by Calista Skye
I want her here with me. Always.
I can hear Curt’on’s voice droning on from down at the beach. Probably telling Phoebe about his many hunts or his plans for this island. Good old Curt’on. So eager to improve everything, so brave. Just like the other men here. My brothers in every way. All having saved each other’s lives many times. Working together, eating together, hunting together. Hardly ever a rough word spoken. Enjoying our freedom away from our tribes and the suffocating rules and traditions in the villages, the stiff chiefs and the pompous shamans. Here we are our own men.
And yet Phoebe outshines it all in my mind.
I know now what the men in her tribe meant. I understand what they must have felt deep inside when they decided to follow their woman and not their tribes. This is it. This is the prison they’re in. A prison in their own minds.
Now it’s inside mine. It is a glorious prison, all kisses and bright laughter and soft dimples and dark, expressive eyes. And Mating. All kinds of Mating.
Yes, I understand now. I’m weighing this life with my friends, in total freedom, up against a life with Phoebe in her tribe. And I fear that if the choice were presented to me, I might be tempted to choose the latter.
The logs split and shatter, pieces flying in all directions as I channel my puzzlement and frustrations through the ax.
She is an alien. Not only is she not from my own tribe, she is from another planet. Why do I feel this affinity for her? Surely, if I caved and went with her to her tribe to live there, she would soon give birth to another alien female. And I would be tasked with providing for both of them. For the woman and her alien offspring. It would probably be pleasant. For a while, at least. Maybe forever.
No, the other way is better. My friends are right. We will raid her village and bring six women here, to The Island. We can still continue our life here, we can still relish the freedom. And probably those women will not be able to give birth to new and smaller females here. Or perhaps they will. That part is all very mysterious to me.
I throw a glance down to the beach. Curt’on is shaping the long log into a pole that will be fastened to the canoe. Phoebe is sitting down on a rock, her head in her hands, making even that image of perfect boredom seem alluring. Holy Ancestors, these alien females must have some magic to them. Even now it’s all I can do to not go down there and sniff her hair and caress the dimples at the back of her knees.
Arit’zan comes over and picks up a piece of the wood I’ve chopped. “You must have really hated this log, Rax’tar. But I think you’ve finally killed it. In fact, I’ve never seen smaller pieces. They will be hard to stack.”
Indeed, in my thoughtfulness I have cut the wood far too fine. “They will be kindling,” I invent. “Sometimes it can be hard to light the fire with the dry twigs. I want to try something new.”
“Huh. I never experienced any such difficulty. But very well. I’m sure our new women will appreciate it. Everything is ready for their arrival, Rax’tar. We have large stores of food, many more furs, soft skin for making female clothing from. We will give them gifts when they arrive. Shall we go and get them tomorrow?”
He’s so excited, he practically trembles. His eyes shine with anticipation.
I take a deep breath. I think Phoebe will be delighted to have company from her own tribe. She’ll have other alien women right here on The Island. But a sneaking doubt has set in. What if the females we bring here are exactly the ones that made her unhappy?
Surely, the females themselves will be as happy as she is when they’re brought here. Phoebe has changed, it seems to me. From the morose and joyless person in her village to a vivacious and affectionate woman. Won’t other women also feel that way? Won’t they also come alive?
Suddenly, I feel in doubt about the whole thing. Is it right to take them without asking first? I never asked Phoebe if she wanted me to take her with me. Now, when I think about that, it creates an unpleasant feeling. I just took her, like she was only an object. And if there’s something I’ve learned about her now, it’s that she is not an object at all. She is a person, as proud and strong and worthy as any warrior. It was not right of me to take her without asking first. But if I hadn’t done it that way, perhaps she wouldn’t be here.
And there is the question of the men in her tribe. They are quite fearsome warriors, and I imagine they will be less than thrilled when they realize that we have taken the women. Of course, we won’t bring any of the married females. But I strongly suspect that the other females are also under the tribe’s protection. If they decide to come after us, the outcome might not be in our favor.
Well, it is no use to dwell on it. These are my brothers. They need a woman just as much as I do. “The day after. We’ll leave at dawn, go through the Gate, and then wait until nightfall.”
Arit’zan grins, a rare sight. “We are all very excited about this. And surely, the women we acquire will be as happy here as Phoebe is.”
“Surely,” I agree, suddenly not sure at all. “It will be glorious.”
20
- Phoebe -
“That looks good,” I enthuse. “It’s very tall. Now all we need is the sail.”
“I’ll get it,” Curt’on says and walks off, eager to please. I wonder if he doesn’t have a little bit of a crush on me. The looks he’s given me… But of course, he’s never been closer to a woman. It’s only natural that he’s curious.
Rax’tar comes over and puts his hands at his hips. “Now it will go faster?”
“When the wind is blowing the right direction,” I explain. “Like when we went through the Gate and you held the sack up.”
He looks up to the top of the mast, just a foot taller than him. “The wind here is not as powerful as that.”
“But the sail is larger than the sack. Anyway, it’s just going to be a help. You’ll still need the oars. If you decide to ever travel on the Actual Ocean, the sail will be very helpful.”
He gives me a quick frown, probably noticing the ‘if you’. Not ‘if we’. “I see. Let’s try the sail.”
“Curt’on is bringing it now.”
For a change, he’s not reaching out to touch my hair or stroke an arm. That’s fine with me. I’m not sure how I feel about him right now.
The silence is tense. It’s as if he can feel it.
“Juri’ex made this for me,” I say and rummage through a bag at my feet. “It’s for catching fish, if there are any.” The small hook glitters in the sun.
Rax’tar peers at it. “How does it work?”
My grandfather once took us ice fishing in Michigan, so I know a few things about this. “You fasten it to a line. Like this.” I find the spool of thin dinosaur sinew and tie the hook to the end of it. “You thread a worm onto it. A white one, if possible. Then you drop it into the water and let out the line. Then you yank at it once in a while. And you hope none of the fish bite.”
“Why do you hope none of them bite?”
“Because if they do, you have to gut them. That’s a really dirty task. But no worse than gutting any other creature, I’m sure.”
“I see.”
Then we’re silent again until Curt’on comes along with the sail and the hoops that I’ve thought of to fasten the sail to the mast in a way that allows you to raise and lower it.
It takes the three of us a good hour to actually get the sail properly fastened. It’s made from cured skin and it’s very stiff and heavy. But by the end, it looks almost like a real sail.
“There’s a breeze,” I observe. “Let’s sail a little. We’ll fish, too. ”
“Certainly,” Curt’on says and takes a step towards the canoe.
But Rax’tar puts a hand on his chest. “I think this is a task for Phoebe and me, Curt’on. I would not want to subject you to gutting fish. I have it from the highest authority that it’s a quite disagreeable task.”
For a moment I think Curt’on is going to protest, and his eyes go hard. But then he touches the red scar on his thro
at and takes a step back. “Of course. I would hate to do that. Have a good trip.”
Rax’tar gently slaps him on the back. “You made a wonderful sail, warrior. You’ll be speeding around on the water in no time. But better let us take the first risk.”
We get aboard and push off.
I start adjusting the sail, immediately realizing that it could be much more effective than this. “I think we need a smaller log that goes here.” I point to the lower end of the mast. “One that can spin around the mast.” Well, it is my first time in a sailboat.
Still, the sail produces a noticeable force when the wind hits it just right. The success of my project perks me up considerably.
“It appears to work,” Rax’tar says. “I doubt I could paddle faster than this.”
“Use your oar to steer,” I suggest. “So we don’t hit that seatree… quickly, please… oof. It’s okay. No damage done. Okay, can we go backwards? So the sail won’t get entangled in the branches? Ah. No problem. I’ll just try to unstick that branch. No, it’s too high up. Can you reach it? Good! And let’s go backwards now, not hit it in the same place again… okay, fine. I’ll just push at it. That branch again… thank you. Try to paddle backwards. Huh. The wind is stronger than it seems, isn’t it?”
Trying to sail among the seatrees is like driving bumper cars at the county fair. We finally manage to put some distance between ourselves and one cluster of seatrees, and then we hit another right after. We finally get some control of the canoe. I deal with the sail and Rax’tar steers and paddles.
“I’ll try to fish.” I toss the baited hook and line into the water so it trails the boat. Only now do I remember that there is such a thing as a sinker, and I should probably have used one. But the hook is just heavy enough to pull the line a little ways down into the clear water.
We’re going straight towards Love Beach, but I think it’s mostly the wind steering. We’re going pretty fast, and I find that I’m enjoying the ride.
The fishing line is suddenly yanked down into the water, and I barely manage to grip it harder before I drop the whole thing. For a moment I think it must be the bottom, but then I can feel hard vibrations at the string, just like I felt the one time I caught a fish on that frozen lake in Michigan.
“I’ve got something!”
I pull the line in a couple of yards. Something on the other end is fighting hard.
Then I panic. Shit, I have no idea what this thing really is that I’ve hooked! It could be a venomous snake or a centipede or some kind of monster. Just about the only thing it can’t be is a fish like I know them from Earth. Heck, if this is so much as a harmless eel, I absolutely intend to faint dead away.
“You take it!” I exclaim and hand the line over to Rax’tar, then sit well back to be out of harm’s way.
He calmly takes the line out of my hands and pulls it in. Soon after, there’s something splashing at the surface.
I lean away, curl up, and prepare to squeal. Rax’tan peers into the water, then reaches into it and pulls out something that looks most of all like a huge hair clip made from aluminum, one of those with claws and a spring. Except this one is clearly alive and not something you’d want within a mile of your hair.
Rax’tan takes the hook out of the metal-looking shell of this new-to-me creature. Then he holds it out, close to my face. “Is this a ‘fish’?”
The thing snaps its claws in my direction and generally looks terrifying. So I end up squealing anyway, and the sudden sound makes Rax’tan drop the thing, making my alarmed noise increase in pitch.
The creature scurries to the other end of the canoe, moving a lot like a crab. And that is probably pretty much what it is.
“No,” I say decisively, making sure to keep Rax’tar between me and the alien crab. “That is not a fish. At all.”
“So we will not need to gut it.”
“That’s right. But you do need to keep it far away from me. Or better yet, toss it overboard.”
He calmly adjusts the sail and grabs his oar. “If it comes closer I will.”
But the crab seems to like me just about as much as I like it, and it slowly makes its way across the supports and over to one of the outriggers. That’s enough to make me relax slightly, although I wish it would have dropped into the ocean it came from.
Having it that far away makes me braver. “It’s a crab,” I explain knowledgeably. “Not a fish. There might be meat on it. But I’m not going to open it up.”
Rax’tar gets us back on course to wherever it is we’re going. “Then it shall remain unopened.”
I suddenly remember the dragons. “Let’s not sail too far away from The Island. Those dragons were flying in this direction. I’m not in the mood to spy on them today.”
Rax’tan looks up. “We haven’t seen them since. And everyone has been keeping an eye on the sky today. They might not be flying anymore. Are they good swimmers, perhaps?”
“I don’t know if they can swim, and I’d prefer not knowing. You’d think their fire would go out if they tried.”
“There is much unknown about the dragons,” Rax’tar muses. “And yet your tribe is set on killing them.”
“It’s not really that,” I explain. “We won’t seek them out to kill them. We just want to be ready if and when they attack us. The ones we have seen so far were just evil. They all either killed some of us or tried to.”
“They tried to kill your friends. But your tribe actually succeeded in killing dragons. What is the tally?”
“Huh?”
“How many dragons have your tribe slayed, and how many of your tribe have the dragons killed?”
I think about it. Trax’zor and Caroline slayed Troga. The men of our tribe killed two other young dragons. Then Tamara and Car’rakz removed Berezar as a threat. “Four dragons are dead. Berezar killed many of Car’rakz’s tribe, and Troga killed many from Trax’zor’s. None from our tribe have died since Alesya, and she was murdered by the Plood, who apparently work for the dragons.”
“So four to zero. Or four to one. Are you sure these dragons are as dangerous as you say?”
I think of Troga and shudder. “I am. We think the only reason we have not been eradicated so far is that we got to the dragons before they could build hoards. We think they’re at their weakest then. We will try to deny them anything that can have value. Especially gold. But also any man-made metal object, like swords. Once a dragon gets a decent hoard, it might become too powerful to defeat.”
“So much unknown. And still your tribe wants me and my men to take part in the hunt.”
“It’s not a hunt so much as a war. At least, that’s what they are preparing for.”
Rax’tar changes the direction of the canoe and the sail goes slack. He paddles calmly on. “We have lived on our island for a few years now, my friends and I. It’s a good life. We’re free. I would prefer not to give that up for an uncertain war against an unknown enemy. I would rather die than see my brothers lured into some kind of service with an unknown objective.”
“Nobody is trying to lure you,” I grumble, anger tugging at the edges of my mind. “If the dragons really are as bad as we think, they’ll be a major problem for everyone on Xren. Not just my tribe.”
“As my friends say, let the aliens deal with their dragons.”
I sigh. “If they turn out to be enemies, it’s better to resist them as one force. Not as a hundred different tribes they can attack and destroy at their convenience.”
“Then the tribes can join together and do that. Seven men more or less can make no difference.”
“I thought we were going back to my village so that you and your friends could join.”
Rax’tar looks away. “I’m having second thoughts about that. I have talked with the other warriors. All seven of us have escaped our tribes once. We have no desire to join a new one.”
I frown. “I think I’ve said this before: You don’t have to join our tribe. Just learn more about the dragons, how t
o fight them, agree to assist against them and to be on your guard. To report any sign of them you might see.”
“It still means submitting to someone else. Agreeing to fight and die under the command of strangers. We have all had enough of those things.”
A coldness settles in my stomach. He doesn’t seem like the kind of man to go back on his word. “That’s fine. Then I will go back alone. You can stay here with your hollow tree and your evening meals and the big sword hanging on the wall. But without children. Without a tribe. Without a future. Without a purpose.”
He gives me a short, purple glance. “A life of freedom is worth all those things. I think we have a future. And we might have some of those other things, too.”
“Then I wish you good luck. I’ll leave tomorrow. My tribe must know about the dragons. I will not let them face the enemy alone. I’ll be there, all the way. Even if it kills me.”
Rax’tar doesn’t respond, just keeps paddling.
The canoe bumps against the beach at The Island, and I jump ashore without a word, making sure to keep a wide berth to the alien crab that’s still clinging to the outrigger. My joy of having made the sail work has evaporated completely.
I walk to the hollow tree, noticing the new food storage huts that have been built on the other side of it. I stick my head inside one.
Meat is hanging from the ceiling. There are many pots and baskets full of herbs and plants and fruits, both dried and fresh. There are barrels of fruit juice, both fermented and not.
“Looks like someone is preparing for a long winter,” I mutter. But there are no cold winters here on Xren, and there’s no need to accumulate this kind of store.
Another newly built hut is full of furs and skins from floor to ceiling, all new. The store of firewood and torches is full. And there’s a lot of hammering from the two forges. The guys are keeping really busy.
Tret’zor is sitting on a tree stump, fastening a new little blade to a wooden handle.
“That knife is too small for your hands,” I comment. “It looks more like a sewing needle.”