by Tam Linsey
Jubal pinched one of the white beads. His hand shook as he shoved the pill between Wint’s slack lips. “Swallow, by the Knife.”
“What is this?” Sefe had his hands on his hips.
“Flame Runna magic,” Jubal replied as he massaged Wint’s throat.
Rann jammed a pill into Pulo’s mouth. Pulo stuck out his tongue, the white bead sticking to his lips. “More water.”
Jubal scrabbled over and held a water bottle against the man’s lips. To his relief, Pulo swallowed. But try as they might, they couldn’t get Wint to take the water.
“These Flame Runnas are as good as dead. Useless to me,” Sefe said.
“We need to get them back to the Taguan. To shade.” Grunting, Jubal hoisted Wint over his shoulder, his back protesting the uneven weight. He needed Eily’s advice, but that wasn’t an option. “Can Ana help them?”
Sefe scratched his scalp. “I don’t know.”
Rann waved a hand at the larger Pulo. “I can’t carry him alone.”
Sefe gestured to his warriors. Two stepped forward, one taking Pulo’s arms, another his legs. No one offered to help Jubal. The king led the way back to the main trail, where the waiting hunters cheered at the sight of the inert, green-skinned men.
“Back to the Taguan!” called Sefe, nudging a bare-chested warrior out of the way. The rest of the crowd parted like skin from flesh.
As they reached the rise overlooking the cave, Wint’s body stiffened and shuddered. Thrown off balance, Jubal nearly fell as his burden began to thrash. He tried to lower Wint to the ground gently, but the Flame Runna threw himself free and lay convulsing on the trail. The rest of the party backed away. Wint’s back arched, the green flesh on his chest stretching tight over his ribs. His tongue protruded between his grimacing teeth as he jack-knifed forward again, limbs flailing in an invisible storm. Bloody foam sprayed from his mouth. His legs jerked like he was trying to run.
And just as quickly, his entire body went limp.
A dark stain spread across the front of his pants. The accompanying foul scent told Jubal the Flame Runna’s bowels had also released.
For a moment, everyone stood there, staring. A few turned their heads and spit against evil. Wint didn’t move.
Jubal’s heartbeat felt like it had assumed Wint’s convulsions. He bent to cup a hand over Wint’s nose, checking for breath. Nothing. Pink, foamy spittle dribbled to the dry earth beneath his cheek.
“No breath?” Sefe asked.
Looking up at the king, Jubal shook his head.
Several people in the crowd slipped away, spitting toward the fallen Flame Runna as they departed. Convulsions were caused by an evil spirit. The flesh of someone who died like this was considered tainted. Jubal glanced toward where the retreating carriers had dumped Pulo. He’d seen enough of the world to know spirits were easy scapegoats. On the Sunset Shore, there had been men who thought Pops’s malady was caused by evil spirits and argued for his termination. Fear was a powerful tool.
But Sefe hadn’t backed off with the others. He pointed the tip of his spear towards the body. “Listen for his heart.”
Jubal lowered to his knees and pressed an ear to Wint’s chest.
Silence.
Wint was dead.
Sitting upright, Jubal kept his face a cool mask and shook his head.
“This one is no better,” Sefe said, placing a calloused foot against Pulo’s chest and shoving. Pulo rocked and settled without opening his eyes.
Jubal slowly got to his feet. He strode to Pulo’s side and held a hand over his nose and mouth. “He lives. He needs shade and more Flame Runna magic. Maybe your Ana can help.”
He reached into his belt pouch for the pills, intending to give Pulo another. The lid popped open, scattering the white pebbles at his feet. He dropped to retrieve them. Worry for Eily filled his gut. What if she was in trouble, too? She hadn’t kept any pills for herself. He had to get this resolved quickly and find her.
Forcing himself to focus, he sifted through the dirt for the pills. “Rann, help me.”
Rann darted over and scraped pills and dirt alike into his palm, dumping it into the box. He picked a single one from near Pulo’s head and pried the supine man’s mouth open to drop it inside. Pulo gagged and curled into a fetal position.
Jubal snapped the box shut, ignoring the few remaining white specks on the ground as he patted Pulo’s back.
“Water,” Pulo gasped, his mouth chalky with the remains of the pill before he collapsed back into unconsciousness.
Rann glanced toward Sefe. “See, he’s alive.”
Sefe’s cheek muscles twitched. “Unacceptable. He could harbor the same curse as the other.”
“He doesn’t. I swear.”
“You will remain my slave until he is well again.” Sefe gestured his warriors forward.
Rann straightened and backed away, but warriors closed in behind him. They pointed their spears.
Jubal clenched his jaw and stood. “Sefe, you treat us unfairly. You have the box. You will get your Flame Runnas.”
Sefe rubbed his chin, eyes narrowed as he looked between the brothers. His warriors continued to point their spears. After taking a deep breath, Sefe nodded once, his lips pursed with distaste. “We’ll call you and your brother guests, then, until we have completed the ambush.”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Jubal made eye contact with Rann. Setting up an ambush could take days, and Eily was alone on the Tox, possibly dying at this very moment. He had to make sure she was all right. “My brother will remain. It was his crime. I have business to attend.”
Rann stiffened, his eyes wild as he looked at Jubal. “What? You can’t leave me here.”
“I’ll come straight back.” Jubal stared intently into his brother’s eyes, and shook the pill box slightly. “I have to check on our other goods. I will come back. I promise.”
Sefe crossed his arms and widened his stance. “You fear the summoning will not work.”
Rann grabbed Jubal’s shoulders. “You’d choose a Flame Runna over your own brother?”
The idea was tempting. But blood was blood. He wouldn’t abandon his brother to Sefe’s underhanded dealings. “I give you my word on Pops’s memory.”
“Pops abandoned Momma. You’ll abandon me. I won’t let you.” He shoved Jubal away and turned to Sefe.
“Rann, no!” Jubal grabbed at him, knowing what came next, unable to stop the words falling from Rann’s lips.
“We have Ana’s twin.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The Tox
Caged by a dense wall of cattail blades rising out of the stagnant water, Eily sat on a rotting log, her back against a stubby limb. The cattails’ fat, sausage-like heads bobbed against the blue sky, and her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten in nearly a week, and although she didn’t require food, life at the Holdout had accustomed her to regular meals. She tilted her face to the afternoon sun and closed her eyes. The still air smelled of sulfur and mold, and insects whined like small warning sirens all around. Alone on the Tox. One of a cannibal’s greatest fears.
An insect skittered over her hand and she jerked. One foot splashed into the brackish water. At the sound, she froze, heart thundering. The trail was only a few strides from where she hid. She cocked her head to listen. Nothing. Exhaling, she lifted her dripping foot back onto the log.
To take her mind off what she had no control over, she caught a floating twig and scraped at a section of algae-coated wood at her feet. First a circle for a face, then arms and legs. Soon an entire family decorated the surface of her log. She pulled her feet up tight against her to make room for one more little stick figure, added a necklace of trade beads to the tallest one, and blinked as she realized they were all green.
A family. Since losing Ana, she’d longed for a family. It was the main reason she’d agreed to marry Gid. Before they left the Holdout, he’d even told Levi he wanted to start a family right away.
She closed her eye
s, throat aching. Gid was gone. Was he still alive? Would she ever see him again? Even if she freed Ana, how could she go back to the Holdout without him? He made living there bearable. She loved Aunt Beth and Uncle Samuel, but she couldn’t live with them forever. She wanted children of her own.
Her eyes flew open as another thought flooded her mind; she’d only lain with Jubal once, but there were women at the Holdout who claimed to have gotten pregnant the first time. There were no unwed mothers among the Order. It was unthinkable. Who would marry her, with her green skin and a cannibal’s child in her belly? What would become of her?
You have a husband.
Jubal wanted her. He’d claimed her. Her blood tingled at the thought of having his children. She loved Gid like a brother. Her feelings for Jubal were... exciting. Deep. He made her heart flutter and her legs grow weak. Did he want children? She’d need the protection of a Garden during pregnancy; her skin tied her to the Protectorate whether she wanted it or not. Jubal would have to join her. Would he agree to live at the Holdout? He could bring his father. Her chest tightened. Would the Elders allow such a thing? They’d blame her for Gid’s loss. They might not even allow her through the Gate. Tears filled her eyes at the thought of the Holdout without Gid.
She could move to the Protectorate city. Aunt Tula would help. But they’d require Jubal to convert, to accept green skin as well as their restrictive ways. And they’d never take his elderly father in. Plus she had a feeling he loved trading too much to settle down in one spot for long. He’d want to venture back out, and green skin would be his death.
The sound of her name brought her out of her thoughts. She bolted upright, grasping the log to steady herself. The sky overhead had drained of color and the clearing in the rushes where she waited was bathed in twilight. She listened. The call came again, “Eily, come out!”
They’re back! She swung her legs around and splashed down into the mucky water, careless of the noise.
An unfamiliar voice cried out nearby, “I hear something over here!”
She froze, hand out to part the spiky curtain of rushes. Splooshing footsteps and rustling fronds told her someone searched the water a few steps away.
Rann shouted from the trail. “Eily, it’s Rann. Jubal needs you.”
Trembling, she pushed through the foliage toward shore. A man with multiple studs up his earlobes and a short spear grinned at her. Another man with a beaded beard loped toward them from downstream, a rifle in his hands. Behind her, a spearman emerged from the water. The pit of her stomach twisted into a tight knot of caution. Rann appeared from the rushes to her right.
The failing light masked his expression, but a bruise surrounded his left eye and his lip had a long gash. He pressed a palm to his chest. “Good. You’re all right.”
“Where’s Jubal?” She searched the trail behind him then turned to look the other direction.
“I’ll take you to him,” Rann said, holding out a loop of rope. “But you have to play a slave. Give me your hands.”
She glanced at the other men and put her hands behind her back. “Is he all right?”
“No. He needs you. If we hurry, we’ll reach the Taguan before dark.” He grabbed her arm and jerked a loop of rope around her wrist.
She twisted to keep her other arm out of his reach. “Wait. What’s wrong with him? Where are Pulo and Wint? Is Ana alive?”
“You just have to trust me.” He gave up on her other hand and started pulling the short lead of her rope down the trail. The hunters waited for her to move, then followed a few steps behind.
She skipped to catch up to Rann and whispered in his ear. “Who are they?”
“I can’t talk now,” he said, quickening his pace.
Something wasn’t right. Had Jubal been caught trying to free her sister? Rann’s secrecy had to have a reason. Her limbs trembled as she hurried to keep up. Maybe Jubal was dead, and now Rann would sell her into slavery again. Sourness filled her throat.
As night descended, the trail grew wider, exposing a bright swath of stars overhead. The moon rose in a perfect half-circle, reminding her of Jubal’s father. “Is your father safe?”
Rann didn’t answer. Instead, he jerked the rope. She took that as a bad sign and lowered her gaze to the path. Eventually, the trail jigged left and dropped away. She stumbled to a halt. Rann tugged her rope, urging her to a shelf of rock where the route descended into a basin. Within the darkness below, faint light gleamed from what looked like cracks in the earth.
She followed Rann down the steep slope. Hugging the wall as closely as she could, she kept her eyes on the ground at her feet. As they drew near the bottom, Eily realized the mouth of the great cave she remembered as the Taguan had been enclosed by stone walls. Light from cook-fires inside crept between the stacked rocks in an eerie imitation of banked coals.
Rann strode into the opening, pulling her along without pause. The corridor twisted left, then right, small rooms opening out on either side. Each one had a fire and a few people inside. She craned her neck as they passed each door to look for Jubal or Ana. Talk hushed as people spotted her, but no one seemed inclined to follow.
Smoke and the familiar aroma of cooking meat mingled with the stench of sweat and urine. The anticipation of seeing her sister churned against dread about Jubal’s condition. At the end of the hall, the passage opened into a huge cavern lit by a central bonfire. Smoke stung her eyes, but not before she spotted the spit and the human shape tied to it.
For the first time in her life, Eily thought she might faint. The carcass was definitely male, broad-chested and wiry. The genitalia and head had been removed prior to roasting. By tradition, the head would be shaved then boiled, while the genitals were a delicacy reserved for the young male relatives of the dead. Jubal? She could barely catch her breath. Her sight clouded. She closed her eyes, bending and planting her hands against her thighs to try to regain her balance.
Rann raised the cord in his hand, drawing her upright. “I have her!”
The bustle of the cavern ceased, leaving only the fire’s crackle and the sickening sizzle of cooking meat. She wanted to vomit. Opening her eyes, she encountered what felt like hundreds of faces staring her way. Where was Jubal? She couldn’t seem to focus, and her gaze kept returning to the spit.
A figure rose from a dais near the fire. Over the flame’s ominous whispers, a voice from her dreams emerged. “Eily?”
“Ana!” She did a quick twist of her hand against the lead rope and broke free of Rann’s grasp.
Without knowing how she’d passed between the clusters of people, Eily suddenly stood within reach of her sister. Ana’s face, six years older than she remembered, looked like Eily’s own reflection in the mirror. The almost-black irises, the glossy black hair, the smooth green skin. Eily’s gaze flicked to the wide curve of Ana’s abdomen before she crushed her sister in a frenzied embrace. “I can’t believe you’re alive!”
Eily breathed deep of her sister’s familiar yet forgotten scent. She could hardly believe it, after all these years of thinking Ana dead.
Ana pushed away. “What are you doing here?”
Refusing to let go, Eily kept hold of her sister’s naked arms. “I came to save you. To bring you home.” She choked out the last words, realizing it was a futile promise. These cannibals would never let her or her sister go. She glanced at the staring faces surrounding them. “Is Jubal …?” The rest of the sentence caught in her throat.
Just behind Ana, a man had risen to his feet. His shaven head bore the pattern of raised scars that marked a healer, but he held the spear of a hunter. His hooded gaze caught hers and he smiled, opening his arms wide. “Welcome, Eily! I’m called Sefe, King of the Taguan. Your sister has told me much about you.”
Eily glanced back to Ana, who kept her chin high but refused to meet her eyes.
“Ana?”
“You shouldn’t have come.”
Without looking at her sister again, Ana turned and walked away.
Orange torchlight penetrated the darkness behind Jubal’s eyelids, and he forced them open in spite of a numbing desire to roll back into sleep. A woman hovered at his side, a backlit shadow in the alcove where his pallet lay. Her breath fanned against his cheek, the scent of evergreen filling his nose.
“Eily?”
She pressed her open mouth against his words. The room spun in a nauseating wave. He struggled to sit up, but his limbs were bound.
A man’s voice, “I told you, your magic’s weak. Give him more.”
The pressure of a palm against his forehead, and not-Eily’s voice spoke against his ear. “Keep still.”
Jubal opened his eyes wide, flexing his fingers as if he could stretch his way out of the bindings. The knuckles on his right hand stung.
Memories fought for his attention. Sefe’s men pulling him off his brother. Rann betraying Eily’s location. Sefe’s declaration that Jubal should be restrained because he was obviously overwhelmed with grief about Pops. Ana kissing him until his eyes rolled back in his head. “Why are you doing this?”
A broad-shouldered hunter loomed over Ana’s shoulder, the light from his torch making Jubal’s eyes sting. The man said, “Sefe said to keep him sleeping until his father’s feast is ready.”
She leaned back but kept her hand on Jubal’s face. “Don’t tell me how to use my magic.”
A deep snort of laughter bounced off the alcove walls. “Sefe has a new Spirit Healer. One with strong magic. Once you have this baby, he’ll trade you to the Blood Eye.”
The fingertips on Jubal’s forehead curled into a fist.
Jubal focused his confused thoughts. They’d found Eily? How long had he been lying here? “Eily is my woman.” His words felt thick, like he couldn’t quite make his lips shape them. “I claimed her children.”
“The laws are different for Flame Runnas,” Ana said in a husky voice.
His pulse filled his head with flashes of light. “You’re her sister. You have to help her.”