The Vixen Trials

Suspicion

Dakkoul

Jalen removed Malek's outer clothing while Dakkoul pinned him down on a dirty straw pallet. His swollen, lacerated skin was a purplish red in the torch light. The only sign he still lived was an occasional rasp from his blood-drained face.

Jalen handed Dakkoul a bottle of cheap wine, told him what to do and left. He was alone with his dying brother in a cold empty wooden hut decorated only with a sprig of lavender on the wall to scare away any howling dead.

The rasping grew louder from Malek's mouth as if he was trying to speak. Dakkoul had no words of comfort to say, all he could do was slosh the wine over each plant-bite as instructed.

"Vrai," Malek moaned and opened his eyes. "That burns." 

"Serves you right for trying to kill yourself." Dakkoul said sharply to hide the relief he felt. He poured the wine down Malek's back, catching the overflow with his cupped hand to apply it to his legs.

"I wasn't." Malek voice sounded strained. "I was trying to escape."

"Because of me?" There was a shakiness to his voice that Dakkoul despised. He had to get a grip on himself. Of course Malek loathed him, just like everyone did. That was only natural.

"Because of Lord Rustavan."

The tightness in his chest eased. "I'll help you with him, brother," Dakkoul said in a reassuring tone.

Malek went even paler and tried to shift away from him, his feeble strength failing in doing even that. "I'm no rival to you Hattavah."

Dakkoul dug his fingers in to stop Malek muddying his newly anointed skin. "You don't have to be afraid of me."

At Malek's skeptical look, he relented and forced out the words that would change everything between them, that would create a bond of loyalty on his side at the very least. "I believe your story about your father being my father."

"So you're torturing my wounds before parading me in front of Lord Rustavan and the others?" Malek gave a short, bitter laugh.

Dakkoul's denial was muffled by the sound of the door swinging open and a panting Jalen entering carrying a wooden bath.

"Help him in," Jalen said, his usually respectful tone commanding. "We have to get all that poisonous sap off him."

It required the full strength of both Dakkoul and Jalen to maneuver Malek and clean each wound. All Dakkoul could think of was how much Malek feared and distrusted him. It stung more than he could have thought possible. A dark despair crept over him as copied Jalen's care for each wound, slathering each with a special salve that had the consistency of honey and the smell of lemon before bandaging them with strips of linen.

"Why bother?" Malek demanded in a weak voice. "If I'm going to die, don't fix me up first. Get it over with."

Something snapped inside Dakkoul. Here he was risking Tallie and his own relationship with Lord Rustavan for this ungrateful, suspicious sleck who did not even have the courtesy to be grateful. He slammed his hand onto the one undamaged section of Dakkoul's chest and held him down. "Listen," he hissed. "You're not getting what you deserve because of my father." He shoved down harder to stop Malek speaking. "I vow," and Dakkoul paused, aware of the weight of his words, "I vow to get you to him." He ignored Malek's disbelieving snort and Jalen's widening eyes. "In return you must promise me something."

"What?"

"You don't run. You wait for my timing. Once Tallie is safe, I'll get you out of here."

Malek struggled against his hand and he released him.

"Why? What's in it for you?" If anything the suspicion in Malek's eyes flared even brighter.

Dakkoul sighed and looked away towards the flames in the hearth. "My father wanted many children. He only got me and I can never go home now. He's a good man. He ought to know you as his son and have your children as his grandchildren so his memory lives on."

Jalen harrumphed. "If your father is a good man, why do you think you can never go home?"

The question was like a blow to the head. Dakkoul leapt up, almost over balancing in his haste and said, "I'll scout outside," before rushing into the icy night air. He scanned the vicinity trying to regain his usual detachment. Not so far away soldiers marched off in all directions, including towards him. The nightly patrols had started. Often he would be out there too, avoiding them and spying out trouble. Tonight he was the one breaking the rules. Foreboding seized him. He wasn't supposed to be skulking out here in the soldier's hut for visitors.

He heard the creak of the door behind him. Jalen. No doubt about to offer awkward apologies for his remark. Dakkoul winced at the thought and said, "We've got to leave as soon as possible. The longer we linger the more danger we're in of being discovered. All we've done is made things worse if we get caught now."

The soldier had zeroed in on them and halted before them. It was Brast, one of the older men with a reputation for being both thorough and loyal to Lord Rustavan. Dakkoul hooked his fingers into his belt and waited for Brast to speak.

"Lord Rustavan asks if you have found Malek."

Dakkoul kept his outward cool while he inwardly cursed. He'd tried to be discreet in his inquiries. Who had blabbed? Coleus, probably. His situation was too desperate not squeeze the maximum benefit out of any scrap of information he could. At least this simplified his approach. Jalen cleared his throat. Dakkoul rushed to speak first. "Of course I did," he said making his tone more arrogant than usual.

The soldier leaned in, his eyes glittering in the torch light. "Where is he?"

Dakkoul bunched his fist and raised it. Jalen hauled it down. "Easy," he murmured. "He wouldn't ask without a reason."

So Lord Rustavan was checking up on him via soldiers now. His mouth twisted at the thought.

"Where is he?" the soldier repeated, louder this time.

He needed to allay the soldier's suspicion. He also needed a reason for the bandages all over Malek. He spat on the ground and said, "I just cut him down from the snap-leaf."

Jalen started. Dakkoul kept going. "He's learnt his lesson now about wandering off."

The soldier's forehead creased. "But where is he?"

Dakkoul let out fake rush of air and gestured to Jalen. "He begged to be able to tend him. Malek is Lord Rustavan's property after all so I let him. He's in there." He jerked his finger behind him. The soldier nodded, checked the hut and left.

Jalen let out a whistle and shook his head. "That was too close to the truth for my liking."

"It had to be done," Dakkoul said curtly, aware that soon everybody would hear about the extreme way he'd punished Malek. "He'll be too weak to make it to his room alone. This way you'll be able to help him with causing comment."

"Malek's popular," Jalen stated. "You'll face anger for this."

Dakkoul shrugged. "So they'll hate me even more. What does it matter?" At least he had a defined future plan now. With any luck, Tallie would be safe, Malek en-route to his father and he himself dead before the Vixen-Trials even started. All it would take was some persuasive talking, careful planning and Keilah's help.