Chapter 11

- Bronwen -

Coldness goes down my back as the wave of giant locust-like insects flows over the wall and across the ground in the village. It's like seeing a tsunami, an unstoppable light brown wave that keeps coming. There must be tens of thousands of the things, flying with translucent, papery wings

"That can't be good," Alba says beside me. We're standing on the upper plateau, looking down. "I hope they will fly around the Mount."

"They seem to fly pretty well," I reply, the eerie, dissonant hum from down there making me want to weep in fear. "They could probably get up here if they wanted."

The Borok men are walking down the stairs again, taking up defensive positions in case the creatures decide to ascend.

Brak kisses Piper on the cheek. "I'll be right down there, where I can get back up here in two heartbeats. If the creatures attack, scream for me. Then use your sword! But scream first."

Piper draws her thin, but vicious blade. "I will, my love."

Finally only the girls and I are up here, along with the old shaman.

"I never thought I'd see those things again," he creaks, shaking his head as he supports himself heavily on his staff. "I must have been only a boy last time."

"You've seen them before?" I ask, mostly to not have to hear only that hum.

"Only once. They passed by the village I was living in at that time. They didn't go through it, I hasten to add. No men were stung. But they made an impression on us all. They followed the trail of the skarp, which had also passed some moons before. I assume that's what they're doing now, as well."

That makes a lightbulb go off in my head. "Astrid, help me with this?" I hurry over to Bryar's parabolic mirror, which she used to scare away the skarp monster.

Astrid helps, and we carry it over to the edge of the plateau.

"It should reflect the light from the sun," Astrid ponders as we experiment with how to hold it. "But the sun is up there, and the swarm is down there. They're too far apart!"

She's right. There's no way to position the mirror so its concentrated ray of sunlight will hit the giant insects.

"Only Bryar could do this, I think." I put the mirror on the ground and draw my little knife. In a way, this situation is easy to deal with. If those horrors come up here, I'll just fight until I die. I wish more things in life were that simple.

The wave of creatures crashes against the Mount, humming madly. Most of the great, brown mass turns to the side and continues around the foot of it, then spills over the wall and back into the jungle.

But about a third of the swarm hits the red rock and starts to fly up along it, like a brown ocean wave crashing against a rock in slow motion.

"Damn," I whisper. "They're coming for us."

"Sure looks like it," Astrid says tightly. "I think they can sense movement or living things."

Excited yells and war cries rise from the bottom of the Mount, in addition to the deafening, disharmonic hum.

"I wonder where Noker is," I mutter. "This is not his village. He's a guest here. He has no duty to defend it. Or the Borok tribe."

"Does he know that?" Astrid asks quietly, her black eyebrows arching.

"Damn," I repeat, remembering Noker's strong sense of duty. "It's not going to cross his mind, is it? I have to go and get him up here, where he'll be safer."

On legs that feel stiff and cold, I go down the first flight of wooden steps to be able to see further down the Mount. There's a couple hundred tribesmen standing in various spots on the face of the rock, some precariously balancing on small ledges and some standing on the stairs, in intricate positions that shows me they're ready to defend it to the last. I haven't always been super impressed by this tribe, but now it looks like they're ready to stand firm for something important, and they fully intend to fight to the end.

I can't see Noker anywhere, but the noise from the bottom of the stairs is getting loud.

I spot Brak and tiptoe past him behind his back, hoping he won't see me. But just when I think I've succeeded, he grabs my upper arm and holds me still. "There's no need for you to go down there, Bronwen," he growls. "You're safer up here."

"But Noker down there!"

"Noker is a warrior, more than any triber. He will keep you safe."

I have to play the only card I have. It's a trump card, but it's going to sting.

"I notice you up here, also safe," I tell him coldly. "While kind, brave Noker down there, defending when not his tribe. Did you say, 'my clansbrother, come up with me! You guest in village, no need you for defend the tribe not yours'?"

His half-dactyl face falls. "I… he… he wanted me up here! He's the best warrior here!"

"Yes, Noker is good," I fire back, forcing myself because having an argument with a half-dactyl is scary. "He honorable! He's a real warrior! Now he need friend, and I go to him. I have weapon, too!" I show him my little knife, waving it a half-inch from his dactyl mouth.

He lets go of me, eyes widening as his dinosaur skin goes pale from shame that he doesn't deserve. "Stay here! I shall go!"

"No!" I tell him decisively, distantly aware that I have never had as much power over anyone as I have over poor Brak right now. I could tell him to jump off the Mount, and he would do it. He's clearly not thinking straight, blinded by his need to protect his wife from the swarm. And confronted with that, he's an easy target. If we get through this, I'll have to make it up to him. "You protect Piper! And Alba! And Astrid! That your duty! You stay!"

I turn my back and continue down the stairs. The Borok men stare and frown at me, and some try to block my way. But only until they see the look in my eyes.

About halfway down I see a Borok man lean precariously out from the rock as he cuts an insect in half with a swing of his sword. They're a blood-chilling mix of dragonflies and scorpions, with long stingers curving forwards from their lowest point. About the size of golf bags, they're bigger than they looked from higher up. The transparent wings beat so fast they're just a blur. The dissonant hum they make is pure torture.

As I descend further, more and more swords are cutting into them, and there's the occasional tribesman on the ground after he's been stung. Dead or unconscious, I don't know. It makes my skin creep.

Still I continue downwards, my knife held ready in a trembling hand. I can't go much further before it starts to get suicidal — the hum is all around me, and I don't have a sword.

Finally I spot Noker. He's slowly climbing the stars, his back to the rock as he slashes his spear through one insect after the next. A couple of dead Borok men are blocking his way, but he has the sense to step on them when he has to. He's covered in brown and yellow goo from the insects he's killed, and the stairs below him are filled with their oozing carcasses. The stench is terrible — those things must be filled with all kinds of nasty chemicals. Noker's head fan is an icy blue, telling me that he's focusing and perfectly in control.

I have to control myself to not call out his name and distract him. He's dealing with the insects perfectly well, but he has to concentrate. His spear is like a blur around him as he calmly slashes and stabs and kicks at the attackers. He seems to always stay right above the leading edge of the swarm, so the insects have to attack him from below. He can easily cut them with his spear while keeping them at a safe-ish distance. Only a few of them get through to be dealt with by the Borok men higher up as the spear windmills around him. It does appear as if Noker is the exact right man to have down here.

"I owe Brak an apology," I mutter to myself as I consider what to do. I don't want to get in Noker's way, and I also don't want to leave him alone here while he risks his life fighting for us all. The next Borok man is five or six steps above him, and clearly not of the same caliber when it comes to fighting these things.

Then he spots me. His eyes widen and he immediately jumps several steps until he's right below me. "This isn't safe, Bronwen! Get all the way up!"

"Sorry," I squeak. "But I must see you all right!"

"Noker is the best warrior in this village right now," a deep voice says into my ear. "He is about to save us all. Don't disturb him."

It's Brak, his long knife in his hand, stained with yellow insect juice up to his elbow.

"Sorry," I begin, "I didn't?—"

Brak's hand shoots past me as he skewers an insect with his long knife, spraying its goo over us both. "It'll soon be over. I will help brother Noker, the way I should have from the beginning. But you can stay. It's safer than trying to climb up. Crouch down and stay close to me."

It does look like he's right. The huge insects are bumping up against the heap of their dead compatriots, and more and more of them are choosing to flow to the side instead of going up towards us. The swarm is thinning out, most of it having passed or been killed.

I do as I'm told, watching Noker deal with the swarm. He looks like he's in the zone, having perfect control of his spear and cutting down the insects before they get within stinging range. The Borok men are fighting well too, bravely clinging to the bare rock and reaching out with their blades to slash at the swarm. But their swords are not made for this kind of battle, where a flying enemy can sting you from four feet away.

Fewer and fewer insects come high enough to attack Noker. The hum fades, and the men higher up start to cheer in victory.

"I think that was all of them," Brak says and looks up the side of the Mount. "Noker took down more than half by himself. After he had competed in that silly penk game and run around the jungle. We should both take note of that, Bronwen."

"I already knew Noker unusual," I assure him. "But not this unusual. I used hard words at you, Brak. You understand I did not mean. I just had to get Noker. You are a brave fighter."

He inclines his dactyl head. "Sometimes hard words are needed, Bronwen."

I gingerly make my way down the slimy steps, covered with the innards and juices of the giant insects. "You won!"

Noker gives me a grin and shifts his spear to his other hand. "I would embrace you, but I'm not clean."

He's breathing hard and dripping with stinky insect slime and guts, but I don't care right now. He's a total hero.

As I step closer, I see movement from the corner of my eye. Spinning around, I spot one of the giant insects coming out of a hiding place in the rock, its stinger aimed straight at Noker's back.

Acting on instinct, I step around him and grab the thin stinger halfway up its length the split second before it touches his skin. The insect buzzes wildly, but it's not strong enough to pull the serrated stinger from my hand. It tries to curl up in the air and bring my hand to where it can get it with its snapping, scissor-like mandibles.

Noker skewers the attacker with one fast thrust with his spear, and it drops down the side of the rock.

"That was close," he pants, then grabs my hand and examines it. "Did it sting you?"

"I not think so," I tell him. My palm looks fine, and I never felt a sting. "Only tip is dangerous."

"She saved your life, brother," Brak says. "It would have been bitter indeed to lose you to the last of the enemies."

"She did," Noker says, lifting my hand to his mouth and kissing it. "Thank you, Bronwen."

"You saved all," I reply. "And saved me many times."

Brak runs up the stairs, clearly eager to check on Piper.

"How is everyone up there?" Noker asks, wiping gobs of revolting insect guts off his spear.

"Some men perished in the defense of their tribe," Sarker'ox says tightly, coming down the stairs, stained sword still in his hand. "We shall have a pyre for all of them."

"As is proper," Noker says. "I'm not a tribesman, but if I could choose a way to leave this world, it would be while defending my clan."

Sarker'ox surveys all the insects lying dead on the stairs all the way to the ground. "This is all your work, Guest Noker. I think you can now consider yourself a Borok man. Certainly you and Brak did more to defend us all than the whole tribe put together. Especially because you saw the threat so early."

A smile plays around Noker's mouth. "At any rate, everyone must now agree that the spear is better than the sword. For certain things, anyway."

"We shall never again ask for proof of that," Sarker'ox says and bows his head.

Borok men descend the stairs and start to clear away the dead insects. The battle is definitely over.

I gingerly embrace the hero of the day. "Thank you for saving us all."

Noker returns my careful hug, not wanting to rub the goo off on me. "Thank you for saving me."

I wish I could cling to him, but I also don't want to be smeared with this disgusting stuff. "You are very dirty. We smell bad, you and I. We get clean now."

Noker turns around and looks out at the village below us. "I hear no more sounds of the swarm. Hopefully it has passed."

I grab his slippery hand and pull him with me down the stone stairs. "If not, I be angry and it will regret."

He comes along. "Faced with an angry Bronwen, I'm sure it will stay away."

We go to the water pump and help each other get clean. I notice a long gash on Noker's thigh. It's been bleeding, leaving stains on his leg.

"Stinger?"

"Unin'iz," he says darkly. "Twice he tried to cut me. Once he succeeded."

I'm stunned. "He cut you?!"

Noker tells me about the race and Unin'iz's dishonorable attack right after Noker pulled him out of the quicksand.

The story makes me furious.

"I not should say it," I seethe, "but I almost glad he dead."

Noker scrubs insect guts off my forearms. "You can say it to me, and I can agree. But we'll keep it to ourselves. Unin'iz was loved by some in his tribe. Although not by many, I think."

There's nothing too sexy about this shower. I'm still shaken up about the attack, and while Noker shows clear signs of arousal when I strip off, his touch is more methodical and less sensual. Still it doesn't leave me completely unaffected.

"Let's go and check on our friends," he says when we're getting dressed and he's putting his new shorts on. "And thank you for this gift. It's easier to run in these."

I pull on my new shirt, made from the same fabric that Bryar has generously given us to use. Now it needs to be laundered, just like Noker's shorts. "Good. I worried maybe too tight."

"They're sometimes too tight," he ponders, looking down himself. "In the middle."

His shorts do indeed bulge in the crotch, although I made sure to use a generous amount of fabric there. But it was hard to estimate. "As long as can run and fight in them, is good fit, we say."

"You do?"

"We say it now," I clarify, so relieved about having survived that humming nightmare that I'm not sure what I'm saying. "You and I."

"Ah. Yes, I keep saying it."

Clean and fresh, we leave the water pump and pass a group of Borok men who are waiting for us to finish before they can get clean, too. They're staying out of sight of the pump, which I appreciate.

"Warrior Noker," they murmur among themselves, clearly meant for us to hear. "His spear is the fastest blade in the jungle. And he has the sharpest eyes."

"And the Borok is the bravest tribe," Noker replies graciously. "How can a warrior falter, when he has the Borok at his back?"

The men smile and nod as we pass. I keep a straight face. I guess I have to get used to all this alpha male nonsense. But some of it I really like.

I squeeze his hand. "You protected the tribe. Why? You a guest here."

He looks away. "Perhaps there was someone on top of the Mount that I wanted to keep safe in the only way I knew."

I snake my arm around his waist and pull myself to him as we walk. "You carried me up there before anyone else even knew what going on."

"I needed you safe. Only then could I fight properly."

His words send a pleasant warmth all through me. "How you know they were coming? We all heard the hum, but we not know it was a swarm."

"I saw them. But I didn't really see them. I can't explain. It happens sometimes that I spot hidden Bigs or Smalls that others can't see."

"Other men can do that also?"

"If so, they don't talk about it. I've mentioned it to Shaman Melr'ax, but he had never heard of it and he didn't know what it is."

I glance up at the fan that grows from his head. "I think I can guess."