Scarred Man (13 page)

When she finished, weariness stole over her. The exhaustion that had built up over the previous long days and nights, from the running, the hunger and the anger, finally took her. She fell on the bed and slept.

 

Some time later, when the night was black, Tatya's eyes snapped open, abruptly wide awake. The door was being unlocked. The handle turned and the door eased open. There was no stealth, just slowness. She rolled out of bed and slipped into her major form. When the door was fully open and a man stood, silhouetted against the flickering light, she allowed herself to give the low growl that so disturbed prey. As expected, the scent of fear washed over her.

‘You are beautiful,' the man murmured. ‘He said you would be.'

The words were as unexpected as was his control. Despite his fear, he stayed motionless as she approached him, her mane erect and threatening. With a sense of playfulness, Tatya reared up on her hind legs and placed her paws on his shoulders, displaying her teeth. The man almost faltered, but kept control.

‘I am no threat to you,' he said. ‘I only wish to talk with you, to learn of your kind.'

‘Why?' Tatya asked.

‘Your kind is precious and rare with much that is at risk of being lost.'

It was at this point that Tatya realised the man was speaking to her in the manner of her major form, not as a human. She lowered herself to the ground.

‘How are you speaking as a spurre speaks?' she growled.

‘Magic.'

Tatya shuddered and resumed her human form. ‘I hate magic,' she said.

‘But you are a magical creature, steeped in the ancient magic of the world. Your very existence is a throwback to the age of myth and legend.'

‘No. I am what I am. I eat, I hunt, I live. Magic does not define me.'

‘But it forms you.'

‘I choose my form.' In irritation, Tatya switched as quickly as she could through all of her three forms over and over. She flicked from major to minor to human in rapid succession until her head began to swim with the conflicting information. ‘You see,' she said, finally resuming her major form. ‘I control my form, not magic.'

The human nodded and his fear faded. ‘May I come in?' he asked.

Tatya flicked into human form again and stepped away from the door. The chill night air made her shiver, urging her to shift again into her major form, but she decided to keep human form for now. Wrapping a blanket around her, she sat on the bed and regarded the human. He sat on the chair by the bath and watched her closely.

‘I would like to ask you some questions,' he said.

She narrowed her red eyes before giving a short nod.

‘Where have you just come from?'

‘North. The Place of the Acolytes.'

‘Why there?'

‘Doesn't matter. It doesn't exist any more.'

‘What happened?'

‘Burned. Broken. Everyone dead.'

‘What happened?'

‘An army attacked. Killed them all.'

‘What army?'

Tatya was not interested in talking about the Place. They were all dead, and it was there that the link had finally finished forming and she was becoming impatient to be on her way. Maida needed her and she was no longer here in this cold, stinking city. She stood abruptly, allowing the blanket to fall to the ground at her feet. The human stood at her movement.

‘I need to go,' Tatya said.

‘Why?'

She felt no need to answer, or even respond, as she began to dress in the warm clothes from the wardrobe. The man made sounds of protest, words of complaint, but she ignored them. Once dressed, she took up the remains of the meal and started to push her way past the man.

‘Where are you going?' he demanded.

‘South.'

‘But if you wait, I can offer you food and shelter. I can —'

She never found out what else he could offer as
his words were cut off by a scream that pierced the night. The sound was powerful and penetrating, not made by a human throat. Tatya dropped to her knees and clamped her hands over her ears. The human gasped in pain and cried out.

A thrill of terror washed over Tatya. This scream struck her deeply, stirring something below her consciousness, stirring a fear she had never known before, never thought she could possibly feel. The brutal sound went on, tearing through her mind, reducing her to quivering and moaning softly in helpless terror.

‘What is that?' the human said through gritted teeth.

Tatya could not reply. The pain of the scream would not let her think. Her hands, held tight over her ears, did not reduce the sound, or diminish the pain. The scream was more than sound: it was a psychic assault, beyond the physical. Something was suffering much more than just a physical attack.

Suddenly, shockingly, the sound stopped. Tatya felt the pain, the terror, ebb like the tide flowing away out of her mind, leaving her calm and feeling safe. The sense of a presence, an awareness, filled her mind.

Why are you here amid these humans, creature of magic? There is no place for you in their world.
A voice spoke softly in the still confines within her mind.
You should leave now, before I feed.

The voice, low and reasonable, only heightened the sense of horror that already filled Tatya's whole being. She shifted into her minor form without
realising and scurried under the door, leaving the human curled on the floor, whimpering in pain. Tatya fled, deaf to the cries of pain, blind to the cowering people around her. She ran out of the building, into the dark street. Outside the intimidating presence was stronger. She chanced a quick look up into the sky. Overhead, the stars were gone, blotted out by something huge and black that overshadowed the city. Three whirling spots of light were visible deep within the blackness.

Tatya turned away from the disturbing sky and sought the dark shadows at the edges of the street where she could slip by, unnoticed, safe.

All around her, the city cowered in fear. Every door was closed, every window shuttered. Light seeped out through the cracks as families awakened by the shocking attack sat huddled together, awaiting the dawn. Tatya took advantage of the unusually empty streets to run as fast as she could, desperate to escape this hateful place.

At the gate, the guards lay sprawled in death, their faces frozen in expressions of horror, their bodies twisted as if in agony. The gate itself was intact. Nothing physical had passed through, making the killing of the guards an act of simple malice. Tatya dashed past the bodies, climbed up the wooden gates and down the other side, out onto the endless plains. As soon as she felt the earth beneath her paws, she shifted into her major form. With a low growl of relief, she bounded south, away from Leserlang, heading towards Maida.

The chains on her ankles chafed. Already the skin was worn off and blood was trickling incessantly into her boots. The pain was a constant companion as were the heat, the stink of unwashed Agents, and the combined buzzing of Huitzilin's spell and hundreds of swarming, biting insects. To say she was irritable was a masterly understatement. She sat facing backwards in the wagon, watching the road they had just travelled. Three Agents rode behind, watching her, talking about her, sniggering at her.

But she knew something they didn't.

When she was recaptured they had taken the sword from her, but missed the dagger hidden inside her boot. Each night — at least, those nights when she was not incapacitated with sweat-soaked terror — she had picked at the chains. Last night, she had finally picked her way loose. At the first sign of laxity from her captors, she was gone. While the dagger's fine edge was now ruined, it could do some damage if she slashed hard enough. She only needed to bring down one Agent and she would have a sword.

And then they could come at her as much as they wanted. No one would stop her, then.

‘Hey, Red,' one of the Agents watching her called. ‘You comfortable in your pretty ankle bracelets?'

Maida snarled and spat at him.

‘Tough little slag, isn't she?' he said.

‘You have no idea,' Maida muttered.

 

The night fell, finding them just outside Usterust in another of the lightly wooded forests that had become so much more prevalent. They set camp, ignoring Maida again, which suited her perfectly. When their attention was fully on other things, she removed the chains and slipped over the side of the wagon. Beneath her feet, the ground was dry and covered in leaf litter, making her passage a little louder than she would have liked, but as she moved quickly, the noise was done before anyone noticed and she was under the trees, in the dark beyond the light from the campfire.

Knowing Huitzilin had a spell on her, she had to cover as much distance as possible as fast as possible. Hoping the spell had a limited range, she ran.

She ran with careless disregard for the exposed tree roots, the branches that grabbed and tore at her, or the treacherously undulating ground. She lost count of the number of times she tripped and fell.

She ran until the arrow caught her high in the back, just below the shoulder blade, sending her spinning to the ground. She bit off a scream of agony and tried to rise and run more, but the pain
was excruciating. She dragged herself along the ground with her undamaged arm.

‘You are more trouble than you are worth, Red,' Opochtli said. He crouched beside her and grabbed her wrist, arresting her movement. ‘I hope you are the one the Queen is seeking, because if you are not …'

‘If she is not?' Huitzilin interrupted.

Opochtli rose quickly to face his superior officer. ‘Nothing, Achulti,' he said. ‘I was just …'

‘Just what? Threatening a wounded woman? One you have just shot in the back?'

Opochtli could not hold Huitzilin's gaze and looked away.

‘If she is not the one the Queen is seeking, we will allow her to leave unhindered, with a gift to speed her on her way. And you know this.'

‘Yes, Achulti.'

‘Now get her back to camp and tend her wound. And then I will consider your punishment.'

‘Yes, Achulti.'

Opochtli and three other Agents carried Maida back to the camp where they laid her beside the fire. She tried to struggle, but she was weakened by the wound. Atl cut her dress away from her shoulder to reveal the injury.

‘You idiot,' he muttered.

‘I will escape,' Maida said.

‘Not like this you won't.' He shook his head and looked up at the gathered Agents. ‘Get me some boiling water and a cloth, and the rest of you, hold her down. This is going to hurt.'

‘Good,' muttered a nasal voice.

‘Revenge on a woman is petty, Tochtli,' Huitzilin chided.

Tochtli muttered, but did not argue as he leant forward to hold Maida down.

Atl grasped the arrow shaft close to Maida's flesh and snapped it quickly with his other hand. Even holding it steady, the arrowhead still jerked inside Maida's shoulder. She screamed once as the point scraped against bone.

‘Right, roll her over,' Atl said. ‘But gentle. That point's deep. The Queen would like her to have both arms, I think.' He broke the detached shaft in half and offered one part to Maida. ‘Here, bite on this; it will help.'

Maida, who had removed more than one arrow from Keshik and knew what was coming, took the wooden shaft in her mouth and bit down hard. Her teeth sank in when the Agents rolled her over onto her back.

Atl cut the front of her dress away and pressed gently into her skin, seeking the arrow point. Maida gasped and bit down on the arrow's shaft when he found the tip, just below the surface.

‘You are luckier than you deserve, Red,' Atl said quietly. ‘It's between the ribs, and somehow it went in heading up. You will keep your breast. I imagine that will be nice for you, but you will have a couple of new scars.' He looked up. ‘Where's that water?'

Hot cloths were pressed against Maida's chest. She cried aloud at the shock of the heat, and someone pushed the arrow shaft back between her teeth.

‘Hold her tight,' Atl said again. He raised his knife, its edge glinting in the flickering firelight. Maida
watched as it came down, cutting easily through the soft flesh of her chest, just above her right breast. Her scream was choked around the arrow shaft that splintered with the pressure of her teeth. The pain grew to white-hot agony as Atl pushed his fingers into the new wound, found the arrowhead and wrenched it out. He held it up to show her, both it and his fingers dripping with her blood.

‘Easy, Red. All done now,' he said. ‘Rest now.' He stroked her forehead, pushing back sweat-soaked hair. He removed his hand to wipe the blood away from the wound on her chest. When it was clean he laid a fresh cloth over it before pulling her dress back across to cover her. ‘You really are tough, aren't you?'

Maida squinted past the waves of searing pain into his dark, calm eyes.

‘You have no idea,' she grated.

‘I'm getting that.' He rocked back on his heels and went to toss the arrowhead into the fire, but she shot out her hand and grabbed his arm.

‘Give me that.'

‘Sssa! Here, Red.'

Maida took the bloodied arrowhead and cradled it against her chest. She spat out some splinters of wood left from the arrow shaft she had bitten and unconsciousness rose to greet her with its welcome release from pain.

‘My name is Maida,' she whispered as the dark overtook her.

 

When she came to, she was chained again in the wagon as it rocked its way along a road. She felt
surprisingly well rested, until she tried to sit up. The shock of pain from her shoulder made her dizzy and nauseous, forcing a groan from her lips.

‘She's awake,' the wagon driver called.

Maida heard a horse come close to the wagon, and a shadow passed over her. She opened her eyes and looked up at Huitzilin.

‘What do you want?' she said.

‘Just making sure you are still alive.'

‘I am, go away.'

‘We are nearly at Usterust,' Huitzilin told her. ‘You will be sleeping in a bed in a couple of days.'

‘What's a bed?'

Huitzilin laughed. ‘I don't believe even you are that hard, Maida. Rest well.' He went to ride away, but stopped. ‘Oh, by the way, Opochtli sends his apologies for shooting you.'

‘Really?'

‘He said so; after the tenth lash, I think it was. I thought you would appreciate it.'

‘Not really, taking revenge on a woman is petty. Didn't you know?'

Huitzilin laughed again. ‘I will tell him you said so.'

‘Achulti Huitzilin,' Maida said. ‘Give Atl my thanks.' She looked down at her bandaged shoulder. ‘He did a good job.'

‘I will.'

 

By the time the smell of seawater reached her, Maida was well enough to sit up. Her shoulder was still heavily bandaged and very sore, but she was no longer incapacitated by the pain. She sat on the
raised plank that ran the length of the left side of the wagon and rested her feet on the plank opposite. The wagon driver — whose name, he'd finally told her, was Nagual — was even more taciturn than she had realised earlier. He communicated with grunts, using words only when forced to.

The walls of Usterust rose ahead. They were dirty, stained by salt, uneven, and looked like a good wind might topple them. The stench was beyond that of a normal harbour city and carried the unmistakeable taste of slavery. Usterust was a slave market city. Maida cursed. She hated slaver cities.

Huitzilin rode at the head of the xuauhtli as if he were leading a conquering army, rather than the depleted remnants of a group sent out to capture a single woman. She chuckled to herself, but the movement sent pain stabbing through her chest so she stopped and contented herself with a smile.

The scrutiny at the gate was cursory at best and the Agents moved through quickly, past the loud market towards the stinking harbour. Like Leserlang, the roads were lined with buildings, but unlike Leserlang, there were people everywhere and there was a much happier feel to the city.

Probably the lack of that north wind
, she mused.

What wind there was, was cool but not icy, and carried the smell of the Silvered Sea, rather than the ice of the Sixth Waste. Personally she preferred the Waste and the ice, but she could live without the bitter winds that came with them.

Closer to the harbour, the buildings thinned out a little, changing from dense population and
commerce to individual warehouses that were fenced and guarded. Maida watched with interest as they stopped at the front of one with a solid wall surrounding it and only a single heavy gate for access. Huitzilin pounded on the gate and a narrow metal shutter slid open. Some words were exchanged and the gate was opened from inside. As she passed through the gate, the guard stared at her with a speculative look in his eye.

‘I like yours, Huitzilin,' he said. ‘She's better than the three we sent off the other day.'

There was something in his tone, a hint of sneer, of condescension, of bored dismissal, that suddenly irritated Maida. She pulled out the dagger she had used to force her shackles and hurled it at the guard. It flickered in the sunlight, giving him just enough of a sight to take evasive action, so instead of burying itself in his chest, it sliced across his upper arm. All the damage done to the dagger by the metal shackles had taken its point and fine edge and replaced them with a jagged, almost serrated, edge that slashed and ripped. The guard cried out in pain as the blood poured from the ragged wound. The pain, the blood, the cry, were enough to cover the loss of her only weapon. She could always find another.

‘I should have warned you about her,' Huitzilin said conversationally as he rode past the injured guard.

‘Just make sure you keep her under control, then, Achulti,' the guard called out, clutching at his arm, trying to staunch the blood.

‘I'm not sure anyone can control Maida.'