by V. K. Ludwig
“Desperate men make desperate mistakes,” I said.
He turned his head slowly toward me. “Exactly.”
Adair appeared through the main door and gave me a half-shrug from afar. No mountain scum in sight. Yet.
“If it’s ok with you, I’ll speak now,” I said. “There’s news everyone needs to hear. I don’t want to hold off much longer, or everyone’s gonna be too wasted to make sense of it.” Including me.
Xavier waved his hand at me in graceful circles, followed by a dip of his head.
I shoved my chair back underneath a screech and pushed myself up to my full height, turning the room to close-silence without a word spoken.
“Shh,” came from the far left corner.
“Shut the fuck up,” River shouted, cutting remaining whispers down like saplings. “Our chieftain is about to speak.”
I gazed over the men and women of my Clan, their eyes staring back at me from curious faces. If there was something I hated more than being a chieftain, it must have been public speeches. Everyone noticed that, and the surrounding air hung heavy and foreboding, knowing full well things weren't right.
“I hope you’re all shitfaced,” I said, and people raised their horns and mugs with laughter. “Because what I’m about to tell you might cost a sober man his mind.”
I looked over to Max who sat at the table beside my sister, along with River and his wife, Ayanna. He locked eyes with me for a while, then proceeded to a single clear-cut nod.
“You all heard the exchange between our Clan and the Districts didn’t exactly go as planned. My sister was supposed to return in a year, with improved relations, decent coffee beans, and perhaps some new medical equipment.” I pointed at Max. “Instead, she came back with a husband who couldn’t start a fire and broke his pinky reloading a gun.”
The crowd laughed and cheered, and a few of the women hollered and whistled. Max threw up his hand and presented us the finger. Not the broken one though.
“But,” I shouted, letting the bass of my voice drop, “she also brought us this.”
I fumbled the zebra-striped memory stick from my pocket and held it up high for everyone to see. Xavier leaned back into his chair, narrowed his eyes, and rubbed his palm across his dark stubbles.
“A member from the council gave this memory stick to my sister before she fled the Districts,” I said. “The information on it is highly classified and let me tell you it’s some weird, screwed-up stuff.”
“Is that why that shitback’s here?” a bald man rose from his bench, pointed at Xavier and spit on the floor.
I didn’t look at Xavier, but if I had, I bet he would have worn a sly smile on his face, along with a cunning look blazing away behind his eyes.
“Ay, you don’t like him, and I can’t blame you for that. My goats smell better than him.”
The man howled out and nodded into the crowd which clapped and hollered, then sat back down satisfied that he had given his troubles room. Some men walked over to him and placed hearty pats on his shoulders, sharing in his discontent.
“But he is my fucking guest.” I slammed my palms onto the table and leaned forward, my drinking horn spilling the last drops of mead through the wooden gaps and onto the pedestal beneath me. “And whoever disrespects my guest, will pick his outhouse clean with his bare hands and suck the shit out from underneath his fingernails.”
Heads sunk and feet shuffled back to their chairs and benches, with a graveyard-silence settling onto the room without as much as an audible breath moving the air.
“It’s no secret,” I continued with a bellowing voice. “The Clan of the Mountains and the Clan of the Woodlands had their differences over the years. But the information on this stick is bigger than our quarrels. For years we manned our borders to the north and the west, and we ignored the real threat to the south.”
“The Districts ain’t a threat,” a guy shouted from the crowd, jutting his scarred chin and throwing his four-finger hand into the air. “They got no balls to fight, and they ain’t got the skills either. All they got is a big ass wall to hide behind.”
“Not every threat comes in the form of a bullet.” I waved my hand at Max, who slowly rose and stepped up the pedestal to stand next to me. I placed my hand onto his shoulder. “Max worked as a scientist for the Districts and can explain this shit way better than me.”
Max stood tall but with pouting lips, letting a self-reassuring nod bounce off his neck to prepare for what was to come.
“The Districts are struggling with infertility among their men, and I don’t mean the temporary one due to the enhanced water,” he said, his hands hanging stiffly by his sides.
“What's the issue then?” Einar, an old friend, and husband of Bry asked, letting his fingers run down his braided beard. “You are from the Districts, and your wife is expecting twins. Doesn’t sound like fertility issues to me.”
“I didn’t say all men,” Max pushed his chest out. “But, yeah, I estimated that around seventy-three percent of the male population in the Districts is infertile, rising by at least five percent per year.”
“That’s why they agreed to new trade agreements over a year ago,” I added. “Not to improve relations. Not to bring our nations closer. No. They needed our samples to compensate for their lack of men who could get the job done.”
“So why is that any of our problems?” Einar asked, throwing both hands up and turning to the mumbling crowd. “Let them go extinct, and we will go in and scoop up whatever is left of them in a few years when they are the most vulnerable.”
“Yeah,” a guy who leaned against the wall to the left shouted. “I’ll go scoop myself a wife up, alright.”
Chuckles of agreement went through the rows, and a few men high-fived each other as if the Clans were about to score big in the near future. With the dwindling numbers of births in the Districts, their walls seemed like nothing but a four-foot chain-link fence for the first time.
“That’s what we all want, right?” I said. “Women.”
“We don’t want women,” Adair said and stood up, drawing all eyes on him. “We want wives. We want sons and daughters. We want families.”
“Aye,” came from the crowd in an almost uniform wave.
“Aye, you want a family,” I said. “Want someone to bitch at you for leaving the toilet lid up. Someone to nag all day long about the leak in the roof. I get that. But the council has different plans, and that’s why this is as much our problem as it is theirs.”
I pointed at Xavier, who sat motionless in his chair, squinting more and more with each second his dark eyes stared at the memory stick in my hands.
“Fifteen years ago,” Max shouted, silencing the room once more. “Fifteen years ago, the council began genetically editing fertilized embryos. At least one person is living in the Districts right now as we speak, who is a result of it. A young woman, genetically superior to everyone in this room and everyone beyond those walls.”
The air inside the longhouse turned from stale to dead within seconds, leaving my lungs empty and my stomach tight. For the second time now, Max’s words crept down on me like an eclipse.
I expected the first cries of outrage right about now.
None came.
Not that I could blame them. Max, Autumn and I had about the same reaction when we first looked over the holographic files on this stick.
Some villagers in front of me moved their trembling lips, their eyes serious, their postures stiff. But the longhouse remained soundless, except for the mug of mead Xavier now pulled across the table for a generous helping.
Once the first shock settled, mumbles grew from ripples to full-blown waves, crashing down on me in an insatiable demand for explanations and guidance — the flip side of being a chieftain.
The worst part? I didn’t know what to make of it myself.
“Calm down,” I said, my hands waving toward the ground to settle the room. “Everyone will get to speak, but that’s only possible if you
quiet the fuck down.”
“An abomination,” a woman’s voice shrilled from a bench. “After everything they did to humanity… now they change their DNA?”
Many chimed in, repeating the word abomination in an off-tune chorus of anger and fear.
“This woman,” Max continued, “is free of any major genetic issue known to mankind. They tried to edit out the fertility issue in male embryos. None of them survived past four weeks after birth. Not even the woman’s twin brother. But it’s only a matter of time until they will succeed.”
“They've gone too far,” a guy who seemed in his late forties shouted. “This goes against everything the Clans stand for. What gives them the right to play mother nature? Or god? Or whatever you believe in? She needs to die.”
Autumn jumped up and turned to the people. “She helped all of us to escape, and you are saying she needs to die? She is the one who gave us all this information!”
“Why would she do that?” someone asked. “What if the council has this all planned?”
“She suffers,” Max said. “Which is why we think she is trying to help us. And maybe help herself. Her files make me suspect she has regular nosebleeds, an unmanageable awareness of the happenings around her and a few other issues. She didn’t choose to be like this, and I don’t think she appreciates how or, um, what she is.”
The room vibrated at his words, the crowd throwing fists up while their shouts and snarls set each other up for an onslaught.
“Does she support the rebels everyone’s talking about?”
“What if the council is planning to invade our lands?”
My palms swung up. “Calm down. I don’t have all the answers yet.”
The turmoil continued, and another voice pushed through. “What is our chieftain going to do about this woman and the rebels? The council?”
The questions shot down at me like a volley of arrows, the concern in their eyes popping little red veins and growing into a full-blown panic.
Xavier pushed himself up with such force, the greasy metal platter of elk sausages slipped over the edge of the trembling table and hit the ground with a loud clink. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Your chieftain is talking.”
The chaos died down within the fraction of a second. People stared at the chieftain from the mountains, overpowered by the deep voice and harsh words of this otherwise quiet, brooding, and articulate man.
I took a deep breath. “We will not kill her. She’s a girl for fuck’s sake. Besides, we believe she might be an asset to us in the future.”
“It’s true.” Autumn jumped up and turned to the villagers. “She helped Ayanna, Max, and me to escape the Districts, putting herself at risk so we could go free and unharmed. She is also —”
“Who confirmed the information on the stick,” I blurted, protecting the girl’s identity as a councilwoman. Everyone in the room was on edge, and I couldn’t take the risk of them grouping up against her.
“How could she be an asset?” Adair asked and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“I don’t know that yet,” I said.
“What do you actually know?” a young man who looked to be in his mid-twenties asked, rising into a strong stance. Shocked eyes glanced at his impressive height, the skin tight around his biceps, popped veins running along his neck. “You’re standing there as our chieftain, but you don’t know shit. You don't understand why she helped us, and I bet you have no idea what to do.”
My pulse grew louder inside my ears, thumping a ragged beat that made me clench my fists. Ambitious rivals who questioned my position were daily order, stirring up hatred against the decisions I executed for this Clan. He was just one of many. No big deal. Except that this one had a point: I really had no fucking idea what to do.
I lowered my head, straightened my spine, and looked him dead in the eyes. “And you do?”
He didn’t shrink back but only grew in height. Then, his words came down on me, ripped my balls off, and dangled them in front of everyone to see.
“I heard you couldn’t find your wife for a year,” he said, causing everyone around him to slump down on their benches. “People talk. Rumor has it that child you keep carrying around is her bastard from another man.” His eyes narrowed into sharp slits, and he presented the words that followed loud and clear. “Because, apparently, the guy who calls himself our chieftain couldn’t get the job done.”
A knot formed at the back of my throat — probably because he had just shoved my testicles down my mouth. I had the urge to rinse them down with a mug of mead. Again: killing is easier work when drunk, especially when you have to kill the pain. The humiliation.
Autumn was right to be concerned. This guy criticized me in front of the entire village. Only someone idiotic would do that — or someone who felt he had enough support of others. A plot was underway, and it left a foul taste on my tongue.
“How dare you speak to our chieftain like that,” River stepped in the center of the aisle between the tables. “Rowan made this village safe for our women and finally brought justice and order into this shithole. Females who formerly lived in hiding on the outskirts or in the mountains joined our Clan. And you dare question his authority as our leader?”
The guy climbed over his bench, stepped into the aisle and squared himself up in front of River. “I question every chieftain who can’t produce an heir. Especially if he had no claim to that chair, to begin with.”
Can’t produce an heir. His words echoed through my head, paralyzing me from the neck down. I wanted to jump over the table, break a leg off a chair and ram it down his big mouth. But I couldn’t move because what he said was the truth. Every single word. True.
“He killed the old chieftain in one-on-one combat,” Autumn shouted. “That is all the claim he needs. It has been the rule ever since our ancestors formed the Clans.”
“Bullshit,” the guy said and spit on the ground. “Rowan was too soft to go after the old chieftain’s son.”
“You want me to go after an innocent child to strengthen my claim?” I asked, my fingers stiff and aching from how I continued to clench them. “I’m not a baby killer.”
“Ay,” the guy said, his furious eyes staring at me from a lowered head. “You are not. But I am. And I killed that boy three days ago. Pushed his pretty blond head underwater until his jerks died down. And that, Rowan, gives me the strongest claim over everyone else in this room.”
The massive wooden doors of the longhouse opened, the hinges squeaking underneath winter’s moisture. Twenty men stomped inside and huddled around the fire, the furs around their shoulders white from snow and stiff from the cold.
“Rowan, you gotta see this,” one of my men said poking his head through the door. “I’ve never… she’s massive. I’ve seen nothing like it.”
Chapter 5
Rowan
“Excellent,” Xavier roared. “I’m glad my men finally arrived because a guest should never come empty-handed. Let’s get moving… she’s waiting outside.”
He clapped his hands, further diluting the tension that had grabbed me by the neck just a moment ago. His palm landed on my shoulder and pulled me back ever so slightly. With his other hand, he waved at the crowd, and everyone quickly set into eager motion, leaving the young man who had challenged me no other option but to retreat.
Xavier and I followed the men and women outside, while his guys stayed behind and warmed themselves by the fire. Before we stepped out, he leaned over to one of his men and gave him some quick instructions.
Fat snowflakes swished through the air, adding inch after inch to the white blanket underneath us. We shoved ourselves through the mass of finger-pointing people who let out sounds of awe, too distracted to make room for two chieftains. Then we stopped in front of everyone, and my stomach bottomed out somewhere close to my toes.
The way Xavier stood there, his chin jutted out, and legs in a strong stance was an imperious pose. Pride loomed on the raised corners of his mouth, the man himse
lf oblivious to the furrowed brows and looks of confusion coming from around him. Me included.
“How do you like her?” he asked.
“Uh…” What the fuck! I stared over cold curves and a head that needed a drastic facelift, wondering how I could ever repay such a present.
“Yeah, she’s big,” Xavier said and let his hand run along the flaky body. “That makes her slow and lazy, unfortunately. But she rarely bitches and can take twenty men at once. Maybe more.”
I climbed onto the massive trailer, its tires sinking deeper into the mud by the second, and tugged on a blade tie-down. “You’re giving me a helicopter?”
“We named her Brandy.” He pointed at the black lettering below one of the round windows, chipped and faded in most spots, which had the name Brandy painted across in purple. “A lighter version of a Crow, a helicopter the Army introduced in twenty-forty we believe. She’s harmless, but has almost six-hundred miles of reach.”
Oriel shoved through the crowd, climbed up the trailer and onto one of Brandy’s work platforms.
“And this thing actually flies?” he asked, examining the turbine engine. “I’ve read about these a few years back. They use kerosene. Impossible to find since most of it has spoiled.”
“Oh, I guarantee you she’s lubed and ready. And in terms of fuel…” He walked to the front of the trailer and slammed his fist onto one of five metal barrels with a deep clonk. “We found these inside a hangar of a company that we guess contracted for the government at some point. Not sure what process they used to fill them, but it must have been in a sterilized environment. They stabilized the kerosene so it won’t spoil.”
I took in this massive piece of machinery, the cold wind blowing gusts of snowflakes into my eyes. The people slowly but steadily closed in on the trailer, the bravest one of them reaching out for the bolts that kept Brandy together.
None of us, not even the oldest Clan-members, have ever seen anything in the skies other than clouds and birds. The fact that the Clan of the Mountains had something like Brandy sucked the blood out of my limbs. What else did they hide up there?
