The following is chapter three of the novel Entangled: The Eater of Souls, published by Disinfo. You can read chapter one here and chapter two here.
Ria had no intention of staying with the Uglies a moment longer than necessary. She wanted to put a safe distance between herself and Grigo, Duma and Vik. After that it would be goodbye to her big hairy yellow- toothed protectors, a tough hike through the backcountry, and then hello again to the safety of the Clan and the righteous vengeance her badass brothers Hond and Rill would soon be meting out.
She was still shaking with anger and shock at how close she’d come to being raped and murdered.
But there was something else. The three youths, Grigo in particular, were renowned assholes. Even so, their behavior had been strange. There were few grown men in the Clan, let alone untested boys like these, who would risk the anger of Ria’s lean and lethal elder brothers. So what had changed?
She guessed it was their connection with “Sulpa” that was making them stronger. And for some reason this Sulpa wanted them to torture and kill Uglies.
It was an idea that seemed to be catching on. Since the beginning of summer a powerful faction of the council of braves, led by Grigo’s father Murgh, had been hunting the Uglies like wild animals, slaughtering whole families at a time, inflicting terrible tortures on those they captured alive, driving them out of their ancestral hunting grounds.
But none of Murgh’s bullies, nor anyone else in the Clan, was called “Sulpa.” The name had a suspicious alien ring to it. Ria decided it must belong to an outlander.
Why were Grigo, Duma and Vik taking orders from an outlander? They’d spoken about him in fawning and awestruck tones. Vik had sounded afraid of him, and Grigo had proudly claimed to know him better than the other two.
Why were they all so impressed?
Why would Sulpa have “loved it” if they’d succeeded in raping and murdering her?
The whole thing gave Ria the creeps.
—
The Uglies lumbered forward at a good pace. The males were so heavily muscled their bodies bulged like rhino skins stuffed with large, irregular rocks. The females were almost indistinguishable from them in size and general appearance but, if anything, even more hideous and disgusting to look at. In recent years the sorry creatures had begun to imitate the dark eye paint and red-ocher lipstick used by Clan women of childbearing age – accessories that Ria herself had worn since her first menstruation three years before. But Ugly females just weren’t designed for make-up.
Still, their misplaced effort at self-beautification was interesting. Like the fiercely intelligent and strangely human expression in the eyes of the boy she had saved, the amateurishly applied make-up of the women – seen now in close-up for the first time – had a most unexpected effect on Ria. She found herself feeling sorry for the Uglies, identifying with them somehow, and realizing again in a very direct and immediate way that they couldn’t possibly just be dumb mindless animals. They walk on two legs, just like we do, she reflected. They have hands with five fingers, feet with five toes. They have ears like ours, eyes like ours. Just like ours. The mothers hold their babies to their breasts to feed them, just like we do. They use tools and weapons just like we do – even if most of their stuff is crap.
On the other hand, no matter how well-disposed she was feeling towards them, there were differences that were hard to ignore. Ria glanced about, absorbing details of the Uglies who had surrounded her on the march. For starters those famous brow ridges of theirs were … well … not very human. They had almost no chins and their heads, which lolled forward, seemed to sprout directly from their hefty shoulders. There were matted patches of coarse red hair all over their bodies, which gave them a mangy look. Also, they smelled like shit.
Just then Ria became aware of a new presence limping along by her side – the Ugly youth with the club foot. He was looking at her with something like devotion and again, as their eyes met, she was shocked to hear a voice inside her head, clear like a mountain stream, speaking her language. What it said this time was: “Protect you … Protect … Ria … I will protect Ria.”
So it hadn’t been her imagination before. The kid’s lips hadn’t moved, but she knew, totally knew, that it was his voice she’d heard – that he had somehow figured out a way to talk to her inside her head. Like seeing the sun rise in the west or a river run uphill, this was so surprising it made her dizzy.
“How come you know my name? she asked, feeling spooked. “And, by the way, sorry that I have to speak out loud like normal humans.” She rallied: “You heard Duma call me Ria, didn’t you? That’s how you know my name.”
The reply inside her head was instant: “Don’t need words of Duma. I know your name. Without speak, I know your thoughts. There is a rope between us, you and me. From now, always, I will protect you. You are my…sister.”
“I already have enough brothers, thank you very much. What’s this about a rope between us? And – hang on a minute – did you just say you know my thoughts?”
“Uglies are mangy. Smell like shit. Weapons crap. Can’t wear make-up.”
Ria gasped: “Oh. I see. So there’s no privacy, then? Doesn’t matter if I speak or not? Every random thought that crosses my mind I have to share with you? Is that how things work with you guys?"
“When we have a rope between us we can share,” Ria heard inside her head. “Share feelings, thoughts, pictures. Clan has words. We listen. Learn your words, but don’t like. Clan people speak: blah bar, blah bar, blah, blah, blah … Say one thing, mean another. We can’t do spooky speaking out loud like Clan.” As though to emphasize this point the kid opened his mouth – like his elders he obviously hadn’t cleaned his teeth since the day he was born – and emitted a low grunt followed by a hoot, which he repeated several times: “Rugh … agh … Rugh … agh … Rugh … agh …”
What was this? What was Rugh … agh? With a stifled giggle Ria got it. The Ugly youth was trying – and failing – to speak her name, even though, inside her head, he could already say it perfectly. Now he pointed to his throat – or at least to where his throat would’ve been if he’d had a neck – and grunted some incomprehensible gibberish that sounded like a wild animal chewing stones.
“OK,” said Ria, “I get it. You actually can’t speak. Your throats won’t make words. So you get straight inside each other’s heads instead. Cool trick. Wish I could do it. Must save a lot of time.”
“Can hurt,” came back the kid’s thought-voice. “What’s inside other’s heads can hurt.”
Ria nodded in immediate agreement: “I expect it can. I don’t think I’d have many friends left if they knew what I was thinking about them all the time. Now listen … You know my name, so you should tell me yours. Fair?”
“Is difficult.”
“What’s difficult?”
“My name. For you will be difficult.”
“Go on…Don’t be shy.”
“Brindle-phudge-tublo-trungen-apciprona.”
“Ah. I see what you mean. Would you mind saying it again? I’m sure I’ll get used to it.”
“Brindle-phudge-tublo-trungen-apciprona.”
“OK. Brindle it is, then.”
Ria looked back over her shoulder. The entrance to the valley could no longer be seen and they were climbing the slope of another of the many low hills characteristic of this area. Once they were over the summit and down the other side, she calculated, Grigo, Duma and Vik would be far enough behind for her to outrun them.
Brindle’s voice invaded her head again: “You will run? Not such a good idea. Boys who hunt will hunt you. Better you stay with us this night. Maybe tomorrow go back to Clan.”
You must be joking, thought Ria.
“Not joking. This night you stay with Uglies. Be safe.” And with the thought of safety came pictures and sensations – cave walls, something cooking within a flickering fire, a musky aroma of woodsmoke and roasting venison, a ledge with thick, warm furs spread over it that seemed to invite her to sleep.
“NO!” Ria yelled at the top of her voice, causing Brindle to flinch and the other Uglies nearby to grunt and hoot. “YOU MUST BE JOKING, OK? NO WAY AM I GOING TO STAY WITH YOU. NOT TONIGHT. NOT EVER.” Suddenly she broke to her left, shouldered past a couple of hefty females and, her heart pounding, sprinted towards the summit of the hill. None of the Uglies pursued her, which was good.
In fact, with the exception of Brindle whose exclamations of alarm rang like bird calls inside her head, the rest of the group showed no interest in her departure and just continued to plod ahead.
Soon Ria reached a big boulder just below the summit where she paused for breath. She looked back with a sense of triumph at the column of Uglies now two hundred paces below her. Phew. What a relief. For a moment she’d been certain they meant to keep her prisoner. Or that Brindle did.
Not prisoner, came Brindle’s thought-voice. Never prisoner!
Ria shrugged. Fuck this. She was out of here. She scrambled the last few paces through thick gorse and bracken to the summit.
What she was expecting was a long downhill run to freedom. Instead, thirty paces below her, on the other side of the hill, hidden from view until now, she saw Duma, Grigo and Vik, climbing hard, with clubs in their hands.
Grigo had a glint in his eye. “Hello, Ria,” he gloated. “Ready for your gang-bang?"
Teaser image by Ivan Sohrakoff, courtesy of Creative Commons license.
