1After the first three or four knocks to the head, Dantro decided that the worst part about running wild in a mob was getting caught by the longcoats.
Not that he hadn't taken a beating earlier.
"G'on, move yourself, you scoundrel!"
"Ease off!" Dantro hissed back as his arms were yanked around to uncomfortable angles. "I ain't goin' nowhere!"
"That's right you aren't," said the second guard, who had him pinned on his left. "Not 'til you cool down in a cell for a week!"
A sick feeling actually hit Dantro in the stomach worse than the handful of previous kicks and blows. A week?
"You can't do that to me!" he cried, writhing around without much success.
The longcoat sinister sneered, twisted his arm again none too gently. "I'd think three weeks might be enough to cure you of your anarchy." The longcoat dexter chuckled, or at least tried to. He sounded more like he'd caught a bad case of the terminal wheezes. The motherless bastard was too fat for this line of work, Dantro decided, but realized his life would probably be a lot better for more slow enforcers.
Fat lot of good it did him now, though. Lefty was mighty quick on his feet.
By the time they'd rounded the last corner, Dantro had given up on dragging his feet; the stone paving wasn't kind to his lower extremities. He would have sworn he'd lost a toenail or two, if he could see anything past the layer of dust he'd accumulated. He tried giving voice to his medical misery, but found himself roughly tossed into yet another irritated-looking enforcer, some valayra fellow, who happened to be big enough to wrap Dantro up nice and firm all by himself. Maybe he was a dasantol mutt, too.
"Put 'im in the wagon, hey, Wyrst? We got some more miscreants rounded up on Eighth."
The massive longcoat who was apparently called Wyrst only nodded, though Dantro could have sworn he heard a low growl coming from the man's chest.
He wondered if it was a nickname or not. It really was too appropriate.
A few other longcoats ran hither and yon, some with prisoners, others rushing out to gather more in. At least he wouldn't be lonely in his cell, Dantro thought gloomily. Hell, he even recognized a few of his comrades. Not by name, though. Being faceless rabble in a sea of faceless rabble was wonderfully liberating.
Until one got caught, at least.
Wyrst shepherded Dantro over to a quaint wagon, built like a brick and made of some nondescript hardwood, from the look of it. And oh, look, they even had a door in the back, just his size. Convenient.
As it turned out, the door was just half a size too small after all, and Dantro took yet another knock to the head as he was literally tossed into the back of the wagon. That Wyrst was a strong one, he was. As he lay rubbing his fresh bruises, Dantro found himself trying to remember if it'd been a one-handed toss or not. It probably was.
It took a dazed moment to realize that he was not quiet alone in this vehicle, but present company seemed to be in a worse way, considering that he was unconscious. Snoring? No, just breathing past some bloodied nostrils. Wonderful. He hoped that the other occupant wasn't on his way to sail the Endless Sea; Dantro had never had to deal with a corpse before, and didn't think he could figure out what to do with it. Better to let the longcoats handle it, perhaps. Let it be their mess to clean up—that'll teach them to try and quell civil unrest.
Luckily, the door opened one more time. Unluckily, Dantro found himself acting as a cushion for this new fellow. That Wyrst really had some arm!
Dantro and the newcomer had an awkward moment of trying to figure out how to untangle their respective limbs from one another in the once more dark enclosure. This new one was much more lively, judging by his thrashing about and the steady stream of angry language coming from his mouth.
Finally Dantro and his new companion had figured themselves out, and had picked their own corners to inhabit. There was a great deal of panting and wheezing from the both of them. The wagon was starting to feel crowded and stuffy. He wondered how many more ruffians they would try to pack in.
"Well," Dantro started, seeing as the newcomer had yet to say anything intelligible, "How about this, then? What's it they caught you doing?"
What came out of the newcomer's mouth was hardly intelligible, but not for cursing. Dantro had another sinking feeling in his gut, a rush of panic, of anger.
He suddenly became aware of an increase in the volume of yells and shouts from outside, and the wagon lurched forward, jolting the three of them toward the back. Some faint light, maybe reflected off a window, washed over the messy trio from between the bars of the rear window, and his suspicions were confirmed.
In fact, he recognized the bastard!
"You!" he cried, not really caring if the fellow understood him or not. "You're the one what popped me in the mouth outside of Andaril's!"
His lot were hard to tell apart, but Dantro recognized the mark's he'd left on the hyuma's face, which was scowling back at him. Clearly the hatred was mutual.
The foul, flat-faced fiend had backed into his corner, baring his teeth in a wicked grin, fingers digging into the wood of the bench. He looked as though he hadn't seen a pair of scissors or shears in more than a handful of months, and what was left of his shirt was hanging off one shoulder, the rest of it nearly torn away. Dantro didn't remember doing that in particular, but it'd been a hectic day so far. With any luck it wouldn't get any worse, though he couldn't see how he'd end up on top in a scuffle in a confined little wagon such as they'd found themselves in at the present. The hyuma didn't look as though he was jumping at the opportunity to give Dantro some more knocks, however, which he decided he couldn't complain about. Any fight would have to wait until they got outside—or more likely, once they had free run of a jailhouse courtyard.
The third party in this near-conflict remained quite asleep, or what passed for a beaten-up nap.
"Fine, then," Dantro said, more to himself than to the only other conscious member of their group. He settled back into the farthest corner he could manage, making sure he kept a watchful eye on the opposite side of the wagon. The hyuma looked uneasy, but he did more or less the same.
The wagon didn't have a good suspension, so the ride wasn't the most conducive for a long, pensive silence. Occasionally the sleeper took a good knock to the head, but still didn't rouse. Dantro wondered if he should check if any breath was left in him.
The wagon took a sharp turn just then, and Dantro found himself flying nose-first into the opposite bench. He let loose more than a few of his most potent and colorful phrases. The damned hyuma laughed.
"What, you think this is funny?" Dantro asked a little violently, then felt ashamed. Of course he must have found it amusing; hyuma and aytali laughed more or less the same, for the same reasons. And Dantro knew, deep in his heart, that he'd let out a loud chortle or two if they'd taken a right instead of a left.
He sat back and tried rubbing the pain out of his nose, brushing away the old crumbs of dried blood and smearing around what felt like a new flow. Everything smelled sharp and metallic.
The hyuma tried saying something. "Whad's dat?" Dantro asked, snuffled back some blood. His fellow wagon-mate shook his head, looked thoughtful.
"How get out?"
Oh, so he could speak. Not very well, granted, but Dantro felt himself applauding the effort even as he tried to ignore the grating grammatical errors and lack of fluency.
"Get out? I suppose they'll let us out at some point," he said, "Unless what's left of either of our respective mobs actually run the wagon out of town with the rest of the law enforcement."
A blank look was the best he got back. Dantro sighed.
"We can't."
The hyuma looked crestfallen, and took to staring past the bars of the rear window at the receding roads behind him. There seemed to be a good number of missing cobbles in the road, which might help account for the ordeal their rumps were currently undergoing.
"Actually," Dantro began, suddenly possessed of a mad, irresponsible, impossible plan. "You have anything in your possession, by chance?"
The hyuma shrunk back, a most mistrustful look upon his face. He must have understood some choice parts of the exchange, since he turned as if to guard his pockets.
"I'm not going to steal from you, you hypocrite!" Dantro said, and began searching his own person. "The longcoats didn't have enough time to search our clothes, maybe one of us has something useful."
Dantro was probably wasting his breath talking so much, but the hyuma seemed to understand his actions well enough. It'd be too convenient for the lot of them to actually learn the language anytime soon.
After a moment of pulling pockets inside out and checking their belts, Dantro managed to find his knife and a few coins. It was a useful knife, though not a large one. He'd see how useful it was for this little snarl. The hyuma seemed to have about the same amount of luck, having finished his search and holding up a small length of rope and a little chunk of wood. The wood looked awfully familiar.
"Ah, that's how you managed to hit me so hard, you bastard," Dantro said, but was willing to ignore his anger long enough to see if they couldn't make anything of this situation.
"I've a knife, maybe I can open the latch from the inside with it."
As it happened, the designers and engineers behind the creation of this particular wagon seemed to have taken into account that its occupants would try to exploit any flaws in their security features, and had made an expertly tight fit between the door and its frame, which also seemed to be reinforced. The window couldn't have permitted Dantro's head to pass through it, even if it didn't have those dratted iron bars fitting into it.
Dantro damned every one of those wainwrights and hoped their hands and other extremities fell off.
"Well, perhaps this is a hopeless case after all," he sighed, and slumped against the unyielding door. The unconscious fellow hadn't changed condition, and shifted about the floor with the motions of the wagon. The hyuma cradled his face in his hands, moaning softly. Dantro felt irritation rise once again.
"Oh, stop that. The worst that can happen is we're both free to beat each other up again after a week's time." Then he had a thought. "Hm. Do you suppose they segregate prisoners? We might have opportunity to rough each other up on a daily basis, if we're lucky. I don't know your thoughts, but I certainly wouldn't mind punching that ugly nose of yours in a few times. May as well make it match the rest of your head, hey?"
But just about then came a new ruckus from outside their carriage. Dantro perked his ears, trying to decipher the chaos outside. Those windows weren't really much use, and besides, better to keep his comely face from becoming just another target. The hyuma in the corner seemed to have noticed, as well, and cowered down on his bench.
Whatever was occurring outside sounded as though it was drawing nearer.
"Depending on how things go," Dantro murmured, half to himself and half to his conscious companion, "this may be either an excellent opportunity, or a dire happenstance."
Their wagon clattered to a halt, the attached guard or guards apparently jumping off to investigate or flee. The animal up front created its own unattractive and loud noises, soon drowned out by a sound like the roar of an angry sea. Hail fell as well—hail the size of cobbles and broken bricks, near as Dantro could tell. Yes, this would probably be a nasty storm.
He turned back, shouted, "Brace yourself!"
Then the storm broke.
The pattering of feet rapidly became the pattering of hands slapping the sides of the wagon, followed almost immediately by a rocking, side to side. With a lurch, the vehicle fell back on all its wheels. Dantro had by then grabbed a hold of the bench, which was fortunately as sturdy as the rest of the damn thing. At a glance, he could tell the hyuma was doing the same.
Another lurch to the left, stronger this time. The yelling outside grew in volume, then fell in time for the wagon to reach the zenith of its roll. With a quick few screams to stand clear, the wagon crashed back to earth. Once more, the crowd put its back and its lungs into their work, and the wagon tilted at a crazy angle. This time, however, the terrifying balance point shifted, and Dantro felt himself fall.
The wagon, being a solid piece of work, survived the crash well enough. Dantro, however, was more than a little squishier than his cage, and suffered his share of bruises and lumps, because his earlier injuries clearly weren't punishment enough.
Sounds grew and shifted about outside, swarming across the way and rounding corners until they faded. Dantro saw the wisdom of keeping still and quiet in the meantime, curled around a plank of his bench. He didn't know where his knife had gotten to—the fall bad knocked it from his grasp.
Eventually, things appeared to have stilled, the storm blown out or moved on. He began disentangling himself. The unconscious fellow hadn't changed condition, and from the way he was crumpled up against the wall-turned-floor, perhaps he wasn't going to wake up after all. Things were still too dim to make out much else.
"You alive back there?"
A rustle, and the hyuma groaned.
"Ah, that's a shame. I'll check the door, see if it's been loosened up a bit."
Indeed, something violent seemed to have happened to the door, the hinges in particular. With some kicking, Dantro managed to knock it out of its seat, and a painfully bright light lanced its way into their little carriage. Whoever their custodian or custodians had been, there was no sign of them at present, nor of the random mob.
Dantro thanked Providence that no one had gotten it into their heads to grab some torches or lanterns and have a cozy fire. A roast of himself held little appeal.
Some forceful manipulation, and the doors fell open enough to possibly squeeze through. Yes, even sturdy wood as was used to build the damnable thing could not withstand a sharp tumble onto hard stones. As Dantro pulled himself through this new portal, he saw that one of the hinges had shattered completely, even splintering some of the wood, too. He felt some amount of satisfaction in the wagon's own misery; at least his lumps were shared.
And, there! Bright sunlight, fresh air, and an ungraceful tumble onto the road. But Dantro was free!
"Oh, fortuitous day," he said, brushing off his accumulated dust and dried blood. "If it hadn't been for that mob, we'd be on our way to the zoo, wouldn't we?"
As if in answer, his hyuma travel-mate appeared, clawing his way through the break, miserable a thing as Dantro had ever seen. But there in his eyes, the same desperate relief.
"I suppose it wouldn't do to have you stuck in there," Dantro said, wondering if he should try prying the shattered door open wider. "What about our third member?"
The hyuma, now fully emerged from the break, sat on the cobbles for a moment, presumably to catch his breath. He eventually nodded back toward the ruins of the wagon.
"Dead?"
"Don't think he was, last I checked." Dantro kneeled by the opening, peered inside. "Suppose we should drag him out here. The longcoats should be back for their vehicle at some point… They'll be obligated to get him the proper attention, I'd think."
Of course, most of his speech was lost on the hooligan, but the hyuma was quick to pitch in when Dantro began yanking on what was left of the door. As it was, the thing was still sturdier than they'd like, but some effort resulted in a wider gap than there had been. Dantro supposed he was the one obligated to drag out his fellow-man, but couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps the hyuma would use the opportunity to do him some harm.
However, he managed to drag the body of their companion from the wreckage, bruised and still bleeding, which was probably a good sign. When he looked about, the hyuma was still there, having neither run off nor found a weapon with which to clobber Dantro over the head while he left himself exposed. The fellow certainly seemed nervous, though.
"Not-dead?" he asked.
Dantro put a hand in front of the unconscious man's nose. "No. Still has some breath left. Seems like he'll survive long enough to be found."
The hyuma seemed slightly relieved. He straightened out of his crouch and dusted off what was left of his garments.
Just about then, the familiar sounds of brawling began to drift their way. The two conscious members turned to each other.
"Run now?" the hyuma asked. Rather chatty, he was.
"A fine idea, to be sure," Dantro agreed, "Though you needn't my permission, boyo."
And with that, they took off.
To Dantro's surprise, the hyuma chose the same general direction he did, which perhaps was not unusual. But after a few turns down various unpeopled alleyways, he had failed to shake him off his trail.
"Following me, eh?" Dantro panted.
The hyuma gasped back, "No, you follow!"
"Perhaps we can agree that this is merely an excellent path for our needs?"
A short time later (they were both quite winded from prior excursions and bruised diaphragms) the alley opened into a deserted plaza, though not of the exceptionally large variety. By tacit agreement, the two of them ceased their running and half-collapsed onto convenient wooden crates. Dantro was breathing heavily, trying to ease the jabbing pain in his side, when a sudden, loud noise startled him. He glanced up, frightened for a moment, until he saw its source.
The hyuma had curled in on himself, but was laughing outrageously. How he had the breath to do it Dantro couldn't begin to guess. Maybe it was how his race made up for acute deficiencies after running.
"What's that racket for, you hairy mongrel? Stop it!"
The hyuma went on for a short moment more, but eventually calmed himself. "Not mongrel," he said, still giggly. "Dan."
"What, is that your name? You bastard! Stealing people's names, now… I'm Dantro," Dantro replied, thumping his chest gently, to make sure this Dan fellow got the point. Unfortunately, it sent him into another fit of giggles. This time, though, Dantro found himself chuckling along.
"Got away," Dan said, after calming down again. Dantro nodded.
"Quite a stroke of luck, to be sure. But don't think you're off the hook! I still owe you a good pummeling, for earlier."
Dan raised his fists in a mock fighting stance, grinned like a feral beast. "Glad to know you agree with me," Dantro continued. "Shall we set a date?"
The hyuma Dan seemed to consider this. Perhaps he knew more of the lingo than he let on.
"Two days," and the appropriate number of fingers held up as well.
"In that much of a hurry, are we? Sounds like just the right amount of time. Here, in this little nook?"
Dan nodded. "Here. Two days. No friends!"
"A duel it is, then." Dantro smiled in spite of himself. Odd, he was actually looking forward to this!
The two rose, stretched and massaged their hurts. Dantro picked a side alley at random, watched to make sure Dan chose a different one this time. "See you in two days."
The hyuma nodded, grinned more than a little maliciously, and then trotted off and was quickly lost to sight. Dantro grinned a little, felt his ears pick up cheerily. He began down his own alley, wondering how long it'd take him to get back home.
He also wondered what to call this Dan fellow. Who was a person with an obnoxious face that you gleefully wanted to smash into a brick wall? Certainly not a friend.
Though, that word in particular hung about his mind an awful long time.
Oh, well. Maybe there just wasn't a word yet that fit for hyuma.