The hot tropical sun beat down unmercifully down on Huko's back, and perspiration ran down his temples and forehead, stinging his eyes. All the villagers had been put to work on the third day of their captivity, and the fifteen-year-old king was among those forced to craft new boats for Cobra and his men. His palms were slick with sweat, making it hard to grasp the crude tools that he'd been given.
Huko wasn't the only one having trouble. A few feet away, an older man's blade slipped, scoring a shallow cut on the smooth side of the outrigger canoe that he was constructing. Immediately, one of the numerous guards was behind him, ruthlessly lashing him with a leather whip.
"Clumsy village bumpkin! See what damage your incompetence has caused!" The scratch was well above the waterline and scarcely noticeable, but the cruel man didn't care. He pulled out his machete and hacked the half-finished boat to pieces, wielding the whip again. "You will have to start over - but first, a good beating should ensure it doesn't happen again!"
The slave's wails echoed down the beach, and the other prisoners bent to their work, fighting to keep back sympathetic tears. Life under the lash of Cobra's men could hardly be called life at all, but the villagers had little hope of aid or escape this time. And so they kept their heads down and eyes lowered, trying to shut out the pitiful cries of the unlucky man as the guard brutally flogged away.
Suddenly, the sharp leather thong wrapped around an outstretched hand, and the whip was yanked from the warrior's grip. Huko stood between him and the old man, eyes blazing and fist clenched around the hammer he'd been using.
"That's enough!" he said furiously, practically spitting with anger. "How do you expect him to build your boat if he cannot bear to move his shoulders? Lay off of him, or make your own canoes!"
Stars exploded in front of his eyes as the guard dealt him a crashing blow across the face, and he landed with a dull whump on the sand. The whip was jerked from his limp hand, and the warrior raised it threateningly, his face twisted with rage.
"You will pay for your interference, spawn of a chattering monkey!"
He hadn't brought the lash down more than once before it was once more pulled from his grasp. Several of the villagers who'd been working nearby saw what transpired, and loyalty to their young king bolstered their courage and prompted them to move. Now, they formed a small ring around the boy and the old man, facing the guard with determination shining out of their dark eyes.
"Leave him alone!" one woman said sharply. "How can you demand the work be done if you insist on beating us within an inch of our lives? Leave them alone!" Some distance away, more of Cobra's men noticed the small uprising and started running towards them.
The guard snatched his whip back from the young man who was holding it, considering using it on the yokels surrounding the whelp they called king, but decided against it. It would probably just be taken away from him again, and he already felt the sting of humiliation simply from letting the situation get out of his control.
"Get back to your places," he snarled as reinforcements pounded up behind him. "Or we will shoot you all where you stand!"
The villagers didn't move, merely standing and staring with fearless defiance at the invaders, until Huko's voice issued softly from the center of the circle.
"Go back to your work, friends," he said quietly - and just like that, the captive slaves silently returned to the unfinished boats, picked up their tools, and bent to their tasks without a word. Cobra's men were dumbfounded. Surely these Aumakua clods could not still consider the boy their king? He had been taken prisoner like the rest of them; they watched as he was forced to toil in the hot sun; they saw him beaten down like a dog. And yet they still stood their ground until he gave them a simple order, and then they obeyed him without a single sound of protest. It boggled the guards' minds.
They glared darkly at the young king and drifted back to oversee the rest of the workers. Huko turned and helped the old man to his feet.
"Are you alright?" he asked in a low voice. The man nodded.
"I'm fine," he whispered, and gently squeezed the boy's hands in his own. "Thank you, King Huko. That was very brave of you to stand up to Cobra's men." He smiled warmly at the teenager, who felt as if his heart had been smashed with a giant mallet.
'I only wish I could do more,' he thought to himself. 'My people are suffering, and I cannot do anything to help them.' Aloud, he said, "You finish the canoe I was working on - I'll start a new one." Ignoring the man's gratitude that spilled forth afresh, he strode off to the pile of wooden planks that other slaves were cutting, sanding, and stacking for those crafting the outriggers.
Scarcely had he hoisted several of the boards over his shoulder when one of Cobra's new generals - a cruelly handsome, middle-aged man who looked like he could snap a spear like a twig - stalked up and seized his arm.
"My lord Cobra wishes to see you," he said harshly. Huko carefully re-stacked the planks and wrenched his arm from the man's grasp, only for him to grab the boy again, his hold painfully tight. The general all but dragged him to what was formerly his hut, where Cobra had set up headquarters.
As his captor paused to knock on the door, Huko glanced over his shoulder, observing the activity of his people. A large group of them seemed to be expanding and fortifying the village; a few smaller huts - 'Barracks for his men, I suppose' - were being erected across the stream, and a group of women and elderly men were sitting by the water, sharpening the ends of giant stakes, while younger men carried them to the edges of the village where a stockade wall was being constructed.
Though he was loathe to admit it, Huko was forced to acknowledge the warlord's cleverness; he knew exactly how best to exploit the usefulness of all his slaves, even the ones who were too old or feeble for heavy labor. The number of people working at each project ensured a flawless system that ran like water; anyone who interrupted the steady flow was severely punished by the sadistic soldiers.
The door of the hut swung open, and the general shoved his prisoner through the doorway into the dimly lit interior. Cobra was standing in front of the far wall, his face completely devoid of expression.
"Leave us," he said coldly, and the man bowed and withdrew. The warlord's cold black eyes swept over to Huko, locking and holding the boy's gaze. "I give you one more chance. Tell me where the medallion is, and I will not harm you. Make it easy for both of us, and you will not regret it. Refuse," he dipped his chin slightly, and his fingers flexed, "and I will make you suffer for it."
The island king squared his shoulders, trying to suppress the fear that boiled in his stomach. He knew that whatever Cobra did would be far, far worse than the common brutality of his soldiers, but he also knew that, should the magic amulet fall into evil hands, life as they knew it would be over forever. There were whispered rumors among the captive villagers that a witch doctor had come with Cobra, a man capable of reversing the medallion's power, and though Huko had never seen him, several of his faithful people claimed they had.
"I will never tell you where it is," he said hotly, and the evil man's eyes flashed with unveiled anger.
"So be it," he said. He crossed the room to a small table, dipping his long thumbnail into the pot of poison sitting thereon. The venom hissed and steamed on contact, and Cobra hooded his eyes, looking for all the world like the serpent for which he was named. "But there are other ways for me to find it." Keeping his eyes locked on Huko's, he raised his voice and bellowed. "Guards!"
Mohea wiped her wrist across her forehead, brushing damp strands of hair out of her eyes. Her hands were blistering from holding hammer and tongs for so long, and the oppressive heat issuing from the makeshift forge, coupled with the typical jungle climate, made her feel close to fainting. She almost envied Ohtara, who was hip-deep in the ocean, fishing for provisions. The hot sun would be nigh-unbearable, Mohea knew, but at least the fisher-folk were out in the open air, where a cooling sea breeze would bring them relief. Here in the jungle, standing over a roaring fire, the close, humid air coupled with the intense heat was absolute misery.
She raised the large hammer and dealt the half-formed sword a few well-placed, even strokes. Her arms were aching abominably and so tired it felt like they were going to fall off at any moment. The young woman half wished they would; at least then she'd be spared further toil at the hot forge.
The thought had barely formed in her foggy mind when one of the ubiquitous soldiers seemingly materialized out of the muggy air. "You, girl! Come with me - my lord Cobra wants a word with you." Mohea never raised her eyes from her work.
"Who's going to finish this sword, then?" she inquired coolly. The man glanced at it, perceived that it wasn't special enough to be for his master, and snarled quietly at the girl's insolence.
"Leave it!" he barked. "My lord does not like to be kept waiting!" He grabbed her around the waist, bodily dragging her away. Mohea dropped the hammer and tongs, twisted around, and slapped him across his rugged face.
"How dare you!" she hissed. The man staggered, rubbing his stinging cheek, then promptly retaliated in kind. Much to her credit, Mohea didn't even flinch, and once again she earned the admiration of one of the ruthless men. True to his training, however, he didn't let it show, and, seizing her wrist, he dragged her through the trees to Cobra's hut.
The warlord's low voice answered the soldier's knock, and he entered the shadowy room, pushing Mohea ahead of him. "Here, my lord. This is the one that was with the boy the other day."
Cobra's eyes swept her, and she suppressed a shiver, forcing herself to meet his stare. He dismissed the warrior with a single word: "Go." Like the general, the man bowed low and backed out the door, vanishing into the jungle again.
Mohea stood stiffly as Cobra paced around her, his slow, fluid movements reminding her of a poisonous snake. Her skin crawled as he stopped behind her, his hot breath puffing against her neck.
"What is your name, girl?" he asked.
"Mohea," she answered stiffly, biting off the word with as much defiance as she could muster.
"Well Mohea, I have a problem." Every muscle in her body was clenched, but she refused to turn around and reveal her nervousness, and he stayed behind her, his voice rasping in her ear like a serpent's scales over stones. "I happen to have need of your village's famous medallion - great need of it, in fact. Unfortunately," he breathed a regretful sigh, "I do not know where it is. And certain persons who do are...uncooperative." He moved around to stand in front of her, lowering his head and peering intently into her eyes. "I thought perhaps you would like to tell me."
Mohea felt like a bird, trapped by the hypnotic gaze of a predatory snake. All she could focus on were the cold, empty black eyes before her. The evil warlord's outline seemed to blur and shift, and it seemed to the captive girl that he took on the undulating shape of a hooded cobra, fangs bared and ready to strike. Her breath froze in her throat, and she stared in horrified fascination at apparition in front of her.
Cobra's brows drew together in consternation; the girl was completely unresponsive. From what he'd heard about her, she was a troublemaker that didn't frighten easily - so why was she standing here as if carved from stone, not blinking, barely seeming to breathe? He spoke to the witch doctor who was lurking in the shadows. "What is wrong with her?"
Zarabua hobbled forward, peering intently at the frozen girl, and gave an amused grunt. "Hypnotized. The heat's playing havoc with her mind, and you scared her. Hallucinating, no doubt." He cackled. "I'd give a great deal to know what she thinks she sees right now." Cobra hissed in annoyance.
"You can give her some water instead," he ordered. "I'll get nothing from her in this state." He crossed the room to the back wall, brushing his fang-nailed fingers down the folds of a red curtain hanging there. Zarabua picked up a bamboo cup of water and tossed the contents in Mohea's face, and she snapped out of her trance with a small gasp. The witch doctor grinned and shuffled to the door.
"I'll be on the beach if you need me," he said, and exited.
Cobra approached Mohea again, careful to avoid prolonged eye contact this time. "You were with the boy when he hid the medallion," he stated, getting right to the point. "I want it. Will you tell me where it is?" Mohea lifted her chin.
"No," she answered simply. The warlord's eyes narrowed.
"Your courage is admirable," he said softly, "But perhaps I can convince you to change your mind." Turning on his heel, he stalked over and whisked the swath of red material down, revealing a tied up Huko. The Aumakua king was sitting on a stool, his ankles bound to the legs thereof and his arms stretched above his head, his wrists tied with a rope that was pulled taught and cinched around a rod above the small window. It was a very vulnerable position, and though the movement was nearly imperceptible, the girl could see that he was trembling.
Cobra strolled over to a small table, on which rested several small glass pots, and leisurely dipped his thumbnail into one of them. The usual hiss and steam was accompanied by an acrid smell, and the two prisoners twisted their faces in disgust. Their captor ignored their discomfort, stepping behind Huko and looking over his head at the girl. "Will you tell me where it is?" he inquired.
Mohea looked at her king, who shook his head. She raised her eyes to the evil man, taking a deep breath. "No." Cobra's face hardened.
"Then let me try a different argument."
He abruptly yanked Huko's shirt up and slashed his thumb across the boy's bare back, his long nail scoring a thin, diagonal line from his left shoulder to his right hip. Huko's teeth clenched, and he arched his back as tiny drops of blood beaded along the scrape. Mohea clamped her hands to her mouth to hold back a shriek, and she stared with horror at the two of them.
Cobra let the young man's shirt fall, tilting his head back and staring with hooded eyes at the girl. "There is a slow-acting poison working its way into his bloodstream," he informed her, almost conversationally. "A poison to which there is only one antidote, which I alone possess. Tell me where the medallion is hidden, and I will administer the cure." The young maiden lowered her trembling hands.
"I-"
"No!" Huko's voice rang sharply, stopping her. "Mohea! Tell him nothing!" The girl looked at him in agony, but his eyes were firm, his expression commanding. He was her king, and he had given her an order. She would not disobey him - not even to save his life.
She raised fear-filled eyes to the warlord. "I will tell you nothing," she said, struggling to keep her voice from shaking. (It was to be noted that she wasn't entirely successful.)
Cobra raised an eyebrow. "So be it." He replenished the venom on his nail and headed for the door. "When you are prepared to tell me, and tell me truthfully, the location of what I seek, I will provide the antidote to the poison. Until then," he paused in the doorway, allowing a wicked smile to appear briefly on his lips, "you can watch him suffer."
Then he was gone, leaving the two young people alone.
I'm sorry to stop at such a cliffhanger, but this was the last chapter I had written and ready, and the writing urge has suddenly and abruptly left me. :l I'll try to keep hacking away at it - if anyone is still interested - but I can almost promise there will be a drop in the quality, and updates definitely won't be so close together. XD
