The stranger stood in the center of a circle of raiders like a bear surrounded by snapping hyenas. His sweaty beard was twisted into clumpy knots and squared around his gritted teeth. Sober eyes were wide, one bloodshot. The hand that had been chewed on by Krav was wrapped in darkening fabric. Stitched flesh pulled taught like a stretched tent. Arms were bunched like pythons ready to strike. He held his fists up near his face like a boxer, and when he breathed it was like a bull preparing to charge.
Garth carried his massive bone mace across his shoulders. The beads rattled as he used to stretch. When he had finished, he pointed it to the stranger like a microphone. "Any last words, meat?"
“I want my pendant. If you’re going to kill me then I want to die with it on.”
Garth withdrew the mace and looked to Greenblatt, who was squatting near the bag of possessions. “Not what I would’ve asked for. Bring me his pendant!”
Greenblatt dug through the bag. There were many treasures here the large man could have asked for, some weapons, some armor, but he wanted jewelry. As his fingers raked the bottom of the bag, he found rings and thin chains like he was sifting through the bottom of a treasure chest. At first, he thought it would be hard to tell which pendant was his exactly, but when he saw the golden skull, its jaw agape and horns sprouting from its head, he knew what it was. He knew what the stranger was. Greenblatt pulled it from the bag, scraping his hand against a toothy axe as he withdrew it.
The stranger caught the pendant as it glittered through the desert air beneath the glow of the twin suns. He struggled to put it on one handed. When he finally had it around his neck, he straightened and declared, “I am Ulrich of the Pit Lords!”
Garth drooled a little as he smiled. “I am Garth of the Bone Eaters!”
The crowd of raiders cheered as Garth swung the bone mace towards Ulrich. The enormous man sidestepped it to the right, then the backwards as it came back. Garth overextended his swing, and Ulrich jabbed at his head.
There was a back and forth of blows. Bone whipped skin, slashing it open. Ulrich fought one handed, consuming more hits than he could reasonably deal. For every punch or shove he was able to eek out, he did so through arcing swings of yellow white. They smacked his arms, caught his torso, and clapped him in the face. Greenblatt watched for a moment, surprised at the amount of punishment he was able to take. He almost forgot his true goal. When Ulrich reached the Bone Eater and kicked him in the stomach, the raiders cheered at their comrade’s pain, and Greenblatt moved beneath their distracted gaze.
Krav had to be first. He was here, surely. It was just hard to tell which one he was. Beneath the sack hoods, they all wore red jump suits meant for prisoners. They were all bent like blinded monks in prayer. All except for two who knelt with their heads up like curious birds.
“Krav!” he whispered. The axe slipped out of the bag, catching something on the way out. It was Mac’s satchel. Perfect, he thought. She’d be next to untie. Greenblatt pulled both out and kept them low and out of sight. He slunk between the prisoners, ducking between them like a thief sticking to shadows. “Krav!”
“What?” muffled one of the sack hoods. It was one of the defiant ones with their head held high, the one Greenblatt guessed was him. He moved closer.
“Who is that?” said the other hood, the one with the feminine frame. Mac’s voice now. “Who’s talking to you?”
“How should I know, scab head? I have a bag over my head.”
“Well, I didn’t know! I have a bag too!”
“We all have bags, you idiot!”
“Shh!” Greenblatt hissed. He got to Krav and shredded the rope between his wrists with the axe. “It’s Greenblatt. I’m cutting you loose and we’re getting out of here.”
The axe tore through the rope with a bit of pressure. As soon as the boy’s hands were free, he reached up and snatched the hood from his face. Angry eyes searched his surroundings and locked onto the raiders.
“Keep your head down, I still have to get Mac.”
Krav listened to Greenblatt, leaning to the dessert floor and keeping his head below the other prisoners. His foot kicked something as he crawled. Turning, he saw Mac's satchel of intoxicants.
Greenblatt got to Mac and tried her restraints. The girl took more time. She squirmed and protested, bucking whenever the cold steel of the axe accidentally touched her flesh. She was fighting him, and they angrily whispered insults to each other. He had to keep shushing her and begging her to be still for five seconds. After some time, he was able to slit the rope a bit. He tossed aside the axe and began wrenching the frayed rope apart. Greenblatt breathed a sigh of relief as Mac became undone and threw the sack hood aside. The warlord reached for her bag, but it had gone missing from the sand. When he looked, he realized the axe was missing as well. His heart jumped when he saw that Krav was no longer where he had left him.
Mac’s bag was like an apothecary shop full of strange plants and vials of chemicals. Krav searched through them for a healing tincture. The fight earlier left him in aching pain from one leg all the way up to his face. After struggling to read three of the vials, he gave up and chugged the one that smelled the best. The acidic liquid was tart and warm. It went down like caustic jet fuel and burned his throat almost as badly as the green shot had. He smacked his lips together in a frown and wiped them clear of the unfamiliar juices. One half of his neck began to flare and itch. A feeling of freezing numbness formed in both of his arms, making the axe feel ten pounds heavier. His heart felt like it grew twice the size in his chest, and his breathing became shallow. Whatever he had taken, it was working already. He felt like he was transforming, his internal organs lurching and reshaping, his body tightening. Soon it affected his legs. They felt restless beneath his waist, and it forced him into a hobbling jog. As they adjusted to the drug, they straightened, and he was soon in full sprint. He felt like he was on fire just below the surface of his skin.
He was in a gallop when he collided with the first Bone Eater. The raider had his fists up in the air and pumped them when either of the lumbering duelists landed a blow. Krav came behind him and swung the axe hard. It tore through one knee, cleanly removing his leg. The raider screamed out like a frightened animal and crawled after his leg before the axe came back down and hit him between the shoulders, turning his screams into a breathless whine.
Other raiders immediately took notice. Garth even stopped his scrap to turn and see what all the fuss was before getting hit in the jaw and returning to the fight. One of the Bone Eaters watched Krav as he chopped one more time, then whistled so loud it pierced the air.
“Ambush! Take the loot and back out!”
The raiders snatched at hidden weaponry and readied themselves like a band of brigands. Chaos followed as half rushed the prisoners and the rest jumped into the fight with Ulrich, quickly overpowering him. Greenblatt was still working them free when the war cry of a dozen Bone Eaters wailed towards him. He gave the order, and the army of lobotomites descended upon the raiders like an undead horde.
001 landed the first blow, chopping and crushing flesh with its poleaxe and winding back up for another strike. The crafted creatures far exceeded the Bone Eaters, but they fell like fodder to them. Greenblatt’s creations fared well, but it seemed that the best trick the palace guard lobotomites were capable of was speech. They died quickly in combat, being crushed and sliced with an arsenal crafted from remains. 001 and 002 stayed close to their master as he continued his work freeing the prisoners.
One of the fiends pulled a pair of toothy jaw bones in either hand. He threw one at Greenblatt like a tomahawk and 001 parried it midair. The second sailed past his guard, arcing in the air like a boomerang and biting into the warlord’s arm. Teeth snatched tight in his skin and stuck like gnarled Velcro. He wasn’t able to remove it before one of the Bone Eaters crossed the battlefield and raised a fist covered in a claw made of rib bones. The weapon threatened to rake him across the face, but the raider was halted by an executioner’s blow from 002.
Greenblatt’s guard led him away from the fight. The living guards at the gate watched with sweat greasing their palms and shaking hands holding their weapons high and ready. The woman with two glass eyes watched from her position at the top of the gate. To join the defense now could risk inviting all-out war with the Bone Eater clan, and that was something they couldn’t win. It might even be too late for that. The palace guards were mobilized. The raiders must have seen them march out of their gates, and the deranged Bone Eaters must assume they were fighting Kiva Noon’s private army. Every risk was considered, and every outcome from this point on would be terrible for the town.
The woman counted the remaining Bone Eaters that still stood to fight. They were less than a dozen. The beset course of action may be to finish them here and deny any wrongdoing from the next group that knocked on their gates. She looked at the guards, there were easily more of them than the raiders, but were they up to the task? They were pampered children compared to the animals out there. For a moment, she considered letting Greenblatt and his army of lobotomites finish this for them, but every fallen palace guard was a great shame. They were works of art schemed up by the great Sinestra Mode herself. She turned to her quivering guard with decisive eyes. If this man wanted to claim he was the warlord, he sure did have the guts the town had been missing for a decade.
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“Get out there and protect the warlord! Any one of you left on this wall when I walk out that gate gets lobotomized. Move!”
The young guards looked at each other, then rushed over one another when the woman began to walk down the steps towards the chaos.
Krav was locked in a fight with a raider who used two huge animal bones carved into machetes. The weapons were unwieldly and easy enough to avoid, but they didn’t allow any opening for attack. They moved in large, sweeping arcs that whistled past him. The boy could feel the cold winds whooshing off the blades as they nearly slashed him to pieces. He was backstepping, dodging from one side to another, then he bumped into one of the lobotomites he didn’t recognize. It bungled and tipped on its wiry frame, and Krav caught it just in time to throw in front of him and block the slashing machetes. By the time the raider had the blades pulled out, Krav crushed his chest with the axe. He fell to the floor clutching at his exposed wound.
Across the battlefield, Krav could see Garth and his men grab whoever they could as well as the bag full of loot. Greenblatt’s bodyguards were extracting him from the conflict, one dragging him back into the gates while the other was locked in combat with a raider. Guards in imperious greatcoats that were too clean for battle appeared and dove into the melee, aiding in Greenblatt’s rescue. The Bone Eaters’ champion hoisted the bag of loot over one shoulder and locked onto a charging guard.
“For Kiva N-!”
He didn’t have time to finish his battle cry. Garth brought the great bone mace down onto the guard’s head and blew it apart like a smashed clay pot. He spat and tossed the bag to one of his men.
“Get this back to camp and don't fucking touch it 'til I get back!” he commanded. The bone eater nodded and hefted the bag up his shoulder then ran into the desert. Garth watched him go, then turned to begin scooping up prisoners when something chopped into his thick stomach.
Krav wrenched the axe, but was unable to pull it out of Garth’s abdomen. Barely any blood flowed from the savage’s wound, and Krav thought for a moment that he didn’t have any at all. The man was a freak of nature, and it was made more evident when his impossibly strong arm came cannoning down at him and exploding into his face. He was able to take two more hits before he went down, leaving the axe jutting out of Garth.
The world spun in Krav’s head. He tried not to vomit as the image of Garth removing the axe played left to right and then right to left. His eyes could focus on nothing, even when he knew the axe was falling towards him. For a brief moment, Krav braced for a blow from his own weapon, but instead, it landed with a dull thump in the sand.
“That hurt, meat. I don’t like to hurt.”
There were no words Krav could muster the strength to spit back at the Bone Eater. Instead, he found all the venom in his body and let out a weak, defiant groan.
The chaos was coming to an abrupt end. Garth looked around and realized the rest of his clan was either running over the horizon with a prisoner or wetting the ground with gallons of blood. He was quick to snatch up two of the prisoners who still had their heads covered and he followed the rest of the Bone Eaters. Krav reached for him, his fingers glancing the black leather garb, but was unable to hold a grip. He watched the raider disappear with them, double vision cursing him until he was able to fall asleep in the sand.
The battle lasted no more than fifteen minutes. Most of the town had missed it entirely because they had been haggling the price of products, greeting an acquaintance in the street, or simply in the bathroom. Bewildered spectators drawn to the sounds of screaming and clashing weaponry were gathered at the gate. They made room as the guards came flooding back in with the injured and the dead. When the great gate of Kiva Noon closed, they left out all of their fallen lobotomites, as well as the corpses of the Bone Eaters. It would attract unsavory scavengers, but it was better they rot outside than be buried with the ones who had given their lives to combat them.
The injured were numbered too many to all be seen by the clinic. Instead, they were taken to the palace on Greenblatt’s request. The great hall stank of blood and was filled with the moans of the infirm. Everywhere, the injured held their wounds like they might fall off. The arsenal of the Bone Eaters proved to be effective as they left bone splinters behind to poison the defenders. Skins were changing color, and already the worst of the guards were promising a year's rations for the most acclaimed technicians to replace their mangled limbs with cold metal and make the pain go away.
Greenblatt was standing with the stranger, Ulrich, who had survived the battle only barely. The warlord was impressed with his tenacity. When he had been informed of what had occurred at the bar earlier, he was amazed the man was able to stand up to Garth at all. The two waited at the side of the coffin of Lady Sinestra Mode, staring at her like she might suck some life back into the dead sack in her chest.
“I told you; I killed her.”
Ulrich nodded and scratched his beard. The look on his face wasn’t relief or anger. It twisted into a sort of confusion, like he didn’t believe anyone could get to Sinestra but him. “Why did you do it?”
“I had to put her down. The people here allowed her to stay alive long after she lost her mind. Why did you want her dead?”
“The black thumb clan did a job for us a few months ago. They botched it, and it cost us our warlord.”
Greenblatt nodded, not taking his eyes off the corpse in the metal coffin. Once she was buried, he decided, he would leave this place far behind him. His heart had died with her, and he could no longer affiliate himself with the sins tied to the black thumb clan. He reached in and held her cold, stiff hand. She felt like a stone freshly plucked from a river, and he dragged his thumb back and forth over her wrist as if he could smooth it anymore. He was able to hide the tears behind his dark goggles.
A lobotomite was the only one brave enough to approach the two of them. The palace guard walked in prefect form, its metal legs clicking the stone floor of the palace. It stood firm and unmoving before Greenblatt, then said, “Transmission: unit Krav's status has been updated. Status: Active. Please advise.”
When Greenblatt got to the cot that held the boy, he found Krav already up and frantically turning the area upside down. Palace guards who didn’t see him as a threat watched as he rampaged around. Injured gate guards groaned and cursed at the boy as he shoved aside their cots and nearly knocked them out of them. When he and Greenblatt locked eyes, he shouted so loud he could wake the dead that slept outside the gate. “Where is it?”
“Where’s what?”
Krav’s lip quivered and his jaw set. Frustration and rage darkened his eyes. “Where’s Rufus’ skull?”
The bag. The bag full of their belongings that the Bone Eaters stole. He didn’t see it in there, but it was the only place it could have ended up. He explained it to Krav, and after an emotional back and forth, he finally relented and collapsed on his cot to the relief of everyone around him.
“We have to go get it back,” Krav said. His gaze was locked onto the axe.
“We have to get to Jackmaw Yapyap. Your brother’s still being held captive, remember?”
It wasn’t supposed to make the boy feel any better, but Greenblatt also didn’t want to escalate the situation. Still, he wasn’t prepared for the angry tirade he produced. Shouts and curses filled the hall for another five minutes. Greenblatt let the insults and screams roll off of him, and by the time Krav was done he was sitting on his cot with his knees drawn to his chest. His eyes searched the floor for an answer out of his situation. Besides getting into a time machine and never coming to Kiva Noon, he couldn’t think of a way to get back Rufus’ skull and save his brother at the same time. He racked his brain with questions of who to go after first. Every day spent in the company of the Gordo clan was a danger to his brother’s life, but there was no telling what people who call themselves Bone Eaters would do with a waster’s skull. He wiped his eyes with the back of his wrist.
“You’re going after Jackmaw Yapyap?” Ulrich asked. He had left Sinestra’s side after the first explosion of emotions. “Are you out to kill every Warlord in the valley?”
“If things keep going the way they are, we just might have to.”
Ulrich nodded and watched the boy. Krav didn’t try to meet his eyes. “We should go get your friend’s skull back from the Bone Eaters. I’ll come with you. That big one owes me a rematch.”
“We can’t. We have to save Lenny,” Krav said absently, but it was true. Rufus would never forgive him for choosing to rescue remains over his brother. The longer he stayed in Kiva Noon, the more Lenny had to suffer. With that thought in mind, he stood from his cot and grabbed at the axe. “Get Mac and let’s go.”
Greenblatt’s heart nearly stopped. “Actually, have you seen her?”
Miles outside of Kiva Noon, the bone eaters gathered around a fire in the desert and danced around it like imps around a cauldron. They made ghastly music with instruments whittled from wood and drank water that burned their throats and unwound their minds. The raid hadn’t been a total failure. They lost more men than they were willing to count, and the meat they took as spoils wasn’t the full tribute they could have gotten if they had just waited another few weeks, but they considered it a success.
They divided up the loot between them, playing it like a party game. Each Bone Eater was made to choose between an item in the bag, or a sack headed prisoner. Whenever one of their captives was unmasked, or an item of value was chosen from the bag, the raiders would cheer and celebrate like they were watching each other go in circles opening presents on Christmas.
One raider found a fistful of jeweled copper rings; another had pulled a stick of dynamite from the bag and got a standing ovation. Garth sat with a female prisoner on either knee. No one protested when he chose a second girl after the first wasn’t to his liking. She talked too much about the possible outcomes when mixing their firewater and something called polystyrene to create potent explosives.
“The substance produced would be sticky and flammable after the alcohol breaks down the polystyrene. Just add a way to ignite it, and you’ve got an incendiary bomb! If you get me some things, I could teach you how to make them.”
“Did you not see them find a stick of dynamite? We’ve got plenty of incendiary bombs.”
Mac frowned. “Dynamite isn’t incendiary. It won’t create fire.”
“Won’t create fire, my ass! Go light it and sit on it. We’ll see how much heat you can take.”
Idiot. Of course it’ll explode. It wasn’t worth explaining the difference to the blood crazed raider. She had known plenty of simple minds in the Gordo clan who couldn’t fathom the things she said either. Still, she watched the bottles being passed around and dreamt it was full of gooey napalm. She smiled thinking of each of the bone eaters choking on flaming sludge, but she missed Krav and Greenblatt already.
Suddenly the drunken cheers turned to whispers. Around the fire, the clan had gathered close to the bag and murmured to each other like apes discovering fire. The smallest Bone Eater stood with the bag of loot in one hand and a shocked expression on his face. Mac could hear chastisements coming from their quieted voices. Talks of, “Wait for the elders!” and “Put that thing down!” drifted from the crowd. The boy, wide eyed and bewildered by his choice from the bag, held a skull up for them to see. Blackened crystals filled its sockets and stared into Mac’s soul.
