New Bloods Boxset

by Michelle Bryan

  At the mention of Cat, Finn brushes my probing hands away and looks ‘round with frantic eyes.

  “Cat? Is she okay? Where is she?”

  Tater tries to calm him down. “No need to worry, my little friend. Last I saw of your she-devil, she was chasing that mountain cat off with its tail between its legs.”

  “Truly, Tater?” he asks, fighting the tears that threaten to flow.

  “Cross my heart,” Tater says. “And as my dear mother used to say—”

  “Tater, shut up.” I don’t know why I say it; it just comes out of me. The offended and incredulous look on the half-man’s face at my command starts a fit of laughter. I cain’t help it. I ain’t sure if it’s relief or shock, maybe a bit of both, but I cain’t stop laughing. Then Finn starts laughing too, and finally Tater joins in. We’re all laughing uncontrollably. Finn laughs so hard he starts hiccupping which makes us laugh even more.

  “Well, well boys … seems like we’ve interrupted a celebration.”

  The voice is as rough as gravel and totally unexpected. Instinctively, I push Finn behind me as I whirl around. Who spoke I ain’t sure ‘cause there’s about nine, possibly ten men standing there watching us. Least I suspect they’re men. They don’t look like anything I’ve ever seen before. The faces staring at us with a mixture of curiosity and smug amusement are painted with stripes of green and black, making the whites of their eyes weirdly stand out. A couple of them have bald heads but the rest have hair decorated with feathers and beads and such. Indeed, they are a peculiar sight. As much as my fear is spiking right now, so is my fascination. What the hell are they? Even their way of dress is so strange. Oh, they’re wearing tunics and trousers all right, but their chests and shoulders are covered with an array of weird objects. Settler relics I’m guessing.

  One of them steps in front of me, and my eyes are instantly drawn to the small, rounded pieces of metal attached all over his tunic. There’s so many they make me dizzy, so I focus on the faded red one with the white lettering. I can barely make out the fancy writing. C O L A, I think it says. So odd. What does that mean?

  I don’t get to think much about it though ‘cause the weapons they’re carrying quickly outweigh my fascination with their clothing. Their shooters are massive, about twice as long as the one we have and pointing directly at us. In all the hullabaloo of Finn’s rescue, we ain’t heard even a footstep of their approach. Tater starts cussin’ under his breath behind me, and his next words make me shiver in fear.

  “Damn the gods’ luck. Raiders.”

  Raiders? Shizen, Ben, the old folk were speaking the truth. They are real.

  We’ve been walking for hours feels like. Single file, through the rain. Tater, then Finn, then me. All of us tied together with the same rope we’d used to rescue Finn off the rock ledge. The raiders had thought it hilarious that we were already tied together; they had a good laugh at that. At first Tater had tried to reason with them. He’d tried to convince them that we were just poor traders traveling through. How they had no reason to have any interest in us. How we had nuthin’ of value that they could possibly want. They had listened in silence and then just knocked him off his feet and proceeded to rob him of his flute, his spyglass, and even his hat. The one to the left of me is now wearing it, off to the side of his bald head all cocky-like. I glare at him with all the hatred I’m feeling inside, but he just winks at me. The jackass.

  They’d taken everything, gone through every bag. My iron shooter, my bow, my knives, Tater’s wares. They’d even found Winnie along the way, and she’s now being led along just like the rest of us. Finn is limping something fierce on the muddy trail. He had truly banged up his leg in his fall. I’d pleaded with them to at least let the boy ride on the mule. He was in pain, I’d said. Let him ride the rest of the way. All that had gotten me was a hard slap across the face. Finn had cried out at this.

  “I’m okay, Tara,” he’d said. “I don’t need to ride. Don’t worry about me.”

  Brave kid, hiding his pain to keep me quiet. He don’t want to see me get hit again. So I watch him ahead of me limping and wincing but not saying a word, holding it all in. I can feel my hatred at these raiders growing inside of me with every painful step he takes.

  I have no idea what direction we’re moving in. We’re way off the mountain pass we’d been traveling through. Obviously, their intention wasn’t to take us through the mountains but deeper into the mountains themselves. I’d tried to ask Tater if he knew where we were heading, but all that had gotten me was another painful whack between my shoulder blades, this time with the butt of an iron shooter. It had taken all my willpower not to spit right in the raider’s face. Finn’s look of concern is the only thing that stopped me, so I behave. But I keep watching. I need to know which way to go once we escape.

  So far there ain’t been no sign of Cat, which is probably a good thing. As brave and strong as she is, she won’t stand a chance against so many powerful iron shooters. If she was to attack, she could probably take out a couple of the raiders, maybe more if she wasn’t injured too badly from her tangle with the other devil cat. But they would take her down for sure. I know Finn is fearing the same as I’m thinking ‘cause I can see his head swinging back and forth, checking the hills and woods for any sign of her. No, it’s best she’s not around right now, though sooner or later she will pick up on our scent. I’m hoping she’s as smart as Finn says she is and knows to stay away, but when it came to protecting Finn, she’s like a mama and its cub. I pity the raider who might raise a hand to Finn if she’s anywhere near us.

  The trail we’re walking on now snakes around the edge of a steep slope, and we come out on a rise atop of a rocky valley. My heart drops at the sight lying before us, and the three of us stumble to a stop. It’s the raiders’ camp. There are canvas-covered shelters and lean-tos scattered everywhere. The valley floor is dotted with campfires and more raiders. They’re everywhere. So many of ‘em. There must be about a hundred or more. Finn looks back at me, his eyes wide with fear. I share that same fear, but I don’t let it show. I just nod at him like it’s going to be okay. The leader of our captors lets out a loud, echoing whoop and there’s an answering call from the valley floor.

  “Move,” we’re ordered, and we do as told. Our arrival is starting to draw attention, so by the time we reach the camp the other raiders are lined up to get a good look at us. I’m shocked to see women amongst them, but they’re gawking and laughing at us just like their men folk. We get prodded and poked as we’re herded through the camp. One of them, I cain’t see who, snatches my hat from my head, and I can hear her pleased squawking at her new prize.

  We’re finally stopped in front of a canvas shelter, but it ain’t like the others we’ve seen. This is a full-out canvas shanty with a flap for a door and all. It ain’t open like the rest of them. We’re lined up side by side in front of the flap, and the crowd falls silent all at once like somebody had given them a signal. My heart is thumping in my chest, and without all the hollering and whooping now, I can actually hear it. We stand there, silent, waiting … I ain’t sure for what, and I don’t know what to expect.

  Suddenly the flap is thrown back, and a man emerges. No. Giant is a more apt word. He stands about two heads over me with bare, massive arms and a chest so wide he could probably crush a person to death from just a hug. His hair is not decorated like the rest of the raiders but hangs ‘round his dark face in long, odd ropes. On his head he wears a hat unlike anything I’ve ever seen. It looks to be some sort of black, shiny metal with a tiny spike sticking straight up out of the top. A settler’s relic to be sure, I think. His presence is so overwhelming I can feel my innards clench. Finn unconsciously moves closer to me so our arms are touching, looking for some form of reassurance. The man silently regards us with hooded eyes. I cain’t read any emotion from him at all. Finally, he speaks.

  “And what have you found here, Toole?” His booming question is directed to the leader of our captors but fans ou
t over the crowd with its sheer forcefulness. I can feel Finn trembling beside me. The man named Toole steps forward.

  “We found them in the mountains, Busher. The dwarf says they’re traders, but they were carrying this.”

  He hands the huge man my iron shooter. It looks tiny in his massive hand like he could crush it no problem. He studies it.

  “H’m. This is Army issue,” he says. He turns his attention to us, his dark eyes studying our faces.

  “A girl, a boy, and a dwarf. I can see your need to keep them bound, Toole. They are a dangerous bunch indeed.”

  This is met with much snickering and laughing from the other raiders. Toole reddens at the giant’s words, but he don’t say nuthin’.

  “Untie them for the gods’ sake. That is no way to treat our guests.”

  Immediately his bidding is done, and our ropes are removed. Finn’s skinny wrists are chafed and bleeding, and he rubs them to ease his pain. Mine are about the same, but I refuse to show them any weakness. The giant smiles at us, his teeth a startling white in his dark face.

  “There, isn’t that much better?”

  “Yes, thank you kind sir,” Tater says gratefully, and I glare daggers at him. He shrugs at me but falls silent.

  “Excellent. Now about this?” he waves the iron shooter. “Would any of you mind telling me the story of how you came about this? For I’m sure it is an interesting one indeed.”

  None of us speak. The giant waits for a moment, his perusal of us full of expectation. Finally he sighs.

  “Please, don’t be like that. I promise no harm will come to you from us. I’m just asking for a simple explanation,” he says in a most pleasant manner.

  I make a decision. I don’t know if he can be trusted, but I see no harm in telling him the truth.

  “It was left behind by the Prezedant’s Army. They attacked our villages … mine and the boy’s. Killed our kin,” I say. My voice breaks a little at those words, but I go on. “They came from the sand lands in big metal machines … veacals I know them to be now.”

  I reckon this interests him ‘cause he takes a step closer to me. I back up a pace. I cain’t help myself. He bends over and stares me straight in the eye.

  “You saw the Prezedant’s trucks? In the sand lands?”

  “Aye, if that’s what they’re called,” I say, staring back at him eye to eye. “They’re real. As real as you and me.”

  “And when did this occur?”

  I shrug. “I cain’t rightly say. I’ve been travelin’ for weeks now I think … just walkin’ the sand lands ‘til I come across Finn and Tater. We’re just travelers like Tater told your men.”

  He’s staring at me, but his words are directed more to himself, I think. “I’d heard stories of his machines traveling the sand lands, but I hadn’t thought it possible.” He brings his attention back to me. “And where would such an unlikely trio as you be traveling to?”

  “Littlepass, sir,” Tater pipes up. “I have business there, you see. It is a very profitable city for a lowly trader such as myself. The two young folk, well, you’ve just heard of the misfortune that has befallen them. I’ve merely taken them under my wing since they have no other kin to look out for them.”

  The giant laughs. It’s so loud it hurts my ears and I wince. “Well, aren’t you the magnanimous one,” he says to Tater.

  Tater nods, smiling himself now. “Indeed. As my dear mother used to say, small in stature … big in heart.”

  The giant nods. “A nice sentiment to be sure.” He waves the iron shooter again. “So you came by this by pure misfortune then? You have no associations to the Prezedant or his Army?”

  Tater by now has taken to talking to the giant like they are long lost friends. “Oh, dear me, no. No, no, no, we are in no way affiliated with that group of barbarians.”

  “Ah, good.” He studies the three of us standing in front of him and gives us that brilliant white smile again. Then he nods. “Throw them in the cage with the other prisoner,” he says to Toole and turns his back to us dismissively.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Shocked, I watch as our original captors start to advance on us. What the hell just happened here? We’d answered all his questions. Why would he want to lock us up?

  “Wait. No.” I push away from the raider trying to capture my arms and yell at the giant’s retreating back. “You lyin’ bastard. You said no harm would come to us.”

  I can hear Tater hissing at me through the corner of his mouth, “Shut up, girl,” but I’m simmering mad and I don’t pay no heed.

  The giant stops at my words, turns on his heel and walks back to me. He looms over me with his sheer size, but I stare back at him in defiance. He looks me up and down, and when he speaks his voice is soft.

  “Oh, but I did not lie, girl. No harm will come to you, not while in my possession. You are more valuable to me unscathed.” He runs a finger down my cheek, and it takes all my willpower not to shrink from his touch.

  “You, I think, will fetch a very high price indeed. I know of a buyer who would be willing to pay a king’s treasure in iron for a chance to break that spirit of yours. Oh no, I won’t harm any of you. But what happens to you all after you’ve been sold, well, for that I can make no promises.”

  Tater unexpectedly escapes from his captor’s grip and falls on his knees in front of the giant.

  “Sir. Kind sir. I am but an old man. I am of no value in the flesh trade. These young folk, yes, they will fetch you a good price indeed. But me? I will gain you nothing. Please, kind sir, just set me free, and I will be forever in your debt.”

  I ain’t certain who I hate most at this exact moment: the giant for threatening to sell me or Tater for trying to save his own miserable skin. He looks down at Tater kneeling in the dirt at his feet and regards him like he’s no more than a pile of mule droppings.

  “You’re quite right dwarf,” he says, and Tater sags in relief. “You are of no value. Toole, kill the dwarf.”

  Toole yanks Tater to his feet, and I’m shocked to see the half-man is actually smiling. He has truly gone mad.

  “On the other hand, good sir, I am quite the impressive storyteller, musician, and court jester if you like. I’m sure your band of merry men—and women—would enjoy nothing more after a hard day’s raiding than an evening of pure entertainment. What do you say, good sir? Keeping me alive can be very beneficial to your wellbeing and that of your entourage.”

  The raider leader looks confused at this turn of events. He studies Tater like he cain’t believe his ears. Then unexpectedly, he laughs at Tater’s attempt to save his skin.

  “You are truly entertaining, dwarf,” he says between his bouts of laughter. He looks out over the group and calls to someone. “Meela, come here.”

  A tall, striking girl about my age joins the giant at his side. She’s dressed like the others but wears no paint on her dusky skin. Her hair is laced intricately with beads and hangs straight down her back to her waist. I ain’t ever seen a more perfect face, or a colder one.

  The giant takes her hand. “I will let you decide the dwarf’s fate, my daughter.”

  She regards us with her stony, flat eyes and then shrugs, apparently not the least bit concerned that a life hangs on her decision. What kind of people are they to treat a life so casually? I think.

  “I don’t care either way, Father. But if he speaks the truth, then maybe I’ll let him live to hear his stories and his music. If he can keep me entertained for a while, then he shall live for a while.”

  “So be it,” the giant announces, beaming out at the crowd, and they respond with a roar of approval. “You are truly fortunate, dwarf. My compassionate daughter has spared your life. It would be wise not to disappoint her.”

  “Thank you! Oh, thank you, kind lady,” Tater says, falling at her feet now, but his groveling is making me stomach sick and I don’t want to look at him anymore. Instead, I stare at the girl with all the hostility and insolence I can muster at the unfairnes
s of our situation. She stares back, her dark eyes like chips of flint. Then with a half-smile, she steps toward me and starts untying my neck wrapper. Slowly, she removes my gift from Grada and wraps it about her own neck, staring at me, daring me the whole time to do something about it. I feel my cheeks heating up with my anger, and I so desperately want to push her away but I don’t do nuthin’. I let her have it without a fight. Then her eyes travel down my chest and fall on the leather thong. She pulls my flower, my born day gift from Ben, out of my tunic and holds it on the palm of her hand. There ain’t no way in hell I’m letting her have that too, and my anger gets the better of me. Grabbing her wrist, I spit out a defiant, “No.”

  She looks surprised, like she ain’t used to not getting her own way. I push her hand away, but I’m totally unprepared for what happens next. She throws a punch at my face. I can feel my lip split at the contact. Before I can react, she punches me in the ribs. I bend over in pain, the breath knocked out of me. I can hear the raiders ‘round me all jeering and laughing. They’re enjoying the show. She grabs my hair and jerks my head up hard, stares into my face.

  “You dare touch me, sandlander?”

  She yanks on my hair so hard it brings tears to my eyes. I can hear Finn calling my name, but I cain’t answer him to let him know I’m okay. She jerks the flower from my neck, snapping the leather. Letting go of my hair, she pushes me back now that she has her prize. I stumble a bit and spit the blood out of my mouth. She holds her prize above her head, victorious, laughing, and reveling in the cheers of her people. I see it in her hands—my one last link to Ben, to Rivercross, to everybody I ever loved—and a red-hot pulsing starts in my blood. It feels like my blood is set aflame, and there’s a buzzing in my ears. I know there ain’t no way in hell I’m letting her keep it.

  I straighten up and leap at her with a flying kick to the stomach. She’s thrown backwards and lands on the ground in a heap, and I’m on top of her before she can get a breath. My fist bashes her in the face and her blood sprays out over my hand, but I don’t stop. It’s like the sight of it sends me into a frenzy. I bash her again and again, then I get her by the throat, both my hands wrapping around her neck. She’s grabbing my arms, trying to get me off of her neck, but she cain’t budge me. I squeeze, my hands possessing strength such as I ain’t ever known before. Her eyes are bulging now, and I can smell her fear but I don’t stop. I cain’t stop. I’m aware of other hands grabbing at me, voices yelling, but I focus on the face in front of me. My hatred is so overwhelming it’s all I can feel, all that I know. My one and only thought is to snap her damn neck.