Chapter 17

17

- Alba -

The green-striped men right outside the cave have their hands on the hilts of their swords. The boys that are supposed to protect me have drawn their knives. Still, there’s no doubt who will win a fight here.

But I can’t allow that to happen. “What do you want, men of Krast?”

“We want you, woman,” says the one closest to the cave. “We think it’s time you spent some time with all of us, instead of only with our healer.”

“Have you asked the healer what he thinks?” I ask, reaching for the spear that’s leaned up against the wall.

“We have not, and we shall not. Clearly he would rather be with a woman than with his own tribe in these difficult times. But he would agree that it’s only fair that we also got to taste your sweetness!” There’s a mutter of agreement from the men around him.

“You wouldn’t like that sweetness,” I tell them coldly as I show them the spear in my hand. “It has a nasty sting to it.”

“Of course we don’t want that spear,” the man says, some wildness in his eyes. “We want the sweetness of Mating! Only one of our tribe has experienced it. Now, others also want to!”

The men are pushing to get into the cave, but the boys in front of me are leaning against them, holding them back.

“None of you ever will,” I promise them. “Indeed, you will all struggle to survive when my Borok and Tretter men see what you’re doing.”

“Your tribesmen can’t get into the village,” another man says gleefully. “We have just closed the gates and armed the traps.”

Shit. This is not looking good.

“They will return with all the warriors in the Borok and Tretter tribes,” I warn them. “They will kill you all and burn your village down.”

“They’ll find the village empty, because we’ll all be attacking their villages while they are all here. Or do you think they’ll bring their women to the war?” He laughs. “No, they will be left in the villages and we can just walk in and take them.”

There’s a furious roar, and two of the men in the back collapse. The others turn to face the new danger.

It’s Anter’az, armed with a huge log that he slams into the group, sending men ducking and falling to the ground. “Get away from her, honorless cowards! Rekh-spawn! Outcasts!”

They all pull away, surprised by the ferocity of his attack.

So am I, and it’s a really pleasant feeling to have a man like him come to my rescue.

Finally he’s there with me, eyes shooting hard fire and his jaw clenched. “Are you all right, my love?”

“Yes,” I confirm. “They wanted to…”

He leans in to kiss me on the mouth, and maybe to shut me up before he turns. “She says you had dishonorable things in mind!” His voice echoes through the village.

“You had her for many days,” the first man whines. “We want her, too! It’s said that you Mated with her!”

Anter’az stiffens. “Who says that?”

“Well… everyone,” the man says. “Why else would you take her into the jungle? But now we want it, too! All of us!”

Anter’az tenses, and his hand touches the hilt of his sword. “One more word from you about Alba, and I will split you open from end to end!”

“It doesn’t need to be her! ” the man persists, ignoring the obvious signs of danger. “The Borok and Tretter men will go home to alert their chief about us having taken Woman Al… having taken that woman for ourselves. They will go to war against us, but when they get here, we have already gone to their villages to get the women that are there! They will only be guarded by boys and old men! We can all have women, Anter’az! Not just you! But of course you can share?—”

“Aaaarghhhh!” Anter’az roars so the Hill shakes. “Get out of my sight!” He draws the sword and swings it in wide, vicious arcs through the air, the air whistling around the blade.

The group disperses as the men flee wildly to get away from their ferocious healer.

“Outcasts!” Anter’az growls as he replaces the sword in its sheath. “They should be given to a nest of rekh!” He takes a deep breath and looks me over. “No harm done?”

“None,” I tell him. “The boys protected me.”

He nods. “Well done, boys. Today, you are all more Krast than most of the tribesmen. I would give you all swords for your service. Just know that this is not what our tribe is about. Something has ruined our men, but they can be healed. I shall cure them!”

“They say the gates are closed,” I tell him. “My tribesmen can’t get in.”

“They are,” Tren’ax says, having returned. “I couldn’t get out by the gate. But I snuck out the secret way and saw them. They will break in if they must, they say. They’re not leaving without Woman Alba.”

“We shall open the gates,” Anter’az says and pours a mug of frit that he hands to me. “Woman Alba came in through our gates, and she shall walk out through them as well, not sneak out through some secret entrance.” He takes a sip straight from the pot of frit. “Oh, how I hate to be angry! But these tribesmen of mine… It will be better when we have a new chief. Tomorrow night they will select him. Who do the men say it will be, boys?”

“Some say Popret’ax,” they kids report. “Some want Pury’an. And some say Tarat'ex. Some say they don’t want a chief. Some say any chief who’s selected must give the tribe women, so that the Krast are again respected.”

“None of those are good choices,” Anter’az growls. “But hopefully the Elders will select well at full moon.”

“Some men say that it should be you, ” Tren’ax says carefully. “The old healer and the shaman say so. And others.”

Anter’az ruffles the boy’s hair. “It’s a flattering idea. But I have my hands full healing our unfortunate tribesmen. Boys, I still need your help. Some in the tribe want Woman Alba dead. She and I will now go out through the gates, and you will all protect us. Nobody will dare attack us then!” He gets his big pack.

The boys surround us as we slowly walk out of Anter’az’s cave. There’s about twenty of them, from ages ten to probably sixteen, scowling dangerously at any man we meet.

“I can’t protect you in this village the way it is,” Anter’az says softly into my ear. “Your tribesmen can keep you safe in their camp while I talk some sense into my men.”

“That might not be enough,” I reply. “They’re so… wild!”

“I’ve never seen them like this,” he admits. “But I want to try. I want us to be better. Only if my tribe is better can I expect you to want to stay with me.”

“Anter’az,” I begin, feeling my throat constrict, “I don’t know if?—”

“Certainly things are not looking good,” he says quickly. “But the men respect me. I’ve been gone for days, and I’m not a part of their silly conflicts. I can talk to them! They will listen to me. They will. They must! ”

“They must,” I repeat, not sure about that at all.

We get to the gate. Two men stand there, obviously intent on keeping us in.

“Stand aside,” Anter’az orders flatly. “Woman Alba is going back to her tribesmen.”

“We were told she should be kept here,” one of the guards says.

“And now I’m telling you something else. Don’t make me tell you again.” Anter’az’s voice is deadly.

“The plan is—” one of the men begins.

“The plan? ” Anter’az snaps. “My plan is to give Woman Alba back, the way I promised her tribesmen. Would you have me break my word of honor?”

“Of course not, Anter’az. It’s just that?—”

“No!” the healer snaps. “I don’t want to hear it. Stand aside right now, or I will never let any of you into my cave again. Would you like that, Ropreg’ax? Would you like to never get any remedy for those teeth that bother you? And you, Sorek’ox? Would you?—”

Both guards quickly stand aside and open the gates. “It’s open for you, Anter’az. Be advised that the traps are armed.”

“Are there any new traps?” Anter’az asks, peering out.

“None.”

He takes my hand and leads me out of the gates. Then we make our way through the maze. He sometimes ducks and sometimes takes an extra long step as if avoiding a weak part of the ground, and in two places he lifts his feet as if stepping over tripwires. He always stops and makes me do the same thing, and in one place he simply lifts me and jumps across a part of the path where I can’t see any problem at all.

Outside, we’re met by Dror’iz and another. The others are sitting in the camp they made, grilling food over a fire and looking over at us.

“Greetings, men of the Borok and Tretter tribes,” Anter’az says. “As promised, I have now escorted Woman Alba back to you.”

“So I see,” Dror’iz says. “We expected nothing else, of course. But we were worried when the gates were closed and we were not allowed back inside.”

“My tribe is going through a difficult time,” Anter’az says. “They will soon be back to normal. I trust none of your party suffered any injuries or similar during the… events?”

“We’re unharmed,” Dror’iz says coldly. “Are you, Woman Alba?”

I unconsciously touch the wound at my back. “Healer Anter’az has taken perfect care of me.”

“She has a wound at the small of her back,” Anter’az tells them, perfectly honest as he is. “I will look at it now.”

“How did you get that injury?” Dror’iz asks me.

I don’t want them to know that someone was trying to kill me, which might give them the wrong idea. “It was an accident. Anter’az had nothing to do with it, but he helps it heal. May we?”

I bring Anter’az into the small cubicle the men made for me but I never used. I know the drill, so I roll down the upper part of my dress and lie down on the grass. “How’s it look?”

Anter’az doesn’t answer. He pokes and sniffs and strokes the skin around the wound. “Does this hurt?”

“It stings a little.”

“This?”

“That stings more.”

“This?”

“Ow!” I half turn my head. “Are you trying to open the wound again?”

“It’s just that it never closed properly. I’ll apply something. Just wait.” He opens his sack.

“Just no venom, all right? It scares me.”

“Mmm,” he says, which can mean anything. I feel fluid dripping on me, and then a paste being applied. A smell of crushed herbs reaches my nose.

“We’ll use a new leather piece.”

I feel him attach the leather square to my skin with sap.

“Not looking so good?” I ask when I get up and roll the dress down.

Anter’az places a finger under my cheek, lifts my face to the light, and looks into each of my eyes in turn. “Look up. Down. Hmm. It could be that aliens just don’t heal quickly. But it could also be something else. If this doesn’t get better tomorrow, I want to use a special remedy.”

“All right.” I reach up to stroke his cheek. “Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

He leans down and kisses my lips. “I love healing you. And all the other things. I’ll be back out as soon as I can.” He turns and walks back to the deadly alley that leads to the gates.

Dror’iz stares after him. “To have such a man in the tribe… truly the Krast are mighty.”

“Maybe they were, once,” I agree. “I hope they can be again.”

He looks over at his camp. “There’s nothing to keep us here, Woman Alba. Our mission is as complete as we could make it. We can start walking back home. There is still some daylight.”

The smoke rises from the chaos that is the Krast village. Sounds of fighting reach us from inside the walls.

I steady myself on the spear that he made just for me. “Not yet. Let’s give him a chance.”