Blott

TWO: BLOOD AND SECRETS

TWO: BLOOD AND SECRETS

“No, no, no, no, no!” Blott stuttered, struggling to run straight while looking over his shoulder.

Like a fireball, Clucky the rooster-bull charged out of the barn. The massive animal stood nearly six feet tall on all fours. His haunches arched and his bright orange feathers splayed out around his head like a lion’s mane. He slavered and his red crest pulsed angrily. Waving his head, he swung his set of gleaming horns. This prize-winning creature weighed over a ton. Blott had to get out of the way.

“No, Clucky, no!” yelled Artemis, waving his arms to steer Clucky away from Caleb. Instantly, the animal turned on him. “Whoa!”

Artemis dived out of the way as the tsunami of feathers, hooves, and talons rushed past him. A set of tiny, useless wings flapped lividly on Clucky’s back. A gold ring that hung from his nostrils clinked against his drooling beak. Rearing up, he stood on his massive chicken-feet, anchoring himself to the spot, while his hoofed forelegs flailed at the boys’ heads.

Ethan arrived on the scene, holding a rope. Fumbling with it, he looped it firmly over his arm, swung the lasso around his head and hurled it at the rooster-bull. The first throw missed. He tried again. A second failed attempt.

“Get him, you i***t!” Artemis screamed.

Artemis was yelling commands from the safety of a broad-leafed tree he’d climbed next to the barn. Clucky leapt furiously at his dangling legs. He let out a squeal as the rooster-bull’s long horns brushed alarmingly close to his shins.

Flapping, Clucky turned, eyes bulging as the rope slapped pathetically against the side of his head. His crest puffed and jets of hot air erupted from his nostrils. A new enemy was in his sights.

Dropping the rope, Ethan stumbled backwards, tripping over his own feet. Fortunately, he managed to stay upright. Turning, he sprinted off in the opposite direction. A wise move.

Clucky trailed him, upright, horns sweeping back and forth in fury. In a moment of panic, Ethan glanced over his shoulder and tripped over an exposed tree root because he wasn’t watching where he was going. He broke his fall with his knees, and then rolled onto his back and grimaced, bringing his hands up in front of his face. Flushed, he waited for the impact, knowing that rooster-bull attacks often ended with men being gouged open, scarred for the rest of their lives.

Cluck-cluck! Cluck-a-doodle MOOOOO!

Clucky lunged as he sounded the rooster-bull death scream and powered down for the kill. But his rage wasn’t satisfied. At the last moment, his head snapped sharply to one side and he veered off course. Ethan sat up, his chest rising and falling. He didn’t move any further. His body wouldn’t let him. Shock had kicked in. He just lay there, his whole body tingling with fear.

Clucky continued on his war path, circling back. It only became apparent what was happening when Ethan saw Caleb and Artemis. Artemis had climbed down from the tree and was using the discarded rope to lasso his father’s prize-winning animal. Then he and Caleb worked together to rein in the beast.

As Caleb held the rope, straining to drag Clucky back to the barn, Artemis barked orders and slapped the creature on the rump with his broom handle. Reluctantly, Clucky settled down and returned to his home. With a sigh of relief they finally restrained the rooster-bull, closing the buckled door to lock him inside.

“Where is he?” snarled Artemis after a moment.

The others looked up, confused, then remembered who they were chasing before the rooster-bull broke out.

Artemis could just make out Blott’s skinny frame fleeing the scene. His hood was back up now, his legs carrying him away as fast as possible. The distraction had been a stroke of luck.

“Take this!” Artemis jammed the broom handle into Ethan’s open hand and ran off in pursuit again.

Having reached the edge of the Fexelit farm, Blott vaulted over its main gate. Racing along ragged hinterland, he detoured amongst the bushes, hoping to throw his enemies off his scent. His chest burned and his legs had wanted to give up from the moment he started sprinting. Whatever pain they caused him was nothing, though, compared to what he would experience if Artemis and his assistants caught up.

Finding the road, he continued along the dry earth until it joined the main part of the village Ortus. The village was a haven. Reaching these houses meant safety. The settlement’s thatched roofs and slightly greener scenery was situated in the middle of the three-mile-wide, crater-shaped valley in which the Canvas People – or Canvasians as they called themselves – had lived for over a decade. It was secluded.

Although that meant it could seem like a prison at times, the steep crater walls were the only thing that kept out the horrors of the White Plains. The close-knit community stayed inside to keep it that way.

Artemis wouldn’t dare touch Blott after he reached the main streets. He wouldn’t risk neighbours seeing the confrontation. If they told his father, Arcana, the head of the village council, that they had seen him being anything less than a perfect member of the community, the old man would have no hesitation in making a public example of his son. Arcana had a stern reputation to uphold, something he was more than happy to reinforce by publicly rebuking his hot-headed child. As a leader he was tough but impartial. Anyone who crossed his rules were fair game, even his own flesh and blood.

Slowing to a jog Blott turned a corner and slumped to the ground behind a stone wall. Wiping the sweat from his brow he waited until he caught his breath. His heartbeat slowed to a gentle thumping in his ears. He was away from immediate danger. If someone asked him where he’d been, he could just say that he had been out for a brisk walk. Artemis couldn’t prove otherwise. Any exercise for no reason wasn’t a recommended activity in Ortus, with most of the starving community concerned about needlessly wasting energy, but Blott was young. He could be forgiven.

That was close, he thought.

He knew that now Artemis had identified him skulking around his father’s farm, he was going to have to confront the issue and explain himself. Hopefully, he could strike up a deal with the bully before the adults got involved. If he couldn’t then the whole situation could end up as a family feud, and Artemis wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to disappoint his father.

Having re-gathered his thoughts, Blott pushed his hands through his dark hair. He was surprised how much the run had taken the wind out of him. He had a relatively athletic frame and liked to keep himself physically fit, but the food shortage had caused noticeable effects on his fitness. His home wasn’t far away, though, and it was almost dinner time. After what he had just been through, he could do with a meal. Climbing back to his feet, he took a step forward then stopped dead.

“There you are, scrap sucker.”

The voice sent a chill through him.

“Arti,” Blott responded, trying to sound tougher than he felt.

“What were you doing at the farm? Trying to steal our food, eh? Your dad can’t provide for you, can he? Greedy. That’s what I call it. All of you. You eat all of your own food and then you think you can just take ours when you’ve run out.”

Blott was trapped. Artemis blocked the alleyway’s only access point to the village, making his intentions seem all the more sinister. He must have jumped over a few garden walls to cut off Blott’s escape. Going back would mean returning to the Fexelit farm. A fake innocence lay on the bully’s face. He glanced down at his boots and pretended to shine them in the dry grass. Blott gulped. It seemed as though he was cleaning them for a reason, like a warrior shining his sword.

“That’s a lie and you know it!” Blott retorted. “Everybody’s talking about how you’re hiding extra stores in your stables. People are going without and your father’s eating banquets at every meal!”

Grinning, Artemis strode forward until he loomed over Blott. They were face to face but Blott had to look up. His natural eye line rested at Artemis’ shoulders. Despite the younger boy’s courage, his defiant glare faltered for a second as Artemis bent down and whispered in his ear, “Prove it, rat.”

It was then that the larger boy struck Blott hard across the face with the back of his heavy hand, sending his vision whirling. The impact knocked him down to his knees. It was totally unexpected. He hadn’t imagined that Artemis would strike him this close to the centre of the village. Although they were hidden from view, the chances of them being discovered fighting was still high, and it was no secret that their families weren’t the best of friends.

“Hey! Stop! I’m warning you.”

“What are you going to do, tell my father that I caught you trying to steal food from us?”

Artemis swung at Blott again. This time Blott ducked, knowing that if he retaliated it would be all over. Artemis was playing with him right now. A full-blooded attack would have knocked him out cold. If he tried to fight back, the tussle would be completely one-sided.

“It wasn’t like that! I saw it! I saw the food! You’ve got stores. I didn’t want it for myself! Well… I mean… I did, but I wanted it for everyone!”

Artemis laughed. “You can’t prove a thing!” Another blunt punch. This time the clout met its target. Blott took it full in the mouth, spitting blood. It wasn’t a hard blow, but it caught him off balance and one of his teeth cut the inside of his cheek. The beating was beginning to irritate him.

“Let me go, Artemis. I’ve learned my lesson.” He stood up.

“Oh, I don’t think you have. Not yet.”

Artemis hit him again. This time Blott saw stars and almost fell back to his knees, but he remained standing. Heart pounding, he realised that his temper was beginning to get the better of him. Blood rushed into his face and he gritted his teeth.

He knew he couldn’t let the fury in. There was no telling what would happen if he let go of the tight grip he currently had on his emotions. Yes, a physical fight would inevitably result in a beating, but Blott had other means at his disposal, means he wanted to hide at all costs.

He had to stay calm. Anger, fear, and violent emotion of any sort were all forbidden. He wouldn’t do it. Not after what his father, Primus, had told him. He would never reveal his secret. But still… the desire was there inside him.

Hold it in, Blott. You can’t let them see what you’re really capable of. You can never let them know what you are. Blott fought to keep his father’s words in his head.

The lesson had been told to him many times from his early childhood. Back then, it had been difficult to hold back his emotions. The first few years took real practice, but eventually it got easier. His parents began to trust him to be left alone with others. And he gradually stopped having a problem controlling his… issue. Now, at thirteen, he thought he had mastered it. But then again, he had never been provoked into a full-on fistfight.

“Cool it, Artemis.”

The bigger boy grinned. “Or what?”

You can never let them know what you are, Primus’ voice repeated inside his head.

Another slap.

Never let them know.

A final punch. Blott blocked the attack and swung his own fist. His knuckles made contact with Artemis’ jaw and suddenly he felt like he was having a heart attack.

Let them know.

The voice had changed now. It was gruff, hissing, urging him to inflict pain. The image of his father had melted away. The face that replaced him was darker, silhouetted, with a scraggy beard and piercing, green eyes. He had never seen the face before but something about it was familiar.

The rhythmic sound of cogs crunching flooded his ears, as if he were inside a giant clock. Was that a memory, too? He wasn’t sure. It was only when he felt the roughness of rope on his hands that he realised he had become totally blind to reality and his imagination had taken over. All he could see was blackness. The feeling of coarse fibres scratched his skin.

Blinking, he looked up at Artemis. The bully had stopped attacking. Instead, he was standing, frozen, staring at Blott’s hands. Holding them up to look, Blott winced.

Blood was rising in his open hands, emerging like beads of sweat from every pore and running down his fingers. But the fluid was darker than blood. It bubbled from his skin. The droplets began to spatter on the ground. And the thudding of cogs in his head got louder. When he saw the rich, crimson liquid turn black he closed his palms, hiding them from Artemis.

“Argh! I’ve cut myself,” he lied.

But it was too late. Artemis had seen it.