Ted Dekker - Outlaw

Certainly not a leader worthy of ruling the Tulim valley.

I saw all of this written on their faces as Kirutu and Wilam faced off, two brothers vying for power.

“Wilam.”

It was Melino. She was staring up the slope to my left, north.

“Wilam!”

There on the hill stood the same man who’d once come to my aid. He was too far away to recognize by face, but his casual stance, leaning on that spear, and his furs could not be mistaken. The Nameless One.

Wilam saw him. So did Kirutu. As did all gathered, following Melino’s stare.

But this time they did not flee. Kirutu stilled them, hand raised. His order rumbled over the crowd. “Stay.”

They stayed. Motionless.

As if satisfied that he’d done what he’d come to do, the Nameless One slowly turned and walked out of view, spear in hand.

Wilam and Melino exchanged a furtive look.

Kirutu turned to his brother. “So be it,” he said.

Wilam nodded at his guard. “Bring her.”

And then he loped from the clearing, up the path that led to the Impirum village.

As one, his people fell in behind him.

I was going home.

My new home.

Chapter Fifteen

A FULL DAY passed before I stood before Wilam again. I was sequestered in the upper courts, in a clean but sparsely appointed hut, guarded at all times. A servant brought me food and water, but no one else came and the servant refused to speak to me.

I understood this much: I was the cause of a great rupture in the Tulim valley. A part of me regretted having made such a bold play for my life. How many lives would be lost on my account?

But the better part of me was grateful to be alive.

On the evening of the next day, I was summoned and taken by a warrior to the Muhanim, that great meeting place reserved for the lords in the upper court.

Melino cut us off as we approached the towering entrance. She took my hand and dismissed the warrior. The man scowled but held his place along the path. The tension between them was unmistakable. I might have been saved from Kirutu, but my actions had earned me new enemies among the Impirum.

“Remember only one thing,” Melino whispered as we stepped up to the entrance. “If you do not conceive soon, all will be lost. Think of nothing else. Only a child can save you now.”

Then she led me into the Muhanim.

Wilam sat by the fire, etching markings into the shaft of a spear. Four other muhan warriors watched me from across the room. Not a soul spoke.

I stood with hands at my sides, tickled by a bead of sweat that ran down my neck and broke over my collarbone. Wilam stared at me for few moments, then set his spear aside and stood.

“Leave us.”

The warriors made for the door immediately, followed by Melino.

Wilam and I were alone.

The fire lapped at the stuffy night air inside the Muhanim, casting its orange hue over menacing faces carved into shields and over figures painted on the walls.

Wilam stood tall next to the platform, watching me, surrounded by drums and weapons and cured boar hides. Every detail of his body was imprinted on my mind. His white eyes, fixed upon my face like twin moons; his coal-dark skin, glistening in the firelight; his powerful muscles strung along his frame like cords of black steel; his firm jaw and fully fleshed lips; his large hands and carefully manicured nails.

I saw it all and I began to tremble.

For a long time we just stared at each other. When he did speak, my as of yet limited understanding of the language slowed our conversation considerably more than what I will convey.

“Do you understand what kind of trouble you have brought us?” he asked, voice low.

“I don’t remember bringing anything. I remember being taken by force.”

His eyes remained on me, glistening. “Isaka can no longer hear or speak. The future of the Tulim rests on my shoulders. If Kirutu seizes power, he will rule with a spear.”

“You won’t let that happen,” I said, but it was desperate thinking. I had cast my lot with him, but Kirutu would have his day. My whole existence rested on Wilam’s ability to protect and save me.

“It’s no longer in my hands,” he said. “I was won by my wife’s whispers. Melino has placed me at the whim of your womb.”

I was at a loss. In many ways he was right.

“You’re too strong to be so easily fooled, my lord,” I finally managed. “You saw in me a path to power. Do you now doubt your own judgment?”

That gave him a few seconds’ pause.

“My advisers doubt. You are as slippery as Melino.”

“Too slippery for your advisers, perhaps. But not for Wilam, the lord who would rule.”

“Maybe more slippery than Melino,” he said.

“And you have more wisdom than your advisers,” I returned.

He returned my stare. In the space of under a minute we had achieved an understanding that surprised even me.

Wilam walked up to me. His body smelled of sweet lotion that reminded me of the white orchids that grew in the surrounding jungle. Or was it the scent of coconut oil? But I could also smell the musky odor of man and flesh beneath it all.

He reached out and touched my hair, gently raking his fingers through it.

“It’s soft,” he said.

I suddenly couldn’t speak.

He walked around me, touching my shoulders and the back of my head. Only once did he feel my flesh, and then only with a soft pinch along my side to measure my fat.

He stood before me again. “You need to eat more,” he said.

I looked down at my body and saw a lean, youthful form. Without sugar in my diet and with far more exercise than I was accustomed to, I was thinner than I had been in Atlanta, but not by much.

It occurred to me that Wilam was only like me, trying to come to grips with a situation that was foreign to him. In his lifetime he’d surely never encountered a woman who would not count it a great blessing to be with him.

He retreated to the reclining platform covered in boar hides, sat atop it, folded his legs one over the other, and touched the platform beside him. “Sit.”

Without hesitation I approached him and sat, folding my legs like his own.

Wilam stared at the fire in the center of the large room. “I want you to teach me the ways of your world. What Melino says is correct: the Tulim will be crushed as the Asmat are being crushed by the coming of the foreigners.”

“I will teach you.”

His head turned to me. “These canoes in the sky we call spirits, they have great power?”

“Enough power to destroy the Tulim.”

“Kirutu would make war on the wam.”

“Then he would be foolish,” I said.

Wilam looked at me, perhaps struck by my audacity. But he accepted it without rebuking me.

“You must protect the Tulim from the ways of the wam, not fight them.”

He offered a slow nod. “My only concern now is Kirutu. His heart is blackened by Sawim.”

“And what of the Nameless One?” I asked.

He went still for a moment.

“Melino spoke to you about this?”

“She said she doesn’t think he’s evil. And that if I have a son with you, the child may be special.” I paused. “What did he say to Kirutu under the tree?”

Wilam averted his eyes, clearly uncomfortable. “The ways of the spirit are best left to shamans.” He spat to one side. “My place is to wage war, not bend magic.” Then he added, for my benefit: “No one knows this man or why he has come.”

“Do you fear him?”

“I fear no one.”

And yet I saw fear in his eyes.

“You don’t know what he said to Kiru—”

“Enough!” he snapped.

I felt slapped.

He settled and continued in a more gentle tone. “No one will ever know what was said. Kirutu is too proud. What matters is that I chose you before all Tulim. Now I must show them that my choice was wise. Do you understand this?”