by Brandon Barr
“That’s it, give him your fists now,” said a cheerful voice outside the cell.
Aven kept his eyes locked on Pike’s. The friendly boy was gone, and so was the opportunity to have done something to him while he was unaware.
Pike spit, the saliva hitting Aven’s bare chest. A cold smile twitched at the corners of his lips, then he turned to look through the door of the cell. Aven followed his glance and saw a man standing outside. It was the mercenary with one eye, the one called Piz.
“If you ain’t going to fight no more, then come ’ere.”
Aven obeyed but kept his eye on Pike.
“The kiehueth has taken a liking to you,” said Piz to Aven, a glint of humor in his eye. “That’s twice now it’s gotten into your head and put you on the floor. Thought you were sleeping when I first came, but then I saw your hands all fisted up, heard you breathing. Either you were having a real good dream,” said Piz with a wink, “or the kiehueth was fuggin’ with your mind.”
Aven was hesitant to respond to the mercenary, but finally asked, “How can an animal do that?”
“The beastie does it to everyone sooner or later. I wet through my clothes every time he does me—but it’s a thrill wakin’ up! Still alive! All those people he drug out of your mind and slaughtered…that’s how he does it. That’s how he paralyzes you so bad. He gets in your head. Telepathy. And he digs around in your heart then kills whatever he finds. Back on the world we got him from, the villagers told us that’s how they hunt. Freeze their victim with fear. Take them out of the real world and put them in a twisted nightmare.”
Aven nodded as the VOKK translated telepathy. He recalled how real Daeymara and Harvest had seemed. How had such a horrific animal come to exist?
“There’s no way to shut it off?”
“Nah, that’s the beauty of it,” said Piz. “When you wake, after he’s ripped the bowels out of you or your mother, or that one hussy you’ve never forgotten about, it’s like…pure ecstasy! Biggest sigh of relief. Like smoking a track of Marsh Leaf. Course, everyone else on the ship wants rid of it. If it was up to me, it’d be the ship’s pet.”
The thought of anyone enjoying that twisted experience was madness. Piz was deranged.
Aven had more questions, but more important was the tantalizing smell coming from the other side of the grating. It reminded him of how empty his stomach was. He noticed two containers in the mercenary’s hand.
“Hungry?” said Piz. He slid the two containers through a slot under the door.
Aven hurried over and opened one up. The sight of food made his stomach tighten. He quickly put a scoop in his mouth and savored it.
“Is this all I get?” said Pike, annoyed. His fingers touched the pieces of bread and meat as if they were too meager to eat.
Piz cocked his head, amused. “What? ’Ave we royalty aboard our ship and didn’t know it? I’ll inform captain immediately!” sang Piz, then gave an exuberant bow, slowly extending both arms in a drawn-out gesture. “I promise, Yer Majesty, the next meal will be unforgettable. The finest shit our humble crew can grunt out!”
Pike looked pale. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s fine. Forget what I said.”
“Oh, no-no,” said Piz. “I insist.” He rubbed his stomach then curled his upper lip, as if in pain. “Oh, yeah. I feel it.” He started walking down the hall. “Gonna start squirtin’ your dinner out real soon. Just wait, yer majesty. Piles of food. Piles and piles…piles and piles…”
Piz’s voice faded, then all was silent.
Aven left Pike standing at the metal grate and sat down beside Daeymara. Pike stayed where he was, staring blankly at the back wall.
Aven ate warily, peering up every so often to read Pike’s mood. His eyes were disturbingly hollow, void of any detectable emotion. Where were Pike’s twisted thoughts leading him now?
Aven wished he had telepathy, like the beast in the cage. Then he could read Pike’s thoughts and know whether he was still safe.
Or if he should slyly begin unscrewing the lever while he still had a moment of surprise.
Chapter Eleven
AVEN
“Daeymara….”
Aven put his hands on her shoulders and shook her gently. He touched a hand to the side of her face. “Daeymara,” he said again, more urgently.
“What’s wrong?” asked Pike, moving closer.
Aven ignored him. He watched the rise and fall of Daeymara’s chest. Something had changed. There was a stutter that shook each breathe now, and a wheezing sound. Aven wanted it to be a sign that she was waking up, but he sensed otherwise. She was beginning to slip away.
Aven put his ear to her chest. Daeymara’s heart sounded erratic, unstable.
Pike squatted beside Aven. “What do you hear?” His voice was filled with concern. It was friendly Pike. He reached out to touch Daeymara’s arm.
Aven smacked his hand away. “Leave her alone.”
Pike started to stutter something, but then fell silent.
Daeymara’s face no longer looked at peace. There was struggle there.
“Daeymara, please,” whispered Aven. He ran his hand over her forehead. “I’m here with you,” he said softly. “It’s Aven. Your friend.”
Aven looked at Pike. Pike wore a hurt expression on his face. “I’m sorry,” said Aven. “Here.” Aven placed Daeymara’s hand in Pike’s.
Her mouth was open, her breathing labored. All he could do was watch and listen. Stroke the side of her face. Accept the fact that he was helpless. His helplessness made him angry. Angry at the gods. At himself, even though he knew there was nothing more he could have done to save her.
The space between each breath grew longer. Aven blinked away the tears.
Finally, she lay still.
Her last moments echoed in his mind.
Pike didn’t try to say anything; instead, a light, blubbering cry came from him.
Aven bent and kissed the side of Daeymara’s face. She was still warm. He stared at her a while longer, numb. Lost in dark thoughts.
He turned away finally and lay flat on the floor, his face buried in his arms. In his hand he held Daeymara’s braid.
Out of the dark morass of his thoughts, a painful realization struck him.
His entire life, the ones he’d looked out for—Winter. Harvest. Daeymara—all were gone. Taken from him. Part of him wanted to die.
Another dark thought came.
He should kill Pike now. While he had a chance.
But he didn’t move.
Raucous laughter cut through Aven’s grim dreams. Something hard tapped his head. Aven turned over and got to his knees. Three mercenaries stood in the cell with him. Three more stood outside, gleeful expressions on their faces.
“Captain won! Damn him,” came Piz’s cheerful voice.
A chorus of cheers sounded. “What do you say, Captain?” shouted another mercenary.
A tall, muscular man standing back by the cell door raised a glass of dark liquid and shouted, “I’m so damn drunk, I don’t care what I said. I won, but—fugg-it-all! Let’s have some fun tonight!”
Shouts and laughter echoed in the room.
“It’s time to meet the ship’s mascot,” yelled Piz. “We calls him Big Ol’ Fugger-up, cuz that’s what he does!”
Whistles and cheers sounded from the mercenaries outside the cell.
“And give that other boy his dinner!” said Piz.
A plate was thrown at Pike. It hit the floor at his feet, shattering the plate and sloshing its contents over Pike’s shoes and pants. The stink of feces rose into the air.
“There you are, your highness! A feast fit for a king!” said Piz.
Piz turned to Aven. “On your feet, boy!”
Aven rose as the cackling laughter continued. Aven gave one last glance at Pike. His face was white as death, and he looked confused.
Hands pushed Aven forward, shoving him outside the cell. Piz led the way, singing loudly as he danced and clapped.
<
br /> A cold horror came over Aven. This was not how he wanted to die. All the dark thoughts he’d had after watching Daeymara’s last breath had sprung from disgust at himself, his inability to help those he longed to save.
He hated himself. If he could simply blow his life out like a candle, then maybe death would be welcome.
But not this.
Chills crawled all over his body as he saw the metal bars ahead.
“What about my VOKK?” Aven said desperately. “It will be destroyed!”
“Put her on my tab!” shouted the captain, and the laughter of his men continued. “Someone pass me another bottle before I come to my senses!”
“That’s the spirit!” shouted Piz. “Fourteen’s the record!”
A small green bottle was handed to the captain. He pulled the cap and downed the liquid inside.
Aven froze, resisting the hands pushing him from behind. The men shoved him harder, and he lost it. He tried punching the closest mercenary in the face, but another one grabbed his arm. They lifted him into the air, and suddenly he was being carried, every limb held fast. He struggled, trying to break loose.
Tears fell from his eyes. All he could do was surrender to the inevitable and simply let the men carry him. Those last moments were all he had. Like a man going over a waterfall, soon to be dashed against the rocks below, he tried to hold tight to the last seconds he had left. The feel of Daeymara’s braid in his hand brought him some consolation. He’d watched her die. Perhaps she was watching him now.
The men halted outside the barred gate. They set Aven on his feet and held his arms behind his back. Four of the men carried large metal rods in their hands; the ends glowed blue with electricity. The gloom inside the cell was suddenly washed away by overhead lights, and the gate slid open with a metallic squeal. Aven tried once again to flee, the terror returning with force.
A combined shove threw him through the gate, and before he could turn and jump back through, the gate shrieked shut behind him.
Aven spun, facing the inside of the room. Against the far wall was the huge, mounded mass of the creature. Aven backed away from it. This room was much larger than his cell, but it felt small with the beast in it. There was nowhere to hide.
The men shouted at the creature.
“Time to wake up, beastie! Supper’s here.”
The mercenaries jeered at Aven, but he ignored them. The kiehueth seemed to be asleep, its back turned to him. No animal on Loam compared to it. From the back, it looked somewhat like a lizard. A thick, heavy hide with scaly bumps. And it was enormous. Lying on its side, it was still as tall as he was. He imagined when it stood on its legs it would easily be twice his height.
The creature’s head moved, sliding along the floor. Aven stepped back, remembering the first time he’d seen the creature, rising up out of the gloom, the tongue shooting out at him.
The beast’s mouth opened, exposing wet, pink flesh and sickle-like teeth.
Dizziness caused Aven to stagger. He gripped Daeymara’s braid tightly as he felt his mind torn away from him by the monstrous creature.
Dimly, Piz’s words about the kiehueth returned. Telepathy. The creature was using it now, torturing him.
Aven tried to pull away but was unable to break the creature’s merciless grip on his mind.
The creature lifted its head and cocked it to the side, its lips peeling back like a giant rat baring its teeth. There was no sign of its eyes, only pebbled skin and coarse, sparse hair.
Aven looked down, his gaze slipping below the creature’s mouth. There, the creature’s eyes peered at him through heavy eyelids. He hadn’t seen them before, for he’d been looking above the mouth, not below.
The eyes reminded Aven of cow’s eyes. Large, round pupils, black, surrounded by yellowish-white pus.
The dizziness hit Aven again, but it was painful this time, like a migraine. He shut his eyes until the pain left.
When he opened them again, Winter’s body hung from the creature’s mouth, her head pinned between the rows of teeth. Before Aven could react, Winter’s head cracked and split open as the razor-sharp teeth crushed her skull.
Chapter Twelve
AVEN
Laughter faded in and out, slowly growing louder as Aven opened his eyes. Faces stared at him through the bars, gleaming with anticipation.
“There he is, he’s waking,” said one of the men.
Aven realized he was lying prostrate on the floor.
He tried to lift himself, but his head hit something lingering above him.
A gasp sounded from the men gathered at the bars. Aven froze. Slowly, he looked up and saw that he lay underneath the wide jaw of the creature, its throat hanging down in a heavy, sack-like bulge.
Aven closed his eyes, the dark behind his eyelids the only refuge. At any moment those sickle-teeth would pierce him. He wanted to run, but he was paralyzed by fear. It was all going to happen soon. First pain. Then death. His mind went numb.
Weight came down on his back. He imagined the creature’s snout sliding toward his neck.
The weight paused at his head.
Aven went rigid with terror as a name repeated in his thoughts like a desperate prayer.
Winter. Winter. Winter. Winter. Winter…
A wet bulk slid around his side, like a heavy slab of meat, and then muscled beneath his stomach, wrapping under him.
The tongue. He knew it was the tongue. It lifted his upper body off the ground.
Winter’s name drowned in the grim, unthinkable reality around him. He imagined her face and tried to grab onto it, a refuge from the horror.
He felt the hot breath on the top of his head, then his head and neck slid into the airless wet space, the right side of his head brushing against what he knew were rows of the monster’s teeth.
He brought his arms up instinctively—one hand still gripping Daeymara’s braid—and braced himself. Soon it would be over. One twitch of the muscled tongue and he’d be tossed into the waiting rows of razor-sharp teeth.
The jaws halted. The tongue’s grip around his chest slackened. He felt himself lowered to the floor. His feet touched the ground. The tongue let go of him, and he collapsed to the floor, too weak to stand.
What was happening?
Slowly, he opened his eyes and saw his hands on the floor. The shadow above him moved, and with all his willpower, he forced himself to look up. The eye of the creature stared down at him.
The pink tongue slid from the mouth, moving down to Aven. Down past his head. Down to his right hand, the hand that held Daeymara’s braid.
The tip of the tongue touched the lock of hair and then slid over Aven’s hand and brushed against the little blue butterfly wing. The tongue recoiled, the wing clinging to it, as the creature drew it back into its mouth.
Did the animal somehow know the significance of that wing? That it belonged to his sister? That Aven had kept it only because it reminded him of Winter?
“What in the fuggin’ stars is it doing?” came Piz’s voice.
A low thundering sound rumbled from the creature’s throat, sharpening into a snarl. Aven put his palms to his ears.
The animal moved up beside Aven as he watched warily. It lowered itself, wrapping its huge bulk around him. The monstrous eye closed.
Aven lay there frozen, afraid to move.
“It’s messing with his head,” said the mercenary with the spiky hair. “Let’s get him out so we can have some shut eye.”
“No,” said Captain Mhadrees. “Let the kiehueth keep him. Another twenty hours and we’ll arrive at Hearth. I want to see what it’s going to do to him.”
“Yeah,” said Piz. “Should give him some pretty nightmares. Someone should stay on duty. Give us the sweet n’ pretty details of how it all ends.”
“You lost the bet, Piz,” said Mhadrees. “You get the first round.”
Aven lay awake for hours listening to the kiehueth breathe. He wondered if it was baiting him, waiting for him to try an
d move away. A handful of times, Piz shouted and whistled, trying to rouse the animal, but to no avail. The slow rise and fall of the creature’s chest was the only sign it was even alive.
Aven’s eyes grew heavy, but he forced himself to stay awake. What if the creature was only waiting for him to sleep, and would do something the moment he slipped off into dreams?
What did it matter? He couldn’t deny sleep forever. He glanced over at Piz. The mercenary sat in a chair, slumped against the wall of the corridor, snoring softly.
Aven tried to occupy himself but knowing that he might get snatched into a giant mouth at any moment rattled his thoughts. He tucked Daeymara’s braid safely back into his pocket. His pants were filthy and smelly, stained with grass and dirt and whatever sludge greased the ship’s floors.
Why did he want to go on living? Everyone who mattered and was still alive was back on Loam. Winter. Arentiss. His dreams existed on Loam. Dreams of quieter days on his new farm. The freedom to live a simple farmer’s life. Now his dreams were all gone.
Yet he wanted to survive. Why? The hope of making it back to his cell alive? He’d been ready to die when the kiehueth first had him in its mouth. Was his yearning to live part of that creature’s twisted plan? Was it intelligent enough to torture him so cruelly as to give him these small, dismal hopes before it slaughtered him?
Aven laid there, his mind beginning to drift, as if unable to hold the thoughts any longer. His eyelids closed, and his head dipped against the floor.
Sleep was almost upon him when he jerked his head up.
He knew if he lay there, he’d no longer be able to fend off sleep. Gingerly, he stood up and stepped away from the animal. He moved toward the far side of the room, stopping to look back several times, just to be sure the thing hadn’t stirred. At the far side of the room, Aven lowered himself down on the metal floor. His eyes fluttered open and closed, checking to be sure the kiehueth had not moved. Utter exhaustion finally purged him of all concern. Soon, he drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep, not a single thought remaining as to what he might awaken to.
