People of the Longhouse(98)
Koracoo stopped. It was as though she’d suddenly turned to stone. She was so still her black hair caught the light and held it like a polished copper mirror. Deer did that—froze suddenly at the sight or sound of a predator.
Sindak held his breath, waiting to see or hear what had alarmed Koracoo.
In less than five heartbeats, four warriors carelessly walked up the deer trail. They were still fifty paces away. He glimpsed them as they weaved between the dark trunks of the trees. The men were joking with each other, chuckling as they herded two girls and a boy before them. One kept reaching forward to fondle the older girl’s small breasts, while the little boy laughed.
Sindak saw Koracoo subtly pull back her bowstring and aim in the men’s direction. He did the same. Behind him, Towa and Gonda had gone silent.
Just as the warriors rounded a bend in the game trail, a bloodcurdling childish shriek tore the air.
Sindak jerked, trying to see where it had come from, but he—
Thirty paces ahead, a thin little boy ran out of the trees, onto the trail, and launched himself at the lead warrior, swinging a war club that was much too heavy for him. He was off balance, struggling, but he surprised the lead warrior and landed a solid blow across the man’s left wrist. Sindak could hear it snap from where he stood. The warrior bawled, “He broke my wrist!”
The three other warriors lunged forward, but the boy didn’t run. He swung the war club with wild fury and cried, “Tutelo! Baji! Run! Run!”
From behind Sindak, Gonda shouted, “Odion? Odion!” and the name rang with a familiarity that shocked Sindak.
The warrior who chased me … !
The taller girl grabbed the other’s hand and fled into the forest as the attacking boy ducked a blow aimed at his head, brought his war club around, and cracked it across his attacker’s left hip. The enraged warrior let out a roar as he staggered sideways and bellowed, “You’re dead, boy!” He lifted his club over his head and swung it down, but the boy parried the blow, though it knocked him flat on his back on the ground.
Gonda shoved past Sindak with his war club in his fist, rushing to get into the fight.
Koracoo shouted, “Gonda, no! Use your bow!”
Gonda ignored her. From the expression on his face, he wanted to kill these men with his own hands.
Sindak leveled his bow, but before he could let fly Koracoo’s and Towa’s arrows flashed through the air in front of him. Towa’s missed and splintered against a tree. Koracoo’s lanced through the shoulder of the man with the broken wrist, thrust him backward into his friend, and threw the second man right into Sindak’s line of fire. He loosed his arrow, and it struck the man in the left lung. As he staggered, clutching at the shaft in his chest, Gonda leaped in front of him and bashed in his rib cage; then he whirled and landed a deadly blow to the throat of the man with the broken wrist. He yelled, “Odion, get out of the way!”
The boy parried another blow that drove his war club into his chest and, as though in disbelief, cried, “Father?”
The boy’s attacker lifted his club for the death blow, and Koracoo rushed forward, twisting, leaping, swinging her legendary war club so fast that her movements became a supernatural dance. She spun and crushed the spine of Odion’s opponent, then kicked his feet out from under him and brought CorpseEye down across the bridge of his nose with a shattering whump.
The last warrior pulled a stiletto from his belt and leaped upon Gonda, knocking his war club from his hand. Both men landed hard on the ground, rolling, kicking, trying to gain leverage over the other.
The boy, Odion, staggered to his feet and stared at Koracoo. He looked stunned, like a clubbed animal. Koracoo ran past him to help Gonda.
Gonda’s opponent managed to get on top and was trying to gouge out Gonda’s eyes when Sindak calmly nocked another arrow and shot Gonda’s opponent through the head just as Koracoo swung CorpseEye to kill him. The man dropped on top of Gonda like a rock. CorpseEye sliced through thin air above him.
Panting, Gonda shoved the dead man away and clambered to his feet. He pivoted to look at Sindak, who still had his bow up, and gave him a grateful nod.
“Father?” The boy blinked at Gonda. “M-Mother?”
Gonda staggered to the boy, dropped to his knees, and embraced him hard enough to drive the air from his young lungs, saying, “Odion. Odion, I told you I’d find you.”
From behind a tree trunk, the other little boy stepped out and stood gaping at them. He had a starved face, with dark eyes and a flat nose. “You killed them!” he said. “Who are you?”
In the camp, men had started to stand up. They must have heard the commotion and suspected it was more than an ordinary fistfight. A few warriors started drifting in their direction.