Whack! Whack! Whack!
The sound brought Tater out of his deep slumber. Where was he? He tried to stretch, but a wicked tug on his arms nearly pulled his shoulder out of joint. He yanked on his arms, but again they brought up short. He looked down in disbelief at the rope attached to his wrist, the other end tied securely to an iron ring bolted to the wall.
What the hell?
He yanked on the rope, but it was in vain. He was tied like a hog on a spit. He struggled to sit upright, the memory of the girl and the laced whiskey rushing into his head with this fresh flow of blood. Along with the memories came the sudden realization that he was, without a doubt, in big trouble. Being tied to a wall was not something that should normally be included with a night's stay at the Waystation; unless of course you wanted to pay extra for that sort of thing.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
The sound assaulted his ears again, and he peered through the gloom. His eyes adjusted and there was no mistaking the broad back of Rana as she hunched over a block table, a cleaver raised menacingly in her hands. He watched in fear as she slammed it down hard, and the echoing whack bounced off of the stone walls surrounding them. They were in the cellar of the inn no doubt...but why? Why had she drugged him and tied him down here? Yeah, he was probably not her favorite person in the Sandlands, but he didn't remember doing anything to piss the woman off. Hell, he’d even overpaid for his mediocre meal and crap-ass room. Why would she do this to him?
Another whack echoed then, and as if Tater was caught in some dark night terror, an arm slid off the table and landed by Rana’s feet. The little man blinked rapidly, as if his eyes were playing a trick on him. They were not. It was an arm all right, sure as anything. The fingers of the disembodied limb were unnaturally twisted up, as if beckoning the little man closer. He tried to stop the scream in his throat, but some sound must have escaped for it drew the woman's attention and she turned toward him.
"You're awake then? Too bad. I had hoped the nightweed would keep ya under a bit longer."
He struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. Rana was wearing a long smock that was covered in blood splatters, and the dripping cleaver in her hand made her appear to be some mad butcher. But what was lying on the table in front of her-that was what his mind refused to register. It was headless and now armless, but it was definitely a human torso! The stew and whiskey didn't taste as good the second time around, as it came back up and spilled out over the dirt floor.
He could hear her cackling over his loud retching.
"What’s the matter, imp? Don't like my stew as much now that you know my secret ingredient? Ya couldn't get enough of it earlier."
What that implied only made him retch harder and pain shot through his gut with each dry heave. Finally the urging stopped, but he remained on his knees, too exhausted and scared to even look up at her anymore.
"Ya done?" she asked with obvious disgust. He simply nodded.
She went back to her revolting butchery, and Tater swore he could hear her humming happily under her breath as the cleaver did its work. Every resonating whack caused his heart to feel as if it would beat right out of his chest. One less thing for Rana to have to cut out of him, he thought humorlessly, for without a doubt he now knew the reason he was being held prisoner in the cellar.
"Why?" he croaked, his voice raspy from his vomiting.
The large woman stopped and turned in surprise, almost as if she’d forgotten he was even there.
"You say something, imp?"
"I asked why?" His voice was a little stronger now, even though it still felt as if he would faint any moment.
"Why what?"
"Why are you doing this....this horrendous thing? What has happened this past year to force you to this barbaric life? Niles would never have....."
"I told ya Niles is dead!" She stepped threateningly toward him, spittle flying out of her mouth as she screamed at him. "Thought he could make a fool outta me he did. Him and that slag. The one you liked. But I showed 'em. I showed 'em real good. Nobody makes a fool outta Rana!"
Her eyes glittered with insanity and heated color infused her cheeks. With the blood stained clothes and the cleaver still gripped tightly in her hand, she truly looked the part of the crazed maniac. Tater could not have made this up in any of his traveling tales, even if he tried.
"I fooled 'em. He thought he had put me out with the nightweed in my cuppa, see. But I didn't really drink it. I knew what he was up too. So I waited....pretended I was asleep. He snuck outta our room and I followed him. I caught him...him and that slag! They were....they were in her bed and...." She stopped talking, stared at the cleaver as if just realizing she was still holding it.
"Why you make me remember that?" She growled at him as she stepped closer and Tater cowered back against the wall. "I didn't wanna remember that." She held the cleaver threateningly above his head, and Tater did what he always did when in a tight spot...he tried to talk his way out of it.
"You did the right thing," he cried, as his arms hovered protectively over his head, though little good they would be against that blade. One swing of that cleaver and he would be as armless as that poor devil on the table. His words stopped her however, so he kept talking. "Whatever you did to them, they deserved it!"
She looked down at him and crazy smiled.
"That’s right...they did. I'm surprised you see it my way, imp, with you and him being friends and all. And you liking her..."
"She was always a trouble maker. She had it coming to her," he added quickly. Anything to hold her off right now. It must have been the right thing to say, because she lowered the cleaver and stepped back. She nodded seriously as if agreeing.
"I'm glad you can see that. Couple of the others couldn't see it. They thought what I did was wrong. But it wasn't! They made me do it. So, I made the others see my point."
"Made them see your point...how?"
She pointed to the table with the cleaver, shrugging at the little man as if he were the stupid one.
"How do ya think?"
As disgusted and terrified as Tater was, he kept her talking. If she was busy talking, then she was not busy killing him.
"That is truly a hard thing to comprehend. You must be a smart woman indeed to carry out such a devious plan and not been found out. Especially with all the soldiers that come and go through here."
She snorted loudly, clearly pleased by his words. As if he had paid her a compliment.
"They’re the stupidest of them all. They're more concerned with what's between the slag’s legs than what's in the stew bowls." She stopped talking for a bit; stared broodingly at the remains on the bloody table. "I don't kill 'em though, as much as I would like to. Prezedant's Soldiers would be missed. Someone would come looking for 'em; I know that much. But people like you, imp...people that ain't got a soul in the world to care 'bout 'em, well nobody ain't gonna come looking for you." She glanced back his way. "No offense."
"None taken, dear lady," he tried to smile in a soothing manner, but he wasn’t sure if he managed to quite pull it off. It was kind of hard to smile normally when one has a bloody cleaver hanging above their head. "I take it then that none of you, not even the boy who stabled Winnie, has the means to hunt....traditionally? That would be the usual route to take when one needs meat, yes?"
"Hunt what, you stupid little prick?" Her anger was back and he couldn't help but cower a little against the wall again. "There ain't nothin' left round here only dirt dogs. There ain't nothin' worth anything left in this damned part of the world! I told Niles that. I told him we had to leave this godsforsaken place 'fore we all starved to death, but did he listen? No, course he didn't. His mind weren't right...it was all clouded by that she devil. SHE was the one who caused all this. It's all her fault. She got what was coming t
o her!"
Her satisfied grin is one of pure madness. As much trouble as Tater knew he was in, he couldn’t help but feel deep anguish for his lost girl, Glenalda, for he knew without a doubt Rana had truly made her suffer. The crazed eyes focused back on Tater.
"You think I wanna do what I do? But we gotta live. And to live in this world you have to take what you need, or else you don't survive. So you take it. Like them saddlebags of yours. That precious little sac of coin in it and everything else, mine now."
She laughed maniacally and it raised the hackles on the little man’s neck.
"You know I might have let you live if I didn't see that sac you tried to hide from me. I mean, I already had him tied up down here," she motioned to the remains of the poor bastard on the table. "I didn't need another one, yet. Too much meat tends to go bad. But then I reckoned there ain't enough meat on you to have to worry about. A couple of batches of stew and you would be done for. And don't worry 'bout your things. I'm sure I can put it all to good use. Ain't like you're gonna need 'em ever again."
She took another menacing step toward him. Tater nodded his head in frantic agreement, trying to appease the woman.
"Indeed, Rana. Use what you must. Like my dear mother always said 'Do what needs to be done, when it needs to be done.' Smart lady my mother was; just like you."
She stopped moving but narrowed her eyes at him, like she saw him clearly for the very first time.
"I know what you're tryin' to do, imp and it ain't gonna work. Niles always said you could talk the paint offa the side of a buildin'."
Another step closer. The half man struggled to his feet.
"Rana please! You can have my saddlebags and everything in them. You can have the clothes off my back, but set me free. Set me free, and I will be forever in your debt. Please!" Desperate now, Tater resorted to pleading. It had worked for him in the past and he wasn’t too proud to beg, especially when his life was on the line. The woman didn't even seem to hear him, though. Her eyes had gone vacant, her face slack like she wasn't even there anymore. Like she was just a soulless shell. She towered over Tater and raised the cleaver above his head. A bead of blood dropped directly onto his forehead; felt like a shooter slug drilling straight through his skull.
"This is it," he thought, as the cleaver glinted in the lamplight. "I’m going to meet my end as Tater pot pie." A strangled, frantic laugh stuck in his throat as the idea bounced crazily around in his head. In his wildest dreams, he never thought his life would end this way.
The blade that slit Rana's throat made her intended shriek come out more like a gurgle of surprise.
"HOLY DAMNATION!" Tater screamed, as hot blood sprayed his face and the taste of copper filled his mouth. The cleaver clattered to the stone floor as the woman fell to her knees. Holding her throat desperately with both hands, she tried to staunch the flow of her lifeblood as it exited her body. The look of complete surprise froze on her face as she crumpled at Tater's feet, convulsing a bit before finally stilling in a pool of her own blood.
Fighting the urge to vomit all over again, Tater stared up into a pair of wild green eyes.
"Duchess?" he whispered in utter disbelief.
"We don't have much time," she muttered urgently, as the blood covered knife in her hand started sawing at the ties on his wrist. "We have to get out now."
That's when he noticed. The cellar was starting to fill up with dense smoke and acrid fumes. He hadn't realized it before in his absolute fear, but now his lungs were already beginning to burn.
"Here, put this over your mouth and follow me." Handing him a wet cloth from her pocket, he did as she said without objection.
They stumbled from the cellar and through the already flame filled great room. The flames danced around them, causing pain where ever they made contact. Tater could smell his hair, his flesh burning, and it smelled ten times worse than the vomit earlier.
A blazing beam crashed down from overhead, knocking him to the floor. The heat scorched his calf, making him scream with pain. Holy gods. Maybe he would have been better off letting Rana slice him open. But Duchess came to his rescue again. Strong hands gripped his tight, pulling him from under the beam and to his feet. Hooking her arm through his, she dragged him across the room and through the doorway.
They staggered their way outside, Duchess dragging Tater away from the burning building toward the barn still unaffected by the rapidly spreading fire. The half-man tried to keep up with the girl’s longer legs but only made it as far as the water trough before falling to his knees, gulping the sweet smelling air into his scorched lungs.
"We can't stop here, Tater. I don't know if the soldiers made it out or not, but we have to move. They can't catch us if they’re alive."
He saw the reason why. She already had the soldier's horses saddled and ready to go, Winnie taking up the rear. He nodded in agreement. They couldn’t be caught now. They wouldn’t escape losing their heads for this one. They lost no more time as they mounted and rode like madmen, up over the ridge to the protective cover of the rock elephant. Only then did they dare take the time to dismount and look back.
The Waystation was a blazing inferno of light on the solid black of the desert canvas. Tater could see Duchess' profile, illuminated by the flickering flames below them as she watched her prison burn to the ground. He wasn't sure but he swore he could see a slight smile play about her lips...like she was enjoying every moment of it.
He spoke, breaking her from her reverie, and she finally wrenched her eyes away to look at him.
"Don't take this the wrong way, child, for I am greatly indebted for my miraculous rescue. What Rana had planned for me was definitely not the way I wished to meet my maker. But why would you do such a horrendous thing to save me?"
She stared at him for so long he thought that maybe she had gone into shock. But when she finally did answer, her voice was sure and strong. "You are the first person in one year, two months and 12 days to treat me with any sort of kindness or respect. The first person I have met in that time, that has not hit me or abused me in the most vile of manner. I’d forgotten what that was like. I’d forgotten what it was like to laugh. To be called by a name instead of Girl. I just couldn't let her do...that to you. I just couldn't!"
She started to shake then as the realization of her actions finally caught up to her. Uncontrollable shivers wracked her whole body as her face crumpled into a mask of agony and despair.
Tater didn’t hesitate. He pulled her into his arms as she sank to her knees. He stroked her hair and back soothingly as she cried out a years’ worth of pain. Pain at what she’d witnessed. Pain at what she’d endured. Pain at her understanding that she was now a killer. Her misery left her body in soul wrenching sobs. Finally, the crying subsided into slight sniffles and she moved slowly out of his arms.
"What do I do now?" she whispered brokenly. "Where do I go?"
"You start over," Tater said simply. "You go to Littlepass or Skytown, any place you like and you start over. You become the Duchess your father said you were meant to be. The worst is behind you now, child. You control your fate from here on in."
She stared at him in confusion.
"But I don't know how...."
Tater shrugged at her uncertainty.
"You just...survive. That's all we can do in this world gone mad. I won't lie. It will not be easy. You will face more people like Rana....some even worse. This world is not for the weak of heart. Rana may have been stark raving mad, but she was right about one thing. To survive in this world you take what you need, or you may just as well bend over and kiss your own ass goodbye."
The girl snorted at this, a combined mix between a sob and a chuckle.
"You’re not making me feel any better by what you're telling me, little man. I thought...I thought getti
ng away from here would make my life better. I had hoped it for so long. It was all I had left. But from what you're saying it sounds like there’s no place better to go. Is it truly that way, Tater? Is there truly no more hope left?"
The little man studied the young girl in front of him. The girl that had seen far too much in her short life, and done terrible things that no young'un should ever have been asked to do. A girl, that in spite of it all still appreciated magic and a kind word. And he genuinely did not have the heart to tell her how he really felt. How horribly dark this world controlled by the Prezedant, actually was. Instead he told her what she wanted...no, needed to hear.
"As my dear mother would have said, 'Rainbows of light in the clouds appear on the dreariest of days, put there by the gods- so that each of us can still see that possibility of hope.' My ma was a smart woman. Maybe someday, child we will find our own rainbow of light. Now we should leave this place."
As the odd pair of survivors rode away from their night terror, neither of them had any inkling of how prophetic Tater's words would turn out to be. How another girl they had yet to meet, would alter the course of their destiny and provide them their ray of hope in this world gone mad.
# # #
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If you want to find out more about Duchess and
Tater’s story, it continues in
Awaken: New Bloods Trilogy (Volume 1):
OTHER BOOKS BY MICHELLE BRYAN
AWAKEN: New Bloods Trilogy Book 1
ASCENSION: New Bloods Trilogy Book 2
STRAIN OF RESISTANCE
GRAND ESCAPE: Strain of Resistance Novella
About the Author
Michelle Bryan lives in Nova Scotia, Canada. Besides her family her other passions in life consist of chocolate and writing, and she is lucky enough to work with both. When she is not busy being a full-time chocolate store manager and writer, Michelle enjoys spending time with her husband and son. Please visit her on Facebook or follow her on Amazon and Twitter @michellebry101. She would love to hear from her readers, so feel free to leave comments or ask questions.
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