by David Angelo
Fin thought for a second, going through his mental catalog of relaxing noises until he found the one that seemed to work for him the most. “Frogs croaking on a summer night,” he said at last. “I spent my early childhood living in an orphanage near a lake, and on summer nights, I’d let the frogs serenade me.”
“If that’s what works,” Kaw-Ki said, “try it.”
Fin picked up another arrow, fit it to his bowstring, and pulled, aligning the bottom of the arrowhead to just above the bull’s-eye. He relaxed his grasp on the bow and steadied his aim so that the arrow remained perfectly still atop his index finger. Then, when everything was set, Fin imagined a chorus of frogs croaking in unison, filling the air with their mating calls.
Fin let go. The arrow flew across the field like a free bird on a straight collision course with the target. Fin watched the arrow warp and bend on its voyage, its tail twirling in circles, the pointed head spinning like a top. In that very brief moment, which felt more like an hour, Fin was certain that the arrow was going to hit the center. He tensed and tightened the grasp on his bow, unable to move or even breathe. But in a brief, painful turn of events, the arrow veered to the left, away from the bull’s-eye, and struck the target’s outer ring. It hung on the edge, its head protruding through the rim of the disc, barely hanging on by the splinters that held it in place.
“Way to go!” Kaw-Ki exclaimed. “You hit it!”
“Yeah,” Fin said, realizing his accomplishment. While it might not have been the most impressive show of bowmanship on Edon, it was the first time Fin had managed to hit something, anything, with an arrow. “I can’t compete with your skill, but at least I managed to land a hit before sunset.”
“That all has to do with our level of experience,” Kaw-Ki replied. “You just started learning how to shoot, while I’ve been shooting since I was old enough to hold a bow.”
“That long?” Fin asked.
“Oh yes,” Kaw-Ki replied with a nod. “When you grow up despised by the outside world, you learn early on how to defend yourself.”
“Who taught you?” Fin asked.
“My father,” Kaw-Ki said. “Though he was not my real father. He was my tribe’s chieftain, a Faranchilldon like myself who would rescue abandoned and forgotten mixed-race children and raise them as his own. We, the members of the tribe, always saw him as our dad. So in a way, he was kind of like your foster father, Alto.”
Fin laughed a little at that association. “We would sometimes jokingly call him ‘Daddy’ on occasion, mostly just to mess with him.”
“Except that Alto welcomed the prospect of you moving out,” Kaw-Ki said. “Once you’re part of a Faranchilldon tribe, you’re part of it for life.”
“Are you still part of it?” Fin asked.
“No,” Kaw-Ki replied. “I ran. Despite all that my chieftain did for me, how he saved me, how he made me the worrier I am today, I needed to get away.”
“What caused that?”
Kaw-Ki ignored Fin as she drifted into what appeared to be a deep trance. Standing as rigid as a statue, Kaw-Ki’s eyes zeroed in on the target up ahead, an unflinching stare that pierced the yellow dot of the bull’s-eye. Had Fin said something wrong? Should he have asked such a personal question? It left Fin feeling uncomfortable, making him wonder if he should apologize, wait for her response, or just slowly walk away.
Then Kaw-Ki continued, “All of the youths of the tribe were told not to meddle in the affairs of ‘purebreds,’” she said. “We were to grow up in the tribe, start a relationship with someone in the tribe, and die in the tribe. According to our chieftain, the outside world was evil and corrupt, and the two races that had birthed our people would kill us if they had the chance. I believed what he said, that purebreds were the scum of Edon and the words of the church were baseless lies. It was critical for him that I believe what he taught, because I was destined to inherit the tribe’s leadership upon his death.”
“Really?” Fin asked in amazement.
Kaw-Ki nodded as she drew an arrow from her quiver and nocked it to her bowstring. “I was the chieftain’s first ‘daughter,’ and because of this, he placed me above all the other Faranchilldon children he reared. He told me himself that I was his favorite, and he took every precaution to make sure that I would be a better leader than him. It was actually pretty nice, getting all that special treatment and being granted wider authority over my peers, almost like a second leader.”
Kaw-Ki pulled her arrow back, causing the bow to warp. “But the one drawback to being your chieftain’s favorite is that you don’t have a lot of say when it comes to choosing who you love.” She relinquished her grasp and launched the arrow, nailing a second bull’s-eye.
“When I was a little older than you,” Kaw-Ki said, “my chieftain paired me up with a Faranchilldon boy from another tribe. It was an attempt to join the two communities into one cohesive unit, and it seemed like a good idea. Our tribe would have been larger and more powerful than before, and it was agreed that I would act as supreme leader over the entire sect. There was just one issue: I didn’t love the man that my chieftain wanted me to live with.”
Kaw-Ki grabbed an arrow and quickly landed another bull’s-eye, a third arrow joining its siblings in the center.
“The two of us were like oil and water,” Kaw-Ki continued. “We didn’t share the same interests, we didn’t have the same beliefs, and most of the time, we could not get along with each other. I think we only slept together twice in our entire relationship, and most of the time, we slept in different tents. We couldn’t even bear to be near each other for more than a minute.”
“What did you do?” Fin asked.
“Nothing,” Kaw-Ki said. “Shaking things up would have been a disaster for my tribe, and I just figured that going along with the plan was all for the better. The two tribes were happy, my chieftain was happy, and that was all that mattered to me back then. That is, until I met Black-Tooth…”
Something clicked in Kaw-Ki’s brain when she mentioned the love of her life’s alias, and her stern composure melted like ice. Fin could see it in her eyes, their piercing stare softening into a mellow look of bliss, while the curvatures of her mouth bent upward into a small smile. “One afternoon,” she said, “I was hunting for deer in the woods just outside of my tribe’s camp. There was nothing unusual in this expedition, that is, until I came across Black-Tooth sleeping peacefully in a hammock. By this time in my life, I had only encountered a Faranchie maybe once or twice, and those encounters didn’t go very well. In fact, none of the encounters I’d had with purebreds were positive; there were lots of insults, taunts, and cruel jeers. I expected Black-Tooth to act the same. My first instinct was to draw an arrow and shoot him before he woke up, but when I drew my bow and took aim, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Despite everything purebreds had done and said to me over the years, I just couldn’t kill him.”
“So then what?” Fin asked.
“I shot one of the ropes holding his hammock up,” Kaw-Ki said with a grin.
“Talk about a rude awakening,” Fin replied.
“I just wanted to scare him away,” Kaw-Ki said. “I vividly recall Black-Tooth getting tangled in the netting of his hammock, wrestling with it for a good five minutes or so, before finally wiggling his way free. When he got up, I pointed an arrow at his head and ordered him to go away, and that’s when things started to get strange.”
“How so?”
“Well,” Kaw-Ki started, “in all of my previous encounters with purebreds, they always seemed to act fearful when they saw me, as if I had some sort of disease, but Black-Tooth never acted that way. Instead, he told me that he meant no harm and that he was traveling with other Faranchies in what he called an underground university. By the time he was finished explaining his case, I knew that Black-Tooth was different from other Faranchies, but I still didn’t trust him. I told him to scram, but before he departed, he invited me to one of his group’s meetings and gave me the time and p
lace where I could find them.
“It was at this time that I knew for certain that this purebred was not afraid of me and seemed to respect me for what I was. I mean, if he were as fearful as the others, why would he give me the location of his secret club’s meeting? It just didn’t make sense at the time, and it stuck with me even after I returned to my tribe’s campsite that evening. I spent the rest of the day pondering the reasons and motives behind his kindness, until I decided that I needed to visit this meeting. So later that night, when everyone in my campsite was asleep, I snuck out of my tent, followed the directions Black-Tooth had given me, and showed up just in time to hear Rocklier give a speech. You see, Rocklier was the head of a secret school of sorts. They traveled across southern Edon, teaching anyone with an ear the details of the Dragon Storm and the Prophet’s Song. Black-Tooth had been affiliated with Rocklier for several years by the time I arrived, and when I did, I was nervous and stuck out like a sore thumb. But despite my being the only Faranchilldon present, everyone treated me with dignity and respect. Not a single soul turned me away, and Rocklier was more than happy to allow me to join. On that evening I didn’t feel like an outsider, something I’d never felt before in the company of purebreds.
“To say the least, I was eager to attend the next meeting and the next one and the one after that. Once a week for about three months, I would sneak out of my tent and attend one of these secret lectures, learning things about the outside world that I had never known before. As time went on, I became more and more enticed by the Dragon Storm. But it was well after I had become a regular at their get-togethers that Black-Tooth and I started to bond, and we began to make special arrangements to meet outside our small commune of friends. It was when I began seeing him on a daily basis that I began to realize that this… thing that we had was more than a friendship. In fact, what Black-Tooth and I had during those days was stronger than anything I had felt before in my life up until that time.”
Kaw-Ki let out a sigh. “Many a long night I spent with Black-Tooth in that pumpkin patch behind the abandoned barn, with nothing but the wind to keep us company.” As if realizing that she had revealed too much, Kaw-Ki snapped out of her trance and cleared her throat.
“Anyway,” Kaw-Ki said, her face blushing, “when my chieftain finally learned that I had been mingling with purebreds, he was not amused. He threatened to strip me of my status in the tribe if I continued to see Black-Tooth, but I refused to comply. After all, I had grown to understand that there was a big world outside my little tribe, a world that I wanted to explore with the love of my life at my side. I didn’t care if I wasn’t going to inherit the tribe when my chieftain died, because what would that do for me? Why would I want to be part of an isolated cult when I could exercise free will over my life’s destiny? But then…” Kaw-Ki glanced down toward the quiver at her feet, her eyes showing signs of anger and malice.
“Then what?” Fin asked.
“One evening,” Kaw-Ki said, “I overheard my chieftain talking to another member of the tribe about my little ‘problem.’” She drew an arrow from the quiver and set it in place. “He said that the only way to keep me under control was to rid themselves of the problem that was leading me astray.” She pulled the arrow back on the bowstring, farther and harder than before. “He also said that he found out where Black-Tooth and the rest of his gang were hiding…”
Kaw-Ki pulled the bowstring to its breaking point, the longbow creating a perfect C shape in her arms.
“…and that he was planning to ambush them in the night, behead Black-Tooth, and give me his head in the morning as a punishment.” The bow quaked under the stress Kaw-Ki exerted upon it, and Fin was sure that it was going to snap in half.
“I wasn’t going to let that happen,” Kaw-Ki growled, releasing the bow. Fin hardly had time to prepare before the arrow struck the bull’s-eye with an earsplitting crack, driving through the thick wood and exiting out the back. The arrow’s fletching protruded from the center of the target, nearly a foot shorter than the three previous arrows around it. A deep crack had sprouted at the point of impact and ran up the length of the target.
“Oops,” Kaw-Ki said, “sorry about that. As I mentioned earlier, archery is a calming activity for me. That’s why I was shooting arrows while I was talking, since the baggage of my past carries a lot of tension, and that last memory in particular gets under my skin.”
“We can always mend it later,” Fin said hastily. “Anyway, what happened? How’d you get away with Black-Tooth?”
“As I said before,” Kaw-Ki said, “I ran. I turned my back on the only family I ever knew and warned my new group of friends of my chieftain’s wrath. They heeded my advice and fled the area, and I went with them. I haven’t seen any of my old tribe in years, and while I often wonder where they are these days, I have no regrets for what I did.
“If I had not defected from my tribe, I wouldn’t have been there for Black-Tooth when he decided to create this resistance and recruit Rocklier and his fellow truth seekers as soldiers. And while Black-Tooth and Rocklier are the only two members of that original underground school, I feel like we’ve accomplished much and that somehow I was instrumental in its foundation. There is, however, one regret I have about my relationship with Black-Tooth.”
Fin said nothing but looked upon her with caution.
Kaw-Ki took a deep breath and frowned. “Faranchilldons possess a trait,” she said, “that affects every one of us, a result of an imbalance between our parents’ genes. You see, Fin, I can’t have children, because all Faranchilldons are born sterile. We’re like mules: girls are born dry, and boys shoot blanks. The only way my people can expand is through interspecies relationships, which is why we’re so few. That’s why my chieftain adopted orphaned Faranchilldons, because he couldn’t have children of his own. The problem is, I want children. My dream is to have a child with Black-Tooth, to raise him up as our own. But because of this damn deficiency on my part, I know that dream will never come true.”
“I’m so sorry,” Fin replied.
“Don’t be,” Kaw-Ki said, brushing the tears from her face. “It’s something I need to deal with myself, and having everyone feel sorry for me isn’t going to help. Besides, Black-Tooth promised that if we’re both alive when this conflict is over, we’re going to adopt and raise the child we’ve always wanted.”
“And I’m sure you’ll make great parents,” Fin said.
“Thanks, Fin,” Kaw-Ki said with a smile. “But for now let’s just focus on your training. We still have a long road ahead before either I or Black-Tooth is ready to adopt.”
Kaw-Ki had hardly finished talking when, without warning, a loud blast rang out across the field. Fearing that they were under attack, Fin nearly jumped out of his skin and instinctively dropped to the ground. Clutching his arms over his head, Fin expected a second blast to sound at any moment. He waited, but nothing happened. The Fist was as quiet as ever, without a single sign of crisis in the air. Opening a single eye, Fin locked sight onto the target out in the field, only this time a large hole was where the bull’s-eye used to be, and white wisps of smoke clung to the jagged edges.
“Sorry for spookin’ ya,” Fin heard Chok say. Fin looked behind him and saw Chok standing a few feet away. He was brandishing what looked like a large-caliber flintlock rifle with what looked like the head of a battle-ax fitted to the muzzle of the barrel. The ax-head faced down, the curve of its blade running along the underside of the barrel, and the nose was topped with a bayonet-like spike. Velvety white smoke wafted from the barrel’s maw.
“Damn it, Chok!” Kaw-Ki shouted. “What in the name of the Elder is wrong with you?”
“I said sorry,” Chok replied. “I only wanted to test out my new invention. I call it the ax cannon. I made it from a Cullidon short rifle I stole a little while ago, along with the head of an ax that was lyin’ around, and here it is! I’ve been workin’ on it fer the last couple of months or so, and now that it’s done, I wan
ted to shoot it to see how it would do.”
“But would it have killed you to warn us beforehand?” Kaw-Ki asked. “You could’ve killed one of us!”
“Yeah,” Chok said, swinging his invention over his shoulder, “but you’re still breathin’, which means I didn’t kill you. So there, end of discussion.”
Kaw-Ki helped Fin up off the ground just as the target tipped and fell over with a thud.
“For your information, Chok,” Kaw-Ki said, “I was teaching Fin how to use a longbow. Now it looks like I need to get a new target. Thanks a lot!” Turning to Fin, Kaw-Ki continued, “Wait here. I’ll be right back with a new target, and perhaps Chok will be a little more courteous this time.”
Leaving her bow behind, Kaw-Ki turned and headed in the direction of a storage tent that was just a few yards away. When her back was turned, Chok stuck his tongue out and contorted his face in a mocking gesture.
“Come with me, Fin,” Chok said when Kaw-Ki was out of earshot. “I want to show you a little somethin’.”
“Shouldn’t we wait for Kaw-Ki?” Fin asked.
“Nah,” Chok replied. “She’s taught you enough archery for today. Now I want to show you another little invention of mine that’ll really get your heart racin’.”
“But she said to—”
“I know what she said, Fin. I ain’t deaf. Now come with me, or else I’ll stick this gun up a place where the sun don’t shine.”
Not sure whether to take Chok’s comment as a joke or as a legitimate threat, Fin obliged and followed him to a tent on the opposite end of the field. Chok seemed to sense Fin’s apprehension as they approached the tent.
“You look like a feller who’s about to be stuck on a spit and roasted alive,” Chok said. “I was only kiddin’ about that, ya know.”
“It sure sounded like you meant it,” Fin replied.
“Well, excuse me!” Chok mocked. “I swear, y’all people need to lighten up sometimes. Anyway, now that we’re at my work tent, wait here, and I’ll be back with what I want to show you.”