39. It Need Not Stand Alone

When cornered, most animals share the same instinct. It’s the most well-known and commonly misunderstood instinct—fight or flight. Attack or run away—though it’s actually a lot more complicated than that, and there’s an increasingly strained and silly list of F-words to describe the behavioural responses to the instinct. Humans have it too—when your legs start to shake and your heart pounds in your chest, that prickle in the back of your neck as time seems to slow down, when it feels hard to breathe even though you’re at rest—that’s the fight or flight response.

The only thing that makes humans special in that regard is that our bodies react the same way to either an apex predator bearing down on us, or getting caught shoplifting as a teenager by a mildly exasperated security guard. The distinction is lost on our central nervous system, which has no concept of threat severity when choosing the best moment to open the valve on the hormonal firehose.

Elder Feena came expecting a confrontation. She brought enough men to outnumber Jira’s crew two to one, boarded with what I presume to be her strongest bodyguards, and even came armed with a rare and expensive firearm—unlit, but probably still loaded.

You’d think it would be obvious how she would react once cornered, and maybe if you know people well enough you’d even be right. She’s an old woman, hardened by years on the sea as a pirate captain, a powerful and influential member of her tribe, and she has us vastly outnumbered. Yes, it really is pretty obvious how she reacts once all of her schemes come crumbling down around her.

Feena doesn’t even hesitate before turning around and running away at a full sprint.

“Damn, she’s pretty spry for an old lady,” Maggie remarks.

“Don’t let her regroup with her crew!” Vi warns.

Crap! She’s already making for the ramp, and Fa’aun are really good sprinters. There’s no way I can catch up on my own.

“Mags, this one is yours,” I mutter, already running after the elder.

“My pleasure!” I reply, vaulting the railing to jump overboard.

“That’s not what I meant!” Allie shrieks in terror.

Before I can plummet into the waters below, I carefully angle myself and kick off the side of the ship to leap through an astral burrow towards the gangway. I end up cutting it a little fine and barely make the jump, landing roughly on the wooden ramp and nearly rolling off the other side.

“Fuck!” I grunt as I catch myself, before scrambling back up to my feet to cut off the old bitch’s escape.

I’m met with the sight of her gun leveled right at me, the fuse already lit.

“Double fuck!” I curse.

How did she light that so fast?!

“Any last words, troglodyte?” the elder sneers.

“Just one,” I snap back. “Yoink!”

With a twist of will, I snatch the spark out of her match and dash forward. The lever falls with an unsatisfying click, and the old woman has just enough time to glance down at her weapon in confusion before I tackle her to the floor.

Fa’aun have a lot of advantages over us in a scrap like this. They’re bigger, they’ve got horns and hooves, and their fur gives them an extra layer of protection from abrasions. But I’ve got the advantage of surprise and she’s got the frailty of age working against her.

I manage to wrestle the gun out of her hand in short order, then pull back and coat my hand in a big bright ball of flame—all flash and no substance, but they don’t know that and I can change it at a moment’s notice.

“Not another move!” I warn, which stops both Feena’s struggles and the approaching bodyguards, which I hadn’t actually noticed until just now.

Right, now what? I’ve got a mob behind me, armed bodyguards in front of me, and the person they all work for underneath me. She may be old, but I know for a fact that the only thing stopping her from throwing my scrawny ass in the drink is the harmless fireball I’m currently threatening her with.

“That’s enough!” Jira shouts. “Get off of her, Maggie—and Feena, stop embarrassing yourself. Nobody is going to hurt you.”

I begrudgingly do as she says, but I keep the gun and the fireball—just in case. The elder gets to her feet and brushes herself off, scowling.

“This is a disgrace,” she sneers. “It makes no difference what you do to me. Anyone with eyes can see that our tribe is drowning. I won’t be the last!”

“Perhaps not,” Jira says, shouldering past the bodyguards and stomping her way down the wooden bridge to meet us. “But your failure here will make your successors think twice.”

“What failure?” Feena scoffs. “The alliance with Shaa will happen with or without me leading it. The others will not back down just because you refused to see reason, even if you make an example of me.”

The Degala chieftain looks down at the old woman with a sad, weary expression.

“They will, Feena,” she sighs. “Because they will see for themselves how hollow your promises are—the weakness behind your promises of strength.”

“And what weakness is that?”

“Blindness,” Jira replies. “You cannot see beyond the reach of your own arms, Feena. Degala is not mine to rule or command. I lead because I am trusted to lead, but I do not lead alone. Our tribe stands together, but it need not stand alone. Maev.”

I blink. “Uh, yes?”

“I welcome you to the tribe as the founding mother of the Maev family, under clan Degala,” she declares. “May you continue to protect the peace and prosperity of our tribe, as you already have.”

How the hell do I respond to that?! While I’m standing dumbstruck, Feena whirls on her—my?!—chieftain angrily.

“Don’t be absurd! It’s not even—”

“And you!” Jira interrupts. “Feena Aari Degala. As of this moment, the Aari family is dissolved. Its daughters remain within the clan and may take the names of any family who will accept them, or that of their husbands otherwise.”

Feena freezes, joining me in stunned silence.

“You yourself are stripped of the command of your ship and crew, and banished from the Degala clan,” Jira continues coldly. “You have one week to gather your belongings and procure passage out of our land.”

“You can’t do this,” the former elder tries to argue. “Punish me however you like, but a house cannot be created or dissolved without another chieftain as witness.”

“Clan Baanu stands witness,” Talla’s voice calls out from behind us.

From the crowd that Feena brought along, she emerges along with a slightly shaken looking Remi, as well as Fargo—looking smug as can be about slipping away unnoticed after Feena showed up.

“As the heiress and designated representative of House Goa under Clan Baanu, I recognize Matriarch Jira’s declaration on behalf of the imperial crown of Stebaa.”

Jira smiles. “You see? I told you the tribe does not stand alone.”

“That’s godshit!” Feena curses. “You damned hypocrite! How can you shame me for siding with one imperial family while hiding behind the skirts of another?!”

Talla shakes her head. “You misunderstand. While House Goa condemns and rejects the actions of House Shaa, we have no intention of interfering with tribal politics. I stand only as witness to Matriarch Jira Faa Degala’s decision as the head of her clan.”

“You’ve doomed us all,” the elder growls. “This day will be remembered as the day the Degala tribe died.”

“It’s rather presumptuous of you,” Jira replies, “to think that this day will be remembered at all.”

With that, she turns to the very same bodyguards that moments ago were prepared to fight for their mistress.

“Take her away. She’s not to meet with any of the elders, and to be kept under watch, but should otherwise be treated as a guest.”

They hesitate for a moment, but ultimately comply. Feena snatches her arms away when they try to gently guide her and marches away of her own accord, shooting me a nasty glare as she passes.

“I’m keeping this,” I inform her, brandishing the gun I took.

She doesn’t dignify it with a response.

* * *

It has been a long day for Remi Faa Degala, and it’s bound to be longer yet. When her grandmother and Lady Talla warned her of Elder Feena’s plot, she’d almost not believed it. Feena’s always been a rather firm traditionalist, but she’s never once directly challenged Remi, nor pushed her agenda once talked down by more moderate elders.

Some of those same moderates ended up taking Feena’s side and arranging for Remi to be confined to her ship while Feena “negotiated” with Remi’s grandmother. Thanks to Lady Talla’s forewarning and company, along with timely intervention from Fargo of all people—and damn him for being as dashing as she remembers—that threat was killed in the cradle, but it still frightens her that so many elders were willing to be complicit in it.

Not the majority, perhaps, but enough to be concerning. And more still were willing to turn a blind eye and wait for the waters to settle before choosing a side. Has the unity of her tribe always been so fragile?

“Don’t fret too greatly, Remi,” her grandmother assures her as they sit together in the captain’s quarters of her ship, along with Lady Talla and her newly inducted cousin Maev. “Few, if any, will be as bold as Feena.”

“I’m more worried about those she convinced,” Remi groans. “I had no idea this was happening! How am I supposed to prevent it in the future? Are you certain it’s wise to leave Feena with just exile?”

To her surprise, her grandmother gestures for Maev to respond. Remi’s new cousin coughs awkwardly before speaking.

“That was, uh, our idea actually,” she says, before pausing suddenly and glancing up at nothing. “Okay, yes, Maggie would have been fine with killing her, but—fine, and Evie too—but her punishment is more about the message it sends to others.”

Remi furrows her brow. Maev has often proven to be surprisingly insightful for someone so young—apparently something to do with the fact that she’s dungeon-borne—but it’s just like her grandmother to put so much faith in such an unknown.

“That’s my exact concern,” Remi explains. “Won’t it embolden future mutineers to know that the worst they will face is exile?”

“It might, if they’re as stupid and shortsighted as Feena,” Maev replies. “Being executed was what she expected—what she would have done in Jira’s position. Her death would have galvanized her sympathizers and reinforced her ideals.”

“This not only highlights her weakness, but demonstrates that you can resist force without ruling by it,” Lady Talla adds. “Not to mention publicly reinforcing the value of close cooperation with imperial families.”

Remi’s not sure how much she actually values that last part, but it’s far better to lean on House Goa than to completely subordinate the tribe to Shaa. What was Feena even thinking?

“You will face other trials, Remi,” her grandmother says. “There will be other challengers to your rule. It is my hope that you will face them without fear, and without compromising what you’ve built for our tribe.”

“I’m not the chieftain, grandma!” Remi huffs. “You are!”

Jira waves her off. “I’m little more than a name. Feena was right about that—I’m not who I once was. I raised the foundation and supplied the funds, but it was you who built this place. The tribe already calls you chieftain, do they not?”

“I keep telling them not to!”

Her grandmother chuckles and shakes her head. “Well, you need not bother anymore. I think it’s past time. Lady Talla, if you would do me the favor of witnessing one last declaration?”

Talla nods solemnly. “Of course.”

“Then I, Chieftain Jira Faa Degala, hereby renounce my title as Matriarch of the Degala clan and designate Remi Faa Degala as my heiress and successor.”

Remi’s jaw hangs open for a moment before she quickly regains her composure.

“No, no, no! That’s not—I’m not ready!”

“You are,” Jira replies. “You have been for years, and it’s only my own weakness that has brought you this trouble. Hold your head high, Remi—you are my pride and joy, and of your parents, and now of the entire tribe. I know that Brianna smiles down upon you from the Goddess’ embrace.”

“Congratulations, chieftain!” Maev says with a smile. “What are you going to do now?”

Remi resists the urge to slump in her seat and clutch her horns, instead straightening her back and taking a deep breath.

“My best,” the chieftain answers with more confidence than she feels. “For the sake of the tribe.”