Keres stepped into the Gicha camp, keeping Oxter at knifepoint as he emerged from the leaves with Cleon lurching behind him.
Kai still had his back turned as he inspected the tikmo’s wound and saw none of what was happening.
Poldi’s khev appeared in his hand and he moved deliberately toward the Neslah, watching Keres and Cleon and sizing up the situation.
Faslo tensed and reached reflexively for his bow. Then he saw Oxter and hesitated, unsure of what to do next.
Oxter stared pitifully out at his friends, his already enlarged eyes even larger than usual. His lips moved randomly, but no sound came out.
“I don’t know who you are, or why you’re here,” Faslo said in a calm, firm voice. “Let my friend go now, or I promise I’ll make you regret it.”
Keres ignored this.
“Greetings to you, men of Gicha!” Keres spat out each of these words like spoiled food.
“My my, we’re far from our cozy little dirt clods, aren’t we?
“ I am Keres of clan Neslah, and I’m bored. I’m going to remove this whelp’s head in five minutes, and I’m going to make you watch.
He paused for a tortuous moment.
Keres pulled Oxter closer to him, causing the skeen to nick his throat. A small rivulet of blood trickled down his neck, staining his shirt.
“Come to think of it, that’s too easy. Here’s what we’ll do. You have five minutes to kill me, or I’ll kill this little speck and every single one of you.”
Keres leaned close to the trembling kefi’s ear.
“Your friends need to hurry, runt. If they can’t stop me, I promise you’re going to die, and I’ll take my time doing it..”
Collop stepped around the corner with an arrow nocked and trained on Keres’ throat.
“Big talk boyo. If you want to die so much, I’ll oblige you.”
Faslo raised a hand to dissuade Collop, then all hell broke loose.
Marth stepped out of the bushes on the far side of the camp and loosed an arrow, striking a surprised Collop in the neck. He gagged and hit the ground, grabbing his throat and gasping for air.
“I told you I’d make you pay, dirt eater,” Marth said.
He spotted Calbat lying on the ground and walked straight for him.
Kai ran towards the fallen body of Collop.
As Keres turned his head, Faslo grabbed his skeen and flung it, burying the blade deep in Keres’ forearm.
Keres howled, cursed, and lost his grip on Oxter.
Oxter scurried away. When he got a safe distance away he put two fingers in his mouth and whistled as loud as he could.
With that, he leaped in the air, catching Keres on the jaw with his knee as the Neslah ran towards him with skeen held high.
They fell in a confused heap on the ground, rolling, punching, and clawing for any advantage they could find.
Marth walked quickly towards the mouse, pulling a long serrated skeen from a sheath.
“Hello, meat, did you miss me?” He hissed.
Calbat began to wake just as Marth closed the distance and stopped in front of his body. His eyes grew wide and panicked as Marth came ever closer, his skeen high overhead.
Just before Marth reached his prey, two arrows struck the ground in front of his feet. Growling like an animal, he whipped his head in all directions searching for the source.
A third arrow lodged in the shoulder Collop shot earlier. Marth screamed and reached for the arrow as a fourth shaft slammed into his calf. He grunted and fell.
Breathing heavily and oozing blood from two deep wounds, Marth tried to drag himself along the ground, hardly moving at all.
A figure dropped down from a raised spot on the ground near Marth.
An unfamiliar voice growled words he didn’t understand. Marth stopped moving and the voice came back louder.
Marth looked up to see a large dark brown Tikmo standing over him with a wooden blade in its hand. His surprise turned to scorn.
“Another stinking tik? What do you want?”
Marth spat and tried in vain to get to his feet.
Eshak stood like a statue, brandishing the blade and glaring at the crawling Neslah.
Marth’s hand found Eshak’s boot.
“Get out of my way, squeaker!” Marth snarled, slashing at the air in front of Eshak.
Eshak reached behind his back and pulled out a thick shofak1.
In one fluid motion, he slammed it down on Marth’s head then whipped it sharply up, striking Marth in the face. Teeth, blood, and grit flew through the air as Marth hit the ground hard and did not rise again.
“That was for Calbat,” Eshak said, walking away from the unconscious Marth without looking back.
He saw Calbat and ran to him, kneeling beside him.
“What happened, Cal?” He said quietly.
On the ledge above, Grig sat in between Azik and Bruka, the two towering Bachas.
Each one pulled another arrow out and searched the ground in front of them for danger.
Grig craned his head to one side and then the next. He had a feeling this wasn’t done yet.
Movement on his right side caught his eye. Grig reached back into his pack and pulled out a spyglass. He put it to his eye, took one look, and then jumped down from the ledge before the two Bachas could object.
Grig pulled out his skeen and kept it by his side as he ran as fast as his legs could carry him.
Keres pulled a hand free and gripped Faslo’s hair while his other hand fumbled for his skeen which fell out of his hand during the struggle.
He saw the skeen a few feet away from him and pulled Faslo closer to him as he strained to reach it. Faslo slammed his face into Keres, smashing his nose and stunning Keres enough to make him lose his hold on Faslo’s hair.
Faslo scrambled onto his feet, but as he turned around, Keres recovered and dove onto him, burying his skeen in Faslo’s shoulder.
Faslo screamed, his right arm stretching in vain to remove the skeen.
Keres kicked the injured shoulder, smiling with glee when Faslo screamed in agony.
“I’m- kaff- going to make you pay in blood for this, Gicha,” Keres growled, his voice distorted by his broken nose.
He yanked the skeen out, causing Faslo to scream again.
Faslo groaned and cursed, the pain making it hard to think straight.
“You.. sick son of a suh.. suh..” He gurgled.
Keres beamed with perverse pleasure.
“What was that? Are these your last words, worm? One more time, please.”
As he leaned in closer, Faslo moved suddenly, slamming his head into Keres’ face as he got to his feet.
As Keres stumbled backward, Faslo ran straight for him. He held a thick, jagged hunk of rock in his fists.
Screaming like a frenzied animal, he smashed the stone into Keres, sending him reeling backward. Keres tripped on a root and fell.
Faslo struck him across the face again, grimacing in fresh pain as he swung the injured shoulder. He dropped the heavy rock to the ground.
As Keres tried to stand, Faslo smashed his fists into the Neslash’s face, rocking him again and again until Keres lay unmoving in a pool of blood. Faslo stopped, too tired to continue.
He turned away from the Neslah and froze.
Grig stood in front of him, eyes wide, his breath coming in rapid gasps from the effort of rushing across the field.
“Grig?”Faslo pushed the hair out of his face with his good arm and stumbled forward toward his lost brother. “Grig? GRIG!!”
He ran and crushed Grig in a hug before Grig could make a sound.
Grig returned the embrace, his mouth curved in a smile of pure relief as tears streamed down his face.
Neither brother could say anything for several moments. They held each other, laughing and crying.
Finally, Faslo stepped back to look at his brother. They both said “how the heck did you get here?” at the same time and burst out laughing.
Then Grig’s eyes widened and he lunged, throwing his skeen with all his might.
It flew through the air and sunk into Keres’ skull with a hollow THUNK.
The bloodied Neslah lurched, gurgled, and fell twitching to the ground. His eyes rolled around, filled with a mixture of hate and surprise. His body twitched violently once more and lay still, never to move again.
Faslo looked in shock from Keres to his brother and back again.
HEERAGGH!!
A bloodcurdling, feral shriek made the brothers whip their heads to the right.
Cleon charged across the field toward Faslo and Grig. Tears streamed down his cheeks while his eyes blazed with the light of pure, thoughtless rage.
Poldi stepped directly into his path. Cleon batted him aside without slowing down, alternating between screaming Keres’ name and piercing howls and shrieks.
His back bristled with arrows that had no apparent effect. Behind him Grig could just make out the unconscious bodies of Azik and Bruka.
Cleon was so close they could hear his ragged breathing and see the fire in his eyes up close.
Faslo and Grig had no time to move or act; they squared their shoulders and prepared to meet their fate.
A blur of color and motion passed between them, moving so rapidly that it knocked them both flat.
Grig pulled himself back to his feet and watched the unfolding scene in shock.
Caser and an immense black grackle dove straight for Cleon. They grabbed the crazed Neslah like he was weightless and took off again.
Grig heard a deep thud somewhere in the distance; the birds did not come back.
Eshak and the other Bachas approached Grig and Faslo. Faslo stepped back in surprise, but Grig said, “It’s okay, Fas, they won’t hurt you. These are my friends.” Faslo looked uncertain, but remained where he was.
Eshak waited respectfully. Then, turning to Grig, he said.
“It isn’t safe here Gah-reeg. Gather your friends and come with me.”
Grig nodded and turned to Faslo. “Let’s go.”
Faslo smiled and put his hand on Grig’s shoulder.
“Lead on, brother.”
Bacha short staff.
Epic fight! I was curious how this was going to unfold. So happy Grig is back and safe!