THE JEALOUSY OF JALICE

A force pushed Jalice from the arrow’s path. Her vision blurred.

The arrow zipped past, followed by a loud snick near her earlobe. Jalice landed on the ground with a grunt. Blinking at the loose strands of hair that tickled her eyelashes, she regained focus. The forest came into view, and her gaze settled on a figure lying a few feet away. She screeched when she realized it was Annilasia.

“We need to run,” said Annilasia. She sprang up and crouched low to the ground as if ready to sprint away.

Jalice didn’t move, paralyzed by the sickening fact that, had it not been for Annilasia, she would be dead. The archer had fired his arrow despite his clear view of Jalice. She desperately attempted to rationalize this. Perhaps he had been aiming at Annilasia. Perhaps he had been trying to save Jalice from the tillishu.

Annilasia scrambled across fallen leaves and muddy earth over to Jalice. “Get up and run,” she commanded.

Another arrow shrieked by and landed with a thunk in the dirt. Jalice yelped and kicked against the soft earth, throwing gobs of mud into the air. The archer was still firing. Surely he intended to strike down Annilasia, not Jalice. Yet the uncertainty of this terrorized her.

Powerful arms heaved Jalice to her feet, leaving her no choice but to run.

As she relented to her captor’s command to flee, Jalice’s mind remained fixated on the archer. Annilasia was right. There was no denying it now. The archer had intended to strike Jalice. But there had to be an explanation, even for this.

She glanced over her shoulder and panicked when she realized she was alone again. She halted and searched the forest for signs of Annilasia and the archer. As she spun around, a dark shadow interrupted her vision and she fell back with a cry. Unable to brace herself with her hands, she landed on her back, pain searing across both shoulders. The warped treetops and a dark silhouette loomed above her. Jalice let out another muffled scream against the gag.

A large man, much stockier than the archer but bearing the same red and gold streaks of paint, stood with his arms extended over his head. He clutched a massive sword with its tip pointed towards the sky.

Jalice thrashed her legs and yelped, but it was too late. The man’s face strained as he brought his arms down. The blade flashed in the air, and everything in that moment slowed. This was it. She was going to die. Her eyes snapped shut, and she braced for the blow.

A deep cry bellowed above and a loud thump sounded beside her head. Jalice opened her eyes, and her stomach clenched. The blade that had previously hung over her head was now lodged in the mud inches from her face.

Ripping her eyes from the blade, she sat up on her elbows. Her gaze met with the face of her attacker, now frozen in a contorted expression on the ground before her. She scrambled back, absorbing the morbid aftermath of her attacker’s demise. The man lay in a heap with blood splattered over his clothes.

Annilasia stood over him, her hand coiled around her sword. Rivulets of sweat ran down her jawline and the rest of her dark skin, and fresh mud streaked down her black armor. The tillishu bent over the man to retrieve a knife protruding from his chest. With a strained grunt, she freed the blade.

Jalice’s throat constricted. She snapped her head to look in the other direction.

“The archer is dead,” said Annilasia impassively. “He was foolish enough to follow you and didn’t notice my approach. I’m not sure how many of them are out here, but I don’t plan on finding out. If we’re lucky, these were just scouts.”

The words rolled over Jalice like billows of smoke. Her ears hardly registered Annilasia’s voice. Questions swirled in her head while answers remained elusive, but their pattern formed an unsettling conclusion.

The archer and the swordsman—both had attempted to harm her. Even kill her. Annilasia had been making this claim since the Fortress. The Ikaul warriors’ intentions were corrupt. Jalice could no longer assume that the darkness of night had confused the warriors. It’d been easy to dismiss at first, but now she had been assaulted on two separate occasions—once during broad daylight.

As Annilasia wiped the blood off her weapons, the dreaded possibility that her captor might be telling the truth crept over Jalice. She looked back at the slain man, desperate to reconcile her confusion over why the Ikaul warriors suddenly wanted her dead.

***

The two women put a quick distance between them and the area of the attack. Jalice assumed a quiet demeanor, and Annilasia made sure not to disrupt this hushed state with unnecessary threats. Periodically, Annilasia would stop to listen and study the forest. She kept her findings to herself, not wanting to spook Jalice.

Annilasia’s mind raced. A wind of vicious thoughts fueled by rage howled inside the confines of her head. It eroded her concentration, but try as she might, she couldn’t silence the biting thoughts. Some of them were spent fuming over the Sachem and his minions, but most were aimed at Jalice.

For a moment, Annilasia wondered if perhaps the Tecalica was telling the truth—that she had no recollection of the Black House and what had happened to Hydrim. Maybe the chieftess had been so traumatized by whatever occurred that she’d buried those frightful memories.

Annilasia snorted audibly as the merciful thought cracked under the pressure of her anger. Jalice had no excuse—never had, never would. Whatever had occurred at the Black House had changed Hydrim. The selfish girl had known this when she went on to marry him, turning a blind eye to his methodical rise to power. As black stars would have it, the whole land had faced a terrible outbreak of wickedness due to Jalice’s inadequate willpower.

Annilasia exhaled through clenched teeth and pried open her fists. Resisting the urge to rant at the chieftess was proving difficult. It was overwhelming having Jalice so close now.

She growled under her breath. She needed to stay alert, not filter through her personal struggles to stay civil with a deranged woman. Dismissing the storm of emotions and thoughts, Annilasia focused on her surroundings. The archer and swordsman had crept upon them too easily. She wouldn’t allow that to happen again.

Her brown eyes darted over the slender whitebarks and towering savory trees. The black-and-white aesthetic was nothing short of eerie. The dark savories and their overgrown roots overwhelmed the shorter whitebarks, while the latter writhed like eels under their taller brethren. The bright leaves overhead weren’t enough to quell this war between dark and light. Their colors seemed faded, as if wrung out by some greedy hand bent on stealing away their beauty.

Not only was the forest visually unsettling, but there accompanied it a silence so deafening that Annilasia worried her brooding thoughts could be heard outside her own head. She glanced often at Jalice, paranoid she’d accidentally spoken aloud. It was as if the crowded lines of trees swallowed up natural sound.

Perhaps this was the culprit behind the heavy air that made it difficult to breathe. Fighting off the warriors had been more taxing than she was accustomed to. The air dripped with an unseen assailant that choked at her lungs and an added weight that dragged down her feet. It had been most evident near the Fortress, but the effect was still present in this tangled web of trees. As the breeze lifted away her sweat and sent a shiver across her skin, remorse gripped her over the state of the forest. It’d been too many years since it’d been attended to by Gardeners.

Annilasia allowed herself a rare moment of grief as she took in the faded leaves. It’d been safe once, when she was a child. For a moment, she pictured the forest with crisp air, and with feathery leaves dancing in a warm breeze. Those days were long gone, killed at the hands of the Sachem and, by ignorant association, Jalice too.

A twig snapped, and Annilasia grew rigid. Her arm cocked back, and she readied her knife. Jalice halted a few strides ahead and frantically surveyed their surroundings.

Annilasia ignored the rustle Jalice created in her panic and instead concentrated. No further indication of danger presented itself. Perhaps it had been a rodent rummaging through the leaves. Annilasia remained still a moment longer before relaxing. She brought her arm down and looked over at Jalice. With white knuckles bound in a tense knot, the chieftess eyed the trees.

Annilasia sighed. They had a full journey ahead, and the trek to the Nova Oasis would certainly include perilous terrain. She anticipated more encounters with the Ikaul as well. Jalice couldn’t remain tied.

The chieftess’s eyes grew wider as Annilasia marched towards her. When they were a few feet apart, Jalice snapped her eyes shut and grimaced. Annilasia rolled her eyes and moved to unknot the rope around Jalice’s hands.

“I’m taking these off because I trust you’re going to do exactly as I say,” said Annilasia, removing the gag as well. “You’ve seen I’m not lying about the warriors. But if you so much as step in the wrong direction, I’ll put these back on with no intention of ever taking them off again.”

Jalice massaged her cheeks. “I could’ve died back there because you had me tied up.”

“Somehow, I think you would’ve wasted that liberty on trying to convince those men not to hurt you.”

To Annilasia’s surprise, Jalice didn’t respond with a quick retort. A strange look crossed the chieftess’s face, but she stayed quiet.

The rest of the day dragged on without much interruption. They hadn’t come across any more of the Sachem’s warriors, but Annilasia remained alert. Staying ahead of the search parties would eventually fail. Jalice didn’t have the endurance that the warriors possessed. By herself, Annilasia would’ve been able to outrun them, but that would be impossible with Jalice. The chieftess needed constant rest and refused to fully cooperate. To avoid any more distractions, Annilasia veered them farther from the travel-worn paths of the forest.

A stretch of silence settled between them. Annilasia used this time to study her captive. Jalice used her new freedom from the rope to pick at the dried mud on her clothes and rub at the numerous blisters covering her porcelain skin. After a time of this, Jalice moved on to smoothing out her tousled hair and plucking entwined twigs from it.

As the sunlight waned, Annilasia knew she needed to devise a plan to get Jalice on her side. Time to ditch the tough act and try a new tactic. She cleared her throat to make sure she had Jalice’s attention.

“Do you remember when we climbed the Jagged Cliffs by ourselves?” Hearing no reply from the chieftess, Annilasia continued. “It was the beginning of Thrive, and the rain had been wild and quick. On the day we chose, it was sunny without a cloud in the sky. We were halfway up the rocks when the clouds overcast us. I told you we needed to turn back. You didn’t believe me. You quoted the absence of rain from the Elders’ forecast and swore we’d be safe. But I knew you were wrong.” Annilasia watched Jalice but saw no change in her pace or movement. “So, we turned back. It started raining as soon as we reached the bottom, and a mudslide was flowing within minutes. Had we kept climbing, it would’ve swept us up and killed us.”

Jalice still made no move to turn around or respond. Clumps of her red hair looped between her hands, becoming an intricate weave. The design of cushioned braids incorporated the leaves nestled deep in the strands. Most would deem it nothing more than the beautiful result of Jalice’s nerves, but Annilasia shared the woman’s tribal heritage. Vekuuv weaves carried hidden emotional messages. Jalice had chosen themes of confusion and despair, a secret that, were someone to happen upon the women who shared knowledge of this language, would be recognized as a cry for help. Annilasia chose not to dissuade against it.

“I need you to trust me, Jalice. Like you did back then. Even if you don’t believe me, I need you to trust me. I was right about the warriors. They’re trying to kill you.” Jalice continued to weave her hair, and Annilasia suppressed the urge to lash out. “We used to be friends. Friends listen to each other. They trust one another.”

Jalice’s stride faltered. Not sure if this was an encouraging response, Annilasia plunged forward in her petition. “Trust me if only for the fact that we used to be friends. I never led you wrong back then. I’m not going to now.”

Jalice halted and looked over her shoulder. She narrowed her eyes at Annilasia. “How can I trust someone who abandoned Delilee,” she challenged, “and killed all those warriors?”

“Delilee trusted me,” insisted Annilasia. “She agreed with me that something is wrong with the Sachem. He’s not who you think he is. Look at what’s happened since you left the Fortress. He’s sent warriors to kill you.”

“How do I know that they’re trying to kill me?” asked Jalice. “Maybe they’re trying to get to you. You’re one of their own, slicing the throats of their brothers and sisters during the night. Maybe I’m caught in the middle of their hunt for you. Maybe they don’t recognize me without my royal clothes and tribal paint that you insisted I forego.”

“You know that’s not the problem. They knew who they were attacking.”

“Why would he do this?” Jalice twisted the end of a braid around a finger. “The Sachem loves me. I’m his Tecalica.”

“Yet I’m the one who’s keeping you alive while his warriors hunt you like an animal.”

Jalice gasped before she went silent. Her eyes bore into Annilasia, full of uncertainty and yet obviously conflicted by Annilasia’s pleas. She was close to conceding. The day’s events had altered her perception.

“I just need you to trust me,” said Annilasia.

“It’s hard to trust someone you hardly recognize anymore,” Jalice said sternly. The chieftess’s blue eyes pierced Annilasia with cool regard.

Annilasia bit her tongue and clenched her fists in a struggle to force a tone of tenderness into her next words. “I’m still the girl who was right about the mudslide. You didn’t want to trust me then, and you don’t now. But you need to.”

Without breaking her gaze, Annilasia used one hand to thumb through her feathers, some of which were newly acquired from the slain warriors. She retrieved the quill of the swamp herring, knowing Jalice would recognize it as a symbolic offering of peace. She held the quill out, ignoring her own disgust that this Ikaul custom would hold significance to Jalice. No true Vekuuv would put stock in a feather’s value, yet Jalice was compromised. She was married to an Ikaul and practically worshipped the man.

Although she appeared hesitant, Jalice’s expression softened. The chieftess’s eyes ran across the length of the grey feather that sported moss green dots at its tip. Annilasia held her breath, unwilling to let the passing time rush this moment. She exhaled only when Jalice took tentative steps forward and accepted the offering.

“I don’t believe you about the Sachem,” said Jalice, stepping back while twirling the feather between her fingers. “But maybe something is wrong with the Ikaul warriors. They do seem intent on harming me. Whatever your issues are with my husband, leave me out of them. Just tell me your plan. Where are we going?” She tucked the feather between the fold of her belt and skirt.

“There’s a safe place not far from here,” said Annilasia. “I’ve collected supplies: food, water, blankets. We can rest there tonight.”

“Then what?” asked Jalice. Her tone retained a dose of skepticism. “If the Ikaul warriors are bent on harming me, what do you plan on doing to change that? I must return to the Fortress. The Sachem will search for me until I’m found.” Her eyes lit up. “He could fix this problem with his warriors.”

Annilasia sighed. “This is where you need to trust me. Follow my lead.”

Jalice stared at the ground with her face tightly drawn as she considered Annilasia’s request. After a moment, she groaned and shook her head.

“I’m exhausted and starving,” she whined. “I can’t think like this. For tonight, I’ll go along. Take me to this safe place. But in the morning, we’ll talk more about what it is you plan on doing. I’m not convinced it required that you abduct me and kill all those warriors.”

Annilasia made sure to keep a stoic face as she silently reveled in her victory. All she needed right now was for Jalice to stay in line for the night. She’d figure out a way to extend the woman’s trust beyond that. The seeds of doubt and uncertainty might even fester in Annilasia’s favor during that time.

“We’re almost there, but we need to hurry,” said Annilasia. “The forest grows more dangerous at night.”

The temperature plummeted after the sun disappeared, and the cool breeze of the day whipped into a spiteful bite. Trees formed dark masses of impenetrable walls around the women as the forest embraced the arrival of deep-set shadows.

Annilasia grew more alert as the fading light threatened to leave them vulnerable. She thought of what lurked in the forest. They could easily be ambushed. Any warrior packs tracking their trail would be drawing closer now. Nocturnal creatures hunting for food would find the two women easy prey. Their chances of staying alive in the forest diminished with the continuing disappearance of daylight.

It didn’t take much prodding to encourage a quicker pace from Jalice. The chieftess, clutching her capote, was nervously checking her surroundings.

“How far away are we?” asked Jalice. Her breath came out in wispy vapors in the night’s chill.

“It’s close, but we need to keep moving quickly.”

Not long after this reassurance, Annilasia spotted the unnatural formation that marked their destination. From afar, especially in this darkness, it was easy to mistake it as a lone boulder emerging at a skyward angle. But upon closer consideration, the seamless manner in which the sides blended with its smooth surface—lacking any natural crevices—betrayed its purposeful arrangement. Annilasia pointed at it to draw Jalice’s attention.

“That’s our shelter for the night.”

She moved past Jalice and trotted towards the bunker. Two steel doors, spanning at least four strides tall and supported by steel sidings, created a slanted slab of sealed entry. Large handles extended from each door, and Annilasia grasped one with both hands. She groaned heavily, heaving the weight to swing it open. The door creaked in protest before it relented to gravity and stilled in the air on its hinges. The opening revealed a descending stairwell that plunged into darkness.

“What is this place?” asked Jalice, keeping a wary distance.

“Safety from the dangers out here. Not even cretaceons can strip back these doors.” Annilasia moved onto the first couple of steps before she turned to face Jalice expectantly.

“How did you know this was here?”

“That’s a long story,” said Annilasia. “What matters is that there aren’t many people who know of its existence. Those who do know won’t think to look here for a while.”

Jalice didn’t move to follow. She peered into the pitch black of the enclosure with obvious uncertainty.

Annilasia’s determination to maintain a kind façade collapsed under the pressure of an empty belly and lack of sleep. She opened her mouth to bark at Jalice but was interrupted by a bellowing howl and the echo of similar cries in the distance. Above her, Jalice jerked to face the forest.

Grimalkins. Annilasia estimated the creatures were a mile away; they had very likely picked up the women’s scents.

Jalice said nothing as she turned back and darted down the stairs to stand behind the tillishu.

Grateful that they had reached the shelter before the night’s dangers could befall them, Annilasia grabbed the inner handle of the open door. With equal strain in closing it, the door slammed loudly into place, throwing the women into an enclosed darkness that rivaled even that of the night.