The Decaying World Saga (Book 1): Tribes of Decay Read Free Page B

snapped at him much louder than she intended.
    “It doesn’t matter.”
    The two stood still, staring at each other, their senses painfully aware that her shout was loud enough to hear from the outside.
    “You have to go,” Rowan said. “They can’t find you here.” The sound of trampling feet echoed into the dwelling as a wind shook the flap of hide over the entrance. “I have to show them,” he said. “The council has to know what Darian and I saw.”
    Mia’s eyes went to the entrance and then back to him. He could see the struggle on her face as she fought the urge to run.
    “Go,” he said, “go now.”
    She crossed the room and took a hold of his face with both hands.
    “I won’t let you go,” she said and then kissed him.
    The stomping feet reached the entrance and he pushed her away.
    “I know.”
    Mia took one last look at him and then leapt up to the slit in the roof and lifted herself out. Rowan watched her feet disappear a moment before the hide over the entrance was swept aside and several figures pushed in. Arkin was standing directly in front of him before Rowan realized it. A pair of council members unchained Rowan and pulled him out into the open.
    Most of the council was gathered. They sat on platforms several feet off the top of the building, facing in on one another in a semicircle. Tall flames lit the gathering from a pit in the center of the platforms. Rowan was lifted up the stairs to an empty dais and left to stand on his own as Arkin and the others retook their seats.
    Sporadic conversations ended as all eyes focused on the lone layman among them. The ages within the council ranged widely. Those chosen to take the test during the last planting season were only a few years older than Rowan. He locked eyes with Darian’s father, his uncle Deleak. The large man’s sizable girth was left exposed with only his leather britches covering him. Deleak stared at Rowan and the agony in his eyes was almost too much to bear.
    “We all know why we are here,” Arkin said. “You, Rowan, have been accused.”
    “I didn’t do anything wrong,” Rowan declared. He ground his teeth and a sudden inspiration came to him. He knew tribal law as well as anyone in the council. “You have to give me an opportunity to defend myself.” He drove the point. “It is my right.”
    Rowan was in no position to make demands. He had no family. He was alone. There was no one on the council to protect him, no one to stand in his defense but himself.
    “What have you to say?” Chief Orin was the oldest member of the tribe. “You may speak in your defense,” he said and the entire council fell silent. Chief Orin stood up from his seat directly across from the accused. His rail thin body was covered in a heavy fur, which he held at his neck. “Tell us what you saw.”
    “The infected are gathering,” Rowan said, looking over the crowd as every pair of eyes locked on to his. “It was an army, like the stories of the old world.”
    “You know nothing of the old world,” Arkin interrupted.
    “Silence,” Chief Orin said in a tone that matched the aggravation on his face. “Let him speak.”
    Rowan took a deep breath and slowly let it out. The entire council focused squarely on him. He had to choose his terms carefully. If the infected were truly gathering then the fate of the entire tribe would depend on his every word.

 
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    Rowan wasn’t sure if he’d convinced the entire council, but he’d done enough to persuade Chief Orin to send out a hunting party. Rowan was hopeful they’d see sufficient proof and stop his inevitable banishment. More important, he hoped they’d see enough to convince them to do something that might save them all.
    An early morning light crept between the buildings as Rowan reached the street. He hadn’t been able to sleep, stuck in his makeshift prison, waiting for his chance to prove his innocence. No one in the hunting party spoke, starting forward by the silent command