“Well, if we don’t have the beasts, then the terrain is easier along this.” He pointed down river with a twig. “Visiqe is easily seven hundred miles from here, and that’s over mountains. If we’re where I think we are, then it’s six hundred miles to Selnozi and it’s pretty flat going. We can get to the coast by road from there, or overwinter if we have to.”
“We can do eighteen miles a day. Five, six weeks by foot then,” Kepi said.
“No, longer,” Karik said quietly. “More likely we’ll only do ten to twelve miles on average, which makes it at least eight weeks. We can’t make such good speed without provisions—we’ll have to forage, and build a camp from scratch every night since we can’t carry much.”
“Yes, true,” Romi said. “Exhaustion is the enemy, and we need to collect food while we can. Some days we’ll do better than others, but we have to expect there to be days when we make poor progress. We’ve only got the one canteen—we’ll need to make another somehow. Kepi, we’ve lost our bows—do you think you can make a replacement?”
“Can do, but slings, spears and fish hooks might be better.”
“Fine—anything that doesn’t involve losing any of the knives or axes is fine by me. Now, we could climb out of the gorge, or make camp here and prepare. Karik, your assessment of the resources?”
“Not here,” Karik said. “The water is too fast for fishing, and there is little vegetation. I think we should climb.”
“Kepi?”
Kepi agreed, as did Taz. They would have to take a gamble on which side of the Gavime they would travel on—Karik thought the south side might be marginally richer, and that was enough for Romi. “Right then—we get topside, and make camp. Taz, are you up to a climb?”
“I’ll keep up,” his friend said dryly.
The boiled water was decanted into the canteen for later, the cooked meat wrapped in leaves and stored in the billycan with the greens Karik had found, and then the pitifully small packs distributed between them. Their first priority would have to be making grass blankets and devising a way of carrying more water—but they could do nothing more here.
It was not a straightforward matter, finding a way up the apparently sheer cliffs. Karik led the way, but several times they came to a dead end, and had to backtrack painfully slowly, to try an ascent a few yards further along the wall. Romi took up the rear so he could keep an eye on Kepi and Taz who were less confident climbers than Karik, but he was also watching what Karik was doing. Karik climbed as easily as any hiqwiq, finding foot and hand holds with ease, and if he said there was no way forward, Romi knew that was the simple truth.
It took nearly two hours to finally find a path out of the gorge, and they collapsed gratefully at the top. “Gods,” Kepi said with feeling, still gasping with exertion as he flopped onto his back to recover. “Don’t want to do that again.”
“Shouldn’t have to,” Taz said. “We’ll stick to the edge of the cliffs, and shouldn’t need to descend for a bit.”
“How far before it widens and slows?” Romi asked. Ordinarily, travelling along the river itself solved many problems they would have to face—water, food, even transport at a pinch—but the depth of the gorge ruled that out.
“Not for at least two hundred miles—we’re close to the source here. It’s high and fast for a good way yet.”
“Can’t be helped. Right—let’s find a place to make camp and get preparations underway.”
They walked a mile towards a stand of conifers, and while there was no running water, there was water to be had from the ground in small pools of run-off. Karik’s spare shirt was used as a filter, and Kepi was set the task of collecting another billycan full of liquid. Romi and Taz began building a shelter while Karik looked for food and grasses that could be dried and used to make blankets. These could be carried with them, unlike the shelter, and with heavy rain likely at any time during the summer, they were an urgent need.
Though they had to get south before the cold weather descended—which it would do, frighteningly fast—Romi had already decided to take two days to get ready for the trek. They had no stores and few tools, and about to embark on a journey that would be arduous even for a fully equipped team. On the positive side, the four of them were highly skilled, and all experienced in woodcraft. Like Romi, Karik was well used to living off the land, and had knowledge that might easily save their lives. Kepi was a weapon-maker and knew how to work wood, so their lack of equipment might be redressed a little. Taz was a surveyor and had been working with Pali and Tiro—they had no guide, but Taz knew the maps well, and was their best navigator. On the negative side, they lacked shelter, enough waterproof clothing and a guaranteed food supply, and the terrain, though easier than climbing back through the mountains, was still uncertain and full of dangers. Survival was not assured, but Romi had never been one to admit defeat on the smallest issue, and wasn’t about to start now.
He was still a little shaky from the shock of the abrupt events early in the day, and the others would feel the same. All of them nursed bruises, though it was astonishingly fortunate that there were no broken bones or worse injuries from a long fall and being tumbled against rocks. Worried about morale, he forced his team to concentrate just on the task in hand, and on the small successes they already had, while making sure people rested and ate and drank the water available to them. Karik had found berries and nuts—the former a useful snack, the latter portable food for the journey—as well as more fungi, and said there were signs of small rodents which he believed they could trap without too much trouble.
He had also begun to make cordage to bind the grass for grass blankets, and was collecting resin for waterproofing the woven water bottles he planned to make. He knew how to make pots, and if they came across a source of clay, he planned to try to make vessels for cooking and storage. A balance needed to be struck between convenience and travelling light, but they had to collect food where they could, and carrying it was a necessity. And finally, he had gathered bark, dry leaves and young conifer needles, all of which would make decent teas, and which would cheer the spirit even if they added little nutritionally. Romi was all in favour of a good cup of tea, and there could easily be days when that would be all they had to leaven a dull diet.
By nightfall, they were in good shape. They had made a leafy bed that would keep them off the damp soil, and a shelter against the threat of rain. They already had a stock of food that would tide them over for a couple of days if nothing else was found, and the prospect of finding more tomorrow. Kepi had already made some simple weapons and Karik had laid a couple of traps, so their diet might well be supplemented by meat the following day. They feasted on the beast meat that night, and set the remains to smoke. Karik had made conifer needle tea, sweetened with a little sap, and they had shared a bowl full—it was surprisingly good, and he assured them it would ward off infection.
“Is there anything you won’t stick in your mouth?” Kepi asked, grinning, after Karik had shown them the other ingredients he proposed to try—some of which didn’t look very promising.
“That’s a damn personal question,” Taz said as Karik flushed and looked away.
“A man’s eating habits are a private matter, Kepi,” Romi said peaceably. “We should turn in. A lot of work to do tomorrow.”
“Well, wherever them bastards are tonight, I hope thurls come and infest their loincloths,” Taz said fervently. “And I hope our food chokes them.”
“Let’s not think about them,” Romi said. “They’ll answer for their actions, or lack of them, once we get back to Tsikiugui. Keep your minds on the job, gentlemen, and don’t get distracted.”
Taz muttered a sheepish agreement. They relieved themselves and then settled down in the snug, and not too uncomfortable shelter, the long log fire throwing heat nicely into it. Though the weather was still mild, the fire would deter predators—Romi had decided a watch was too much of a strain, and would lead to people becoming dangerously overtired. It was a calc
ulated risk, but even Karik thought this wasn’t prime tewi country. He supposed they’d find out the hard way if they were wrong.
Staying Power: 27
Considering how badly he’d been sleeping lately, and that his first night or two in a strange bed was never restful, Karik was utterly astonished to wake and find the first fingers of dawn pinking up the sky. He had slept not only long, but well, and felt rested, though as he recalled the events of the previous day and the task ahead of them, depression descended again. At least it was still dry, and the sky was free of clouds. He looked around him, and realised Romi was already up, tending the fire. He crawled over the edge of the bed shelter, Kepi and Taz still snoring heartily behind him, and stretched as he stood. Romi put his finger to his lips. “No need to wake them,” he whispered.
Karik nodded—he agreed with Romi’s general stance of preserving energy for the long haul—and crouched beside the fire. Romi was using some of their precious water to make tea—making more containers was urgent. “We need to collect clay or grass to make water bottles,” he said.
“Or make water skins, if we can take down big enough prey. We need containers for things like the nuts and dried meat, and grass blankets for each of us. I’ll set Kepi and Taz on that today—you and I will concentrate on food and cordage.”
Karik could only nod, though every time he thought about the task ahead, his heart sank. Six hundred miles, in such a small group...he knew of no one who had done it. “Now, now,” Romi said, breaking into his thoughts. “We’ve got two months before the weather is likely to be too bad, and I’ve had harder treks.”
The man was a mind-speaker, Karik thought wryly. “Not one this long though.”
“No, but that’s the only real difference. Think about it, Karik. We have the wherewithal to find our food, supply ourselves, and all four of us are young, fit and experienced. You could hardly pick a better group to do this.”
“I don’t think that was Kizinke’s motive,” he muttered.
Romi put his finger to his lips again. “Not here,” he said quietly.
Karik let it go—after all, it was too late to do anything about it. Instead, he made a short foray, looking for fungi that grew abundantly in the damp soil about the trees—fungi didn’t keep very well, but made a nutritious meal while it was fresh, and they needed to take advantage of it while it was available. As he returned with armfuls of the fungi, Kepi and Taz were already up, and their faces brightened as they saw the bounty he was carrying.
“Well done, young Karik,” Taz said, which always amused Karik to hear, since Taz was actually younger than him. For some reason, he’d always been regarded as the infant of the group—and it hadn’t changed now it was just the four of them. He didn’t mind—he enjoyed subverting perceptions.
Romi explained the plan as they ate the fungi, roasted over the fire on thin sticks and washed down with the needle tea. “We’ll be in pairs at all times,” he said, “and return to camp no later than four hours after noon. Taz, I don’t want you moving more than two miles from camp, and stay as close as you can. No stupid risks. Take prey if you can do it easily—don’t chase it, and don’t endanger yourselves to catch it. A pound of honeycomb will be nearly as much use and a lot easier to get.”
The two men saluted, rather to Karik’s surprise since it hardly seemed the situation to stand on ceremony, and headed off towards the open grasslands. They would need vast quantities of grass for their various needs, and perhaps would not be able to satisfy their requirements here, but grass blankets would become urgent within a month, so they had to make a start.
Romi banked the fire, then shouldered the packs with their food, since they didn’t dare leave it in an empty camp. The fire would deter some raiders, but meat and nuts were prizes, and a hungry animal might risk the man scent and smoke to get it. “Let’s go,” he said.
Only one of Karik’s snares had succeeded, but he’d caught a fat weti, which would make a good meal. If they could catch something like that every few days, their chances of surviving would rise considerably. When he said as much to Romi, the captain gave him a wry look. “I rate our chances pretty high anyway, Karik. I’m not denying a weti here and there won’t be welcome, but with you to advise us, I know we won’t starve.”
Karik flushed at the praise. “We wouldn’t even be in this mess if it weren’t for me.”
“How so?” Romi asked distractedly, dismantling the snare and stowing the dead rodent in their pack.
“Kizinke—I know he set that slide deliberately. I think it was because of that argument I had with Soza.”
“Hmmm, could be. Although if you were still Soza’s lover and not Kizinke, I’d have that sour bastard with me and let me tell you—”
“What?”
Romi turned. “I said, if you were still—”
“Soza’s lover, yes, I heard. What in hells are you talking about?”
Romi frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Romi, I was never Soza’s lover. Where did you get such a stupid idea?”
“From him,” Romi said, pulling the pack straps tight in a savage jerk. “He told me more than once.”
“But...that’s ridiculous! We weren’t...not even close to being....” Karik shook his head. “You must have misinterpreted him.”
“Karik, he warned me off you the day I met you, and we even argued about it in Visiqe when he was trying to....” Romi came to a sudden halt. “Oh...gods. We ruled him out,” he said in a slow whisper. “Wepizi and I thought he couldn’t have...because we thought he was...oh gods! The boots—those pissing boots! He must have thrown them out of the window!”
“The boots?” Karik was a few beats behind Romi in putting the facts together. “It was...him? Soza? How...?” But then other things began to click—Kizinke’s strange attitude, some of Soza’s remarks, the interest in gerot. “Why?” he whispered. “Why would he do that?”
Romi went to put a hand on his arm, but aborted the movement. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “We don’t know for sure, but...he lied about what you’d said about soldiers. Damn it, I should have realised the other was a lie too.”
Karik turned and walked off, rubbing his arms and feeling suddenly cold. Soza had...and then he’d.... Had Kizinke tried to kill them to protect Soza’s reputation or his career—or had it been raw jealousy?
His stomach churned violently, and he leaned against a tree, panting through the nausea. Gods, his reactions all made sense now—how could he have been so stupidly blind? Just because he couldn’t believe a friend could....
He started violently as a hand fell on his shoulder. “Easy, easy,” Romi soothed. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I never realised—I wouldn’t have said anything.”
“Why?” Karik snapped. “Do you think I’m too f-fragile to know who my rapist is?”
Romi squeezed his shoulder. “Not at all. It has to be a shock, I know. I wouldn’t have chosen this moment to reveal it to you, that’s all.”
“Is there a good t-time to learn s-something like this? What other lies did h-he tell you?”
“He said you were going home in Darshek and denigrating our team. I realised later that he’d just been stirring up trouble, but he’d managed it anyway.”
Karik slumped against the tree, clutching his stomach which still cramped. His head pounded and he wanted to throw up. “You never insulted my d-daughter?”
“No, I swear. I thought...since he’d said you were lovers, that you must have left her mother for him, but he told me she was just a slut and had thrown you over. By that point, I knew better than to take that at face value.”
“He said....” Karik shook his head. It was all lies...had he been planning to...right from the start, had he been going to...? He peered up at Romi’s concerned face. “I’m a fool,” he whispered.
“No. Someone you had every reason to trust deceived you. This was not your fault, Karik. None of it—not the...the attack...or what Kizinke did. None of it.”
He shook Karik a little. “Come on, man, don’t collapse on me—we haven’t the luxury or the time.”
Karik almost snapped back angrily at the seemingly harsh words, but a moment’s reflection told him that Romi was speaking the bare truth. “I’m fine,” he said coldly.
“Damn it, don’t be like that,” Romi said in exasperation. “I know this is hard for you, but I don’t want you getting lost in it. Don’t let him win.”
“Too late,” Karik muttered, wrenching himself away from the tree. “Come on, we’ve got wuh-work to do.”
Romi kept giving him concerned looks, but Karik forced himself to ignore them. Now he knew how thoroughly Soza had fomented ill will between the two of them, he had to revise almost every opinion he’d formed about Romi in those early days, but he couldn’t help the habit of reserve which went back far further than this mission. He had always hidden his hurts, and having his weakness so naked in front of a man he had once despised and come to like so well, was humiliating and almost as painful as the rape itself.
He tried hard to concentrate on the immediate problem, to distract him from the horror of the other, and for an hour or so, it worked—at least a little. Their foraging proved fruitful, supplying seeds, nuts and berries which could be dried for transport, all the kind of thing they would want to have on the trail. Meat was the prize, of course, but Karik knew as well as Romi that the effort in catching a large animal, as well the time spent in butchering and smoking it, might not be worth it. “I say if we manage to take down a hiqwiq, that we should stop and prepare it properly. The skin and wool could be invaluable,” Romi said, as they walked back to camp with their prizes.
Karik nodded distractedly. Even this short break in activity had sent his mind spinning back to the earlier revelations. “We would never have argued,” he blurted out. Romi stopped and gave him a quizzical look. “All that...shit...was because of him.”
“A lot of it, yes,” Romi said quietly. “Some of it was me, some of it was you, most of it was the misunderstandings he fostered. But in the end, he didn’t win, did he?”
Staying Power (Darshian Tales #3) Page 38