The Claimed: A Clash of Copper and Gold

Chapter 23: Chief Trebalda

Trees flashed by in a blur as the horse galloped along the riverside. Initially, we passed sporadic boats and fishers along the river, but as the river wound east and narrowed to a crystal-clear stream, signs of civilization faded. Then sunlight peeked over a blue mountaintop ahead, splashing the land before me in rich brown and vibrant greens. The discord between the brightness surrounding me and the darkness filling me split my mind like an ax cleaving wood.

Crisp mountain air — panic clawing my chest.

Sweet pine and fresh earth — blood staining my hands.

Twittering birds and splashing fish — Niako dying alone.

A beautiful day.

A flagrantly, ruthlessly beautiful day.

As I approached the mountain, the blue gave way to red, orange, and every shade of green and brown. A grassy field stretched out before the mountain, spattered by a few dozen grazing goats and several herders. Beyond the field, a creek spilled down the mountainside and flowed into the stream. Just left of the creek, a trail wound into the trees.

And at the trailhead stood a life-sized copper statue of the Three-Legged Lion.

Ignoring the startled protests of the herders, I ripped through the field. The saddle chafed my inner thighs, and the hooves battered the ground in time to my racing heart. When the horse slowed near the trailhead, I pushed up higher in the saddle and leaned forward, urging him onward. His tail swished and ear flicked as he started up the trail.

Strategically-placed logs and boulders reinforced the trail, and the trimmed-back pine trees and foliage allowed the easy passage of one or two horses at a time. When the narrow path opened up to a wide rocky ridge, I pulled up on the reins. Over the top of the ridge, I saw the heads, arms, and bows of five archers, all at the ready.

"State your business here," called the woman in the middle. Her silver ponytail shimmered in the sunlight.

"I need to speak to Chief Trebalda. It's urgent."

"On what subject?"

"It's about... family."

"The Chief has no family."

"I just need a few minutes with her. Please."

The archers exchanged a glance. Then the one in the middle nodded and slipped away from her post.

After her silver hair bobbed out of sight, a painfully long minute passed in silence. I was vaguely aware of the archers still staring me down with raised bows, but my mind was filled with Niako. His mussed curls. His eyes sliding closed. His hand gripping mine tightly when I tried to pull away... and then slowly releasing. Letting me go.

I won't let you die.

We'll see.

A new head appeared behind the ridge. Seconds later, a woman swung over the top of the ledge, feet hitting the grass with enough force to scare up a flurry of insects. As she drew up to her full height to stare me down, a thrill ran down my spine.

I was in the presence of someone powerful.

While Makash resembled his father and Niako his mother, Chief Trebalda was a striking blend of the two. The high cheekbones, defined jawline, and elegant grace of Niako met the wide shoulders, imposing physique, and steely eyes of Makash. She approached with long, confident strides, the material of her breeches stretching tight over muscular thighs. Fluffy black curls billowed around her face.

When she drew close, I was surprised to notice her right shirt sleeve lay flat against her side, tucked into the waistband of her trousers. She was missing an arm.