by Cassie Wolf
Pazade closed his eyes and thought back to all the moments that had shaped his life. The day his daughters were born, the day he held his mate in his arms after she had become weak trying to bring their son into the world and they both died within the same hour. He never thought he would fear death after that. He had seen his daughters become women, strong in their own ways. The tribe had survived some of the worst illnesses it had ever seen under his rule and now it was time for that to end. He would never witness his grandchildren grow, nor see the full potential which Nyah had inside.
Opening his eyes once more, he looked at the centre of the garden. He remembered as clear as day when Nyah took her first few steps here with her hair gleaming in the sun. Jocelin came running over when she fell, cuddling her before telling him she had hurt her knee.
Pazade smiled, tears filling his eyes, and reached for the cup. Bringing it up in front of him, he nodded towards the figure. “I wonder how many you truly kill with the wars you begin.” He tilted the drink towards the still figure once more. “Cheers.”
With that, Pazade gulped the bitter-tasting alcohol, letting it flow down his throat, thick and warm, before finishing it whole. “What do you know, death doesn’t taste all that bad,” he muttered. Gradually, his eyes started to drift. The garden around him span in circles and the figure had disappeared from sight. The world began to darken and his body was becoming heavy. Tiredness and cold swept over him and slowed his breath until finally, the last one stopped.
- CHAPTER FORTY -
Jocelin lay with Atsu in the early hours of the morning, resting her head on his chest as he slept peacefully with his arm wrapped around her shoulders. She smiled as she stroked her fingers across his breastbone and felt the drum of his relaxed heartbeat beneath. He frowned when she pressed too lightly, delicate tickles which woke him. With one eye peeked open, he gazed down at her and grinned.
“I thought you would be too tired after last night.” He yawned while caressing her hair.
Jocelin smirked and shook her head. “Not at all.”
Atsu used all his strength to swiftly pick her up by the hips and sat her right on top, the blanket sweeping away from her shoulders and exposing her body. “You can do the work then because I am.”
She laughed when he closed his eyes and curled over to kiss him softly. He ran his hand through her locks and pulled her closer, slipping his tongue lazily into her mouth. As the morning passion began to build, a shriek echoed across the hut.
Jocelin sat bolt upright and glanced towards the door. Atsu frowned and went to pull her back down but she ushered his hand away. “I’m sure the warriors have control of it,” he said.
“No… that sounded like Nyah.” She wouldn’t take her eyes away from the door. Her heart was sinking. She stayed mounted on Atsu in silence until the ear-piercing sound came again, then broke into sobbing.
The pair shot out of the bed and threw on anything they could find before they swung open the door. Jocelin drew her eyes along the corridor; usually near-empty, it was now full of warriors. Each stood with arms crossed and heads bowed to the ground as she passed. Last time she had seen them stand in such a way, it wasn’t good.
“No,” she whispered as each warrior bowed silently to the pair as they passed. She forced her feet to take the steps that would carry her to the dim, dawn glow spilling through the open back door.
Atsu kept pace behind his mate, not asking any questions, until she saw the figure in the garden. Nyah was curled into a ball, wailing and shaking while she clung to the leg of their father.
Jocelin dashed towards her sister. But the moment she got outside, she froze, legs weak, and feeling they might collapse. Her father wasn’t sleeping in the chair. His lips were cracked and pale; his skin wasn’t its usual healthy flush. He had a grin on his face and cup not far from his outstretched fingers.
She staggered forward, nearly collapsing beside Nyah as Jocelin clasped her shoulders and tried to ease her away from their father’s corpse.
“No! Don’t make me let go!” Nyah screamed, desperately clutching his leg. “Please don’t make me let go!”
Jocelin swallowed as her lip trembled and she gazed up at Pazade, expecting him to open his eyes again and ask them what all the commotion was, but it didn’t happen. With her voice trembling and broken, she whispered into her sister’s ear, “Nyah…”
Shaking her head, Nyah let herself fall into Jocelin’s arms, rocking with grief. “This isn’t real… this isn’t real,” she repeated between sobs with her hands over her eyes.
Jocelin stared emptily into space, the tears streaming down her cheeks. There were no words to say, nothing she felt she could do but sit on the floor with her sister in her arms and allow the hurt to come out. When they were small and thunder cracked the sky, Nyah would cry with fear and climb into her sister’s bed. Jocelin would keep a tight hold of her and caress her hair and let her cry out her fears until the storm had passed. She didn’t know how long that would be this time.
Atsu stood by the door and watched over the pair. Pazade had taken him in when he needed it most; to see him go so quickly and before his time felt like an injustice. With no marks on him, he assumed Pazade had died in his sleep.
“What are your orders, Chief?” a warrior asked quietly beside him.
Atsu didn’t realise he was being spoken to. He’d turned in confusion before it started to dawn on him: he was the one in charge now. As quick as that, he had become the leader of people he didn’t know. He didn’t feel as though he could handle it. He ran his hand through his locks and frowned. “Erm… leave these two to grieve. They need privacy. Station two warriors at the end of the hallway to make sure no one disturbs them.”
The man nodded and their ranks soon dispersed.
“He knew, Joce,” Nyah stammered and wiped the tears from her red, swollen eyes. “He knew.”
Jocelin cupped Nyah’s head in her hands. Her voice broke as she said, “What did he know?”
“He knew… He… he kept looking.” Nyah drew her glance over her shoulder to the gated corner, shuddering with grief as she caught sight of her father once more.
“He was probably drunk, Nyah. He had a smile on his face. If it was an intruder he would have killed them.”
“No! Joce… I should have stayed. He… he said he and mother loved us. There was someone here. I should have stayed with him, Joce, I should have stayed…” Nyah broke off.
“Shhh, Nyah, shhh.” Jocelin brushed through her sister’s hair.
Atsu retreated to sit beside the seat in the trokhosi hall and chewed on his thumb in thought. He tried to think of any way he could make it better for the sisters but nothing came to mind. He didn’t know what to do with himself, nor what would happen with the people – his people – now.
“Poison is a peaceful way to go. The killers must have respected him for that,” a voice hissed.
Atsu glared at a hooded stranger he hadn’t heard approach. Charcoal robes, a thin figure, there was something about the man which made Atsu’s skin crawl as he slithered across the floor and eyed the chair in the centre. With bulbous eyes and a hooked nose, if it wasn’t for the man’s pale complexion, Atsu could have sworn he was related to Jasari.
“He’s not even cold. Who the fuck are you to spread rumours like that?”
The thin lips formed into a smile as he bowed before Atsu. “Apologies, Chief.”
“Don’t call me that.” Atsu crunched his knuckles together.
“I am Rudo, healer of the tribe. When Nyah found Pazade, I was called. His cup was laced with poison. It was a poison the Chief knew well, so he must have accepted the death.”
Atsu huffed and stood, cracking his neck side to side. “Why the fuck would he just accept death so easily when he had two daughters who he adored?”
The stranger shrugged and glanced past Atsu. “The Chief knew he was getting old. Maybe he didn’t believe he would have another chance to die with dignity.”
A
tsu heard shuffling footsteps behind him. Jocelin had her arm wrapped around her sister, who sniffed and sobbed.
He walked over to his mate as she trembled, the paleness written over her face and her usual bright eyes bloodshot and dry from the tears she had cried. She wiped at the damp on her cheeks and weakly smiled at him.
“Nyah said it was poison,” Jocelin said.
Atsu tapped his chin. “I don’t think now is the time to think of it, Joce. We need to let the dust settle.”
Jocelin weakly laughed, glancing back to the light behind her and the father whose warmth was gone and whose eyes were closed forever. “I could smell the poison myself, Atsu. As soon as the mantle has been passed, we are going to war.”
- CHAPTER FORTY-ONE -
Over the following days, Jasari barely slept. His eyes screamed for rest but each time he lay down, twitches and tingles in his legs forced him to get up and pace around until he felt too fatigued. On a couple of occasions, he even collapsed, although he insisted he was fine. In the end he demanded that his sister-mate be moved to another part of the hut, paranoid that she would kill him in the night. She gladly obliged.
He knew his warriors had become scared of what his next orders might be, and that some had even made attempts on their own lives after he’d instructed them to kill the defenceless prisoners in the cages. But today, he was feeling positive and had the garasums cook up the freshest hunts for a dinner with his family, even inviting Masika along to the event.
The dining room wasn’t anything special, not compared to how well the hut’s individual spaces had been decorated, but it was pleasant enough to sit in. With a pine table stretching across the room and cushioned chairs to sit on, it would have been luxurious for the average worker.
The floors were covered in furs and soft on bare feet. The torches hanging on the walls and the fire pit at the back radiated a blasting heat but in the winter, it was a blessing. Even though the weather would only drop a little, he would feel it as soon as it began.
Jasari sat at the top of the table, twitching his thumbs, waiting. His sister-mate, daughters and even Dia had been giving him hateful glares for a long time but he hoped this would ease some of the tension between them.
The door opened as his daughters came in one by one and sat themselves down, giving their father a simple greeting. Next was his sister-mate who was smirking at the warrior who had escorted her before she sat as far away as she could from Jasari. Then, with the final turn of the handle, Dia and Masika stepped in the room. With her belly so large, Masika hobbled as she sat down on a chair beside her mate and didn’t dare tilt her head to look at the Chief.
Everyone remained silent as Jasari inspected them all with tired eyes and a cup in his hand. The only sounds were the crackles of the low fire and the slurping as he drank.
Gugu sniffed the air and licked her lips before looking to her father. Over the months she had begun to wore her hair down, over the ragged ruin where her ear used to be.
“It smells good, Father,” she happily chimed.
“Hmm. One thing your father knows, it’s how to get his fill,” Turpu snapped and glared at Masika.
Jasari narrowed his eyes in her direction. “Truth is, Gugu, you want young and juicy. Not hagged and drooping. That’s what makes the taste so succulent.”
Gugu nodded, her tongue near hanging out of her mouth like a lapdog who had never been fed. None of the others seemed to have cottoned onto what their mother had suggested and sat in silence, avoiding conversation at all costs.
Masika twitched and clutched her stomach, clenching her teeth together as Dia gave her a sideways glance, even looking concerned. She shook it off quickly.
The garasums carried in shallow frying pans, filled to the brim. White slices of pork lay on a bed of evenly-cut vegetables: carrot medallions, boiled pearled potatoes, tomato chunks and then slivers of beans so soft they wrapped around the meat. The smell of the herbs and melted butter on top hit the back of Jasari’s nostrils as it was laid before them, and they grabbed their spoons and dolloped huge servings onto their plates. Everyone except Masika, who gave herself a meagre portion and nibbled at the succulent food bit by bit.
Jasari filled his own plate but instead of tucking in, he glared at Dia as he shoved food into his mouth as if he had never been fed before. Grunting, the Chief rearranged himself before he spoke. “It has come to my attention, Dia, that your sisters are not yet with child. Does anyone plan on telling me why this is?”
Dia stared across the table as his siblings eyed him over their plates. With a bean hanging out of his mouth, he shrugged. “It just hasn’t happened.”
Turpu snorted. “Do it yourself if it’s such a problem. Hasn’t stopped you in the past.”
“It is not my duty.”
“Neither were the others.”
Gugu dropped her spoon and squinted at her father, confused, while everyone else tried to eat their meals as quick as they could. “What others?”
“Your mother is deluded.”
Turpu slammed up from her seat and went to leave only for a warrior to usher her back down. “What is deluded is believing that ghosts live within our women. And Inari isn’t here to bring you out of your madness this time.”
Jasari didn’t listen. He was instead focused on Masika. Dia was attempting to fill her plate with more food, telling her she was letting the baby starve but she was shaking her head at it. The Chief left his chair and moved to sit beside the pair.
Dia narrowed his eyes at his father while Masika still wouldn’t look up at him. His sister and daughters all watched him curiously as he picked up the spoon, filling it with food, and brought it to her lips.
Masika whined softly and try to keep her lips tightly together until he squeezed her knee and forced it in her mouth. “There we go, Zura. You need to eat.”
“Zura?” Gugu asked with her mouth full. “Who the fuck is Zura? That’s Masika.”
Turpu shook her head and turned her head away in disgust and fear. “Leave it. Just leave him to it.”
Dia’s narrowed glance turned into one full of hatred as his father stroked Masika’s hair. She was trembling and Jasari could even see the food she was forcing down her throat. “Father, I think you should stop.”
“No,” Jasari responded and kept on feeding the frightened woman. After a few more mouthfuls, Masika shakily took the spoon into her own hands and forced herself to look into his eyes. She nodded to him as she fed herself the next serving, face twisting against the urge to retch.
A knock on the door made everyone sigh audibly with relief. A warrior stepped inside and quickly passed the Chief a tied-up roll of leather.
Jasari uncurled the message. A wide smirk broke out across his face as he clicked his fingers to the garasums. “I think we shall have a toast.”
Everyone looked at each other uneasily as their cups were filled. Jasari stood before them all and raised his glass. “Chieftain Pazade is dead. Here’s to his heir, the new Chieftain Atsu and his scrawny Chieftess Jocelin!”
They raised their glasses in silence. Dia’s siblings, sister-mate and Jasari all appeared to be in happier spirits with the news. A different kind of dread filled Dia’s stomach and, he supposed, Masika’s. She would worry that her brother might be as easily killed as Pazade, but Dia knew Atsu wasn’t the boy he had been. He had seen with his own eyes the man he had become in such a short time, and already had more respect from the Whites’ warriors then Dia had worked for from his own in his entire life.
As much as his father had tried to justify his humiliation, he now wondered why he was doing this at all. He never should have paid the Silent-step to do the job; he should have just kept the money for himself. But now it was done. Their warriors were nowhere near as ready as the Whites’ and their force was nearly a quarter of the size. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the alcohol while his sisters and mother laughed and joked, not realising what was to come.
With Atsu as Chief, Dia
knew he wouldn’t leave this as settled. He was going to make them suffer, until Dia’s mother and her daughters had the laughter choked out of them.
- CHAPTER FORTY-TWO -
On the day Pazade’s death was announced, all of the tribe’s workers ceased their labours out of respect. Some came to visit with gifts while others grew concerned for the sisters and made them clothes and food. Jocelin forced a polite smile to most, holding back the tears. In the main hall, warriors dragged out seats for Atsu and Jocelin, neither of them wanting to sit on the trokhosi out of respect. The healer who had examined the Chief brought the ancestral skull helm from the garden and placed it on the chair where it belonged while he quietly had Pazade’s body taken to a place of worship. Whenever Atsu saw Jocelin turn around, it was as though she expected to see her father sitting in the seat, drink in hand, grinning. But all her eyes were met with was an empty space which would bring her to the brink of tears again. Nyah hadn’t left her room and shooed away anyone who tried to speak to her except for her sister. She didn’t have the strength to force anything, even for the sake of the tribe.
When the night stars glimmered in the sky, Atsu asked the warriors to close the doors on any more well-wishers. With a sigh, he ran his hand through his dreadlocks and eyed his mate.
Despite her brave face, he could see the emptiness in her red eyes, lost in a world of her own.
“Joce,” he muttered. She tried the same forced smile on him, but it didn’t convince. Atsu patted his knee. “Come here.”
Jocelin wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and buried her face so no one could see as she sobbed. Atsu kept tight hold of her, brushing her shoulders. He rocked her slowly, feeling his skin dampen as she wept. He was never comfortable in these situations; he always felt awkward and out of place, even when he’d tried to console Masika over the years.
