Althea knew full well why everyone in the Badlands wanted to own her.
When she looked up, Nalu stood over her with Jake in his arms. The leg had shattered, but the older hunter’s quick reaction had spared the boy a missing limb. As Nalu set him down, the youngest hunter scooted away as if she would devour him.
“The Prophet will not harm you.” Nalu held the squirming lad down with one hand.
She made a sad face and radiated calm. As the trembling left him, her grimy, blood-soaked fingers touched his wounded leg and she concentrated. He tensed as his muscles undulated, rebuilding themselves. When he saw his skin seal without a mark, he gasped.
“They guard their kill.” Nalu pointed at the pig carcass. “They have fed from it, it is unsafe for us to eat. We must move.”
“The bonedogs hunt too close to us,” said Palik, glaring at Althea. “This is omen.”
Den sat up, his attempt to speak stalled by a loud gurgle from his gut. Althea giggled.
“Making hurts go away makes hungry.” She offered a weary smile, fatigue evident in her voice, and mended Nalu’s superficial wounds.
Jake got to his feet, stumbling as soon as he put weight on his leg. Nalu caught him, lowering him back to the ground. She looked from Den to Jake, and then up at Nalu.
“The hurt will be sore for a time, maybe an hour. Please let them rest.”
Nalu shook his head. “Understood… but not here. We must distance ourselves from their food before they return in greater numbers.”
He carried Jake and gathered the others. Althea stood and offered a hand to Den to help him up. A chill spread through her when she noticed the alpha bonedog gone. Where once had been a body, threads of shadow seeped into the trees, black wisps the only trace of its presence. She pulled Den away from the spot as fast as she could coax him to go.
They followed Nalu for a while before he decided to let them rest at a spot where an old crumbling wall faded back into the earth. After arranging the group in a defensive circle, he set Jake down against a fallen log. Other Seekers migrated further south, away from her. She sighed, watching Nalu ruffle the boy’s hair. The brotherly affection they had was something no one dared share with her. They even cringed away from her healing caress, enduring it only as long as it took to mend them.
Not one of them wanted to touch her, much less hug or carry her around―except Den of course. He wandered over to where she had flopped, sitting next to her in the shadow of the tiny wall. An arm around her shoulders pulled her close. Astonished, she held her hands to her chest and leaned into him. The others thought him crazy for being around such a creature as her. Even Braga sounded dismayed his son chose her; the talk among the elders hinted at their expectations Den would ask permission for the joining ritual soon.
Althea grinned at the thought of joining; she did not know what it meant, but she could see in Den’s mind he wanted it, and it felt comforting.
“What are you smiling at?” He glanced over, swallowing a bit of dried meat so he could talk.
She helped herself to a piece of it and tugged at her ragged shirt. “Braga’s face when you gave me this.”
“Yala is still angry.”
Gnawing on the hard ration, she gave him a mute inquiring look.
“Before we found you, father had set her aside for me because I had not chosen.”
Althea looked off to the right, muttering. “She is pretty… her hair is so long and beautiful.”
“You’re pretty, too.” He poked her in the side.
She scrunched her face up at him and squirmed. “I’m too pale.”
“You are of a different tribe. Still beautiful… and Yala’s eyes don’t make the night run away.”
A blush settled on her face for an instant before it went white. “If I wasn’t… I mean if I was normal…”
“I’d still want you for a wife.”
“What?” She shot upright and stared at him, a hint of a tremble in her. “They said we were to be joined, not that I was to be wifed!”
He took her hand, eyebrows drifting closer. “What do you mean? Getting joined means you are my wife.”
Althea shivered, her eyes reddened, and she rubbed at a lump in her throat. “I thought it meant something nice.”
Den fixed her with an unblinking stare. “What do you think a wife is?”
Her head pitched down, she cried. “I have seen slaves get wifed.”
He beckoned her close again. “It is not the same. We are not raiders.”
“So if we are joined, you won’t wife me?” She sniffled back tears, looking at him.
“Someday you’ll want to.” He looked up with an impish smile. “I hope.”
Althea glared with confusion and peeked into his mind. His feelings seemed quite different than what she expected. Getting wifed was the most evil thing she had ever seen. She would never allow that to happen to her. However, the contents of Den’s thoughts looked altogether different; and a little embarrassing.
Relieved, she settled back against him. “Would you like me even if I wasn’t the Prophet?”
“Uh huh.” His adrenaline had worn off, leaving him sounding about ready to sleep. “Maybe… As long as you still had glow-eyes.”
He laughed when she returned the side poke.
“I like it here.” Her fingers traced lazy circles across her bare stomach.
She exaggerated. Den she liked, the rest of the village not so much. However, it was better than being a captive of killers and crazies.
“Den?” She lifted her head, waiting for him to look at her. “Why are they scared of me? All I want is to help everyone.”
“They fear the stories.” He brushed a finger across her forehead, moving her hair off her face. “The old one says darkness will follow you.”
Althea stared down, focusing on the fleck of green rock at the center of his chest. “Bad people always take me.” She cuddled closer, reaching an arm across to play with the pendant.
Adoring the feel of warm skin on her cheek and his breath on her head, she enjoyed a sense of contentment.
He smiled, watching the bit of agate move through her fingers. “They want what you can do. Stop giving medicine and they will leave you alone.”
She looked up with a gasp. “I can’t let people hurt.”
“If you had to choose ‘tween bein’ with me or bein’ the Prophet, what would you do?”
“I…” She stared. It was impossible to balance her own happiness against the need of so many people. Her gaze fell to the ground; she could not give voice to her answer.
“Time to go.” Nalu’s shout fell on them both like a bucket of cold water. “Watch her. Make sure she does not run.”
“You know the stories,” said Den, gesturing at him. “The Prophet does not run. She has promised.”
Althea studied her lap.
They relaxed a few minutes more as Nalu went about rousing the others back into motion. Althea sat up, hiding her face so he could not see the deepening red around her eyes. The eldest of their group had just punched a hole in her bubble, reminding her she was the tribe’s possession and not a member. Den ambushed the exposed skin at her sides and continued to tickle her after she leapt to her feet, until she grabbed his hands. Out of breath from laughing, she smiled.
He winked over a mischievous grin. “I like this face more.”
The others gawked at him as if he tried to play fetch with a wild tiger. Den did not react to them, holding her hand as they walked at the rear of the expedition toward the Lost Place. As the group marched on through the woods, the others cast occasional worried glances their way. Althea ignored their frowns, adrift in the dream of a girl being with a boy she liked, free of the burden of her gift.
In time, the trees parted to reveal an expanse of strange stone obelisks dotted with scattered glimmers of reflected sunlight. Flat strips of jet rock covered the land that stretched out in front of her, between rows of one-branched metal trees with bizarre bulbous pods. S
ome of the immense stone spires had split open, revealing hollows inside with dozens of separate spaces. Althea shivered, thinking of the size of the wasps that must have built such nests.
Cool dirt and grass gave way to hot black stone. Althea jumped back, giving Den a frightened glance. The boys laughed at her reaction to the paving, all except for Nalu, who glared with annoyance. With Den coaxing her, she stepped cautiously over the foreign surface and stared in awe at where the rising buildings cut apart the sky. She had heard stories of the Lost Place, but had never imagined how big or how frightening it was.
“Put her in there.”
She jumped at Nalu’s sudden command. The man pointed at a large green creature standing by a crumbling wall where a patch of rough weeds forced their way up through cracks.
“Inside that beast?” The expression of utter revulsion on her face made everyone laugh.
Nalu grabbed her wrist. “It is not alive. It is a driving machine of the before-time. It is a war box that will protect you until we return.”
“We shouldn’t leave her alone.” Den tried to interpose between them.
Nalu was much stronger, and shoved him aside. “She will slow us down.”
Althea glared as he dragged her along. “Because I’m a girl?”
He whirled on her once they had reached the shadow of the old machine. “No. You are not a Seeker. The Lost Place is dangerous, and you will get hurt. You cannot kill without hesitation; you are a burden here.”
Den clasped her other hand. “We can protect her.”
Althea looked back and forth between man and boy pulling on her arms, a wishbone in the middle of a tug of war.
“If you are fool enough to enter the Ritual of Joining with her, then you can do with her what you will. For now, she belongs to all of us, and I will not be blamed for losing her.”
Nalu pulled the large hatch on the vehicle down. The screech of protesting metal made her shiver.
Had it opened fully, it would have formed a ramp, though age and debris caused it to stick half way. Unlike the driving machines she had seen among the raiders, this one had many small metal wheels wrapped in a band of interlocking pads. The windowless sides looked thick and solid. Nalu tugged at her wrist, hauling her up onto the ramp.
Den grabbed his arm. “Be gentle with her.”
Nalu ignored him, putting a hand on her backside and shoving her forward.
Althea skidded on the steel floor, falling into a hard bench seat along one side of the wall as the heavy door slammed closed behind her. From the muffled shouts outside, she assumed her yelp started a fight between Den and Nalu. She ran to the hatch, tugging at the inside handle with a two-fisted grip, unable to move it.
Althea gave up trying to open the door and yelled. “Stop!” She slapped at the wall as she cried louder. “Please don’t hurt him.”
Her voice echoed to silence inside the metal box, leaving only the sound of her breathing. She had delivered her warning, and saved him from the dog. The dread of this great enclosure filled her, and she stared down at the floor. Fear of what Nalu would tell the elders about her leaving the village brought shivers.
If it kept Den alive, she would tolerate the cage a little longer.
lthea stared at the wall of the metal beast, listening to the silence outside. Whatever had happened between Den and Nalu ended as soon as it began. She let her hands slide down the painted surface, arms falling limp at her sides. After a sniffle, she surveyed her surroundings and sighed. The massive ramp had closed out the sun’s light, but not its heat. Already, trickles of sweat ran down the backs of her legs. The interior of the vehicle had faded from drab green to tones of grey.
That meant it was dark.
Through an opening on the opposite wall, she spotted the outline of what looked like a person in a seat. The glow in her eyes flickered as her thoughts reached out, but heard nothing. Wearing an apologetic frown, she tiptoed through the rear chamber and grasped the frame of a door leading to a small, isolated space. She squeezed past the seat into the front section, coming face to face with the former driver. A skeleton slumped in the seat; the decaying rot of several centuries wrapped about the bones. He had been dead so long the runoff of his decomposition felt like thick, spongy dust underfoot. Despite the gruesome occupant, the air held only the scent of metal and ancient fabric. Ancient bloodstains spattered the controls, the cause of death as obvious as the bullet holes in the cranium.
Althea frowned, patting him on the knee. “I’m sorry.”
She slid into the space to the right of his seat, prodding and tweaking various buttons and switches looking for one that might let her out of the sweltering prison. When poking and twisting failed, she resorted to slapping and pounding, with little improvement in the result, save for the amount of dust in the air. Grumbling, she edged past the corpse, careful not to disturb it, and crept toward one of the two benches in the rear chamber. For a moment, she stared at the dingy seat, wondering which irregular blotches were blood and which were less awful to think about. Overcome with resignation, she spun around, sighed again, and plopped down.
The old cushions spat a torrent of particles as she fell onto them. There was little to do now but wait for the Seekers to return. Althea leaned back against the warm metal wall, closing her eyes and counting the beads of sweat trickling down her back, stomach, and legs. Dread that the Seekers would not return at all teased at the edge of her mind, but for now, she kept it at bay.
A tickle quite unlike a sweat droplet crept across the instep of her left foot. She sat up and blinked at a two-inch long beetle which had crawled up to perch upon her. Althea lifted her leg, staring at the confused motions of the bug as it went from side to side, searching for solid ground.
“Are you trapped in here, too?”
When she lowered her foot, it scurried off and vanished under the bench on the other side. After sitting straight with her hands in her lap for an uncountable number of minutes, she shifted through a series of positions, searching in vain for one that offered any degree of comfort. Once sitting became intolerable, she got up and paced about. The faint motion of air provided an almost unnoticeable improvement over the stagnant stillness. Her steps squished and slipped upon the floor, even the soles of her feet were sweating. Raiders sometimes put disobedient slaves in a sun box.
This was cruel of them. To leave me in such a place.
The beetle emerged near the ramp, wandering an erratic circle.
She squatted and reached out to pluck the tiny explorer from the floor. “Do you think Nalu wanted to punish me for leaving the village?”
Had it any opinion on the matter, the beetle kept mum as it crawled over her hand and through her fingers. She released it and stood, unsure if she felt guilty for defying them or worried that the dogs had not been the substance of the foreboding feeling which had kept her awake.
Her worry built for him. Several minutes of nervous pacing only made her fear grow. With a scream, Althea launched herself against the metal and shoved futilely at the rear hatch, succeeding only in creating dustless streaks across the floor as her feet slipped backward. Perspiration ran in her eyes, and she wiped her face on the chest-cloth to regain the ability to see.
A spike of worry intensified without warning or explanation. She scowled at the immovable ramp, too furious to cry and too sad to scream. A quick look about yielded nothing of use and reduced her to pounding both fists on the ramp and screaming for help.
Out of breath, Althea stared at the wet fist-shaped marks she’d left. Attacking the rear door was useless. She trudged to the hatch leading to the forward compartment, pouting at the skeleton and the worthless buttons and switches. To the right of the dead man, a second seat cushion was folded up against the wall. She pushed it down into place and sat, staring at her dirt-streaked arms. Time passed in silence interrupted by the flicking of her finger at the rotting canvas beneath her. She pulled her legs up, heels on the edge of the seat cushion, and hugged her knees
to her chest. For a minute or six, she stared in silence at the skeleton.
“If they get hurt, I’ll starve in here.” She looked past her dangling toes to the floor, studying the spots of sweat appearing in the dust. “I’d rather get shot like you, in the head. I bet it did not hurt much. At least I won’t be alone when I die.”
His cobweb-packed skull met her weak smile with an impassive stare.
The heat made her woozy. “I shouldn’t try to escape. If they think I’m running away, they won’t trust me again.”
Shapes crept around the dead man as she examined her surroundings; the castoff light from her eyes stretched tiny buttons into large shadows. One droplet of sweat fell from the tip of her nose, landing on her thigh.
A wisp of doubt traced ephemeral fingers across her shoulders, causing her to look up. “I have a bad feeling. What if Den is still going to get hurt?”
Nalu’s words echoed in her mind, and she wondered if she would be able to kill a person to save his life if she had to. The thought rode in on a wave of nausea. The salty flavor of sweat intruded on her thoughts; she felt light-headed enough to expect the driver to answer her.
“She’s in there.” A man’s voice, muted by inches of armor plating, interrupted the sound of her labored breathing.
Althea gasped, staring at the dead man. “You can’t talk. You’re dead.”
A millipede as big around as her thumb emerged from its nose, crawling over the jaw and into the folds of his old camouflage uniform. Movement outside snapped her out of her fog. She drew an anxious breath and lowered her feet to the floor. Hands clenched the cushion on either side of her and she held herself completely still. Unfamiliar voices murmured. Someone knew she was inside this thing; the sounds of tapping at the rear hatch proved they tried to get to her. She peered around the partition separating the driver compartment from the back, momentarily pleased by the thought of being kidnapped again, as it would get her out of this intolerable oven.
Prophet of the Badlands (The Awakened Book 1) Page 2