by Cassie Wolf
- CHAPTER FORTY-NINE -
The rain turned heavy, smothering the flames into nothingness. Atsu and his warriors made their way back to the camp, hauling the dead and wounded with them. He had wanted to depart straight away to find Jocelin but Nyah argued with him over the arrow in his shoulder. He’d tried insisting he was fine but when he went to walk off he’d nearly collapsed from the pain. So instead he sent out those who were able to search for Jocelin while his own injury was dressed.
The scouts they had tied to a tree had died some time during the night. Dia was sat between them, eyes closed, voice lost with sadness. Masika was missing, and there was no sign of Jasari. The Chieftain’s hut had burnt to the ground but the ruins were empty.
Atsu winced as Nyah bathed the wound with an aniseed-smelling compress that stung like the fire he’d just survived. “I told her to stay here or run back.”
Nyah hummed under her breath, lost in focus. The arrow had split against his shoulder blade, leaving splinters of wood buried within. She had spent most of the night removing them. “When the fires started, she ran down. I heard her scream and thought she had gone after you.”
He grunted as she yanked out a final thin shard of wood. “They have already searched the village. No sign of her. As soon as you are done, I’m going out to hunt down Jasari.”
“You will do no such thing!” Nyah frowned and quickly bandaged the gash tight.
Atsu snarled and stood up, reaching for his spear. “I’m going to find the bastard and Jocelin!”
Before Nyah could argue, a call came from outside. “Chief! She’s here!”
Atsu strode outside. The warrior pointed east, past the smouldering village. There, trudging up the hill, were five warriors and Jocelin, her arms folded against the cold. As soon as he saw her, he broke into a run.
Jocelin smiled with relief as he drew closer. He felt her shivering when she wrapped her arms around him, and she had dark rings under her eyes. Atsu held her against his chest and said, “I told you to stay at the camp.”
“I had to take care of something,” she murmured.
“You could have died.”
“I found Jasari,” she whispered as they walked back up the hill together. When she saw Dia her face twisted with bitterness. “He has been taken care of.”
“Hmm,” Atsu grunted and made his way back into the tent.
Nyah squeaked with excitement to see her sibling safe, tears of joy and relief rolling down her cheeks as they embraced. She gathered a blanket and threw it over Jocelin’s shoulders while Atsu sat beside her and pulled her to his chest, ignoring the pain in his shoulder from the movement.
Jocelin brought her legs over his knees and rested her head against him, burying into his warmth. She gave Nyah a tired smile. “Jasari is dead.”
Nyah gasped. “You found him?!”
“Yes. Followed his track to a single undefended tent out to the east. He must have liked his privacy.” Jocelin stifled a yawn and closed her eyes.
“You should have stayed here,” Atsu grumbled. “You could have easily have been killed out there. He had archers behind the village and ambushed us after the explosions.”
Jocelin opened an eye. “I know. I heard. I didn’t want this fight to be for nothing. I had to kill him.”
Nyah gathered her things together and made her way outside. “I will go see to the others.”
The couple nodded to her. Atsu gazed down at his sleepy mate. “The fight wasn’t for nothing. We have Dia. A quarter of what I took with me either died or were badly wounded, but we slew everyone we faced. You disobeyed me, Joce.”
She sighed and stroked his chest. “Don’t ask me to regret killing my father’s murderer, Atsu. I don’t feel any less grief for my father but I know we can go home now and give him the burial he deserves.”
Atsu struggled to rise to his feet. Jocelin eyed him, wrapping the fur blanket around her body. “What are you doing?”
“Where is his body?”
“We already brought it back for Dia and his family to bury,” the Chieftess said calmly and flicked at her nails.
“Then we have no reason to linger here,” he huffed and tied the sword to his waist. Without waiting for a response, Atsu left the tent.
Beneath the cloudy grey skies, he looked at the wounded men and the bodies of the dead, some stitched back together by the healers to give them some dignity in their end. His stomach twisted, but every warrior who caught his eye, even the injured, looked back at him with the spark of victory bright in their eyes. The only face that was out of place was Dia.
Atsu snarled and crouched before him, staring him in the eye. He played with his blade across his palm while Dia stared emptily at the village which once was.
“End me if you must,” Dia muttered.
The Chief grunted. He brought his blade to Dia’s wrists and cut free the ropes which bound him. “You were a pawn for your father. You did what you were taught, as I did.” Atsu glanced at the remains of the Chieftain’s hut. “Your tribe needs you now.”
Dia frowned and slowly his gaze met the Chief’s. “What? You are letting me go?”
Atsu nodded. He heard Jocelin approach from behind, still shielded by her furs. She gazed down to Dia with the utmost disgust. “Learn from what your father did wrong. There was no need for these games. Death is not something you play with.”
Dia stumbled to his feet. Atsu grabbed his wrist and pulled him in. “Bury my sister with dignity. Rule your people with fairness. I am letting you go but, if any of your tribe approach my village or even touch a hair on any of my people’s heads, there will be no third chances. I will kill your family in front of you before dissecting you piece by piece until you slowly die an agonising death. Do I make myself clear?”
Dia nodded, quivering as he stared at the rain-drenched ashes of his life.
Atsu nodded back and released his wrist. “Go,” he said.
Dia hobbled away, ignoring the hatred in the eyes of the Whites, but then turned back. “Where is my father?”
Jocelin smirked. “Back in his trokhosi.”
Dia ran down the hill as best as he could, not wanting to spend another moment with the enemy, and sloshed through the blackened ring where the walls had once stood, back into the ruins of the village. Muddy water streaked with red swirled against his feet and the air was rancid with the reek of copper and raw meat.
His warriors had been piled on top of each other in the centre of the village like so many unwanted carcasses, their faces still twisted with the fear of the enemy they’d faced.
Covering his mouth, Dia trudged towards the remains of the Chieftains hut, near vomiting. As he did, he could make out the figures of his tribespeople on the edge of the forest to the west, huddled together in twos and threes, cowering or picking through the rubble at the village edge, looking for dead relatives or the remains of their possessions in the wreckage.
Dia felt his heart race as he picked his way through the blackened ruin of his home. Some of the debris had been recently moved. His heart thumped as he threw some of the larger pieces aside, trying to reach the heart of the building’s shell. Then he stopped and gagged as he saw what awaited him.
Parts of the trokhosi still remained strong, only now they had a new decoration. His father’s corpse had been forced on to the sharp bone tips. The points of every rib punched through Jasari’s chest. His head had been wrenched back to stare straight ahead, the spine of the chair punching up into the roof of his mouth, and his eyes had been ripped from their sockets. His stomach was torn open and his entrails strewn across the ground.
Horror swelled in Dia’s stomach and he turned and vomited until there was nothing left but acid.
- CHAPTER FIFTY -
Once the majority of the army was fit to travel, Atsu didn’t hesitate in ordering them to pack up. He sent a young boy he’d caught trying to fight as a grown warrior to sprint ahead to the village with a couple of men to seek help with carrying back the de
ad and the wounded.
As many mourned their losses, Atsu had expected them to disrespect him when the fighting was over. But the men hadn’t; their comrades had known the risks when they fought, and had died to avenge Pazade.
It saddened him to think that when they returned, he wouldn’t see the father of his mate greeting him from the Chief’s chair. Instead, he had to take the seat himself with Jocelin at his side. He was happy she had ended Jasari, even if she had rebelled against his orders and a part of him wished he had landed the final blow himself. He had grieved for Masika, and now his priority was supposed to be his new tribe, he couldn’t afford to do it again. It was done, and the future would be what it was.
They set up camp beside a glistening, clear lake. The healers worked while men hunted and fished for supplies. Beneath the calming pitch black of the night sky, Atsu sat beside a hastily-made open shelter and watched the stars twinkling so far away while Mother Luaani cast her glow over the world below. Nyah had just finished replacing his bandage when Jocelin sat beside him.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, flattening the grass.
Atsu grinned and gazed into her sparkling eyes. “In pain, tired, hungry. Not any different than the rest. You?”
Jocelin smiled back and brought her knees up, resting her head and letting her caramel locks brush over her legs. “Same. I want to be home but fear it at the same time. To bury my father… it feels surreal. This all does.”
“I know. I don’t have a fucking clue what will happen when we get back. Even if it’s a grim start, at least it is a start.” Atsu leant back and cracked his neck, wincing.
“Mhmm.” Jocelin joined her mate in looking up at the sky. “Did the witch doctor read your stars when you were born?”
The Chieftain laughed and shook his head. “No. We weren’t important enough for that. I don’t think he could do it anyway.”
“When I was born, we had this old lady witch doctor who drew the stars with white paint on scraps and sewed them together. I still have mine in a drawer somewhere back at the hut.”
Atsu sat forward, crossing his legs. “What did they say?”
“You’ll laugh at it,” she said.
“I could do with a laugh.”
Jocelin sighed. “She told me I would become powerful, which for years I dismissed because… well, I am the daughter of a Chief.”
“Alright. What else?”
The Chieftess reached into a satchel nearby and took out charcoal and a faded piece of bright cloth. She spread it across the floor and started to draw the shape of a bear. “She drew these as she sketched the stars. ‘Oh son so strong like that of a bear, dim-witted in mind, strong in body’.”
Atsu watched her, curiosity piqued.
Jocelin drew the picture of a crow, with its wings outstretched and beak wide open. “‘Son as dark as night. Small, skinny, a predator for his own sake, he shall take flight at conflict.’” Quickly, she drew a sketch of a lion, standing proudly with his maw wide open. “‘Son of the alpha, at his most dangerous with a mate. A ruthless killer but his roar will silence the fear. Many will become his prey.’” The final drawing was of a butterfly, wings spread and flying beneath the lion. “‘The daughter, beautiful with grace, will fly to where she is needed. But her wings are delicate, she must tread carefully where she lands.’” The Chieftess sighed and nervously eyed Atsu.
He blinked at her, confused. “What does all that mean?”
“It means-”
“Chief, Chieftess,” a warrior interrupted, two bowls in his hands. He nodded, placing them on the ground, filled with freshly-made broth and chunks of charred venison and grilled vegetables. The warmth hit their noses, making them realise just how hungry they were.
The couple shoved the food down their throats as quick as they possibly could. Once his stomach was bursting, Atsu waited for Jocelin to finish the last few dregs in her bowl and then wrapped his arms around her shoulders and gently pulled her down to the ground.
The Chieftess tried to keep her usual formal front and raised an eyebrow at him. “Atsu, you are in pain. This is hardly the place.”
The Chief gave her a roguish smile and shrugged. “You’re right, I am in pain. But I disagree that this isn’t the place.” With that, he tugged on the back of her leather chestpiece, bringing her beside him. He growled low, ignoring the sharp throb in his shoulder, and let her lie on his arm as they gazed up at the night sky. “Don’t worry. I couldn’t even try to mate with you right now.”
Jocelin gave up and wrapped her leg to wrap around his waist while she rested her head on his chest. With a sigh, she drummed her fingertips between his cuts. “We shouldn’t lie like this in front of the men. They will think you weak. I told you this before.”
Atsu laughed and stroked her hair. “Let them think what they will. I’m happy we are both alive and want to lay with my mate while watching the stars. So tell me, what did all the animals mean?”
Jocelin chewed on her lip and stopped caressing his chest. She pushed herself up and poked at the skull helm, pushing it away from his head so she could see his face clearly. “They represent my children,” she whispered.
Atsu nodded. “A bear, bird, lion and a butterfly. And there was me, believing the hut would be peaceful.” He tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled. “Least we don’t have to worry about that for some time.”
Jocelin looked away. Atsu furrowed his brow and turned her to face him once more. “Joce?”
“Well, the thing is, Atsu,” she started and curled her finger in circles on his chest, “before we left, before my father…” She trailed off and closed her eyes for a moment. “I realised I hadn’t bled for some time.”
Atsu darted upright, flinching from his wound as he did so. “What?”
“I am carrying your child,” Jocelin said, hushed near a whisper.
Atsu let his hands trail into her hair. “You knew and you came anyway?”
“I know. My father knew the night before… I know I should never have risked my life and that of our unborn, but I knew…”
“Shut up,” Atsu said and drew her into a firm kiss. Holding her tightly, he grinned as she pulled away in shock. “Explains why you’re getting fat.”
“You’re such an idiot, Atsu.” Jocelin smiled, getting back her breath. “I thought you would be angry.”
The Chief nodded. “I am angry. You are insane. But if it wasn’t for taking risks, I wouldn’t be lying with you right now. And now, after the dark path we have travelled, we have something to light the way ahead.” Atsu gently brought her to lie back on his chest. “So how long before it is here?”
Jocelin smiled, her eyes sparkling with happiness, safe in his arms. “The middle of summer.”
- CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE -
It was Kanzi who found Masika. When they heard the horns from the village, Turpu had tried to insist her people stayed where they had been sent to the west, but her daughters, worried about their brother and father, outnumbered her in wanting to return. Kanzi carried their food on her back, struggling with the weight of it through the twigs and over the rocks underfoot. When Gugu screamed at her to keep up, Kanzi jumped and the bags split. They left her to gather up what she’d dropped, and it was chasing the last of the spilled fruit through the undergrowth that she came upon what she thought was a sack slumped against a fallen bough. Coming closer, thinking of all the endless treasures which could be inside, she instead discovered it was a body, pale and wrapped in blankets.
It was the first time Kanzi had seen Masika smiling without it being forced.
Shaking her head, the young girl wanted to turn away but knew she couldn’t. She knelt down before Masika and reached out her palm. “M… Masi?” she whispered. With no response, she poked Masika’s open hand. The coldness of it sent a shudder down her spine and a sadness she had never yet experienced, and then she saw how dark the ground was with blood between her legs. “Oh, Masi…” she whispered.
She shakily cov
ered Masika back up and stood, sobbing, and shouted as loud as she possibly could, “HELP! PLEASE HELP!”
A middle-aged garasum answered her call, a couple of others trailing after her. “If you think I am getting in trouble for you not being to carry those bags Kanzi, you are greatly-” The woman stopped in her tracks. “What the hell has happened?!”
“It’s Masi! She’s dead!”
The woman ran to the body while one of the younger girls consoled Kanzi. The other stood beside the tree, hand over her mouth with shock.
“I just… I found her like this! She’s dead! Masi… I am so sorry,” Kanzi cried and buried her head in her hands.
The older garasum gasped and jumped back from where she had been examining the body. “She’s still alive! Get the blankets! We need to get her back!”
“Wha-what?!” Kanzi said.
“She is still just about alive! She has a heartbeat. Come now, pick her up!”
Without hesitation, the four of them carefully gathered Masika in the blanket slung between them and strode as quickly as they could for the village. When the ruined, burned perimeter finally came into view, the woman waved at the closest warrior.
“HELP! WE HAVE MASIKA!”
Dia was informed straight away and pushed through all those in his way, even the wounded he didn’t care about, ignoring the expressions of his siblings and his mother. He threw himself to the ground beside Masika.
Her pallor told him she was already dead. Her peaceful smile seemed to cement what he knew while the healers ran out to help her. His eyes darted to her stomach. Although still swollen, it was much smaller than when he had left her.
“Where’s the baby?” he yelled, dread spreading across the pit of his stomach.
The healers ignored him, and some even signalled to the warriors to move him out of the way as they got out their stitching materials. An elder woman stayed by Masi’s head, praying under her breath and holding her icy hand.