Tribal Dawn: Mordufa: Volume Three Page 22

  Tau pulled a face. Fates destined with Dafari was well off the mark. He was barbaric, dumb and clumsy. She was muddled, and her sharp nail was irritating. “What about my future? Any children so I can break some good news to my mother?”

  “Two, three or twelve. It’ll be up to you.”

  Tau spat out his tea. “That’s err… that’s quite the jump. Who will be this lucky lady, then? Maybe one who can read palms and has hair that glows silver in the rays of the sun?”

  She laughed huskily, leading into a coughing fit. After a sip of tea, she smiled. “You are a charmer. One young lady. I worry she will be attacked in your care.”

  “What? What do you mean by that? I’ll attack her?”

  She uncertainly gazed away and released his palm. “My vision isn’t what it used to be. She may draw attention. Bad attention, see? It’s hard to tell these things without charts and her hand. She could be beautiful or hideous.” She tapped his palm reassuringly. “You will adore her and the children she gives you.”

  Tau stared at the lines on his hand. The woman in the underground inn came to his mind. He’d always been told if he settled it would be with a lioness. How would that be possible if his first instincts were to force himself upon them? Nausea swirled, and he shuddered. Maybe it was the stress of arriving and the shock of seeing a young woman’s skin rather than one who had matured.

  “Do not worry about it, warrior. Your infatuation will be dangerous. Others will be jealous.” The old woman slurped.

  Rura emerged from the tent. Tau thanked her for the drink and signalled to his friend. “I was entertaining a delightful old lady over there.”

  “Old habits, huh?” Rura forced a smirk.

  “Of course. It’s the grey hair and danger of breaking a hip, brother. All fun.” Tau stretched and rested his hands on the back of his head. “Your family seem happy, considering.”

  “I guess.” Rura rubbed his jaw and stepped away from the tents. “Fucking Chiefs aren’t helping her. I don’t know what to do. She’s living in a bed cloth with a teenage girl.”

  “Where is the safest district?”

  “Probably over the way from where we’re staying at the moment. Traders own the homes. If I had the money, I’d pay to get them out of this shithole, Tau. Lila wants to take up the offer of becoming a dancer.”

  Tau pressed his tongue in his cheek and made a popping noise. The piles of Pazade’s gold he took from under his floorboard had barely been touched. If anything, with his earnings, he’d added to it. Scratching the back of his neck, he looked to Rura. “I’ll pay for it.”

  Rura kicked a rock and spun around. “What?”

  “I’ve got money saved, and if I’m going to die here, someone might as well make use of it.” Tau wiped the dust from his armour and jumped up. “Don’t protest it, money is no use to a dead man.”

  “Are you sure you’ll have enough? The traders are robbing bastards, Tau. Their prices have increased with the war. They’re triple what they used to be.”

  “There is a reason I’m the negotiator when a man stands on top of a building.” He grinned. “Don’t tell them, we’ll go buy one and lead them to it. It’ll be a pleasant surprise after the shower of shit we’ve all had recently.”

  - CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE -

  The winter settled in the south. A time when hunters’ workloads lessened and enemies didn’t lurk in great numbers like when they were bathed in the sun and blessed for war by Solianga. Every day, Zura restarted her journey out of the perimeter. Sometimes she felt eyes watching her. It terrified her, and she asked Vakaar to oversee her walks. After he had reassured there was nothing there but animals and members of the tribe, she got further each day until she reached her aim, the smallest cluster of warning skulls, although she ran back home sharply.

  After her drunken behaviour with Vakaar, she frequently visited Dizelai’s grave. Her conscience couldn’t settle the guilt of being close to a person as dark as he was, even knowing her judgement was alcohol impaired. She kept her distance from him and conversed only when she needed to, preferably in open, crowded spaces.

  With every passing moment, the memory of her first love was fading. It had already been years since she remembered his voice and reassuring words. Now, the perfect face that made her stomach flutter with the rush of affection was slipping.

  Packing, she laid his dagger on her floral bedding. The journey to the ruins wasn’t terribly far. She wanted to be prepared in case something drastic happened. What if there were more Shadow warriors than she anticipated and Vakaar couldn’t take them down? No, she couldn’t think like that. They couldn’t take over her life. Someone had to stop them. He couldn’t get rid of them all, but she didn’t doubt his abilities to handle a few.

  She nervously pressed the leather armour her mother had gifted her years ago. It had been a long time since she wore it. Taking it out of the drawer brought on an anxiety attack at the thought of what it protected against. Zura took off her nightdress and tugged the tunic over her chest. She caught a glimpse in the mirror of the ugly scar from when she was fourteen. Becoming a Moduma at the cost of her fertility, driving a blade into her womb. Biting her lip, she pulled on the leggings and boots. This time, she was determined. She tied her hair back loosely, wrapped up the dagger and other pieces, then walked out of the door.

  “Zura,” Atsu said sternly.

  She froze. She’d hoped he wouldn’t notice or, as on other mornings, would be in the garden. “Yes, Father?”

  “Where’s the battle?” He nodded at her clothes.

  “I’m visiting the shrine north of here. I’m being careful.”

  Atsu motioned to a warrior. “Six of you go with her.”

  “No! It’s fine, Father. Kaari is escorting me.” Zura smiled weakly. “If there’s any trouble, we’ll return straight away, I promise.”

  Atsu clenched his jaw. He gazed at her. “If you return with a scratch, it’ll be on Kaari’s head.” He dismissed his guard.

  Zura held back her emotion. As much as Atsu didn’t show it, it must have been incredibly hard for him to trust her. “Thank you.”

  She went to the bustling village. Vakaar was waiting on a bench nearby, his bag on his back, ready for the trip in tattered leathers and a cloak like the rest of the tribe, although he was sweating beneath it. He was muttering a story to himself, and for a moment, she doubted going. How much could she trust this insane stranger?

  “All ready, Kreiess?” he asked, stretching.

  “I think so. If you don’t want to come, I can ask the guards to take me.”

  “Nah, I wouldn’t want to miss out on the scenery.” He grinned manically. “Where is this place?”

  “It’s north of the river, but the path is clearer going through the gate and around.” She chewed her nails. The moment she stepped out, away from her tribe, there wouldn’t be any guards. Vakaar was one man. She halted and turned. “It’s a bit cold today. Maybe I should wait until it warms up…”

  “Cold?” He unbuttoned his cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders. “There we go. No excuses.”

  Zura fastened the buttons. She looked for another distraction. Maybe guards yelling about enemies or orphans in dire need of a Moduma for the day. None of it came. Instead, she was walking slowly out of the tribe. Before long, they were following the bird calls in the trees instead of the chatter of families at the stalls. She breathed steadily to calm her racing heart. Deep down, she wanted to run, even this close to home. She pointed at the curved, flimsy bridge over the river to a rocky road opposite.

  Vakaar looked over his shoulder. “Tell me when I can change. I’ve been feeling feral of late and would like an hour in my own clothes.”

  “I will,” she said, careful on the creaking bridge. When she got to the other side, she took in her surroundings and pulled her hair. “I don’t know if this is a good idea, Vakaar.”

  He rested his hands on his hips and twitched. “Zura, I understand you wanted to do this, bu
t I’m going to switch it around. Don’t tell anyone my age, alright? I’m twenty-nine today. If you change your mind, you’re ruining my day.”

  She opened her mouth. There was nothing. If it was only her wanting, it wasn’t so bad. Vakaar was spending his Leraawla with her. She couldn’t let him spend it on his own. “Truly?”

  “Yes, truly. Now which way do we go?”

  Zura flinched away from him. She faced the gravel road. “This way.”

  It was an hour before Zura told him he could change. There hadn’t been any sign of her tribe for some time. She wanted to be certain he wasn’t going to be caught. Zura sat on a fallen log, listening to the rainbow-feathered birds and the monkeys hunting in the branches above her. When he emerged, she was taken aback. All the time she had known him, he dressed like one of her own. What he actually was rarely crossed her mind. He fitted in well. Realisation flipped her stomach. The leather he wore was the best quality she’d ever seen on a man. The blackness of his clothing gave off the dark aura of what he truly was. He wasn’t a Blood tribesman. He was a killer. The reason her grandfather fell early.

  Vakaar adjusted himself and tied the scarf around his neck. He kept it away from his face and took out the sharpened dagger, caressing it like a lover as he slipped it into his sheath. He tilted his head. “You look surprised, Kreiess.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s quite a shock.” She tensed and shuffled on the log.

  Vakaar approached slowly. She wouldn’t look at him. He grabbed her arms. “Stand up.”

  Immediately she froze. Her first instinct was to scream. She fought against him, twisting her hands and kicking, her heart pounding against her ribs, an unsettling dizziness passing. “No! Get off me!”

  Vakaar overpowered her. She threw her head back to scream but he squeezed his palm over her lips and forced her to look at him. “You know what I am, Kreiess. I take what I do seriously, and when I say I cannot harm you, I won’t harm you.”

  Zura smelt the expensive leather and death on his gloves. How many had he killed in them? She turned away and Vakaar pushed her back.

  “Where we are going, there are enemies. I heard a rumour that today is twenty-nine years since your father took down their leader. I can’t do much in the outfit of Kaari; it simply isn’t strong enough, and these men will be thirsty for you.” He took away his hand and let her breathe.

  Zura shivered. The safety and comfort of Kaari had vanished. “It’s a shock. You must understand what my family went through. The war…”

  Vakaar laughed. “Do you believe your father would have been accepted so easily if he hadn’t slaughtered his own kind to avenge his new Chief? If Pazade lived to old age before passing, do you think Atsu would have been welcomed as one of their own or as an outsider? If Jasari had that time to grow his army instead of his brain-dead son, do you think your tribe would still have been the victors?”

  Zura gawped. There was something sickening about seeing him wearing that gear, that persona she didn’t know, and being right. “I guess not.”

  “Exactly. I’m not asking you to like what I do. I don't expect you to forgive your grandfather’s killer. I’m asking you to trust me, and if I say I need to change to survive an attack, I need it.” Vakaar cut the nearby vines with a sharp swipe. “Now, let’s get moving. All this walking has made me hungry.”

  They continued to hike up the steep hill. Animals, not used to people, cried at the disturbance. Zura struggled to climb and reluctantly let Vakaar help. When she’d nearly reached the top, Vakaar brought a finger to his lips. His eyes glistened. Zura clutched the root of the ancient tree towering above and didn’t dare look down. She listened, baffled. All she heard were the birds.

  “Right, they’re near.” Vakaar bent down and helped her up the final stretch. “I’m guessing you don’t want to act as bait?”

  Zura widened her eyes, catching her breath. “No.”

  “You southerners take the fun out of things.” Vakaar rolled his eyes. “Stay here, keep quiet and hidden. I’ll be right back.”

  Winded, Zura did as she was told. She watched him sneak between the bushes without making a sound. He slid between branches and climbed past trees, hiding his shadow in the light of day and blended with the foliage. Then he was gone.

  She tucked her knees tight to her chest and tried to listen. Nothing. She wanted the birds to hush. Don’t let anything bad happen to him, she hoped, rocking back and forth.

  Minutes dragged on. The trees felt huge around her. The jungle, her familiar home, was strange here. Atsu insisted he’d taken her to these parts before. Her father took her and her siblings south where there were hunters and familiar faces. They set up camps, and in the night, Dafari and Tau duelled for Atsu’s helm. Chika drew pictures beside a candle. Zura lay with her father, watching the stars. Atsu tried to sleep while she questioned him about the gods and the wonders of the world. Since Tau left, it had never been the same, not like that. They were grown now.

  A squeal shot her upright. It echoed as if falling from a huge height until it ended with a grim thud. She clutched her cloak around her, eyes and ears alert.

  “Done!” Vakaar reappeared, a huge, satisfied grin on his face. Breathless, droplets of blood beaded on his facial hair and down his chin, he pushed the vines out of the way. “There were three. When I get back to the sanctuary, I’m going to tell them it was nine.”

  Zura darted to the opening. “Thank you.”

  “I don’t need thanking for that. It was fun! Nothing like fighting beside a hundred-foot drop,” he said, giddy. “I got rid of the bodies. It wasn’t hard to do.”

  Broken stone slabs thinned the green jungle. Pitted steps pressed into the wall, crumbling, grey and broken, carved with drawings of myths and the gods, curving around the hill. Mildew rested on the letters, darkening the words as they ascended. Abandoned birds’ nests lay at the top of weather-worn pillars and leaves rattled in the wind.

  At the top was a circular platform covered in ancient swirls and depictions of the sun and the moon opposite each other, with smaller stars surrounding. Blood, old and new, stained it. Zura gasped. She didn’t notice Vakaar kicking the last traces of his victims off the drop. Where the far wall had collapsed, a space like a painting lay before them. Trees loomed below, different colours and sizes. Gaps in the canopy showed the locations of the tribes or camps in the area. The clouds, a puffy cluster of white against the sky blue, added to the beauty of the sight. Zura trod to the very lip and looked down. It was a massive drop. She tapped a rock and waited until it landed on the jungle floor. She closed her eyes and listened closely to the wind and the birds.

  Vakaar sat on a fallen pillar and rolled together some tar-leaves. With a few scratches and flicks, he lit the roll and inhaled, blowing a pattern of hoops. “Why did you want to come here?”

  Zura broke from her daze and spun around. She went to the centre, sat above the moon depiction, and took out the black dagger. “Because here is the closest to the heavens I can get.”

  Vakaar watched curiously as she lay out a worn cloth, herbs, a couple of jars and a candle. He remained silent, letting her concentrate on cutting and squeezing.

  Zura tried to remember how her mother did it. She added water to the crushed mixture and shook it to turn it a faded grey. Keeping her cool, she reached around her neck and fiddled with the bind stone necklace. She swore under her breath, hands shaking, unable to get to the clasp.

  Vakaar gave in. He sat beside her, brushed her hair away, and loosened it. “What are you doing?” he whispered.

  Zura shuddered. She kept her eyes shut tight and clutched the stone. Shaking her head, she squeaked. His gloved hand rested on her shoulder. Tears rolled down her face, and she gazed at Vakaar. A rush swirled inside, one she hadn’t felt for ten years. She kept hold of the necklace and hovered a hand over his face. She wanted to feel. She wanted to caress the bristles of his facial hair and allow the infatuation to fill her with joy. Vakaar kept his sombre eyes locked to he
rs. He budged her hand to touch him.

  The tightness in her chest fell. “I want to move on.” She brushed her thumb on his cheekbone and felt the depth of the scar running through his left eye beneath her fingertips. “I’m scared to, Vakaar.”

  Vakaar cupped her face and brushed away the stray hairs sticking to her cheeks.

  Zura sighed and let the necklace fall to the ground. She closed her eyes, the pain of two different pulls tugging at her core. She wanted to kiss him. Aching with the guilt of a bound woman, she nuzzled her nose with his. Vakaar returned it. She clutched either side of his face and nudged affectionately, without their lips touching. She begged inside for him to do it. He didn’t. He wrapped her arms around his neck and held her jaw. The scent of death didn’t disturb her. It spurred her desires. Vakaar rubbed her stiffly, facial hair tickling her mouth. Hunger parted their lips. She just had to graze to feed it.

  Vakaar twisted and lay her on the floor. Her eyes begged him, please do it. Her hands locked around his neck. He climbed on top, resting one hand beneath her neck, the other moving her leg. He caressed her thigh and pulled it up to his hips.

  Zura trembled. Their breaths were shaken and heavy. She was nearly crying with need. “Please…” she whispered.

  “It’s not down to me, Kreiess,” Vakaar struggled to say.

  Zura’s eyes widened. She felt him through his leathers and wriggled at the intensity. Vakaar firmly put her back in place and did a slow, deliberate grind. She gasped and gripped the hairs on the back of his head. He did it again. A moan unlike anything she had ever released came with it. “Vakaar…I’m begging you…”

  “You don’t have to beg. One thing, that’s all you have to do. I’ll guide you through the rest.”

  Zura brought her hand to his lips. Her heart raced. She closed her eyes and went for the kiss. The scent of blood was on his mouth. She screamed and battered his chest. “No, I can’t! I can’t fucking do this!”