The Inferior

by Peadar O'Guilin

  ‘It’s begun,’ said Rockface, horror and awe in his voice. ‘Wallbreaker’s really going ahead with it.’

  Finally, to the hunters’ great relief, night fell, and the enemy began streaming back out of the Ways towards their own lines.

  Armourbacks and Hoppers dumped corpses of all kinds, including a few Hairbeasts, practically beneath the building in which the two men were hiding.

  The Flyer with the Talker in its claws flew low again over the gathered ranks of its allies.

  ‘Human flesh belongs to Flyers,’ it screeched in perfect Human, and the only way Stopmouth could tell a beast had spoken was because he’d seen the creature. Someone clever like Wallbreaker would be able to use that to his advantage when planning more of his strange hunts.

  The other corpses and injured were to be divided equally among the Flyers’ allies. At one point a fight erupted when an Armourback tried to drag off a Hopper still strong enough to resist. Beasts on both sides were wounded until the Flyer leader put an end to it.

  Stopmouth saw the corpse of Mossheart’s friend, Redcheek, hauled into the air. He’d had last seen her dancing around the fire at his brother’s wedding, laughing and making eyes at Waterjumper. Her only smile now was a gash across the throat.

  ‘What a beauty,’ said Rockface sadly.

  ‘B-b-brave,’ replied Stopmouth. Even if his brother’s plan worked, Stopmouth worried that the Tribe could never recover from the loss of so many of its young.

  The sounds of squabbling and gorging came from every direction. Neither of the hunters ate. Both watched the Flyer chief feeding itself to a standstill on a nearby building. They were half afraid it would move away afterwards. Instead, it tottered into a corner of the roof and lay down.

  When the humans hazarded a look over the parapet of their house, all they saw in every direction was sleeping enemies. Stopmouth didn’t try to stop Rockface leaving this time, but padded after him through shadows towards the building where the Flyer leader had made its perch.

  Outside, he stood on something soft that shifted under his feet. He stabbed blindly down with his weapon until the movement ceased. It was the place where he’d left an Armourback spear in the corpse of a Hopper the night before. He hoped the furred beasts would blame their allies for this killing too, rather than seeking out any humans in their midst. In either case, it was another creature he wouldn’t eat. He consoled himself with the thought that he had yet to commit a waste as great as the one Wallbreaker had planned. In spite of his disgust, right now, in the midst of his enemies, he hoped his brother had done more than just plan it.

  They climbed the stairs to the roof, where four Flyers waited. The creatures hadn’t placed head under wing as they normally did when they slept. Instead, they lay about the roof, wings twitching uncontrollably, big eyes staring up at the sky. They seemed to have succumbed to some strange kind of fit. The two humans stepped over the remains of Redcheek’s corpse and made the easiest kills of their lives. Blood ran hot onto their hands, sticky and delicious. But they didn’t dare lick it off. Wallbreaker had said that if the battle went badly enough, he’d call for volunteers and have them eat handfuls of mossbeasts until foam came to their lips. Then they were to be killed and left where the enemy might find them. One human corpse might account for ten beasts or more. Quite likely there were dying Flyers on half the rooftops of the area.

  Stopmouth didn’t have time to mourn the waste. He prised the Talker from the leader’s grasp. It fitted easily into his hand, warm and alive, like the tiny head of a newborn.

  He signalled to Rockface, swearing to himself that if the older hunter went on another killing spree, he could do so without Stopmouth’s help. They needed to get back to the hide and stay there until they could sneak home. But no sooner had they hit the street than they heard it: ‘Humans!’ An Armourback had shouted, if shout was the right word for creatures that spoke without sound. Whatever the explanation, the men understood it well enough to start running for their lives.

  Stopmouth took the lead. His instincts pushed him away from Centre Square, where traps would be waiting in the dark. He’d grown up in these streets and knew alleys and turns that the enemy had never seen. Nevertheless, if a few Hoppers took up the chase, the men would be caught in moments. The young hunter’s original home lay no more than two hundred paces away. He ran in that direction, sometimes leaping over huddles of the sleeping enemy.

  The pursuing Armourbacks got caught in a crowd of Hoppers just waking with the commotion, adding to it. Some of the females nestled young against their armpits, feeding them with their own blood perhaps.

  The milling about and the high-voiced demands of the furred beasts gave the humans time to duck into a doorway. But Stopmouth knew they weren’t in the clear yet. He remembered what it was like to be hunted by Armourbacks, how the creatures could run for ever, how relentless they were. And soon the whole area would be swarming with them.

  What would Wallbreaker do? he wondered. He remembered his brother pleading pitifully for his life the day he’d been caught. But Wallbreaker didn’t have the Talker then. He’d have found a way to use it.

  The Armourbacks were having more trouble getting through the Hoppers than expected. The furry beasts seemed angry with their allies over something, and that’s when the young hunter knew what he had to do.

  ‘H-h-help!’ he shouted. ‘The A-A-Armourbacks are attacking us!’

  The Hoppers heard this in their own language and reacted angrily. They threw themselves at their allies and a fierce battle ensued. Stopmouth led Rockface through a house and out of a window at the back. No enemies roamed here and they could proceed more slowly, shell spears at the ready. Every time they came to a junction they looked carefully up and down the street. Surely they weren’t far now from the edge of enemy occupation. They could find an empty house to hole up in until the fighting had ended.

  With immediate danger behind them, Stopmouth began to relax. Every muscle ached, especially those of his left hand, which clutched the precious Talker. This was his marriage, his future. His Tribe’s future. This would light the fires in any woman’s heart, no matter how strange or beautiful.

  And then a sudden, shocking pain lanced into his shoulders. It grew worse as claws jerked him into the air. The Talker shot out of his grasp and rolled down the slight incline of the street. A moment later he hit the ground with the body of a dead Flyer on top of him. Rockface pulled it off and jerked his spear free.

  ‘We should have been looking up too,’ said the big man cheerfully, but Stopmouth was searching around desperately for the metal sphere.

  ‘It rolled that way,’ said Rockface, pointing.

  Stopmouth picked up his weapon and ran down the hill after it, new wounds burning across his back. He saw the Talker hit a kerb and roll off to the left. He sprinted round the corner in pursuit and stopped dead. Six Armourbacks, probably among those who’d been set to guard the enemy’s perimeter, stood around the precious sphere, no doubt wondering if it really was what they thought it was. Six. One on one, with its powerful shell, an Armourback almost always beat a human hunter and would stand a good chance against two.

  Stopmouth trembled. The creatures still hadn’t seen him, but it didn’t matter. He felt crushed, empty. He stood in the middle of the street waiting for the enemy to notice him and claim his useless life. Then Rockface was charging past him, screaming at the top of his voice. Stopmouth hesitated only a heartbeat before joining the other hunter.

  Humans had always possessed a longer reach than the Armourbacks, and now they had a new advantage. Crunch! Two shell-tipped spears ripped through armour and pierced vital organs. Stopmouth tore the haft of his weapon free, leaving the point in the body of his victim. Never mind. He swung the staff around and struck an Armourback that had turned to face Rockface in the back of the neck. The creature collapsed without a sound, although Stopmouth heard its scream in his head. Two others came for him, little eyes burning red. His spear-shaft couldn�
��t pierce their shell but he managed to strike the legs out from under one of them and avoided the thrust of the other. Rockface, with two victims behind him, finished the standing beast with a knife through a slit in the armour.

  The last of the creatures didn’t even try to regain its feet. The hunters killed it between them.

  Six! They had bested six Armourbacks! Stopmouth took in great gulps of air; sweat streamed down his body and stung his eyes. He’d never felt so exhilarated in his life. Almost as an afterthought, he retrieved the Talker and the two men jogged out of enemy territory. Already Stopmouth was imagining how he’d recount the story to Indrani and how he would surely win her when Wallbreaker finally put her aside.

  10.

  A BITTER HOMECOMING

  As it happened, the men had to wait the best part of seven days before they could return to their homes. They watched Hoppers and Armourbacks slaughter each other with no thought of food or survival. Eventually Clawfolk coming from one direction, and humans from another, mopped up what remained of the alliance. Stopmouth was sure they’d all be eating bitter Armourback flesh for some time to come. No matter. He’d be getting to see Indrani again soon: her dark lips, her eyes as compelling as a Flyer’s. He could marry her in a way that Wallbreaker hadn’t. He could win her consent.

  Stopmouth had expected cheers at his return. Instead, he and Rockface were greeted with stares in the bone-filled streets from men with new scars and tattooed boys barely large enough to lift a spear. Rubble cluttered the alleys, and everywhere women smoked huge quantities of flesh over fires.

  Rockface asked after his family, but nobody seemed willing to answer until he shook the truth out of an exhausted hunter.

  ‘Watersip,’ said the hunter, ‘she volunteered to poison the Flyers. This was after the Armourbacks had…when the rest of her family…I’m sorry, Rockface. She was brave. She still had a thousand days left in her, she—’

  Rockface refused to believe it. He dropped the hunter in the dust and ran off home, shouting the names of his wives and children.

  Stopmouth looked after the other man, his heart filled with pity. Whose ancestor could Rockface be now? It was a horrible thought, but not the only one. Who else had died? he wondered. Who had he, Stopmouth, lost? He tried not to dwell on this question as he picked his way towards the chief’s house. The streets had been so altered by traps and fallen buildings that when he reached Centre Square, he barely recognized it. Blood spattered many of the walls, and the half-butchered corpses of enemies littered the ground, sure to go to waste. Worse, old Tally sticks had spilled out of the doorway of the House of Honour, some trodden on, some even broken! The souls to whom those sticks belonged would never make it Home. Nobody had taken the time to clean up this outrage or even to hide it. Nobody.

  Then he saw Wallbreaker and Mossheart stepping out of their house together. Wallbreaker looked like he hadn’t slept in tens of days. He was thinner than Stopmouth had ever seen him and he had dark patches under his eyes. When the chief noticed his brother looking at him from across the square, he cried out as if he’d seen a spirit. He hobbled over the intervening space to hug Stopmouth in evident relief. Had all been forgiven? Were they brothers again as the chief had promised they would be? His joy seemed real; Stopmouth could feel it in the strength of his embrace. Many heartbeats passed before Wallbreaker even asked about the success of the mission.

  But when he did, activity in the square came to a halt. It was as if people were only now remembering why they hadn’t seen Stopmouth during the battle. Men and women edged closer, almost timidly. Not like humans at all. Stopmouth looked to the edges of the gathering crowd, hoping to spot Indrani there, smiling at him. Why couldn’t he see her? He felt a sudden reluctance to pass the Talker over to his brother, mingled with fear for her safety. What if she’d been made to volunteer during the battle?

  But he knew these thoughts were unworthy of him. If he couldn’t trust his brother, the world had lost all meaning. So he reached into the pouch and pulled out the fist-sized sphere of metal.

  He said: ‘I h-h-h-ave it h-h-h—’

  And the Talker said: ‘I have it here!’

  Some of the people applauded; many wept until Wallbreaker waved for silence. They obeyed instantly.

  ‘We are few now,’ the chief said. ‘No more than a thousand’–Stopmouth’s jaw dropped even as his brother’s voice grew stronger and louder–‘but we are the bravest thousand humans that have ever lived!’

  He raised the Talker. ‘With this ball of magic whose capture I planned, I can promise our survival! More! I can promise that none of our children’s children will ever have to volunteer! Ever!’

  A great cheer followed.

  Stopmouth’s head was still reeling with the thought that so few of his people had survived. Too few in such a dangerous world. And he still couldn’t see Indrani.

  He tried to ask Wallbreaker about her, but couldn’t make himself heard above the crowd.

  ‘We have all been brave,’ shouted the chief, ‘but none more so than my brother, Stopmouth!’ The people agreed with enthusiasm. ‘He and Rockface will have new tattoos for this! Although I don’t know where poor Rockface will find the space!’

  ‘I bet his wives know!’ shouted someone in the crowd. There was some laughter, but this was quickly hushed by those who knew the fate of Rockface’s family.

  ‘I will also reward my brother by keeping a promise I made to him the last time I thought I’d lost him. I will find him a bride!’ Stopmouth’s heart soared. ‘The Tribe needs children now, new hunters, and more women to build our walls and smoke our flesh. I will personally pay the bride price for Stopmouth to take his pick of any of the unmarried women of the Tribe!’ More cheering followed, real cheering, as if the people only now realized they’d won and were finally safe. In the midst of fierce backslapping, Stopmouth was wondering what Wallbreaker had meant by ‘unmarried women’. Had he already set Indrani aside? Had she died in the fighting? But he didn’t dare ask such questions in public. So, when Stopmouth got the chance, he pushed his way through those who tried to hug him towards the chief’s house, where Wallbreaker had already retreated. Stopmouth didn’t enter. If Indrani waited within, he couldn’t be seen with her. Not yet. But he had to know that she still lived. He couldn’t bear the thought that she lay in some larder, perhaps the larder of this very house. He rested one hand against the lintel for support. Unless he could talk to his brother, alone, he had no way of finding out what had happened to her. He called a few times with no response from within. The celebration started by Wallbreaker’s speech had grown rowdy enough to drown out his voice. Perhaps that was why no one came to the entrance to greet him. He could come back in a tenth, or sooner if the singing stopped.

  Behind him, people were taking flesh from the smoking fires and dancing around them. A few even jumped the flames as though this was a wedding. Most were discussing the power of the Talker in excited voices. They smiled when Stopmouth passed, but knew they’d never get a story out of him with his twitchy tongue and left him alone.

  He wandered through a few laneways until he came to his new house. Blood had dried into the dirt of the floor and a small clump of what might have been Hopper fur lay in one corner.

  The hides were mostly undisturbed. He sat on them, watching the light outside, hoping the celebrations would die down soon.

  After an eternity had passed, he made his way back to his brother’s house. Centre Square hadn’t emptied, but most people were here now to eat. Before the siege everyone had preferred to take their meals in family groups, but the fighting had brought the survivors together.

  He called out for Wallbreaker, who appeared from behind a hide curtain of the thickest sort. The chief nodded at his brother, but didn’t smile as he had in public or invite him inside. Wallbreaker was wearing a pouch on his belt with the Talker in it. Good, thought Stopmouth. His speech would be clear. He’d need that.

  The Talker spoke in Stopmouth’s voice: �
��When are you going to be setting her aside?’

  ‘I’d be a cruel man indeed to set aside any woman in the present circumstances,’ the chief replied. ‘I couldn’t do that to either of my wives.’

  Stopmouth stood and stared, unable to believe what he was hearing. Wallbreaker made as if to step back inside, but Stopmouth found his voice again and called him back.

  ‘You made me a promise!’

  ‘Stopmouth, you know I only made that promise because Indrani didn’t want to be here at the time. I had no intention of forcing her to stay. But during the fighting…well, I saved her life and she was sufficiently grateful to—’

  ‘That’s a lie!’

  ‘Keep your voice down!’ hissed Wallbreaker. ‘You made a promise of your own, remember? Do you want the whole Tribe to hear?’

  ‘They’ll surely wonder why you’re not inviting your own brother into your house, but instead keep him at the door!’

  ‘I don’t invite anybody in here any more. They all know that. It’s the best way to protect my family.’

  ‘This is madness! Let me see Indrani. If you won’t allow me in, then send her out here to tell me of her decision herself. I’ll accept what she says and I’ll leave you alone.’

  ‘I am your chief,’ said Wallbreaker, face burning, ‘and you will do what I say in any case! But I don’t want to fight with you, my brother. I never wanted to fight with you. Not over a woman. They’ve always found me more attractive than you, you know that. I thought you’d come to accept it by now.’ He reached out a hand to Stopmouth’s shoulder, but Stopmouth shook it off angrily. He wanted to hit Wallbreaker. Not like when they fought as children, but to really hit him. He knew he could strike hard: he’d gained muscle of late, while Wallbreaker, if anything, seemed to be losing it.

  ‘Look,’ said Wallbreaker, ‘Indrani can fight. Most people even call her Mankicker now. Do you honestly believe that I could have obliged her to show her gratitude if she hadn’t been willing? Do you think I could keep her here against her will?’