by Cassie Wolf
Pazade stood in front of Atsu and spoke calmly. “Listen… listen to me,” he whispered so low that even Atsu could barely hear, “we will deal with this. You need to calm.”
“HE’S KILLED MY FUCKING SISTER!” Atsu yelled and tried to escape the grasp of the warriors.
Pazade shook his head and glanced down at the beads. “Atsu, these are just beads. She is not dead. Think clearly here; we knew it was going to be a game. Right now you are letting him win.”
Atsu’s breath was heavy as he glared at the smug expression that was emerging on Dia. He steadied himself and the warriors warily let him go.
“Send her remains to us,” Pazade said.
Dia once again seemed stunned. With a stutter and his eyes flicking rapidly side to side, he shook his head. “We can’t, she is part of our tribe.”
“Her only living relative is the future Chief of our tribe. Her burial here as more than a commoner is what she deserves. Not in some mass grave as a worker. Send her remains to us.”
Atsu watched as Dia wriggled on the spot. With the hate in his eyes, he shook his head. “She’s not dead, is she? Is this how fucking low you would really sink?”
“I was told to deliver the message, nothing else. Send a message to Inari about her remains.” Dia huffed and quickly turned on his heels and walked away.
Atsu growled and took a step forward to go after him when Pazade crossed his spear over his chest to stop him. “Believe me, boy, liars like that aren’t worth it.”
“He’s done something to my sister! I can’t let him just walk away again!” Atsu shoved the spear out of the way.
“You have told me yourself she is too valuable for him to kill. He wanted a reaction from you and, luckily, you were stopped. Dia is nothing more than a messenger for his father and if this was all he could muster,” Pazade said, picking the beads from his palm, “then we are safe until the end of time. Come, let’s enjoy the night before we return to the tribe.”
Rage still heavy on his chest, Atsu reluctantly trudged back down the hill to the camp site. Placing the beads around his own neck, he found himself thinking about Masika and wondering if she truly was still alive at all.
- CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT -
Jasari tied his leathers around his waist as he slid out of the bed. The relief had melted along his shoulders, at least for a short time until his son returned. During the nights, flashes of the faces of those he once knew, those who died by his hand, haunted him until he woke up shivering down to his toes.
Over the years he had managed to supress the past and truly believed he was redeeming himself over time. But deep down, he knew Zura was living inside Masika and was showing him how much she cared before she had perished. She didn’t blame him anymore and now he was making up for all that was lost.
The Chieftain grunted as he squeezed his feet back into his boots. Glancing over his shoulder, he stroked Masika’s spine and reached around to her swollen stomach as she stared at the wall. He didn’t need to hear any words from her; her silence was enough for him to know she was satisfied.
He leant over and kissed her on the stomach and felt her flinch at the touch. Her eyes were pinched shut.
“You don’t have to worry about Inari now, he has been banished. Look at how big you are now, Masi.” Jasari grinned and pushed himself from the bed. “Our strong son. Imagine the warrior he will become. He will be something to be proud of.”
Masika chewed her lip and pulled the sheets to cover her bare body.
“Dia should be home soon, as long as your brother hasn’t killed him. I kind of hope he has; it would save me the bother when the baby is here.” Jasari leaned closed and nuzzled her hair. “Then we can have all the children the stars promised us, Zura.”
Jasari, thinking she cared for him with a hidden love, beamed as he usually did after sharing her bed and made his way back to his seat in the trokhosi hall. His sister-mate gave him a look of disgust while he settled down and snorted in her direction. She knew what he had been doing. Even his daughters knew but no one said a word. They all just let it happen; it was only Masika, after all, and not one of their own.
As Jasari returned the glare, the hatred he felt for his own family started to return. It was her fault that this had happened, he thought to himself. After his son had the incident with Atsu, he had begged Zura for forgiveness nearly every day to stop the pain of any more humiliation. His mate and daughters would scream in his ear to act, to kill, or to raze the Whites to the ground until nothing was left. But the moment he’d seen Masika, wearing the dress much like her mother had, he knew it was a sign.
Later on in the night, he sent for her to come to his room and dispatched his mate on an errand with the warriors. When Masika entered the room, tears streaked her face; that was his chance to prove his affection. He made her strip before him. At first she appeared shy, but he helped her out of them piece by piece. The moment his eyes took in her naked body, his lust took over. Believing she was virtuous, he felt pride in every thrust as she screamed and dragged her nails along the bed. Since then, he had sent for her or sneaked into her room whenever he could.
When Dia proudly boasted of her pregnancy, he then knew the truth that he hadn’t been the first and even stopped going to see her for a short while. But then she started to change back. The Masika with the attitude had found her voice and her strength. No longer was she the ghost of her mother, but the girl whose brother had shamed his family.
“Hopefully you will be happier for today,” his sister snorted.
Jasari rearranged himself and grunted in response. They all sat in grim silence. He could dimly hear the sound of men and women screaming out in the streets a short distance away, riled no doubt by the new drinking limits or the shift in hunting boundaries closer to the tribe. The Chief didn’t want anyone wandering too far away, not where enemies could capture them so easily.
There was the rumble of the gates opening. Jasari drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, waiting for his soldiers to arrive, expecting them to drag the corpse of his son to his feet.
The doors swung wide open, splashing sunlight across those waiting for news, and in trooped the warriors one by one. Much to the disappointment of Jasari, there was Dia, fumbling with his hands like a shamed fool.
The Chief stood towering over his son as the men split away one by one to rest after their journey. “What happened?”
Dia looked at his feet, his burns gleaming with the light playing across every sunken dip of his scars. “I did it.”
“Both parts?”
Dia nodded and gulped. “Atsu wants his sister’s remains sent to him.”
Jasari tapped his chin and narrowed his eyes. “Why would we do that? She is part of our tribe.”
“That was what I told them, but Pazade said her burial as sister of the future Chief was more her right than one of a worker here.”
Jasari sat back on his chair and rested his head in his hands. “We knew there was a chance it wouldn’t work. Damn Pazade, the clever bastard. I bet you if he wasn’t there Atsu would have lost his temper and they would have hauled your body back instead of you twitching like an idiot before me. I knew I should have told Inari to ask for him alone.”
His sister glared at his words while Dia swallowed the pain of how his father spoke to him. “He did threaten to kill me…”
“Yet here you stand.” Jasari sighed. “The second part is done? You haven’t managed to fuck that up?”
Dia lifted his head and looked into his father’s eyes. He gave him a low nod, and Jasari broke into a wide smile, that of a victor, as Dia made his way towards his room.
Jasari stood up and smirked at his sister. “That should make you happier for the day.”
She snarled and turned her back on him, speaking in hushed, excited tones with her daughters.
The Chief made his way out of the hut into the bright light of day and gazed across his village. At the huts made by the first settlers, whose families
had once been happy to call this place home. But now there was no respect left. Each time a male threw an insult in his direction, the Chief would swallow the words and make a mental note of the home and family to which they belonged. It wouldn’t be long, and then they would all learn.
He walked to the empty witch doctor’s hut. Inside it was eerily empty, with only a few scattered cushions left to sit on. The incense still lingered powerfully in the darkness and filled him with dizziness as he stared into the shadowed spaces before him. Shapes formed and each would curl and climb the walls, where some formed claws and stared at him, silently judging in mutters beneath their breath.
The door snapped open, rapping against the wooden wall, and a warrior approached. He stared at his Chieftain before clearing his throat to get his attention.
“Chief, everything is ready.”
Jasari curled his lip and shot him a glare. “Good. The news should get back to us soon. We will leave as soon as it’s been confirmed.”
The warrior nodded, hesitating before he spoke once more. “The people are asking where is Inari with the gifts he promised, Chief.”
Jasari chuckled before his face turned stony. “Those ungrateful bastards. It was ME who promised those gifts. Inari was nothing more than a glorified messenger. If they ask again, throw them in the cells.”
“The cells are full, Chief.”
“Then make room,” Jasari spat. Once the warrior had gone and shut the door again, the Chieftain sat in the darkness with the crawling shadows for company, whispering his plans.
- CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE -
The Blood-and-White tribe spent the night beneath the polar-white stars. Even Atsu managed to crack the odd smile as he lay with Jocelin on the ground, watching for the glowing trails of shooting stars, dashing past before disappearing into the void. With the warriors hunting succulent deer to roast over the fire, it had turned out to be an enjoyable venture for all.
They soon packed up their belongings to head back to their village. Some of the warriors even laughed at how Dia had trembled on the spot, terrified of Atsu, without him even laying a finger on him.
Pazade grinned at Atsu while they walked side-by-side. “That is your first story.”
Atsu, who for most of the night had been thinking about his sister, clicked out of his trance. “What?”
“It will be the first story that will be spread about you. It is better than mine.”
“What was yours?”
“I got beat up by my elder brother. Stocky male he was. That was what most remembered me for when I returned,” Pazade said. Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks and glanced between the trees with narrow eyes.
Atsu stood as still as possible and scanned the area, clutching his spear. “What is it?”
The Chieftain’s eyes drew to the ground. Leaves whirled and twisted in the wind climbing towards the monkeys as they lay lazily on the heavy vine trees, watching the procession below. With a low chuckle, he shook his head. “Nothing. My mind playing tricks on me. But yes, when I returned, a lot of people were surprised how I had changed. I was skinnier then you were when I first saw you.”
Atsu anxiously smiled, his eyes twitchy as he watched between the trees. “Returned?”
Pazade nodded and picked up his stride again. “Yes. I went to the Sun Tribe. The most elite training anyone can receive. After my brother beat me up, it made me realise how weak I was. I went to train and returned several years later when my brothers and father had passed to claim the mantle.”
“I didn’t know you had siblings.”
“Only two. The eldest, Dube, was killed in a fight not long after I left. Gwala died of sickness. My father went mad with grief and ended up killing himself not long after and my mother became a mute. She didn’t speak another word until the day Jocelin was born. Old age took her to rest with my father and brothers.” Pazade smiled.
It was almost sunset when the group came in sight of the village ahead. Speeding up with tiredness and bellies rumbling with hunger, they were soon at the welcoming gates with the smells of newly-baked bread and charred meats drawing them on. Pazade nodded towards Atsu to grant him permission to go with the warriors to eat while he walked to the hut with his daughters.
While Jocelin went towards her room without saying a word, Nyah quickly skipped across the floor and headed into the garden. Pazade sighed as the pair split off and picked up the bottle waiting for him beneath his seat before heading towards his eldest daughter’s room.
When he walked in, she stood tall in front of her mirror, tilting to the side. The instant she caught her father’s reflection, she spun around. Her cheeks flushed and her bright eyes twinkled as she smiled humbly.
“You know, Joce, ever since you were five, you could never hide your face when you were caught in trouble.” Pazade beamed.
“I’m not in trouble.”
“I see the signs in you, Joce. Your mother had the same. You have not told him yet?”
Jocelin shook her head. “Waiting for the moment.”
Her father beamed proudly at her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a warm hug. “You will be fine, Joce. Now, I need to go see Nyah before she skips off somewhere else.”
Jocelin gazed up at her father and smiled, breaking away to inspect her own reflection again. Pazade chewed on his lip and the pit of his stomach churned with dread. He wanted to say something more but knew he couldn’t, not without her suspecting. Nodding, he took a deep breath and walked towards the gardens.
Nyah was sat beside the table, humming to herself with a charcoal nub in her hand, scribbling on the leather before her in the last of the light. Like their mother, both of his daughters had been blessed with grace and beautiful looks. His younger daughter was shorter than Jocelin and with a larger frame but the pair looked near enough like twins when they were together.
Pazade blinked and narrowed his eyes towards the gate while Nyah gave him a bubbling smile up from her scribblings. “Father! You know that woman who I operated on and the other healers said she had no chance of living? I proved them all wrong!”
The Chief took his seat opposite. “That’s great, Nyah! Scribbling as always, eh girl?”
She nodded and hummed while the black coated her fingertips, “Yes. I am writing down everything that has worked so far. Why are you out here, Father? Are you not hungry too?”
Pazade shook his head and glanced at the deepening shadows in the corner. Nyah followed his gaze, then blinked at him, confused. The Chief quickly took her hand in his but hesitated with his words. “Listen, Nyah, when you became a woman, I wrongly tried to find you a mate. I shouldn’t have tried because… well look at you. You have more brains up there than anyone in this tribe.”
His youngest daughter blushed and giggled with a snort. “No! I just like to learn. Anyone can learn!”
“But it takes a lot more to commit to it.” Pazade grinned. “If you want to be a healer, a witch doctor, anything in the world, Nyah, don’t let anyone stop you. I have a feeling your sister may need you in the future, though. Sometimes Joce has a habit of making rash decisions and you will need to be her guiding light.”
Nyah’s expression turned serious as she looked into her father’s eyes. He wondered if she saw his fear there, for all that he was trying to hide it. “I don’t… I don’t understand. Why are you saying this?”
Pazade felt his eyes burning with tears as he let out a single chuckle. “Because I am getting old. Why don’t you go inside? Night’s coming and there’s a chill in the air.”
Nyah tilted her head to the side. She glanced back over to the corner, then shrugged and quickly gathered her things. She kissed her father on the head and was almost inside when he called to her once more.
“Your mother and I love you both very much, Nyah.” Pazade turned with his bottle in hand, swigging from the neck. Maybe she would think it was just the drink talking. He waited until he heard the door close and she was safe inside, then brought h
is hands to the skull helm. Lifting it off his head, he placed it on the table and gave a nervous laugh. “I thought you were hired to be silent? Mind you, I couldn’t imagine Jasari being generous enough with his gold to pay for a professional.”
His only reply was the quiet. Nothing shook, no one spoke back. The twilight garden was as peaceful and tranquil as ever. Pazade sighed and rummaged in his apron for his gold coins and scattered them across the table. “Not a talker, eh? Here, coin on the table. Take it.”
For a moment, Pazade thought maybe he was going insane. His heart pounded as he glanced around to see where they were. He could hear the light tap of sneaky footsteps. He drummed on the table, hoping it was his age and mind playing tricks on him. Throughout his rule, he had always been especially paranoid after meetings with other Chiefs.
Near the gate, an outline soon emerged. It was one every Chieftain dreaded. The Silent-step. Deadly, swift and soundless by nature, they covered themselves head to toe in black to blend into the darkness and usually only made their move at night. Paid murderers with no honour.
With only his dark, sombre eyes visible, the thin male figure approached. He spread his slender fingers across the table and Pazade slammed his palm down and spoke quickly before the murderer could retaliate. “There is more coin than this. Never harm my daughters, nor their children, nor mates. Leave my family.”
The figure didn’t respond but simply slid the money across, then drew his blade. Pazade shook his head and leant forward. “The money is in my room. There is a floorboard with it hidden beneath. It should be enough to keep the safety of my blood.” Pazade dragged his cup before him and felt his lip quiver, but fought away any fear. “My daughters will most likely find me and I know you have poison. It was the strength of its smell which gave you away.”
The shadow stared at the Chief but still obliged his request. He slid a gloved hand into his pocket, then took out a phial and poured a few droplets into the cup before withdrawing a couple of steps, watching.
