by T. C. Edge
Stepping forward, the large wildman locks eyes with my brother. Perhaps he doesn’t know what he can do. Perhaps he’s not aware of Mind-Manipulators, even if he is of the various other Enhanced that populate our world. Perhaps, in mere moments, Zander will have the man freeing us and we’ll be on our merry way.
Perhaps not.
Nothing happens. I watch the beast’s eyes for some flash of compliance, for the tell-tale signs that an order has been imparted.
Nothing.
Either this man has his own ability to block intrusions, or Zander’s powers have been temporarily disabled by the toxic fumes that soaked through his lungs and filtered into his blood.
A short stand-off follows, before the man steps forward and removes the gag from Zander’s mouth. They stare at each other for a few more moments. Then, my brother speaks.
“Rhoth,” he grumbles. “I might have know it would be you…”
The beastly man smiles, showing sharp, yellow teeth. His voice is guttural and deep when he returns fire.
“Zander of the Nameless,” he says. “How interesting to find our roles reversed. You, the hunted. For once. It gives me pleasure, boy.”
“Don’t call me boy.”
Rhoth laughs, his tooth-necklace bouncing on his neck.
“Still such an insecure lad, even after all this time. Now, are you going to introduce me to your companions,” he says, turning his eyes to me and then Adryan, who remains unconscious.
The wildman steps towards me, his weather-beaten hand reaching down to pull away the gag. When it slips off, the question falls straight from my mouth.
“You know each other?!”
My eyes blare at Zander and then at the sizeable frame before me.
“Unfortunately,” says my brother. “This here is Rhoth, leader of this particular tribe of outerlanders. We’ve had…dealings with him in the past.”
“Dealings, you say?” comes Rhoth’s rasping voice. He looks to me. “By dealings, he means that his people come and hunt our grounds. Those are the dealings he refers to.”
“They’re not your grounds, Rhoth. No one holds dominion over these woods. And don’t try to act all high and mighty. My men have died at the hands of your traps.”
“Traps intended for beasts, not men,” counters Rhoth. “If you wander into these woods, you better know what’s coming, boy. We have no caring for you people in the big city with all the lights, but we don’t kill for no reason. Only those who threaten us are in danger. Now, who is this lovely girl?”
He turns back to me. I answer before Zander can continue the debate.
“I’m Brie,” I say. “Zander is my twin.”
The big man recoils a little, before inspecting my face closer.
“Ah…yes, it’s so obvious now. The eyes are the same. And the expression too. There’s something inside you as well, isn’t there, Brie. Some power, great power…” His eyes switch to Adryan. “And what powers does Sleeping Beauty possess? Don’t tell me. He can move fast like the wind. What do you call those people. Dashers, is it? So silly…”
“You should look in the mirror before you say anything’s silly, Rhoth,” grunts Zander.
“No mirrors here, boy.”
“I can tell.”
Rhoth laughs loudly.
“I enjoy your sharp wit. But it won’t get you out of here.”
“And what are you going to do to us?” I ask.
The man looks to me for a moment, seeming to rather enjoy the ambiguity that his expression gives. I can’t tell if he’s friend or foe. Clearly, he’s had plenty of run-ins with Zander before. But despite his appearance, he doesn’t seem that malevolent.
“I haven’t decided yet,” he says. “But first, tell me about the gifts he possesses.” He nods again to Adryan.
“None,” I say quickly. “He’s just a Savant. He’s smart, but has no physical gifts.”
“Ah, yes, a Savant. Like those who rule the big city with all the lights. And why is he here, with you? The Nameless are against these Savants, are they not?”
“They are. But not all Savants rule the city. Adryan…he’s my husband.”
His recoils for a second time. There’s an exuberance to his change in expression that is quite striking.
“A husband you say. What a funny pairing.”
As he speaks, with his eyes locked to mine, I attempt to slip into his mind. I find my abilities muted, as I suspected, but there’s something more. It’s as if his mind is blocked off, difficult to decipher. Like living here amid the smog has given him some defence from any mental extractions.
He smiles once more as I dart in and out. Then he taps his temple.
“There’s no getting in here, girl,” he says. “I don’t have your gifts, but in my world, my mind is my own. Your brother found that out long ago, did you not.”
Zander glares. Rhoth chuckles.
“Now,” he continues. “I’m enjoying this conversation. Let’s continue it, shall we? Tell me, what are you doing out here, all alone without your band of thieves and trespassers? I sense it has something to do with all that commotion in the woods a few miles from here. It was a busy day for you yesterday, wasn’t it?”
He looks to Zander, who tightens his jaw. Then his eyes turn to me, seeking a reply. I look to my brother. There appears to be no reason to keep the truth from him.
So I don’t. And over the next few minutes, I quickly explain just why we’re here, Adryan, Zander, and me. He seems to enjoy the story.
“Strange happenings in the big city with all the lights,” he mutters. “And strange happenings beyond as well…”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I’m sure you’re aware, girl. These Savants of yours, these rulers of the city, are spreading their wings and preparing to fly. We see them now, chopping through the woods, sucking away the mist. They’ve been building for years. And now, we see them coming all the time. Trucks pouring back and forward to the big city…”
“From where?” I ask.
“A place away from here, but not too far. A facility, like where you came from. Now, there are more and more people going there. Our place here is under threat. That is why we take you.”
“We’re no threat to you, Rhoth,” I say. “We’re fighting the same people. We’re allies.”
His eyes shift to Adryan again. He’s just starting to stir, to break free of the gas that filled his lungs.
“You can trust him as much as anyone,” I continue. “He’s risked everything to help free the city. You have to free us…”
A heavy frown topples over his dark eyes.
“And why would I do that?” he growls.
“Because,” I answer immediately, “we’re the only ones who can hold back the tide. If we don’t stop the ‘rulers’, as you can them, then they’ll take these lands by force. They’ll keep on building and building, and spreading their kind all over the place. You want to keep your home? Then you help us.”
A slow smile rises onto his face.
“So like your brother you are. You ask, you take, but you give nothing in return.”
“Oh, you’ll get something in return. You’ll get to keep your freedom. But only if you help us now.”
The smile hovers for a few more moments. Then it slips away and the bearded beast steps towards the door.
“I will consider your words, girl,” he says. “But for now, enjoy your stay.”
He opens the wooden door with a creak, and a fresh deluge of light spills in. And then, we’re shut away once more, just as Adyran awakes.
23
Several hours go by before Rhoth returns.
I spend most of that time doing a mixture of filling Adryan in on what’s been happening and trying to keep Zander relaxed. While my husband continues to stay fairly muted over everything, my brother is far from happy with this latest turn of events.
As I suggest that Rhoth doesn’t appear as bad as he looks, he offers an alternative view.
He goes on to inform me of several run-ins he’s had with the man in the past, all of them down to crossing each others’ territory, something that they clearly disagree on.
The best areas to hunt, it would appear, have been taken as the domain of Rhoth and his tribe of outerlanders. They know these woods better than anyone, and are far more adept at living amid their treacherous conditions.
Traps and other devices have been set up to snare edible beasts and deter those that are more aggressive. According to Zander, some have been specifically made to target his own people in a bid to keep them out.
It seems as though it’s been a struggle that’s gone on for a while. One that boiled over a couple of years ago when Zander took out a party to actively hunt Rhoth down.
And here comes the true crux of their animosity.
“You tried to kill him?” I ask, slightly shocked.
Zander clearly isn’t totally proud of it.
“I was younger, more wild myself. I’d just seen a friend die from one of his traps, and just snapped. We hunted him for days but couldn’t find him. For a big man, he can move like a mouse. He’s elusive.”
“So, you’ve never been here before?” chimes in Adryan. “To this…wherever we are?”
Zander shakes his head.
“We never found his village. If that’s even what this is. It could well just be one of many posts he has in the forest. They might not even have permanent dwellings.”
“No…I reckon they do,” suggests Adryan. “That’s why he’s afraid of Cromwell. If they didn’t have a home, they wouldn’t mind just leaving.”
“These woods are their home, Adryan,” says Zander. “Whether they stick to a specific village isn’t relevant. They won’t leave these woods without a fight. God knows I’ve had to deal with his love for this place too many times before.”
“And now?” I ask. “What’s going to happen now? It sounds like he’s got a grudge against you for trying to kill him.”
“Yeah, that goes both ways, Brie. We’ve been butting heads for years. I was just a boy when I first met him.”
Ah, and that’s why my brother clearly doesn’t enjoy it when he calls him ‘boy’. All part of the animosity between the two.
“Yeah, well he’s certainly got the upper hand now, doesn’t he?” I say. “Let’s just hope he’s more amenable to our cause when he returns.”
“Amenable…that’s not a word that Rhoth understands. He’s like a caveman from a bygone era. These people, they purposefully forgo technology and modern comforts. They take pleasure in living in the dirt and having simple lives.”
“And is that so bad?” I question. “I’ve always wanted a simple life. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve looked at the mountains and wished to go live there.”
“You don’t know these woods, or these people, like I do. And they’re far from the worst of them.”
“The worst? Do you mean to say that there are other tribes out there?” asks Adryan, always keen to learn more about the world and the people who inhabit it.
Zander nods slowly.
“We call this lot the Fangs. They all wear teeth around their neck to signify position. I guess you noticed the necklace Rhoth was wearing?”
I nod. Adryan shrugs, given how he hasn’t yet had the pleasure of meeting our host.
“There are worse groups out there,” continues Zander. “You can talk to Rhoth, reason with him to a degree. But others…no. They have more base instincts, their minds poisoned out here. That’s where the rumours about the Shadows really come from. Some of them don’t even live in groups or societies. They live like animals, beasts. I’ve seen corpses stripped to the bone by these scavengers. They don’t even cook the flesh.”
“Sounds more like the rumours I’ve heard,” I whisper, happy that we didn’t encounter such people out there.
“I doubt you’d have noticed, but one of the teeth on Rhoth’s necklace was from a proper Shadow. I could tell by the shape and size. It’s often the first stage of becoming a man for the Fangs.”
“What…you mean they hunt people to prove their masculinity?” asks Adryan
“Not people…beasts. The real Shadows of the outerlands aren’t people anymore. They have no more humanity than the wolves or bears out here. Until a male member of the Fangs tears a tooth from the jaw of a Shadow, they’re not a man.”
My brother notices the look of disgust on my face.
“You see, sister,” he says to me. “They’re far more barbaric than you think.”
I muse on the topic for a little longer, drawing a few more details about past exchanges between my brother and the Fangs, Rhoth, and the other tribes who dwell nearby from his lips. By the sounds of it, there are several similarly governed societies of outerlanders living within the wilds around Haven, each one administering their own varying degrees of barbarity in how they live and operate.
Aside from the Fangs, my brother speaks of the Bear-Skins, who set themselves aside by wearing bear pelts. The Roosters, who tend to create their abodes in the high foliage in order to escape the misty poison The Skullers, who wear the skulls of defeated opponents as helmets and masks and cover their bodies in white paste to mimic the looks of skeletons and protect them from the fog.
Those four groups are most prominent in the thousands of square miles surrounding the city, with the Shadows comprising the rest of the humans in the area, albeit, in their case, mutated and drawn back to their basest of instincts and urges.
All the tribes have their own way of doing things, and yet each lives in this harsh and unforgiving world, a world far removed from the one I know.
Out here in the wilderness, the rules that govern the beasts also appear to govern man. It’s a more brutal realm, and the sort of place where a rogue Enhanced can rise to the summit of his or her people. I put it to Zander that Rhoth himself has some old Savants blood in him that, despite appearances, has enabled him to stave off our mental intrusions.
“He might,” he says, nodding. “But others I’ve come across can be tricky to manipulate. It’s something in the fog, some antidote to our powers. A Mind-Manipulator can’t rely on their gifts out here.”
“And what about others?” I question. “Have you seen any other Enhanced among the outerlanders?”
He shrugs.
“Aside from Rhoth, I’ve had few direct dealings with the other populations around here. Mostly, it’s the Fangs who control the closer regions. They try to keep out of each others’ way to avoid war. It’s all very primitive, and other than hunting for food, we’ve kept our distance as much as possible. We have our own war to fight that will effect them all.”
“Exactly. And that’s the angle we need to play with Rhoth,” I say. “No one out here will have a chance when Cromwell comes rolling through with his Stalkers. They’ll clear these lands, and wipe these people away. They’re in it with us.”
By some coincidence, or perhaps by design, our host reappears at that very moment. The door opens with its customary creak, and in walks the barbarian with his neckless of fangs and claws and his beastly countenance. His eyes drop to mine, and his own yellow-stained fangs appear.
“Perhaps we are in it with you,” rumbles his voice. “I see an innocence to you, Brie, that your brother has long since lost.”
As he speaks, a small host of his men come in, similarly dressed as he is. I see necklaces hanging beneath chins, each fashionably adorned with a host of different teeth and claws of varying sizes and shapes.
None, however, have quite the collection of their leader, his own macabre jewellery never to be bettered among the Fangs.
The men rush forward, two of them for each of us, and unchain us from the walls and lift us to our feet. We’re pressed forward towards Rhoth, who towers high above us, standing a good six and a h
alf feet. His eyes turn to Adryan, perusing him.
“The Savant awakes,” he says. “I wonder…are you afraid, young man?” he asks.
Adryan doesn’t answer.
“No…of course, you’re not afraid,” continues Rhoth. “Savants have no emotion, do they? Ah, we can relate in some manner. Fear isn’t something to concern us, but we embrace it all the same. It is important, fear, in sharpening the senses. Fear for your own safety. Fear for your tribesmen. Fear for your family. Fear is good, Mr Savant. You people are lacking something in your soul.”
“He does feel fear,” I find myself saying, defending my man. “He isn’t like the rest. He has emotions.”
Rhoth’s dark eyes swing to mine.
“Yes, I can see…perhaps not fear, but there’s something even stronger there. Something for you, Brie. He cares for you. You do, don’t you Mr Savant?”
Adryan looks at me. I see a reflection of love in his eyes. It blooms in me, stronger than ever. And yet, in some ways, it still feels wrong. It feels borrowed, unearned. I feel, at times, as if he still sees his first wife, Amelia, when he looks at me. That what he feels for me is nothing but a reflection of his love for her.
The spell is broken. It’s Zander’s voice that cuts the silence.
“Where are you taking us, Rhoth? What’s all this about?”
“You will see, boy. I have something I need to show you.” His eyes turn to Adryan again. “But fear not, Mr Savant, if you really can feel such a thing. You will not be killed under my watch.”
He swivels on the spot, and stamps through the wooden door. And out into the bright light of the late morning we go.
24
“Masks on,” roars Rhoth as we step into the light.
The six men under his command pull masks over their heads, fashioned from scraps of fabric and animal hides, covering up their faces and blocking out the foul air.
They’re not gas masks, their bodies adapted now to suck in this poison without too much ill effect. Instead, they appear to be a mixture of protective masks to cover their eyes and skin, and those worn as battle-dress and to effectively camouflage themselves among the trees.
