“Could be a wood rat. I just about jumped out of my skin last night when one knocked a pot over. They’re after the moldy corn kernels scattered down there.”
The warrior straightened up, sighed, and went back to his former conversation. “As I was saying, how did the Flint People expect Atotarho to act when he discovered they’d allied themselves with our enemies? They should have known he would ambush their trail home. I tell you, no one hides better than we do! No one is craftier than we are. This war is over. The world belongs to Atotarho.”
His friend replied, “I’m sure the Flint People expected us to take revenge, just not so soon. That’s one thing Negano did right. That ambush was perfect. You have to admit it.”
“Any time you kill four hundred Flint warriors in a single attack, it’s a great victory. But that’s all Negano has done right. If you’re as hungry as I am, you know he’s an incompetent fool. Another quarter moon here, and we’ll all be starving and desperate enough to slit Negano’s throat and eat him to fill our bellies. I can’t believe he’s the new War Chief, he…”
Gonda stopped breathing. Atotarho ambushed and killed four hundred Flint warriors? Blessed gods, not Cord’s war party?
Worry about it later.
Gonda silently tiptoed forward, pouring more pitch and coals into the back of each of the crowded shelters, until he rounded the northern edge of the palisade and could see the Yellowtail gates. No guards stood outside, but around twenty warriors with slung bows overlooked the entry. He could just see the tops of their shoulders and heads over the palisade.
Gonda slipped up to a pile of charred timbers the enemy had scavenged for firewood. Charred wood caught fire quicker, burned hotter. He poured the last of his oil, shavings, and all of the remaining coals at the base of the woodpile. He could already smell smoke on the breeze.
A commotion started along on the southern palisade catwalk that overlooked Bur Oak Village. Questioning voices rose, then someone shouted, “Fire!” and a staccato of feet pounded the catwalk, shaking the palisade. “There are fires all along the wall! Get water!”
Several of the warriors stationed overlooking the northeastern gates ran back to help.
Gonda’s heart kicked into a gallop as he raced back, using the noise on the catwalks as cover. Flames danced in at least half the shelters he’d fired. With the commotion, no one seemed to notice him as he thrashed back toward the gap where he was supposed to meet Sindak. He pressed his back against the wall and gritted his teeth, his gaze straining to see Sindak coming around the curve in the wall.
Wait. Wait …
Gonda’s gaze shot upward when what appeared to be falling stars began plunging from the darkness. War Chief Deru’s diversion was right on time. Flaming arrows punctured the mist and rained down upon Yellowtail Village, lodging in the newly repaired roofs of longhouses, the piles of debris in the plaza, and piercing the bodies of anyone who stood in the plaza. Wave after wave of arrows arced through the night sky. Panicked cries erupted inside Yellowtail Village, accompanied by shouts and desperate running. Atotarho’s warriors screamed orders.
Sindak, blessed gods, where are you?
War Chief Deru’s voice boomed from the Bur Oak catwalks, “Fight you filthy worms!”
“We are attacked!” a man roared. “Get to the southern end of the village. Defend the walls!” Then, “Deru, you have the testicles of a gnat! Only a gutless coward attacks at night!”
The spitting hum of a thousand arrows launched and in flight combined with the rapid-fire shish-thumps of stone points impacting wood, frozen ground, and flesh. Ululating clan war cries split the darkness.
Sindak appeared like a ghost from the shadows, and Gonda said, “Come on. Hurry!” and shoved Sindak through the gap wall.
Gonda leaped out behind him to find Sindak staring to the north. Men were screaming. Two toppled over the palisade wall, landing hard not more than three paces from them. From the marsh, Wampa and Papon fired smoothly, one arrow after another, taking the warriors in the chests or heads. Several of the Hills warriors had rushed to the western wall to shoot into the marsh at their invisible assailants.
“I don’t think we want to go running out there!” Sindak pointed toward the marsh. “Did you notice the pile of timbers stacked outside the gate?”
“I set fire to a big stack of firewood on the inside. That’s enough. Let’s go!” Gonda grabbed his sleeve and tried to drag him away.
“No, wait!” Sindak jerked back so hard he almost toppled Gonda. “We can use the logs to block the gates. Look!”