5 The Settlement

With a hideous, drawn-out creak, the old door finally gave way, and I was dragged inside the shabby hut. For all my kicking and cursing, it felt like I’d suddenly unlocked a second wind — I’m sure the whole damn village could hear me by now.

I won’t go down without a fight! I’ll injure the bastard if it’s the last thing I do!

The brute carrying me suddenly stops and, without any warning, throws me down onto a floor covered in rough furs. He looms over me, arms crossed over his chest, muttering something under his breath. I freeze when another male voice joins in.

Turning my head, I spot an old man standing in the far corner of the hut. He’s thin and dry as kindling, yet there’s something oddly dignified about him as he approaches. Between his lips, he’s chewing on a small twig with narrow leaves, rolling it lazily from side to side while studying me with complete indifference.

After a slow inspection from head to toe, the old man rasps something to the giant, and suddenly massive hands grab me from behind, pinning my arms tightly to my sides. I can’t even twitch.

The old man steps closer and presses hard on my cheeks, forcing my mouth open. Before I can react, he slips something inside — a small, berry-like thing — then shuts my mouth and holds it closed until I’m forced to bite down.

Ugh, disgusting! It tastes like someone shoved a handful of wormwood in my mouth. The bitter flavor spreads, crawling down my throat and burning as it goes. The brute finally lets go, and I collapse face-first onto the furs.

I’m about to curse him into oblivion when my stomach suddenly twists in agony. A wave of nausea hits so strong it makes my head spin. My whole body burns, every muscle aches, and before I can stop it, I’m retching violently onto the floor.

The old man started saying something, but his words reached me only faintly as I kept retching, practically turning myself inside out all over his hut.

“That’s the juice of the aktukha fruit—it makes your brain work differently,” he suddenly said. I froze, staring at the old man in shock, realizing that I could understand him now, even as another wave of nausea twisted my insides.

“The sickness is normal,” he continued calmly. “Your brain matter produces signals and impulses that let you think, move, and speak. Now, however, your mind can perceive similar impulses in other brains—like mine, for instance. My visual, memory, and meaning signals are being read. The sounds or words I make correspond to certain remembered images and meanings in my head. Your brain catches them, compares them to its own patterns, and translates them into a language you understand,” the old man explained, lowering himself onto a stool.

“Every inhabitant of our kingdom takes aktukha from childhood, so that they can understand others—or any beings with similar brain processes and capable of speech. It’s the king’s decree, meant to prevent communication problems between different peoples and races. Fortunately, you only need to consume the fruit once—the effect lasts a lifetime.”

“What do you want from me?” I asked weakly, feeling the nausea begin to fade. My thoughts were clearing, though a fine tremor still shook my body.

“From you? Nothing,” the old man replied, his face unreadable, his tone icy. “I am Tákhis, the shaman of this settlement. My task was to make sure you can understand our language—since we already understand yours—and that you can speak before our leader. What happens to you after that is none of my concern. To be honest, I couldn’t care less.”

His blunt honesty hit me like a slap. I still had no idea what awaited me, but at least now I could understand them—and that was something.

The giant grabbed my arm again, yanking me out of the hut and dragging me deeper into the village.

“Hey! Could you not manhandle me like that?” I protested, struggling against his grip. “You’re hurting me!”

“Then stop fighting, and it won’t hurt,” he said flatly, not even glancing my way.

I realized escape was impossible for now—especially since we were walking into a large settlement bustling with people. So I followed obediently, taking everything in.

The first thing that struck me was how strikingly vivid these people looked. Honestly, it felt like I’d stumbled into a commercial for some luxury brand. Most of them were dark-haired, but there were quite a few women with unusually colored hair. Their eyes, though—that was what truly caught my breath. So many shades, but the most common was a deep, glowing red, like rubies under sunlight. And every one of them bore intricate tattoos—on their arms, across their stomachs, and some even on their chests.