He coughed black. What does it mean? Oh, Gods - the Aurelians are going to kill each other over me!
“We challenge your triad to combat. Hadone took my woman from me, and now I will take his in return,” growls Ton, his voice filled with menace. My heart sinks as I watch the three fish-eating Aurelians approach, their hands near their weapons.
“No! I can help this tribe. I can find out how to heal them!” I yell out, brandishing my hands at the sick, huddled masses.
Forn steps in front of me. His broad back obscures my view, and I feel instantly safer with him between me and the three fish-eaters.
Wait - why are those three so healthy, while the rest of the Aurelians suffer? What is it that causes this disease?
I hope that they’ll get the cough before they can fight my men.
My men. I told them that I’m not a possession, but some part of me feels as though those three Aurelians belong to me – as if they are truly mine.
And now they might die because of it.
“You don’t have any weapons,” I whisper, my voice so low that I barely even hear it myself. Forn nods almost imperceptibly, but I see his head move from behind. He heard my warning.
“If you wish to do battle, I ask that you wait two days to let my woman prove that she was Fated.”
“Prove? It will take only a minute for you to prove that neither of you belong. Go to our God, and show everyone the wrath of the Orb when the will is slighted,” responds one of the Aurelians from the fish-eating triad. I can’t tell which of them is speaking.
“She was brought to me by fate, I know it. Perhaps not by our God, but by another. She comes to save our tribe.”
“Then she will save it in the company of real men. We fight tomorrow, at dawn.”
Forn sighs. “Very well. Unarmed, for it is my choice.”
“Tomorrow, then, you will die,” says Ton, and this time I know which of them is speaking by the hatred in his voice. The fish-eating Aurelians leave, and I feel as though I can finally let out a sigh.
Forn turns to me and stares mournfully with those huge eyes. I hope desperately that he’ll survive.
Suddenly, he grabs me – holding me tightly and staring into my eyes with an intensity I’d not seen from him before.
“I don’t care what brought you here – it was meant to be. I feel it in every drop of blood coursing through my veins. You are mine, Tammy, and I will fight for you.”
“You don’t have to do this, Forn. We can… We can go somewhere else… We can run!”
He shakes his head. “No. I will fight for you, and I will win you – and then you’ll heal my tribe. This is what will happen. I know it, Tammy, I know it just as certainly as I know that we are meant to be together.”
He reaches forward, his fingers trailing down my cheek, and then he smiles sadly at me. He could die tomorrow. Those three fish-eating Aurelians could beat him down and break him.
“The challenge is made and accepted. Tomorrow, you will fight. If you win, the woman is yours – but the Orb-God may still not accept her,” warns the soft-voiced Aurelian from behind the stone throne.
“How will the Orb-God accept me?” I ask.
“When you prove your worth. When you heal this tribe, I know that you will be accepted.”
No pressure, Tammy. No pressure. You just need to find out why a contagion is killing off these Aurelians. Oh, and you don’t have access to any medical supplies – not even your own medical kit.
I walk to the stream running through the cavern. There’s an older Aurelian coughing and hacking there. I can tell he’s close to death. Black residue coats his chin.
Forn stands behind me and gently touches my shoulder. I turn, and he leans closer to me, his lips grazing my ear.
“It is a dishonor to be seen in such a state,” he whispers, and his voice makes me tremble. I nod, and leave the old Aurelian to his suffering.
Instead, I walk to a young human woman with scared eyes. She’s pregnant, and her cough breaks my heart.
“When did you get sick?” I ask her.
“Two… Two days ago,” she says faintly.
The sickness is getting worse. If Forn, Hadone and Darok were this bad, then they would have died in battle with the Scorp warriors. So what is causing this contagion, and why is it getting worse?
I interview more subjects, trying to keep myself as objective as possible despite the obvious misery. There’s a theme – most of the sick have been getting much worse recently. I’m not sure if that will be the key to unlocking the mystery of the sickness, but I file it away anyway.
“Let’s go,” I eventually say, after I’m satisfied that I’ve gotten all the information I can. There isn’t much. None of my other questions lead to any additional clues.
“Do you know what’s causing this?” Forn demands, and I hear the worry in his voice. His triad obviously has problems with some of the members of the tribe, but he cares deeply for their safety. He’s a natural leader, and I could imagine him taking over for Chief Rattler if the sickness kills their current chieftain.
And then I would be the mate of the leader of the tribe.
I never cared about status. I never thought I’d be anything but a lowly mechanic in one of the poorest cities of the periphery. But if I heal this tribe, that alone would put me higher in the social order than the former-noblewoman Diana. And if I was the mate of the leader…
You’re thinking like a shallow woman from the Capital, Tammy!
