by Calista Skye
I immediately regret it. Because if the monster intends to eat me raw, then that leg is now where she’ll begin.
I shake the net, sobbing in the coldest fear I’ve felt in my life. The stench of sulfur is overwhelming as Troga comes closer, slowly and deliberately with her oily moves. Yes, this is a female, all right. She has the patience to give me all the time I need to really panic and run through all the horrific possibilities in my mind.
She stops ten feet away. She’s not gigantic, but she takes all my attention. There’s no chance I’ll be mesmerized now—the panic is too strong.
She looks at me, and I look back. She has me, and we both know it.
She sucks in air in preparation for the fire with that ghostly howl.
I don’t even have time to scream.
I’m dead.
35
- Caroline -
A shadow comes spinning and hits Troga in the head with a metallic bang. So when she releases the fire, her gape is pointing the wrong way. The blue-white flame passes harmlessly many yards off target, and I only feel the heat from it on my face as it vaporizes a huge tree.
My head snaps around. That shadow...
Then I can’t help gasping.
Someone is walking calmly towards me. A caveman with green stripes, wearing some kind of brown hat...
“Xark’on!”
He grins with those white teeth and his fangs. “Caroline.”
I open my mouth to say more, but I don’t know what. He has me right where he wants me now. Bait for his trap. I suppose he just wants to watch.
He comes up to the net, grabs it with both hands, and rips it apart as if it consisted of wet paper. Then, he lifts me out of it and just holds me for a moment, pressing me to him.
I don’t return his embrace, but a tiny little bud of hope is starting to light up in me.
“Are you well?” he growls into my hair.
“No,” I state, because I’m really not, and this is not the time. “That dragon…”
He holds me and carries me a few yards past the trap, away from Troga. She’s been knocked out, but she’s starting to stir, and she looks more dangerous than before.
“Let’s leave,” I suggest quickly.
“I would,” Xark’on says. “But then there’s them.”
I look past his great bulk. And there they are, his tribesmen. A hundred of them, with their bared swords glinting in the sunlight. They’re keeping their distance, but they’re clearly blocking us from escaping.
Troga is shaking her great, sleek head and thrashing with her long tail. She’s going to get vicious.
“I should have told you about the bait,” Xark’on says into my hair, still holding me tight. “But I didn’t want you to know that I had considered using you. The Ancestors had so clearly given you to me for that purpose. The next day, it became clear to me that I could never do it. The mere thought became insane to me. Unfortunately, I failed to consider that using you to bait Troga would seem quite natural to others.”
I look around fast. The trap is now between Troga and us. That’s no coincidence. It’s actually not that different from my own plan. Except, I would have been alone here. And probably not this close to the dragon.
“I’ve been thinking today,” Xark’on says. “I was hit on the head. Perhaps it helped me remember something I was told many years ago. About how men and women would live together. Caroline, I have nothing to offer you except my death and disgrace. Even so, I’ll ask: will you marry me?”
Huh. Interesting timing. We’ll probably be eaten by a dragon, and if we’re not, I have a feeling those tribesmen won’t like us much. But yeah, I get it. This was his last chance to ask.
And my last chance to answer.
“Yes,” I say quickly. “I will. Now get us out of this… Oh my God, you’re bleeding!”
His hair and face is a mass of sticky, dried blood. Some of it has dripped down onto his shoulders.
“Someone hit my head when I went up into the tree. You remember? Last night?”
“Yes! Of course, I remember last night!”
“They wanted to use you as bait. I told them it was not possible. So they hit me.”
All kinds of emotions are fighting inside me—relief that he’s here with me, horror at what they did to him, fear of the dragon. Strangely, right now the strongest of them is joy. He didn’t betray me!
But fuck me if this isn’t the worst time ever for a tearful reunion.
I squeeze him back. “Let’s trap that dragon.”
Troga seems to have shaken off her grogginess and is now inching towards us, somehow managing to slither on her four powerful legs with claws the size of chef’s knives.
Xark’on puts me down and turns towards the dragon. “Yes, let’s do that. You stay here.”
Then, he walks down the gentle slope towards the tree with the rope and the now badly mangled net.
He jumps up and grabs it and then hangs from it like a kid in a climbing net at a playground. “Troga! Your dinner is here!”
He swings back and forth from the rope. “Come and eat me!”
But the dragon has stopped. This blatant show has to make her suspicious.
He’s crazy. She’s within range to shoot her fire at him. But he has a point. If we ever want to trap her and get the stranded girls to safety, someone has to hang there and be bait.
But I think we should be smarter than this. I want Troga out of balance.
I walk down to Xark’on. “I’ll get her closer. Be ready to run. If she spews fire, we’re dead.”
I saunter towards Troga, taking the second throwing star out of my chest pocket. The strangest thing has happened: I’m not panicked anymore. Xark’on didn’t betray me, after all. It makes me feel like I could face anything. Like an army. Or a crazy monster from out of the old myths on Earth.
The dragon shifts its attention to me. I stop with my hands on my hips. We stand like that for three heartbeats. Then, the dragon pounces at me.
I squeal and feel the draft from one clawed foot as it whips through the air right behind me. I’m running for my life, and a split second before it’s too late, I remember that there’s a trap here. I veer to the side, hearing the dragon sneer behind me like a thousand drops of water falling on a red hot plate.
Then, I’m behind Xark’on, and I take the throwing star between my fingers like he taught me. I wind up and aim for the snout.
And this time, I hit it. But Troga doesn’t scream. She just comes galloping straight for us with insane fury, hissing and thrashing her tail, the sharp, black spikes on her spine pointing angrily forwards.
Xark’on still hangs from the rope, and the dragon pounces at him. He jumps to the side, and then the dragon crashes through the cover we made and down into the hole.
I can’t see what happens down there, but there’s a few seconds of ferocious activity and movement and screaming. Then it’s quiet, and then there’s another scream of the purest rage.
Then, there’s less and less noise from down there, and finally the jungle is silent.
Troga is dead.
Xark’on retrieves his sledgehammer from where it landed after it hit the dragon and then comes walking up to me.
I put my hand on his chest. “Roti’ax tried to use me as bait. He wanted to put me in a net. But I escaped, and I jumped over the trench. I found your Treasure. I don’t want your tribe to get it. The women need safety and protection. I will take them home to my tribe.”
“Yes,” he says darkly. “This tribe deserves no Treasure.”
The tribesmen are walking this way, and now their swords are back in their scabbards. They have big smiles on their faces. They’ve brought children, too. Three babies are being carried in strong arms.
Xark’on’s sledgehammer is still in his hand.
I have something in my hand, myself. Something star-shaped and hard.
“Well done, Xark’on!” Roti’ax says. “The dragon is dead. And since the bait is still
alive, surely you’ll need no part of the Treasure.”
“I see you’ve brought your own bait,” Xark’on says and points at the three babies. “In case the first one didn’t work.”
Roti’ax shrugs. “The tribe is willing to make some sacrifices for the Treasure. We did put a snare beside the main trap in case someone came snooping. But the chances of anyone walking into that was quite small, we thought. So, we brought a different option.”
“Ah. Even I didn’t think of using the tribe’s own offspring for this purpose.”
“You’re not the chief, Xark’on,” Roti’ax says generously. “I am. It’s my duty to think of the tribe’s best interest.”
“Did you remember to feed the Treasure? To toss some food over the trench to them?”
“We thought it better not to. The trap would soon be finished, and we wanted the Treasure to gratefully accept our proposals. A few days of hunger might help them with that.”
Xark’on studies the polished head of his hammer. “Do you remember me telling you that the women of the Treasure had to choose? That they could not be forced? That they had to agree from their own free will if they were to come to our tribe?”
Roti’ax waves his hand impatiently. “Yes, yes. You went on about it at great length. But did not the Ancestors give us the Treasure? Surely, they will agree. And if not, then it will simply be a test. The Ancestors might test our determination. And we will be determined, Xark’on. Our tribe will have women today. Soon, we will be mating!”
He says that last part loudly, and the tribesmen cheer. He’s a good politician.
“I hear you tried to place Caroline in a net?” Xark’on’s voice is calm, and probably only I know him well enough to hear the strain in it.
Roti’iax laughs. “You know she was the bait. It was the only natural thing to do.”
“Was it?”
“Yes, of course. I told you she was bait. And you knew it, too. Now. Where is the Treasure?”
“There will be no Treasure.”
The jungle has never been this silent.
Roti’ax stiffens imperiously. “What?”
“There will be no treasure for this cowardly tribe. You tried to use Caroline as bait. You tried to murder her. At that moment, this tribe lost its Treasure. Caroline will take the women to her tribe, instead.”
“Xark’on, this is…”
Xark’on grabs the chief by the throat. “I swore to kill you if you harmed Caroline.”
“I didn’t,” Roti’ax gargles, his face red and his eyes bulging. “She’s fine! She escaped! Look! There she stands!”
“You would have killed her if she hadn’t. Now look at her feet and her hands. I see blood.”
“She’s still alive,” Roti’ax splutters. “I didn’t—”
“You didn’t. But you tried. And for that, you get this. To begin with.”
Xark’on taps his sledgehammer to Roti’ax’s forehead, and the chief faints immediately.
“There will be no Treasure!” Xark’on yells so all the tribesmen can hear him. “Go home! You will all be alone with no woman for the rest of your miserable lives!”
Yru’zan comes over, unsteady on his feet, his eyes wild. “We must have the Treasure. We must!”
Xark’on lays the sledgehammer over his shoulder. “I know you must. And you never will.”
“He tried to rape me,” I say aloud and point at Yru’zan. “To mate with me against my will.”
If Xark’on was angry before, now he goes pale with fury. “Against her will, Yru’zan? My woman?”
But Yru’zan draws his sword. “The Treasure. I know where it is. I don’t need you to give it to me as if I were a beggar! I will take it!”
“I will keep the Treasure from this tribe,” Xark’on says. “It no longer is where it was.”
Another tribesman has snuck up behind us and suddenly throws a rope over Xark’on’s head and tightens it around his neck.
“Where?” Yru’zan asks, breathing hard, putting his sword at Xark'on's throat. “Where?!”
Xark’on manages to laugh. Then, he swings the sledgehammer behind him, knocking the man there on the jaw and propelling him a good foot up in the air before he collapses on the ground.
But he’s underestimated Yru’zan’s madness. His tribesman has murder in his eyes when he now suddenly draws his sword back.
I have not underestimated anyone, and my aim is good. The spinning star hits Yru’zan in the throat, and a spray of blood shoots out before his sword falls to the ground, and he also collapses.
It’s not necessarily a better situation we’re in now. We’re surrounded by a hundred horny caveman aliens who have just been told that they’ll remain virgins forever. And they all have swords.
I bend down and take Yru’zans heavy sword in my trembling hands. “Can we fight them off?”
Xark’on keeps his eyes on his stunned tribesmen, who are now probably his very much former tribesmen. “You run. I’ll keep them. Take the women and go to your tribe. Think of me once in a while. I love you, Caroline.”
Tears spring to my eyes. If it were just me, I’d stay, and we’d fight to the death, back to back. But I have to think of the girls. They don’t know the way. And I really don’t want them to fall into the hands of this tribe.
“I love you, too,” I say, because nothing else comes to my paralyzed mind. “I always will.”
He bends down and kisses me while the tribesmen come closer, and there are many zhing noises as they all draw their swords.
“Be safe and happy, my love,” Xark’on says. “Now run.”
I know he’s right. So I do.
- - -
I’ve run maybe ten paces when I hear a terrible screech immediately followed by another. And I know those noises.
Dactyls.
I look up while I run. There are two of them. And while there’s a perfect target of a hundred now wildly fleeing cavemen just thirty feet away, they seem to be diving for me.
I still have the sword, but it’s heavy as fuck, and I know I can’t fight with it.
But instead of swooping on me, the two dactyls land, quite calmly, flapping their huge, bat-like wings.
“Hey! Need a ride?” Heidi is sitting astride the neck of one dactyl, her husband Dar'ax on the other.
I almost faint from sheer relief. “Yeah! And I need someone to rescue that guy with the hammer. Actually, never mind.”
With the tribe scared off by the dactyls and running away, Xark’on is by my side in two long strides, his hammer ready to smack the living daylights out of the dactyls that are each the size of a private jet.
“It’s okay,” I hurry to say, grabbing his hammer hand to make sure he doesn’t use it for anything less than ideal. “These are from my tribe. Remember, I told you they fly on dactyls? That’s Dar'ax, and that’s Heidi. Guys, this is Xark’on. My fiancé.”
Heidi nods and smiles. “Uh-huh. Every time one of the girls vanishes in the jungle, they always reappear with a fiancé. I’m glad you’re not breaking the tradition. Okay, where do you want to go?”
I jump up behind Heidi with a cheery confidence I’m not feeling, to show Xark’on that it’s okay.
He reluctantly climbs on behind Dar'ax, and then we’re airborne and circling the trap site.
“See the dragon?” I point down. “We made that trap and killed it.”
Troga is down there, on her side, with at least ten of the iron spikes going right through her. You’d think it might be a sad sight, but all I feel is elation. She wanted me dead.
Heidi stares. “That’s the scariest thing I’ve ever seen. You have to tell us about it.”
“I will.
Of course, the stranded girls are nowhere to be seen. Their experiences with dactyls have been much worse than mine. So, I get off the flying horror and track them down on foot while Heidi waits. I then have a challenging time convincing them that:
One, the dragon is dead and
Two, this dactyl is
a nice one.
But when Eleanor is finally done with her skeptical questions, they all come trouncing behind me to where Heidi is waiting.
I enjoy the look on Heidi’s face when I march out of the jungle ahead of twelve girls she last saw as they were being carried away by dactyls who were much less nice than the one she’s riding. I let the girls, themselves, explain everything to her.
Except, they’re only half done with that when I cut off their explanations. “Can you take them to the cave? And can I borrow Dar'ax for a little while?”
Heidi just nods, still shell-shocked, and waves to the circling Dar'ax to land.
I climb on behind Xark’on, holding him tighter than probably necessary. But fuck it, I have him now, and I’ll cheerfully hang onto him like this until someone pries me off.
“You want to come to our tribe?” I ask into his striped back.
“If I may.”
“You may. You fucking may so fucking much.”
“Um… now?”
Ah. He only knows one meaning of that word. “Later, my love. You’re extremely welcome at our tribe, is what I’m saying. Let’s get your stuff from the treehouse.”
I direct Dar'ax to where it is, but the dactyl just won’t fly there. So, he lets us off a mile away, we walk to the tree, check that nobody’s up there, and then we use the ropes.
I take a rag and carefully clean Xark’on’s head, caked in blood from the blow he took to the back of it. At the same time, I tell him about the adventures I had on my own.
Then, he uses even more care when he cleans the cuts on my toes and fingers, tenderly kissing each one when he’s done. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the bait and the Treasure. But the Treasure seemed unimportant to me then, and the bait was… difficult.”
I kiss the top of his head. “When we’re married, we have to talk about the difficult things, too. No matter how difficult they are.”
“We do,” he agrees. “Those are the most important things. How soon can we get married? Today?”
I smile at his sincere eagerness. It’s just as urgent for me. “How about tomorrow? One of the girls has to officiate. I’m usually the one who weds them, but there’s no chance in heck I’m going to officiate at my own damn wedding. I’ll be too busy doing bridely things. You know, bawling and throwing bouquets and looking stunning. And clinging to you like a crazy woman.”