by Calista Skye
“I have no gold of my own,” Car’rakz says. “Or I would use it. Tamara will not need to handle it. I will do it.”
“The alien has pulled you into its scheme,” the chief says. “I have always been fond of you, Car’rakz. And I have been lenient. Too lenient, some say. But here I must draw the line. Gold is important, warrior! Only our tribe has it. We can’t take even the slightest risk with it. We have all sacrificed too much for the gold, for the glory of the tribe. You not least!”
“Yes,” Car’rakz agrees. “My face was ruined by the gold. And yet I have none. As the only man in the village, I have no gold. The way things are, I hereby demand to be given gold. Now. I have earned it.”
His calm rebellion makes me want to smile. He’s been this tribe’s obedient servant for too long.
The chief gives him a sad smile. “Ah. I thought so. Finally, we have it in the open. You want gold. The desire burns in you. You find that you have earned it! I don’t agree. Why, if it is true what the alien says, and Gres’tax and Ciru’zan lie dead in the woods, it is only because they had to do your duty. They went in there to hunt. That is your duty. As the tribe’s hunter and woodsman. The only man who never mines the gold or shapes it into pretty things. You chose the jungle, Car’rakz. Not the gold. And so you can have none.”
“You sent me into the jungle to hunt, even before I went through the Stripening,” Car’rakz protests. “I had no choice in it. I have been the only hunter in the tribe since then.”
“You never asked to mine,” the chief says. “The gold seemed to hold no interest for you. Until now. Finally, your desire is known. And that of the alien. You both want the tribe’s gold. But neither of you shall have it.”
“It not for us,” I try again. “It for lure the dragon! When it is dead, you will have it back. Also any gold in dragon hoard.”
The chief gets to his feet, his gold chains tinkling brightly. “I have had enough of this dragon talk. All the deception makes me unwell. If you wanted gold this desperately, Car’rakz, you could have gone to the new mine. But you never did. And now you will never know where it is. I did have my doubts whether a man with no interest in gold could be the chief of this tribe. Now I have discovered that it is much worse. You are indeed greedy for it. But unwilling to mine it.”
The chief strides off, followed by Brec’akz.
I twist the bangle on my wrist. “We have to find gold. Lots of it. The trap and the plan depend on it.”
“They will give me none,” Car’rakz says. “And they will not lend us any.”
I reach up and behind me to find one massive thigh, squeezing it. “Then we have to get it in some other way.”
25
- Car’rakz -
“That looks really good,” Tamara says and punches my shoulder with her little fist. “You a great smith.”
The trap is finished, and a strange thing it is. It’s an open dome that comes up to my waist, made from iron bars. The spikes can be folded down, and I have designed a mechanism based on Tamara’s vague idea.
I have also made a thing that can be used to transport it, so I don’t have to carry or drag it. Tamara calls it a ‘wilbaro’.
I kick the wilbaro. “We should test it.”
Tamara shrugs. “Sure.”
I interpret her strange word as agreement, and using a short tree stump to help me I’m able to load the dome onto the wilbaro.
“I not think other tribes have a wheelbarrow,” she says. “The jungle too dense around their villages, the ground too uneven for to roll. But here, it just might work.”
I push the wilbaro, and indeed it makes moving the dome much easier than carrying it. “It might.”
We take the dome into the jungle and then put it down in a narrow little valley that Tamara has determined is a good spot.
“Let’s try if works,” Tamara says and attaches the rope to the mechanism in the middle of the dome.
We walk a distance away. The dome looks quite innocent.
Then I pull hard at the rope, and with a loud metallic clatter, all the sixty steel spikes shoot out from the dome in all directions, each one as long as I am tall and carefully tempered and sharpened to very hard points.
I shudder. It’s a horrific weapon to use against anyone. Or anything.
“See?” Tamara happily exclaims. “Just like the unicowcupine!”
“The hurum,” I correct her. “We already have a name for that Small.”
“I like unicowcupine,” Tamara states and kisses my burned cheek. “It gave me the idea. Now all we need is the gold. Nice and yellow and shiny.”
I sigh. I’m not at all comfortable with this. “The gold is well guarded. And now, if the chief thinks that you want it, it will be watched even more than usual.”
Tamara adjusts the steel bracelet around her wrist, like she often does. She has rubbed soot on it so it won’t shine in the sun.
I draw my sword. “Perhaps if I polish a blade as well as I can,” I say and run my finger along the back of it. Only the edge has a metallic glint. The rest of the blade is black with the blood of endless Bigs and everything it’s been through since it was forged. It was Xis’tan’s blade. Even if he was never big enough to use it, I’d hate to rub off the memories. It will change the sword and make it lesser.
“I doubt will work,” Tamara says. “We want the dragon so focused and greedy, it just can’t help itself and will ignore all signs of danger. I think is not nearly as strong as would be if it had a real hoard. This might be the only chance we get. The trap will only surprise it once. Only gold will do, Car’rakz. As much as possible.”
“Then we have to take some.”
She takes my hand and looks up at me with those big, dark eyes. “I know this is difficult for you, Car’rakz. But yes. We have to get some. Any way we can. And I have idea. Now, you highly probable not like it…”
- - -
“Stay here,” Tamara says. “I will go first. You follow. Quietly.” She walks away towards the cliff with the caves in it.
The sun has set, and the village is calm. Some flickering firelight can be seen from the cracks that are the openings to the caves. Not long ago I would stand like this, in the middle of the village, and see it all as home. A home to be proud of. A good tribe. The only tribe with gold. Certainly, I never had the same lust for gold as some of the other tribesmen. But I assumed that was just because they were older and wiser, and that I would feel the same way as I matured.
Now, after I saw Tamara’s tribe, I know that a tribe can and should be different from this one.
But it is still my tribe. It can be great again.
Tamara has rubbed soot all over my body to keep my stripes from reflecting light and thus give me away. “You shine like a lighthouse,” she muttered when she did it.
She was right. I don’t like anything about this plan. It’s not just the stealing that gets to me, but the way she will act towards the chief.
Well, she’s probably right. We want the dragon off balance when we try to kill it. And so Tamara also wants the chief to be confused by the situation she’ll create.
I feel a small, crooked smile play around my lips. Yes, he will be confused. Any man would. Holy Ancestors, what a woman the aliens have produced!
My heart is beating fast, and I’m not at all comfortable with what is about to happen. But one good thing about this tribe is that we have no night guards. The only guards are inside the cave with the public treasure, and they are not allowed to leave that under any circumstance.
Tamara reaches the chief’s cave and calls something. Her voice is thinner and more ingratiating than I have heard it before.
My eyes narrow by themselves. This is my least favorite part of her plan.
26
- Tamara -
“Chief,” I call as seductively as I can. “Honored and rich chieeef!”
I can hear a small, wooden lid slam shut in there. I totally caught him admiring his gold. But then, I think he does
that a lot.
Again, he seems totally taken by surprise when he finally appears.
“What do you want, alien? You will never get any of my gold!” He has a small weapon in his hand.
“Oh, I don’t want gold,” I say, putting a little smile on my face. “I not even want to see it. Just had this sudden urge to see the man who owns so much. You got me all wronghief. Not interested in the gold. Interested in men only. Good men. Rich men.”
I’m doing the cleavage thing again, but this time I’ve prepared in advanced and cut the front of my dress much lower. If I pull it hard enough, there is the chance of showing a little bit of nipple.
And it is working. The old man is staring at my chest. “Rich men?”
“Yes,” I purr. “Rich men, those who have the brains to gather wealth. So many warriors think only swords and iron and hunting and fighting. That so boring, not you think? But chief, you’re powerful man who command every man around you. And you have the most gold of any man of tribe. Of any tribe! A woman find you highly attractive. Any woman would say same thing. Might I not come in cave, so we can talk more?”
My cheeks are hot, and I know I’m blushing pretty hard. My antics here are worthy of a floozy in a movie from the 1950s. But I have a feeling subtlety won’t work with a man who’s never seen a woman before me.
The chief looks me up and down, and I shoot my chest and butt out while using one hand behind my back to tighten the fabric of the dress so my hourglass figure becomes more obvious.
He swallows. “Very well.”
I rewards him with a smile full of promise, then sashay past him into the cave, hips swiveling as much as I can without losing my balance.
Inside the cave, the gold box is gone. He must have had time to hide it before he came out.
I spin around and stand there with my head tilted to the side, biting my lip as seductively as I can. “You know, Car’rakz is highly good warrior. But not is rich. He has no gold. No gold! A man of this tribe, where the chief has gold that flows like water! I can’t help but wonder what wrong is with him.”
“Car’rakz,” the chief begins, but his throat is dry and his voice breaks. He coughs. “Car’rakz never cared for the gold.”
“Imagine that,” I say, spinning around as if taking in the room, but really showing the chief my shape from every angle.
“Yes,” the chief agrees. “It’s hard to imagine.”
“But you see beauty of gold, chief?” I move closer to him, one hand still pulling the dress taught behind my back and the other stroking my hair. It’s probably too subtle a hint, but it might work on his subconscious.
“Gold is unspeakably beautiful,” the chief says with feeling. “Its weight. Its sheen. Its softness. It is clearly a gift from the Ancestors, one that we must take the best possible care of.”
“Yes,” I coo. “And you taking such good care of it, Chief.”
His eyes are going glassy. “You will have noticed that the tribe has no shaman. We had one before. But he doubted the obvious fact that gold comes straight from the Ancestors. He urged that we should not spend all our time on mining it. So, I decided that if the shaman can’t understand something as obvious as that, then perhaps this tribe needs no shaman. Some men have no understanding of what is important.”
“Yes,” I breathe, managing to add a little bit of a moan in there. I pull the hem of my dress a little higher up my thighs. God, I’m acting like a total tramp.
But it’s working. The chief hasn’t taken his eyes off me. His mouth is half open, and I think I can see a bulge in his loose fitting pants. This might be the only thing that can take his mind off the gold.
I move all the way in, pull the dress far enough down that one aureole is half showing, and point at the dagger in his hand. “Will not you you get rid of that? It scares.”
He obligingly drops the dagger without hesitation.
I move even closer and put a hand on his chest. There is still some muscle, but nowhere near the bulging mass that Car’rakz has. And this guy smells of old man. “When you were young… did shaman teach about Worship?”
He gasps at my touch, and now there definitely is a bulge. “Ye-hes. Yes, he did.”
“But you never met woman you could Worship.”
“The… I… no. No women on Xren.”
“And yet, here one is now,” I purr, letting one finger trail up his chest to his wrinkled neck. Yeah, if this were a 1950s movie, I’d be a shoe-in for an Oscar. “What you going to do about it?”
The chief gasps again. “Car’rakz…”
My hand slides down, and one finger strokes his chest in a downward fashion. “Oh, you afraid of Car’rakz? He not here. Very asleep after I make him work for many days.”
“Not afraid,” the chief wheezes as I let the finger slowly slide down his front to the loose skin on his stomach. “Just...” His voice trails off, and his breathing becomes ragged.
I see a slight movement in the shadows at the entrance of the cave. Car’rakz is here.
I pull my dress another half-inch further up my thigh and point at the long, leathery curtain that
separates this part of the cave from what I assume is the sleeping part.
“I like to be comfortable when I be Worshipped,” I state softly. “Is that where keep your furs and skins?”
His eyes are big and round. “The skins… yes. Yes!”
I slowly turn around and sashay over to the hanging curtains, pulling my dress up in the back to just under my ass.
The chief just stares, then gets it and walks over and pulls the curtain aside to reveal an alcove with a heap of skins and not-sheep furs.
I give him an enigmatic smile and take a step into the alcove, then sit down on the thickest fur with my back to the opposite wall, crossing my ankles.
The chief comes in after me, and now there’s a little smile on his face, too, the kind that you mostly see on the face of teenage boys the first time you let them feel your boobs. The one that says, I seriously can’t believe this is happening, but I really want it to continue.
“Close curtains,” I plead. “It make me feel safer.”
He obeys immediately.
Yeah, this is probably overkill. I’m using this old man’s lifetime of celibacy against him in the most blatant way. But after how he has treated Car’rakz, he deserves nothing less. And I think this just might work.
I give the chief a seductive little smile and uncross my ankles. All I have to do now is keep his attention for a minute or so while Car’rakz sneaks in, gets the round golden disk from the wall, and sneaks out again.
The breath catches in the chief’s throat, and the bulge in his pants twitches at the thought that he’ll be seeing his first real pussy in just a second.
Well, we’ll see.
I pat the fur beside me, and the old man gets down on his knees and crawls over to sit down beside me.
I think I see the shadows change a little out in the other room. I have to keep the chief’s attention.
I take one wrinkled, old hand in mine and raise it to my chest, then put it onto one breast outside the leather.
The chief’s eyes go wide with wonder as he feels a woman’s body for the very first time. “So… so soft!” he marvels.
I reward him with a little moan. “Your hand… so big and… um... manly!”
I offer him the other side, too, and he clumsily puts the other hand on that breast. “Two,” he breathes. “Two, so soft…”
I can still see the light and shadow moving on the other side of the curtain. Thankfully, the chief has his back to it. But I have to keep escalating this so he doesn’t get it into his mind to check something in there.
With one hand, I peel one dress strap off my shoulder and let it fall, revealing one full breast, nipple and all.
The chief’s intake of breath is almost flattering, and when I take his hand and replace it on bare feminine skin, his bulge twitches so hard I have to wonder if he just came in his pants.
Still, there are shadows out in the other room. Dammit, Car’rakz, I seethe internally. Come on!
Fuck, I might have to show this old loser my pussy—
Then there’s a terrible scream from right outside the cave, and both the chief and I are so startled we jump.
“Irox!” the chief says, and his hands leave my body. “Irox in the village!”
He bounces up with surprising agility, rips the curtain away — and freezes. “Car’rakz?”
Because there’s Car’rakz, also frozen in mid-step. In one hand he’s holding the round gold plaque that I spotted on the wall a few days ago. Yeah, he’s busted.
“Car’rakz!” the chief bellows. “My gold! Thief! Murder! Treason!”
I run past him. “Come on, Car’rakz! We have to go!”
He shakes himself out of the shock of being discovered in mid-crime and comes running after me. I sprint for the edge of the woods while the chief yells and bellows and raises the alarm. I sense tribesmen coming out of their caves and running towards his.
Car’rakz is beside me, and I see the gold disk shine in his hand, despite the darkness of the night. If we get to the jungle, we might just get away with this—
Then there’s another horrific scream from right in front of us. And the sound of leathery wings beating the air.
Yeah. I forgot about the dactyl.
27
- Car’rakz -
The irox comes in from straight ahead, and all I see is the gape of its beak and its many teeth. Even in the darkness they’re terrible.
And in my mind I’m right back at the mine as a boy, surrounded by these creatures, mocked and then picked up. All I want to do is curl up and hope it goes away.
I stop in my tracks as the old fear fills me. For a crucial moment, my mind is all chaos and fright. Too late I remember that I’m not here alone. Tamara is here. But the irox is upon us, and all I can do is to shove her out of its way.
I push her to the side, and she falls headlong in the dirt. Then I throw myself to the other side, losing my grip on the golden disk.
