Until Dawn

by Laura Taylor

  “I don’t owe you anything,” Dusk replied flatly.

  There was another moment of silence from Aidan, and it reminded her sharply of when she’d first asked him to lay out his terms for her. He’d hesitated, stumbled, mentally tried to skirt around the idea that he wanted to use her for sex… and then accepted reality and stated it as such. “On the contrary,” he said, his chin lifting an inch, his shoulders squaring. “I’ve provided you with food and clothing, as I said I would. You owe me a night of satisfaction.”

  She was so damn tired of being pushed around by men, of having to prove herself, of the constant fight for the recognition of her worth. She folded her arms and glared at him.

  “Or, if you insist on your freedom” he said, when she didn’t reply, “then you can return those clothes I so generously provided.”

  But right then, it was not Aidan, but Whisper who caught Dusk’s attention. It was nothing more than a flicker of his eyes, a split-second glance towards Aidan, before his gaze returned to Dusk, but that telling look was enough. He was terrified of her leaving. But why? Even with her gone, they still had double the number of women they’d had just moments ago.

  Suddenly, Mei-Lien jumped to her feet and came to stand beside Rochelle. “If they’re both going, then I’m going with them,” she declared.

  Aidan was still glaring at her, and an unwelcome part of Dusk’s mind pointed out that he was right – he’d provided her with a generous quantity of food and a new set of clothes – which she was currently wearing – so short of spreading her legs for him right then and there, the only thing she could really do to even the score was…

  She shrugged off her jacket, dropping it deliberately on the ground. She undid her belt and dropped it as well. She was just beginning to undo the button on her pants when Rochelle put a firm hand on her own, stopping her movements. “No,” she said simply.

  “No?” Dusk asked her.

  “I’ll have my own death on my hands, but not yours as well.” She turned to face Aidan. “I’m not opposed to living with your tribe. But I will not marry one of your men.”

  Aidan, for the moment, seemed completely baffled by this rapid turn of events, a deep frown creasing his forehead, so it was Whisper who answered for him. “We can’t guarantee your safety under those circumstances.” It was an unpleasant truth, but an honest one.

  But the odds were in Rochelle’s favour, and she knew it. “I’ll take responsibility for my own safety,” she said boldly. “And take on a full share of the work to see myself clothed and fed.”

  Aidan sighed and shook his head, and Dusk wondered urgently what they were going to do if he refused. Linda had said nothing in the past few minutes, obviously valuing her children’s welfare above her loyalty to her companions. She had made up her mind. And for what it was worth, Dusk couldn’t blame her.

  But Whisper also caught the imminent refusal on Aidan’s lips, and jumped in ahead of him. He barked out a forced laugh, slapping one hand down on Aidan’s shoulder. Was it Dusk’s imagination, or was his hand shaking as he did so?

  “They’ve done it again, mate,” Whisper said, with a wry amusement that seemed slightly strangled. “Women will always gang up on us to get what they want. There’s no point fighting it,” he added, when Aidan turned to him with a cool glare. Then, before anyone else could say anything, he turned and headed back down the hill. “Come on, then. We’ve got a long walk back to the village. I hope you’re not going to whine about having to take a stroll through the forest, are you?” He winked at Rochelle, an infuriating nonchalance in his expression, and then he called a couple of the men after him. They hadn’t finished looting the dead, he reminded them, and there was work to be done before the walk back.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Dusk watched as one of the tribe’s young men twisted the lid off a bottle of home-brewed beer. Distracted by the music and dancing around him, and in the middle of bragging to one of his mates at the same time, he didn’t notice the liquid fizz up and overflow until it cascaded over his hand. “Oh, Jesus! Shit, give me a glass!” In his half-drunk state, he didn’t think to just put the lid back on, or even hold the bottle out to the side, and instead did a wobbly little dance to try and keep the stuff from dripping onto his shoes.

  At one end of the fire circle, three men were providing the musical entertainment for the evening, one playing a guitar, another keeping up a simple but effective rhythm on a drum, and a third playing the violin. It wasn’t a combination Dusk would have ever thought to put together deliberately, but she supposed that beggars couldn’t be choosers, and she was actually surprised at how well it worked, the violin providing a lively melody above the guitar’s chords.

  Linda was already dancing with Mario, who was one of the older men in the tribe. Although ‘older’, in this case, only meant in his forties. His nose was a little puffy from where Dusk had struck him in the face, but he was now in good spirits. Nicholas was the only person Dusk knew who was over fifty who had survived the collapse. Of course, with the sudden absence of a large number of the medical advances they’d all taken for granted, humanity’s life expectancy was likely to take a sudden and sharp downturn. Mario, she’d found out that afternoon, was from Italy. He’d emigrated to Australia some ten years ago, but still had a thick accent. He’d also had a wife when he’d first joined this tribe, though she’d died of an infection about a year later. Now, he filled the important role of the village’s record keeper. It was his job to keep track of the days, months and years, to record how much rain fell each day, the maximum and minimum temperatures, the date of the deaths of any of the tribesmen, and a plethora of other details of their daily lives that would once have been recorded effortlessly by government departments or various computer systems.

  Young Mikey and his sister Julia were sitting near the musicians, playing with a couple of action figures that had magically been produced out of nowhere. Aside from casting an occasional glance their way, Linda seemed perfectly relaxed and willing to kick back and enjoy the evening.

  Watching the children for a while, Dusk couldn’t help but smile. Mikey was currently showing Julia how Luke Skywalker was a ninja master and how he could kick Spiderman’s butt any day. They’d discovered rather quickly after the women had agreed to join the tribe that Mikey was a chatty one. Once Linda had assured him that these were good men, not the bad men they’d had to deal with before, he hadn’t stopped talking for the entire trip home. From his comfortable perch, first on Dave’s back, then Tom’s back, and finally Whisper’s shoulders, he’d asked an incessant stream of questions – Where did they live? Did they get storms? Did they have any animals? Were there any other children in the tribe? Did they have any nice books to read? In between the answers, he’d showered them with stories of other places he’d been and the things he’d seen along the way – a terrifying, fast-flowing river they’d had to cross to get away from the ‘bad men’; a tree that was ‘as big as the whole world’ that had come down in a storm; a farm with a rooster that was ‘so big it could make twenty-three dinners’! Even now, Dusk wasn’t entirely sure whether he’d been talking about a real rooster or an emu. Not a single person had complained about the chatter for the whole way home, and several of the men, who hadn’t seen a child for years, seemed to have been having a subtle battle over who got to talk to Mikey next.

  Mei-Lien, meanwhile, had finally been persuaded to dance, though she was clearly shy and awkward about it. Tom was currently dancing with her, and he’d shown her a couple of moves. When she bashfully tried them out, she received some enthusiastic applause and cheering from a number of men watching on.

  But Rochelle was sharing none of the evening’s joviality. She was sitting on one of the logs around the fire, a glass of beer in her hand and a glum expression on her face. Dusk watched as a man approached her, apparently introducing himself – she couldn’t quite hear what he said over the music – and offered his hand to her, requesting a dance. In response, Rochelle rolled he
r eyes and said something which, going by the expression on her face, was a brutal refusal. The man simply shook his head, shrugged, and then went off to join the throng of men all trying to dance with Mei-Lien.

  Dusk was currently in two minds about Rochelle. She was a warrior, that much was clear, and Dusk couldn’t help but admire the tough, gutsy way she approached life. She didn’t back down, didn’t quit, and had the courage to stand by her convictions. Dusk saw a lot of herself in the woman, and that made her want to become friends.

  But the other side of Rochelle, from what Dusk had seen so far, was that she was also carrying around a huge amount of anger, and was all too willing to unload it on whoever happened to be standing closest. That made it difficult to relate to her, when, even as a woman, Rochelle still treated Dusk with a cool distrust, despite the rescue and her offer to leave with her. But aside from that, it made Dusk far too aware of her own anger.

  Her temper was roused quickly these days, much quicker than it had been back when the world was civilised, and though she recognised the reasons behind it, she wasn’t entirely happy about it. Aidan had been going out of his way to make her feel comfortable throughout the day, and she’d bitten his head off at least three times for some perceived slight that had only been intended to help her. Anger had become a survival strategy, but it was confronting to now see it reflected in someone else. Was that how she came across to other people?

  She glanced around the circle, noticing that most of the men were dancing, aside from those preparing the feast that would follow. Mei-Lien and Linda each had five or six men dancing ‘near’ them, which, Dusk supposed, allowed them to convince themselves they were dancing ‘with’ them. But both she and Rochelle had been left on the sidelines.

  As she watched, another man approached Rochelle, getting down on one knee to ask her to dance, presumably to try and lighten her dark mood, but he received the same curt reaction as the previous man had. Dusk waited for the inevitable anger at being rejected, for the man to tell Rochelle she was frigid, or a bitch, or some other unhelpful, entitled comment… but instead, he just sighed and walked away. But as he went, Dusk happened to catch a glimpse of another man, standing at the edge of the firelight on the far side of the circle. It was Stormbreaker, a beer in his hand, watching Rochelle with a look of undisguised longing. He watched as her latest would-be suitor walked away, then shook his head, taking a mouthful of beer. After having seen him fight, Dusk didn’t think he was suffering from a lack of courage. Perhaps there was something more terrifying about being rejected by a woman than there was about being stabbed through the heart with a sharp sword.

  But the look of longing on his face made Dusk pause. When she’d joined the tribe, there had been a cautious optimism among the men, but also a cool resentment, her presence a sharp reminder of all the things they couldn’t have. With the arrival of Linda, Mei-Lien and Rochelle, the mood had swiftly changed. Four women were still not nearly enough to balance out the tribe, but their presence seemed to have given everyone hope. The more women they had, the more likely it was that others would agree to join them in the future, and it was the first ray of light they’d experienced in a long time. But even so, there were only two more men who were going to end up with wives tonight, and Dusk couldn’t imagine the anticipation and disappointment that would be going through the minds of most of these men. Aidan, Whisper and two or three others who Dusk supposed were the village ‘elders’ had disappeared into Aidan’s cabin to talk this afternoon, and it was an easy guess that they were discussing who the lucky men would be. In a fairer world, the women would have been able to choose their own partners, of course, but given current circumstances, she supposed there was a certain logic in making the decision for them – not that she agreed with giving women away like chattel. Perhaps they could at least have given them the chance to choose which man they’d like, a rough and ready version of speed-dating, perhaps?

  “May I have this dance?” Dusk looked up in surprise. A man called Hawk was standing in front of her, long dreadlocks pulled back into a ponytail and numerous tattoos covering both his arms. He could only have been in his early twenties, and with her thirty-first birthday coming up and no particular fondness for either tattoos or dreadlocks, he was pretty much the last man in the tribe she would have volunteered to dance with. But only a heartbeat later, Dusk was calling herself an idiot. Just a few minutes ago, she’d been bemoaning the fact that no one had asked her to dance yet, and now she was going to turn down the first man who did?

  “I’d love to,” she said, standing up, but just at that moment, she saw Hawk glance behind her. He raised his eyebrows and adopted a pleading look – none of it aimed at her – so she turned around and saw Aidan standing there. Again, not looking at her, but at Hawk, Aidan inclined his head and made a ‘carry on’ gesture, and for a moment, Dusk saw red. She was entitled to dance with whomever she chose, and if Aidan thought he could tell her otherwise, he needed some sense beaten into him…

  But just as quickly, the fire in her belly cooled. Perhaps Hawk wasn’t asking Aidan’s permission that Dusk be allowed to dance, but rather permission for him to be allowed to dance with her. He wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to get his ass kicked for stepping out of line. And if that was the case, then it was something of a relief to realise that the rest of the men in the tribe had already acknowledged that Dusk was unavailable and that they’d have to deal with Aidan if they made any attempt to harm her.

  God, could she just stop overanalysing everything for once and enjoy the party? She was safe, she had a tribe to belong to, she now had three women who, with a bit of effort, could become good friends, and the makings of a hearty feast were being prepared all around her. Smiling for the first time in what seemed like forever, Dusk took Hawk’s hand and joined the throng already dancing around the blazing bonfire.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The night had grown dark and the feast was all but over by the time Nicholas climbed onto the platform at one end of the fire circle. Roast lamb and chicken, baked potatoes and steaming vegetables had been rounded off with fresh berries and cream, and the newly-arrived women had exclaimed in wonder at the delights of fresh milk, cream and yoghurt that were afforded by the tribe’s two jersey cows. Sticking his fingers in his mouth, Nicholas gave a piercing whistle, and the rumble of conversation faded out.

  “Gentlemen,” he began addressing the group, then turned to smile at Dusk and the other women. “Ladies!” It was the first time in years he’d been able to use the greeting, and a cheer went up from the gathered men. “Thank you all for your efforts in preparing the evening,” he said, knowing that despite the raw anticipation of what was to come, a little preamble was expected. “I hope you’ve all enjoyed yourselves, and remember to drink plenty of water before you go to bed if you want to avoid a nasty headache in the morning!” A round of laughter and jeers followed, and despite the advice, Nicholas knew that more than a handful of the tribe were going to be feeling a little rough tomorrow. “I’d like to officially welcome our newest members, Linda, Mikey and Julia,” – a cheer went up – “Mei-Lien, Rochelle, and of course Dusk.” More cheering, along with a prolonged round of applause that finally ended when Nicholas help up his hands for silence. “And now, the final event of the evening is that we must witness the marriage of these beautiful women to our friends and tribesmen. May I remind you ladies,” he added sternly, “that though your husbands have been chosen with the best of intentions, if you have any objection to the match you’ve been given, you’re well within your rights to say so.” He paused a moment to let that sink in, then, when no one made any comment, he continued. “First, may we have Dusk and Aidan up the front, please.” There was a brief moment of shuffling as everyone made space for the pair to come forward. “I’ll apologise in advance for the brevity of the marriage ceremony. I was never a proper celebrant, and any laws on such matters have long since passed beyond relevance. So let’s make this simple. Dusk of the Two Swords,�
�� he said, using her full title, as such things were important these days. “Do you, of your own free will, join the Tribe of the Clear River Valley?”

  At her sudden surprised look, it occurred to him that perhaps no one had yet told her their tribe’s name. The river had been a focal point in Torrent’s original decision to buy this land, being fed from thousands of acres of undeveloped forest, and when they weren’t caught in the middle of a drought, the river flowed clean enough that you could drink straight from the source.

  “I do,” she replied, a smile creeping up the corners of her mouth.

  “And do you take Aidan the Ferocious to be your husband?” Dusk looked momentarily startled, but Nicholas wasn’t sure what might have caused her sudden alarm, so he pressed on. “Do you agree to honour and respect him all the days of your life and to join with him physically to the exclusion of all others?”

  But instead of answering the question, Dusk asked, “Aidan the Ferocious?” She turned to Aidan, standing beside her. The firelight flickered over his tanned skin and lent his blond hair a reddish tinge. “How have I not heard that one before?”

  Aidan smirked. “I’d bet there are quite a few things you haven’t heard about me yet,” he replied, as the story itself was likely to take too long to be told here.

  “No doubt there are,” Dusk agreed wryly. “I do,” she said more loudly, turning back to Nicholas.

  “And do you, Aidan the Ferocious, take Dusk of the Two Swords to be your wife, do you agree to honour and respect her all the days of your life and to defend her against those who may wish to harm her?”

  “I do,” Aidan replied without hesitation.

  “Then I now pronounce you -”

  “Oi, wait a minute!” Dusk suddenly interrupted. “Why do I have to swear to exclude all others, but he doesn’t?”