Chapter one
Tzack had only seen this much blood once before, a week before his father disappeared. Today, it oozed out from under what was left of the barn door. Had the dicatti beast finally come for him?
An eerie stillness radiated through the air. He should be scared. He should run inside and tell his sisters, warn his Mother, save his life.
He straighted his back and calmed his breath. If he ran now he would never find out what happened.
A breeze ruffled and the barn door creaked open. A chill crept down his spine. Answers or die.
He pushed the door open.
Lifeless goats lay on piles of hay drenched in congealing blood. Chunks of flesh torn at random. Entrails hung from half-eaten stomachs. Entire limbs torn from bodies. The smell of decaying flesh over powered his senses. Father’s goats were dead.
His stomach lurched and he covered his mouth. He scanned the barn for movement. Nothing. No dicatti.
Outside, something scraped against the back wall. He needed a weapon, but the only thing in the barn was a kindling axe. Not what he had envisioned he’d use to fight the dicatti, but it was that or nothing, so he picked it up, and stepped outside.
He sunk into the shadows at the side of the barn, slunk towards the back. Silent, as an Asazzi warrior.
Grass rustled around the corner.
He raised the axe high above his head, turned the corner, and let out his best imitation of a war cry.
A talk kid jumped back and threw his hands over his head. “Aho-wawa! Put that thing down before you kill me.”
Tzack froze. Omar, his best friend in the whole known world, and he had nearly murdered him.
“Ya almost made me piddle myself.” Omar’s carefree words conflicted with Tzack’s tortured thoughts. But that’s what he liked about Omar. Omar had mastered the free-and-easy. Everything about him spoke of it, the wisps of curly hair that poked out from under his long stocking cap. The smile that crossed his Asazzi white skin. Even his too short pants that hung on his bony frame seemed to say I ain’t got a care in the world, deal with it.
“Oh” The word came out of Tzack like pressure from a corked bottle of simerak. He lowered the axe. “My goat’s they’re … dead.” The words surreal, as if this truth, lied. He peered out over the rustling prairie.
“Your goats are dead?”
Passed the prairie, the chest-high wall marked the edge of the town Voltern, its crumbling rocks scattered among the grass, and beyond that the trees glowed in the morning light. The dicatti were out there somewhere.
Omar’s looked at Tzack and then at the forest. “So, what are we looking for?”
“The dicatti, they killed my goats.” The words hung in the air like a bad smell.
Omar face paled, which was quite a feat considering how white his skin was already. “Don’t you joke with me about that. We both know there aren’t any more dicatti.”
“All my father’s goats are dead in that barn, I wouldn’t joke about that. See for yourself” he said pointing to the front of the barn.
Omar walk stepped around front, Tzack followed.
Omar’s large Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his throat. “Aho-wala” He said and turned to face Tzack. His face glistened like green pond scum. “Your mom’s not going to take this news very well.”
Tzack belly churned, and he wasn’t sure if it was the smell of the goats or the thought of having to tell Mother.
Omar swung the splinter door shut and examined the gouges in the wood. He nodded his head. He spoke in his most expert tracker voice. “There was two of them, and both very big. My guess is a bear, yes a bear.” He leaned down and pressed his fingers in one of the impressions in the grass. “These tracks are deep here, and this mass is pressed down. Ah.. I see, there was a fight. And one of the beasts is wounded. See, there is a trail of blood leading away from the barn.” Omar picked up one of the chunks of wood examined it for a second then tossed it aside. “Good news is it’s been gone for awhile. See how the grass is already bouncing back.”
There could be more dicatti. Why was Omar trying so hard to denying it. Tzack pulled open the barn door. “Look. Could a bear do that?”
Omar’s eyes did a quick pass of the inside of the barn, and looked away from the massacre. His face going an even paler shade of green. “The last dicatti was killed eight years ago, we ain’t seen any since, and unless they have figured out how to come back to life, this ain’t no dicatti.”
Tzack mouth fell open. “You can’t even look at the goats, how can you tell it wasn’t a dicatti.” The irony of it amplified by the seriousness of the situation. “Your half Asazzi and you can’t stand the site of blood?” A laugh boiled out of him, heavy and forced.
“I don’t mind a little blood. But that’s not a little blood.“
meeeet meeet
A goat bleated from inside the barn.
Not all the goats were dead. He had one left. One piece of Father left.
He stepped inside. And let his eyes adjust to the light. A little blood, okay a lot of blood, didn’t bother him.
Omar cleared his throat. “I’ll keep guard out here.”
“Coward.” He said under his breath, but the truth was Omar was one of the bravest people he’d ever known, if there’d been a more compelling reason to go into the barn Omar would have.
meeet
At the back of the barn a goat struggled to get up.
Tzack’s feet slipped on the blood-soaked hay. The air was rank and acid stung this throat. He. Would. Not. Puke. He stumbled over goat bodies, trying not to look at them and remember their name. They were just animals. Animals died every day. He and knelt down, careful not to get blood on his pants. It was Emerald, she looked at him, her white hair caked in the red liquid.
She’d stopped struggling, and tucked her legs under her trembling body, her almost-human brown eyes seemed to plead with him.
He placed the ax down and stroked her neck, her fur was coarse, it radiated warmth and comfort. He leaned in close and pressed his face to hers. “It will be okay, we will be okay,”
He wrapped his arms around her, to pick her up, to take her out of the barn, to bring her to safety. She bleated loudly and struggled to get away. He put her down. Something was wrong. She tried to get up and fell. Then he saw it, bone jutted out of both her back legs, blood trickled out of the wound. His gut turned, stupid, stupid, stupid, he was going to lose her too.
The dicatti had come back to take away the only things he really cared about, just like they had done before. But this time would be different, this time he was not an eight year old boy, this time he would catch them an he would kill them.
Emerald flopped down in the hay.
Meeet.
Pain tainted her voice.
His heart froze mid beat. His arms fell to his sides. He knew what he had to do. He reached down, and picked up the axe.
Unshed tears stung his throat. He looked at the steel blade, his hand shook. A knife would have been better, but he didn’t have a knife. He pushed Emerald on her side; she stared at him with horribly trusting eyes.
His heart crawled into his belly and took refuge. He lifted the axe and swung it down with all his strength.
Thunk, thunk
It stuck in her flesh neck and she bleated out betrayal. He pulled it free and brought it down again ending her misery. He stopped. Her now unseeing eyes stared up at him. He turned his head. Never love anything. It will always let you down, or be taken away.
It was over, nothing was left, and he was all alone in the barn with death.
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