The Songs of Strife

39 HELL

The sound of dripping water woke Lam from a deep dream. He gave a long yawn before he took the white cloth on his head, squeezing his eyes shut and opening them so his sight could adapt with the dimness.

Stalactites that covered the ceiling above him startled his senses back to clarity and to reality. The jutting rock formations reminded him of the macupo's vile fangs. He shivered at the thought of the vile beast coming to life. After a while, the fog of sleep broke open to let his memories pass.

"Where... am I...?" he whispered but only the echo of his own voice answered back.

Lam tried to stand but his legs wouldn't let him. He tried again but failed. Worried and a bit curious he raised his head to see what's wrong. Only then did he realised that a chunk of his left leg was gone. He whispered his curses as pain rushed towards his body.

"Where the fuck are my legs?" he whispered in shock.

He could feel his wound healing but it was too slow. He tried to piece things but all he remembered were muddied up memories. The last thing he saw was the white soul-searing light that came at him after their victory against the pale invaders. Out of stubbornness, he tried to stand for the third time but pain stabbed at his side and chest.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," said a rough voice warped by the cave's echo.

Lam turned his head towards it, hands looking for a weapon to protect himself. "Who are you?" he said, eyes straining to see through the gloom of the cavern's inner chamber. "Where's my damn sword?"

"I got a better question for you." The man in the darkness raised his shaking hand and pointed at Lam's legs. "What are you?"

Lam growled. "Someone who you wouldn't want to cross." The waylander tried to face the speaker shrouded by the shadows but pain and fatigued had weakened him. He took a jagged rock from the cave's floor instead. It wouldn't do as a weapon but he had no choice.

"Where am I?" He raised the pointed edge towards the man in the darkness.

"You're in a cave my friend."

"I'm not blind. What I meant was why did you bring me here? I need to go back to my family. They need me right now."

"I can't let you do that my friend."

"You can't? Then, you're no friend of mine." Lam propped himself up using the cave wall, teeth gritted. Beads of sweat ringed around his pale features. Then, Lam paused as he heard the man in the shadows stand and stagger into the light, dragging Rooster's claw behind him. His heart skipped a beat with the thought of his sword slicing his own flesh. But things were not as he thought it was.

"I beg to disagree, friend," the man said as he stood in front of Lam.

"Salip?" Lam said to his chieftain.

He almost didn't recognize the datu of Mandawili. His face was all bruised up. Dried blood clung on his matted long hair and his nose seemed to have acquired a crooked edge.

"This is heavy," Pulaco said with a raspy voice. He dropped Lam's sword with a clang and took the bamboo canteen slung to his hip and offered it to Lam.

The Pulaco in front of him seemed like someone else. And not just physically. Yes, he was no longer the magnanimous chief who seemed like some bronze-skinned demi-god of a time long-passed. And gone was the aura of invincibility that veiled him before. Only to be replaced by what looked like his truer self. He was now just a man of flesh and bone. But somehow, Lam felt like this Pulaco was the man the tales were all about. It was in his eyes too, there was an edge in the way he looked at things that made him all the more intimidating and dangerous. It was always in the eyes.