People of the Nightland(155)
“It means that she now carries the Raven Bundle.”
Ashes pointed at the raven. “Is that why he is here?”
He nodded. “You are Raven Hunter’s. He has sent a Spirit Helper to ensure the balance is kept.”
She walked out toward the bird, fully aware of the wolf watching her intently. She lifted the club. “I can take care of myself. But thank you.”
Silvertip grinned in the moonlight. “In many ways, yes. But we have a long way to go. Listen to him, Ashes. He was sent for you.”
To the north, a low rumble could be heard.
“It comes,” Silvertip said. “I would see this.”
“What?” she asked.
“The end of the world.”
He led the way down a little farther. From a rocky knoll, they could see Loon Lake, glowing silver in the light. It came from the west. The surface seemed to roil, changing slightly in color.
“Can you see the beach down there?”
She followed his finger to the pale strip of sand in the distance.
“Watch it,” Silvertip said, seating himself. He seemed oblivious to the wolf and raven, as they perched beside them, and watched as the sandy strand slowly disappeared.
Evening gloom lay on the land as Windwolf followed Keresa toward the compound that held the Sunpath captives. He could just make out dark forms through the gaps in the fence. The enclosure had been constructed of rocks, sections of mammoth rib, and long bones all laced together with roots and strips of old hide. It was the sort of thing the Nightland people cobbled up for caribou drives.
And, like caribou drives, he suspected that the warriors gleefully darted anything that tried to wiggle through the flimsy barrier.
As Kakala trotted toward the fence, he glanced up at the scattered puffs of cloud that blew steadily northward to blot the early-evening stars.
Windwolf could just see Kakala’s ironic smile. “Thinking of something, War Chief?”
“Only that you must have your guts tied in knots, Windwolf. One wrong word from me, and you’ll be in there with the rest. I’ll be a hero.You’ll be the captive.”
Windwolf’s thin smile reeked of danger. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have allowed me to keep my weapons.”
“A couple of darts won’t do you much good.”
“Good enough,” Windwolf said softly. “You’ll be dying at the same time I am.”
Kakala chuckled under his breath. “Well then, perhaps we should just do it my way. Unlike Karigi, I keep my word.”
When they got to within atlatl range, shouts went up from the compound, and two warriors trotted out toward them.
Kakala said, “It’s time to Dance. I hope you brought your sacred mask.”
“I’m wearing it,” Windwolf muttered.
A skinny bald warrior called, “War Chief Kakala! What are you doing here?” Then he smiled. “It is good to see you here. You wouldn’t believe the rumors that have been flying about you.”
“Rumors are like songbirds; they sound filling but make a poor feast.” Kakala stepped out to meet the men and said, “What is your name, warrior?”
“Jaron.” The man bowed, nodded to Keresa, and looked at Windwolf.
Kakala quickly said, “This is … Water.”
Jaron bowed slightly. “The Elders said they would send someone to inspect the slaves, but we didn’t know it would be you.”
He thinks the Elders sent us … .
“Thank you, Jaron,” Kakala said. “But I come with orders of my own. Have your warriors seen to the packing of their things?”
“Yes, War Chief.”
“Then you are to take your warriors, have them return to their camps, and carry all of their belongings to the caves.”
Jaron hesitated. “But Karigi said—”
Coldly, Kakala said, “I was unaware that Karigi had been appointed high war chief by the Council.”
“He has not, H-High War Chief.” Jaron swallowed. “As you order, High War Chief.” He glanced past Kakala. “I assume you will take responsibility for the captives?”
Kakala looked back. “Fan out; take the others’ places so they can get about their business.”
Windwolf watched Kakala’s warriors trot out to either side, gesturing the others to head home. He could hear calls of greeting in the night. But then, Kakala’s men had always been well trained.
Only after Jaron trotted off after the others did Keresa say, “Well, that went easily.”
Windwolf muttered, “I’m not used to things being easy.” He glanced around worriedly. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”
They walked up to the narrow gate, little more than a couple of worn poles that marked the entrance. Inside he could see people squatting, huddling together for warmth. In the gloom, he couldn’t make out faces.