The swine, russet-furred and grey-snouted, circled each other. They were evil-looking brutes, hungry for blood. They crashed into each other, tearing chunks of flesh and hide out of their hairy ribs and skulls. One squealed and whirled sideways. The other, a short-legged field-runner, faster than a scorpion, tore into its opponent, then dragged it off to a shadowy corner to feast upon, ruddy teeth and tusks glistening and tearing.
Gamblers and thugs, Miko thought. Wretches. One of the savage onlookers, standing at the rim, gripped his dirty discs and flung them high, oaths spilling from his lips.
Another, a lean man with a half-shaven head and colourful woven vest with eagles and stars, scooped them up gleefully at his feet, fingers questing for a knife should altercations arise.
Miko tensed as a drunken man rose from the opposing side and swaggered forth with intent to lay hands on the red-vested chief with the fur headgear who had picked up the coins. “Cheater! Cheating at a time-honoured game?”
A dozen of the chief’s barrel-chested men set on him and lifted him high over their shoulders. While the drunk raged on, bellowing like a wild ox, they tossed him into the pit. The victor swine snorted and stamped its white-knuckled hoofs, before it flicked back its hairy ears and charged. The man had barely time to shake his dazed head and draw his dagger. Then the beast was on him, teeth snapping, as tusked death visited him in the shanks. The boar retreated, charged again. The man’s ribs caved on the impact, and then his eyes grew dim, the life in them travelling star distances away. The pig ripped into its meat, disembowelling the victim. The men watched above, muttering solemnly.
A deep baritone voice spoke from the shadows: “Gentlemen, I trust you are enjoying your sports?”
The man who had lost his wagers griped, “Some of us are, Drek, but not all. Two fights you have rigged now. And a man dead for it.”
“Come now, Victus. I wouldn’t resort to such petty tactics. Murlag’s beast won fair and square. ’Tis unsportsmanlike of you to claim otherwise. As for the man who lost his life, that’s your own doing.”
Murlag’s men cheered wildly and praised Drek for his support. The rival clans-leader Victus was forced to eat crow, his followers muttering foul, disparaging oaths.
The man who had spoken, a hulking giant, now stepped forward, his body angled to the light.
Miko’s jaw sagged. The giant—or mutant giant, was a twain—some perverse parody of Siamese twin, or some grotesque echo of one. The seven-foot-tall deviant had two heads, two torsos, a left side and a right side. The head on the left that had spoken was mostly bald with dirty blond ruffs trailing from ear to neck; the other was black-haired, almost feminine, with the eyes and lashes of a brunette, and finely-chiselled nose, except for the grizzled muff of beard trailing in a hideous V-shape at the chin.
The two-headed mutant turned to the new arrivals. “Ah, I see, we have not been introduced. I am B & D, more formally Drek and Beardly—Beardly being my sister with the cute ruff. I trust, Miko that you and your associate Fenli, have had an eye-opening experience in the cellars?”
“It was enlivening”, grunted Fenli. “As are your boar fights.” His glare radiated no less acidly than Sket’s.
“They help pass the time.” He clapped his hands. “Ah, but I forgot your clammy friend, Usk. Teebla amused me with your antics and exploits at the Skull Palace. Jingin, you have done well. Any news to report? I trust the prisoners behaved themselves?”
“Admirably, sir. All but Sket, at whose hands some casualties have occurred.”
“Dear me!”
The lead guard motioned tersely to Sket who stood legs-braced on the ready. “Gyr is dead, as a result of one or more of these thieves’ handiwork—likely Sket’s, who seems to run this filthy ensemble.”
Drek sighed. “I should add that to their indenture.” He paused. “For now, I will claim it as self-defence.”
Sket’s eyes glowered. His fingers curled into claws as he groped for an imaginary weapon at his side. Miko could only guess at the outcast’s torment, knowing that his wife and son had fallen victim to this monster.
“Now men, as to your mission,” said Drek. “I have arranged that the outer mesh will be at an unstable low in the very near future. An explosion set by my agents will allow you to penetrate beyond the barrier between our boundaries—that of Skullrox and us, the Unwanteds.”
A wild cheer rose from the gathered men.
Drek’s voice rose in a black wave. “The Skullroxers give us not an ounce of clean water or healthy air. Nor do they accept us as citizens in their proud settlement! For that, we formed this rebel outfit, though we live like rats in caves. When the sun burns our skin, and we’re denied the tox creams to help us heal, and oxygen to breathe, what are we to do but fight back? Yes, fight, though we have managed to manufacture our own air down here, some of which is filtered by the charcoal in the pipes.” He stared down at Miko and his glowering band. “Attend! For your main task, you are to infiltrate the utility mesh. Sabotage it! Tear it down! Anything to weaken the Skullroxers’ position and their stronghold. Then I will launch the second strike with my death bringers!” He smacked a fist into Beardly’s palm.
Cheers rose from the wild, unkempt men.
“We have no quarrel with you!” cried Miko over the din. “Let us go.”
“But we do have a quarrel with you. You owe Teebla, and Teebla owes me. That’s enough. I have no love for men of
