Chapter 1
RYNN
I’m up to my elbows in frizikki guts when Aloryk approaches me. Though I may be leader of my tribe, everyone must bloody their hands and feathers for our Goddesses.
“High Spear Rynn,” he says, greeting me with the deference afforded to a Protector Chief of the Trixikka.
I give a grunt of acknowledgment, allowing him to raise his lowered head as I reach into my recent kill, ridding the frizikki carcass of the creature’s poisoned offal. The twin day-moons as well as their sun-cousins are high in the sky and soon, I will need to offer this meat to the Temple as part of my tribute.
“I come to seek permission to make an offering to the Goddesses.”
Glancing up at him, I look Aloryk over, my hands still busy, moving on to skinning the beast. Aloryk is one of my younger Protector-Warriors, still untried in any fighting, though he takes his role as Protector as seriously as any Trixikka ought to. “You have extra meat you wish to add to our offerings today, Aloryk?” I ask, wiping my life-stone blade on the hide at my hip. “Or perhaps a particularly fine flight feather?”
Aloryk’s skin-stars pulse, particularly those over his heart. His wings are tucked in tight and his tail flicks wildly behind him. I know what it was he wishes to offer up to the Goddesses.
Dipping my bloody hands into a bowl of water, I clean the frizikki from my skin and sigh. “It is important that any young the Goddesses gift to us are of good, strong Protector blood, you understand that, don’t you? Our tribe must thrive and our sons must be able to grow to replace us and protect our females.”
“Yes, High Spear,” he says, going utterly still.
Goddess-damn me and my soft heart. Aloryk may be untried, but he had done exceptionally well in his training. I could allow him this, couldn’t I? “Do you have any life-stones to offer? And a seed pot?” I ask him, relenting.
Aloryk’s face splits into a wide grin. “Yes, High Spear!”
I grunt. “Best go fill your pot now then, Aloryk,” I say, drying my hands on some soft hide. “The tribe gathers at the Temple soon.”
***
Our Temple is unlike anything else in our lands. Except, that is, its twin at the base of High Spear Zarikko’s mountain. Ours, at the foot of my tribe’s mountain, is as white and smooth as a Zokki-bird's egg.
On days after a four-moon night, we make offerings to the Temple Goddesses, Goddesses who keep our females safe inside.
My tribe parts, allowing me access to the Temple and the front of our gathering as I approach.
Mavyx, my Second Spear gives a single, solemn nod of his head, his golden eyes tracking me only briefly before going back to the wilds of our lands that embrace our tribe’s mountain. Mavyx is a Protector, through-and-through, and exactly what our people need as a Second Spear. I know, without a doubt, that he would lay down his life if it meant keeping our females inside the temple safe and unharmed.
I stand before my tribe, our Temple at my back as I look out upon my people. Our Protectors, care-givers, craftsmales and sons. “Brothers,” I address them all, my people going as silent as a hunter’s wingbeat. “Today we give thanks to our Goddesses and provide nourishment to our females and daughters,” I say, the words loud and practiced. “First, those of you who have made a seed-offering within the past few ceremonies, please come forward.”
Together, many males move closer, forming an arc around the Temple, Mavyx, and myself. Many of the males come with even more of our many-colored life-stones, believing that the more they give the Goddesses, the more favorably a female will look upon their seed offering, and perhaps grant them a son of their own. One by one, I incline my head at each Protector, allowing him to approach and press his palm to the odd black shape at the side of the Temple. More often than not, we are met with silence. Even so, we give our shining, precious life-stones, placing them in a large hollow that appears only when the Goddesses are willing to receive our tributes.
So far, nothing. None of the approaching Protectors have fathered new young within the Temple. Some will stand and repeat this whole ceremony, again and again, hoping for a favorable result each time.
Finally, the last Protector approaches, and the Goddesses answer. Hyx, a good, noble Protector presses his hand to the Temple wall and something stirs from inside, small lights appearing as if the Temple itself has skin-stars too. The tribe stills and we watch the little moon drift out from deep inside the hollow. This is how the Goddesses address us. I do not know if the spinning, glowing ball of light is their true form or the only one they deem to show us, but I am grateful for its presence, nonetheless.
“Tribe member,” the little moon says, addressing Hyx.
The Protector spreads his wings as he bows his head, his skin-stars pulsing with excitement. “Yes, my Goddess,” he says, eyes closed and tail flicking behind him.
“A female within has accepted your seed-offering.” Hyx puffs his chest with pride. “This day, you have fathered a daughter.”
The Protector’s skin-stars dim before he catches himself. Crossing one palm over his chest, Hyx bows his head once more. “She will be protected,” he calls out, the rest of the tribe echoing the words of our people as one.“She will be protected.”
The remainder of the ceremony continues without further gifts of sons or daughters. After telling the tribe to leave their seed-offerings if they wish to, I approach Hyx as he makes his way to the back of our gathering. He is so lost in thought, his skin-stars twinkling at his temples and over his heart, that I forgive the way he almost forgets to greet me as his High Spear. “Congratulations.” I grasp him firmly by the shoulder. “It is your first?”
Hyx seemed still too stunned to speak. Instead, he simply nods.
“You have bred a strong Trixikka daughter, I am sure of it.”
“Thank you, High Spear,” he says, staring dumbly. I chuckle, but this will not do. I cannot have warriors consumed with awe over daughters they will never hold.
