PULL ME UNDER - Leaf and Stream - Seven

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Seven

Ddun looked over the destruction with a thick ache in his breast. Half the camp was ash, but few lives lost compared to what might have been. Teeth grit beneath his mask, an attempt to keep his anger in check with the fighting done. The mask spirits were silent, though he gave them words of thanks. The ashen fields around them, and all the field spirits were surely angry now… the clan would have to leave this place until the seasons changed.

The rain had blessed them to ease the flames, still misting his shoulders as they counted the dead, Grandmother prayed over bodies and the surviving warriors silently bereft to collect the masks of their brothers. Tanner helped with the bodies, the gash at his jaw sticky and black, but he didn’t complain. Ddun had been underestimating him, and made a mental note of it.

Ddun spied the tarp the girl had painted, edges black and paint bubbling. He would cut the edges off for her to keep the rest.

“Stenya?” Tanner asked as they stood over the body of a settler.

“They needed us out of the fields.”

“You aren’t rats in a barn for fuck sake.”

“Tell them,” Ddun gestured to the dead man at their feet. “They’ll be back.”

“Bunch of cowards, they are.” Antoll came by, his hair had been singed in the fire and hung lose from the braid in uneven tangles. Normally in light spirits, the dishevelled black strands and sprays of blood down his front betrayed the crazed nature he could achieve with the threat to his life, or to his clan. Loyal to the last. One of the many reasons Ddun enjoyed his company like none other. Antoll gave a solid slap on Tanner’s back. “If you hadn’t alerted us, it may have turned out different,” and kept on to the tents to fish out anything worth salvaging, calling out over his shoulder, “We might even forgive you for taking Orman’s horse!” To which Tanner only flushed, and Ddun smiled.

“The smell is making me sick.” Tanner said.

Ddun didn’t like it, either. Burnt grass and wood, hair and fabric and flesh, all soggy with rain and plugging his nose. But that’s how it was. “You’ll never get used to it.” He must truly have lived a pampered life. They insist they aren’t royalty, and Tanner doesn’t tan hides (much to the confusion of Grandmother) perhaps they really are magic, like faerie spirits, only just now coming to the world of humans. Sometimes, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shimmer in the air around them. Orman had claimed to see it, too.

It didn’t worry Ddun. If they were malevolent spirits, they would have shown it by now. The whole clan would be covered in boils and their teeth would fall out and babies would die at the breast. Weren’t those the tales?

The slaves soon came through to pick the Stenya bodies clean. Ddun allowed Tanner to take a prize from any of them, having earned it. He took a string of copper coins and a string of silver, a modest take. The rest of the wealth would belong to the clan to trade on their travels. Or to pool with another clan. At that thought, Ddun decided they would head to the east to find his cousins in a nearby camp. Strength in numbers.

***

“You killed him,” Grandmother had scowled at the shivering girl. “What made you think you had that right?”

The girl was still shaken, wide-eyed from what she had done, Ddun felt an uncomfortable rage to watch her, and he didn’t know who the rage should be directed toward, because it wasn’t the two of them on their knees.

“He was going to kill her!” Tanner stood in her defence, bruised from his fight, only for Borga to shove him back down.

“Why should we host you, if you feel you have the right to end the life of a Dvarri warrior?” Grandmother shook her walking stick with a rattle of gourds.

“Then don’t,” he had said with a spit of insolence. “Fuck you, leave us on the road.” The girl only buried her face in her hands and sobbed, voice rough from the damage done by Orman’s hands.

Orman had gone to Ddun the night before, ranting and carrying on about his mask, about the girl. Tanner was telling it true. Orman was going to kill her. As would any Dvarri kill a witch—he saw magic in her, and if she didn’t have him, to kill her… he was talking as if it were the most obvious thing. Ddun had to strike sense into him, but the force of it clearly didn’t stick. Orman had lost his mind, and like a rabid dog he needed to be put down. It was Ddun’s words just then, to speak about Orman’s madness, that allowed the pair to stay, and he wasn’t sure why he did it. He pitied them? Maybe he just enjoyed their ardor and didn’t want to lose a source of amusement.

But her eyes that day, red with tears and burst vessels underneath, and shocking blue—light inside, with a dark outer ring—magic in them, just as Orman had said. And Ddun knew then, in the pit of his stomach, he didn’t want anyone else to have her magic, not anyone. He’d make sure they were kept close. “He was insulted by Orman’s actions,” Ddun had said, “grievously so. We don’t understand their culture as much as they don’t understand ours. If Orman hadn’t broken our vows of hospitality, he wouldn’t be dead.”

Grandmother paced, agitated and uneasy. “I don’t need to read fortunes to know you’re right. The liver—Ah! They’re your responsibility to keep!”

He would treat them just like Dvarri, and that pleased Grandmother. And as he looked to the girl—the pinch marks on her fingers from pulling the strings so tight, the tremor in her shoulders, her hair of dark umber like the richest earth in tousled waves, brilliant blue eyes wet and pleading—he felt a strange wash of relief, of contentment, that Grandmother had let them stay. He wanted to heal the girl’s spirit.

***

Ddun admired Tanner for his eagerness to live as a Dvarri. The stranger had become a bit of a luthier, practising his workmanship under the guidance of the slave Shoh to replace the balaik smashed over Orman’s head. Up until his arrival, Shoh was their most pearl-laced voice, though with a penchant to drift into melancholy as he performed and it got tiresome. There were others that could command an audience, especially the ones who could master singing in two tones, and the clan would all sing together at times, but Tanner topped them all.

The girl encouraged Tanner to sing, finally acquiescing to the incessant prodding from her which he seemed to enjoy ignoring. Tanner’s voice was deep, almost boastful, and it was clear his sister was unbiased when she bragged about that talent on his behalf. Now he sang, a strange poetry Ddun was unfamiliar with, “this one is called ‘Cemetary Gates…’” the entire camp at his feet, silent and attentive, and it sent a collective warmth through their hearts to close their eyes and feel the emotion spilling from him, the spirits of the air blessing them with a tender breeze and his voice their payment. The poultice and bandage on his face didn’t seem to matter at all, stretching himself to carry his song through the prairie with abandon.

The girl sat on her heels beside Ddun, her face a prideful radiance.

Why couldn’t he even think her name? As if he would break some sort of spell to acknowledge it. Lauren. Lauren. Lauren. He swallowed, eyes stuck on her lips.

There was a lot of walking ahead, on horseback they kept pace to match the slowest. Fewer things to carry also meant less food to share and the trip turned into a three-day stretch, more stops for hunting. Tanner was a lousy shot, and only laughed when they mocked him, taking it in stride. But damn, was he a good rider. Even Ddun had to admit it. But if he couldn’t hit the deer, he would never get antlers for his own mask.

“I’ll run the fucking things down,” he huffed a laugh, sweating after a long run to catch an animal that fell by Antoll’s bow. “Run them until they all fall over dead. Right? Run them right off a cliff.”

“No cliffs for miles. Just learn to use the fucking bow,” Antoll had teased. “Or a spear, or a fucking sling! It’s like you shoot with only one good eye!” They all laughed, Tanner included. It was impossible to tease the bastard.

They came to a copse of trees, three cold Dvarri bodies strung up in the branches of a fat old oak. They cut them down and said prayers and buried them, all while swallowing hatred like poison bile. Tanner was silent until they returned to the rest, only speaking to his sister, low and pained.

The friendly Dvarri camp soon came into view and riders went on ahead with Grandmother to have talks and give news. Ddun stayed back with the rest, going through their slaves and things to trade for good will. Though they were (mostly) cousins, it wouldn’t be fitting to expect shelter for nothing. By the spirits, they may have even stolen livestock from each other. But that wouldn’t matter when it came to the gutless Stenya.

In the largest tent all the warriors convened, Tanner lamenting about how he wasn’t included, even the Dvarri boys were allowed in. Lauren held him back to keep him calm. The longer Ddun knew them for, the more he realized just how much Tanner relied on her to keep his emotions under control. Ddun would have to keep that in the back of his mind. “You aren’t one of them,” she had whispered to her brother. “Let it go.”

There was no denying the injured look he gave Ddun as they parted ways.

***

Lauren walked with Tanner, practising their Dvarri etiquette. The correct greetings, the bowed heads, posture and sway, where to touch and where not. The folks in the new camp were bright and welcoming, Tanner taken by the hand more than once, no knowledge of their history, though Lauren noticed the double-takes as if she startled them, which was always odd no matter how often it happened.

The tents were all the same—white canvas or mottled grey felt in cones, or big round structures of white tarpaulin over felt that came up in a point at the centre, colourful ribbons flitting from poles and bunting hanging from ropes, and wind chimes making merry tunes just like the Dvarri themselves did as they walked. The familiarity was comforting.

Some of the women asked about Tanner’s jacket, which was fine, but when they asked why he wasn’t with the others, Lauren had to intervene at the hint of red in his cheeks. It really bothered him that he wasn’t included, and it made her sad, too. He was trying so hard. Weren’t they supposed to be treated like Dvarri? Maybe that was all surface. Or, maybe this was being treated like Dvarri, just not as those Dvarri.

Food and beer passed to them as they walked, and she saw Grandmother sitting with another old woman, another Grandmother, Lauren guessed, with the paint over skin being similar. They sat in a formal, straight-backed posture (as best the old women could) with a carpet between them, trinkets laid across. Carved bones, decorated weapons. Clan treasures, likely. They were bartering, haggling in excessively formal language.

Something on the carpet caught her eye as they passed, but before she could turn to look Tanner gripped her arm tight enough her skin pinched.

“Lauren.” His throat bobbed with a hard swallow. “That’s an AK-47.”

There it was, plain as day, and her knees buckled—Tanner dove for it, eliciting shouts of insults and a smack with a walking stick from the other clan’s Grandmother.

“Where did you find this?” Tanner asked, examining it with trembling fingers, the stamps confirming it was really made in their world and he was sweating. The thing looked old, the strap was tattered and insect-eaten. Straight for the warrior’s tent, Lauren tried holding him by his jacket, but went ignored, with all the calls around them to stop his march.

Every masked head twisted to them, dizzying embarrassment, but necessary. Tanner jutted a confident chin, held the rifle out demanding to know where they had found it. None of them answered, and he stomped through to the central fire, his determination glowing like the red and gold poles that held up the felt. He spoke slow and clear and no one interrupted. “If there are others, and your enemies found them, you would all be dead. Do you understand me? This is from our world. It’s very important that you tell us how you got it. These are more efficient than arrows, find me your best warrior and I can give this to a child and the child could kill him. Where did you find this?”

The Grandmothers came, one speaking harsh, “We found it in the wood. How dare you interrupt our men?”

“What else did you find? Was there anyone with it?”

“Just bones. Some other things, some that we’ve already traded away.”

“Show me. Now.”

“Do it, Grandmother,” Ddun said.

Lauren wanted to fall over. Tanner was right to be as indignant and offencive as he was… Even if all the eyes on them burned like battery acid. It was too important.

Cold war era, Tanner said. Russian soldier. She picked up the tattered, rotten uniform, hands shaking so rough it might drop, something pulled out of a nightmare but it was real. The buttons were real, the stitching. Tanner was only interested in the weapon, looking through the chest for ammunition or anything else. Two magazines, and they swore they hadn’t traded anything like that or found any other pieces to match, he sighed in relief, flexing his hands to release tension. There was a knife and a helmet there, too. Everything dirt-encrusted and worn. We aren’t the only ones. We aren’t alone.

Then they held each other and she cried, confused and terrified.

***

Ddun watched the siblings speak in hushed, shaking voices, bent over the strange objects until noticing the attention. Tanner stood and took Ddun aside. “If they’ve had this for a long time, and they found it in the dirt, it might be the only one. He was just unlucky, like we were, but instead of finding help…” Tanner’s voice drifted off.

“I’ve never seen either of you so frightened over anything,” Ddun noted uncomfortably. “Can you get it to work?”

“I can try. Aykays are pretty basic. I’m no gunsmith. I cleaned my grandpa’s guns after going hunting and that’s about it.”

“Gunsmith?”

“People who fix guns. That’s a gun.”

“And it shoots these?” He held up a long, brass cylinder, a silverish point at one end. “Like a bow shoots arrows?”

“Yeah, except fast, and far deadlier. I’m telling you, Ddun, if the Stenya had these you would all be dead. All of you. In our world, there are entire peoples that have been wiped out, efficiently and swiftly, just mopped off the earth. We’ve got other guns, all sorts of guns, cannons and missiles and things you can’t even imagine.” Tanner clutched at his stomach with one hand and his face with the other, hunched and tense. Lauren rubbed his back, but kept her lip between her teeth. She was as pallid as he was. “Our world has indoor plumbing and antibiotics and radio and weapons of mass destruction. We put a man on the moon and melted two cities into glass.”

It all sounded like magic. “We have death in our world, too. You’ve seen it. You’ve done it, and you barely batted an eye at it.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

Tanner frowned, his face a reflection of Ddun’s question. “Because I wanted to protect Lauren, I did it to protect the camp.” Tanner raised his eyes to Ddun with a shake of his head and a twisted lip, a shift in the blue that made Ddun’s palms sweat. “You’ll see. Let me get this clean. Lauren and I can sleep wherever if you don’t want us in the camp.”

“If it were up to me, you would stay. But you made a lot of people upset. My influence can only go so far.”

“That’s alright, chief,” Lauren said, “we’re used to hoofing it on our own.” She twisted her words like fingers through his heart, and he was glad the mask shielded his regret.

When Ddun saw them next, they had changed back into their old clothes, sullen looks on their faces and bent spines. The two clans were feasting and they sat dejected on the outskirts, Tanner sitting with the aykay propped up against his shoulder. His hair was lose and the strings of coins he had earned sat in a pile. Lauren had her black bag in her lap and sat a book on top of it, not lifting her head as he approached with a slave girl holding a tray of food for them. She was scratching something, orange stick in her hands, smudging with her finger, but he couldn’t see the marks. Flicking his fingernails with his thumb, he tried finding the right words before giving up, and turning back to the camp.

By morning, Tanner had set up targets and all the warriors stood around to watch. “This is the sight, you’ll be happy to know that even with my shit aim it’ll help me hit the mark. Ready?”

He stood in a confident pose, one end of the gun pressed into his shoulder and his cheek up against the side, one eye closed for a long, breathless moment. A loud crack made everyone shout in surprise, ears held. What a sight—the fiercest men on their knees at the bang, and even Ddun felt it in his guts as a second crack rang out, and a third, the air itself snapping twain. Tanner took long strides to the target to see what he had done, and Ddun followed close, marvelling at the holes in the wood, through the tree… “It’s shooting a bit high, but it’s an alright cluster,” Tanner said, and was the calmest of all the men. “I don’t want to waste any more bullets. You get the idea?”

“Let me try.”

“Not sure if I should,” Tanner smirked.

Ddun held his hand out and Tanner relented as they walked back to the others. Tanner showed him how to hold it, where to place his fingers. Ddun’s mask was knocked askew so he took it right off his head, the sunlight glinting off his cheekbones. Tanner stood back, telling Ddun what to do, and with a jolt and bang Ddun just about dropped the gun in surprise at the force it punched into his shoulder. He didn’t take his finger free of the thing and two more shots cracked skyward, Tanner swearing, gun taken with a hard tug from Ddun’s hands—but his heart was rattling too hard to be offended, too baffled by the force of the thing, it must have held some serious magic in it to make him feel such power in his veins. Devils magic.

“See, that look on your face, right there! That’s why I wasn’t sure if I should let you.”

Half a dozen other warriors stepped forward to try, and Tanner had a glint of humour in his eye to watch Ddun; he must have been looking at the thing with more hunger than intended.

Tanner smirked. “Take me hunting.”

“So you haven’t completely rejected our company?” Ddun asked.

“You’re the ones who made us sleep out here and get our asses eaten by gnats. You can just let me keep this and leave Lauren and me to wander. Up to you.”

“Who says I’d let you keep it?”

“I’d shoot you if you tried to take it.”

“Fair enough.”

Lauren called from the target. “You missed!”

Tanner grinned that wide, obnoxious grin that made his eyes light like blue fire.