Page 9 of Caveman Alien’s Terror (Caveman Aliens #25)

9

- Praxigor -

“You sound very sure,” I growl, the sour disappointment eating me up. “And yet you admit never having seen gold anywhere in the jungle!”

“I haven’t looked for it,” Astrid says. “I never asked anyone if they had any. But maybe Cora does.”

I glare at Tarat’ex. “This was your idea, outcast.”

He backs off. “Chief, we were all sure it was gold. Right, Gulu’oz?”

“Even the Skrok themselves said so, when I went to their village many years ago,” Gulu’oz claims. “It is they who lied!”

“Search this camp!” I command. “Search it again!”

The men scramble to obey.

But I already know there’s no gold in this camp. I would have known it, I would have been called by its warmth and its light in my mind. Gold is like nothing else. It soothes and makes me strong, it calls to me from a distance. If there’s enough of it.

“So unlike this pitiful form,” I fume, touching the point on my chest where the sword hit me. The ichor has dried, but the shame and the humiliation lingers. “What did you say, Astrid?”

Astrid’s head snaps up to look at me. “I said, maybe Cora has gold. I think she wore a bracelet.”

“Where is Cora?” I demand.

“I don’t know. She’s almost certainly dead.”

I stare down at her. “Where did she die?”

“I don’t know. Don’t look at me like that, please. It scares me.”

“That’s appropriate,” I growl. “This is serious. This is about gold . Just tell me what you know about that gold.”

She visibly swallows. “I’m not sure if it was gold. I think she wore a thin bracelet. It was years ago. She left the tunnel, and nobody’s seen her since.”

“You said you’d never seen gold in the jungle,” I point out.

“I was scared. I didn’t remember. And I’m not sure it’s gold.”

“Where did she go?”

“I don’t know.”

“So her gold could be anywhere in the jungle?”

“There is a rumor…” she begins, then stops.

I reach out and place a claw under her chin to make her look up. “Go on,” I command between clenched teeth.

Her eyes widen. “It’s just a rumor. There’s probably nothing to it.”

I smile warmly and apply more pressure to the claw, making her wince. “If you don’t get to the point right now, I will tickle you with this, right here. Deep .”

“Some of the cavemen say that there’s a woman in one of the tribes,” Astrid rattles off. “A woman we don’t know of. I don’t know which one. There is a small chance that it’s Cora.”

I suspect that she’s not being entirely truthful. But it’s hard to tell when she’s this scared. “How many tribes are there in the jungle?”

“I only know of four or five,” she says. “But it’s not one of those.”

“Tarat’ex!” I bellow. “Come here!”

The outcast pauses his fruitless search of the camp and runs over. “Yes, Chief?”

“Which is the tribe that is rumored to have a woman?”

“A woman? We know the Borok and Tretter have women. And now, the Krast have one, too. Those are not just rumors, Chief. They were seen. I myself saw the one called Alba. This one here belongs to the Borok tribe.” He glares at Astrid, and I notice his eyes snagging on her chest and hips. It angers me.

I take a step to put myself between him and her. “Do not concern yourself with her,” I warn him. “The rumor was obviously not about Astrid.”

Astrid shrugs. “I said there was probably nothing in it.”

Tarat’ex looks at his two co-outcasts. “There was that rumor about the Ceremat tribe, of course.”

“Go on,” I command.

“There’s not much, Chief. The little boys of the Krast tribe said that the Ceremat tribe have found The Woman, the one from the prophecy. But it’s common for boys to make up such fantasies. I did it myself at that age.”

“Where is the Ceremat tribe?” I ask, getting exasperated about all this talk that goes nowhere.

“I’ve never been there, Chief,” Tarat’ex admits. “I think their turf comes up against the Krast turf. I don’t know on which side. Gulu’oz! Cret’ax! Where is the Ceremat tribe?”

But the two other outcasts also don’t know.

“So someone who may not exist might live with a tribe that nobody knows the location of,” I sum up. “And which may well also not exist. This is remarkably helpful.” I want to continue my rage, but I don’t have the energy. Curse this decrepit form!

“Sorry, Chief. We can find out, if you wish.”

I pick a stone up from the ground and consider throwing it at the lackey’s face. Instead I furiously start carving it from sheer gold hunger.

“It will be all right,” Astrid says, trying to soothe me. “We’ll find gold if there is any.”

“There must be gold. I command it!” I kick at one of the stones that surrounds us. They’re big and unusual. “What kind of place is this?”

Tarat’ex kicks at another stone in an imitation gesture meant to flatter me. “It’s the middle of nowhere, Chief. That’s what.”

“Looks like an old village made from stone,” Astrid chirps, reflecting my own impression of the rubble around us. “It was ruined somehow.”

I pick up a piece of white stone. It’s been broken off from a bigger one, but one of the corners is smooth and even, as if especially made. “Some care went into this.”

“A lot of care,” Astrid agrees, picking up another piece. “Someone carved these pieces from hard rock to build something from them. It must have been a big, white village. Or a few buildings.

As I hold the piece, I’m certain. I can feel the work that went into it, the effort in the making, the care and the experience of the man cutting it and polishing it, his sweat and the time it took him. Much more work went into this than the cheap pieces of brass.

I take out my hoard pouch and add the stone piece to it. It’s nowhere near enough for me. But items like these, which it has taken great effort to make, have some value. Not worthy of a hoard, of course. Even the gold imitations I have carved myself give barely any strength. And yet, if I had better items, which have taken even more effort to make, it might just give me the energy I need to Change and leave this hellhole.

And leave Astrid , a strange thought comes unbidden to my mind.

Well, the other dragons left me behind. Why should I not leave her? It’s not just revenge, it’s far too small an act for that. She’s too insignificant to give me a satisfying vengeance against this planet. But it would do something to help me feel better. Praxigor the Devious is someone who leaves , not someone who is left! The more she needs me and wants me, the better the effect will be on my ego when I casually discard her and leave her forever. It will be the start of the healing for me, something to make me feel better about myself while I travel through the Void on the way home to my hoard: I left her behind. I wasn’t left .

“If this was a village,” I muse out loud, “perhaps it was trampled by one of those ridiculous giant beasts with the tiny brains. Then there may be items still hidden. Sacred items, perhaps. Valuable items. Perhaps even gold items.”

“Hidden under the ground,” Astrid points out. “If this was a real village, it was a long time ago. Look how overgrown it is! The real village must be several feet underneath us. And there’s much more.” She squints into the jungle. “ There are stones all over. Some are still standing. I think it was a big village, but I can’t tell for sure. I have to wait until the sun comes up.”

“I don’t like waiting,” I tell her and pick up the last of the torches still burning on the ground. As I lift it, it hisses and goes out and the darkness deepens.

“Fool’s gold!” I curse viciously. “What’s wrong with this planet?! It keeps working against me!”

“It’ll only be a few hours,” Astrid says as she sits down on a rock. “I have to rest.”

“You!” I yell at the outcasts. “Search this whole area for items that may have at least some value!”

“It would be better to search in the daytime, Chief.” Tarat’ex says, wiping his brow as if sweaty. “And we have been working for you for days with little sleep. Please let us rest so that we can serve you better!”

“Such weakness!” I lament. “How are you people even alive? Why must you be so fragile and feeble? Must I do everything myself?” I stride into the woods where Astrid was looking. If there are any items of value, perhaps I can sense them. There may even be gold. If it’s buried, it would be much harder to detect, even for me.

“I’ll dig up this whole jungle,” I mutter to myself as I lift one broken stone and toss it away from sheer frustration.