The Exile

by Jo Sandhu

  ‘But you won’t?’ Kaija pulled her hands away from him. She wiped her tears with an angry swipe.

  ‘I can’t.’ Tarin’s voice dropped low. ‘I have to continue my own journey. I have to take whatever is left of my Offering to the Mother. I’m sorry,’ he said, as Kaija turned away from him. ‘I know you saved my life . . .’

  ‘And yet you still won’t help me save my brother?’

  Tarin opened his mouth to speak, but he could only shake his head. He felt miserable.

  ‘My clan is depending on me,’ he said, finally. ‘The Spirits told us if we don’t make an Offering to the Earth Mother, Mammoth Clan will all die.’

  But I am no longer a part of Mammoth Clan . . .

  And there was the truth of his dream. It hit him in the chest like a spear of ice, the pain of his loss so great he nearly cried out. The herd had left him . . . and he could not follow.

  ‘Mammoth Clan? You’re Mammutti?’ Kaija turned to face him, a strange glow in her eyes.

  Tarin hesitated, then spoke firmly. ‘Yes, I’m still Mammutti. I may be lost and I may never see them again, but I am still Mammutti, and I will keep my vow to take the Offering, what’s left of it, to the Mountain and beg the Earth Mother for help and forgiveness. It is all I can do for my clan now.’

  The glow in Kaija’s eyes dimmed. ‘My mother dreamed of mammoths one night, but I see now it had no meaning. It was simply brought on by herbs and illness.’ She rubbed her face savagely. ‘My clan is dead. All I have left is my brother, and I won’t let him die. I’ll rescue him myself!’

  She stood abruptly and marched back to the cave.

  ‘You have no supplies, no weapons,’ Tarin called after her.

  ‘I don’t care,’ Kaija shouted.

  ‘No food, no spare furs –’

  ‘I don’t need them!’

  ‘Do you at least have a plan?’ Tarin’s voice rang around the small canyon, bouncing off the cliffs.

  Kaija stopped and looked at him. ‘I have a plan,’ she said, determination in her voice and the set of her jaw. ‘But I need someone to help me with it.’

  In the silence that followed, Tarin shook his head. Why was he hesitating? he asked himself. He had his own quest.

  But if it wasn’t for the girl, you would be dead, and the Offering would be lying at the bottom of the river, he reminded himself.

  A bitter taste flooded his mouth and he tried to spit it out. But the voice inside his head was right – he would be dead, and his quest would have ended in failure if it weren’t for Kaija.

  ‘Tarin . . .’ Kaija’s voice was low, and trembling. ‘You are lost. Do you even know where the Great Mother’s Mountain is?’

  Tarin shook his head and pressed his lips together.

  ‘If you help me save my brother,’ she said, ‘I’ll guide you to the Mother’s Mountain.’

  ‘You’d do that?’ Tarin asked, surprise in his voice.

  Kaija looked at him steadily. ‘I need your help, and you need mine. That’s what friends are for.’

  ‘Friends.’ Tarin said the word thoughtfully, as though tasting it. He had never really considered anyone his friend before. He had Taavo and his sisters, but family was different. Friends were by choice, and no one had ever chosen him.

  He looked around the canyon, the steep cliffs and foaming water, so different from the steppes. He had no knowledge of this land. No knowledge of how to find his home again, or how to continue his journey. He needed a guide, as much as Kaija needed his help now. It would be a fair trade. And maybe, if they travelled together, he wouldn’t feel so alone.

  ‘Friends,’ he agreed. ‘Now, what’s your plan?’

  Tarin fed another branch of wood to the fire and watched it catch alight. He was dressed in dry warm clothes, his belly was full of meat broth and half a salmon cake, and the pain and fever that had attacked his body for the last two days was gone. Even his bad leg wasn’t aching. He stretched it out in front of him and sighed.

  ‘I don’t think your plan will work.’

  Kaija glared and waved a strip of dried meat at him. ‘Why not? I don’t see anything wrong with it.’ She tore at the meat with her teeth and munched fiercely.

  Tarin ran his hand through his hair. It fell over his eyes and he wished he hadn’t lost the leather thong he used to tie it back.

  ‘There are only two of us. And how many Boar Clan?’

  ‘At least ten men,’ Kaija said. ‘But we’ll surprise them. They won’t know we’re coming.’

  Tarin shook his head, thinking. ‘I’m . . . not strong.’ It was difficult for him to say the words. He looked up, expecting to see contempt in the girl’s eyes, but she waved his concerns aside.

  ‘You don’t have to be strong, just quiet and fast.’

  Tarin squirmed, feeling worse. ‘I can’t be fast,’ he said reluctantly. ‘I have a weak leg. You may not have noticed.’

  They sat in silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts.

  ‘I didn’t know,’ Kaija said. ‘But that doesn’t matter. I’m fast. I just need you to wait by the boats.’

  Tarin rubbed his nose and frowned. ‘I’m not sure I can get over the cliff.’

  ‘Of course you can,’ Kaija said. ‘It’s narrow, but I’m sure you can do it. It just takes a bit of determination.’

  A smile twitched the corners of Tarin’s lips. She sounded like Saara. His breath caught painfully as he thought of his family. If it were Saara taken prisoner, you’d do anything to save her.

  ‘I’ll try,’ he said. He resolved to get over that cliff even if he had to crawl the whole way. The smile he received in thanks warmed his heart.

  The pine tree bridge was the first obstacle. Kaija ran lightly over the huge trunk, but Tarin wasn’t so sure on his feet.

  ‘Why don’t you let me carry your backpack,’ Kaija said. ‘That way you’ll feel more balanced. And you can use that driftwood like a walking stick.’

  Tarin felt strange without the pack on his back. He remembered standing on the hilltop with his father that last morning, looking out over the steppes. The wind lashed their hair and brought with it the scent of snow in the north. His leg had ached then, despite the pain-killing tea, and the pack was heavy. He remembered staggering a little as he swung it over his shoulders. Now, it was lighter, but his heart was heavier.

  The cliff path tested him, but slowly he made it to the small clearing and the pine tree. He crouched, hidden by bracken fern and low branches, and tried to breathe quietly.

  ‘We’ll stay here until dark,’ Kaija murmured, keeping her voice low. ‘Then you wait by the coracles. I’ll get Luuka, and we’ll escape down the river.’

  ‘What about the guards?’ Tarin scratched his nose and frowned.

  ‘I’ll distract them, don’t worry. You just have a coracle ready to go.’

  ‘It sounds too simple.’ Tarin’s breathing slowed and the thudding in his chest eased.

  ‘The best plans are simple,’ Kaija said. ‘And we have the element of surprise.’

  Tarin chewed his lip and nodded reluctantly. He still didn’t like the plan, but he could think of no alternative. He followed Kaija further into the forest cover and they sat in silence, waiting for darkness to fall.

  Hours later, the light had finally faded, and it was safe to move from their hiding place. Kaija watched Tarin as the growing darkness swallowed him. She could see the weakness in his leg when he walked, but to her, his limp was minor. She knew a man from down river who was unable to walk without a stick. Her mother had treated him after a woolly rhinoceros crushed his legs and gouged him so severely it was doubtful he would live. But her mother had treated him and bullied him to walk again, despite his pain making the cave walls echo with his screams.

  Her mother was ruthless like that, but a good healer often had to be harsh. Kaija had always thought she couldn’t do it . . . she couldn’t be as cold as her mother, but now – she shivered again – she realised she was more like her mother tha
n she had thought. Hadn’t she forced Tarin into helping her?

  ‘I will do anything to save you, Luuka,’ she whispered beneath her breath. She felt a qualm as Tarin disappeared from view. She hoped he would understand. She wondered about the Mammutti boy – about where he came from and who his people were. She could see his injury wasn’t new, and she wondered how it had happened.

  When she could no longer see him, she moved forward. The only light was from the large cooking fire outside the main hut, and she strained her ears for sounds that would warn her of danger. Muffled voices came from one of the huts. A baby cried, then quietened. A flap of hide covering the doorway blew open. In the gloom, it looked like a wounded animal, twisting in pain.

  Kaija breathed slowly to still the pounding of her heart, and crept quietly past.

  She hid in the shadows of the hut closest to Luuka’s prison. How desperately she wanted to see him, to speak to him, but she had other things to do first. She hurried to where the overhanging branches of the forest shaded a deep pile of fallen leaves and gathered them into a pile. Then she drew from her belt the aurochs horn she had found on the beach. Inside it, nestled in dried fungus and ash, was a coal from their fire. She leaned close and gently breathed on it until it glowed red.

  She lowered the coal to the tinder and blew harder. Slowly the flames took hold. The scent of wood smoke tickled her nose, and she quickly glanced around. She didn’t want her fire to be discovered too fast. She fed some larger branches to the flames and watched it grow.

  Somewhere, an argument broke out. Kaija heard angry voices, male and female. The flap to a hut burst open and a young man strode forward. He stopped, surprised by the glow of the fire and the strange girl crouching next to it.

  Kaija had no choice. She had to raise the alarm now, startle the camp into action before her plan failed. She lifted her head and screamed: ‘Fire!’

  The flames roared high and the sharp, bitter tang of wood smoke filled the air. Kaija pressed herself against Luuka’s hut as men and women rushed past with pots of water and heavy hides.

  ‘Luuka!’ she whispered urgently through the wooden branches of his prison.

  There was no answer and she called again, banging against the twisted branches and struggling to undo the thick leather thong that held his door closed.

  ‘Kaija?’ Luuka pushed his hands through the gaps in the branches to reach for her. ‘What are you doing here? You’ll be caught!’

  ‘Help me, Luuka. I can’t untie the knots.’ She cast a swift look over her shoulder. ‘Hurry.’

  ‘Kaija, just get away from here! Run!’

  ‘No!’ She kicked hard at the door and heard it crack. She threw her whole body against the door, and it splintered beneath her. She fell forward in a heap of tangled branches and scratched arms and legs.

  ‘Come on!’ She grabbed Luuka’s wrist and pulled him out of the hut.

  The camp was in chaos as they ran. The fire was under control, but the air was still thick with smoke. It burned Kaija’s lungs and stung her eyes. She glanced at Luuka, who was hobbling beside her and clutching his ribs where the Boar Clan hunters had kicked him.

  Kaija kept her hand clasped around his wrist as she pulled him towards the river.

  ‘Kaija, wait . . .’ Luuka fell to his knees, drawing in large gasps of air. His face twisted in pain as he spoke. ‘I think my ribs might be broken.’

  Kaija looked down at him in dismay. ‘Just a little further. Come on, Luuka. You can do it.’

  Luuka shook his head. He was having trouble breathing. Sweat dripped from his brow and his hair fell over his eyes in lank strands. Mud and dried blood caked his clothes.

  ‘You go.’ He tried to push her away. A shout from behind told them they had been seen. ‘Run, Kaija! While you can.’

  But Kaija stayed where she was. ‘No. I’m not leaving you.’

  ‘I’m the elder, and I say to go.’ Luuka’s voice was an angry growl. ‘Now!’

  He pushed her with all his strength and groaned, but before she could turn and run, two Boar Clan hunters rushed them, spears raised. One of them clamped his arms around Kaija, and the other raised his spear like a club and hit Luuka over the side of the head. He fell to one knee, blood gushing from his temple.

  ‘No!’ Kaija screamed, kicking and fighting her captor. But the arms around her were strong and didn’t let go.

  Another hunter ran at them – a tall girl with many decorative beads covering her tunic.

  ‘Another dirty little thief.’ She spat on the ground and peered closely at Kaija. ‘And from the same litter as this one.’ She kicked Luuka and he gasped for breath.

  Kaija screamed and lashed out towards the girl with a savage kick that caught her in the stomach.

  The girl’s breath rushed from her lungs and she doubled over in pain. She glared at Kaija with furious eyes, and whipped a thin flint blade from her belt.

  ‘Dirty hyena,’ she growled.

  Luuka grunted and swung his fists blindly to protect his sister.

  The girl just laughed and pushed him back into the mud. ‘I will deal with you next.’

  She turned again to Kaija, but as she did, Tarin exploded from the shadows with a mighty yell, brandishing a flaming torch in his hands. His eyes were wild and his lips drawn back in a snarl. He waved his torch towards the hunters.

  Kaija’s captor took a step back from the flame, releasing his grip. It was enough for Kaija to twist and bite down hard on his ungloved hand. With a scream of pain, her captor released her.

  ‘Kaija!’ Luuka shouted. ‘Run! Now!’

  There was no way to win. More hunters were running towards them, waving spears, and Tarin’s torch was slowly dying. Light snowflakes dampened the last of the flames.

  ‘Tarin,’ Kaija cried. ‘Run!’ And she turned and ran for the cover of the forest.

  ‘Tarin! Run!’

  Tarin heard the words, but he didn’t want to run. He felt strong. His blood sizzled in his veins. His heart was on fire. He saw the way the Boar Clan hunter dug his fingers into Kaija’s arms and he wanted to attack him. The hunter was twice her height, and broad-shouldered. He could snap Kaija’s neck with his bare hands.

  For a moment, Tarin imagined it was Miika standing there in front of him, and he wanted to smash his flaming branch into his teeth. It was a strong branch of oak, and the hunters watched him carefully as he waved the flame in front of them. Kaija is not a hyena, a dirty scavenger of carrion, he thought angrily. These people are the animals, torturing the frightened and the weak.

  The boy lying on the ground was covered in blood. He groaned, and Tarin realised he was still alive. He tried to move forward, but the girl with the knife snarled at him. Her cold eyes reminded Tarin of a savage animal. Another hunter feinted in his direction, rushing forward, then back. Tarin waved his branch and the hunter retreated.

  ‘Farla, end this!’

  The girl with the knife – Farla – turned her snarl on the speaker, and Tarin’s eyes followed her.

  It was a mistake. He didn’t see the hunter with the heavy oak staff until it was too late. He caught a blur of movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned, just as the staff connected with the side of his face. It was lucky he turned. The staff, wielded with such strength, would have crushed his skull. Lights exploded. The impact rippled through his body. Blackness swooped on Tarin like a flock of ravens, robbing his eyes of sight. But he could still hear.

  ‘Durk! He was mine.’ The rage in the girl’s voice was palpable.

  ‘You were too slow, Farla. Learn from this.’

  Tarin heard scuffling, then he was lifted by his arms and dragged along the rocky ground.

  ‘Take them to the drop hole. Tomorrow, at Sundown, they will journey to meet the Spirits.’

  ‘They should have met the Spirits tonight,’ Farla snarled, and a heavy boot slammed into Tarin’s stomach.

  Tarin tasted blood and bitter bile as it rushed up his throat. He could no longer hear o
ver the rushing noise in his head. Like a great wave, it grabbed him and pulled him under. And then there was nothing.

  Tears blinded Kaija and her hair tangled in branches as she stumbled blindly through the forest. The light mist had thickened and now snowflakes fell, making the uneven ground slick. She couldn’t see in the darkness and fell often, scraping hands and knees.

  She dared not stop. Behind, she could hear sounds of thudding feet and shouting. The light from flaming torches flickered through the trees. Boar Clan were searching for her. Again.

  She heard a cry of pain, and she spun around. ‘Tarin!’ She hesitated, unsure what to do.

  I should go back. I have to help them. But what if I’m caught, too? She shook her head, confused. But I can’t just leave them! This is all my fault!

  Kaija turned to run back to the camp, but a low root caught her foot and she fell, hitting her head against a rock. She felt sticky warm blood trickle down the side of her face. A great wail rose inside her.

  Everything had gone wrong.

  She sat on the forest floor, in the damp leaves and mud, and let the snow fall around her. She pushed her palms into her eyes and struggled for breath through the tight band of fear that wound around her chest, crushing her.

  ‘Over here! I hear something.’

  Kaija clapped her hands over her mouth to stop any sound escaping. A light was weaving through the trees, closer now. Branches crashed. Voices grew louder.

  Frantically, Kaija edged back into the tangle of bushes behind her. A hazelnut bush scratched her face and arms, but she wriggled further into the concealing branches and pulled them close around her.

  If it were daylight, they would have found her for sure. Even a child would have been able to track her through the soft ground and disturbed undergrowth, but the night gave her sanctuary and the falling snowflakes blurred her tracks.

  ‘You’re hearing things, Farla,’ a man’s voice said. He raised the burning torch in his hand and flickering light swept the area.