A familiar woman’s voice said, “Nashat is no longer a concern.”
Windwolf cocked his head. “Skimmer? I thought you were dead.”
“Oh yes, War Chief. Skimmer died long ago. But we have no time for talk. This world is about to be washed away.”
“What about the Guide?” Windwolf asked anxiously.
“Dead,” Skimmer told him, “by Nashat’s hand.”
“Blessed be the name of Wolf Dreamer,” Windwolf said softly.
“May he be cursed,” Skimmer spat. “But you and I can argue the Spirits later. That third warrior will make fast time back to the Nightland Caves.”
“It’s dark as pitch,” Keresa murmured. “We’re not going to make much distance getting away from here.”
“I can see fine, Deputy,” Skimmer told her. “Just follow my instructions.” Then the woman turned, stepping off into the darkness.
“Skimmer?” Kakala asked.
“Call her the Earth,” Keresa replied.
Sixty-six
Dawn grayed the skies as Keresa climbed through boulders atop a pile of glacial rubble and looked back. In the faint gray light she could see the Ice Giants rising against the glow. Their sharp peaks seemed to saw at the sky.
On the trail below her a line of women and children, all looking haggard, walked wearily toward the south.
Windwolf climbed up beside her, breathing deeply. He’d spent most of the night encouraging, cajoling, and keeping the freed captives moving. The rest of the time he had devoted to Kakala, who had had trouble of his own keeping up.
“Everyone keeps hitting me in the head,” Kakala had muttered once when his balance had deserted him and he’d had to lean on Windwolf’s arm.
“It’s because it’s such a tempting target,” Windwolf had replied.
“Why?” Kakala had been foolish enough to ask.
“Because anything that ugly just begs to be hit.”
Kishkat had laughed, and then made himself scarce when Kakala turned his hard glare that way.
Keresa glanced at Windwolf, aware that the war chief was staring back the way they’d come, judging the progress they had been making. “What are you thinking?”
“That one of Blackta’s warriors got away.”
Keresa pinched her lower lip and nodded. “When Karigi hears, he’ll be after us.”
Windwolf reached down and helped Kakala up the rough boulders to the high spot. The war chief looked gray, his scarred face set against an inner pain that came from more than just a bump to the head.
“Karigi’s not going to give up.” Kakala looked down at the ragged band of refugees.
“No,” Windwolf agreed, eyes on the north. “He’s already collecting warriors.”
“And how do you know that?” Kakala asked, staring down where Skimmer made her way toward them.
“I’ve got that same old feeling I used to have when you were chasing me.”
Keresa turned thoughtful eyes on Skimmer. The woman was climbing up the trail below them. “Do you really think Nashat’s dead, like she claims?”
Kakala shrugged. “That’s what Kiskhat and Tapa say. I got the whole story from them last night. Nashat killed the Guide with an antler stiletto. They say they saw it.”
“And Nashat?” Windwolf asked.
“That’s the curious part. Kishkat and Tapa swear the ghosts of the dead got him. Both of them were shivering when they told the story. They said his screams were awful to hear.”
Windwolf exhaled slowly. “Power’s loose on the land.”
Skimmer stopped on the rocks just below them. “Looking for Karigi?”
“No sign of him yet,” Keresa told her.
“Soon, Deputy.” Skimmer braced her feet. “Very soon. In the meantime, we must break up this party. Have them scatter.”
“And why is that?” Windwolf asked.
She stared up with oddly large eyes that seemed to suck at Keresa’s soul. Keresa felt a shiver go down her spine. Windwolf, too, took a sudden breath. Kakala, however, remained undisturbed.
In an eerie voice, Skimmer replied, “You know the answer to that, War Chief.”
Keresa glanced at Windwolf, seeing his expression tighten.
Windwolf gave the slightest of nods. “I will send the order.”
Kakala was already climbing down. Keresa took a final look down the backtrail, seeing only a couple of their stragglers limping along behind.
“What did she mean?” Keresa asked.
“There will be fewer to kill when Karigi finally catches up with us.” Windwolf made a face as the wind buffeted their high rocky point.
Windwolf watched as his little band of people splintered into small groups, each winding its way through the torturous tundra with its piles of rock, holes, and boulders.