Robinson Crusoe 2245: (Book 2) (5 page)

“What about the rear doors?” the farmer asked.

“The barrier will hold. Go.”

The man ran off. Robinson turned back to the mute brother and told him what he was going to do.

Robinson leaped down to the second floor as the farmers gathered on both sides of him. He told them the plan, choosing to ignore the looks of confusion and worry.

He approached the main barn doors, closed his eyes, and wonder if Friday would approve.

“Open it,” he said.

Smoke billowed inside when the farmers opened the doors. Immediately, the Flayers behind the cart fired several arrows, but none found their mark.

“Bone Flayers!” Robinson yelled in their guttural tongue. “I seek parlay!”

His request was greeted with derisive laughter.

More arrows flew in. Among the farmers, one woman was aware enough to collect the projectiles and have her children usher them to the mutes.

Robinson leaned out again.

“Are the mighty Bone Flayers so cowardly that they will not listen to the words of a dying man?”

The word “coward” drew their ire, but the arrows slackened long enough for a rough voice to respond.

“Words are for women and the dead!” he said. “Come out and show us which you are!”

More laughter followed.

“And what of the challenge?” Robinson asked. “I once heard that the leader of a Bone Flayer army will fight to the death any who challenges him to single combat. Is this not true?”

“The challenge is for slaves! We take no slaves today.”

And then, shockingly, Robinson stepped into the daylight.

“Even for an Aserra?” Robinson asked.

The Bone Flayers were shocked silent. Even the farmers gasped when Robinson stepped into the sun with his shirt off, the brand on his arm glistening for all to see.

Would Friday approve? Hell yes.

A Flayer behind the cart stood up and prepared to throw a spear, but someone stopped him. It was Black Hand. The broken shaft of arrow still protruded from his leg.

“Accept your challenge,” Black Hand said.

To Robinson’s right, a second Flayer called out. Painted across his face was a red hand identical in every way to the man in front of him. Robinson assumed the men were brothers.

“No! This boy is of pale skin. He is no Aserra! Let me kill him.”

“I have seen him fight,” Black Hand said. “The right is mine.”

Black Hand removed his necklace of bones and dropped them in the dirt. Then he limped around the cart, switching the cudgel from his left hand to his right while drawing a knife from his belt.

Behind Black Hand, half the farmhouse collapsed, sending sparks and ash billowing into the sky. No one seemed to notice.

Robinson stretched his neck by rolled his head in a circle. He knew his timing would have to be perfect.

Ten paces away, Black Hand paused, his eyes locked solely on Robinson. His mouth curled into a smile, revealing sharpened, pointed teeth. Then he charged.

Robinson’s fists tightened around his axes, but he stood his ground. Only when Black Hand was raising his cudgel did Robinson finally drop. He saw the mute brother’s arrow strike Black Hand in the upper chest. Black Hand pitched forward as Robinson rose, swinging his axe with all his might. The back of the axe caught Black Hand’s spine perfectly, and it broke with a resounding
snap.

The Bone Flayers flew into an immediate frenzy as they gave up their defensive positions and surged forward. Robinson whirled and raced back for the safety of the barn.

Overhead, the mutes fired their remaining arrows, but it did nothing to stop the swarm from reaching the door.

When the Flayers rushed inside, they were surprised to find themselves funneled into a narrow gap between equipment that had been hastily erected from the animal pens. Behind this fortification, the farmers lashed out with their ad hoc weapons, stabbing, gouging, and bludgeoning with renewed vigor, as if tasting real hope for the first time.

Almost immediately, the mutes leapt down to join the attack, but the trough of death was already bowing from the mass of Flayer bodies. Even with the funnel they’d created, there were simply too many enemies to hold the lines.

Just when the Flayers seemed poised to overrun the barn, an explosion of light and fire lit the sky behind them, blinding everyone.

For three days, the
Spinecrusher
had cut smoothly downriver. No one aboard, outside of Arga’Zul, ever knew if the ship’s movements were arbitrary or part of a plan. One day he might stop, if he deemed a village posed a challenge. On day he might stop just for easy pickings. Just as often, he passed inhabited areas by entirely, while smirking from the deck as if to taunt those on shore.

I could take you at any time.

Friday had little to do during these days but sit in her hovel and wait. Flayers came and went, retrieving slaves or supplies, but she was mostly ignored.

One very rainy afternoon, Friday heard the call to lower sails, and the anchor struck the water with a splash. The ship slowed to a halt, although it still rocked with the current. Immobility made everyone nervous, especially the slaves. Nothing good happened when the Bone Flayers had downtime.

An hour later, two savages appeared with a stick and rope in hand. Friday didn’t fight when the noose was wrapped around her neck. One of the men cautiously unlocked her leg irons, while keeping a second thick stick ready. A month before, Friday had bit a chunk out of his face. She looked at the scar and grinned. Arga’Zul would kill any man who significantly harmed her, but any fool can make a mistake. Today, her assault was merely a scowl.

The savages escorted Friday to Arga’Zul’s cabin, where he sat at a table, eating his evening meal. The odor of cooked meat wafted over Friday, and her mouth watered. Arga’Zul motioned the men to put her in a chair at the table before leaving.

Arga’Zul was a massive man who bore as much fat as muscle. And yet, he had shown prodigious speed and strength for one his size. His forehead was dotted with perspiration, and his body smelled rank. Then again, so did Friday. She knew in her current condition, she couldn’t overpower him, so she sat back and watched him instead.

The great enemy of her life was an arm’s length away, and she could do nothing about it.

Arga’Zul tore at a roasted fowl with his hands, licking his fingers as he shoved meat into his mouth. Sweet potatoes, hardtack, undercooked beets, and roasted corn filled out the table. Friday’s body betrayed her, and she swallowed.

Arga’Zul eyed her momentarily before raising his chin and saying, “Eat.”

Friday didn’t hesitate. She tore into the bird quickly. The robust flavor was so intense she thought she might pass out. But before she had swallowed the first bite, she was already reaching for more.

Arga’Zul set a cup down in front of her and filled it with wine from a jug. She gulped it down, only to have him fill it again.

For months, Friday had eaten nothing but gruel, so this was an extravagance beyond measure. She knew it would come at a price.

“
Gōngzhǔ
,” Arga’Zul said. “Stubborn girl.”

Friday hated that word and the way he said it, but she refused to quit eating. She mowed through an ear of corn and what was left of the meat. Two more cups of wine left her head feeling light. She only stopped when she realized it might make her vulnerable.

Arga’Zul looked her over and smiled. Friday wondered, not for the first time, why he had never forced himself on her. No other female slaves received this courtesy.

“You eat well,” he said, finally. “Better than some of my men.”

Friday swallowed and spoke. “When
food
is placed in front of me, I eat.”

She put the emphasis on the word food. Most of what she had been given she did not consider edible.

“You eat better than the slaves,” Arga’Zul said.

That was sadly true.

When Friday could eat no more, she sat back, and Arga’Zul whistled. Nameless and another slave entered to quickly clean the table. Friday silently cursed herself for not trying to smuggle food away, though there was no place for her to hide it.

After the slaves departed, Arga’Zul unrolled a thick map on the table. The Great Missup dominated the center of the page. Once the river named Mississippi fed the interior states, but after the Great Rendering spurred the collapse of the ancient aqueduct system, the river opened to the east until the Great Missup joined the Atlantic just south of the ancient capital. Now salt water coalesced with fresh water to make a passageway that cut through the heart of the continent.

Xs dotted the sides of the river. Friday assumed these were places Arga’Zul had already sacked. But there were more Xs inland. She had no idea what those represented.

“Show me where the Aserra live,” he said.

Once Friday realized he wasn’t joking, she burst into laughter. Arga’Zul smiled and then let his huge arm fly. The backhand split her lip and sent her flying to the floor.

She looked up, fueled by an all-consuming hate.

“One day, I will kill you,” she said.

“So you’ve said.”

“But here, now, I make my promise. To the Goddess and all I hold dear. When you die, it will be by my hand alone.”

Arga’Zul reached for his cup of wine and leaned back to sip it. His eyes never left her.

“Life aboard my ship can be easy, or it can be hard,” he said. “You could eat every night like this at my table. Or you could eat nothing at all.”

“A hard life is all I have ever known,” she retorted. “And I prefer the company of slaves to yours.”

“They have it worse than you. But it can be worse still. Especially for the girl.”

Friday tensed but wasn’t surprised by his words. It was why she promised to never care for anyone but herself.

“You will do as you wish. You always have. What do I care for strangers? You’re a fool if you think I will ever give up my people.”

He knew he could break her. Her body was already failing. Flesh was weak. But the mind, the heart—those were the gems he loved to hold and crush most. They did not break, they shattered, and then, only under the right kind of pressure.

He doubted she could find her people, even if she wanted to. She had been away from them nearly a year and a half. And the Aserra never stayed in one place for too long. Still, he needed to test the flaws in her armor. One day, they would become faults that would let him drive the dagger home.

Arga’Zul held out his massive hand. “Get up.”

Friday refused his hand and returned to her chair. The wine had made her head hot. Suddenly, she wanted to be away from him. The way he looked at her made her stomach turn.

He reached out and gently pushed a few strands of hair from her face.

“I could make things easier for you anyway.”

Friday looked at him in disbelief and laughed. “I would kill myself before I let you touch me.”

Arga’Zul’s mouth twitched.

“You preferred the touch of that boy I took you from?”

“Cru-soe is more man than you’ll ever be.”

“Not man enough to hold you. To keep you safe.”

“But you remember what he said that day, don’t you? He said he would come for me. He swore it.”

“To make a promise and fulfill it are two separate things. Not that it matters now. The boy is dead. I would not want to give you false hope.”

“You lie,” Friday said.

“A lie would be to say I witnessed it. I did not. But the pale stranger told me of his plans. He paid greatly to return him across the sea so he could make an example of him. If it is of any consolation, he did say it would be quick.”

Friday felt her face flush and her hands tremble. Arga’Zul watched, delighting in her pain, as he always did.

“Dead for months and still you pine for him. I almost wish I had taken the boy too, so I might have milked the life from him in front of you, one drop at a time.”

Friday’s eyes darted around, settling on a knife left on the table.

“Go on,” he teased. “Take it. If you can.”

Friday considered leaping for the knife, but she knew she would never reach it. Even with her belly full, her muscles had atrophied, her speed bled away. She turned. She would continue to bide her time.

“Wise,” Arga’Zul said. “My stubborn
Gōngzhǔ
. We will anchor here until the storm passes. It may be one day or five. Plenty of time to continue our games.”

He leaned closer and reached out to touch her hair again. The wine was thick on his breath. But it was the look in his eyes that truly frightened her.

“I’ve heard your promise, Princess. Now hear mine. I will break you. It’s only a matter of time.”