Eyes like holes

Fen pressed herself up against the bars of the cart as it bumped over the cobbled road. The floor was rough wood mounded deep with piles of rumpled sacks.

Where was the rat creature? The thing with the dirty hands and square, snipping teeth? She squinted into the gloom. Had she been shut in here as food for it? What had Taliette said? When they eat you, it’s like a person eating you. They hold you still and take little bites. A pile of sackcloth shifted, but it was only the movement of the cart.

Breath, hot and stale on the back of her neck.

She stifled a scream and leapt away. The thing was right there, on the other side of the bars, clinging to the outside of the cage with fingers, staring at her with eyes like holes. Grey skin hung from its human head. Fen scrabbled away to the opposite corner. The spaces between the wooden slats were too narrow for it to get its hands through, but the fingertips fit between them just fine. The thought of it touching her neck made her insides knot.

The cart rumbled beneath a bridge. Everything became very dark. She could hear it moving around on the outside of the cage. The tap tapping of long fingernails. They passed back out into the lamplight but the thing was nowhere to be seen. She crawled away from the wall, over the sacks, looking for it behind her. There was nothing to hold onto in the middle of the cart and she was bounced in the air with each jerky movement.

Bounced towards the bars. Crawl back to the middle. Bounce and crawl.

Bang! Right above her. It was on the roof, watching her through a hole! A string of drool hung from its cherry-red human lips.

She covered her mouth with her hands, holding the scream inside, and threw the sackcloths over her, digging down between them until she reached the wet timbers beneath. She remembered her little white dagger, lost in the body of that old man who had smiled at her as he died on the lawn.

"Good girl," he had whispered. "Not your fault."

She remembered that other dagger she had taken from the stranger who had held her as the world came undone. She had stuck him and smashed him. She had fallen forever. The world had rushed around her like dark water. It had battered her, hot and cold, harsh and squishy. Every sensation all at the same time. It had rushed up to meet her, a darkness and a tearing, and then she had been here. This town made of slimy bricks where everyone hated her and there was no food, and stupid rats hunted you in the dark.

She imagined her mother falling away from her, slowly, then faster and faster. Blue eyes staring back up at her. A huge man wreathed in black smoke.

The cart rattled to a stop, and the bumping ceased. The voices of the three men receded. She pulled back a corner of sack. The thing still crouched on top of the cart, staring down at her. Then the bolt was drawn, and the cart doors opened once more. She scrambled away from them. She wasn’t going out there, not with that thing on the roof.

Her fingers found her belt buckle. She slipped the knife sheath free that still hung there. It was soft, not much of a weapon, but she held it out nonetheless. Something was thrown into the back of the cart. Something in a cloth bag that wriggled where it lay. The doors slammed shut, and the cart began rolling once again.

She inched forward towards the canvas bag. It was about five feet long and tied at the top. It began moving once more, struggling like a person. Very carefully, she tugged at the ropes, loosening them, gripping the sheath in her other hand. There were feet inside. Feet in small shoes. They kicked and rubbed against each other, and the moans that came from the bag were that of a child.

She crawled up to the other end of the bag, where the head must be.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“It’s alright. Stay still, I’ll help you.”

The noises from the bag grew louder. She tugged another cord, and the bag fell open. A small figure scrambled out. Messy hair. Dirty clothes. Eyes of Mercian brown.

"Hello.” She tried to shape her voice to make it gentle. "Hallo. Halllao." She could never control her voice when she thought about it. It was like trying to swing your arms while walking. It happened by iteself, or it didn't happen at all. In the shadows, she could just make out the small, dirty-looking boy in the cage with her. “I won’t hurt you. Hallloa.”

The boy wriggled away from her, gripping the sacks on the floor, pressing up in the corner of the cage.

“Don’t go too close to the bars,” she said.

“Why,” the boy asked after a moment. “Why shouldn’t I go too close.”

“It’ll get its fingers through and touch you.”

"What will?"

"I don't want to tell you what to do. I'm not going near the bars, see? You can do what I do, or not. I don't know you, so I can't order you about."

The boy scuttled away from the corner.

“Who are they?” he said.

“I don’t know.”

“Where are they taking us?”

“I don’t know anything.”

“You talk funny. Why does your voice sound like that?”

She shook her head. Maybe she shouldn’t say too much. The boy was tiny and dirty. She sat back on her heels for a moment, then decided to trust him. “What’s your name?”

“Manolo,” he replied. “I don’t know where I am. I want my Ma.”

"Does your ma know where you are?"

He didn't reply. After a minute, he put his arm around her. He was small and warm and trembling like a rabbit. His head was too big for the rest of him. She wasn't sure what to do, so she stroked him like an animal. The hair was matted and greasy, but she kept stroking anyway until he stopped shaking.

"Will you take care of me?" he said.

She didn't know what to say. It didn't seem wise to make promises. For all she knew, the men were just taking them both somewhere convenient to murder them both, and what could she do to stop it? How to make a promise that wasn't really a promise?

"I will try," she said. "Do what I do."

It was a puzzle. How to get away? How to get this boy away? Any puzzle could be solved if one were clever enough.

The cart passed under an arch, and a door closed behind it, then it slowed and bumped to a halt. The sudden quiet was like a rush of upside-down noise in her ears, pushing in all the wrong directions.

"Do what I do," she whispered, suddenly sure.

“Get ‘em out, careful like,” yelled Ratman. “The girl’s slippery, I’ll take er with Spider. You grab the boy.”

Fen pulled a sack over her and lay by the hatch in the dark. As the door banged open she rolled through the gap, dropping to the floor and scuttling under the cart. She heard Manolo drop behind her, but he was not fast enough. Spider snatched him up and handed him over to the goon. He hung there, not even properly kicking, like a fawn in the mouth of a wolf.

"Well, fuck you all," said Ratman. "Tidy little job this was supposed to be. Bunch of useless bastards, the lot of you."

From under the cart, Fen watched the legs of the men to see where they would go. She had the sheath gripped in one hand. The animal was nowhere to be seen.

“Oh, she is a right pain in the arse this one, that’s to be sure,” said Rat Man. “Get the little un inside, we’ll ‘andle this.”

Fen watched the feet, Rat man on one side of the cart, Spider on the other. Goon walking away with Manolo. Then a double thump and two pairs of hands squished down at the back of the cart. Dirty hands with long yellow nails. Three directions cut off.

“I’ve taken the leash off Bessie,” yelled Rat man. I’m thinking you’ve got two choices. Come out now and meet the Greyling nicely, like a proper young lady, or try your luck with my animal in the dark.”

She could go up between the horses' legs. Try to dash into the shadows. The creature was crouching, sniffing under the cart. Maybe she could scare the horse, make a scene. Dash off in the chaos. But what about Manolo?

“Time’s a ticking little un.”

There was a stone wall in front of the horse, nowhere to run that way. She couldn’t tell how high it was.

“I’ll come out," she yelled, "but I want to walk properly. You can’t touch me with your hands. You can't cover my head or put me in a sack. I'll walk nicely with you, but I don't want you to touch me again. I want you to let Manolo walk properly too.”

“Ooooh, making demands now, eh? Greyling’s going to love you.”

“You have to promise.”

“Alright, there ain’t nowhere for you to go no how. Gate's closed. Walls all around. Come out, no one’ll touch yer.”

"You have to promise."

Ratman grumbled. "Right pain in my backside, you are. Alright. Promise."

She crawled out the side of the cart, away from the snuffling thing, towards the Ratman. She stood up, blinking in the light of a torch. Someone grabbed the back of her neck. A fistful of hair. A bag was jammed down over her head. Her arms were forced back and ropes were wound around her wrists, twisted tight until her fingers throbbed.

"Liars!" she screamed. "You lied! I will never trust you! Never!"

She was lifted in the air and thrown over someone's back like livestock. She screamed and screamed, but everyone ignored her.