by Cassie Wolf
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN -
Masika was at a loss for words at the presence of the Chieftain in her room. He stood leaning against the drawers, cup in his hand, one leg crossed over the other. She shut the door to give them privacy and her mind immediately went blank.
Pazade sighed. He brought his scar-covered hands to his face and gently took off the mask. Masika couldn’t help staring; he was like a hero from the tales she had been told when she was younger. He had a square jaw with high cheekbones, the hollows of which were smeared with red and white war paint he had been wearing beneath the mask. His nose was straight and led from dark eyebrows underneath which were the most hypnotic hooded green eyes she had ever seen. His skin colour was slightly darker than her own, a heavily-scarred bronze with only a few wrinkles to mark his age. She hadn’t realised the back of the mask had fake black hair that covered his tied back thick ebony dreadlocks, each of which had an unusual auburn tip.
“I wouldn’t ordinarily take this off but seeing as this concerns my daughters, I think it’s best I read your words with my own eyes rather than behind a decorated piece of bone.” Pazade pulled out the chair and sat down before gesturing to Masika at the chair opposite.
“I… I didn’t think you meant tonight. I thought you would have been too busy.” Masika sat, tugging down the nightdress.
Pazade gave a slight smile and grabbed the pitcher, pouring a fresh cup and pushing it in front of her. “No. Things are being pushed to happen quickly. I want to know why.”
“If you mean you want information out of me, I don’t get told anything by Dia or Jasari.”
“I don’t mean that, girl.” Pazade glanced at her bandaged hand as she took a sip of the water. “Jasari was not happy I noticed you, yet he clearly wanted you to be presented when I arrive. I suspect it was to serve as a threat, to show he doesn’t need one of my daughters.”
“I didn’t know he was binding Dia to another Chieftain’s daughter. I swear I didn’t.”
“It still might not happen. As of right now, I cannot see any way that it will.”
“Why are you trusting me with this?”
“Who said I was trusting you with it? I’m telling anyone I see that I don’t want my daughter as a fucking slave and dirtying my blood with their weak spines.” Pazade reached into his pocket and took out a dry chunk of stale bread covered in seeds and broke off a piece. Tossing it into his mouth casually, he offered some to Masika before speaking once more. “I was never blessed with a son. My mate died several years ago to illness while Mother Luaani was shining full and I made a promise to protect our daughters. As a Chief, I need one of them to remain with my tribe and the other to tighten our connections elsewhere. If it was down to me, they would both get to pick what they wanted to do but that is not the way of the world.”
Masika brought the small chunk of bread to her lips and took a nibble. The dry texture made her cough and the bitterness burned the roof of her mouth and went straight up her nose. She grabbed her cup and took another gulp before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “I will answer what I can for you but there is not a lot I can tell.”
Pazade refilled his own cup and nodded. “You are not related to the Chief. For him to have you here is a great disgrace in your culture. Where is your family? Why are you here, girl?”
Masika took a breath but the moment she went to speak, the words halted in her mind. She thought about everything that had happened over the years, all combining to together in the madness of the past couple of weeks. Her brother sprang to her mind and how brave she had always thought he was. He would have those burns on his hands forever and forever their tribe would mock him for his night terrors about flames.
Pazade leaned forward and furrowed his brow as he took her hand in his, attempting to bring her out of her trance of sorrow.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “Just… trying to make sense of everything. My family perished years ago. Jasari wants my blood in his line because of the titles both our females and males have earnt over the generations. He tried to bind to my mother but my father and her were in love.”
Pazade nodded. “That makes sense. How did this injury happen to your hand?”
“I was, erm…” Masika looked down at the bandages. She knew she couldn’t lie to him; he could see right through her. She could never live with herself if something was to happen to one of his daughters; it was clear he cared about their welfare more than anything. She gazed into his eyes and went to speak, but instead she found herself bringing her other hand over his knuckles and clutching onto him desperately. “Please. Please help me,” was all she could whimper.
Pazade tilted his head to the side, surprised by the reaction, and perhaps wary that this was some trap of Jasari’s. Still, as Masika sobbed, he moved his arm to wrap around her shoulders and give her a comforting hug. Something about the gesture struck her inside. She could not stop her tears pouring and her jaw ached from crying. She just wanted it all to stop.
“Please… please help me,” she whispered, muffled by the thick leather straps across his chest.
Pazade patted her on the back and stroked her thick curls. “You have answered more than enough just with your tears, girl. My daughter won’t be marrying into this blood and neither will you.”
Masika choked on her breath and pulled her head up. She blinked at him in confusion and hastily wiped away the running snot and tears. “Wh-what?”
The Chief released her. “Stand up.”
She didn’t hesitate and stood before him, trying to wipe away the rest of the wetness on her bright red face and straighten her nightdress as best as she possibly could. The Chief placed his hands on her hips and pressed his thumbs down either side, frowning.
“I-I don’t understand!” she said as he sunk his fingertips across her pelvis. He removed his hands and gave her a smirk which made her stomach flutter.
“No. When a Chieftain visits, he can take away one person from a tribe, and that could form a union or even war. Tomorrow evening is the tribal declaration of the binding, a chance to see if anyone steps forward to protest. After that, the fathers have to confirm the arrangement. I will refuse and take you to bind to me instead.”
Masika’s eyes widened and a smile grew from ear to ear. Her tears were now ones of happiness as she brought her palm to her mouth in disbelief. “I… I would become a Chieftess?! I would be free from here?!”
Pazade grinned lightly and stood up. “There is no reason for my daughters to marry the cunt here. I hate this place; I hate the Chief. I am sure there will be another female much more suitable for Dia and who will take their place when I pass.”
Masika couldn’t control the sudden happiness building up inside and threw her arms around the tall Chief. She clung onto his chest dearly and didn’t want to let him leave the room while he stood there, awkwardly patting her back.
After blessing him to every God and Goddess she knew, Masika finally let the tired Chief make his way back out of her living quarters. He gave her a small nod before departing to his sleeping area.
Masika dived onto her bed with the biggest grin she had had on her face since she saw her brother. If she was a Chieftess, she could have the power to take him out of this place with her. He could finally earn his name like he’d always wanted and work in the tribe she was going to be a part of. At long last, she had a reason to smile as she slept and dreamt about freedom.
- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN -
When Zaki returned to the shack, the first thing he did was bathe the gash on his leg and thought back to past tribal feasts and the competitions which were held at them.
The main event was always the fire dancers. Both sexes trained with Inari to please Sun Father Solianga by recreating his brightness and radiance with beautiful dance, each in perfect time with the other. Another event was the fighting, which wasn’t really that notable, not enough to stand out. It was a fun sport to take part in but usually the Chief or his son would join and then
if you didn’t lose to him, you would of course be punished. There was also cooking for the feast but Zaki was no chef.
As he blindly put on his clothes and freshened up, he had no idea what he was going to do. Inari was right about one thing: he would at the very least have a full stomach at the end of it, if nothing else.
As the sun started to set, the sounds of the warriors and labourers getting preparations ready were clear across the village. A large wooden table carved with intricate details of hunted animals and floral patterns was always brought out for such occasions for the Chief, his family and guests to sit at while they watched the night’s displays before them. The smell of all the freshly cooked meats, soups and vegetable spreads drifted over the huts, teasing the stomachs of all.
Zaki made sure to tie his sword safely on his waist and put the bag of ornamental warriors securely under the hay mattress. When he walked out beneath the evening sky, he made sure to wedge the door so only he could access the carved statues when he returned.
With the glow of the fire and the sounds of those already beginning to drink in the air, he sighed and made his way into the village. The ceremonial clearing was up on the hill beside the Chieftain’s hut and just around the corner from where the stalls ended. It used to be full of untamed wild grasses and even exotic insects which would bite the skin, causing swelling and even death without treatment. But the first tribesmen cleared the ground with boulders, into some of which they carved strange words which must have meant something to them, and left them in place for their descendants. These stones were a mark of history and pride and were forever treasured, even by enemies who had tried to raze the settlement to the ground.
The ground was rough, especially for the workers who couldn’t afford to have a crafter make them some form of foot protection. Zaki had always made sure he and his sister had leather boots, even if their clothes were scraps and falling off them. He always remembered his father saying it would always be his soles and his toes which would walk the direction they wanted to go, whether on a new adventure or just in their daily work.
The tribespeople were rowdy and scattered around the perimeter of the circle in which the performances and fights would take place. The table was still empty and awaiting the guests to arrive while everyone drank with their families and yelled abuse at their enemies.
Zaki made his way around and sat beside an old woman who was sewing a patch onto a leather chestpiece, no doubt killing time after being dragged to the ceremony by her broad-chested sons, one of which Zaki had played with when he was younger, before the fire. They would play fight with wooden weapons and practise hunting on the critters that scavenged for scraps around the village. He was too skinny for the bigger animals and most of the other kids would laugh at him for it, at least until they saw how quickly he could run away from the butcher’s mate after stealing a juicy steak.
The old woman gave him a stony glance but continued her crafting nonetheless. Zaki took out his flask and sipped on the water while he watched the dancers on the other side of the floor preparing.
Once the sun had near fully dipped behind the hills out of sight, the drums started to beat for the Chief’s arrival. Inari was the first to walk down the path with his ivory walking stick in hand, limping as he made his way to the table. Behind him were the sisters and of course Dia, all looking as if they had been forced into tight clothing to appear more like fighters than they were. Zaki’s stomach twisted when the other figures emerged. Jasari was first with his sister-mate, Turpu. Behind him was Pazade wearing his mask, elegant robes trailing along the rocky ground, then the two masked sisters walking together.
For a moment, he was half expecting Masika to be with them but realised her duty was within the huts and that alone. He felt guilty for the way she was stuck in there and her fate had played on his mind for most of the day but there was nothing he could possibly do without any form of recognition, at least not for a month. He could press it quicker and sort out the mess he had caused by mating with her once they were within their own hut again or even leave the tribe with proper equipment. But it all relied on tonight.
As the Chiefs, siblings and Inari sat themselves down, the drums hammered once more as the dancers made their way around. The females wore pleated straw skirts around their waists, basic leather pads over their breasts and layers upon layers of coloured beads and held sticks of fire. The males didn’t look that much different; instead of the pads, they wore paints of stripes and swirls, all in black and red.
Zaki felt the sweat rolling down his forehead when the dancers arrived. Golden flames twirled at the end of their sticks upon ignition, making his heart race as they teased the flesh of the dancers. With each swipe, their lines traced the air, the illusion growing. To everyone else it was an exciting display, but for the young tribesman it was a horrific reminder. With their forced smiles and perfected steps, the performance went on, and each time they passed the pile of logs at the edge of the clearing they would elegantly flick their sticks to build up the flames of a growing bonfire. Each time another layer began to kindle and burn, Zaki felt his heart hammering against his chest and his feet itching with the desire to run away.
Finally, the dancers stopped and thick clouds of smoke drifted across the floor. Even on the other side of the area, Zaki could feel the heat on his skin.
When the drinks were passed around, he swiftly grabbed an orange one from Bee, who had put on her best clothes for the event and was serving with her sons. She gave him a bubbling smile before she moved onto the next set of people. The old woman’s sons approached their mother and eyed Zaki as he shook with the cup in his hand.
“Mother, you do realise you are sitting beside one of the fire orphans?” the one with the biggest pot belly spat.
The old woman shrugged with her patchwork between her teeth and glanced over her shoulder. “He isn’t doing any harm.”
The male narrowed his sunken eyes and grabbed his mother’s arm. He pulled her in close, but Zaki couldn’t help but overhear him speak.
“He is cursed with fire! No one should sit next to him at an event like this!”
“Honestly, he is just a boy who had a bad thing happen to him.”
“You do realise he screams about flames and curses those who hear his call to perish as well? Where the fuck do you think his sister is?!”
Zaki’s throat clenched at the mention of Masika. He missed his little sister dearly and knew he would never hurt her if he could help it. The fact that people thought he was cursing them made the anger inside swell. None of them gave a fuck about him, none of them cared or even asked once how he and his little sister were after his father and mother died. He had fought for everything he had and tonight he was going to get what he should have been given years ago, no matter what it was.
Inari suddenly stood and at the sound of the drums, the laughs and jokes of the crowd turned into silence.
“Tribesmen and women, we are gathered here to mark a very special occasion. It was only yesterday that Chief Pazade of the Blood-and-White tribe arrived with his daughters, but by request of himself and our own Chief Jasari, the rites of ceremony shall take place as quickly and swiftly as possible.”
Ceremony? Zaki thought. Inari hadn’t mentioned any form of ceremony taking place. In fact, Zaki had been given the impression that this was probably a trading deal and nothing more. Unless it was… but no, he already has enough. He doesn’t need another; surely his greed has a limit.
“Tonight could mark the beginning of the binding of two people from different tribes, entwining their souls as one and forever marking our friendship as allies in times of celebration or those of need.”
Zaki could taste acid at the back of his throat and his blood begin to boil. He glanced over at the thinner of the two daughters, shaking all the while. Orange alcohol spilt from his cup over his knuckles but he didn’t care as it dripped on the ground. Dia was sitting with that wicked, smug grin on his face, knowing one of them would
be his, just like Masika. Locked up in that hut never to be seen again. Please be the bigger one, Zaki dared to hope.
“Please could the elder Mascarde Dolta and Chieftain Dia step forward,” Inari said.
Zaki opened his eyes and felt the dread in the pit of his stomach as he saw the thinner female elegantly stand and make her way to the front. Dia stood beside her and gave her the most disgusting smirk Zaki had ever seen on him, one of lust over her delicate frame while she stood proudly, head held high.
“… Mother Moon Luaani and Father Sun Solianga, please bless this pairing in front of the tribe which one day they may rule together. Give her blessings of fertility for strong sons and him the strength to fight his battles as they come. Give those who oppose the strength to step forward, the courage to fight to the death their be-”
“I oppose!” Zaki yelled out.
- CHAPTER NINETEEN -
When Pazade had agreed to meet with the Blood-and-Shadow tribe, he expected it to be as horrific as he had always been told. But he had been brought up to respect other cultures and Inari, who had once saved his life in a time of need, had begged him to attend for the sake of the tribe he was part of, offering him the promise of medicines for his trouble.
The Blood-and-White tribe had survived a five-year epidemic of jungle flu, a vile disease which rotted the skin and forced sufferers to vomit and void their bowels. It spread quicker than any disease the tribe had ever witnessed and killed many of the warriors and hunters, who’d still had to work. After that, their own supply of medicines had become dangerously low and most were turned away by the healers and sent home to pray without anything to aid them.
Pazade knew the moment he saw Jasari he didn’t want either of his daughters bound to that family in any way. His girls were everything to him and far too intelligent to be wasted and locked away inside a hut, no matter how prestigious their role was made out to be.
