Chapter 25

- Bronwen -

The coughing from inside the smoke is getting louder. The Foundlings are lowering their platforms to get away from the thickest smoke, but it's not much better further down. The fire is still going, and the outcasts have lit the oil around another tree. It doesn't make as much smoke, but the bark is dry and the fire is creeping upwards.

Unin'iz twirls his sword in his hand and lays the edge at Trat's throat. "Some of my new friends enjoy the meat of boys like you. Shall I ask them to grill or boil you? Would you prefer to be alive or dead? But I'm not sure you can choose."

Trat whimpers in fear and tries to crawl away.

There are muffled screams coming from the smoke. The Foundlings must be dying.

Filled with coldness, I conquer my revulsion and go close to Unin'iz, putting my cheek on his arm and looking up at him with the closest thing to a seductive look I can manage right now. "Unin'iz, let's go somewhere else," I purr. "I need to Mate."

He looks down at me, surprised. "Oh… I… really? Yes, of course you do."

I have to get him away from Trat and from the camp. He's the leader of the outcasts, and without him they might not kill everyone. I will have to sacrifice myself for that slim possibility. I can always kill myself afterwards?—

"Stop." The voice is flat and cold, with a gravelly tinge to it.

Unin'iz shifts the grip on his sword and squints into the smoke. "Don't give me orders, outcast! Know your place!"

But it's not one of his men. A huge, nightmarish shape emerges from the swirling smoke. There are yellow eyes like searchlights and a great circle of glittering gold and blue around them, slowly changing and moving. I've never seen that before, but it looks deadly.

Unin'iz sees it too and grabs my arm, backing off. "Stay back, Foundling!"

"That may be a Foundling," I tell him, my voice raspy. "But mostly, it's a predator."

Noker comes closer, walking smoothly on powerful legs, not speaking, no expression on his face. He reminds me so much of a real predator dinosaur that I start to fear him. Those eyes are the coldest things I've ever seen. His alien nature has never been more prominent.

Unin'iz panics and turns to run. He gets two paces when his knee buckles because of Trat's spear. He screams as he falls, then curls up and pulls back his sword to throw it. But he's not focusing on Noker. He's about to get revenge on him by killing me.

He flicks his wrist. The great blade comes spinning at my face.

It's stopped by a blur of blue stripes.

Noker throws the sword away into the bushes and grabs Unin'iz. With him this close, my hair stands on end, like a halo around my head. The air itself crackles with rage like a thousand thunderstorms.

There's a sharp bang and a blinding flash of blue lightning. Unin'iz goes limp between Noker's hands.

For a long time the Foundling stands there with the dead caveman. The patterns of his head fan move like a kaleidoscope in every color of the jungle.

Then he drops the enemy to the ground and turns to face me. "Pretend you didn't see that."

My knees give in and I drop, curling up on the ground. "Noker."

His eyes are normal now, still yellow, but with a spark of humanity in them. "Bronwen. My love. I came too late." He comes in and lifts me in strong arms.

After the first hard shot of relief, I pull myself together. "Trat is injured. And the clansbrothers!"

"They will keep," he rumbles. "Trat, come here."

The boy walks over, clutching his arm as blood seeps out between his fingers.

Noker checks his arm. "It's not very deep. Every warrior needs his scars. Can you move your fingers?"

Trat easily moves all his fingers on his hand. "Yes."

"Anything else?"

"I hit him with my spear!"

He lets me down again. "Good. Come, we will tell the clan that it's over. Bronwen, you come too."

I try to smoothen down my hair, now that the air is not so charged with lightning. But I'll need Alba's comb and scissors soon.

We walk into the smoke, which is already getting less dense as it slowly drifts through the canopy of trees.

A handful of outcasts are on the ground, dead but with no visible injuries as they stare emptily into the sky. Noker's touch can be both immensely pleasant and completely deadly. He must have killed them like he did Unin'iz.

The trees they set fire to are charred and still smoking, but the fires have gone out

"Clansbrothers, it is safe to come down," Noker yells. Then he spots the dead Foundling on the ground and kneels beside him. "Crotar!"

"The outcasts killed him," I tell him. "He was too slow to get on a platform."

Noker rearranges the dead Foundling on the ground and closes his eyes. "He's in the stars now, free of his broken body."

"Free of his broken body," Trat echoes like it's a chant.

The platforms come down, and the Foundlings step off them.

"Who's missing?" Noker asks.

"Only Crotar," says one of the Foundlings. "We were inside the canopies on our platforms and didn't breathe in too much of the smoke. We lit the smark leaves, as we were told."

"That was the plan Shaman Melr'ax came up with when we started using the platforms," Noker says heavily, "if someone were to set the perendi tree on fire. The sweet, light smoke from smark leaves will fill the canopies over the platforms and keep the sour perendi smoke away. He will be glad to hear that it worked. But he will be sad about Crotar."

The clan drags the dead outcasts out of sight. Some run to get water to put the fire out completely.

Noker turns to me. "It's what we always feared. Being attacked by a band of outcasts."

"So evil," I shudder. "I can't understand why they'd do it."

"Unin'iz tried to tell me, but he wasn't making much sense. I think he must have lost his mind. Something about many in the Borok tribe wanting women and he would give them a new tribe? I suppose this was his way of showing leadership and making himself known to the world."

I frown. "He tell you this when you in the hole?"

"He told you about the hole? He caught Dexer and me in a trap. Someone must go and get him out. Where did you come from, Bronwen? Why were you on the ground?"

I look down. "I left to go to the Borok tribe. It seemed you wanted me gone. But I was captured by Unin'iz and brought back here. I tried to make noise, but I had leather in my mouth."

Trat looks up. "Did you break that twig, Bronwen?"

I shrug. "I was trying to warn you. I not could speak. But it was almost too late."

"It wasn't too late," the boy says. "We had time to get our spears."

Noker gets busy with organizing the cleanup. The whole area smells like sour smoke and rancid dinosaur oil. I can't help but wonder if this campsite can ever be used again.

Sprisk comes running from the jungle, wide-eyed and flustered, his spear in his hand. "What's happened here?!"

Noker meets him. "Where have you been?"

"Hunting," Sprisk says, then goes pale when he sees the dead Foundling. "Oh sweet stars," he says, kneeling by the body. "Receive our brother Crotar and release him. He's in the stars now, free of his broken body."

Noker grabs his shoulder and squeezes. "He is. You could not have saved him. The clansbrothers did what they were supposed to do."

"I could have fought!" Sprisk exclaims, distraught. "I could have killed a couple of them, at least! No, Crotar would have survived. I would have ordered everyone up in the air at the first sign of trouble."

"Without Dexer here, nobody had early warning. If not for Bronwen, the clan would have been totally surprised. Please go and get Dexer from a deep hole in the ground, Sprisk. Follow my tracks, and you will find it. You will need a long rope."

"Yes!" Sprisk says, getting to his feet, clearly bursting with a need to do something. "I will find him!" He gets down between two rocks, retrieves a big coil of rope from a secret storage hole, and runs off.

"Better for him to do something useful than to blame himself for not being here," Noker tells me. "I know Sprisk. He needs something to do and to feel that he wasn't useless."

"You know Sprisk," I echo. "And now I know you better."

He gives me a sideways glance. "You saw the… power I have?"

"The power to kill with your hands. Yes, I saw it. I think you used it right. And I already knew. You took down that irox in the same way."

"It's hard to hide it," Noker sighs, his head fan now back to its regular blue and green. "But I tried. Until now. The outcasts… I had to stop them."

"You not need to hide from me," I tell him, putting my hand on his forearm. "Remember the first thing you said to me?"

"That I would never harm you. Yes, I remember. Sorry, I was overwhelmed by your presence, and it was the only thing that came to mind."

"I believed you. And I still do."

He embraces me and squeezes me hard. "I'm sorry for what I said. I always want you with me. But I have a clan, too."

"You have a clan, and I have friends in the Borok village," I reply, having thought about it. "I am going to the village today."

Noker looks around at the ruined camp. "I understand. There's not much for you here now."

"There is the most important thing. But he has to make up his mind."

He nods. "It is already made up. I will show you, Bronwen. But not now, while there's so much still to do and while clansbrother Crotar lies dead in the camp. I know that Shaman Melr'ax would want to be here and see to it that he got a proper funeral, but I don't want him to come here. The walk through the jungle might kill him."

I have an idea. "Would you like me to ask Astrid?"