Episode Fourteen - Xaosose Tribe (Part 2)

Even though it was only an act, to hear Lars declare her as his, made her blood heat in response. How wonderful it would be if this were real.

Izel schooled his surprise and disappointment. Of course, Eira would be married. She was a beautiful and talented woman. "My sincerest apologies. I am Izel. I've known your wife since we were children. She's a…childhood friend."

Lars's eyes turned half-mast. "I understand. But I do not take kindly to anyone touching my wife." There was a coiled tension in his muscular form that no seasoned warrior could have missed. Izel would be a fool to ignore his warning. Eira's husband had power stamped on every inch of his skin, a vein of ruthlessness sewn into the very fabric of his soul. Clearing his throat, he inclined his head. "Again, forgive me."

Hoping to defuse the situation, Eira disentangled herself from Lars and carried Yaena down from the caballus. "Truthfully, we found Yaena stranded on the Oasis, and we came to return her."

"Yaena!" Izel glanced at the child, mouth bracketing with disapproval. "I've been looking for you. Where have you been?"

"Tiret is missing!" she fired back, her lips pursed stubbornly.

This was the first time he was hearing this. Gaze alert, he demanded. "When did he go missing?"

"A week ago."

He assumed the village Chief was aware of this. Yaena was usually an obedient child, afraid to break the rules because a sunakki could be easily banished upon trouble. For her to go in search of Tiret meant that no one cared if the boy was dead or alive. He welcomed the flood of outrage. His uncle was crossing the line. Even if Tiret was a sunakki, he was still a young boy. "I will help you to look for him."

Eira exchanged glances with Lars, his eyes warning her not to say a word about the recent murders.

"As for you, Ulva." Izel returned his attention to her. "Only the village Chief knows where the Qeathans have gone. He will only be returning this evening. Until then, please allow me to show you around."

Eira's presence incited a flurry of excitement, especially when some of the warriors recognized her. "I defeated those guys when we were children," she whispered smugly to Lars. The women flocked to her while the children stared in wonderment. Lars was content to watch from a distance, observing their way of life, finding nothing out of the ordinary. He didn't want to jump to conclusions. They had until nightfall to discover the truth.

"You came at a great time," Malina, the village seamstress declared, earning shy giggles from the younger women. "There will be a wedding celebration tonight and you are invited to join us."

"A wedding!" Eira exclaimed, remembering the bountiful feast and endless hours of dancing. Back then, she had always wanted to participate in the festivities, but children weren't allowed past their bedtime. "I would be honoured to attend. Wouldn't we, Lars?"

Malina eyed the stern Captain. "Is he your husband?"

"Y-yes." Eira's cheeks turned rosy.

"A fine man you have. If I were years younger, I would have stolen him from you."

Lars rolled his eyes at the declaration while Eira only chuckled in good humour. If only Malina knew the truth.

"Come," Malina's daughter, Qiren pulled Eira to her feet. "Let us prepare you for the feast. Your husband can wait for you here."

Eira was helpless as the women dragged her out of the hut, bringing their enthusiasm with them. Lars didn't miss the genuine happiness on Eira's face. How content she must be to be amongst her kind again.

"You may fool the others, but you can't fool me," Malina croaked once they were alone. "Your eyes follow her, but they tell me you aren't married."

"Think what you will, old woman."

"You love her," she stated, wrinkled eyes laughing at him.

He remained silent.

"If you don't hold close what is valuable to you, beware of those who will take it away."

"Verhelst." Izel appeared in the doorway. Speak of the devil. "The warriors would like to meet you."

Malina cackled for obvious reasons only Lars understood while Izel threw the old woman a puzzled look.

"Of course," he said. "I was getting bored anyway."

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The wedding ceremony began with the beating of skin drums, heralding the arrival of the blessed couple. An hour ago, the village Chief returned with a hunt of ratillos – a gift of fertility and goodwill. Now, he was officiating the marriage with the head shaman, garbed in pelted furs and strings of symbolic accessories hanging around his neck.

Chief Borjan was a rotund man in his early fifties with a tan and weathered face. Lars disliked his perpetual smile – it was oily and pretentious – the same feeling he received from Lieutenant General Novak, the antagonist who orchestrated his parents' death and masterminded children's kidnapping for his nefarious experiments.

Nightfall descended and the villagers were making merry, passing around bowls of wana-wana — an indigenous hallucinogen. He watched Eira dancing around the fire, laughing carefreely with the womenfolk. She was beautifully dressed in fur skin wrapped around her curvy torso, the colour a shade lighter than her tan skin. With her pink tresses flowing loosely, she looked like a naked nymph in his eyes.

He traced the lines of her bare thighs, down the slopes of her calves to her bare feet. A braided rope circled her slim ankle, the sight strangely erotic. He hadn't realized he had been staring until Eira broke away from the circle and floated towards him, a giddy smile on her lips.

He caught her easily, arms locked around her as she giggled, indicating she had one too many wana-wana. "Why aren't you dancing, husband?"

"You're going to regret this in the morning if you don't stop now." His tone tempered with amusement. "Need I remind you why we are here, wife?"

Eira stared hungrily at his lips. "You should smile more, Lars. You look so handsome when you do." She stabbed a finger in his hard chest. "And for your information, I know why we are here. If you must know…I am doing my part."

His fingers threaded through her soft strands, making sure those entrancing eyes were on him. "Is that why you're laughing with Izel?"

"Jealous?" she teased. "You have nothing to worry about. I will never date a man I can easily defeat."

His smile bore a hint of mockery, of male satisfaction. "Are you admitting how strong I am?"

"You know you are." She frowned, finding it an unwelcome statement.

He chuckled, enjoying this mellow version of Eira. He would be a liar to say he didn't want to eat her up right here. Her soft, supple body was curved into his, her gaze melting, and her luscious lips were parted — ripe for the taking. What man wouldn't take that as an invitation?

But he knew better than to lead her on. Firstly, she was intoxicated. And secondly, he wasn't an idiot. Although, temptation was hard to resist. Lars hadn't realized they were swaying to a non-existent music until she leaned her head on his shoulder, humming softly. It was an intimately, tender moment.

Unfortunately, it didn't last long when Chief Borjan interrupted them. "Daughter Ulva! I cannot believe my eyes when I saw you. Are you truly the little Qeathan warrior?"

Eira turned in the circle of Lars's protective arms. "Chief Borjan. Thank you for receiving my husband and I." She sounded impressively lucid. "We are honoured to be part of the celebration."

"Anything for an old friend's daughter," Chief Borjan boomed with laughter, his gaze switching to Lars, slyly assessing. "Is your husband a warrior?"

"My husband is a mercenary warrior." The lie fell off from her lips. "He saved me a long time ago, and I fell in love with him." That was the truth.

"My nephew, Izel tells me that you are looking for your tribe. And you even returned little Yaena to us."

"Kraz. I am looking for my tribe."

"Where did you say you arrived from?" Although the question was asked in a light vein, the Chief's eyes were alert.

"We came from the Oasis," Lars boldly declared.

Chief Borjan flinched — barely discernible — but not to Lars's trained eye. It seemed his hunch about the Chief hadn't been wrong. He was indeed hiding something.

"We are terribly upset by Tiret's disappearance. We will do everything we can to find him." The Chief clasped Eira's hands. "The last I heard, the Qeath tribe has travelled West."

Eira frowned. "To Belugia? But why?"

"That's because they've never stopped looking for you." Izel appeared behind his uncle, dressed in his fine assemble. "Chief, it's time for the fertility ceremony."

"Ah, yes," the Chief nodded. "As a married couple, you must join us daughter Ulva and son Verhelst."

"What is this fertility ceremony?" Lars whispered to Eira as they followed the two men to the campfire.

Emerald eyes flashed like an old era cat in the dark, a frisson of lust pooling in his gut at her tell-tale desire. "Remember what I said about taking advantage of you? Well, now you're going to get it."