On the Woes of Wild Childs and Unexpected Alliances
Somewhere in a tallgrass road not far from the edge of the woodlands two armed, mounted men towed an elephant calf, one of which showed clear disdain of the poor animal. The calf had whined and trumpeted during the near entirety of the trek and to say that specific soldier's patience had grown thin would have been rather gross an understatement.
Feeling his horse dragging for the umpteenth time, the irate, stout man glared at the calf, grasped the handle of his whip and struck violently at the ground, narrowly missing the pachyderm's eyes.
"Cease that incessant whining and move, you lumbering beast!"
The other soldier, the taller of the two, glanced uncaringly at the scene and shook his head.
"I trust your sense of self-preservation enough to intuit that you do not want to hamper Ahanti's trade by marring the goods of precious worth, do you not?"
The stout man harrumphed but conceded to his companion's point with begrudging silence. Both were well acquainted with their leader's due treatment of misconduct, weakness and a plethora of other unacceptable irregularities. His silence born of reasonable fear of his leader did not last for long however.
"…Goodness is it hot," he said as he wiped droplets of sweat off his brow and pulled on his drenched, quilted armor. "How much longer-"
The stout man felt a tug on his mount. He looked back and raised his whip menacingly at the cowering calf. He growled.
"Must I repeat myself?"
The calf lowered its head and picked up the pace. Ever spiteful, the man gurgled and spat over the Pachyderm's forehead. He raised his whip once again for good measure as if daring the youngling to respond in kind. The calf only let out a faint whine. The man, content with his villainy, resumed his gallop and faced his companion.
"You were saying?"
"Not farther I suppose."
He sighed. "We have been riding on an entire night without pause. Dawn is but a few moments away and I can already feel my skin melding into my garments. Can we not take a moment's rest, for god's sake?"
"Our mission is set and so the appointment of the trade. There shall be all the time for rest, wine and women, once we have overtaken the capital in Ahanti's name."
"Surely we can afford ourselves the occasional, minor pleasure with such lofty aspirations."
The larger man raised a brow. "Are you perhaps, implying something?"
"Oh no, no absolutely not," he waved his hand, "though if I may so bold, even with Ahanti's strength and the numbers amassed I must say that my faith in the entire matter is rather…thin."
"You lack faith in Ahanti? Be grateful that I am not one to lay blame on others."
He scoffed. "I know perfectly well what that monster is capable of, but even the foulest of beasts are no more than sinewy flesh," he grinned maliciously. "What would be to befall upon us I wonder, enemies of the divine right, should Ahanti die in the heat of battle? Have you ever stopped to consider that, to mull that thought over?"
The taller man frowned for a moment. He shrugged.
"I suppose there would be no other option but to run at that hypothetical, highly pessimistic point."
The shorter man chuckled. "Thank god you are far from being the bootlicker Dumisani is," he spat on the ground. "Now that is a man too far gone to reason with-"
The halt of his steed and the calf's whine kept the man's words from leaving his mouth. Infuriated, he leaped off his mount and approached the young with a vile sense of eagerness as he held his whip up high.
"Stop, we must not harm the beast!" shouted the taller man as he quickly unmounted and grabbed ahold of his companion's wrist. "Those merchants will not give us even half of what was accorded to, should a scratch so much as mar its skin!"
"We can negotiate further with those merchants through our own means," the stout man shook off his companion's grasp and shoved him aside into the ground. Grinning at the shuddering shape of the calf, he raised his whip once more and prepared to strike.
"Who knows, perhaps blindness shall make it all the more docile and obedient a pet!"
A wooden spear flung by from inside the tall grass and pierced the man's hand. Screaming in agony, the man dropped his bloodied whip and had only enough time to turn around towards the tall grass to dodge another of the carved missiles. Then, from within the growth, rushed a small, green-eyed Boy, wearing only but a loincloth made of tied-up pieces of discarded cloth and wielding a spear of wood, with a sharpened stone tied up with straw at the top.
The Boy rushed in, shouting a guttural cry, more than compensating the size difference with his adversaries through sheer ferocity.
Dropping to the ground and cowering pathetically, the stout man begged for his life as the Boy ran and aimed the spear directly towards his eye. However, the taller soldier, who had just risen from the dirt floor, came to his aid ready to intercept the Boy's strike with his brandished blade.
The Boy proved too fast for the tall man, dodging the blow intended to lop off his head with ease and recovering his footing mere seconds after. He then engaged in an exchange of thrusts and swings and soon after his agility and small, but numerous attacks began to wear down his larger opponent, ridding the tall man's quilted armor with multiple puncture wounds.
Feeling the soldier's comeuppance near, a sense of raging victory consumed the Boy. Very little would have brought him out of this state, for his hatred of those who burned his home and harmed his family ran far too deep, far more so than that of those merely outsiders to the life within the wilderness.
The calf shrieked. The Boy stopped. He looked back and froze.
The stout man, his face drained of color and drenched in a cold sweat due to his injury, held the calf at sword-point. He pointed the blade dangerously close to the pachyderm's jugular. He smiled wickedly at the Boy as if daring him to continue.
Before the Boy could have reacted, a sudden punt on his stomach sucked the air out of his lungs and flung him up into the air. As he plummeted, back first to the floor, he felt a crushing pain in his chest. The tall man stomped over him, the man's eyes spiteful and full of sickening glee. He could not shake, claw or bite out of the man's heel, he could only struggle and snarl.
"Perhaps the harming of the goods is beyond what I can abide, but I must agree with you to an extent," his expression turned manic as he shared a look with his companion.
"Do you? On what?" The stout man asked with a grin, bringing the blade a hair's breadth closer to the calf's skin.
The tall man smirked and stared into the Boy's eyes. "There is no harm to be done here," he placed further pressure on his heel, "slaves are a dime a dozen, after all. What harm is there to do with this one, a mere savage, as we please?"
A zipping noise flew by behind the Boy's ears, followed by a loud thud. To his befuddlement, the tall man's strength waned and looked just as stupefied as he did. Craning his neck upwards, the Boy saw the upside-down, fallen shape of the stout man, with a sharpened stick protruding from his jugular.
A sickening crunch followed. The tall man fell dead to his side, with the head caved in by a devastating blow. As the horses neighed, let loose of their bounds and fled the gruesome scene, the Boy raised himself, circled around the calf protectively and assessed his surroundings. The carved, wooden projectile had come from the left side of the road, while the large, maroon-splattered rock on the ground had done so from the opposite side.
Who else but him could have tracked the two men throughout the twisting paths of the woodlands and the entrails of the thickets? Who could have done so without him noticing? What were the vile intentions of these two strangers? Where were they hiding?
Frustrated and enraged, the Boy snarled at both sides of the dirt road, thrusting his spear and growling as a sign of challenge to whoever lurked beneath the tall grass. Never once did he notice the calf's calmer, even friendly demeanor.
A patch rustled and from it emerged a tall, lanky man, dressed in dark, soggy garments, covered in mud and plant growth. The man shouted at the opposite side of the road, apparently ignorant of the spear-wielding Boy baring his teeth at him.
"Would you be so kind as to explain how we shall interrogate a corpse? You even scared the steeds! Have you no concept of subtlety, Amram?"
A hulking, dirt-covered, weed-ridden, Abyssinian dressed in leather jerkin rose from beneath the verdure and shrugged.
"I do not see why I am to blame here, Zelikman. It is not like we had much of an option."
Zelikman barked. "You are one to speak of blame! Need I not remind you that it was your idea for us to seek refuge in some village in the middle of the blasted wilderness and that it was also your idea for us to accept the villager's good graces!"
Amram beamed nonchalantly. "Who were we to deny their hospitality?"
Zelikman beamed ironically. "And what has their hospitality brought us, Amram, what? Foul, intoxicating beverages, a morning migraine without earthly compare and the complete loss of all our all valuables upon realizing the ransacked state of the village! Weapons, coin, newly acquired steeds, all gone and us? Reeking and sweat-drenched! Need I say more?"
Amram beamed still. "Our woes of substance and your adamant preference for dark garments aside, our lives are intact and so is our friendship. Are those not invaluable enough for you, Zelikman? Have we not bested worse with those alone?"
"My hat, Amram. They took my-"
Though considerably focused in his argument with his Abyssinian companion, Zelikman managed to duck the spear thrust just in time. He raised himself, huffed and stared down at the growling, lance-wielding Boy in front of him.
"Have you no manners, child?"
The Boy's eyes bulged with blind fury. He snarled and leaped.
Reading the Boy's poor, predictable form like an open book, Zelikman smirked and jumped out of the way. Unfortunately, for him, the Boy's ferocity and agility more than made up for any perceived poor form and the piercing strike managed to rip a chunk out of his garments, very nearly piercing the side of his ribcage. He landed unevenly, noticeably shaken by the uncanny reflexes of the child.
"Shall I aid you, Zelikman?" Amram asked calmly.
Zelikman straightened himself, shook the dirt off his clothes and cleared his throat in an utmost formal manner, ignoring the Boy's slow, menacing advance.
"Shut up!"
At that moment, both Zelikman and the Boy engaged in a standoff. The Frank readied himself to intercept, disarm and subdue the child. The young spear-wielder placed his sole focus on the lanky target before him, pumping all strength into his legs and putting all outside distractions aside (including the calf's muted whines of disapproval). A stray wind in the sweltering heat of summer flew by, shaking the long grasses, shrubs and the sparse leaves of the acacia trees, lending a natural silence, a tension-filled preamble to the exchange that would follow.
The Boy screamed and jumped. Zelikman braced himself.
Another wind flew by, though this time the silence it lent was not for the hypothetical result of the aforementioned exchange, but rather, the wide-eyed stares of the Frank and the Abyssinian, staring down at the hanging (just as stunned) shape of the Boy, who hung in midair, held from the ankle by the calf's mighty trunk. Amram and Zelikman shared puzzled looks as the pachyderm put down the Boy. Almost instantly, the Boy began to argue with the young elephant in some unknowable language, to which the calf replied in kind by taking the Boy's spear with its trunk and tossing it aside.
Frustrated beyond reason, the Boy began to shout and snarl disapprovingly at the calf. Eventually, the pachyderm grew tired of the Boy's diatribes and opted instead to trot over to the Frank. Irate at the calf's foolhardy stubbornness, the Boy sprinted for his weapon, picked it up and turned around, more than ready to pounce once more.
The Boy lowered his spear and his jaw slacked wide open.
To his utter surprise, the Frank treated the young calf with utmost care. Chin scratches, back rubs, belly rubs and the like, all performed with an expertise born of knowledge, care and deep appreciation for the pachyderm species. The calf even laid down in order to lend the Frank full maneuverability in his petting endeavors, which the Frank did more than gladly.
"Such a nice fellow he is," Zelikman mused. "What is his name?"
The Boy shut his lips tight. He furrowed his brow and contorted his face in defiance and denial, until finally - unable to keep them inside any longer - the words came out.
"He no fellow!"
Zelikman stopped his belly scratching (much to the calf's chagrin) and raised a brow.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Name thing of man," he pointed at the young elephant and back at himself, "he no name, me no name! He brother, we brothers! No need thing of man!"
"And yet you use one of man's many languages," Amram interjected.
The Boy fell silent. He turned around, staring flat-eyed at the beaming Abyssinian and after darting his sights left and right he bared his teeth and pointed his spear at the man.
"Shut you!"
"Trust me, young lad, that will not work," Zelikman muttered as he scratched the back of the calf's ear. The young elephant trumpeted happily.
The Boy turned back and pointed his weapon at the Frank.
"Trust you I not, shut you too!" he huffed. "Leave brother!"
Amram chuckled, causing the Boy to flip back at him, spear point raised. "Your brother appears calm enough, why not follow his example?"
The Boy sniffed. "Man not of life wild. Man burn, kill, take and hide! Man evil!"
Amram hummed. "I must say you raise a good point, however, does the pride of lions not play with their prey? Do the apes of mountain jungles far not consume the flesh of other apes with ill intent? Do bulls in heat not destroy everything in their path, without cause or reason?" he shrugged. "I will say this much, perhaps lions, apes and pachyderms are not always bound to commit atrocities of such nature, why, perhaps-"
"Shut you! I not listen, you listen!" the Boy snarled. "Man burned home, man took mother! Man took brother. I follow, for I swore protect brother!" he pointed at the soldier's corpses with his spear. "All vile, all evil, all them. Talk of taking brother to man who take those of wild for own greed, selfish, evil greed," he slammed the base of his spear on the ground. "I protect brother. I protect wild ones. I save mother!"
Amram smiled. "If the punishment of those alike," he waved at the quilted armor of the bodies, "is what you seek then I am more than glad to say, our material interests and your noble goals intertwine."
The Boy stood quiet, pondering. He frowned. "No, I take brother! We save wild ones alone, we save mother alone. Need no help of man!"
Zelikman scoffed. "Proud and insufferably altruistic," he said as he continued to rub the calf's belly. "As if I did not have enough to deal with you already…"
"Shut you," the Boy shouted at Zelikman. "Shut you all!" he pointed his spear at Amram. "I no trust you, leave alone!"
Amram chuckled. "I concede to your point, you cannot trust my words," his voice turned low, "but do you have any other options? Do not misunderstand, you are not without talent but how will you rescue your mother on your lonesome? You failed to protect your brother from two mere soldiers I cannot help but wonder the disaster that would fall upon you, should you indeed attempt to free the captives of that trafficker of beasts and his likely entourage of hired men," he shrugged. "But if that is what you want then so be it," he clapped his hands and nodded at Zelikman, "we shall bother you no longer."
Zelikman cast Amram an odd glance. With some hesitance, he stopped rubbing the calf's belly and stood up, ignoring the pachyderm's trumpeting pleads.
The calf, whining as the two men prepared to take their leave, stared at the Boy, who in turn saw a cry for help in the elephant's gleaming eyes, a desperate call to reason. A feeling of begrudging welled deep inside of the Boy's chest, for he knew full well that the Abyssinian's words, though not a howl, a snarl, a roar or the baring of fangs, were just as true and bit just as deep. Gritting his teeth and swallowing his pride, the Boy cried out.
"Stop!"
Amram and Zelikman stopped. Zelikman looked back at the unusual siblings and shot Amram a scrutinizing glare. Noting no response whatsoever, Zelikman elbowed his companion and after the third attempt, Amram turned around, his gaze stone-cold, bearing deep into the Boy.
The Boy took in a breath and exhaled. "How…how I trust you?"
Amram shook his head solemnly. "You cannot. We are killers, thieves and swindlers. We may not burn, pillage and plunder but that makes us no different, for the lives we have taken are weights beyond the bounds of gold and silver, despite how we may seem. You must make no mistake those two whom now serve no more than a feast to the flies were as much men as we are and you as well. They chose their path and so have we. It is our nature, our unpredictability," he sighed. "No, you cannot trust us, not fully. You can however, accept our aid and hope for the best, as we do, as everyone does."
The Boy grasped his spear tightly. His sight traveled from the ground to the grass and to the sky. Memories came back to him, of the mother who took him in and the brother who welcomed him as kin. Memories of love, hardship and warmth, all smothered by the haunting images of flame, cinders and smoke. The lament of the forest and the cries of his family echoed in his ears, as he stood there powerless to do anything about it.
A tender caress grasped his shoulder and snapped him out of his terrifying daydream. The Boy, wearing the ghost of a smile, held the calf's trunk and returned the gesture. With a sigh, the Boy's expression turned resolute and faced the expectant look of the Abyssinian.
"You help," he addressed the duo and then gestured toward himself. "And I help you. Let's go."
In the blink of an eye, what had been a cold front returned to its original, beaming warmth. Amram grinned and let out a hearty chuckle.
"Excellent! Most excellent indeed!" he gave Zelikman a playful, yet nevertheless painful, slap on the back. "The reclaim of our riches - and your hat is well underway!"
Zelikman grumbled and groaned as he stretched away the pain. "Pray tell, what was the necessity of such theatrics and ridiculous, philosophical platitudes, Amram? How long have you thought, or rather, longed for the most opportune moment to let your tongue loose? Do I even want to know?"
Amram smirked. "Did my words not serve their purpose? Did I speak lies, Zelikman?"
Zelikman rubbed his temples and sighed. Ignoring his companion's unparalleled mirth, he returned to the calf's side and resumed his pampering of the young pachyderm, much to the calf's joy and his therapeutic own.
"What now?" the Boy asked firmly.
Humming, Amram began to inspect the quilted armor of both fallen, fly-ridden men. He immediately discarded the reddened, puncture cloth of the taller man, but his face grew devilishly mischievous as he assessed the measurements of the stout man's comparatively unscathed armor.
He smiled at the Boy.
"We shall think of something."