Chapter 5: Canoes In The Mist

Chapter 5: Chapter 5: Canoes In The Mist

The scouts reached the arena ledge gasping, chests heaving, blue clay still smeared on their arms from the riverbanks.

The tallest of them Sarn, a lean hunter with a missing front tooth dropped to one knee before the Tribunal seats.

Dust clung to the sweat on his skin.

"Matron. Elders. We counted twelve canoes at the bend. Full. Warriors, not fishers.

They paint their faces with the white of fish bone and the blue of deep water.

They carry clubs and long flint spears.

They do not hide."

A low murmur rolled through the gathered tribe.

Vara sat unmoving, one hand resting on the stone arm of her seat.

Elka’s eyes narrowed. Gron’s weathered face showed nothing.

"How far?" Vara asked.

"Half a day’s hard run.

They move with the current. If they leave the water at the old crossing, they will reach our eastern grounds before nightfall tomorrow."

Korr stood at Vara’s right shoulder, axe still in hand, the marks of the morning’s claiming still warm on his skin beneath the ochre.

He watched the scouts, then the faces of the Tribunal.

The tribe’s eyes kept flicking to him the man who had opened Ragar’s throat only hours before.

Elka leaned forward. "Twelve canoes.

That is not a raid for meat or women.

That is a challenge to the Tribunal itself.

They want the eastern grounds and the shame of making us bleed for them."

Gron’s voice was dry as old bone.

"Or they want the young gladiator who killed their champion.

Pride is a heavier burden than land for some tribes."

Vara’s gaze slid briefly to Korr, then back to the scouts. "You did well. Eat. Rest. At dusk we send more eyes to the river."

She raised her voice so the entire gathering could hear. "The River Tribe comes in force. We will meet them.

The eastern grounds remain ours.

Any man or woman who runs will answer to the pit."

The tribe answered with a single deep shout that rolled off the stone walls.

As the crowd dispersed, Elka lingered. Her sharp smile flashed.

"Your new pet fights well, Vara. The tribe already sings his name louder than some of the older warriors. Careful the song does not grow too loud. Loud songs attract knives in the dark."

Vara’s expression did not change.

"Then the knives will find my axe waiting. Go prepare the fighting bands, Elka.

We will need every strong arm at the crossing."

Elka’s eyes flicked to Korr once more assessing, almost hungry before she turned and strode down the steps, calling orders.

Gron rose more slowly.

"The boy has blood on his hands and seed in your furs.

That binds him to you for now. See that the binding holds when the River spears start flying."

He left without waiting for an answer.

When they were alone on the ledge, Vara stood.

The morning sun caught the silver in her hair and the curve of her breasts beneath the open vest.

She spoke without looking at Korr.

"Walk with me."

They left the arena and climbed the narrow path that led to the high overlook above the caves.

From there the whole valley spread out the river a distant silver thread, the eastern hunting grounds a darker green smear against the hills.

Wind moved through the dry grass.

Far below, the tribe moved like ants preparing for storm.

Vara stopped at the edge of the drop.

"Elka is not wrong.

The tribe watches you.

Some with hope.

Some with envy.

A gladiator who wins too often and shares a Matron’s furs becomes more than a weapon.

He becomes a question."

Korr rested the axe across his shoulders. "And what is the answer you want them to hear?"

"That you belong to me.

That your strength is the Tribunal’s strength.

That any man who thinks to cut you in the night will answer to my judgment and the pit."

She turned to face him fully. Up close he could still smell the faint musk of their earlier coupling under the berry oil and smoke.

"But belonging is not the same as weakness.

I chose you because you kill clean and fuck harder.

Do not make me regret the choosing."

He stepped closer.

The wind tugged at her hair. "I killed Ragar for the tribe. I filled you because you ordered it and because I wanted to. If the River Tribe comes for my head, they will find my axe first.

If knives come from inside the caves..." His gray eyes held hers.

"They will find the same."

Vara’s mouth curved. She reached up and dragged a thumb across his lower lip, still faintly swollen from her earlier bite. "Good. Keep that fire.

You will need it."

Her hand dropped to the front of his loincloth, cupping him through the cloth with open possession.

He was still half-hard from the morning and the lingering heat of her body. She squeezed once, deliberate.

"Tonight you will sleep in my furs again.

Not for pleasure though I will take that too.

For the message it sends.

The tribe must see that the man who will stand at the river crossing tomorrow night is the same man who leaves my cave at dawn with my marks on his skin."

Korr’s cock thickened under her hand.

He did not pull away.

"And after the crossing? If we drive them back?"

"Then we decide how much further a claimed gladiator may rise."

Her fingers stroked once along his length, slow and promising.

"Or how far he may fall if he reaches too high."

She released him and turned back toward the path. "Come.

The fighting bands must be chosen.

You will stand with the first line at the old crossing.

I will watch from the ridge with the archers.

If you fall, the River Tribe will have the satisfaction of knowing they killed the Matron’s favorite.

If you stand..." She glanced over her shoulder, dark eyes gleaming.

"If you stand, I will make sure the entire kingdom knows what reward waits for the man who holds the border in my name."

They descended together.

Below, the tribe was already gathering weapons flint spears, stone clubs, axes with edges freshly chipped.

Women painted the fighters with red ochre and ash.

Children watched with wide eyes.

The air itself felt tighter, charged with the coming blood.

As they reached the arena floor again, Elka approached with a group of hard-faced warriors.

Her gaze lingered on the fresh bruises visible on Korr’s chest and the way he walked close at Vara’s shoulder.

"The first band is ready," Elka said.

"I put your gladiator at the center,

Matron.

Where the River spears will be thickest.

He seems to enjoy the attention."

Vara’s smile was cool.

"He enjoys winning.

See that the rest of the band understands the same."

Elka’s eyes met Korr’s for a long moment. Something sharp and curious moved behind them.

Then she nodded and turned away, barking orders.

Night would come soon.

Then the long run to the river.

Then the mist and the canoes and the men who had come to take what the Tribunal claimed as its own.

Korr tightened his grip on the axe.

The flint was clean now, but it would not stay that way.

Vara’s voice was low beside him, meant only for his ears.

"Kill well tomorrow, Korr.

I want to taste River blood on your skin again before the next sun rises. And I want the tribe to see me take it."