Hunters Unlucky

by Abigail Hilton

  “Find water,” said Roup.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Water!” he snapped, and she knew then that he was anxious. “They can’t dig pits in water.”

  It didn’t take them long to locate a stream, they walked in it all the way to the lake, which they reached near midday. Lyndi had to keep shaking her head to stay alert. Roup went all the way out into the lake, where they paddled along until near evening. Lyndi thought several times that she saw cats moving along the bank, just out of sight amid the trees.

  They were both drooping with exhaustion when they finally pulled themselves from the water. Lyndi thought that the scent and scratch marks of Halvery’s clutter had never looked so attractive. Roup began calling as soon as they emerged from the lake—long, loud yowls that cats customarily used to announce their presence. They were soon answered.

  Roup turned to Lyndi before any of Halvery’s clutter arrived. “Don’t speak to anyone about what just happened. Let me tell this story…or not tell it.”

  “Yes, sir.” She hesitated. “Why do you think they’re doing it? Just lazy? They don’t want to hunt properly?”

  Roup hesitated. “I think…” he said slowly. “I think we’re being misdirected.”

  At that moment, several members of Halvery’s clutter arrived. “I need to speak to Halvery,” Roup told them. “And then we need a place to sleep for a while.”

  Lyndi looked back towards the lake as they started away. She could have sworn that she saw the flash of a pink nose and pale eyes amid the evening shadows.

  Chapter 7. Brothers

  Storm thought at first that Keesha might curl up and go back to sleep while he told his story. The enormous telshee closed his eyes and hummed and didn’t seem to be paying attention, but Storm could tell by his breathing that he was awake. When Storm got to the part about Ariand’s chase, Keesha gave a little snort that might have been a laugh. For the first time, he interrupted.

  “You told them your name was Vearil?”

  “Yes,” said Storm. “It upset them more than I expected.”

  Keesha grunted. “Arcove won the war at the full of the hunter’s moon. They always called him lucky.”

  “I didn’t know,” said Storm. “I guess I got pretty lucky that time. Shaw saved me from Ariand, although I didn’t know to thank her.”

  Keesha glanced at Shaw with a frown.

  “He trapped himself in one of our tunnels,” said Shaw. “I heard about it. The least I could do was come and let him out.”

  “The very least,” agreed Storm. “I thought you were trying to kill me.”

  Keesha opened his mouth, but Shaw interrupted. “I did speak to you about him, but you don’t listen lately, Keesha. Storm, keep talking.”

  So, he did. He told them about Treace and Sharmel and Halvery. Keesha had his eyes open now. He laughed aloud when Storm got to the part about Halvery and the river. “I heard that Coden shortened Halvery’s tail for him the last time they fought,” said Keesha. “I do hope it’s a source of discomfort.”

  When Storm got to the part about Roup and their strange conversation, Keesha grew very still. Storm could tell that he had the telshee’s full attention. “Roup is an odd cat,” said Storm. “I don’t think he really wanted to kill me.”

  “I’m sure he didn’t,” said Keesha. “But he’s ultimately Arcove’s creature, so don’t trust his mercy too far.”

  Storm looked at Keesha curiously. “Why is Roup so different from the others? Do you know?”

  Shaw snorted. “Oh, we know.” She glanced at Keesha. “Are you going to tell him?”

  Keesha looked between them. Storm realized suddenly that Keesha had stopped humming. His eyes looked bright, alert…and angry. Keesha turned to Shaw with a low growl. “Do you think I don’t see what you’re doing?”

  “I am seeking your counsel for a ferryshaft who badly needs it,” said Shaw calmly. “Storm’s enemies are our enemies.”

  “You are trying to make me wake!” snarled Keesha, and his voice reverberated off the water of the Dreaming Sea. He rose up, bristling. “You could tell him all of this yourself! Tell him our histories back to the dawn of days! Tell him every secret you know and go start a war! Just leave me out of it!”

  “It was your war!” shouted Shaw, matching his height, long neck swaying. “This is your story, Syra-lay, not mine!”

  Keesha dropped down a little. There was something sharp and brittle about his eyes. Pain, thought Storm. Grief.

  “They were your friends,” said Shaw more quietly. Her voice grew pleading. “And you were my friend, and I miss you, Keesha.”

  Keesha looked away. His mane settled. There was a moment of silence, during which he seemed to compose himself. Finally, he raised his head and looked at Storm. “Roup was raised by ferryshaft.”

  Storm blinked. “How—?”

  “I will tell you the story as Coden told it to me,” said Keesha. “At that time, there were several herds, both north and south of Leeshwood. Ferryshaft controlled the creasia by killing cubs every spring. Adult creasia are difficult to deal with, as you well know. They killed ferryshaft at every opportunity, but they were neither numerous, nor organized, so the ferryshaft kept them in check. Creasia do not read or write. They do not often parlay with other species or form alliances. From a telshee’s point of view, they have barely learned to talk.

  “Apparently, during one of these spring raids, a ferryshaft elder got the bright idea of learning more about the creasia by studying one of their cubs. So he spared one and brought it back. He chose the cub at random because it had an interesting color of fur.”

  “Roup,” said Storm softly.

  Keesha inclined his head. “One of the males had a mate who had recently foaled, and she was persuaded to nurse the cub along with her own foal…who also happened to have an unusual coat color.”

  Storm’s mouth fell open. “Coden?”

  “Yes.”

  “So…Roup and Coden were…?”

  “Coden considered him a brother,” said Keesha. “They used to meet, even after Arcove escalated the war, just to visit.”

  Storm licked his lips. “Then how did…? Doesn’t that make Roup a…?”

  “A traitor? Well, I suppose he had to decide whom to betray. No easy choices there, and Roup wasn’t exactly well-treated by the ferryshaft. They wanted to see how he developed as compared to a ferryshaft foal. They didn’t really know much about creasia, and they were curious. They did all kinds of things to him. Making him run all day to see how long he’d last, throwing him off ledges to see if he’d survive the fall, forcing him to swim for great distances, feeding him strange things.

  “Coden was afraid they’d kill Roup eventually, and when they were both three years old, he helped Roup run away. They parted at the edge of the forest and promised to meet at the same spot in one year.

  “Coden didn’t really think Roup would survive. Cats were known to kill cubs who were not their own, and Roup smelled and spoke like a ferryshaft. But they both thought it was the only chance Roup had. Coden was delighted when his ‘brother’ met him again a year later at the appointed spot. Roup had a black cub with him—a year younger. That was Arcove.”

  Keesha’s voice took on a peculiar timbre when he said Arcove’s name. It made Storm bristle uncomfortably. He shook himself and tried to concentrate on the story. “That’s amazing! They knew each other? The three of them?”

  “Oh, yes. That’s probably the best-kept secret in Leeshwood. Roup and Coden met secretly for years. Arcove joined them a few times, but I don’t think he and Coden ever got along.” Keesha thought for a moment. “I’ll give Arcove this much: he never used Coden’s friendship with Roup as a weapon. There were never any ambushes when Coden came to visit, and Arcove kept Roup’s secret from the other creasia, who would surely have killed him for it.

  “Coden tried to keep Roup out of his dealings with Arcove as well. He made me promise once that I wouldn’t harm his ‘brother’ to get
at Arcove. I’ve kept that promise so far…although there are times when I wonder whether Coden might still be alive if I hadn’t…or how much one is bound by promises made to the dead.”

  Storm watched Keesha’s dark expression. “You really hate Arcove, don’t you?”

  “I have good reasons,” murmured Keesha. “We have a blood debt, he and I. Someday, he will pay it.”

  “Because he killed Coden?”

  “Not just Coden,” said Keesha. “Let me tell you about the Battle of Chelby Lake.”

  Chapter 8. The Battle of Chelby Lake

  “The ferryshaft elders asked Coden to take over their leadership one fall—most of them, anyway. A few small herds didn’t acknowledge him, but most of the leaders came to the fall council where they chose Coden. He was a war-time king—a king to unite all the herds. Coden had no herd of his own, although he’d grown up in Charder’s. He was cunning and had friends among the telshees. The ferryshaft hoped that he could save them from Arcove. They swore fealty until the end of the war, and their leaders became his officers.”

  “You know they were afraid,” muttered Shaw, “to agree to set aside their pride like that.”

  “They were terrified,” agreed Keesha. “Arcove was killing them with alarming speed. He made a policy of leaving dismembered ferryshaft bodies where they could be found. He targeted herd leaders, along with their mates and foals. His cats were organized and persistent. No one had seen creasia behave this way before.

  “Coden put a stop to it, at least for a little while. He united the herds on the southern plain, and formed a defensive system among the caves that riddle the cliffs in that direction. They baffled Arcove for a time, throwing back several large-scale attacks and killing the nightly assassins he sent among them. I do not think they lost many ferryshaft that winter. Arcove contented himself with killing the small, scattered herds and individuals who’d refused to join Coden.

  “We telshees offered our help that spring. Coden had done well even without us, but he was having a hard time protecting the birthing females and their newborn foals. Creasia were catching them daily around the caves. I gave Coden the Shable and allowed him to use Kuwee Island. This put the foals and their mothers beyond the reach of Arcove’s cats. The rest of the ferryshaft could leave the island in groups, attack creasia, and then return to hide in an unassailable place.

  “Kuwee gave them a great advantage. It also gave telshees a place to hide on the mainland. The fortress beneath Kuwee does not connect to Syriot, but we could move to and from the sea via the river and the lake. We began assisting the ferryshaft in their raids. The creasia were clearly disconcerted by our presence and the ease with which we killed them. I suspect that we would have won the war by fall, if…”

  Keesha trailed off. Shaw watched him without a word.

  “If what?” prompted Storm.

  Keesha shook himself. “That summer was brutally hot. No one could move without panting. The streams dried up. Even the Igby River grew so shallow that we couldn’t swim it without being seen and possibly attacked by cats. I and about fifty other telshees chose to stay on Kuwee with the ferryshaft for the summer. The rest went back to Syriot.

  “Cats watched us from the shore, but no one really thought they’d attack. It would mean heavy casualties for them, and we could simply retreat into unassailable caves. Then one day, the Igby River dried up. One day it flowed. The next, it didn’t.

  “I found out later that the cats had been busy in all that heat. Arcove dammed the river. He flooded part of the forest to do it, but, because the water was already so low, it worked. He couldn’t drain the lake, of course, but he didn’t have to. Kuwee Island is close to shore. The water between the island and the mainland was already shallow enough that a ferryshaft could walk across. After Arcove dammed the river, the water level fell rapidly. On the island, ferryshaft and telshees started to panic.”

  Keesha stopped talking again. Storm listened to the low, hypnotic hum of the ancient, sleeping telshees and thought about what it must have been like…watching the water sinking and the lines of cats coming closer.

  When Keesha spoke again, his voice sounded tired. “Coden and I both felt that fleeing the island would be a mistake. The cliffs were the next best place to hide, and they were a day’s journey away. In crossing the plain, the ferryshaft herd would be vulnerable to attack. Most of the young foals would not survive. We believed that we could outlast the drought.

  “Some of the ferryshaft elders disagreed with us, including your teacher, Pathar. They took about half of the herd and struck out swimming across the lake. They intended to come out near Groth, and travel along its edge to the cliffs. I heard later that most of them made it, although nearly all of the young foals drowned or fell to cats. Nevertheless, they were the most fortunate of us all.

  “By the next day, we no longer had their options. The water of the lake had become shallow enough that creasia could walk all the way around the island. At this point, I had to admit to myself that we might be trapped and overrun. There are no springs on Kuwee, and there would soon be no water that we could reach.

  “We agreed to parlay with Arcove. It did not go well. His terms would have put the ferryshaft completely at the mercy of the creasia for the foreseeable future—a future you are now living. He wanted telshees off the mainland forever. Coden would not agree to it.

  “That night, I told Coden to take a small group and sneak off. I wanted him to go to Syriot and tell the other telshees what was happening. The trap had closed so quickly that I was sure none of them knew. We would need reinforcements to fight our way out.

  “Coden was the ideal candidate for this. He was good at hiding, good at tricks. But he was not the sort to abandon his family and friends.

  “In the end, his mate talked him into it. He was extremely fond of her. She went with him, leaving their two-year-old foal with the others on Kuwee. They insisted upon bringing the foal who’d been born that spring—a female named Lirsy. She was strong, and Coden was sure that her best chance was with her mother. They also took Charder—Coden’s old herd-leader and friend. Charder was about ten years older than Coden, and he was one of Coden’s most level-headed officers. Charder could fight; he was known for it. They took the Shable as well, so that, if the worst happened, Kuwee Island would not become a huge cat den.

  “My telshees created a diversion, attacking the cats on the back side of the island. In the confusion, Coden and his party escaped. At least I didn’t have to watch them die.” Keesha fell silent again.

  Shaw stared morosely at the water. “If I’d been quicker, no one would have died.”

  Keesha snorted. “I doubt that.” He looked at Storm. “Coden did reach Syriot, and he did manage to contact Shaw. Shaw discovered the dam when she tried to come to our aid. Her drove tried to break through, but in that shallow water, just a few cats made the job difficult. In the end, she couldn’t reach us in time.”

  Keesha’s voice sank to a murmur. “The foals died first, including Coden’s two-year-old. He’d played in my pools in Syriot when he was a yearling—a bright, happy little thing. When the headache grew unbearable and his tongue swelled so that he could hardly talk, I knew there was no hope. So I sang him to sleep…him and many others.

  “The youngest of the telshees started to weaken soon after. In their confusion and delirium, we could not always prevent them from darting out across the dry lake bed towards water. We could see it there, glittering beyond the creasia. They had plenty to drink and eat with so many fish stranded in shallow pools. Any ferryshaft or telshee who made a dash for the water was torn to pieces. Occasionally, a little rain fell, and then everyone struggled around the puddles. It was impossible to keep order. They were so thirsty.

  “We were soon starving, as well. Every bit of game on the island had been eaten. The ferryshaft were stripping the trees of needles and bark, but we telshees couldn’t eat that. We told each other that help would come…if we just held on.


  “Telshees can go for a long time without food, but not so long without water. I think Arcove knew that. I don’t think his attack on Kuwee Island had much to do with ferryshaft at all. I think he was trying to take us out of the war.”

  “Well, he did that,” muttered Shaw.

  “Many of the older telshees entered torpor to avoid death from thirst,” continued Keesha. “When the final attack came, they could not be roused. The creasia killed them where they lay sleeping—old friends, mostly.” Keesha had started to hum beneath his own monologue. Storm thought it was a kind of self-comfort—an unconscious thing, like wrapping one’s tail around one’s feet.

  “Those telshees knew shores and seas and creatures that these dim, bloody-minded cats will never dream of in their short, brutal lives,” growled Keesha. “But a life of learning and exploration is no defense against calculated savagery. By the time Arcove chose to attack, even those who were awake were too weak to put up much of a fight. The cats crept in very quietly one night, killing the weakened sentries as they went. By the time anyone shouted an alarm, creasia were already inside the fortress of Kuwee, slaughtering ferryshaft and sleeping telshees.

  “The strongest of us managed to rally enough of a defense to drive them from the caves. We shut the entrance, leaving the wounded to their lonely deaths. By then, I had with me only four other telshees and perhaps fifty ferryshaft. I thought we could at least reach the water of the lake. I didn’t know how far we would have to go to find deep water, but I felt we had a reasonable chance.

  “In this, I was mistaken. There were over a hundred cats swarming across the island, and they all converged on us as we tried to reach the water. They pulled down one animal after another in a bloody frenzy. A very few of us did reach the new edge of the lake, and, Storm, you should have seen how they bent to lap it. They could not restrain themselves—bleeding, dying, with cats all around, they stopped to taste the water and were killed.