“My children are dead!” cried the blonde woman. “Three of them carried off! How can my man and I live, knowing any other children we have can be killed by these creatures?”
“My family was destroyed by them, too,” Amero replied, “but Duranix saved me.” He wanted to ask her how safe any of them were, with panthers, vipers, drought, starvation, disease... their lives were an endless struggle for survival. He wanted to ask all of them, but he didn’t. There was no answer to her question, or to his.
The centaur leader said it best: “Help now, and live. Help later, and live. Alala!” With this exclamation, he and his brethren raised their clubs in salute and galloped away.
Amero trudged through the slackening rain to where the dragon slept. Before he reached the slumbering giant, a hand caught his arm.
Valka asked, “Where do you go now, boy?”
“I go home with Duranix.”
“What is ‘home?’”
“The place where Duranix lives.” He pointed eastward. “There, at the edge of the mountains, at the lake of the falls.”
“And he protects you from the yevi?”
Amero nodded. Valka looked back at the other people. Some had taken up their meager possessions and were already moving on. Others, among them the angry blonde woman, remained a few paces away, waiting expectantly.
“Would he protect us?” asked Valka.
Amero hesitated. “I think he would,” he said. “Let me ask him.”
Valka hung back as Amero approached the sleeping dragon. Though his heart hammered at his own temerity, Amero decided to put on a bold front. The folk watching were all older and more experienced than he. If he betrayed any fear of the dragon, he’d forfeit the influence he had as Duranix’s friend.
“Hey,” he said loudly, “Duranix, wake up!”
The dragon’s leathery nostrils flared. A gust of hot breath almost swept Amero off his feet. The dragon opened one eye, the eyelids splitting vertically to reveal a huge gold-flecked pupil. The eye focused on Amero, narrowing.
“What do you want?” said the dragon testily. The edge in his voice caused the small crowd of humans to shrink back.
“I have an idea,” Amero said brightly. “These people would like to place themselves under our protection.”
“Our protection?”
Amero lowered his voice. “Your protection.”
“What am I going to do with a herd of humans? One makes an interesting pet, but twenty are an infestation.”
“They won’t live in the cave with us,” Amero said, his voice rising. He spread his hands apart, sketching out his new vision in the air. “They can live on the shore of the lake below the cave. They can go about their own lives there. You need not do anything for them, unless the yevi come back.”
Duranix lifted his head so suddenly the group of waiting humans stumbled backward in fearful surprise, half tripping and falling to the ground. He eyed them coolly.
“I’m not feeding them,” he announced.
“Of course not! They’ll feed themselves.”
“And when I’m sleeping, I want it quiet. None of their shouting and squawking.”
“Yes, Duranix.”
He heaved himself to his feet with a yawn. “Very well,” the dragon said, “but they’re your responsibility, Amero. I expect you to keep them in line. It’s one thing to save wildlife from slaughter. It’s another thing entirely to invite a herd into your home.” He yawned again prodigiously. “Fighting makes me hungry. I don’t suppose any elk are left on this side of the river?”
Before Amero could reply, Valka called, “We will find them!” He gestured to the other hunters in the group. They took up their spears and fanned out in the direction of the riverbank. There was a rumble of hooves and shouts from the plainsmen, and in short order they returned dragging the carcasses of three large elk. They presented these to the dragon from a respectful distance.
“Well,” said Duranix, blinking. His eyelids made loud clicks when they came together. “Perhaps we will get along after all.”
He stretched his mouth wide. Amero shouted a warning, and the hunters and their families scattered before the lightning erupted to roast the elk to the famished dragon’s taste.
Chapter 7
Nianki ran across the moonlit plain, knees rising high, arms pumping in time with her legs. The spring night was warm, and the white moon played hide-and-seek with high clouds made pink by Lutar, the low-hanging red moon. Sweat poured down her face, stinging her eyes. A few paces ahead, a yearling buck darted, its bold white tail flicking with fright. She’d flushed the deer by accident as she crossed the high plain by night. It sprang up so close in front of her that she couldn’t ignore the opportunity.
Had she owned a full-length spear, she could have brought the yearling down by now, but Pakito’s cast-off weapon was good only for short throws. After eluding the elves, she had doubled back to the beach and found the truncated spear unclaimed on the sand.
Snorting, the deer twisted sharply to the right. Nianki yelled at the animal. Her blood was up, and she meant to have this young buck. She stretched her long legs and gained a step on her prey. The deer was too young to know it could outrun her. It knew pursuit only by panthers or wolves, which it could evade but not outrun. It kept changing direction, dodging from side to side, in an attempt to escape, but she wasn’t fooled. She closed to within a pace of the buck. Each step made her legs burn, each breath now felt like a flint knife in her ribs. The yearling was panting, too, its long tongue lolling from the side of its mouth.
Nianki raised the spear to her shoulder. The next time the buck bore right —
He did, making a lightning turn right across her line of sight. Nianki hurled the short spear. It grazed down the deer’s ribs, drawing blood. The head buried itself in the ground, and the shaft tangled the yearling’s feet. It tumbled to the ground in a welter of flailing legs and wide, rolling eyes.
With a ferocious cry of triumph, she leaped upon the fallen animal. It struggled to rise, but she caught it around the neck with both arms. Bleating with terror, the young buck tried to roll her off, but she held on, tightening her grip on the animal’s throat. Nianki got a knee in the deer’s side and wrenched backward with all her might. Bones in its neck snapped, and the deer ceased struggling.
She fell back on the matted grass and gasped for air. The collar the elves had put on her chafed. Worse, though her wounds had healed cleanly, the scars still ached when she exerted herself.
Recovered, Nianki found her spear and used the flint head to butcher her kill. She gutted the carcass, wiped it out with dry grass, and then slung the yearling across her shoulders. It was essential to keep moving. The smell of blood would draw scavengers from far and wide, and she didn’t want to have to fight them off.
She made for an outcropping of boulders near the horizon. Bowed under the weight of the carcass, Nianki kept her head down until she was quite close to the boulders. When she finally looked up, she was startled to see two human figures in the shadow of the rocks. She tossed aside the deer and presented her spearpoint.
“Who’s there?” she demanded.
“Peace to you, spirit of the night! We mean no harm!”
“Show yourselves!”
Two plainsmen, young enough to be beardless, emerged from the darkness and stood open-handed before Nianki. They were naked but for scrap-hide kilts. Their faces were gaunt with hunger, and their ribs stood out like reeds, even in the dimness of the soft moonlight.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“I am Kenase,” answered the taller boy, “son of Ebon and Filar, and this is Neko.”
“Your brother?”
“No, I am the son of Sensi and Myera,” said Neko.
“How come you to be here?”
The boys exchanged looks. “We escaped from the Good People.”
Nianki tapped her spear against the hard collar. “I escaped from them as well. When did you break free?”
&nb
sp; “We left their camp near sundown,” said Neko haltingly.
“That way.” He pointed east. “The Good People are powerful, hut I didn’t think they could capture a spirit!”
Nianki frowned. “What are you talking about? Who’s a spirit?”
“You!”
She laughed. “The moons have addled your heads! I’m no more a spirit than you.”
Kenase pointed at the deer. “We saw you. You ran down a deer and slew it with your own hands! Who but a spirit of the night could do that?”
“A hungry woman, that’s who,” Nianki replied. She hoisted the carcass back on her shoulders. “How long has it been since you two ate?”
Neko licked his lips. “Three days, Great Sp – Uh, what shall we call you?”
“Nianki, daughter of Oto and Kinar.”
“Oto the panther killer?” said Kenase.
Nianki nodded.
“I know tales of his prowess as a hunter. You’re his daughter? That explains much!”
Nianki climbed atop the lower boulder and set to work skinning the buck. She nipped off morsels for the two young men. Kenase, she reckoned, was about her age, maybe a season older. Neko was a year or two behind her. They ate greedily, and Nianki had to admonish them to chew long and swallow little. Fresh meat was hard on a starved stomach.
Kenase explained he had been visiting Neko’s family to meet Neko’s younger sister, Nefra. Their parents were considering Nefra taking Kenase as her mate. While with Neko’s family, they were captured by a band of the Good People, eight on foot and four riding those strong, four-legged animals, which he called “horses.”
“The Good People breed them to serve as beasts of burden,” Kenase explained.
“Go on,” said Nianki, chewing slowly.
“There were six of us,” Neko said, “and they drove us to a hilltop near the boundary of the eastern forest. The Good People have made a sort of hedge of tree trunks at the top of the hill, so close together no one could pass between them. There were many, many plainsfolk there, inside the hedge.”
“How many?”
Kenase counted on his fingers, then on Neko’s as well. “More than our hands can count.”
“So how did you get away?”
“Some of the women made a noise and drew the eyes of the Good People to them. The men boosted me and Neko over the tree trunks, and we ran away. We meant to find my family, return, and free the rest.” Kenase’s shoulders slumped dejectedly. “In the time we’ve been running from the Good People, we’ve seen no plainsmen at all, until we saw you.”
Nianki sighed. She thought herself favored by the spirits to have gotten away from the elves. The last thing she wanted to do was steal into a camp full of them, but her heart ached to hear this. She couldn’t bear the thought of so many plainsmen being held captive.
“How many elves – Good People – were at this camp?” she asked finally.
More counting on fingers. “We saw twelve in all,” said Kenase.
“If they have the chance, will your kinsmen fight for their freedom?”
“Yes, I am sure of it!”
“Good.” Nianki stood on the boulder and wiped her hands on her buckskin shirt. “I’ll help you.”
Neko and Kenase jumped up, ready to return, but Nianki ignored them and dragged the rest of her kill to the highest point in the outcropping. As the boys watched, she climbed down a few steps and stretched out on the rock.
“Aren’t we going right away?” asked Neko.
“Not now. It would be light by the time we reached the camp. Better to go tomorrow afternoon and arrive after the sun has set.”
“But they hunger and thirst!” Kenase protested.
“They’re plainsmen,” Nianki replied. “Hunger and thirst are familiar companions. They’ll endure another day. If you want my help, you’ll have to do as I say, and I say we can best help them after dark.”
She put an arm across her forehead, covering her eyes. Oto used to do that when he was through talking, and it had the same effect on Neko and Kenase it always had on Nianki, Amero, and Kinar. They fell silent.
Nianki was glad they’d seen her run down the yearling buck. It was an unusual kill, and it awed them enough to accept her counsel.
“Great Spirit of the Night,” they had called her. The longer Nianki lived, the less she believed in spirits. The elves were supposed to have mystical powers, and she’d seen little of it. Kenase and Neko took her for a spirit, yet she was flesh and blood. Were all the stories she’d heard of ghosts and spirits just lies or. dreams? The hard world Nianki was coming to know seemed to have little room for spirits.
*
She awoke to find bright sunlight streaming on her face, and she heard low voices conversing close by. Nianki sat up abruptly. The two boys were sitting on the ground with their backs against the boulder, eating and talking. A pile of wild celery lay between them. From the stems and strings heaped alongside, it looked like Kenase and Neko had already eaten about half of what they’d gathered.
Nianki checked her deer. It had not been touched, she noted with satisfaction. One of the oldest tenets of the hunters’ code was a kill belonged to whomever brought it down. The boys’ respect of her kill was a positive sign.
She scrambled down the rock. Kenase stood up.
“Good morning,” he said. “Sleep well?”
“Well enough.”
Neko also rose, though more slowly than his companion. A stalk of celery stuck out of his mouth.
“Hungry?” he mumbled, offering her the unchewed end.
“I need water,” Nianki replied. “Is there any?”
Kenase offered to lead her to a nearby spring, but she declined. He gave her directions, and she went to the water hole alone.
After she drank her fill, Nianki splashed the tepid water on her face. She thought about Pa’alu and his hollow gourd for carrying water. Maybe it wasn’t such a strange idea. Never knowing where the next water hole might be, carrying your own supply on a long trek made a lot of sense. Next time she came across a suitable gourd vine, she would save one.
While trudging up the hill, Nianki decided to test the young men’s mettle. Instead of walking straight back to the boulder, she circled around the low side of the hill and came up on the far side, with the rock between her and the boys. She crept up on the warm stone and lay flat, pushing herself along with just her fingers and toes.
“... until she gets back,” Neko was saying.
“What do you think of Karada?” asked Kenase.
“Strange,” said Neko, “and dangerous.”
“Karada” in the plainsmen’s tongue meant “Scarred One.” Nianki had no doubt whom they were talking about.
“Do you think she can get my family out?” Neko continued.
“She’s strong and fleet, and no matter what she says, I think the spirits are strong in her. You saw how she brought down the deer with her hands?”
“Uh-huh.” Neko picked celery string out of his teeth. “She moves like a panther. If anyone can free my family, she’s the one.”
Kenase looked down the hill toward the spring. “She’s taking a long time.”
“Women are like that.”
Nianki quietly withdrew. She considered jumping down on them from her hiding place, but that seemed childish. Besides, it was useful to know what other people thought, especially if they didn’t realize you knew.
She ran back around to the spring and ascended the hill in plain view. Again Kenase stood when Nianki approached, and again Neko remained where he was, slouching against the boulder.
“We’ve enough food for the day, so there’s no need to tire ourselves hunting,” Nianki said. “I say we stay here and rest a while, so we’ll be strong tonight.” The boys readily agreed.
They slumped in the shade of the boulder. Kenase offered Nianki the wild celery they’d gathered. She munched a few stalks, all the while evaluating her new comrades. Kenase was earnest and talkative. He was plainly impr
essed with Nianki and kept trying to do things for her, to her secret amusement. Neko was different. He was quiet and observant – in fact, he watched Nianki as intently as she watched him. His interest wasn’t as openly friendly as Kenase’s, and he seemed more detached.
She told them without elaboration about the loss of her family, and how she’d received the scars she bore. More detailed was her recounting of her meeting with Balif and his band of elves near the coast. Both youths were puzzled by Balif’s declaration that the elves would take all the land from the Khar River east to their forest home.
“Take it? Take it where?” Kenase asked.
“The elves mean to live here and drive all the plainsfolk out,” Nianki explained.
“They can’t do that,” Neko replied. “Where will we go? West of the river is the land of the ox-herders. The hunting is bad there. There’s no room for us!”
“All the more reason to free your family, and any other humans we find. The people of the plain must work together, like the elves do, to resist this invasion.”
Nianki curled up on her side, pillowing her head with one arm. “Rest now,” she said. “When night falls, we go.”
*
When twilight faded to the black of night, Nianki and the boys made ready. No moons were up yet. It would well past midnight before Lutar rose. By then, Nianki hoped they would be on their way to freedom.
Neko led the way. He set an easy, loping pace that Nianki had no trouble matching. Pausing only to take his bearings from the stars, Neko bore due east for a long time. To the north, foothills stood out against the glittering sky. Ahead, the fringes of the vast eastern forest loomed.
Halfway to midnight, Neko stopped and fell to one knee. Nianki came up on his left, while Kenase knelt on his right.
“Between those two hills,” Neko whispered. A faint glow lit up the hollow between the indicated hills.
“What’s that light?” Nianki wondered aloud.
“Fire,” said Kenase. “The Good People command flame.”
She didn’t like that. Fire was not something a sensible hunter fooled with. It did not care whose hide it burned, and its illumination would make their task that much harder.
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