Captive Spirit (14 page)

My head rested in the cradle of Honovi’s shoulder. I draped my arm across his chest and he let his fingers slowly stroke my arm till our eyes grew too heavy to stay open. His touch had begun to feel natural on my skin, as though we wrapped ourselves around each other all of the time. Maybe that’s how love felt? When a touch seemed as natural as breathing?

Honovi’s fingertips began to move slowly, and I could tell that he, too, had finally gotten sleepy. Between the rise and fall of his chest and the water rushing across the rocks, I fell easily into a deep sleep, matching him breath for breath.

The next time I woke, my throat was dry and I was alone.

“Honovi?” I said, lifting up from my palms. The sand had gotten colder. My breathing was heavy from all the dreaming and I pulled my hair off my face. “Honovi?” I said, blinking into the darkness, seeing nothing, hearing only the waterfall behind me.

The fire still burned in the round pit at our feet but barely. Only a few orange embers glowed. The moon had already lowered in the sky. And Honovi was missing.

I patted the sand beside me. The sand where he slept had grown cold. I raised myself higher till I was rolling forward onto my knees. “Honovi? Where are you?”

My eyes squinted in desperation all around me—toward the water, the clearing, and then back up the side of the mountain where the forest began just past the clearing. The sky was a bottomless black except for a faint silvery glow from the moon which had mostly disappeared. It wouldn’t be much longer till the sun would rise.

And then a sharp yelp filled the sky.

A coyote?

I sprang to my feet. There was no time to wrap the rabbit skins around my feet, and Honovi hadn’t left any weapons. I searched the sand with my hands till I found a rock, a smooth round one that fit inside my hand.

Quietly, I tiptoed into the darkness. I didn’t know where to start looking so I simply started walking, listening for the coyote.

The mountain turned quieter the further I walked from the creek. The coyote, if it was a coyote, had grown silent. Somewhere in front of me, I heard rustling, like an animal creeping through the grass. My heart began to race. I hoped it was only a rabbit.

But the rustle was too loud for a rabbit.

I wanted to call out again for Honovi but instinctively I remained quiet. I walked carefully, my toes curling over cold rocks and branches. I palmed the rock, ready to hurl it if necessary—or smash it over an animal’s head.

And where was Honovi? It wasn’t like him to leave me alone. I wondered if he’d wandered into the woods for some privacy and gotten lost.

Just as I was about to open my mouth to call out, I heard a loud grunt. Then a sharp crack, like a clay pot breaking.

“Honovi?” I yelled back.

“Aiyana!” he yelled. “Run!” His voice thundered.

Run? But run where?
My temples pounded. “Are you hurt?” I yelled.

I swallowed, hard, but kept walking toward his voice, the rock still clutched in my hand. My other hand reached blindly into the darkness. I couldn’t see past my arm.

Honovi’s voice had come from the forest, I was sure of it. And Honovi was in trouble; I was sure of that, too. I wanted to yell to him that I was near, that I was coming, but I bit down on my lower lip instead.

As I crossed the clearing, I heard more thrashing. And grunting. Tree branches broke and leaves rustled. Someone was struggling.

Frantic, I ran toward the noises even though my head told me it was wiser to run in the opposite direction. But with my arms extended in front of me, I raced across the clearing until I reached the forest’s edge. The air grew colder under the trees but I didn’t stop until I heard Honovi’s voice. He was yelling again, louder, and I heard bodies thrashing and slapping, heavy grunting and sighing.

Bodies fell to the ground, rolling across grass and leaves, before finally crashing against a rock. Or a tree trunk.

And there wasn’t just one set of grunts; there were two.

Breathing heavy, I ran toward them with my arm raised. I saw the muted shadows of one thick man crouched over someone longer. I stopped.

And then I heard another bark. A high-pitched familiar yelp, closer this time. It echoed high into the sky and, before I could react, the animal lunged at me with all four paws.

I crashed backwards onto a thick patch of grass while he stood over me, his paws resting on my chest. His front claws dug into my deerskin.

“Lobo!” I screamed, struggling against the weight of his paws.

Lobo’s barks stopped and he began to lick my face.

“Stop it!” I said, turning away, but Lobo only licked harder. His tongue managed two fast licks up and down the entire length of my face. I rolled over on the ground from underneath him and then quickly rose to my feet with the rock, miraculously, still clutched in my hand.

But it didn’t matter.

“Stupid wolf,” I heard a man snarl. He kicked Lobo in the rump. Lobo yelped and then staggered away into the darkness.

Diego. It was Diego.

“That won’t be necessary,” he said, holding back my arm. I was breathing too hard to scream. There was a smile in his voice that made me shiver. I had never expected to hear his silky voice again. He squeezed my wrist until my skin burned. The rock dropped from my hands.

“Honovi?” I whispered into the darkness. My voice cracked, my chest heaved. “Are you all right?” I heard him thrashing and moaning, like there was something stuffed inside his mouth. My voice turned higher and I turned to Diego. He still held my arm. His icy fingers dug around my wrist. I didn’t see his eyes, only the outline of his wide face.

My chest tightened. “What have you done to him? What do you want?” I said, still breathing heavy.

Diego chuckled. “Just coming back to claim what belongs to me.”

Honovi and I remained tied together beneath a tree until the sun rose.

Blood streamed down one side of Honovi’s head. Diego didn’t care. In fact, his eyes brightened the more blood that flowed. Honovi did not moan or cry out.

Diego sat across from us, his legs outstretched, leaning against one of his deerskin sacks.

“You really made it too easy for me,” he said, flicking the tip of his knife with his fingernail. “Sleeping next to the water. So sweet.” He paused and then arched a black eyebrow. “But so foolish.” His tongue clucked its disapproval.

Honovi began to breathe faster through his nose at the sound of Diego’s voice while my fists clenched.

The thought of Diego spying on us made my stomach ball into a knot. If my hands had been free, I would have grabbed his neck. Had he no shame?

If only we hadn’t slept so soundly. If only we both hadn’t been so exhausted, maybe we could have heard his approach. Honovi, especially, was always so alert. I could tell from the way he glared at Diego that he was angrier at himself.

“Let her go,” Honovi even said to him. “Take me.”

My back straightened at the suggestion. “No,” I said. There was no way I would leave Honovi.

Diego’s eyes got wider. “You?” He tossed his head back and laughed. “She’s a lot more valuable than you, my red friend.”

Honovi’s wrists rubbed next to mine, just slightly, like he was trying to fray the rope.

If Diego noticed, he didn’t seem to care. “You did me a favor, ridding me of the others. As a result of your little ambush the other night, there will be more for me once we meet up with the Apache.” He smiled grandly. “And I intend to keep it that way.” But then his smile faded as he paused to purse his lips. “I tell you what. If you survive the trip, I’ll sell you to the Apache, too, if there’s anything left to sell.” His tone was doubtful. Hopeful.

Honovi’s nostrils flared. “Who are the Apache?” he asked. “Where is their village?” I was surprised by his boldness, given the tight ropes that dug into our wrists.

Diego rose, stopping midway before standing upright. His eyes widened and my breathing stopped. I wondered if he’d beat us.

“Probably no one you’ll live to meet,” Diego said finally through gritted teeth.

Honovi continued to breathe heavily, glaring up at Diego, his skin burning against mine.

But then Diego’s snarl turned into another smile. He laughed again and brushed off the front of his pants. They were spotted with bits of grass and dirt. “Better pace yourself. Or you’ll be lucky to live beyond the next full moon,” he added before trotting off toward two horses. They were tied to a nearby tree.

I recognized the giant one, the one with a coat that looked like a night sky bathed in the moon’s glow. He grazed lazily in the tall grass. I thought that Sinopa had set them free in the forest. I never expected to see them again. What kind of beast doesn’t flee when it’s set free?

Diego caught me studying the horses, my brow furrowed. “They come back, Aiyana,” he said, patting the horse’s neck. “Like dogs, they always come back.” He stopped to wink at Honovi.

I turned away as Diego tended to his horses, humming.

“Are you all right?” I whispered to Honovi.

“I’ll be okay,” he said. His eyes struggled to stay open.

“How did this happen?”

“He put a dagger to your throat as you slept.” He paused. “He whispered to me that he’d kill you if I didn’t do as he said.”

I shook my head, imagining his blade piercing my neck, wondering why I hadn’t stirred. “I should have heard,” I muttered, more to myself than to Honovi. “I should have heard something. I could have done something.”

“It’s not your fault.” He leaned against the tree trunk. “We both were tired. I didn’t hear his footsteps till it was too late. It’s my fault, not yours.”

“But what about Lobo?” Surely we would have heard a wolf howling. His howls would have alerted an entire forest.

“He had him tied to this tree with a rope around his snout. All he could do was whimper.”

“What now?” I said. I looked down at the ropes. There was one wrapped around our stomachs and our hands were tied behind our backs. We kept tugging at the ropes around our wrists but it only tightened the knots. “Has your bleeding stopped?”

I studied the side of Honovi’s face but he shrugged at my question. The blood had finally dried and his hair was matted above his ear. He kept blinking, like he was trying to clear blurriness from his eyes. “Will you be okay?” I whispered near his ear.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, tugging against the ropes. “I’ve had worse cuts from ball court.” Then under his breath, he said, “We need to break free of these ropes.”

I nodded. “Yes, I know.”

“And we will,” Honovi said. “We will.” His face, bruised and swollen, contradicted the confidence in his tone.

I nodded again anyway and glared at Diego. That’s because I had a few ideas about how to escape but I was certain Honovi wouldn’t approve of any of them.

***

For the next two suns, we climbed the same mountain that I never wanted to see again. We traveled so high that I thought the horses would trot right into the clouds.

I rode behind Diego on his horse, with my wrists tied together while his other horse rode empty beside us, save the deerskin sacks. Lobo ran ahead, as usual, while Honovi walked behind us with his wrists tied to the end of Diego’s longest rope. Diego tugged on it whenever Honovi walked too slowly. And just because he could.

“Come on, Savage,” Diego clucked to Honovi. “You ran up here once. Walking up should be easy.” Then he tugged the ropes so that Honovi stumbled. Diego laughed, the cackling echoing eerily all around us. It was like being inside a nightmare again. I had to squeeze my eyes shut, especially when Honovi didn’t yell or moan. Part of me wished he would. I wondered how much more punishment his body could take.

Because the journey was uphill and mostly rocky, the horses weren’t able to travel fast and for that I was grateful. Honovi had been able to keep up behind us, but barely, as long as Diego didn’t get bored and snap the rope.

After Diego tired of Honovi, he’d reach into his deerskin sack and pull out his map. He’d look from the map to the mountain, pull on his chin and smile. I tried to see the symbols, but the black lines, mostly smeared, didn’t make any sense.

And then when Diego studied his map, I’d turn, just slightly, to look at Honovi over my shoulder. He’d smile and nod, as if to assure me that he was okay, but I knew better. I also wondered how a man like Diego—or any man—could be so cruel. He was worse than Miakoda.

Diego allowed Honovi only a few drops of water, mostly just so that he’d crave more, even when Honovi’s lips turned puffy and cracked. Sometimes Honovi’s eyes would roll back before he’d shake his head, as if he was trying to keep himself from falling asleep. My chest ached each time I looked at him.

I had to do something.

The next moonrise we stopped alongside a river and I was able to save Honovi a small bit of fish that I slipped below a stone in the fire. It was mostly black but still edible. Diego tied Honovi to a nearby tree. And when Diego wasn’t looking, I slipped the meat behind my belt. The moment he walked away to check on the horses, I sneaked it to Honovi. Honovi devoured the small morsel in his shaking hands like he’d never eat again. When I slipped him the fish, I also slipped him Sinopa’s flower petals. For strength.

Honovi took them into his hands and breathed in what little scent was left. Then he kept them hidden in his clenched fist. In his other, he held a shell from my necklace, the one with the sharpest edge, the one that could cut through his rope. I managed to slip it off when I rode behind Diego, just like I did all those times before.

By the third moonrise, I knew the moment to escape was near. I doubted Honovi would survive till the fourth. And imagining a life without him motivated me to act, even more than Diego’s body curled next to mine like he owned me.

Diego slept fitfully the third moonrise, mostly because he sipped from a pouch holding clear liquid. It wasn’t water. Whenever I made the slightest movement, even taking a deep breath, he’d stir and hold me tighter, closer. When he woke, he let his hand travel down the front of my dress while I lay motionless. He’d chuckle and moan loud enough for Honovi to hear as his fingertips brushed against my skin. His touch sickened me.

When the Sky Wanderers had finally dropped below the treetops, Diego began to snore, steady and loud. Carefully, I let my hands reach down below his knees. My wrists were still tied but nothing more. Only moving a breath at a time, I slipped from his arm and slowly stretched my arms lower until my fingertips were just above his ankle. Diego’s odd-looking pants were coarse, not soft like deerskin. They hugged his legs, tighter than the pants worn by the men in our village. Even so, I let my fingers move to the bottom of his pants, near the heel of his boot.

I couldn’t breathe—wouldn’t breathe—as I carefully lifted the end of his pants leg, lifting upwards with each scratchy inhale, one tiny thread at a time. With each roll I waited for him to stir, but he kept snoring, stopping only occasionally to swallow and smack his lips together.

By the time I had his pants leg rolled just above his ankle, my heart thumped so strongly that I was certain Diego would hear it. My fingertips grazed the area just below his knee and I frowned. He had always kept his knife inside his boot.

And now it was missing. The knife was missing.

The snoring stopped.

“Looking for something?”

I gasped and then jumped straight up next to the fire before landing on my knees. I fell forward onto my wrists to balance myself. Diego grabbed my arm, digging his fingers into my skin.

We stared at each other—me, stunned; Diego, grinning. His breath hung between us, heavy and sharp like cactus wine. There was just enough grey in the early morning light for me to see the whites of his eyes and his teeth. My breathing quickened and panic started to shake me. I had missed our chance, our only real chance, at escape.

“You really didn’t think I’d let you get close to my knife now, did you?” His words slurred. There was a smug smile in his voice that matched the one on his face. He squeezed my arm harder as he showed me the knife with his other. He tilted it in the light, admiring its shine, the pointy tip. I wanted to slice his neck with it. Just like Sinopa did.

“Now? Where were we,” he said. “I should have had you sooner. The hell with Manaba.” He pulled me closer.

How I grew to despise the sound of his voice.

He slid the knife into his belt. With one pull, he had me lying on my back underneath him, my wrists still tied together. He pressed down on my shoulder, hard. He put one knee between my legs and then ripped apart my belt. With his other hand, he reached for the thread that tied the front of my deerskin.

I screamed when his cold fingers pressed against my chest.

Instinctively, I bent my knees, but he was too heavy and his arms were too strong. He opened my legs with his. I struggled with the ropes around my wrists but they were too tight. All I could do was squirm as his hand began to stroke my breasts. His breathing quickened as his head moved just above mine, his hand moving lower.

He started to kiss me, his lips sticking to my skin. I turned away, bile building in my throat.

“Stop!” I shouted. His hands became rougher, kneading my skin, when his wet lips touched my throat. I wanted to vomit. “Stop!” I yelled again but it came out garbled. Tears began to stream down my face when I realized what was next.

“Honovi!” I pleaded. “Help me!”

“Shut up, Savage!” Diego said as he pulled back, briefly, and untied the front of his pants.

I screamed louder.

Diego only laughed.

But then Honovi’s face appeared over Diego’s shoulder.

I gasped.

An angry spark had returned to Honovi’s eyes. Somehow he had broken loose from the tree but his wrists were still tied. In one hand, he held the shell from my necklace. With the strength he had left, he jammed the shell into Diego’s neck like it was the tip of a dagger.

Diego shrieked. A line of bright, shiny blood spurted underneath his chin.

He threw his arms back, coughing, falling backwards onto Honovi. They landed onto the ground, both grunting from the crash against the hard dirt. They rolled as if one body instead of two. In the dim light, I looked for Diego’s knife, hoping that it had somehow slipped out of his belt in the struggle. I didn’t see it.

“The knife, Honovi!” I yelled, breathing heavy. Tears still streamed down my cheeks. I sat up, my dress open. “The knife is in his belt!”

Still wobbly, I stood, watching them roll across the dirt. Lobo had returned from the forest and started yelping. He barked at them as they rolled and grunted across the dirt.

And then something very odd happened.

A single arrow sailed through the sky like a whisper. It was as if it simply appeared. It landed next to Diego’s head as Honovi lay on top of him. The end of it was on fire.

Instinctively, Honovi and Diego jumped back, both crouching on their heels, as the arrow burned to ashes.

We weren’t alone in the forest.

But where had it come from? And from whom?

I didn’t breathe. I stood frozen as my eyes scanned the clearing surrounding us.

Through the trees, I saw the outlines of ten men. I couldn’t see their faces, only the dark shapes of their bodies. Each had an arrow pulled back in a bow. They appeared out of nowhere, like an early mist, and just as quietly.

When they approached us, their feet did not make the slightest sound. They took long, graceful steps, studying us as much as we studied them. Not a leaf fluttered or a twig cracked beneath their heels. Not even Diego’s horses stirred.

Only Lobo’s barks broke the silence but the men only walked closer, their bows pulled back and ready. We didn’t dare move.

Lobo finally stopped barking and began panting; his tongue hung heavy out of the corner of his mouth. He spun in a circle, confused and anxious.

Diego stood, wobbling, his hand pressed against his neck. Next to him, Honovi struggled to his knees, coughing. Both of them were covered in dirt and dry leaves.