by C B Williams
Haku turned without a backward glance and disappeared into the jungle.
“That one is no friend of ours,” Eloch said.
“He absolutely is not,” Wren said. “I’m not going to go anywhere unarmed, that’s for sure. It may look like paradise, but it feels like I’m back in SubCity.”
Eloch shook his head. “I’m inclined to agree.”
They noticed a woman emerge from the path carrying finely woven rectangles of cloth. Bright colors and flowered patterns were woven into the fabric. She held one up. “Pareo,” she said. And that was the only word she spoke. Wordlessly she taught Wren and Eloch the different ways to wear them. Just as wordlessly, she disappeared back into the jungle towards the village.
Wren glanced at Eloch as they stepped into their hut through a woven curtain which served as the door. “That was odd.” She held out her fabric rectangle, “It’s really beautiful, this…uh…pareo. But I think I’ll keep my undershirt on, and wrap this around my waist like a skirt. It’s not like I’m overly hot or anything.”
Eloch knew the real reason for her decision. It was the scars on her back. He was sorry she was shy about them, but perhaps it was more the memory of how they came to be rather than the scars themselves. Without comment, he stripped down and wrapped his pareo around his loins as he’d just learned, and draped the accompanying cape over his shoulders, tied it, and straightened.
“What do you think?” he asked Wren.
“You look like a beautiful giant in native garb,” she replied, her eyes traveling up and down his body. “The women are going to be extremely envious of me when they get a look at you.”
Eloch studied Wren. While he’d changed into his new clothes, she had too. She had, indeed, left her white undershirt on, but had taken off her tunic jacket and pants. The pareo was tied securely around her small waist and fell to her ankles, hiding her scars and her artificial leg. When she moved, it swayed gracefully.
“And the men will be jealous of me, lovely Wren.”
“You don’t think it looks funny with my undershirt? I don’t feel too comfortable with my breasts exposed like that.” At his raised eyebrow she added, “All right, and my back. I don’t want strangers looking at me and wondering.”
Eloch pulled her into his arms. “I don’t want strangers looking at you, period. In the tropics on Entean many people wear very little. But my preference has always been to keep some portions of the anatomy private. You look lovely, my Wren, lovely.”
She pressed her cheek to his chest to inhale his scent before drawing back. “Thank you. And I can strap a couple of knives around my thigh. This skirt slit makes for easy access. Shall we go eat our pig?”
They commanded Little Sister to stay and guard their hut, promising her they’d bring back plenty of pig for her to enjoy. Hand in hand they wandered down the trail to the village.
“This trail is new,” Eloch commented. “I can still smell the sap where they cut through.”
“Yeah, the hut looks new, too. Like it was made just for us. Put together in a rush.”
“Interesting. Maybe they decided to hold us hostage. Trade us for Kalea?”
“But why make a hut for us so far from the village? I think it’s more they don’t want us living with them, but still want to keep an eye on us.”
He cocked his head at her, “And being shape-shifters, they can do both.”
Wren nodded. “The ability to fly and spit fire hedges bets, for sure.”
They entered the clearing at the center of the village and immediately spotted the queen in her bright yellow cape of feathers.
When the couple reached her side, Queen Ululani extended her arms.
The crowd hushed.
“Tonight we celebrate our new friends, their gift of meat, and the peace between us all,” she said, then clapped her hands and gestured to several women nearby.
As if orchestrated, the men brought long boards to the center of the village clearing and set up tables in a U-shape, along with benches, while the women placed bowls on the boards.
Wren was reminded of the times she and her Kin had gathered on special occasions. The women were laughing and flirting with the men. The men were posturing. Instruments and drums were brought and arranged on the side of a cleared space strewn with fresh grasses and flowers directly in front of the center table.
Ululani saw the question in Wren’s eyes. “After-dinner festivities,” she explained.
Wren nodded and turned back to observe the preparations. The women wore colorful pareos like hers with garlands of flowers around their necks, covering their breasts. Another garland crowned their hair.
Two women came forward from the crowd and draped one garland over Wren and one over Eloch. Wren held it to her nose to appreciate the sweet, exotic scent. “I feel slightly overdressed,” she commented to Eloch as she smoothed it in place over her shirt.
“Still lovely. The flowers become you.”
She winked at him. “And you.”
At the sound of the conch shell, Ululani turned to them. “The feast is ready. Please join me.”
The pair followed their hostess to the center table. “Sit, one on either side of me,” Ululani instructed with a gesture.
While the villagers were taking their seats, Wren said, “There aren’t as many as I would expect.”
“Some have already eaten, some are preparing for the festivities, and others are serving us. Thank you,” the queen said to the woman holding a platter filled with pulled meat.
Ululani inclined her head toward Eloch. “Your pig.”
Catching Ululani’s glance, the woman offered the meat to him first.
Eloch hesitated and looked at Ululani with his eyebrow lifted.
“The hunter always gets the first choice,” Haku said as he sat on the other side of Eloch. “It is your kill.”
They eyed each other in silence. “A new custom for me,” Eloch said and filled his bowl.
The queen was served, then Wren.
Wren grinned at Pika, who sat hesitantly beside her. “You know,” she said as she helped herself to the steaming meat, “I could have killed you when you attacked. You were fierce and frightening, and I wanted to. But I only aimed to wound you.” She shrugged. “Just wanted you to know,” she said cheerfully.
Pika studied her thoughtfully. “I suppose I should thank you for the wound.”
“I only kill when there are no other choices,” Wren said.
“Good to know,” Pika said. “It is our custom as well.” He hesitated. “The blade. We’ve never seen anything like it.”
Wren raised her eyebrows. “You still have it? I thought you’d lose it during your ride home.”
“I kept it in my leg during my flight home.”
Wren made a face. “Must have hurt.”
Pika nodded. “Oh, it did. But the prize was worth the pain. I have claimed that knife as my own.”
It was Wren’s turn to look at Pika thoughtfully. “Would you like to learn how to use it?”
Pika’s eyes went wide. “You’d teach me?”
“Of course. A blade like one of my throwing knives needs to be used and cared for properly.”
“Thank you,” Pika stuttered while his eyes sparkled, reminding Wren of Kalea, his sister.
A platter laden with aromatic delicacies was thrust between them. The pork steaming in her bowl, Wren recognized. But the platter of food? She had no idea what was on it. She glanced over at Eloch, who seemed to be sampling and nodding his pleasure with the queen. She looked at Pika, “Care to tell me what I’ve got here?”
He cheerfully pointed out the shellfish, fish, tubers, and seaweeds. They all smelled delicious, but some looked quite unappetizing, especially the sea creature with raw gray-green and yellow matter within its spiny casing.
Keeping her expression pleasant, she watched carefully while Pika demonstrated how to eat it and followed suit, recalling after the first tiny bite that looks can be deceiving. “This is quit
e good,” she told Pika.
He laughed at her obvious surprise.
Drinks were handed around in large nutshells. “It’s called Ferment,” Pika explained. He held up the cup. “It’s made from the milk of this very nut. Careful how much you drink. It’s potent.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Wren replied before taking a sip. The sweet flavor seemed to burst into fumes. Her eyes watered and she coughed. “Wow,” she said. “That should clear my head.”
Pika chuckled. “You get used to it.” He glanced beyond her to where his brother was demanding a second cup. “Too used to it,” he muttered.
More platters were laid before them, and under Pika’s tutelage Wren found herself eating more and feeling more stuffed than she had in a long time. “Enough,” she sighed when confronted with a final platter and patted her stomach. “I don’t know where I could put it.” She peeked at Eloch and shot him a grin when she saw him shake his head at his final platter as well.
“And now comes the dancing,” Pika was saying when she returned her attention to her dinner partner. His eyes sparkled.
As if on cue, several tattooed men came to stand behind the drums and picked up mallets. At the queen’s nod, they began.
There were shouts and cheers and then silence when a single woman dressed in white came and stood in the center of the prepared floor.
Wren sucked in her breath.
Pika shot her a glance. “My sister Makini. Kalea’s twin.”
“Identical twin, you mean.”
“She’s the older by ten minutes, but it didn’t seem to matter.”
“What do you mean?”
“Longwei chooses who is to be priestess and who will become queen when our mother steps down. Longwei chose Kalea for both.” He paused. “Without going into details, let’s say Makini did not take the news well. She has never forgiven our sister.”
“But it’s Longwei’s choice. That’s not Kalea’s fault.”
“Of course it’s not. But Makini can’t blame the Goddess, now can she?” He shook his head. “She always assumed she would be the next priestess or at least the queen because she was older.” He gestured to Makini, who had begun her dance, “And look, she’s defiantly dancing the Dance of the High Priestess. Mother will not be happy about this.”
They both glanced at the queen, who sat with pursed lips.
“She doesn’t look happy,” Wren agreed.
Pika nodded. “Not happy at all. But this is not your issue. Come, enjoy. I’ll tell you what her hands are saying.”
“Saying?”
“Yes, most of our dances are stories. It’s how we pass our history down from generation to generation.”
“Fascinating.”
“It is. Many people believe most of the stories are myths, but it is not so. I have done research. I have found proof.” Pika caught himself. “You are too easy to talk to, and I am being a poor host. The story is already being told.”
She shot him a look. She could have sworn he was about to say something more but he had launched into his narrative. Too late to interrupt, she sat back to enjoy the festivities.
As Pika translated in a low voice, Wren could see the story unfold with every graceful step and gesture. It began with great sadness and ended with hope. It told the story of The Ancestors who arrived on Longwei from a far distant place. Longwei, enraged at the trespass, destroyed all they brought with them and buried their ships and equipment deep beneath the lava, leaving the people helpless and vulnerable.
The dance told of great storms and near starvation as the struggling group survived countless hardships. Finally Longwei, who admired courage in adversity, took pity and claimed The Ancestors for her own. She revealed Herself. Those who did not run in terror She transformed into the Nuri, created them to be the kings, queens, and Her priestesses, to govern those who were less brave. The beautiful song and dance movements captivated Wren, but it ended with more questions than answers. Surely these people, these Ancestors, had been the colonizers from Spur.
Makini left the clearing to disappear into the shadows. She was quickly replaced by a group of women who told another story, which Pika also translated. After that dance, the women left to be replaced by men describing a fishing journey beyond the reefs.
With each dance, the rhythms became more and more frenzied, culminating with the fire dancers, who told the story of the Nuri as the performers leapt high in the air, spinning their flaming batons.
“I don’t know why they aren’t changing into their dragon form. This frenzied dance begs for it,” Eloch said, absorbed in the rhythms of the dance.
“Not all Nuri can change. My husband could not,” Ululani replied.
“And that is why he’s dead,” Haku spat, leaning across Eloch to make sure he had his mother’s full attention. “You should have been with him that day, Mother.”
“Haku, this is not the time for this discussion.”
“It’s never the time,” Haku hissed. “Now’s as good as any. You. Should. Have. Been. There.”
“Yes, Haku. I agree. I should have been there to protect him. I will carry that regret for the rest of my days.”
“As you were not, we should have attacked them when they killed him. We should have taken our revenge. Yet all we showed was our weakness. And now you want Makini to wed one of his murderers!”
“And would that have brought him back? Your father went to wage peace, Haku, not war. That is why he went alone. If I retaliated, I would have gone against his wishes. He knew the risks. He sacrificed his life for peace, my son, not war. Not revenge.”
Haku’s eyes were dark, cold stones with slit pupils. “I will have my revenge. Peace shows weakness. You are weak. If we do not attack and show our strength, we will be the ones who are attacked.”
Ululani’s eyes were equally cold, her pupils equally slit. “And you have had too much of the Ferment. I suggest you leave our table until you regain your control. We will discuss your outrageous behavior later.”
Nostrils flared, Haku slammed his hands on the table and stood, knocking the bench back and jostling Eloch. He shimmered, spread his huge Nuri wings, and flew off with a hiss, scattering dishes and cups and forcing Eloch to duck the wingtip’s sharp talons.
Silence followed his wake.
“Please forgive my son,” the queen said quietly. “He misses his father, and he is young.” She motioned for the dances to continue.
“It is understandable,” Eloch said. He turned to view the last dance, no longer as entranced with the violence in the dancers’ movements.
Shortly after, the celebrations ended. Pika volunteered to take Wren and Eloch back to their hut. “Please, can we begin tomorrow?” he asked Wren when they reached the clearing. He handed her the platters of meat he had offered to carry for them.
“Of course. As long as your mother approves,” she said, accepting Little Sister’s supper.
Pika flashed his ready smile. “I will ask first thing, even before I come collect you for breakfast.”
“What was that about?” Eloch asked when they were alone listening to Little Sister’s purrs of pleasure as she devoured her promised portion.
“I told Pika I would teach him to use a throwing knife. Apparently he claimed the one I stuck in his leg as his own. He held it in his leg while his brother flew him home. Didn’t want to lose it.”
Eloch raised his eyebrow.
“I know, right? I figure he earned it. And since it’s his, he should learn how to take care of it and to use it properly.” She paused to shrug out of her T-shirt. “And while I teach Pika, he will learn how deadly accurate I am. They need to know, Eloch.
“I can kill them, powerful dragons or not,” she said responding to Eloch’s expression. “Doesn’t mean I’m planning to, but I will defend myself, you, and Little Sister, since you won’t be using your power here.” She paused and looked at the sleeping mat on the floor. It was strewn with flowers. “Do you think there are any bugs in there?�
�
Eloch looked down at his tiny, deadly mate. “If there are, you have my permission to slay them without mercy.”
Chapter 10
Grale
As soon as Pika led her guests away, Ululani stood and brought the festivities to a close. While her people dismantled the tables, she crossed to her hut only a few paces away and disappeared into it, re-emerging from the back entry to shift into her Nuri form. She was a queen, yes, a widow, yes, but foremost a mother, and her child was hurting.
She flew as soundlessly as only Longwei’s rulers and priestesses were taught. If she were in her human form she would have laughed. Weak? She―a priestess of Longwei and a queen―weak? It had taken great strength to resist seeking her revenge. It would have been easy. She could have taken them on by herself…and won. By the Goddess, how she had wanted to! But her son was young and governed by his emotions. She reached out her senses and found him immediately. He hadn’t gone far, only as far as the king’s fishing ponds.
And he wasn’t alone. She sensed Makini before she saw her. There they were, heads together. She was still dressed in her dance costume. Foolish girl. How could two identical people be so different? What had happened in her womb? She landed soundlessly, changed form, and glided closer so she could hear. Neither sensed her presence, although she was a whisper’s length away.
“She is so weak,” Haku was saying. “I don’t want to follow her any longer.”
“Where would you go? What would you do?” Makini asked.
“I’d gather those who’ll follow me into battle and avenge our father. That’s what I’ll do. And where will I go? Nowhere. As soon as the people know what a strong leader and powerful warrior I am, I will easily take over Mother’s place.”
Makini gasped. “Haku, that’s treason.”
“It’s doing what’s best for the people, Makini.” He snorted. “And what of you? What of tonight? Only a priestess of Longwei can dance that dance. Only Kalea.”
Makini hissed. “One day that will all change.”
A pause.
“What do you mean, Makini?”
