Snatched

by Vijaya Schartz

  Kwan grinned. "Hope it’s a girl... For the Amazon tribe." She bowed and walked away.

  Zania sat on a sand dune, so stunned, she didn’t drink her tea. Then she remembered it and had a few sips. It did settle her stomach. Of course, pregnancy would explain the morning sickness. How could she have been so blind? Blinking at the reflection of the glaring sun upon the glassy waves, she marveled at the idea of a new life stirring in her womb. Where did the silly notion that clones couldn’t reproduce come from?

  Zania rejoiced at this wonderful development in her hopeless life. Naturally, her mind returned to Svend. How she missed him. He would have made a wonderful father. Of that, she was certain.

  Looking upon the bustle of activity, Zania realized that the work in Amadir would go on just as smoothly without her. The plans for the settlement had been laid, the teams formed, and the tasks assigned. She’d fulfilled her promise. If she left now, the citizens and warriors, busy organizing their new life, might not even notice her absence.

  For the sake of her child, Zania had to find out what had happened to Svend. She feared discovering the gruesome truth, but she wanted to be able to face her child one day, and tell Svend’s story. She also needed to say her goodbyes... And make peace with herself.

  Zania didn’t tell Gray about her plans to go on a sentimental journey. She figured he’d probably try to stop her, making her feel guilty about abandoning the community. But in the morning, she would start on a pilgrimage, back to the place where Svend was last seen.

  *****

  Leaving her temporary dwelling before dawn, Zania carried only a shoulder bag with a medical kit, a few utensils, a blanket and her weapons. The night before, she’d volunteered her two attendants as sentinels at the main gate overlooking the road leading to the jungle.

  Kwan and Iva saluted Zania then held up their torches with a questioning glance.

  Kwan, the skinny Asian girl, stepped forward, leaving the husky, quiet Amazon behind. "Going somewhere, My Queen?"

  Zania smiled. "I’ll be gone for several days. When Gray asks about me, I count on you two to tell him not to worry."

  "Shouldn’t we go with you, My Queen?" Eagerness shone in the young girl’s smile.

  Zania shook her head. "Sorry. I need to do this alone."

  The friendly face froze into an expressionless mask.

  Aware of the woman’s determination, Zania added sternly. "And don’t come looking for me. I forbid it. Understood?" She stared down both Amazons in turn. "I don’t want you to run into danger for me. I’ll be fine without having to worry about your safety. Give me your word that you’ll stay put."

  Kwan sighed. "You have our word, My Queen." Brief disappointment flashed in her eyes, then she bowed respectfully before turning the rope mechanism of the primitive portcullis that lifted the rough timber gate.

  "I’m counting on your obedience." Hoping the warning would suffice, Zania stepped through the portal. She heard the ropes moan as the heavy gate lowered shut behind her. Then she followed the path leading to the jungle.

  For the first time since the Collectors had brought her to life, Zania felt like herself, free, alone by choice. Her leg had healed, and unencumbered she could probably retrace the fifteen day journey from the first camp in less than five.

  Further along, the trampled grass and ferns had probably grown back, at least partially, but the path would remain smooth enough to make good time, at least in the beginning. To get a good start, she decided to run and kept running for a long stretch, until she had to stop and catch her breath. A good exercise to re-educate her thigh muscles.

  Zania welcomed the solitude. Now quite familiar with the jungle, she felt comfortable in her surroundings. After the slow, laborious trek with so many citizens, this solo adventure felt like a vacation.

  Somehow, she’d expected to find fruit along the road. But the caravan had picked clean all the edible plants for half a click on each side of the path. So, she forayed deeper into the jungle to find the fruit she craved.

  If, against all odds, Svend were still alive, like any good survivor, he would follow the caravan’s trail. And if he were injured and could not hunt, the scarcity of fruit would make it difficult for him to feed as well. Zania struggled with the thought.

  Svend had ample time to catch up with the caravan, and since he didn’t... Although Zania couldn’t bear the idea of never seeing him again, she couldn’t afford the luxury of false hope. Gray was right on that point. The sooner she accepted Svend’s death, the sooner she could go on with her life. And this trip would provide the answers that would bring her closure.

  The thought of his death filled her chest with sadness. Never again would she hear Svend’s deep, melodious laugh. Never again would she feel his breath on her hair, the caress of his strong hands on her body. Never again would he smile at her, or whisper sweet words in her ear. She remembered the feel of his long flaxen hair. How she missed him.

  That night, Zania didn’t bother to light a fire. After smearing her skin with mud to mask her scent, she climbed a tree and cradled among the high branches like the monkeys. In the middle of the night, she heard the low growl of a tiger stalking below and held her breath to avoid signaling her presence. The beast soon moved on. The pungent mud had done its work.

  *****

  The next day, Zania made good time again. Between forays for food, she kept running until before dusk, planning to climb a tree for the night. When the cacophony of birds and monkeys suddenly quieted, she realized a predator must be stalking nearby. She glanced up along the path, searching for a suitable tree to climb, and noticed wisps of smoke. A sniff confirmed it. Fire?

  Was the forest burning? Zania squinted in the lengthening shadows. Half a click away, the dim flames of a small campfire glowed red on the side of the open pathway. A man made fire? On the old road? Her heart jumped into her throat. Could it be Svend?

  She couldn’t imagine how Svend had survived if, as logic would have it, he were badly wounded. Full of hope, Zania dashed toward the fire.

  Twigs snapped to her right, and heavy paws pounded the brush. In her excitement, she’d forgotten about the predator. The deep roar confirmed a tiger, and as Zania kept running. The beast sprinted after her!

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Propped against a huge tree, Svend fed the small fire, his only protection against nocturnal predators. Deep inside, he mourned Zania. As he caressed her necklace, now hanging around his neck, he felt her spirit nearby. Closing his eyes, he could almost see her, hear her voice calling in the crackling of the flames. Svend!

  He imagined that her spirit watched over him. If he’d survived so many days, even after entering the thick jungle teeming with wild life, it could only be with heavenly protection, that of Zania’s ghost. But if she’d died, why would she want him to remain alive? Secretly, he longed to be with her in the warrior’s paradise of Valhalla.

  Although survival was second nature to Svend, it had become more of a challenge than he’d first imagined. The pain in his leg had turned into a dull ache, but his ribs still didn’t allow him to breathe deeply, and walking on crutches proved agonizing.

  The caravan had left only rotting fruit along the trail, not even fit for swine. As for small game and large insects, they easily avoided Svend’s clumsy attempts at catching them. He’d whacked a baby cobra with his crutch once, days ago. Nothing since. Unable to hunt, weak from lack of food, he felt faint most of the time but had kept wobbling at a snail pace along the road.

  Tonight, he could barely remain awake. Building the fire had required all his strength. His head swam. Soon, he would pass out from exhaustion and weakness. He hoped never to wake up.

  As he gazed above the flames toward the road ahead, Svend heard a roar and some kind of scuffle. He sensed a flurry of movement in the darkness beyond. But blinded by the glare of the flames, he couldn’t see the animals fighting.

  Soon the fire would die, and Svend would be the next victim. If attacked, h
e might not have the strength to lift the axe. A blessed drowsiness took hold of him. He wanted to sleep forever.

  *****

  Filled with new hope and the mighty will to live, Zania faced the roaring tiger, sword in one hand and dagger in the other. "Come to mommy, little kitty cat," she whispered, her gaze never leaving the luminous eyes of the large feline. "Your first charge was only a test."

  If it were Svend’s campfire a hundred meters away, he would be incapacitated. Zania had to distract the predator and kill it before it found Svend an easier prey.

  Zania stepped forward, and her very confidence made the cat hesitate. In the dusk, she could distinguish the feline’s muscular frame. A female on a mission to feed her young, judging by the folds of extra skin hanging from the tiger's belly. But Zania, too, had dear ones to protect.

  When the cat pounced, she stepped aside and speared the beast’s throat with her sword. Blood gushed when she pulled out the blade, but the animal landed on its paws and faced Zania again. Its infuriated growl made her shiver with foreboding. This tiger wouldn’t go down easy. She should have aimed for a more vital part.

  Weighing the dagger, Zania threw it straight and it planted itself between the two glowing eyes. The eyes didn’t blink as the beast went down like a heavy sack of sand.

  Not bothering to retrieve her dagger, Zania rushed toward the fire, her heart filled with hope. "Svend?"

  The sight of the lanky frame slumped against a tree warmed her heart. Was it really Svend? He had a bushy blond beard but the soft lips were his. She recognized the Viking fur vest. His tousled hair looked dull. His closed eyes, the pair of crutches, and the wooden splint sticking out of his torn pant leg told the story of his struggle to survive. "Svend!"

  Her joy at finding him didn’t last as he didn’t answer, move, or react when she approached him. Had she found him too late? How could she ever forgive herself if he died now? "Hey!" She crouched by his side and slapped his cheeks to no avail.

  He rested so still against the tree. Could he be dead? She couldn’t tell whether or not he was breathing. When Zania felt for the pulse at his throat, she noticed her necklace tied around his neck, hidden under the beard. How did he get it?

  Svend looked so frail. He didn’t respond to her touch, but she could feel a faint heart beat deep under the skin. He was alive... barely. Now she could see the slight rise of his shallow breaths. His high forehead felt cool to the touch. No fever. Zania didn’t see any food around.

  Foraging into Svend’s shoulder bag, she marveled at some of the items she found besides water bottles and a cooking pan. A hair brush, a shaving kit, a flashlight, a lighter, the hand-carved figurine of a horse... No food. And she hadn’t stocked up for herself.

  If Svend was starving, she had to feed him something nourishing. She dashed back to the dead tiger. Once there, she set her foot on the head and pulled out the dagger, then slit the belly and foraged into the spilling entrails. When she found the liver, she severed it from the mass of guts. Then she ran back toward the fire, carrying her prize.

  Svend still breathed. Zania scraped the liver with her dagger, removed the green vesicle and the bile, then speared the chunk of dark meat on an improvised spit and hung it across the top of the fire.

  After wiping her hands on some moss, she threw it into the fire, so predators wouldn’t smell the blood. Then she opened the medical kit and started a thorough inspection of Svend’s body.

  His leg must be broken. He’d slit the leather pants on the side to accommodate and cover the bulk of the wooden splint. But he’d done a good job of immobilizing the fractured bone. Zania couldn’t have done better.

  Opening his vest to examine his chest, Zania gasped at the sight of the protruding ribs, and the large yellow and green bruises around them. No wonder he had no strength if he hadn’t eaten and each breath threatened to pierce his lungs. Cracked ribs required stiff taping. Fortunately, the medical kit had plenty of wide surgical tape.

  Before setting to the task, Zania rotated the liver on the spit so it wouldn’t burn. Her stomach rumbled at the sweet aroma of cooking meat.

  Then she removed Svend’s vest. Scrapes on his chest had already healed nicely. She applied an antiseptic for good measure. Then she started taping his chest, pushing the rib fragments into place as she went. He didn’t seem to feel anything. Good. This would really hurt if he were awake.

  As Zania moved him back and forth against the tree to tape around his chest, he felt light, compared to the strong warrior she remembered. But she loved him just as much in this vulnerable state. He’d never needed her care before. He looked as helpless and innocent as a child, and Zania liked the fact that he needed her.

  Soon, his upper torso looked like that of a mummy. It might feel a little tight, but at least the ribs would stay in place to heal properly. Satisfied with her work, Zania slipped his fur vest back on.

  She checked the thin vines holding the wooden splints bracing his left lower leg. They seemed tight and strong. She wanted to make sure they wouldn’t come loose, even if he fell, or bumped his leg against a rock. She wanted to bring him home in the best possible shape.

  How strange that she thought of Amadir by the Sea as home...

  Zania looked for a blue vial in the medical kit. She couldn’t read the cuneiform writing, but she remembered the doctor administrating the blue shot to exhausted citizens during rest stops, to give them a boost. Although her field medical training seemed far away, she found the vein in his arm.

  Svend did not wince at the needle prick. When she upended the water bottle to his lips, he finally responded and drank a few sips. An encouraging sign. His eyes remained closed, but some color returned to his cheeks.

  Aries, God of War, if you let him live, I’ll definitely build you that promised temple.

  With the liver nicely cooked and still juicy, Zania cut a small bite and dangled it on Svend’s lips. "Here is a treat you can’t refuse." She worried she might be too late. "You’ve got to get your strength back."

  Svend’s nostrils flared. His lips reached for the morsel.

  "Good." She rejoiced at this optimistic sign.

  As he chewed slowly, his eyes opened. He stared at Zania in surprise then swallowed. "Are you a ghost?"

  Zania wondered at the comment. Did he believe her dead? "No. I’m real. I’m here." She cut another bite and fed it to him. "Eat. It’s liver, warrior food, the most nutritious part of the beast."

  "The beast?" He looked dazed, unaware of his surroundings.

  No need for explanations now. Zania smiled. "Never mind. Just eat."

  And Svend ate as Zania fed him bit by bit, with words of encouragement. After he consumed a good portion of the liver, his eyelids, heavy with fatigue, closed again. He refused the next bite and sighed contentedly. Men!

  Zania covered him with his blanket. "You can sleep now. I’ll keep watch." Only then did Zania obey her own appetite and eat the rest of the liver.

  While Svend slept, she went back to the tiger and carved out the best portions of the kill. She stored them in large leaves for the road. After hanging the packages away from rodents, she stood guard over his sleeping form.

  Later that night, a pack of hyenas assaulted the dead carcass of the tiger only two hundred meters away. But Zania kept the fire going strong and remained alert to any sign of danger.

  By the time birds and monkeys resumed their chatter at dawn, Zania had breakfast cooking. She boiled water in the pan with medicinal leaves she’d collected in the jungle, those Morrigan had taught her to recognize. Svend needed her help and she was glad she could give it.

  Zania’s heart beat faster when Svend opened his eyes and sniffed the aroma of the cooking fire.

  "You are not a ghost. Ghosts don’t cook." Despite his disheveled state, his eyes sparkled with excitement. He smiled at his own matter-of-fact comment. "I thought you died in the lava lake." He caressed the necklace at his neck.

  "I almost did." Zania rejoiced at his cohe
rent talk.

  "But you are alive. You came back for me." He frowned. "Why not sooner?"

  "I thought you were dead as well." Zania felt guilt gnawing at the edge of her consciousness but pushed it away. "The search parties couldn’t reach you inside the inferno. They said you couldn’t have survived the fire. And I wasn’t well... It’s a long story." She didn’t want to burden him with her own tribulations. Not now. Now was the time to celebrate. "How are you feeling?"

  "Much better." He inspected his tightly bandaged chest. "Good work."

  "Can you walk?"

  He winked, and despite the beard and his unkempt state, he looked more like his old self. "I’ve managed to come so far haven’t I?"

  She admired his courage and tenacity. Most men would have given up, but not Svend. "I can’t imagine how you did it in your condition."

  "One step at a time." He chuckled, then winced, holding his rib cage.

  Zania laughed at his joke, considering it a good sign. She motioned with her chin toward the ornate crutches partly covered with curlicues, fruit and leaves motifs. "Nice job."

  "Wood carving is a hobby of mine." He looked into the distance. "My father taught me, long ago."

  "Really?" Zania realized how little she knew about this wonderful man. "That explains the horse figurine I found in your bag."

  Zania cut the meat for him and shared the pungent tea but didn’t touch the food. Only fruit would settle her stomach in the morning. She rose.

  "Where are you going?"

  "Find some fruit. I’ll be right back." It would also give her time to figure out how she would announce her secret.

  Upon her return, Svend had finished eating and they shared the fruit.

  She longed to see his face the way she remembered him. "Would you like a shave?"

  Svend grinned and nodded. "I need a bath, too."

  "There is a waterfall a short way down the road. We’ll stop there later."

  Zania propped the two bags and blankets under Svend’s head, and here, in the morning sun, amidst bird calls and monkey cries, as the jungle awakened to the new day, she pulled out the shaving kit and a water bottle and lathered his face. While the lather did its work, she brushed the knots out of his long flaxen hair, which took on a healthier shine.