Chapter 18

18

- Anter’az -

“Back already?” the guards ask when I walk back in. “Without the woman?”

“For now,” I reply. “I want to see if the tribe can still be saved.”

It’s not looking good. The fire still burns, angry groups are fighting between themselves, and there’s the sound of blade striking blade.

Three men come towards me, the one in the middle being supported by the two others. “Anter’az! Thank the Ancestors you’re back. Look! Uper’ox is badly injured!”

My wounded tribesman has a cut down his torso, leaving a trail of blood on the ground. It looks like a sword strike.

“How did it happen?” I ask.

“We were fighting those who want to keep the Lifegivers to themselves,” Epret’ax wheezes. “I parried one stroke, but I was too late to step aside?—”

“You were fighting your own tribesmen?” I snap coldly. “And now you expect the tribe healer to help you?”

“It feels like a bad injury,” Uper’ox says without any force, his face pale with the loss of blood. “Much worse than losing a finger.”

“It is bad,” I confirm. “It’s so bad there’s not much I could do, even if I wanted to. But any man who fights his own tribesmen deserves to die. I thought you might have learned your lesson after our guests cut off your fingertip, but you haven’t. Ask your brothers in arms to help you.” I walk past them towards my cave, always searching for a certain face in the crowd.

I don’t get far before the two co-chiefs come towards me. “Greetings, Anter’az. We’re glad to see you back home.”

“I’m not glad to see what my home has become in my absence,” I reply without greeting them. “What happened to the once feared and revered Krast tribe?”

You know what happened, co-Chief Cren’iz says. “The outtribers brought a woman. We let her into the village because you spoke for her. This is the result.”

“Is it?” I ask. “Did Woman Alba set fire to the totem pole?”

“No, but?—”

“Did she cut Uper’ox so badly he will probably die from it?”

“Of course not?—”

“Did Woman Alba build a barricade around the Lifegivers and set fire to it?” I persist.

“She—”

“Did she start the fight between groups of our tribesmen? Did she let the food stores rot? Did she force the boys to take refuge in my cave?”

“Make your point,” Cren’iz grunts.

I frown. “My point? Must I really explain? Krast men did all that! Alba wasn’t even here.”

“Because she was with you! She took you away from us, and you took her for your own. I don’t know what black magic she used, but apparently it worked even from a distance. She must have left some evil work behind here in our village, turning the men wild and crazy! While you were enjoying her in every way, possibly even Mating with her! Don’t deny it, Anter’az! There’s a new glow in you now. You walk taller! We all saw it when you first came home today.”

“What Woman Alba and I did together is nobody’s business,” I calmly tell them. “All I know is that she didn’t do any of this. And if we had a good, strong chief, it would not have happened.”

“I will be a strong chief,” Pury’an says, his face suddenly changing from angry to ingratiating. “That I promise. Perhaps there is something in what you say. Perhaps it wasn’t the woman’s fault. Not entirely, anyway.”

“You will say anything to be selected chief,” I scoff. “You forget that I’m not an Elder. I will not be among those who select the new chief. Save your efforts for those!”

“It’s well known that you have great influence in the tribe,” Pury’an mutters. “Even among the Elders. What would those old men do without their healer, who gives them remedies that make their old age feel less oppressive?”

“Perhaps they should select me , then,” I suggest, having to raise my voice because of the noise from the fights. “If they do as I say anyway.”

Pury’an’s face drops. In a flash I realize that the last thing he wants is me as a rival.

“I never said they do as you say. Just that you have an unfair influence! Nobody selected you, Anter’az! And nobody will. Not when they can select me , an experienced leader of men.”

One of the iron forges collapses with a terrible crash.

“Do you know who’s the mightiest leader of the Krast tribe?” I ask innocently. “According to you two, Woman Alba has caused all this.” I point to the chaos around us. “If she were chief of the Krast, surely she would put it all right immediately. If she has those magical powers you speak of.”

Cren’iz stiffens. “Only a Krast tribesman can be chief of the Krast tribe. That woman is clearly an enemy, or she wouldn’t do this to us in the first place!”

I shrug. “You say she has magical powers. Probably she could make our tribe the most powerful on Xren. I’m sure we could try to persuade her.” It’s fun to tease these two old men, but the village is falling apart around us and I want to check on my cages.

“All we know is that she has changed you, too,” Pury’an grunts. “Look at your hair! It’s all short and strange. You wore a hat when you returned. A hat! She did that, didn’t she? And to young Tren’ax, too. You two no longer look like warriors! You now look more like her than like us. LIke aliens, like outtribers!”

I laugh. “Now you’re trying to flatter me. Honored chiefs, I have things to do.” I slap the hilt of my sword in a semi-polite gesture and turn my back on them.

All the boys have returned to my cave, too. They are of almost every age up to the Stripening. Not all the boys in the tribe are here, I notice with some gratitude. The youngest ones are with their fathers and are being kept safe in other caves. At least that's a sign that the tribe is not completely ruined.

“Sorry about this,” I sigh as I get a pot off a shelf and start to feed the inhabitants of my cages. “This is not the Krast tribe the way it usually is. But it will get better.”

The boys keep their distance as I finish feeding my snapping and crawling friends.

“That should do it,” I state. “Life goes on, even when our tribesmen seem to lose control of themselves.”

“Is Woman Alba… where is she?” Tren’ax asks, being one of the bravest boys.

“She is with her tribesmen,” I tell them. “Safely outside the walls.”

All the boys look at me with fear in their eyes. Yes, this must be troublesome for them. It must seem to them as if their world is collapsing.

Standing in the opening to the cave, I gaze out at the village as the sun sets on it. The fire has been put out, and the fighting has subsided. More men are standing and sitting on the ground within sight of my cave, clearly injured in the fights and needing my help. They keep throwing glances my way. They must have heard what I said to Uper’ox.

I'm struck by how pitiful they look. My tribe, the Krast tribe, renowned and feared and respected by all, is looking pitiful .

I can't take it.

I grab my pack, fill it with various items I need, and march out of the cave towards the common table, where Uper’ox is lying on the ground, either dead or bleeding to death.

“If I help you now,” I seethe as I bend down, “you are to agree that women are not the enemy. You are to swear to me to never raise your blade against any tribesmen or any woman again. Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” Uper’ox wheezes, barely audibly. “I swear.”

I won't demand that he slice open his hand to certify his oath the way I did some days ago, so I get to work on doing what I can. His friends have tied a leather strap tightly around his wound, stopping the worst blood loss and possibly saving his life.

“This has to stop!” I demand from him and the men gathering around us. “Every man who wants me to stay in the tribe as your healer shall place his sword in my cave and leave it there. We shall have no fighting in the Krast tribe! Spread the word!”

They all quietly draw their swords, grip the hilt the wrong way, and walk to my cave, returning empty-handed. Some also take the swords of their friends who are too badly wounded to walk.

A line of injured men forms, going right past the totem pole to the common table where I treat them. There must be a hundred of them, some badly injured.

Finishing with Uper’ox, I order the main fire lit to give me light to work by.

The last of the sunlight vanishes from the sky as another man takes his place, badly injured as well.

I lift my gaze and peer towards the gate. Alba is right outside. I'm sure I can sense her scent. Is that her voice, laughing?

What is she doing now? What is she thinking of? Am I a part of her thoughts?

I can leave everything, drop my pots and my sharp knife and the strips of leather, and go to her.

I can do that. At any time.

When I've treated the twenty most grievously injured men, I put down my tools, rinse my bloody hands in water, and walk towards the caves.

But not to my own. My mind is frayed and exhausted, and there's someone I need to talk to.