Grey Eagle - Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

...a dull, fuzzy roar buzzing between his ears...

...The room...

Crud. Not again...

Wrists still shackled to the board. He started to sigh, but the inward breath was cut short, his forgotten rib promptly remembered. The pain subsided and he opened his eyes again, more fully conscious now.

Reegat's damat was lying beside him, similarly shackled now. Not breathing. Mildly sympathetic, slightly jealous, he was too numb to really care. Without interest, he wondered if they had the same blood type... What is it like to die from blood rejection? Crud.

He moved his legs, trying to twist himself to a new position, his muscles responding with bitter fire... He tried again, attempting to flex his arms, but they ignored him, refusing. Like his arms then, he surrendered, waiting. No one came. He slept. He woke. No one came.

Reluctantly, he became angry. So horribly stiff, he wanted to move, but couldn't. He wanted to use the commode, but couldn't. He wanted to remain numb, but couldn't. It was supposed to be over now, and the prospect of facing new unknowns was simply too much.

"You're awake," said Reegat, sounding sleepy when at last he came in. Arion glanced in his direction, but otherwise did not respond. Reegat undid the shackles and sat back on his heels, watching.

Arion rolled slowly to his knees, his arms hanging uselessly, screaming their protests. He glanced towards Reegat again, wary, submissive, and moved slowly towards the bathroom.

Reegat did not move.

Arion relieved himself and came back out, sitting down by the bathroom door, leaning against the wall. His arms viciously angry but mobile, he drew one knee up and laid his hands in his lap, the other ankle tucked close beneath him. His eyes stared vacantly at the center of the room, at nothing.

Reegat touched the hair of the dead damat, a parting caress. He undid the shackles and stood up. "Dosha," he commanded, pointing to the dead damat, looking at Arion.

Nothings don't fetch.

"Kalb."

Kalb? That was his name. Nothings don't have names.

Reegat went to the doorway. "Manak! Ta!"

A few moments, and a large damat appeared. He had helped clear the room too. He had taken the mythra. Not his fault.

"Manak. Dosha." Manak went to Kalb and touched him gently, felt his coldness. He looked up at Arion. Arion met those eyes, human eyes, and their hatred burned straight through him. He felt suddenly, unbearably homesick. And yet he did bear it, because there was nothing else to do. No choice.

"Manak. Dosha," repeated Reegat. He picked him up then, cradling him, and followed Reegat out the door.

Arion was alone, unchained. The knowledge danced on the edges of his mind, but like a phantom lake on hot sand he ignored it.

Shortly Reegat returned without Manak. "Ta." Nothing. Reegat came over to him, took him by the collar, and pulled him to his feet. He took his arm then and led him out, down the hallway, and through a doorway. They came to another room, where Reegat left him.

There were three, no four damats in the room, all male. The young one had to be Ky, and at the farther wall, the one who had tended his room and brought his meals. Blankets, furs, and toys were scattered haphazardly about; a child's playroom.

They stared at him, watching as he meekly found a wall and sat down, arms around his knee. They were suspicious, barely tolerant. He was clearly an unwelcome stranger in foreign territory.

Tired, alone, he drew his arms up higher and laid his face within, blocking out existence... Someone at the doorway; Reegat's voice, "Manak. Ma." But Arion had rediscovered his numb, wrapping it about him like a shroud.

Raach came in to stand over him, gazing down. Somehow, without looking up, he knew it was Raach, with his silent footsteps... "Cedrychad," he said quietly. Arion did not respond. "Arion," he said then.

This surprised him, but still he said nothing. Raach took hold of him then, lifting and dragging without waiting for him to find his feet. He saw then that Reegat was there too, annoyed but quiet. He followed as best he could, his numb shattered to expose a raw fear.

Down the hallway, through another door, Raach shoved him in and across the room. He stumbled, allowed himself to fall, and sat up, hunched over in a ball again, clinging to his rib, struggling to breathe gently.

He stared at his knees, but he could clearly see Raach at a large desk, unlocking a drawer. He took out an air gun, and a small vial of yellow fluid. He brought them over to Arion, holding them out in his hand, directly in his line of sight. "Choose, Cedrychad."

Raach's hand was heavy and dark, with long, strong fingers. Five of them, just like a man's...

He took Arion by the hair and looked in his eyes, searching... He was angry, frustrated somehow...

His fur was really quite beautiful, striking and unusual, the black of his brindle so pronounced as to be essentially solid, the copper almost invisible, appearing only as occasional wispy veins of ore. His eyes were yellow, like the fluid.. like the venator who had tried to drown him. But Sharsa's eyes were brown. So similar to a man, really. It was rather strange...

Raach released him and clipped the vial into the gun. His heart was racing as he looked at the corner of the desk, at the wood grain. Peaceful swirls like breakers at the beach... or clouds.. after a rain...

Raach took hold of his arm, pressing the gun against his arm. ..Or like a sunset.. the colors changing in shades of gold and red, like the feathers of a Gryphus... Raach released him, the gun unfired, and unclipped the vial.

He took him by the collar again, down the hall, back to the same room with the other damats... Hateful glare from Manak. He found his wall and sat. Ky was eating the last few bites of a fruit. He put his head down in his arms wondering why Raach hadn't fired.

Perhaps he dozed, but the day managed to pass without him. He learned through need that they had a bathroom, much like his old one, where he could get a drink of water and relieve himself. He avoided movement as much as possible, shunning the activity, and fearing the arousal of the damats.

Towards evening, Reegat brought in a tray of foods, then left. Arion looked at the food. He had not been fed the day before, and he had had nothing today. He had no desire to eat, but he was hungry. To be hungry was to feel, and the food would make it go away.

He moved towards the tray. Like lightning, Manak pounced on him, savage, brutal. The pain was sharp and vivid, Manak's anger vibrant and alive. Shocked, Arion fled to the wall; satisfied, Manak let him go.

The house was dark and silent when Manak attacked. Arion had expected it, though the ferocity of it startled him. He realized dolefully that Manak meant to kill him. Unwilling to fight, he fled the room. Manak did not follow.

He moved slowly down the hallway, not knowing where he was headed, but needing to go somewhere. He wandered about and found himself in the room with the videcom. He stared at it...

If he could call the Arlemagen, if she was close enough to hear... Cautiously he turned the volume off and switched the unit on. The blank screen glowed alarmingly in the dark. He turned the volume up slightly, so that he could just hear the faint empty static.

What if some venators heard him? A code name then, but something Soren would recognize...

"This is Mud Puppy calling Raven... Mud Puppy calling Raven. Anybody out there?" Silence. He repeated the invocation. Ever so slightly the static bubbled. He adjusted the gain and repeated it again.

"...Puppy? ....eally you?" It was Soren's voice.

Arion locked in the channel. "This is Mud Puppy. Please repeat, Raven. Over."

"This is Raven. Do you copy?"

"Loud and clear. Switching to video, three six nine." Some snow, then Soren's face appeared on the screen. "Hey."

"Where in Creation are you?" asked Soren, his voice filled with wonder.

"I don't really know. Somewhere on Kinoshi, nightside. Can you get a fix?"

"Working on it... Yehiel, do you think you could have picked a denser spot?"

"Sorry," he answered apologetically. "I haven't had much choice in things lately."

"I hear you, pal. Ok, listen - "

Hands grabbed Arion from behind. Raach held his mouth, plugging his nose so that he couldn't breathe. He struggled, frantic, but Raach put his knee in his chest -

His eyes flew open to Manak's vengeful face. His rib was screaming protests - pressure, pressure and no air...

Manak's knee was in Arion's chest, his hands holding his throat, his mouth and nose. Pushing futilely with his hands, Arion drew his foot around, shoved him off, and scrambled to his feet.

Gasping, still confused, he looked around the room. The other damats stood back, watching. Manak advanced, menacing, and Arion backed slowly out the door, the sense of deja vu strong within him. Manak did not follow.

Shaking, he sagged against the wall and sat. He thought of Soren, of the videcom...

It could never have worked. Private videcoms worked on tight beam laser relay. Even if they were close enough to hear, he would have to have the coordinates. He needed a broadcast unit, like his distress beacon...

As if they could land here unnoticed anyway. It was ridiculous. Even if they knew he was here...

His grief overtook him then. He was quite probably dying now anyway. Again. Despair drove him to move, and he followed the hallway to the front room, the front door, and out.

He looked around, shocked. He was in the country! He had been asleep on the way here, waking up inside the hangette... No windows.

He wandered about in a daze. It was incredibly lovely. Vast yellow fields, silver gray in the night, stretching away, wide and open. To the left, a glow in the distance: city. To the right, more fields, and humpy black shadows: forest.

Above him the moon, Pesdo. Lenis. And beyond were his stars. Kailani, the endless sea... But, like the Lenisats, he was crippled, unable to reach them, incapable of spanning the abyss to freedom.

Freedom. So why not just walk away? He was outside. Just walk away...

His fear answered, mute but forceful. If he ran, they would know he was still alive. They'd know and they'd find him, and it would start all over again... He was probably dying now anyway.

If he could make it to the trees, maybe he could die in peace. He rose and began walking, the opportunity to die free a sudden gift, an attainable goal. A choice.

And so he walked, the silent beauty of the night awesome and welcoming, the immensity of space an invitation to eternity. Thank You.

He never made it to the trees, collapsing instead in the long grasses. But that was good too, in the midst of the endless open, in full view of the stars. Raach's house was reduced to miniature, a bad dream, a storybook laid to rest.

He lay on his back, staring upward, the pain of his rib distant and far away. He was free. And he was going Home. Silently, he sang to himself.

My body is an apple
In life the flesh is sweet
More precious still the seed within
Which life renewed shall greet!