The small beast with a jagged scar across its snout approached, dumping her rucksack near her. “Eat.” It nocked an arrow, training it on her. “Now.”
Marlies drank from her waterskin, and fished out a piece of dried beef, one of Giant John’s apples, now bruised, and some flatbread.
Scar Snout, the small one, tied her ankles and wrists tightly, and darted off into the bushes, returning with two squealing rats. It stomped on their heads, its heavy boots making a mess of the squirming creatures. It dashed off for more, amassing a pile of dead rats.
Soon the beasts were holding rats impaled on sticks over the fire. Sparks spat high into the dark and the rats’ body juices sizzled over the flames.
Despite her revulsion, the aroma of char-roasted rat made Marlies’ stomach rumble.
“Hold this,” the large one handed his stick to Scar Snout, then turned and picked up a dead rat, biting into it and sucking the entrails out with a slurp. Blood dribbled over its snout and paws.
Marlies turned away, nauseous.
“Hey,” yelled Scar Snout. “Don’t eat them all. I want some, too.”
“I’m bigger.” After a thump from the big tharuk, Scar Snout was quiet.
Once the tharuks had finished slurping and crunching, she turned back to the fire in time to catch the end of a rat’s tail disappearing into Scar Snout’s mouth. “We’re late. Zens will be angry,” Scar Snout said, poking the embers with a stick.
“Weather was bad. And your fault. You searched by that river.”
“I scented the large oaf. The one who gave us food. I went to look.”
Marlies stiffened. Scar Snout had followed Giant John!
“Zens won’t care. You didn’t find anything.”
“Actually,” said Scar Snout slyly, “I found oaf’s wagon. In the river. His horse’s tracks went east.”
“You didn’t tell me.” The huge brute clobbered Scar Snout, sending it sprawling. “I’m boss. You tell me everything. Hear?” It kicked Scar Snout along the ground. “The oaf would be valuable.”
Marlies pretended to be asleep, watching through slitted eyes.
“We have the other one,” whined Scar Snout, groveling.
The large tharuk grunted. “Zens will be pleased! I get a reward.” A nasty rumble echoed from its throat, and it wandered over, nudging her with its toe. “This flesh must work hard. Or rot on the heap.” The tharuks guffawed.
§
About mid-morning, the tharuks dumped Marlies on a foothill behind some scraggly bushes. The beasts crawled forward on their bellies to observe the valley below.
Marlies squinted through the sparse brush, the last sign of vegetation. Stretching as far as she could see were steep brown hills. An arid valley snaked between the hills toward the north, and haze clung to the hillsides. This was the destination Zaarusha had shown her—Death Valley.
Why were her captors being so stealthy? They were late back. Surely, these brutes would be in a hurry? Apparently not.
The large tharuk shoved a waterskin and a piece of bread into Marlies’ hands and motioned for her to be quiet. She forced herself to chew slowly, straining to swallow each mouthful. Feeling this sick, how could she save Zaarusha’s son, even if she did find him? And what of her family? Would she see them again?
Oh, shards, she’d forgotten Hans’ calling stone in her rucksack. As soon as she was alone, she’d use it.
The tharuks stiffened and glanced at each other.
Then she heard it: a tharuk patrol was passing below—that’s why her captors were hiding. The warmongering beasts would probably kill them and take her as their own prisoner. A shiver ran through her. Here, life had no value.
Once the patrol had passed, the tharuks backtracked to carry her down a steep ravine, out of sight of the main valley. The arid dust coated her nostrils and parched her throat.
She was alive. But for how long?
§
By afternoon, they’d reached Death Valley. Instead of taking her to Zens, the tharuks kept her out of sight and sneaked her up a side arm of the valley, riddled with caves. The tharuks took her into a cave and threw her on the stone floor. Landing on her injured arm, Marlies groaned.
“Give the female food,” the large tharuk barked at Scar Snout.
Scar Snout passed her flatbread and the waterskin. “Eat, drink.”
Thankfully, they’d brought her rucksack. She’d use Hans’ calling stone as soon as they were gone.
The large tharuk grunted. “She won’t go anywhere. She’s too weak.”
They left her ankles and hands bound and retreated.
Marlies lay down where they’d dropped her, biding her time. She was in no shape to walk far.
Maybe she could heal herself with the supplies in her pouch and talk to Hans.
Just as she was about to sit up, there was scuffling outside the cave. Marlies pretended to be asleep, her eyes thin slits.
Scar Snout slunk inside, toward her rucksack. The brute ferreted among her things, then, glancing at her, it hefted her bag over its shoulder and crept out.
No! Marlies wanted to scream. Clumsily, she rose to her feet and shuffled forward, the ropes biting her ankles. At the cave mouth, she peered around the rock and saw Scar Snout hiding her rucksack in a crack in the hillside. Dizzy and faint, Marlies slumped to the ground.
§
Behind a latrine, 316 turned the pretty stone over in its hands. Although the prisoner’s rucksack now belonged to Zens, surely he wouldn’t miss one little trinket? Checking that 555 wasn’t around the corner, 316 absently rubbed the scar on its snout. It didn’t need more scars from 555.
It rubbed the lovely stone. Swirling
