Hand of Fire (The Master of the Tane) (59 page)

             
He tried to swallow in an attempt to wet his throat enough to speak but all the moisture seemed to have been forced from his body. “W...w...at...er.”

“Didja hear that, Brak?” Zel asked his half crazed companion. “I think the boy wants some water.”

              “Ya,” Brak snickered. “Let me cut ‘im Zel. It won’t be a big un, I promise ya. Just a little cut Zel.”

             
“Now jis hold on there, Brak,” Zel said with a laugh. “We’ll have our fun with ‘im. But we gotta make sure ‘e don’t get up an’ die on us now or we won’t have nothin’ to sell at the market. Gimme your water skin.”

             
Brak frowned but obeyed, passing his water to Zel.

Grabbing the skin, Zel turned back to Teek. “So, is this what yous wants? Ain’t that what you said? W...w...at...er,” he repeated, mocking him.

              Teek nodded, feeling desperate as he watched him unstop the pouch.

             
“Well then, here boy,” he said and then forced the opening into Teek’s mouth and squeezed on it.

The water gushed down his throat and he swallowed all that he could but it quickly became too much for him to handle. He burst into a coughing fit and rolled on his side trying to get away from the bag that Zel continued to force on him. He could hear their loud laughter as his body convulsed to rid itself of the life threatening liquid that had suddenly rushed into his lungs. Soon his stomach followed suit having taken in too much too fast and he vomited it all back out.

              “Come on little fish,” Zel said in between his peels of laughter. “I thought you was a swamp boy. Don’t ya want some more water?”

             
“Ya, come on little fish,” Brak screamed. “Fill up them gills o’ yers so I can cut ya.”

             
Teek started to cry.

             
“Looky there,” Zel said in a softer voice. “I believe he’s filled up. Look at that water runnin’ out of his eyes.”

             
“Oh, good,” Brak squealed with excitement. “Can I cut ‘im now, Zel? Huh? Please, can I cut ‘im? Just a little one, I promise.”

             
Zel paused for a moment as if contemplating the request but finally shook his head. “Nah, better not. Don’t want nothin’ to lower the price we gets for ‘im.”

             
Brak broke into a fit of whining pleas but was still left disappointed. He turned to Teek with an enraged snarl and brandished his dagger. “Now, yous jis try to escape boy, so I can cut ya with my blade. Do it boy. Come on, do it.” Then he wailed in a keen of laughter and body gyrations growing more worked up with each passing moment.

Teek didn’t move or say a word.

Zel finally had to send Brak off to hunt squirrels to calm him down or he may have cut into Teek anyway. After he left, Zel sat down near Teek and took a long drink of water from his own bag. Offering some to Teek, he said, “You know, you’s lucky I didn’t let Brak get at ya, boy. The last time I let ‘im cut someone,
jis a little bit
, he done cut up his whole stomach leavin’ his guts spilt out all over the ground.” Zel watched him for a reaction before continuing on softly as if it had happened only yesterday. “That sure was a sight, boy, watchin’ that wretch of a man wigglin’ in his own innards and blood as if tryin’ to will himself to stay alive. He done did that for, must o’ been at least an hour ‘for he finally spit up a bunch o’ blood an’ died.” He laughed. “Brak was sure in a whirl over that. Ever since, he been askin’ to do it again. Gets some kind o’ thrill from it.”

             
Teek watched the man in horror never imagining in his worst nightmares that people of this sort even existed. He thought of the beautiful bird they had captured and wondered what they might have done with it had he not freed it.

             
Zel looked down into his frightened eyes and smiled with satisfaction. “Now, you don’t have to be worryin’ none about that happenin’ to you,” he said with mock concern. “Don’t ya remembers what I told ya’? We’s all friendly like here.” Zel rubbed a greasy hand through Teek’s hair and smiled evilly. “We’ll take good care o’ you boy.”

             
They rested for a short while longer before Brak finally returned with a kill and Teek was once again forced to his feet and marched forward. He didn’t think about much after that, using all of his concentration on placing one foot in front of the other. By the time night was upon them, the trees abruptly came to an end replaced by an ocean of grass that stretched out as far as the eye could see. A slight breeze floated in with the coming night making the grass ripple in the most hypnotic way. The wind brought with it the distinct smell of salt leading Teek to believe they were not too far from the ocean.

             
That night he was given a larger share of the food, thanks to Brak’s skill at catching squirrels and, he supposed, so he would be in good health when they finally reached Gildor. He thought about not eating at all so no one would possibly want to buy him, but after Zel’s story that afternoon and the probable outcome of not being sold, he gave into his better sense and hunger and ate all they placed in front of him. After their day together, he decided that anything, even slavery, had to be better than spending anymore time than absolutely necessary with Zel and Brak. Maybe someone would buy him who, after learning what had happened, would let him go. He fantasized on that thought for the rest of the evening grasping at it hopefully until exhaustion completely overtook him and cast him into a deep sleep.

             
The following morning Brak's boot introduced him to the early morning when it collided painfully with his ribs. “Git up, little worm,” he jeered flashing his dagger. “Time to fatten you up s’more before the slaughter,”

             
Teek sat up wearily, grieving at being torn from sleep’s dark escape and despairing at the thought of another day. He was quickly slipping down into the dark corridors of hopelessness, the spark of life long since doused from his dulled eyes. In such a short time, he had lost the vigor of youth no longer filled with the unquenchable spirit of the boy that once dreamed of the outside world while sitting at old Twee’s feet. He no longer cared much whether he lived or died, preferring a quick death to the world that had, thus far, beaten him down.

             
Brak kicked him again, just for good measure, before replacing the rope around his neck and dragging him closer to the fire. A bowl of mash was placed in his hands with an order from Zel to eat it all.

“We’ll be reachin’ Gildor today and we wouldn’t want ya’ sold off now without a full belly. What would people think?”

              Teek ate his food without tasting it, not much caring anymore what happened to him. His hopes from the night before of being released after the truth was known were evaporating away like dew on grass when the sun climbs into the morning sky. A dense fog and an eerie silence had fallen over the area as if nature held its breath for what would happen next. He looked around, suddenly feeling the strangeness of it in the air, but was unable to see much of anything through the thick haze. He looked at his captors who chewed ferociously on their food, oblivious to anything else and decided it must be the gloom of his situation combined with the weather that made him feel so strange.

             
Breakfast was finished quickly and, without ceremony, Brak grabbed his leash, dragging him forward toward his ultimate fate. The walk did wonders for his tired muscles, loosening them up as they warmed from the vigorous movement. The dense fog made their direction a mystery but the gloom matched the grayness of his battered heart. He didn’t think about or wonder on the day’s ultimate end but just walked, trying to lose himself in the steady rhythm of falling feet. Time passed without notice slipping him deeper and deeper into his sorrow and dejection.

             
An abrupt jerk on the rope returned awareness of external stimuli and then another came, with greater strength, that wrenched him back to the world and its sinister realities. Suddenly he was forced onto his stomach, Brak having a firm grasp on his neck and pushing his face into the wet grass. Zel’s voice unexpectedly shot into his head telling him that if he wanted to live he had better stay down and keep quiet. He contemplated, for a brief moment, if he should not take this opportunity for a quick death but was interrupted by Brak’s screeching voice and the feel of a sharp blade at his throat.

“Go ahead and yell boy so I’s can cut ya’,” he hissed. “Go ahead. I wants to see ya’ squirmin’ on the ground wit yer guts alls a hangin’ out.”

              Teek’s nose recoiled at the smell of his breath as the horrible story Zel had told the day before brought back the gory images that had infested his mind at the time. He tried to concentrate on the area around them in an attempt to replace those images with an idea of what had made them stop, but he quickly realized that the place was completely void of any sound.

His heart beat faster as a line of thoughts raced through his mind attempting to put sense to what was happening. Had someone found them? Would he be rescued? He glanced at Brak who was drooling on himself. Maybe it was one of their friends.
Or maybe…just then, as if from nowhere, a sudden rush of wind passed overhead, followed immediately by a dark shadow that quickly disappeared.

             
“What was that?” Brak shrieked letting go of Teek and sitting up in the still, dense fog. Zel was at his side in and instant.

             
“What are you doin’,” he hissed grappling his friend to the ground. “Git down!”

             
Brak hit the dirt with a thump and lost his breath as Zel landed on top of him. He looked into Zel’s eyes and tried to inhale when his friend was suddenly torn away from him and hauled into the air disappearing above the fog layer. Brak lay unmoving trying to understand where Zel had gone when a small cry far above broke through the eerie silence. The cry grew in volume and terror until Zel’s body suddenly hit the ground, with bone crushing force, right next to Brak.

Brak’s unsightly face became a picture of terror as he rolled onto his side and stared at his friend’s broken and lifeless body. His head was twisted backwards and lay on its side staring blindly at him, his good eye having been ripped from its socket. Brak became hysterical. Teek curled up into a tiny ball and tried to disappear from sight but a rough hand grabbed his neck and pulled him to his feet. Brak brought his face within inches of Teek’s, his eyes rolling around in a horrifying look of shear madness.

              “You did this to Zel, you little worm,” he cried sending strings of spittle spurting through the air. “Now I’m gonna cut ya good boy. Now you’re gonna die in a mess o’ your own gore. But first,” his hissed, as he brought up the knife, “I’m gonna take out them eyes o’ yers so Zel can have two ta see bys agin.”

             
Teek stood motionless, too frozen by his fear of what was occurring around them to even flinch as Brak raised the dagger in preparation to strike. Like a bird caught in the serpent’s gaze, he couldn’t seem to make his body move to even attempt to defend himself. But it wasn’t fear of what Brak might do to him, but instead terror at what had killed Zel. It had been as if a vapor of death had descended and snatched his life away without the slightest effort and he feared that he might be next.

Brak’s arm reached its pinnacle and then began to drop but was suddenly pulled back with such amazing force that it ripped completely out of its socket and was torn clean from his body. For a brief moment, Brak stared in wonder as if unsure why the dagger had not struck Teek in the face until his arm suddenly slapped the ground next to him. Teek felt his stomach revolt in disgust, bending him over with a heave, just as Brak’s voice shook the air with a scream of concentrated terror and panic.

              Teek drew in deep breaths of air, trying desperately to calm himself enough to figure out a way to get out of this alive
and
with all of his limbs. He was dropped to his knees from the power of his heaving as well as to take advantage of any cover the low hanging fog might afford him. Brak, on the other hand, suddenly ran off, screaming wildly as he did so, making Teek hopeful that whatever it was that was out there would follow after the madman instead of coming for him next.

He worked hopelessly on the ropes around his wrists trying to get them loose using his teeth but to no avail. He looked around, desperate for anything sharp enough to cut them with when his eyes fell on the mangled arm lying not three feet away. To his utter amazement, the dagger his mother had given him was still clutched in Brak’s dirty hand. He crawled over to it and began to work desperately to retract it from the severed arm. The fingers opened slowly as if, even in death, Brak jealously clung to it. Taking back his most prized possession, Teek looked admiringly at it for a moment, overcome with relief that it was his once again when a distant scream brought his attention back to the immediate threat.

              Quickly cutting the rope from his wrists and neck, he held the dagger out in front of him moving around in the sudden silence while straining his ears and eyes to discover from where the threat would come. Sweat gathered on his forehead as he stared out into the hazy mist while trying to slow his breathing and muffle its boisterous sound. A dark shadow rushed past overhead chasing him to the ground and onto the moist, slick grass. With as much speed as he could gather, he crawled forward, praying that the fog was thick enough to cover his slight frame from the vapor demon’s view.