by Cassie Wolf
The scout shook his head and winced in pain. “No.”
“That isn’t the answer. I can get you help for that vile wound. Now, what lies ahead?”
The scout shook as he lifted his head. Bloodstained, eyes swollen, he gazed at Atsu and whispered, “No, cursed orphan.”
Atsu clenched his jaw. Knowing the men had heard the insult and uneasy with what lay ahead, without hesitation he backhanded the stranger with such force that he was thrown back on the floor. “Tie him up, look out for more. Let him die slowly unless he speaks,” he commanded.
They stopped a short distance from the village and set up camp on a slight hill. Atsu’s warriors found two more scouts in the undergrowth and bound them, but they all refused to speak. The first one they captured died from his wounds but Atsu wouldn’t let him be moved. He kept him tied beside the other two as a reminder of what would happen if they kept their silence.
The moonlight burnt against the charnel-black sky and the stars twinkled in silence. Atsu had sat watching the perimeter wall for hours. He had heard the horn sound some time before but no army came out to challenge him. There didn’t even appear to be the usual warriors standing watch.
“Anything?” Jocelin asked and sat beside him.
“Nothing. Have those two talked yet?” he asked, pushing the skull helm back up his nose.
“No. They are just dying.” She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder.
“Something isn’t right,” Atsu muttered. “I think I’m going to go down and check.”
Jocelin sat up and narrowed her eyes. “We should just send a scout.”
“We can’t. They don’t know the place as well as me. Could be laced with all kinds of traps, especially with Inari there.”
“Take some of the men with you,” Jocelin whispered.
“I will. I will leave most of them here.” Atsu picked up the spear, strapping it to his back, and tied his old sword to his waist. “If something goes wrong down there, Joce, just go back to the tribe.”
Jocelin gave a weak smile and watched as he prepared himself for the unknown. “I’m already with my tribe, Atsu. But you have no need to worry, I will do what is necessary.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and softly kissed his cheek.
Atsu embraced her tightly and gazed into her eyes. He could see the glimmer of fear in her. He made sure none of the others could hear as he whispered into her ear, “I love you.”
She pulled back the instant she heard the words and smiled sweetly. “That’s a risky thing to say around your tribe, Chief. They will think you are soft.”
“It’s alright. You’re getting fat; that should even it out.” Atsu smirked and pulled away.
Jocelin gave a shocked gasp and playfully hit him on the arm. As he walked towards the army she sped across the grass to kiss him once more. “I love you too, Atsu. Don’t die,” she whispered before breaking off.
He gave her a grin and nodded before turning back to those ready for the fight ahead. Their weapons had been sharpened, arrows were bundled on the floor for the archers to collect. Those who had been fighting for years carried good luck charms – beads, flowers and even little pots their children had made them from clay. While most put on a confident front, Atsu knew they were as nervous as him.
Clearing his throat, he leaned on his spear as the eyes behind the leather masks drew to him. “The scouts we caught won’t speak and there is something not right. We need to go down, open the door-”
“Do we need to cut down a tree for a ram, Chief?” one of the eager warriors shouted out.
Atsu shook his head. “No. I would prefer you didn’t grow tired from lugging one around. The doors are closed by nothing more than rope; it can be easily cut from the outside. Now, I have no fucking idea what is behind them… I don’t know if there will be a prepared army waiting or traps. What I do know is, Jasari wants us to make the first move. And that, plain and simple, he is a colossal cunt.”
“COLASSAL CUNT!” yelled one warrior with several of the others cheering as they all started to stand.
“Wait.” Atsu held up his hand and pointed over to Jocelin. “Half of us is nearly triple their overall force in arms. I need the other half to keep Jocelin and Nyah safe in case something does go wrong.” He waited as the males split into two sides, murmuring under their breath as they swapped. “Good. You are to take your orders from Jocelin, keep both of them safe from harm. As for the rest, we are going now.”
Atsu’s warriors were soon formed up behind him, while Jocelin tried to focus on directing the rest to prepare the area around their camp for an ambush. She huddled into herself even as she forced a confident grin when her mate looked back at her. Dizziness was taking over; her limbs felt weak with a dread she couldn’t explain. She couldn’t turn away as she watched Atsu’s column march down the hill.
Nyah joined her with her arms crossed and leathers sticking to her skin and sniffed. “Joce?”
“Yes?” she responded, voice wobbly.
“Do you think we were wrong not to bury Father before we left? What if something goes wrong and we all die here?”
Jocelin wrapped her arm around Nyah’s shoulder. “Nothing will go wrong, little sister. We will get justice for our father and return to bury him.”
They watched as the warriors approached the gates. Jocelin’s heart raced with every step they took, worried the ground had been laid with traps that would snap their bones and snare their limbs. But they got to the doors completely unharmed. Some of the lighter warriors climbed on the shoulders of the others and drew their swords to hack at the sturdy ropes which held the gates closed together. She shut her eyes tight and chewed on her fingernails, unable to watch.
“They’re through,” Nyah said softly.
Jocelin heard the faint sound of cheering as the gates collapsed to the ground. With the relief settling over her shoulders, she opened her eyes and turned to smile at her sister. Then strained, dry laughter came from one of the captured scouts.
“I wouldn’t be laughing if I was you,” Jocelin said. The other was now unconscious, lying on the shoulder of the man who found it funny. When he didn’t stop, she narrowed her eyes and moved closer.
“Orphan has run into his death…” the man whispered.
“Joce…” Nyah said.
“Wait, Nyah. What are you talking about?” Jocelin demanded, looking down at the dying man.
“JOCE!” Nyah screamed.
Jocelin spun around, heart hammering. Streams of lava-red flame slithered around the village faster than any predator, lapping the walls and trickling in under the ruined gates to trap their warriors inside. The fire leapt hungrily up the wooden defences, turning the perimeter into a perfect circle of death, and smoke billowed from inside.
With the dying man still cackling behind her and adrenaline flooding her body, Jocelin grabbed her blade and broke into a sprint, ignoring those shouting for her to stop. Her warriors sped after her, and she was still nowhere near the scorching circle when she felt hands grab her arms and drag her to a halt. She fought to break free, and opened her mouth to scream but nothing would come out.
Then the first hut exploded.
Bright yellow fire erupted from the heart of the village, blossoming against a thick pall of black smoke, and a deafening boom like thunder split the sky.
“DUCK!” one of the warriors yelled as flaming debris like burning arrows ripped towards them. Jocelin didn’t move, stunned, until someone dragged her to the ground.
There was another explosion. And another.
- CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE -
Masika dragged herself to the door on all fours after Jasari left. With her lip quivering and her hair clinging to her face with the sweat and effort of labour, she screamed until her throat burned. The pain twisted in the bottom of her stomach, becoming more frequent and stronger; she knew it was coming soon.
Through the window, she could hear people down in the village. Each time she did so, her heart fluttered
and she put all her effort into a yell for help. But no one came.
Eventually she crawled back to the bed, feeling like she had been punched in the gut, arms trembling under her own weight. She had to see someone. They couldn’t refuse if they saw her.
Another contraction tested her as she lifted herself on the edge of the bed. She screeched and tried to swallow back her tears of pain as she climbed. When it had passed, her head in a spin, she forced herself up, cradling her stomach in hands, and looked out through the window.
There was not a soul in sight, and the only light came from the moon; there were no torches, no warriors on patrol. Throat burning, she whimpered and shook. Looking down, she attempted to bring her legs up to the open space and rest on the window ledge. She had to jump. She had to get help. She couldn’t be scared, not now.
“Jasari is the one we are looking for! Go! Find him!” a familiar, commanding voice echoed in the distance.
Masika widened her eyes and felt her heart race when she heard the warriors come running towards the hut. A smile emerged between her sobs and she fought the dryness in her throat to roar for a final time: “BROTHER!”
Some of the warriors looked in her direction. One of them, wearing what she saw in the moonlight to be a skull over their head, came dashing towards the hut. She instantly remembered it from Pazade. She shook with relief as she realised who it was and she threw her voice into another scream. “BROTHER!”
The skull looked towards her as she leant forward and the tears streamed down her face. As he started to run in her direction, an orange glow in the background caught Masika’s eye. She watched, horrified to the core, as the flame raced through the village, up to the Chieftain’s hut, and disappeared from sight.
With a dreadful, deep thunderclap, a flash of crimson and yellow blinded her. She threw herself back into the bedroom and cowered by the table and hugged her knees at the all-too familiar crackle of wood snapping and splitting.
“No, no, no,” she mumbled. Her wide eyes darted around the room as the smoke billowed through. In it she saw the fire outside reflected as it enveloped the village while burning men screamed. The smell of burning flesh soon hit the back of her throat.
She brought her hands to her ears to silence the howls of pain and closed her eyes tight. “Brother, brother, stop screaming! Stop screaming!” she yelled. But it wouldn’t stop. The burns on his hand where too much; she knew they were when she saw them peeling. “Mother, make him stop,” she whispered. But her mother couldn’t help. Masika didn’t understand why she wasn’t there. Or why she was wrapped up when they put her in the ground.
She cried while her stomach ripped with pain between her legs. She didn’t even notice the crackling reaching her door, nor the beam above her snapping slowly. Dizziness whirled in her head. Her arms were too heavy for her to lift and her legs had given up.
The bang as the door flew open drew her eyes to the figure who had finally arrived. Terror at her core, panic beating in her heart, she gave into the smoke and fell into darkness.
Inari battled through the flames, breathing hard behind the mask covering his nose and mouth. He threw a blanket around Masika’s body and used all his ageing strength to lift her from the ground. The instant he did so, he felt a warm trickle hit his feet and knew that her waters had broken.
He kept his face covered while he pulled her out of the room. The flames were rapidly consuming the main hall, which was littered with burning, shattered timbers - there was no way he could go that way. Instead he carried Masika into the garden, where he caught his breath for a second, and then out through the garasums’ squalid quarters. Eventually he reached the very back of the hut, his legs and back aching and the smoke making him weak. One last door, the same one he’d used to gain entrance originally. When it swung open, he coughed heavily as the air hit him. Quickly, he bent over to Masika as her eyes flickered and she spluttered for breath.
The cries of war echoed across the night, Jasari’s prepared men screaming as they charged in from the fishing shacks. Nearly the entire village was ablaze but he strode through, ignoring Jasari’s attack, ignoring Atsu’s plight. He had to get her away.
Masika opened her eyes, the fear shining in them like when she was a little girl as she clung onto the witch doctor. “I want my mother,” she whispered, delirious as the inferno soared around them.
“You’re not seeing her yet, Masi,” Inari said. “We need to get out of here.”
“Inari,” Masika whimpered and tilted her head back. She brought her hands to her stomach and winced. “It hurts.”
“Because your baby is coming, Masi. It’s chosen a good night for it.” Inari smiled grimly at her. He kept to the perimeter of the village, wheezing just as she was as he strode, pausing very so often to hide from passing warriors; unable to see which colours they wore, he didn’t want to risk it either way. He saw as he walked the blackened trails of burned alcohol which had spread the fire so rapidly. He was sickened by what Jasari had done.
The wall ended against a grainy, flat-topped boulder easily its height, but untouched by the flames. Inari placed Masika down before him, letting her crouch through her contraction and scream while biting onto his robe. He scanned the open space for any sign of the warriors but saw nothing and quickly helped Masika to the top of the rock. She cried and whimpered as she scrambled up its cold surface while Inari followed behind her, guiding her feet and keeping lookout.
When they reached the other side, Inari went ahead, helping her to get down. The instant she hit the ground after the final drop of a few feet, Masika doubled over once more and forced back her cries as another contraction hit. Inari grabbed her upper arm.
“Come on, Masi! We’re nearly there!” He pulled her trembling body to its feet. He could see the pain she was in but urged her across the cooling grass and through the trees, glancing back at the chaos that had been the village.
- CHAPTER FORTY-SIX -
Atsu’s vision blurred and his ears were full of screams. His heart raced at the devouring amber flames roiling above him, the nightmare coming back, his mind trying to turn him back into that eight-year-old boy.
With teeth gritted, he growled as he fought back every shriek, every flame. There were pains in his arm, as if it had been shredded by cat’s claws, and blood trickled to the ground beneath.
He pushed himself up with a roar, shaking as the cuts on his arm ripped further. His head rang as he stumbled forward to where he could make out figures on the floor. The men who had joined him, some injured, riddled with torn fragments of wood, some knocked out by flying debris.
The darkness was split by dancing flames. The Chief’s hut, where he thought he had heard Masi, was a blazing wreck and he knew that there was no hope of anyone surviving inside. The fire he’d saved her from as children had taken her at last, and once again it was Jasari behind it. Anger and adrenaline took over as his legs steadied. Some of his men joined their Chief in rising to their feet. They were all black with charcoal and sweating hard. Atsu coughed and leant against a ruined wall. Then, almost impossible to hear over the roar of the blaze and the crash of collapsing huts, he heard the throat calls of Shadow warriors from the other side of the village.
“RISE UP BROTHERS! CUT THE CUNTS DOWN!” Atsu yelled. With his spear lost, he took out his sword and broke into a sprint to meet the enemy. Those who could roared across the village in his wake.
Atsu couldn’t think with the fog in his mind as he charged towards his old brethren. His anger was such that his pain didn’t matter. Fire was at his toes and the fear of it kept him determined not to be defeated by it. He barely even noticed how close the first male came to slicing him open with his monstrous blade before he dragged his own sword across the man’s throat and crimson showered his chest.
The two sides clashed with a thundercrack of metal on metal. Atsu quickly stepped over his first opponent even as the man clutched weakly at his neck, trying to staunch the flow, and moved on to the next. His wa
rriors sliced and bludgeoned at whatever their weapons could reach. Men were disembowelled in ribbons of intestine. Heads were smashed open. Blood sheeted the ground. And still the fires raged on.
Atsu head-butted the male in his grip to the ground, then drove his blade into his chest, growling. He yanked it down and out, eviscerating him, but then he was struck hard in the shoulder and pain seared across him.
He glared at the arrow rooted in his flesh for a moment and saw the thin line of archers ahead. Again they loosed, arrows sizzling through the smoke to strike both sides alike. The man beside Atsu bellowed in agony as one pierced his eye socket and buried itself in his skull. He roared to his own men, some of whom saw the danger and notched arrows of their own, and then saw him: a figure sneaking behind the line of Shadows.
“Dia is there! Get the archers! The rest of you, come with me!” he yelled across to the few that could still move. Blood was seeping down his arm, which throbbed with agony, but seeing Dia watching his own men die without being by their side gave him fresh rage and fresh energy.
Dodging the arrows as they whipped past him, ignoring those slapping into the ground at his heels, Atsu strode in pursuit of the son of the Chief who had tortured him for years.
He lost sight of his quarry in the chaos of the village, but as Atsu leant against an untouched hut to catch his breath, there was Dia once more. He was kneeling in the burning debris scattered around the Chieftain’s hut, out in the open without a care in the world. Atsu’s fist tightened on his bloodied sword and, feeling a faint flutter in his chest, he broke into a sprint.
As soon as Atsu was within reach, he dived on Dia’s back, throwing him to the ground. He spun the Chief’s son over and watched his grotesque face squirm as Atsu threw his weapon to the side and heaved a punch square across his jaw. Atsu kept his grip on the collar of Dia’s fancy leathers while he yelled, “Where is she?!”
