Chapter 17
- Kenz’ox -
There’s suddenly some banging and other strange noises coming from inside the ship.
“That’s not right,” I say to Aker’iz and put her down in her playpen. “Stay here.”
The light in the ship has gone out. From the inner part of it, I hear bangs and the sounds of desperation.
I make my way inside, having to duck my head to avoid touching the ceiling.
“Dorie?”
The only light comes from the open hatch.
She’s standing by a part of the Plood ship, caressing it, hitting it, and shaking it, seeming to plead with it between sore, desperate sobs and furious screams. She appears to be losing her mind. “Stahp bing ajerk yafukin pisov sheee!”
For a moment, I just stand there while she slaps and kicks the strange table, clearly cursing it in her own language. It makes my heart ache. But it can’t continue.
“This has gone on for long enough,” I state. “This Plood thing is ruining you.”
I walk up to her and embrace her from behind, pulling her away from the Plood table she’s pounding on.
She explodes in my arms. “No! Not want! I repair!” She kicks and writhes and tries to punch me, acting like a captured rekh pup.
But I hold her firmly. “It’s all right, Dorie. You’re safe here. I will protect you. No krolt will get you.”
Dorie keeps thrashing for another little while, but then the energy goes out of her and she sags in my arms, sobbing. “I want… it not work… I try, many days… not work and now dark… I want to go home… I want to go home… Callie, I’m sorry…” She starts babbling helplessly in her own language.
“You will fix it,” I say calmly into her ear, holding her tight. “But you don’t need to fix it right now. Aker’iz and I will help you. We’ll help you with anything you want. You will never go into the jungle again. No krolt will come here.”
She tenses up and lets out a wail so sore and full of despair that it breaks my heart.
I let her howl her fear and anger for a while until she turns in my arms and presses her face to my chest, her whole little body shaking with sobs. “Why they take me here… why me…”
I decide that Aker’iz might not need to see this, so I sit down with my back to the wall and place Dorie on my lap. “That’s all right. All warriors know the feeling.”
“I’m not warrior,” she sobs. “I only hit lucky with the spear. I not good. Just luck.”
I squeeze her. “Of course! Unlucky warriors don’t survive their first fight. You’ve survived many.”
It takes a while for her to get to her senses, but I think she needed this.
She leans back and strokes my chest with her fingertips. “You’re all wet now.”
“Good,” I reply. “A true warrior knows grief.”
She looks up at me with red-rimmed eyes. “You really think I’m a warrior?”
I tilt my head. “You really think you’re not a warrior?”
She wipes her eyes. “I never want to fight a war. I only fight the Bigs because I have to.”
“Any good warrior will say the same.” I put my hands under her and stand up, lifting her with me, curled up at my chest. “Fighting is the last thing we want. But the jungle forces us. I have to check on Aker’iz.”
Outside the ship, I set Dorie down. “I think it’s about time we try to start that frit still your friends left.”
“You do that,” she says with a final sniffle. “I’ll play with Aker’iz for a while. Girl talk.”
She walks over to the playpen. Aker’iz sees her coming and squeals with glee, reaching out her chubby arms.
Dorie steps into the pen and sits down next to the baby. “Greetings, chief.”
The sight warms my chest.
Ah! This may be the time.
I get the item and walk over to the playpen. “Here is the true proof that you’re a warrior. I’ve had it for a while, but I didn’t know if you wanted it.”
Dorie looks up at me. “What?”
I place it around her neck and tie it closed. “That should never come off. Anyone who sees it will know that you’re a true warrior.”
She looks down and touches the necklace, made from a strong strand of rekh skin. “The claws from the drok!”
I give her a tight smile. “You killed it. It’s appropriate to display your skill and bravery.”
She stands up and embraces me. “Thank you. It means a lot.”
I squeeze her back. “It does. Not many tribesmen have taken down a drok. Anyone who sees you will know you are an accomplished hunter and fighter. Perhaps one day, even you will see it.”
“I think I see it now,” she tells me, sniffling a little again. “Thank you for making me feel better.”
I reach out and adjust the necklace so that the curved claws hang properly, with their sharp points away from the flawless skin on her collarbone.
“If we had also had the claws from the irox, this would have been the most impressive necklace on Xren. No man that I’ve heard of has taken down both a drok and an irox, and injured an ocean Big. ”
“We took them down together,” Dorie points out, reaching out to gently touch my chest with cool fingertips.
“The irox, perhaps. Not the drok. That was all you.”
She touches the skin near my small wounds. “Do you still feel the krolt venom?”
I shrug. “It wasn’t much, and it goes away fast.”
Her touch runs up my thigh and settles lightly on the side of my loincloth. “Maybe later, when Aker’iz is asleep, we can walk on the beach?” Her eyes have a peculiar light in them.
My loincloth bulges out immediately. “I think we can. Perhaps there will be fine moonlight.”
“Perhaps.” She quickly glances down at my loincloth. “And perhaps we don’t need it.” She sits back down and continues playing with Aker’iz.
I look up at the little sliver of sky I can see past the canopy of leaves high above. There’s still time for a quick hunt, so that we can have fresh meat tonight—if there’s prey nearby, that is. With two krolts dead, it’s very possible the prey Smalls are getting brave.
“I’ll go on a quick hunt,” I tell Dorie as I lean her spear onto the playpen. “Be ready to run into the ship if anything happens. The wise warrior avoids a fight if he can.”
“Yes, Chief,” she replies with mock seriousness.
I walk into the jungle with my hand on my sword and a smile on my face. Yes, we deserve some fresh, tender meat tonight.
I walk fast, looking out for krolts. If there’s a new nest nearby, then they will have chased away the rekh from this area of the jungle. Those two can’t stand each other. Where you find one, you don’t find the other.
Still, I have to go farther than I expected to find suitable prey. I kick over several of the white balls on the ground. They keep getting bigger and heavier.
Following the old tracks of a skarn, I find fresh tracks of something else: tribesmen. Three of them.
“They said they would go back,” I mutter as I follow them. The tracks are careless, showing no real attempt to keep to proper jungle discipline. Even just three, they feel strong when not alone. And those three were never the best jungle men anyway.
I smell the smoke from their fire before I see them.
Getting down on all fours, I quietly crawl up on their campsite, staying out of view.
They’re sitting on the ground, grilling a skarn.
Their swords are on the ground beside them as they chat about nothing in particular, laughing, and being far too loud.
I could storm out of the jungle and kill all three before they could get to their feet. That would be the best thing to do. But I also know I won’t. Killing krolts is one thing. These are men. And I won’t kill men who are not trying to kill Aker’iz, or me, or Dorie.
I quietly draw my sword, then walk fast into the small clearing, blade pulled up high and ready to slash.
“Anyone who moves gets his head cleaved in two,” I state as I stand before them.
They’re all frozen, eyes large. “Kenz’ox!”
“Why are you still here?” I demand. “Why are you not on the way back to your tribe?”
They look at each other.
“We… we like it here,” Emar’oz finally says.
“We’ve been walking for a long time, following you.
We wanted to rest before we start going back.
Look, there are skarns here. There aren’t any rekh.
There’s lots of fruit and berries. We see no sign of tribes.
Unclaimed turf, Kenz’ox! When did you ever see that? ”
This place does look as if they’ve been here for a while. The grass is flattened, and they have made a simple roof to sleep under.
“Rarely,” I admit, “and neither have you. This turf is claimed by me. That skarn is mine.”
Frant’ex moves as if to get up. “No, it’s not!”
I change my stance slightly, sword still pulled back. “Are you sure?”
He sags and sits back down. “No one man can claim a turf,” he says sourly. “Only a tribe can.”
“If the man can defend his turf, then the turf is his,” I state. “Compared to you three, I’m a full tribe, despite being only one.”
“You may be right,” Torkz’ik says thoughtfully. “If the man can defend his turf.”
I kick over a pot. “That’s easily settled. Attack me, all three. If you’re all dead before you can stand up, I have shown that I can defend it. Come on.”
They don’t move.
“No? Then we all agree that this is my turf, and that you three are intruders. What happens to intruders on another tribe’s turf, Emar’oz?”
“Now, Kenz’ox, there’s no need—”
“What happens to them?” I bark. These idiots are taking me away from Dorie and the walk on the beach.
“The tribe that owns the turf will try to kill them,” he concedes. “But you don’t have to kill us. We will leave. Just let us stay here for one more night. It’s already getting dark. In fact, Kenz’ox, won’t you stay here with us? Enjoy some tender skarn!”
“Yes,” Torkz’ik agrees. “Let’s stop this nonsense about turfs and tribes. Let us all enjoy a peaceful evening together, just four men of the Tratena tribe, far from our village. We’ll talk about the old days!”
Frant’ex frowns, but doesn’t say anything.
I laugh. “And then I’ll wake up with a blade in my chest. No thanks, Torkz’ik.”
“We already decided not to kill you,” Emar’oz reminds me. “We stand by that.”