My sailboat was packed and ready to go. In addition to the supplies needed for the trip, I also had a small collection of iron tools I made for myself, seeds for the herbs used in the bonding ritual and for flavoring food which I would try to cultivate back among the Uli, and a small collection of my Sheowon-made possessions that I couldn’t bear to part with. I also had a small, newly carved statuette of the All-Bonded to bring with me on my journey.
I had already spoken with the admin about the route. The thing about directions was that it needed a destination. I considered going back to the tar pits, or the tribe that had settled where I grew up, but there was only one real option. I was headed back to my own tribe, to finish what I had started.
The admin’s guidance would help me avoid any storms like the one which brought me to the Sheowon; without a compass or any navigation knowledge, her directions were based largely on sunrise, sunset, and various landmarks. It was completely insufficient to get a comprehensive, reliable route back, but she assured me she would be watching my progress the entire way, and that I should pray regularly to get updates, to ensure I stayed on course. So long as her attention was on me, my boat would act like a location of worship for the goddess, just for her blessed missionary.
My sending-off was more of an event than I expected. Ibriya, Shappi, and Mowala were there, of course, but so were Weomik and the other smithy apprentices. The elders Yishola, Owawu, Nupeal, and Brumesh had all gathered, as had my former captors-turned-guardians, Ushem, Pliwa, Keo, and Lowar.
Several other Sheowon I had grown to know over the years, helping out with digging turf and harvesting livestock and building new structures, were also gathered to see me on my way.
“Thank you all for accepting me as part of your village these past years,” I said to the group.
Ibriya, Shappi, and Mowala gave me another hug, then stepped back as Yishola approached.
“Good luck on your mission home,” she said, patting me fondly on the arm. “Come back when you can.”
“I’d like that,” I said softly. One of my hands moved towards my chest. “But… what if I have more markings? I may face… opposition, bringing the teachings of the All-Bonded to the Uli. There may be violence from those in power.”
Yishola frowned, but didn’t dismiss what I said. After a moment of thought, she spoke back up. “I can’t know the All-Bonded’s plans, and I don’t know the Uli… but perhaps that’s why it had to be you.” The elder looked up at me, studying my eyes. “I trust you to only do what’s necessary, Mali. If there’s a way to avoid any killing, I will pray that you can walk that path.”
With the goodbyes all said and done, I got into my boat, and pushed off. I unfurled my sail, paddling out until the wind caught it, and I turned to watch the village shrink into the distance.
Most of the people gathered had already gone back to their business after I set sail. The only ones left, as the shore faded from view, were Ibriya and Shappi, holding Mowala between them.
*
The journey back wasn’t quick, but it was easy. My route was somewhat circuitous, in order to avoid any hazards, weather or otherwise. At one point, I was led to a small island—not Mali Island, but similar, and thankfully not home to any cannibals—where I was told to hunker down for two days to allow a storm to pass. I was also able to collect some fish for the next leg of the journey there, then set back out under the admin’s guidance.
My biggest issue was boredom, but knowing my trip was safe, I was able to pass a lot of time in meditation. And, before I knew it, I was approaching familiar shores.
Compared to the Sheowon’s home, the rough and rocky red terrain looked shockingly hostile. I had almost forgot how hard the living was, where the Uli came from. A quick count of the creche tents showed that the tribe hadn’t grown in my absence; if anything, it may have shrunk.
I came to shore where the fishermen had used to set off from, an area just beyond the tide pools where the waterfront wasn’t quite so hostile. Though it was no longer in use for fishing, people had seen the boat approaching, and the Uli—specifically, the tribesmen and Bloodied—had gathered.
After years among the Sheowon, I had almost forgotten how much more fearsome Uli faces were. That was what my face looked like, too, but with no mirrors, I rarely saw it myself save for the occasional reflection in water. Here, those faces bore flared nostrils and bared tusks, at least from some of the crowd. I also saw some expressions of confusion and recognition, though I only spotted a fraction of the boys I had taught fishing to among those present.
One particularly recognizable Uli stepped forward as I stepped off my boat to meet them. His face was a bit more lined, and his torso was significantly more decorated with names.
“Mali. You shouldn’t be here. You were exiled.”
“Roba,” I said, greeting the father of my First Blood victim and the mate of my sister. If I could just convince him, I could avoid unnecessary bloodshed. “I come bearing—”
“Shut up. I don’t care,” Roba hissed, immediately growing angry. “This is my tribe, and you are not welcome here. Leave, or die.”
Damn it, I thought to myself. I knew how quick to anger and violence the Uli were, but this was absurd. Compared to the Sheowon who had heard me out despite all the strikes against me, the chief had no civility at all. “Just hear me out,” I begged. “There’s a way to—”
“No!” Roba roared. “No more of your foolish ideas!”
The enraged chief swung at me, surprising me into taking a step back. I had assumed I would at least get a formal challenge before I was attacked, but perhaps breaking the terms of my exile threw that out the window. That, or the chief was willing to throw away his honor to ensure that nothing threatened his position. Given the large number of new names on his body, that was definitely possible.
I activated [Blood Augmentation] to avoid getting instantly killed by a stray empowered blow, though I was concerned that using my Blood would set us into unavoidable conflict, assuming I hadn’t already crossed that bridge. As my Blood energy rose to augment me, I felt the effects of my blessing fully activate.
It wasn’t some insane stat boost, nothing like the tripling that the champions of Argadia received, but it was noticeable. Maybe a fifty percent boost, I thought as I flexed my hands and rolled my neck. In terms of Blood, and given the chief’s new markings, that still put me well below what he had, but—like the demon king’s blessing—it applied to all my stats.
Focusing on the situation with my enhanced Brain stat, I tried to find a way to deescalate, but the chief was too close to me. I needed some distance. My Blood might not overpower him, but my Brawn was much higher, even more so thanks to [Missionary of the All-Bonded].
In Roba’s rush to silence me, I noticed his footing was slightly poor, so I stepped into his space. It had been a long time since I had done any [Grappling], but it was second-nature with the skill. I slammed into him with my enhanced strength and flipped him, whipping him down onto the rocky shore.
“Stop!” I yelled, stepping back quickly to get out of range of a grab or a Blood attack. “I don’t want to fight you!”
But Roba was too far gone in his battle fury. He looked up at me with madness in his eyes, tusks fully bared, and leapt to his feet. Was it all the Blood retaliation making him so aggressive, or just his insecurity which drove him to this level of rage? He raked his claws against his forearms, splitting his deep red skin, and his Blood poured out, forming massive sabers.
I couldn’t afford to match that, as I needed all my Blood funneled into my defenses. Instead, I reached into my belt and drew my daggers. The sunlight glinted off the polished iron, causing a few murmurs in the crowd, but I couldn’t take my attention off Roba.
The tribal chief swung a Blood saber at me, and I ducked it thanks to my blessing-boosted speed, but the Uli had three more arms. I rolled out of the way as he jabbed a follow-up at me, but couldn’t react fast enough to avoid the following slash. As it came down on me, I did the only thing I could do, and attempted to defend myself from it with my daggers.
Iron sliced through Blood, and the disconnected mass splashed onto the ground.
Had my blade been bone, or stone, or ivory, the chief’s Blood would have cleaved through it. Had I defended with my own Blood, the stronger Uli would have prevailed. To cut through Roba’s Blood, with a tool, was something unexpected. Something new.
The Roba stepped back in surprise, which gave me a brief moment. “I found a way to grow our Blood and get stronger without killing!” I shouted to the tribe.
My claim shook the chief from his stupor. “Lies!” Roba roared. “Kill the exile!”
I blinked in surprise. That he would throw away his honor and command the other Uli to attack me was something I had never seen among the Uli. Then again, I had never seen this level of disparity between foes. I was a single person, and any one of them could kill me and survive the Blood retaliation without worry about being attacked, since I was without a tribe of my own.
Two of the Uli with the most names on their torsos and down their arms, people who were likely just under Roba in the hierarchy, stepped forward to join their chief.
But then, some of the younger tribesmen stepped forward as well.
“I believe Mali!” one of the males yelled. I recognized him as someone I had taught to kayak and spearfish, though I couldn’t come up with his name off the top of my head. “Look at the boat he built! And see how his knife cut Roba’s Blood! Let’s hear him out!”
Another younger tribesman clenched his fists. “I want to fish again! I don’t want to kill my brothers!”
Several of the other younger tribesmen shouted in agreement, taking steps away from the Roba and towards me, but others moved the other way, backing their chief.
Roba’s eyes were practically bugging out at the betrayal, and it was clear, as the Uli organized into two groups, that things were about to take a violent turn for the worse. The tribe had to be unified to be strong, but this schism was years in the making, largely thanks to my actions. Unfortunately, my side was plainly the weaker one, being mostly younger Uli with much less Blood.
The tribe was also too weak to afford to splinter peacefully. We wouldn’t be allowed to walk away from this. We would be killed, in order to preserve the most strength for the remaining warriors. Even then, it would result in practically an entire lost generation, and the long-term strength of the tribe would suffer.
There was only one thing I could try and do to get control of the situation, and it required me to face this tribe’s future head-on.
“Everyone, calm down!” I shouted, causing the younger tribesmen supporting me to falter. “And back off, all of you. This is between me and Roba,” I said, pointing at the chief. “I only accepted exile because you challenged me out of turn. But in the time I’ve been gone, what’s become of this tribe? It’s clear you’re not fit to lead. So I now challenge you.”
The Uli who stepped forward to support their chief stopped their approach, looking at each other.
“Don’t listen to him,” Roba hissed. “He’s an enemy!”
“Is he?” one of Roba’s supporters asked, unsure. “He was one of us for years. We hunted together. And those are our fellow tribesmen. That’s my son standing next to him.”
“If he challenges Roba formally for leadership, we shouldn’t intervene,” another added. “This is between Mali and Roba.”
Slowly, all the Uli tribesmen stepped back, forming a ring around the two of us. A challenge was only normally witnessed by two tribesmen, though this wasn’t a normal challenge. I was now officially fighting the Roba for his position. I didn’t want to be chief, and had run away once before from this, but it was necessary if I wanted to fulfill my mission and create lasting change here.
The chief let out another roar and Blood exploded out of him, forming into whips and lances that flung towards me. I burst forward, trying to close the distance before they hit. Running away was no longer an option, and I couldn’t avoid this barrage. All I could do was take it, hoping that [Blood Augmentation] held out and that I could recover from the damage later, as I closed in on the enraged Uli.
My hands whipped through the space between us, slashing at the oncoming Blood attacks, severing Roba from his connection to the Blood he wielded. Each loss should have slightly weakened him, but he had a huge quantity of Blood to draw from, and had abandoned reason in favor of cutting me down. His attacks didn’t let up, and only picked up in intensity as I got closer and closer to him.
Impacts against my augmentation slowly morphed from bludgeons into slices as my energy was chipped away. Slices became stabs as the attacks I failed to parry began to skewer me, but I pushed through, closing the distance between us.
With all my remaining strength, I threw myself at the Uli, bringing my four daggers down on him. The upper two buried into his neck, while the lower two slid past his arms and cut into his ribs.
We fell, entangled, and I felt his strength go out of him as the blood he was wielding sloshed to the ground around us. I immediately repurposed all the energy I had left, drawing it away from augmentation to [Blood Restoration].
Then the retaliation hit. For the first time since my First Blood, I felt the pain of it. A massive legacy of the dead carved into me, and I closed my eyes, unwilling to watch.