“What, do I smell or something?” she said in feigned injury.
“What? No… shut up. Just getting hot.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Really?”
“Shut up.” He looked around the benches to see who was left.
Graham, the sketch artist, was sitting close to the fire, putting the toe of one of his boots into the fire and then pulling it away repeatedly. One of the women sat with a headlamp on, reading a book. Towering Rodney lay sprawled across one of the empty benches, using his clasped hands as a pillow.
Peter and Rheese appeared from the trailer, and both looked surprised to see nearly everyone gone.
“Nature hike,” Matt explained, and Peter nodded recognition, then hurried off to his tent for his flashlight.
Rheese approached the fire, hands in his pockets, and stood behind the benches for a moment. Finally, he shifted his eyes to Matt. “So, young Turner,” he said, “guessing you’d like another go before lights-out?”
Matt sat bolt upright, but before he could speak, Tuni said, “Yes, please!”
28
IRIN HELD HIS LIGHTSTICK OUT IN front of him to illuminate the cave. It was as the scouts had described: a small hollow in the rocky escarpment. This one was far too small to accommodate even a few people; also, they would be easily visible from outside. He wanted deeper caves, and perhaps higher up the cliff to give them an advantage.
“There are some larger ones over here,” Pwig called out.
They stepped down from the rocks and looked where he was pointing. Indeed, two wide-mouthed caves could be seen farther along the rocky slope, one atop the other, and both elevated well above the ground. From where the three stood, the interiors were completely black. They walked to the base of the mountain and saw that a wide ledge of rock led to the lower cave. If this was a large enough cavern, it would be an easy climb for women and new.
Wil scaled it first and leaned in to look around. He turned back to Irin and Pwig. “It looks big,” he said.
Irin and Pwig stepped up to the opening but could not see in at all. The ledge on which they stood was wide and flat, perhaps three houselengths, and the roof of the cave was as tall as the Center House at Pwin-T. They stepped in, but even with their lightsticks held before them, they could see little. Pwig remained close to the right wall, illuminating the coarse rock beside him. Wil tripped over something and gasped, and Irin lowered his lightstick to the floor of packed dirt to find a little pile of bones, perhaps those of a hairy crawler such as they had seen in the brush.
Irin inhaled the cool, damp air, thinking it smelled somewhat bitter. The people would have to deal with it, he thought. He could not see how far in the cavern extended, but even if it had ended where they now stood, it would hold forty, perhaps more. Pwig moved closer to his two companions, taking small steps and watching the ground to keep from tripping. The walls and ceiling were so far away that the lightsticks did little to provide them with any sense of scale.
Wil stopped, and Irin and Pwig looked back at him. He was holding his lightstick up over his head, trying to see the ceiling, which was much lower here than at the entrance.
“Irin,” he whispered. “Look!”
Irin and Pwig both stepped beside him and looked up. They stood in awe as Wil moved the light from side to side to illuminate more. Above them they could see, carved into the rock, crude images of people. Some were bigger than others, and some of the figures held small, roundish creatures in their hands. The three men looked at one another in silence, grasping the significance of what Wil had found. Long ago, their people had been in this cave! Perhaps, when they moved from the old city, they lived in this very cave for a time. The carvings continued into the cave and spread out beyond the reach of the lightsticks. The men walked slowly, heads high, trying to read the events depicted.
Irin held his lightstick to a section of jagged rock that had a carving of a face with a large, oblong thing on its head. Beside it, a big arm held up another of the small round animals. He could see that the artist had given more detail to this one: big teeth in its mouth, and a wide tail with points at the end.
“Tsst!” Wil hushed, and no one moved.
Irin rolled his eyes down at him and opened them wide in inquiry. Wil pointed at his ear: listen. Pwig pulled back his k’yot top, exposing his ear. He heard it, too: a soft whistling that went for a few seconds, stopped, then came again. It continued for a moment as they listened and held their lightsticks out to see where it might be coming from. The sound was very small and thin, like that of a sleeping newest with a stuffy nose.
Irin looked behind them and realized that pitch black surrounded their compact bubble of pale blue light. They must have rounded a bend in the cave and could no longer see the entrance. Searching for the source of the noise, Pwig walked forward again, holding his lightstick out before him. The melted top of the firestick inside oozed down, and the flame fought to stay alight at the awkward angle. He swung the stick to the left, and the flame flickered a final flash before it was extinguished under its own melt. Irin hissed at him, and Pwig moved closer to share the light. Wil stumbled again and found more bones at his feet. He knelt down to shine his light on the remains and discovered the source of the whistling.
The nostril was wet and oozing. A single tooth poked out of the mouth, pinching back a scaly upper lip. Wil stopped breathing and slowly moved the light behind him. A closed eye was only half an arm’s length from his face. Irin touched Wil’s neck slowly and gave it the slightest pull backward to get him to move away. Wil’s chest shook as they both looked down and saw that his toes were under the foot’s three claws, glowing blue and each as long as his entire hand. He tried to inhale slowly, but it only made the shaking more pronounced.
Irin gradually turned his head sideways and saw that Pwig was squinting toward them, not yet grasping what lay near the wall. Pwig suddenly gasped, and Irin’s face scrunched in fear that the sound would awaken the slumbering screamer. He glanced back and saw that it still dozed; the whistling continued at the same pace.
Irin gestured for Wil to move his foot away carefully as he handed his lightstick to Pwig and drew the cutter from his waistband. Wil complied, but now his entire body shook, and his eyes were closed tight in fear. Irin’s feet scratched on the dirt and gravel floor as he positioned them on either side of the massive head. In the silence of the cave, the sound seemed as loud as a ravening screamer clawing at the door. Surely the killer would wake at the noise.
He leaned right to find the best place to insert the blade and kill the beast before it could awaken and attack. There, behind the jaw! He would thrust it in and pull it down to the throat. But what if the cutter was not long enough? It might be only a trifling wound to such a huge, thick neck. He reached to his other side and slowly drew the long cutter. The solid made a high-pitched tone as it rubbed his k’yot bottom on the way up. Irin took a slow, deep breath and forced all fear from his head. He reached out to hand the short cutter to Pwig but could not find his brother’s hand. He turned and saw that Pwig had moved a few more steps in and was shining Irin’s lightstick around the area. Three more shining noses appeared in the dark as the blue light flickered across the rest of the cave.
Irin clenched his fists tight and realized he could not fight the fear any longer. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to push thought in front of fear and drown out the sound of his own inside beating. It began to fill his ears, and he could no longer hear anything else. He felt something touch his back, and he flinched, his fright almost sending him headlong into the sleeping beast. He turned to see Wil with his own two cutters in his hands. The look of fear still shaped his face, but his eyes looked intense and ready to do whatever was needed. Irin drew strength from his friend and turned back toward Pwig, who was looking at him in desperation.
Four screamers, three men. With his foot coverings nearly cradling the jaw of the nearest one, he tried to figure out how they would kill them all—and not, themselves,
be killed.
He gestured for Wil to come close, and they leaned together. Irin pressed his lips into Wil’s ear and spoke only with his breath.
“You… over there… tell him… two cutters… either side of middle… stab neck deep… same time… move fast to middle one after—both of you.”
He pulled away and looked at Wil’s face. He had understood. He closed his eyes and raised his chin to Irin, and Irin returned the gesture. He watched as Wil moved ever so slowly across the cave to Pwig and spoke the instructions silently into his ear. Pwig turned and said something back, and Wil had to return to his ear twice more. Irin was growing impatient and worried. Did Pwig understand? Would they kill them right, or would they be fighting a barely-wounded and enraged screamer a few seconds from now? He realized he might need to get to the other side to help them after killing his.
Irin watched as the other two took their positions between the killers. Just as he had instructed, it was now screamer, Pwig, screamer, Wil, screamer. They had the only two lightsticks, so he wasn’t sure if they could see him anymore. He readied his blades and watched the others to be sure they proceeded at the same time. He saw them look at each other and look toward him… but not at him. They couldn’t see him! Irin hoped they would realize that he could see them and would go quickly with their cutters. Who knew when the creatures would wake on their own, eliminating the men’s slim advantage.
Irin watched as Wil waved a hand to Pwig. He had decided—he would proceed! Wil’s empty hand moved slowly in a chopping motion; he raised it and did so again. Finally he raised it higher, held it for a second, and dropped it quickly. Irin saw both men turn and fist their cutters with both hands, reaching back to swing them in. He turned to his own and swung back, held it for an instant, then plunged the long cutter into the sleeping screamer’s neck. It made a gurgling sound, and its head began to rise as he twisted the cutter down to the ground. Blood jetted over his hands and face. The killer began to thrash and move and make sounds like choking and drinking, and Irin turned to see that the other two had plunged their cutters home as well. His eyes began to sting, and he tried to wipe the blood out, but his hands were more covered than his face.
He dashed across the floor as the other two turned to the middle screamer. Wil’s had rolled to its side and was thrashing with its great hooked feet, violently kicking the middle screamer several times. The unharmed creature’s head rose quickly, and it released a piercing shriek just before Pwig’s and Wil’s blades plunged into its neck and they pulled them down together, opening long gashes down the front. It shrieked again and, as it continued to rise, swung a foot toward Pwig with blinding speed. Irin watched as his brother was flung deep into the darkness, his lightstick crashing to the floor and winking out. The bluewater briefly held its glow before darkness overcame it.
Irin leaped at the standing screamer and swung his long cutter across its neck. He felt a rush of liquid fall over him again, and the head dropped onto him, bringing him to the ground. He could only see the dim flicker of Wil’s light behind him as another shriek, powerful and healthy, echoed through the cave.
The screamer on top of him quaked slightly every few seconds as the one stabbed by Wil lay dying beside him. He could hear but not see both his and Pwig’s prey squirming and quivering in their final throes. The shriek pierced their ears again, and they heard scritching from the dark area where Pwig had been knocked.
The fifth screamer padded forward with quick lunges until its dripping mouth entered the edge of the blue light. Its bulging eyes seemed to search the darkness. Irin tried to wriggle his way free, but the weight of the head on his back, and the twisted neck over one of his legs held him fast. He couldn’t see Wil on the other side, nor could he hear Pwig moving in the darkness. As the screamer moved, its head turned toward Irin and released a series of barking chirps near his face. Irin recoiled as the monstrous face lurched toward his several times until it finally twisted all the way to one side, its eyes now below its mouth, and pressed its nose against his shoulder. It snorted. The nose pushed violently and slid up to his neck, just under his chin. Irin knew that it would be nothing for the creature to bite his head off. The thought made him go stone still. He wasn’t sure whether it thought he was part of the dead beast trapping him to the floor, or was preparing to feast on him, but the blood burned his eyes, so that he could not keep them open for more than a second before squeezing them shut again. He wondered what Wil was doing or whether he or Pwig was even alive.
The huge nose snorted repeatedly, inhaling all over his face and smearing around the thick ooze. He felt a sharp tooth scratch against his face, cut his cheek, burning, stinging pain, thoughts of imminent death, his own, his brother’s, Wil’s, his people returning to Pwin-T in defeat and fear, pain again. The head continued upward to sniff the dead screamer’s neck above Irin. As he choked back any moans or grunts of pain, he felt the warmth of his own blood begin to pour out of the gash that ran from his cheek all the way up to his right eye. Irin suddenly became aware of his left hand again and realized that it still clutched the short cutter. He could make only a pitiful swing at the creature from where he lay, but perhaps if he held on tightly, the killer’s own retreat would extend the damage.
The screamer’s head pulled back and turned in the opposite direction, exposing the area under its mouth. Irin noticed that the blue light on the ceiling was beginning to move slowly away, toward the back of the screamer, and he wondered whether it was simply the lightstick rolling on the floor, or Wil suddenly finding the courage to attack. Irin looked back at the pale area half-circled by the lower jaw and recalled that it was through that same soft opening that he had delivered the killing thrust to Ilter with this very blade.
He decided to wait no longer, and bringing the hilt of the blade to his own chin, he put the palm of his right hand behind it as well, then shoved it forward with all his strength. It pierced deep, and even the cutter hilt and the tips of Irin’s fingers penetrated the killer’s flesh. It twisted away and shrieked again, swinging its legs furiously at Irin and the head of the dead screamer. Irin felt several smashing blows to his legs, and he turned his head aside as the pummeling and the horrible screams continued for a few seconds longer. Then it released a new squeal of pain, and the glow of the last lightstick winked out. Now all was black. He heard the struggle continue in the dark, and finally something heavy landed on his legs and remained there, writhing.
The cave grew silent again except for the sound of heavy breathing above him. He felt something on his face and realized at that moment that the fifth screamer had taken his cutter with it.
“Irin… ?” He heard Wil’s voice above him.
“I’m here, Wil… alive.”
He heard Wil’s sigh of relief, but he had only one thought now. “What about Pwig?” he asked.
“Here, Irin,” came Pwig’s voice, from the same spot as Wil’s.
Irin felt his eyes well with tears, and he reached for their legs or arms or whatever was nearest him. They huddled in close to him, and all three cried and laughed together for a time.
“Is either of you injured?” Irin asked as his thoughts and emotions began to clear.
“My belly and side, between k’yot,” Pwig replied from the darkness.
“My hands sting with their blood,” Wil said. “I think I opened them with my cutter. What about you, Irin? Can you get out?”
Irin tried to pull himself free, but he felt separate weights holding his legs and his body fast. The three of them groaned and heaved the head away, and Irin was able to drag his legs from beneath the last screamer to die, then slid out from under the monstrous head of the middle one. He heard them drop it back down as he tried to stand up, and a pain shot up his lower leg. Still, it was bearable—for the moment, at least.
“Tell me, what happened?” Irin asked. “I saw your light, Wil, and Pwig, I thought you were dead in the darkness.
“I landed on the legs of the fifth one,” Pwig replied e
xcitedly. “It shoved me away like nothing, and I felt the claws in my back, but the k’yot did its job. I stayed there and watched its shape in Wil’s light. It seemed only interested in the one on top of you, so I slowly got back on my feet and walked around behind it, where I found Wil.”
“I thought that my vision was wrong,” Wil interrupted. “I thought you dead, and I had lost my cutter on the ground somewhere. I found it as I moved around the last screamer, and that is when I saw Pwig. We agreed with our faces to attack it, but then it suddenly turned on us before we could start, and we had to stab at it until it finally dropped.”
“That was me,” Pwig said. “I sent the cutter through its eye, and then it was over.”
“Very well, my friends,” Irin said with a sigh. “You’ll have a story to tell the new for the rest of your lives. Now, let us get out of here and return to our people. We don’t know, but these caves could be teeming with screamers. This is the only one that we know is safe now. We must return with new lightsticks and more men.”
They held one another’s arms and shuffled in the dark, Wil and Pwig on either side of Irin, their free arms outstretched and feeling for the walls. They finally made it around the bend and could see the light at the mouth of the cave, far away. Irin hadn’t realized how far in they had gone. As they approached the entrance, they could see that the sky was beginning to brighten. Only a short time remained in which to get everyone sheltered before sunrise.
As they climbed down the wide rock path to the dirt, Irin saw that most of his body was covered in blood, and he felt the stinging along the side of his face. They would need to pack the cut to stop the bleeding, he realized. He looked at Pwig’s face and then turned to Wil.
“Wil… ,” he said, his voice quaking a little, “I thought that was it.”
Wil looked at him oddly, then realized that he was speaking of the vision. His mouth curled as if the idea was absurd. “I was worried also, for a time, but I knew that wasn’t your time.”
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