Too cold.” His eyes focused back onto his prey. “It’s worth every last bit to see you like this, though, little grub. It’s almost like I missed you.” His eyes glinted and he thumbed the edge of his blade. “Let me show you how much.”

Kanga leaned in and Tarek held his breath, hoping somehow it would help him prepare for the pain, but then Pahtl was there, leaping from the darkness into Kanga’s face. He was nearly man-length from snout to tail-tip, and he bowled Kanga over effortlessly, spitting and hissing. Kanga gave a hoarse yell as he grappled with the otter.

“Kill you!” Pahtl cried. “Bite your face!”

“What is this?” Kanga cried, panicked.

Tarek took advantage of the respite to scoot himself up in the dirt so his hands were near where he’d dripped blood into the dirt. Bite him and never let go, Pahtl. He hadn’t even sensed the otter’s approach; he’d been too blinded by fear and pain.

His fingers scrabbled blindly in the dirt behind his back, but he couldn’t seem to find the wet spot. Will it even work on the ring if it’s mixed with dirt? Ones Beneath help me! Xochil, how does this work?

Pahtl swarmed all over the fallen hunter, growling, biting, and cursing eloquently. Kanga was bleeding from a dozen scratches already and grunted wildly as he tried to fend off this terrifying talking animal. A wild swing of his fist connected solidly with the side of Pahtl’s blunt head, and Tarek felt the blow through their connection just as he felt Kanga’s scrapes and overwhelming fear. The otter yelped in pain and fell to the earth, stunned.

Tarek spread his hands wide behind himself and moved them side to side, searching for the wetness of his own blood. He bent his body back and forth, trying to cover as much ground as he could. Kanga scrambled to his feet and kicked Pahtl hard in the ribs. The otter cried out and skittered away, unable to overcome his instincts to flee from a predator. Kanga picked up his fallen knife and turned to Tarek with a snarl.

Then Tavi barreled into the backs of his knees and the tall hunter went down again. Tavi was yelling incoherently, and he had Tarek’s old knife in his hand, slashing wildly at whatever he could reach. Kanga’s furred leathers turned most of the blows aside, but Tavi reversed his grip and stabbed at Kanga’s leg, and the big man yelled as Tarek felt a phantom twinge of pain in his calf. Tavi crowed in triumph and struck again.

Kanga kicked at the gangly boy clinging to him but couldn’t get the leverage to push him away. Reaching down, he grabbed ahold of Tavi’s hair and yanked his head back, making the boy screech in pain even as he continued to flail with his knife.

But Kanga had a knife too, and Tavi’s neck was exposed. Tarek screamed a warning, but his gag turned it into nothing but noise. The dirt beneath him had drunk up the blood that would free him from his bonds, and all he could do was watch. His eyes were riveted on the stone blade as it reached down, down toward his screaming brother.

Tarek heard a sound like a ripe gourd falling from a tree, and the knife tumbled into the dirt. Looking up, Tarek saw a mass of flaming hair and the pale body connected to it. The sin-eater woman held his unstrung bowstaff like an oversized club and was bashing Kanga in the face with it. Her face was red with rage.

“Don’t! Touch! Them!” she shrieked, punctuating each word with a punishing blow. “They! Give! Me! Food!”

Kanga lay motionless. If she kept beating him with Tarek’s rockwood bow, he’d be dead in two fistfuls of heartbeats. Tarek couldn’t bring himself to feel anything but relief.

Tavi, though, hoisted himself out from under the insensate hunter and looked with horror at the bloody mess of Kanga’s face. “Stop, stop!” he shouted at her, throwing himself at her, pushing her away to end the beating. “You’ll kill him!”

The pale woman shot him a glare, the bloodied bowstaff still in her hands. “I know that.”

Her frank words caught Tavi off-guard, and he sputtered, looking from her to Kanga and back. Tarek saw his brother’s breathing calm as he began to consider the decision logically. They’d all be better off if Kanga were dead, and now that Tavi wasn’t distracted by the horror of a man being beaten to death in front of him, he was starting to realize it.

“Only my brother gets to kill this man,” Tavi said.

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