Faces of Deception

CHAPTER 8

Atreus stopped shivering after the third swallow of Seema's steaming elixir, and by the fifth swallow his strength was returning. The concoction tasted of flower pollen and pine needles, yet it sat in the stomach like a good hearty stew, fueling the furnace inside and chasing the cold ache from his muscles.

With warmth came pain. His festering shoulder wound started to throb again, and the gash in his waist kept sending fingers of agony through his abdomen. Even with his strength returning, Atreus was in no condition to escape or free Seema, yet he feared the situation would only grow worse after his captors finally plucked Rishi from the river.

Atreus allowed himself three more swallows of the restorative, drinking slowly and carefully so he did not dishonor Sune by dribbling down his long chin. After lowering the bowl, he glanced around the deck. The guard who had gone to fetch him dry clothes was still inside the cabin, but the other slavers were all gathered along the side of the boat, jeering at the man Tarch had chased into the river after Rishi. No one was paying attention to Atreus or Seema.

"The guards aren't very watchful," Atreus observed. He glanced at the dimming sky. "What happens after dark?"

Seema shrugged and said, "It is difficult to say. This will be our first night on the river, but in the mountains the guards chained the other slaves to boulders and took turns watching them."

"And you?" Atreus asked.

"Tarch kept me with him." Seema looked away. "He said it was to protect me from his men, and perhaps it was. Certainly no night passed without screams."

"Rishi said they have inns along the river," Atreus said.

"You must let me look to your wounds." Seema pushed Atreus down to an elbow. "I may not see you after tonight. If the guards can have a fire, they will bring out their anvil and put on your manacles. After that, you will sit with the others until we reach Konigheim."

"Where we are to be sold?"

Seema nodded. "There is a market there," she said, then sprinkled yellow powder over Atreus's mangled waist. The wound began to go numb. "Tarch says 'bashers from all across the Multi-verse' will be waiting to buy from him."

A cry went up from the side of the boat, and the guards began to point into the water where Rishi had again broken the surface. Atreus sat up, gathering himself to spring. He hardly felt ready for a fight, but short of Yago's sudden return-and he knew he could not trust in that-he would never have a better chance to free himself or his fellow captives.

The slavers let out a collective curse as Rishi vanished again. Someone began yelling instructions, and Tarch tossed the direction-giver into the water to help. Atreus held himself in check, hoping the unpredictable slave master would throw a few more men overboard.

Seema pushed Atreus back down. "You can do nothing our captors will not do," she assured him. "Now that he thinks your friend can recover the gold, Tarch will stop at nothing to see him back alive."

Though Atreus was concerned for Rishi, his thoughts had already leaped to his own fate, and Seema's. "What's this 'Multi-verse' of Tarch's? And who are the 'bashers'?"

Seema shrugged, then removed a curved needle from one of her pouches and threaded it with coarse black thread.

"Tarch is a devil. He says many things I do not understand."

Atreus raised his brow. "A devil?" he asked. "One of Ysdar's?"

Seema's brown eyes lit in brief distress. She laughed nervously. "It is possible, but Ysdar has been locked away for a very long time." She pushed the needle through a flap of Atreus's skin and said, "Ysdar is only a myth now."

"Myths can be dangerous, too," Atreus replied. "He certainly caused me enough trouble."

Seema raised her brow but said nothing and began to sew. There was a faint tugging at the edge of the gash, but the yellow powder had left the wound too numb to feel more. Atreus sipped at the elixir and glanced around the barge casually, taking stock of the situation. He counted thirty slaves chained in the center of the boat, with only eight slavers still aboard to guard them; four in the bow and four in the stern. There were also the two burly oarsmen and Tarch himself, who was a great unknown, but with surprise the odds would clearly favor the slaves. In fact, Atreus found it difficult to understand why they had not rebelled already.

He leaned closer to Seema and whispered, "What can you tell me about Tarch in a fight?"

Seema scowled and said, "You mustn't ask such things. Blood draws blood-"

A rousing cry went up from the edge of the barge and Atreus knew one of the slavers in the water had come up with Rishi. Tarch growled an order at the oarsmen, and the boat began to move upstream with surprising speed.

Leaving his wound half stitched, Atreus pushed Seema's hand away and started to rise. The slaver who had gone to fetch his dry clothes emerged from the cabin carrying an armload of grimy cloaks and trousers.

"What's all the noise?" he demanded, looking to Seema.

Atreus settled back to his elbow. "They've got Rishi back. It looks like you're going to be rich men."

"Tarch will be rich," the slaver corrected, dumping the clothes on the deck. "He isn't much for sharing."

As the slaver turned to join the others, Atreus flung his blanket aside. He grabbed the back of the guard's belt and pulled himself up, at the same time driving the heel of his palm into the base of the man's skull. Something popped in the slaver's neck, then he collapsed into his killer's arms.

Atreus jerked the padded club off the man's belt and sprang across the deck, raising the weapon to strike even as Seema cried out in shock. A pair of guards spun toward her voice, but Atreus ignored them and went straight for Tarch. The club caught the devil across the side of the head and knocked him into the water.

Atreus continued the swing, smashing the club into a guard's head. The impact knocked the man unconscious and sent him sprawling across the deck toward Seema. Atreus crippled a second slaver with a stomp kick to the knee, then found himself standing on the outside edge of the deck, facing two guards with their own clubs.

He pressed the assault, sliding forward to feint at the one standing on the inside of the deck. As Inside tried to block, Outside took the bait, slipping around to attack from the rear. Atreus performed a quick reverse-spin, catching the fool in the chest with a back-thrust kick that launched Outside into the river.

Suddenly alone, Inside screamed for help and backed away. Atreus moved in fast, beating the slaver's guard down in three quick blows and finishing him off with an elbow to the temple. So powerful was the strike that the man's eye popped free of its socket. He screamed and reached for his head, then fell silent and collapsed.

Atreus returned to the side and kicked the slaver with the mangled knee over the edge, and only then did he pause to peer into the river. His victims lay in a line trailing downstream from the boat, with Tarch floating facedown at the far end, his scaly arms and tail lashing the water as though instinctively trying to right himself. Rishi was a short distance upstream, bobbing in the grasp of the first guard Tarch had sent to rescue him. Both the Mar and his captor were shivering, coughing, and looking as astonished as they did exhausted.

"In the name of the Forgotten Ones, good sir!" called Rishi, coughing up water. "What are you doing?"

"Escaping," Atreus replied. A confused uproar rose forward. He glanced toward the bow to see the four bow guards rushing back, clambering over slaves with whips and clubs in hand. He waved at Rishi. "If you want to live, get over here and help!"

Rishi's hand disappeared beneath his cloak. In the next instant, his rescuer cried out and released him, then floated away grasping his ribs. The Mar swam for the boat.

When Atreus turned back to the forward guards, he found Seema standing before him. Her hands were covered with blood, and she had such a look of confusion on her face that he feared the worst.

"Seema, are you injured?" Atreus reached out to grasp her shoulder, but she quickly shook his hand off and pulled away. He lowered his arm and wondered what he could have been thinking. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have presumed-"

"Two men!" she cried. "You killed two men!"

Atreus shrugged, unable to understand why she seemed so surprised. "It was nothing," he said humbly. "I had the advantage of surprise."

The barge lurched, then began to travel in the opposite direction as the oarsmen began rowing downstream. Atreus stepped around Seema, gesturing toward the rear of the boat.

"Rishi will need help getting aboard."

Atreus grabbed a second club off the second dead guard, then leaped a row of slaves and started forward. The bow guards swarmed past the oarsmen on both sides, determined to meet their foe en masse.

Atreus angled off toward the starboard oarlock. The four slavers seemed confused for a moment, then saw that smashing the oarlock would prevent the barge from going after Tarch. They rushed to cut Atreus off, spreading themselves out in a line. He cut back toward the middle, leaping two rows of screaming slaves to attack the guard on the end.

The slaver lashed out with his whip and wrapped up one of Atreus's arms, then brought his club around in a wild attack. Atreus deflected the blow with the shaft of one of his own weapons, then stepped forward and smashed the hard butt into the slaver's brow. The man's eyes were still turning glassy as Atreus turned to meet his next pair of foes.

The two guards split up, leaping slave rows in opposite directions so they could approach from both flanks. The last slaver advanced to take their place, and Atreus suddenly found himself facing three foes. He pulled his arm free of his last victim's whip and began to whirl his clubs through the air, weaving an impenetrable curtain of defense around his body. The effort pained his sore shoulder, but he did not dare give his enemies a static opening.

The three slavers cracked their whips and advanced, their padded clubs held at the high ready. Atreus eased back, his breath coming hard and ragged. The slaves cringed and covered their heads, filling the boat with the eerie rattle of chains.

"Stand and fight for yourselves!" Atreus yelled. "What's wrong with you?"

The slaves did nothing except wail and rattle their chains more loudly. The guards smirked and struck with their whips. Atreus caught two attacks in his defensive curtain, then dropped his clubs before his foes could use them to draw him off balance. The third whip got through and twined itself around his forearm. He circled his hand over the cord and caught hold, giving it a mighty jerk.

When the slaver came stumbling forward, Atreus pivoted sideways and planted a stomp-kick square in the fellow's chest. The sternum broke with a loud pop, then the guard dropped to the deck gasping and groaning. Hoping to catch their foe weaponless, the last two slavers charged.

Atreus turned and sprinted for the rowing platform behind him. The two oarsmen abandoned their duties to meet him, but they were hardly a match for one who had grown up brawling with ogres. Atreus grabbed the first by the shirt and slammed him into the second, then brought the first one forward again and head butted him.

The man's nose exploded across his face, spewing blood and cartilage in every direction. Atreus flung his victim into the guards behind him, stepping forward to kick the second oarsman's feet from beneath him. The fellow landed flat on his back, and Atreus finished him with a stomp to the throat. He turned to find his last two attackers trying to claw their way out from beneath the oarsman with the smashed nose.

Atreus grinned and leaped into the fray, biting an ear off and gouging two eyes out with his naked fingers, both favorite ogre brawling tricks. By the time he finished, he was painted in blood, and the two slavers were clutching their mutilated faces, screaming miserably and lying at the feet of their horrified charges.

Atreus rose, braced his hands on his knees, and tried to ignore the pain racking his body. His wounds were taking their toll, even after Seema's elixir. Normally, a little wrestling match would hardly be enough to tire him.

"B-by the Forgotten Ones, look what you have done! Eight men and T-Tarch!" cried Rishi. The Mar was kneeling on the aft deck, soaked and shivering as Seema tugged at his wet clothes. "You are Ysdar's devil!"

The words caused the slaves to cringe away from Atreus. He cursed under his breath and held out his hands to reassure the frightened captives, but this only caused them to cry out in their native tongue and fling themselves away.

"I am not a devil!" Even as Atreus said this, he glanced down at his naked, blood-smeared body and realized how deceiving appearances could be. "Rishi, tell them! I'm just a man."

Atreus started toward the dry clothes awaiting him on the rear deck, then saw a scaly hand rise up behind the stern and grasp the barge. He snatched the nearest club and started aft, the slaves straining against their chains to lean out of his way. Rishi's jaw dropped, and what little color he had vanished.

"There is no need for temper, good sir! I will tell them!"

Rishi began to speak to the slaves in Maran, somehow staggering to his feet despite the stump of the severed lance still protruding from his calf. Seema frowned and draped a dry blanket over his shoulders, scolding him in her version of the same language. A second scaly hand appeared beside the first, and still neither of them noticed.

Atreus leaped another row of slaves, and Rishi reached into his cloak for a throwing knife.

"No! Behind you," Atreus shouted, pointing with his club.

The sound of cascading water murmured up from the river, and Tarch's pointed head appeared just above the deck. Rishi spun and flung his knife in one motion, striking the slave master square between the eyes.

The tip scattered a few scales, then clattered to the deck, unable to penetrate Tarch's thick brow.

"I knew you was trying to peel me," Tarch growled.

The devil pulled himself up over the edge of the deck.

Rishi cursed and grabbed Seema, hobbling around to put her between himself and the slave master.

"This is not my doing!" Rishi produced a throwing knife and pressed it to Seema's cheek, saying, "Touch me, and I will mark her!"

Atreus hit the rear deck at a sprint and, ignoring his urge to club Rishi senseless on the way past, rushed to meet the slave master. Tarch sprang onto his feet as nimbly as a lynx. Atreus charged in swinging.

This time, Tarch was ready. He caught the attack on his wrist, then counter-punched to the body. Atreus tried to leap clear, and only his backward momentum kept the slave master's fist from driving a shattered rib through his lungs. As it was, the impact forced the air from his chest and knocked him three full paces backward.

Atreus staggered and barely managed to keep his feet, allowing Tarch to step securely onto the deck. Rishi backed away slowly, still holding his knife to Seema's face, and the slaves murmured in fear.

"You can take a punch." Tarch stepped toward Atreus. "That's good. There'll be a lot of punches in Baator."

Atreus did not reply-his aching lungs did not contain the air. He simply launched himself at the slave master, club held high. When Tarch raised his arm to block, Atreus leaped into the air and planted both feet square in the slave master's chest. Tarch stumbled backward and slipped overboard, catching the edge of the deck as he dropped into the water. Atreus landed on his side and began to slam his heels down on the slave master's scaly fingers. Two digits came loose, but then Tarch's second hand caught him by the ankle.

A strange tingling stung Atreus's flesh. His leg grew numb and weak, and his whole body started to quiver. An unreasoning fear welled up inside him, chasing from his mind all he had ever learned about fighting. He dropped his club and clawed at the deck. He could think only of escaping the terror that had him, of freeing himself of this inhuman thing and hurling himself into the icy river and swimming for the shore. Any shore.

Tarch's pointy head peered over the side, his grasp still firm on Atreus's ankle. "Leatherhead! Now you've driven me berkers," the slave master swore. "Gold or no gold, I'll make bloodmeal of you and your-"

A whip cracked, coiling itself around Tarch's throat and cutting short his threat. As the slave master choked out his rage, Atreus looked across the deck and was astonished to find Rishi standing at the other end, feet braced and pulling hard to keep the line taut.

"Good sir, you m-must take up your club and hit him!"

In his mindless panic, Atreus came near to not understanding. He turned away and clawed at the deck, still trying to kick his leg free. He felt shamed by his behavior but could not help himself. This fear was unlike anything he had ever known. It was the overwhelming terror of indestructible evil.

A strangled chortle rose from Tarch's throat, and Atreus realized, dimly, that the devil was laughing at him. The slave master let go of the deck and grabbed the whip. A stream of flame shot up the strand, moving so fast that Rishi barely had time to drop the weapon before a brilliant flash consumed the handle and arced down to touch off a small deck fire.

As all this occurred, Tarch started to sink back into the river, dragging Atreus with him. This was too much. Clutching for anything he could grab, Atreus found only the club, which would do nothing to keep his captor from dragging him down into a watery hell. He grasped the weapon in both hands and twisted around, slamming the shaft into the slave master's skull.

The impact rocked Tarch's head sideways but did not cause him to open his hand. The slave master sank to his neck in the river, continuing to drag his captive with him. Atreus brought the club around again, this time connecting just behind the devil's pointed ear.

Tarch's beady eyes rolled back in their hollow sockets. His hand came free of Atreus's ankle, and he splashed into the river. His legs and torso bobbed up beside him, so that he was floating spread-eagled beside the barge. Atreus used the club to shove the slave master away, then kneeled on the edge of the deck watching him twitch and tremble. When the devil had finally drifted a safe distance off, Atreus rose and turned forward.

Seema and Rishi were busy smothering the deck fire with blankets, while the slaves were craning their necks to see what was happening on the rear deck. Still suffering the strange effects of Tarch's grasp, Atreus pointed at the rowing platform in the center of the boat.

"What's wrong with you?" he screamed. "Start rowing!"

The slaves only cowered and looked as though they feared he would kill them. Atreus glanced over the side and saw Tarch still drifting back toward the boat, his chest rising and falling with shallow breath.

Atreus turned back to the slaves and screamed again, "I said row, damn you!"

Seema dropped her blanket over the smoldering fire and came over to him. "Breathe deeply, Atreus. Compose yourself," she said, touching his arm. He immediately began to feel more calm. "Tarch has used his power on you. If you think, you will recall that the slaves are chained. You will know they cannot do what you ask."

Atreus's terror began to subside. After a moment, he nodded. "You are right, of course." Now that his panic was fading, he was beginning to feel embarrassed by his behavior. "Forgive me. I promised to protect you from Tarch, and now here I am, so terrified that I cannot even think clearly."

Atreus selected a cloak and a pair of trousers from the dingy pile of clothes still lying on the deck, then turned toward the rowing station. "I'll start us upstream," he told her. "See if you can unchain someone and get him to take my place."

"Whatever you wish."

Seema surprised him with a bow, then turned toward the cabin, leaving a shivering and staggering Rishi to put out the remains of the deck fire. Atreus pulled on his new clothes and went forward to the rowing station. All that remained of the day's light was a gray glow in the western sky, and he could barely see the willows stretching away into the vast-ness. Yago was out there somewhere, either lost or dead, and Atreus had no idea how he would find out which.

He started to call out for his friend, then looked downstream and thought better of it. The last two dugouts were just rounding the bend below, about two hundred paces distant

Calling for Yago would only alert them to his presence and place him in more danger. It would be better to trust the ogre to figure things out on his own. He was a capable hunter and would know how to read the signs when he came to the shore where they had battled Naraka.

Atreus grabbed the monstrous oars and swung the boat around, and soon he was working too hard to notice the growing chill. Seema emerged from the cabin with a hammer and cold chisel that she tried to give to one of the larger slaves. At first, the astonished fellow kept looking in Atreus's direction and refused to take the tools, but when Seema pointed at the empty rowing station, he finally seemed to understand and began pounding at his shackles.

By the time the slave freed himself, dusk had fallen completely, leaving the boat illuminated only by the light of the full moon. The man approached Atreus warily and carefully laid the hammer and chisel at his feet, then grabbed the second set of oars and began to row.

Too exhausted to puzzle over the peculiar behavior, Atreus gave the tools to the nearest slave and instructed him to free everyone. This occasioned a great deal of confused murmuring, but eventually Atreus managed to communicate what he wanted and went aft to join Seema and Rishi. He pulled a spare blanket over his shoulders and sank down on the deck beside them.

"What's wrong with them?" he asked. "They don't seem very eager to escape."

"They are afraid," said Seema. She was working by the light of a small oil lamp, poking and prodding at the lance in Rishi's leg. "They think you will kill them if they try."

"Me?" Atreus exclaimed. "We're all in this together!"

Seema looked up. "What do you mean, together?" "They do not understand you, Atreus," Rishi laughed. "They think you are one thieving devil stealing from another."

Atreus sighed and looked at Seema. "Is that what you think?"

"I think being a thief is only a small wickedness," Seema said, avoiding Atreus's gaze as she continued to examine Rishi's leg. "There are greater evils in this world."

"I am no thief," Atreus declared, "and I am no devil. When we reach the head of the river, they are free to return to their homes. Tell them."

Seema looked up. "Truly?"

It was Rishi who answered, "Oh yes, truly. The good sir is a silly fool who cares nothing for wealth." The Mar cast a wistful glance downriver, toward Atreus's sunken gold. "He will throw it away on the merest pretext."

"Human beings are not wealth," Atreus said. He nodded to Seema. "Tell them. They will row faster knowing they are free men."

"Oh, I see." Seema's eyes grew sad, but she rose and spoke rapidly in Maran.

The slaves began to murmur even louder and cast wary glances at the aft deck. Atreus huddled in his blanket and tried not to look quite so much like a blood-smeared devil.

"Rishi, how do I say she is telling the truth?"

"Ekc'kta reeto."

Atreus repeated the phrase, though he did not come even close to imitating the Mar's strange throat click.

The slaves gasped and looked confused, until someone began jabbering in Maran. The others began to laugh, and suddenly the boat broke into a swirl of frenzied activity, with men rushing forward to serve as pilots while others jumped up to help at the oars.

"What did I say?" Atreus asked.

"That yaks are very honest," said Rishi, "but I think they understand what you meant."

"It would have been simpler to say it in Realmspeak," Seema added. "Mountain Mar are not ignorant savages, you know."

"No, you are not savages at all," said Rishi, pointedly leaving out the word "ignorant."

Seema scowled, then knelt down and placed her knees on Rishi's leg to either side of the broken lance.

"Will you remove the shaft?" she asked, looking to Atreus. "Pull it straight out, the quicker the better."

Rishi twisted around, his eyes wide with fear. "Quicker? Wait one-"

Atreus grabbed the shaft and pulled, removing it in one smooth motion. Rishi howled in pain, and dark blood began to bubble from the wound. Seema stuffed a rolled bandage into the hole, causing the Mar so much pain that he pounded the deck and twisted around to glare at her.

"You are a depraved mountain witch!" he screamed, "to inflict such pain and enjoy it!"

"The lance had to come out." Seema sprinkled white dust on the hole, drawing another sharp hiss from Rishi. "This will prevent the wound from festering."

"Succubus!"

Recalling the numbing powder Seema had used on his wound, Atreus said to Rishi, "Perhaps it would hurt less if you showed more gratitude."

The Mar whirled toward Atreus. "You dare speak to me of gratitude? You, whose promise is not worth a yak?"

"I won't argue this again," said Atreus. "Gold means nothing to a drowned man."

"You are a liar and thief. Had you wanted to keep your word, you could have waited to escape until after Tarch pulled the gold up tomorrow."

Atreus shook his head. "I would have been in shackles by tomorrow, and you would have been killed the instant Tarch had the gold. I did what was best for all of us. Now, I am done discussing this."

"And I am done with you. I have seen the way you repay those who serve you!" Rishi would not hold still for Seema to bandage his leg as he continued to rant, "You would rather let. Yago lose himself in the swamp than spend a single night in shackles!"

"Watch your tongue," Atreus warned. "If Yago is alive, he'll find us. If he isn't… I want to hear nothing about it from you."

"Oh, you cannot hide behind the memory of Yago," Rishi sneered. "It is no secret to me what happens when a pretty slave girl smiles at someone like you."

Atreus raised his brow. "Someone like me?" he asked, insulted. Atreus was trembling with anger, perhaps because there was more than a little truth in Rishi's venom. "What, exactly, do you think someone like me feels when a beautiful woman smiles at him?"

Without awaiting a reply, Atreus rose and started forward.

"Do not come tomorrow and beg me to be your guide," Rishi called after him. "I do not take fools on fable-chases for free, you know!"

Atreus bit back a furious reply, slipped past the rowers who were working two men to an oar and propelling the barge along at a surprisingly brisk pace and went up to the bow. The Mar lookouts greeted him with nervous smiles and gave him a wide berth, which was just as well in his current mood. He laid down on the edge of the deck and cupped the dark river water in his hands and began to wash the blood from his devil's face.

When he finished, he found Seema waiting with her lamp and tray of potions. "We were not finished," she said. "I must tend your wounds, or you will be in no condition to flee Tarch tomorrow."

Atreus laid down on his side. "I'm sorry for the things Rishi said," he told her. "I can see for myself that your people are not ignorant."

"They are only words," Seema replied, then knelt beside him and pulled aside his cloak. The needle and thread she had been using earlier still dangled from his wound. "Was he telling the truth? Am I the reason you killed the slavers?"

Atreus looked away, but said, "Part of the reason. I couldn't bear to think what Tarch had in store for you."

"I see."

Seema shoved the needle through a flap of skin, drawing a sharp hiss of pain from Atreus.

"I, uh, can feel that," he said. "I think the numbing powder has worn off."

"I know," Seema said, pulling the thread through. Atreus's side felt like it was burning. "I give you strength and tend your wounds, and you repay me with killing?"

She shoved the needle in again, and this time Atreus managed not to hiss.