“It is known that I went with my hunters so far south that there was no snow and it was hot in the winter, to the place where there are only murgu. It was my thought that murgu had killed Amahast and all in his sammad. My thought was correct for we found murgu that walk like men and kill with death-sticks. It was one of their death-sticks that I found among the bones of sammad Amahast. We killed the murgu we found there, then returned north. Now we knew that death lay to the south and we knew what kind of death it was. But we were hungry this last winter and many died. In the summer the hunting was bad, as you know. So I took the sammad south along the coast because of the hunger. I led the hunters farther south for the easy hunting there. We knew of the danger. We knew that the murgu might attack us too, but without food we would be dead anyway. We were on our guard and there was no attack. It was only after we turned back that they fell upon us. I am here. Ortnar is here. The rest are dead. With us is Kerrick who is the son of Amahast, captured by the murgu, now free at last. He knows much about the murgu ways.”
There was a loud murmur of interest then and movement among those listening as those to the back tried to get a clear view of Kerrick. They pointed out his lack of hair and the shining ring about his neck, and the skymetal knives that hung there. He stared straight ahead and said nothing. When they were silent again Kellimans spoke.
“These are days of death for the Tanu. The winter kills us, the murgu kill us, other Tanu kill us.”
“Is it not enough to be killed by the murgu? Must we fight one another?” Herilak asked.
“It is the long winter and the short summer that we must battle against,” Ulfadan said. “We came to this place because the deer are gone from the mountains. But when we tried to hunt here the bowmen of many sammads from beyond the mountains drove us away. We have little food now and in the winter we will starve.”
Herilak shook his head sadly. “That is not the way. The murgu are the enemy, not the Tanu. If we battle one another our end is certain.”
Kellimans nodded agreement as Ulfadan spoke next. “I believe as you do, Herilak, but this is not of our doing. It is the other sammads you must speak with. If it were not for them we would hunt and not starve. They come from beyond the mountains and they are many and very hungry. They push us back and we cannot hunt. They would see us die.”
Herilak dismissed his words with a chop of his hand. “No, that is wrong. They are not the cause of your woes. The hunting must be just as bad beyond the mountains or they would not have come here. The Tanu have two enemies. The winter that does not end—and the murgu. Together they are uniting to destroy us. We cannot battle against the winter. But we can kill murgu.”
Others raised their voices then and joined the argument, but were silenced when Fraken began to speak. They respected the old man’s knowledge and healing powers and hoped that he could show them some answer to their problems.
“The murgu are like the leaves and as numberless as leaves. You tell us that they have the death-sticks. How can we fight against creatures like this? And why should we? If we risk death fighting them—what do we win? It is food and not warfare that we must have.”
There was a murmur of approval when he finished speaking. Only Herilak seemed to disagree.
“It is food you must have, revenge that I will have,” he said grimly. “A way must be found to kill these murgu to the south. When they are dead there will be good hunting down the coast.”
There was much discussion and crosstalk after this, but nothing could be decided. In the end Herilak signed to Ortnar and they rose and left. Kerrick watched them go—but hesitated to follow them. His lust for revenge did not match theirs. If they did not call to him maybe he would not have to join them. He could stay here by the fire and join the talk with the other hunters. Perhaps he might even stay here with this sammad and hunt and forget the murgu.
But this was not the answer. He knew what the others here did not. He knew that the Yilanè would not forget him nor the rest of the Tanu. Their hatred ran too deep. They would send out the raptors and find every sammad and would not rest until they had all been destroyed. Ulfadan and Kellimans and their people feared only the winter and their hunger and the other Tanu—when the certain killer was just over the horizon.
No one took notice when Kerrick picked up his spear and left. He found his two companions at a fire of their own and he joined them there. Herilak poked at the fire with a stick, looking deep into it as though searching for an answer among the flames.
“We are only three,” he said. “We cannot fight the murgu alone—but we will if we have to.” He turned to Kerrick. “You know about the murgu—which we do not. Tell us of them. Tell us how they wage war.”
Kerrick rubbed his jaw in thought before he spoke. Slowly and hesitatingly. “It is not easy to talk of. You will have to know about their city first, and how they are ruled. You must understand the fargi and the Yilanè and just how they go about doing things.”
“Then you will tell us,” Herilak said.
Kerrick found it difficult at first to speak of things in Tanu that he had never thought of in that language. He had to find new words for scenes he was familiar with, new ways of describing concepts totally alien to these hunters. They questioned him over and over again about things they could not understand. In the end they had some idea of how the Yilanè society worked, although they had little idea why it did so.
Herilak stared in silence at his clenched fists where they rested on his thighs, seeking to grasp the meaning of what he heard. In the end he had to shake his head.
“I will never understand the murgu and I think that I will not try. It is enough to know what they do. The large bird flies high to watch us, then returns and tells them where a sammad is so they can attack it. Is that right?”
Kerrick started to protest—then changed his mind and nodded agreement. The details were not important as long as they had some understanding of what the Yilanè were doing. “When they know where a sammad has stopped they prepare an attack. Fargi with weapons go out on the boats. They come from the sea suddenly and kill everything as you know.”
“But you spoke of more than that,” Herilak said. “Do they not camp on the shore the night before they attack?”
“Yes, that is the way that they do it. They stop as close as they can, spend the night, then leave their food supplies behind them in order to attack at dawn on the following morning.”
“Do they always do it this way?”
“Always? I don’t know. I’ve only been with them twice. But, just a moment, that doesn’t matter. The way they think, the way they do things, they would do it the same every time. As long as something is successful they will not change it.”
“Then we must find a way of using that knowledge to destroy them in turn.”
“How will you do that?” Ortnar asked.
“I do not know yet. We must think about it and plan until we find a way. We are hunters. We know how to stalk our prey. We will find a way to stalk and kill the murgu.”
Kerrick had been silent, lost in thought, seeing the destruction of a sammad as no one else could. He had once been on the shore when the attack had come, could still feel the horror when the dark forms had appeared from the sea. But he had also been there with the attackers, traveled from Alpèasak. He had watched the preparations for the attack, had listened to the orders and knew exactly how it all had been done. Now he had to combine these two opposite points of view and find some way of turning things around.
“Turn it around,” he said aloud. Then shouted it again when they looked up at him. “Turn it around! But in order to do that we will need Ulfadan and Kellimans and their sammads. We must explain to them, make them understand and help us. Here is what we will then do. We will march south with the sammads and hunt. The hunting will be good and there will be much food. But once we go south our presence is sure to be discovered by the murgu, for they will be told about us by the great bird. But we will keep close watch and
when we see the great bird we will also know what is going to happen. When we see the bird we must send out hunters to watch the beaches. Then we will know when the attack is coming and we will be ready. Instead of running we will fight and kill them.”
“That is dangerous,” Herilak said. “If we take the sammads we will be risking the lives of the women and the children, all those who cannot fight. There must be a better plan or these sammads will not take the risk of coming with us. Think again. Wasn’t there something you told me that was very important, something about the night? The murgu don’t like to go about at night?”
“I don’t think it is just like that. Their bodies are different from ours. They must sleep at night, always. It is the way they are.”
Herilak jumped to his feet, roaring with sudden enthusiasm. “The way we are we sleep at night as well—but we do not have to, not all of the time. So this is the thing that we will do. We will talk to the hunters and convince them that they should go south along the shore and hunt because of the coming hunger. In this way the sammads will get food for the winter. But while we are hunting we will watch always for the great bird that speaks to the murgu. When the bird sees us we will then send hunters to hide where they can watch the beaches to the south. When the murgu stop for the night we will know where they are. We will then come forward during the darkness. The hunters only. We will go in silence and in silence come to the beaches.”
He clenched his fists and slammed them together. “Then we will fall upon them in the night. We will spear them while they sleep, rout them, kill them just as they have killed us.” Afire with enthusiasm he rose and walked rapidly back to the circle of hunters. “They must be told. They must be convinced.”
It was not an easy thing to do. Ortnar and Kerrick joined him and explained the idea over and over again. About how the murgu attacked and how they could be defeated. They repeated themselves and explained exactly how they could hunt and get food for the winter. And kill murgu.
Ulfadan was greatly troubled by all this, as was the other sammadar. It was too new an idea—and too dangerous a one.
“You are asking me to risk all of our lives on this plan,” Ulfadan said. “You ask us to stake our women and our children out like bait for a longtooth to take so that it can be speared. This is a great deal to ask.”
“It is—and it is not,” Herilak said. “Perhaps you have no choice. Without food few will last the winter. And you cannot hunt here. Come south, we know the hunting is good there.”
“We know the murgu are there.”
“Yes—but this time we will be on the lookout for them. If you like, we will not wait until we see the great bird, but will have hunters always hidden on the beaches ahead. They will warn of any attack. When the murgu reach the beach we will know the attack is near. The warning will be given. In that way the tents and all else can be loaded on the travois during the night, the boys will drive the mastodons inland away from the shore, taking the women and all the small children with them. They will be out of danger that way. It is a risk, but it is a risk that you will have to take. Either that or die in the snows this winter. Without food none of you will see the spring.”
“You speak harshly, Herilak,” Kellimans said angrily.
“I speak only the truth, sammadar. The decision is up to your people. We have said what we have to say. Now we will leave.”
It was not decided that night, nor the next day nor the next. But then it began to rain, a heavy rain that was blown about gustily by the cold wind from the north. Autumn would be coming early again this year. The food supplies were low and they all knew it. The three strangers sat apart from the others and were aware that people who passed looked at them with worry, many of the hunters with hatred as well for forcing this choice upon them.
In the end they began to realize that they had no choice at all. There was much wailing among the women when the tents were taken down and loaded on the travois. There was none of the usual excitement when a trek began. They might have been walking to their deaths. Perhaps they were. Subdued and wet they marched east through the driving rain.
CHAPTER FIVE
In the excitement of breaking camp Kerrick had been too busy to think about all the dangers that the future might hold. Unexpected memories had filled him with mixed emotions as the travois were lashed to the complacent mastodons. It was a wonderful sight when the great beasts leaned into their harnesses and pulled the creaking wooden frames slowly and steadily after them. They were piled high with tents and baggage, the children and babies sitting on top of everything. When the march began the hunters had fanned out ahead, scouring the barren country for any game they might find along the way. The sammad would not come together again until they met at the campsite in the evening, the hunters drawn by the fires and smell of cooking food.
For the first few days there was a great fear of what lay ahead, of the deadly murgu who would be stalking them. But the Tanu were fatalists, they had to be, for life changed constantly. They had always been at the mercy of the weather, the food that might not be there, the hunting that might fail. They were leaving behind starvation and certain death, had exchanged that for food and the possibility of continued existence. It was a fair enough bargain and their spirits rose as the days stayed warm and the hunting improved.
They even accepted Kerrick after the first few days, though the children still pointed at his iron collar and laughed at his bare head and face. But stubble was growing there, a finger’s length on his skull already, though his beard was wispy and thin. He was still clumsy with the spear and an awful shot with the bow—but he was improving. He was beginning to feel that the world was a good place to be alive in.
That is until they came to the ocean.
The first sight of the blue water filled Kerrick with a sense of dread so powerful that he stopped in his tracks. There was no one else in sight for he was well away from the low valley that the mastodon-drawn travois were following, nor were there any other hunters nearby at the time. With the fear came the desire to turn and run. Only death lay ahead. How could this handful of hunters imagine that they could stand up to the horde of armed fargi? He wanted only to flee, hide, seek refuge in the mountains. To go forward was certain suicide.
Warring with this overpowering emotion was the realization that he could not possibly leave at this time. This was too cowardly an action to contemplate. After all, he had helped originate the plan so he had little or no choice; he must follow it through. Yet the fear remained and it was with only the utmost reluctance that he could force himself to take a single shuffling step forward. Then another and another, until he was walking again, miserable and fearful—but still moving.
They halted close to the shore that evening. Even before the travois were unloaded the boys were already fishing in the brackish lagoon, baiting their bone hooks with earthworms. The waters were thick with hardalt, the small carapaced squid eager to take the bait. There was much shouting and laughter as they brought back their tentacled catch. They were quickly pried from their shells, gutted and sliced, were soon sizzling over the fires. Although tough and strong-flavored they were a welcome change of diet.
Kerrick spat out a gristly unchewable bit and wiped his fingers on the grass, stood and stretched. Did he have room for any more? He looked towards the fire—then caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. A seabird floating overhead.
No. He looked up at the great span of the creature’s wings, the white of its breast red now in the setting sun, and stood frozen. It was here already. He could not see the black lump with its never-sleeping eye looking down at them from the raptor’s leg—but he knew that it was there. Lower and lower it came, down towards the encampment. With an effort Kerrick broke the paralysis and hurried to Herilak sitting by the fire.
“It is here,” he said. “Flying above us. They will now know about us . . .”
There was panic in Kerrick’s voice which Herilak wisely ignored. His own words were quietly spok
en and grim.
“This is very good. Everything is working just as we planned.”
Kerrick had none of his assurance. He tried not to watch the bird as it circled above them, knowing that the pictures it would bring back would be carefully examined. The Tanu must show no obvious interest in it, no knowledge that they were aware of its function. Only when it had finished a last lazy circle and started away did he turn and gaze after it. There could be no doubt now that an attack would come.
After dark, when the hunters gathered to smoke and talk, Kerrick told them what he had seen and what it had meant. Now that they were committed there were no complaints. They questioned him closely, then discussed arrangements for the advance party of hunters to leave before dawn.
In the morning the sammads marched south. Herilak was in the lead and took them on a slow curve away from the coast. Kerrick recognized the terrain and knew that they were passing the place where sammad Herilak had been destroyed. There was no need to give the Tanu such a grim reminder of what dangers could come from the sea. They reached the beaches again that evening. Later, when the hunters met and talked, the decision was made to make Herilak their sacripex, their leader in battle. He nodded acceptance and issued his first orders.
“It is Kerrick and Ortnar who go ahead now. They have seen the murgu, they know what we are looking for. They will make their way along the coast and spend the night keeping watch on the shore. Two other hunters will go with them to watch as well and to return with the warning when that is needed. They will do this every night from now on. Others will also stay awake each night to watch the sea near our tents in case something goes wrong. We must be sure that it does not.”
They proceeded along the coast for four days more in this manner, until the fifth day when Kerrick hurried back to the campsite at dawn. The hunters heard his running footsteps and seized up their weapons.
“There is no alarm, the murgu are not here. But I have looked at the coast ahead and there is something we can do.” He waited until the two sammadars and Herilak were present, then explained. “The hunting is good now and there is much fish in the sea here. You must agree not to break camp today but to stay in this place and fish, while the hunters bring in meat for smoking. South of here there are cliffs, then a long stretch of beach with a thick birch wood that extends down almost to the shore. The distance is right. If the murgu come, when they come, they will not be able to find a landing place where the cliffs are, so they are sure to come ashore on the beach below the forest.”
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