Tribal Dawn: Mordufa: Volume Three Read online

  “Dia will be happy,” one of the Shadow men said, sending a shudder down Masika’s spine. He threw a small pouch at Yissia. “That’s for your trouble.”

  Yissia took the gold and rubbed his chin. Masika prayed to Luaani, glaring right through him. Don’t say it. Please don’t say it. He looked back at her and nodded. “That was all of them.”

  Masika’s shoulders slumped, and wetness unknowingly stained her cheeks. Her heart ached with a familiar grief, the same as when she gave away her son to Inari. She stared at Yissia with nearly as much hatred as she held for Jasari. “You could have let me say goodbye.”

  “I couldn’t, Maha. These warriors arrived in the night,” he said sharply. He gestured with his hand and turned away. “Please take these traitors out of my sight and return my mate to me.”

  Masika widened her eyes, sickened. That was why. The Sky-and-White warriors kept a hold on her and spoke amongst themselves of plans to travel halfway where they’d be met by more Shadow guards as backup to take them the rest of the way. The words clouded. She didn’t care about travel plans. She’d battled to keep her children away from that life. There was no point fighting any longer.

  The groups gathered together, guards picking up her children. She saw the looks at Karasi on the faces of the Shadow warriors, that perverted lust they had held towards the garasums before they locked them away years ago. Acid burnt her throat. She couldn’t think like that. They tied her gag back on.

  It was still and silent when they came out of the back exit. Luaani was hiding behind the trees. The black of the sky was tinted purple from the Solianga sun emerging. They walked through the fields, guards holding weapons at the ready if she dared to make a noise. Every step felt like another into the past. Back to the withdrawn Masika who pined for her brother and dreamt of escaping with him. She swallowed hard as the familiar huts, stalls and life she’d remade faded behind her.

  Masika glanced to the right. The rooftop of the home she’d had for ten years. Dia wasn’t going to be happy she had run away. Her garasum friend, Kanzi, murdered his sister Gugu on the way out. She was pregnant with Subira when she escaped. Her heart skipped a beat and her stomach dropped. Tears soaked her face. She was going through this again. Last night was the last time she’d see her curly-haired little girl. She’d wake up in the morning, and her mother wasn’t going to be there, nor her siblings. She begged Luaani to give Preye the strength to look after her daughter where she couldn’t. Please don’t let him fail her. She closed her eyes tight.

  “Move.” The guard behind shoved her forward.

  Hiccupping a breath, Masika stared at her home for the last time. Live well, my little lioness. She stepped back into the thick jungle, back to her nightmares of the Shadow tribe.

  - CHAPTER TWELVE -

  Vakaar was getting used to tribal life. He earned money doing jobs for people and managed to get enough to buy blankets and thatch to fix the hole in the roof. His home finally resembled something like a place of respite rather than the torture dungeon of a Krenei castle.

  He monitored the orphans and relatives on their days out. So far, none of them had done anything out of the ordinary. When he told Zura, she reassured him that those weren’t the children that were being harmed. One of them had a planned day with her uncle, a fisherman whose hut was next to the wider stretch of the lake. Wearing new fur, leather clothes and a curved knife from the blacksmiths better for cutting herbs, Vakaar set out under the pretence of gathering. Water herbs sold well when picked right.

  It took a while of digging, cuts and bruises before the uncle and the girl appeared. He was in his early fifties – a great-uncle at least. His sadistic smile was missing teeth and his clothes were as torn as Vakaar’s when he arrived. His facial hair had a dash of salt and pepper like Chiefs had in big meals at fancy feasts.

  The tree towered above Vakaar, higher than any he’d seen up north. He was used to checking if animals were sitting on the branches. Several times he had been the victim of flung faeces or fruit. He always swore the mischievous bastards were laughing about it.

  He dug the blade between the healthy roots, careful not to break any healing essences, and looked to where the girl was. Her hair was tied back and her eyes bloodshot. Vakaar had seen despair in too many faces to count. This girl was clearly terrified of the man she was meant to trust. The fisherman scanned both directions and focused on Vakaar. He burrowed deep into the soil, appearing oblivious.

  Vakaar glanced over his shoulder. The man dragged his whimpering niece inside the hut. He put the blade back in the basket and snuck to the shack walls, listening. It took fifteen seconds before the sounds made him twitch. It was one of few things that turned his stomach. There was no excuse for a grown man or woman to fulfil their urges that way.

  Satisfied he had one of the men pinpointed, he took his herbs to the guards in exchange for a small pouch of coins. The bustling tribe was packed during the day. Men had scars from beasts or fighting, not like his whip marks from when he was a boy. Women walked around topless, something that he first believed was a heaven of sorts. He had become used to seeing a pair of breasts hovering above a serving of food slapped up for him. He tried to flirt, but his lack of understanding of their world was apparent. After much fruitless effort, he searched for the Sudaster house and was surprised to hear that Chieftess Jocelin had banned the existence of such establishments or anyone offering paid mating in her tribe after she bound to Atsu. What shocked him wasn’t the fact it was made against the law, not for the values the people held. It was rather that Jocelin had the women who attempted to continue in that line of work punished and, if their actions destroyed a family, killed.

  The weather was humid. He was grateful it wasn’t razors dragging on the skin like in the desert. It was bearable heat he could work in, even on days like this one, the sun blazing above the tribe. He finished his meal and saw the Moduma he needed to speak to.

  For several days, he’d observed Zura to see if she was setting him up. It didn’t matter that she knew his true name if she did; no one had ever found him when they chased the faint traces of his shadow. She followed the same pattern since he arrived. On her break, she left the orphanage and paced outside the village. When she reached a certain point, she abruptly stopped and ran all the way back inside the perimeter, as if fear shot through her legs. Each day she had gotten further, but on her return, nerves visibly shook her.

  She stuck to the stalls and walked into the emerald jungle. He kept his distance; she was completely unknowing every time he traced her steps. She didn’t look back and breathed deeply. She shoved the aged, ropey vines out of the way and pulled her dress away from the twigs tugging her.

  Vakaar realised this was the furthest she had been. She stuck going east and kept her pace quickened, crunching leaves and carelessly hopping over branches towards the nearby river. Small wooden huts, enough to house one lined the banks, wood rotted from lack of use and broken equipment leaning outside the doors. A tiny fishing boat that had been dragged onto the soil, covered in dirt, dust and overgrowth was her aim. He watched her silently. She sat down on the dry leaves and nudged the pile. She trailed her hands on the spot as if it was venomous if she pressed too hard.

  Curious, he tilted his head and poked his tongue in his cheek. She was sitting and staring. Vakaar was about to give up when the whistle of an arrow being released caught his attention. He went to grab his dagger out of habit. It wasn’t there. He had retrieved it from its original hiding place and put it in a new one inside his hut for safety.

  “No!” Zura screamed.

  He spun around. She was on her feet, hands pulling the sides of her hair, jumping on the spot. Vakaar ran out of the bushes. He scanned the area for the trespassers she must have seen, although being unarmed, he was useless. “What is it?”

  She sniffed and keeled. “My father will get rid of them! I need my father!”

  “Get who?!” Vakaar yelled. There was a rustle in the bushes. He broug
ht his finger to his lips, hoping she’d be quiet. Another arrow released. She howled an ear-piercing cry. Instantaneously, two figures emerged, covered in leather, faces painted red and white, bows aimed at Vakaar.

  “Step away from the Chief’s daughter!” one called.

  “What?! I didn’t do anything!” Vakaar protested. He scratched his head and turned to Zura, whose eyes were fixed on the weapons. “Wait… is it the bows?”

  She didn’t respond. Her lip quivered, and a squeak came out as if words were meant to follow.

  “Get away from her now!” the male demanded.

  “Kreiess, please tell these fine gentlemen I didn’t do anything.”

  “Three…”

  “Tell them, Kreiess,” Vakaar said.

  “Two…”

  Zura’s eyes widened, her body froze against the trunk of a tree.

  “Zura!” Vakaar pleaded.

  “One…”

  Vakaar dived out of the way of an arrow aimed at his feet. As he rolled and knelt, ready to dodge another, Zura broke into repeated howls of hysterical terror. The two hunters ran to her, bows in hand, ready to take another shot at Vakaar.

  “No! Get away from me!” She stumbled across the floor. Her eyes shifted quickly to the arrow on the ground and then to Vakaar in the middle. She back-peddled towards him, shaking her head, sweat dripping down her forehead.

  “Zura, we thought you were in trouble with this stranger!” one of them said, meekly, attempting to hide his weapon.

  She crawled behind Vakaar, hiding. “GET THEM AWAY! I need my father!”

  Vakaar raised his eyebrows and stared at her twitching fingers, not entirely sure what was happening. “They think I’m going to harm you. They won’t leave. You’re the daughter of the Chief.”

  “You won’t harm me,” she said, uncertainly. “He’ll take me home!” she called.

  They exchanged glances and didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t going to move with them there, not when she had been spooked. The bigger male nodded, reluctantly. “We’ll go back to the tribe.”

  Vakaar stayed crouched, her panicked breaths on his back. He spun around. Her eyes were glazed and fingers fidgeting nonstop. She was a shaken mess. He waited until the only sounds were her heavy breathing and the river and the hunters had withdrawn. “Come on, then. Let’s get you back.”

  “I need my father.”

  “I know, you’ve said.” He helped her to her feet and steadied her. “I’m sure he’ll be waiting for you now that your hunters have seen you with me. No doubt he’ll be thrilled, of course.”

  She took wobbly steps like a newborn. He couldn’t tell if she was agreeing or trembling. “Father makes it go away.”

  “No, what made them go away was telling them you’re safe. Your father isn’t here.”

  “NO!” Zura yanked her hair again.

  Vakaar forced her hands down and pulled her chin to face him. “Calm the fuck down. There’s nothing bad here.” He raised his eyebrow and contemplated the surroundings. “Except me. Now, let’s get you back before I’m sacrificed to the hunter gods or whatever your people believe in.”

  “Dizilais,” Zura corrected, voice wobbly. “Goddess of the hunt. She blesses kills and reassures safety.”

  “That’s the one.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her back through the vines, concerned that a mob of tribal men were going to come stampeding towards him from the village. He found the path and let go of her sleeve, having little desire to anger anyone else. They strolled side by side in silence. Zura watched her feet like a lost girl, her head hung in shame as if she had done something awful and was going to be scolded. They went through the maze of green, passing the pyramids made from the skulls of trespassers. These started off further out in the jungle each as a trio of heads as a warning. The closer a person got to the tribe, the bigger the pyramids grew. One by one the heads were piled on top of each other, pieces of rotten flesh or material from the helms they wore when they came calling for a fight clinging to skeletal features. They brought the stench of death the closer they got. It reassured Vakaar that they were close to the entrance. The decaying rot was something else you were accustomed to when you were brought up in a cave of death. It was unnatural when it wasn’t around. In the night here, he sometimes walked out of the perimeter to relax with what he knew best.

  People staring in their direction, they reached the village. Some called greetings to Zura. She ignored them in favour of the world that was playing inside her fragile mind. When they got to the Chief’s hut, hunters, dressed and ready for their shifts, edged past. She jolted behind Vakaar when he was about to go back to his hut. He rolled his eyes. “The guards are right there, they can take you inside.”

  She chewed her nails and grabbed his arm.

  “Really?” He blinked at her silence. Twitching, he approached the guards who uneasily let him in. With Zura hanging on his arm, they didn’t have much choice. Vakaar kept his head down and looked to the trokhosi that sat the two figures of authority. The Chief, his arm bandaged and his mate perched on her chair, looking down at her surroundings.

  Atsu struggled to stand. The instant he did, Zura gasped and ran to him. He flinched as she tightly hid beneath his arm, knocking his injury. It didn’t faze the Chief that his daughter, a grown woman, was clutching onto him like a five-year-old girl. It was as if this was a normal occurrence.

  Vakaar curiously studied the reactions of both. He didn’t notice Jocelin observing him too. When he caught her out of the corner of his eye after Atsu had taken Zura to her room, he turned to leave.

  “Stop,” Jocelin said.

  He did as was asked and closed his eyes. Why was the Kreiess determined to have him draw attention? It would be that much easier if she didn’t have needy issues. “Yes?” He turned around, remembering his stance in the presence of those above.

  “Yes, Chieftess, to you.”

  “Only me? I feel special… Chieftess.” This wasn’t the time to talk back. Control your mind and tongue around her.

  Her eyes intensified. The layers of her red dress trailed the stone ground, and her jewelled bangles slipped to her hand. She stood before Vakaar, fixed on him. “What were you doing with my daughter?”

  “Watching her, and then she screamed.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I was watching her. She screamed, so I helped. She didn’t scream because I was following her. The hunters scared her, specifically the bows. It’s a bit strange.” He uneasily twitched when her fingers caressed the scar across his eye.

  “Indeed. Your name is Kaari, I am told.”

  “Yes, Chieftess.”

  She tilted her head to the side, almost sympathetically, and asked in a low tone, “Who are your parents? And don’t lie to me, ‘Kaari’.”

  Vakaar challenged her gaze, palms sweating. After a moment of heart-pounding and intense staring, he burst into a cackle. He’d had men, seven feet in both height and width pin him to the ground for information, he’d had professional seducers teach him their ways and their tortures for being wrong, yet this forty-something Chieftess had him in seconds, as if twenty-eight years of training melted from his brain. Jocelin kept her face straight. Guards near, he calmed himself and leant as close as he dared. “A man and a woman.”

  Jocelin didn’t back down. From the small movements of her bright green irises, she was getting uncomfortable. “And you believe they’re Inferno, do you?”

  “That’s what I was told.”

  “And under what animal were you born?”

  “We’re getting personal now, Chieftess. If you’re not careful, your mate may get ideas.”

  “Answer the question or lose your head.”

  “It says a fox on my chart.” Vakaar rifled through his pockets and took out the worn piece of paper, pointing at the red-furred drawing. “Right there, a fox. What about you, Chieftess? Trapping prey into a corner and wrapping around your finger… I’d say a snake.”

  She narrowed her ey
es, taking a glimpse at the chart and took a step back, breaking. “Good guess but wrong. Why were you stalking my daughter?”

  “Have you ever tried following an ordinary person? It’s incredibly dissatisfying.”

  “What did you hope to find in following her?” Jocelin demanded, losing her patience. She backed away further, eyes darting to the guards.

  Vakaar manically grinned. “After saving her, I found her peculiar. Does it not bother you she is a grown woman and hides behind her father like a child?”

  “My daughter has been through trauma, and we understand that. If the Chief comforting her works to calm the memories, then we will do it until she is ready to move on.”

  “You’re causing more harm by feeding it.”

  “What we do with Zura is none of your concern.

  Vakaar nodded and bowed humbly. “Of course. Apologies, Chieftess. Please know I have no ill intentions towards Zura, simply interest in her actions. Things are different in the north. Chiefs and Chieftesses behave differently in other tribes, as I have no doubt you know. Call it a cultural thirst for knowledge.”

  Jocelin drew away from the guards, stance relaxing. “Mhmm. Be that as it may, Zura is different from those you see amongst our people. I’m not a fool and know you have spoken to her previously. Be careful of your words around her, Kaari. Seedy men that linger around Zura don’t have a great survival rate once Atsu knows of it. Leave my hut and know that I am watching you.”

  Vakaar smirked. “If that’s the case, I best put on my greatest performance.” He bent low. “May Luaani guide you and your family, Chieftess.”

  The instant he got out into the air, he fought to hold back his cackling. Aroused by the intense situation, he searched for a woman in the cooking areas without a beefy warrior at her side or a baby in a sling.