People of the Nightland(136)

She made a sweeping gesture to the villages. “The warriors would no longer have a reason to kill. You were the symbol, the heart, the Spiritual reason that drove them to do terrible things.” She sighed. “And all along, it was Nashat.”

“He is the leader of the Council of Elders. I am just the Guide. I have no right to give orders, though sometimes I make requests, and hope that Nashat will approve them. As he did when I asked for War Chief Kakala to bring you here.”

“I have hated you for summers for things that were never your fault,” she said. “Forgive me. If I had known the truth moons ago, my people would have assassinated Nashat, or the other Elders, but not you, Ti-Bish. I’ve never wished for the innocent to suffer evil—”

“Suffering is not evil, Skimmer.” He turned to her and his mouth smiled, but his eyes remained sad abysses. “All suffering forces us, in utter humility, to return to our own hearts. And that is where truth resides.”

“You think suffering leads to truth?” She stared into his wide, appealing eyes. He seemed to beam at her with an inner peace that touched her soul.

“Oh, yes. Truth can never be found out there.” He waved a hand to the world. “It’s here, and here alone.” He tapped his chest.

Her heart began to swell. “I don’t know why your own people haven’t killed you. What you say sounds like a rejection of Nightland beliefs. They should consider you a false Prophet, not a sacred Guide.”

He tilted his head and nodded. “Some do. But not as many these days. It’s taken so long to find the hole in the ice. And so many warriors have died. People lose faith when fathers, sons, and brothers are taken from them.”

“As did I.” She sighed. “Perhaps, since I’m not going to kill you, I should go home. My daughter needs me.” She looked back at the soaring spires of the Ice Giants. “And something tells me Nashat isn’t going to let me get my hands around his throat, or sneak close enough to run a dart through his pus-dripping heart.”

Ti-Bish stood up. “You will go home. Soon. Raven Hunter told me you can’t go with us to the Long Dark. But there’s something magical I wish to show you before you go.”

He extended a hand. She took it and got to her feet. At his touch, a sensation of peace and longing filled her. When had Ti-Bish wound himself so deeply into her heart?

“Where is this thing?”

“Deep in the belly of the Ice Giants.” He fixed his warm eyes on hers. “It is the last, and greatest, wonder. I have longed for it, and now, I will be able to share it with you. For that, my soul is filled with joy.”





Fifty-seven

Windwolf sat on the hides before his fire, occasionally throwing branches onto the dwindling flames to fight the early-morning chill. The gray stone walls and high ceiling seemed to suck all his warmth away, leaving him bone-cold and weary.

He couldn’t explain it, but he sensed something growing in the dark silence—some malignancy without form.

He cursed under his breath. One night with Keresa, and suddenly, for the first time since Bramble’s death, he realized he had something to lose.

He stared at the fire, and then back to his bedding, imagining her there, seeing her smile up at him.

Windwolf lowered his head to his hands and massaged his forehead. He longed to send for Keresa, to start west for the Tills and a new life; but he couldn’t just walk away from the people here. Without him, there was no telling what the Nightland warriors might be able to do. One tiny error and Kakala would be out of his cage and killing Lame Bull and Sunpath children in a frantic bid to save himself from the cages.

Voices came from the trail outside, and he heard someone running.

He was on his feet headed for the door before he’d even realized it.

Fish Hawk called, “Windwolf?”

He threw the door curtain back. It was still mostly dark. The last of the Star People twinkled overhead. “What’s wrong?”

Fish Hawk caught his breath—he’d obviously run flat-out to get here. “Our scouts just reported in. There’s a runner coming.” While he sucked in a breath, a momentary flash of relief went through Windwolf. Silt, sending word that he’d reached the Tills. Then Fish Hawk finished, “He’s definitely a Nightland warrior.”

Windwolf’s jaw clenched. He said, “Relax. Follow the plan. Notify the refugees. They know what they must do. Tell your men to get dressed. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Yes, War Chief.” Fish Hawk took off at a fast run, careening down the hill toward the Sunpath camps.

Windwolf let the curtain fall closed … and leaned heavily against the stone wall.