First Fall: The Canoe Thief

by Zaide Bishop

  Bloodlust was a sickness of the mind. It had happened before, with Elikai and Varekai brothers. Curiosity would turn into obsession.

  It was a Varekai brother sneaking into the Elikai camp that had sparked the last war, the one that had ended in peace. The Varekai boy had confronted Zebra at his hut, armed and insistent. Alarm had been raised, death was quick.

  Such were the perils of the disease.

  However, Tare was curious about all the Varekai, and bloodlust was characterized by obsession with an individual. He didn’t want to kill them, he just wanted to watch them. And take their stuff. They had very nice stuff.

  He waited until his brothers had drifted back toward the village before motioning Love over to the canoes.

  “Help me get these back in the water.”

  “What? Why?” Love stared at Tare with his big brown calf eyes. “No, Tare, Sugar will skin you.”

  Tare snorted. “Like I care. He was mad at me for taking them in the first place. And I was just trying to help. Now I’m going to help by taking them back.”

  “He doesn’t want you to take them back!”

  Tare grinned. “Just help me.”

  Love chewed his lip a moment, then sighed. They both paused at the water’s edge to scan the shallows. It was best to use the white sandy beaches for launching boats, for the visibility it provided. The big crocodiles looked like drifting trees under the water, and the ghosting sharks could be seen from thirty feet away. There were other dangers, though: rock sharks that camouflaged with the sand and could sidle up in the shallows, and massive pythons that wove through the salt water like eels as they moved from island to island.

  Some of the more formidable monsters even had names. There were only three big bull crocodiles in the archipelago, each with a territory that stretched hundreds of square miles. All of them were large enough to demolish a canoe in a single sweep.

  The Elikai village was in Goodyear’s territory, an obese leviathan with one white eye and clusters of tumors bulging around his hind legs and along his spine.

  Tare was not afraid Goodyear would be stalking them in the shallows, though. He would simply march into the village in the night to kill dogs and drag Elikai screaming from their beds. That did not mean Tare wanted to stumble over him unexpectedly.

  Convinced there was nothing but white sand and a small turtle nearby, Tare waded into the shallows and clambered into a canoe, lashing the second one to the first with blue salvaged rope and beginning the virtually impossible task of paddling two canoes with one oar.

  “You’re going to end up in the channel.” Love followed him until he was knee-deep in the water.

  “I won’t. I got back here fine.”

  “Dumb luck. If the rip catches you, we’ll never see you again. Stay. Let Sugar take the canoes back.”

  “What if the Varekai catch him and kill him, hmm? Then he’ll be even more intolerable.”

  “He’ll be dead.”

  “That won’t stop him. His spirit will come back and lord it over me. I’ll put the canoes back where I found them. The Varekai probably haven’t even noticed they’re gone.”

  “Do you think they’re idiots? Unobservant?”

  “No, but it’s clear we are infinitely superior.” He pushed the canoes deeper with the tip of the oar. “I’ll be fine. Cover for me.”

  “For how long?”

  “As long as you can.”

  Love stood there—looking short and miserable—as though if he could only be sad enough, Tare would come back. But Tare barely spared him a glance before setting off east. His thoughts were already elsewhere, an unfamiliar yearning urging him on.

  Below him, the smooth white sand and warm green waters gave way to the rich, sapphire blue of a deeper channel. Tare knew the way, but it was never a sure thing. The archipelago was a maze of islands and lagoons, many of which moved with the storms and seasons. Sandbanks relocated, snags formed, rocks came and went under layers of sand. There were pockets of reef that stayed the same, but they were treacherous for canoes and haunted by predators.

  All around Tare, wildlife was in rich abundance. Fish ranged from microscopic fry to cods and gropers that were as long and heavy as pigs. There were cruising reef sharks, smaller crocodiles, an endless cacophony of sea birds and parrots.

  There were rumors of more legendary beasts too: giant birds, black lions and monstrous octopi that could drag down canoes into the channel. Tare deemed such myths unnecessary. There was no need for fictional monsters when real ones could be seen basking in the morning sun.

  The trip between the islands was not an overly long one. Half a day of peaceful paddling that would have been much faster if he hadn’t been trying to maneuver two canoes at once.

  The Varekai camp was on the narrow easternmost island in the archipelago; it ran nearly ten straight miles on the eastern shore. It faced the open ocean with one long white beach that looked out onto the rising sun and endless reefs dotted with dozens of hulking shipwrecks as big as islands themselves. The soil there was good. The trees were big and dense, and Tare had seen tiny red and black monkeys high in the foliage.

  Tare approached from the west, through a narrow channel that separated it from another, smaller sibling. The water was murky with rotting vegetation, and the trees pressed close. The narrow space acted as an ocean nursery and was so overrun with fish fry the water seethed as he passed through.

  The little cove where the Varekai beached their canoes was not too far ahead. He would leave the Varekai canoes where he’d found them. It was very close to where he had lost his own canoe, which had sunk under him yesterday, almost leaving him stranded.

  It was only now, somewhat belatedly, that he wondered how he would get home.

  Chapter Two

  India saw the Elikai paddling down the narrow channel and froze. She had seen the woman before, though she was not sure of her name. She had blonde hair in a silky wave to her chin, brilliant blue eyes and a scar that ran from her left eye across her check and down her neck.

  Her brown chest was bare and smooth. The Elikai had no breasts at all—just tiny, hard nipples and a flat, muscled expanse of ribs. Their hips were narrow. Their legs were hard and strong. They were remarkably hairy and, though India couldn’t see it for the grass skirt around the Elikai’s waist, they had an ugly little growth between their legs, something like the wattle of a rooster’s comb.

  As the Elikai drew closer, India’s pulse picked up, her skin tingling with adrenaline. The Elikai were physically strong, stronger than most of the Varekai, and this sister was no exception. She was not the largest of her kin, but she was lean and powerful, with solid, muscled arms and the tight, controlled movements of a tiger.

  By Varekai standards, Elikai were incredibly ugly, but at the same time, India found herself studying the stranger intently. They were so intensely animal. So...hideous.

  She was so caught up in her fascination, it took her a moment to realize the Elikai was gliding by on not one, but two canoes. The stolen canoes!

  She drew an arrow from her quiver, placing it in the bow and drawing back with breathless silence. The whole world faded as she took aim. All that mattered was the target: perfect, precise. She exhaled and released.

  The arrow buried itself in the canoe, inches from the Elikai’s hand.

  The Elikai yelped, drawing back and causing the canoes to wobble wildly.

  “Be still!” India warned. “Or the next one will go through your throat.”

  An easy shot at this proximity, though not a politically advantageous one.

  “I’m still! I’m still!” The blonde Elikai held up her hands, peering into the thick undergrowth. India sank down a little lower. “I can’t see you.”

  “That is intentional.” The Elikai really were quite simple creatures.
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  “Come on,” she coaxed. “I’m not armed. I’m bringing back your canoes.”

  “You stole them,” India accused.

  “Borrowed,” she corrected. “I borrowed them. I’m bringing them back now. No need for arrows, okay?”

  India drew another arrow and nocked it in place. Simple and childish, but she would have been the even greater fool to underestimate her. “We’ll see.”

  “Come out. Or at least tell me who you are.”

  The current was carrying the Elikai along the channel, and India was forced to pad along the riverbank, weaving her way through the palms and bromeliads. “India.”

  “The witchdoctor? I’m Tare. I’m not here to do any harm. Honest. I just wanted to return the canoes before anyone could get mad.”

  “It’s a little late.”

  “Come on now, the canoes are just fine. Well, this one has an arrow in it now, but that’s your fault, not mine.”

  It was true enough, but it was not India’s decision to make. She was the witchdoctor. She dealt in signs and communicating with the spirits, herb-lore, healing and, most important, discovering how the teachers had made sisters in Eden. Earthly concerns like stolen canoes and the Elikai were for Charlie and Whiskey to resolve. She wished none of it had happened at all. They had enough to worry about, enough to do, without another conflict between the tribes. Whiskey wanted blood, Charlie wanted peace. India... India didn’t want to feel helpless anymore as her sisters died. The truce had made it easier for her to search for herbs and fungi, not constantly afraid that any Elikai she saw would attempt to murder her on sight. If not for this pretty, dumb Elikai, things could have carried on as they were.

  “I have to take you back.”

  Tare arched an eyebrow. “Back? Back where?”

  “To the village.”

  “The Varekai village? Uh-uh, no way. Not happening, brother.”

  India didn’t know the word brother. Tare’s bravery was admirable, if, once again, foolish. “You can come peacefully, or you can come with an arrow in your thigh.”

  “Or I can jump in the water and swim away from you.”

  She bit back a smile. “I wouldn’t. The Elikai might think we killed you, and I’d have to go wading around in crocodile nests looking for your remains as proof.”

  Tare looked uncertain, then sighed. “Fair enough. Do you promise not to kill me?”

  “I promise not to kill you before we reach the village, but only if you cooperate.”

  She glared. “That’s not much of a promise.”

  India said nothing. Discretion was the better part of valor. Placing her feet carefully between the tree roots, she kept the arrow trained on the Elikai in case she did, indeed, try anything. She didn’t, and after a few minutes the estuary opened up to the small sandy inlet where the Varekai kept their canoes.

  Tare dragged the stolen ones up between the others on the beach, while India waited in the tree line, arrow always at the ready.

  “What now?” she asked.

  “There’s a path. Over there.” India pointed with the arrow tip. “Walk slowly.”

  The path was wide enough for three sisters to walk comfortably side by side, but India hung back behind Tare, her arm starting to ache from the tension in the bowstring. Despite her predicament, there was a swagger in the way the Elikai moved. Still sulky, but alert, curious. They reached the first of two intersections on the trail, this one leading to a pocket of yams and fruit trees.

  Tare paused to stare. “That’s a lucky find.”

  “Not quite.” India lowered the bow a moment to rest her shoulder. “We clear the land and plant them there.”

  “Why? There is food everywhere.”

  “So we always know where it is. We never have to walk around, circling the patches, because it’s always where we grew it.” She was surprised by her questions. It meant the Elikai did not do the same.

  “The possums will take it all,” Tare scoffed.

  India bit back an exasperated sigh. The Elikai were barely better than wild pigs after all, adept scavengers, but without much capacity for planning ahead. “No, we drive the chickens in during the day to eat the bugs and their poop helps the plants. Then, at night, we stake the dogs here.”

  Tare pulled a face, indicating just what she thought of the Varekai dogs. India kept her expression carefully neutral, gestured for her to continue. The second branch in the path was to the spring, the Varekai’s source of freshwater, though Tare took no notice of that.

  The village was still hidden from view when the first of the dogs came to greet them. They were big, brutish animals with square heads and teeth like jutting tusks. Their short coats were sand and brindle, and they were bred for killing pigs and giant snakes.

  The lead bitch snarled when she smelled Tare, and the Elikai went rigid. The pack circled, teeth bared, and India did not embarrass herself by trying to call them away.

  “They’re going to kill me.” Tare spared a glance down at the pack of hounds circling her, careful not to meet their gaze. Their backs were level with Tare’s thighs, which made them almost large enough for India to ride.

  “Maybe,” India mused. It was a pleasant change to see someone else being victimized by Whiskey’s menagerie.

  “Call them off.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t like the dogs. They ignore me.”

  A sharp whistle made India flinch, and the creatures bounded back the way they had come. She thought Tare would bolt then, her fear of the Varekai dogs making her reckless, but she simply stood quivering, as tightly strung as a bow.

  Charlie and Whiskey pushed their way through the dog pack, and Whiskey pointed a long spear at Tare’s throat. Charlie may have been the leader of the Varekai, but Whiskey had always been the most striking, almost as tall as an Elikai, with her flame-colored hair and verdant green eyes. She was the palest of any member of either tribe and was always heavily painted with clay to protect herself from sunburn. In comparison, coffee-colored Charlie was almost invisible against the brown of the forest.

  “What’s this?” Charlie demanded as the dogs fawned around her.

  “I found her trying to return the canoes,” India said.

  “Where are they?” Charlie peered down the path, as if the canoes might have followed them home.

  “On the beach, with the others.”

  “And this is the only Elikai that came?”

  “The only one I saw,” India said.

  Charlie turned to Tare, looking her up and down. “Well?”

  “I brought them back.” Tare stood up a little straighter. “Safe and sound. I was really just borrowing them. So there is no reason to be mad. You can let me go and we’ll be all squared away.”

  Whiskey snorted. “Oh, but you’re here now, little sister. I think you should stay.”

  Tare leaned toward India, brow creased in a frown, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Is sister an insult?”

  India stepped away from her, scowling. Tare’s familiarity was insulting. And her proximity. India was the one who had taken her prisoner; she could be a little intimidated by that. The moment Whiskey showed up, it was like she was the only one who knew how to throw a spear.

  Charlie chewed her lip. “Bring her for now,” she said. “The Varekai need to discuss this as one people.”

  “But,” Tare protested, “I brought them back.” The Elikai really was simpleminded, to think the Varekai would be so quick to forgive.

  “You shouldn’t have stolen them in the first place.” Charlie turned on her heel, vanishing up the path in a seething pack of dogs.

  Whiskey slid closer with the spear. “Move. Or we’ll get to see what color you are on the inside.”

  “Well, I won’t be black and full of worms like you,” Tare snapp
ed.

  Whiskey tensed, raising the spear as if to strike. India stepped quickly to Tare’s side. Too quickly, perhaps, for the Elikai’s skin brushed against hers, and she flinched away from its warmth.

  “Don’t.” India locked her eyes on Whiskey, trying to look as cold and hard as possible. “If the Elikai’s death was a choice to be made by an individual, she would already be at the bottom of the channel.”

  * * *

  Tare tried to feel relieved the witchdoctor had saved him, though it was hard to be grateful.

  Although, being kidnapped wasn’t as bad as he’d expected, apart from being threatened with spears, arrows and monster dogs every step of the way. The Varekai’s orchard was eye-opening. Not to mention, he had never been so close to a Varekai before, and seeing them up close was a novelty. India was so small, he might have still been a child. Under the white clay war paint, he was inky-dark. Most of the Elikai and Varekai were varying shades of mudbrown, but India was almost as black as squid ink. The patterns he had marked himself with were like those of a jaguar and in his long, black hair there were bones and strips of aluminum cans, gemstones, part of a green-and-gold computer chip, polished wood and perfect, glossy shells. His every movement was a pleasant melody.

  India didn’t have the same fatty mounds on his chest as his brothers. The Varekai leader, Charlie, looked as if he had stuffed mangoes into the leather sling across his chest. His hips were wider, too, with an impossibly round ass that mirrored his front in an alarming way.

  Not so the little brother India, who was much flatter—more like an Elikai, but with curves in his legs and belly where an Elikai would have none. The Varekai had an interesting smell too, spicy and sweet. They were very different, but not entirely unpleasant.

  If he ignored the whole “threatening to kill him” thing.

  Whiskey kept him at spear point as they rounded the curve in the path and stepped into the village proper. They were deep in the trees and everything was in shadow. Nothing like the Elikai camp, which was on the beach and always bathed in sunlight.