Shadows in the Cave

by Caleb Fox

  Shonan said to Aku, “Take care of Salya.” Fuyl and Kumu volunteered to help him, and Iona insisted on carrying one corner of the hide.

  Aku looked at the dead body—body was the awful reality. Somehow Salya had become the center point that his life circled around. What I am doing is right, but will it ever end?

  The four of them hoisted the hide bearing his sister. Aku looked at Iona holding a front corner. I have a woman and child. I want a life. Yet he could not picture a life without his twin, Salya.

  They trundled out of the village and across the flats, then staggered through the knee-deep braids of the stream. With Oghi’s help the move had been planned while the tide was ebbing, halfway out. As they approached the corner of the cliffs on the far side, Aku looked up and saw the sea turtle man standing on the rim, leaning forward into the wind and wrapped in a hide, looking out to sea. Aku followed Oghi’s gaze and saw dark, sick-looking clouds pushing across gray ocean, ever closer.

  The four got better grips on the hide bearing Salya and made their way along the beach below the cliffs. At this tide the strip of sand beach was narrow, and occasional run-ups of seawater sloshed at their ankles.

  Cave mouth. Into the mystic half-light. A hundred strides—it took the hide-bearers two hundred footsteps—along the sand to the emergence slit. They walked awkwardly up the steep, narrow uphill passage and then along a flat that seemed to go forever. “I like this place,” said Aku. That was a relief, because his fingers were at their bitter end.

  “You’ll like this even better,” Iona. “Most of the people will camp here,” she said, indicating a great hall just ahead. She led them across the room, past a spot where Aku heard water trickling, and into a kind of alcove with a low ceiling. A small forest of slender stone pillars, like the trunks of birch trees, separated this space from the large space, as though holding the floor and ceiling apart. “Beautiful,” said Aku. Here Salya could rest deep in the cave, safe, and in a way honored.

  After they set his twin down, Aku lifted her hand and kissed it. He’d gotten used to the awful coolness of her flesh.

  Then the four of them set in to helping the refugees as much as they could. They carried frightened children through the river. Though most could have waded at this low tide, the children were terrified by the howling winds. Babies bawled, children wept, even adolescents quailed. Aku could barely hear their plaints above the gale, even when they were right in his ear.

  Aku didn’t try to understand anything, he just labored, carrying kids, calling comforting words over the gale, putting them in the arms of their relatives on the far side. This was his assignment from his father, and he was glad of it. A few men joined him and Iona, but most were still in their huts, making medicine. Aku wondered how many of the Amaso men had ever been in a fight. Not that he had much experience himself.

  Finally, after too long a time, all the women and children had crossed the river. For some reason scores of them huddled on the far bank, beneath the cliffs, partly out of the wind. Aku herded them on toward the sea cave. People stumbled up the narrow beach, struggling to balance against the wind. Occasionally a gust knocked some of them down, or they splashed into the lapping sea. Most of them wandered slowly, in mute passivity. Children whimpered and wept, mothers carried them or shooed them along. Men and young women made ferries of belongings across the river. Walk, walk, thought Aku, hurry, hurry. “Not far!” he yelled over the wind. Five hundred paces along the narrow beach to the cave, a hundred steps penetrating the innards of the earth, and through the emergence slit to safety.

  Though the cliffs protected the beach in part, Aku thought the winds would drive him mad. He and Iona made countless trips herding people, then carrying possessions. Finally Aku thought Iona had had enough. When they turned into the cave and out of the wind, he said to her, “It’s time. Take a load through the slit and don’t come back.”

  “I can still help.”

  “You are carrying our child!” He pointed toward the emergence opening. “If I have to go back there and hold you down, I will.”

  Iona went.

  As Aku pushed back out into the wind, the rains hit—and hit was what they did. They pelted all the men packing the belongings to shelter. Aku bit his lip and shouldered goods across the braids of the stream, over and over and over. Stagger across the river, stagger along the sand, keep going somehow to the entrance of the sea cave and then the slit, and hand the goods into arms waiting in the limestone cave. Aku had never worked harder in his life.

  He made his mind up. The people would have clothes, hides, dried food, cooking utensils, cloth, knives, awls, and other possessions to resume their lives when the troubles passed. If they passed.

  All the adult women remembered well what it was like, having your town pillaged by an attacking army. The older ones remembered having Amaso torn to pieces by the rage of a hurricane. With both threatening, they were all a-babble. Aku heard tatters of their conversation when he handed goods through, but he paid no attention, just turned around and packed over another load. Every time he got back to the village and ducked into a hut to get belongings, he wondered whether he would find Maloch waiting in the shadows with an evil grin. He wondered if Maloch would transform himself into the shape of a hut. Aku hesitated before going in.

  When he came out of the sea cave and across the beach to the river one more time, he saw his father signaling for him to come to the ledge that cut the cliffs halfway up. A quick scramble and Aku stood between his father and Oghi near a dozen fighting men. Another dozen squatted down on top, their backs to the wind.

  “The enemy is almost to the village,” his father said.

  “Father,” said Aku, “I want to fight.”

  “You will,” Shonan said with a lopsided smile. He pointed straight up. “Can you fly in these winds?”

  Aku felt a spritz of happiness. His father was acknowledging his value as an eagle. “Not a chance,” Aku said.

  “I’m going to the village to fight now,” said Shonan. His voice gleamed with pleasure. Before Aku could protest, he said, “Your turn will come, and it will be the big fight. Stay with Fuyl and Kumu.” Aku hadn’t seen them on the ledge until now. “They know what to do. Anything you can add, do it.”

  Aku was relieved that his father didn’t say his son was no good with weapons.

  “Everybody,” called Shonan. Only the dozen men nearby could hear him. “We’ve caught some luck. You know about Maloch’s diamond eye that blinds attackers. In this rain it may not work, or it won’t be so bright.”

  “Hooray!” said Kumu.

  “Damn well hooray!” said Fuyl.

  “Still! We take precautions. See this cloth.” He held up a big strip of mulberry fabric dyed red, about enough to make a dress. He tore it in half. “Rip off a piece big enough to tie around your head. If the Uktena shows up, use it as a blindfold. You’ll be able to see him through the weave, but the diamond eye won’t blind you.” He said to himself, Maybe. “Do it!”

  Shonan handed the cloth to Fuyl, who tore some off and passed it on.

  Father stepped up to son, embraced him hard, and turned to the cliffs. To Aku’s amazement, he climbed up, even buffeted by the gale. In a moment Aku could hear him giving the same speech to the men hunkered down on top. Shonan stood tall, leaning into the wind, defying it. Aku had never seen his father look so alive.

  30

  The Brown Leaf army marched down the trail to the edge of Amaso openly, with no attempt at subterfuge. Shonan peered out through the crack at the top of the hide door in the nearest hut. He wanted to size the army up and see how it was standing—in a mob? In a long line? But he couldn’t see much except for a long pole carried by a tall man with a crooked nose. He wondered why anyone would carry something so pointless into battle.

  The Brown Leaves didn’t even pause, but strode between buildings and into the common. Passing between huts, they were forced to walk in a line, which was what Shonan wanted. He shook his head. He coul
dn’t even see the warriors in the middle of the common. Never had he experienced rain so heavy. According to Oghi, the last time they didn’t search the village—they just assumed the people had fled. Shonan was counting on that.

  He waited until the last warrior had passed, eased out of the hut, and peered through the slashing rain. Since he could hardly see, he’d have to hope the other men had done as instructed. Leaning into the wind for balance, not a bit concerned about making noise, he walked to the back of the last soldier, set his feet, swung his war club, and bashed the man’s head in.

  One of the Brown Leaves saw Shonan standing over the fallen enemy. The man charged. Shonan got off the best spear throw he could manage. It hit the enemy’s hip, ripped a jagged hole, and bounced onto the grass. Shonan sprinted forward. The man was trying to get his balance with one leg. Shonan put all his hips and shoulders into a swing of his club that caught the fellow in the temple. He collapsed.

  Shonan sized up the situation—three Brown Leaves were rushing him. He threw a regretful look at his spear and ran. He grinned. He glimpsed others of his hand-picked men making their attacks. Though he couldn’t hear over the wind, he could imagine dozens of outcries. He hoped all of them came from Brown Leaf throats, or nearly all. He’d told his men to fight until faced with two enemies, and then to hightail it. They would make their way to the river, letting the enemy see that they were heading for the beach. At the last moment they were to climb up the cliffs instead. For now, if his forty men put forty enemies out of the battle, that would swing the odds a little. And on the cliffs they would have the high ground.

  A gust slapped him hard, and he splatted into the mud. Before he got near the river, he was knocked down twice more. Walking in this wind and rain—he’d never done anything harder.

  On the ledge, Aku asked Oghi, “Do you think we have a chance?”

  Oghi answered, “The hurricane will win.”

  The Brown Leaves ran into the river. The Amaso men, lying flat on top of the cliffs, chuckled as they watched the warriors wobble as they used their spears for poles to keep them upright, or just pratfalled into the water.

  Then the wind decided to show more of its muscle. It unleashed a fury Aku would have thought impossible. The Amasos crawled behind rocks where they could. They held onto their totems, eagle feathers or ermine tails in their hair, whatever they wore for medicine. They lay flat on spears, spear throwers, darts, and especially blow guns, which were made of cane. They prayed that they wouldn’t be blown away like mosquitos.

  The Brown Leaves were lower and the trees along the river provided some shelter. Still, they went down hard and got up slowly.

  On the cliffs only Oghi and Shonan, lying behind the same boulder, occasionally shuttered their eyes with fingers, stuck their heads out, and looked at the enemy. They were watching for Maloch. Both of them had the same thought. He’s around somewhere, and close.

  No one knew how long the gale blasted them. It abraded like a corncob rubbing skin, it hit like a hand slapping hard. As in all such times, it lasted forever. Minds drifted through timelessness. Pain racked each body for an eternity. After two or three eternities, it slacked off, and time clicked back in.

  Men looked around, disbelieving. The wind hadn’t just eased. Bizarrely, it had quit altogether. Though the sun was behind the hills in the west, the temperature along the river, the beach, and the cliffs tranformed from cold to warm. Amaso men who had been clenching their teeth against the chill blast felt languid, lazy in the balmy stillness. They smiled indolently as they watched the Brown Leaves gather themselves, file lightly and easily across the river, and trot along the beach. The warriors talked, laughed, and held their arms up into the glow of the sun.

  Shonan was ready. He ran among his men, now more than three score of them. He touched them, he whispered to them. The warriors crept to the edge of the cliffs but stayed low, out of sight. Those with blow guns, more than half of them, rested their weapons on the lip of the cliffs, pointing downward.

  Shonan went to Aku and talked briefly with him. As asked, Aku began making the change into eagle form. “The light is running out. Use what there is. Think of your wife,” Shonan said, “think of your child. Be a warrior for them.”

  With the tide all the way out now, the beach made more than enough room for two hundred Brown Leaves. Shonan sneaked a look down and thought that there weren’t two hundred, not anymore. They still advanced behind that high pole. How odd. Shonan saw now that it had a snake carved into its top. He hadn’t heard of the Brown Leaves having a snake as a totem.

  Before the Brown Leaves in front got near the mouth of the cave, Shonan whirled his hand above his head, the signal to fight. The first assault was to be silent.

  The Amaso blow-gunners dipped the points of their darts in their small horns of poison. Their time had come—Shonan had shown them the way. They spat gusts of air through their canes and the feathered darts flew. They could only shoot the closest walkers, those within ten strides or so. Most of the darts hit flesh. The tips made only a small wound, like being hit with a thrown awl, but the attackers roared with victory. The victims wailed, knowing the poison was usually fatal. Their lives would be an hour of feeling okay, a miserable night, and death before dawn.

  Kumu and the Amasos flung throwing knives. Some hit and some did not. A few threw spears and did damage. The Brown Leaves backed away from the cliffs, toward the sea.

  Fuyl hurled three darts with his spear thrower—he killed two men and wounded another in the leg. He let out the Galayi war cry—“Woh-WHO-O-O-ey! Woh-WHO-O-Oey! AI-AI-AI-AI!”

  The Brown Leaves threw their spears, but their targets popped up from behind rocks and ducked back down, making elusive targets. Then the Amasos grabbed the Brown Leaf spears and hurled them back. Shonan checked the feel of one and kept it.

  Quickly, the man with the crooked nose and the long pole started shouting, and the Brown Leaves retreated further toward the edge of the water, out of range of any weapon. The wounded sat down with stoic faces and began singing their death songs.

  Aku could still see, but the light was fading. He hesitated. “Iona,” he whispered to himself, “Iona and the baby.” He launched into the warm, still air, floated toward the fleeing Brown Leaves. He flew landward from the cliffs, circled out to sea, and turned back unnoticed—just another eagle. He took a deep breath and dropped onto the shoulders of one of the milling warriors. He raked the fellow’s neck with talons and lifted back into the air. His next victim flailed, and when he turned his head toward Aku, the eagle man sank his beak into his foe’s eyes. Men began to yell and point. Two or three threw spears. Aku screamed his eagle war cry, flapped up, folded his wings, and dropped onto an enemy. When he saw blood running from the big vessels in the neck, he flew up and attacked another one. He surprised himself—he felt exhilarated.

  A hand grabbed his right leg. He winged up but couldn’t tear loose. A knife raked fire across the bottom of his belly.

  He turned and became the aggressor. He ripped the Brown Leaf’s face with his left talons. He pecked savagely at the head, the nose, the eyes, whatever he could reach.

  In a moment the Brown Leaf let go and ran.

  Aku flew after him. He landed on the man’s left shoulder and with his right talons ripped a bloody track across his neck.

  Aku flew up and screamed. The Brown Leaves screamed back in panic. Some waved their spears, spear throwers, and canes in the air pointlessly. Others crouched below their comrades, cowering.

  From the cliffs the Amaso men roared and hoo-hawed. Attacked by an eagle! Whipped by an eagle!

  In the near darkness Aku swooped low, screaming. He felt a sharp jab in his left wing. A spear arced beyond him and back to the sand. A couple of his primary feathers fluttered through the still air.

  He turned his head and saw a man with a crooked nose shaking his staff and yelling.

  Aku whirled and launched himself straight at the man. He and half a dozen comrades scattered like
frightened children.

  Aku soared up, looked down at the chaos, and laughed in a human voice, a vibrant, raucous laugh.

  In the last glimmer of twilight the pole was more shadow than substance. Fifty strides out onto the wide beach the top of the stick seemed to wriggle. The men atop the cliffs thought it must be an illusion, a trick of the light.

  The man with the crooked nose knew exactly what it was because he felt it. The serpent circled down the pole to his hands, from his arms down his chest, down his legs, and onto the sand. The feeling was eerie, it was savage, and it hinted of triumph. Then the coral snake crawled toward the cliffs without a word or a hiss.

  The man with the crooked nose walked back as evenly as he walked forward, and with a sense of ceremony.

  “They’re coming back,” said Shonan.

  Aku perched on his father’s shoulder and ignored the pain in his wing. Sitting there atop his father, alongside Oghi, comrades at war—it was exhilarating.

  Yes, by the light of the westering sun the Brown Leaves were traipsing toward the cliffs. The night would be a safeguard, would force a truce until morning.

  “They won’t camp on the beach,” said Shonan. “The tide will come in.”

  “They don’t know the tides here,” said Oghi.

  Shonan nodded, understanding. “But the water won’t get more than knee-deep, right?”

  “Right.”

  “When?”

  “After midnight.”

  Shonan considered. “It might be worth something.”

  That last word was torn away by a gale. As suddenly as it quieted, the winds hit again with mad fury, and impossibly, they came from the south instead of the north. Men who had been standing dived to the earth. Shonan and Oghi hit the ground and crawled behind rocks. Aku got knocked into the air. He opened his wings, felt like they were going to get torn off, folded them, hit the grass rolling, and did the fastest change into human form he’d ever made.