by Moira Young
This way! I yell. This way, gawdammit!
I can hear ’em, feel ’em, as they turn an come thunderin after me. I shift my bow to my back. Hermes slows down as he pulls up alongside. Still runnin, I grab his mane an swing myself onto his back.
Go, go, go! I yell. I stab my heels an he goes like the clappers. I grip hard with my knees, lean low along his neck. My heart hammers. My belly’s tight. The red hot’s runnin high an fast.
Wrecker wraiths. Travellers that set out, never to be seen agin. Headhunters, that’s the truth behind the tales. When they find their firekeeper dead, they’ll give chase. An we’ll be easy to track.
As we pound along the road, my head pounds too.
I killed him. I had to. No choice. Still. It’s one more life on my scorecard. It don’t matter who, friend or foe, each life’s a scar on my soul.
But oh . . . my bow in my hands. My whiteoak bow, the gift of the shaman.
Straight to his heart. No fear. No hesitation.
The beauty of it.
The power.
The beautiful, perfect, terrible power.
The dark thrill in my deepest self.
Tracker races at our heels. Nero speeds ahead. Hermes flies over the ground, tremblin with excitement. He’s a wild wind. A streak of lightnin. His hoofs beat us into the hard yellow dawn, as we ride, flat out, fer the Yann Gap.
We reach it jest after daybreak. The Yann Gap. The end of the road. The border between here an New Eden. Across the Gap lies Tonton territory. An Jack.
The forest starts to thin out, then suddenly we’re outta the trees an two fifty, three hunnerd paces on we’re at the Gap.
There’s two stone cairns, set well back from the edge, to red flag the danger that lies ahead. I stop at ’em, jump down an run to take a look.
Without the cairns to warn you, you’d be in real danger of ridin straight on an tumblin to a messy death in the canyon. Becuz that’s what the Gap is. A dry canyon. A great deep gash in the earth, like somebody’s took a giant axe to it. It’s thirty foot across an deep, deep, deep. Too gawdamn deep fer comfert. Jagged rocks snarl at the bottom, like sharp teeth in a hungry mouth.
There ain’t but one way to reach th’other side. By a rope an wood bridge that’s jest wide enough to take a small cart. It’s anchored to stumpy iron pillars. Two on this side of the Gap an two on the far side. They must be the remains of some old Wrecker crossin.
The wind witters an moans in the canyon. The bridge swings gently. I’m lucky there’s any bridge here at all. Still, I cain’t help but wish it was a lot more sturdy an a lot less swingy. I ain’t never crossed a rope bridge. My bowels ain’t keen on the idea, but my head’s keen to stay attached to my body, so cross I will. Hermes too. I ain’t leavin him behind.
I clutch tight to the rope railin an inch my way to the middle, testin it’ll take his weight. I clutch even tighter as I jump – one, two, three times – makin sure I land hard. The slats feel strong. There’s a couple that look new. Somebody’s bin seein to repairs.
I rush back to Hermes. Rummage in my pack fer somethin to wrap around his head. I pull out a dark red shawl. Auriel’s shawl. How the hell did it git in with my gear? Last time I seen it, it was around her shoulders back at the Snake.
My dream. The faceless body in the ground. The head wrapped in a blood red shawl.
I shove the thought away. I wrap it around Hermes’ eyes an start to lead him across. Come, Tracker, I says. C’mon, boy.
He stays where he is. He runs to an fro, whinin an barkin. Damn. I’ll hafta come back fer him.
With Hermes’ weight on it, the bridge stays still. I soothe him, my voice low an calm. We go slow. One step, then another. I don’t take my eyes offa his feet an where he’s puttin ’em, not fer a second. Without even tryin to, I ferget my own nerves. Before I know it, we’re steppin onto solid ground agin. We made it.
I unhood him, loop his reins around a nearby tree an head back fer Tracker. Poor devil, he’s completely spooked. I tie nettlecord twine around his neck. Yer too big fer me to carry, I says. C’mon, now.
I haul on the twine an manage to git him onto the bridge. I pull an coax an he starts to crawl on his belly, whimperin all the while. Sweat trickles down my back, damps my armpits. Nero hops along the rope handrail, croakin encouragement.
C’mon, Tracker, I says. Good boy! That’s it! Almost there.
Jest then, I hear a sound. So faint, I cain’t be sure. No. Yes. Hoofbeats in the distance. Headed this way, movin fast from the direction we jest come. I cain’t see nuthin fer the vast sprawl of forest. Must be the headhunters. They found the body. They’re comin after me.
Sonofabitch, I says. I crane my neck around. The rope’s bin coiled an wound around the pillars. It’s pretty thick. Not too thick, I hope.
I hold out the cord to Nero an he takes it in his beak. Here, I says, help Tracker across.
He starts to hop along the handrail, leadin Tracker over the bridge.
I run to the far side. I grab my knife from my boot an start sawin at one of bridge ropes, near to where it joins the pillar. The rope’s made from orange honeysuckle vine, woody an tough. An it’s bin sealed with tree pitch aginst the weather, so it’s hard goin. But I hack an saw an sweat over that rope like my life depends on it. Which it does. The rope starts to fray.
The riders is gittin closer.
C’mon, Tracker! I yell. C’mon, Nero, hurry up!
I throw a look their way. They’re three quarters of the way across. Tracker’s still on his belly, froze to the spot. Nero’s sittin on his head, holdin the cord in his beak.
I don’t stop. I cain’t. The rope’s jest about cut now.
If I was you, I’d git a wriggle on! I call. Any time now ’ud be good!
Nearly through. Almost—
Tracker! I bellow. Shift yer gawdamn ass!
There’s a great crackin noise. Suddenly, the bridge sags.
Nero takes off. Tracker leaps. He flies through the air towards me. He jest makes it.
The second his back feet hit solid ground, the rope snaps. The bridge tips. A few slats tumble into the canyon.
On this side of the Gap, the bridge is hangin by one rope only.
I run an start workin on that one.
There’s a big cloud of dust headed this way. Must be a helluva lot of ’em. The red hot’s runnin wild in my blood. I saw away like a demon.
Aaaaaah! I yell, the sound comin from deep in my belly as I hack at this last rope. Aaaaaah! Sweat stings my eyes.
Yellin from th’other side. Hoofbeats. Shouts. Screams.
Saba! Saba!
Voices callin my name. My name? But—
I’m through. The rope snaps. I turn, pantin.
To see the bridge swing down an dangle from the pillars on the far side. Useless.
To see four riders pull up on that same side of the Gap. Lugh. Maev. Tommo. Emmi.
Eyes wide. Horrified.
To see another cloud of dust risin above the forest behind ’em. Rollin this way. The faint sound of drumbeats.
Dust. Drumbeats. The headhunters. They’re comin.
We gawp at each other across the canyon. Then, What the hell you done? Lugh yells. Are you crazy?
How should I know you was right behind me? I says. My heart’s poundin fit to bust my ribs.
Somebody’s chasin us! says Emmi.
Headhunters! I says. It’s me they’re after!
You?! Lugh glares at me over the Gap, red-faced with fury. Who’s stuck on the wrong side of the gawdamn canyon! You know what? That’s yer problem right there! It’s always about you! Well, I’m sick of it!
No time to chat! Maev’s already jumped down, run to the nearest pillar an started reefin out the handrope from the fallen bridge. You got some thin cord there? she calls to me.
Net
tlecord! I says.
Tie it to a arrow an shoot it over! she yells. We’re gonna make a rope slide!
I rush to Tracker. Slip the nettlecord from around his neck, fumble to tie it to one of my arrows.
I see what her plan is. The handrope’s still tied firm to the pillar on their side. She’ll tie the end of the handrope to the nettlecord an shoot my arrow back to me. I’ll tie the handrope to one of the pillars on my side. They can slide across to join me.
Maev’s shoutin, Lugh! Tommo! Emmi! Yer gonna hafta hold ’em off while we do this! Take cover! Move!
The three of ’em’s bin sat there in shock. But now they shift. Fast. They leap from their horses an rush to duck behind the rocks that edge the canyon.
The cord’s ready. I nock the arrow. I shoot. It flies over an sticks into the ground, right at Maev’s feet. She grabs it. Starts tyin the end of the handrope to the end of the cord. On my side, Tracker’s barkin his head off. Nero’s flyin back an forth, squawkin an callin.
Hurry up! cries Emmi.
By now, Lugh’s figgered out Maev’s plan too. It ain’t gonna work, he says. The rope’s too heavy. It won’t make it to Saba.
Maev keeps workin as she says, Thanks fer that, Lugh, very helpful. You got a better idea? I thought not. Right, I’m ready here. You ready, Saba?
Ready! I call.
She loads the arrow onto her bow. The cord tied to the arrow. The handrope tied to the cord. Then she shoots. She aims high in the air. It arcs into the clear blue sky.
It so nearly makes it.
But Lugh’s right. The rope’s too heavy. We all watch as the arrow – a whistle shy of makin land on my side – falls outta the sky. I fling myself onto my stummick an lean over the edge. It’s snagged on a bush that’s growin outta the canyon wall, ten foot below me.
I look at them. They look at me. Maev goes to tug at the handrope.
No, wait! I says. Wait! Nero! I whistle fer him, pointin down at the bush. He sweeps down an lands on it. Looks at the arrow, then up at me with his clever black eyes. That’s right, git the cord! I says. Bring me the cord, Nero.
He starts workin the arrow free with his beak.
The ground rumbles. Riders approach. The drumbeats grow ever louder.
They’re here! yells Tommo.
Weapons! yells Maev.
They all load their bows. I scramble to my feet an do the same.
Look out fer the blowdarts! I yell.
Saba! I’m afeared! cries Emmi.
If you are, you ain’t no sister of mine! I shout. Come at me agin!
I ain’t afeared of nuthin! she yells.
That’s more like it!
The headhunters ride into view. A dozen men. But not on horseback.
On bird back.
They’re ridin birds.
Not flyin birds. Runnin birds. Huge. Eight foot tall. With black feathers an short white tails. Long, powerful legs. Big two-clawed feet. Small heads on top of long, stretched necks.
Like their temple firekeeper, these hunters is painted white over their entire body. Black slashes over their eyes an mouths. The rag strips that cover ’em whip in the wind of their ride. On their heads they wear helmets made from human skulls. A long black horsetail hangs down their backs. Some of ’em clutch spears, others ready their blowguns. Hatchets hang from their waists.
The drummer’s at the back, two skinboxes slung eether side of his bird. He urges the hunters on, beatin fast with his heels. When they spot us, they start to make this fearsome noise. A high-pitched, endless yip. Uhluhluhluhla! Uhluhluhluhla!
Aim fer the birds! cries Maev. Go fer the necks!
The hunters race towards us.
Hold! yells Maev.
They’re closer. That crazy war shriekin stands my hair on end.
Hold! she cries.
Closer.
Hold!
Then, Fire! yells Maev.
One, two, three, four. I zing off the shots. Fast. Strong. My bow sings wild an sweet. I’m thirty foot back this side of the Gap, but my bow puts me right there. I bring down a bird. Two riders. They cry out as they tumble to death. A squawk, a flutter, an Nero lands at my feet. He drops the arrow with the nettlecord attached. I haul the string up an grab the rope the second it comes into view.
I got it, Maev! I yell.
I run to the nearest bridge pillar. I loop the rope around, make a slipknot an haul on it till it starts to pull taut. Till it stretches tight over the canyon gap. There’s a little downslope on it. I tie the rope off.
We got us a rope slide.
Ready! I shout.
While I bin fixin the slide, Maev’s bin gettin Em ready. Wrappin her belt around both her wrists, loopin it over the rope slide an bucklin it tight. Now she takes her by the waist, they yell, one, two, three!, an they’re runnin to the canyon’s edge an Maev gives her a shove.
Over the canyon flies Em, screamin all the way. I catch her at this side an set her free.
Keep shootin, Em, I says. We both fire away while Maev sets Tommo on the slide with his belt. He comes hurtlin over the canyon so fast, he almost bowls me over.
Then there’s the three of us – me, Emmi an Tommo – shootin from this side, with Maev an Lugh on th’other. Between us, we brought down half of the headhunters an a couple of the birds.
Lugh! shouts Maev. C’mon!
He hesitates. He’ll hafta cross open ground to git to her.
Keep low! Move, gawdammit! she yells.
He makes a dash fer it, skippin an dodgin as spears an darts fly at him.
Stay down, yer too high! I yell.
There’s one headhunter who’s bin shoutin at everybody, tellin ’em what to do. Now he aims his blowgun at Lugh.
I see. I shoot him. A heartstrike. He tumbles dead from his bird. But he blew his dart. It hits Lugh in the arm. He keeps runnin. Probly didn’t even feel it. He slides across the canyon. Tommo helps him offa the rope.
You bin hit! Pull it out! I says to him.
He sees the dart fer the first time. Yanks it out.
Then it’s jest Maev left on th’other side. As we keep firin on the hunters, we’re all yellin at her, C’mon! What’re you waitin fer?
She’s yellin somethin back.
What’s she sayin? says Emmi.
She ain’t got no belt, I says.
Cain’t git across, says Tommo. She’s trapped!
Maev, I yell, look out!
A headhunter runs at her, hatchet held high. Uhluhluhluhla! Maev whirls around an bends over. He tumbles over her back into thin air. He plunges to the bottom of the canyon, screamin all the way.
He’s dropped his hatchet. Maev seizes it, takes hold of the rope with one hand an chops it free of the pillar. She runs at the edge. Swings herself across the Gap.
The hunters beat a retreat. They scoop up their dead, grab our horses an take off on their birds, back the way they come.
Then they’re gone. That’s it. Over.
Maev’s bashed into this side of the canyon. She’s hangin on the rope, startin to climb. Me an Tommo rush to help pull her up. She scrambles to her feet. Shakes her head at me. You don’t make things easy, do you? she says.
They got Lugh in the arm, I says. Blowdart.
He’s standin there, half outta his shirt, lookin at where it went in. There’s a raised red welt on his upper right arm. Don’t fuss me, he says.
Emmi, I says, where’s the medicine bag?
She keeps it around her waist. She’s already emptied it on the ground, sortin through little brown bottles an bags of herbs. I know what to use, she says. But we gotta git the poison out first.
I’ll do it, says Maev. You got sage water, Em?
While they clean Maev’s knife, me an Tommo sit Lugh down. We each take one of his hands. Grip hard, I tell h
im. He does.
Maev kneels beside him, knife at the ready. I’m sorry, she says. This is gonna hurt.
Jest do it, he tells her. As she cuts his flesh, as she slices a cross into his skin, he don’t make a sound. But he almost crushes my hand.
Maev puts her mouth to the wound. She sucks out the poison an spits it on the ground. Agin an agin, till she’s got it all out.
Done, she says an stands up. I’ll see if Emmi needs some help.
Maev, says Lugh.
Yeah?
Thank you, he says. Yer . . . yer amazin. Jest now an . . . before too. I ain’t never seen nuthin like it. You saved our lives. Their eyes meet. Briefly. But it’s enough to kick a pink flush into her cheeks. A little smile onto her lips. Her an Tommo go over to Em.
Then it’s jest me an Lugh. I’m still kneelin beside him, still holdin his hand. He looks straight ahead. His lips press together, his fingers twitch, his whole body quivers. He’s in shock. From the ride, from the fight, from his injury.
I’m sorry I left like that, I says. Without sayin nuthin, I mean. But I had to. You would of stopped me an Jack needs me. He sent fer me, Lugh, he’s in trouble. He did send a message, I worked it out. I gotta meet him at the Lost Cause by the next full moon.
He turns his head an looks at me. I flinch. Not shock. Rage, sharp an white, hardens him. He yanks up our joined hands. Holds ’em in front of our faces.
We used to breathe together, you an me. We used to think the same thoughts. Feel the same feelins. Walk in each other’s footsteps. The only reason we survived was becuz we had each other.
His voice lashes around me, tight an quick an low. With every word, his hand tightens on mine. Bit by bit, till the pain flashes red inside my head.
It warn’t all that long ago, he says. Remember?
Yes, I gasp.
You knew I’d follow you, becuz you’d of done the same, he says. If it warn’t fer Maev, we’d be dead by now. I’d be dead. An all becuz of Jack. All fer Jack. A man you hardly know. The man who helped kill yer friends.
I cry out with pain fer my hand. Stare into his eyes.
Tell me, Saba, he says. Does it hurt?