8. Jambir's Fate

The negotiations had begun. The more Misha listened, the more she realized Jagu had all the power here. She wanted to go away. Flee. Stop it. Kill them all. She wanted to see Jambir and know he was safe, then kick the king and tear down the fences.

And her own tribe had already seemingly forgotten what had happened to her? They should’ve immediately stopped eating and left when Jagu told them his desires. It was absurd—most tribe members slowly accepted they had to go and work for the king.

“We can offer our knowledge,” Murfa tried. “We can help remove the fence or create our own huts.”

“Not enough,” Jagu said. “Thirty more mouths to feed. You should be happy we can do that!”

“We can help hunt and collect,” Helera said. “We’re all good at that. We are restless if we can’t do anything all—”

“Then why are you working against me?” Jagu yelled, as he ripped apart a gigantic slab of meat with his front teeth. “Under my command you shall have useful tasks to do all day. Both the men … and the women.”

Misha tore apart all the plants in her vicinity, then jumped and stalked away. “That’s enough. Enough!”

Farshar wanted to follow her but couldn’t get up quickly enough with his hands tied. In the blink of an eye, Misha fade into darkness. Only now did her parents notice Kesho was also missing.

Their sight was obstructed further by Jagu’s immense body.

“I sense your hostility,” the king said. “That changes our desires again. All female Gosti must bear at least one child while here, which shall be property of the Jagu Tribe.”

Misha cried and ran away even faster. In her blind panic she stumbled and fell numerous times, until she’d reached the food storages.

“You’re a monster!” Farshar’s voice echoed in the distance.

Jagu had gone too far. The Asha Tribe stopped singing and laughing, put down their food, and left without a word.

The king stood proud and silent for several heartbeats. He thought it a game, a bluff.

But they were truly leaving.

He called for ten guards to obstruct the Asha. “My apologies,” he said, “I … misspoke.”

“Misspoke? You’re the devil! Worse than the God of Death! You are—”

Murfa was the first to realize this was just another part of negotiations. “Our apologies too, Jagu, we also … misspoke. Let’s be frank this time and say what we really mean.”

Children hid behind their parents. All jaguars surrounded the king using a formation that resembled a spear.

“That seems like … a good idea,” the king spoke softly.

Hesitantly, all returned to their fires and picked up their food again.

Murfa looked around. “I can’t speak for anyone else. We have no leader, as you know. But I am prepared to work for you if that means we are safe, fed, and able to travel onwards at the next full moon. That’s my last offer.”

The two tribes stood face to face, the fires at their back.

Murfa’s wife still refused. But other men spoke the same promise, as well as their sons and daughters. Soon enough, the majority of Asha agreed.

Misha couldn’t believe it. She leaned against the storage room, feeling sick. They’d given up everything! Everything Asha stood for! They’d destroyed its soul.

Jagu smiled, his teeth glimmering in the moonlight. “I see we finally … understand each other. Come! Come! The night is young and the food still fresh! Let’s not squabble any more.”

For the last time, everyone let out a sigh of relief. They enjoyed the final scraps of food, sharing it with each other, even the deer. The children who had just agreed to become a slave, in Misha’s eyes, ran circles and played hide and seek again.

Rain softly fell. The royal family took shelter from it. Lazily stretched out, a satisfied grin on their faces, they studied the feast from afar.

Misha could kill them all. She wanted to drive her spear right through the heart of that monstrous king. It made her sick.

It also made somebody else sick, standing beside her.

Kesho leaned on a sabretooth tiger—the god Ardex—as if he were no more than a pillar. He seemed gravely ill, white as the summer sun and shaking. The only living thing about him was the diamond clutched in his one arm.

And yet, Misha was the only creature with a second shadow due to Ardex’ faint glow. A fact she ignored out of concern for her brother.

“What happened?”

“I went … I went looking for Jambir …”

In the distance, claps and cheers sounded again. They sung and danced. Several jaguar children joined the games and the princess loudly told a funny story to some interested deer.

Misha wanted to rip off her ears so she didn’t have to hear it.

“And?”

Kesho gave the diamond to her. Ardex prevented it with his large tusks.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you keep that,” he said somberly. “I’m afraid I have to destroy all these food storages.”

Misha was certain now. Ardex fed her rage. Whenever he was near, you’d be mad at everything and you wanted to kill everything. But even once she realized this, she couldn’t shake the feeling.

“Dear brother, Kesho, look at me. What’s wrong? Where is Jambir?”

A streak of moonlight reached around the storage and illuminated a patch of flowers besides it. Flowers pressed down by a pile of bones.

Kesho’s shaking, tiny fingers pointed at the bones.

Misha froze in disbelief.

She wanted her eyes to fool her. She wanted to blame it on Ardex, or some horrible joke from her little brother. But Kesho didn’t do jokes like that. Ardex seemed about to cry.

Among the bones was a skull that clearly resembled Jambir’s head.

Her savior. Her sweet Gosti.

He was killed and stripped.

The meat … the meat they all ate as they sat by the fire … so tough and weird and—

Misha yelled until the ground shook and Ardex stepped back in fright. She reached for Kesho’s spear—he already gave her another one.

“Children! Do not—”

They ran straight at the royal family.

Her yell continued all the way, until Jagu’s ears pricked up and he looked over his shoulder to find the source of the noise.

Just in time to see a spear coming for him.

Too late to sidestep.

Misha’s throw was a direct hit to Jagu’s heart. The fat king fell and died before even leaving his hut.

Kesho’s throw hit the prince, who survived and scrambled away, but slipped on the growing puddle of blood.

“Father!” the princess screeched. “Betrayal! Murderers!”

The trees shook above their heads. They bent and creaked, despite the windless night. Branches and leaves fell down, mixed with the rainfall.

Ten Gosti appeared in the treetops with bows aimed at the Asha Tribe. The bright moon was darkened by a hail of arrows.

The Asha were not prepared.