by Peter Newman
He parted the branches above him to get a look at the sky. It was still dark but the night was coming to an end, that quiet time of transition when the predators of the Wild returned to the deep places. Normally he would stay in the tree for a few more hours before venturing out, just to be on the safe side, but he felt unsettled, burdened with the sense that things were not as they should be.
Crowflies regarded him as he began the climb down, head tilted in surprise.
‘Something isn’t right. I think we should go back to the others now.’ This made the Birdkin cackle derisively. ‘It’s that oak. I don’t trust it, and … I’m worried about my friends.’
‘Sa-aat,’ cawed Crowflies, a mixture of warning and pity in the sound.
‘I’m sorry. I have to go.’
He thanked the tree and slipped from its embrace and down the trunk. It was hard travelling before dawn. The night seemed to cling on underneath the thick canopy, and he was painfully aware that the only thing that seemed to be moving, at least the only thing making any noise at all, was him.
The journey back to the oak was slower than he would have liked too, but despite a rising sense of desperation, Sa-at knew better than to rush at this time. Yes, the sunsrise was near, but any decent prey could tempt the demons of the Wild out of the shadows.
After a while, he heard the familiar sound of wings flapping in the dark and smiled to himself. Crowflies. Now it was clear that he wasn’t going to change his mind, the Birdkin had come to join him. It always comes, he thought. It thinks we should wait but it came to help me anyway. It is my friend. I think we should wait too but I am going to help Tal and Rochant anyway because they need me. Because they are my friends.
It was strange, thinking about other people, and what they needed or desired. Tal and Rochant were very different from him, both complicated in their own way. He liked that. They were new and strange, and made his thoughts fizz in a pleasant way. He did not want anything bad to happen to them.
By the time he reached the oak, the night was paling, allowing rocks and trees to take shape before his eyes, grey and hazy. He slowed as he got closer, that sense of foreboding rising again in his chest. Without thinking about it, he began to scratch the scar on his knuckle.
Crowflies settled on a nearby branch but kept its distance from the oak.
Sa-at nodded to himself. Crowflies feels it too.
At first glance, things appeared as they had before. The tree remained aloof, and he could see a length of his hair hanging from one of the branches. The feathers were there, just as he’d placed them. But something wasn’t right.
He exchanged a look with Crowflies before edging forward. If he wanted the tree to release his friends he was going to have to give it three more daubs of his blood.
As he got closer, he realized what was wrong.
I gave the oak two locks of my hair but I can only see one.
However, there was something else where he’d tied the second lock of hair, but it was wrapped around the branch and partly obscured by the leaves. Sa-at frowned, not liking the sense that the oak was deliberately hiding something from him.
He pretended not to have noticed and walked over to the trunk, keeping his eyes on the roots as if intending to fulfil his bargain. Then, when he was close enough, he leapt up, parting the lower branches so that he could see what was being hidden.
The oak rustled indignantly, but was too late to stop him getting a good look at its new decoration.
A thick string of crimson flesh had been wound along the length of the branch, as if a snake had coiled there before shedding its skin. He had seen flesh like that before, sprouting like hair from the heads of the Red Brothers.
Heart sinking, he spun round, to find two of the trees had moved in behind him. No, he thought as their shapes wavered, not trees, demons. And as he blinked, they resolved themselves into the hated forms of Eyesore and Crunch.
Sa-at experienced a moment of terror so pure that he didn’t even notice Tal’s boots slipping from his grasp and dropping to the ground.
‘Well,’ said Crunch, his voice rumbling with satisfaction. ‘Is that the trembling of a Birdspawn I hear?’
Eyesore rubbed his hands together.
Sa-at backed away until the oak bumped roughly against his shoulder. Its branches formed a funnel either side of him, the only way out blocked by the Red Brothers.
The tree had betrayed him! Such an act wasn’t just underhanded, it was wrong. Sa-at had acted in accordance with the ways, and their deal had not concluded. He still owed blood to its roots. But then, if the Red Brothers got their hands on him, he had no doubt there would be bloodshed, enough to slake its thirst many times over. And his deal had been to protect his friends, not him. In a way, the tree had done nothing wrong.
It occurred to him that if he bled on the roots, their deal would be complete, and the oak would release his friends directly into the hands of the Red Brothers.
I should have listened to Crowflies and waited. Why didn’t I listen?
Eyesore took a step forward, guiding Crunch to do the same. There was no way he could fight them, no way to evade them. He couldn’t even climb the tree. It had made its allegiance quite clear.
The only thing he had left was his wits. If he could think of something clever to say, he might be able to stall them or slow them down. Could he threaten them with something? Offer them something? He took a breath, knowing he was done for but that his friends might still be saved. He just needed to think of some way to tempt them away from the tree. But no ideas came and one look at the hate in Eyesore’s glare was enough to crush any words in his throat.
The two brothers took another step forward. One more and they would be able to grab him and then it would all be over. He held up his hands, his mouth opening but no words coming out.
‘You’ve gone quiet,’ said Crunch. ‘We’ll change that, won’t we, Eyesore?’
The other brother nodded and clapped his hands, making the thick ropes of flesh-hair swing back and forth.
‘We’ll make a scream from every bit of you. No need to fight over who gets first chunk this time.’ He gave Sa-at a vertical smile. ‘We’ve already agreed to split you down the middle.’
Though there was nowhere for him to go, Sa-at couldn’t help but try and back away, the bark pressing painfully into his spine.
‘Does he look scared?’
Eyesore clapped his hands again.
‘He should be. We’ll grind his feet to paste and eat them slow, and then vomit them up and make him eat them. We’ll grind his legs to paste and eat them slow, then vomit them up and make him eat them. We’ll grind his hips to paste and eat them slow, then vomit then up and—’
‘Yes, yes,’ interrupted a voice from behind them. ‘I think we get the idea.’
Sa-at didn’t recognize it but was struck by how calm it was, as if she were talking to someone she knew.
‘What’s this? What’s this?’ roared Crunch, turning one ear towards the newcomer. ‘Sounds like a human has come to join the feast.’
‘Sounds can be deceiving, I’m afraid,’ replied the woman. ‘To be honest, I was planning on slipping away, but having just heard your … speech? Yes, I’ll be generous and call it that, I feel compelled to stay and stop you.’
Crunch laughed at that. ‘You are too small to stop us.’
‘I’ve come to make a deal.’
Eyesore slapped Crunch on the bicep. ‘No more deals. No more chains. No more tricks. We will take the flesh and pain that’s owed us. If you’re still here after, we will take you as well.’
The woman sighed. ‘No, not with you, you great shambling oaf. I’m talking to the one behind you.’
Sa-at gasped at the audacity. She had just killed herself as surely as if she’d opened up her veins and run screaming into a Spiderkin nest. Eyesore turned, cracked his knuckles and took a step towards the woman, allowing Sa-at a glimpse of her. She stood, dressed as an ordinary traveller, like those he�
�d seen from Sagan, but standing with extraordinary ease. He recognized her instantly, the woman with the golden lips!
‘If I save you,’ she called, ‘do you promise to help me?’
For the Wild, the offer was vague, but given his situation, not unreasonable.
‘Yes!’ he said, his voice high and fearful.
‘Good.’ She turned her attention to Eyesore. ‘This is your last chance, you disgusting insult to the human form. Stand aside or be destroyed.’
‘You shut her up,’ said Crunch, ‘and I’ll get the Birdspawn.’
Sa-at flinched away, uselessly, as Crunch took the final step, his bulk more than enough to block off any chance of escape. The woman did not flinch however, standing stock still as Eyesore charged towards her.
Though his attention was mostly on Crunch’s hands as they groped their way towards him, Sa-at saw something rising behind Crunch’s back, a strand of his thick hair, knotted to a strand of Eyesore’s. He realized the woman must have tied them together before she revealed herself. The conjoined strands rose as one to form a taut line, straight as a bowstring, and then Eyesore’s and Crunch’s heads were jerking backwards to the crack of vertebrae, and Crunch was stepping away, stumbling, struggling to keep his balance.
Eyesore wasn’t faring any better, appearing like some shaggy tree about to fall.
While Sa-at stared and the brothers flailed, the woman began to move. The twilight was suddenly pierced with shining violet as she pulled out a small piece of crystal and weaved after Eyesore, ducking a thick arm as it swung for her, stepping lightly on one of his ruddy knees to spring upwards, until their gazes were level. In his attempt to hit her, Eyesore had lost any hope of staying upright. He fell, and she fell after him thrusting down with the shard of crystal, her strength and weight burying it deep into his middle eyesocket.
There was a popping, followed by the sound of wild thumping as Eyesore began to thrash on the floor. The woman wasn’t finished however. She sat on his chest, knees either side of the demon’s neck, and drove a hand into his face, into the injury, pushing the crystal still deeper.
In an animalistic state, Eyesore lashed out wildly, and managed to catch the woman a mighty blow that launched her into the air. She landed, stunned, a few feet away. It would have been easy for Eyesore to finish her off but the pain had driven all sense from him. Light now shone from his face, a beam of violet that made his skull glow red from the inside. Steam was swirling from the wound, and Sa-at could suddenly smell burning.
Though the demon could not scream, it began to buck violently, clawing at itself in an attempt to remove the tanzanite. But the shard was buried deep, and burned to the touch. Soon Eyesore’s fingers were smoking too, their tips seared black.
Meanwhile, Crunch had managed to steady himself. ‘Brother?’ he called. ‘Brother?’ Though Eyesore was in no state to reply, it was clear where he was, and Crunch felt his way over, until he was kneeling by his brother’s head. Both of them tried to get the tanzanite out of Eyesore’s skull with little success. Hands bashed into one another, and the actions of both brothers became increasingly desperate and aggressive.
By contrast to the noisy spectacle, the woman had recovered quietly, rising in a crouch. A fresh bruise was blooming across the side of her face, a purple flower, planted by Eyesore’s fist. She beckoned to Sa-at to come to her but he stayed where he was. He wanted to go, he dearly did, but to reach her would mean walking past Crunch, and he could not bring himself to do that.
She beckoned a second time, nodding to him as if to say: You can do this.
He tried to make his feet move but they remained stubbornly planted. Crunch’s words were ringing in his mind. There was no way the demon would miss his footsteps. It would grab him and then it would do all of the things it had promised, grinding and eating and making him eat. His bottom lip trembled. Tears began to well in his eyes.
With the softest of sighs, the woman started moving again, circling round behind Crunch, who was still clawing at his brother’s face. Eyesore’s movements were sporadic now, wild but less frequent, as if his body briefly forgot it was in agony, then remembered in a rush.
He’s going to die. The woman with the golden lips has already killed him. The thought didn’t give him any relief, for he knew this would make Crunch even angrier than before, and his suffering would be all the worse for it.
The woman stepped up to Crunch’s back. Even kneeling down, the demon wasn’t much shorter than her, yet she remained as calm as ever. She swept up a couple of strands of his fleshy hair and looped them round his neck. Then she began to pull.
Crunch’s roar of anger was muted, choked off, and for a moment, Sa-at thought she was going to kill him as well. But then he saw Crunch’s weighty hands lifting from Eyesore’s face and reaching up for the woman. One grabbed for her clothes, trying to get purchase to pull her off, while the other felt its way towards her head.
It was all too easy to imagine him crushing her skull in his grip.
I should do something, he thought, whilst also thinking: I’m scared!
The woman continued to pull, wrapping her legs around Crunch’s body and clinging on like a spider. Crunch grunted and pulled, pulled and grunted, but he could not prise her off.
Fears rose in Sa-at’s chest, of failing to help the woman with the golden lips, of being captured by Crunch. They raced each other merging together into a feeling of utter panic. Unable to bear it, he rushed forward, certain that he must do something but with no idea what.
Both the woman and the demon were wheezing, the last shreds of breath rattling as they strained against each other. He could see the veins standing proud on the woman’s temple. It was clear she wasn’t going to last much longer. Crunch’s face was too alien to read, the curtain-like lips curled back in a snarl. Perhaps he was close to collapse, perhaps he could endure being strangled for hours.
Sa-at tried to grab the demon’s fingers and prise them off the woman, but he couldn’t budge them. He tried hitting his arms, kicking them, even biting them, but Crunch didn’t seem to even notice, let alone react.
He looked around, desperate for something he could use as a weapon, but nothing presented itself, and then a sly thought came. I could run now. Crunch would never catch me. I could come back in the day for my friends.
The dark of the forest looked inviting, offering places to hide, places where he could feel safe again. But he had promised to help the woman with the golden lips. Why do I keep promising things? Stupid. Stupid.
At his feet, Eyesore had stopped moving, his two remaining eyes staring up at the sky. He was dead. Sa-at crouched down, took a deep breath, and slipped his hand into the middle eyesocket. The gem still glowed within, its light splaying between his fingers. The skin inside was crisped and rough and too hot, but the sides of the tanzanite were smooth and cool. With effort, he started to wriggle it free.
As the woman weakened, Crunch was able to wriggle her free too. Pulling her left, then right, gradually loosening her grip on him, until, with a mighty heave, he lifted her over his head, one hand still clamped on her arm, the other wrapped around her thigh.
Though her eyes were half closed, she managed to croak: ‘I’m too busy to die.’
‘No dying for you. Not yet,’ replied Crunch. ‘We kill you slow and painful, won’t we brother?’ The demon stopped to listen and his mouth quivered with concern. ‘Brother?’ Letting go of the woman’s leg, Crunch squatted down to touch Eyesore’s face, his fingers only inches from Sa-at’s.
The tanzanite was coming loose now but he had to slide it slowly or risk losing purchase.
‘Brother?’
Crunch’s hand came to rest over Eyesore’s upper eye. It brushed against the unmoving lashes for a moment, then began to shake. In his other hand, the woman began to shake too, her breath coming out in a stuttering gurgle.
The top of the Tanzanite was visible now as it slid free.
‘What’s this?’ rasped Crunch as the l
ight from the gem hissed on his skin. He turned his head towards Sa-at who kept very still, not even daring to breathe, though the air was starting to burn in his lungs.
The demon’s tongue flapped in front of him, tasting and probing, spattering Sa-at’s cheeks with flecks of heavy phlegm. Then, Crunch’s hand moved swiftly, unerringly, to find Sa-at’s throat. ‘Got you!’
The demon stood again, taking Sa-at with him. The tanzanite shard was still in his hand, still glowing. He pulled back his arm and then swung the shard towards Crunch’s face.
The gemstone struck the demon square in the teeth and shattered, the larger chunks spraying in all directions, the smaller ones expanding out in a shimmering cloud.
Crunch coughed and then pulled Sa-at close. ‘Now for the grinding and the hurting and the chewing and the savouring.’ Where the fragments of tanzanite had embedded themselves in Crunch’s gums and lips, thin plumes of smoke began to appear. ‘Ahh! What’s this? Ahhhhh!’
A fire was starting in Crunch’s mouth. He dropped his prey and screamed, pressing his hands against his face, before letting go and screaming again. Sa-at watched, horrified, hypnotized, as the demon jumped up and down batting at the flames.
‘Ahhh! Ahhhh!’ he screamed, and again, ‘Aaahhhgh!’
The next moment Crunch was fleeing into the forest, his howls of pain captured by the leaves and spread from one tree to another, making it sound as if a screeching army were fleeing in all directions.
And then, all of a sudden, it was quiet again, the howls shutting off abruptly, as if swallowed by some great beast.
Sa-at wrapped his arms around himself and shivered.
Eyesore’s body remained nearby, as did the woman’s. He knew the first was dead but he wasn’t so sure about the second. A quick check revealed she was still breathing, although her neck and face were swollen. He was about to try and wake her when he stopped.