Grey Eagle - Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Yavin had come twice since Sharsa left. He brought a toothbrush each time, but no books. Arion chided himself mildly for hoping, but neither his disappointment nor his irritation were extreme. He brushed but did not eat, darkly amused by the incongruity. He drank his glass of water, not bothering to wash anymore, and made pictures with the food until Yavin returned to take it away.

He played the mythra a great deal, finding much comfort in it. His empty solitude seemed easier to bear now, though he felt sure it was because he was no longer seeking a way out. Unless you counted death. But he wasn't really trying to die, (committing suicide wasn't right); he had simply abandoned his body. Sharsa could do what he wanted with it when he came back, but he himself wasn't going to do anything. Well, the toothbrush, but it was a novelty to be able to. Something to do.

Yavin's third visit was not due for some time yet when he heard footsteps. Not Sharsa's. He stood, curious. Maybe Sharsa had sent some books after all. But he noticed more than one set of steps...

Four venators appeared, youths, smiling at each other, pushing, laughing... Arion's stomach knotted, the fear welling up to tingle on the surface of his skin. They obviously did not belong here, and were up to mischief.

The apparent leader of the group stepped forward, the others following him in but milling behind. Where an adult would normally be a head above a human, he was roughly the same size as Arion. "Kyon," he said, grinning, pointing to Arion. "My," he said, tapping his chest.

"Hey, My," said Arion, feeling lightheaded, almost giddy. "Where's Sharsa?"

"Sharsa? Sharsa det." He smiled and pointed at Arion again. "Kyon my."

Arion frowned and his skin prickled. He would die now, and it didn't promise to be an easy death. They grew bolder and ringed about him, though he saw with some small hope that they were afraid of him. He knew he didn't stand a chance, but if they were frightened, he might have a slim one.

He focused on the leader, holding his eyes, yet acutely aware of the hunting knife he wore on his hip. "Venat det," said Arion, mimicking his accent, taking a step forward and watching for the effect.

Various syllables floated around the group and the leader took an unconscious half-step backwards. Arion immediately followed it up. The leader swung then, growling. Arion pulled back, letting the fist flash past his face, then hit him in the side of the head, striking over top of his shoulder as his wild punch pulled him off balance.

He dove for the knife as the youth fell, but the other three jumped in unison, one each for his arms and his neck. The leader rose. Arion braced against the three and kicked, missed.

They forced him to the ground, twisting his neck, pushing and pulling him backwards and down. Then the one at his neck slipped away to hold his feet. Arion struggled, but the leader came forward, his ears flattened with anger, and sat on him. He was effectively pinned.

The leader glared, fuming, and backhanded him across the face several times. The youth smiled then and spoke, but the meaning was lost, the words unknown. He pulled a syringe from a pocket and uncapped it. Arion struggled again, remembering the drug from the beginning...

"Pasha lamenaia," directed the leader. Hold his head. The youth on his left knelt on his arm and with the freed hand gripped Arion's hair, forcing his head back. "Kyon my," the leader repeated fiercely, taking him by the throat, choking him. The fingers moved, and Arion's eyes squeezed shut as the needle went in.

The fingers on his throat relaxed then and Arion opened his eyes. The leader produced a vial, connecting it to the needle. "Alenaia no molenaia," he said then, watching contentedly as the vial filled. Your blood becomes my blood.

Arion's eyes closed briefly as he controlled a wave of nausea. They were going to drink his blood. He gasped as the needle was yanked out.

Looking at him, the leader made a sympathetic noise, then wiped up the blood with a finger. He showed it to Arion, and licked it off. "Eh," he grunted approvingly. He smiled, bent down, and licked the bleeding hole. The chill down Arion's spine was intense and he couldn't breathe.

The venator laughed and stood up. He walked over to the mythra and picked it up, turning it over, examining it. "Monasanats?" he asked, grinning. He pulled out the hunting knife and, one by one, cut the strings. Gently, he set it back down on the floor.

Returning to Arion, he knelt and laid the knife against his cheek, the point close to his eye. Softly now, solemnly, "Monasanats?"

Arion was motionless, unable to breathe. The youth chuckled, sheathed the knife, and displayed the vial of blood. "Kyon my," he said softly, smiling. He laughed again. "Eirka sa!" Let's go. The youths jumped up and followed him out the door.

Arion went limp, utterly spent. His breathing slowed, and he half sat up to stare at the doorway. Their presence had been overwhelming, but their sudden departure baffled him. He closed his eyes and swallowed, unwilling to look at the mythra. He curled into a ball, retreating, shivering.

He roused himself long enough to drink the water from the dinnertray that Yavin still brought, then returned to the far wall, curled, and slept.

His sleep was a deep one, and he didn't hear the footsteps until they were almost to the door. He tried to stand, but stumbled. Hampered by sleep and weakness, he struggled, frantic, his haste only causing him to fall again.

"Oh Arion..." Sharsa was standing over him. "Easy now... Look at you," he said, distressed, looking him over, reaching out to him, but hesitant to touch him.

Arion stared at him, confused and betrayed. He opened his mouth to speak, but somehow found it difficult...

"Oh, Arion, I'm so sorry. I'm back now. You'll be all right now."

"...I thought..." He closed his eyes, his head sagging. He felt drunk, his tongue unable to cooperate, his thoughts hobbled... "You're s'posed to be dead," he mumbled at last.

"What?"

He sat up more and leaned against the wall, wobbly. "...He.. said..." His eyes crossed over the mythra and rested there.

"Who? Who said?"

A small, sad laugh. "How should I know?" he answered with a weary hint of anger, the words coming more easily now. "Welcoming committee for the new peace ambassador." He closed his eyes again, leaning his head back against the wall. He didn't want to come back; it wasn't worth it.

"...Another bad dream?"

He opened his eyes and glared at him, remembering that he was doing it on purpose. "The inside of my mouth isn't a dream. The scab on my neck isn't a dream. The mythra - the..." His voice failed him as he looked at the ruined instrument.

Sharsa frowned with his ears and went to it, picking it up. "Who did this?"

"You're the one with the video. You tell me."

He nodded, still frowning. "I'm sorry this happened."

"Why? Because I didn't like your party? Or didn't you get any?"

"Get any?" His ears twitched and he came over, lifting Arion's chin and inspecting his neck. He hissed angrily and Arion pulled away, unable to tolerate both hiss and touch at the same time. "Arion. I didn't do this," he said firmly, still angry, "and I will find out who did. I'm sorry I didn't prevent it, but I will make sure it doesn't happen again."

Arion's bitterness fell away to melancholy. "Doesn't matter."

"It matters to me," he insisted. "It matters they didn't stop it. They didn't even tell me..."

"So you didn't get any," he observed contemptuously. "Either way, it doesn't change anything. If you did, you did. I'm yours and you can do what you want. If you didn't, so what? I'm still not going anywhere. So some kids come in and mess around with your toys when you're not around. Boys will be boys..."

"Arion, they won't be back."

"Who's going to stop them?"

"I am."

"Like you stopped them this time? Sharsa, don't you see? It doesn't matter. Nobody cares. Those kids, new kids, anyone. I'm not going anywhere. If anyone wants me, I'm here. And there's not a blasted thing I can do about it. I can't be what you want me to be, so I'll just have to sit in here and rot."

They were silent for awhile. Then, softly, Arion asked, "I understand why you guys eat us, but.. why do you have to drink the blood?"

Sharsa sighed. "In the blood there's a chemical. We aren't sure what it is, but it's probably the adrenaline. Anyway, when they drink it, they feel good. ...In your old legends they found a lot of lore about the spirit being in the blood, and some of it said that you could get the spirit, or the courage of a person by drinking his blood. Some believed it, especially when it feels so good.

"Gadamis are especially valued because.. well, they have the strongest spirits, the most courage. Cedrychads are said to be the best of all. They came after you because you're a Cedrychad. The living blood of a Cedrychad is hard to come by."

"That's sick." He drew his knees up. "If that was supposed to make me feel better, it didn't."

"It may be sick, but it came from your people."

"Do you believe it?"

"No, but some do."

"Wonderful."

They were silent again. Sharsa nudged the dinnertray closer to Arion. "Go ahead," he said softly. "I hear you haven't eaten since I left."

"Told you that much at least, huh? I saw it. I don't want it."

"You'll at least drink. They said you were drinking."

"I was. That was water. I don't want your milkshake, or whatever it is. Nice thought, but no thanks."

"You'll let yourself die?"

"You got a better idea?"

"Yes! Work with me! If you'll work with me, we can do things."

Arion shook his head slowly. He was tired, and for the first time, Sharsa had overstayed his welcome. "We go round and round, but nothing ever changes. I can't promise and I don't want your kind of peace. I just want to go Home."

"But you could go home."

He sighed. "That's not what I meant."

"But Arion -"

"Aw, give it up already, will you? Just go away and leave me alone." He put his head down in his arms, wanting to sleep.

"You could go home," said Sharsa stubbornly, frustrated. "If you would just -"

"No. Go away."

He sighed. "Okay. We'll talk some more tomorrow." Arion heard him pick up the mythra, the broken strings rattling and rustling against the wood. "I'll get the mythra fixed and bring it back." He paused, but Arion didn't answer, didn't look up. He left.

Exhausted, Arion sank to the floor and went to sleep.