Swarm and Steel, page 18
No one moved.
“Right then.” Jateko eyed the knife lying in the sand between his feet. “What should I do?”
Die with a blade in your hands at the very least.
“Right,” he said, stooping to pick up the weapon.
The squat warrior drew his own weapon and circled to his right. Jateko, who’d never been in an actual fight, stood motionless, watching.
Weapon is in his right hand and he circles to the right. Move to your right, turn your body to present a smaller target.
Jateko did as instructed. Abiega Guerrero looked bored, frighteningly calm, as he followed.
“You don’t have to kill him,” said Zerfall from where she was bound at the side of the karpan. “Let him go. He’s harmless.”
Switch the knife to your left hand.
“But I’m right handed.”
You’re useless with either hand. Do it.
Jateko moved the knife to his left hand and Abiega’s eyes narrowed.
You’re confusing him.
“I’m confusing me,” Jateko admitted.
Shut up!
“Well then stop talking to me. I’m supposed to be fighting this damned midget.” This little man was going to gut him and all he could think about was blood.
Not water?
Abiega darted forward and Jateko stumbled away in a clumsy retreat, only narrowly avoiding falling on his ass.
“Ha! Missed!” Fire lit across Jateko’s belly in a searing line. It stung like a thousand angry wasps. “Ow!” He touched his stomach and the fingers came away streaked in blood.
“So thirsty.”
Stop looking at your hand.
Jateko focussed past his hand in time to see Abiega drop and spin. Legs swept from under him, Jateko crashed to the sand in an ungainly heap, accidentally cutting himself with his own knife.
Get up.
Abiega retreated several paces, examining Jateko with the slightest frown, and stood waiting. Thin rivulets of blood dripped from the tip of his knife.
Get up!
“I heard you the first time,” muttered Jateko as he pushed himself back to his feet with a grunt of pain. His ribs, already abused, sent sharp stabs of pain into his chest with each breath.
Seeing him back on his feet, Abiega once again approached, moving like a desert snake sliding across hot sand.
“I hate snakes,” muttered Jateko, remembering how often he’d been bitten while collecting them for mother’s gritty soup.
“Jateko.” Zerfall rolled and now lay facing him. She looked terrible; much of the skin along one side had been abraded away leaving little more than rotting muscle and desiccated meat. “If you drop the knife and run away, they might not chase you.”
Her voice sounded wrong. Sad beyond all comprehension. Devoid of life and hope. His heart broke. She needs me.
Jateko glanced at Abiega and the little man stared back, expressionless.
It’s a better plan than dying here.
“No it’s not,” said Jateko, standing tall. “I am Jateko,” he repeated, more to calm himself than anything else. “And I will eat your brain.”
Abiega’s mask slipped a little at that, though Jateko wasn’t sure if it was fear or disgust.
“I see your fear,” Jateko said, baring his teeth.
No, that was definitely disgust.
“Shush.” Jateko crouched, holding the knife out in front of him, hoping it might keep the little warrior at bay.
Don’t hold the knife out—
Jateko’s knife spun from numb fingers to land half a dozen paces away. “Hey—” And again his feet were swept out from under him. The back of his head slammed into the sand, shooting bright sparks and slashes of white fire across his vision. When his eyes cleared, Abiega waited several paces away, arms crossed.
“Beg,” said Abiega, “and I’ll end this quickly. Stand, and I’ll flay you alive.”
Jateko crawled toward his knife and called “I haven’t stood yet,” over his shoulder.
The little warrior sighed, but waited.
I don’t know if that was clever, or the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen.
“It was clever,” answered Jateko, clutching his knife and rising to his feet.
Abiega pursed his lips in annoyance and for a moment Jateko thought he would speak.
Keep your knife moving.
Moving the knife around in what he hoped looked like a threatening manner, Jateko again approached the Etsaiaren warrior.
Be ready—
“I am ready.”
Abiega stepped in, kicked Jateko on the outside of the knee, crumpling the leg, and slashed him twice more across the belly as he collapsed to the sand. Blood ran and Jateko’s oihal hung in shredded tatters. This time it took Jateko several attempts to regain his feet and when he did, he stood swaying. He touched fingers to the blood and then licked them clean. That wasn’t right. It wasn’t his own blood he wanted.
“So thirsty.”
More than anything he wanted to lie down in the sand and close his eyes. “I’m tired of this.” He tried to swallow and his throat clicked painfully. “He keeps giving me weird looks.”
You’re talking to yourself.
“I’m talking to you.”
Abiega’s eyes widened a little at this outburst.
He’s playing with you.
“It’s a crappy game.” Jateko watched the liquid dance of the Etsaiaren warrior’s knife, the way the sun glinted of its pristine blade. The slow drip, drip of blood.
Stop focussing on his knife.
“It’s beautiful.”
Abiega advanced, balance perfect. The little bastard was grinning now, but there was something about the grin.
“I’m going to peel you,” Abiega said.
Jateko retreated, keeping his free hand pressed to his belly. It felt like his guts might tumble free. “Is it just me, or does he look a little nervous?”
He pities you.
“I think he’s scared.”
Watch his chest and shoulders.
“Why would I—”
Abiega’s shoulders moved and Jateko screamed in terror. Eyes clenched shut, he lashed out with Zerfall’s knife. He felt the knife torn from his fingers and something hot splashed across his face.
Open your eyes, idiot!
Abiega knelt before Jateko, struggling to staunch the gush of blood pouring from his gaping throat.
No one in the camp moved, all eyes fixed on Abiega until the short warrior toppled forward to lie at Jateko’s feet. Glancing down Jateko saw his already filthy robes were spattered with fresh blood. Some had landed on his lips and he licked what he could reach with his tongue. “More,” he whispered.
You’d better say something fast or you’re going to have to fight the rest of them.
Jateko tore his gaze away from Abiega and the blood soaking into the sand around him. He was so thirsty and that blood looked deliciously wet. Click.
Zerfall and four remaining Etsaiaren warriors watched him. The hands of the Etsaiaren hovered near weapons.
“I am Jateko.”
You’ve already said that. Twice.
“I know.” The Etsaiaren blinked in confusion but none moved to attack. He ran a hand through his hair and it came away red with blood. He licked clean his fingers, ignoring the sharp grit of sand. “I’m so thirsty,” he said, by way of explanation. “I’m dying.” Jateko swallowed. Click. He looked at the corpse leaking blood onto his feet. “I want that blood so bad. I want—” Click. Suddenly terrified they’d steal the corpse, claim it for their own, he returned his attention to the Etsaiaren. “Abiega is mine,” he snarled through clenched teeth. “I killed him. He’s mine. All mine. Heart. Liver. Kidneys. I claim him.”
Don’t forget the brain.
“Yes. I’ll eat the brain first.”
One of the Etsaiaren took a step back, eyes wide.
“I’m so thirsty,” Jateko said again. Blood and organs filled his thoughts, left room for nothing else. “So hungry.”
“He is,” said Zerfall, “the All Consuming.”
Now would be a good time to do something insane like—
Jateko couldn’t take it anymore. If he didn’t drink he’d lose his mind. Dropping to his knees he buried his face in Abiega’s open neck. He sucked greedily, drinking in all he could.
That should do it, you can stop now.
Jateko ignored the voice in his head. Nothing mattered but blood and slaking the thirst threatening to shred apart his sanity.
“YOU TOOK MY FRIEND.” Jateko’s voice snapped Zerfall from the bleak eternity of misery.
Oh Jateko, what have you done? She willed this to be nothing more than some delusion or bad dream. He couldn’t possibly be crazy enough to have followed the Etsaiaren warriors.
She heard Abiega’s unmistakable voice, calm, with a hint of humour. “There it is.”
Leave me here. It doesn’t matter. I’m broken. In so many ways. This is rotten. Zerfall’s flesh. The mad religion she birthed. All reality.
She turned her head so she could see the Basamortuan youth. He looked terrified but defiant. He’ll die now.
“I want her back,” said Jateko.
The words, said with utter certainty, ripped through Zerfall, shattered her dark thoughts. He wanted her. He’d followed a half dozen Etsaiaren warriors and confronted them. His need fed her need, ignited that spark she thought long dead, slain by Aas’ arrow. She’d given up because she had no reason not to. Everyone needs a reason.
Jateko would be hers. And vengeance. Hölle and Aas would die for what they did to her. She’d bring it all down, leave her mad church in utter ruin.
Zerfall watched, helpless, as Abiega repeatedly knocked Jateko to the sand. At first she prayed that he’d run away, that the little warrior would see he was no threat and let him go. Then, as hope died, she prayed he’d stay down, accept the quick death offered. Each time Jateko climbed to his feet he moved a little slower, left a little more blood soaking into the sand.
Bound and helpless, Zerfall watched Abiega slice apart her reason to live.
Stumbling, weak with blood-loss and dying from dehydration, Jateko once again stood before his opponent. The young man’s knees wobbled as he kept up a stream of meaningless banter. No hint of fear showed in his eyes.
“I think he’s scared,” Jateko blurted, grinning blood at Abiega
Abiega would kill him now, Zerfall saw it in his narrowed eyes, the way he adjusted his grip on the knife. Jateko, too busy arguing with himself, wasn’t even paying attention.
The short Etsaiaren warrior moved faster than any snake, knife licking out like a fork of lightening.
Eyes clenched shut, Jateko cut him down.
Straining against the ropes, Zerfall pushed herself into a sitting position. Jateko stood over Abiega, babbling and raving. She glanced to the remaining Etsaiaren and saw their indecision. Jateko, scrawny and on his last legs, hardly cut an imposing figure. And yet he had killed their greatest warrior. Gazte reached for his knife.
Zerfall wheezed, cursed the lack of air in her lungs, and drew breath. “He is the All Consuming.”
Jateko dropped to his knees, burying his face in Abiega’s open throat. Gazte and the remaining Etsaiaren warriors bolted.
Zerfall watched Jateko pull open the diminutive warrior’s throat with his bare hands and drink the blood pooling in the gaping wound. He worked with a fixed expression, one of rapt concentration. Whatever possessed him, she had this strange feeling she didn’t want it focussed on her. She waited in silence.
When he sat back, licking his lips, she called his name.
He stared at her, unblinking, for long enough she thought maybe he’d become catatonic.
“Jateko? It’s me, Zerfall.”
“Did they hurt you?” he asked.
Hurt? More like broke. “No. Well, yes, but it didn’t hurt.”
“Oh.” He finally blinked and started as if he’d just noticed the body at his knees.
“Can you cut me free?” she asked when he continued to stare at the corpse.
She watched as he made some internal decision, nodded, searched the sands until he spotted his knife, and crawled to retrieve it. Then he crawled to her side and sawed with feverish intensity at the ropes binding her. His breath came in shallow gasps, his sun-darkened face flushed an unhealthy and florid red underneath its liberal coating of fresh blood.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Too weak,” he said with forced calm. “Have to free you before I lose consciousness.” He stopped sawing and stared at the rope. For a moment she thought he’d forgotten what he was doing. “You’re my only friend,” he whispered. “If I pass out I’ll die. You’ll be stuck here forever.” He returned to sawing, teeth bared in a silent snarl.
When the ropes parted he collapsed with a sigh of gratitude and lay sprawled, eyes closed, in the sand. Though not all of the blood covering him was his own, a lot was.
“Zerfall?”
She pulled the rest of the ropes away, freeing her arms and legs. “Yes?”
“Can you get something for me?”
“The brain?”
“Yeah.” He laughed weakly.
Something about that laugh sounded unlike the Jateko she knew. It sounded older.
“Sure,” she said. Collecting Jateko’s knife, which she recognized as one of her own, she crawled to Abiega’s body, her right leg flopping uselessly below her shattered knee. She’d need a crutch of some kind or Jateko would have to drag her the rest of the way to Geld.
Opening a skull with one hand and a stump was no easier the second time. When she had it cracked, she looked at the corpse and then back to where Jateko lay. No way she’d drag it that far with only one hand and a shattered knee.
“Jateko.”
He lay still, his chest barely moving with each breath. He groaned. “I was dreaming.”
“I can’t drag this to you.”
“His brain is really heavy?”
“No, I—” She glanced down at the shattered skull. Why the hell am I trying to drag the entire body?
Prying a brain from its bone cage with a long knife and a single hand wasn’t all that easy either. By the time she finished night had fallen and the temperature plummeted. She crawled back to Jateko’s side, trying not to get too much sand on the mangled grey matter.
“I kind of made a mess getting it out,” she said as she reached him.
“Not nearly the mess I’m going to make eating it.” His head flopped to the side and he stared at her, brown eyes wide. “This is kind of embarrassing. I don’t have the strength to sit up.”
“This is a ploy to get me to finger-feed you.”
“Yeah.”
“If you choke because you’re eating lying down, I’ll leave you here.”
“Thanks, mom.”
For a moment Zerfall enjoyed the interplay, forgetting she was a walking corpse. She focussed on her desiccated hand, thin fingers, dried flesh stretched tight across bone. What the hell are you thinking? He isn’t flirting; he’s brain damaged from sun stroke.
She carved off a thin slice of brain and held it over Jateko’s mouth, dropping it when he opened wide. He swallowed without chewing.
Over the next hour she fed him the rest of Abiega’s brain He finished it all, belching happily at the end and laying with his hands resting on his belly.
“I thought it would taste worse,” he said. “I can’t explain how much I wanted that. His blood was good, but the more I had the more I needed.” He belched again.
“Feel better?”
“Yes. In the morning I’m going to eat as much of the heart and organs as I can keep down.”
Sitting at his side, Zerfall leaned in and brushed a few stray hairs from Jateko’s face. “I’ll try and keep the animals off—” She glanced at the corpse lying silent and rubbery, skull shattered, open and empty. He’d been a smart man, quick-witted and clever. I fed this naïve child that man’s brain. I must be crazy.
Jateko crawled to one of the Etsaiaren tents, clutching his ribs and making soft whimpering noises.
“I should stitch you up,” she said.
“You know how to do that?”
You don’t practice with a sword for several hundred years without getting cut. Zerfall nodded.
“It sounds painful.”
“Probably.”
“Wait until I lose consciousness.” He grinned at her, the gap between his front teeth turning his esses into a soft whistle. “It won’t take long.”
She examined the wounds. She didn’t think he’d bleed to death any time soon. “Fine,” she said, wheezing as she once again forgot to draw breath.
“You saved my life,” he said.
“You saved mine,” she answered. He peered at her over the heaped blankets, his eyes glinting with humour. “You know what I mean,” she added.
“Had to. You needed me.” He rolled back, closing his eyes.
Need. She hated that word. She hated needing and she hated that her need might be all that kept him here.
Jateko lifted a blood-spattered hand, an appeal for contact, and Zerfall stared at it, unable to look away, wishing she could close her eyes. Why am I hesitating? She couldn’t shake the image of her rotting flesh crumbling beneath his fingers. “Stitching you up with one hand will be hard enough. Anyway, I should keep watch outside of the tent.”
The hand dropped back to his side. “I understand.”
Did he sound disappointed? “I have to make sure animals don’t carry Abiega off,” she added.
He nodded without speaking, eyes closed.
“After all,” she said, “we want you to grow up to be a big, strong boy, don’t we?”
A slight smile graced his lips. “Thanks, mom.”
She watched Jateko breathe, his chest rising and falling, until she was sure he was asleep. He looked so young.
She reached out a hand but stopped shy of touching his brow. You’re going to use him. Probably get him killed in the process.
“So leave him,” she whispered.
She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to go on alone.
After searching the tent and finding a bent needle and gut thread, Zerfall returned to Jateko’s side. She worked fast, stitching his wounds. He made no complaint, apparently unaware of her ministrations. When she finished, she took a moment to examine her work. The stitching was neat and tight.
