Alisiyad Chapter 27 ~ Key Blood

Russ drifted in and out of sleep for the next hour.  The bird-girl remained quiet across from him, burping and wiping her mouth with her sleeve after she’d finished the last of his food.  She still clutched the bucket, and for a little while eyed him as if she was thinking of beating him over the head with it.  Even that lurking danger wasn’t enough to keep him awake the whole time.  He thought that he should be staying alert, but his fatigue overruled his anxiety.  Even if you can get out of here, you’re never gonna be strong enough to go through the Gate again.  Face it Markson, you’ve made yourself into an invalid.

At the end of the hour, he heard the lock rattling above him.  He pushed up to his feet and pressed himself against the wall, squinting at the light above.  Weak as a sick puppy or not, there was no way in hell he was gonna go with them willingly.

The grate opened, and bodies blocked the light.  The rope ladder slithered down, the bottom hitting the floor with a soft thump.  It dangled down in the middle of the room, and he wondered if he should try to attack whoever came down while they were busy climbing.  Only, he didn’t have anything to attack with besides his fists, and that didn’t seem like a lot at the moment.

He glanced at the bird-girl, whose thin white face was turned up toward the light, fierce and tense.  Then he saw a guard swing himself onto the ladder and begin climbing down.  Russ pushed away from the wall, edging to his left around the wall of the pit, toward the bird-girl.  She saw him coming and sneered, but he ignored her, placing himself on the side of the ladder the guard was climbing down.  The man stopped, twisting around to look at Russ.  The bird-girl seemed to grasp what his plan was, too, and she inched closer to him so they were both glaring up at the man, waiting for him.

The man slowly drew a knife from his belt and held it so the light from above glinted on it.  He spoke a couple words, warning them not to try anything, Russ guessed.  The bird-girl just spat at the ladder and hissed out one defiant word.  Russ remained silent, hoping his own face looked defiant, not scared shitless.

The man looked up, speaking to the others above him, and suddenly a ring of light exploded on around the wall of the pit, like a camera flash going off.  In an instant everything was shockingly bright.  The bucket fell with a clatter as the bird-girl yelped, covering her eyes.

Russ blinked, eyes watering, squinting up at the sudden flurry of movement as the guard quickened his descent down the rope.

The bird-girl grabbed Russ’s ankles briefly as she blindly, frantically, searched for the bucket that had rolled away.

The guard let go of the ladder and landed on the floor, and Russ flung himself at the man, wrapping his arms around his neck and jerking backwards.  The man swung his knife up and jabbed it back, trying to stab Russ, but all he managed was to graze Russ’s leg.  They stumbled backwards and Russ’s head smacked into the wall, but he didn’t let go.  He shut his eyes and could still see the ring of light burned into his vision.

The man stabbed backwards again and his knife skittered against the wall.  He was making wheezing, gurgling noises now and Russ’s heart pounded faster, fear feeding adrenaline into his arms and squeezing them tighter, tighter, tighter around the guard’s throat.  The man angled his knife to the side and swung out to stab in again, with the intent of digging it deep into Russ’s thigh.  But just as Russ realized what was coming for him there was a thwak of wood on arm, and the guard dropped the knife.  It clattered to the floor and the bird-girl screeched triumphantly, grabbing for it.  But she still couldn’t see well.  She fell to her knees and felt over the floor blindly.  The guard shot out a leg, kicking her in the side, sending her to the floor.

More guards were coming down the ladder, now, blades drawn.  Russ could see them clearly even though the bird-girl was blinded — after the Gate the sudden light in the pit seemed nothing more than a momentary flash, a mosquito bite.  The guard in his grip tried to twist away, beating on Russ’s arms as his choking noises became more desperate.  Russ fought to keep his hold tight, and keep the man between him and the other guards.

Two of the new arrivals came at him, a third went for the bird-girl, grabbing her skinny body and throwing her against the wall like one of Leeton’s dogs tossing aside the rag doll.  Russ couldn’t spare enough attention to watch them, though, with the other two intent on freeing their comrade.  The man was thrashing violently now, and he knew his strength wouldn’t last if the man didn’t pass out soon.  Die, a tiny voice corrected him.  Die soon.  You’re killing him.

The realization sent a shock of new, different fear through him.  He almost let go, horrified at the thought of holding a dead body in his arms, but he didn’t let go, didn’t loosen his grip, he snarled back at his conscience and shut out the thoughts, tried to shut out all thoughts.  He had nothing left in him but the surge of adrenaline and he let it tell him to hold on and hold tighter and don’t think don’t think don’t fuckin think just squeeze till the thrashing stops . . . .

More hands were grabbing at his arms now, strong hands that clamped on and twisted at him, pulling away.  He couldn’t fight against all those hands, he realized with sick fear, even as their digging fingers finally loosened his grip enough for the man to slide out, gasping for air.  A blade was suddenly up against Russ’s throat and he became very still, flattening himself up against the wall.  One of the “rescuers” got up close to his face and sneered something at him, warning him again to behave.

“You don’t wanna cut my throat down here,” Russ said cautiously, feeling his adam’s apple move against the blade.  “Defeat the whole damn point, won’t it?”

The guard moved away as if he understood, but Russ saw that it was just to let the others get close with their manacles and chains.

No way.  Russ darted to the side, trying to get out of their trap, but the two with the cuffs (whatever the other had been doing to the bird-girl he was done now) blocked him, throwing him back against the wall.  The one with his knife out came at him again, but Russ rolled away to the other side, stumbling free.  He saw the inert form of the bird-girl lying against the opposite wall.

He threw himself toward the ladder, even knowing that it was useless to run.  There were more men waiting up above him, and the guards below grabbed at him again.  He turned to face them, trying to back around in circles so he didn’t get pinned against the wall again.  But there were too many to escape, the pit seemed crowded with the four guards, and two of them circled around behind him.  There was no way to retreat.

So he did the only other thing he could think of.  As they grabbed he kicked and punched blindly, sloppily, making himself as hard to get ahold of as he could.  Just as he’d thought, they didn’t dare use their blades on him, didn’t want to spill that precious Key blood, oh no, no no no, not just yet.  They put their hands on him instead, coming from all sides as they tried to drag him down.  He felt the cold metal go around his wrists as some hands held his arms out and other hands slapped on the manacles.  He flailed his arms in tandem, getting only vague satisfaction from hearing the painful curses as hard metal met heads and bodies.  They kicked him down and the light spun around in his head as he fell and hit the ground, but he didn’t pass out and he didn’t stop kicking at whatever was near enough to get kicked.

He thought of himself as a rabid dog or wild animal being caged up to be killed; they fought and they snarled even though the end was inevitable.  When they were dead and gone their killers would be left with wounds and memories of the bloody beast that wouldn’t go quietly.  And that would be him.  Dying like a crazy animal.  Not like a sheep.  The guard he’d almost killed stood above him, rubbing his throat ruefully, then he looked down at Russ and grimaced.  He kicked Russ in the ribs and sent a hard boot-toe of pain ripping up and down his side.  Russ gasped, but kicked back, striking the man’s shin.

Then suddenly he felt a stab in his arm.  It went deep and he jerked in shock, looking at the man who’d snuck up on him and jabbed him with a knife.  But no, it wasn’t a knife he was holding, it was a needle.  The messy stab tore at his arm and now blood dripped from the needle.  Russ felt all the adrenaline, all the strength, drain out of him as something else took its place . . . like pollution spreading through water he felt weakness creep through his body, crawling toward his heart till he felt as if even that slowed to a crawl.  He couldn’t thrash anymore.  He couldn’t lift his head.  When he blinked, his eyelids crept slowly down over his eyes and wanted desperately to stay shut.  He had to force them back up with all the willpower it seemed he had left.  He slowly looked from side to side, first to the left, then to the right, then agonizingly down at the rest of his body.  His chained hands rested heavily on his chest, but he couldn’t shift them away, and his lungs didn’t seem to want to respond.

He felt them lifting him up, grumbling to each other in words that were amazingly fast and clipped to his tired mind.  Russ felt panic.  It was a trapped, chained, caged panic, with no way to express itself beyond the choking thoughts of death.  This was how they took care of the crazy animal.  Stick a dart in it and watch it slow and fall to sleep, unable to lash out anymore.  In a matter of seconds his mind was the only thing left to him, his whole body seemed like a heavy sack of flour.  A sack of blood.  Precious Key blood.  Useless Key blood.

They tied a rope around him and pulled him up out of the pit, not bothering to try making him climb up the ladder or carry him up themselves.  His neck lolled back painfully as the rope cut into his chest.  Upside down he looked back at the bird-girl.  She wasn’t dead, or even hurt bad it seemed . . . she sat up and huddled against the wall with her skinny arms wrapped around her bony knees, watching him as he was drawn up toward the opening.  Her eyes said, Better you than me.