It Wakes in Me (8 page)

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Authors: Kathleen O'Neal Gear

BOOK: It Wakes in Me
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“What sort of emergency?”
Sea Grass lifted a bony shoulder. “Who can say? But I assure you those pieces are worth enough to ransom an entire village.”
“How many pieces were there, do you know?”
“Not for sure. Ten at least. Maybe twenty.”
Twenty pieces of jade jewelry like this would be enough to ransom two villages.
“Thank you, Sea Grass. You’ve given me something to think about.”
“I hope so,” she said. The threat was barely hidden beneath her calm voice. “If I were the high matron of the Black Falcon Nation I would be wondering where an enemy war chief obtained such a valuable piece of Black Falcon jewelry.”
Their gazes met like the clash of war clubs. Sea Grass would see many Traders on her way back to Oak Leaf Village, which meant that by tomorrow night, half the Black Falcon Nation would be wondering the same thing.
Very soon, Wink would need some answers.
“Well,” Wink said, and rose to her feet. “If you have no more questions, I should be about my duties.”
Sea Grass grunted as she stood up and handed the jade brooch back to Wink. “Do you know where the sealed box is?”
“No. Sora never told me about it.”
“Then perhaps you should search her belongings to find it. If Blue Bow’s grieving relatives convince the Loon council to attack us, we may need such wealth to buy them off.”
They stared hard into each other’s eyes.
“The Loon Nation doesn’t have enough warriors, let alone the wealth necessary, to carry out a sustained war against the Black Flacon people. They are a minor threat at worst.”
“I’m sure that’s true,” she conceded with a contrite nod. “It’s just that I have noted over the long winters of my life that oftentimes hatred is more important than numbers or wealth.”
Before Wink could respond, Sea Grass clutched her son’s bones to her chest and hobbled across the council chamber for the door. When she ducked out, the old woman spoke to her waiting guards, and footsteps whispered down the hallway.
Only the breeze that tousled the door curtain told Wink that Sea Grass and her party had ducked out the front entrance.
She massaged her aching temples.
“Dear gods,” she murmured. “What’s going on?”
FEATHER DANCER MOVED ALMOST SILENTLY, BUT IT WOKE Sora.
Through the smokehole in the roof, she could see Star People glistening. It had to be long before dawn.
Fabric rustled, as though Feather Dancer had slipped from beneath the cape he shared with the young warrior.
Then Sora heard them. Footsteps outside. Coming toward the Captives’ House.
The men stopped just beyond the door, and Flint sternly said, “Do you remember your orders?”
“Of course we remember, you imbecile. As part of your reward for helping us to capture her, Horned Owl said you could take her as many times as you wished.”
“And
when
I wished. Your only duties are to protect me and bring her back if she escapes.”
“We know that.”
The guards obviously disliked Flint.
“Good,” he said with a laugh. “I don’t want you to get so
snared by my prowess that you forget your responsibilities.”
“Your prowess?” The guard snorted. “You are a feeble old man! I heard you couldn’t even handle the five virgins Horned Owl presented you today.”
“Yes, well, young Purple Blossom is a lioness. Remind me to show you my bruises. It’s a wonder I had the strength to crawl away from her.”
The men chuckled.
Flint threw the door curtain back, and stepped into the Captives’ House. Silhouetted against the starlight, he looked tall and muscular. Long hair spilled over the front of his black cape and shimmered as he gazed around the house. His handsome face was sheathed in silver.
The people who’d awakened murmured, “Flint?
Flint!
” as though his name alone could save them.
Ignoring them, he called, “Sora?”
She propped herself up on one elbow. “What do you want?”
Flint stalked across the floor, grabbed her by the arm, and roughly jerked her to her feet. Almost simultaneously, Pipit let out a startled cry, and Feather Dancer leaped for Flint.
When their bodies collided, the entire house erupted in a cacophony of shouts and gasps of disbelief. People scuttled back against the walls, leaving just enough room for Feather Dancer to slam Flint to the floor and get his hands around Flint’s throat. As the two men rolled and thrashed, Sora shoved Pipit against the wall to protect her.
“Feather Dancer!” Sora shouted. “Not
now
! There are guards outside!”
“Just a few … more … instants, Chieftess, and I’ll kill this traitorous pig!” Feather Dancer growled.
“But the guards—”
Cold Spring lurched to his feet and screamed, “Leave my cousin Flint alone! He’s no traitor!”
Flint sounded like he was suffocating, but his hand groped beneath Feather Dancer’s warshirt and he managed to gasp, “I’m going to … twist off … your testicles.”
Feather Dancer slammed Flint’s head against the floor several times.
Making hideous choking sounds, Flint apparently found what he was searching for, wrenched with all his might, and Feather Dancer roared in pain. As they rolled across the floor, scrambling for advantage, one of the guards outside called, “What’s going on in there?”
Sora shouted, “Get in here now! What are you doing? Waiting for Feather Dancer to kill Flint?”
One guard, short and stout, stepped through the doorway with a war club in his hand, idly gazed at the two men locked together on the floor, and began beating Feather Dancer with his club.
Feather Dancer rolled off Flint and covered his head with his arms, which gave Flint the opportunity to stagger to his feet.
“That’s enough!” Sora grabbed the guard’s arm to prevent him from striking Feather Dancer again. “Stop it!”
She had used her chieftess’ voice, which accepted nothing but obedience. The guard, shocked, stopped beating Feather Dancer to stare at her.
She ordered, “Follow me,” and ducked through the door into the starlight, where seven men stood in a circle—probably the guards routinely stationed around the Captives’ House. They studied Sora with silent glittering eyes. Flint and the guard stepped out behind her. Blood covered Flint’s face. He rubbed his throat and gasped for air.
She turned to Flint. “Why did you come for me?”
His full lips twitched with a half-smile. “I’m taking you to the forest, my former wife,” he said. “I don’t want your screams of ecstasy to wake the entire village.”
When Flint grabbed her wrist and flung her toward the starlit trail, he almost jerked her shoulder out of the socket. Stunned by the treatment, she blurted, “Flint, tell me—”
“Just walk.” His fist slammed into her back, staggering her.
“That is not necessary!”
“I’ll decide what is or is not necessary. For as long as you are alive, you are my slave, Sora. Remember that.”
“I am the chieftess of the Black Falcon Nation, and when my army—”
“No,” he said with a laugh. “You are nothing. Long Fin took your place days ago.”
“I don’t believe it. Wink would never—”
Flint snatched a handful of her flying hair and twisted her head around so he could glare into her face. The two guards behind him just watched. “Let me tell you something, Sora. I’ve made a good bargain with Chief Horned Owl. If you live through tomorrow, he’s given me permission to supervise your ‘Healing.’”
“Supervise? What does that mean?”
“I convinced Horned Owl that since I know you better than anyone alive, I am the only person who can judge if you’ve been Healed or not.”
If he says I’m not, they’ll kill me.
She struggled against his powerful grip, and he almost twisted her neck off. She couldn’t help it; the sharp pain made her cry out.
Feather Dancer, yelled,
“Chieftess?”
His cry was quickly followed by the meaty thumps of war clubs striking flesh.
Flint whispered,
“Remember that you and Feather Dancer live solely by my grace.”
He shoved her hard, and she careened down the trail with her arms flailing for balance. In all the winters they had known
each other, even when he’d openly vowed to kill her, he’d never treated her this way.
The path wound around clumps of brush and dense tangles of grapevines. Through the oaks, she saw a small grassy meadow gleaming in the starlight.
Flint shoved her to the middle of the meadow, then turned to the guards. “Black Turtle, I want you and Snail to go stand over there at the edge of the trees. I don’t need you staring over my shoulder.”
Both men sneered in disdain, spread their legs, and planted themselves. They didn’t move a hair’s breadth.
Flint glowered; then he swung around, grabbed Sora, and physically hurled her to the ground. She landed hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs. When she gasped and scrambled to rise, he fell upon her like a wolf and pinned her to the ground.
The guards laughed, causing the flock of birds that had been roosting in the nearby trees to squawk and burst into flight. Their dark wings blotted out the Star People as they sailed away.
Flint stretched out on top of her. His black hair fell around her like a silken midnight curtain. In agony, she gazed into his dark eyes. The sight of him looking down at her with hatred was almost too much to bear.
“Are you ready for me?” he shouted in her face, then ruthlessly kissed her. She tasted blood.
“No, Flint, please don’t do this!”
The guards walked closer to watch. Grins spread across their faces when Flint ripped open the front of her dress and began fondling her breasts.
Very softly, she said, “Talk to me! Tell me why—”
He bit her nipple hard enough to make her cry out, and the guards’ excited eyes widened. Their manhoods began to bulge through their breechclouts.
“It will be easier for you if you don’t fight me,” Flint said, and used his knee to pry her legs apart.
When he shoved himself inside and began thrusting, she lifted her fists to strike him. Laughing, he forced her arms to the ground. A hoarse cry of rage escaped her throat.
“Are you happy to be with me again, my sweet murderess?” he whispered in her ear.
“Flint, I would never—”
“Stop talking!”
Blessed gods, he really does hate me.
In less than ten heartbeats, he let out a deep-throated groan of pleasure. “Great Spirits, she holds a man like a fist! I had forgotten.”
Snail glanced at Black Turtle and swallowed convulsively. “Are you going to let us have a turn?”
“No,” Flint said.
“No?” The youth glowered at him.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because your chief gave her to me, and when Feather Dancer was trying to choke the life from me, both of you stood outside and listened for far too long.”
Snail said, “I’ll help you in the future, I give you my oath! Let me have a turn?”
“No. First you must prove yourself. Do as I originally asked. Go stand by the trees while I take her; then I
may
let you have a turn.”
Black Turtle slapped him on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go.”
Snail pointed a finger threateningly at Flint. “We’ll do it, but don’t forget about us.”
Snail and Black Turtle trotted to the edge of the trees, and Flint whispered, “Tell me about the captives.”
“What?”
“I don’t have much time. I need to know how they are. Is anyone hurt?”
She blinked in confusion. “Why do you care?”
“They are my relatives, Sora. I care.”
“You can’t go home again, Flint. You must realize that. You are an Outcast now.”
“I’m worried about them, not me.”
He began to move slowly, unhurriedly, as though they had many hands of time to love each other, but not many more days to live. At any other time, she would have thought each motion exquisite. “Is anyone hurt?” he repeated, and kissed her earlobe.
“Yes, one young warrior.”
“How badly?”
“He has a wounded shoulder.”
“Can he fight?”
“I don’t know. Maybe, but why—”
“What about the children?”
“They are frightened, but healthy. Feather Dancer says they are being well-treated for captives.”
“Given his experience with torture, he should know, but things may get worse in the near future.”
“What do you mean?” As her pain and humiliation began to recede her mind sharpened. Was he trying to warn her so that she might prepare the captives? Perhaps he wanted her to reassure them that he still cared about them.
Against her lips, Flint whispered, “Horned Owl is a brutal child. During the feast, he ordered his slaves to bring him a nest of baby birds. While he ate, he slowly plucked the feathers from each. As the little birds chirped in growing fear, Horned Owl’s eyes gleamed like suns. Then he casually threw them into the
fire to be burned alive—and he told the people at the feast that very soon they could watch the captives suffer the same fate.”
“Is he a monster?”
“Yes. A monster that has just been given a great deal of power.”
“Can we stop him before he hurts our people?”
Flint lifted his head, and his lips quirked into a smile. “How odd that you speak as though you are not one of the captives.”
“Flint, I don’t understand any of this. Why are you working with these people?”
“As you pointed out, I can’t go home. Who else will work with me?”
She gripped his muscular forearms and whispered, “Let me help you! Maybe I can—”
“Sora, you amaze me.” He laughed softly. “I just betrayed you and you want to help me? That’s curious, don’t you think? You can’t even help yourself, let alone me. Now, please, I have a very important question to ask you.”

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