Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
REM’EB THE FIST
Earlier
I sling my sack of fishing tackle over my shoulder as I head through the streets of the Village of Those Who Remain, humming to myself. I like fishing. It allows me to collect my thoughts as I work to provide food for our people, and the sight of the huge underground lake always fills me with internal peace.
It’s a peace I could use after the last while.
No sooner do I step onto the cobbled path toward the lake than Tan’zor the Careful jogs toward me, his path straight as a dart. “There you are. Your father is looking for you.”
I bite back a groan. Being summoned to the chief’s side is never a good thing, even for his only son. “Surely not today? I have done my duty at the outposts. In fact, I just got back.” I slow my steps, setting the butt of my long, thin fishing rod on the ground as I stop to talk to my friend. “Tell my father I am going fishing.”
Tan’zor shakes his head. “That’s not what this is about. He said it’s urgent.”
Urgent, eh? My father thinks that everything is urgent and must be obeyed immediately since he is chief, but rarely does he use such words with me. The look on Tan’zor’s face is grave, and if my old friend is not willing to joke about my father’s usual demanding ways, then this must be something different. “Do you know what this is?”
“He will not say.”
“Is it the rebels?” I lower my voice even as I speak the words aloud, as if eyes are watching us from the shadows. They likely are. Rebels seem to be everywhere lately. No wonder my father is so worked up lately. Bel’eb the Mighty has been less Mighty and more anxious as of late.
Tan’zor’s expression is grim. “He will not speak of it. Your father is acting very secretive. I can get nothing from him.”
Strange, considering that everyone gets along well with Tan’zor. Sometimes I think my father likes him more than he likes me. “All right then, my friend. I will change my plans.” I offer him my fishing rod, and when he declines with a grin, I’m surprised. “Are you coming with me?”
“If I may. I am extremely curious about all of this.”
So am I.
We turn and head back through the sprawl of the village. Tan’zor the Careful’s steps are jaunty, but I am more pensive. Our home has been troubled for some time, and it seems that every day that passes brings new worries. We should be in a good place, our people. The terrible sickness that killed so many has been dormant for many turns now. Our food is plentiful, our gardens blooming. The living mountain is quiet with no rumblings in its belly.
But as I walk, I see males talking, their heads down. I see secrets being shared. I see resentment.
Something must change. But what?
As is custom, when we get to the wall, we pause. I let Tan’zor the Careful go first, waiting for him to get several steps ahead of me before proceeding. I walk slowly, holding my breath, hoping to hear the khui in my chest come to life. On the other side of the wall, kept safe, are the remaining females of our people. They can no longer mingle with the males for their own protection, and only resonance will allow us to spend a short time with them.
But resonance means a family. Children. It means that our line will continue.
My khui remains silent, and just like every other time, I am tempted to turn around and walk past the long, winding wall again, just to see if anything changes. I suspect every male feels like this. The guard posted at this end of the wall—Je’lef the Stoic—gives me a small nod, as if acknowledging my disappointment.
Tan’zor and I continue on to my father’s dwelling. It is the largest building in our village, with a courtyard full of plants that my father adores tending. Thick mushroom caps dot the gardens, next to stone sculptures honoring our ancestors. Behind the courtyard, my father’s home boasts multiple rooms. Once, this building was filled with people. I am told my father’s father had his mate in his bed, and there were so many of their children that all the rooms were filled, even the large hall that my father holds his chief meetings in.
Now, the building is empty of all but my father. My mother is dead, the sickness claiming her long before I could remember her, and no other children will be born. My father’s father and my father’s mother, and most of their children have all passed, many struck down by the sickness. I should live close to Bel’eb, as a proper Chief’s Fist would, but I moved out many cycles ago and he never said a word of protest. He has given up on me.
Two of my father’s most loyal guardsmen stand outside the door to his meeting hall, the sight of which surprises me. Why does he feel the need to keep others out? What is so very important? They nod at me as I approach, but one holds a hand up when Tan’zor remains at my side. “The chief will see you alone, Rem’eb the Fist.”
I narrow my eyes at the guards. “Tan’zor the Careful is loyal.”
“Your father’s instructions were clear.”
Were they, now? I glance over at Tan’zor, but he puts two of his hands up in amused apology. “We will talk more later, my friend. You know where to find me.” Tan’zor grins at the guards. “I shall just take another stroll along the wall. All is well.”
I grunt, but I don’t like it. Tan’zor is trustworthy. He is loyal. What’s so very secret that he cannot be included? What is my father up to?
Once Tan’zor walks away, the guards step aside to allow me to enter. I eye them and move forward, and turn and wait for the doors to shut behind me. Once they do, I move to face my father.
Bel’eb the Mighty looks as he always does. His shoulders are back, his chest full and proud. His mane is a stark pale gray but his face is unlined, his horns sharp. He wears the medallion of the ancestors that he won many years ago in combat, proving his worthiness as chief.
My lip curls in disgust as I see the male hovering over his shoulder. “Kin’far the Exile. I should not be surprised to see you here, spreading your filth. What poison are you whispering in my father’s ears?”
The exiled male smirks, crossing one set of arms over his chest. “I am merely proving my loyalty to Bel’eb the Mighty, sharing the wealth I have brought back.”
“Not more fruits plucked from the forbidden gardens? You have been told?—”
“Not fruit.” He lets out a little giggle that sets my nerves on edge. “Something that tastes far sweeter.”
My father raises his hand. “Enough from both of you. Kin’far is here because he has done us a great favor. I thank him for his loyalty. He hopes to someday prove that he is worthy to dwell within the Village of Those Who Remain once more.”
Him?
I spit on the floor in front of my feet. That is what I think of Kin’far the Exile.
My father’s eyes narrow. He turns toward the exile. “Leave us. We will speak again soon. Send Cas’zor back to me.”
Kin’far nods and slinks away from my father’s seat, receding into the shadows. A few moments later, Cas’zor the Worthy returns. He is Tan’zor’s eldest brother and has long been a trusted assistant to my father. I like him far more than the exile, and I can tell from the stiff look on the warrior’s face that he does not approve of Kin’far or his antics either. He moves to take his place at my father’s side, his expression unreadable.
“Has there been another raid on the above lands?” I ask, unable to stand all the subterfuge. “You know I do not approve. There is no sense in poking a lizard’s nest. It is a sure way to get bitten.”
My father waves my concerns away with an idle hand. “You worry too much, my son.”
“Noj’me the Attendant has spoken to the oracle. It warns us?—”
“Of the people above. Yes, yes, I am well aware.” My father’s eyes gleam and he leans forward in his chair. “I am not afraid of them. Nor am I afraid of the oracle’s nonsense. I have a solution to our problems, my son, and you should be grateful.”
I draw back in surprise. “A solution to the rebels?”
How is that possible? The rebels hide in corners, letting their whispers carry their discontent. They will not be satisfied until the females of our people are taken out from behind the wall and mingle freely with us once more. Even if it costs the lives of many, they want a return to the old ways. My father opposes it, because it will destroy what is left of us. Even now when I walk through the streets, there are too many empty homes, too many families that have been wiped out completely. It is not a solution, but the rebels think with their cocks alone.
“Bah, the rebels.” My father rolls his eyes and waves his hand again as if it were batting away a troubling bit of ash in the air. “Spoiled brats, all of them. Their rebellion will die down when they mature. No, I have a solution for our family. To protecting our line.”
Now I am the one that wants to roll my eyes. Ever since I turned of age, my father has had great interest in me resonating. When I turned into a warrior, he made me walk past the wall multiple times a day, certain that I would find my mate, impregnate her, and then we could begin to rebuild our line once more. But as ten turns have passed and my khui has remained silent, he has given up on me.
Today, however, my father’s eyes have a maniacal light in them as he regards me. “If I show you something, Rem’eb, you must swear not to tell a single person.”
I hold back my frown. “I swear.”
“Not even So’ran the Bitter.”
That makes me pause. So’ran was my childhood friend…but he is also the leader of the rebels now. “I no longer speak to So’ran. He is opposed to everything our house stands for.”
“This information will make him angry.” Bel’eb the Mighty leans forward on his seat. “For we have found something we will not share.”
They went to the forbidden gardens again. I am certain of it. Biting back my disappointment, I keep my expression neutral. “What is it?”
“We went to the garden of the strangers again.” His voice lowers to a whisper. “But this time, there were people in it.”
My brows go up. “People? People above? The blue ones? I thought they all died out long ago. How can they survive in such cold?”
“The exile finds treasures they leave in caves,” my father continues. “Foodstuffs. Furs. Carvings. He steals bits here and there. Nothing they will miss.”
The exile again. I hate that he speaks to my father. No good can come of Kin’far and the poison he drips in my father’s ear. I cannot help but think that Kin’far will be the first to cry about the curses the above-grounders have, and yet he is the one that steals from them. If there is a curse, he is not afraid of it. “I see. So he mocks the rules that we have established to keep our people safe.”
“Bah,” my father says. “It is not mockery.”
“We are not to provoke those that live above. That is an old, old rule. As Chief’s Fist, I must point this out.”
“You fuss too much. He is simply keeping me entertained. If it becomes a problem, I will tell him to stop. That is not why I called you here, anyhow.” My father waves a beringed hand, annoyed that I point out the rules to him.
“What, then?”
He leans forward, eyes gleaming. “Kin’far the Exile enlisted Set’nef the Wanderer to assist him in his last raid at my command.”
I do not like this, either. Set’nef the Wanderer is a good male and a fine warrior, if a quiet one. He keeps to himself, and I cannot imagine he likes working with the exile.
“They pulled a female from one of the caves from above. A strange female with no fur except atop her head, and no horns to grace her brow.”
“Sounds hideous,” I remark dryly. “Kin’far the Exile is welcome to her.”
Father shakes his head. “She resonated to another male we captured.”
“Another male ?”
“Yes. He was lurking near the other female and they had no choice but to steal both.”
Oh, by the ancestor spirits. It takes everything I have not to press my hands to my face in frustration. “So you stole a mutant male and two mutant females from above? Why? Do you want to start a war with them?”
The old stories from many generations ago speak of the fierce blue ones. That they killed our people with darts that could incinerate a body in a heartbeat. We lost so many of our people that we closed off our tunnels to the surface and vowed never to go atop again. Yet here Kin’far the Exile has been raiding their gardens and stealing their ugly females.
Truly, my father listens to idiots. I look over at Cas’zor, and though he strives to remain impassive, I can feel the disapproval radiating off of him. “You should take them all back, Father.”
“We have not yet decided what to do with the female and male that resonated to each other. If we return them, they will certainly give away our presence to the strangers above. But the other female I have kept aside carefully. And I have plans for her.”
Father’s expression grows crafty. Oh no.