by Ryan Muree
Maur ran nearer. “Was it the one you were screaming for?”
Rowec didn’t answer. If he wanted a future with Nida, then he needed a plan. He’d get back to Zchi and get a group of warriors organized. He’d have to bring them up to date on what they would be fighting against, but they’d be willing to accompany him. It was why he found Maur and Etta coming for him alone so odd.
He glanced up at Etta.
It was a ridiculous sight, Etta running through the jungle in her skirts and hair pinned up. He’d have to tell her father how brave she was. “Now, tell me again why an army didn’t come back for me?” he asked.
Maur dodged around a tree. “The chief stopped it—”
“Maur!” Etta snapped at him.
“What?”
“My father didn’t stop it—”
Maur snorted. “Really? Because that’s what I’d call it. He clearly said not to send anyone for Rowec—”
“Maur!” she repeated.
“What the hell is going on?” Rowec demanded.
Etta panted ahead. “It’s nothing. It’ll be safer in my home.”
Safe? Her home? Why wasn’t it safe? Why would he go to her home? They weren’t married. He had his own place. Something wasn’t adding up. She’d never invited him before, and there had been plenty of opportunities. No, the first thing he was going to do was head straight for the chief.
The glow of the torches from Zchi lit up the night sky and hid the stars. He never thought he’d be so happy to see his home. But he wouldn’t be staying long; he had to get right back out there.
The square was full where all the torches blazed and the light bounced off weapons and bare chests. The warriors?
“Come on.” Etta tried to urge them around the back of her house.
“Why are all the warriors lined up in the square?” Maur asked.
Good question.
Ignoring Etta, Rowec walked out to the middle of the village toward the first warrior in the line. She fussed over it every step of the way. “Why are you out here? Who’s attacking?”
Easily the shortest of the group, the fighter with a small bare chest and a shiny, new peicha knife at his hip blinked twice when he realized it was Rowec speaking to him. “Uh, sir, we’re not being attacked. We’re doing the attacking.”
“On who?”
“The Crola.”
But what had they done? “Did they break the treaty while I was gone?”
“I don’t know. The chief ordered us out here, sir.”
The chief? Rowec turned to his brother. “Maur, I’m going to challenge the chief. Will you come with me?”
Maur had been the one who’d organized his escape with Nida, but he’d have to tell him thanks for being there and saving him later. Right now, he just wanted someone he could trust by his side.
Maur nodded. “Of course.”
Rowec charged straight for the meeting house.
The chief had stopped his own fighters from rescuing him, and now he was sending them off to fight in a battle with the Crola without the warriors clearly understanding why, without a breach of the treaty. It was careless, dangerous, murderous. It would get people killed without reason.
“Wait!” Etta pulled on him to stop.
She’d have to do better. She wasn’t nearly strong enough, and he wouldn’t stop until the chief explained himself.
Rowec marched up the hill and burst into the wooden meeting house with its leaf-carved banisters and oiled paratil walls. The heavy doors slammed against the sides.
Chief Moddin had been sitting at the head of the table in his cream-colored robe with a bright orange hem. His arms were crossed, elbows on the table, and the small lamp illuminated his tan, bald head. Beside him was Etta’s grandfather, hunched over the table and talking to his son in hushed tones.
Moddin looked his way and bolted upright. “Rowec? That is some… interesting garb. What are you doing here?”
Rowec stood squarely at the opposite end of the meeting table and crossed his arms, too. “What am I doing here? Why didn’t you send warriors to rescue me? You had to send your own daughter? Do you have any idea what kind of danger your daughter was in?”
Moddin glared down Etta, who had slid beside Maur and behind Rowec’s left shoulder. “I told you not to interfere.”
Rowec lifted an eyebrow. “Not to interfere? She wasn’t supposed to help rescue the best warrior the Zchi has? Do I mean nothing to you?”
“You are not the center of the world, Rowec. I have an entire clan to protect.” Moddin smirked.
Protect? Sitting in a nicely carved and cushioned chair in this meeting house? In his oversized home? What, exactly, had he done to protect them—any of them? He hadn’t risked his life. He never fought. He sat in his massive home built, not by his hands, but the hands of the people serving him, making decisions and passing judgment on who was worth saving?
“I am the best fighter.” Rowec put a hand to his chest. “I have slaughtered more than my fair share for this clan, and I wasn’t worth rescuing?”
Moddin shot a glance to his elderly father, who quickly hobbled out of the room. “We were going to rescue you… shortly. But it seems my daughter has moved up the timeline. If it’s ruined, it’s on her head.”
“I could have died,” Rowec boomed.
Moddin smiled. “You would have been fine. The hatching isn’t for another week. We would have come for you before that.”
Rowec’s mind went blank. “You know about the hatching?”
Moddin shook his head and came around the edge of the table toward him. “Know about it? We started the pact with those things. They stay in the jungle far away from us; we send a man to them for their slitherskin ceremony.” He clicked his tongue. “It seems there’s much about the world you warriors don’t understand.”
Rage flooded Rowec’s view. There might have been things he didn’t know, but not by choice. All he saw was red, and if the chief didn’t have a good explanation, there’d be no holding him back. “And you knew they were dying in the ceremony? You’ve been sacrificing our people to the Tialans?”
Maur stepped forward. “What?”
Rowec held his arm out to stop him.
Moddin then stopped a few feet before them with his chest puffed up as best he could. “They go blissfully unaware. We’re told they pass in their sleep during the ceremony. It’s the best kind of death. The only death our kind can hope for, and this pact has kept the clan safe from the Tialans.”
Rowec dropped his arms and balled his fists. “You’re a traitor,” he spat. “How could you sacrifice our own people?”
Moddin’s grin spread wide. “We didn’t. We used Crola men.”
Crola men. Memories of fighting and capturing Crola men in raids came flooding back. He’d assumed the ones the chief had told them not to keep were because they weren’t strong enough to be Zchi warriors or they wouldn’t be obedient to their way of life. What had he been part of?
Rowec’s nostrils flared. “You passed judgment on them because they weren’t fit to be fighters…”
“Wrong. Every time we fought or raided with the Crola, I was looking for warriors that could pass as Zchi for the Tialan ceremony.”
Maur dropped his head and shook it. “This is ridiculous. You’ve been breaking the treaty with the Crola to keep a pact with the Tialans? I’m not the biggest fan of the Crola, but even I have the sense to know this is wrong.”
But it was worse than that.
“Once the Crola find out,” Rowec said, “the treaty will be broken. We’ll be at war. How do they not know yet?”
Moddin huffed. “That treaty with the other clans was the dumbest thing your family has ever done. It’s been a thorn in our side since its inception.”
Maur bristled at the mention of their dead parents.
“The Tialans didn’t care who we sent, but without raids or wars, we had no Crola to give them,” Moddin continued. “We couldn’t just kidnap a Crola and voluntee
r him to the Tialans out of nowhere. They’d find out. We were stuck.”
Rowec shook his head. “So you volunteered me? Or my brother? Is that it? When the treaty didn’t allow you to easily take a Crola—”
Moddin laughed in his face. “No, that was just convenient. When you were kidnapped, I seized the opportunity—”
“You took that Crola warrior!” Maur blurted. His breathing had become erratic and forceful through his nose.
Rowec looked back at his brother.
Maur nodded to him. “Shortly after you were taken, a Crola warrior showed up in a cage. We had no idea where he’d come from.” He pointed at Moddin. “You said he was stealing and you caught him, but you kidnapped him, didn’t you?”
Moddin lifted his chin and crossed his arms. “We were going to swap him in place for your brother—”
“And then he killed himself,” Maur seethed.
Rowec’s mouth dropped open. “He did what?” He whipped his head around and advanced on Moddin. Etta, whom he’d almost forgotten was still there, even tried to hold him back.
“He killed himself before we’d had the chance to swap him for you,” Moddin said without shame, without guilt. He said it with the same disappointment as if he’d just dropped a piece of bread in the mud.
“So that’s why the warriors are out and ready? We’re fighting the Crola? They’re coming here because they found out that you kidnapped a Crola and broke the treaty?” Rowec’s nails drove into his palms. He’d kill Moddin. Etta had better be hiding some amazing strength, because between him and Maur, they’d kill their chief.
Moddin took a step back and narrowed his glare. “The Crola have no idea we broke the treaty. They came for him, but we had already gotten rid of his body.”
Rowec roared, taking another step closer. His hands and muscles were itching for release across Moddin’s smug little face.
Moddin took another step back. “Your brother made an excellent case for you, bursting into the meeting with the Crola leaders and demanding an army to rescue his brother taken by the Tialans.”
Rowec’s heart plummeted. “So the Crola think the Tialans took their fighter?”
“And they’re marching on the temple as we speak. You’re too late.”
Too late? Rowec spun to Etta. Her hands were clasped to her chest. Her eyes were wide like a newborn kurimolle. She was caught in his shadow.
“You! That’s why you wanted me to hide at your place. That’s why you agreed to get me out without your father knowing. You didn’t want me there for the fight when the Crola showed up! You were part of this! You worked with your father to do this!”
“I did it for you,” she squeaked, hands shaking. “I just wanted to save you. That’s all that matters. Now, we can get married—”
“You think I’m marrying you?” As if he would ever have anything else to do with this chief and his family again.
Etta froze. “What—”
“I’m not marrying you, and I never was—”
Etta’s eyes went cold as she stood a little taller. “I didn’t know what my father was doing, and I saved you with Maur. I risked my life, I talked to that thing—”
“She’s telling the truth,” Moddin added, seemingly amused. “I didn’t tell her any of it. Guess I should have though. Maybe it would have prevented this headache.”
This headache? He had let himself get distracted. The rage had yet to evaporate, leaving his muscles numb. He was ashamed. He had been a tool, and now the Crola would be descending on the Tialans—on Nida. “You can’t do this. It’ll be a blood bath. I’ve seen—I’ve learned things. If you don’t care about them, think about what you’re doing to us. The Tialans keep the jungle healthy. They keep it alive, we rely on it. We need to stop the Crola, and I can do it. I can negotiate—”
“You’re not doing anything,” Moddin countered. “Once the Crola storm the Tialans, both sides will weaken from the fight, and that’s when our guys will step in and take out both. Our clan will be safe, and we’ll have plenty of farmland to keep everyone fed.”
“It’s wrong!”
Moddin held up a finger to Rowec’s nose. “I will do anything to save our clan.”
Was it truly saving them if they had to murder and trick others into losing? If this was how they were going to live, if this was who they were, was there anything about them worth saving?
Moddin smirked. “Go home, Rowec. You’ve lost.”
Rowec punched him square in the face. Moddin’s head flew back, blood spraying from his shattered nose, as his arms wheeled before he hit the floor. Etta ran to help her father.
He had to reach their fighters first before they destroyed the Crola and the Tialans. He had to change the plan. He spun for the doors.
“You’re too late, Rowec,” Moddin mumbled with his hand at his nose. “Our men are already halfway to the temple by now.”
He was faster than a whole group moving through dense patches of trees and foliage. He could make it.
CHAPTER 20
Nida rubbed her sore, damp eyes and winced at the welt growing on her cheek.
She had been locked in Rowec’s old cell for only a few hours with no sign of what they’d do to her. Back against the cold wall, she sat in the mud created from moisture settling on the dusty floor. Her dress was probably a mess, too. She drew up her knees and rested her forehead on them.
Her chest was the heaviest it had ever been. Worry, fear, doubt, shame—they swirled around her heart and reminded her of all the things she’d failed to do.
How could she save her sisters while locked up? She had to talk to Ascara. They had to fix the levers in the ceiling of the prayer room so they could open, and they could maybe find a way…
She sobbed.
She had ruined everything. The only glimmer was knowing Rowec had escaped. At least she had done that part right.
She sobbed again.
Every single one of her sisters probably hated her, her new sisters might not be born, the jungle would suffer if they weren’t, and Rowec…
Her mind always wandered back to him but thinking about him was selfish. Brynn had been right. She had sacrificed her sisters, her family, for one human.
She had lost everything.
Something moved across her shoulder. She reached up and pulled back a shaking Raz.
“Raz! Where have you been?”
She sat him back on her shoulder, and he curled up just enough into her hair. He must have jumped out when Rowec had kissed her.
Her fingers went to her lips, and her heart fluttered all over again. Her mouth had been crushed by his, and it wasn’t enough. Her cheeks burned with heat at the thought of more of him. She wanted—needed—more of him. She needed his hands on more skin than just her back, his mouth on more of her than just her lips. The rigid strength of him cradling him in her arms…
She let out another sob.
Raz crawled out again and nuzzled her cheek.
“Thanks, Raz,” she said between tears. “But I’m not sure you’re safe here.”
He trilled, and she scratched him underneath his chin.
“I don’t think,” she started, but the sobs had worked their way out again. “I don’t think I’ll be able to take care of you for long.”
“Why would you think that?” Ascara moved into the firelight of the sconces.
“Ascara!” Nida gripped the bars and knelt closer. “Did you find something? Did you figure it out?”
“First, tell me the truth.” Ascara stood several feet away from the bars, her arms crossed.
What was wrong? “The truth… about what?”
“I saw that kiss. I saw that look. You wanted to run away with him.”
She shook her head. “Ascara, I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave the hatchery before we figured it out—”
“But you wanted to.”
Nida sniffled and lowered her head. “I’m sorry—”
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
&n
bsp; She shook her head. “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“For him? I would have understood.” Ascara stepped closer.
“It doesn’t matter. He’s gone. Brynn will never let me out of here, and we need to figure out that prayer room—”
“Do you love him?”
A drop of water echoed behind her through a tiny hole in her cell’s ceiling.