Tribal Dawn: Blood-and-Shadow (Volume One) Read online

  Inari suddenly stopped the soothing shake of his rattles and the hum of the chant. The mask appeared to float above the ground, wrapped beneath the purples of the thick robes. Zaki scowled at the Chief and started to walk towards the doctor. The warriors stepped in the way, crossing their gleaming swords to block him.

  “Brother, this is your last chance to save your line,” the Chieftain said.

  Zaki shook his head and poked his tongue against the soft of his cheek in thought. He brought his burnt palm through his thick, black dreadlocks and sighed. “You even said yourself, Chief: my family are well known warriors. I don’t care if I never receive a name; you and I both know I could even bring something as low and common as ‘Brother’ justice. Kill me now if you want my sister, but we both know the Gods won’t like that. Send me to the deepest depths of the jungles with the biggest fucking cats there are, I will still return.”

  The Chieftain pursed his lips. He looked as if he had sucked on an extremely strong lemon as he sighed and clicked to his warriors. “Suit yourself, Brother.”

  Zaki approached Inari as the warriors parted. As he knelt down over the cracked bowl full of dark fluid, a heavy weight smashed across the back of his head. His arms were shaking and his body felt too heavy to keep up. Everything blurred and his head swam. Attempting to muster his strength to rise, he tried to reach Inari. The last thing he saw was the mask coming off. The thud of the wood was far too heavy and thick for what the frail old Inari wore. It wasn’t him, it was never him. They were doing this their way.

  - CHAPTER THREE -

  The sun shone his crimson glow over the rooftops to awaken the workers for the new day and to tell the night warriors to rest. Masika had been awake for a couple of hours, staring at the ceiling. The closer it had gotten to her brother running out of time, the less she was able to sleep. The tightening pit in her stomach wouldn’t let her rest her eyes for a moment and if by some miracle she was able to, her slumber was soon disturbed by a flashing image of that smug Dia.

  She didn’t want to move out of the bed; she couldn’t be bothered with another day of forced eating and labour. Sighing, she rolled from the haystack and picked up her dark linen rags. Her thick waves were always a nightmare to tie back with a loose piece of string, but the weather was far too hot not to have the relief of a slight breeze on her neck.

  Masika went to the meat rack and took off a couple of the salted portions, laying them over a grill her brother had found near the Chieftain’s hut. She lit the fire and tried to force a smile of pride for the day while the meat cracked and sizzled. Every day she sat in front of the fire, watching the food cook, trying to fill herself with hope. But with each passing day, she was accepting it was more likely she was going to be the secret wife of Dia.

  From what she knew of the traditions, the secret wives were exactly that. They weren’t related to the Chief and were seen as a disgrace to his name. It was said that one of the first Chiefs had originally built the spiralling hallways and extra homes around the main hut to house all of the spare mates he had. Once they went into the hut, they were never seen again. The life they knew was restricted to that of the walls and the only hint that they were still alive was the children they bore. Even the children, unless they were incredibly gifted, were usually not seen or heard from until they were of age, and by that point the Chief could disown or kill them.

  When the skimpy slice of meat was cooked, Masika removed it from the flames and nibbled on it. The salt burnt the back of her throat and her stomach tried to protest at her eating anything at all with her nerves, but she knew she would get sick or weak if she didn’t. The last thing she needed was to give anyone a reason to punish her for not working.

  She finished the meal and walked over to the water barrel. After tapping it a few times, she managed a few drops of fresh water. The bottom of the barrel always tasted bitter compared to when it was overflowing. Her brother would usually go to the well with the buckets and was strong enough to fill them. Since he had been gone, she could just about fill one, which would only last a couple of days at most. If it was especially hot, like the last couple of days, she had to take daily trips.

  Grabbing the battered bucket, she made her way outside into the village. The well wasn’t too far; it was just a little south of the back of the fenced-off area. It was said some years ago a rival tribe approached at a time when there was more trust and poisoned the waters, nearly eliminating the entire tribe in less than seven days. But a healer emerged, a young woman who kept on a mask to protect herself from diseases. No one knew who she was or where she came from, but the moment she healed those within moments of death, everyone knew her. She was accused of black magic at first until she saved the life of a Chief. He told his followers she was indeed a magical female, she was a witch, but from that day, she would be known as witch doctor.

  Since then, witch doctors had been trained right across the region. First, they would be herbalists and study the various plants. If they even became ill once from herb-picking, they would never be able to advance to become a healer. When one became a healer, all the omens had to point towards good fortune and the person could never lose a patient through illness for ten years. Once those ten years had passed, the healer would be known as a witch doctor and be granted the right to create their own mask. It was a prestigious rank, seen as the equal of a Chief in some tribes.

  Masika had attempted to become a herbalist when she turned twelve, but became ill from a particular berry with rashes covering her skin. After that, she was told not to continue the path. Zaki hated to see his sister crying and went out to pick the strongest sticks he could find and a handful of feathers. It took him three days to craft the perfect bow for her. On the morning that he gave it to her, he took his sibling to the archery range and taught her to hit the bullseye. It took nearly the entire day of training, but in the end she did so. Since then, the pair had made their own target around the back of the hut to practise with.

  Not far down the stony path, eyes soon turned in her direction with their usual daggers. She could understand Dia and his family hating her, but the rest of the community had no reason to. In fact, if anything they should have been on her side, considering how badly the tribe had been treated over the years. Her brother had always told her that they had all been brain washed into worshipping the Chief but on the rare occasions she was outside the hut, she would overhear others saying her brother was struck with insanity instead.

  The queue for the well wasn’t as bad as it usually was. There were several people ahead of her but most had gotten their water in the night, when it was a lot cooler, instead of lugging the full buckets with sweaty hands and the sun burning their bronze skin.

  Masika brushed one of her curls behind her ear as she stood behind the other members of the tribe. Some had sections of leather armour still equipped, even some females who had been chosen to fight. But to keep cool most of the females wore their long, thin fabric skirts, tied on the hip, with a vest. The ones who had mates wore constricting leather black collars with a chain to show they were taken, usually with a glyph or marking of their family.

  “Masika, it’s not going to be long before you are our sister!” a shrill, mocking voice called out. Masika glanced over her shoulder and saw the rounded, bulky shape of Dia’s eldest sister, Gugu. Such an ugly creature she was, her face was deformed, her nose hooked and she had tiny, dark dots for eyes. There was no wonder the Chief was looking outside the family.

  Forcing her smile over gritted teeth, Masika just nodded to Gugu while she picked up her bucket to move further in the line. “I highly doubt it, Gugu. Brother is very strong.”

  Gugu of course, didn’t like her response. But instead of replying, she gave Masika a curved smirk and stood behind her. Masika felt a rush of numbness in her fingers and toes. It was never like her to not belittle her. She was up to something.

  The people in front quickly tied their buckets to the well rope in turn and lowered them for
a dip to fill them to the rim before scurrying back to the village. Masika stepped between the two warriors who guarded the well and tied her bucket. The moment she lifted her head back up, a sudden, horrid surge rushed over her, as if a blanket of fog had clouded her brain. She blinked a couple of times and tried to shake off the sensation but white dots and oddly-coloured squiggles danced before her eyes.

  “Hurry up, orphan,” Gugu snarled.

  Masika nodded and brought the bucket back up to the surface. She struggled to clutch it, her knees becoming jelly as she turned. Suddenly, a blur which looked like an arm threw the bucket out of her hands. She tried to keep her grip but there was no way she could defend herself from such force.

  With a cold splash and a smash against the dirt and rocks, she was on the ground, soaked to the bone. Everyone in the queue was staring at her.

  “Couldn’t get water on time for your parents either. It’s why they’re charcoal now,” Gugu spat out smugly and went towards the well. A few others sniggered.

  Masika chewed on her lip and tried to hold her breath. She could ignore it. None of them mattered. Soon enough, her brother would be home and they could work on escaping this place. She stayed sitting on the spot, trying to regain her breath, and then came a whack of metal as something struck her powerfully across the head.

  Feeling as though she was going to vomit, Masika tried to regain her sight. She could just about focus on Gugu walking away with her silver bucket, glimmering with trickles of spilled water.

  “Fucking cunt!” The rage ripped throughout her, the motivation to bring herself back to her feet was unstoppable. Without thinking, she screamed from the back of her dry throat, her vocal chords burning as she threw herself onto Gugu’s back. Without even a moment’s hesitation, Masika sunk her teeth over her ear and pulled as hard as she possibly could. Blood burst into her mouth and an explosion of pure copper dribbled down her chin with Gugu’s greasy curls matted into the mix.

  Gugu’s ear piercing screams were so shrill with agony that many of the onlookers had to cover their ears. Blood poured down her neck with Masika still locked onto her, not even close to letting go.

  With a thick, bubbling crack, Masika screamed hysterically as she spat the ear to the ground. Her grip tightened and moved to Gugu’s throat. Something deep inside her didn’t want to stop. The cries of pain and for help only pushed her to finish what she’d started. But Gugu was much stronger. With a twist and a turn, she threw Masika off her back while she tried to cup what was left hanging on the side of her head.

  Masika’s head smacked against the ground. She stared at the clouds above and the sunlight shining over their tribe. The copper taste slipped into her gullet, and she could see her hands were covered in red and the tribal warriors hovering over her. But all she could do was laugh.

  - CHAPTER FOUR -

  The sounds of the crickets in the grass chirping nearby felt like a razor through Zaki’s eardrums as he lay on the ground. He had been dragged out farther than any male had ever been sent, with the most dangerous of predators lurking nearby.

  His eyelids flickered in the darkness. For a brief moment, he thought they had blinded him with poison. That was until he made out the outline of the falling leaves on his chest. Everything felt surreal, almost like when he had stolen a pitcher of alcohol and woke up the next morning with his head pounding and his mouth bone dry.

  Zaki’s entire body felt numbed and too heavy to lift from the dirt. The dry grasses slowly scratched at his skin where they wrapped tightly around him, almost clutching onto every crevice. The trees appeared to be twisting and swirling in a mix of spinning silhouettes, even blending with the dark night sky.

  The first sensation which hit him was the tremendous pounding in his head. The high-pitched ringing in his ears burned his lobes and every sound was amplified into a scorching nausea.

  He took a calming breath, letting himself adjust to the pitch black. The throbbing at the back of his head was making his eyes water while the cold breeze set his teeth chattering. He didn’t even know how long he had been left out here for. It could have already been a full moon for all he knew.

  “Argh!” he yelled into darkness. A sharp prickling sensation was pulsing under both of his feet, as if he had walked into a bush full of nettles. Zaki attempted to shake it off but ending up hissing under his breath as the points were sharply embedded into the soles.

  He pushed his palms either side into the soil and grass, nails scraping through weeds and stray sticks. His wrists were shaking from weakness, his body felt like an anchor. Taking a deep breath, he pushed with all his strength, his hands sinking into the dry soil. Even the slightest movement with his feet sent excruciating pain up his legs.

  “Fuck!” He couldn’t keep himself up and fell back to where he’d started. Determined, he pushed once more; this was not where he was going to die. He used as much force as much as his weak physique could bear, his teeth gritted together, growling desperately at the back of his throat. But again he slipped back, bumping his head on the rocks beneath.

  He felt tears building. Not from upset, nor from fear. From the physical pain all over. They had deliberately left him as far away as they could and had attempted to cripple him to prevent him surviving, without killing him themselves. It was nothing but a low, dirty trick, but then again, what else could he expect from an enemy he refused to give in to? Zaki wasn’t going to give in now.

  As he lay there, he watched the stars sparkling over the blanket of charcoal-black sky, wondering about the Gods. He’d always believed that if they wanted to strike him down, they would have done it by now. Jasari and Dia were not the ones who would stop him, although he often wondered why he and his sister had to go through these hardships. Why were Jasari and Dia given things so easily by life and yet he had to fight to get his hands on rations of fresh meat? Even as young as ten, a grown man threw him out the way of his hunt to deliver it to the richer side of the tribe. When Zaki attempted to fight the man, the male punched him in the face and his nose was broken. He didn’t get any of the meat but later heard rumours that every single guest at the feast where it was served ended up doubled over with stomach aches, covering their clean blankets with layers of vomit and faeces.

  As the blackness slowly turned violet with the coming of dawn, Zaki continued to strive to get up. His lips were cracked and dry, his skin was split open all over with dried blood sticking to him and his stomach was aggressively churning for sustenance. He had attempted countless times to at least sit and now he could hear the low growls of waking beasts amongst the jungle bushes.

  He thought back to Masika at home. She would be alone for the next twenty-eight days. As much as he had taught her the best he could in case something was to happen to him, he knew he had to be there to care for her. She was his and Dia would stop at nothing to get his fat fingers on his little sister.

  His teeth grated and with the thought of Masika being dragged into the Chieftain’s hut by a chain, the fire in his belly reawakened. It wasn’t his time. No matter where he was, he would get back for her. The pair of them would run away in the night and go find another tribe or even make their own if they had to.

  With an almighty growl, he dragged his nails through the dirt once more, pushing with every ounce of strength he could muster. His head tried to weigh him down, resisting and telling him to give up, but he would not listen. This was not a time to rest.

  Sweat rolling down his body, Zaki finally propped himself up a little. Panting and shivering, he was not to stop for more than a second. He took a deep breath, ground his teeth together once more, and fought the shooting pains that tore at him.

  “Argh… fuck!” he exclaimed. Finally his spine found the strength to support his upper body. He sat within the dim light, breath shuddering out of his weak frame, heavy head nearly collapsed forward onto his knees.

  The dawn had grown to a glimmer and shadows were pooling in the trees and bushes around him, retreating from the glows o
f olive-green foliage, shining, poisonous berries and vibrant flowers.

  Zaki dropped his hands to his feet and swore under his breath the moment he tried to pull out one of the pricks. Small pieces of glass were riddled through his soles, as if a cup had been smashed against each of them. His finger split open on one and tickled as blood trickled down to his palm.

  “Of course you bastards did this,” Zaki mumbled. He shuffled his hand around for a stick. Bracing himself, he attempted to scrape the chunks from his feet as much as he possibly could but each one was reluctant. The sensation of his skin ripping as he yanked out each shard made him hiss under his breath, something which he didn’t want to do. Any sound he made could have drawn the predators nearby.

  When he had removed as much as was possible without better light, he searched for the belongings they were supposed to have left him with. Every male who did this trial was entitled to a blunt weapon and a leather pouch to collect water. Usually, they were left with the blindfold over their eyes too, something which he believed was meant to show him they hadn’t been entirely harsh.

  Eventually, he found the pouch hidden beneath some leaves nearby. The entire pile felt wet, although the rest of the ground was dry. Bringing it to his lips, a trickle of lukewarm water fell down his chest.

  “I swear, I will kill you bastards,” Zaki growled. He ran his fingers over the leaking spots. It had been riddled with holes. Sighing, he tied the string around his neck, keeping hold of it anyway.

  The sun was rising between the trees. The warmth gave him some relief. At the very least, he could see what he was doing and it appeared the warriors hadn’t been very clever as to where they dumped him. As much as he was certain that this place was far from his own tribe, the fact he was still alive and had not heard a single growl close enough to worry him told him that this area had been hunted-out. After all, the warriors still had to return safely.