by Cassie Wolf
“We need to… plan what happens next,” Jocelin said while he cradled her.
“If you and your sister both feel ready to, we can. There is no rush.”
“It has to be… tomorrow. Rudo will come to place…” Jocelin closed her eyes and bit down on her lip. “The helm. It will go to you and I get… I get the headdress.”
Atsu nodded as he listened to her words. As much as the responsibility was coming much quicker than he had expected, he focused on his mate, concerned with her paleness and frailty. She had nearly collapsed twice during the day and couldn’t face the meals she was given.
Jocelin sat up straight, sniffing and wiping away the tears. She brought her palms to the sides of his face and softly rubbed his nose with hers. “Atsu… I am not burying my father until Jasari is dead. I mean it. The moment that helm has been placed, I want us to head out.”
He sighed, clutching onto her skinny frame. “You’re speaking out of grief.”
As he went to turn away, she tightened her grip and held him towards her. “I know. But I need this pain to end him. Think about everything Jasari did to you, to your sister, your parents. Your blood nearly extinguished over one night because of him. He is still murdering, Atsu. Please, I beg of you to call the army.”
He chewed on his lip as he glanced around the empty room. It was true that Jasari must be losing his mind, and if his sister was still alive he had no doubts that he would kill her anyway the moment he approached. But then again, he had promised Pazade that his daughters would become his new family now. He had taken Atsu in and trusted him on that promise. Glancing back at her wide green eyes, he sighed. “You are asking me to cause more deaths.”
“I am asking you to end the bastard who caused all this,” she hissed.
Atsu stood and picked her up with him. “We need sleep. I am not saying yes, but I want to think it over thoroughly before I make any decision.”
She nodded her head and linked her arm with his as they strode towards the bedroom. “That is fair. Thank you.”
Neither of them slept. Jocelin wriggled and writhed in attempt to find comfort amongst her grief. Atsu was kept awake by her movements and concern for what was coming ahead. As much as he liked the idea of wiping out Jasari and his family, his mind couldn’t help but think that was what he wanted. Jasari wanted to bring a war; Atsu just didn’t know why.
As dawn broke, the couple forced themselves out of bed, tired and dressed in silence. Jocelin sat on the edge of the bed, eyes drawing to the door like she wanted to stay locked away in the privacy of her own thoughts like Nyah. Atsu cleared his throat and rubbed his tired eyes before looking to his mate. “We better get this over with.”
Jocelin nodded and forced herself up, following slowly behind as they stepped out into the main hall. Rudo was already hovering near the chair and Nyah was sat on the ground, emptily staring into space and hugging her knees.
“The warriors have been waiting beside the bells and horns through the night,” Rudo hissed as he paced up and down. The corners of his mouth curved into a smirk as he pointed towards the ceremonial headgear. “The moment you and Jocelin take your helms, the village will awaken to a new Chief.”
Atsu frowned, looking back to Jocelin and Nyah as they sat consoling each other on the ground. He didn’t want to take it so soon. If it was up to him, he would let them grieve and the people settle after the shock. But he knew they did things differently here. It had to be quick. “We are the only ones in the room. How will the warriors know when I wear it?”
“I open the doors to your tribesmen for them to come and see if they wish. The message is sounded, the bells are rung and the horns will be blown.”
“As simple as that, I become Chief?”
Rudo sighed with impatience and nodded. “Yes. The dawn of the new Chieftain comes with the sun. It shows the beginning of a new era.”
Jocelin glanced over her shoulder. “Let’s get it over with.” She cleared her throat and stood beside her mate as Nyah turned to watch.
Rudo walked towards a table filled with trophies and picked up a headdress. Small plaits hung down either side of the face, decorated with bright rainbow beads, while across the forehead was a glimmering blood gem, kept in place with painted stones. At the top, great colourful feathers spread across like a canopy over the face. The healer placed it beside the skull helm and rubbed his palms together.
Jocelin gulped and closed her eyes. Jittery, she reached her fingertips into Atsu’s hand.
Rudo brought a length of striped fur from the table, one which Atsu had seen Pazade wear when he first met him. The mantle, draped across the shoulders, was a piece for the most elite and prestigious within the tribe. His knees began to quiver slightly but he kept his stance strong as the healer approached. The instant it was placed over his head, Atsu felt the burdens it represented settling with it.
“You wear the mantle with pride, you wear it to show your strength to your enemies, and to your allies, you will never be weak,” Rudo said and brought the headdress to Jocelin.
Jocelin glared at it. Her mother had been the last to wear it. She remembered when she was an infant her mother and father adorned with their helms of power. She had overheard her mother saying the headdress was cursed while her father chuckled at her.
Rudo placed the headdress on Jocelin and grinned at her. “You are to carry your mate’s burdens as if they are your own. You will command when the seat is empty and bring him sons and daughters, strong enough to carry their burdens from birth.”
Jocelin nodded low in response and watched as the healer picked up the Chief’s helm from the seat. He approached Atsu one more time.
“Atsu, with rise of the morning sun and the dawn across our people, you shall be known as our Chieftain.” Rudo slowly placed the helm over his head before taking out a knife and quickly slashing a cut on his palm. He dipped his finger in the red and painted a symbol across Atsu’s chest. “Beneath the clouds so White, we the people lay. With Blood in your veins, for the Chieftain’s wrath our enemies shall pay.” Rudo pointed to the trokhosi. “And now, Chief Atsu, be seated to greet the rise of a new day.”
The helm felt as though it clung to his scalp as he followed Rudo’s direction. The eye sockets gave him just about enough room to see the ashen face of his mate, trying to appear as graceful as she could. He eyed the seat, covered in furs and bones, with hesitation. Releasing his grasp on his mate’s fingers, he bit his lip. With a deep breath, he sat down.
The instant he did, Rudo beamed his slimy smile and appeared to be nearly dancing on the spot with joy. Atsu couldn’t see how this was a happy event, not when he turned to his mate and her sibling. The pair of them seemed broken and frail without their father and it was up to him to protect them.
“I shall open the doors-” Rudo started.
Atsu raised his hand and cleared his throat. “I need you to pass on another message to the warriors.”
“Oh?” the healer asked with a hint of disappointment.
The new Chief glanced to Jocelin and again to Nyah. “Tell them to be ready to travel by sunset.”
- CHAPTER FORTY-THREE -
Since the family feast, some of the tensions had at least eased between Jasari’s daughters and his sister-mate. They were all happy with Pazade’s death. The humiliation didn’t seem so bad knowing now that they were led by a boy and two broken teenage girls. But there was one who didn’t seem to Jasari to be happy with the outcome: Dia. Since the news had broken, he had been reserved on the subject except to offer a few words of warning. The Chief knew better though. He knew what he was doing, despite what his failed son said. In any case, Dia was nothing more than a cripple with half a face.
His new war leader stood before him, a younger man who had only recently completed his training. Shaking with nerves, he wasn’t everything that Jasari had hoped for in a commander but he believed that in a fight he would blossom, like in the fables. “What is it?”
The room was u
nusually empty. Most of Jasari’s belongings which could be moved had been packed up. “Everything is ready.”
Jasari smirked. “Good. We shall leave tonight then.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dia’s door drift open. His son emerged covered in leathers too tight to fit properly and his spear shining like new on his back. Since they had received the news of Pazade’s death, his son had actually tried to train with the weapon. “Dia, where are you going?”
“I’m getting Masi.” His son attempted to stride past before his father could speak again.
But he wasn’t quick enough. Jasari raised his hand and pursed his lips. “No. I will send her to follow on after you with the warriors. You need to head to the west.”
“Father, Atsu is coming right here. I would prefer she was with me.”
“And I said no. Go. Now.” Jasari narrowed his eyes.
Dia dithered on the spot. Masika had been complaining of stomachaches and without Inari there, he wasn’t sure how to deal with it. Jasari had forbidden the garasums from seeing her, despite the fact she was due. He didn’t seem to want to leave his father anywhere near Masika but seeing the glare in Jasari’s eye, he forced himself to head out of the door.
“Make sure to tell her where we are, Father,” Dia said as he left.
Jasari simply nodded and rose from the chair, clicking his neck side to side. The usual line up of warriors who filled the room had been busy with packing the entire village into whatever they could find and moving a safe distance away to set up camp clear of any conflict. His daughters and sister-mate had left the previous night and only a handful of people remained.
“Chief, we should leave soon,” the war leader repeated.
“Yes, we shall. I need to get one last thing and we shall depart. Wait outside,” Jasari commanded and ushered the young warrior away.
Waiting until he was sure that everyone had left the hut, the Chieftain grinned as he glanced around the room. Gone were the trophies of his blood, gone was the usual bustle of garasums and warriors. The only sounds were the echoes of his footsteps in the winding halls.
Ghosts whispered in his ears of the past that still lived within the walls. The place had stood for hundreds of years but now it was time for a new start. Masika would give birth to his son, Dia would hopefully be dead by the end of the war and he would have a new heir, strong and healthy.
He approached Masika’s door and quickly unlocked it, sneaking inside as he had done on so many nights. The usual emptiness greeted him. Of course she would be waiting for him in bed.
“Masi?” he called out. There was silence, almost as if no one had ever even lived in her quarters. He narrowed his eyes, his mind beginning to assume that Dia had already taken her. But then, across the room, there was a sound like a feral cat in agony growling behind gritted teeth.
Masika stumbled into view, clutching her stomach. Sweat dripped down her forehead as she struggled to walk. Her eyes, usually empty of late, were alive and intense with pain as the contraction throbbed across her abdomen.
Jasari watched her struggle before him, stepping as if she was a newborn deer towards the table where she placed her arms in front and bent over to rest her head and ease some of the pain. The Chief grinned and unbuckled his belt, surprised she was so eager, and stood behind her.
“It’s… it’s coming,” Masika stammered. Her knuckles bared white as she moved her hips, anything to try and ease the discomfort.
Jasari ignored her words and rubbed her behind and licked his lips. “Hmm. We don’t have much time.”
Masika took deep breaths, relaxing as the agony passed for now. Too scared to move, she glanced behind her shoulder at the Chief, who was gazing at her full of lust. “What… what are you doing?”
Jasari smirked as he lifted her dress over her hips and dragged his fingers to the waist of her underwear. “You are so eager today, Zura. We will be quick.”
For the first time in months, the touch which always made Masika’s skin crawl jolted her instantly upright, no matter how much the hurt was driving her to keel. Jasari frowned at her and attempted to throw her head back down but suddenly, she spun and raked his face with her nails, screaming, “Get the fuck off me!”
Blood was already welling to the surface of the pink lines across his nose and eyes as he stumbled back in shock. Jasari ran his hand across them, dabbing at the burning scratches. The instant he saw the blood on his fingers, his face flushed with anger.
Masika forced herself to move around the table, looking for anything to defend herself with as the tears she had suppressed for months filled her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. Jasari was too quick for her, though. He grabbed her by her hair and dragged her back to him. She could feel the heat from his face as he spat down her ear, “You are mine! You will do as I fucking say! Get back on the table!”
Masika felt her blood pumping. The adrenaline as who she was came back to her. A forced smile broke on her face as for the first time she looked her abuser square in the eyes. “No.”
Jasari tightened his grip. She felt hair breaking away from her scalp like sharp needles as he brought her closer. “Do as I fucking say or I will kill our child!”
Tears streamed down her cheeks as a broken laugh emerged from her throat. “This isn’t your child.”
The Chief brought his knee between her legs and tried to spread them, seemingly choosing to ignore her words and force himself upon her anyway. But Masika kept them shut as she fought the pain. With a snarl, he kneed her hard between her legs. She shook with the impact and keeled over the table as he forced her face against the wood with his palm, crushing her cheek until she tasted blood.
“Do that all you want; my child is not yours!” Masika screamed beneath him.
Jasari grunted, still ignoring her as he threw her underwear down her legs. Masika shook with fear but felt stronger than she had since her brother left. And now he was coming. He was going to save her.
Masika cackled manically at what was coming next. “The child isn’t even Dia’s!”
The instant she said the name, Jasari stopped and dragged her back up to his level, face confused. “What?”
She gazed into his eyes, bitter and breathing hard. “My child is not yours. It is not Dia’s. You know whose it is?”
Jasari narrowed his eyes. She forced herself to stand strong as he said nothing.
“Atsu. And when it is born, I will teach them to be a killer unlike any other. First slitting open your daughter’s throats, then your mate’s. Then we shall kill you and Dia together after you have watched the life drain from your family’s eyes.” Masika twitched as another contraction flared.
Jasari threw her forward and went for his belt, grabbing the blade. She watched him, teeth bared.
The roar of the horn echoed across the empty village. The pair froze at the sound. Jasari smirked and placed his knife back. He said, “Or, I could kill your brother and simply leave you to die locked in here.”
Masika shook her head and forced her feet to walk after him towards the door. Then her stomach clenched as the contraction peaked. She fell to the floor, arms stretched out, reduced to crawling.
Jasari stood by the open door and sighed. “Say hello to your family for me.”
The Chieftain stepped through and locked it shut as she screamed after him. There was no one to hear. No one to help.
- CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR -
When he issued the order for the tribe to march to war, Atsu had expected there to be an uprising against him. What he didn’t expect was for people to throw their blades in with his, wanting justice for Pazade. Grief fresh in their minds, the tribesmen equipped their best gear and bade farewell to the families they left behind. Some of the women with young babies in their arms wept hysterically as they said goodbye to their mates for what might be the final time while others without little ones begged to be part of the army which would deliver the final historical blow.
Even Jocelin and Nyah were dressed for war an
d had beautifully crafted weapons with them. While Nyah appeared to be a trembling wreck when she tried to wield her blade, Jocelin seemed silently confident and ready for whatever was to come. Atsu walked nervously at the head of the hundreds marching out of the village, with as little knowledge of war as one could possibly have. His only saving grace was Jocelin. She knew all the commands to give as well the capabilities of the army.
Over the next two days, when the force came together to rest for the night, he, Jocelin and Nyah laid their plans. Atsu knew all the weaknesses of the Shadows as well as some of Jasari’s mindset, Nyah knew how many wounded her healers could handle and Jocelin knew the strategies her father had taught her.
By the third morning of travel, the village was looming closer. The sun was burning bright. The first gentle breezes of winter lightly brushed Atsu’s skin and the chirp of insects and the rustle of animals in the trees was beginning to set an uneasiness among the column. Laughter and confidence were replaced by the whispers of the wind.
Atsu gritted his teeth as he strode. The smells of the tribe he once called home drifted to him on the breeze and brought every memory sharply back into focus. His siblings, his parents, his trial, everything that had made him who he was. His pace slowed as the perimeter wall emerged ahead and his stomach knotted with nausea.
“Chief!” a warrior yelled from behind.
Atsu glanced over his shoulder. The man was dragging a stranger, armoured head to toe in the gear of Blood-and-Shadow with a quiver of arrows on his back. Berry-red blood gushed from an open stomach wound and the man shook and howled in pain before him.
Atsu raised his hand for the male to release him. The man was kicked off his feet and hunched over in a pathetic ball, blood streaming to the dry jungle floor.
“He was scouting us,” the warrior spat and kicked him again.
Atsu frowned and knelt down beside the stranger. The smell of the gut wound was nauseating and the man’s breathing was weak as he trembled with fear. “What is waiting for us?”
