by Linsey, Tam
"No!" Sefe crossed his spear in front of him, ready to deflect a thrust. "She's mine to claim."
Armin licked his narrow lips. "I thought to find you dead, so far behind." He'd long been hinting that Sefe's inability to heal himself proved it was time to take the Knife. "You've got a duty to the tribe. But first I would taste flame runna flesh."
Sefe repeated, "She's mine to claim." His heart beat so loudly he was sure the other man could hear it.
The bone piercings in Armin's eyebrows lifted in anticipation. He pressed his spear against Sefe's. "The tribe needs to eat. It's your duty to provide. One way or another."%L14igh
With unaccustomed strength, Sefe drew his shoulders back and widened his stance. "The Hunger's not called. Not yet."
Armin sneered as he assessed the girl. "Maybe the flame runna can keep up better than you. You want her to carry you?”
Sefe knocked Armin's spear aside. The clash of the fire-hardened shafts echoed through the clearing. The status feathers on Armin’s spear trembled, and Sefe wanted nothing more than to show Armin who was stronger. The rest of the tribe would be glad to have someone finally stand up for them. With his spear's tip, he severed the rope and tugged the girl to her feet. "I can walk. Let's go."
Armin growled. "The tribe will call a Hunger when they see her. No way to stop it."
Sefe's boldness fluttered into indecision. Armin had a point. The tribe was close to calling a Hunger anyway. All they needed was an excuse. Even if he took her as a slave, it was only a matter of time before they would put her to the Knife. And if they killed her, the tribe could be doomed, cursed by the spirits she controlled. He looked at his brother, asleep and helpless on the Tox. Who knew what else her power might do?
He swallowed and stared at his trophy. Her skin blazed greener than the autumn-hued amarantox leaves. He blinked as an idea settled on him. A way to save the woman.
"Flame runna flesh is poisonous like amarantox. You can't eat her."
Armin's face fell. His lip twitched. “How do you know?”
“A healer understands poison.”
The leader raised his feathered spear, this time its point directed at Sefe. "Then she's worthless. And so are you. The tribe's complaining they're hungry. I can tell them the flame runnas finally got you."
Caught off guard, Sefe couldn’t suck in a breath. He fumbled with his spear. Armin was going to kill him?
The leader’s chest muscles flexed as he jabbed a probing strike Sefe’s direction. Sefe pivoted, avoiding the point, knowing the next time he might not be so lucky. His own spear, used as nothing but a cane for so long, listed out of balance in his grip. In spite of the flame runna magic, he was no match for the seasoned warrior.
Rotating to keep a circling Armin in sight, Sefe dropped the rope. He corrected his grasp on the spear’s shaft just in time to deflect another thrust. The flame runna had backed herself against the shelter, her brows furrowed as she watched the fight.
The tribe leader darted the opposite direction in an attempt to flank him. Feet blessedly agile, Sefe whirled to face him. Still, Armin's spear tip grazed his shoulder before he could twist out of the way.
He tried to reason with the leader. "You'd kill one of the Knowing? If the tribe finds out, they'll take you, too."
Armin feinted and jabbed, missing Sefe's gut by a breath. "They're hungry en ithiighough not to ask too much." Probably true.
Sefe tried another angle. "They’ll think it strange that flame runnas used a spear instead of fire."
Armin hesitated, then thrust again. "I'll cook you up before I carry you back. You’ve got a duty."
They circled. Out of the corner of his eye, Sefe saw the girl crouching by the shelter. "Run," he commanded. He would not give Armin the satisfaction of killing them both.
Her voice cut through the fight. "There's a hunter in here."
Armin jumped at the sound, nearly tripping as he backed into the amarantox. His spear tip swung toward the flame runna, and Sefe thought for a moment the man would throw it. Instead, he hesitated, shifting his attention between Sefe and the girl.
Sefe stood stiff. He'd forgotten his brother completely. Outside the Hunger, Medo might beg family ties and return to the tribe – if Sefe vouched for him. He intended to vouch for him.
"He knows." The flame runna's words shot through him.
Her secret. Medo knew about her spirit healing. What would his brother do when he woke? If he men a dead man."
Sefe to take such danger back to the tribe with them.
The leader edged to the shelter. The girl skittered away, putting Sefe between herself and the tribe leader.
As he pivoted to keep the other man in view, Sefe's stomach churned. The hand gripping his spear felt cold, and out of old habit, he planted the butt against the ground and leaned on it.
With a scornful glance at Sefe, the tribe leader lowered his weapon and grabbed the hunter by the arms to drag him from the shelter. Straightening, he observed Medo a few heartbeats. "Your brother? What's wrong with him?"
Sefe needed to claim his brother to protect him from Armin’s spear, but his lips refused to speak. The tribe would agree to take Medo back. But would he keep his tongue about the flame runna’s powers?
Armin pricked the inert form with his spear tip. Medo moaned and rubbed a hand across his eyes.
“He knows,” the flame runna repeated.
Sefe raised his spear, yet couldn’t decide where to aim it. The thought of his brother at his side again made his chest ache with longing. Did Medo even want to rejoin the tribe?
Undaunted by Sefe’s weapon, Armin cocked his head. “What’s she saying?”
She wants Medo dead.
If she didn’t get her revenge, would she reveal her own secret? The tribe would not kill her. Killing a spirit healer would curse them. No, they'd leave her behind to die on the Tox. Alone, but alive. And her powers would be lost to him. Could she survive the Tox alone? She’d asked for his protection...
Medo cracked one eye, grunted, and rolled to the side. As he attempted to sit, Sefe fought for air. Medo was his last living relative. If Sefe didn’t vouch for him, his life was forfeit to Armin’s spear right now. But if Medo spoke and revealed the flame runna’s spirit healing, Sefe would lose her power. He would soon be forced to take the Knife. Don't wake up. Not yet. Sefe’s head throbbed with indecision and his throat felt dry as the Tox.
The flame runna moved close behind him. He could feel her breath on his shoulder, and the scent of her skin enveloped him in desire. Her voice floated to his ear like a brush of wind. "He stole me once, he'll steal me again. He left his hunters and chose to be alone on the Tox. He is a dead man."
“Ana?” Medo sat and scowled at the dirt before raising slitted eyes to look for the girl. His lids opened wide at the sight of his brother. “Sefe!”
Armin pressed the spear against Medo’s chest until the hunter collapsed back into a prone position. “Why are you on the Tox alone, Hunter?”
Medo’s hands groped at the spear shaft. “Armin, wait! Let me explain.”
The leader looked at Sefe and raised his pierced brows.
“No,” Sefe gasped, unsure who he was speaking to.
“The flame runna has spirit healing!” Medo burst out.
Only a half a heartbeat passed before Armin twisted, eyes full of question. The truth must have shown on Sefe’s face, for Armin grimaced and leapt over Medo to dart toward the trail. Sefe hesitated, but only an instant. Once Armin told the tribe, their fear would prevent him from keeping Ana. They might even shun him because of his brief association with her. He launched himselrem; font-weight:boldithiighf after the warrior, breaking through the amarantox in a shower of leaves. Armin had already reached the drop-off, slowing to navigate the narrow ledge down to the river.
Sefe raced toward the ravine and tottered on the edge. Armin was halfway down the sloped shelf. In spite of Ana’s kiss, Sefe knew he’d never catch the man. He had to stop him. Pulling bac
k his spear arm, he threw. The weapon clattered off the rock near Armin’s head. The warrior glanced back at Sefe and kept moving.
Sefe blew out a despairing breath.
A trickle of dirt rained onto Armin’s head, quickly becoming a shower of rocks. Throwing an arm up, the warrior cried out. A large rock hit him square on the temple, and he tumbled from the ledge. The clatter of falling debris echoed from the canyon walls, then ceased.
Sefe shot a glance along the top of the ravine; Ana stood several paces away, directly above where Armin had fallen, hands still bound behind her. She turned to look calmly at him, and he took a reflexive step back.
When she didn’t move, he craned his neck to look out over the rock and saw Armin splayed near the water, blood fanning across the bank from his skull to mix with the muddy flow. He straightened, unsure what to do next.
Ana stepped forward. “Untie me.”
Maintaining his distance, Sefe caressed the small eating knife at his belt. Medo had kept her tied for a reason. And she’d just killed his tribe leader. She was dangerous. “What did you offer my brother?”
Her eyes tightened. “He stole what he wanted. From me and from his hunter brothers.”
Sefe searched her face for signs of lying. To the unsuspecting, she looked human and frail. A girl-woman, who’d asked for his protection. Had offered him her power. Taking a breath, he grasped her bicep and turned her to place his knife to the rope. What did he have to lose? At worst, he’d be back where he’d started. Or unconscious, like Medo. “Do not run away.”
The moment her wrists were free, she faced him, rubbing the chafe marks the cord had left. “You will need a weapon.”
Did she want him to retrieve a spear so she could use it against him? With her spirit healing, he doubted she needed one. But she was right – a man should not be on the Tox without a weapon.
With Ana close behind he clambered down the ravine to look for his spear. The river here widened, and the water mumbled against the rocks, as if complaining at being weakened. His weapon had bounced and skittered nearly into the water, and when he lifted the familiar weight his heart fell. The tip had snapped nearly in half.
Ana danced across the rock toward Armin and grabbed the leader’s spear. Sefe’s breath caught as she steadied the shaft on one shoulder and ran toward him. But she didn’t throw it. When she reached him, she lowered the point and offered him the butt end. The status feathers, weighted with the leader’s blood, clung to the shaft. Sefe took it, and Ana smiled. He caressed the slick wood with both hands. Armin was dead. What would he tell the tribe? Tempted as he was to thrust the body into the river and say their leader had never found him, too many years of hunger prevented him.
He tilted his neck to peer toward the top of the trail. “I’ll say he was killed in a fall.”
“And your brother?”
He scowled, still looking at the cliff. Medo had nearly cost him his chance at life. He had cost Armin his. Best to leave him where he lay. Like Ana said, Medo had chosen his path – alone on the Tox.
“You let him live, and he tells.”
Her words sliced open the truth as surely as the Knife. Anyone who found his brother, whether they killed him or not, might first learn the secret of the captive flame runna. And although the tribes were enemies most of the year, traders moved freely between them. The secret would escape.
Medo! his heart cried in anguish. Just like it had the trade-day his brother had left with the hunters. Had left him and his tribe.
Medo had ceased being his brother on that day. But Sefe’s feet were still heavy as he ascended the ledge. Outside the thicket, he paused. How could he do this thing? He closed his eyes and took a breath. The intake of air made his spine ignite, and he hunched, a tear leaking from one eye.
Small fingers gripped his chin, and then her lips were against his. He wrapped an arm around her to pull her close and drank deeply of her magic. When his head began to spin, he released her. She looked up at him with her fathomless dark eyes and nodded. He knew what had to be done.
He straightened and stepped into the clearing.
Medo had crawled half into the firepit and now lay with one arm crooked over his eyes. He peeked from beneath his elbow at the rattle of amarantox and grinned at Sefe. “It’s good to see you, brother.”
Sefe didn’t respond. Pulse thundering in his ears, he approached, spear tip first.
Medo’s grin faltered. His gaze shifted to where Ana stood behind Sefe. “Brother?”
Placing the spear’s tip to Medo's breast, Sefe pushed until the blade could sink no further. Medo bucked against the protruding weapon, eyes wide, stirring a shroud of ash about them.
Sefe leaned hard, allowing the shaft to take his full weight. Only this was no walking stick. This was the weapon of a leader. His weapon. Sefe kept his grip until Medo’s struggles ceased. When the black dust had settled, he looked down at the pathetic, naked corpse.
"I have attended my brother's Knife."
With newfound energy and the strength of a warrior, Sefe began to dismantle the shelter to make a travois. He had two carcasses to transport over the Crossing. The Hunger was coming. But not today.
GLOSSARY
Amarantox — a mutation of a common weed, which secretes toxins into the soil to prevent other vegetation from taking hold. Largely responsible for the Botanicaust.
Botanicaust — an event 400 years ago during which invasive weeds wiped out most plant life on Earth, including the major food crops.
Cannibal — people who survive by not wasting any food opportunity. They do not specifically prefer human flesh, but will not waste their dead.
Flame runna — scientists who developed photosynthetic skin for humans. The chemical reaction of photosynthesis also produces an alkaloid in the bloodstream which acts like a drug and can be passed to others through bodily fluids.
Hunger, the — cannibal term for time of food scarcity. The Hunger generally occurs during winter months, but may be “called” at any time of year when food is required.
Hunter — cannibals who have abandoned tribal ties and banded together to actively seek human flesh. The most dangerous group on the Tox, they have been known to ignore the scars of the Knowing.
Knife, the — ritual suicide in which cannibals offer their bodies as sustenance for the rest of the tribe. Usually performed by the old or infirm, but sometimes forced upon healthy tribe members during the Hunger.
Knowing, the — cannibals who retain certain kinds of knowledge, such as healing or locating water. They are marked by scars to keep them safe from other cannibal tribes.
Spirit healer — someone with the ability to affect the minds of others. An art feared among the cannibal tribes, and believed “lost” to their healers.
Sunstorm— a short period of time, more common in autumn and winter, when the atmosphere allows excess ultraviolet to reach the earth. Largely due to improperly tested herbicide use during the Botanicaust, which created gaps in the ozone layer.
Tox, the — the cannibal name for the vast continental plains once known as the Breadbasket of America, now consumed by amarantox and other non-edible weeds.
About the author
Tam Linsey is a lifelong Alaskan wqDpoveho is obsessed with self-sufficiency. In spite of the rigors of living in the High North, she grows, hunts, or fishes for much of her family’s food needs. When she is not farming, fishing, or cooking, she writes speculative fiction.
You can learn more at http://www.tamlinsey.com
Or visit her on Twitter: https://twitter.com/TamLin
sey
Or Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Tam-Linsey/241217872556029
Excerpt from Tam Linsey’s Novel,
BOTANICAUST
Amarantox Plains
“Run!”
The girl didn’t know much of the Cannibal language, but she understood that word.
In the sky, a strange flying machine had appeared, its curved, metal belly glintin
g in the desert sun. Twigs of desiccatedqOpove bushes trembled as the near-silent thing descended, and dust swept into the girl’s eyes and filled her nostrils. The woman gripping her hand lurched into a run, jerking the child off her feet and dragging her a few steps before abandoning her.
The girl twisted to squint at the sky. A cone of flame erupted from the machine and pounded the parched ground a few steps away, engulfing shrubs and people alike. Screams, worse than when Brother Eli was butchered, cut through the fiery roar.
As the familiar scent of burning flesh filled the air, the girl’s stomach cramped; she’d eaten to survive, but the smell made her want to cry. Hot embers settled around her, singeing her skin. She pressed her hands together like Mama used to.
“Jesus loves me, this I know...” The song scratched from her throat, as dry as the dust she knelt upon, tears cooling her heated cheeks.
Blackened cannibals lay scattered across the cracked earth, either screaming in pain, or silent in death.
The stream of fire eased as the bird settled to the scorched soil. Several figures emerged from inside the belly of the beast.
“Little ones to Him belong…”
They moved toward her.
Angels?
They had come from the sky. But these men were green, not cream or tan like her or the cannibals. A hazy sunlit halo surrounded the nearest man’s face. When he held out his hand to her, she thought of her last a dead man."
She took his hand without hesitation.
Conversion Laboratory
Haldanian Protectorate
One of the insipid overhead bulbs in the Confinement Lab had developed a mild flicker, not strong enough to demand replacement, but enough to bring on the beginnings of a headache. The smell of antiseptic and the sweat of the frightened boy strapped to the lab table didn’t help matters. Tula checked the monitor for the third time. The boy’s blood pressure spiked above one-eighty. Not ideal, but within tolerances.
“Okay, Jo Boy. You good. Good.” She looked into his frantic eyes and willed him to be calm. Preparing captives for the experience of conversion was next to impossible because the Cannibal dialects were too simple and straightforward. But Jo Boy was a quick learner, and she’d spent the last ten days building his trust.