Chapter Eight
He had no need for sleep or food. He was roaming the hills endlessly, calling for his love. Even revenge could wait; there was only one need, one scorching desire burning in his veins: to find Ay’len. The old women were saying that Ma’ki had lost his minds, because Ay’len’s charms had been so dark that he could not be a whole man again without them. But there were a few who knew the truth, like Kaa’sa and her daughters, Ta’yee, and even Ci’tali.
Her husband no longer came to the hut. It was all hers, and she could see to raising her son as she wanted to. She had not seen Ma’ki from up close from the fateful day when Ay’len had been cast away from his tribe. Di’rah had brought Na’el back to life, as she’d promised, and it had all worked out perfectly. She was now receiving many people under her roof, and she was finally treated according to her birth right. She no longer had to bow to anyone; she was happy.

However, it was becoming slightly annoying how Ta’yee was insisting that she should look after Ma’ki, too, not only after her son.
“Go speak to him. How do you want his heart to find peace? He needs his wife now,” the chieftain demanded.
Yes, but not this one, she said to herself. Even after seeing the powerful bond between the two men for so long, she could still not believe Ma’ki would hurt like this for so long. It was not like she wanted him to come back to his senses; life without him lording over her was good.
“I have to take care of Na’el. He’s your flesh and blood, too,” was her only answer.
Ma’ki could rot beneath the sky and the moon, for all she cared.
Ma’ki could hardly say whether he was awake or he was dreaming. For days and nights, he searched for Ay’len. He went back to the village just in the hope that Ay’len might have come back while he was away. A bag with food was always waiting for him each time he left. He knew Kaa’sa was the one to leave it there for him, at the rock he used to sit on, together with Ay’len. He was not surprised to see her there one day.

“Find my son, Ma’ki,” the woman spoke gently.
“What if I cannot find him?” he said bitterly. “What if he’s …”
“Don’t say it, Ma’ki. He is a part of Pala’ka’s soul. A god’s soul is never lost. He is stronger than he looks.”
“I know,” he said, feeling ashamed of losing hope, even if just for a short moment.

Ay’len had to be alive. Ma’ki was sure his heart would just stop beating otherwise.
He was exhausted. He let his head rest against a rock and let himself dream. Something cool and pleasant was pressed against his lips. It was a good dream. He heard the eagle cry, and he smiled. He had not seen his eagle since Ay’len had been cast away.
Warm, smooth hands caressed his face. He opened his eyes slowly. He blinked a few times, not sure of what his eyes were seeing.
“Ay’len,” he whispered. He closed his eyes shut again, wanting to hold on to his dream.
“Ma’ki,” he was shaken gently. “You need to wake up,” the sweet voice he knew so well implored.
He opened his eyes again, and this time he knew it was not a dream. He was embraced forcefully, and he could breathe in the spicy smell of his lover’s hair.
“Ay’len, is it you, my love?” he caressed the man’s body with his hands.
“It’s me, Ma’ki,” he heard the muffled words, and he slowly released the healer so that he could look at the face he loved so much. “I dreamed of you and Pala’ka brought me to you,” Ay’len added while still caressing Ma’ki’s face. “You are so far away from the village.”
“I looked everywhere for you.”
“You will have to go back,” Ay’len spoke with a pained expression on his face.
“No, no,” strong hands grabbed him, forcing him down, gluing his slender body to the one he knew so well. “I found you. I will never let you go.”
“You must. There is a danger. Pala’ka showed me in my dream. Be aware of the woman with black blood on her hands, the eagle spoke to me. You must find her. Something will happen,” he begged, although he was keeping Ma’ki close to him, as the hunter was keeping him in his arms.
“Only if you promise you will still be here. I won’t forgive you if you don’t want to see me again.”
“I will be here. The eagle will show you the way.”
The bird descended next to them, rustling his feathers.  Ma’ki laughed for the first time in a long time. He was so happy he didn’t care about dangers.
“They should all rot, for all I care,” he mumbled. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“Ma’ki,” Ay’len kissed him gently. “Your father is there, and your son, too. My mother and my sisters …”
“He betrayed you!” he spat angrily. “He cast you away, believing that woman’s lies.”
“He had to do it. Otherwise, they would just have waited for the right time to strike me down. And you.”
Ma’ki shook his head. “How have you lived here, so far away?”
“Our eagle helped me. He brought me meat, and I know how to make fire. I have water close, and there is a hole in the hill where I can sleep when it rains. It’s not that bad,” Ay’len smiled at him. “But you … you are …” the healer’s voice broke, and he buried his face in the man’s neck. The hunter’s hands were almost just skin and bones; they were still strong, but the man looked like a shadow.
“Don’t worry, sweet Ay’len. Now that I have you back, you’ll give me strength.”
“Please take care of the village for me, Ma’ki. Be my eyes there. Find her now, the woman with black blood on her hands. Fire is the answer.”
Ay’len helped him on his feet. “Hurry, please,” he pushed him away reluctantly, but Ma’ki embraced him again and kissed him with all the passion he had and had always had for the healer, before letting go, too.
He walked tirelessly from dawn till dusk, Ay’len’s words in his ears. He would not have returned, but Ay’len’s pleas had been stronger than him. He only knew one thing; that after he would find that woman, he would be free to go back to his love.
The village seemed as silent as always as he approached. There was no sign of a bad omen just yet. He entered his old hut, to check on his son. Something in Ay’len’s words had stirred in him a feeling he had no idea was there: he had to keep Na’el safe, no matter how much he despised the boy’s mother.
Ma’ki walked in silently, without disturbing the inhabitants’ still deep sleep. His eyes were used to the faint light of the breaking dawn and quickly adjusted. He stared at his son, his small face smooth, without a care, a small finger forgotten in his mouth. The hunter caressed his offspring’s cheeks with his calloused hands, but the baby continued his sleep.
Ci’tali moved in her sleep, and he stopped. He looked at her; hate flared for a split second in his dark eyes, but Ay’len’s sweet face appeared in his mind, urging him to remember the reason why he was back. So he turned swiftly on his heels and left.
He went directly to his father’s hut, after that. Ta’yee was already awake; he greeted his first born with a smile.
“You’re back, my son,” he embraced him. “Please stay this time.”
Ma’ki did not respond to his father’s embrace. “I am here now only because Ay’len begged me to,” he said curtly.
“Ay’len?” his father looked shocked. “That cannot be.”
“Oh, no, he is not dead,” Ma’ki continued. “Despite your plan of having him killed, he survived.”
Ta’yee was hurt by his son’s words. “You know that I never wanted that. It is my duty to protect everyone …”
“Everyone but him! Tell me, father, do you believe that woman’s lies, just like everyone else? And Ay’len thinks you all still need saving”, the hunter spat angrily.
Ta’yee remained silent. Could it be that his son had met the healer, surviving out there? Or was his son really losing his minds?
“Son, you have a family here. Stop chasing ghosts, I beg you,” he shook the young man’s shoulders gently.
“A family?” Ma’ki was not hiding his disdain. “A lying, hateful woman? A father who doesn’t care for my happiness? A tribe easily swayed by poisoned words and gifts?”
“Your own son,” Ta’yee spoke, and Ma’ki stopped.
“My son,” he said bitterly. “For him, I came back. And even for you, father”, he murmured. “Ay’len is not a ghost. He’s flesh and blood, and he is as loving and caring for you all, as he has always been.”
“You cannot bring him back, son,” Ta’yee warned. “A castaway is as good as dead for the tribe.”
“Don’t worry, father. Ay’len won’t come back. I won’t let him do that, even if you all get on your knees and beg. I will go to him, but, first, I must do what he sent me to do. To save you all, once more.”
“Save us? From what?” Ta’yee was getting worried. He had trusted Ma’iala back in the days; he had trusted Ay’len as well. If his son’s words were not the ramblings of a mad man, and Ma’ki looked every bit as sane as he could remember …
“He told me Pala’ka showed him a woman with black blood on her hands. Bad omen for the tribe. He could not tell me more because he did not know more either.”
“Women have blood on their hands all the time. They must prepare the meat we bring from our hunts.”
Ma’ki shook his head. “I must stay here, and watch over the village until something happens. Ay’len said something about dark blood. Blood so dark that it turns black.”
An eagle’s cry almost made the chieftain jump. An ominous feeling was hanging on his shoulders.
“You should have brought him here. He knows better what to do.”
“And let himself stoned to death?” Ma’ki reacted. “Never. I almost lost him. Never again one of this tribe will touch him, except for his mother and sisters. Pala’ka never forgets, and he never forgives. I will never forgive you, either, father.”
He turned to leave.
“Where are you going, Ma’ki?” the man almost implored.
“I’ll find a place. When it is over, I will be gone forever.”
Ta’yee stared after his son’s silhouette, with moist eyes. Ma’ki would never understand what he did; it had been the only way to save Ay’len for the moment from certain death.
People were whispering about Ma’ki’s return. This time, he looked as he was to stay, but he was not living under his own roof. Ci’tali trembled as she saw him, for the first time in months. Was he back to exact revenge? She had to know.
“Ma’ki,” she called. He did not bother raising his eyes from the knife he was slowly sharpening with a rock.
“Husband,” she got a little closer, conscious of all the eyes staring at her. He could do nothing to her in the open, like that. There were too many people around.
“I am not your husband,” Ma’ki spoke slowly, menacingly, without stopping, without even throwing her a look. “I only have one wife.”
“Ay’len is dead, Ma’ki,” she spoke to him like he was dim-witted. “I am your only wife now.”
Ma’ki was glad that his father had kept the secret about him finding Ay’len. At least, he could trust his father on such matters.
“Even dead, Ay’len is ten thousand times better than you. I’d rather lie with a corpse than with you.”
She had no feelings for him. But his words still stung. She darted her eyes around. Most people had stopped what they were doing and were waiting for the scene to unfold. She could not lose, so she took a step more towards her husband.
“Come back to the hut. Come see your son.”
Ma’ki stopped for a second. Ci’tali took his hesitation as a good sign and placed a hand on his shoulder. He moved so fast she could not scream. A hand in her throat was cutting her air intake, and she grabbed helplessly at the bony fingers.
Luckily for her, the passersby intervened, and Ma’ki was taken away, the grip on her throat released. She coughed, falling to her knees, trying hard to breathe. The hunter shook away the hands holding him.
“She is your wife. You should respect her, not try to kill her,” one man spoke, and he was rewarded instantly with a menacing look.
“Like you all killed my wife? My real wife?” he pushed hard against the man’s chest. The others caught his arms, and he did not struggle. He just spat at their feet. “Keep that lying woman away from me. Or it will be my right and pleasure to send her to her gods.”
Someone helped Ci’tali to her feet. She threw her husband a venomous look.
“Yes, look at me with your hateful eyes. Do you want to have me killed, too?”
Those present started to murmur. Ci’tali knew she could not press her luck by saying something that was not to be said. Ma’ki was the chieftain’s first born, after all. Getting them to hate Ay’len had been complicated enough; turning them against Ma’ki was too dangerous to do without careful planning.
“Di’rah,” she called. She could not see the woman anywhere. Entering the old tribeswoman’s hut, she started scooping around. There had to be something there she could use.
“Ci’tali,” she was interrupted from her rummaging. “Why are you here?” the woman eyed her suspiciously.
“Di’rah,” she hurried to the old woman and caught her boney hands into hers. “I need to make Ma’ki want me again.”
Di’rah shook her head. “You should let Ay’len’s dark charms wear off first. Who knows what Ma’ki can do to you if he loses his minds?”
“But so many full moons have passed,” Ci’tali complained. She handed a small package she’d brought with her to Di’rah.
With greed in her eyes, the woman took the gift. A shiny necklace, with matching bracelets, was hidden in the leather bound.
“For your granddaughter. She is to marry soon”, Ci’tali spoke, smiling.
“So beautiful. She will be so happy,” Di’rah’s eyes sparkled. “Maybe I can help you, Ci’tali. But beware, this is powerful. You must find a way on your own to give it to him. And you cannot give him too much at one time, do you understand?”
Ci’tali nodded quickly. Di’rah’s concoctions had a tendency to have a dangerous side to them, which was exactly what she wanted.
She knew there could be no way for Ma’ki to accept anything coming from her. So she decided to appeal to a trick. Ta’yee was much easier to fool. After all, the man had played a major role in sending Ay’len away, and it was because of him that almost everything had been handed to her. Almost everything. With Ma’ki brought to his knees or even worst, she could be, at last, free.
Ta’yee was just a man, after all.
“Your son doesn’t want me near him,” she complained after the chieftain signaled her to sit in front of him. “I cannot even bring him food. I worry for him,” she pretended to wipe imaginary tears from her eyes.
Ta’yee sighed. “He has always been stubborn. Always wanting to have his own way. You need to give him time, Ci’tali. But it is good that you worry about him. What do you have there?”
“I prepared some food for him. If you give it to him, he won’t refuse it.”
Or suspect anything, she mused.
Ta’yee didn’t move to take the food pot. Ci’tali closed her fists underneath the long sleeves of her dress.
“You should take the food to him. Show him that you care about him. He needs your love now more than anything.”
“But, father …” she begged, “he would just say ‘no’. It makes me so sad to know that I cannot do anything for my husband. Na’el will grow up seeing his mother sad and with his father always away.”
Ta’yee shook his head with bitterness. “Alright, Ci’tali. Since he denies your right to care for him, I will send the food to him.”
Ci’tali felt like jumping with joy, but she offered Ta’yee one of her sweetest smiles.
“You are a good man, father. I wish Ma’ki were more like you.”
The chieftain frowned for a second and searched the young woman’s features. Ci’tali’s beautiful face showed no sign of the darkness lurking underneath.
Ma’ki was searching the sky with his eyes. The woman with black blood on her hands had yet to appear, and he felt his soul burning with desire to see Ay’len again. The eagle did not seem to be around, either. Bird cries could be heard once in a while, but he could recognize his eagle from a thousand.
A young woman approached.
“This is for you, from your father,” the woman placed the pot with food next to him and bowed respectfully. “He says you should eat more.”
He just nodded. Kaa’sa was sending him food every day, so he wished for nothing. But it would have been a sign of disrespect to send back his father’s gift. No matter what bad blood was between him and the chieftain, no one had to be made witness to that. It was enough that his family life had been shredded to threads by the entire tribe. He needed no more gossip.
The woman left, but he did not take the pot from the ground. He was forcing himself to eat enough as it was because he had seen the look of worry in Ay’len’s eyes when the healer had seen him. He entered his temporary hut, one abandoned long ago, where he had found shelter until he could leave again. He did not notice the greedy eyes following his every move from not so far away.
“I am telling you, he’s not going to eat it,” the young woman whispered to the man’s ear. “Go take it. He is mad now. He won’t know.”
Hesitantly, the man approached the food pot carefully. He snatched it fast and went back to the woman.
“Stealing is a bad thing,” he spoke. His voice sounded like a child’s.
“Yes, yes, and being stupid as you are, is bad, too,” she pushed him aside and took the food pot from his hands.
The loud cries of anguish raised the entire tribe to its feet. The old healers were brought to the hut where a woman was writhing in pain, while her husband was staring at her with wide eyes, not doing anything.
“I told her stealing is bad,” he rocked back and forth, repeating the same words. No one said anything to him, though.
The old healers gathered around the screaming woman.
“We need to bleed her. There is too much bad blood in her”, one said, while the others tried to keep her down. “Evil entered her; it must be let out.”
Di’rah stared at the woman in disbelief. She let the others handle the patient, while she approached the man.
“What did she steal?” she shook him.
He gestured towards a pot in which a few leftovers remained. She smelled the pot quickly, and she frowned. “Where did she steal it from?”
The man shook his head in fear. “She made me do it. I told her stealing is bad”, he continued.
A loud scream pierced through the air. From the woman’s palms, black blood started to pour.