It was about two hours after noon when Vaenuth and her caravan came upon the bloody sign in the sand. They had already eaten, and a few members of the caravan emptied their lunch onto the desert dunes at the sight of three men, half-eaten, and their horses, in the same state. One of the men was completely unrecognizable, while the other two still had faces. An arm was missing here, a leg there. All three had been gutted. The horses were even scantier, most of their meat torn right from the bones. Flies and vultures had already begun to set in, tearing at the carcasses like the feast they had been made.
These three men had been scouts for Vaenuth, riding the dunes to warn of impending dangers or relieving sights of safety where they might be found. The Logren rivers were under ten days away, but these men had been killed without ever seeing them.
“Rutting Slithers,” Banno said.
“The ones we spoke to?” Hulean asked, his face grim. Vaenuth had been surprised when he looked at those bodies without getting queasy.
“No,” Vaenuth said. The female Slither had been too friendly to her, and that tribe had travelled north during the night after the met. These very scouts had watched their way without any issues, and returned unharmed. Now, they were carrion. “This was a tribe from the Scalelands. To them, we’re no different than two-legged water buffalo.”
“Look,” Tagg said. With the butt of a spear, he pulled the bark of a cactus away from the grisly sight. It bore two symbols in the trade language: “Give. Five.”
Banno cursed again. He walked to the top of the nearest dune, his wide linen robe splashing through the sand as he claimed the peak. He turned his head around, scouring the desert for signs of their newfound enemy.
“What does it mean?” Hulean asked.
“They want five,” Tagg said.
“Five what?”
“Five people,” the warrior said. He tossed away the husk of cactus and spat at it. “What are we going to do? There’s no outrunning them. It’s too far to the Logren Rivers.”
“Vae, there’s no one around,” Banno called. The wind was picking up, ruffling his robe as he began the walk back down.
She shouted back up at him. “Doesn’t matter. We’re prey in the middle of their hunting ground.” She pulled off her hood, despite the wind and scratched the side of her scalp, where the shaved section of her hair was starting to grow back in. She needed to take a razor to it again. She only liked a curtain of hair growing from the top of her head, not the sides. “Get everyone together. Put up some wind bluffs or something. Quick.”
Soon enough, it was as she said. The thirty members of her caravan gathered behind a few makeshift tents to hear the grim news. Vaenuth delivered it, though the horror on their faces reflected her own hatred. Her loathing for fate, or whatever fiendish god had put her through all of this, to come now to such a precipice of hopeless danger. “We’re cornered, no matter how we try to escape,” she told them. “We stand and fight, or we give them what they want.”
“Five people?” Hulean asked. “How can you even know that from just two poorly written letters?”
“We know it,” Banno said. “It’s how they speak to us. All the tribes. No need to write five what when there’s already bodies to show it.”
“Five,” said Elli, tears on her cheeks. “I’ll go,” she decided, setting her jaw.
Vaenuth stared at her. “What?” Elli was a much softer person than Vaenuth, and even Vae paled at terror of such a sacrifice.
“I’ll do it, for the group.” Elli stepped forward and crossed her arms.
“We don’t even know if it will stop them—”
“I’m in too,” said Reu, one of Tagg’s fighters.
“And I,” said Orsot, a man who was irritatingly devout to the Eternal Emperor, but was a skilled hunter.
Seven volunteered, including Elli.
Vaenuth stood before her caravan, her family, and tried not to break down. “They only need five,” she said.
“Elli shouldn’t, she’s our best chef,” Banno said.
“Elli, sit down,” Hulean added.
She looked as though she might resist, her tearstained face set with a ferocity Vaenuth had never seen in her. But then, reluctantly, she stepped back and returned to the wagon seat she’d been on. She covered her mouth with a hand and watched as they continued to discuss.
“Pressip is one of our best hunters,” Tagg pointed out. “He should stay too.”
“Pressip stays then,” Vaenuth decided. She was still leader, she had to be. For them. “That’s our five then.” All of them were men.
A wave of tears and sobs broke out.
“Is there no other way?” Hulean asked. “Such a cost…”
“This is the only way,” Banno said. “I’ve heard stories of worse from the Scalelands. Entire groups butchered, traded and feasted upon. We might be lucky, though it feels like the opposite by so, so much.”
“Let’s get the caravan moving again. Have Belmyre ready, and I’ll catch up after I talk with these heroes,” Vaenuth said.
Banno took care of Belmyre, and made it clear with a stern nod that he would not be riding with the caravan until Vaenuth rode at his side. Soon, all of the wagons were riding again. Some of them glanced at the bloody hole they had dug for the remains of their scouts.
Once they were all past, save Banno and the five, Vaenuth put her hands on two of their shoulders and said to them, “Your names will be remembered. As long as our caravan lives, you’ll be our heroes. By any of the gods you worship, you’ll find yourselves in paradise once you… endure this.”
They bowed their heads and received her blessing in their grief. The sun beat down from overhead, merciless. Not a cloud in the sky.
“I hate that we must consider this, but, death at the hands of the Slithers may be… more than any of you can endure. I don’t know this. I don’t know what they will do to you,” she said. “But I must, damn I hate that I must, offer you an alternative.” She showed them an inch of the blade at her waist, a wide-bladed iron knife. “Only if you want.”
“Please,” said Orsot. “Uncertainty challenges my resolve…”
A few others nodded.
Only one voiced his resistance. Reu shook his head. He was flushed, full of anger. “I will fight for my survival, even as I fight for yours,” he said. “Let me take a few of the Slithers to oblivion with me.”
Vaenuth nodded. “As you wish.” She drew her knife, to kill her own children or so it felt. For them, she’d do it.
“I can handle this,” Reu said, and put his hand on hers.
She looked at him, and carefully considered. If these five failed to satisfy the Slithers, they might come after the caravan once more. She had to trust he would do as he said, and face the tribe that came, no matter how horrific it was.
“You have to lead those people, never kill them,” Reu said. “Let me bear this burden.”
When Vaenuth relented, and turned to take Belmyre’s reigns from Banno, she saw a mist in her big friend’s eyes that she had rarely seen before. He gave Reu a nod, and followed Belmyre on foot. The wind tore at her eyes, and she pulled her hood up again, wrapping a veil about her face. Within it, none could see her eyes.
When they got to the top of the next dune, she heard a gentle cry out, and turned to see. She had to see. Reu had killed two already, and spilled the blood of a third with his bronze sword before the sandy slope hid the scene from her.
When they reached the top of the next dune, she saw another, in the distance. A sleek dark lizard was watching them, leaning on a tall bone spear. A Slither, watching to see if their prey would join in the sport. Vaenuth, half delusional perhaps, pointed back at the five they had left; the reptile descended the hill it was on, and vanished from sight. Ahead, Vaenuth’s caravan awaited her, and she prayed that this was the last they would see of the Scalelands tribe.