Tribal Dawn: Mordufa: Volume Three Read online

Zura frowned. “Who told you such a nasty thing?”

  Nola slid off the bench and hid behind her greasy hair. “No one. I want to go home now, please.”

  Zura doubtfully took her back to the orphanage hall. The younger children were becoming aggressive, wanting naps or demanding snacks of every passing Moduma or Faduma. She planned to take Nola into the bedroom and speak to her there, but instead, she couldn’t ignore the children swarming towards her, pulling her robes for attention.

  Nola broke free in the commotion, leaving Zura to deal with the herd and feed the flock before grabbing the box of blankets to settle them for naps. When most had given into tiredness, some sleeping on the floor, some crawling to bed, one on a table and another in the toy box, curled up like a small cat, Zura made a sweet rose tea and went outside to rest on a bench nearby.

  Crossing her legs, she scanned the span of the village, from the front of the twelve-foot log fences right to the aqua sparkles from the lake behind the Chieftain’s hut. The children didn’t leave the building often, and if they did, the people who took them were either remaining family members who didn’t have the room or health to care for them full time or else trusted villagers. Then again, it was a shock for any to be brought forward accused of harming children. Everyone knew everyone and secrets like that had to be hidden from sight. Victims grew and had suppressed the memories confessed. They became adults, and by that point, their abusers were already dead. If they weren’t, her father had his fun making them suffer.

  She thought back to Dizelai and the secret he kept from her. The black, subtle deadly dagger of the Silent-step poking her toe when she sat on his bed. The cult of killers who live amongst their victims to learn their habits and deliver the perfect kill without being traced. The ones who murdered her grandfather, an experienced Sun tribe warrior, on the orders of a madman.

  She took out a blank scroll and charcoal. Something was happening to the children, something that she couldn’t see. It was up to the Modumas to protect them as if they were their own. If they were being harmed, she wouldn’t stop at anything or anyone to find who was to blame. She was failing, and that couldn’t happen, no matter who she had to call for help. She had thought of asking the cult numerous times to return Dizelai’s blade and get some closure. Each time she approached the jagged rock, she burnt the letter, not ready to let go of her last memory. This was different. Her father's warriors couldn’t intervene on such a suspicion without proof. That wasn’t something she was going to get easily. She needed a shadow, a silent one.

  - CHAPTER THREE -

  The Sky-and-White tribe was known for its welcoming community. It was a place for second chances. The tribe housed thousands in the rainforest from different religions, regions and walks of life. Their broad farming fields grew basic grains and the surrounding trees had been thinned by the demand for new homes and weapons.

  When Masika ran away from her birth tribe and torturers, the incestuous Blood-and-Shadow, heavily pregnant with two young children to care for, she stumbled upon the Sky-and-White by accident. It had taken years before she plucked up the courage to escape, hoping to find her brother, Chief Atsu. Instead, she found her new home, a place where she and her children were protected.

  She first met her mate Preye outside the gates. He was confused and drinking ale when she stumbled from the jungle, a child on either arm and a swollen belly. Her intentions were to stay until the birth of her daughter. After Chief Yissia discovered she was hiding amongst his people, he told her she could have a free and safe life under the name Maha, her children too, as long as she abided never to leave. Hearing rumours of Atsu’s hostility towards anyone from Blood-and-Shadow reaffirmed to her that she made the right decision in binding to Preye and keeping her safety a secret, not to mention other dark memories and scars that haunted her.

  The Blood-and-Shadow had punished Atsu, or Zaki as he was known back then, for not trading Masika to the Chief. Before he duelled Dia, the Chief's son, for the hand of Blood-and-White’s then-Chief Pazade’s daughter, Jocelin, the pair shared a bed and, unbeknownst to Atsu, created a child. When Pazade was murdered by the Silent-step, Atsu brought war to the Shadows, one that was welcomed by their wholly tainted leader, Jasari. The village was enveloped in flames. Masika had been saved by an exiled witch doctor, Inari, and gave birth with his aid. She begged him to take her newborn away from that life and leave her to die. Inari obeyed her wishes. The sweet release of the death god Mordufa iced her skin. She was saved by garasums – slaves of the Blood-and-Shadow bred in quarters, given no name, nor knowledge of their fathers – and lived with the guilt for giving away her son for almost two decades. That was until she was told he was dead by Inari after his capture, igniting her will to leave once and for all.

  Her three children to Chief Dia acknowledged Preye as their father. Nuru was the only one old enough to remember it was Dia. As far as his younger sisters, Karasi and Subira, were concerned, they were Preye’s.

  Masika dragged two cushioned seats into the living area. Carrots and potatoes she had harvested in the morning boiled in the pan, rattling as they bubbled. She got out clean wooden bowls and spoons. When she first arrived, the hut was run down from housing Preye’s family for generations. The last of his line, Masika never bore him a child. She helped him decorate the place for the three they had, knowing when the time came they would inherit it. A newly-crafted table and chairs were brought in. Shining new pots and pans stored over the roaring fire. Blankets and toys, despite the children being past using them, were piled in a brightly-painted box in the corner of the living area. The cobwebs that first greeted Masika and their eight-legged owners were swiped away, and the ragged bedroom furniture was replaced.

  Masika looked in the mirror. Her once flawless bronze skin had aged from malnourishment and the stresses of raising her children. Her raven waves curled around her heart-shaped face and rested at her hips. Copper brown eyes, cat-like, were worn out beneath thick eyebrows, and her bow lips were cracked from working in the fields under the rays of Father Sun Solianga.

  She gave her hair a final brush, disgusted at the amount of curls locked in the bristles. Pulling them out and flicking hairballs to the ground, she called, “Kara! Subira!”

  One of the doors opened. Karasi dragged her feet to the table and huffed as she sat. Of the three children, she resembled Dia the most, if at all. She had a rounded face and her eyes were smaller than her siblings and brown-black in colour. Her curly auburn hair rested on her shoulders, a couple of beaded plaits keeping it under control.

  Frowning, Masika inspected her clothes: a green linen top that revealed her stomach and black shorts that were better suited to being underwear. “I really hope you’re joking, Kara.”

  “What?” She looked down. “Some tribes wear nothing at all.”

  “Two things. We’re not in that type of tribe, and only women who are looking for mates do that. Also, you’re twelve. Go change and get your sister.”

  Karasi pushed the chair away from the table. “Nuru barely wears any clothes; yell at him and I’ll listen.”

  “That’s different, he’s a boy. Change, now,” Masika said, unamused. As she wiped the table surface clean, Subira emerged wearing a flowing, tattered skirt and vest. Unlike Karasi, her frizzy ringlets were dark brown and untameable. Her eyes, a golden brown, were often glazed as she daydreamed the hours away and her bowed lips curved into an innocent, dimpled smile. She looked to her mother.

  “Is food nearly ready?”

  “Yes. We need to talk about something before we eat. I’ve had another guard come to me about your sister’s behaviour. I’m going to be speaking to you about something crucial.”

  “If Kara did it, why do you need to speak to me too?”

  “Because I want you to understand, Subira. How your sister behaves is wrong.”

  Subira pushed her dark curls away from her eyes. “Is this about her mate? Because she broke up with him.”

  “It’s not just about
her plaything. It’s about the other ten she’s been caught with this season alone. I don’t want you to be led astray by her. We’re struggling as it is from the passing drought to fill our own mouths, let alone, Luaani forbid, you two coming home cradling newborns.”

  Subira blinked, confused. “Why would I steal a baby?”

  Masika dropped her cleaning cloth and stared. “That is exactly why we need to talk about it.” She hurried over to the cooking pot and dished out the bland meal of vegetables. Sitting down again, she tapped her foot, impatiently waiting for Karasi to return.

  Karasi strode through, slumping in her seat in an elegant skirt that matched her sister’s. She picked up her spoon and prodded the soft potato until it crumbled. Masika scowled.

  “Kara, the amount of boys you’re being caught with worries your father and me,” Masika said, ignoring her own bowl.

  Her daughter lowered her shoulders and nibbled on a carrot. “It’s not my fault. The guards shouldn’t be watching me. Have you thought about asking them why they do that? It’s weird.”

  “They’re protecting you from harm. Those boys are Nuru’s age and know better. They’re trying to use you. Believe me, they will disappear when you get a fat belly with their child.”

  “If it happens, it happens.”

  Masika rubbed the back of her neck and pinched her lips. “What type of example do you think you’re setting to Subira? What if she came home pregnant? What would you say to her?”

  “I’d ask if he had a brother.” Karasi sneered. When she saw the frown crease on Masika’s forehead, the smile instantly faded. “I don’t know. Probably call her stupid.”

  Subira dropped her spoon. “I'm not stupid. Why would I go out and be pregnant? That’s a bit strange. There are no Luaani pools here.”

  “You don’t get pregnant from water, stupid.”

  “Yes, you do! The elder told me that women go to the pools of Luaani’s tears. She weeps for children, and that’s where they come from. When they come out, they sparkle and have the power to speak to Mother Luaani.”

  Masika rested her head in her hands and took slow breaths.

  “That’s stupid, Subira,” Karasi scoffed.

  “It’s not! Why would she tell me that?!”

  “Because Modumas don’t mate. It takes a coc—”

  Masika slammed her hand on the table and grimaced at Karasi. “Don’t even think about using that language in our home.” She turned to Subira. “What the elder told you, in essence, is right. There are pools that men and women go to have a child when they have tried, and it hasn’t worked. But Kara is right, that isn’t where babies come from.”

  “Oh.” Subira sheepishly settled in her chair. “Then where are they from?”

  “Well…” Masika dryly swallowed. “When you find a man who becomes your mate, there are things you sometimes do. Things behind closed doors.” She narrowed her eyes at Karasi’s smirking. “There is kissing, but sometimes, that doesn’t feel enough.”

  “What about hugging?”

  “Yes, sometimes that doesn’t feel enough, either. It’s erm…” Masika took the carrot from her plate and turned away, waving it in the air. “Men have something like this they use to relieve themselves.”

  “A carrot?” Subira giggled.

  “Not a carrot, but like it. They… well…”

  “They stick it up your cabbage,” Karasi interrupted.

  Subira burst into a fit of giggles and nearly fell off her chair. Masika reluctantly smiled and dropped the food. “Alright, today isn’t the day for that talk. Please be more sensible, Kara. You’re not far off being able to bind. You’ll get to experience all of that then, with someone who will care for you. Same for you, Subira.”

  “What about Nuru? I don’t think it’s fair us two are given your speech on vegetables. He’s mated, you know, Mother. The girl suffers blackouts from where he punched her in the back of the head,” Karasi said, hiding her laughter.

  “He already knows, Kara. I spoke to him about that at the time. And stop telling lies. The girl is fine. She just can’t handle Solianga’s sun shining on her,” Masika said doubtfully.

  When her daughters had finished eating, Masika gathered water pouches and pieces of string to tie back their hair. They argued about using the brush first. Masika urged them to hurry up to take them to the Dance Unthysha – an experienced dancer who taught moves that summoned the blessings of the gods and celebrated life.

  When Masika gave birth to Subira, a star-caller came to read the alignment of the sky. Spilt blood tainted the moon. The stars were dominated by the lioness. As a lioness, the rarest star, Masika and Preye were advised that not many of the tribe’s roles would suit her. Female lions didn’t tend to live long due to their courage, and often lost limbs before they reached teenage years. Males flourished with its blessing. With the taint on Luaani’s pure orb, Subira lacked its dangerous, compulsive bravery. The star-caller advised her to work towards becoming a dancer or a hunter by the side of Karasi, whose chart was also tainted but by the solar rather than the lunar. When they reached the age of five, Masika and Preye declared they would be dancers, something that neither wanted. It held fewer risks than a bow-wielding wild hunter.

  Under the age of fifteen, children danced to a beat of drums, performing impossible flips and twists for the rest of the tribe at festivals and when guests visited. As soon as they came of age, the dance changed. Women who’d never trained to work as a performer had to take part in the process to show they were available to bind. The fun flips and spins turned into seductive twirling and twisting of hips, imitating the act of mating, testing men’s willpower in a bid to gain a mate. Often, the women would be found dead in the alleys after being battered and forced upon.

  As the two girls continued training, Nuru was advised to become a warrior, though his sign, the wolf, said he would go elsewhere. Fiercely protective of his family, he regularly came home with bruises and cuts after taunts about Karasi and his mother’s hips. His days were spent in groups of racially different boys, testing each other’s strength and sometimes being guided by the veterans.

  Masika strode through the crowds, dodging wheelbarrows barging to the small market. Women pulled children towards elders. Men patrolled the packed tribe wearing grey cloth armour and carrying basic spears or swords for defence.

  A space cleared of clutter and plants to the east side of the tribe was for the performers. The once fertile ground was charred from past bonfires and worn to sand by the perfected steps of the entertainers. A group of teenagers and children stood beside the healthy Unthysha, dressed in white, constricting clothes. She gave a huge grin when Masika approached.

  “I’m sorry we’re late,” Masika said, urging Subira forward while Karasi dropped onto a boulder, an entourage of gossiping girls surrounding her.

  “It’s alright, Maha. We’re just beginning. How is Preye? I’ve not seen him the last week.” The Unthysha tried to encourage Subira to talk to girls her own age. Instead, mortified at the thought, she wandered to a stone bench to lie on.

  “He’s been working a lot. The girls are growing out of their clothes fast and—”

  “FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!” Chanting broke out on the opposite side of the area. Teenage boys circled the scrap, throwing rocks and taunting.

  Masika rolled her eyes and ran towards them. Every day when she dropped her daughters off, the same scuffle broke out and one of the bloody faces was always one she knew. Shoving the shoulders of the boys in fur pouches, she barged through. “Nuru!”

  Nuru sat on top of another, his hands wrapped around his throat. Splatters of blood covered his arm, little seeming to have landed on the floor. His veins flared in rage, and the side of his face was red with anger. The one beneath him struggled and flapped his arms, attempting to push him off. Everyone else cheered.

  Masika brought her hand to her mouth and rushed to Nuru’s side. She wrapped her arm around his neck and tried to pull him away. “Let go of him! Sto
p it!”

  Nuru growled, punched his victim in the face, and then released him, knocking Masika back several paces and shoving away through the crowd.

  She stumbled back, luckily caught by a stranger who helped her steady. She straightened her dress and followed her son. Nuru’s hand dripped crimson on the floor as he shouldered people out of his way, heading for home.

  Breaking into a near-jog, Masika got back to the hut as Nuru sat before the fire. His thin frame worried her, bones jutting out under his bronze skin. Except for having shorter curls than Subira’s and a somewhat squarer jaw, they nearly looked identical at a distance.

  Masika gathered her cloths and sat beside him. He stared at the flames licking the metal pot. His lip was split open, his chest and arms covered in scratches as if an animal had attempted to tear him asunder. Pulling out a bowl, she poured some boiled water and broke green leaves into the mix before dabbing the first cut on his arm.

  Nuru hissed and recoiled. “Leave it.”

  “No. If I leave it, you’ll become sick and I won’t be the one looking after you.” She said, yanking his arm back down. The open cuts quickly dyed the cream cloth red. “You need to stop this, Nuru. It’s only going to get worse.”

  “If I don’t defend Karasi and Subira, who will? Preye?” He clenched his jaw and held back his pain.

  “He’s your father. He’s working all hours he can to bring us clothes and food. We hear the comments, too. We have to ignore them.”

  “I can’t ignore this. The things they say they’re going to do to them, it sickens me.” He grimaced, clenching his teeth. “Our real father would never let it happen.”

  Masika narrowed her eyes. “If you believe that, you’re a fool, Nuru. The biggest fool in the world.”

  “Preye isn’t doing anything to support them. I’m sick of calling that waste of space my father. It’s been ten years, I don’t know why we’re wasting any more time here. We can leave, Mother, just us four, and go to Blood-and-White. Atsu could send me to the Sun tribe. I heard a rumour one of his sons has joined them. Anything is better than that fucking drunk.”