"Have you told the cChief?"
"He didn't seem very interested."
Ashsweeper nodded, turning her head to keep an eye on Nighttracker digging for mossbeasts with a sharpened stick. Whistlenose raised his eyes to the great Roof, something he'd been reluctant to do for the past few days.
In the distance, four great squares the size of ManWays had turned black. One of these now flickered back into dull life. The other three hung over the world like a hole. Like the mouth of a Digger's tunnel.
CHAPTER 13: A Remembered Kiss
Wallbreaker's daughter looked more and more like Mossheart had when they were growing up. She had her father's blond hair, however, and just the slightest promise of dimples on those red cheeks of hers when he made her laugh. Which he did as often as possible. But there was no getting away from those full lips, or those eyebrows that each seemed like separate living things in their own right.
As the child giggled on his lap, Wallbreaker remembered the first kiss he had shared with her mother. Those strange eyebrows had risen in surprise—her father had barely turned his back, after all!—before settling gently again. She had whispered, "He'll want a big bride-price."
"Will you talk him down?"
"No." She grinned, keeping her lips close enough to his that an insect couldn't have passed between them. "You will work hard to win me and you'll work hard to keep me too."
He had leaned forward, but she pulled away. "And that'll be the last kiss before you leap the fire with me!"
It wasn't, of course. Tens of sweet adventures had followed: embraces they had hidden from her parents, from the Flesh Council and poor Stopmouth. But Mossheart had been true to her word in one thing at least: Wallbreaker had handed over a bride-price of five full creatures—the highest in living memory. He had won love and a reputation, all in one go, and nothing back then, nothing, could touch him. Oh, how quick he'd been! And clever too. How strong!
"Enough of this time-wasting," said a voice behind him. The child stiffened in his arms. Like him, she had grown to hate Aagam.
"Go to your mother," he said. "Or Treeneck. Your mother's digging today."
They were camped in a place where the slime had killed a hundred trees. But farther on, the health of the forest had suffered even greater indignities, where Digger tunnels riddled the ground, and where fields fat with victims spewed waste in every direction. Scouts were out there now, looking for a way through while the Tribe consumed the last of its supplies.
"You told me we could pass here," Wallbreaker said.
Aagam shrugged. "The way has closed. Possibly only in the last few days. Remember the information the scouts brought back to us?"
"Back to me. I am the Chief."
Aagam grinned. He had lost quite a bit of weight in the early days, but now he ate flesh with gusto and claimed to enjoy it even more than the civilised food of his home in the Roof. "I told you how the Diggers work. The creatures planted out there are being eaten from below by the Diggers' young, yes? So far, the victims have sunk very little into the soil, and most of them are Jumpers or other creatures we have encountered fleeing through these trees. So, they are newly arrived here. And that means the great Eastern and Western Digger families have only just now met in the middle. Their territory will be thin for a little while yet. If we can bull through the centre, the hills lie only six days to the north of us."
He had explained what hills were already, although Wallbreaker had a hard time imagining mounds so large that it could take a day for a fit young hunter to cross over them.
"I don't like it," Wallbreaker said. "Planted creatures will grab at us as we run past. And what about all our food? What about the pregnant women? What about the Tallies?"
Aagam sneered. "All this superstitious junk. Pregnant women and sticks! You are worse than the Religious in the Roof. Just leave them behind. That is the answer you are looking for."
"Leave... the pregnant women?"
"For the love of the gods, you're savages! That's what you do, that's what you're supposed to do! Sacrifice the weak so the strong can eat better, right? That's what it's all about!"
"It's about the Tribe," said Wallbreaker. "About getting Home." No human, no real human could accept the loss of his people. They bustled all around him as they had done his whole life. Both his mother and his father had stepped forward proudly with thousands of days still to live. The very thought of abandoning the tally sticks, of a Tribe with no pregnant women amongst it to name the children, was abhorrent. Both past and future abandoned! No, no. And then, the pitiful survivors to throw themselves on their knees and beg mercy from a tribe of strangers that included Indrani, his unfaithful wife? Why would those strangers not simply volunteer him and his people? It's what he had planned for them, after all!
Aagam scowled and wagged a finger in his face. "You still care about home, Chief? Even after I explained to you where it was? What that phrase really meant?"
"It's what it means to us now that matters."
"Oh, as if you, the great Wallbreaker, really care about any of that! I've seen you from above, Chief. You can't hide from the Roof. Everyone up there knows you're a coward. I've been counting on it. Yes, counting on it! Above all else. Above even your dirty little tribe of cannibals, above your... your home, you want to live. It's as simple as that, and I, Aagam, am here to grant your wish.
"So, listen to me, Chief. Listen. We make a run through the middle of the planted creatures. The slow will do as they've always done—"
"We never volunteer pregnant women."
"Well, that's about to change, isn't it? The Ancestors are going to send you a new vision," he grinned fiercely. "The Ancestors will tell these women to volunteer so the rest of us can make it home, but, get this: home is going to be the other side of the hills. You'll tell them that's where it always was, and now, you'll be bringing them right to it, yes?"
"One moment, Aagam," Wallbreaker said. He fished around for a good Armourback shell spear. Then, he stabbed his shocked adviser with it in the arm—no farther than the depth of a thumb. The weapon was free again and blood welling out of Aagam's flesh before he could so much as yelp. "I want you to see that I am serious."
"I—"
Another quick stab with the spear. "From this day forth, you will speak only when I ask direct questions. Yes, you have convinced me there is no point in torturing you, but I have decided I quite like it."
The man's mouth opened once more, but before he could utter a word, the spear was nestling gently under his chin. "I don't want any plans from you. You will tell me what you know about the Diggers. What they're afraid of. What will hurt them. What they want. Wives? I will give you wives and your life because I like to know things. But I will do the planning here.
"Now, the Diggers, Aagam. What are their weaknesses?"
Aagam surprised him by spitting at him and grinning. "You are an idiot—" he grunted as the spear drew more blood. Sweat was pouring down his face. "You'll need to stab a little deeper, Chief. But where's the need? I'll tell you what you want to know. I'm sweet natured, after all." He smiled again, his blood dripping onto the moss and his filthy clothing, the sweat rolling down his face. "The Diggers," he said, "fear fire and light."
"Fire and light? We have seen them even at midday. Not often, but still..."
"Take the spear away."
"Answer me, or you die."
"I doubt it."
Wallbreaker put the weapon away and even handed the stranger a cloth of pounded moss to staunch his wounds.
"They don't fear for themselves," said Aagam. "That's why you'll see some of them wandering in the full glare of the Roof. It's the grubs that will die after too much exposure to heat and light. The grubs. Those little darlings feed on their parents until the adult can find another host for them instead."
"By the Ancestors! They eat their own parents?" It explained so much. Everybody knew by now how difficult it was to kill the poor creatures planted in the fields. The gru
bs had a way of keeping them alive right up until the end and, according to tales Wallbreaker had heard, adult Diggers too had been seen "coming back to life," crawling away from the hunters that had "killed" them. The grubs must have been responsible for all of that.
"Yes," Aagam nodded. "The greedy little darlings have their parents in constant torment, yet the adults who are... blessed by motherhood, avoid light and heat at all costs. Even unmated Diggers have an instinct to keep away from flames."
"So, we can simply surround ourselves with torches and cross the fields?"
"Do you really think it's that easy, Chief? These are intelligent creatures we are dealing with. I imagine they are well aware of their own fears. Remember, they have already consumed fire-wielding tribes far larger than yours. Every time they do it, they learn new lessons and grow more numerous."
"What about my brother? How did he get past them? You said he went a longer way around." Of all his tribe, Wallbreaker alone knew Stopmouth had been no fool. Shy, yes. Nervous and jealous too. Incapable of putting two words together without biting the tongue out of his own head. But no idiot.
Aagam grinned, taking great pleasure in the next bit. "Your runaway wife told him to tie some old trees together. Then, they floated down the Wetlane until they had passed almost to the far side of Digger territory. She helped him. She helped him every step of the way."
Wallbreaker grabbed the spear again. His face grew hot. "You know she was kidnapped. Stopmouth must have forced her to tell him what to do."
The grin grew only wider. To avoid killing the man, Wallbreaker moved his gaze off to where his daughter played among the trees. She had found a little boy and was attempting to boss him around. "How like your mother," he said fondly. Humans had come across creatures, such as the Hairbeasts, that did not love their offspring, but the Diggers were not among them, it seemed. There must be a way of using that to get to the hills with the main strength of the Tribe intact.
The light of the Roof flickered and everybody held their breaths, but this time the Blindness lasted less than a heartbeat and Wallbreaker chose to take that as a good sign. It was getting better up there, whatever the sickness was. Everything was going be all right.
CHAPTER 14: The Burn
It was no work for a man to be doing, but none of the hunters objected. And even some of the children were involved, cutting brushwood and pulling down trees. They were carving a path through the forest, straight from the Tribe's camp and out into Digger territory.
"It's got to be as wide and as smooth as possible," the Chief said.
He even came out to supervise and people worked harder under his gaze. For once, he had explained his plan to them in detail and nobody wanted to be counted among the slackers for fear of being chosen for the more suicidal roles that the scheme demanded.
"We two will be picked anyway," Laughlong told Whistlenose. "He thinks we're trouble."
"He thinks you're trouble, Laughlong. Hey, you are trouble! Me? I'm just lame."
"Funny that," said the other hunter, wiping sweat from his brow. People said he hadn't laughed even once since getting his name. Some men accepted themselves, while others fought against it their whole lives. "You're a better hunter since you hurt that leg of yours, Whistlenose. How many scrapes have you got out of in the last hundred days? And I heard you were the first to wet his spear in the guts of a Jumper."
"We brought no flesh home that day."
"Still... The Chief would be mad to throw you away. You're a better provider now than you ever were as a youngster."
Whistlenose tried to hide his pleasure, but wasn't sure he'd managed it too well. The other man patted him on the arm. "We'll be picked, though, no matter what. You'll see."
It didn't stop either of them from bringing down trees under the orders of an older woman, Hairtosser. "This path will save your lives," she kept telling them. As if they didn't know it better than her! She was famous for stating the obvious, though, and now she kept repeating, "If they catch you, you're dead!"
"Thanks for the hunting advice, Hairtosser," Laughlong muttered. "Ancestors bless your bottomless wisdom."
It took the entire tribe three days before the path was complete. Four hunters could run along it abreast, and children, including a very proud Nighttracker, now climbed trees to hang swathes of moss cloth from the branches to either side. Gangs of women, meanwhile, had been clearing away rocks and smoothing down the larger bumps in the path.
Here and there, a tree too proud to bring down forced twists and turns along the route, and that worried the hunters. Wallbreaker made them walk the length of it several times, while Hairtosser, representing the women, kept saying, "You'll only get one chance, boys! Just one!"
Finally, all the brush was carried away and Whistlenose felt his bones turn to water. The time has come, boy. But he was wrong.
Despite the fact that food supplies were shrinking fast, two more days passed while everybody rested up. Whistlenose couldn't help thinking that Wallbreaker, Ancestor visions or not, was trying to gather up his own courage too. Death would threaten everybody in what was to come. Everybody.
And then, with the Roof reaching its brightest point, Wallbreaker gathered the hunters together to assign them their roles. Whistlenose heard his name called out, along with Laughlong, Boneless and a few of the more experienced hunters, as well as some of the women. However, he did not expect what came next. "You lot are to be part of the second ambush."
"Not the runners?" Laughlong asked, relief obvious in his voice.
"Oh, your job will be hard enough, old man, don't you worry." He indicated another group that consisted of mostly younger men, although Wallbreaker had toughened it with older meat too—hunters such as Spitback and Kneebiter. "We need stronger legs for the hard part, right lads? The bravest of the brave!" No insult was intended to other groups. It was simply the way a Chief spoke to those whose flesh was most at risk. They cheered him, and it seemed to Whistlenose that the less experience a man had, the louder his approval.
"The runners will depart a tenth of a day before dark. You know what to do? Browncrack?"
The youngster nodded eagerly. "Go into the planted fields. Steal as much flesh as we can."
"But don't get carried away. Don't let them grab you, because they will be trying that. Packs of three to tackle each body. A limb each with the third man to stab through to the brain—but only in species that have an obvious head. Leave the Pios alone, or anything too unfamiliar. Pull the corpse from the hole. What then, hunter?"
Browncrack showed no fear at all. "The Diggers will come when it gets dark."
"If not before..." the Chief agreed. "But probably it won't be until the tracklights come up. From what I've heard."
"Did the... did the Ancestors tell you that?"
"Of course. What happens then, hunter?"
"Then, we kill the Diggers! We—"
Wallbreaker slapped Browncrack hard across the face. "Weren't you listening? To the plan? You will kill no Diggers. You are to run. All of you." He turned to Spitback and Kneebiter. "I'll be relying on you two to make sure nobody tries anything stupid."
"You could always go yourself," said Laughlong. "I'm sure the boys will make room for you."
"I'm sure they would," said the Chief. "Or for anybody else I chose to send." But he showed no signs of anger and he repeated, "Nothing stupid! You bring the flesh back here to the first ambush point."
"What if..." Whistlenose couldn't help himself, "what if there are too many Diggers following? Those fields go on a great distance. And there are tunnels everywhere. All the buildings are tipping into the soil, as if the ground was sucking them down."
"You let me worry about that," said Wallbreaker. "Now, wait." He beckoned Hightoes out from under the trees where she had been watching. She was a fine-looking woman, Whistlenose thought, but she was here now because she was closer to giving birth than anyone else in the camp.
"You men," she said and then coughed, nervous und
er their stares, although she spoke now as the Heart of the Tribe. "You men are my hands. You are the strong arms and the swift legs that will carry me Home. I am the fire that waits for your gift of flesh. I am the voices of your children; the embrace of your wives."
Each of the runners produced a knife and cut his fingertip. They flicked beads of blood at her until she was speckled with it. Rarely did so many hunters leave on a single venture, but she didn't make the mistake of wiping her face clean; rather, she honoured the men by licking her lips and smiling shyly at them.
"Your blood has returned to me," she said, "and so shall you."
Cheering was no longer appropriate. The men wrapped the cuts in moss so as not to make tracking them any easier. It was habit more than anything else, for this was one occasion in which they wanted to be followed.
Then, the hunters, in total silence, turned up the path the Tribe had created together and broke into a quick jog. Whistlenose wondered how many of them would make it back, despite the blood they had just shed. He felt afraid for them, but very proud too, for not one showed any hesitation in his step.
"We have the hardest job now," said Laughlong. "Waiting. Worrying."
Whistlenose knew what he meant, but didn't feel it was right to say so. He had been chased by Diggers before and dreaded to think what it would be like in a forest, at night, where every step on the rough, root-covered ground might bring a hunter down to be overrun.
Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he still saw the grub pushing itself up Highstepper's nose. Now he feared that many of those young men would not be coming back from their deliberate attempt to provoke the world's most powerful species.
The ambushers were allowed a final visit to their families, no more time than it would take to hug their children and flick a drop of blood at their wives. The women and other hunters had plenty of work of their own to do. By now most of the food was gone. Maybe no more than three days' worth remained and this was divided out amongst everybody, along with tally sticks for the women to carry. The sleds were to be abandoned entirely, left at the old camp, which was also to be the site of the planned ambush.
The Volunteer (The Bone World Trilogy) Page 11