Demonworld (33 page)

The Ugly left them. The males that had avoided running the gauntlet shook their heads and laughed nervously, grateful that they had been spared.

“
You hear that?” said one slave.

“
Yeah!” said another. “We must be close to the end!”

A few others smiled, then Wodan said, “It was staged.”

“
What?” said Agmar.

“
They know we’re getting tired,” said Wodan, “and they know that a few people are reaching their breaking point. They rape the women continually, then force them to walk the next day. Haven’t we left several old people behind to die in the wasteland? Haven’t they shot anyone strong enough to stand up to them? None of the Ugly cares if some of the young punks want to hold a gauntlet and knock any of us around. Believe me – they staged that so we would feel relief and come away from the breaking point.”

“
Come on,” said Agmar. “You said it yourself, they’re brutes, they’re bullies. That’s way too clever for the likes of them!”

“
And you said yourself that they’ve been doing this for a long, long time. They’re full of all kinds of tricks. Aren’t they?”

Agmar turned away, then Brad said, “I bet he’s right. Look at you dumbasses! We just got threatened with a beating, and now two minutes later you guys are feeling
grateful!
”

Debate began in earnest, then Rachek said, “You heard what he said about them giving food to some of us girls. He did that so you guys would look down us! They try to get us drunk every time we go in there so we won’t fight back, but I sure don’t remember getting any free meals. That’s for damn sure!”

Fuel was thrown on the flame and scores of slaves argued back and forth. Some wanted to rise up immediately and kill their captors, others wanted to continue the hellish trek in peace and see what the fates had in store for them at their destination. Some argued that they outnumbered their captors so much that a fight might not even be necessary, others argued that as soon as they were sold at Sunport they would no longer have to worry about the Ugly anyway. Some argued that it was shameful for their ancestors to look down from the heavens and see their sons killed and their daughters defiled, others argued that this was their fate and it was their lot in life to endure it. Wodan said nothing; his new friends Brad and Rachek argued for him. Agmar stayed close to Wodan, but he argued against violence.

A whistle blew and everyone fell silent, then backed away on their hands and knees as a troop of Ugly walked through them. They were led by the tall, bald, sickly Ugly that called Wodan a “mountain flower” earlier. He picked Wodan out from the crowd, smiled as if recognizing an old friend, then approached. The troop remained behind, smoking and watching for trouble; one of them angrily tossed his cigarette onto a crouching slave, who backed away on his knees.

“
You!” said the sickly Ugly. “You’ve been invited to speak with our lord Barkus.” He waited for a while, then said, “Isn’t that wonderful?”

Wodan sat in silence. Everyone but Brad and Rachek backed away from him.

“
Well?” said the Ugly. “Would you like to meet our master?”

Just as Rachek gripped Wodan’s arm, he rose and said, “That’s fine, I will.”

He moved to leave but Rachek gripped his arm fiercely. “I’ll be back,” he whispered to her. “I promise!”

She released his arm and he approached the Ugly, who put an arm around him and led him through the crouching bodies. Wodan stared into the eyes of the young goons that waited for them.

Suddenly the sickly Ugly leaned into his ear and whispered, “You are surely the most beautiful young boy here! Do you know that? Is that why they like you?” His mouth smelled like a rotting corpse and his blackened teeth were filed down to sharp nubs. Wodan’s face was a mask but he felt panic coursing through him. Even in the valley, fighting against hundreds of monsters, he had never felt fear as on the quiet walk toward the tent.

The night was dark and torchlight glinted off the green tent. It was large, much larger than it seemed from the slave area. The racket of Ugly laughing and drinking grew so loud that when Wodan’s captor leaned on him again and whispered something, Wodan could not hear him. A large group of Ugly stood outside guarding the entrance, swaying and spitting. One of Wodan’s escort approached these with a strange jig and produced a handful of dice, then the rest of Wodan’s escort broke off and joined the guards outside, already arguing about the possibility of cheating during their games. The bald Ugly raised the heavy tent flap; light and smoke poured forth, and Wodan entered.

Many Ugly stood about, smoking and playing scarring games with knives and cigarettes. Several black capes were near the door, and one of them was saying, “... like to just keep one of them with us, all the time, tied and gagged. Just shit on ’em, screw ’em, cut an eye out. We did it before, but you can’t sell em after that...” Boxes of ammunition were stacked in piles and used for tables. He saw an Ugly’s knife dance about his hand on one table, gouging chunks of flesh and wood, while others played cards and took shots of black juice. A wide, thin table dominated the center, and Barkus sat in the middle of it. He wore a black silk shirt unbuttoned to show the rat’s skull stitched to his chest. He leaned over a pale brown map etched with red and black, and two Ugly stood over his shoulders. Wodan grew cold when he saw them, for it was the short dark-haired man and the tall blond-bearded man, whom he hated.

The bald Ugly led him gently by the elbow, and Barkus lifted his head when they neared. Wodan choked when he saw the black sun ground into his face and the upturned smile beneath his beard. The man’s charisma was overpowering. Wodan stood before him and, even though he was elevated above Barkus, he felt very small.

“
There’s the boy I wanted to see,” said Barkus. Wodan could hear him clearly even in the constant noise of overlapping conversations; in fact, he could hear nothing but Barkus. “I have a question to ask you.” He paused as he looked Wodan up and down, then said, “Have you been saying anything bad about me to your little friends?”

Wodan breathed deep, then said, “Never. We all speak well of you, even when we’re squatting and crapping side by side every morning.”

Barkus laughed loudly and leaned back in his seat. The two Ugly beside him chuckled.

“
I’d like you to meet my teammates,” said Barkus. He paused again. His aura and charisma were so intense that Wodan had the sense that the entire world waited for him to speak. In his presence, every breath only came by great effort. Barkus pointed to the short, dark man whose eyes were surrounded by runes, and said, “This is Adem. He’s a strangler. He was born under a Skull Moon.” Adem tilted his head back; Wodan recognized the gesture as the result of a cultivation of an image of toughness. Barkus threw his thumb to the tall blond. “This is Wallach. Brick Hands Wallach. He’s my strategist.” The giant with a checkerboard face stared at Wodan, unmoving, full of malice. Wodan looked away.

Adem cleared his throat with a sound like gravel being churned, then said, “You’ve met us before.”

Barkus ignored him and pointed to the bald Ugly, said, “That’s Fachimundi. He’s a snake.”

Fachimundi smiled by licking his lips and parting them to reveal his black stubs. There was something shy and childish in the gesture, as if the man was an undeveloped, gross shadow of a human.

“
Fachimundi is a faggot,” said Barkus, “but we don’t allow sodomites into the Ugly. Show him what a team player you are, Fachi.”

Still smiling, the man pulled down his pants. A small, scarred flap of skin flopped about under a mass of pale tattoos in the shape of a smiling beast. Several of the younger Ugly laughed, and one stumbled up to him drunkenly. Without concealing himself, Fachimundi hissed and spat at him. The Ugly stumbled away and his friends laughed at him.

“
This is our family,” said Barkus. “Now I want to know about yours.”

He paused, and Wodan said tentatively, “You want to know about me?”

Barkus nodded amiably, said, “Please. Speak! In the spirit of brotherhood.”

Some of the Ugly laughed into their bottles. The menace in the air was palpable. Though Barkus tried to appear friendly, Wodan knew that they were crossing swords. Wodan decided to hide the truth in a web of deceit so that he would not be caught lying outright.

“
My people live in the earth, away from demons and… raiders. I was cast out with some others. None of us know why.”

Barkus glanced back at Adem, then said to Wodan, “Why were you in the mountains?”

“
We were trying to get back home,” said Wodan. “We made our way into an abandoned mine. We were attacked, and many of us were killed.”

Adem smirked, then said, “They looked like the mountain shit them out.”

Wodan’s heart raced. If anyone knew what happened to Marlon, it was Adem and Wallach. Wodan gathered his resolve as if he was about to leap from a great height, then said, “What did-”

“
The slaves speak of you,” said Barkus, loudly, so that all attention gelled around him again. “They speak of the little pale flower that puts a smile on their face. They speak of the cute monkey whose dances and antics make them laugh. My clansmen watch them all day long, and they tell me that the primitives constantly scramble to get close to you, if only for a moment. Did you know that?”

“
They have no reason to dislike me,” said Wodan. “You could be a leader among them, if you wanted.”

Barkus chuckled. Though his smile never left, his eyes were hard. “Why would I sell my dignity for the friendship of a primitive?” he said. “Why would you?”

“
Because they’re human beings,” said Wodan, “with human dignity. Sure, they’re superstitious, coarse, uncultured, they live in constant fear, they abandon their individuality to find safety in groups, and they smell bad... but how are you any different? How am I?”

“
Be honest. The spineless fops you used to live with kicked you out, and now you’re trying to make the best of a bad situation. Right? Why else would you speak to any of those natives? It’s obvious that you’re not like them, boy.”

“
Each one of them is more unique than you imagine,” said Wodan. He summoned up his will, then said, “You’ve been thinking in terms of masters and slaves, and putting people into boxes and defining them for so long that you’ve forgotten how to connect with people. You’ve learned tactics for how to deal with people, but you haven’t learned how to look at an individual person and really see who they are. Every individual human being defies definition. They’re… they…”

“
Don’t stop, this is great!” said Barkus. “It’s not every day you get to hear utter bullshit of this caliber!”

The tent exploded with laughter.

“
Okay, okay,” said Barkus, waiting for the laughter to die down. “That’s all very interesting, but I think you have a lot to learn about the human condition.”

Wodan did not respond, so Barkus continued. “All life is ugly, but human life is a noxious puddle of stinking, vile waste. History is a record of atrocities, the present moment is insufferably boring, and tomorrow does not exist. It’s plain to any honest individual that the state we are in - is what we have chosen. Humans are pathetic, boy. You aren’t going to save anyone.”

Wodan wondered just how much Barkus knew about his plans. He felt like a rodent perched on the end of a trap. He stubbornly summoned his resolve once more. “Humans might not look powerful or impressive,” said Wodan, “but I think we all have an unlimited potential to find joy… and joy is unique to everyone who has the will to seek it.”

His voice grew quieter as he spoke. Barkus let his words shrivel and fall in the gloomy, smoke-filled tent. The Ugly laughed quietly and shook their heads, and the worst of it was that Wodan sounded like a fool even to himself.

“
You’re just a naive idealist,” said Barkus, slowly, so that each word massaged a little blade into Wodan. “You are not special. Every other kid that hates pain and dreams of something better thinks he’s going to change the world. But, you know what? He’s not. No one ever has. No one ever will.”

“
How did you become so jaded?” said Wodan, and he wondered if he only said it to break the terrible silence.

“
Because I was honest enough with myself to realize that people are self-serving and lazy. Myself included.” He lit a cigarette, sucked it by pursing his lips awkwardly, then said, “I guess you think it’s horrible that I’ve enslaved these people.”

“
I do,” said Wodan.

“
You know what’s worse than that? The fact that those hill-people are going to complain for a while - and then get used to their slavery. Many of them will actually
like
it. I have, at least, provided them with safety. When we get where we’re going, you’ll be sold to rich masters who can protect you from flesh demons, the wasteland, starvation... everything.”