Chapter 8
- Kenz’ox -
“Oh,” is all I can say.
Dorie’s lips are incredibly soft, and the touch feels as light as a wafting leaf, but also as stunning as a slash from a sword.
She stares into my eyes for a short while as my mind tumbles. Then she leans away, puts the lid on her pot, and gets up. “Will see how it heals.”
Aker’iz picks that exact time to wake up and immediately give voice to her hunger. I get up, feeling as light as a cloud as I lift her up and start to make her dinner while Dorie goes into the ship.
“Did you see that?” I ask the baby as I change her leather sheets. “No? She put her lips on mine. Just the barest press. Softer than moss, sharper than a blade. And now my skin remembers it too well.”
Aker’iz squirms, and I catch myself staring into the air. “Yes, I sometimes do that with your head or cheek, but never your mouth. And not in that same way. This was very different from that. Her breath is so warm!”
Aker’iz settles down before I start to feed her. She must know that food is not far away.
“But perhaps it’s not important. Simply an act born of a danger survived. You know how we can feel after that. Elated, light-headed. But we both had time to calm down, didn’t we? Yes, the food is coming. Just heating it now. You prefer some warmth in your dinner, I know. I’ll get it just right.”
I put more wood on the fire. The sun has set, and the darkness comes fast.
Sitting down with Aker’iz on my lap, I scoop some of the fruit porridge into Theodora’s mug and fill the little spoon. “Time to open. No, your mouth. Come on.”
As usual, the baby doesn’t cooperate like a good tribesgirl should. But she’s still getting used to the spoon, so I suppose I have to be patient. She finally understands what I’m trying to do.
“She’s not one of us,” I ponder aloud. I enjoy being able to speak with Aker’iz, which is usually not a good idea in the jungle.
But the ship is right there, and if there’s danger I can simply put her inside and close the door.
“She’s so different! Her speech is strange, her movements, her clothes…
her face, even. How can she survive here?
Even today, she was nearly taken by an irox.
Yes, she did kill it, but if I hadn’t handed her the spear, she would not have made it.
Such a strange mix of skill and thoughtlessness!
An irox can appear at any time, and she had placed her spear many paces away!
As if tempting the Ancestors to test her!
Now open again. No, open. Don’t close. Oh, do you mean that you are done?
All right, I will just put this mug away—no, I didn’t think so.
” I keep feeding her, trying to keep my mind away from the memory of Dorie on the beach, her body bared to my eyes.
The evening seems clearer today, more colorful. Oh, the look in those deep eyes… that triangle of dark hair just where her legs come together…
I glance at the ship and the shimmering, blue light that seeps out of the hatch.
“She really likes that Plood thing. Trying to make it fly. Wanting to go home. Any day now she could be gone. And the ship with her. The safest place on Xren. Do you think she’d let us come along?
There are no Bigs on her home planet, she said.
But other dangers. And yet… What if she would let us come?
Can any planet be more dangerous than our Xren? ”
Aker’iz makes an annoyed sound.
“Yes, sorry. I was thinking too deeply there, forgetting what I was doing. No, we’ll stay here, you and I.
It may not be her world, but it is ours.
We can’t blame her for wanting to go home, can we?
We want that, too. Maybe. At some point, when you’re big and strong, perhaps we shall return and show them how wrong they were.
And they will let us back into the village.
Surely the old men must be dead by then. ”
I stop talking. The idea of returning to the tribe makes my stomach feel hollow.
Of course, leaving three dead tribesmen and defying the chief and the shaman would make it difficult to go back.
Burning their huts also will not have endeared me to them.
It’s a fantasy, nothing more. But still, I can’t stop thinking about it.
Aker’iz coos, babbles, and burps contentedly, so I put her in her backpack and set the pack inside the ship’s hatch. I can hear Theodora talking softly to herself somewhere inside.
I sit down by the fire and cook dinner for the two of us. Supplies are running low, and tomorrow at dawn I will go hunting.
After a while, Dorie comes back out. She carefully avoids looking at me.
We share the evening meal in silence.
- - -
The jungle is at its best in the early morning.
Dew drips from the treetops, mixed with sticky sap.
The air is heavy, but there’s a freshness to it that I like.
The light is also brighter than it will be all day, when the sun rises to its usual place straight overhead, its light blocked by the dense canopy of leaves so high above me.
I move quietly, my feet making no sound on the ground. I smell no recent predator on the air. I’m the only hunter out right now, as much a part of the jungle as any Big.
But those white balls everywhere were never a part of it before. I’m tempted to kick them whenever I see one, but that would make noise. Hopefully, they will disappear in time.
I find the track of a skarn, and it leads me deeper into the woods before I can throw my blade at it, spinning through the air.
The strike is perfect, killing the skarn on the spot and completely severing its strange head pouch from the rest of the carcass.
That way, it can’t release the sour fluid that can sometimes ruin the meat.
As I gut the skarn, I see two small signs of tribesman activity. Someone has been here not long ago, moving at night probably, or they wouldn’t have left these faint signs. Dorie said there would be no tribes nearby, but she might not know if there are.
Then I hear their heartbeats and slow breathing—they’re so close. I keep gutting the skarn, but in reality I’m ready to strike with my sword. There’s at least two of them.
“Greetings, Kenz’ox,” comes a voice from the side. “Our swords are in our belts.”
I recognize the voice and turn calmly. “Greetings, Emar’oz. You’re far from home. As are you, Torkz’ik. And you, Frant’ex.”
The three young warriors stop well away from me. Indeed, their swords are not bared. But they are three, and I will struggle to defeat them if they attack.
“We followed you,” Emar’oz says. “For several moons.”
“You should go back,” I tell him curtly. “There is nothing for you here.”
“We were sent to kill you,” Frant’ex says. “The chief and shaman were furious that you defied them.”
I feared it would come to this. The thoughts flash through my mind. I left both Aker’iz and Dorie asleep inside the ship, with the hatch closed. There’s a small chance these warriors will not discover that ship. If I lose this fight, I tighten the grip on my sword.
“What Frant’ex means,” Torkz’ik growls with an angry glare at his friend, “is that we were told to, but we won’t do it. We think you were right in taking the baby.”
“Was I right in killing three of your tribesmen?” I growl, checking the area for possible escapes and tactics for the fight. “And setting the chief’s hut on fire?”
“Chief Smirt’ax was not concerned about that,” Emar’oz says. “He was very concerned about having you defy him. And we’re not concerned, either. You were ambushed by six of your own tribesmen! And you killed three of them! Surely you should be celebrated as a great warrior instead of hunted.”
I smell sour smoke on them. They’re not picky about the wood they burn for their campfire, and they haven’t bathed for many days.
“Was I cast out?” I ask, innocently kicking away some of the bloody parts of the skarn, placing them so that my adversaries might slip on them if this becomes a fight. The smell of the prey’s blood makes me want to have one.
Torkz’ik looks away. “Not before we left. It may have happened later. Or it may not have happened at all.”
I snort. “I killed three tribesmen and defied the chief so everyone could see it. We have cast men out for less than that.”
“But none of those men were Kenz’ox,” Emar’oz points out. “Remember, you were given the use of a Lifegiver as the youngest man ever to have that honor. You were always talked about as a future chief. Indeed, many of us could barely wait for your face to be carved into the totem pole.”
“Then I am not bad enough to be cast out,” I sum up, “but still three men were sent to kill me. It makes little sense, warriors.” I listen for more sounds, but it does appear that these three are all that are coming for me.
They’re not just keeping me busy with talk while the actual attackers are surrounding me.
“Many things don’t make sense in the village these days,” Torkz’ik says, his belt creaking as he takes up a broad-legged stance. “Or in the jungle. Have you seen all these white things everywhere? The Envoy just laughs when asked about them.”
“And what does the Envoy say about my daughter?” I ask. “Just more of its craziness?”
Emar’oz takes his water skin from his belt and opens it. “We don’t know. The chief took the Envoy into his hut. We think he will keep it there.” He offers me the skin. “Refresh yourself, warrior. Hunting down a skarn is sweaty work.”
I don’t move. “I will not drink your water. Though I thank you for the offer. You will need it on your way home.” The last thing I want now is these three finding out about the ship and about Dorie. I might never get rid of them.
“Where’s the girl?” Frant’ex asks eagerly. “The baby? From the Lifegiver? The baby that you took?”
I rip some leaves off a bush and start cleaning my sword of skarn blood. “Do you mean my daughter? Little Aker’iz?”
“Yes!” he groans. “Of course I mean her! What other girls are there?”