Chương 22: B1 Chapter 21

The wounded warrior was still dragging himself downhill when I chose where I wanted him to die. The fallen tree sat farther along the slope, split years ago and suspended between two others. There was just enough room beneath it for me to pass without slowing. The Bone Jaw would have to duck. I headed toward it. The unwounded warrior shouted when he saw me moving again. I let my bad leg catch against a root and made a show of struggling to free it before continuing.

He'd spent long enough watching me crawl to believe what he saw. The wounded man reached the tree first. Desperation had kept him moving despite the leg I'd opened, and when he dropped onto one knee to force himself beneath the trunk, his spear caught against the wood. He turned it sideways. That heartbeat was mine. I threw a fistful of mud into his eyes. He jerked backward with a shout and crashed into the warrior behind him, tangling both men beneath the opening.

I reached through, caught the wounded man's wrist with both hands, and pulled hard enough to smash his face against the trunk. He tried to wrench himself free. I pulled again. His nose broke against the wood, spraying blood across the bark. A third impact broke something deeper, and the strength went out of his arm. The other warrior shoved the body aside and looked at me through the gap. Then he dropped his spear. Smart.

There wasn't enough room beneath the trunk to use it properly, so he drew a stone knife and came through low. I backed away, keeping beyond his reach while my legs shook beneath me and the jungle tilted slightly to the left. He lunged. The knife opened my thigh before I could clear it. Heat spread down my leg as I caught his wrist with my good hand. He drove forward with enough strength to slide me through the mud until my injured shoulder struck the ground. I screamed.

The impact cracked what remained of the dragon's blood seal, tearing hardened sap away from the flesh beneath it. His knife descended toward my throat. I caught his wrist with both hands, though the wounded arm contributed little beyond pain. My muscles shook beneath his weight while the blade sank closer. The Bone Jaw smiled. Beyond him, his leader had reached the fallen tree. He stopped there. Watched. Whatever his reason, curiosity or confidence, he was giving his warrior the chance to finish this alone.

I used it. The moment I stopped resisting, the Bone Jaw's arm dropped with his own force. I twisted my head aside, letting the knife bury itself in the dirt beside my neck, then drove my forehead into his nose. His head snapped back. I bit the hand holding the knife and tore the weapon from his grip. His other hand closed around my throat. I stabbed his forearm twice before driving the blade into his side. He grunted and squeezed harder. Darkness crept inward from the edges of my vision.

I shoved the knife deeper and twisted. His grip weakened enough for me to tear the blade free and stab him again. His fingers finally opened. I rolled away as he collapsed beside me. He reached after me once, and I kicked backward, catching him across the face with my heel. He stopped moving. I used a nearby tree to drag myself upright. My legs almost folded beneath me, but for a moment I managed to stand. The Bone Jaw leader stepped beneath the fallen trunk. His long-handled axe remained on the other side.

I had been hoping he'd try to bring it. Instead, he drew a shorter axe from his belt and nudged one of the bodies with his foot before studying me.

"So this is the little cripple who killed my hunters." I wiped blood from my mouth.

"Was it you?" Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work! I stayed quiet. His gaze traveled toward the river, then across the trees and vines surrounding us.

"I watched my warriors die without understanding why. Men stumbled when they should have killed. Hands failed. Legs failed. Then I found you crawling through the bushes with your little tube." He laughed softly.

"I thought there was a hunter hiding in these trees." His axe pointed toward my legs.

"Instead, I find this. A cripple." Let him think that. He'd already begun studying the jungle rather than simply moving through it. The bodies behind him had taught him enough to search for whatever came next. That made him more dangerous. It also gave me his attention.

"You hide in bushes," he said.

"You spit your little thorns. You crawl through holes where men cannot follow. Then, when someone gets close enough to touch you, you run." I moved downhill.

"That's it?" His laughter followed me.

"Run, little cripple." I pulled myself around a root.

"Are you listening to me?"

"Yes." His laughter stopped briefly.

"Good. Then listen well. Your people will remember what happened here. Your women will remember us. Your children will learn our name. Every time your people enter these trees, they'll wonder whether we're waiting for them." He followed as I continued toward the river.

"Run," he called.

"That seems to be the one thing you're good at." That almost made me smile. Then he charged. The sudden speed caught me by surprise. I threw myself sideways as the axe struck the tree where my head had been, blasting splinters across my face. I hit the ground and scrambled around another trunk. His next swing buried the blade where my spine had been an instant earlier. There would be no blocking him. One clean strike would split me open. So I kept him moving. Between roots. Around trees. Down the slope.

Toward the river. His axe cut through leaves above my head as I passed beneath a hanging vine. I caught its loose end and pulled while moving. He noticed immediately. His eyes followed my hand. I released the vine and let it fall harmlessly into the mud. His attention stayed on it for a moment longer. That was what I wanted. The ground softened as we descended, and the river grew louder through the trees. His footsteps changed behind me. Slower. Measured.

When I glanced back, his attention was divided between my movements and everything around us. He tested the earth before committing his weight and studied the roots, vines, and places my hands touched.

"You aren't running." I continued downhill. He stopped. A different kind of laugh came from behind me.

"You little bastard." I turned my head. Understanding had finally reached his face.

"You're hunting me." There it was.

"Come on, cripple," he called.

"Show me." I headed for the undercut bank. The river had eaten beneath it during the rains, leaving ordinary-looking earth above a hollow supported mostly by tangled roots. I'd nearly fallen through months earlier while checking fish traps. My father had laughed at me when it happened. For some reason, with blood running down my arm and the last bitterness of coca coating my tongue, I remembered that laugh. The leader approached carefully. Too carefully. I needed his attention somewhere else. I tried to stand.

My leg folded beneath me with almost no pretending required, and I hit the ground hard. His gaze immediately swept across the earth around my body. Smart bastard. I dragged myself backward and let the bad leg trail through the mud.

"What's wrong?" I asked. His eyes lifted.

"Careful, cripple." I moved again.

"Your mouth is braver than your legs." The earth beneath my hand trembled. I'd gone far enough. I shifted my weight and felt the thin crust hold beneath me. The leader raised his axe.

"Come on, then." He stepped forward. The ground cracked. His expression changed instantly, and he threw himself backward before the bank could fully collapse. One leg still broke through, dropping him to the hip while his free hand caught a root. The axe fell beside him. I went for it. Every part of my body protested as I crawled forward, but I reached the weapon before he could recover. His hand closed around my wrist. He pulled hard enough to slide me toward the broken edge.

"Got you." I released the axe and grabbed a fistful of mud instead, shoving it into his eyes. He roared and loosened his grip. I seized the weapon again. His fist came blindly out of the mud and struck my injured shoulder. Something tore. Pain swallowed the world. When my senses returned, I was on my back with the axe beside me. The leader was climbing out. Both arms had reached the top of the bank, and he was hauling himself toward solid ground. The trap had failed to take him. Fine.

The axe was too heavy to swing properly with one useful arm, but the blade didn't need to touch him. I hooked it around one of the thick roots supporting the remaining bank. Then I pulled. The root held. The leader climbed higher. I pulled again, forcing my good arm to work while the ruined shoulder burned beside it. Fibers stretched beneath the axe head. Still the root held. One of the leader's hands reached solid earth. His gaze dropped to the axe, followed the blade to the root, and finally found me.

"No." I planted my feet against the mud. They slipped the first time. On the second attempt, my weak legs found purchase against another root. For once, they didn't have to carry me. They only had to push. I drove through them while pulling with my arm. The axe bit deeper, and fibers began tearing apart beneath the blade. The leader's eyes widened.

"You fucking cripple." I pulled again. The root snapped. The bank disappeared beneath him. Mud, leaves, and tangled roots crashed into the river, carrying the Bone Jaw leader with them. Then he was gone. I collapsed beside the broken edge, chest heaving while my arm refused to move and tremors ran through both legs. For several breaths, the river was the only thing I heard. A hand appeared downstream. The bastard caught a root.

He hauled himself toward a solid stretch of bank with blood covering one side of his face and an arm hanging strangely from his shoulder. When he finally dragged himself from the water, we stared at each other across the river. Neither of us had much left. A horn sounded through the jungle. Then again. The leader turned toward the village. Whatever the signal meant, he understood it immediately. The raid was over. He climbed slowly to his feet while I closed my fingers around the axe handle.

There wasn't enough strength left in me to lift it, and the look he gave me said he knew that too.

"I'll remember you." I said nothing. He struck his chest with his fist.

"You hear me, cripple? I'll remember you." My grip tightened around the axe. He glanced toward the village before looking at me one final time.

"Next time, I won't chase you into the trees." That was probably smart. He disappeared into the jungle. I remained beside the broken bank until I could breathe without tasting blood, then began the long crawl home. By the time I reached the edge of the village, the Bone Jaw were retreating. They weren't fleeing. That would have felt too much like victory.

They backed toward the forest in groups, carrying the women and children they'd managed to take while abandoning their wounded and leaving their dead where they had fallen. Our hunters made no attempt to chase them. They had nothing left to chase with. My father stood with his spear planted in the earth, and I thought it might have been the only thing keeping him upright. Makua was covered in blood. Hokan knelt beside someone I couldn't see, while Joa held one hand against his side.

Bodies covered the ground between them. Ours and theirs. Too many of ours. The Bone Jaw disappeared beneath the trees without a cheer following them. No weapons rose in victory. We were alive, though some of us weren't. Part of the village still stood. The Bone Jaw were gone. For now. That was all we'd won. I crawled out of the trees. My father saw me, and his spear fell from his hand.