Tribal Dawn: Mordufa: Volume Three Read online

  Zura looked over her shoulder. Vakaar was approaching. No, please don’t draw attention to yourself. He took something out of his pocket and nudged Zura out of the way. The guards swore and went to dive on him, away from their Chief. Jocelin stared at him in disbelief but called the warriors back when she saw the leaf spread between his fingers.

  Vakaar tilted the helm and shoved the leaf in Atsu’s mouth. Without saying a word, he walked back to his home. Before those pinning Atsu could comment, the Chief relaxed. His swearing lessened. His movements became fluid instead of rigid. Nyah could get to work with ease.

  Zura noticed her mother staring at Vakaar. That was the last thing she needed on his first day here, especially when it was Zura who hired him.

  “What did he give him?” Zura asked.

  “An eastern herb,” Jocelin said low. She bent down when Atsu stopped wriggling and removed his helm. His round, oak-brown eyes stared at her, glazed. The grey in his dreadlocks was covered in speckles of dirt. He tried to give her a roguish grin, but with the effects of the herb, it was a stupid one instead. “You’re a foolish man, Atsu.” Jocelin held his hand.

  “Shadow cunts were in our borders,” Atsu managed to say in a weak, dry voice. “What’s this bitter shit? I can’t feel anything.”

  “It wasn’t me who gave it to you.” Nyah cut around where the arrow had embedded, removing splinters. “It was an eastern man. He arrived earlier today.”

  “Daughter and the Chief he’s helped already,” one of the guards commented.

  “Helped with what?” Jocelin turned to Zura, head tilted. She ran her fingers over Atsu’s torso, nails grazing like claws.

  Nyah provided a welcome interruption before Jocelin could interrogate Zura on the incident. She told her sister of the stranger arriving in the day and how he was residing in the tribe for a short period, gracing Zura with the perfect opportunity to slip away. She strolled out of sight behind the hut, following the columns of ancient trees and saplings hidden behind the fence. The trickling lake waters had calmed her since she was a little girl.

  A small rocky hill that oversaw the entire tribe paralleled the water. The lake glistened with the reflection of Luaani’s luminous orb. The midnight frogs croaked, and the crickets chirped in the reeds. The river that spilled from it travelled further than the tribesmen had gone in their lifetimes. The grass was cold and tickled through her silken shoes.

  She picked up a bough and prodded the river. The ripple pushed the leaves on it to the side and disturbed the pool of fish beneath. Zura crouched down and drew her finger across the whirlpool-silver surface.

  “You scared me!” she yelped, seeing her mother’s twinkling round eyes behind her, dropping the stick into the lake.

  “I didn’t mean to, child,” her mother said. Her elegant silks draped around her arm, speckles of her mate’s blood on her wrists. She turned to the moon, arm outstretched and dropped a scattering of leaves and petals onto the shining water face. “Blessing for Luaani for saving your father from harm, again.”

  Zura smiled and watched as the pieces broke apart and drifted down the stretch, a couple of feathers taking flight in the slight breeze. “He mentioned Shadow warriors.”

  “Of course, he did.” Jocelin linked her daughter’s arm and walked along the bank. “They’re getting cocky and desperate. They’re starving under Dia’s rule.”

  “I overheard Father say that one of the prisoners spoke of cannibalism behind their walls the other night.”

  “That is true. Dia has spent his money on foolish risks. He tells his people that he is doing it for them and vengeance for his family’s name, yet he fails to deliver what he promises.” Jocelin stopped beside an unlit torch and sparked it alive. “There is no money and no food. Now his squandering ways are being saved for an army.”

  “An army?” Zura asked, concerned. “That means he’ll come here, won’t he?”

  Jocelin smirked and gazed at the trees. A low hiss and Zura stepped back several paces. Her mother traced her hand along the tree trunk to the leathery scales. She admired the snake with fond memories before walking on. “He wouldn’t be able to take out our armies, not without facing the wrath of the Sun tribe for breaking the pact. A hundred years he must wait to attack. I’m yet to find a man who can live that long. The best he will deliver is slaves to breed with his famished people. It’s his only way out now.”

  Zura listened to her mother’s words. They slowly strolled between trees, back to the village path. She looked at the pool of dried blood on the floor. “How is Father?”

  “He is as well as can be expected. No doubt cursing at Nyah, or confessing his love for her like the last time he had a powerful herb.” She grinned at Zura’s confusion. “He thought Nyah was me. He gave her a poem he invented on the spot, better than the ones he has given me when drunk.”

  “Father could never write a poem.” Zura laughed.

  “Oh, he tries, child. He tries when under a deluding influence.” Jocelin sighed. She cupped Zura’s face in her cold hands, beads from her bracelets rolling down her elbow. “Things are changing. We are getting older and not made from what we used to be. Soon, it’ll be down to you four to rule while your father and I bask in Luaani’s heavens.”

  “Don’t speak like that, Mother. You and Father have years left in you. I can’t help but worry when he takes a hit, especially with his short temper.” Her mother’s gaze was intense, reading into her facial expressions. She’d done it as far back as she could remember, making it impossible to escape with white lies. “Have you heard anything from Tau?”

  Jocelin’s eyes winced as if in pain. She drew her hands down and shook her head. “Nothing. The last I heard was of the eastern war. He was waiting to be deployed. I hope in my heart they don’t let him go, but from his wording, I don’t believe he has any choice in the matter. Mala is returning home in a year’s time. His family paid. Your father isn’t happy about it.”

  “Can we not pay for Tau?”

  “We have the money, but Tau won’t let us. Believe me, Zura, I have asked him a thousand times to consider it now he has had training. He wanted to become a warrior for our tribe when he left. I have to respect he was a child at fifteen, and he’s been in the north for nearly half of his life and all of his adulthood. I guess he has ties there now.” Jocelin feigned a painful smile.

  The pair arrived at the door to the hut and walked inside. They crossed the trokhosi hall, stopping outside Zura’s bedroom.

  “I won’t be sleeping tonight. I shall be by your father’s side until dawn.” Jocelin yawned and kissed Zura on the cheek. “I shall let you know if anything happens.”

  “He should be fine, though, shouldn’t he?” Zura asked, opening her door.

  “Yes. I’m more troubled about your footing. If that stranger hadn’t been there to watch your step, it could have been you lying on that bed.” Jocelin let go. “Luaani guide your dreams, child.”

  - CHAPTER ELEVEN -

  It was evening in the Sky-and-White tribe. Karasi and Nuru were on the floor, one patching clothes and the other folding them neatly onto a pile. Preye was asleep in his rocking chair, snoring away. Masika was in Subira’s room, laying out her clothes for the next morning.

  Preye’s snores boomed in the hut. Subira covered her ears. “Why is he so loud?”

  Masika laughed and shut the door. She grabbed the brush and sat behind Subira, helping to get rid of the tangles in her ringlets. “I wish I knew.”

  Subira sat, her legs crossed on the bed, too giddy to sleep. Every year before her Leraawla, it had been the same since she was three. She’d struggle to rest for excitement. In the morning, her mother would wake her before dawn to get the ingredients to bake her cake for the evening.

  “I can't wait for tomorrow, Mother,” she squeaked and rocked too hard, ripping out a tangle.

  “Keep still, Subira!” Masika said. “Ten years old, already. I remember when you lay on my chest after you were born like it was yes
terday.”

  Subira looked in the corner mirror to her mother. “Are you sure we can get the cake this year with all the shortages of food?”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll make sure you get one, no matter what.” She spun Subira around. Since she received the letter, she hadn’t told anyone its contents. Nuru, Karasi and Preye had been none the wiser. She tossed in the night and constructed plans to get out of it. Warriors were closing in on her, putting her under pressure from Yissia, though he hadn’t said anything other than what she was first told. She pushed aside Subira’s curls. The pain in her chest set her lip trembling.

  Subira frowned, “Why are you sad?”

  “I’m not sad. I can’t believe how quickly time has gone by.” Masika dabbed her eyes and smiled. “Subira, in the future, what would you want your life to be like?”

  She slid down and wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck. She smiled sweetly, dimples full of innocence and a dreamy gaze glossing her golden eyes. “Erm…”

  “How would your hut look and what would you do? Dancing, weaving, farming…” Masika sniffed.

  “I’d like a home like ours. I think. Maybe a bit more colour. I suppose I’d have a mate.”

  Masika raised her eyebrow, sternly. “I thought you didn’t like boys and never wanted to be bound to one?”

  “I like some. I’d only want one to have a binding ceremony. Then the tailors can make me a special dress. He’d work as a warrior so I could learn to write properly. Not just my name but full stories.”

  “He’d have to be a high-earning warrior to hire an elder who can teach to write that much,” Masika said. The sickening churn wasn’t disappearing. “I can’t wait to see the ceremony.” She pulled the furs from Subira’s bed so she could climb inside. “I’ll make sure he gets you the best dress the world has ever seen.”

  “It’s alright, I’ll make sure he does that.” Subira grinned and tucked herself in. “I’ll see you in the morning, Mother.”

  Masika kissed Subira’s curls and whispered, “Luaani guide your dreams, Subira.” Something in the words choked her. She left quickly. Her other two children carried on doing their chores. A pounding in her chest overtook her. The dread was more than she could stomach and the heat of the flames was overpowering.

  “Are you alright, Mother?” Nuru asked, cocking his head behind a pile of clean and patched clothes.

  “Yes. Yes, I need some air.” She snuck across the room and went outside, the full breeze of autumn hitting her. Her legs wobbled as she strode down the narrow alleys to the main road through the village. The air was cooling on her flushed face. The breeze brought smells of cooked soups and stews from other huts. She hugged herself and stepped onto the main path.

  With an overpopulated tribe, when it was quiet, it felt unnatural. Warriors’ leather boots squelched in the mud in the distance. Owls hooted in the trees. Stalls, huts and wheelbarrows were empty. She took slow steps to calm her racing heart. Dizziness swarmed,and mental images of the letter rocked her footing. Maybe it was a hoax. Maybe someone wanted to scare her. It wasn’t like Dia to wait on his promises.

  Footsteps behind her drew closer. It aggravated her panic.

  “Maha,” a guard said, firmly grabbing her arm.

  She glared at the warrior. Her anxiety rose. Her blood was pumping. The tingling in her legs that she got every time she was in danger pleaded for action. She shook her head and went to scream. A hand clasped her mouth. Another pair of arms pulled her back. She hit out, kicking with muffled screams, hoping her children or Preye would hear.

  The men threw her to the ground and wrapped a cloth around her mouth, tightening it at the back of her head. She tried to bite their fingers and boot between their legs, with no luck. She bawled painfully, tears flooding her face. They overpowered her, binding her hands together.

  The guards didn’t say another word. She fought every step and prayed to the moon. No one else was out, and even if they were, no one would have cared in this part of the tribe. Would a stranger risk losing their second chance at life to save her?

  She dug her heels into the ground, trailing dirt between her toes, and tried to barge into the men as they dragged her. They were too strong. The Chieftain’s hut came into view. She didn’t stop the fight. Each lit torch they went past put her further away from her children, away from help. They reached the doors. Another warrior helped to keep her under control.

  They pulled her across the room, between rows of empty chairs and tables from earlier feasts. There was still a strong aroma of baked bread. She desperately looked at the trophies of swords, skulls and armour on the walls and attempted another charge into their ribs. This couldn’t happen.

  Behind the two prestigious seats at the back of the room, another door deeper into the interior. She was shoved into a narrow, dark hallway with doors dimly visible either side. She heard prisoners, fed herbs to make them sleepy in the night, whining like caged animals.

  One door opened. Her chest pounded and head whirled. She had to get out. She needed space. They threw her inside. A guard removed her gag before kicking her in the ribs. She screamed and ran to the closing door. It slammed shut in her face.

  “YISSIA!” she yelled, her shoulder banging the door. “Let me out! Please! Don’t bring my children into this! Let me say goodbye!” She sobbed. A guard hammered at her to be quiet. She took several paces back into the blackness, not daring to grow used to where she was. “It’s my daughter’s Leraawla! Yissia, I’m begging you, let me out of here! I shall leave as soon as her Leraawla is over!”

  “Shut up in there!” the guard yelled and smashed the door.

  The odour of bodily fluids in the boxed cell hit her nose. It took her back to that place, back to the Shadow tribe when she was sixteen. Jasari was the one who released her after she bit his daughter's ear. Her breath wheezed, the dread climbing high. The black walls were closing in with nowhere to run. Spots swam before her eyes. She was going to drop. The spinning didn’t cease.

  A choking pressure made Masika cry, her breathing uncontrollable. She was going to die. The wailing of the other prisoners rebounded in her cell. No matter what corner she hid in, there was no escape. She crouched on the ground, away from the stench, and rocked back and forth. Her legs burnt and body trembled with anticipation.

  Minutes or hours went by, no one telling her what was happening. Her anxiety didn’t ease.

  “Get the fuck off me!” a young boy protested outside, followed by a thud.

  “Nuru?!” Anger burnt her face. She bashed into the door. “Don’t touch my son, you bastards! Let him go!”

  After a couple of moments of silence, another bang. A girl wailing beneath a gag. Masika roared, “LET MY CHILDREN GO!”

  Her door clicked open. She charged into the warrior and made a break for the hall. One pulled her back. Karasi was putting up the same fight. She caught her mother’s gaze and launched forward. Masika did the same and was pinned to the ground. Her cheek pressed against the cold stone floor, she was forced to watch her daughter’s feet until she was bundled into a cell. They threw Masika back in hers, smashing her against the wall.

  Masika yelped at the pain shooting down her arm. She listened to her children resisting. “It’ll be alright, I promise you we will get out of this.”

  “What the fuck is going on?!” Nuru called.

  “I don’t know. I really don’t know.” Masika drew her eyes to the ground when a further stir of worry hit. “Where is Subira? How did they get you?”

  “She’s at home. We got worried when you didn’t come back and came to find you. Next thing, these bastards jump on Kara and then on me.” She could hear Nuru’s heavy breathing, full of as much angst as her. “Mother, we’re not going back, are we?”

  Masika fought back the tears and swallowed hard. She couldn’t allow herself to believe that’s what this was. Yissia wouldn’t do that. He hadn’t given her a deadline. She opened her mouth. She couldn’t lie to him or Karasi.
/>   “Mother?!” Nuru desperately called.

  “I… I don’t know.” Masika heard Karasi’s confused murmurs. They hadn’t removed her gag.

  “QUIET!” a warrior called and banged against metal. There was nothing they could do but wait in silence. Every time a guard patrolled past, another flutter in their blood had them hoping and dreading receiving answers.

  After a while, one of the doors opposite Masika unlocked. She heard a couple of steps, muffled calls; it was Karasi. Her tiredness disappeared, and she went to the door, yelling at them against harming her daughter. A thump followed. Another set of steps went to the next cell.

  “I’m not eating that shit!” Nuru exclaimed, scratching and banging on wood. Another smack. Masika was helpless. They couldn’t be dead. They wouldn’t kill them, surely not. That wouldn’t help anyone, especially if Yissia was afraid of Dia’s wrath.

  Footsteps approached her door. She recoiled. There, one of her nightmares stood. Tattered leather armour flooding the thin frame of two young men. The open jaw illusion on the shoulder, sewn scraps of animal teeth and a scarf covering the lower face. It was the bronze of her skin. It wasn’t Inferno. The Shadow had come to get her, and this time, there was no escape. She dropped to the ground. The Sky-and-White guards lifted her, Shadow warriors by her side. They dragged her back into the feasting room where a few more Shadow ‘men’ sat around a table, eating bread like famished animals, tearing at the crumbs that scattered the ground, the leering stench of their diseased tribe hitting Masika’s nose.

  The memory of being a teenager, the nightmares of Jasari that she thought she’d escaped, and the murders of those she loved flooded her as if giving her her own horror play. Angst arose, and the grips of the men dug into her upper arms. She saw Yissia out of the corner of her eye, sitting on a chair. He couldn’t look at her without a hint of shame; even she could read that.

  On two chairs beside the door, her children sat, slumped. They weren’t asleep but had been fed a herb that was used in traumatic operations out in the wild so they couldn’t respond. Her lip quivered at the sight of them, drooling and spaced. She glanced at the door, waiting for Subira to be thrown in.