Aftermath - Ann Aguirre [99]
The trek passes in near silence, and it’s all downhill, another mercy. Just as I’m thinking things have shifted for the better, two creatures come up the hill toward us. They bear some resemblance to the Mareq we know, but they’ve lost the oversized heads and the bulging eyes. These alt- Mareq are more streamlined and muscular, as if they’ve had to fight to survive here. That doesn’t bode well for us.
One of them speaks in quick, rhythmic croaks, but my chip can’t interpret it. Not yet anyway. Shit. Their language has changed.
There’s no mistaking their meaning when they draw weapons on us. Not primitive ones, either. It must be salvaged Maker technology because it looks like a pistol of some kind, but I can only imagine the kind of death it deals. We could fight, but that would guarantee hostility from the rest of the village, and there are only two of us. We can’t fight a war on our own. I exchange a glance with Vel, who inclines his head, silently counseling surrender.
The smaller one approaches to bind our wrists with a thin razor cord; struggling against this would slit my wrists. They confiscate Vel’s pack though there isn’t much in it anymore. I’m sorry to lose the handheld, and, by his expression, he is, too.
Then the other gestures down the hill toward the settlement. We are, unquestionably, being taken hostage. I suppose I should be grateful that they didn’t shoot us on sight, but maybe they’re used to beings wandering through the gates and turning up here. Their town may be more diverse than we expect.
A hard shove gets me moving, as if I doubt their intentions. But even with the language barrier, I understand what I’m meant to do; I start walking.
It isn’t far to the village proper, and once we reach it, they drag us through an interested crowd of onlookers to a mound that has clearly been designated as a prison. It’s smaller than the others, and the door is different—well, the fact that it has a door. The others offer freedom and open space instead.
Our captors push us within, where it reeks of bodily waste and old food. There isn’t enough room for us to stand upright, so I drop down and lean back against the dirt wall. This time, there is no cozy bed to sleep on, just mud and a whisper of white that could be bone, but I hope it’s not. It would be kinder to kill intruders than leave them here to a slow death.
“On a scale of one to ten, how fragged are we?” I ask tiredly.
“That depends on their intentions.”
I offer a wry smile. “Let’s pretend they’re planning us a party.”
“Will there be choclaste?”
“You’re so cruel.” My mouth waters.
Though it seems unlikely under the circumstances, I’m so exhausted and weakened from the journey that I pass out as much as fall asleep. I wake with Vel’s injured claw atop my head. At first I don’t know why he’s bothering me until I hear the footsteps drawing closer. Someone is coming to check on us. Or execute us. Either way, it means a change.
This time, it’s a different alt-Mareq, a female I think, by her size and markings. She’s heavy with eggs, and she croaks at us in inquiry. Unfortunately, my chip offers gibberish in place of a true translation: Want run fly target hope fall off?
No, not really. Switching to Mareq, I tell my chip, and then answer without any hope of being understood. “We came through a gate. We just want to go home.”
To my astonishment, she cocks her smooth, green head, and studies me. Hm. I wonder if she got any of that.
She replies, “Come portal?”
“Yes.”
“From Faraway Broken,” she tells me.
I have no idea if we’re actually communicating, but I’m encouraged to keep at it. My chip is the advanced kind, which learns, the more it hears of a new language. It doesn’t offer immediate perfect comprehension, but if I can keep the natives from killing us while it trains to local nuance, we may have a shot, here.
“Yes. Need near gate, not broken. Know one?” It seems