by Calista Skye
I look up. He’s holding one hand on his burned and ruined cheek.
“Oh no!” I exclaim.
So that’s how he got it. Burned by molten gold. I would never have guessed it in a million years.
I kiss the skin on his chest. “It’s okay now.”
“At first, I didn’t realize what had happened. Then I felt the pain. As if my face was burning away. And it was. There was smoke. A sizzling sound next to my ear. The next thing I knew, Xis’tan was pouring a whole bucket of water onto my face, rinsing the gold off and cooling me down. I thought I would drown, but if he hadn’t done that I would have died.”
“My poor baby,” I coo into his chest. “It’s fine. It’s over now.”
“Almost over,” Car’rakz says. “Because that was the last anyone saw of Xis’tan. An irox took him in its beak, breaking his back and taking it with him. I could hear his spine shatter between its teeth. Oh, Xis’tan…”
His chest shakes with sobs for a while as he holds one hand over his eyes. And I shed some brave tears, myself, in sympathy.
“How old was he?” I ask a good few minutes later, when I can trust my voice again.
“Xis’tan was eight,” Car’rakz says with a thick voice.
I do some arithmetic. “Eight. And you said he was two years older than you?”
“Yes. Two and a half, I think.”
“So… you was six? Or even five?”
“Something like that.”
I look up at him. “And tribesmen send you and him into the mine? At five and eight years old?”
“We had been doing that for a good while by then. Me, probably a year.”
A surge of anger fills me. “You were working in gold mine since you were four years old?!”
Car’rakz wipes his eyes. “Or thereabouts. Only I was small enough to reach the inner part of the mine.”
I’m quiet for a minute, just forcing myself to not say something too damning about that fucking tribe of his. “Then what happened? You remember?”
“Vaguely. The tribesmen returned and searched for the gold that had splashed out of the pot. The chief was there, I remember. He was very concerned that it should all be found.”
I hold on to his strong body to not explode in righteous anger. “And not as concerned about your face.”
“It was badly burned. Not much they could do. I was taken back to the village and didn’t work more that day. The chief made me feel proud, I remember. I felt that I had done something important. But I was also sad about Xis’tan. Though, to my young mind, it did help that I was given his sword. The tip was broken, but I had no sword of my own, and I’d always admired Xis’tan for having one.”
I look at his old and worn blade. It might be broken, but it’s sharp enough. It’s obvious now why he hasn’t fixed it. “And the next day?”
“I don’t remember. Possibly, I was allowed to rest for a day or two. I did go back in the mine eventually, I remember that. This mine stopped giving up gold a little later and was abandoned.”
I look up at him. “Why is the gold so important?”
“It looks nice. It is very heavy. It feels… special. Iron will rust. Gold doesn’t. It always shines, and one can make pretty things out of it. No other tribe has gold.”
“Because the other tribes aren’t a bunch of gold-fever struck old assholes,” I say into his chest.
“What?”
“Never mind.” I disengage from the huge caveman and take his hand in mind, leading him over to the rock I was sitting on. “Sit down, please.”
He looks down at me, and his eyes are even more beautiful when they’re slightly rimmed with red. “Why?”
“Just do it, warrior. Please.”
He does his customary scan of the surroundings to check for danger, then sits down on the rock while I stand in front of him.
I place one finger on his normal cheek. “Can you feel this?”
“Yes.”
I put a finger on the other hand on the side that’s burned. “This?”
He hesitates. “Yes.”
“As strongly as the other side?”
“No. Not as strongly.”
I move my finger. “This?”
“No.”
I press harder. “Now?”
“There’s pressure.”
I pinch his dry, stiff skin. “This?”
“Still pressure.”
I move my finger again. “This?”
“Yes.”
I keep at it for a good while, making a mental map of where the burned, dry side of his face has feeling and where it doesn’t. Around the edges of the burned part he has normal feeling in the skin. In the middle, there’s no feeling at all. And the rest has some feeling, but it’s not as sensitive as the other side.
“Why are we doing this?” Car’rakz finally asks.
It’s a reasonable question. “Because I want to know where you can feel it when do this.”
I kiss his burned cheek softly. “Can feel?”
“Yes.”
I kiss another spot. “Can feel?”
“No. But I can hear it.”
Another spot. “Can feel?”
“Yes.”
I kiss all over the burned part of his face. This is not to map where he still has feeling — this is so he’ll know I accept that part of him as well. I know he feels ugly. But to me, he’s not. And I want him to know it.
I finally place a big, wet kiss right on his mouth with those sensual lips. “Can feel?”
He smiles shyly. “Yes.”
My hands slide down to his crotch. “Can feel?”
“Yes— oh, holy Ancestors…”
His cock comes alive in my hands, and I pull his pants off.
“You sit there,” I say and point to the ground.
He gets it and spreads one not-sheep fur on the rough gravel. Then he sits down with his back to the rock and his cock sticking straight up.
I kneel astride him and lower myself onto his hard rod, feeling the alien manhood once more take possession of my sex.
He supports me with his hands under my hips, holding all my weight so I can concentrate on the way he feels inside me. I ride him slowly until we come together in a noisy climax that would probably attract all kinds of predators if the dragon hadn’t chased them away.
I collapse onto his chest and just breathe.
Then I climb off him. “This mine is now place where you mate with Tamara in a new way,” I state as I pull my dress on again. “Not anymore is place where got burned.”
- - -
We walk back to the cave on the mountain and spend the evening there, just sitting and looking out at the jungle and at Bune in the distance. The girls are somewhere in that direction. They must be worried sick about me. But this thing I’m doing might turn out to be pretty damn important.
I lean back onto Car’rakz’s wide chest. “Can you make sharp blades from gold?”
“What?”
“Can you. Make sharp blades. From gold.”
“No. It’s too soft.”
“Can you make spears from gold?”
“No.”
“Can you eat gold?”
“No!”
“Can you drink it?”
He doesn’t respond.
But I persist. “What can you make from gold?”
“Pretty things. Necklaces. Figures. Look.” His finger touches my bangle. “Even aliens like things that are pretty. Even if only made from steel. You understand what that’s like.”
“That bracelet is highly important to me,” I say. “Because… well, it doesn’t matter. Notice that is not very pretty anymore.”
“Some say the gold was given from the Ancestors. We have no shaman, but maybe he would confirm that. It is very heavy and shiny.”
I let his words hang in the air for several heartbeats. “You know gold is useless.”
“It is very pretty! No other tribe has it. It’s heavy. It shines.”
I gr
ab his hand and bring it to my lips, kissing it. “Car’rakz. You know gold is useless.”
He doesn’t reply.
Well, he doesn’t have to agree. He’s lived his whole life thinking that mining and collecting gold is the most important thing the tribe does. It will take him time to get out of that line of thought.
I’ll give him that time. Hey, he’s only human. Well, caveman. And I really like that about him.
“There is iron in village?”
“Of course.”
“Car’rakz is good smith?”
I can feel him shrugging behind me. “Sometimes.”
“Then don’t worry,” I yawn. “I think we be able to make use of stupid gold after all.”
- - -
The next morning, we go back to his village.
There aren’t many tribesmen around, and again I’m struck by how old they are. I estimate Car’rakz at mid-twenties, and it feels like there should be more younger men around. Like late twenties or early thirties. But it looks like the youngest men apart from Car’rakz must be more than ten years older than him.
Car’rakz shows me the tribe’s forge, and even I can tell it hasn’t been used in ages. It’s quite a contrast to my own tribe, where there are three forges and you can hear the hammering of iron all day long. This tribe has its priorities fucked up so hard that I’m not sure they can be rescued from themselves.
Car’rakz starts heating up the forge, and I explain to him how I want the thing made. It will essentially be a half-sphere made from iron bars. And then it will have sixty long spikes made from steel and sharpened to very, very thin points.
I help him get bars of iron from the stores, as well as all the steel the tribe has. Which isn’t much. But hopefully enough to make at least the sharp points for the spikes.
I’ve been thinking about this during all our endless walks through the jungle. When Caroline and Xark’on killed Troga, they used a pit with spikes sticking up from the bottom. And it worked. So I think spikes might be the way to go for killing this new and bigger dragon. But it can fly, so getting it to fall down in a pit is probably not going to work. And it feels like we don’t have time to dig a pit that is big enough. We need another way to kill this dragon.
After a while, Car’rakz starts hammering iron, and curious tribesmen come over to observe for a while before they shuffle back to their caves. Only now do I notice that they’re all wearing gold jewelry. Mostly as bracelets, but some have figurines hanging on strings around their necks, and one or two even have anklets. It looks weird to me to see a seven foot tall caveman wearing a dainty anklet, but of course this isn’t Earth.
This tribe really has collective gold fever. I didn’t even know that was a thing. Although, I seem to recall that some ancient natives in South America were extremely taken with the yellow metal. But cavemen may have a special weakness for it. It’s worth noting, even if that’s probably more ethnology than zoology.
Car’rakz shows me the first piece he’s made, and I admire it. “Very nice! Perfectly round. See how more useful iron is than gold? Car’rakz, can I ask? All tribesmen have gold. Where’s your gold?”
“I don’t have any yet. I only get it later. If I become chief.”
“Why?”
“I’m young still. Gold is something that one has to earn.”
“And they tell you that not have earned it yet?”
“I don’t have to ask them; I already know.”
I tap my lips with one finger. “Where do the chief live?”
Car’rakz gets another piece of iron and examines it. “Over there.” He points.
I nod. “I just go and see him. It’s respectful thing to do.”
Car’rakz grabs his hammer. “Very well.”
I walk over to the crack in the rock he pointed to. “Good morning, Chief!” I call into the darkness.
The chief comes out, his eyes big and startled. For a second, he stares at me as if he’s stunned to see me. Then he collects himself.
“Ah, the alien. Still here, I see.”
“Still here,” I confirm. “Invited by your tribesman Car’rakz.” After days talking mostly cavemanese, I feel much more comfortable with it now.
“It is said that you have seen the gold we have. Without my permission.”
I smile as sweetly as I can. “Yes! Oh, the gold is very wonderful. It shine so pretty!”
“I’m sure aliens like gold,” he says and looks around as if expecting a flying saucer to land at any moment.
“We don’t have gold where I come from,” I lie. I hold up my scratched and dented bangle, as if to show him. “We only have iron. It is very wonderful tribe to have so much gold!”
He frowns like only an old man could. “None of the gold will ever leave the village.”
“Oh,” I say with mock surprise. “Of course, I would never ask for given any. It’s highly too precious for that.”
“And I will never tell anyone where we get it!”
“I’m sure only this tribe clever enough to find gold,” I say soothingly. “No, I just wanted ask: I heard you have finest collection of gold in the tribe. May I see it?”
He frowns even more. “See my gold?”
“Yes! So I can return my tribe and tell them how very wonderful the Rentoni tribe is! Haha, they will never believe that tribe on Xren has gold. But I will explain them how Chief Had’dax is highly wise, has collected gold for years!”
The chief’s wrinkly old face is all frown.
In desperation, I use a trick that sometimes worked on Earth: I pull at my dress to reveal some cleavage and move my upper arms forwards to squeeze my boobs together.
Well, he is staring.
“Just a short look,” I plead, jiggling my chest a little. “Not will touch, I promise.”
He doesn’t say anything, and I briefly play with the thought of turning around, bending over, and ‘accidentally’ showing him my ass.
Then he relents. “Very well. A short look only.”
He walks ahead of me into his cave, which widens out to the size of a pretty decent-sized living room on Earth. It’s much bigger than the cave with the box of gold, and of course has ridiculously more space than Car’rakz’s little rathole.
He has a box, too. And now he holds it in his arms, cradling it like a baby.
He gives me a hard look. “Stand back.”
I obediently take one short step back and keep my hands behind my back as he takes the lid off with more care than a loving mother would use to put a pacifier into her baby’s mouth.
And yeah, this is not bad. The box may be smaller, but it contains more than what I saw yesterday. No mystery where the bulk of the tribe’s gold ends up.
There are thick chains, bars, round ingots that look a little like coins except thicker, small figurines of dinosaurs and even an irox, shining yellow.
I gasp to let him know how extremely impressed I am with his collection. “Is highly wonderful!”
He smiles tightly, then slams the lid shut. “The grandest treasure anywhere in the world.”
“Only a great man could collect that much gold,” I say in my best bimbo voice and pull my dress a little further down for increased cleavage. “Is highly attractive!”
While he’s busy staring, I let my eyes dart around the room. On one wall there hangs a round disk that shines so much in the candlelight that it can’t be anything other than gold. Because of course, a man like this can’t be happy with just keeping gold in a box — he has to be able to see the evidence of his wealth from anywhere in the cave.
I flash him the best smile I can. “Thank you for showing.” I turn around, using my hand to bunch up my dress in the front so the outline of my butt becomes extra visible from behind. “Is very wonderful.”
I sashay out, and as I get to the opening I send the chief a caricature of a flirty smile and a wink. Hey, they’ve never seen women before. It can’t hurt to heap it on a little.
The chief stands there with his m
outh open and his gold box still cradled in his arms.
I make my way back to Car’rakz in his forge. “The chief has very much gold. More than I saw yesterday.”
“He takes good care of the gold,” Car’rakz says, busy with his smithing.
“How long he has been chief?”
“Oh, since before my time. He was the one who got the gold production going. The treasure we saw yesterday also belongs to him, of course. But he allows it to be kept so everyone may see it and enjoy it. He’s a good chief.”
“He’s a total dirtbag and a fucking bandit who’s screwing this whole tribe over so badly it might never recover,” I say, smiling brightly.
“Alien speech,” Car’rakz sighs theatrically and keeps hammering. “So mysterious.”
23
- Car’rakz -
I work on the strange object Tamara wants for three days. Some of the tribesmen come over and ask me when I will start hunting for the tribe again, since food stores are running low. I promise them I will start soon.
They’re not too concerned with the contraption I’m making after I tell them it’s an alien thing that Tamara asked for. “Something that women use,” I say airily, and after that there are no more questions. They know aliens are strange, and alien women much more so.
Certainly, Tamara is strange to me, too. But she’s not alien to me. Not at all. She’s sweet and round and small and soft, but there is strength in her. Great strength.
I made a spear with a steel tip so she can wander around the jungle on her own while I forge the iron for her contraption. It shouldn’t be that dangerous now that the dragon has chased all the Bigs and most of the Smalls away.
The danger comes from the dragon, of course. But she has promised to never go close to its lair, and I did show her how to use the spear most effectively. So I hammer on, with only a slight worry for her at the back of my mind.
“Greetings, Car’rakz!”
I glance to the side. “Chief.”
“You’re doing much work these days. And yet our food stores are empty.”
“Sometimes a man must forge steel.”
“Indeed. I myself have made many blades and… such. In my day. Before your time.”