Hangman squatted down next to Vulture, dropped four metal blades on the ground, and handed Vulture a gourd carved into a water flask. “Drink some. I’ll use the rest on your leg.”

  Vulture raised his eyebrows at the weapons. “Where have you been? I heard screaming.”

  Hangman looked away. “I told you. I got the water and I gathered leaves for the paste.”

  Vulture snorted and tipped up the gourd. “You’re a terrible liar, brother.”

  Hangman rummaged in his bag and pulled out a wooden bowl he used for eating. “As soon as we treat your leg, we should withdraw to Godless territory. It will take you extra time to travel. We shouldn’t wait for the others to return.”

  “You said you would meet up with them,” Vulture pointed out.

  “We will meet up with them. We just won’t do it here.” Hangman nodded at the gourd. “Are you done? I can get more if you need it. There’s a stream just there beyond the Renegade camp.”

  Vulture handed the gourd back. “I’ll only slow you down. I shouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

  “Everyone gets hurt. It’s no one’s fault.” Hangman untied the wrap around Vulture’s leg. “This looks ragged. How did you get it? It couldn’t have been made by a Renegade weapon.”

  “It wasn’t the Renegades,” Vulture grumbled. “One of them came at me with part of a Krakelow wrapped around his face. I couldn’t even see the fool’s face behind the fragment. He came straight at me and I stumbled back to get away from him. I tripped over a fallen branch and slashed my leg on a crack in the wood.”

  Hangman looked up and then snorted with laughter. “Don’t tell anyone else how it happened.”

  “I wasn’t planning to.”

  Hangman couldn’t stop laughing. He shouldn’t laugh at his cousin’s misfortune. Hangman just wished he had been there to see it.

  “Go on and laugh,” Vulture snapped. “Enjoy yourself while you can.”

  Hangman chuckled. “At least the women will still like you for your looks. You have nothing to complain about.”

  Vulture humphed under his breath. “A lot of good that will do me.”

  Hangman let it go and got to work grinding the leaf paste. He smeared a thick covering on the wound and rewrapped it much tighter this time. “That will hold it closed so it seals.”

  “Thank you, brother,” Vulture muttered. “You didn’t have to stay behind.”

  “Someone had to. We couldn’t leave you to the ants, could we?”

  Vulture looked away. “Someone else could have stayed. You should have gone with them. Butcher needs you more than he needs Boxer or Fang.”

  Hangman didn’t answer. He wouldn’t have seen those Renegades sneaking around if he went with Butcher to the Grey Ghost.

  Hangman packed up his goods. He hung the four Renegade weapons from the strap of one of his bags.

  He couldn’t explain to himself why he wanted the weapons. He wouldn’t be able to use them while he was carrying his kukris.

  He didn’t even want to use them. He preferred his kukris. He just didn’t want to discard these weapons—not yet.

  “Get up,” he told Vulture. “Let’s get going before the sun goes down.”

  He got under his cousin’s arm again. Vulture did his best to keep up the pace, but he couldn’t walk fast.

  They covered only a few miles before Vulture’s one good leg started to give out. He trembled in Hangman’s arms.

  Hangman lowered him to the ground again. Vulture collapsed shaking and sweating against another tree trunk. He didn’t open his eyes.

  Hangman knew the signs only too well. He laid his hand on Vulture’s thigh above the wound. The skin already felt hot. Redness spread outward from the wound. It was getting infected.

  Hangman surveyed the surrounding jungle and canopy. Predators would come for Vulture. Hangman had to do something, but he didn’t trust leaving Vulture on the ground.

  Vulture brought Hangman back from his thoughts. “You should go on,” Vulture husked. “Leave me here.”

  “I don’t think so. Come on. I’ll carry you.”

  Hangman stood up and took hold of Vulture’s wrist. Vulture groaned in agony for the first time when Hangman hauled his cousin back onto his one good leg.

  Vulture could barely hold himself up. He wouldn’t last ten minutes out here alone.

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  Hangman didn’t explain what he was going to do. He slung Vulture over his shoulder and climbed into the branches again.

  Hangman couldn’t move fast with all this extra weight, but that didn’t matter. Vulture was too good a warrior and too smart to sacrifice him over a stupid, careless wound like this.

  Hangman climbed all the way up into the canopy, but he wouldn’t be able to leave Vulture unattended for long. Night was coming. Predators could find him in the trees as well as they could find him on the ground.

  Hangman propped Vulture into the crotch of three trees growing too closely together. Their limbs made a cradle that supported Vulture’s body even when he couldn’t sit upright on his own.

  Hangman left Vulture there and balanced out into the canopy. Hangman had to work fast, but at least he could move freely now.

  He found a different tree, stripped the leaves off, carried them back to Vulture, and Hangman stuffed the leaves into his own mouth.

  They tasted absolutely putrid when he chewed them up. He fought down nausea until he spat the rancid mass back into his hand. It smelled as bad as it looked. He spat into his hand again and again, but the taste didn’t go away.

  He got busy rubbing the stinking mass of chewed leaves all over Vulture’s face, back, chest, arms, and down his legs.

  Hangman took extra pains to rub the stuff over the bandage wrapped around Vulture’s injured leg.

  The leaf smell wouldn’t hide Vulture completely, but the smell would repel enough creatures at a distance to buy Vulture a little extra time—just long enough for Hangman to hopefully save his life.

  Hangman scraped the last of the leaf goo off his hands and even dragged his tongue over the tree bark to try to get the taste out of his mouth. It didn’t work very well, but it was better than nothing.

  He finally gave it up, left Vulture there, and went back out into the canopy.

  He had to search a lot longer and a lot harder this time before he found what he wanted. The gathering darkness didn’t help, but he already knew what he was looking for.

  He spotted another pack of Abnormits scuttling up and down a certain tree. Hangman squatted in the branches and watched them before he decided how to get rid of them.

  He waited until another Gurlg landed nearby. Hangman climbed through the branches and came out in a different tree above the Gurlg’s head.

  The creature saw him, which was exactly what Hangman wanted. He descended close enough for the creature to screech at him and dive to try to bite him.

  Hangman took one of the Renegade weapons from his bag strap. This one had a longer, thinner blade than his kukri.

  The Gurlg dove for him again and again. He jabbed the weapon into its face to antagonize it. It screeched louder and pumped its wings as its temper rose.

  He poked it under the chin and then in the cheek to infuriate it. The Gurlg eventually lost its composure entirely, lunged to snap him off the branch, and Hangman struck out with his weapon.

  He chopped the Gurlg across the neck straight through the large blood vessels on the right side.

  The blade stuck into the creature’s spinal column and reared away bellowing and shrieking. Blood spurted from the wound. Hangman didn’t even try to keep his hold on the weapon.

  He let it go down with the Gurlg. The body landed on the ground with a deep thump.

  The vibrations attracted the Abnormits. They scurried to the ground, discovered the Gurlg, and started feasting.

  That left the tree bare. Hangman climbed up it and used his knife to scrap off a bunch of dried sap that oozed from the bark.

  He carefully folded a large portion of the sap into a piece of cured hide from his bag. Then he took the sap back to Vulture.

  He was still out cold in the branches. Hangman didn’t see or hear any dangerous creatures around, so Vulture was as safe now as he was likely to get.

  Hangman couldn’t say the same thing about himself. He descended to the ground, built a fire, and put some rocks in the coals to heat them. He needed to boil water to make medicine for Vulture.

  The process took a long time. Hangman had to constantly fight his patience under control. The longer this took, the less likely Vulture would be to recover.

  That didn’t matter because this was the only way to save Vulture’s life. Hangman had to go through every step of the process carefully and exactly. The medicine wouldn’t work otherwise.

  He carved out a much larger bowl while he waited for the rocks to heat. He filled the bowl with water, sprinkled his sap dust into it, and then added the rocks to bring the water to a boil.

  Then he had to wait for the mixture to cool enough before he gave it to Vulture. Hangman was still sitting there when Butcher, Shadow, and the others returned.

  Butcher frowned at Hangman. “What is going on? We heard screaming. We thought you were in danger.”

  “I’m fine, Uncle. I was just making Gooji juice for Vulture.”

  “Where is he?” Viking asked. “Is he dead?”

  “I wouldn’t be making Gooji juice for him if he was.” Hangman pointed up at the sky. “He’s in the trees covered in monk’s leaf juice. He’s perfectly safe—apart from the infection in his leg.” He stuck his finger into the Gooji juice. “This is ready. I’ll go get him.”

  Hangman tried not to notice his relatives exchanging glances when he climbed into the trees and vanished into the dark.

  He found his way by smell to Vulture’s tree, pried his cousin out of the branches, and carried him down to the fire.

  Vulture groaned louder this time when Hangman tried to sit him up. Vulture’s eyes glazed over. He didn’t respond and his limbs flopped everywhere Hangman tried to move him.

  “Chaos—help me sit him up,” Hangman called over his shoulder.

  Chaos got on Vulture’s other side. He and Hangman held Vulture in a sitting position. Viking came over, grabbed a fistful of Vulture’s long braids, and pried Vulture’s head up so Hangman could pour the Gooji juice down Vulture’s throat.

  He choked on it and almost spat it out before Viking clamped his hand over Vulture’s mouth to hold his lips shut.

  “Swallow it, boy!” Viking snapped. “Swallow all of it. Don’t waste it.”

  Vulture gasped out and started howling in agony when Viking took his hand away.

  Viking didn’t let up. He grabbed Vulture by the jaw and pried his mouth open so Hangman could dump in the next dose. Then Viking held Vulture’s mouth shut a second time.

  They repeated the process five times before they let him sink back against a bank and rest. He whimpered in his sleep and immediately passed out again.

  The other men settled down after the procedure. Chaos shared his food with Hangman.

  “What did you find up on the mountain?” Hangman asked. “What did you see?”

  “Nothing,” Chaos replied. “There’s nothing over there but hundreds of miles of jungle. We didn’t even see any mountains.”

  “We haven’t searched to the south,” Hangman pointed out. “That’s the one place we haven’t searched.”

  “We can’t search to the south,” Shadow replied. “There are too many other Clans down there. We would have to trespass on their territory and potentially start a war we can’t win.”

  Hangman didn’t answer. He already knew that. He just hated to give up on a weapon that could stop the Renegade Clan from encroaching any further into Godless territory.

  He pushed that thought away. The Godless wouldn’t be able to use those weapons against anyone even if the band found them. The Godless didn’t know how to use the weapons at all.

  End of Chapter 12.

  ? 2024 by Theo Mann

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