Stolen Innocence
Chapter 10
Talia struggled with every ounce of strength she had—kicking, biting, screaming. But nothing she could do, no amount of training with the League, could provide her with the strength to overpower her father. The student could never defeat the master.
"You have disobeyed me for the last time, Talia."
The desert heat suffocated her, the dust from her father's feet choking her as he carried her, upside down, inexorably toward the mouth of the pit. Desperate, her sense of pride shredded, Talia began to cry.
"Please, Papa, don't send me back there! I'm sorry. I will obey you. I promise. Please…"
"It is too late for that. You are too willful for your own good…just like your mother."
They reached the pit, the opening of the shaft yawning before her. She reached for the short wall that surrounded it, trying to grab hold before it was too late. Her father, however, lifted her higher, still upside down. Below her, only bottomless darkness. The pit's cold breath surged upward, trying to draw her in.
Someone ripped her away. She tumbled into the sand, heard a familiar sound—muffled breathing... Bane! Talia spun about on hands and knees, spitting dirt. Bane had her father in his grasp, hands around his throat, lifting him out over the pit.
"No, Bane!" she tried to cry out but strangled on the grit in her throat. Frantically she scrabbled forward, reached for Bane's leg.
But it was too late. Bane let go of her father. The pit's black maw swallowed Rā's al Ghūl.
Talia awoke with a gasp. Akar, crouching near the hotplate, turned to look over his shoulder at her. Seeing her distress, he hurried closer, knelt down.
"Another nightmare?"
Nodding, she swallowed with difficulty, her throat swollen and sore. One lantern and the hotplate weakly illuminated the cave, enough light to show the deepening worry on Akar's round face. Behind him, the entrance to the cave curved away, keeping the revealing glow from spilling into the night beyond.
"About Bane again?"
She closed her burning eyes, the pain in her head having increased during her nap. "Yes." Purposefully she did not mention her father's role in the dream.
Akar's cool hand touched her forehead, drawing her attention back to him. "Your fever is worse." He sighed in frustration. "Talia, this has to end. In the morning, I must go back, or I must find one of our brothers out looking for you."
"You would leave me here alone?" Talia had no true fear of being by herself, but she knew appearing afraid would ensure Akar remain here. She was not ready to give in and return to the mountain.
Akar slumped at her words, returned to the hotplate where a small pan of water boiled. "I have to do something. This damp weather will make your illness worse. A cave is no place for a sick person."
"What if I become sicker while you're gone?"
He sighed again, lips pressing tight together. "Fine. I won't leave, but I will attract attention to the cave. Your father will have all of his men out searching for you by now. I will make sure they find us." He poured the hot water into a cup. "You might hate me, but I have a duty, you know. Not just to keep my promise to Bane, but a duty to the League. I may not be a warrior like the others, but I can still contribute, and getting you back home so Choden and your father can heal you is a part of that. You are important to the League, as your father has said."
Talia wanted to assure him that she could never hate someone as kind, gentle, and loyal as he, but she decided not to in the hopes that he would reconsider his plans.
"There's no need for concern or giving us up. I'm sure I will feel better in the morning, Akar. You'll see. It's nothing serious. We all get sick from time to time."
"Yes, but we don't lie about in caves in the damp and cold. You need to be in your bed, in front of a roaring fire with some of Jamyang's soup in you."
She smiled through her discomfort. "Now you sound like Bane or Choden."
"Choden will scold you for this until your ears fall off. No doubt he will attend you day and night until you are well. Your father will insist upon it."
Talia thought of her nightmare, her fingers moving restlessly against the edge of her blanket as Akar brought her tea. Slowly she sat up to receive the mug, and Akar pushed her pack, which had been serving as her pillow, behind her back for support.
Staring at the pale brown liquid, Talia said, "When I was three years old, I caught a bad respiratory infection. It had gone through the whole prison. By the time I got it, all the antibiotics had been used up. Bane learned of an inmate who was hording a small supply of medicine. So, to earn enough of the prison's currency to purchase the drugs for me, he arranged a fight. He was only about eighteen then, and of course the man he fought was older. It was someone who had a grudge against Bane, so my mother was very afraid for him, but she was also desperate for the medicine to help me. She told me when I was older that she knew I would have died without those antibiotics." Talia frowned. "He won the fight, of course, as he did every fight he was in. When Mama was alive, she never let me watch him fight, but after she was gone, I did. Bane didn't want me to, but once I was older he finally gave in and let me sit with Hans or Abrams to be safe." Talia's frown deepened. "I miss him so much, Akar."
"I know. So do I, but he'll be back before we know it. You'll see. And he must find you at home, safe and well when he does."
The thought of her soft, warm bed nudged at her, though she tried to swat away the longing. Then something caught her eye behind Akar, distracting her.
"What's that?" she pointed to a sturdy, tall stick leaning against the wall.
He glanced backward. "It's a staff I cut from a branch."
"What's it for?"
"I'm going to attach a piece of cloth to it and plant it outside the cave where it can catch someone's eye."
"No, you won't. I'll take it down."
"I'll put it back up."
"Akar…"
"Drink your tea and don't argue," he said sternly, then quickly stood, as if taken by surprise by his own assertiveness. "I am the eldest here, and I know best. This foolishness has to stop." He went to his pack and began rummaging through it.
Stunned into silence by his tone and forgetting about the mug cupped between her hands, Talia watched him pull forth a shirt, which he then tied to the staff. Admiration stirred in her, and she saw Akar in a new light. She could not help but respect his determination.
With his makeshift flagstaff in hand, he gave her one last uncompromising stare, then headed outside.
###
Bane sat with his back to the small fire so its glow would not impede his vision. The discipline of his training barred the crushing fatigue that lay below the surface of his consciousness. All of his senses were alert to the night beyond this tiny clearing. A singular incongruous noise cut through the natural orchestration of the forest—Jin's light snoring from where the Mongol lay two meters away. An equal distance to Bane's right, Acayo slept, using Bane's pack as a pillow.
The second day of their journey had been exhausting for the girl, and Bane had often carried her. Through the many hours of arduous trekking through the jungle, they had limited their dialogue for the sake of stealth, though such a quality was difficult to achieve in these surroundings where they often had to use a machete to blaze a path, but Temujin insisted upon restraint. Now and then Acayo would whisper something to Bane, concerned as always that she was sapping his strength. After reassuring her yet again, he insisted she permanently abandon the subject. She had obeyed, and in fact said next to nothing from there forward, concentrating instead on staying awake so she would not impede their progress. By the time they had stopped here, Acayo gave them the welcomed news that they had only a few hours to go before reaching their destination. So now Temujin would sleep for two hours before allowing Bane to do the same, and this rest would carry them through the next morning.
From somewhere not far distant, a wild animal called, loud and fierce. Bane gripped his rifle tighter. Acayo awoke with a gasp and stared into the night for a mere second before scurrying on hands and knees to Bane's side.
"It's all right," he softly said, noting that Temujin slept on without even a break in his snores. "The fire will discourage anything from testing us. Besides, it sounds like whatever it is—a big cat perhaps—has just made a kill, so he will have little interest in tasting us."
His attempt at humor failed to penetrate Acayo's fear, which was no doubt amplified by having awoken so suddenly. She huddled close, though not touching him, hiding slightly behind, peering over his shoulder in the direction of the predator.
"Go back to sleep, Acayo. You only have three hours left before we must leave."
She inched out from behind him, still on hands and knees. Her gaze flashed toward the black wall of forest before them, and she would go no farther.
"May I stay here, by the fire…and you?"
"You will be too warm near the fire."
"No." Her attention remained in the trees. "Please," she whispered.
Bane hesitated, glanced at Temujin, frowned. "Very well," he said at last. "I will fetch the pack."
Once he set the pack near the fire, Acayo asked, "Why aren't you afraid?"
"Fear serves no useful purpose." He settled back down to his vigil, rifle across his lap.
Acayo moved the pack closer to him. "Have you ever been afraid?"
"Of course."
"When?"
"When I was a boy."
"What scared you?"
He growled softly to himself, stared into the darkness. "My mother's death, when I was first left alone to fend for myself. But I learned to adapt; I hid my fear and eventually mastered it."
Acayo slowly lay down, situating herself so that her head was close to him and on the opposite side of him from Temujin. Bane thought she would now try to fall back asleep, but instead she murmured, "I feel safe with you, but I shouldn't. I don't know you."
"Your instincts are telling you that you are safe. And you are. But your mind and body are used to being afraid, and thus they find it difficult to let go."
She hesitated. "I wish I was as brave as you."
"You are brave. You just don't know it."
"It's not possible to be afraid and brave."
"You could not have survived this long if you were not brave, Acayo."
"Then why don't I feel brave?"
He wanted to observe her but kept his attention dutifully on their surroundings. "When you look back on your experiences, you will understand. But right now you are in the middle of it."
"I have looked back," her voice grew softer, distant. "Every day I look back to the day I was taken, and I'm ashamed."
Surprised by her broaching the subject of her capture, Bane glanced at her, asked, "Why?"
Acayo remained silent for a long moment, and Bane figured she would say nothing more, but at last she began to speak in a distracted voice, like someone talking to herself instead of to another person. "Shortly before I was abducted, my aunt went away to visit her sister who was sick, so the school had another teacher for a couple of weeks. She came from another village; no one knew her. I didn't like her straight away. I knew something wasn't right, but I didn't say anything to anyone. Who would listen to a girl like me anyway?"
"As I said, you have good instincts, Acayo. Always listen to them."
"But I didn't, not then. If only I had."
"What happened?"
"She took the class on a picnic one day. I thought it foolish. The children were in school to learn, not run about the countryside. But she told me to keep my comments to myself, that my aunt obviously didn't discipline me enough. And she said other horrible things about my face and how I probably deserved what I got." Acayo paused. "I should have stopped her; I should have known."
"Known what?"
"That she was up to something. A truck picked us up and took us away from town. The children were so excited. I didn't want to disappoint them, so I acted happy, too. We traveled for over half an hour. When I asked the teacher why we had to go so far, she grabbed my arm so tightly that she hurt me and told me to pay attention to the children instead of questioning her authority. So I sang songs with them and played games. They had no idea."
Bane knew what was coming but kept silent, now and then glancing at Temujin to see if he remained asleep.
"At last we stopped and got out with our baskets and food. Under some trees we put our blankets down. The truck drove away, and that worried me, but I knew it would do no good to say anything to the teacher. The children were so excited, we could hardly get them to sit down and eat. Some of them had never been away from town before. Time went by, and as we played games, I thought maybe I had been worried for nothing. But then another truck arrived, this one with a cover over the bed, and men with guns got out. The children didn't notice at first; they were too busy playing. The teacher went right up to one of the men, and I realized she had been expecting them. I called to the children and told them to all come to me. When they noticed the guns, some were scared and began to cry. Two of the men came over and told the children to be quiet. They were angry, ugly men, and I did my best to hush the students so they wouldn't be hurt. I tried to think of a way to escape. I wanted to run into the trees." She fell into shameful silence for a moment. "I was ready to abandon my students and save myself."
"It was your survival instinct kicking in, Acayo. You have nothing to be ashamed of."
"I should have listened to those instincts before we ever left the school."
"As you said, there was nothing you could have done. The teacher was in control. You did the right thing—you stayed with your students."
"But I didn't save them from Mutara. That's who had paid the teacher to bring them there. She just walked away afterwards as they loaded us onto the truck and took us away, took us to him."
"How long ago was that?"
"I'm not sure. A year perhaps, maybe more." She sniffed, and Bane caught movement as she wiped her eyes. "When I get home, I'm going to find her. I'm going to kill her."
"I doubt she remained in the area after that. She couldn't exactly return to town and claim only she escaped. No, I would assume she moves about, doing the same thing in other places for men like Mutara." Now he looked into her wet gaze. "Perhaps I can convince my brothers to find this woman and bring her to justice."
Acayo's expression held little hope…and perhaps disappointment that anyone but she would exact vengeance on the woman.
"What happened to the children?" Bane asked.
"He sold them. Some of the boys were forced to become soldiers, the older ones. The younger ones went to the diamond mines. The girls…their fates were worse, of course. Much worse."
"And he kept you."
"No one would pay to have me, he said, because of my face. He said I was good for nothing but to warm his bed and cook his meals."
Bane waited until she met his stare, then he said, "Tomorrow Mutara will learn how wrong he is when you help us bring him to justice, justice for those children and for you. He no longer has power over you. And he never will again. The power will be yours."
A small smile tempted her scarred lips, a flicker of courage chasing away her tears.
"Now," Bane said, "you must close your eyes and rest." He turned back to the trees. "Soon we'll be moving again, and you will need your strength. Besides," his eyes crinkled slightly, "if Temujin awakes and finds us talking, I will have to endure another lecture. You would not want us to be subjected to that again, would you?"
"No," she said, barely heard, sleepy again. A pause. "Thank you, Bane."
When next he glanced down, he saw that she had drifted off, all fear gone, her muscles relaxed.