by Calista Skye
“Ah, but it would fit your hand perfectly, I think,” he grins. “Here, try.” He hands me the knife.
Sure enough, the handle fits perfectly in my hand. I give it back. “Perfect.”
“Most alien females have hands your size?” His eyes are eager.
“About the same, maybe. But all are different.”
“Are they much different?”
“To you they wouldn’t look that much different from me.”
He looks me up and down. “Wonderful.”
“There are more alien females in my village,” I say. “Come and join up against the dragons, and maybe one of them will like you.” Hey, it’s worth a shot.
21
- Phoebe -
Tret’zor chuckles. “I have already left one tribe. I’m not about to go and join another.”
“You don’t need to join the tribe,” I repeat. “Just agree to fight the dragons and be instructed in how to do it.”
Tret’zor focuses back on his work, losing interest. “Not much different from fighting irox, I’m sure. Let the aliens deal with their dragons.”
Yeah, these guys are hard to sway. I don’t blame them for liking their freedom. But there are three dragons nearby. I don’t think the seven cavemen realize that they could be the first to go.
Well, that’s their problem. I have my own tribe. And I have been away for far too long. I see no need to confirm what I saw were actually dragons. They definitely were.
I walk into the large hall. The fire is just dark ashes now, and above it hangs all the various weapons and trophies. Rax’tar’s huge sword does indeed have pride of place. And sure enough, there’s a stripe of dried blood at its edge.
I would never have thought he was the kind of guy who would spite a man he murdered. Or that he would commit murder in the first place. Because that was clearly what it was, if Curt’on’s story is true.
I was hoping to find a weapon that maybe I could borrow, but they’re all sized for cavemen and much larger than anything I could comfortably use.
Fine.
I walk up the spiral stairs to the first floor, where the men sleep.
Huh. So many more furs here now. It’s like the whole room has been lined with soft, white not-sheep pelts. It looks inviting, I’ll admit. But so weird. Have the guys suddenly taken a liking to luxury?
I walk up to ‘my’ room and open the door. As I close it behind me, something makes me glance up.
“Oh fuck.”
There’s a lock on the door now. A wooden bolt that just about fits into a hole in the doorframe high up, made to look like a part of it. It’s almost invisible against the other wood, and the only reason I spotted it is that the setting sun happens to shine through the window right at it. I know it hasn’t been there before.
And it’s on the outside.
Someone is planning to lock me in this room. And it doesn’t take me a whole lot of time to guess who.
White-hot anger fills me. He’s clearly planning to prevent me from leaving this island. Just like a real kidnapper would.
I pace around the room, kicking at furs and skins. Damn that caveman and his arrogance!
Only then do I notice that this room has been changed, too. There are heaps more furs now, as if someone is expecting lots of people to sleep here.
I have to get away. As soon as possible.
I’ll need transportation. The Magic Mirror is the only vessel I can reasonably handle by myself. The rafts are far too heavy and cumbersome for me to paddle.
I glance out one window. A couple of guys are on the beach, busying themselves with the rafts, appearing to load them up with weapons and a stack of empty sacks. It looks like they’re going on a raid.
Well, I suppose that’s what they do.
I’ll have to wait until there’s nobody there at the shore. And then I’ll make my escape.
I’ll probably have to wait for nightfall. Maybe even after the evening meal.
Yes. I’ll wait for night and then escape. I’ll take the Magic Mirror and sail it to the Gate, through that, and then walk the rest of the way.
Through a dinosaur-infested jungle. All alone.
I could well meet my death there. And I’m not sure I can remember the way. Rax’tar kept walking large circles around various dangers.
But right now, I don’t care. I have to do something. If it kills me, then at least I die in action. Not just being a victim, not just letting others push me around. I’ve had enough of being Snow White, tricked by the evil queen and rescued by the prince, or whatever else happened to her, never in charge of her own fate. She can keep her glass coffin. My ass is too big for me to be a Disney princess, anyway.
I make some preparations while the sun sets outside the window, and then I go downstairs to have the evening meal with the guys.
- - -
The tension is thick in the hall. The guys don’t talk much, but they keep exchanging mysterious glances, and I swear their eyes shine more than usual.
I still sit beside Rax’tar, but now there’s a foot of daylight between us. He also doesn’t say much to me.
Curt’on keeps trying to catch my eye, but whenever I look at him he just smiles mysteriously.
They’re planning something.
Shit. It’s not a gangbang, is it? Does Rax’tar think he’s going to share me with his buddies? Does he think I’m just an object to be enjoyed by all his friends?
No. That can’t be it. The mood would be different. And Rax’tar is so possessive about me I can’t imagine anything like that happening.
But he has surprised me before. Not least earlier today.
I eat a little bit, then feign a yawn. I have plans of my own. “I’m very sleepy after the sailing. I’ll just go to bed.”
“You look tired,” Rax’tar agrees. “Get some sleep.”
The others nod, and I get the feeling that if they were a little younger, they would be giggling.
I walk a couple of steps up the stairs, feeling every eye in the room on me.
I turn and look at them. Apart from Rax’tar, they’re all grinning like crazy, like they have the surprise of a lifetime prepared for me.
I frown. “What?”
Rax’tar gives the others a warning look. “Never mind these clowns, Phoebe. Sleep well. If some things seem strange to you tomorrow, just be patient. Everything will become clear to you. I’ve temporarily stored some things in your room. Take no heed.”
The other guys pull themselves together, straighten out their faces ,and start talking about some kind of smithing issue.
I walk up the stairs one flight, taking another look at the cavemen’s sleeping room. Now there’s a basket by one wall that wasn’t there before.
I tiptoe over and open it.
Huh. A dress, made from soft and cured dinosaur skin. Much too small for any of the caveman. Although it would fit me perfectly.
Another one under it.
No, two.
No, five.
Six dresses in total. Different colors and slightly different styles. But clearly meant for someone other than the cavemen.
The realization hits me, far too late. But it makes up for it by hitting me so hard I almost faint.
Six dresses for six girls. Six girls for six cavemen. Because the seventh already has his girl.
They’re going on a raid, definitely. Specifically, they’re going to raid my tribe. And they intend to bring back six of the girls.
Damn it. The clues are all over the place. Their stupid giggling. Their excitement. Their sudden eagerness to work so incredibly hard, being so chipper all the time.
Gathering and storing food and skins and furs. Making small weapons for small, girly hands.
Yep, they’re planning to kidnap six girls from my village. And why not? It worked out so well with the first one.
And – I have to support myself on the wall – they obviously think I will love it. They think I’ll be excited about it.
They ha
ve every reason to think that. I came here with Rax’tar. I never slapped him for abducting me. My hunger strike petered out before I even got here. I protested a little in the beginning, maybe. Then I went along with it. Without punishing Rax’tar for his actions.
On the contrary, I rewarded him with sex. My virginity, even. My…
I hide my face in my hands.
My love.
Tears are suddenly seeping from my eyes. And they are some bitter tears.
This is all my fault. These guys now think that abducting women is okay. Because I showed them that it is.
I pull myself together, wiping the water from my eyes. I have to fix this.
What can I do?
I can go down there and tell them I know what they’re up to and that I’m opposed to it. That I am very fucking mad about it.
It could work.
But it won’t. They are six huge, strong and horny cavemen who have suddenly had the possibility of women of their own dangled in front of them, probably since I first came here. They’re dead set on it. The electric excitement in that room can only be turned to deadly anger if they sense that they’re not going to get what they want. No man would be calm and reasonable about having the possibility of sex taken from him, possibly forever. And they are very energetic men.
Even if I could get Rax’tar to take my side, which I doubt, there are still six against two.
No. It won’t work.
I run up the final flight of stairs. In a corner in my room there is now a huge basket and two pots.
What is it that Rax’tar has stored here?
The basket is filled to the brim with food, as fresh as can be, enough to feed a freaking army. One of the pots if full of fermented juice of my favorite kind, clear and fresh and fragrant. Top quality booze. For Xren, anyway.
The other pot is empty, but has a lid. Yeah, it’s the kind of pot you’ll need if you’re going to not leave a room for a day or three.
They have planned this so well. I’ll be locked in this room while they go and raid my tribe for girls.
Someone is coming up the stairs. I quickly lie down on the furs and pretend to sleep.
Rax’tar opens the door, very quietly, then comes over, kneels down, and kisses my cheek. His manly scent fills my nose, and when I feel his soft lips on me, it’s all I can do to not start crying again. Why must he be so damn great and then go and do something like this?
He gently strokes my hair and leaves the room. He closes the door, and then I hear the slight scrape of the wooden bolt sliding home in its hole.
I’m a captive.
The realization that Rax’tar has just locked me up makes my mind cave in, and I’m surprised at the violence of the sobs I direct into the bunch of furs. I must have had a faint hope that I was wrong, that everything was fine and that he would never ever lock me up in a cell. I thought that he maybe felt the same for me as I feel for him – respect and admiration and a real connection for the first time in my life. A little bit of awe, maybe. And love.
Yes, I loved that guy. I let my guard down with predictable results. The love he has for his friends is much stronger than any emotion he might have for me.
I don’t have time to wallow in this. I have to get away as soon as possible to try to reach the village before them. Hopefully, I’ll get a head start, and the Magic Mirror will be much faster through the Gate than their rafts. After that, it’s all up to chance.
I get to my feet and wrap some of the food in a thin skin that I tie up. I drain three mugs of the booze, because I think I’ll need all the courage I can get.
And that’s it.
The rope I made before dinner by tying up about fifteen skins and furs by their corners is still under the heap where I left it, and nobody has discovered the rusty iron carving blade I’ve hammered into the wood under the window. I tie one end of the rope to it and toss the other end out. It doesn’t quite reach the ground, but it looks like it might be close enough.
I tie the food bag around my shoulders and climb out the window backwards. I’m just about able to squeeze my hips through, and then I’m shimmying down the makeshift rope.
I drop the final two feet, and then I stand on the ground for a moment, just listening.
All I can hear is deep voices from inside, clearly excited.
The two rafts are half drawn up on the beach, or I would have pushed them out and towed them so far away that the guys wouldn’t be able to get off The Island for a day or two. But I can’t budge them. I just take the huge caveman-size oars and drop them in the water, then push them out from the shore as hard as I can.
“Good luck retrieving them,” I whisper with a sore throat.
Then I check the Magic Mirror for alien crabs, find none, and just decide to brave it. That thing was more afraid of me than I was of it. I hope.
I push the canoe out from the shore and jump aboard, being as quiet as I can.
There’s a little bit of a breeze, and the stars are out. I locate the three stars to the north and adjust my course. The sail is bunched up at the bottom of the mast, but I won’t use it yet.
The Magic Mirror shoots through the water very silently.
I throw one last glance back at The Island. There are some flickering lights from the windows of the hollowed-out tree, and it looks pretty inviting.
I had some good times there. Some really good times.
I decide to think that Rax’tar did love me, too. In his own way.
“Goodbye,” I whisper. “It was good while it lasted.”
Then The Island is obscured by a seatree and I turn around to face the way I’m going.
22
- Rax’tar -
I lock Phoebe’s door as softly as I can. There’s a sharp barb at my heart in the same instant. This is my least favorite part of this plan. Locking her up feels so wrong that for a moment I toy with the idea of just telling her about our raid.
But I don’t think she would approve. It is her tribe, her friends. Of course, we won’t harm anyone if we can avoid it. But it is a raid, and we will be taking those women against their will.
Just like I did with Phoebe. And that worked out well. It made her happy.
But of course, when I saw her, she stood out to me. Both because of her beauty and because she was so obviously not having a good time. These other six we will be taking… they may not be as unhappy in their village as she was.
And for all that is holy, we must make sure that nobody gets hurt. If Phoebe learns that we have caused injury to one of her tribesmen, she might not take it well. In spite of her probably being excited about having female company. Possibly.
I get back to the hall, where the others are so tense with anticipation it almost makes me worry.
“We must make sure nobody is hurt,” I state as clearly as I can.
“There can never be a guarantee when swords are involved,” Gir’ex points out. “We have blades, and the warriors of the alien village have similar blades. Even with the best of intentions, accidents happen.”
I sit down at the table. “Then we will leave our blades behind. Why do we need them?”
They all look at each other, unsettled.
“This is a new part of our plan,” Arit’zan points out. “Until now, our planning involves bare blades in the village.”
“And now I decide that no swords should be used. Not by us, anyway.”
Gir’ex sets his mug down on the table with a loud bang. “Is that up to you to decide? We are not going to this village so their warriors can slaughter us at their leisure. If we must press the point, then we shall.”
Juri’ex leans forwards. “I have never gone on a raid before. And as far as I know, nobody in this room has, either. But it seems to me that if we’re going there with the specific purpose of stealing something and then return, stealth is better than blades.”
I send the young man a tight smile. “Exactly. If it comes to us actually fighting blade to blade against the defenders, then
that’s very bad news for us. We are seven. They are many more. Both members of their tribe and the other warriors who have come there to join the army they’re forming. And I say to you, the warriors of the tribe are fearsome enough. Jax’zan is a name that most of us have heard. The mighty Brax’tan. Ar’ox, the tamer of Bigs. Xark’on the trapper.
Who here would like to fight such warriors? And those are just some of them.”
“We know this,” Gir’ex persists. “We know who they are. And now you’d have us face them unarmed? Our plan already includes stealth! We know where the women are, and we intend to sneak into the village without being seen. But if we are seen, we won’t stay and be cut down!”
I make a heavy decision. “If we’re seen, and the plan has clearly not worked, then we flee without our loot. Or we surrender.”
They don’t like it. Not one bit.
“While it is true that none of us have any experience with raids,” Erek’ox says, “it seems like common sense that you never surrender. Flee, yes. It’s dishonorable, but you survive. But surrender without crossing blades – in my tribe such a raider would be tied up in the middle of the village and slowly flayed alive.”
“They will not flay us,” I sigh. “This tribe is different. The alien women have a large say in what happens, and they would not allow it.”
“Despite Rax’tar’s sudden skill at reading the minds of aliens,” Tret’zor says, “I see some problems with going there entirely without arms. We need to defend against the jungle on our way there.”
“We’ll leave the weapons at a certain place where they can be found later,” I suggest. “Right before the raid. My friends, this is for your own profit! You want a woman that will be yours. But if such a woman is taken from her village amid great bloodshed, do you think she will ever give herself to you?”
That shuts them up. Juri’ex and Arit’zan go pale.
“That is a valid concern,” Gir’ex says slowly after some consideration. “It would entirely defeat the purpose of the raid. Yes, I agree with you, Rax’tar. Let’s carry out the raid unarmed. And then let the Ancestors determine the rest.”