by Calista Skye
“Greetings, Chief Brax’tan.”
I whirl around at the sound of the deep voice. There’s a caveman right behind me, as if he’s come out of the ground in the two seconds since I was looking in that direction.
“Chief Brax’tan.” There’s another voice, and another. And each belongs to a caveman. We’re suddenly surrounded by three of them, all with black stripes and their hands on their swords.
I draw as close to Brax’tan as I can get while my skin crawls in shock.
“Any news from Outside?” one of the cavemen asks. “Except for the obvious.” He looks at me with mild interest.
“There is news,” Brax’tan confirms and starts walking again. “Go back on your watch, warriors. All will become clear.”
I follow him as closely as I can. When I look back, the other cavemen are gone again, as if they’ve sunk into the ground.
“They’ve sunk into the ground,” Brax’tan explains. “Deep holes conceal the guards of the village until they can come out at a suitable spot for defending against any attacker.”
My heart is still racing. “These are your sentries?”
“The jungle is dangerous. Some tribes depend on walls around their village for security. We have walls and guards outside them, below the ground. They can move without being seen.”
“In tunnels?”
“We dug them five years ago. They have proved useful. Good for keeping dangers out.”
“And for keeping girls in,” I mutter in English.
We pass through a tall row of hedges, and now we’re in a clearing with short grass. To the right is a gentle hill, and in front of us is something that looks like a totem pole. I can see ordered rows of bushes and fruit trees, as well as the enclosure for the tribe’s Lifegivers in the distance. There are two guards there as well.
“That warrior called you ‘chief’.”
“Did he? Seems appropriate.”
“You said the chief was terrible,” I hiss. “Then it turns out you’re the chief!”
Brax’tan raises his eyebrows, amused. “Shall I take it you disagree with my assessment?”
I can’t help but give him a relieved little smile. Brax’tan being the chief puts some of my worries about this tribe to rest. “I might.”
We walk over to the totem pole, and suddenly we’re surrounded by cavemen of all ages, all with black stripes, except the youngest ones, who still haven’t gone through the Stripening.
Wooden chairs are provided for both of us, and I gratefully sit down, keeping my knees as closed as possible.
Brax’tan sits down in the other chair, and we’re both offered an earthenware mug with juice in it.
“Nug’tax,” he calls to one of the young cavemen, still keeping a respectful distance. “Go and get Shaman Jur’nex. Mik’zor, some food for our esteemed visitor.”
“Is that me?” I whisper.
“You are highly esteemed.”
I purse my lips and nod. I’ve been called worse things.
I see now how the men come up from carefully concealed holes in the ground, making it seem as if they just appear out of nowhere.
“Do you all live underground?”
Brax’tan points to the hill. “There are caves there. That’s where the whole tribe lived until recently. But there aren’t enough caves for everyone. So we dug caves underground where the earth is soft.”
Two young men come towards us and bow. One of them has a short skin around his shoulders like a cape. “Chief.”
Brax’tan nods. “Shaman Jur’nex. Warrior Sas’tar. Please, have a seat.”
The shaman sits down on a simple chair with no back, and the other one remains standing.
The warrior gives me a bright smile, but the shaman gives me a cold glance and then looks away.
That’s pretty much what I would have expected from a shaman. Anything do to with Bune is his thing, as well as anything to do with women. And here he finds himself totally surprised by events. Still, both he and the other warrior look younger than Brax’tan.
The shaman clears his throat. “You have brought a woman to our tribe.”
“She’s an alien,” Brax’tan declares, “who lives in a small village with other women and some warriors from other tribes. She has much to teach us. With her, I have been to Bune, the forbidden mountain. We even went inside it. There are no Ancestors, Jur’nex. Only aliens, strange objects and magical devices.”
The shaman frowns and turns to peer in the direction of Bune, which is easily visible far away. “No Ancestors?”
“None,” Brax’tan repeats. “Only alien schemes.”
The shaman nods at me. “And this is an alien as well. Surely there must be a connection?”
“There must,” Brax’tan agrees. “Can you tell us what it is, Delyah?”
There has to be five hundred cavemen around us now, keeping a comfortable distance and listening so intently I can hear the wind rustle in the treetops a hundred yards away.
“Not yet,” I admit. “I agree that there must be a connection. I don’t know what it is. But I will find out.”
The warrior called Sas’tar frowns. “An alien. A woman. And yet you speak as perfectly as if you had lived your whole life in this village.”
I give him a little smile. I can’t help but like how he directs his remark to me and doesn’t talk about me as if I wasn’t there. “Thank you.”
“She is remarkable,” Brax’tan says, and I think I detect a hint of pride. “She has many hidden talents in addition to her outer appearance. Would you believe she’s been here for less than a year? She speaks a completely different language herself.”
The shaman is unmoved. “She comes from the cave that some other tribes speak of?”
19
- Delyah -
Brax’tan drinks deeply from his mug before he answers. “She does.”
“So she’s not The Woman?”
“I’m not,” I state before Brax’tan can reply on my behalf. That shaman is talking about me as if I were a pot plant.
“Your name again, please?” Sas’tar asks with a kind smile.
“Delyah. Deh-lee-ah.”
I can hear the men around us softly repeat the alien sounds of my name.
I take a sip of the juice. As expected, it’s quite acidic, but not too sour to drink.
“There are no Ancestors on Bune. And within it are only aliens,” the shaman repeats thoughtfully. “A woman comes to the village. These are mysterious times, Brax’tan.”
“Indeed,” Brax’tan agrees. “As you and I have sometimes discussed in private. We have to think about these things.”
Sas’tar scratches his chin. “Bune is hollow on the inside?”
Brax’tan takes a deep breath as if preparing to speak, then closes his mouth and looks at me with a smile that says he’s happy to not explain all that. “Delyah?”
Well, let’s see if I can make this understandable to cavemen. “Bune is not a mountain. It is a spaceship. It is a gigantic machine for flying in space. Among the stars. It crashed here about a hundred years ago. When it did, it threw up a lot of rocks and dirt that fell down on top of it. That’s why it looks like a mountain and why trees grow on it.”
They’re all looking at me pretty blankly. I have no idea if they’re getting this.
“I and eighteen other girls were kidnapped by the Plood. They took us from our own planet, far away among the stars, and put us here on Xren. They killed one of us, a girl called Alesya. They dumped us on Bune many months back. Since then, we’ve been living in a cave.”
They’re all staring still. But they have to understand some of it. I sure hope so, anyway.
“Bune is not a place where your Ancestors live,” I continue. “It was never that. An evil… um… spirit lives there. It has tricked us all to think that Bune is a sacred mountain. Which it is not.”
Sure, make them think that I was tricked, too. Create some common ground. I read that in a book once. Show a little vulner
ability, a little humanity.
I think that’s enough for now. They look overwhelmed already. And until I have the answers I need, I probably shouldn’t tell them things that might be wrong.
“Your tribe,” one of the other men asks. “Many women live there?”
“Eighteen women live there. As well as their husbands. Warriors from other tribes. Many warriors from other tribes.” Yeah, better make them think the cave is well guarded. I don’t know where I stand with these people.
“Is it true that women can give birth to babies?”
I glance at Brax’tan, and he gives me a small smirk.
I shrug. “Yes. It’s true.”
“So it is possible to Mate with a woman? And so create children without the Lifegivers?”
“It is,” Brax’tan says, very loudly. “I have Mated with Delyah.”
There’s a gasp and then a deafening silence. Even the trees at the edge of the jungle aren’t rustling anymore.
“Did you follow the teachings?” the shaman asks. “And did you Worship her first, as instructed?”
“I Worshipped her first and followed the teachings to the letter. But nobody told me that a woman can Worship a man.”
These silences are getting ridiculous.
“When will the baby be born?” another man asks. “Is it inside her now?”
“This evil spirit,” another one pipes up, “does it come from the Plood?”
“Will The Woman still come, now that there already is a woman in the tribe?”
“Is Bune not sacred after all?”
“Will that alien woman live here?”
“Did she see our women when she was with the Plood?”
The crowd erupts in a chorus of curious questions, and I just look at Brax’tan and shake my head.
He calmly raises his hand, and the tribe goes quiet. “I’m sure we will have answers to all our questions in time. For now, I wish to show Delyah around our proud village.”
He stands up, and I gather my crossbow and sack. Can’t be too sure here.
“Honored guest Delyah,” he states loudly, “this is the Verensi tribe. You have the freedom of the village while you’re here.”
“Thank you,” I reply. It sounds like a nice thing he’s doing.
He takes my hand, and the crowd calmly splits to let us through. I’m actually pretty impressed. Nobody’s trying to cop a feel, nobody is shouting unpleasant things. They send me some looks, sure. But nothing that makes me feel uncomfortable.
Except the look in the shaman’s eyes. He’s not happy about me being here. Not happy at all.
- - -
Brax’tan and I walk together towards the Lifegiver enclosure. The other men stay behind, chatting away. Some of the younger boys follow us at a respectful distance, sending me shy smiles whenever I turn to smile at them. An especially brave one runs up and touches my skirt, but a stern word from Brax’tan keeps them away from then on.
“I’m not sure your shaman likes me.”
“Shaman Jur’nex has a lot to think about now. He must try to make sense of it.”
“The other man seemed nice.”
“Sas’tar is chief when I’m away. He can make decisions on my behalf.”
“He’s your deputy.”
Brax’tan sighs theatrically. “So many alien words to learn. Deptee. Deptee.”
I chuckle, relieved that I’m being so well received in his tribe. “Hey, your language doesn’t have a word for being second in command. Vice chief? Deputy chief? Take your pick. Oh my goodness, that’s spectacular!”
We’ve reached the Lifegiver enclosure. It’s surrounded by a sturdy fence, and it’s much larger than I’d expected. There have to be thirty of the weird creatures that look like a mix between a plant and an animal. In the middle of each one is a large pod covered by huge leaves.
The two young guards are not smiling when we approach. They keep their hands on the hilts of their sword. “Hail, Chief Brax’tan.”
We stop a couple of paces away, and Brax’tan raises his hand. “Hail. All is well with the Lifegivers?”
“All is well. This is an alien?”
“She is. Her name is Delyah. May we gain entry? She wishes to see the Lifegivers up close.”
The oldest of the guards thinks for a moment. “Chief, I don’t think an alien should be allowed inside.”
“And if the chief vouches for her?”
The guard clearly struggles with his decision. “The sacred Lifegivers must be kept safe at all cost. They are the foundation of our tribe. If the alien must be allowed inside, I would prefer it if she were accompanied by both the chief and the shaman. Or two other members of the tribal council.”
He braces himself, and for a moment I think Brax’tan is going to explode.
Then he nods. “You take your duty seriously, warrior. I approve and agree. Perhaps we may study the Lifegivers from outside the barrier?”
The guard relaxes. “As long as no part of the alien passes beyond the fence.”
“Very well,” Brax’tan says seriously.
We go up to the fence and I peer over it.
“How many are there?” I ask.
“Thirty-five. Twenty-two of them have a future warrior inside. The others are resting.”
The enclosure looks extremely well-tended to. The grass is cut short like on a fine lawn, and under each Lifegiver there’s a bed of white pebbles. Their leaves and vines move softly, making hypnotic waving motions in the air.
“How do you care for them?”
“There are at all times six men who share responsibility for the Lifegivers. One week on duty at a time. These are often the older men of the tribe, who have the patience for such work and who have seen similar things done many times. They feed and tend to the Lifegivers several times every day, giving them what they need. Some of them even talk to the pods and the unborn, speaking soft words of joy and of welcome.”
I’m stunned. When the other girls talk of how Lifegivers are treated in other villages, it’s clear that many of the tribes don’t care nearly as much about these things as this tribe does.
“Was it always like that?” I ask on a hunch.
Brax’tan looks away. “It was different before.”’
“Say, five years ago? Before you became chief?”
He shrugs. “I did decide that some things had to change and that the Lifegivers should be taken better care of. They are the future of the tribe. It’s an easy thing to say. But we must do more than say it. That future must also be ensured and protected.”
“And so you decided that they must be watched at all times. And that the guards decide who gets in. Even denying the chief entry.”
“They are responsible,” Brax’tan says easily. “I gave them the responsibility. I expect them to use their own best judgement when they exercise their duties.”
“Twenty gestating Lifegivers at all times,” I think out loud. “You have one or two births a month. That’s a lot.”
“Our tribe grows. It makes a chief happy to see. There are many young in the village.”
“Have you given of yourself into one? Do you have offspring?”
“I’m too young yet. I will not request it for two years yet, maybe longer.”
I turn around to take in the village. The outer fence can hardly be seen. It’s camouflaged by carefully planted bushes and trees, and what little I can see of it looks very solid. Warriors patrol on the inside, and I’m sure there are roving guards on the outside of it as well.
The village itself looks most of all like an idyllic golf course. The grass feels like a soft carpet, there are sporadic trees with carefully pruned branches, there are little orchards and square fields and some spread-out huts that look like forges and other utility buildings. Smoke rises from their chimneys, and I can hear distant clangs of hammers and anvils. The tribesmen seem to have gotten over the shock of my arrival, and they all look busy now. It is a well-run village. It almost makes me envious to see how w
ell it’s been organized.
“May I see the tunnels under the ground?”
“Of course.”
Brax’tan leads me to a hole that I can’t see before he lifts a lid that looks like a part of the ground. Underneath is a sturdy ladder leading down into a hole just large enough for a big caveman to pass through.
He unceremoniously climbs down, then looks up at me. “It’s safe.”
There’s a definite smell of dirt and fire from down there, which I suppose is only natural.
“Hold the ladder for me?”
Brax’tan grabs the ladder with both hands. Yeah, that thing wouldn’t budge now if it was pulled by a Peterbilt.
I sling the crossbow over my shoulder and climb down. The rungs are caveman distance apart, which means that they’re much too far apart for me to have a comfortable time climbing down.
Then I’m down, squinting to see anything after the sunshine up above.
“We’ll make new ladders,” Brax’tan says. “Ones that are easier for women to climb.”
I place a hand on his chest. “Think I’ll stay that long?”
He inclines his head a little and looks me right in the eye. “A man can hope.”
He’s so sincere, it’s all I can do not to jump into his arms.
I look around. This is a crossroads point between four wide tunnels. Brax’tan can just about stand upright under the dark ceiling, which is plainly just dirt.
“Do these tunnels ever collapse?”
“Sometimes. In the beginning. We made them wrong, I think. It still happens. From time to time.”
A small bunch of torches hang on the wall, and Brax’tan takes one down and lights it with two hard rubs of a steel tube against a rock, producing a rain of sparks.
Then he marches into one of the tunnels, and I have no choice but to follow. To my relief, I notice that the ceiling is being supported by sturdy posts and beams and even planks at regular intervals, so the chance of a collapse seems only moderate.
Along the side of the tunnel there are smaller doors, made from crudely hewn planks.
Brax’tan stops outside one and softly knocks on it. “Trui’rex?”
There are sounds from inside, and then the door is taken down and an old face peeks out. “Chief Brax’tan. And...”