“You’re probably right.” Ravengrass steepled his fingers, eyes on the leaping fire. “But I’ll take a chance on the sentries just in case.”
Burning Smoke had a big smile on his face, and said, “Oh, you won’t have any worry. Matron Larkspur’s right. The Flute Player is on our side. Nothing could go wrong now.”
Larkspur had drawn a breath to say something else when a voice outside cried, “Alarm!”
Fifty-seven
Wrapped Wrist waited his turn in the dark and leaned close to Crow Woman. “How’s your knee?” Around them, the trees swayed and thrashed as the storm intensified under the First Moon Mountain rim.
“Stiff and sore,” she growled back. “But I’m not missing this.”
“Can you climb?”
He heard her swallow hard before she admitted, “I’m not sure. Whatever happens, I’ve got to get up there. I won’t let the others down.”
“Wait. When I go up, I’ll pull you. All you have to do is keep your grip on the rope and keep from banging your knee on the rocks. No one will know.”
He got a quick squeeze from her hand before he turned to the rock face and scrambled up. Like Bad Cast, he’d been climbing since he was a boy. It was just part of growing up in the First Moon Valley. Ready hands pulled him onto the caprock.
“Here,” Wrapped Wrist told Yucca Sock. “Let me do this.” He handed the man his atlatl darts, took the braided leather rope, and shook it. He felt Crow Woman take her grip and give him a ready tug.
He stood, bracing himself against the wind, which blew snow and acrid smoke. Gods, the stench of it: wet ash and slush. He knotted his grip and flexed his muscles. Crow Woman wasn’t light by any means, but he pulled her up with ease. She caught herself as he lifted her past the rimrock. She swung to the side, getting her feet under her. For a brief instant, she put her arms around him, hugged him, and then vanished into the dark.
“Which way?” Ironwood asked.
Wrapped Wrist squinted in the blackness. Trickles of water from snowflakes stung his eyes. When it ran into his mouth, he could taste soot. Gods, it was cold up here, the wind blowing a blizzard.
“We’re but a stone’s throw,” he said. “Pinnacle Great House is just above us, the Eagle’s Fist below.”
“I will attend to the Eagle’s Fist,” Yucca Sock said. “I have business with the First People.” He turned, vanishing into the blowing snow.
Wrapped Wrist had bowed his head, letting his shoulder take the brunt of the blizzard. Snow was packing on his side. Amazed, he realized he could see faint images.
“Sister Moon has risen by now,” Crow Woman said, voice hollow. “She stares down at the cloud and smoke. She is come home to watch the destruction of our world.”
“Let’s go,” Ironwood ordered. “Pairs of two. First group take the building’s west wing; second group with me attacks the east. Remember, we want as many of the First People taken alive as possible, but your first concern is the rescue and safety of the elders.”
Wrapped Wrist stayed close to Crow Woman, trudging against the wind. The big flakes of snow pattered against the side of his face. Any trace of heat had vanished from his claylike flesh. Gods, how could the warriors manage to wield a bow in weather like this? Their fingers had to feel as wooden as his own.
He tapped the atlatl darts he had taken from beside Spots’s bed. Thank the Spirits his people remained some of the last holdouts for the atlatl. He could nock and cast no matter how numb his fingers became.
The wall loomed out of the night, dark and foreboding. In the faint storm glow, Wrapped Wrist could see snow beginning to crust on the rocks. A shivering fit left him shaken and miserable.
Then, from the night, a sudden cry: “Alarm!”
Crow Woman hissed. “Hurry up! We’re spotted.”
Wrapped Wrist pounded his way forward and followed Two Teeth up the stairs onto the first-floor roof. Dark figures were spilling out of the kiva as well as from the lower-floor rooms.
He charged forward, nocking a dart. Before he could use it, a man seemed to rise from the very roof. He heard the whistle of the war club, turned, and took the blow meant for his ribs on the shoulder. At the impact, his entire left arm went numb.
Wrapped Wrist staggered, gasping with pain. He heard the warrior laugh as he stepped in, bringing the war club high. In that instant, a dark shape twisted out of the night; a smacking slap came as Crow Woman drove her war club down on the warrior’s suddenly lifted arm. In lightning movements, she literally danced around him, slashing, chopping, and finally crushing the enemy’s skull with a snapping blow.