Grey Eagle - Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

Time was passing easily again, the singing a balm to his spirit, the lessons challenging but not frightening. At least not usually. It seemed Reegat had learned enough now that he no longer needed to prove his advantage, but from time to time Raach would introduce a killing technique that Arion never quite trusted him to pull short.

He began to wonder how much longer Raach would consider him useful, and what would happen when he did not.

Feeling somewhat melancholy, not really wanting to sing, he nevertheless moved his chair towards the doorway and began. He chose a quiet song to match his mood, a love song to brighten it. By the end of the first verse he already felt better. By the end of the second verse, Raach appeared.

The mythra fell, forgotten as Arion bolted from the door, but he had nowhere to go. He cried out in wordless terror as Raach threw him down, pinning him. He spoke, but the words were wasted, Arion's mind burled by panic. Raach shook him then, commanding his attention, and with a will born of horror, he calmed himself.

"You did this, kyon. You. Understand? I warned you. I didn't want this. You forced it. But so help me you will pay now. I won't let you die, kyon, so don't bother waiting for it.

"I will break you now. I will break you so thoroughly that you will do anything for me. You will breed for me, kyon. You will kill for me. But you remember. You did this. You brought this on yourself."

He disappeared, and Arion lay where he was, his sobs broken and unrealized. Petrified beyond conscious thought, he couldn't escape the knowledge that Raach would come back. He would bring the needles and the wires...

Yells and cries penetrated his despair, and he listened, aghast, most of the words lost but the emotions clear. Begging followed by silence, then broken by cries of fear and renewed begging...

Arion wailed, grief and guilt now added to his fear. He called out, adding his own pleas to the general hysteria. As the house quieted, he did as well, but he felt, if anything, worse than before. He sat waiting, drawn tightly into a ball, his fear and his grief passing over him in alternating waves.

It seemed a very long time before Raach came, carrying the mythra. He held it by the neck, like a club, and Arion was sure he meant to beat him with it. But after several silent moments, he tossed it on the bed.

"Sing what you will. There's no one left to hear you but the damats." He turned to leave, pausing at the doorway. "You trained them well, Cedrychad. They destroyed the equipment to protect you."

Arion stared at the empty doorway. As he became accustomed to his relief, he was able to recognize guilt and shame. And yet...

While life returned to basic normalcy, the changes were obvious. Arion never was punished, but it was clear that he was not forgiven. Though he wasn't shunned by silence as before, Raach remained cold, distant, and resentful. Reegat was as disdainful as ever.

Quietly lonely, Arion found a strange, new acceptance, unsought but comforting. The desperation and the need to fight seemed to have ebbed away by themselves, no longer relevant. What - really - was one more venat that knew how to fight? For all his skill, he would still be just as susceptible to a laser, which was a human's only realistic defense against an adult anyway.

Not long after, Reegat appeared late one afternoon, bringing with him three friends. Never before had anyone else come in, and he controlled a sudden wave of nausea. They were most likely the same three...

They stared at him, smiling to each other. Reegat was solemn, cold as ice. "Soon I become Tirquash." Arion shook his head at the new word. Reegat looked annoyed, but he cradled his arms, "Mirquash." He pointed to his friends, to himself, "We are Bekquash. Soon I will be Tirquash."

Arion nodded. "Like your father."

Reegat looked disgusted and his friends laughed. "No. My father is Tirtaach. ...Sharsa is Tirtash." He was silent then, gazing at him.

Arion sighed, then smiled to hide the grimace, the hair prickling on the back of his neck. "You won't need me anymore."

"You become my mamak. My first kill. I have a great privilege to take my mamak as Tirquash." He was silent again, then smiled. "First we fight. Then we party." He turned and walked out the door, his friends following.

Arion went into the bathroom, sick to his stomach.

The evening lessons became strained and fierce, Raach more and more indifferent to Reegat's viciousness. Still bound by fear and promise, Arion found it increasingly difficult to defend himself, though he had much more confidence in what he could and could not get away with.

Raach called an early halt one evening, and Reegat promptly left.

"I will bring your uniform this evening. You will put it on tomorrow morning."

Arion nodded, tingling.

"Do you have any questions?"

"Will you be visiting tonight?" he asked softly, hopeful.

"I have nothing more to say to you. And no interest." He left.

When he came out from his shower, he found his uniform sitting on the bed, clean. Unlike the return of his other things, it seemed foreign, something that no longer belonged to him.

Wistful, he stroked the bright blue of the insignia patch. It had meant so much to him in Sharsa's little room, and yet he had barely noticed when it disappeared. Kim had taken it along with his other dirty clothes while he slept, after that first shower...

The morning dawned with a bustle of activity, but all of it elsewhere in the house. Arion showered again, and put on his uniform. He tinkered with the mythra, but found himself unable to sing. His breakfast never came.

Shortly after what would have been lunch, Raach brought in three adult male damats. "Bana," he said, and they began removing the furniture. Raach left.

Arion looked on, a quiet desperation creeping over him. One of them picked up the mythra, and Arion tried to retrieve it, begging softly. But the damat shoved him roughly aside, impervious. Forlorn, he touched his pocket pal and the two wallets, secure in their accustomed places in his uniform.

They finished their task, and Arion was alone again. He looked about the room. They had even taken the workbench and Raach's armchair. He sat down and leaned against the wall.

Somewhere in the loneliness of the marshmallow room, he had found a mental path which he followed now, walking through a sun-speckled orchard with the Comforter by his side. In the middle of the orchard was another tree, spreading and immense. Sitting beneath it, He held him in His arms while he cried.

The sounds of arriving guests came muffled to the empty room, echoing off the barren walls like ghosts. He sat listening, then rose as the footsteps approached. Raach entered first, followed by three other adults. Then came Reegat, followed by his three friends.

Arion wondered briefly if it was a special number... Reegat took his friends over by the wall where the workbench had been while the adults grouped together within the doorway. Raach came to Arion, cold and silent, and unfastened the leash.

"Are there any rules?" asked Arion. But Raach ignored him and turned away.

Reegat came forward and took his stance. As in the lessons he said, "We begin now." All comfortably rehearsed, they circled, and it seemed a dream, too nightmarishly calm to be real.

"Can you really take pride in killing someone who's not allowed to hurt you?"

Reegat smiled easily, amused. "As Tirquash, yes. Definitely. Does that annoy you?"

Arion smiled ruefully in return. "Yes."

Reegat attacked then, a simple move easily countered. Another attack, poorly executed, leaving himself open. Arion followed it up, but Reegat eluded smoothly. He realized then that he was being baited. Reegat was showing off for his audience. A demonstration.

He passed up two more staged opportunities, looking for one of his own making. He found it, attacking swiftly. Startled, Reegat staggered, half falling. Recovering quickly, he moved back, no longer the timid beginner, but wisely cautious. Nor was he the self-conscious youth to be goaded into reckless anger. They circled.

Reegat attacked again, fierce and unrelenting. For all that he himself had learned, Arion struggled within his bounds, not allowed to truly fight, yet fighting for his life. Reegat kicked, full force, and he went down. He scrambled, vulnerable as his vision clouded, but Reegat backed off, waiting. He rose slowly, clutching a broken rib.

"Enough," said Raach. Reegat stepped back, his eyes on Arion the entire time. A gesture to his friends, and they came forward, stalking Arion. He was being shared.

They ringed about him, nervously giddy. Arion glanced at Raach, knowing that even without a promise for these three, he couldn't fight them either. They began to heckle him, an empty lunge from the front, a kick from behind. Arion saw with mild surprise just how much Reegat had learned, for his friends were still as raw as he had been in the beginning.

Arion moved, grabbing one and throwing him into another, turning to pounce on the third, pinning him. The youth glared at him, frightened. Arion released him, suddenly tired and disconsolate. It was so pointless.

The one he had thrown was back, while the other continued to hover behind, out of reach. Again they ringed about him. Arion growled, lunging, suddenly ferocious. They scattered, and he charged the adults, jumping, scrambling to escape over top of them, knocked down, tumbling into the wall, still inside the room...

He lay still, foggily testing his hurts... His ribs were angry, but he seemed otherwise intact. He opened his eyes to see Raach standing over him. "Get up," said Raach, his voice harsh. He stood, suddenly sorry that Raach hated him so completely now. He took him by the arm and shoved him into the center of the room. Reegat returned and Arion tensed, ready.

They circled. Arion found an opportunity and tried to pin him, but he twisted free. He tried again, pursuing futile inspiration, growing desperate as his rib denied him breath, sapping his energy.

He pinned him at last, holding him. Reegat brought his knee up hard, catching him in the ribs. He grunted, but held on, stalemate. "Now what, Raach?" asked Arion. "I have him. I can't.. I can't kill him... But I have him. He can't win. So now what?"

Raach walked over, calm, critical. Reegat was furious, but was controlling it well. "You don't get it, do you? You have him? So hold him." He turned and walked away.

Reegat brought his knee up again and Arion gave a soft cry, releasing him, sitting on the floor, hands down. He caught himself as Reegat kicked his hand away, grimacing as the muscles pulled against his ribs.

"Get up, kyon," said Reegat.

Again they circled and Arion waited, conserving his energy, wondering why he bothered. Reegat attacked, sudden, savage, putting him down. A moment's panic and a killing blow - pulled short.

"I win," he said softly. Arion glared at him, kicked him off, and stood. Reegat rose with him, smiling, but walked away, sending his friends in again.

Arion stood still, sullen, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of pretending to fight. A shove from behind, followed immediately by a bop to the right. He turned his head, only to be hit from the left, in the ribs. He grunted, hurt and angry, but otherwise unresponsive. They continued, growing bolder, punishing his rib more and more.

Suddenly fed up, he attacked, murderous. He hadn't promised, and he would have one of these wretches go with him. He had one, but Reegat responded instantly, latching onto his neck from behind. He brought his knee up, catching Arion hard near a kidney.

The youth twisted free, and they had his arms, the escapee spinning round to hit him in the belly. They put him down and held him. Raach came over, carrying a vial and a syringe. Arion was not surprised, but he felt angry and cheated. "Cowards," he growled bitterly.

Raach gripped his throat, and inserted the needle. "You may think us cowards if you wish," he said quietly, watching the vial fill. "We are not here to prove ourselves to you by your rules. You are here to amuse us, and to provide us with that which pleases us."

He disconnected the vial and attached a second. Holding up the first for Arion to see, he met his eyes. "I will eat your soul," he said softly.

Arion struggled briefly within himself, then spat in Raach's face. "You only die once," he said with a smile.

Raach harnessed his anger quickly and wiped his face clean. "Maybe," he said calmly, removing the needle smoothly, applying pressure for a moment. His hand moved then, the pressure becoming painful, squeezing his throat.

Arion glared at him, unable to breathe. He fought the urge to struggle, but lost that battle as well as the discomfort became intense, the burning of his lungs overshadowing the pain in his throat. He began to black out, only to be rudely brought back by the stabbing of his rib, coughing, gasping...

"Then again," said Raach, "maybe not." He picked up the vials and walked away.

Arion was released and the youths walked over to join the adults. He rolled to his side, head in his arms, listening. Unable to hear, he lifted his face, morbidly fascinated as he watched them inject his blood into some other, clear fluid. They toasted Reegat's ascension and drank.

"Birnat shas tirta," said Raach to Reegat. "Benka las lamnataach." You are strong. You will be powerful. In the presence of the others, it carried the weight of a promise.

Arion sat up slowly then, looking away.

Raach picked up the second vial and spoke to Reegat. "He is yours. Do with him as you please." He left, the other adults leaving with him. Arion rose slowly, uncertain of his balance. They stood by the doorway, watching and chatting. Leaning back against the wall, he closed his eyes.

He put his weight on his feet as they approached, their drinks finished. The doorway was empty. Reegat faced him as the others ringed around. The one he had tried to kill shoved him towards Reegat. He didn't resist, didn't stumble. Reegat slapped him across the face, but he didn't respond.

Reegat swung at him then, and Arion ducked, sidestepping. The doorway was on his right now. Reegat swung again, landing. Arion fell with the blow, rolling over twice, three times to his feet, bolting out the door.

He rounded the corner, catching himself against the far wall, running. They were on his heels, shouting, laughing... They dragged him down yards short of the front door.

"What's going on out there?" Raach growled from the next room.

"Just riling him up," said Reegat cheerfully. His friends laughed. Humiliated, Arion struggled to keep from crying.

"Keep him in the room," said Raach harshly.

Reegat's smile faded, and he took Arion by the throat, inserting the needle. "I own you," he said, serious and intense.

"You have my body," he answered coldly. "You'll never have me."

Reegat said nothing, watching the vial fill. That finished, he withdrew the needle, smooth, professional. He held up the vial. "I own you."

He sighed then, spent. "I'm not in that bottle," he said softly, eyes closed. "And even if I was, it wouldn't matter. When my body dies my spirit will go free, and you can't stop it."

They pulled him to his feet and led him down the hall. Six steps and his head began to swim. Nauseous, shaking, he couldn't see properly, vague silhouettes floating in darkness.. hands....

He opened his eyes in the empty room, confused, cold... He saw Reegat and his friends sitting in a group a few feet away... He rolled over, putting his face in his arms. Too weak to fight, no hope for escape, he wished for it to be over, knowing it was not. Lying down his mind was unpleasantly clear, but he knew he couldn't get up. He listened to them talk, unable to shut them out.

"...feels good. Cedrychads are a lot better."

"How would you know?" Reegat's voice, scornful, imperious.

"Better than what?" asked another.

A short silence, then embarrassed laughter. "I bled my damat once..."

"Your damat!" said a new voice, cold and hard. "They're no good."

Reegat snorted. "No wonder you're such a mirka."

"Did you at least rile him up?" The second voice, hesitantly supportive.

"Well..."

"How do you rile a damat? They just cower."

"After a fight maybe. They're riled then."

"Hey, I wonder what you'd get if you bred a damat with a Cedrychad..."

Reegat laughed. "Sharsa offered him one but he wouldn't have her. Didn't want him watching."

More laughter. "They're all human anyway," said the one who had bled his damat. "It's how you raise them that matters."

"No," insisted the cold one. "Their spirits are different. Why do you think this is so good?"

"How about," said Reegat slowly, "if you put damat blood into a Cedrychad? What would you have?"

"Well," ventured one, "they do that sometimes to repair them..."

"It doesn't change anything," said the other, still defending himself.

"Maybe they still had too much of themselves." Reegat rose, glass in hand, and walked over to Arion. He curled up defensively, watching Reegat's feet. "You feel good, Cedrychad. I think I might keep you. If I make a damat of your body, then it can not die. Where is your spirit then, eh? What happens to your spirit then?"

"Hey, Reegat, if the damat's spirit leaves because his body dies, what will the Cedrychad have? We'll have his blood and his spirit, right? And he'll have the damat's blood but no spirit."

"What of it Cedrychad? What happens?"

Ever so slightly he shook his head. "Nothing. It doesn't change anything."

Reegat hissed softly. "Your spirit is forfeit, so we're going to find out." He pushed Arion onto his back, his friends coming over to hold his arms. The needle went in.

"We should go slowly now," Reegat said thoughtfully. "We have to take as much as possible without letting him die. ...Turra, fetch the shackleboard. We can leave the needle in and just take a little at a time." The timid one disappeared out the door, returning quickly.

Arion lay limp as they clamped his wrists. He cried out as Reegat pressed on his rib, holding it, forcing him to struggle to be free of it. He drew on the needle, directly into his cup. And some for the one on his left.

Turra held his out, but Reegat pushed it away. "Go get my damat." To another he said, "Bring us the flask." He filled his cup the rest of the way from the flask, passed it, and sat gazing at Arion. "...Brash, go tell my father the Cedrychad won't be available for dinner tonight."

Turra returned with a damat, a dark haired fellow about Arion's age, one of those who had helped clear the room. They sat him on the floor off to the right. He looked at Arion, but what he was thinking was impossible to tell.

Arion closed his eyes, retreating... Reegat slapped his face and he opened them again. "Still with us?" he asked, smiling. "Good." He drew on the needle, dividing the draft between Turra and Brash's unattended cup.

Brash returned, hastily retrieving his cup before speaking. "Your father wants to know who you're going to use."

Reegat smiled, immensely pleased. "Kalb." Brash left again, and they sat quietly, watching him, drinking. "Oh, but you do feel good, Cedrychad. If this doesn't work, perhaps we can do it again."

"Nobody's ever tried that, have they? Recycled Cedrychad!" Turra laughed. "And they'll have you to thank for the idea Reegat."

Reegat smiled but didn't laugh. "I think he'll become Kalb. And the feeling won't fade." Brash returned, and Reegat reached over, pressing on the rib. A draft for the nameless one, and another for Reegat...

The pain subsided some, and Arion watched him, feeling oddly detached despite the rib. He had no decisions to make, no chances to hope for... He looked at the damat, sitting quietly, watching, innocent. He hoped he could die before... But it wasn't up to him now.

He closed his eyes, wishing he could pass out, afraid that he would. So cold... His feet were numb. Too bad his rib wasn't, but it didn't seem so sharp anymore...

"Is he still with you?" Raach's voice, and he opened his eyes. "So, Cedrychad," he said, squatting down beside him. "Where is your hate now? Will your god still forgive me? What is he doing?"

"You're drunk."

Raach smiled. He handed his cup to Reegat who obliged by filling it.

...So cold. ...If only his rib...