People of the Mist(180)
A knot of warriors huddled in the protection of the palisade, peering through the cracks out into the fog. Every now and then, one would loose an arrow at a darting shape beyond.
Nine Killer stood just inside the palisade gate, gesturing with his heavy bow. “I want women and children to check along the palisade! The enemy could be circling, seeking to break through in our rear! Stone Cob, see to it! Leave no area unguarded.”
Panther sidled up to the palisade and stared out at the lifting fog. “Who is out there?”
Copper Thunder appeared at a run, flattened himself against the post next to Panther, and glared out at the dawn, the tattoos pulled tight by his angry squint. “Who comes here?” he bellowed. “Name yourselves, you gutless cowards!”
From the curling mist, a voice shouted back, “The warriors of the Mamanatowick, Water Snake! I am Winged Blackbird, and I will have your head before this day is through!”
“Come and take it!” Copper Thunder bellowed back. “We’ll see who is shorter come sunset!”
Panther sighed and shook his head. “Perhaps I can stop this.”
Copper Thunder gave him a dismissive glance. “You, Raven? This isn’t your place! Who do you think is out there? White Smoke Rising?”
Panther ignored him and walked purposefully toward where Nine Killer lined up his warriors. As he passed, an arrow thunked hollowly into the palisade above his head.
“What has happened so far?” Panther demanded.
Nine Killer shot him an irritated look. “Elder, I don’t have time for—”
“What has happened, War Chief! You will tell, and tell me now … or have you forgotten your last battle at Three Myrtle?”
The irritation vanished to be replaced by a wry smile. “Forgive me, Elder. One of our two scouts—the ones I placed last night to guard against an attack by Black Spike’s warriors—he warned us just in time. Many warriors are out there. It would seem that Winged Blackbird has come back in force.”
“Come, with me, War Chief.” Panther started for the gap in the palisade.
“What? Are you crazy? This is not Three Myrtle Village. That’s Winged Blackbird out there! If you step beyond the palisade, they’ll kill you!” “Perhaps, War Chief. But, perhaps—as much as I hate to—I can stop this battle, too.” Panther hesitated at the last of the palisades. “Your lungs are better than mine. Find out if Corn Hunter is there.”
Nine Killer stepped up behind him and cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting, “Who leads this attack? Is that you, Corn Hunter?”
In a sudden lull, a voice answered. “Com Hunter is here, but we come in the presence of the Mamanatowick! He is here to personally watch the destruction of Flat Pearl Village!”
A great shout went up from the fields as the Mamanatowick’s warriors shouted their determination. Nine Killer winced and leaned back against a palisade post. “From the sound of it, he must have tens of tens of warriors. Never have we faced so many without warning.”
“How long can you hold out?”
Nine Killer rubbed his face. “Not long, Elder. If he is here in force, he can probe and prod. Eventually, he will find a weakness. If the fog lifts, and he can fire the long houses, well, it will only be a matter of time.”
Panther chuckled, although sorrow built within him. “Everything for the clan, eh?” He paused. “Very well, War Chief, raise your voice for me again.” Panther’s stomach ached from an unaccustomed nervousness. “Tell the Mamanatowick … tell him that his uncle, Eight Rocks, wishes to speak with him.”
Nine Killer stared, expression incredulous. He swallowed hard, and asked, “Who? Who did you say?”
“You heard me. Eight Rocks. Go on, tell him.” Panther waved out at the mist.
Nine Killer cupped his mouth, and shouted, “Mamanatowick! Hear me! Your uncle, Eight Rocks, wishes to speak with you!”
A long silence followed. Then a derisive voice called from the mist, “Eight Rocks is long dead! Go suck yourself, you whining worm!”
In the following silence, Panther shouted, “If I’m dead, why isn’t my body in your House of the Dead?
Can’t answer that, can you? It’s because I’m still living in it, you simple dolt!”
“Who speaks?” A man had stepped forward, a mere shape in the mist, followed by others.
“These days, I am called The Panther!”
“The witch!” the hiss carried through the gathered attackers.
“Call me witch if you will! But this same man gave Water Snake’s mother her very first piece of copper!” Panther cocked his head, hearing muted conversation springing up from both sides.