by Lisa Lace
“Don’t you want to be seen as a person and not an object?” Zandra asked.
“What are you talking about?” The woman frowned.
There was silence for a moment before the women all stood as one. They burst into motion, beginning to prepare the beds that were against the far wall. One of the women left the hut. While they were thus occupied, Zandra looked about her. Her thoughts came in rapid succession: She needed something sharp—something she could use as a weapon. She needed to escape. She would figure out her plan as she went. Anything—even dying in the wild—would be better than staying here. Since Jurgen had abandoned her—had used her as currency to protect his tribe—she needed to rely on herself.
She spotted a knife lying among the dishware stacked off to the side, evidence of a meal of some sort. It had a wooden handle, and it was rusted. Moving swiftly and silently, she pocketed it and looked at the other women. They had not noticed, busy as they were with their tasks. She relaxed slightly.
The woman who had gone soon returned with a platter full of overcooked, gray meat. She set it down in the middle of the floor, gesturing toward Zandra to come nearer. Zandra walked over and sat down beside her. The woman picked up the meat with her fingers.
“You are our queen. We will feed you,” she said. She smiled, revealing a mouth with missing teeth. She pulled off a bite of meat with her fingers, holding it out to Zandra, who took it from her.
“No, no,” the woman insisted. “Let me feed you.”
Zandra’s insides recoiled at the idea of being fed. Reluctantly, she opened her mouth. The woman placed the meat inside and beamed.
Zandra chewed slowly.
The next morning, Zandra found herself being led out among the gathered Mawari to her wedding. She was dressed in the emerald-green dress she had worn the day before. The females of the Mawari had been in a tizzy—their best clothing was not as clean or new as her own dress. She had been bathed, and some makeup had been applied. Her hair had been plaited in braids, which had been artfully piled on top of her head. The chief was on the platform where she had last seen him. He held out a hand. She didn’t look at it, keeping her gaze focused ahead of her, out over the plains. She reached into her pocket, taking the wooden handle of the knife in her hand.
“Today, I marry the first human woman to join the Mawari people,” he announced to much applause. He spoke loudly so the rest of the tribe could hear. She tried to pay attention—he was declaring his love for her, and it made her ill. “From the moment I beheld her on the battlefield, Zandra has comported herself with the grace of the feminine and the strength and courage of an Alpha warrior.” Disgusting, she thought. “I am proud to claim her as mine, just as she claims me as her own.” Zandra felt her insides go cold at the pronouncement. My life just got a million times worse, she thought.
Oden’s ugly face blocked her view as he leaned in for a kiss, his face nearing hers slowly. Here was her moment. She knew she might be killed by Alphas before she got far, but it was worth a try. Doing nothing and being claimed by Oden would be far worse. In one quick movement, she pulled the knife out of her pocket, slamming the rusty serrated blade into his chest, far enough that only the handle stuck out. A small amount of blood oozed out. He looked down at the knife in shock then laughed, throwing his head backward. Zandra watched, horrified, as he pulled the knife out. It looked tiny in his hand. Disappointment flooded her. He looked at the wound.
“All that it hit was muscle!” he yelled, bursting into laughter.
The whole tribe laughed with him. Zandra stood, staring in shock and disappointment. No one moved to kill her. Her mind was silent. Her moment had passed. She confronted her reality—she had no doubt Oden would consummate the marriage as soon as they left the platform. Her body would be defiled.
Just then, when all seemed lost, the sound of the Apaknor war cry sounded. Zandra looked up to see the Apaknor warriors, arriving in an all-out sprint over the plains. They carried firebrands as they ran toward the settlement, and used them to set the buildings ablaze. The old wood caught quickly, the flames rising. The crowd screamed.
“Alphas! Defend our settlement!” Oden yelled as Jurgen pulled himself up behind him and onto the platform.
Jurgen’s scimitar was unsheathed, and he swung it, cleanly decapitating the chief. Zandra stood watching in shock. Oden never saw him coming, his attention on the Apaknor troops. Jurgen was saying something to her. She couldn’t focus. He tried again. She shook her head. He picked her up, jumping down to the ground. He began to run, cradling her in his arms like a child. Zandra watched behind him as the Mawari settlement was lost in the distance. Quickly, flames ate it up, spreading hungrily. Thick, dark smoke rose into the sky.
When they were safely away from the Mawari settlement, Jurgen set her down on her feet. He knelt before her, placing his large hands on her shoulders. He was looking her in the eyes. She began to sob. He pulled her close to him, enveloping her in his embrace.
“Please forgive me,” he murmured into her hair as her body was racked with crying. “Zandra, I love you.”
Zandra felt her fury erupt at his words. She tore herself from his arms, stepping back to look at him. “You sold me to another male,” she replied harshly. “You have no idea what love is.” A tear leaked from her eye, rolling down her cheek.
Jurgen reached up to brush it away, but she smacked his hand. He recoiled. “Please give me another chance,” he begged.
She knew that, as chief, this man never begged. Good, she thought. Let him be at my lack of mercy.
“No.” She turned away.
He spun her around to face him.“Please,” he said softly, his golden eyes pleading with her. “Please.”
She sighed heavily, covering her eyes with her hands. “It will take time,” she said, wiping her eyes.
“How long?” he asked, his voice still soft, imploring. He reached up to caress a strand of her hair, which was falling over her face. She felt as though her heart were breaking. She looked into his golden eyes. He had betrayed her.
“You promised to return me to Earth within the year,” she said tiredly as he watched her hopefully. “It will take longer than that.”
His face fell as his hope died. He nodded, his gaze falling to the ground. “That is warranted,” he said, so quietly that it was almost a whisper.
He was disappointed with himself for failing her, she could tell. He would do anything to make it up to her, even if it meant sending her away from him forever. That was the kind of male Jurgen was—honorable to a fault. They stood in heavy silence for a few moments. She let it stand. He had done her wrong. Even if it was a part of his culture, he had betrayed her. It was a hurt she wasn’t sure she could come back from. Zandra finally turned away from Jurgen as the other Apaknor warriors ran up.
Auslur was approaching, breathing heavily. “Zandra!” he said. “It’s good to see you.” He hugged her from the side.
“And you,” she told him. He smelled of smoke and blood. “You were almost too late.”
He nodded, wiping his soot-stained face. “I’m glad we were able to rescue you,” he said.
She smiled. “Me too,” she replied.
“Let’s get you home,” he said brightly.
She nodded. “Yes please,” she told him, happy to be on her way back to the safety of the Apaknor settlement.
Zandra
The Alphas had taken the Mawari women and children captive, and walked ahead of the prisoners as they journeyed back to the Apaknor settlement. Auslur walked beside her. The older warrior was a pleasant presence, and they traveled in companionable silence, which Auslur broke every so often to point out a plant or a type of rock that he thought she might find interesting.
“That is known as lilat,” he said, pointing to a plant with tiny purple flowers. “My daughter was named for it. It can be boiled into a tea, which calms the nerves.”
Zandra smiled. He was always in a good mood. She wondered if it was due to Clara—or if he
was this way before. Naturally, her eyes traveled to where Jurgen walked at the front of the group. His shoulders slumped dejectedly.
“He really felt guilty, you know,” Auslur told her, gesturing with his chin toward Jurgen.
“I know,” she replied.
“He broke a blood oath to rescue you,” he went on.
“I know.”
“I imagine Erusha seems very barbaric to you,” he tried again. “Clara finds it to be that way as well.”
“It is,” she agreed.
“We are slowly seeing the light,” he said. “We just need someone to show it to us.”
She looked at him. He was looking back at her. His eyebrows were raised meaningfully. She squinted.
“We need you to be a leader, Zandra.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Those women and children are about to pay the blood price,” he said. “Since we have taken you from the Mawari, the goddess must be appeased.”
Zandra felt nauseous. “No.” She couldn’t believe Jurgen would do such a thing—it was wrong. It was savage. Enough blood had been spilled.
“He’ll listen only to you.”
She knew that he was right. She sighed heavily. She was physically and emotionally exhausted. Squaring her shoulders resolutely, she began to march forward with purpose.
“Jurgen Apaknor!” she yelled. The whole group paused, all eyes turning to Zandra. Jurgen turned around slowly. His look was guarded. He waited for her to speak first. She pointed toward the women and children of the Mawari. “Are these women and children to be sacrificed?”
“We must pay the blood price,” he said. “To the goddess.”
“This isn’t right,” she said. “They have done nothing.”
He held up his hands, shrugging. “It must be done.”
“No.”
“What would you have me do?” he asked, his eyes sad and haunted. “If it would please you, I will do it.” She knew that he meant it, and she was about to exploit that.
“Give them to me,” she demanded, raising her chin defiantly. “I am queen of a tribe that needs women and children.”
“It will anger the goddess,” he mumbled. His words seemed empty, as if he didn’t fully support what he was saying.
“Then take me to her,” she said. “I will convince her otherwise.”
Jurgen stared at her for a moment before nodding slowly. He glanced toward Auslur. “Lead them to the settlement. We will meet you there,” he instructed. Auslur nodded, adding a slight bow. Jurgen looked back at Zandra. “This way.”
They left the group, making for the mountain. There was about half a mile of open plain before they began to progress up the slopes. Jurgen took it all at a jog. Zandra soon found herself exhausted. She panted as she followed Jurgen, who climbed the steep slope easily. She soon began to fall behind, the easy jog across the plain having sapped what energy she had.
He turned around. “Come here,” he told her, squatting down. “I will carry you up.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck. Her face was in his hair. She cursed herself for loving the way he smelled. She was still livid with him. Her body betrayed her by reacting to his hands on her thighs. They climbed upward in silence.
When they reached the top, he let her down off his back. She slid to her feet and looked around. They were at the entrance to a cave, which had thick tendrils of smoke issuing from its mouth. A female Erushan exited it. Zandra frowned. The woman was beautiful by any standard. She seemed to float as she walked toward them, her eyes flashing. She bared her bright fangs and growled at Zandra.
“What is it you think you are doing?” she snarled.
“Saving innocents,” Zandra replied evenly. She crossed her arms as the goddess stepped forward and leaned in, her flawless face mere inches away from Zandra’s. She smelled of blood—coppery, sweet, metallic. Zandra steeled herself, making sure she didn’t flinch. Any sign of weakness on her part could be exploited by the goddess.
“In exchange for breaking a blood oath, it is required that a sacrifice be made,” the goddess stated emphatically. “It was broken to save you. You should be grateful.”
“I will not have my life saved at the expense of innocent lives,” Zandra said. “It is more important that the tribe have women. This is not the time for killing. You are being bloodthirsty.”
Something changed in the goddess’s face as she morphed from a beautiful Erushan female to something dark and dangerous. Her eyes went from deep gold to glowing red, her pupils disappearing entirely. Her teeth lengthened, sharpening to needle-thin points. Her back grew hunched, and her limbs elongated and double-jointed. Jurgen’s hand fell to Zandra’s shoulder protectively as he pulled his scimitar from its sheath. He pulled her back a step.
“This is your true face,” Zandra murmured, smiling.
The goddess-creature hissed. “I must have the blood sacrifice in order to live,” the creature said, her voice deeper, less like a person and more like something demonic from the pits of some sort of hell. “Or I will make your tribe suffer.”
Zandra laughed. She felt Jurgen’s fingers press into her shoulder as he grew nervous.
“You will have nothing more from the Apaknor Tribe,” she told it. “You are no goddess.”
The thing had become a fur-covered beast before her eyes. It roared at her in rage. Zandra felt the sound reverberate in her body. She waited, staring down the beast as it spilled all of its fury into the sound. When it was finished, she waited a beat, staring deep into its eyes. Then, Zandra simply turned and began walking down the mountain. Jurgen followed her, and they walked down the slopes in silence for a few moments.
“That is no deity,” Zandra said finally.
“No,” Jurgen agreed. “She—that— is what is known as a shade. They are the dead brought back to life. They become nothing more than half of a being. They live on blood.”
“There will be retribution,” Zandra commented.
“We will be ready for her,” he promised her. Zandra merely nodded as she walked beside him. “We need to travel quickly. We must be back in the settlement before she comes.” They picked up their speed as they made their way down the mountainside.
Jurgen
The Alpha warriors and their captives had returned before them. As Jurgen and Zandra neared the settlement, a Beta male had run in from the fields to announce their approach. As they arrived, the human women ran out from the gates. Jurgen found Zandra swept away from him as they pulled her into a warm embrace. The one called Maddie, catching him watching, glared openly at Jurgen. He held her gaze and nodded. He knew he deserved it. They led Zandra into the settlement, and he trailed behind them, not letting her out of his sight.
The women took Zandra to the mess hall, where they began to give her things to eat. A cup of water was thrust into her hands. Jurgen watched as she drank. Around her, the women all seemed to be talking at once, their chatter reminiscent of the sound of tiny birds.
As Brice launched into a story, Zandra listened, smiling, although it didn’t reach her eyes. She looked up, catching him watching her. He half-smiled at her, raising a hand. The smile fell from her lips and she looked away. Jurgen, steeling himself, walked over to her. She didn’t look at him, but he knew she was watching him in her peripheral vision. Brice stopped speaking in the middle of a sentence. All the women were watching him warily. He took a deep breath. Even running into battle was not as terrifying as confronting her in this moment, surrounded as she was by the other women.
“I must speak with you. Will you accompany me to our house?” he asked, watching as her shoulders drooped when she turned to face him. He noticed the dark circles that had formed beneath her eyes, and her cheeks seemed even more prominent.
“It is your house, and your house only,” she replied tiredly. “I will have my own.” It was not a request. She was telling him how things would be going forward.
“As you wish,” he replied. He would agree to wha
tever she asked. He wanted her to be happy. The warrior within him was bowing down at her feet. She was his goddess, and he would sacrifice his honor, his life, at her altar.
Zandra waved to the other women half-heartedly before she turned to follow him. They left the communal building, walking together in silence. When he opened the door to their house, Zandra walked past him resolutely. She sat down on the couch, crossing her arms. It was a sofa built for an Apaknor Alpha, and her legs stuck straight out, like a child’s. Jurgen knelt down in front of her, close enough to touch, but he made no move to do so. She needed to know that she had a choice. He would not force her. She raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to speak.
“I have been a fool,” he said, his voice breaking. “I went along with what was expected of me and not with what I knew in my heart to be the right thing. And I did it at your expense.”
She nodded but said nothing.
“I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you.” She opened her mouth, but he held up a hand. “Wait. Please let me finish. I know what I promised you—I can’t help but dread the day the ship comes to take you away. But if you think there is a chance—any chance at all—that you could be happy here on Erusha, with me, then I need you to tell me. I love you, Zandra—more than anything. I will do anything for you.”
She sat in silence for a moment, looking away from him. Jurgen stayed where he was, unmoving. He had just bared himself before her. His whole life hung in the balance in that moment.
“I don’t know,” she said, her voice just barely a whisper. Tears built in her eyes, spilling over. “You betrayed me, Jurgen. You sacrificed my safety to fulfill a social obligation. One that you later went back on. How can I trust you after that?”
He reached forward, taking her small hands in his. “I give you my word. I will fight for you, until my last breath,” he promised her.
