4 Figh (1/2)

As the blanket was ripped off of him, for one brief, horrible moment, Daneel wondered whether he would die just like that, lying on his back, unable to move as his end approached him.

Each and every particle of his being rebelled against the thought, and immediately, he sprang into action.

He didn't even know what he was doing exactly. He just understood that he needed to get away from where he was, so without thinking about it, he moved to the only direction available to him which was… towards the assassin.

The bed had been set against the wall, and the hut was too small for him to even stand properly if he moved forward or back. The sudden flood of sunlight that flew unhindered into his eyes after the removal of the blanket blinded him, but he rejoiced, for an instant, when he heard a grunt and the sound of a dagger skittering to the floor.

His shoulder had shoved into something, but when his hands and legs that were groping blindly met nothing, he wondered whether he had misjudged the position of his foe. Then, though, the sensation of course cloth rubbing against his skin shot up his arms, and through them, he also felt… bones.

'What the… am I fighting a goddamn zombie?'

In the heat of the situation, he didn't know why he said that, and he didn't even understand the meaning of that word. Both of these questions flew out of his mind, though, when his eyes adjusted and then widened to find a gaping mouth hurtling in his direction, wide open, as if to bite the life out of him.

The face the mouth belonged to was one of the most ghastly he had ever seen, although he didn't know whether he was an authority on the subject, having just seen a few so far. Still, the way the man's skin almost hung from his skull and was so sunburned that it had turned almost completely black made his breath catch, but he immediately blew it out when he realized that he would soon have his ear bitten off if he didn't do something.

The first thing his instincts told him to do was raise his leg and kick the man in his crotch. It was one of the favorite moves taught by the taskmaster to the sons of the master, but the moment he contemplated utilizing it in this situation, he remembered all of the sickening memories in which he had deployed it to the merry laughter of his equally sick friends.

'Out of the question!'

With this thought, he looked for something else, even as the mouth came closer and closer.

'Wait… is it me, or is he moving slowly?'

The question made him blink and observe, and a second later, he understood.

With all the panic that had been coursing through his veins, the opponent had seemed much more dangerous than he really was. In reality, the one he was fighting was a starved slave in a much, much worse condition than the other two he had seen so far. His will to kill Daniel was much stronger than the strength he had, and even in this desperate situation where his hands and legs were entangled, he wanted to use his mouth… but all of his strength wasn't enough for him to move quickly enough to reach his target even though Daneel was stymied as to what he should do.

He pursed his lips, and a relatively safe manner to disarm the man came to him. It was also from one of the memories he had just seen, and even though he had never used the technique before as the safety of his opponents had never been on his mind… he chose it now, deciding that this man deserved his pity.

He moved his own head forward, and head-butted the man before he could do anything harmful.

That took the fight right out of him. His head rolled to his side, and quickly, Daneel realized that he had actually knocked the man unconscious.

The extent of his weakness became clear when he slumped against his body. He was so frail that it felt as if he was holding a child, albeit an extremely malnourished and malformed one. The only thing he had going for him was that he was tall, but from the way his ribs were clearly visible above a hollow stomach, this advantage hadn't done much for him.

Gently, Daneel laid him on the bed he had been sleeping on until now. The adrenaline began to leave his body, and in its place came back the agony due to his beatings before… but whatever the healer had done to him had worked wonders. For the first time since waking up, he felt the strength in his arms and legs, and he knew that he had to thank the original owner for this one thing even though he hated the man for everything else.

For reasons foul, Daniel had been an avid pursuer of the arts of combat. Hence, it was to be expected that he would be more powerful than most of the slaves who were worked day and night with only the minimum amount of food and water needed for them to continue their wretched existence.

Deciding to dig deeper into just what they did to make them so weak, Daneel prepared to plunge back into his memories… but he was interrupted by the sounds of a tide of footsteps approaching the door.

Taking a step back, he looked around furtively, trying to identify any place that he could hide in… but the pitcher of water was too small for him, and the cupboard was so flimsy that it might break if he even tried putting his weight on it. He even contemplated getting on the ground and acting dead, but it was obvious that the ruse would be up the moment they saw the fainted man on the bed.

That was how they found him when they came in. Like a rabbit looking for a way to escape, his eyes were darting here and there, looking, searching for some manner to get away. As for the reason behind the intention… before, it had been a gaggle of angry voices that had also reached him, and now, it was the red eyes that were glancing between him and the old man lying on the couch.