Tribal Dawn: Mordufa: Volume Three

by Cassie Wolf

  He didn’t know how much time had passed. Dripping and the odour of a damp-filled cave stirred him. He was regaining control, falling into a reconnection with his body. His fingers and toes were numb and cold, his chest constricted, legs rigid in a sitting position. He wriggled his fingers and opened his eyes. Blackness. He opened his mouth. A burning on his cheeks and tightness on his tongue muffled his voice.

  He was tied by thick ropes. His heart raced. Although it was cold, beads of sweat dripped down his forehead. He tried to piece together everything from fragments of memory. The face he saw was Vakaar’s carrying something like the remains of a baby animal.

  Nuru widened his eyes and struggled against the ropes. The chair scratched on the cave floor. He made noise, yelling and banging for answers. He had no idea where he was. The stench of urine, faeces and death was that of Blood-and-Shadow. Shaking his head, he called into the unknown, pleading for someone to come.

  The outline of a door emerged. Behind the figure standing in it, shadows on the walls coiled in red flickers. This wasn’t an ordinary cave for torture like the Shadow had. Blood-and-White, however, maybe. Did Vakaar take him there and Atsu imprison him? He did recall a three-skull warning. They didn’t see any more than that. In fact, the air had become harsh and colder. He shivered and coughed. Vakaar stayed by his side, conjured medicine and kept him warm. Maybe he changed his mind about where he intended to take him and brought him instead to Atsu or Dia when he fell sick?

  “It’s a cute sleepy bunny!” the hoarse voice from the womanly figure said.

  His eyes were adjusting to the dark. She was either middle aged or had incredibly bright silver hair. She skipped over, humming a happy tune. He shook and resisted. There was something in her hand, something that glinted.

  “Hush now, bunny,” she whispered. Her freezing fingers traced his collarbone, and she reached the worn mouthpiece gagging him. She slipped the cold dagger beneath it and giggled.

  Nuru panicked and swayed, the blade carving his skin. He bit down, hard. She kept still, a hand over his chest. He didn’t have to see her face to sense the wicked grin. She held it there a moment longer before she cut the cloth and licked his cheek. Sniggering, she leapt back.

  The instant the tension freed his tongue, he yelled, “Where the fuck is Umbu?!”

  “Where the fuck is Umbu?!” she mocked. Breaking into song, her feet trod around the room like an elegant Moon dancer lost in the sounds of harmonic string instruments. “I don’t know! Where did you leave it?”

  Nuru clenched his teeth. He wriggled and snarled in her direction. “Tell me where she is!”

  “I don’t know!” The woman sniggered again.

  The door opened again. This time, the person held a torch. It was Vakaar. Nuru tensed and fought against his restraints. “Where the fuck have you brought me?! Where is Umbu?!”

  Vakaar ignored him and went to the woman. In the light, she was in her forties, a manic, hungering gleam in her eye and she wore matching dark leathers.

  Like a woman possessed, she sniffed Vakaar’s torso. “You fucking reek of Luaani virgins. Frigid. Frigid Vakaar.”

  “And you fucking reek of piss, now fuck off.” He patted her on the shoulder, dismissing her, and set the torch in a bracket on the wall.

  Nuru gagged and vomited down his chest. The smell came from the corner where a group of skeletons mixed with one another as if joined together like a puzzle after they’d died. There was something that resembled a bedframe on the other side of the cave that was lined with straps. At the foot of it was a metal tray containing charcoal lumps used to burn the tied feet of victims during torture. The walls had been scratched with lines depicting days and sentences in languages he didn’t understand.

  Vakaar dragged another chair up and sat in front of Nuru, grinning. “About time you woke up. We have a lot to talk about.”

  “Where is Umbu?! Give her back to me!”

  “I’ll get to that in a moment.” Vakaar raised his hand. “You made an incredibly rookie mistake as an escapee, do you know that? You told me like that—” He clicked his fingers. “—that you’re the son of a Chief for the pathetic price of a pouch of nuts. That is not the type of thing you share on the run.”

  “I was bullshitting under pressure! I’m a big fucking nobody!” Nuru collapsed, resigned. “Let me go. I’m not worth anything.”

  “Oh, come on. Don’t be down about yourself. There’s no mistaking who you are. I’ve spent enough time with Atsu and his family. He’d be proud of your tongue.” Vakaar smirked. “I know what you’re worth and exactly what your father is willing to give to have you back.”

  “No! You can’t fucking send me back there! You’ve no idea what I had to do to get out!”

  “Don’t worry, Nuru. I won’t be letting you go anywhere until I’ve robbed your father of everything I can.” Vakaar gave his surroundings a look of disgust. He turned back to his hostage. “I’m Master Vakaar, child of Mordufa and brother of the Silent-step.”

  “Where is Umbu? Where the fuck am I?”

  “A ‘hello, my name is Nuru’ would’ve done. You are in a discreet location, one we don’t share. All you need to know is, if you ever thought the prisons of Sky-and-White or Blood-and-Shadow were impenetrable, you’ll believe this place enchanted.” Vakaar tapped his fingers on the back of his chair. “Umbu, the infant. What do you remember of her birth? I tried to ask you, but all you said was there was blood.” Vakaar cackled. “Understatement.”

  Nuru focused. Whenever he tried to think back, his head pounded. “We escaped and were ambushed. She was wounded and…” He shuddered, remembering her words, feeling the haunting breath in his ear. “She asked me to cut out her baby. I… I couldn’t see in the dark. She showed me where to do it. So, I… I did it.”

  “And the infant came out looking normal, did it?”

  Nuru stared. He remembered the squelch between his fingers while he searched and blood that didn’t stop pouring down his wrist. “I had to pull her out. She was covered in blood and… not breathing.” His heart battered against his ribcage. The pit of his stomach stirred, the same as it had when he held her. “No, that can’t be right. Dia… he came out of the jungle. He said words to me. Everything was going dark. Then… then she cried.” His eyes lit up. “I heard her cry. I looked, and she was moving.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes! I know what I fucking heard!” He thought back to that moment, the relief when he heard the first quiet coos. “I know because she sounded like my sister when she was born. Dia didn’t hear, but that didn’t matter. He didn’t fucking care for garasums. I picked her up; she was healthy, glowing pink even. Then I ran.”

  Vakaar pursed his lips. “Your father didn’t react to the sound of a crying baby?”

  “I… well, no.”

  “Hmmm. It was getting dark, your body would’ve been weary and the friend who helped you escape lay dead, her child by her side. Your father, the reason for your suffering and the biggest threat at being dragged back to where you detest arrives and doesn’t notice the crying baby. Then, before you lose motivation, the sounds of your sister give you a final burst.” Vakaar twitched and chewed his lip to the side. “I hate to say this, Nuru, but your mind protected you.”

  “What?”

  “When I approached, Umbu was already dead. You believed she was alive, and even under my whispers and deception, you wouldn’t let me set her aside. I had to carry the corpse here to keep you in check.” Vakaar huffed. He stepped away from the chair and walked to the conjoined skeletons, poking with his foot. “Don’t worry, none of these are her. I was seeing if there were any coins amongst them. Sometimes you find strange treasures that you don’t expect.” He snapped his fingers and chuckled. “Like me finding you!”

  Nuru glared at him. His cheeks burnt up and his temples were popping with rage. Hunger burnt his stomach and his lips were dry. His head swayed side to side, about as much movement he could make. “She wasn’t dead! You
fucking killed her!”

  Vakaar spun around and gestured at himself. “Me? Listen, boy, some things you need to know about Silent-step. If we confess who we are, we’re not fucking lying. No, no, children of Mordufa are proud of what they are. If I killed her, I’d tell you. You and whoever stabbed her mother did an excellent job of that yourself.”

  “No! I didn’t kill her! I brought her into the world!”

  “Whether you like it or not, young Nuru, she was dead before you opened the gut of your garasum. If she hadn’t been, the rough cut you made would’ve done it. I’m not saying it was deliberate; accidents happen. From what I can see, you’re no apprentice healer. It was never going to have a happy ending.” Vakaar shrugged and went to the door.

  “Wait! No! You can’t leave me here! Let me go!” Nuru pleaded.

  “I’m sorry, brother. I have a job I need to do, and you need to get over some of these shocks before we can untie you. I don’t trust that won’t attempt to kill my brethren… Especially after the carnage you left behind in your own tribe.”

  Before Nuru could beg, plead or yell anymore, the door closed. The only thing he heard was his heavy breathing echoing from the walls. He shook his head, panting, and sobbed. He wanted to save his sister. Instead, he’d become some brotherhood’s plaything. They were going to send him back to Dia. Dia had no money to give for his freedom. They’d soon realise that.

  The way he could figure it was morning or night was when they came to feed him. He’d never seen so many distorted faces, covered in gashes, burns and blistered bubbles. They appeared weak and liked to hide in the shadows. When he’d guess their hiding places correctly, they fed him a spoonful of gruel. His mind was regaining its broken shards and sticking them together to create a full picture. Vakaar’s words were true. When Umbu cried, it was exactly like Subira. When he picked her up, the white and blood on her skin disappeared. She even looked like his sister. He was under a delusion. Now he wasn’t, and the grief, hunger and guilt dominated his days. He hadn’t helped anybody. What was the point in carrying on this life?

  A week before Vakaar returned, the guards became fed up with feeding him and cut off his ropes. Their behaviour and mannerisms were beyond bizarre and intimidated him more than any others he’d met. These people fed off killing and bragged about torture as if it was a feat. Everywhere ached where he’d been left stiff in the chair. At first, he crawled around like an animal, inspecting his surroundings. There was no easy way to escape. If he got out of the door, they’d hunt him down by scent alone. These were real murderous hunters.

  Vakaar returned and doubtfully kept to the other side of the room, hand resting on his dagger. “You’re having a bit of exercise I see.”

  “Fuck all else to do,” Nuru said grimly. The last few nights, his confusion had cleared. “I want to ask some things.”

  “Why of course.” Vakaar grabbed the chair and sat down, leaning forward.

  Nuru settled before him. “Why are you keeping me here? Dia is poor.”

  “Your father has some money, and I want it.” Vakaar twitched. “You see, the reason his tribe has been starving for decades is that he’s been sending his gold to us. Nuru, you’re a bright young wolf from what I remember you telling me in your dazed state, you know that we kill here. We are hired by people as the blessed children of Mordufa. He hides his children in the shadows to protect the light, or pure beauty, of Vuunis.”

  “Luaani,” Nuru said.

  “Indeed.” Vakaar twitched uncomfortably at the name. “We weren’t born with the greatest starts, or reached a point in life when we succumbed to him. Though the older you are, the more likely you are to die. Our world is full of leaders. If Vuunis was peaceful with no conflicts and enemies, why would anyone need a Chief? To save the… well, Luaani’s children from going through grief, those of us who are already cursed do what we do. Mordufa needs to feed his kids, too.”

  “What’s that got to do with why I’m here?”

  “Your father has made contracts against a family who are protected from us. He didn’t get the message for many years, and his tribe suffered. Now I hear he’s building his numbers back up, and that isn’t good. He’s terribly close to a home I built. If that gets destroyed, I’m not going to be happy.”

  Nuru stared at him. His sisters were everything to him. These people had access to people all over the world. When he drew a sword, it was as if it was something he naturally had to do. He didn’t ‘feed’ off killing, but the thrill felt instinctive. And the satisfaction of ending the lives of torturous cunts was unlike any other. “What if I wish to become one of your kind?”

  Vakaar rested back, holding his knee, a huge grin on his face. “You’ve lost everything, yet you are calm. That’s impressed me. You’re thin, and apart from the two pink dreadlocks – which by the way, I was tempted to steal – you would blend in. You don’t seem to have any intention of stabbing me in the back unless you’re the first teenager I’ve met able to handle his emotions. In fact—” He stared into Nuru’s eyes. “—I’d say if anything, you admire us. A part of you wants it. But is that for the right reasons?” He clicked his tongue.

  “Whatever shitty trial you have to put me through, I’ll do it,” Nuru said, confidently. “I always wanted to be a warrior.”

  “Hmmm. When people join our cause, their ties to the rest of the world are cut. Ordinarily, we find a body resembling you, so your family assume you’re dead. Then there is the issue of a relentless father tracking you down...”

  Nuru considered his words and carefully thought them through. No matter what, Karasi and Subira were going to believe he had perished, whether he stayed in the cell or joined these people. At least this way he could get proper food and training of some sort like he’d always wanted. “That’s not an issue.”

  “Your father is.”

  “I’ll help you blackmail him,” Nuru blurted. “I don’t give a shit about him.”

  Vakaar gave a sideways smile. “Ah, true hate. The type where you can’t control the talk of torture you wish to inflict on someone. I tell you what, let us go to the dining room and eat something proper while we discuss this.”

  Nuru’s eyes widened at the prospect of a cooked meal. Then, he hesitated. “You’ll let me walk out of here that easily?”

  “Call it a gut feeling. You know you can’t run away. You need this, and even if you managed to swipe my weapon and end my life, there’s still the matter of the other forty experienced killers lurking in every alcove, craving the taste of blood on their blades. It’s a special treat when we get one in our home.” Vakaar clapped his hands together and went to the door. “I’m not foolish, Nuru. You first. Down the hall, turn left and keep going until you see the addicts fucking in the corridors. I’ll be right behind you.”

  A powdery, flowered scent overpowered the hall. Torches he passed hurt his eyes after the weeks of darkness and left colourful blobs floating before him. Killers sniffed at their prisoner from alcoves they passed. People were huddled in corners, muttering words under their cloaks. Some had blankets pulled over their eyes and were grinning and singing songs. Many were clinging to their sides, vomiting and shivering. They were misfits and the insane, joined by a dark, cursed creed.

  In the dining room, Vakaar directed Nuru to sit. He grabbed two bowls of stew. Nuru’s mouth watered at the scent of chunky beef and vegetables. When it was placed in front of him, he brought the bowl to his lips and guzzled it like it was a drink.

  Vakaar laughed, taking his first spoonful. “I was going to say savour it.”

  Nuru wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He’d nearly finished. “I’m starving.”

  “Yes, you will be. That’s the point, really, of being a prisoner.” Vakaar gulped his wine. “We kill where we blend. You have similar colouring to myself. Sun, Earth, Inferno and Sky tribes will be likely options. Recently, most contracts have been around the Sun tribe borders… Bandits that are pissing people off. You wouldn’t be doing that st
raight away of course.”

  “Sky tribes?” Nuru hesitated. “My sister lives there.”

  “That doesn’t matter. You’ll be disguised.” Vakaar swirled his cup. “If you had to kill a child to survive, would you?”

  “I’d kill anything I don’t know to live as long as I can. According to you, I’ve already done it.” Nuru scowled.

  Vakaar's eyes lit up delightfully. “Well then.” He slid across to the barrels and pulled out a wine bottle, refilling his empty cup. “The duties shouldn’t be a problem. Let’s talk about training!” He took a quick swig and twitched. “I’m sure you’ve heard of Modumas of the Moon tribe mountains. What people aren’t taught about though are the Silent Modumas. Evil women, they have a sadistic approach to teaching children. It’s the only way a shadow child survives.”

  “I’m not a child.”

  “You’re not a man yet, either. You won’t be going there to be spanked and whipped. You’ll be there to be beaten and trained to perfection, the knowledge of Mordufa coursing through your veins.”

  Nuru gulped the rest of the stew and burped. “Alright. When do I begin?”

  Vakaar furrowed his brow. “You’re too calm. Maybe I need to visit the Blood-and-Shadow tribe and take note of their techniques if this is really not that bad…”

  A young girl with brown hair tied in a ponytail approached the table, waggling a scroll in her hand. She sniggered at Vakaar. “Somebody’s in trouble with the Modumas!”

  Vakaar didn’t look at her and held his hand out. “Light or Silent?”

  “Both! It’s come from the mountains!” She laughed and hopped away.

  Nuru watched as Vakaar unravelled the scroll. On the back, there was a moon painted in gold with crosses at the south and north. Through the paper, the note wasn’t long. Vakaar didn’t like what he was reading. His eyes reread the sentences as if they were going to change. After a few moments, he slammed his hand down.