savage 06 - the savage dream

by Blodgett, Tamara Rose

  “Aye,” Philip said.

  “God, you're a huge sucker,” Jim breathed, backing away.

  “What say you?” Edwin said from alongside his sister.

  “Clearly, not nearly enough.” Jim turned back to Elise. “Are you—can you understand me? Because this guy,” he pointed to Adahy, “knows what I'm saying in my crappy Iroquois, but he doesn't speak English well enough to tell these guys I don't need to, like—die today.”

  Elise nodded. He was very difficult to comprehend. He had some of the cadence of the Fragment but not exactly. His words were clipped and sloppy on some of the vowels. She had not gotten the rhythm of it entirely but hoped to understand him better soon.

  With a nervous glance at the Band, Elise realized his life might depend on that understanding.

  “I am Elise.”

  “Nice to meet ya,” he said. “I'm Jim.”

  “Exotic of face,” Calia said, moving slowly around him.

  Jim watched her with wary eyes.

  “I'm Asian.” His face grew slightly red under their intense scrutiny.

  Calia's brow rose. “What did he say?” she directed the question at Elise.

  “I believe he tells us the people from which he hails.”

  “A-si-an,” Calia said slowly.

  “No—Asian.”

  Calia lifted a shoulder. “I do not know the word.” She stepped closer, and Jim retreated a step. They were nearly the same height. Elise thought Calia tall for a woman, but not compared with those of the Band. The males of the Band were never shorter than six and a half feet. The females oftentimes, when there was a rare one about, measured nearly six feet.

  “Touch her, and I will remove your skin,” Philip said.

  “I got it,” Jim said, eyes flicking to the largest male of the Band that Elise had ever seen. Jim gave Elise a look she could not read—though if she were to guess his expression, it would be confusion.

  Elise understood his consternation. She had healed him into the middle of this distrusting group.

  Calia reached out a hand, and Jim twitched in a suppressed flinch. She touched the corner of one dark eye where it swept to a soft point then ran her hand down the dark hair, feeling it between her fingers. “I have never seen one such as you,” she said, stepping away.

  Philip circled his arms around her body. Her head fit underneath his chin.

  “Now that we have show-and-tell, check-out-the-Asian-dude under control, why don't you guys tell me what's going on? Why have I been saved?”

  Elise stepped forward. “I do not understand all of what you are saying. But I healed you because your wounds called to me. All wounds do. I could no more leave you to die if I had wished it.”

  “I guess thanks are in order, but I have to say, kind of a dangerous compulsion. The other guys I was with? They'd have done you all in.”

  Adahy and Philip frowned.

  Edwin said, “They would have tried.”

  Elise turned to Edwin. “You understand him?”

  “He speaks somewhat like Daniel.”

  “Aye,” Philip agreed.

  “I do not converse with Daniel overly,” Calia admitted.

  “Who's Daniel?” Jim asked.

  “He is blood of the Band but raised Fragment,” Elise replied. She knew this detail, but was not intimately acquainted with him.

  “Ah,” Jim said, stretching. He grimaced from the movement.

  Elise frowned. He was still not whole.

  “Explain why you are here. Why your party left you for dead. Why your people killed the Iroquois.” Adahy folded his arms as he stood shoulder to shoulder with Elise.

  *

  Jim

  Jim opened his mouth then closed it. There was no way to explain to this group what he was doing here. Though he'd been given some background information about the indigenous cultures here, he'd been a lab boy. Scientist cum consultant.

  He simply didn't know dick that'd be practical enough to save his ass. And the only guy that really knew what he was saying couldn't speak English well enough to translate. The woman who'd healed him was sympathetic, obviously, but the other members of the group—the clansmen and the woman—not so much. Especially the woman. God, she was like some Zena type. She'd cut off his nuts and wear them for earrings. Yeah, he'd have to use kid gloves with these guys.

  “I'm a scientist. And the other guys—”

  “Fragment? Travelers?” Elise asked.

  Jim shrugged. “I know who the Fragment are. And I'm not them.”

  The group visibly relaxed.

  Well, that was lucky. “Traveler? I guess that's as good a name as any.”

  “Do you come through the portal?” Elise asked.

  Jim felt his scowl. “How do you know about that?” Jim instantly thought Pathway. Were they talking about the same thing?

  Elise looked at her feet, and suddenly Jim knew he'd touched on a sore spot.

  “Some young Travelers entered our world months back and they—they came through a hole of…” Elise shrugged, seeming to lose the ability to quantify what the exact method of travel was.

  Jim shook his head, thinking. That had to be some of the paranormal teens of his world breaking through. He'd missed that boat entirely. The first of the teens who were gifted, with their paranormal talents manifesting, were a year behind Jim. No one much older than twenty-five was showing abilities. But if a Dimensional had jumped here? Those who were powerful enough could have brought more than just themselves, creating their own Pathway of sorts.

  That certainly would have fucked up the time continuum six ways to Sunday.

  “The other—Travelers,” Jim began lamely, “are scouts to take samples of the people here for study,” exploitation, use and disservice, his mind supplied.

  Their disbelief blanketed their expressions.

  Tough group.

  Noting their tense postures, Jim thought it'd be best to explain his role before they sliced and diced him. “I'm here because I understand the science behind the samples, and I speak five different languages.” But not Clan. Their strange way of talking was a little like antiquated English. Medieval?

  Jim could tell Elise was puzzled. “Did you know when you arrived here to gather ʻsamples,ʼ” her frown deepened, “that those men would hurt, murder, and capture the people they were supposed to take from?”

  Jim's shame was a blowtorch inside him. He shook his head. “I knew the HC was a hush-hush government operation. I didn't know how deep the corruption went.”

  Adahy tapped his shoulder and he jumped a foot. “Talk to me.”

  Jim repeated that last part.

  “Government?” Adahy said in a rough accent.

  Jim had worked with enough linguists to know Adahy had learned the sphere-world's version of English first, the Iroquois last.

  “Government is like a group of people who rule everyone.” Jim brought his hands together with a lacing of fingers.

  A look of understanding came over the clansman named Philip. “President Bowen.”

  “What say you?” Edwin addressed Philip.

  “We have a commander, if you will. He leads the midwestern clans. When there are decisions of magnitude, we consult with him and determine a course of action.”

  Jim was excited. Somebody got it!

  “Chasing Hawk,” Adahy said with thoughtful understanding.

  Elise nodded. “Queen Clara.”

  “And King Matthew,” Calia said, chin cupped in her hand as she wore a pensive expression.

  Jim was nodding. They were not as primitive as the Helix Complex believed. But wasn't that typical of large entities? They'd start with lots of presumptions and send out the little guys to take the hits, while they sat behind their safe desks and called the shots for the expendables—like Jim.

  And what would happen when the HC's mad scientist didn't return with samples and intel because the soldiers they'd chosen were little more than convicts?

  Jim didn't know, but it s
cared the shit out of him.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Adahy

  They waited out the storm. He and Elise fitted together perfectly. Adahy realized the thin female could never warm herself adequately.

  Though Adahy was well acclimated to the austere, unforgiving temperature, the female was not.

  And the odd one, Jim, was certainly not hardy.

  He was a skinny male, not tall of stature, with strange features, and skin that was neither the pale cream of the sphere-dwellers nor the bronzed skin of his Iroquois brothers.

  Adahy's spirit was fitful. He could not settle it no matter how many times he turned over the information that Jim had told them.

  Scientist—a strange term for a person who studied things for their own sake—had been the most difficult concept to grasp. But after a solid hour of conversation, Jim had revealed what he was and his purpose for being here.

  Fifteen seasons past, a similar group had trespassed with ill intent into Adahy's world. He had assisted a young woman of the Band against the interlopers. Iroquois had died but they had saved the woman and the newborn babe. It had been a small triumph of sorts.

  Now there were new marauders, returning for something even more insidious.

  Would Chasing Hawk and his brothers stand strong against weapons that flew twice as fast as the eagle—and that tore the heart and put a hole in the body?

  No.

  Adahy curled a muscled arm around Elise, and she rested her head against his shoulder. His loyalty was to his tribesmen.

  But first, it was to Elise.

  Adahy knew she had chosen to come with him—had been convinced to do it. It might not have been the best course of action—the sphere would have been safer.

  He was selfish. Adahy wanted Elise. He could not remain inside the sphere where a little bit of his spirit withered each day. Adahy's whole being longed for the freedom of a home without walls.

  Adahy studied the Traveler, Jim.

  He sat by himself, knees bent, hands dangling between them. Adahy felt a crooked smile lift one corner of his mouth. Jim sat as far as he could from the members of the Band.

  They huddled in their own loose group. Calia defiantly remained glued to Philip. Edwin glowered at the pair.

  “What is the problem with them?” Adahy asked Elise softly in Iroquois.

  She seemed to be increasingly fluent in his native tongue—or rather, the language he spoke with ease. Adahy had primal memories of a much different language—a different early life of white words. All of the memories were dipped in blood.

  Adahy felt the images circling the edges of remembering. A part of him resisted dwelling on them. He knew that no good could come of knowing from whence he came.

  Chasing Hawk had told him he'd been found in the middle of a massacre. He had been missed. He was balling so loudly, Chasing Hawk had said, the spirits rose from their graves to hear his squalling.

  He had been but four. Chasing Hawk said he made the white words. When they traded intermittently with the Clans, it was Adahy who had struggled through a few words. The clansmen had always looked at him strangely.

  He had a foot in each world, but stood steady in neither.

  Elise turned in further, pushing the warmth of her breath onto his chest. “There is a ritual each mate-able woman of the Band must go through. Calia is now found and has kin who require her presence.”

  Adahy frowned. Calia had lived many years Outside, separated from her original clan, not unlike Adahy. His attention went to the hulking male at her side.

  It was clear by the set of their bodies that they belonged together. Yet Edwin, as her kin, was forcing a tradition that meant nothing to Calia.

  “She will not conform to their ideals,” Adahy said with certainty.

  Elise's eyebrows puckered. He tried again, mixing English and Iroquois, and her forehead smoothed.

  “Yes, she is… most independent.”

  “You are, too,” Adahy said, for he saw her spirit, trapped within her body.

  Elise gave a sad little sigh and shook her head, allowing her dark hair to fall forward. “Aye, that might have been, had another life been for me. But the Fragment found me and…”

  She did not finish.

  Adahy turned her to face him, his large hands gripping her shoulders. He ignored the storm and the stranger whose eyes lay on the Band.

  “And?” he asked, searching her eyes.

  A lone tear struggled down her face. More fought their way out of her eyes.

  “Tell me,” Adahy whispered fiercely.

  “I am ashamed.”

  “No,” he said in a short word like a slap.

  Her chin jerked up, the sadness of her life leaking onto her face. “I cannot bear children, Adahy. Yours—or any other male's.”

  A horrible idea bloomed inside Adahy's mind. A carnal, diseased plant took root, and stamens like poison touched into the furthest reaches of terrible speculation.

  “The males… they took me when I was too young for it. I have a ruined womb,” Elise whispered, placing a fist so tight it was a white bony clutch of flesh atop her lower stomach.

  Adahy's rage was visceral, tempered only by her presence. That men of the Fragment would rape a child so badly and so often they would render her barren was more than Adahy could stand to think of.

  Yet he thought about it.

  Her bravery in telling him was a trust she deserved to have respected.

  “Adahy,” Elise said softly, cupping the side of his face. “I know it is—I am not worthy.” Her words dropped out of her mouth like hollow sorrow.

  He placed his palm over her own. Adahy had not wanted to ever be with another female for this reason: if he loved, he could lose. He had lost his wife in a most tragic way.

  Why had he not thought the Fragment capable of every atrocity? They had ripped his son from his wife's womb, raped her as she bled, and she had died by his hand. That they would rape a defenseless child was within the parameters, yet…

  “The Fragment trade females.” Adahy scowled. “Harming you would have been foolish.” There—he had said it. Why would they wreck something that had more value at auction pure and whole?

  She cast her eyes at twisted hands. He put his hands over her icy skin, rubbing her fingers to heat them.

  “When my ability was discovered, I was worth more to the Fragment to keep. At that point, I think they thought there was no reason to leave me untried for auction. Yet, it is well-known that a female taken before menses is not old enough.”

  “Yes,” Adahy said in a clipped tone. “They should never have taken what was not theirs.”

  “The Fragment rape,” Elise stated in a forlorn voice.

  Adahy tipped her chin up with a finger. The murmurs of the others could be heard but did not interfere with their moment. He captured her gaze with his own.

  “I killed Onatah.”

  Elise's eyes widened at the revelation, but whatever she saw in his eyes caused her to still instead of flee.

  He caressed Elise's fine jawbone, wondering how many times it had been held as one of the Fragment forced her to submit—struck her so she would.

  “She was a good wife. Had she lived, I would have a son.”

  Adahy's hand dropped, and Elise covered her mouth. “Your wife?” she asked from between her fingers, and he nodded.

  Adahy told her of the sounds.

  He knew what he would find when he came upon them raping Onatah. He told her of his son screaming as the cold silenced him forever.

  “What did you do?” she asked in a whisper. It seemed important for Elise to know what had come next.

  “I killed them.”

  Elise gave a little gasp. “All?”

  Adahy nodded. “When it was finished, only my eyes were free of the blood of mine enemies.”

  Elise clasped Adahy's hands, scooping them together she lay them against her heart.

  “Good,” was her fierce reply.

  Adahy studied
her face for a span of the quiet pulses of her life and heat beneath his fingers.

  He saw only her pride in the justice he had meted in that horrific time.

  Adahy pulled her close, their entwined hands between them.

  “No leave,” he said in perfect English.

  Elise snuggled closer.

  “You,” he finished, stroking the back of her hair.

  No Fragment would ever touch her again. Adahy finally had something to live for, worth dying for.

  All would die who threatened what Adahy had found.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Elise

  Elise felt as though a burden had been lifted. All the time Adahy had gently pursued her, in the back of her mind, she had believed that once he knew she could never conceive, he would discard her.

  Nothing could be further from the truth.

  His initial harsh treatment of her made more sense after his recounting of his wife's demise. Adahy was also burdened with shame, and memories that had made hope only a distant possibility.

  Now, the two of them might have a chance to transcend the harshness of their past.

  Elise bit her lip, looking at the lone Traveler and the snow falling more slowly beyond where he perched. She did not like their trapped position. Though it was true there would have been no way for her to travel—or Jim for that matter—it was not safe here. Due to their nomadic existence, the Fragment were near impervious to all sorts of inclement weather. It was their sheer numbers and tenacity that had made them the reigning people of the vast openness of Outside.

  Her stomach growled, and Adahy laughed, rising from their cramped position. The body heat of the six of them helped somewhat with the internal temperature of the cave, whose insulating properties were somewhat negated by the hole that allowed the outside air to filter through with cold, sharp teeth that bit along their skin. Though the Band seemed to stand it, she and Jim were just shy of having chattering teeth.

  “It's cold as hell here,” Jim lamented, folding his arms as he began to pace the area, which was perhaps four horse lengths by four. He vigorously rubbed his arms, trying to establish warmth.