Book of Herd by Iago Jones

Author:Iago Jones
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Centaurian
Published: 2023-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

21

The guards took the sloping path through the tunnel deep beneath the Kachemal Mountains every third moon. The tossed leather flagons of water into the pits, together with scraps of food from the banquet tables in the great hall far above them once the servants and slaves had taken their fill. They spent less and less time at the pits on each visit, peering over the side with a flaming torch to look for signs of life in the first pit, before briefly and cautiously doing the same at the second. Neither the mare nor the gelding wished a repeat of the same experience when the gelding leaned too far over the edge. They left as quickly as they came and took the light with them.

The creature at the bottom of the larger pit gathered the scraps of food. The fare was poor, and he had no reason to savour it. Food was fuel. Food maintained his body. But what kept him alive was the sound of movement – a scuffle on the floor of the smaller pit, snatched by an errant wind swirling down the tunnel into the bowels of the mountain, before twisting the sound over the lip of the smaller pit and into his own.

The creature ate fast – half a carrot, a broken bone with a bit of marrow, and a crust of squashed pie. He washed it down with a swig of tepid water from the flagon. Then he stood in the centre of the pit, tilting his head up in hope of hearing another scratch and scuffle from the smaller pit in the Kachemal dungeon.

He knew some of the sounds could be rats or mice. But once he had killed and eaten all that entered the pit, he ruled out those sounds, at least, from his own pit.

He stood with his head tilted back and his eyes closed. He cupped his hands to his ears and waited.

Most of the time, between one meagre meal and the next, the dungeon was empty of sound, but after the latest offering of scraps, surrounded by the dark and the stench of his own faeces, the creature was rewarded.

It started as a whisper on the wind, snatched here and there, as the creature twisted his head to capture it. And then, stronger, lisping over the lip of the pit as the creature in the smaller pit found her voice.

He pictured her face – so delicate, like her body, a quarter of his size, maybe less. And then, as the lisp grew stronger, and the sounds became words, pain creased the creature’s cheeks as he stretched unfamiliar muscles into a broad smile. He cried then, cursing the sobs as they threatened to drown out the soft song filling the dungeon. The song faltered, pausing as the singer heard the cries from the pit, and then returned, stronger, as she responded.

She sang, and he cried.

The creature wiped away the tears streaming down his cheeks and the snot running from his nose.

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