Black Water tpa-5

by D. J. MacHale

  I soon began to wonder about the point of it all. Why were we being kept here? Durgen said something about getting “value” from me by selling me to handlers. But after being there for several weeks, there was no sign of a handler or of anybody else who might have bought me. I didn’t think they were going to eat us. If that were the case they’d be feeding us a lot better. Most of the gars down here were skin and bones, not exactly a tempting taste treat for a hungry klee. It all seemed so pointless.

  Then one day, with no warning, the wooden door flew open and two klees leaped in. The gars scampered to the far side of the cell in fear, no big surprise. I didn’t. I was too tired to be scared.

  The klees scanned the group. One said, “It’s a sorry bunch.” He pointed at two of the bigger gars and said, “Those two!” Without any deliberation, they pounced on the chosen gars and dragged them out of the cell. The gars were terrified, letting out cries of panic. None of the others did anything to save them. To be honest, neither did I. What could I do? I thought about standing up and blowing these cats away by singing a song, or reciting a poem, or telling them about Madden football. You know, anything that would be un-gar-like. But I decided not to draw attention to myself. My job here was about Saint Dane. I figured I shouldn’t do anything that might get me in trouble and stop me from dealing with the bigger picture.

  About an hour later the door opened again, and one of the gars was thrown back into the cell. He looked exhausted. He crawled on his hands and knees to a corner and collapsed. He was a mess. Or shouldIsay, a bigger mess than before. Icouldn’t tell for sure, butIthoughtIsaw a dark stain on his chest. From whereIwas sitting, it looked like blood. Ididn’t think it was his, andInever saw the other gar again. Connect the dots. Something nasty had happened.

  Days went by. Iwas losing strength. Ihad never been hungry before. Imean, reallyhungry. Missing lunch and getting a little rumble in the tummy didn’t count. This hurt. Ihad long since given up being picky about the food and would have eaten bugs if there had been any around. Ididn’t sleep much, and whenIdid, my dreams were horrible. I always seemed to be running from some horrible fate. I’d wake up in a cold sweat, relieved that I was safe, and then crushed to realize I was still in this prison.

  One night I dreamed that I was lying on my back, looking up at the stars through the ceiling grid. The sky was beginning to lighten, which meant it was morning. The silhouette of a large klee appeared above and stared down at me. I looked up at this big cat, thinking how real this dream felt, when the klee snarled and said, “Good morning, Pendragon. Enjoying the morning air?”

  Whoa. I sat up quickly. This wasn’t a dream. It was the cat named Timber, from the Council of Klee. Or should I say, it was Saint Dane.

  “You really should tidy up a bit,” Saint Dane added. “I can smell you from up here.”

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I asked angrily. “I’m stuck in here where you can keep an eye on me.”

  “Oh no, my friend,” Saint Dane said. “Quite the opposite. I would much rather have you free to match wits. Having you lurking about makes things so much more interesting.”

  “Then get me out of here,” I demanded.

  “Ahh, if only I could,” Saint Dane replied with mock sincerity. “But it would be wrong to interfere with the ways of the territory. That’s against the rules, you know.”

  “Yeah, right,” I said with as much sarcasm as I could generate. “Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

  “I will give you a piece of advice though,” Saint Dane added. “There is a way for you to get out. Seize the opportunity when it arrives.”

  “What is it?” I demanded to know.

  “Good-bye, Pendragon,” Saint Dane said as he slinked away. “Enjoy your day.”

  “Saint Dane!” I shouted. I was out of my mind. I jumped up and tried to climb the rock walls, but it was hopeless. They were slick and I only got about a foot off the floor before crashing back down, banging my butt on the stone. I had hit bottom. Literally. I was hungry, I was weak, and Saint Dane had just teased me into losing control. I never liked to show weakness to the demon. I didn’t want him to know he was getting to me. But as of that moment, I had officially been gotten to.

  “Black Water,” came a soft voice next to me.

  I looked to my right to see that one of the gars had bravely crept a few feet from me. He held his hand out, palm up. Resting in it was one of the mysterious, amber cubes.

  “What is Black Water?” I asked.

  “Home,” came another weak voice.

  The first gar held the cube closer to me, as if he wanted me to take it. I carefully reached out, expecting the gar to pull it away, but he let me take the precious crystal cube right off his hand. I was surprised to feel that the cube was as light as a marshmallow. I handled it gingerly, afraid that if I put any pressure on it, it might crack. I turned it around to examine all sides and discovered that there was a single black side, just like the other cube I had seen. “Soon,” the gar said. “Home.”

  “What home?” I asked. “What is Black Water? What’s going to happen?”

  “The Advent,” the gar said.

  Before I could ask what that meant, the wooden door to the cell screeched open and two klee guards entered. The gar snatched the cube back and tried to hide it in his ragged clothes. Too late. The first klee guard saw it and pounced on the frightened gar.

  “What is this?” he shouted. He pulled the cube away from the gar and held it up. “Is it something to do with Black Water? Is that it?”

  The gar cowered in the corner, shivering with fear. The klee dropped the amber box onto the stone floor and with one violent move, stomped it. A sickeningcrunchtold me the box was indeed as fragile as I had feared. The other gars jumped, as if the klee had stomped on them. The only thing left of the strange little box was a pile of shattered glass. The gars stared at it, as if their last hope had been crushed right along with it.

  The klee grabbed the gar he had stolen the cube from. He lifted the poor guy to his feet, holding him by the back of his neck and hissed. “I’m sure the Inquisitors will convince you to tell us. Guard!” A third klee entered the cell. The first klee guard shoved the gar toward them saying, “He had one of those boxes. Take him to the Inquisitors.”

  The third klee dragged the terrified gar from the cell. The first klee pointed to a gar who was on his knees, shivering and crying.

  “Him!” the klee ordered. The second klee guard quickly pulled him to his feet. The first klee looked around again until his eyes fell on…me. “And you,” he snarled. “You look like you might give us a decent show.”

  I was tired of playing the role of a primitive, docile gar. I slowly got to my feet and stood up to my full height. I actually thought I caught a look of surprise on the klee’s face. He wasn’t used to a gar being so big, or acting so brashly.

  “If giving you a decent show will get me out of here,” I said calmly, “then it’s showtime.”

  The klees stared at me, dumbfounded. I’m guessing a gar had never spoken to either of them like that. I had thrown them off. I liked that. What I didn’t like was that the gar who was chosen first now looked more terrified than before. He shook his head violently and cried, “No!”

  Uh oh. Had I made a mistake? Saint Dane had said there was a way to get out of here if I seized the opportunity. This sure felt like an opportunity, but was I crazy for believing anything he had to say? A month of confinement and hunger was making my thinking a little fuzzy. Okay, alotfuzzy.

  The first klee guard grabbed my arms. I pulled away and said, “You don’t have to do that; I’ll go wherever you want.”

  The klee hesitated, then glanced at his friend. The other klee shrugged. Neither knew what to make of me. Then the first klee grabbed me again and pulled me to the door. I didn’t fight. I didn’t want to waste what little gas was left in my tank. A moment later I was dragged out of the cell for the first time in a month. My legs were wobbly, but it felt
good to use them again. Behind us, the other klee pulled the gar along as we traveled through a long stone corridor.

  “What’s this all about?” I asked. “What are we supposed to do?”

  The klee answered by giving me a rough shake. I didn’t want my brain rattled anymore, so I stopped asking questions.

  We reached the end of the corridor and went through a door that led outside. Feeling the cool morning breeze was awesome. I felt like I was returning to civilization. Sort of. I now got a look at the prison building where we were being kept. It was a square courtyard. The stone building that surrounded it was one story high. I wondered how many other animal pens this building held. Probably lots. The ground inside the courtyard had a few worn grassy patches, but mostly it was brown dirt. In the center was a ring of stones about twenty feet in diameter. This is where we were headed. I saw several klees hanging around the courtyard, doing nothing. When we appeared, they all made their way toward the circle.

  When we reached the center, the klees gave us each a shove. I stumbled into the circle but managed to keep my feet. The gar wasn’t so lucky. He took a tumble, and stayed on the ground. I was beginning to get an uneasy feeling about this. The gar and I were now alone inside the circle, with more klees arriving to watch. They gathered around, chatting excitedly and laughing. There was a definite air of anticipation. I had the feeling that whatever show they wanted us to put on, it wouldn’t involve singing or dancing.

  The klee who had chosen me stepped into the circle. He looked me up and down, smiled in satisfaction, and nodded. He walked to the gar who was cowering in the dirt and gave him a sharp kick. The gar whined in pain, but didn’t move. The klee faced the assembled audience and said, “Make your wagers.”

  Instantly the klees started chattering with one another. It was slowly dawning on me that this was going to be some kind of contest between us gars. I had no idea what it would be, but I had to believe that I was the favorite. I was in much better shape than the poor gar who was balled up on the ground. I was pretty sure I was smarter, too. However, I couldn’t help but think about the two other gars who had been pulled out of the cell. One came back full of blood, the other never came back. Gulp.

  “What’s the contest?” I asked the klee.

  Everyone grew quiet and stared at me. None could believe that a gar would speak that way to a klee. I was beyond caring.

  “You can win your freedom,” the klee in the circle answered.

  “How?” I asked.

  Something was thrown down in the dirt between me and the other gar. I looked at it, and my stomach dropped. It was a knife. But no ordinary knife. It was a three-pronged knife made from the talons of a tang. The blades were long and thin, and looked just as sharp as when they were still attached and used to attack helpless gars.

  “One gar leaves the ring…free,” the klee said with an evil smile. “The other dies.”

  Before I had the chance to process that sickening piece of information, the gar who a moment before had been curled up like a sick puppy, dove for the tang knife and held it up, ready for action.

  “Forgive,” the gar said.

  The klee jumped out of the circle and the gar jumped atme. The fight was on.

  JOURNAL #17

  (CONTINUED)

  EELONG

  Idodged out of the way and the gar’s knife thrust missed me by inches.

  If I wanted my freedom, I’d have to kill this gar. Yeah right. Like I could do that. I’d never thrown a punch in anger in my entire life, let alone stabbed somebody to death! But if I didn’t do something drastic, and fast, the gar would kill me. From the way he attacked, it was pretty clear that he wasn’t faced with the same moral dilemma I was. It was a no-win situation. For me, anyway.

  The gar stumbled a few steps but kept his balance. He whipped the knife back toward me, sweeping the air, barely missing. I backed off to the far side of the ring, trying to buy some time so I could figure out what to do. The klees were cheering. This was all sorts of fun for them. “Fight! Fight!” they yelled, and pushed me back toward the gar. I was the favorite, after all. There must have been a lot of bets down on me. The gar now faced me, holding the knife low. His knees were bent, looking for an opening, ready to attack. I circled away, making sure to keep him in front of me. His eyes were wild. For him, this was about survival. I had no doubt he’d kill me.

  He lunged again, knife first. I dove the other way, but the gar slashed at me as we crossed. The blades raked three slices into the front of my shirt. My adrenaline was pumping so hard I had no idea if he’d cut my skin. Some klees cheered, others booed. I’m sure I was disappointing those who bet on me. Tough.

  The gar was breathing hard. That was good. It meant I was in better shape than he was. I felt sure that if the fight lasted much longer, he’d burn out. That was my best chance. I had to tire the gar out until he couldn’t attack anymore and then, and then, and thenwhat! There was no way I could kill him. The gar slashed the knife back and forth, cutting nothing but air. He wasn’t much of a fighter. The klees who bet on me saw it too. Their boos turned to cheers. The gar charged. I dodged him like a toreador dodges a bull. The gar stumbled and fell to his knees. A few klees picked him up, turned him around, and pushed him back toward me.

  The gar was out of gas. Spittle flew from his nose and mouth as he gasped for air. I think he was crying, too. He made another run at me. I dodged out of the way easily, but this time I ducked down, swept my leg in front of him, and tripped the guy up. He stumbled and crashed to the ground. I jumped on him, trying to pin his arm and get the knife. But this was a wild animal. When he realized he was being attacked, he dug down deep into some primal well and found the strength to shrug me off. The move totally surprised me. I was thrown off his back and landed flat on my own. A second later I found myself staring up at a knife that was slicing the air on its way toward my neck.

  But I had a little animal instinct as well. I rolled out of the way and the knife stabbed the ground right where my head had been. I scrambled to my knees and quickly moved to tackle the gar before he could pull it out of the ground. But with his free hand the gar backhanded me in the mouth with surprising strength. The punch landed me on my back again, blood dripping from my mouth. The gar was back in charge. He yanked the knife out of the ground and came in for the kill.

  I stopped thinking. It wasn’t like I meant to or anything; it’s just that my reflexes took over. Good thing, because it saved my life. Up until then I had been all tactical in trying to figure out a way to beat the gar and save myself without either of us being killed. But there was something about the combination of fear, pain, and impending death that made me stop reasoning and click into survival mode. I was flat on my back and vulnerable. The gar charged, the knife held high, ready to kill. He leaped for me, and I instinctively threw up my leg. My foot caught him square in the chest, and I flipped him over my head. The surprised gar did a full end-o and landed flat on his back. When he hit the ground I heard him let out a pained”oof.”The fall knocked the wind out of him. I quickly flipped over and went for his knife hand. The gar was gasping for air and didn’t have a chance. I jammed my knee onto his outstretched arm and his hand went slack. He released the knife. I grabbed it.

  The klees cheered. At least the klees who bet on me, anyway. I clutched the knife and brought it toward the neck of the gar. Another cheer went up. They sensed the kill. I held the knife there, ready to slash it across his neck and save my life. It was something I never thought I could do, but the heat of battle and the fear of my own death turned me into something else. Something primal. I was an animal whose only concern was survival. I was a gar.

  That’s when I heard a familiar laugh. It cut through my insane haze, forcing me to look up. Standing among the cheering klees was Timber, the cat who was Saint Dane. All the cats around him were cheering wildly, coaxing me to cut the throat of the gar. But Saint Dane was calm. It was like everything had gone to slow motion, except for Saint Dane and me. />
  “This is your way out, Pendragon,” he said calmly. “Kill him and you’ll be free.”

  This was the opportunity Saint Dane told me about. I had to kill this gar to save myself.

  “Kill him,” Saint Dane said. “It’s not difficult.”

  His words triggered something in me. Maybe it was because I had won and was no longer scared. Maybe the adrenaline was wearing off. Or maybe I realized that if I followed through, I would forever be a killer…just like Saint Dane. That truth brought me right back into my own head. I grasped the knife tighter, kept eye contact with Saint Dane…and backed away from the gar. A second later all hell broke loose as the klees charged into the ring. In the brief moment before that happened, I saw the smug smile fall from Saint Dane’s cat face. I wasn’t a killer and there was no way he was going to turn me into one.

  Score one for me. I had just beaten Saint Dane in this small battle.

  Then came the riot. The klees jumped into the ring, angered that I had ruined their show. There was all sorts of pushing and shoving. It was a blur of fur and fury as they argued over how the bets should be paid off. I felt the tang knife pulled out of my hand, then felt a strong, furry arm wrap around my waist and pull me out of the scrum. I was too exhausted to do anything but go along for the ride. The strong cat pulled me out of the mess while fighting off klees who were grabbing at me. Once we were clear, I finally looked to see who my savior was. It was Kasha.

  “Leave him be!” a klee yelled at Kasha. “He’s ours!”

  Kasha stopped and squared off against the others. “He’s not!” she snarled back. “Durgen had no right to sell him.”

  “Then where’s our value?” another klee shouted. “We paid for him.”

  “You had him long enough and he gave you a good fight,” Kasha yelled back. “He owes you nothing more.”