Holy and honored Ancestors, watch over my little Aker’iz and Dorie…
But the final thrust into my throat doesn’t come. Instead, someone knocks me on the head with a club. For a moment, theworld is all stars and then darkness. Something warm trickles through my hair as I raise my head from the ground again.
“We think you’re hiding something from us,” Emar’oz snarls, throwing the club away. “We don’t think that girl is dead. You keep coming here like a man defending his tribe. But you don’t have a tribe. So this time we were ready for you. You’ve never seen a tripwire snare before? We set up many, all around our old camp.”
“Every man needs to hunt, even if he’s alone,” I try as I sit up, feeling dizzy. “And this is my turf.” If I were alone, I’d fight these men to the death. But if I die, it means Aker’iz dies, too. She will starve to death inside that Plood ship. I have to stay alive as long as I can and try to escape.
“Mmm,” Emar’oz says. “We’ll let the chief and the shaman decide. We’ll take you to them now. Will you let us tie you up without resisting, or do we have to cut you?”
For a moment, I tense up to attack them. Then I let go of my sword. “No need to spill blood in vain.”
They tie me up with sturdy leather straps, and then I walk through the jungle with the tips of two swords at my back. If they’re taking me to the village, we’ll be walking like this for several moons. It will give me many chances to escape.
“You see,” Torkz’ik says as he falls into step beside me, “the tribe is moving. It was decided right after you left. Our turf is too small. We keep running into other tribes, and you know how hard it is to hunt. Someone said we should followyou. Because surely the magnificent Kenz’ox would seek out a good place to live. Surelyyouwould find good turf. And then we would have a new turf, a new village, and a small girl.”
I test the straps that bind my wrists. They’re solid. If not, I could snap them and try to snatch his sword. “A girl? The chief changed his mind about her?”
Torkz’ik steps over a root. “He realized that a baby girl may one day become a woman. And then, we would be the only tribe with a woman. Not the Woman, perhaps. Or maybe this was the Ancestors’ way of giving us the Woman? The shaman said it might be. He said that the girl being taken out of the Lifegiver could set in motion great changes for the tribe, and that we should follow the girl. And you. So we were sent ahead, while the tribe was being packed up. We left a trail for them to follow as we tracked you and the girl. If we thought that you had found a good place, and that you had stopped, we were to kill you, but not the girl.”
“You didn’t kill me,” I reply, my mind dark because I didn’t kill those three when I had the chance. “Even though Aker’iz is dead.”
“We did not,” he agrees. “And now our orders have changed. We are to take you to the chief, and you can tell him where the girl is. He intends to lay claim to her as his, as I’m sure you understand. She is the only girl in the jungle.”
I force a dry laugh, though my stomach feels like ice. “He’ll be a long time searching. Even I can’t find her little pyre anymore.”
“I don’t think he will search for a cold pyre,” Torkz’ik says. “I think you will tell him where the living girl is. Whether you want to or not. Because who will feed her now that you are bound? Ah, here we are.”
It looks like any part of the jungle, dense and humid. But there’s a lot of movement and sounds. The Tratena tribe is building a camp for the night, it seems.
24
–Theodora–
The chief is sitting very close to me. Too close. His bare knee brushes mine every time he shifts, and my whole body wants to recoil. These guys have been on the march through the jungle for weeks, and so the air around them feels sticky, humid, and musky. It’s like being trapped between the armpits of six unwashed gym bros the size of bears.
“Now, let’s talk about Worship and Mating,” he says. His breath is warm on my cheek. “After all, that is the reason the Woman comes to Xren at all: to Mate with a worthy warrior and become the Mother of Xren. And while there were two young warriors who found you first, I am the chief of this tribe. Shall I Worship you now?”
I lean away without making it obvious, inching back until the grass tickles my fingers. I still have my spear in my hand, but I can’t count on using it for self-defense here, against a hundred big cavemen. My throat tightens. “The Worship is not needed, Chief.”
My mind is racing. My heart’s going too fast. It feels like it wants to punch through my ribs and sprint for the jungle. How do I deflect this? The whole Worship and Mating thing is obviously the main attraction for these guys. If I take that off the table, a lot of my power gets deflated. But there’s nothing I want less than being even remotely physical with any of these cavemen.
The chief raises his eyebrows. “Surely itisneeded? The Worship is one of the most important parts of the Prophecy. Even our young men are taught how to do it. And the Mating later. It is all necessary. We will build a hut where you and I can be alone.”
My pulse stumbles at the wordalone.
“Or the man that the Woman chooses,” the shaman says quickly. He gives me a creepy smile with too many teeth, a broken fang, and too much eagerness. “When she is found by more than one man, of course she can choose. Perhaps she even knows which man it shall be.”
“When the Woman is found by a tribe, of course it is thechiefof that tribe she wants,” the chief states firmly. “For he is the leader of them all, with power over life or death. He determines the life of the tribe. It is often said that the chief of a tribeisthe tribe.”
“Is it, Chief?” the shaman asks, a shrillness in his voice. “I have never heard that said.”
Their bickering grows louder. The men lean in, each smelling like they rolled in jungle sweat and pride. My skin crawls. The tension is thick enough to pinch between two fingers.
“No young men,” someone says. “They have not proven themselves.”
“Onlyyoung men,” another counters. “They are not worn out!”
Voices spike, overlapping, vibrating with alien testosterone.
