Wuftoom (24 page)

Foul screeched, struggling against Rayden's nub.

Evan smashed one of the Vits on Rayden's back, then the other one. They both hung there, their dead claws still shredding Rayden's membrane.

Rayden shook wildly, trying to dislodge the dead Vits from his back. He dropped Foul.

Foul flapped its broken wings, just managing to lift itself above the water.

Evan lunged, wrapping his arm around the injured bug.

It dug its fangs into Evan's arm.

Evan screamed. It was even worse than in the Yellow Passage. But he hung on. He pushed Foul beneath the water.

Rayden collapsed into the water with a splash.

Foul struggled, but Evan didn't let go until its fangs loosened their grip. When the Vit had stopped struggling completely, he let it sink to the bottom, finally dead.

“Rayden!” Evan cried.

The old warrior was lifting himself out of the water. The dead Vits floated away, but more Vits were heading for them.

Evan raised his Feeder, holding his injured arm against his body. It stung like nothing he'd ever felt. It was hard to see anything, to feel anything except the pain.

Water hit him from two sides, tossing the Vits backward. There was shouting, Wuftoom voices. At first he didn't understand, but then the sound came into focus.

“Back!” they were shouting. “Go back!”

Evan threw his good arm around Rayden. Water flew everywhere around him, then stopped suddenly. As it cleared, he saw that a few Wuftoom were showering groups of Vits, trying to get them off those who were still standing. Evan turned toward the cave, supporting Rayden, whose legs weren't quite working right. He didn't know if he was hurting the old one worse, but he didn't have time to stop and think.

He heard screeching behind him, saw Wuftoom bodies in the water, felt the spray of water, and heard the continued yelling: “Go back! Go back!” He did not stop until he reached the waterfall and pulled Rayden through it into the cave.

More Wuftoom followed him, but not many. He held Rayden's head up. It was too much like his last moments with Olen. He could not stand it.

“Master Rayden! Master Rayden, can you hear me?”

Rayden growled a little and his eyes began to glow. He looked up at Evan. “I have been clawed before and come out stronger,” he said. But his voice was not booming and strong as it had been before. It was not the storyteller's voice.

“I'll get the ointment,” Evan said, and he set Rayden against a set of blocks. He rushed to where he knew the medicine was kept. It was near the weapons. Everything the Wuftoom owned and needed to survive was all lined up among discarded blocks along a single wall.

Two others were already raiding the stores. They pushed a creature-skin jar toward him and rushed off without a word. Evan's eyes followed, and he saw a group of wounded propped against the front wall. He recognized Jordan as one of those helping them and his heart leaped, but he could not continue looking.

He dug in the cabinet for a needle and thread, like the kind that had been used on him. He didn't know what creature they were made from, but the needle was sharper and smaller than a Vit fang. At last he found it, and rolling the supplies in his good arm, he sloshed back to Rayden, sending the water flying.

Rayden was no longer awake. He had rolled a little onto his side but still maintained most of his shape.

“Master Rayden!” Evan cried. He dropped the supplies on the blocks and shook the old one with his good arm. “Rayden! Wake up!” There was no answer. “Please, Rayden!” Throughout everything, Evan had never wished so much that he could cry. He couldn't let another Wuftoom die. He just couldn't. He picked up the ointment and started rubbing it into Rayden's head. There were so many wounds on his head, arms, and back that by the time Evan was finished, Rayden's whole body shined with ointment.

The old one moved a little. It was so slight, Evan almost didn't believe it.

“Rayden!”

Rayden made a tiny little noise and moved again, ever so slightly.

“Master Rayden! It's me, Brode. I'm trying to fix you up. I'm going to sew you. Just hold still. You're going to be fine.”

Rayden made no noise, but now he was visibly breathing. Evan didn't know how he was going to do it, since his right arm was useless. He poured what ointment was left onto it and rubbed it in with his left arm. There wasn't enough left to give it as good a coating as Rayden's back, but he already felt a little better.

Fortunately, the needle he had grabbed was already attached to thread. He decided he would just start with the very worst part of Rayden's back and do what he could. Then he suddenly realized what he could do. He was a Wuftoom. He could squoosh himself so small that he could travel through an ordinary bathroom pipe. Certainly he had more that was useful than just his arm.

Hope suddenly flooding through him, he sat down on the ground and raised his right leg to his left arm. As a Wuftoom, this didn't hurt a bit. Although he wasn't used to using it this way, he found that he could grab a piece of Rayden's membrane with his leg and pull it forward to meet the needle.

Some time later Master Gorti joined him. He was a little torn up himself and covered in pus from other worms, but he was alive. Evan thought he'd never been so happy to see anyone.

“This is good, young one,” he said, and he began to help. An hour later Rayden's back didn't look pretty, but all the major holes were closed. Rayden had said nothing the whole time, but he was still breathing. His whole body pulsed slowly in and out.

“We will let him rest, young one,” said Gorti.

Evan nodded, then suddenly remembered. “Master Gorti! Tret and Ylander and Horg are back near the dig. I left them in a small pipe.”

Gorti motioned to Jordan, who slid over to them. He had a cut on his head that shone with ointment, but he looked otherwise well.

At first there had been others standing, but now the rest were sitting against the wall, gasping with the pain of various wounds.

Evan counted eight in total, nine if he counted himself. Twelve if all of the others lived. Out of a hundred. The gravity of it fell on him like the weight of the ceiling caving in. He could see it in Gorti's eyes as well.

Jordan clapped Evan with warmth, but a change had come over him. He was no longer excited and young.

“We will take the pipes,” said Gorti. “It is too dangerous to go out through the water. The Vits may by lying in wait.” Gorti led them to the vents at the back of the cave, where Tret, Suzie, and Ylander had taken him that first night.

They went a different way this time, to where the pipes were old and collapsed, where the sewage leaked out into the dirt and spread its stink. It was a roundabout way to travel, but they reached the crawler within an hour. Evan led the way to the pipe where he had hidden them.

Tret and Ylander were still alive, barely. The compressing had kept them from losing pus, and they had slept to save their strength. But Horg came out in a formless lump, and it was clear that he was dead. Jordan took Ylander, Gorti carried Tret, and Evan dragged Horg's body behind him with his one good arm.

W
HEN THEY RETURNED,
Rayden was awake, and those who could had gathered around him. Evan, Jordan, and Gorti dragged Tret and Ylander to the waiting Wuftoom, and the Wuftoom began to stitch Tret and Ylander the best they could.

“We must leave this area,” said Rayden. It was not the storyteller's voice yet, but it was stronger. He was fully shaped against the blocks now. “Once, there were Wuftoom elsewhere. I do not know where they are or what has happened to them these many years, but we cannot stay here, a few among an unknown number of Vitflys. These are the only Vits I know of. If we run, we can escape.”

“We have our waterfall,” said Gorti. “Perhaps we should wait and build our strength.”

Rayden shook his head. “The Vits can fly above the ground. They have strengths we did not know about before. They will find and destroy our water source.”

The Wuftoom around him gasped. Evan pursed his lips and sucked air in. He had not had time to worry about that, but he knew Rayden was right.

“As soon as we are well enough,” said Rayden, “we will go.”

The others solemnly nodded agreement. There were none of the customary Wuftoom growls, no cheers or voices raised in fierce debate. All knew the strength of Rayden's logic. Tret lay in front of Evan, propped on a block. Jordan twisted the thread and stuck the needle in again. Tret did not wake.

Can you ever forgive me?
Evan thought.

 

After three nights, there were only nine left. The two new dead ones were folded and laid gently with Horg and the few others they'd been able to salvage. The ceremony would be saved for later, when the group had escaped from this part of the sewers. The others were well enough to move, but some were still torn and shedding pus from wounds so large that the stitches couldn't hold them. Ylander was among the worst wounded, needing another Wuftoom to help him even onto his sleeping blocks.

Tret had not smiled since he had woken, though he led the preparations for their journey with stony resolve.

Rayden and Tret drew maps and plotted paths on membrane sheets, then scratched them out and started over. They argued and scratched, then argued more, and finally reached agreement on each point in turn.

Evan watched, helping to tend the injured when he could. His arm was healing well, but he felt useless among so much pain and death. Jordan and Gorti were the least injured, so they ventured out through the vents to scrape the pipes for water creatures.

To add insult to slaughter, the Vits had managed to remove their dead. Food was so scarce that Evan had only two bites in those three nights. Combined with the hunger from before the battle, it left him itchy, nervous, and unable to think.

On the fourth night, Tret and Rayden sat with Ylander and the worst wounded, and the rest gathered around.

“We must leave tomorrow night,” said Rayden. “We have stayed here too long already. It is a wonder our hunters are still alive.” He did not need to mention how badly they were all starved. “The young one and I have plotted a course. It will take us through the narrowest passages, the wettest ground. There are places where we must cross tunnels where Vits go, but they are as short as we could make them.”

Tret sat next to Rayden, nodding as he spoke. He had never seemed so supportive of Rayden before. This new accord between them was so strange, it made their peril feel worse.

“We will each carry two packs,” Rayden continued. “One as a weapon, and one for our fallen brothers.” Rayden looked solemnly at each in turn. “We will plant them where they will be most useful. The time has come to raise our numbers faster than ever before.”

The Wuftoom looked at each other, all except for Jordan, who had not been there for the story.

“I have been the one to caution against haste,” said Rayden, “and even now I question the wisdom of making many at once, when the humans are likely to notice. But the young one has convinced me. If we do not make more quickly, we will all die. We will plant them as soon as we are far enough away.”

 

When it was time to go to sleep for their last day, Evan approached Tret and Rayden, who were still whispering together, making their final plans. A large piece of membrane lay between them on a table of concrete blocks.

“You should sleep, Brode,” said Rayden. “We have a long night ahead of us and many more.”

Tret looked up at him with dull eyes.

Evan took a breath in. He had to say it. He had no choice. “Before we go, I need to say goodbye to my mother,” he said. He did not look away but watched as their eyes glowed and their lips twisted into unreadable expressions.

Tret took such a deep breath that his body visibly expanded. Rayden showed nothing of what he felt.

“I don't think I'm going to forget,” said Evan. “But I don't want to stay there. I want to go with you. But I promised I would say goodbye.” What would they say? Would they even now keep him from going?

Rayden and Tret looked at each other, and some silent agreement passed between them.

“We were expecting you to say something like this,” said Rayden. He ran a nub across the membrane, smoothing it. Evan could see it was a map.

“We cannot spare any of us to go with you, not with so many wounded. It is a dangerous proposition to go alone.”

“I know that,” Evan said, “but I don't have any choice. I have to go.”

“Then that is your choice,” said Rayden. “We will meet you here.” Rayden extended his nub into a point.

Evan leaned over the table. The place Rayden pointed to was not on the maps he had seen before.

“We are here,” said Rayden. He extended his other nub into a finger and pointed at a second spot.

Evan examined the second spot. That part he had seen before. The familiar territories spread out to the left on the map, back to the hunting passages. To the right, there were passages and caves that he had never known about.

“We have planned a night of rest here,” said Rayden, tapping the first spot he had pointed to. “You must catch up with us before the day is out. We must leave the next night. We cannot wait longer for any Wuftoom.”

Evan leaned in further, trying to study the membrane. How would he ever find his way?

“You can take this one,” said Rayden. “We have two others.”

Evan breathed out. He wasn't sure if he had breathed again since he had approached them. “Thank you, Master Rayden! Thank you, Tret!” Evan said. “I'll be there. I won't be late.” He was about to turn away when Tret spoke for the first time.

“If you still love your mother, how can we be sure that the Vits won't use her again? How can we trust you?” His tone was quiet. Not accusing, just a question. Both Wuftoom watched him for an answer.