Page 57 of Planet Zero
“What? He is?”
At some point, Iguell managed to escape the clamp of Zoark’s teeth and fought with renewed force. His throat gushed blood where it was torn raw, but it didn’t slow him down. He bared his own set of horror-movie chompers and retaliated by biting Zoark where he could reach - on his chest, arms…
Zoark wouldn’t slow down and only seemed to accelerate the speed of his blows, not above randomly biting Iguell himself, hand sneaking behind to try and twist Iguell’s elbow, kneeing him below the belt - a dirty fighter. And a frighteningly efficient one. Crippled, permanently in pain from the lack of sex, probably starved, he flipped them again, bearing down on Iguell.
“Yo, Iguell, watch out! Your throat, protect your throat!” Helpful advice from the onlookers fell like rain in September.
With an enraged roar, Vuskas jumped into the melee out of nowhere. “You cockless snake, what have you done!”
His hammer of a fist landed a blow to Zoark’s head, dislodging him from Iguell. Shaking his head to clear it, Zoark twisted, evading the flying fist number two, and bit Vuskas on the forearm. Hard.
Vuskas cursed in a roar, his own teeth gleaming a freaky silver in the greenish Ihr light.
Suddenly, red hair flashed and there was a fourth person in the knot of grappling bodies. Oh’nil. Another brother, this time Zoark’s. His appearance must have brought Zoark to his senses because he suddenly backed off - or tried to. Vuskas, missing his opponent’s willful retreat, sledge-hammered Zoark in the face, knocking him down. Iguell went after him for a kill, bleeding like a sieve, and Oh’nil valiantly threw himself on top of his defenseless brother to protect him from being mowed down, trampled on, bitten, and beaten.
“Stop the fight!” Qalae’s frantic shout rang close but didn’t affect Vuskas. “You and you, leave. Now!” She grasped Vuskas’s arm and tugged, desperate to break them up. Vuskas, too far gone with rage, swiped at her and she landed on her butt, legs thrown and undignified.
Out of nowhere, Vircea jumped into the fray and lunged at Iguell, punching his mangled throat. He yelped and fell, and finally, finally, the fists stopped flying.
“I hate you!” Vircea yelled at Vuskas, spittle flying. In agitation, she rose to her tippy-toes to try and be on the same level with him, over Zoark’s senseless form, over Oh’nil coughing on all fours, and Iguell writhing in pain on the ground.
“Rot with maggots, you and your stupid brother!” She tried to bite Vuskas but he wouldn’t let her. Frustrated, she delivered a kick to wounded Iguell’s ribs, eliciting another painful yelp.
Addie thought that surely Vuskas was going to hit her now, and her brains would splatter on the nearest teepee. But instead, he took a step back.
“Calm down, woman.” He also said something derogatory about her sorry-ass siblings that Addie had trouble translating.
“Go away,” Vircea shrieked in response. “Take your loser brother and drag him to the end of the world where a Tek bitch will be his mate!”
She was trembling, her dark-red, thick hair spread around her shoulders like a lush velvet curtain.
A movement nearby made Addie jump, but it was just Qalae rising to her feet. She stood up, arms hugging her torso, and her large inhuman eyes betrayed deep emotion. In this unguarded movement, she had eyes for one man only, and that man was not Chief Net’ok.
Oh’nil slowly rose to his feet, grimacing in pain. He bled from numerous bite wounds that appeared shallow and favored his left arm.
“Help me, Vircea,” he said with a cough.
Turning away from Vuskas, Vircea crouched over Zoark who looked pasty pale, lifeless. Together with Oh’nil, they took him to their tent.
Addie quietly went to hers. She fetched her sack and calmly started gathering supplies.
Chapter 18
Addie resolutely approached Oh’nil’s tent and let herself in.
“Hi,” she said.
Zoark lay sprawled on a pallet along a wall, semi-propped against a bundle of furs. Oh’nil was sitting in front of Vircea who was inspecting the damage done to his back. Both turned to Addie, and their faces expressed surprise, distrust, and resentment. The last one more so in Oh’nil’s case than in Vircea.
“Leave, Addie-woman,” he said to her. “You are not welcome in our tent.”
“It is alsohistent,” she replied and went to Zoark. “I’ll leave whenhetells me to.”
He wouldn’t, of course, on the account that he was unconscious.
“I will sew his chest up. All he’ll have left is a thin line of a scar, visible only from up close.”
Oh’nil’s lip curled in disgust even as his eyes flickered. “Even if I believed you in your good intentions, woman, I won’t allow you to see him. The High Counselor's word is the law.”
