by Ivy Cross
Atrae’s lips tick upward in a sad smile. “She was gone on the morning of the attack. Llea was a great hunter. Did I tell you that?”
I shake my head.
“She was. Excellent with a bow, but with a blade… Gods, with a blade she was like a force of nature—some taloned beast that could swoop down from the shadows without a sound. And nothing could escape her. She was so fast.”
Atrae is silent for a long time, not looking at me or anything else. I let him have his time.
“I found her broken body near one of her hunting trails along the edge of the wastes just south of the village. I guess some of the Qarna saw her during their retreat. Probably killed her for sport.”
“Jesus.”
“Had I only run to her when the Qarna began their retreat, perhaps she would still be here today. But I chose not to. I felt my duty required me to stay by Jaha’s side even when the battle was over. You see, the Qarna can be unpredictable and, at the time, I thought it was at least possible their retreat was only a ruse.”
“Then you did what you thought best,” I say gently. “You couldn’t have known they would spot Llea. It was tragic, but—”
“There were many things that could have happened that day. The Qarna could have returned and pushed for Jaha’s defeat, or they could have happened upon my Llea… The fact that it was possible means I should have acted to prevent it. I did not. And now Llea is dead.”
It’s clear nothing I can say to him will change the way he feels, so I say nothing. I lean forward on my bench and take Atrae’s large hand in mine. He stiffens, his eyes flitting to mine for only a second before dropping away again.
But he does not pull away.
“I can’t say for certain what Llea might have thought—I haven’t known of your people all that long, and I didn’t know her at all. But I think I know something about the Calji. I’ve seen how you and Mayna are. You’re strong—and I don’t just mean physically. You pride yourself in doing the honorable thing. And so, if I had to guess, I’d think that Llea would have said you did the right thing. She wasn’t a damsel in distress.”
Atrae allows himself to look at me fully for the first time in many minutes. There’s something in his expression—a lightness, maybe a hopefulness—but it’s gone before I can be sure.
“I wish I could believe as you do,” he says, turning away. “But I cannot. Why else would she appear to me when I look upon you?”
Before I can answer, Atrae pulls his hand from mine and rises from his bench. He paces the length of the room, pauses, then walks back to me and plunges his hand into the pouch at his side.
“None of this concerns you. Not really. I only wanted to tell you about my leaving. And to give you this…”
He drops the object from his pouch into my hands.
“It is a talisman that belonged to Llea. I hope it brings you good fortune.”
Chapter 8 – Atrae
“I am a fucking idiot.” I throw my satchel to the floor and brush the remainder of my meager belongings from my table. I suppose if I am to throw a tantrum, it is better that the human is back at her hut and out of viewing range for the spectacle.
“I could have told you that.”
I spin around to find Laca standing only a few paces from me. His silent arrival adds fuel to my anger. No one should be able to sneak up on me in my own hut.
“Otherwise, there would not be talk of your leaving the tribe…” Laca’s perpetual smile widens even farther.
He is my age, but his diminutive stature, boyishly round face, and fair hair combine to make him look ten cycles my junior. That and his jovial nature make those who do not know him prone to underestimate his prowess in battle. They never underestimate him twice.
“You are here for a reason?” I begin the process of retrieving my items from the floor, now regretting the childishness that put them there.
“Only to brighten your clearly dark day… and because you summoned me.”
“Oh, of course.” I had sent the neighbor child to retrieve him not all that long ago. Forgetful, hard of hearing, and showing poor judgment… Perhaps I should have left far longer ago.
“So, what is this nonsense about anyway?” Laca stoops to retrieve a spool of twine that rolled under the table. “Mayna is being cryptic, as usual, but she is convinced you are really leaving.”
“I am, and that is why I called for you. I want you to replace me as commander of Jaha’s guard.”
Laca’s perpetually amused expression does not change. “That is not a big fucking surprise, Atrae. Contrary to what the people in this room might believe, you are not actually an idiot. I am the only one in a position to take over for you. But that does not answer my question…”
I hesitate, wanting to find a way to frame it that will make him understand. Perhaps a way to make myself understand as well.
“Is this about Llea?”
Laca reads something in my expression and takes a quick step back. “I am not implying that it should be—”
“It is,” I say. “At least in part. Since that day, I have not been myself. My judgment is clouded, warped, and I am no longer the commander I once was. A person in my position should not doubt his decisions—should have supreme confidence behind his every action—but I find myself second-guessing my every step.”
“I think you judge yourself too harshly. Jaha has found no fault with your performance. Believe me, you would know if he had. And I count myself a qualified judge of such things… and I have not found you wanting.”
I sigh and grab my crumpled satchel from the floor. I cram a few more items into it, then leave it on the table. “Perhaps, there is more to it than just that.”
I stare at my old friend and try to find a way to phrase it that will not offend him. Finally, I give up. I have never been one with a gift for dancing around what I mean. “I do not like it here anymore.”
“I can understand that. The village has seen far better times. But with the deal Jaha is working on with the Vanthae… that could change things for the better. It is not his usual idle boasting this time—you have seen what he has to trade.”
“No, that is not what I mean. It is not the state of the village that vexes me, it is the memories it dredges up every time I lay eyes upon it. This place makes me hate myself. I will be better off on my own.”
“You think being alone with yourself will make that hate you feel lessen?”
I sigh again. He has a point.
“At least it will see to it that no one else will have to suffer because of it.”
“Alright,” Laca says with a solemn laugh, “I know that once that stubborn mind of yours is set there is no changing its course. When do you plan to leave?”
I stare down at the satchel of my belongings. It is not even a large satchel and it is only partly full. Everything I have in this world worth taking with me…
“After this conversation.” Until this moment, I was not sure exactly when I was planning to leave. But now that I have said it, it feels right.
“No, that is not going to work.”
“Why not?”
Laca shakes his head, still smiling, then walks toward the front door of my hut. “You really can be thick sometimes. And an ass… but that is not going to stop that last pitiful handful of friends you have from saying goodbye. Be at my place around dusk, and we will get you good and drunk. If you survive the night, then you can go off and play hermit in the woods.
Chapter 9 – Bailey
One day and night in this hut and it already feels like I’ve been here for a week. The accommodations, primitive as they may be, are perfectly adequate—the bed in the back room is soft and filled with something like down, and it’s quite large. Unfortunately, it’s a communal bed, and I am not accustomed to sharing my sleeping space with two constantly fidgeting companions. A big step up from the deck of an alien spaceship, but still…
So, I spent most of the wee hours sitting at the table with some weird fr
uit for my only company.
The food drops have been frequent. An older female Calji stopped by twice yesterday—once with something like flatbread and seared meat, and later with a savory stew and fruit for the table. It has all been quite tasty, but each time she arrives it just reminds me that no one else seems to be coming. And it has become clear that we’re just to sit here until Jaha does whatever it is he wants to do with us.
And to top it all off, Atrae is leaving. Or maybe he’s already gone.
The more I think about it, the more I think he’s got it right. I just wish he’d have taken me with him. I’m not going to accomplish anything sitting here waiting to be a plaything or pawn for Jaha.
No, it may be relatively safe here, but escape is the only option. And I am going to have to find a way to do it by myself. Mel and Veronica won’t even hear of it. They shoot the topic down so fast, it’s almost like they think the hut is bugged and we’ll get into trouble just talking about it.
I tug the talisman Atrae gave me from beneath my shirt and examine it for maybe the hundredth time. It’s a knife of sorts in an ornately decorated sheath. The whole thing is about as long as the palm of my hand and attached to a chain. For the Calji, it’s probably small enough to be worn as a kind of jewelry piece, but it’s a bit too large for me.
Maybe he thought it would bring me luck… or maybe he thought I’d have reason to protect myself.
The metal sings as I yank the blade from its sheath.
“I still can’t believe he gave you a weapon!” Mel’s eyes practically bulge from their sockets, as she and Veronica emerge from the bedroom.
I’m really starting to think the two of them are connected by some invisible umbilical cord.
“I don’t think it’s supposed to be a weapon… more like a necklace.” I turn the blade over several times, watching the silvery metal capture the dim light filtering through the slatted window.
It may not be meant as a weapon, but I still feel a little better for having it.
I loop the chain over my head and push the knife down the front of my shirt. The cool metal is oddly comforting against the skin of my chest.
“Doesn’t look much like a necklace to me,” Veronica says, helping herself to one of the fruits from the bowl.
“Maybe not,” I say. “Have you two thought any more about what we were discussing?”
This time Mel’s eyes actually do bulge a little from their sockets. “No, and we were not discussing anything. That was just you. Now shush!”
The front door of the hut bursts open almost like it’s timed to Mel’s shush. My heart leaps as I have visions of Atrae returning for me. Maybe he reconsidered and decided to take me in search of the other humans instead of running off by himself.
My hopes are quickly dashed.
The barrel-chested guard I saw yesterday fills the doorway much the same as Atrae did before, but something about his bulk cutting off our escape seems so much more sinister. His no-color eyes slide over and past me to Veronica and Mel beside the table.
“You are not going to invite me inside?” The guard’s voice is the gravelly croak of an eighty-year-old who has survived only on cheap cigars and cheaper whiskey his entire life.
“Uh, sure, come on in.” I shoot a questioning glance at Mel and Veronica, but they look as confused as I feel.
The guard shuts the door behind him and takes a few steps into the room.
I shrink back at his approach. I don’t want to come off as disrespectful—outward appearances aside, the guy’s intentions may be perfectly harmless—but it’s also hard to even look at him for any length of time. He radiates a different energy from all of the other warriors I have encountered in the village so far—the kind of energy that sets my hackles on end and makes me want to bolt.
Mel and Veronica are perfect statues at my side. Maybe they think he’ll forget about them if they’re still and silent enough.
“You seem pretty familiar with Atrae,” the guard says to me.
“I’m not sure I would say familiar exactly, but he is the one that brought me here.” I have to force my hand from going to the talisman under my shirt. Something tells me there’s a good chance the guard would take it if he knew it was there.
The guy sniffs loudly and steps a little closer. “Are you his? Are they?”
“We’ve never even met the guy!” Mel spurts shrilly.
He smiles broadly, revealing several broken teeth beneath his top lip. “Good, good. And you?” His eyes bore into me, making it clear there is a right and wrong answer to the question.
I just sit in silence and return his stare. It’s not out of some defiance or steel thread of resolve that suddenly straightens my spine. I simply don’t know what else to do. In the few moments since the guard stepped into the room with us, the atmosphere has gone from tense to suffocating.
“Just as I thought.” The guard’s wooly beard bobs beneath his chin as he nods his head emphatically. He narrows his eyes shrewdly and dips his head a little toward me. “Atrae got to taste a little for himself, eh? How could he not… we have never seen the likes of you before. You are the talk of the village.” He reaches a thick-fingered hand toward me.
“We are meant for Jaha,” I blurt. It’s the only thing I can think of to say that might make a difference.
The guard’s hand drops. “Do you think me stupid? I know you are Jaha’s. Who do you think set me the task of guarding you?” He slides in even closer, forcing me to look nearly straight up to see his face. “But that old fool would not know what to do with the three of you, and even if he did, his manhood shriveled up when I was but a pup.”
I blow out a long-held breath as he suddenly moves back toward the door. But instead of opening it, he swivels a small bar of metal down from the top, locking it from the inside.
“We would not want anyone interrupting our fun. Now, which one of you would like the honor of experiencing a real warrior?”
When no one answers, he walks over and stands in front of Mel. I expect her to shriek and try to run away, but she continues to remain perfectly still—those survival instincts at work again, I guess. I can’t imagine the big guy would take it all that well if one of us acted that way.
“I do not like your hair,” he says, taking Mel beneath the chin and turning her head side-to-side for inspection. “You will cut it short before I see you again.”
He lets her head drop and moves over to Veronica. This time he runs a sausage-thick finger down her shirt and between her breasts. She lets out a tiny, high-pitched whimper, but the guard doesn’t seem to notice.
“Rags,” he says, continuing to paw her top. “But they soon will not matter.” He begins to heft her from the floor, but Mel’s shrill voice cuts through the room and stops him in his tracks.
“She’s going to escape!” Mel screams, pointing a shaking finger in my direction. “She’s been plotting it since she got here… tried to get us to go with her, too, but we refused.”
I do my best to kill Mel with a death stare, but it doesn’t take.
The guard drops his hands from Veronica and turns to stare at me. “Escape? After the hospitality the Calji has shown to you and your kind?” He shakes his head somberly, but the wide grin never quite leaves his mouth. “Jaha would see this as quite an insult—disrespect of the highest order.”
His huge hand shoots out with surprising speed, latching onto my upper arm and launching me up from my chair. My bones scream in protest as he yanks me to his side and pulls me toward the door.
“I think I will have to take steps to protect the honor of my great leader… You will have to be separated from these two—your betters—before you manage to corrupt them with your ungrateful ways. You can stay in my hut for the time being. It will be a burden to me but, with a little time, perhaps I can teach you the proper way to behave.”
Chapter 10 – Atrae
“I did not think you would show,” Mayna says, handing me a clay jug. I take a sip and find i
t is filled with Menne’s strong mead. If the old man is here at the gathering, he is keeping out of sight. More likely, he simply provided the drink and declined the invitation to attend. He never struck me as one for social gatherings.
Something we share in common.
Mayna and I stand at the front side of Laca’s hut. There is no mistaking Laca’s place for any other in the village. All one has to do is listen to know who owns this home. Half a hundred long rows of twine-bound shells hang from every spare surface around the entire hut. Even the gentlest of winds sends the things clacking and scraping against one another like an army of tapper snakes dancing across a large stone.
Laca claims the shell chimes ward off angry spirits, but I think it is just that he enjoys collecting the shells on the banks of Cold Sea.
“It is a good turnout,” Mayna says pulling me toward one of the two long tables they likely borrowed from the gathering hall. Her voice is light and amiable, but I can read between the lines well enough—it is a good turnout for a village such as this. A village with one foot already in its grave.
The turnout, as it were, consists of five of my guards—my former guards—along with Mayna and, presumably, Laca, though he has yet to appear. This is the maximum number that could have attended at one time, as at least half of the guards must remain on duty at all times.
I take the offered seat and another long pull from my jug. The truth is, I am rather relieved there are not more people here than this. I do not think I could stomach very many half-hearted attempts at getting me to stay.
“Boss, it is true, then? You are leaving us?”
I do not have to look across from me to recognize the unmistakable low croak of Vel. Her voice is like a cross between the sounds from the singing lizards that herald each coming wet season and the mating call of a particularly aggressive alderwere.
I appointed Vel to the guard more than three cycles ago, but I remember the day like it happened yesterday. Laca and I thought it was a joke when she showed up in front of Jaha’s hut and asked to be considered. Neither of us had ever had occasion to see her in combat, but we both knew her by sight—everyone in the village knows Vel by sight, she is the smallest adult Calji anyone has ever seen. Even most of the younglings stand head and shoulders above her.