One of the bullies snapped out a small, dull blade and Usk emitted a pained squeal as they clipped off one of his twitching antennae.
“This little pixie screams a rare note,” observed one rat-eared convict.
“And this little piggie goes to market,” said another, reaching a ham-fist for the remaining antenna.
“Leave him alone!” Miko cried. He struggled to break his captor’s grip.
“Says who?” cried Rat-ears. He smacked him across the face. Miko’s neck snapped back; a patch of slitted skin was exposed.
A snort of disgust hissed between Rat-ear’s teeth. “Hey, he’s a mutant too. Look at those little fishy gills under his ears.”
Another grumbled, “Throttle him, Rast! Put him out of his misery. Last thing we want is a pack of half-breeds in the pen with us.”
Rast the Rat-ears turned back to the locust. “Ugly thing. I don’t think he needs this other bug stinger either.”
Usk’s other tormentor, the one with a muff of red chicken hair about his ears, scratched his bald pate and gloated. “Don’t think our bug felt a thing the first time round.”
“Hurry up, Forknar! Kill the thing. I hate bugs.”
“And what, Rast, are you mad? Have it stinking up our pen? Who gave you brains, the sow who spawned you?”
Fenli’s body went limp, and he stopped his struggling, as hands frisked him. The prison rabble let out sullen, disappointed protests.
“They got nothing, boss, except these wee marbles. Look—” he held up the gambling chips. “Nothing but a couple of kids’ toys.”
“Shut up. Those are gambling tokens, you idiot. No good to us here in this dive.” The leader, a stride from Usk’s tormentors, turned to glare at the newcomers. He stroked his bald, gleaming pate. “You freaks have anything else to trade for your lives?”
“How about my knee in your crotch?” snarled Miko.
“Ah, a fighter, hoo, hoo.”
“Wait...magic snow!” cried a man who had been searching Fenli’s left sock. He held up the small wrap, which contained several grams of ground crystal. He poked a hole in it, fingering the gleaming crystals into his maw. His crony snatched the package out of the hoarder’s hands. “Mutant boy and his sidekick have more going on than we thought.”
“Save some for me, pig!” cried the first man.
The other smacked him for the comment. “You’ll get yours when I’m done.”
Miko, seizing the moment, smacked his captor in the jaw while they were arguing. Fenli, likewise, took the initiative, smashed his knee into his assailant, causing him to double over in pain. A thickset man with a dark complexion and a mass of greasy ringlets, grinned ear to ear and cracked his knuckles. He seemed to watch the interchange with amusement off to the side, as an indifferent bystander.
On a signal from Baldie the boss, two more scrambled in from the shadows. They seized Miko but Miko twisted and jammed an elbow into one’s teeth while Fenli struggled half-heartedly, a twisted smirk on his face.
The leader nodded to the grey-faced man holding Miko. “That one will never submit, always wanting to get revenge, put a knife in our ribs while we sleep. The crazy rogue with the moon eyes is juiced up on something—a user. Make yourself useful, Sket, kill the both of them.”
The burly bruiser, Sket, who had stood apart, regarded Miko, moustache bristling. Miko stared him down. A flicker of doubt ran in the other’s eyes. Something stayed his hand. There was a pent-up rage there, but not for Miko or the locust or Fenli. The man was more robust than most of the others, sporting a mat of ratty brown hair hanging past his shoulders, clad in torn dungarees and shod with boots with many holes.
“Kill him. You hear me, Sket? Or I’ll pull your ears off!”
The man spat and growled. “You do your own dirty work, Gyr.”
“You cocky son of a bitch.” The ringleader hoofed Usk in the ribs and launched his muscled bulk over, abandoning Usk and his torturers, sleeves rolled up, a glint of metal in his hand.
In two quick strides, Sket met the boss’s rush and slapped the crude weapon out of his hands. The other tensed, starting to form a fist. Sket’s foot wheeled over his shoulder, a nice hard roundhouse kick connecting with brown teeth. When the other fell, he stomped on his head, snapping the neck like a rotten branch. “Any of you other mutts want to play?”
The others glared, but backed off, clenching their weapons. Miko and Fenli pulled themselves loose from their captors and prepared to fight, darting glances here and there, wondering who was friend, foe, or neither.
Sket grinned and strode over to pat Miko and Fenli’s backs. “Stand down. Don’t mind these brutes. They’re cowards.”
Miko examined his cellmates, his chest heaving. Scarred faces peered at him with ripped ears and gleaming eyes.
In the lull, Usk had clattered to his hind legs and in a vicious lunge, scrambled forth. Red eyes glaring, he scooped up the fallen blade, and with one pincer holding his captor, shore off an ear.
“Aaaagh!” Forknar cried in agony.
Fenli smirked, his voice a hoarse, phlegmy laugh.
Sket growled, “What’s so funny?”
“The look on his face—priceless,” snorted Fenli.
“I’ve seen funnier,” Sket grunted. He jerked a thumb. “That sorry rogue, Gyr, had it coming. Hated him from the beginning. Only reason I helped you is because I can’t stand him ordering me around. Looks like he met his maker earlier than he planned. As for his other henchman—” he waved a hand at the earless man,
