Shadow War: Book 3 of the Shadows Rising Trilogy (WIP Rough Draft)

28. Shacklefoot

Approximately 1 Month Later

I'm standing in the back yard, pinning clothes up on the line. The sky is a beautiful, faultless blue, the sunlight is warm on my skin, and a pleasant breeze ruffles the shirts and sheets already hung up to dry. A tiny brown bird is warbling  away on the top of the stoop roof, it's song surprisingly loud for such a small creature, but pure and sweet. I smile and pull  Arramy's blanket out of the basket.

A small sound behind me makes me pause. My heart skips a beat. I know he's there before one strong hand spans the small of my waist, and the other slowly, gently gathers my hair over my shoulder, baring the back of my neck. I shiver, a rush of pleasure sliding down my spine as he bends, his breath feathering my nape for a moment before he presses a lingering kiss to that sensitive place below the corner of my jaw —

"Larra... Larra?"

My daydream fractured and tore, a dull, repetitive banging  finally punching through the birdsong, the stink of unwashed bodies overwhelming the summer breeze.

"I'm so sorry, love," Fierda whispered, her voice rough. "It's just she's doing it again, and you're the only one who can talk to her."

With a groan, I sat up and opened my eyes, peering blearily around the cargo bin. The source of the banging was immediately obvious: Eiranne was standing in the corner, slamming her forehead against the corrugated metal, every blow punctuated by a keening sob and a single word: "ghuo!"

"Beetlelegs is coming this way!" Maphia hissed, feet scrabbling at the wall below the window grate, her grip on the bars white knuckled as she clung up there like a monkey, fighting to keep one eye to the grate so she could get a glimpse of the deck beyond the end of the bin.  

Muscles shaking, I pushed myself off the floor and shuffled forward, chains dragging at my ankles, my head giving its usual warning throb.

Thump "Ghuo..."

My voice was raspy from disuse, the Tradeslang words falling from my tongue like sawdust. "Eiranne... mo pu-ang." (Eiranne... don't do that.) "Maman hadeshiri?" (What would your mother say?) 

Eiranne paused, but her sobs only grew louder, her groans more desperate. She bashed her forehead against the wall harder, adding a blow from her fists. "Ghuo!"

"Maman mo shiri-ang ghuo. Adei. Al phang ipei-na." (Your mother wouldn't want you to die. Stop it. The guards are coming.)

Thump! "Ghuo!" It had become more of a howl, high and hysterical.

"Great. Now Ugly Face is coming with his stick," Maphia growled. She twisted around to aim a disgusted glare down at Eiranne. "No dinner for us. Again."
Thump! "Ghuo!" Thump! "Ghuo!" Thump! Thump! Thump! "Ghuo!"

The usual methods weren't working. I gave up and grabbed Eiranne, wrapping my arms around her bony ribs and hauling her backwards before she could brain herself. She screamed like a wildcat and thrashed, but Fierda hurried to catch her feet, and together we wrestled her down into her spot along the wall.

For a moment I held her close and pressed my mouth to her ear. "Uma mo ghuo. Um-ang mei-pang, Eiranne. Ma jodishi ei-pha-mang." (You can't die. You have to live, Eiranne. Don't let them win.)

She went still, breathing hard, her meager energy already spent. Slowly, she folded herself up small, tucking her knobby knees against her chest and her scrawny arms against her sides, silently removing herself to wherever she went in her head to get away.

At least she was quiet. Moving stiffly, I let go and scooted away from her.

Fierda sat back and let out a deep breath, only to suck in a gasp at the creak of the feeding hatch hinge and the clack of a wooden baton against the bars, followed by Ugly Face's nasal voice shouting in broken Altyran, "You! You stay quiet! No more disturbance! No more noise!"