Challenged (Mates for the Raskarrans #8)

Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

Rardek

B y the time I get back to the fire, the preparations for our evening meal are not only done, but the meal itself is being served. Paskar gives me a dry look.

“Showing up just in time to eat?”

“Perfectly timed,” I say, grinning.

I am given a brief sneer, but Paskar knows that, while I am many things, I am never lazy.

“It was an important message you had to deliver to Gregar?”

“Very important,” Anghar says. “And now there is work to be done by us.”

I wave Jaskry over, and as we wait for everyone else to take their helping of the food - a hunter’s tradition - we discuss the plan for mapping the rot.

“I walked the perimeter of the hut just now,” Jaskry says. “There’s rot in every direction.”

“Then we strike out evenly,” Anghar says, pointing in the directions as he speaks. “In pairs heading opposite ways away from each other.”

We all nod in agreement.

“First light, then,” Anghar says, then looks at the scant remaining broth. “I would feel better about a day’s running if we had a hearty meal in our bellies.”

“Be grateful the females eat from the Mercenia hut’s stores,” I say as I serve myself a meagre portion. “Otherwise, there would be even less to go round.”

Despite the small size of our meals and the knowledge of the blight weighing down several heartspaces, there is a joyous atmosphere this evening. Vantos is coming tomorrow, and we already have one new sister. My Angie’s absence from the fireside does not dim anyone’s enthusiasm for this news.

“What’s she like?” Olfran asks, leaning close to hear our answers.

“Angry,” my brother says.

“Angry?” Larzon says, and there is a demand for more information in his tone.

“Beyond that, we saw very little of her.”

Maldek says it to deflect Olfran and Larzon’s fervent interest as much as because it is the truth.

“There must be more you can tell us than just that,” Olfran says, undeterred.

He is not as bad as Larzon, not by some distance. But like most of our unmated brothers, when conversation turns to our new sisters, he gets a look in his eyes that is not quite desperation, but more than simple interest. It abrades at the same part of me that wishes to go to my Angie now, to ignore Liv’s words about giving her room to process her thoughts. A growl threatens to build in my chest, coming from some primal part of me. I swallow it down.

“It is dark in the pod room. The light is strange. I could not tell you the colour of her hair with any certainty,” Maldek says.

Dark brown, I think. Cut to frame her face in an almost sharp way.

“Of course he cannot recall,” Larzon says with a huff. “He has eyes only for his own linasha. Better to ask Rardek. There is a chance he was paying attention.”

Their eyes turn to me. I scratch at the back of my hand.

“The room was no brighter for me because I am unmated,” I say, keeping my tone lazy, unconcerned.

Larzon scoffs. “I thought you claimed a great talent for observation.”

I probably did say that to him once. I say a great many things when I am in the mood for fooling. Rarely are they thrown back at me.

“Well, now that you have prompted me, I do recall that she was small.”

It is an innocent observation. Something they will see for themselves immediately when my Angie decides to emerge from the Mercenia hut. It does not have the intimate quality of some of the other things I noticed about her - like the fire that burned in her eyes.

“You’re as useless as him,” Olfran says, gesturing to Maldek.

I expect further ire from Larzon, but he just huffs, sitting back in his seat.

“I am not so interested in the smaller ones,” he says. “They seem so fragile. I would not wish to have a mate I am afraid to touch.”

It is a change of headspace from his early belief that any of the females would do, as long as he got one of them. The long sunsets of the big rains have given him a chance to observe our sisters, learn a little of their natures. It has shown him that he would not be so pleased to be mated to some of them.

“Do not let Sam hear any talk of her being fragile,” Paskar says with a laugh.

“Nor your chieftess,” I say, itching at my fingers.

Larzon huffs again, but it is good natured.

“I don’t mind small,” Olfran proclaims. “I think my warrior’s heartspace would like to have someone delicate to protect. Like Rachel and Vantos. She’s a fine female.”

“Very fine indeed,” I say. “Just do not let Vantos hear you say so with any longing in your voice.”

The others laugh, and Olfran inclines his head in acknowledgement.

“Vantos is a good male and protects his linasha as he should. I’ll be the same when I meet mine.”

“When?” Larzon’s eyebrows rise. “You are so certain it is ‘when’ not ‘if’?”

His words kill the good mood amongst us. Olfran deflates, Paskar fidgets in his seat. Anghar and Maldek both look guilty for a moment, before their gratitude to be blessed overcomes them.

Nineteen females await mates. Eighteen in truth, although they do not know that yet. It is too few for even the unmated males amongst our three tribes. And that is before taking Ferzan and his wanderers into consideration. Or the other tribes that live further from our territory - males we are not familiar with. Or Jestaw’s sorry troupe, made up of the dregs of Basran’s old tribe. They are not bad enough males to be beyond redemption in Lina’s eyes. Perhaps she might choose to place them in dreams one sunset.

Nineteen new females for the tribe. A blessing beyond measure.

And it is still not enough.

As the night rolls in, Larzon and Olfran head off on their patrols and Jaskry and his family retire for the evening. Anghar and Paskar also retire, tired after the long days of travelling. Brooks and Maldek claim tiredness also, but I suspect it is something else that drives them early to their bed.

As our numbers dwindle to a less intimidating count, Lorna and Liv go in to the Mercenia hut to look for my Angie, hoping they can draw her out and introduce her to some of the tribe before everyone else arrives tomorrow. They return a short while later without her.

“We think she is sleeping,” Lorna says. “We no hearing her. Door closed.”

“You cannot hear her in her room?” I ask, more because Lorna likes to improve her speaking than because I cannot understand what she is trying to say.

“Yes,” Lorna says, smiling at me. “Cannot hear her. So… asleep.”

“Asleep again, after nineteen seasons sleeping?”

Lorna’s nose wrinkles. “Frozen sleep not the same as night sleep. And Angie heartspace…” She hesitates as she searches for the right word. “Big. Busy. Feel much.”

She gives a little shrug.

“You mean to say that she has many emotions to deal with?”

“Yes. Emotions. Make tired.”

I can understand this. Many of the females have had to deal with big emotions since learning they are stuck here in Lina’s forest. It is a better place for them - they would all agree to that now - but losing the life you have known, or expected to have, is still something that requires a certain amount of grieving. And grief is tiring. Raskarrans know this very well.

I scratch at my fingers.

“Perhaps when more females are woken tomorrow, they can find solace in each other. Easier to go through a thing when you do not have to do so alone,” I say.

Lorna nods. “I think yes. Help me to have sisters. To have Shemza.”

Her eyes go soft as she glances in the direction of her mate. As if he senses her gaze, Shemza turns, meeting it. The strength of the connection between the two of them is such that it feels like a physical thing. I glance towards the Mercenia hut, feeling nothing yet but a quiet sense of longing. A bond that wants to form but has not had the chance to yet.

“Has Angie been spoken to of the dreamspace?” I ask.

Lorna grimaces. “No. No time.”

No opportunity, I think she means, the limits of her vocabulary restricting her ability to express herself.

“We need to organise a watch,” Shemza says, coming over. “We would not want Angie to slip past us in the night.”

“Well,” I say, itching at my arm. “I have some hard running to do in the morning, so perhaps it is best if I take the next watch so I might sleep undisturbed afterwards.”

Shemza nods. “I will take the watch after yours, then. Perhaps Maldek will take the dawn watch, given that he has retired to his bed so early.”

“I think we both know that very little sleeping has happened,” I say, grinning.

Shemza’s eyes glitter with mirth. “Disturbing them to let Maldek know of his watch is probably too much to ask, even of a blood brother.”

“Perhaps Gregar, then.”

“A more sensible choice, I think.”

I grin. Shemza’s sense of humour is not as obvious as mine or Maldek’s, but there is a wicked streak to him that he keeps well hidden behind his healer’s calm and kindness. Right now, his expression barely shifts, but the sparkle in his eyes intensifies and the very corner of his mouth twitches. It is enough to let me know he is greatly amused at Maldek’s expense.

“I will go speak with him now, before he goes to bed and becomes undisturbable,” I say.

But as I turn to leave, Shemza grabs me by the arm.

“What is wrong with your hands?” he says. “You have been scratching at them all evening.”

He draws me close to the light of the fire, gesturing for me to turn my hands over. It is not as good as daylight, but we do not need it to be. It is obvious from first glance that my skin is raw and irritated. I examine my hands closer, see traces of the slime from earlier lingering on my skin.

“What is that?” Shemza asks.

“Rot,” I say. I try to brush it away on my clothes, but it is stuck tight.

“Rot?” Shemza’s expression is mild, but I can sense the concern even before he glances over his shoulder at Lorna.

I give him a brief summary, including Anghar’s stumble and the rotten roots. Shemza listens, then examines me again, looking at my hands closely but not touching them.

“Your skin is irritated, but it does not look awful. No worse than an encounter with itching vine, anyway. It is just strange that rotten roots have caused this strength of reaction.”

“You do not think that whatever infects the trees could infect me also?” I ask. My tone is light, but I feel a shiver of fear travel up my spine. Any hint of a new sickness is enough to rattle a raskarran’s spirits. After the deadly sickness that took so many of us seventeen, nearly eighteen seasons ago, a second deadly sickness is our worst fear.

“I have never heard of a blight in trees that could pass to a raskarran,” Shemza says, his tone dry enough to dispel any worry I have. “There is a poultice I can make which may ease the irritation. A little djenti berry tonic will hopefully see the worst of it healed overnight.”

I go to grip his shoulder in thanks, but stop myself before I touch him.

“Ah,” I say. “I think it would be prudent to wash.”

“It was going to be my other healer’s recommendation.” A brief smirk flits over Shemza’s lips. “Wash thoroughly, then come to me after.”

I turn to the trees, intending to hike out to the stream nearby. A bitingly cold piece of water. I do not relish the thought of washing in it. But before I can take a step, Lorna’s voice halts me.

“Rardek, use the showers ,” she says.

I turn to see her gesturing to the Mercenia hut.

“The hot water machines near the pod room?”

“Warm,” she says. “Better. Closer.”

The females use them all the time. I know my brother has used them also, but as he was with his linasha at the time, I have not asked questions about it.

“How do they work?”

“Push,” Lorna says, gesturing at something a little higher than her stomach. “Water come. Easy.”

“The sooner you are clean, the sooner the itching will stop,” Shemza says.

“Then I will use the showers.”

Despite the ill feeling inspired by the Mercenia hut, it might be a more pleasant experience than the stream.

I grab my pack and head inside, descending once more into the lower level of the hut. As I emerge into the long room that connects to all the others, my eyes track to the pod room, ever drawn there by the strangeness inside. I think of my Angie, sleeping in one of the bedrooms. I hope she has pleasant dreams, that she does not dream of cold confinement and unending sleep.

I hope soon her dreams will be shared with me. That way, I can be sure they are full of pleasant things. That no bad memories haunt her.

I drop my pack to the floor as soon as I enter the bathing room, tugging my top off and my leathers down. I do not think the itching substance got on my clothes, but I will not wear them again all the same. There is a bowl of geberren root on one of the benches beside some drying pelts. The human soap itches at raskarran noses - a sharp, unpleasant smell to it that overpowers the floral notes that the human females enjoy - so I am grateful to whoever thought to place some of the root down here. I grab a handful and step into the washing area, humming low in my throat to distract myself from the increasingly terrible itching. The less I scratch it, the better, but it is proving an intense battle of will to resist.

There is a spot on the wall at about the height Lorna indicated. I go to it now, applying a light pressure with my finger. The water starts to fall, cold at first, but quickly turning warm. I step beneath it, turning my face up to the spray.

And wonder immediately why any of us have bothered using the stream when this has been beneath our feet all this time. Yes, the Mercenia hut has a way of shivering over raskarran skin, but for this indulgence? Worth enduring a hundred times over. For a long moment, I just let the hot water rain down on me, relaxing the muscles in my shoulders, my back. Then the itching breaks through my pleasure and I recall the reason I am here. Start lathering up the geberren root. Begin working it into my arms.

The water that sluices off my skin is a dull brown colour - the foam of the root combined with the ichor on my skin. As soon as it rinses away, the itching eases some, and I feel no small sense of relief. My skin is irritated, brown in places, and slightly puffy, but I agree with Shemza’s assessment. A little djenti berry tonic will probably see it healed overnight.

Satisfied, I turn my attention to the rest of my body, lathering up more geberren root and working it into my skin. I am enjoying the warm water so much, I do not notice that I am not alone until my companion is right next to me.

Tugging on my tail.