The snake’s awful head rose up to stare her in the eye just as Hrothrawl arrived to join the party. He roared, and the snake hissed. They squared off against each other, Pashera temporarily forgotten.
Then the snake struck. It wrapped itself around Hrothrawl like rope, squeezing mercilessly, all the while striking at him with its fangs. Hrothrawl howled and battered against the tree, trying to dislodge the snake. Hrothrawl came so close to Pashera that she could see the individual feathers that made up his green coloring. She also saw his great crisscross of scars in great detail.
The snake held on. Hrothrawl staggered back, then slammed into the tree again. This time, Pashera pulled her face back as the black, scaly hide of the serpent came within inches of her. It smelled musty, worse than a lizard; a terrible smell that reminded her of the grave.
Still, the stubborn snake wouldn’t let go. It tightened its grip on Hrothrawl’s throat, and tried to bite through his thick hide without much success. Hrothrawl tried to roar, but only managed a choked rattle. He staggered back, then slammed into Pashera’s tree so hard, the impact sent the girl flying out of the upper branches and into bushes below.
She crouched in the bushes, glad to be forgotten. The battle raged. Hrothrawl was too big for the snake to crush outright, and the snake was too tightly attached for Hrothrawl to dislodge by force. Hrothrawl heaved to and fro, plowing first into one tree, then another. The snake took a beating, but clung on tightly – to save its own life, and to try and snuff out Hrothrawl’s.
Hrothrawl wheezed in the snake’s deadly embrace. He staggered away. It seemed random at first, but Pashera saw he staggered over to a rocky outcropping. He piled into that rock over and over again. Each time, the snake shriek-hissed, and its tail twitched uncontrollably. Slowly, it seemed to be losing its death-grip.
After many minutes, the two monstrous combatants lurched and stumbled far away that Pashera dared to risk scurrying along the ground and climbing up in another tree. The battle was far enough away now. She wanted to hide herself away from where the combatants had last seen her. But just as she reached up for a branch, something very strong closed around her ankle.
Pashera screamed. She was hoisted upside down and yanked in the air. And then she looked into the furious face of Tol’zen, his face bloodied and bruised on one side, a large lump on the side of his skull.
Tol’zen roared at her. Pashera screamed. Then one of his fists closed around her throat. He squeezed, and she blacked out.
Chapter 4. The Night Apes
Pashera woke up. She was on her side, tied tightly, her arms crossed behind her, her legs tied at her ankles and curled behind her. Stretching experimentally, she realized her ankles were tethered to her crossed arms. It wasn’t tight, but she wouldn’t be going anywhere either. She still wore her skirt and sandals. But her knife was missing from her hip.
Pashera rolled over on her stomach. She could see Tol’zen’s spear close by, leaning against a beige-colored wall. Tol'zen was beside it, making a fire in a pit built for the purpose close to a doorway. Through the door, she could see the deepening purple of twilight in the sky.
Tol’zen looked at her as she stirred, then went back to building his fire.
“Untie me,” she asked. “Please.”
Tol’zen made a noise that might have been a laugh.
“I’m sorry I hit you,” she said. “I just don’t want to be a slave.”
“Ten minutes on your own and you have a snake and old Hrothrawl fighting over who gets to eat you for dinner,” Tol’zen said. Then he made the laughing noise again.
“I realize that now,” she said. “Please untie me.”
He kept silent.
“Why’d you come after me anyway?” she said. “Aren’t I more trouble than I’m worth?”
“I told my people I was bringing a slave,” he said. “You are expected.”
“You told them? When?”
“At the tower.”
“What manner of sorcery was that?”
“There is a transmitter at the tower. It still works,” Tol’zen said, and laughed again.
“I’m glad I amuse you,” she said.
This sparked another chuckle.
“You shouldn’t build a big fire inside this cave,” Pashera said. “We’ll choke on the smoke.”
“Air flows from inside the pylon to outside – that part of it still works,” Tol’zen said.
And sure enough, she could see that the flames on the logs bent toward the door, and smoke trailed out the door as if on a gentle breeze.
A sound – like a shriek, only from a throat both primitive and raw – cut through the gathering gloom. Noise like laughing answered it.
“What was that?” Pashera asked.
“Night apes,” Tol’zen said.
“Will they attack us?”
“They fear fire,” Tol’zen said. “And I have a lot of wood.” He pointed to a pile near the door.
“Close the door,” she urged.
“The door is recessed into the wall. It won’t close. It’s stuck.”
“But if they attack, what then?” she asked.
Tol’zen shrugged. “I’ll run away.”
“And leave me for them to eat?” Pashera asked.
“They won’t eat you,” Tol’zen said. “Not right away.”
Pashera began to worry that Tol’zen would leave her anyway. Then she thought about what he meant that the apes wouldn’t kill her right away, and she REALLY worried.
She shivered, and not from the cold. Tol’zen seemed so distant now. Did a simple blow to the head change him so much? Why, people in her tribe fought all the time, and they still got along, after a while.
She searched her memory for how the women of her tribe got their men to stop being mad with them.
“Hey,” she said. “Let me make it up to you.”
Tol’zen chuckled again.
“Like in the tower,” she said. “You know.”
He still ignored her.
“I so want your faroos. In my mouth.”
Tol’zen shrugged. He looked at the fire.
“And I would stroke you softly, all over your body.” She paused briefly.
“I know it won’t make it all up to you,” she said. “But it’s a start.”
Tol’zen threw another log on the fire and stood up. He looked at Pashera, his eyes hard.
But he made no move toward her. In the gathering gloom, she could see his lips were pressed together in a hard edge; his face grim. She didn’t want him to leave her behind – she’d do anything to get him to protect her from the “night apes,” as he called them.
He looked at her, as if considering her offer. But finally, he went back to the fire.
“Can you untie me?” she asked.
“No,” he said.
“How can I sleep this way?” she asked in exasperation.
“Not my problem.”
But later, Tol’zen brought her some cooked meat, and put it in her mouth, one piece at a time. As she ate the last of it, he wiped her mouth and face clean with a cloth, and she looked at him gratefully while she chewed.
“I’m only giving you food,” he said, “because we have a long journey tomorrow and you’ll need all the energy you can get.”
“Thank you,” she said. She paused again. “I have to pee.”
“Not my problem,” he said, and walked back to his fire.
With much struggling, Pashera was able to roll off the bench and onto her knees. Unable to hold it any longer, she peed right there on the floor. The urine pooled on the floor and spread to her knees. She felt humiliated, but Tol’zen studiously ignored her.
Then she inch-wormed her way away from the urine puddle to a dry corner of the room and lay over on her side again. Her arms and legs were starting to ache.
“I can’t sleep this way,” she said plaintively.
“Not my problem.”
Pashera cried quietly about the unfairness of it all. But she
must have fallen asleep, because she woke up with her arms and legs in agony. She moaned pitifully.
Tol’zen looked over at her from the fire. She guessed that he dozed by it, because he threw some logs on the fire before coming over to examine her. Outside the room, she heard snuffling and grunting noises.
“Be quiet,” he said in a low, urgent voice. “The night apes are outside.”
“My arms and legs are on fire,” she moaned.
Cursing, he rushed over and untied her arms from her ankles. Then he freed her arms long enough to retie her wrists in front of her.
She knew this was all his fault. But weirdly, she found herself so grateful to him for this small kindness. She started to thank him profusely, but he shushed her.
“Be quiet!” he hissed. “They’re right outside the door.”
Tol’zen placed another log on the fire. The growing flames reflected off something outside the doorway. With horror, Pashera realized that the fire was glinting off eyes.
“We need more light!” she hissed at Tol’zen.
He said nothing, but quickly undid one of the pockets on his sash. He pulled out two small objects, then twisted them. Each object lit up on one end. Tol’zen stuck one in a niche on one wall, and one in a matching niche on the other wall. The beams covered the doorway and added light to the room.
Multiple eyes in the darkness beyond the fire suddenly shrank back. Tol’zen nodded approvingly to Pashera. Maybe this would keep the night apes at bay.
Then, a thick, hairy arm reached exploratorily inside the room. Quick as a wink, Tol’zen reached over, grabbed his spear, and stabbed the arm savagely. There was a shriek from outside that reverberated inside the room.
More hoots and yells from other voices greeted the first one. Pashera crouched in the corner. Tol’zen stood in front of her, within stabbing distance of the door.
More guttural screaming from outside, but this was another voice, not the first one that screamed. Then a gray shape hurtled through the door, straight at Tol’zen. In a flash, he lifted his spear and impaled the shape. The shape flailed and struggled, then stilled.
It was an ape. But it was horrible, like no ape Pashera had ever seen. It was the size of a large child, but covered in shaggy gray hair the length of Pashera’s small finger. The hair ranged in color from gray to dirty-white in the light of the two artificial light-beams Tol’zen had put on the walls. The creature’s eyes were huge, black saucers like windows to the pits of hell.
The ape’s mouth was a gaping terror, bristling with brown, broken teeth. That mouth worked and gurgled as the beast grasped ineffectually at the spear growing out of its chest. It kicked its legs twice … three times … and blood spewed out of its mouth at Tol’zen.
With his spear weighed down by the creature, Tol’zen dropped the point to the floor. That’s when another creature rushed through. This one was the same color as the first, but three times the size, and muscled like a bear. It roared as it charged Tol’zen.
Tol’zen didn’t hesitate. He flicked the tip of his spear up and pushed, shoving the dead creature right into the giant ape’s face. The impact of the giant ape sent Tol’zen sliding back.
But he’d already let go of his spear, and pulled out a knife as the ape rushed forward. The giant ape, its view obstructed by the carcass in its face, didn’t react in time as Tol’zen moved under its grasp and slid the knife in, right between its ribs. The knife ripped into its flesh. Still, that didn’t stop the ape from slamming its powerful arms down upon Tol’zen.
Tol’zen fell to the floor, reeling from the blow. But then the giant ape realized it was wounded. It howled, a lonely, chilling sound. It pulled out the knife and threw it down. Blood gushed from the wound. The ape staggered back, arms flailing.
Other apes leaped into the room behind the giant ape, even as Tol’zen lifted himself unsteadily to his feet. He’d regained his knife, which he held tightly in one hand. The apes capered in a semicircle behind their hero, who continued to lurch backward, despite their urgings. Too late -- he fell in front of them, smashing down on the fire, scattering the burning logs into the crowd.
The apes screamed like souls in hell. As a group, they went insane.
Some sprang right back out the door into the night. Others bit at their own arms or banged their heads against the floor or the wall. Still others attacked each other, beating and biting viciously in futile rage. But one of the apes – not much smaller than the dead one on the fire –sprang at Tol’zen with fangs bared.
Tol’zen dodged, but he was still reeling from the first ape’s powerful blow. He wasn’t fast enough, and the new beast’s long arms swept him staggering and stumbling back toward Pashera. She screamed as the ape and Tol’zen slammed into the wall beside her. She could see cold fury glinting in the saurian’s eyes, and drops of perspiration from the hot, sweaty, enraged ape splashed her as they thrashed beside her.
The ape snapped viciously at Tol’zen, but its mouth only seemed to find the metal of his blade, which enraged it even more. It howled in fury, and it dug into Tol’zen’s left shoulder where it had a hold on him. Tol’zen cried out. Blood gushed from the inside of ape’s mouth where Tol’zen’s blade had bit deep, and the creature spit furiously at the saurian. It pounded at his ribs.
Tol’zen lashed out with a knee that caught the ape in the chest; a powerful blow. The ape “oofed” out its air and flew back. Tol’zen leaped, his dagger pointed ahead of him. It went right into the beast’s chest with all of Tol’zen’s weight behind it. The blade buried itself deep in the greasy gray fur of the monster.
The ape cried out once, then went silent and still. Tol’zen sprang up again. He pulled on his knife so hard that the ape came halfway up from the floor, then the creature slumped back as the blade came free.
Tol’zen turned. The remaining living apes in the room stopped battling each other long enough to look at him, then they all leapt for the door and ran shrieking into the night.
Tol’zen staggered forward and grabbed his spear, still embedded in the smallest ape. He freed it with a wrenching twist, then leaned on it. He walked cautiously around the room, poking the apes with his spear.
The entire battle had lasted less than two minutes. The largest ape, lying atop the logs, suddenly burst into flames. This was accompanied by a cloud of smoke and a stench that was hideous to Pashera’s nose.
Tol’zen moved to the burning ape. “Assist me,” he said, looking at Pashera. Still trembling from the adrenalin rush of the ape attack, she moved toward him. Tol’zen indicated that she should take one of the ape’s arms. She grabbed it by the hand – a cold, clammy, lifeless thing. Together, they lifted. The ape seemed impossibly heavy. Still, under Tol’zen’s urging, she helped drag it outside, dragging some of the burning logs with them as they did so.
Once outside, Tol’zen continued to drag, pulling the beast at least 25 paces from the door. He would have gone further, but Pashera dropped the ape’s arm as the flames licked up its fur, and she would not pick it up again.
Tol’zen did not argue. He led the way back to the pylon, limping. Pashera looked around furtively, but saw no apes or other creatures.
Inside, they quickly grabbed the other large ape and moved it out the door. As they did so, Pashera realized this one was female. They dragged still more fire-logs out the door trying to get the ape outside, but at least this one was slightly less heavy.
“Is the smaller one their child?” Pashera asked as they dragged the female ape by the first one.
“No, just some luckless member of their tribe,” Tol’zen said. “Apes are brutes, but they have enough sense not to kill their own young.”
Back at the pylon, Tol’zen directed her to pick up the smallest ape and drag it outside. It was difficult to do with her hands tied together, but she managed. He got busy rescuing the still-burning logs, dragging them back in the doorway.
He’d finished by the time Pashera hurried back. He directed her to help him get more wood
. Then they retreated into the pylon.
Inside, Tol’zen rested on the stone bench while Pashera worked the fire. Any woman of her tribe knew how to make a fire that would last the night – even a fire big enough to keep animals away.
While she worked, Tol’zen opened another pouch on his sash and took out a tube of cream. This, he squirted into the still-bleeding wounds on his shoulder, where the last ape had ripped at him.
“Let me help you,” Pashera said, coming to him. “Do you have anything to bind the wound?”
He indeed had something she now recognized as “cloth,” thanks to the new words in her head, tucked in a sash pocket. But no, cloth wasn’t right – no more than her skirt was “cloth.” This fabric was something different. All three were different.
“There are so many new words in my head,” she said. “But I don’t recognize this.”
“It’s a bandage,” he said. “There should be an emergency medical kit in the back room of the pylon if you look for it.”
She took one of his artificial lights and looked in the next room … and then the next. The third room opened to metal stairs that went below ground. Cool air rushed up the staircase. From that dark emptiness she heard the “thrum-thrum-thrum” that she’d grown to know at the old tower. Fainter, but the same noise.
Could the two buildings be connected? No, that wasn’t possible. They were too long a distance from each other.
Still, it was here in the last room that she found a bench against a wall, and on the bottom shelf of the bench, the medical kit that Tol’zen was looking for. She brought it to him.
He picked through it, and grimaced. “Very few painkillers,” he said. “Someone’s been at this already. Enough to get me through the night, but tomorrow will be tough. ” He popped some tablets in his mouth and directed Pashera to get him some water from a faucet on the wall.
“You can sleep with your head in my lap,” Pashera told him. “And I will sing you a song to take away your pain.”
Tol’zen grimaced again and sipped more water.
“It’s the least I can do to thank you for saving me,” she said.
Slave in the City of Dragons (Dinosaurs and Gladiators Book 1) Page 6
