Read Online The Inferior by Peadar Ó Guilín - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Peadar Ó Guilín
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him to my mother’s house. Please.’ Rockface nodded, though his chest still heaved after his heroic escape.
Wallbreaker and the others got down to the business of butchering the Bloodskins who’d come running into their trap. The humans had done well and their families would gain honour for such a successful hunt.
Lowsquat slapped the hunt leader on the back. ‘Six adult Bloodskins in exchange for one human. Amazing! And thanks to Rockface, we even get to keep Stopmouth for trade—’
Wallbreaker almost struck the man with his spear. ‘Stopmouth isn’t dead.’ His head was spinning. Gore covered his hands, and instead of the Bloodskin under his knife, he kept seeing poor Stopmouth.
Lowsquat seemed oblivious to Wallbreaker’s anger. ‘The funny thing is,’ he continued, ‘if Stopmouth had lived, there’s easily half a bride price in his share–well, it’ll be your share now, of course. And if you want another wife, you couldn’t do better than my Brighttooth: she—’
Wallbreaker screamed and grabbed Lowsquat by the neck. ‘My brother’s not dead! You hear me?’ He raised his fist, but the others pulled him away and the eldest hunter of the group, Frownbrow, spoke the words all knew to be true.
‘Calm yourself, Wallbreaker! Stopmouth was a hero today’–the others grunted assent–‘but we all saw his legs and they’ll not heal straight. You must help him do the right thing and bring honour to your family. Don’t shame his coming sacrifice.’
Wallbreaker didn’t answer, but when they released him, he took up his knife and went back to butchery without looking at his comrades.
Later Frownbrow made a sled of tree branches. The men used it to pull the bounty of flesh back with them across the Wetlane, where shadows rose to the surface to look on enviously.
The return of such a hugely successful hunt ought to have attracted more attention from the Tribe, especially as Rockface had gone on ahead to announce their triumph. But even the tower guards were facing the wrong way to see them.
‘A big white thing came down in the square!’ shouted one, a grizzled man almost old enough to volunteer. ‘Come back and tell us when you find out what it is!’ No one offered so much as a word of condolence over Stopmouth, though Wallbreaker found he could think of little else.
The first streets were deserted, without even children to run alongside begging for scraps or trophies. They heard an uproar from Centre Square and as they got closer, they found their way blocked by growing crowds.
A day earlier, with his brother safe and happy, Wallbreaker would have done anything to examine the mysterious creature first-hand. Instead, his imagination raced down one blind alley after another in search of a way to keep Stopmouth alive, to undo the terrible thing that had happened because he, Wallbreaker, had been too cowardly to take his place at the front. He’d been relieved when Stopmouth had offered to be the runner. And now the poor boy would be volunteering for something else entirely, something final.
The little group’s progress came to a halt in the press of the crowd. Wallbreaker felt dizzy with the noise of them, their smells. They were his people, his friends. They were Tribe. But Stopmouth’s legs…A wave of nausea threatened to push him to his knees in disgrace. He decided to try to make it to his mother’s house through one of the side streets, but he was interrupted by the arrival of Bonehammer, Chief Speareye’s youngest son.
‘Daddy–I mean, the chief–wants you. Quick, he says.’
Wallbreaker was too tired to argue and knew his family would need the chief’s favour if Stopmouth was to avoid volunteering. So he allowed the boy to thread him through the crowd to a crumbling storehouse near Centre Square, where confused hunters kept the curious at bay. The Roof was beginning to emit the faint light of dawn and it showed up the new bruises and black eyes sported by many of the guards.
Wallbreaker and the others got down to the business of butchering the Bloodskins who’d come running into their trap. The humans had done well and their families would gain honour for such a successful hunt.
Lowsquat slapped the hunt leader on the back. ‘Six adult Bloodskins in exchange for one human. Amazing! And thanks to Rockface, we even get to keep Stopmouth for trade—’
Wallbreaker almost struck the man with his spear. ‘Stopmouth isn’t dead.’ His head was spinning. Gore covered his hands, and instead of the Bloodskin under his knife, he kept seeing poor Stopmouth.
Lowsquat seemed oblivious to Wallbreaker’s anger. ‘The funny thing is,’ he continued, ‘if Stopmouth had lived, there’s easily half a bride price in his share–well, it’ll be your share now, of course. And if you want another wife, you couldn’t do better than my Brighttooth: she—’
Wallbreaker screamed and grabbed Lowsquat by the neck. ‘My brother’s not dead! You hear me?’ He raised his fist, but the others pulled him away and the eldest hunter of the group, Frownbrow, spoke the words all knew to be true.
‘Calm yourself, Wallbreaker! Stopmouth was a hero today’–the others grunted assent–‘but we all saw his legs and they’ll not heal straight. You must help him do the right thing and bring honour to your family. Don’t shame his coming sacrifice.’
Wallbreaker didn’t answer, but when they released him, he took up his knife and went back to butchery without looking at his comrades.
Later Frownbrow made a sled of tree branches. The men used it to pull the bounty of flesh back with them across the Wetlane, where shadows rose to the surface to look on enviously.
The return of such a hugely successful hunt ought to have attracted more attention from the Tribe, especially as Rockface had gone on ahead to announce their triumph. But even the tower guards were facing the wrong way to see them.
‘A big white thing came down in the square!’ shouted one, a grizzled man almost old enough to volunteer. ‘Come back and tell us when you find out what it is!’ No one offered so much as a word of condolence over Stopmouth, though Wallbreaker found he could think of little else.
The first streets were deserted, without even children to run alongside begging for scraps or trophies. They heard an uproar from Centre Square and as they got closer, they found their way blocked by growing crowds.
A day earlier, with his brother safe and happy, Wallbreaker would have done anything to examine the mysterious creature first-hand. Instead, his imagination raced down one blind alley after another in search of a way to keep Stopmouth alive, to undo the terrible thing that had happened because he, Wallbreaker, had been too cowardly to take his place at the front. He’d been relieved when Stopmouth had offered to be the runner. And now the poor boy would be volunteering for something else entirely, something final.
The little group’s progress came to a halt in the press of the crowd. Wallbreaker felt dizzy with the noise of them, their smells. They were his people, his friends. They were Tribe. But Stopmouth’s legs…A wave of nausea threatened to push him to his knees in disgrace. He decided to try to make it to his mother’s house through one of the side streets, but he was interrupted by the arrival of Bonehammer, Chief Speareye’s youngest son.
‘Daddy–I mean, the chief–wants you. Quick, he says.’
Wallbreaker was too tired to argue and knew his family would need the chief’s favour if Stopmouth was to avoid volunteering. So he allowed the boy to thread him through the crowd to a crumbling storehouse near Centre Square, where confused hunters kept the curious at bay. The Roof was beginning to emit the faint light of dawn and it showed up the new bruises and black eyes sported by many of the guards.
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