People of the Mist(39)

Independent villages would be sending their tribute to Water Snake by spring.

And I, my warriors, and the rest of Greenstone Clan will be dead. He lowered his head. His wife and sisters, and their children, would be taken as slaves, the women forced to bear other men’s children, all made to work in the fields, and live little better than dogs.

“Okeus help us,” he whispered. “Isn’t there some way out of this?”

Two days in a canoe were more than enough for The Panther. Crossing the open water of the Salt Water Bay had terrified him. He’d spent the first night on an exposed beach, half-frozen despite the small fire that he and Sun Conch had put together. They’d camped up in the woods last night, but the fierce wind had robbed them of any warmth the trees might have furnished.

Now the slim canoe coasted through reeds, cord grass and cattails up to a low island. At high tide it looked like little more than a wart in the water.

Panther shook his head. Why not simply brain the girl and have this over with? But then he’d have had to paddle himself back across the bay, and, to be honest, he wasn’t sure he could do it. His butt ached, his joints had swollen, and every muscle in his body had cramped.

When the canoe finally slid to a halt in the thick cord grass, Panther gave Sun Conch a hollow-eyed stare. “We’re here?”

“This is where he said he’d go, Elder.”

“Give me your hand.”

Sun Conch gave him a blank look, as if frightened to touch him.

“Oh, for the… Help me up, girl! My joints are stuck!”

Sun Conch swallowed hard, and pushed through the thick grass. “Sorry, Elder.” She pulled Panther to his feet with a crackling of stiff joints. The rounded canoe rocked under his feet, and Sun Conch held him from pitching into the swampy muck.

“Here, put your arm around my shoulder, Elder.”

When he did, she lifted him bodily from the canoe, and practically dragged him stumbling through the water. Panther winced as the grass sawed at his legs. Each of his steps was accompanied by the sucking squish of the mud.

Okeus take him, the girl was as strong as a boar bear! Panther’s withered brown lips curled into a secret smile. Maybe he’d better not make her too mad. She might pull his head off his shoulders.

Sun Conch released Panther when they reached the scrubby grass on dry land, then stepped away and called, “High Fox? It’s Sun Conch! I’ve brought him, as I said I would!” Panther inspected the little island. No more than a bow shot across, it didn’t even support trees, indicating that at times the storm surge covered it with salt water.

Panther remarked, “There’s no fresh water that I can see. Nothing to make a fire out of except dry grass.”

“I know,” Sun Conch said, “that’s why he’s here. Who would ever come to look for him on this desolate island?”

“Probably the crows, vultures, and gulls after he dies of thirst or freezes to death.”

“High Fox?” she called again. “We are here! Where are you?”

Panther glimpsed movement to one side in the thick grass, and spun in time to see a tall handsome youth rise to his feet. He carried a nocked bow in his hands, and a war club hung from his waist. His eyes had a wild look, as if his soul teetered on a thin bridge over terror. He wore an old deer hide cape around his shoulders. Bits of grass and mud clung to his cold skin. His hair was a tangled black mass. Where did the animal end, and the human begin?

“High Fox?” Sun Conch said and spread her arms. She took two steps toward him. “It’s all right. This is The Panther.”

“Are—are you certain?”

“Yes, of course I am! Do you think I would bring anyone else here to your hiding place?” The young warrior wet his lips, but he did not lower his bow.

Careful, old man. He’s panicked, desperate. Too frightened to think clearly. Panther knew how brightly fear could pump in the veins, and the way the lungs never seemed to fill. How the nerves tingled and tightened, and horrid specters lurked in the imagination. Judgment frayed … and finally snapped.

Afterward, only the consequences remained.

“I am The Panther,” he said. “Sun Conch came to me, offered herself in order to save you. It isn’t often, young warrior, that a man your age can command such loyalty and devotion from a girl. So I came, at least this far. Now I must hear your story about what happened, do you understand?”

High Fox nodded, and the tension on his bowstring eased. His eyes dulled. “I didn’t kill her. I swear. Okeus, hear me, on my soul, I didn’t kill her.”

Panther walked up to the youth. “Come, High Fox. Let’s go build a fire, and make some warm tea. Then, we will hear your tale.”