Tribal Dawn: Mordufa: Volume Three

by Cassie Wolf

  “Chika, have you been running?!” Zura asked.

  His breath was heavy and eyes intense. He dug his bony hands into her shoulders. “Yes. He’s rather quick on his feet.”

  Zura, startled, gave him her pouch. The last time she’d seen him run was when they were young in the jungle with Dafari and Tau. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

  He guzzled the water. “Yes. I hoped we could get a trading route setup for herbs that grow on the outskirts of the desert. They’re incredibly rare.” He released his grip and straightened his stance, coughing. “I don’t suppose he mentioned when he was returning, did he?”

  “No. I don’t think he intends to. At least not anytime soon.”

  Disgusted, Chika glanced at the teeth marks on her neck. She tried to hide them. “Zura, you should have introduced me to him before he left if he meant that much to you.”

  There was something painful in his grin that she didn’t trust. “There was nothing to tell about him when he was leaving so soon. He helped me, that’s it.”

  “It isn’t like you to keep secrets from me. Have I returned to a masked little sister?” He picked up her hand and inspected the gloves, then swallowed, sickened. Zura froze. He knew. She could see it in him. “Zura, be careful where you land. I for one am glad he won’t be returning. It’d be best for you to not get involved with individuals like that.” Without saying another word, he tapped her shoulder and strolled off.

  Zura watched as he returned home. What did he mean by that? Why didn’t he call her out on the gloves he clearly recognised? Was that remark because he was her protective big brother? She took the key in her palm, everything about Vakaar overtaking her. His scent, his touch, his words. She didn’t care if her family disapproved. Chika was bitter about his own bind. He didn’t understand the connection she had with Vakaar.

  - CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO -

  Nuru watched the rippling water in peace while Umbu slept. The image of the lake Masika found when they escaped years ago came to him. He remembered how sick he became from tree bug bites. It was the worst illness he’d ever had. He’d wanted to return to the Shadow tribe. She comforted him in her gentle warmth, reassuring him she’d do everything to get him better. He didn’t understand why she wanted to leave. For years he’d blame her in the heat of arguments.

  His chest ached, body weak and adrenaline from the run fading. Freedom, the guilt at leaving Karasi, his grief for the death of his mother were combined into one. Nuru broke down, clinging to his knees. That feeling when he was a child in an unfamiliar place, wanting to go home, hit him hard. He didn’t know where home was. Preye and Subira would be the closest thing he had left but how could that feel the same without Karasi or his mother? The torment ate away at him, sucking out his pleasant memories to be replaced by sorrow.

  Umbu grumbled and turned, making his head spin. She winced and clutched her stomach in her sleep. He was observing her, carefully. If it weren't the Shadow warriors, it’d be animals drawn to the scent of blood. They’d hunt them, believing them to be weak and easy to catch. It was true. They were a pair of teenagers in a jungle they barely knew, exhaustion gnawing at growing bones.

  Snapping twigs startled Nuru. He grasped the rusty sword and crouched down, crawling across the muddy bank to Umbu. Between the trees, he couldn’t see anything. Maybe he’d imagined it. Whispered voices were nearby. Fingers shifting through dirt to track. Nuru gritted his teeth. He couldn’t concentrate for his heart pounding.

  He nudged Umbu. She murmured, flickering open bright eyes. Nuru put a finger to his lips and kept low amongst the bushes. Dread and sweat poured from them in the heat of the small space between them. Neither wanted to look up. The men had nearly found their quarry.

  Closer footsteps. Nuru took a breath. He wanted it to be over. He wanted to rest. That wasn’t an option. He dived out of the bush, and stabbed the first in the thigh. The silver crunched bone. His victim yelped and shook on the blade, convulsing as if a nerve had been hit.

  Nuru didn’t see how many there were. His hands moved in an unstoppable blur to cut, slice and carve the enemy away. He spun around when one shadow fled, but then the first took his attention again. He rammed the sword into his mouth and pushed him off. The corpse reluctantly let go, toppling back into the water.

  A sharp scream came behind him. The fleeing man had stumbled upon Umbu and stabbed her in the chest with a dagger. Everything slowed. She held up her arms to defend herself and the man lashed out again while she shrieked in pain.

  Luaani glinted on a second cut to her stomach and Nuru snapped into action. He leapt forward and slashed open the warrior's throat. The man died, gurgling.

  Nuru pulled Umbu away from her attacker. Blood drenched her blackened robes. Fear corrupted her angelic face. The final arrival of Mordufa leered on her skin. He scooped her up, blood sticking to his wrists, drizzling down the span of his arm.

  Umbu’s face whitened, the light of Luaani glittering her eyes. Nuru wasn’t sure if the wetness was blood, sweat or tears as she shivered. Her fingertips dropped to her stomach. Her lip quivered, breath wheezing. “Nuru...”

  Nuru cradled her to keep her warm. The wound was too deep. It didn’t take a healer to know there was nothing that could be done. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t see him. I swear I didn’t see him.”

  Her smile through pain ripped him up inside. “I know… I know…” She shakily pointed a finger at the glowing moon. “I’m not… I’m not dying… a garasum.” She lowered her hand on her gut. “There’s not… much time.”

  He glanced at the surrounding corpses. She was right. They were going to be here soon. The clash of steel and men’s cries would be heard for miles. “It doesn’t matter how many bastards come. I’ll kill them, too. I’ll stay here until the end.”

  Her eyes drew down. “No… Nuru. I need you… you need to save my baby.”

  Nuru’s eyes widened. His arms ached. He took her for speaking madness. It was impossible. “How can I? I don’t know anything of childbirth.”

  She clasped her hands either side of his face, painting red on his cheeks, her breaths long and drawn. “Garasums cut out…” She motioned across her stomach. “When… when it struggles. Please, save her. Take her to… to freedom.”

  Nuru scanned the area as if looking for another way. Maybe a miracle witch doctor popping out of the bushes or a healing kit tied with a scroll of instructions. “I can’t do that!”

  “Please… do it for me.” She yanked the two pink dreadlocks in her hair and fastened the clip to his damp curls. “They will give you luck and… keep you safe. Please, Nuru. I don’t… have much time.”

  He stared in disbelief. She was confident in her words. He wrapped his arms around her neck, hugging tight. He didn’t want to let her go. She was the last person with him. When her body gave up the fight, he’d be alone. Wiping his eyes, he pulled out the dagger and played with it between his fingers. Umbu traced the cut across her gut, breath wanting to give way.

  “I need a cloth… I’ll scream,” she said, almost laughing in her tone.

  Nuru ripped the end of his trousers and balled them up. Her fingers were slipping, and her weight was becoming overbearing. “I cut there and take it out,” he said aloud, reassuring himself. “What about names? Where do you want me to take it? How do I feed it?” The last infant he’d cared for was Subira. He couldn’t remember much of that. He was small and needed nurturing himself, and his mother didn’t trust his clumsy hands.

  Umbu didn’t respond, her breaths raspy. Nuru held her back. She was alive but barely. Her eyes rolled in and out of consciousness. “Thank… you,” she whispered.

  Nuru caressed her face. She was weakening. He held her close for a moment. He had to do it now. Swallowing hard, he forced the cloth into her mouth, her head rolling back. He lay her against the trunk and picked up the dagger. He’d cut the flesh of his enemies easily over the course of the night. This wasn’t the same. He had to do it right and remembe
r the shadow her fingers cast across her stomach. He straightened her dress.

  Slowly, he cut through the material. Blood from her chest wound had seeped down her body. The roundness of her stomach took him aback. It didn’t look as huge beneath the garment. She had bruises and marks, and pink laddered lines where her belly had grown.

  Nuru took several breaths and rested his hands. Umbu murmured less. The sounds of restless feet and snapping twigs broke his calm. He dragged the blade across her skin. The darkness made it difficult. Whispers of men not far away set the time available to him.

  Umbu lay motionless when he cut. There were no more sounds as he made the incision with an old dagger and a shaky hand.

  Nuru leant closer, fingers slipping amid the mud. The whispers were getting louder. His heart drummed. His legs ached and yearned to run away. “Nearly there, Umbu.” He had no idea if he was. Cut finished, he split it open. Gagging, he turned away and regained himself. He was expecting the infant to be there. Instead, there was another, delicate thin shell around a curled-up outline. He slashed it. Something burst on his hands, causing them to slide. “I’m almost done. I can see it.”

  Wiping his hands down, he shakily finished the incision and reached within. The idea of being inside someone made him sick. Tissues, fluids and other things he didn’t know the name of slithered against his grip. He grabbed the tiny human.

  “I’ve got her!” He pulled carefully, separating the baby from the mess. He lifted her into his arms and grinned, holding her close to his torso. There she was, the bundle the garasum had endured suffering to bring into the world. She didn’t look like a baby he’d seen before. He remembered Subira having pink skin and fluffy hair. This one had a scrunched-up face like an old man and was pale, coated in sticky fluid. He narrowed his eyes. She wasn’t crying. He cut the spongey cord. No sound.

  Nuru’s gut twisted. He clambered to Umbu’s shoulder. Her eyes were closed and lips open. There was no life left in her. Nuru crouched, legs like jelly, and held the baby to show her. “I’m sorry, Umbu. I tried.”

  His legs caved in and he dropped. Cradling the infant, he rocked her back and forth, trembling uncontrollably. His emotions were tearing him apart. He wanted to cry, yell and hit out in frustration. He wanted to kill every Blood-and-Shadow warrior he set his eyes upon. Why leave it there? What about every other bastard in the world who’d mistreated him, his blood and the likes of Umbu? Those who’d whispered about fucking his sister in the dirt, those who played with their power and allowed torture, rape and murder to happen beneath their noses because it didn’t affect them. The less of them in the world, the better.

  “Nuru?” a deep, man’s voice asked.

  Nuru flinched. He glared at the shadowy figure of Dia. The light on his disfigured face showed him for what he truly was. Nuru carefully placed the unmoving newborn into the arms of her mother and picked up the dagger.

  Dia eyed the bodies of his tribesmen. Instead of anger, there was fear in him. “You’ve killed this many on your own?” He clapped his hands together and chuckled. “My boy, you’ve made me proud.”

  “Proud?” Nuru snorted. He glanced at one of the men and carelessly kicked him in the face, snapping teeth. Repulsed, Dia flinched and took a step back. “I’m not yours to be proud of. I’m Masika Ibhubesi’s son, not yours.” A strange haze clouded his head and a sharp burning pain shot through his scalp.

  “You’re my son, too. Let’s go back to the tribe. We’ll forget about this and get you settled.” Dia turned around.

  Nuru clutched his head. The ache worsened. Clusters of voices of those he knew whispered incoherently. It was heavy, forcing him to keel. Snarling, the world around him spun in shadows. Trees were twisting and growing above Luaani, the ground beneath his feet moving constantly.

  Dia strode over, watching his son writhing. He fumbled on his feet. “We need to get you home, Nuru, to a healer.” He held out his hand.

  A murmur beneath the shadowy tree startled him. The instant he heard it again, everything stood still. The floor stopped moving, the world wasn’t spinning, and the trees weren’t so high and intimidating. All he saw of his father was his feet. “What did you do to my mother?”

  “Masi? Nothing. She is fine.” Dia nervously laughed. “Come home, and I’ll show you.” He took another step closer.

  Nuru turned his head to the soft, soothing cries. His father didn’t notice. The bundle wriggled. “The grave.”

  “That? That’s a decoy for Atsu.”

  Nuru cackled. “Are you fucking kidding me?! The soil was freshly turned! You had years to make one! You killed her!”

  “I didn’t fucking kill her!” Dia yelled back, nostrils flaring.

  “Fucking liar!” Nuru protested and stood straight. “You don’t give a shit about your tribe. All you care about is you.” He prodded Dia in the chest. “You don’t want me to lead. You want less grief with a promising heir because your other son is an inbred cunt and your people see right through it.” Nuru glared into his father’s beady eyes and shoved him when he didn’t respond. “Scared of your teenage son? Some of your warriors are younger than me. I butchered the lot without a shred of regret. You were stupid to follow me.”

  Dia’s ashamed face turned scarlet. The veins on his neck looked like blue worms ready to pop. “You wouldn’t kill me. You wouldn’t risk harm coming to Masi or Kara.”

  “You’re right, I wouldn’t. As long as you’re alive, Karasi can’t be murdered,” Nuru said. As easily as carving roasted meat, he hacked off Dia’s hand. Dia roared, dropping to his knees, blood fountaining from his arm. Nuru ran to the baby and lifted her. “But I’ll make your rule as humiliating as I can. Fucking cripple ruling incestuous scavengers! I’m not skilled! This was nothing to be proud of.” He motioned to the carnage around him. “Your people are weak, like you. Karasi is your only hope of getting rid of that dirty stain, and if ANYTHING happens to her, you have nothing!”

  He didn’t know how much Dia heard. The bushes were full of rustling movement and he didn’t have time to wait for a response. Holding the bundle in his arms, he darted out of his father’s vision, not daring to look back.

  The night sky whirled violet by the time he stopped at a cave entrance, hidden in the undergrowth. His burning legs forced him to rest, feet cut by sticks and stones. Nuru held his dagger and strained to explore it properly. There were no signs that predators had claimed the cave recently. He wished he could have kept on running for miles, in a place where he could sleep. Instead, he was using his elbows to guide himself through the damp darkness, a baby girl in his arms, treading as quietly as his tired footing allowed to the back.

  Dropping to the floor, he landed on a mix of twigs, dried grass and leaves to make a nest. Not wanting to wake up to razor sharp teeth and missing limbs, he shuffled closer to the entrance. Dawn lit up the sky a deep pink, and he could double check it was secure. There was nothing to suggest otherwise.

  For the first time that night, his muscles relaxed. Not because he was safe. He didn’t have a choice thanks to his exhaustion. His arms were weak, heavy and throbbing.

  Settling and fighting heavy eyelids to listen out for predators, he delicately moved the wraps away from the girl’s face. There she was, the tiny ball, innocent eyes gazing. She looked more like the fluffy bundles he remembered in the light. Bright pink, healthy skin, a curious gaze at her new world. Nuru smiled weakly. “You’re a very quiet baby. Most I’ve seen cry all the time.”

  He stroked her hair and reached into his pack, grabbing the tattered patchwork blanket. He wrapped her up and held her. “I’m going to call you, Umbu.” Nuru guzzled lukewarm water and watched the sunrise between the trees. A strange and unsettling urge to laugh came over him. “I may have killed my father, and you know what? It’s the only death I’m proud of. He’s at least lost a hand, if nothing else, the cunt.”

  Birds tweeted, singing a greeting for the new day. Nuru yawned, resisting the need to sleep. “We’re going to my un
cle, Umbu. When we get there, I’ll tell him things just my mother would know. That and her murder should be enough for war. I never thought I’d see the day I’d pray to Solianga to shine on armies and give strength for destruction. He’ll march there, kill my father and save Karasi.” He stared at her blank expression. “I’m sure he’d free the garasums, too. There’ll be no more of them. When we get there, I’m going to write to my sister Subira and see if she can visit us. You never know, maybe they could live with us in Blood-and-White.”

  Every few moments, Nuru startled himself, sliding down the wall, falling asleep. He’d wake up just before he dropped Umbu. She watched him intensely as if judging him. He gave up and lay down on hard rock, Umbu beside him. When her wraps were tight, he stretched out, shielding her protectively. “I’ll build you a cradle and paint it the brightest colours you’ll ever see. I’ll get a job as a warrior and buy you dresses, every colour there is, and make sure you get taught by the best elders.” Dreams became muddled images, playing and teasing his subconscious. Family around him like before, he was armoured for work with a hut of his own and no fear of enemies. Tiredness was too great to fight any longer.

  - CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE -

  Vakaar had his things packed and ready to go the instant he’d finished his goodbyes to Zura. The guards at the doors scowled, leaving little to the imagination of what would happen if he lingered near the precious flower that was the Chief’s daughter, hair wild and leaving his mark like she wanted, publicly. Either way, he was satisfied that he’d finished everything that he had set out to do, despite the niggling feeling that he was going to miss the tribe.

  It was unlike any he’d encountered. The places he worked had stone homes, more advanced than the tribal culture, and of course, bitter wines, fine pillows, blankets and weapons. The northern part of the world was different. That was common knowledge. From the rumours he’d heard, his impression of the south had been that it would be full of savages. The first challenge to that opinion came from meeting Tau. He’d assumed he was Inferno from his skin until he’d compared his nature to Rura. The Inferno man was full of sexism, a foul mouth and a taste for things hot, whereas Tau was serene and had a hint of charm that reminded Vakaar of himself.