by Ivy Cross
“Atrae, I know the death of Llea weighs on you still… But you could not have acted differently. Honor dictated your action for you on that day, and any one of the other guards would have done the same. Your choice came down to her or Jaha, and in your position, that is no choice.”
Mayna’s eyes widen and she chuckles mirthlessly, as though realizing something. “That day was like a second Proving for you. Impossible conditions were set, and an impossible decision was made. Only, in your case, you acted in the way I could not. You honored your station as commander in the eyes of all the village. “
“I honored my station as commander…” The clay jug pops and crackles in my grip until it finally explodes into half a hundred tiny shards.
Mayna jerks back in her seat at the table but remains silent, watching.
“I think that may be the problem,” I say, rising from my stool. “I should not be commander.”
Chapter 7 – Bailey
“Inside.”
It’s the only word the willowy guard-boy has deigned to say to me in the ten minutes it has taken us to march from Jaha’s place to this new hut.
“So… this is going to be my new digs for a while, huh? When do you think I can talk to someone in charge about looking for the rest of my people?”
The guard’s eyes don’t even flick down to me. If he were wearing a big furry black hat and a red uniform, it would be a pretty spot-on impression of one of those royal guards in England that annoying tourists are always trying to get a reaction from.
“Okay… I guess I’ll just wait and see.” I leave the guard to his busy work of ignoring the world around him and pull open the door to the hut.
This new hut is much smaller and a bit simpler than the one I just left. The outside door opens onto what appears to be the main chamber of the home, and there’s no heady smell of incense in here—just the mildly pleasant smells of the natural woods and materials used in its construction
“I thought there were more of my people in here,” I call back to the door. The guard is either still not answering, or he already left. I think about checking to see if he locked me in, but before I can, a mousey voice squeaks out from one of the small doorways at the back of the main room.
“Hello? Is someone out there.”
“Yeah… you’ve got a new houseguest.” I stroll into the middle of the room and wait for the owner of the voice to appear.
The room is simply furnished with a smattering of low stools, a rough wooden table, and a few thick woven rugs by a stone firepit. On the table are a large clay pitcher, several clay cups, and a basket of some kind of round purple fruit that looks like a cross between eggplant and an orange.
All things considered, it looks pretty homey in here.
“Hey!” The voice gains a body as a woman in an absurd set of blue pajamas emerges from the back room. She’s followed by a taller woman in a similar set of yellow pajamas. “Sorry it took us so long. We were trying to get cleaned up—they have real washrooms here.”
Mel and Veronica.
Of all the captive women from the spaceship, these are not the two I expected to find here. Or maybe they’re just not the ones I wanted to find here. I guess I shouldn’t feel like that… there’s a grand total of nine other humans I’ll ever have a remote chance of seeing again in my entire life. It’s probably not fair to form cliques with such a small pool.
But god they have a way of irritating me.
It’s not that they actively do obnoxious things. It’s just that they’re both so damn willing to go along with the status quo. Back on the alien slaver’s ship, they both wanted to act the part of the model prisoner. Like being good little girls would keep them in the good graces of our lizard-bug captors…
But maybe I have been judging them too harshly. We all have our ways of trying to cope with this impossible situation, and I guess that’s all they’re trying to do too. The least I could do is try to make a little bit more of an effort.
“You’re the only ones here?” I ask. Mel makes a face, and I try to soften my words a little. “I mean, have you seen any of the other women from the ship?”
“Nope, just us…” Veronica says. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“No, I’m sorry,” I say with a sigh. “I’m just exhausted. Really, I’m glad to see you, and I’m even happier you’re both okay.”
They hesitate like they’re waiting for the punchline. When it doesn’t come, Mel offers a cautious smile and points to the table. “They brought fruit and water for breakfast. At least, I think it’s fruit. It’s not overly sweet and tastes a little like a breath mint, but it didn’t hurt us… so, there’s that. Help yourself.”
“Thanks.” I sit at one of the stools by the table, but I don’t try any of the weird fruit. Somehow, I doubt it would compare well to the roast melka meat I enjoyed last night.
“How did you two get here?” I pour some water into one of the clay cups and take a sip. It tastes strongly of minerals, but it’s cool and quenches my thirst.
“Well, after we came down on the pod thingy—” Mel begins.
“That was friggin’ terrifying,” Veronica interjects.
“It was,” Mel agrees. “The piece of junk shook the whole way down. We thought it was going to fly apart before we even made it down to the planet.” She pulls one of the stools over and sits down, and Veronica follows suit.
“But we made it,” she continues. “Our nerves were shot, but we didn’t get hurt. We came down right in the thick of the forest—smashed right through the trees.”
“And the Calji found you?” I ask.
“Yeah, and pretty quick too.” Mel looks at Veronica. “What do you think, maybe a couple of hours before that woman knocked on the door?”
“Something like that, yeah.”
“She knocked on your pod? You mean you guys stayed inside?”
“Heck yeah. We poked our heads out for a second to see what there was to see, but it was already starting to get dark, especially in the thick woods, so we were going to at least stay the night in the escape pod. We figured it would keep us safe from the animals, ya know?”
I nod. “That was good thinking.”
“You sound surprised,” Veronica says with a hint of a smile.
“Well, no, not surprised exactly…”
“You and the others might not think much of the two of us,” Veronica says, her smile fading. “But I’ll have you know we are survivors. New Yorkers. You guys seem to think the way to get through all of this is by hatching plans and taking risks. That’s just plain wrong. You put your head down, stay out of sight, and push through. It may not be as exciting, and it’s not always pleasant, but it’s the smart way to keep someone from lopping your head right off your shoulders.”
I put my hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I didn’t mean anything by what I said. It’s a crappy situation and we’re all trying to make the best of it.”
Veronica sniffs but looks like she’s willing to let the issue drop.
“Have any of the Calji come in here to talk with you? Are they keeping us locked up, or do we have the run of the place?” I gaze around the room, but there’s nothing to say whether this place is a prison or not. There are a couple of glassless windows set at either side of the room but both are covered with slatted shutters. Maybe that’s to keep us in… or maybe it’s just how their windows are.
“Oh, we’re definitely prisoners,” Mel says.
“They told you that?”
“No… not exactly. But the big woman who found us—her name is Cavi—said we were for the village leader before she brought us here. We met him, but he seemed more interested in showing us off to some other fellow.” She tugs at the front of her grimy pajama top. “But you have to admit, being captive to these guys is a hell of a lot better than being on that nasty ship… those alien things were just gross. Some of the Calji are actually kind of cute.”
“I’d prefer not being anyone’s prisoner,” I say.
/> “It’s all in how you look at it,” Veronica says in a painfully accurate imitation of a wisdom-filled grownup explaining the real world to a child. “If you think about it, it isn’t any different from being their guests. Sure, we might not be able to leave, but where the heck would you want to go anyway? Have you seen some of the creatures out there?”
Mel shudders, picking up the thread. “On our way to the village, we passed something that looked like half-bear and half-boar… and twice as big as both put together. Trust me, you do not want to be out there gallivanting around. Much safer to be here.”
I nod slowly like I’m considering all of their sage advice. But the truth is, we have completely different outlooks on the situation. Whether it’s my failing or theirs, I don’t know. What I do know is I cannot just sit here and wait for things to happen to me. Safe or unsafe, I need to be doing something.
“Alright, I get what you’re both saying,” I say as I stand up from the table. “But I still need to get the full picture… plus, maybe I can get them to help us find the other women.”
“Umm…” Mel drags the word out.
“What?”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t rile them or anything. They’ve just been pretty much leaving us alone since we got here… and I really wouldn’t want to have that change.”
“I’m not going to rile them. I’m just going to go check to see if the door is locked, then make some casual suggestions. They seemed pretty fucking happy to have found us. I bet they could spare a few warriors from the village to look for the others.”
I turn back toward the door, but Mel stops me once again. “Hey, speaking of the others, didn’t you come down with Dalia? What happened to her?”
“Talia,” I say, my patience running thin. “And, yeah, we were together. Were. We weren’t quite as lucky as you two, and our first encounter on this rock wasn’t with the Calji… it was with some weird-ass beast guys. She was taken by them. And so was I, for that matter. At least, she was with them the last time I saw her.”
Veronica makes a clucking sound in the back of her throat.
“What?” My patience is no longer thin, it’s completely gone.
“Well… that’s just the sort of thing we were talking about, ya know? You can’t just go traipsing around on an unknown and dangerous planet and expect things not to go bad…”
I just stare at her for a moment, then turn my eyes on the clay pitcher on the table. It looks just about sturdy enough to use as a good bludgeon.
A rap at the door behind me cuts my murderous plotting short.
“Ooh, maybe that’s lunch,” Mel trills. “I’m getting pretty peckish.”
I turn in time to see the door open. The large form of Atrae stands on the other side, seemingly caught between walking in and staying put. His dark eyes lock onto mine for a moment, and I notice he looks a little different—less haunted maybe.
“Do you have a spare moment?” His gaze flits toward Mel and Veronica. “I would speak to you alone.”
“Uh, sure…”
He nods sharply and steps away from the doorway, apparently wanting me to follow.
***
Outside, I notice the willowy youth has been replaced by a barrel-chested guy with a shaved head and steel-wool beard. He watches us with a glint in his eyes I don’t care much for, but he doesn’t say anything or move to interfere.
“Is the tana hut to your liking?” Atrae asks, leading around to the side of the building.
“That’s what you came to ask?”
“No.”
He stops abruptly and turns to me. “I thought—” He sighs deeply and shakes his head. Some of that haunted look returns. “Walk with me. I will return you shortly if you need to rest.”
“Where are we going?” I puff, as we round another narrow alleyway that eventually leads onto a wider path. The rows of huts seem strangely ominous as we pass. I guess it’s because so many are empty… it feels a little like the old husks are sitting in judgment of the few living souls that dare walk by.
“To my hut. You get to see a little more of the village on the way. What little there is now to see…” Atrae looks back at me and slows his pace to match mine. “Forgive me. I forgot how…”
“How short and stumpy my legs are? How unbelievably slow I am?”
“Yes.”
“Wow, thanks. So… is that why we’re going to your hut? You’re going to tear my self-esteem down to the studs and rebuild me into something new and better?”
“I do not understand.” Atrae slows his pace even more and points to a hut just a few yards ahead. “But we are here.”
Atrae’s hut looks a little less abandoned than some of the ones we passed on the way here. But I can’t say precisely why. There’s nothing in the yard or on the exterior walls to say that the place is still being used. Maybe it’s something intangible about the place. Or maybe it’s just that I now know it’s his…
He pushes the front door open and steps aside so that I can enter first.
Inside, the hut is very similar to the one I just left. Maybe even more spartan. Atrae gestures toward a log bench and I sit down, not entirely able to shake the feeling I’m about to participate in an impromptu job interview.
“Nice place you have here…” I say, staring around at the emptiness. “But I can’t figure out if you haven’t quite moved in yet, or you’re just about to move out…”
Atrae freezes halfway down to the bench opposite mine. He eyeballs me for a moment, his eyes startlingly fierce, then he rises back to his feet, apparently no longer interested in sitting.
“Would you like a fire?” He asks after an awkward silence.
“Um, sure, it might take a little of the gloom away.”
Atrae quickly busies himself at the stone firepit along the wall opposite the front door. For a man who explicitly brought me here to discuss something, he’s being particularly silent—even for him.
I use the time to study the main room of his hut. It doesn’t take long to see that what I took for sparse décor is really just emptiness.
“You are leaving, aren’t you?”
Atrae waits until the fire is sparked to life before turning back to me and answering. “That is part of the reason I brought you here. I felt I owed you that much, at least.”
I’m not sure why he would feel he owes me anything, but I let that drop for now. “Where will you go? When will you be back?” I ask the question fully aware of what leaving means in his case—you don’t empty your house if you’re just going away for a long weekend.
“I do not know where I will go. Probably north until I reach Cold Sea. From there…”
“And you won’t be back?”
“No.”
It’s the expected answer, but I feel a pang just the same. There’s a hollowness in the word—a kind of hopelessness.
“Why?” I’m not sure if I’m asking him why he’s leaving or why he brought me here to tell me.
“I am useless here.”
“I can’t believe—”
He shakes his head, cutting me off. “It is not just that—I am useless to myself here. A warrior should look upon his works—his victories and defeats—and see himself. Maybe he finds himself content with what he sees, or maybe he finds himself wanting. But he should see himself.”
“What do you see?”
“Only ghosts.”
The fire flares and pops as Atrae takes his seat across from me. He fills the space so much that I can feel the heat radiate off his fire-warmed skin.
“If I were another man, I should want you as my mate.”
I open my mouth—probably to say something inappropriately flippant—but nothing comes out.
“You are full of a kind of life I have not seen. Fragile, but resilient. Meek, but commanding. This land could have killed you a hundred times over, but you faced it with a smile on your lips. Even a laugh.”
Atrae’s eyes go hard and far away. And suddenly I want desperately to
stop him there because I know what’s left to come is full of pain and sadness.
“When I saw you that first time in the warren… I knew you.” He shakes his head slowly as if to cast away whatever it is that haunts his mind’s eye. “It has taken me some time to figure out what it meant, but I understand now. It was a warning.”
“I don’t understand. A warning for what?”
“My mate, Llea, appeared to me when I saw you… she still does when I look upon you long enough.” He brushes his large hand back through his tangled hair in obvious frustration. “It is a reminder of what I have done… a reminder to never allow it to happen again.”
My mind flashes back to those hectic moments of our first meeting, to Atrae’s half-crazed eyes so full of dread and pain.
“What happened to her? To Llea?”
“I failed to protect her.” He looks off into the middle distance. “No, it is worse than that. I chose not to protect her. You have seen the state of my village with your own eyes—the broken and empty homes, the lack of warriors. To some extent, we were already headed in this direction, but much of what you see happened because of a single battle that was fought just over two cycles ago.”
“The Qarna?”
He nods. “They came at us suddenly and with everything they had one morning at the end of the wet season. Four of my guards and I held the section of the village nearest Jaha’s hut for nearly half a day until the Qarna force tired and withdrew. We lost more than half of our fighting-age warriors on that day.”
“But you won, right? You had to, you’re still here.”
Atrae makes a harsh sound in his throat. “We are still here, but I would not say we won. The Qarna seek only mayhem, and they got that in abundance. When they tired of their game, they were able to withdraw with fewer than half the casualties they caused.”
I nod, seeing his point, but it still isn’t clear to me. “But surely you can’t hold yourself responsible for Llea’s death in that battle… I’m sure she did what any of the warriors would have done—she would have known what she was getting into.”