Character Conversations: Birth of A Jackal (Pt. 2-Sutek ft. Idir and Jackal Steve)

His eyes snapped open and he tried to take a breath, only to be met with pain.  Pain was everywhere, from the hot sand that covered more and more of him with each sweltering gust of wind, to the sharp sting and ache gripping his throat.

The sun beat down on him, and when he held up a hand to shield his eyes from it, he saw that his hand was covered in dried blood.

He tried to turn his head to look around, but once again was met with pain. Still he was able to roll onto his side. There he was met with the dull dead eyes of the gazelle and the yellow eyes of the jackal currently feasting on it.

It looked at him without so much as licking its chops.  Without even snarling, it went back to eating and Sutek realized why.

As he reached his hand up again, this time to touch his neck, he felt a gash, deep in wide, across his throat.  The beast knew that there was no need to fear him, because he may as well have been another carcass.   With a slit throat, blurry vision, and so much of his blood soaking the sand that it looked more like soil, he knew he was bound for death.

And he knew that once the Jackal was satiated with the gazelle it would turn on him.

He closed his eyes, both to block out the painful glare of the sun and to block out the view of what would happen to him soon enough.

"You are my strong son! I now have no doubt that you will survive. I can already see you returning in victory, heavy with bounty,"

His father's words rang out through his mind and his eyes snapped open.

He needed to go home, if only to deliver his family a complete corpse.

He rolled all the way onto his front, a pained groan tearing its way out of him, sand coating his wounds.  He opened his eyes and found the jackal looking at him with new interest.  With a pained effort, he pushed himself off the ground and the beasts peeled it's lips back in a low snarl.

Sutek hobbled to his feet and let out one of his own.

The jackal cowered and Sutek began to walk, slowly, one foot in front of the other, the hanging sun in the sky showing the way home.

One step after another, willing himself forward, his eyes never wavered but his feet did.

The jackal was far behind him when he finally fell, sand coating and burning his wound.  The edges of his vision began to darken until finally, he felt himself slip away into the dark.

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He heard voices but they're muffled, like he was listening to them from far away.

"What is it?"

"A corpse."

"Can you do anything with it?"

"Maybe the mage will want it,"

"Alright.  Haul it in the cart with the rest,"

The feeling of being dragged through the hot sand felt like floating through fire.  And he felt himself being hoisted and placed on something wooden, something obscured the sun, and everything felt marginally cooler.

Without the glare of the sun he thought that he might be able to crack his eyes open.

Bleary-eyed, he tried to take in his surroundings, but could only see the fabric covering that shielded the cart he had been placed in.

The sound of heavy chains dragging against the wood made him attempt to turn his head to the side, but that same searing pain from before stopped his attempt.

Instead, all that came out was a sharp raspy gasp followed by a groan.

Once again there was the sound of heavy chains dragging against wood, this time faster like something was retreating.

"Not dead!" a young but hoarse sounding voice cried out and soon the sound of chains dragging was accompanied by the rocking of the cart as the owner of the voice and whoever he was talking to scrambled away.

At least Sutek knew he was still alive. For now anyway.

An older woman's face came into view, blurry above him, her eyes dark and endless and her greying dark hair reddened with blood near one temple. She reminded him of the way his grandmother looked when he was younger, a feeling that only intensified as she gingerly lifted his head and placed it on her lap, using her skirt to try to apply pressure to his neck.

"I think I have just enough left for you," she murmured and she moved her now blood soaked skirt away, placing her hands on his wound.  

A coolness spread from her hands to his wound, and finally through the rest of his body and he felt a sweet relief from the pain.  He looked up at the woman, and with his vision now clearer he noticed that the tattoos that covered all of what he could see of the light brown skin of her neck, all the way up to her jaw, were in Zilmatic, the language of his people.

"You'll live son.  You will," 

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It was hard for him to tell how much time had passed with the fabric cart covering being the only thing in his line of sight.  

He felt himself fade in and out of consciousness, mind addled from thirst and blood loss, but he was still alive.

Sometimes he was awake enough to hear bits and pieces of conversation.

He learned that the woman who healed him was named Zeruiah and she was from Eba.  Sutek knew that one of the reasons his mother went to seek refuge with his aunt was because Emperor Avith had attacked many of the Zilmatican tribes that were settled in and around the mountains of Eba.  Now he had a first hand view of what their fate was.

Although the cart was filled with a quiet sadness, most of them wanted him to live, even if it meant sharing what little water their captives gave them, or shuffling close just to talk to him, especially once they realized he was awake.

"When my father would take me and my brothers to other cities, it was a lot more fun.  Less shackles and more sights, you know,"  

The boy talking to Sutek, spoke to him almost every day and at great length.  Despite being unable to exactly participate in the conversation, Sutek did his best to grunt in blink where it felt appropriate.  He learned that the boy's name was Stephanos, but everyone on the cart called him Steve.  He was the only prisoner on the cart who wasn't Zilmatican, but was insteadd the son of a merchant that happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"I wonder if my brothers made it back to Matrica. When the killing started I hid the youngest under some rugs, so he should have been able to tell the others what happened.  Right?"

Stephanos hid his unease and uncertainty with a forced laugh and Sutek understood how he felt.  Both of them were now who knows how far away from home and with each stretch of land, the odds of them ever seeing their families again diminished.

He opened his eyes and willed strength into his weak limbs, slowly propping himself up.  Finally Stephanos came into view.

He was shorter and slimmer than Sutek, he appeared to be around the same age.  His bronze skin was battered and bruised, one of his pale green eyes was completely swollen shut, and dried blood was still caked and cracked around his crooked nose.  Despite all of this, the boy's smile was as wide as someone could manage with half of their face swollen.

"Woah you're up! Everyone, he's up!" he said, starting to shake the other shackled people either awake or out of their despair fueled stupor.

Zeruiah shuffled over, checking his wound and gently turning his head from right to left.

A wide and deep grin spread across her face and soon the entire cart was filled with a new energy.

It was quiet and understated, but as Sutek rasped out his name, and were he was from to his fellow captives, he felt a small sapling of hope breakthrough to cold soil of his situation.

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Hope wasn't the only thing taking shape.  Mutiny was as well.

The more Sutek healed, the more he and his fellow captives realized that their captors had made a mistake.

He wasn't shackled.

With Zeruiah's healing, his wound was nearly completely closed, but he didn't join the others when they were let out to eat and walk around.  Instead he stayed still, and silent in the cart like he was still the corpse they assumed him to be, and ate whatever scraps Stephanos could smuggle back to him.

Soldiers may have captured most of the people, but now they had changed hands and were with slavers, most hailing from Oso.  

"Oso is across the water from Cusmo, the big city at the heart of Hashind, where Emperor Avith sits," Zeruiah whispered as she tore off a portion of her skirt to change the dressing of his wound.  

"My father talked about slavers like this.  They'll sell us in Cusmo, and then sail across the water to their homes,"  Stephanos said his voice low, but the excitement in it undeniable.  

"How many days do you think we have until we get there?" he asked and one of the men in the cart spoke up.

"I can see it.  I think we have a few days before we reach the city,"

Sutek thought of his mother, of his sister, and of his father who was so sure that he was strong enough to make it home.

"If I can get the keys, what should we do next?" he quietly asked.

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The slavers weren't taking them to the main city gates.  That was what one of the women overheard when they were all let out of the cart for meals.  

Hope that they could attract the attention of someone at the main gates and get help was one of the few things keeping them from either giving up completely or taking a big risk.

With Sutek unchained and and unknown but undoubtably dire fate ahead of them, they settled on taking the big risk.  

"I wouldn't be mad if you just ran away," Stephanos said to him after giving him his share of food.

"I wouldn't leave everyone behind," 

"No one would blame you,"

"I would blame me," Sutek said as he finished off the rest of the meager food and leaned down to look at the shackles on Stephanos' feet.  His eyes followed the chain that connected them over to where an old man was shackled.  The chains each overlapped and crisscrossed into a spiderweb of chains and he worried if he would be able to unchain everyone before their captors noticed.

Zeruiah shuffled over to sit next to him and Stephanos, offering the other boy her portion.

"This is not the same as hunting.  They will either kill you or chain you up and sell you with the rest of us if you are caught.  Give me your word that you will do what you need to do in order to live,"

He avoided her eyes and nodded but she grabbed onto his arm.

"I mean it Sutek! Kill, flee, play dead, this goes for the both of you.  Whatever it takes,"

The insistence in her voice and the power in her dark eyes made both of the boys nod hastily. 

That night, Sutek slipped out of the cart on unsteady, shaking legs, and slipped into the shadows.

The plan was to get the keys and maybe a weapon and bring it back to the cart.  There they would quietly free themselves and the surprise and overwhelm their captors.

But first he needed to get the keys.

The fire is still lit and he can hear hushed voices talking a little ways away from camp.

"Mother Mara is our last bet for a decent price,"

"What happened to just selling and giving a cut to Idir,"

"He gave Amatus free reign over the area we used to sell out of and he hates us more than he loves money,"

Sutek listens to them, just to make sure they aren't getting closer to the fire as he moves closer.

Zeruiah described the man who held the keys as scarred, tanned, and freckled, with light eyebrows and a dark beard. 

He saw him sleeping by the fire, still sitting upright, brow furrowed and his hand on the hilt of his sword.

The keys gleamed and winked at Sutek in the firelight and he prayed to be quieter that he'd ever been.

He reached with trembling hands towards the keys and he had barely laid a finger on them when the man's eyes snapped open.

"You should have stayed dead, boy,"

Sutek is seized by his throat and his visions almost goes black with the pain as the man's grip aggravates the gash on his neck.

The man watches with interest as Sutek struggles to breathe, while the other slavers are either lost in sleep or conversation.

Something besides the keys catches the firelight and Sutek's attention.

The hilt of the man's sword.

"...do what you need to do in order to live,"

His arms were just long enough to reach it and the man seemed to mistake his struggling as vain efforts to escape or find air.

He pulled the sword out of it's sheath and had to struggle to not drop it.

Startled the man dropped him, but laughed as he watched Sutek struggle to lift the weapon.

The laugh was cut short as Sutek rushed forward with a burst of energy he didn't even know he had, burying the sword in the soft flesh of the man's gut.

Unfortunately for both him and the man, the blow did not lead to a quick and painless death.   The man bellowed like a wounded boar and as his comrades began to awaken, Sutek realized that the blade was embedded so deeply that he couldn't pull it out.

He was grabbed from behind as another slaver barked out orders to circle the cart.

Sutek clawed at the hands of his attacker, looking frantically towards the cart, watching as one of the slavers approached, only to have a chain thrown around his neck and pulled tight.  Another rushed to his aid, as mayhem descended on the camp.

Whoever was holding him released him, just to deliver a savage punch to his stomach, leaving him to struggle for breath.

He waited for the finishing blow, eyes shut tightly, but it never came.

Instead the man fell heavily beside him, an arrow lodged through his neck.

Sharp howls cut through the night and men with hoods like jackals charged towards the camp, cutting down the slavers.  

Arrows left their bows and found their targets in the hearts of their captors.

In the commotion, Sutek ran towards the cart, past the falling bodies, and urged all of them further back into the cart, hopefully out of the range of any stray arrows. 

It grew quiet.

Finally a figure approached, the shadow of the cowl resembling horns more that a dog's head like he had seen when they first attacked.

The figure pulled back the opening to the cart.

"Allow me to be the first, to welcome you to Cusmo. Lower Cusmo, to be exact," the man said, his voice low and serene, edged with an amusement that made Sutek get the impression that he was laughing at their expense.

The man pulled back his cowl to reveal hair that was cut to his shoulders and greying at the temples.  He didn't know what color the man's eyes actually were but in the dim light they looked yellow.  The man was smiling, but his gaze hardened when he looked in Zeruiah's direction.

"Oh dear, do I spot the markings of my tribeswoman?  And such a powerful one no less? Never did I expect to see the day when even one of your ilk would be humbled and thrown in chains," he says, a fake pout on his face.

His false reverence and derisive tone caused her to bristle, but she lowered her head.

"Thank you for saving us, warrior," 

"Do not call me that!" he snapped harshly. He glared at all of them, his attempt at a pleasant welcome over.

"Let me explain something to all of you.  In this city, whatever tribe, kingdom, whoever you call your kinsmen—" his eyes dart to Sutek and he smirks.  "None of that matters.  The only thing people will ask you about around here is the price. Nothing in Cusmo is free, especially not you,"

He whistled and more of his men approached the cart, forcing Sutek and the others out and into the night.

"You all are now property of the Jackals.  Every thing you make from this moment on, will go towards whether or not you will ever be able to step outside of this city."

He looked around at the bodies strewn about the camp.

"Whose kill is this?" he asked, nudging the body of the slaver who had the keys.

"His," Zeruiah said, while pushing Sutek forward.

The man circles him, looking him over.  

"You look half dead and too young to have even returned from your first great hunt," the man scoffed and Sutek noticed that his arms and his legs were covered in tattoos.  He recognized some.  Like the ones that represented lineage, marriage, and mourning.

And tattoos one could only be awarded to a warrior that went to war for his tribe.

"He isn't and if you truly are my tribesman, then you will do right by him," Zeruiah insisted and the man scowled at her.

"Don't go looking for favors because you'll find none here.  And don't look for tribal loyalty.  You and this boy are strangers to me.  But I am...nostalgic," 

He turns back to Sutek and holds up his hand.

"I, Idir, will offer aid and help to this group.  I will even give them the chance to work towards the goal of freedom.  I will give you this as my word, but like everything else here, my word isn't free,"

Sutek looks around, at the armed masked figures in the night, at the city walls just within reach, and at the endless expanse of desert behind them.

"What is the price," he manages and the man laughs ruefully.

"Fast learner!  The price is that you, and the boy pretending to be dead under there—" he gestures behind them and Sutek turns to see Stephanos lying motionless under the cart.  He almost panics until he sees him open one eye before shutting it quickly.

"If I give my word, then the two of you must also give yours.  You'll live as my Jackals until your debt to me is repaid,"

Sutek looked down at the ground and saw the chain that linked Zeruiah's shackles to the others and knew that raising his hand and giving his word would forge a shackle of his own.  He would be tied to this city and these people.

With one more look towards the edge of the desert, he raised his hand.