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What Lies Ahead

(Tester Episode For A New Literary World)

By Mantrid Brizon

(10/16/2021)

The wagon wheels squeak as the carts shift, bouncing over roots and rocks. Emerging from beyond the trees, they make their way out of the vast expanse of the jungle and into a large, verdant field. Old, rotten stumps seem to indicate that this field was once part of the forest, which has since been cleared. What power they possess! The light glistens from their clothing and weapons, now that they're no longer shrouded by the jungle canopy.

The others focus on their captors' strange clothing, which is dense and sturdy. It protected them from the stone spears and daggers of the warriors, and the claws of the thrashing females. The bars of their prison are made of the same material. Harder than rock, it's golden in color and as cold as a flowing stream. It smells strangely, almost like fresh blood. Their ears perk as their captors speak amongst themselves.

Their language is so strange and complex, not the simple signals of those who cling to the icy bars. Pointing toward the distance, the strange, furless men seem eager to return from whence they came. Following their motions, the prisoners are left in awe by what they see in the distance. Wide eyes stare at a grand village, but this village is built of stone! The marvelous sight belies the terror of their new reality.

Is that where they're going? Whimpers emanate from the cages built around the carts. Had they known this would happen, they never would've raided those settlements, killed those village men and raped their women. Had they known how powerful the seemingly weak and furless beings were, had they understood the strength of their will, medicine and magic, they'd have moved deeper into the village. The men, however, didn't understand and couldn't help themselves.

They'd spied on the strangers and noted their females. Large, perky breasts and lovely, curving waist called out to them. Broad hips that are perfect for child bearing, and plump buttocks that would cushion their thrusts made them burn with desire. The first warrior who struck returned with both settlers, a man and a woman. The man fought valiantly against his ropes but could only lay there and watch as male after male enjoyed his woman.

The curious females tried to explore the captive man's body, eager to see if he functioned similarly to their men, but he was too violent. He had to be killed. The woman tried to flee but being slower and without the stamina of the warriors, she was soon recaptured. The child bore to her was of the strangest form, a fusion of her own, furless body and the natural shapes of her many partners, who took her at their leisure.

Eager to experiment, the strongest males made another, and this child was as odd as the first. After nine seasons, another settlement abruptly arrived, and the warriors struck again. This time, however, some managed to escape the attack, fleeing on the backs of massive beasts and in a direction that led to nowhere, or so they'd assumed. They had no idea so many of these furless beings lived so close, and in such density!

The warriors prepared themselves, confident that they could handily defeat any of the strange beings who might dare encroach on their territory. Of comparable size and with superior strength and senses, as well as the gifts of claws and fangs, they thought they had no reason for concern. When the strange beings arrived, however, they came in quantities the tribe had never seen before. It would take all of the food in the forest to support so many!

Perhaps they don't eat at all? Maybe they subsist on their magical energies? Could they be gods?! Fearful of the angry men in the shimmering clothes, with golden daggers as long as their arms, the tribe tried to make peace. They offered the captured women whom they'd been enjoying, though some, including the first, seemed eager to remain with the tribe. It was of no use. The furless ones attacked, and a bloody battle ensued.

The tribal warriors were horrified when their stone weapons broke on the shiny clothes of the furless ones. They were subsequently wounded when their claws broke on the hard clothing, and their fangs chipping on their large bracelets. The big, golden daggers cleaved arms and feet with ease, and when a weapon bent, one of the furless warriors took a moment to retreat, hastily bending it back into shape with the aid of two slender tree trunks that had grown together.

The tribe's warriors had never seen anything like it! When they were about to retreat, the furless ones used their magic to stop them. From sacks hanging on the hips of several men, they flung a reddish-gray powder at them. The medicine was strong! Olfactory sensors were overwhelmed by the strange and pungent scent, and a warrior shaman succumbed to it. She was there to beseech the ancestors for strength and protection.

The furless ones noted her body, her ample breasts and slender waist. They spoke amongst themselves in the language that none could decipher, only to then drag the weakened shaman away. A runner managed to escape, and spoke of the horror. The shaman, the one who could commune with the spirits, was powerless to stop the men in golden clothes from enjoying her. They used her loins as eagerly as their own warriors had used the women they'd captured.

The message was clear; this was revenge, and they were going to suffer. The women and children tried to flee but the furless ones came too quickly. They rampaged through the tribe's homes, destroying and setting fire to them with flames they carried in golden cups atop long sticks. What power! The elders were slain, the children were slain, and the females were taken. Those who were nearly birthing age and those already beyond it were spared.

A handful of the weaker males, those who often failed to find mates and did not serve as warriors, were also spared. Why would these powerful beings desire such inferior males? Using the strange medicine, their senses were weakened and they had little choice but to submit, to kneel before the strangers and be bound with links of the same, hard material that formed their clothing and weapons. Upon arriving at the carts, the survivors marveled at the sight.

They'd used small version of these, but the work to make the wheels and to form the box is so tedious! Had they the tools of the furless ones, perhaps they could've made them better? They were loaded into the carts, one by one, and the beings spoke strange words while one man made marks on what appeared to be a large, dried out rectangular leaf. It crinkled like old leaves, and it smelled similarly.

He made a line for each and every captive, and seemed pleased by the count. They eagerly set forth, and now, as they move closer and closer toward the white stone village, the captives worry about their fate. Will these beings sacrifice them to their gods? Will they use them for food or rend their hides from their bodies and make garments of their fur? No one knows for certain. How could they even hazard a guess, when these furless ones are so drastically different?

After a journey lasting nearly half the day, the carts pull into the village of stone. The cacophony of noise is as overwhelming as the sights and the smells. Many cover their ears, folding them flat against the tops of their heads. As the sun begins to set, the furless ones bring the carts to a platform made of wood. Large and circular, another platform elevates a man who shouts to the crowd around him.

His strange language means nothing to the captives, but something certainly holds their attention. Other tribals, like them, are standing atop the lesser platform and bound in the golden links! Looking about, they see hundreds, perhaps even thousands of them. Now deep into the stone village, they witness strange sights. Others walk among the furless ones, wearing cloth strips around their necks and with ropes attached.

An adult female is led by one of the furless children, as though she were their mate, except that the child is too young and also a female. This perplexes the captives. The man on the pedestal shouts as he points to a nude, adult female. Those below them, standing on the ground, hold up strange artifacts and shout back, while the pedestal man keeps track of who offers more.

When no one else offers, he shouts as he grins from cheek to cheek, pointing to the victor. He removes the golden links from the female's body and wrists, ties a cloth around her neck and directs her to the man who had just traded for her flesh. Scared and confused, she looks for any source of stability, and follows the man who had bartered for her. What other choice does she have?

The remnants of the conquered tribe are shocked and afraid. How long has this been occurring? How many of their kin have been subjugated in this manner? The carts are opened and more furless warriors lead the tribal women and their weakling men up the wooden steps of the platform. One by one, they're traded away for circular trinkets, some the color of water, some the color of dry grass, some the color of rock, and some the color of the sun.

The two latter trinkets seem to be the most valuable to these strange beings, and those who hold them are given esteem from the pedestal man. One of the furless males barters for the shaman's daughter, an older man claims two young and unimpressive males, a family with a child accepts an older female, one of their tribe's nursemaids, and so on and so forth, until it's finally her turn.

Standing before the crowd, she tries to control her shivering. Her ears droop at the sight of the strange faces of the furless ones, who stare at her, examining her form for her merits. Relatively low status among her tribe, who value females with a figure ripe for childbearing and breasts for nursing, she was unsurprised but grateful when she garnered little attention.

Still, she was desired and men made offers. They waved their trinkets, but they were not the shimmering circles of silver or gold. One man, however, spoke up. Clad in the shimmering clothes, he holds two silver circles high above his head. To her shock, he seems eager to claim her. Removing his golden hat, which covers much of his head and leaves only a slot for his eyes, nose and mouth, she quietly gasps.

She recognizes him! During the skirmish at her village, this man found her cowering in the back of a burning hut. He offered his hand but she refused, even after he sheathed his massive dagger. When the fire had caused enough damage to open a hole in the wall of the hut, she made her move. He thwarted her escape, racing outside and throwing the pungent and painful powder on her.

She fell to the ground and he collected her, but he carried her with a gentleness she was not expecting. She was placed into the golden links, alongside many others. As she road in the cart to the stone-built village, he stayed close to her. She noticed his glances, which appeared to show a mixture of curiosity and pity. Once, he spoke to her with his mystical language, and though she didn't understand, she heard his timbre and saw his eyes.

He meant her no harm. He is merely a warrior, doing as he was meant to. As she stands atop the pedestal, the kindly warrior removes his shiny, golden hat and holds it beneath an arm, speaking in his strange language to the man before him.

“I'll take her." He insists.

“Are you certain?" The auctioneer asks. “She's not very well-built for a female; she's rather scrawny and her breasts are small. Also, she looks too inexperienced to know how to work as a servant."

“I said I'll take her. Do you not want my silver?"

“Sold!"

Shivering as the cloth is tied loosely around her neck, she looks toward the pedestal man, only to look back at the furless one who'd bartered for her flesh. He may be kind, but now he owns her. What are his plans? What horrible things might this man do to her?!

“It's alright." He speaks softly, taking hold of her leash.

“Hrrm?!" Her eyes watch his hands very carefully.

“Let me take you home. You'll be safe there. I promise."