Page 54 of Caveman Alien's Bride

A boy stands in the doorway, eyes wide. “Chief, there are Krast men here.”

I frown. “Krast men on our turf?”

“They say they want to speak with you.”

I look around the circle of men, but they all look as surprised as I am. “How many?”

“Two, Chief.”

“Let them in.”

“Yes, Chief!” The boy runs back the way he came.

I sigh and get up. “I suppose we might as well see what they want. Probably they just want to borrow a pot of grease.”

The men chuckle.

Deciding against putting on the headdress or cape, I stride out of the hut towards the totem pole.

The two green-striped Krast men are there, guarded by six Tretter men with their hands on their swords. The visitors don’t look too war-like, but they’re strong and obviously capable.

“Greetings, men of the Krast tribe,” I begin. “I am Chief Korr'ax. What brings you to our Tretter village?”

They greet me with perfect courtesy, then look around at all the Tretter men. “Our shaman has a message for you, Chief Korr'ax. But it is a secret message that must be delivered only to you.”

“A secret message?” I smirk, suspecting what it is about. “How quaint. Is it your shaman that runs the Krast tribe now, then?”

“The Krast tribe is run by Chief Frant’az,” one of them says. “But this message comes from our shaman, not from the chief. If you will not receive the message in secrecy, then we must leave and the message goes undelivered.”

I sigh. “I am not a man who enjoys secrecy, warriors. Nor does the Tretter tribe want to have messages hidden from them. But this once I shall hear the message.” I turn my back and walk back to the chief’s hut.

The door closes behind the messengers.

I sit down by the table, but I don’t invite the messengers to sit. I am a chief, and they were not invited.

“The message is intended for you alone,” one of them says and glances at Breti’ax.

“Elder Breti’ax will hear it anyway,” I tell them. “Every chief needs advisors. Now speak.”

“Shaman Jedr’ox,” the older messenger begins, “of the Krast tribe sends his regards and his respects to Chief Korr'ax of the Borok and Tretter tribes. He has heard that you are now married. To awoman. Rumor has it that there is another woman in your tribes as well.”

I make sure my face doesn’t move. Rumors have spread fast.

“Our shaman says,” the other continues, “that a chief who can find women in the jungle must be a remarkable warrior, blessed by the Ancestors. In his prayers and meditations and visions, the Ancestors have told the shaman that the Krast tribe needs a new chief. One who is blessed, one who can give the Krast tribe women, too.”

Still I don’t move a muscle. It’s plain where this is going.

“And so,” the first man goes on, “the Krast tribe invites Chief Korr’ax to challenge our Chief Frant’az for the leadership of our tribe.IfChief Korr’ax will also bring a woman to our tribe, for the men to Worship and Mate with.”

“What does Chief Frant’az say about this?” I ask, despite the answer being obvious.

“The chief doesn’t know about it,” the older man says, looking down. “It is his tribe only that offers this invitation, led by the shaman.”

“The Krast tribe wants me to come to their village, duel with their chief, and kill him,” I sum up.

“If necessary,” the younger man says. “But we will prepare the chief for your arrival, so that he may choose to step down without blood being spilled. We have all heard of Chief Prit’oz of the Tretter tribe, and his foolish attempts to fight you instead of simply…” The man goes quiet and stares past me, his eyes widening and his mouth hanging open.

I immediately know what he’s seeing, and I don’t even need to turn to check. “Messengers from the Krast tribe, allow me to introduce Woman Bryar from Earth. My wife.”

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