- Aurora -

There's a swish and a hard thud, and Heri'ox's sword clangs against a rock.

I open my eyes just in time to see him sag silently to the ground, blood pouring out of his mouth and a shocked look on his face.

No wonder. He has a long sword sticking out of his back.

Trak'zor's sword.

And now Trak'zor is unarmed.

But there's still one attacker left, and he immediately sees his chance. He lunges at Trak'zor with his sword raised for a terrible slash and a triumphant yell.

“Eeeeeaaaaaaaaa!”.

Trak'zor raises his bare hands uselessly.

Then the world suddenly moves slowly. Because I finally remember that I have my crossbow in my hand. It's loaded and ready. But until now, I've been too stunned or overwhelmed to use it. I promised Trak'zor I'd never use it against humans, and I intended to keep that promise. It must have created a mental block in my mind. But now that Trak'zor is in danger? No chance.

I calmly put it to my shoulder and aim. Still the trigger is a little rough. I will find some grease here in the village later.

The crossbow jumps in my hands and kicks a little against my shoulder.

Another sword clangs against the rocks.

And then only Trak'zor is left standing up.

I quickly pull the string back and reload the crossbow with another arrow. I'm not taking any chances with these cowards.

The last attacker is on the ground, my iron-tipped arrow sticking out of his chest.

For three heartbeats, nobody moves.

Then Trak'zor runs to me and looks me up and down, inspecting me for injuries. “Are you well, my love?”

Sure, except this will probably give me some pretty bad PTSD.

“I am.”

He pulls his sword out of Heri'ox's back, dripping with blood.

And so is Trak'zor. I gasp when I see the depth of the cut across his chest. That has to have severed many muscles.

Well, his magical gel might be able to do something about that.

“Long life Chief Trak'zor,” someone yells, and the call is taken up by a few more voices in the crowd. But most of the tribesmen are quiet as they saunter back to their tents.

Some men come over to check on the wounded attackers, but I think three are dead, in addition to Heri'ox. And the three remaining men are clearly not a threat anymore.

I stare at the one I shot.

Yes, I know he deserved it. It was a totally justified act. But he's dead. I killed him.

I killed a man. He looks young, too. Not much older than me.

“Let's go,” Trak'zor says and takes my wrist.

I let him drag me with him, carrying his bag and the still loaded crossbow. I'm about to suggest that he take his gel out and use it on his chest before we go, but then I realize that we're headed for the shaman's tent.

Ren'tax is lying on the floor with a not-sheep fur over him, with sunken cheeks and a grayness to his skin.

“I challenged Heri'ox,” Trak'zor says. “But he attacked me. Along with his friends. I killed Bion'ax and Hing'ox. As well as Heri'ox. He was about to murder Aurora. Aurora then killed Drem'tax when he was about to strike me down. Three others are injured.”

It takes Ren'tax several seconds to open his eyes. “Ah,” he creaks. “Aurora is the name. I wondered. It's very alien. Yes, I expected nothing else from Heri'ox. Seven against one. Or against two, as it turned out. There's more to Aurora than meets the eye. I see you've put the iron blade to good use.”

I hold up the weapon. “It's a crossbow.”

“I see. An alien weapon.”

“Hopefully it will remain so.”

Ren'tax coughs weakly, and it takes a long time before he can speak again.

Meanwhile, I try to come to terms with having just killed someone. My hands are shaking badly, and I feel no particular joy that we won. At least he doesn't leave a devastated family behind. These guys don't really have families, except some fhem have fathers and sons. And Drem'tax looked too young to have a son.

“Some want me to be chief,” Trak'zor says.

Ren'tax lays back on his sheet after the coughing fit. “I think we all do. Most of us, certainly. I'll happily recommend you. My word carries some weight. While I'm still alive.”

I can't wait anymore. “Trak'zor, use your magic thing to heal your injury!”

He glances down at his chest as if he's forgotten it. “The magic is for the young, mostly.”

“But that wound is going to take months to heal without it!”

“If I use that on myself, then the other injured men must also be treated. There's not enough for all. And then there will be nothing left if we need it for the young.”

“Can't you just use a little of it?”

“It doesn't work like that. Ren'tax, should I state my willingness to become chief?”

“If you have that willingness, then the tribe will benefit immensely from it.”

The tent is quiet while he thinks.

I'm doing some thinking of my own.

There has been a lot of death today. I've killed someone.

I would do the same again in a heartbeat. There was no time to aim for his leg or his arm.

But he's dead. He bled to death with an arrow through his heart.

My arrow.

So much blood.

Somewhere on this planet, a woman is about to give birth. Bring an innocent new life into the world. There will be blood there, too. Maybe worse problems.

And here I am, killing cavemen in a village far away.

The inside of Ren'tax's tent spins around me.

There's so much death here. There's so much life back at the cave.

So much life. So many friends. New life.

Trak'zor's mysterious gel would come in pretty damn handy for Sophia right about now.

So many friends. And one of them needs help.

Heri'ox was about to kill me. Nobody in this tribe moved to help me.

My mind is suddenly focused. I have to get out of here.

I stand up. “Trak'zor.”

“Aurora?”

“My friend Sophia needs your help. She's giving birth. Today. The baby is not well positioned inside her. Do you know how a birth works?”

“We were told some things about that. Now we have the future of this tribe to think about.”

I'm not thrilled with how he keeps shutting me down. I'm not in a great mood right now. I'm afraid for Sophia. The fear makes me angry.

“The woman pretty much splits open,” I say. “There's a lot of blood and it's very dangerous for both the baby and the mother. Your Lifegiver birthings are nothing compared to that. And that's in the best case. But Sophia's baby is positioned wrong inside her. She needs your help. And the baby. Today.”

Trak'zor glances at me, then looks back at Ren'tax. “There are many things that must be done in the tribe. A general cleaning up, for instance. Better care for the Lifegivers. Less gorel fruits for burl, more nourishing fruits. The boys must be trained better with their swords.”

I place a hand on Trak'zor's massive forearm. “Will you please listen? You can save two more lives. Another innocent baby needs your help.”

He simply puts his other hand on my hand. “We will organize the hunts better. And now we can catch fish. Many more than before.”

I try to withdraw my hand, but he holds it while pondering his future aloud. “We can make more of those alien weapons for defense against irox. You should have seen it, Ren'tax! The arrow went all the way through him.”

I put my other hand on his arm to help get my first hand out from under his hand. “Hey! I 'm talking to you!”

He finally releases my hand. “I know you are. Talking about another tribe while the shaman and I consider the future of our own.”

“Another tribe? Those are my friends! Other women! And great men from tribes that are a good deal better than this one.”

“It's not a good tribe,” Trak'zor agrees. “But if I become the chief, it will be better. Much better.”

I can't sit down anymore, so I get up. “You want to be chief? Of this tribe? Which didn't lift a finger to help you when you were being attacked by seven of them? Which didn't move to help me at all when that guy was getting ready to cut me in half? Is that the tribe you mean?”

It's the first time I see his face going red. It's both gratifying and scary. “It's my tribe. Yes, they are passive and dishonored. But that will change! I will change them.”

“And I'm sure you will. After you return from helping Sophia. We can walk there in a day. Even if the birth is over, Sophia will need your help. Now.”

“Your alien mind must be going crazy if you think that I will use a pebble's worth of my sacred gift to help another tribe.”

“That's not another tribe! That's my friends. It's not a tribe at all. A tribe on this planet is a gang of males sitting in front of their tents and getting drunk, so afraid of leaving the safety of the village that they sit still and grow fat and let their Lifegivers wither on the vine. Meanwhile, my friends are making iron, making pottery, clearing the woods around the cave, making clothes that are a damn lot better than the rags I see your tribe wearing. They ride on irox! Heidi had a rekh that she rode on. Sophia is giving birth! For real! A real woman giving birth. Don't you want to at least see it? It's the first time that happens here since your women were taken. And you know what? I wonder if they didn't leave on their own. Because no woman in her right mind would want anything to do with a tribe a cowards like this one!”

I try to stay calm, but damn it if he hasn't made me mad for real.

Trak'zor stares at me with his blue lasers, but I meet them with no problem at all. Even Ren'tax has opened his eyes and is staring.

“Your tribe,” Trak'zor says in a low, tense voice, “is eight individuals. Living in a cave, as I understand it. A cave with one entrance. A typical party of raiders is thirty. All men my size. One party of raiders comes along. One irox. One brak. And everyone is dead. I notice your tribe saw it fit to send a woman out into the jungle to hunt. A small and soft creature that should be kept in the village, cherished and protected. What kind of weak, dishonorable men would do that? I don't hold your friends in high regard. Don't worry about them. They're probably dead already.”

“We've been fine so far,” I counter, trying not to scream. “Nine months and nobody's died. Yes, it's dangerous. Yes, we're scared. Yes, we all have to contribute. So we go into the jungle when we must. That's something this tribe of only men could learn from.”

I take a deep breath, trying to control my anger. “Trak'zor, I don't want to beg you. It shouldn't be necessary. Please come and help. Use the magic on your own wound, then come along. One innocent baby and her mother. One day to walk there, one day back. I will carry your bag. I'll carry your sword. I'll come back here with you and you can be chief. I promise I'll come back with you. If you don't, I will go on my own.”

The tent is silent for several seconds as the redness in Trak'zor's face gives place to paleness. “The jungle is too dangerous for you alone. I won't allow it.”

“It's not your choice to make.”

He frowns. “I said I was yours. You said you were mine. I agree. You are my woman. And you're not leaving this village.”

“Is that all I am to you? A woman? A trophy you can parade in front of your buddies to rub their noses in how great you are? No, I don't think so. You don't own me, in the same way that I don't own you. I love you, sure. But I can do whatever I want. And I'm leaving now. To see my friends and give them whatever help I can. They never ignore me when I ask them something. They would never stand idly by while I was being murdered. They would do anything for me. And I will do anything for them.”

Trak'zor slowly gets to his feet and towers over me like a dark shadow. “I will not allow that. The night woods will kill you.”

“If you try to stop me, I will never forgive you.”

He calmly takes a rope down from a peg on a post, and a block of ice settles in my stomach.

I draw away from him. “You're not tying me up with that.”

He takes a step closer and reaches one hand out towards me. “If you won't listen to reason, I have no choice.”

Well, now I have no choice. I raise the crossbow and aim it at his stomach.

He freezes. “I don't believe you'll shoot me.”

I stare into his eyes. “Really? I have done it before.”

For three heartbeats we're both frozen like that. Then I grab his bag with the stone orb inside.

“I have to do this. In my place, you would do the same.”

I keep the crossbow aimed at him while I back out of the tent and into the night.

The last I see of Trak'zor is his concerned, puzzled frown and his fists raised to chest height in frustration, balled so hard they glow white in the darkness.

I turn and sprint towards the village gate.

As I duck under the fence and run into the pitch black jungle, I hear the ghostly, raspy sound of the very ill shaman Ren'tax laughing.

But I don't think he's laughing at me.