The Boys of Fire and Ash (3 page)

I blamed my poor performance on Av and Cubby. They'd been chattering the whole time about hunting tips and everything I was doing wrong. And I was doing everything wrong, according to Av. But I couldn't concentrate. My mind was on Av, on his Leaving Day. I tried to tell myself it was just talk, like he'd said, but I couldn't help being worried.

“Well?” called Av from the top of a neighboring trash mound. “Head back to the A-Frame? I'm getting hungry.”

I'd lost track of time, which wasn't hard to do in the Ikkuma Pit. The billowing black smoke and ash from the Fire Mountains blocked out the sun and sky; the only light was the orange glow of fire and lava. Time was kept by hunger.
I felt a faint grumble in my stomach and realized Av was right: nearly mealtime.

“Bringing those back with you?” Av said, smirking as he nodded to the Slag Cavies lying beside me. Cubby covered his mouth, trying to stop his giggles.

I scowled at Av, who was holding at least twelve fat, juicy Cavies.

My jaw locked and I got up and looked out across the junk heaps, scanning for another Cavy, a fat Cavy, a trophy Cavy. Then I heard a rustling by my feet.

Poking his head out from under my rusted metal scrap was the little black head of a chubby one. Slowly and quietly, I unhooked my spear from the throwing cradle and held it over the unsuspecting creature. Then, too soon, I slammed the spear down, missing the Cavy and hitting the ground with a crunch. The Slag Cavy squeaked in terror, and in a wild, determined fit I slammed my spear down again and again, trying to nail him. The confused and frightened rodent managed to dart out of the way every time until finally taking off and disappearing down a hole and into the garbage.

I was trophy-less.

Frustrated, I threw down my spear. Then, taking a deep breath that burned away what was left of my nose hairs, I began my walk of shame to join Av and Cubby on top of their mound, waiting to hear them laughing.

But when I joined them, they weren't even looking at me. Av, still and alert, was facing the East Wall of the Pit, his neck cranked up towards the dark tree line, Cubby copying his stance exactly.

“Hear that?” Av asked.

He knew I didn't. I didn't have the kind of ears Av did; no one had the kind of ears Av did.

“No,” I grumbled.

“It's getting closer,” he said.

I halfheartedly scanned the tree line at the top of the East Wall as I stuffed my gear into my pack. I didn't see or hear anything.

“See?” Cubby whispered. “I
told
you I heard something.”

I couldn't help it, I had to laugh. “Av! Cubby's just a big baby. Don't listen to him!”

“I'm not a baby!”

Then I heard it for the first time: a hideous, deep, guttural call from somewhere in the distance.

I stiffened; Cubby looked at me nervously. He was right. There was something out there. The noise was sick, twisted, unlike anything I'd ever heard before. No wonder Cubby was so worried.

“Some kind of bird?” I asked hopefully.

“Nah,” said Av. “Bigger than that.”

“Outsiders, then? Making a dump?” For centuries, people from beyond Nikpartok would come to the Pit and toss in their junk. I'd never seen it happen, but the Landfill was proof enough, and I'd heard stories from other Brothers who'd seen it.

Av just shook his head.

The call sounded again, closer than before.

Cubby jumped and moved in nearer to Av. Another call, loud and angry.

I jumped and winced when I found myself doing the same.

We watched the tree line, waiting to catch a glimpse of whatever was making that noise. The dead trees, bent and
broken, twisted into each other. All was still and silent, not a sign of life. The three of us stood frozen for what seemed like forever. I noticed how ridiculous Av and Cubby looked: Av's brow furrowed in concentration, Cubby's mouth agape in terror.

“By Rawley!” I said finally. “Doesn't matter what it is, it's a forest animal!”

“But—but what if it's coming down here?” asked Cubby.

I rolled my eyes. “Cub, have you ever seen anything but us and Cavies in the Pit?”

“No.”

“There you go, then. Nothing can survive down here but us,” I said, heading back to my pack. “That's how it's always been!”

Always. The Pit was ours. We were alive here. We belonged to the Pit. Anything outside that and the Pit would make it dead in no time.

Cubby followed me back to my pack and began gathering up my Cavies, but Av stayed rooted to the spot, listening and watching.

The call rang out again, louder, echoing off the walls of the Pit and slopes of the Fire Mountains a hundred times over.

Cubby and I yelped at the sound and turned back to the East Wall.

“There.” Av pointed.

I saw movement in the undergrowth, then movement in the treetops.

A two-legged figure burst out of the brush and flung itself over the edge, tumbling down the East Wall—tumbling into the Pit.

Our Pit.

“They're coming in!” shrieked Cubby, the pitch forcing my stomach up into my throat.

“They can't!” I said. “They'll die!”

The figure's limp form bashed helplessly into boulders and outcrops until it managed to grab hold of a rocky ledge.

A shrill wail echoed out from the trees, so hideous and loud I thought my ears would bleed.

Scrambling out of the trees at the top of the East Wall came three pasty, bald creatures. They looked like Brothers, naked, but crouched and disfigured. No, not Brothers. Their sickly yellow color gave them away as something else entirely. The way they moved, jerky and sharp, looked clumsy, but they weren't. Even from where we stood, I could see they were fast, faster than any Brother. They stalked back and forth along the wall, watching the figure, their lost prey, unwilling to climb down after it.

The figure had managed to stop its fall, and was now carefully inching its way down the East Wall. The East Wall had never been an easy climb for the Brothers up or down, and I decided the figure probably wouldn't be able to make it with an injury. But it was doing well, taking the same route the Brothers would take. Its movements seemed familiar, precise.

“It's a man,” I said.

“He's Ikkuma,” Av corrected me.

By the time the three of us reached the man, we could hardly breathe. We'd run as fast as we could from the Landfill to the base of the East Wall, Av tirelessly leading the charge, Cubby lagging behind, wheezing and begging me to slow down. When we arrived, a group of Little Brothers
who must have witnessed the man's daring escape as well had gathered around him. They were all tentatively sucking their thumbs or holding up whatever rocks they'd found, ready to protect themselves. They didn't need the makeshift weapons; the man had collapsed, motionless in the dirt and rocks on the floor of the Ikkuma Pit.

Cubby stayed back with the other little ones as Av and I moved our way to the front of the group.

We stood over the man, looking down at him. He was covered in layers of hides, types I'd never seen before. Furs with black stripes slithered on white, gray spots circled brown on gold, covering his shoulders and boots. I'd never seen so many skins on one person. The Pit is so hot that the Brothers mostly just wear one skin from their waist down, made from Larmy pig or Arid mule from Nikpartok. This man could have covered ten Brothers and still have skins left for himself. Beneath all that he was wrapped in something, not made out of any hide, the color of an angry bruise. The layers were so thick I couldn't tell if he was breathing. I could see the blood, though. His shoulder must have been wounded by those things still pacing back and forth along the East Wall. They had hurt him good, made him bleed so much that the blood soaked through all those layers.

His belt, the same bruise color, secured his fabrics at the waist, and attached to it was a tube, kind of. It wasn't round, not really; it was as if long flat pieces of animal skin were molded together as round as they could be to form a pouch. The ends were pointed and made of a polished green stone, bright as Cubby's eyes.

One of the creatures let out a call, and one or two of the little ones started crying.

I looked up the black rock face, a wave of nausea washing over me as I realized just how high it was. Somewhere up there, the creatures were pacing.

I could feel Av staring at me. His eyes mirrored what I was wondering.
Is he dead?

“Hey, fella!” I said. Nothing. The man just lay there. I shoved him with the butt of my spear. “Hey, fella!” I was a bit surprised; I hadn't been particularly gentle with the spear and I half expected him to leap up and grab me by the throat. But he didn't. The man didn't move.

It didn't take long for a big crowd to form around us. The East Wall was visible from nearly every point in the Pit, and before I knew it the entire clan had shown up to inspect the stranger.

“Is he dead, Urgs?” someone in the crowd asked.

I shrugged.

“Urgle!” It was Digger. “Figure out if he's dead or alive.”

“What does it look like I'm doing?” I snapped.

“Not a whole lot,” he shot back.

Having no better ideas, I wound back my leg and kicked the man right hard in the side. That did it; he let out a groan.

“Alive,” I announced.

“By Rawley!” a little voice in the crowd gasped. “Look at his ankle!”

The plain fabrics that covered the man's legs were old, frayed, and too short for him. There, on the inside of his left ankle, was a white, bubbly scar. A circle. Without thinking I scratched my own identical scar with my right foot.

“Urgle?” said Digger. “The scar?”

“It's there,” I confirmed.

“Someone run back to the A-Frame!” Digger ordered.
Cubby's hand shot up. “Cubby, tell Crow to bring water and something to carry the man on.”

For a second I didn't think I'd heard him right, but the sound of multiple feet tearing off towards the A-Frame told me I did.

“You're gonna bring him back to the A-Frame?” I said.

“Urgle,” warned Av quietly, “he's one of us.”

“But we don't know anything about him! You can't just—”

“He's Ikkuma!” Digger yelled. “The A-Frame's as much his home as yours.”

I sat alone on my cot, gnawing on the bones of my scrawny Slag Cavy. The orange glow from the A-Frame's hearth fire was making what little greasy meat I had glisten. Cubby had opted to eat with Av and Goobs, leaving me silent in thought amid the evening chatter.

“Looks like your little scroungee's got the right idea,” sneered Fiver as he thundered by my cot, with Wasted bouncing along behind him. “Av might be his only hope.”

I didn't look at him, I'd barely heard him. I was too focused on the A-Frame's new guest.

The Platform, a big wooden stage at the head of the hearth, was used for making important announcements, playing games, and storytelling. Now it was the intruder's place to rest. Digger had him laid there for everyone to see. Brothers had grabbed their furs and blankets, ready to give this unconscious stranger the skins off their backs just to make him comfortable. Not me. I just chewed on my Cavy bone as I watched Crow, our healer, clean the man's gnarled shoulder. I didn't like it, not one bit. No Brother,
once they left, ever came back to the Ikkuma Pit. Ever. So what was this guy showing up for, bringing these creatures with him?

A pot dangling above me hit the left side of my face, then another hit the right, jingling as Cubby scurried up the ladder to his hammock that hung over my cot. Brothers slept in random spots through the A-Frame. Bunks lined the walls; some hung from the rafters, others just lay in scattered places on the floor. Cubby and I had a sleeping place that was pretty secluded from the rest of them—a little nook in the wall just big enough for our beds.

Without warning, Cubby's dinner bowl was shoved into my face, his bony little arm attached to it. I snatched it from him and hung it from its usual hook. At least he'd cleaned it this time.

Cubby hung upside down. “Think he's gonna make it?”

“No,” I said. With any luck, he wouldn't.

“You don't like him?”

“I don't know him. So, no.”

Cubby disappeared back over his hammock.

A sudden cry echoed through the A-Frame. I saw Crow leap back from the man, who was writhing in pain. He twisted and jerked, then fell quiet and lay limp again.

“He dead now?” someone called out.

Crow shook his head.

Cubby peeked back over his hammock. “Think I'll have a beard like his one day?”

I shot him a look. He was annoying me again. But he just grinned his cheery grin and disappeared back on his hammock.

He was still talking to me. I could hear him mumbling
something about beards and Adam's apples, and then, “Wonder who his Little Brother is?”

“What?” The question caught me by surprise.

“His Little Brother,” said Cubby. “He's gotta have one, right?”

I leaped off my cot and headed straight for the Platform.

The A-Frame was a pretty crowded place; I had to jump over little ones wrestling, Brothers sitting on the floor laughing and eating. I knocked over a cup of water, and someone cursed and whipped a greasy bone at me, nailing the back of my neck.

“Urgle!” I heard Digger bark. “Stay away from there. Let Crow work.”

I ignored him and quickened my steps. The man had to be pretty old. He looked old. He had as much hair on his face as he had on his head, and his throat bubble was more pronounced than any I'd ever seen. How old would that make his Little Brother?

Crow's hands and forehead were stained with the man's blood as he dabbed at the wound. He hadn't noticed me.

“Crow,” I said.

“Hand me that.” Without taking the time to look at me, he pointed to a clean rag at the edge of the Platform.