“I’ve never heard of it. How far away is it?”
Malika had no idea, but she lied, “Not too far. Just a few days’ journey.”
“What’s in Talin?”
“A great city, and a new start for us.”
Kappai didn’t ask any more questions. She lay in the darkness, and Malika wondered if her sister’s mind conjured the same images of the city that hers had. If Talin was half as promising as her imagination suggested, she was willing to make it her new home.
***
The sun was already high in the sky by the time they woke up. Malika found her legs tight and sore, but she also felt refreshed. She stretched and flexed her limbs, trying to rub some of the soreness from them. Her movements woke Kappai, who felt slightly worse but recovered more quickly.
The sisters ate a breakfast of fruit and bread. They washed it down with water, but the pitcher they drank from was the last full one in the house.
“That must be why the woman was carrying a bucket,” Kappai suggested. “She was getting more from a well or a stream.”
Malika agreed. She didn’t know where the water source was, but she knew that one of the other houses must have more water in their kitchens. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get water from another house.”
Kappai nodded absentmindedly. She returned to kneading her muscles, wincing when her fingers found a particularly sore spot.
Malika left the house where they had stayed the night and walked to its neighbor. It was even smaller, and inside, she found the body of an old man at the kitchen. Pieces of glass lay on the floor where a pitcher had shattered. The water that had been inside had evaporated. Malika looked for another pitcher in the house but couldn’t find any.
She left and proceeded to the next house. There she found three pitchers of water, enough for the family of four whose corpses now occupied the residence. However, Malika encountered another problem. She couldn’t carry the glass pitchers with her when they traveled. She needed to find canteens or waterskins to hold the water.
Malika searched the house but didn’t find anything suitable for carrying water.
She left and made her way to the subsequent residence in line.
The quest for water was turning out to be more complicated than she expected. Fortunately, the village was well stocked. It took her only three more houses before she found two canteens and two waterskins, enough to hold water to last her and Kappai for half a week. Carrying more water than that would weigh them down, so they would have to look for another source during their travels.
Malika filled the containers and set out for the house where Kappai awaited her. She could already feel the weight that she carried. Kappai wasn’t as big or strong as she was, so she would tire more easily. Perhaps they could sacrifice some supplies in the hope of finding food and drink within a couple of days. They could also eat another hearty meal before they set off today, and they wouldn’t have to eat again until tomorrow. Or they could simply stay another night and fully recuperate before setting out again.
“Kappai,” she called when she opened the door. “I have another idea. Let’s leave tomorrow instead of today.”
Her sister didn’t answer. She wasn’t in the front room, nor was she in the kitchen. Malika set the canteens and waterskins down and went through the house. “Kappai!” Her shouts were met with silence. Where was she? Why hadn’t she stayed in the house?
Then Malika saw the blanket under which they’d slept. A tear in the fabric nearly split it in two. A broken plate in the kitchen also hinted at a struggle and told her that her sister hadn’t left voluntarily. Someone had taken her.
***
Malika darted out of the house.
“Kappai!” She snapped her head in every direction. Why had she left her sister alone? Why did she think that this village was safe?
Malika raced around the side of the house to face the rest of the village. A man dragged a girl toward one of the small homes at the far end.
“Malika!” Kappai’s voice echoed across the village before the man who held her slapped a hand over her mouth.
She couldn’t be sure, but Malika believed that he was one of the slave traders who had run away. She didn’t know if he was alone or if his companion was also in the village, waiting in the building for him.
Malika broke into a run, any soreness in her legs erased by the adrenalin flowing through her. She had to reach her sister before they harmed her.
The blow came from out of nowhere, knocking her onto her side. Malika’s ribs hurt from where her body struck the ground. She rolled onto her back just as her attacker pounced on her. The other slave trader who had fled. He pressed his body against hers, pinning her to the ground.
Malika pushed against the heavier body, keeping him as far away from her as she could. The man didn’t strike her again, but he grabbed her by the wrists to subdue her flailing arms.
“Don’t fight it, girl,” he said with a grin. “It’ll be easier on you if you do what I say.”
Malika planned to do no such thing. She brought her knee up to his groin. The man let out a yelp but stayed on top of her. She grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled as hard as she could. The man yelled again, prying her fingers off.
Malika took the opportunity to roll away. She scrambled to her feet before the slave trader recovered. The two of them eyed each other, both bent at the waist and breathing heavily.
The man snarled. “You did it now. I was going to go gentle on you, but now I’m going to enjoy making you hurt.”
He lunged at her, but Malika dodged out of the way. He was twice her size, but she was quick and not as helpless as he assumed she’d be. The months of fending off strangers from her and her sister had taught Malika the basics of protecting herself. She was far from being a skilled fighter, but she was no weakling either.
The slave trader rushed at her again with his arms outstretched, but Malika slipped to the side and out of his reach. She could keep dodging him until he grew tired, but that left too much time for the other slaver to harm her sister. Malika had to finish this confrontation quickly.
The man’s face reddened at the frustration of not being able to capture his quarry. He came at her with fists swinging. Malika backed up until her back hit the wall of the nearest house. She feinted to one side and then moved to the other.
The man’s momentum carried him in the wrong direction, but one fist clipped the side of Malika’s face, sending her spinning. Her attacker regained his sense of direction and punched at her again. Malika, still dazed from the first blow, couldn’t get out of the way of his second attack in time.
A fist struck her on the side of her head, and she fell to the ground. She tried to move, but her mind felt heavy, unable to send the right commands to her body.
The grin returned to the slave trader’s face. He fell upon her and straddled her waist. With one hand, he gripped her jaw so tightly that her cheeks hurt. He leaned toward her until his face was just inches away.
“I’m going to enjoy this, and so will you.” Malika felt the hot breath on her face when he spoke, and the reek of his odor overwhelmed her senses. She didn’t know what he intended to do, but she knew that she couldn’t allow it.
With both hands, Malika searched the ground around her. If she could find a large rock or branch, she could hit him on the head with it. However, the area within arm’s reach was surprisingly devoid of anything that could be used as a weapon. She squirmed, wriggling her body back and forth.
“Keep moving like that,” the man taunted. “I like it.”
Malika inched forward bit by bit. Her arms still groped for anything nearby that she could use as a weapon. One hand finally landed on a small stone no bigger than the man’s nose. It was too small to do him much damage.
Nevertheless, Malika brought the stone up against the side of her attacker’s head. He yelled in pain, but the blow hadn’t knocked him out. However, he let go of one hand to rub the spot where she had s
truck him.
With the freedom gained by not having the hand holding her down, Malika hit him in the throat, leading with the stone.
The man’s eyes opened wide in surprise. He tried to talk, but no words came out. Both of his hands now went to his throat. Malika hit him again on the head. This time, he tilted to the side, and she pushed his body off of her. The man was still conscious, grasping at his throat.
Malika found a larger rock a few feet away. The slave trader’s attention was no longer on her. She stepped behind him and bashed the rock against the back of his head.
He fell face forward in the dirt.
His eyes closed, but his chest rose and fell in slow rhythm. Malika hadn’t killed him. She had mixed feelings about the result, but as long as he was no longer a danger to her, she had achieved her goal.
She set her sights on the house at the far end of the village. Her more immediate goal now was saving her sister.
***
At the threshold leading into the building, Malika debated whether to sneak in from another entrance, perhaps a window. Her indecision ended when she heard the voice inside say, “I know you’re out there. You might as well come in.”
Malika pushed the door open and took two steps inside, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dimmer lighting. The second slave trader stood at the far end of the room, a knife in one hand. Kappai’s prone form lay by his feet. Her eyes were shut, and she didn’t stir at the older girl’s entrance.
Malika’s heart pounded in her chest. She was too late.
“Don’t worry. She’s not dead, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” the slave trader said. “She’s no good to me dead, and neither are you.”
Malika let out a long exhale. Her sister was still alive. There was still hope for both of them. She asked, “What do you plan to do with us?”
The man twirled the knife in his hand. “That’s a good question. I don’t have a wagon and horses, so there’s no easy way to transport you two, but I still need to bring both of you to the nearest town with a trading post if I’m going to make any money off of you.”
In a way, hearing the man talk of selling the sisters as slaves brought Malika relief. He wasn’t a pervert like the man whom she had knocked out. He was only looking to make money. That made him both safer to be around and yet more dangerous because he couldn’t be as easily enticed.
Malika pointed to Kappai. “What did you do to her? How long will she be out?”
“Maybe for just a few minutes. I gave her a dose of this.”
With his free hand, he brought out a small bottle. Malika hadn’t seen it before, but she guessed that the slave traders used the same chemical on her and Kappai when they were captured.
“Are you going to use that on me too?”
“No. Lucky for you, I used the last of it on your sister. Besides, you’re more useful to me awake.”
Malika needed to stall the man until Kappai woke up. Although the slave trader had a knife, perhaps the two sisters together could overpower him. No, she contemplated, the risk was too great. Malika wasn’t willing to put her sister’s life in danger. She thought of making a dash to the kitchen to retrieve one of the knives there, but she didn’t know what the man would do to Kappai if threatened.
There was also the first slave trader to consider. Once he regained consciousness, the men would outmatch the two sisters.
Malika’s eyes searched the room, looking for anything that might help her gain an advantage over the armed man.
“Stop scheming!” he said. “I can see it in your eyes. Don’t even think of escaping, or I’ll cut your sister’s throat.”
Her gaze returned to the man before her. She needed to lure him away from Kappai so that the threat of her life didn’t weigh in any actions Malika might take. “I was just thinking that it would be easier if you bound our hands. We can walk to the nearest town, but with our hands tied, it’ll be harder to escape.”
The slave trader pursed his lips and furrowed his brows, pondering the offer that Malika made. Finally, he answered, “Fine. Go find some rope.” He crouched down, placing his knife next to Kappai’s neck. “But if you try anything funny, I’ll spill her blood.”
Malika nodded. She walked to the kitchen, careful to make slow, deliberate movements so that the man holding the knife to Kappai’s throat wouldn’t harm her sister out of panic. She made a show of opening every drawer and cupboard in the kitchen. Instead of rope, she found a ball of string used for tying up bags of food for storage. It looked sturdy but thin enough that she and Kappai might somehow escape from the bindings later.
“This is all I could find,” she announced, showing the man the string.
He frowned but beckoned her closer. “Come tie your sister’s hands together.”
Malika approached with the ball of string. The slave trader shifted his position so that he could keep an eye on her while staying in easy reach to cut Kappai’s throat with one swift swing of his arm if needed.
As she drew near, Malika saw the hair hanging in front of Kappai’s face flutter with every breath. Her face maintained its healthy pink color. As far as she could tell, her sister was asleep but unharmed.
She unwrapped a length of string and wound it around Kappai’s wrists.
“Tighter!” the man commanded.
Malika made the next loop tighter, but she was careful not to let the string dig into Kappai’s skin.
“Two more loops,” he added.
She did as he asked and then tied off the string in a knot.
“Now it’s your turn.”
“How am I supposed to tie my own hands together?”
“You get started, and I’ll finish the knot.”
Malika didn’t want to protest. She considered it a minor victory that he allowed her to tie her own hands because she could add a little slack to the bindings. She held one end of the string with one hand and looped the ball around her wrists.
“That’s too loose,” the man complained.
“I told you it was hard to tie my own hands.”
He brought his knife up, pointing it at her head. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not! I promise.” Malika dropped the ball of string. It skittered away, unwinding more string as it rolled toward the kitchen. She turned around to retrieve it, and an idea came to her. “Can you let me use the counter for leverage?”
The slave trader eyed the counter. It was clear except for a basket containing a loaf of bread. Deeming it safe, he granted her permission to move to the counter. He followed, keeping enough distance from her so that Malika couldn’t reach him if she tried to grab his knife or attack him, but close enough for him to lunge at her and cut her in a split second.
Malika leaned against the counter, setting the ball of string on it. She started tying her wrists again, but her hands shook.
“What’s the matter with you?”
“Just nervous, that’s all,” she said with a forced smile. She fumbled with the string again. Then she glanced at the window next to her. “Can you move to the other side? You’re blocking the light.”
The slave trader grumbled and did as she asked. Malika pressed her body as close to the counter as she could to let him pass. She held herself still.
“Is this better, you demanding– “ The man’s face twisted in pain. An anguished cry left his mouth as he realized what had happened. He fell forward, and Malika jumped out of the way. Without checking, she knew he was dead. She unraveled the string around her wrists.
The man’s knife tumbled out of his hand and fell a few feet away. It landed not far from her, but Malika couldn’t reach it because of the ghosts hovering where the knife lay. She saw them enter the house and hoped that they could do to the slave trader what she couldn’t on her own.
The nearest ghost brushed past her, coming within a hand’s breadth of touching her and ending her life. Malika raced away from the kitchen and returned to her sister’s side. Tugging at the string, she freed Kappai’
s bonds. Then she shook her sister until Kappai began to rouse from her sleep.
“Wake up, Kappai! We need to get out of here. There are ghosts in this house.”
Malika turned to the door. It was too late. The ghosts barred the route to the exit.
***
With Malika’s help, Kappai stood up on shaky legs.
“What happened, Malika?” She saw the slave trader’s body. “Did you kill him? Are we safe?”
“Not quite,” Malika answered. Her eyes swept the area between the door and the kitchen. Seven ghosts had passed through the walls and entered the room. They floated aimlessly, unaware of their surroundings, including the dead man on the kitchen floor. More ghosts streamed in while others left, unaware that they passed through walls as effortlessly as through the air.
“Ghosts?” Kappai whispered.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Malika swept an arm in front of her. “There.”
“How do we get out of here?”
“I’m working on that. Can you walk on your own?”
Kappai flexed her legs. “Yes, I think so.”
“Good, come on. Follow me.” Malika slid along the back wall of the room, staying as far away from the front door and the kitchen as she could. She entered the only other room in the house, a sparse bedroom with a single window.
There were no ghosts inside, and Malika sprinted to the window with Kappai at her heels. She unlatched the window and pushed it open. The ghost that passed just outside missed her face by inches. She recoiled in shock, bumping into her sister.
“What happened, Malika? More ghosts?”
Malika nodded, recovering from the startle. “There’s a horde right outside the window. We can’t leave from here either.”
“What do we do now?”
“I don’t know yet, Kappai.” She left the bedroom. A gathering of ghosts still hovered at the front of the house, and two more joined the group by the door. Unlike the ones outside the house, however, these moved more slowly, almost lethargically.
Spectral Tales: A Ghost Story Anthology Page 14