Fragmented

by Madeline Dyer

  “What about me?” Corin asks, a small hint of amusement in his voice.

  “Men’s clothes are dark. Neutral. Black, gray.” Nyesha shrugs. “I’ll be back in ten minutes to show you the rest of our home and get you some food, once you’ve washed. I need to feed my youngest.”

  “Thank you,” I call after Nyesha as she disappears.

  Corin turns to me. A strange smile plays across his lips, and I feel heat rushing to my face. I start to feel strange, giddy. This is just….

  Too much?

  I breathe hard, look around. We’re alone now.

  “Corin, I need to talk to you about the Seeing—”

  He cuts me off, a finger to my lips. He points at the gushing water behind us. “Talk over there, while we shower.”

  “But—”

  He shakes his head. “Less chance of anyone overhearing. We can’t be too careful.”

  No one else is in here, but there’s sense in what he’s saying. Still, as we strip our clothes off, I wonder if he has another agenda for why he wants to hold the conversation under the shower.

  Corin takes everything but his boxers off, then faces me. I’m a bit slower, and he helps me with my T-shirt as it gets caught on my matted hair. Where his fingers brush my bare skin, shivers run through me. I feel adrenaline rushing through my body, more and more. The way Corin’s looking at me makes me feel different. Dizzy.

  Corin takes my hand. “Come on.”

  We step under the crashing torrents. Warm water. No. It’s hot. Corin groans as he stretches his arms out, then shakes his head.

  A few seconds later, he looks at me. The water has plastered his hair to his forehead, makes his face look different. Stronger. The edges are harder.

  “Talk,” he says.

  I look around for a few seconds, but there really is no one else here now. The falling water throws the artificial light around, gives the effect of movement, but there’s no one watching. No one listening.

  The Dream Land warning seems so long ago now, but I still shudder as I tell Corin the bison’s exact words: Raleigh has your eyes.

  The water beats down hard on the back of my neck, and my hair feels too heavy, like it’s dragging me down.

  Corin frowns, peers at me. I see the movement in his throat as he swallows. “What does it mean? How can Raleigh have your eyes?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “But he sees what you’re seeing? Exactly what you’re seeing?” A vacant expression fills his face for a few seconds. Then he snaps out of it. “So that’s why you didn’t get out at the last stop.” He frowns. “But we ran here… You think that Raleigh could’ve recognized the scenery around here, from what you saw? That they could come here?”

  I shrug. A new jet of hot water sprays onto my back. “I don’t know. I didn’t see much of the land. Couldn’t, because of the spirits.” And it was the Turning. The land sometimes changes during the Turning, then returns to its previous state afterward. “But the Enhanced probably know it’s the Noir Lands the Zharat are in anyway.”

  But it doesn’t make me feel any better. I rub at my arms.

  “And the Noir Lands are vast,” Corin says. He stares into my eyes. A stream of water trickles down the side of his face. “Think we should tell the Zharat? Think I should tell the Zharat?” He frowns at his correction.

  I shake my head, send droplets flying. I don’t know why I do it so quickly. But there’s a certainty in me. “If it’s a problem, the Dream Land will alert me.” I hope.

  Corin nods, then runs a hand through his hair. “Right.”

  He’s trying not to look at my body. I can tell that; his eyes barely leave my face. Whether he’s doing it to be courteous to me, I’m not sure, but a part of me feels disappointed. Doesn’t he want to look at me? I look down at my own body. At my lack of curves.

  I fold my arms. Then I realize that the movement has lifted my breasts up a little in my bra. Oh Gods. I look at Corin. His pupils dilate a little, and his gaze drops for a second. Two seconds. Three.

  I look away, feel heat rush to my face. He’ll think I did that on purpose. But I didn’t. I don’t do that sort of thing. Five did, yes. She was always telling me how to stand so I look more appealing. Thrust your chest out. I can hear her voice now. And lift your head higher, show off your neck.

  “I…” Corin says. I see him swallow again, his Adam’s apple moving. “We’ve forgotten the shampoo.”

  He ducks out from under the water, runs, and gets it. The shampoo is gloopy, but kind of fibrous, probably made from a root, like the ones we created at Nbutai. We froth some up in our hands, then work it into our hair. I try my best to forget he’s here as I lather up the matted mass that is my hair, then try to wash out the suds.

  “You need more.” Corin transfers some of the shampoo into my hands from his, then works what’s left back into his hair. Our eyes meet.

  The intensity of his gaze is what gets me. Makes me stop. Makes me forget I’m covered in shampoo. Makes me just stare at him and admire how well-defined his body is. I know I’ve noticed it before, but not to this extent, not when there are shampoo suds running down his chest. His muscles look firm—so firm I want to touch them, and I’m suddenly taken with the most bizarre—and unlike me—urge to run my hands over them.

  I swallow hard, alarmed at where that thought came from. I’m not like that. My sister was. She was always talking to Keelie about sex, sharing girly giggles and gossip—but not me.

  But I’m staring at Corin now. And unexplained energy sizzles through me. The longer I observe Corin’s broad shoulders, thick torso, and muscular legs, the weaker my knees get.

  Corin stares at me.

  I blink, and water crashes into my eyes, stings a little. I am standing under running water, very nearly naked with Corin.

  Oh Gods.

  The muscles in his neck tighten visibly. He moves his lips, as if he’s going to say something, but doesn’t.

  Then he turns away.

  I stare at his back. Can see the sunburn on his shoulders. Steam rises around him. The water seems to get hotter. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m reaching my hand out toward him.

  My touch makes both of us jump. My hand, squarely in the middle of his shoulder blades. I press my palm flat against his skin. Feel the beads of water between my hand and his back move, and—

  He whirls around. “Sev.” His voice is low, far lower than I’ve ever heard. He seems to have difficulty when he tries to swallow again. His eyes widen, still on me, the desire within them obvious.

  I feel my breath catch in my throat. This moment. It’s important.

  “Sev.” He takes the smallest of steps toward me, then stops. A second later, his hands touch my shoulders.

  Tingles run through me. Before I can register anything else, his lips brush against mine.

  “Pray to Elmiro.”

  The moment Nyesha delivers us to the Zharat council meeting, hands push Corin and me to the floor, onto our knees. More hands grab my head, force me to look upward. My eyes sting under the harsh light of a lantern, and the beams are reflected from mirror shards that are arranged in a semi-circle around another doll with a hideous face. But this doll has a dagger bound to its back by a long fibrous piece of sinew, and it’s the dagger that I can’t stop looking at.

  We’re back up on the top level of the Zharat caves now, apparently at the end of a tube that didn’t make it out of the mountain, but the lava still drained away.

  “Pray to Elmiro, the God of Security. Pray to him. Pray to him now,” Manning barks the words at us.

  Elmiro? I frown, it’s that name again, the one I’ve heard a few times before from the Zharat… And Elmiro is a God? The realization weighs heavy on me. I’ve never heard any of the Divine Ones’ names before. No one in Rahn’s group knew them, and I didn’t think there was anyone who still did. We thought the knowledge and the names from the ancient culture had been lost—even though we know the signs for all the Journeying Gods, w
e don’t know their names. My father once told me the Gods and Goddesses don’t mind us no longer knowing their names because they still want us—the Untamed—to win the war. They don’t mind being referred to as a collective, or the smaller group of the Journeying Gods. I remember staying up one night thinking about it, wondering if our grouping of the Gods and Goddesses meant that their powers also became a collective force, that they were no longer individuals with independent abilities.

  I turn my head as much as the hands will allow, look at Corin, see what he’s doing. A man has hold of his head too, makes him look at the mirrors and the flashes of the lantern.

  “Ask him for his protection, his safety here,” the man holding my shoulders says. He presses down harder.

  I look up at the wall, at the mirrors. The fragments are all different shapes and sizes. I swallow hard.

  “Ask him!”

  I press my lips together for a second, feel the back of my neck get hot under the man’s breaths. “I… Please give me your security, your safety.” My words get all mixed up, but the men let go of me.

  Corin mutters something similar, and then he’s free.

  We stand up slowly, look from one to another. My lips tingle, and I straighten my dark T-shirt out, so it covers the waist of my black jeans. The doll’s eyes watch me, and its gaze makes my stomach feel heavy. I only ate a little of the food that was offered after our shower—sweet flatbread and cold slices of baked yam—but now I wish I hadn’t.

  “You must learn our customs and fit in,” Manning says, appearing from behind the other men. He gestures for us to sit down.

  We do, cross-legged on the floor. Corin’s knee touches mine. The other men—eight of them—sit with us, making a circle around the center of the room where there are coals and what looks like a metal bin of ashes. But they’re stone cold, I can see that, and I remember Nyesha’s words about how it’s too dangerous to have a fire here, and wonder why they’re here at all.

  “That means no more being alone together,” Manning says. “Nyesha should not have left you to shower alone.”

  “What?” Corin turns his head fast. “We’re together, Sev and I. Of course we can be alone if we want to.”

  But several Zharat men shake their heads. I sit up a little straighter, get a sour taste on the tip of my tongue. I try to rub it off, against the back of my front teeth, but the bad flavor only spreads. And it keeps spreading, until it’s all that I can perceive.

  “These be our rules. It will upset the Gods if you disobey. If they be upset, they’ll activate our Fire Mountain as punishment. We cannot have that,” Manning says, looks at me, then Corin. “You ain’t married. You mustn’t be alone together. Seven’s already above the age of marriage. We cannot have unmarried women here.”

  “All our women need to make babies. We must continue our people,” another man says.

  I clutch my arms to my chest, stare at him, feel my eyes widen until they hurt. I’m glad I’m sitting down already—that way I can’t fall.

  Manning nods. “We will hold your welcoming ceremonies tomorrow, make you Zharat officially. Two days later, Seven will marry the strongest warrior who fights for her.”

  I go cold, try to speak, try to form words, but my mouth won’t work. Nothing will. I can’t—I look from Manning to the next man. And they’re—they’re serious.

  “What?” Corin slams his fist down onto the rock floor.

  “You can fight for her,” Manning says. “But you won’t get her. Seven rescued us, she’s got high status now. A lot of men be talking about her already.” He pauses. “But, man, you may take as many wives as you wish, so long as you win them. We have a number of girls turning fourteen within the next year who’ll all be eligible.”

  “Fourteen?” Corin exclaims.

  I stare at the Zharat blankly, my hands limp on my thighs. I’m still stuck on the Seven will marry the strongest warrior who fights for her part of the conversation. I turn to Manning, watch as he clasps one of his braids between his thumb and forefinger.

  “This is not right.” There’s so much emotion in my voice—raw emotion—that my words shake. I feel sick, feel my insides squeezing together.

  Manning just shrugs. “It’s our way, woman. And it’s us who be the Untamed who’ve survived; ain’t that saying something? We need to produce children quickly. This be the best and most effective way to do it.”

  Corin stares at me, reaches across, grabs my hand. His eyes narrow as he turns back to Manning. “Seven is not marrying one of your men. She’s with me.”

  Manning shakes his head. A few of the men around him glare at us. “No, man, she will marry the strongest man who fights for her, and she will bear his children.”

  My mouth dries, my chest tightens. Tightens until it’s too tight, and then the corners of my vision start to blur and darken.

  “But,” Corin says. He looks around for a few seconds, then reaches for my hand. No. Not my hand—my stomach. He places his palm there, makes me jump. He’s shaking. “She’s already pregnant. With my child. I told you, we’re together. To all intents and purposes, we are married.”

  I freeze, feel pressure in my ears. I want to turn, look at Corin, but I can’t move. His hand is still on my stomach, but his fingers seem uncertain.

  Manning’s nostrils curl. “Warriors bring up other men’s children all the time. Makes no difference. But, with you as a father, I pity that child. He’d be spineless.”

  “What?” Corin pulls his hand back from my stomach, clenches it into a fist. His knuckles go white, so white that they seem to stand out more in this light.

  “It was not you who came to our aid.” Manning turns and points at me. “It was Seven. A child might inherit her bravery, but more likely yours. Bravery is usually a male trait. In any case, man, I know you’re lying. She is not with child. You would’ve said before now if she was.”

  I squirm, but the movement hurts my right shoulder. I’m sweating, sweating so much that I’ll probably need another shower straight after this. A proper shower though. I didn’t clean my body as much as I should have because Corin was there. I felt self-conscious. And I need to get all this grime off.

  Corin shakes his head. “This is ridiculous.”

  “Meeting’s over.” Manning gets up. “And the Turning’s still going on—they can last for days here—so don’t think about leaving unless you wanna die. You’d never make it on your own.” But then he steps nearer, and there’s a darker edge to his voice. “In any case, man, we can’t have anyone out there knowing the location of our den. You show any signs of attempting to escape, and I’ll kill you. Both of you, and Esther.”

  Suddenly, all eight men draw out long daggers. The flickering torchlight glints off them. My eyes widen. I then realize that neither Corin nor I have our weapons now—they’ve gone. Lost in the Turning? Or did the Zharat take them before then, when we were sleeping? I can’t remember.

  I swallow hard, trying to keep my eyes on all the knives at once. It’s difficult, makes my head hurt.

  “We’re going.” Corin stands up, pulls me up with him. My legs shake.

  The Zharat move, daggers pointing at us.

  “We’re not leaving the lava tubes, don’t worry.” Corin glares at them. “We’re just leaving this space. You said the meeting was over, did you not?” There’s a cool tone to his voice, a tone that makes me shiver.

  Manning nods, and the Zharat men let us leave—surprisingly. Part of me expected them to complain about us going off together, but they don’t.

  I don’t know where we’re going, but somehow Corin seems to. He marches us forward, through the doorway with purpose.

  “Don’t worry,” Corin says in an undertone, his arm around me. “We’ll find a way around this. We will. I will. For the Gods’ sake! You’re not marrying some creep.”

  A woman—also heavily pregnant—shows Corin to an empty room. Or rather, she calls it a room. But it’s just a section of a wide tube that’s been screened of
f with furs, and there are many other ‘rooms’ either side. The partitioned area itself isn’t that big, and I can hear voices—mainly children laughing and screaming—nearby.

  I run my hands along the furs as I follow Corin in. It’s dark in here, but a little natural light filters in, and there’s a torch about ten feet away on the other side of the fleece partition that sends some light in here.

  The pregnant woman stands in the doorway for a few seconds, looking at me. I know without asking she’s waiting for me to follow her. Even though Manning let us leave the meeting together, his words ring in my head, and I glance at Corin. I’m not supposed to be alone with him.

  “Sev’s staying with me,” Corin says, sitting down. “You can go.” His tone is a little more forceful than I’d have liked.

  The woman blinks a couple of times, opens her mouth as if she’s going to speak, then changes her mind. We listen to the slaps of her bare feet on the rocky floor as she leaves.

  “It will be all right,” Corin says.

  He reaches toward me, then pulls me onto the ground, next to where he’s sitting. Someone’s put together a mattress—of sorts: a wad of broad leaves, compacted together so it’s a couple of inches thick. It’s the only noticeable thing in the room, other than a toilet pot.

  Corin’s arm goes around me, and his fingers play with my hair over my shoulder. I start to feel strange, kind of dizzy, sitting next to him, so close—after that shower session—but I haven’t got the energy to do anything now. I yawn.

  “Do you think Esther will be all right?” I can’t help the wobble in my voice.

  I look up at Corin. He stares straight ahead, chews on his bottom lip for a few seconds.

  “Manning said we can see her after their healers have done their work—he was insistent about that, not before. But he doesn’t know how long that’ll be.” He moves his arm from around me, then stretches back on the mattress, groans a little. “I told you the Noir Lands are bad, that we shouldn’t have come here.”

  My shoulders hunker a little. He’s right. Corin didn’t want to come here. But neither of us knew this would happen.