People of the Nightland(6)

Windwolf and Bramble had fought cunningly and well. But for the divisions among their own people, they could have won this thing. The other bands, however, wanted nothing to do with raiding, retaliation, and warfare. Their reluctance had allowed the Nightland warriors to overwhelm and destroy three bands piecemeal. Even the traditionally independent Sunpath would begin to understand. Worse, if Bramble—persuasive orator that she was—could make that clear, the Sunpath might overlook their traditional squabbles to form an alliance capable of withstanding the Nightland onslaught.

To avert disaster, she and Kakala had to eliminate that possibility. Now that they had Bramble, Windwolf was about to pay the ultimate price for his people’s refusal to unite.

“Where is he?” Kakala muttered.

Young Maga, one of the warriors behind them, said, “If he has discovered that we have taken Bramble, he has turned and run.”

“No,” Goodeagle said through gritted teeth, “he hasn’t.”

“Who is his deputy now?” Keresa asked.

“Silt.” Goodeagle wiped at perspiration that beaded on his upper lip. “He used to be chief of the Flower band. He called for peace, once. But after you destroyed his village, he bound himself to Windwolf.”

“You have said he’s capable?” Kakala narrowed his eyes on the trail where Windwolf should have already appeared.

“As capable as I am.” Goodeagle swallowed.

“Then,” Keresa mused, “he, too, will come over to us?”

Goodeagle lowered his eyes. Kakala was giving her a chastising frown.

At that moment, shouts carried on the air. Not from the Walking Seal ceremonial lodge, but from the trees where the Ash Clan war chief, Hawhak, had hidden his men in ambush.

Keresa tightened her grip on her atlatl as warriors burst from the trees. She lifted her head, recognizing the characteristic dress of Nightland warriors as they paused, casting darts back into the trees. She saw a warrior skewered through the thigh with a dart. Then Hawhak’s warriors turned and ran.

“We’re discovered!” Kakala muttered. “Forward! The rest of you, cover the retreat! Keresa! Come with me. We’ve got to pull Karigi out of there!”

Kakala’s warriors split off as they crested the low ridge, running to bolster Hawhak’s fleeing men.

Keresa caught glimpses of sunlight shining on darts as they lanced down on the fleeing warriors. Then she redoubled her efforts, dashing after Kakala toward the ceremonial lodge. Keresa, always faster than her thick-legged war chief, reached the doorway first.

A fire smoldered in the main room. Hides lay in disarray. Hangings marked the partitions for other rooms off to the sides. The place was empty.

“Goodeagle?” Kakala called as they followed her in. “Which way?”

“The chamber on the right.”

Keresa jumped the fire, almost colliding with several of Karigi’s warriors as they emerged from the chamber, confusion on their faces. One shot her a dismayed look—one that reeked of guilt.

Guilt?

Kakala ducked into the room.

She heard raucous male laughter mixed with Karigi’s shouted orders as he rallied his warriors.

Keresa ducked through behind Kakala, and stared in disbelief. Bloody, her hands bound to one of the lodge poles above her head, Bramble lay naked. The bite marks on her neck, breasts, and belly were red, the smears of semen inside her thighs proof enough of what she’d endured.

The chamber looked like it had been blasted by one of the Meteorite People. Parfleches and broken baskets scattered the floor. The hides under Bramble were twisted and rumpled. She must have fought like a bear when she’d realized the truth.

The plan had been Karigi’s: They’d set Bramble up to believe she’d be bargaining, buying him off so he’d let the women and children leave before he attacked. In reality, Karigi was supposed to capture her and drag her off to a safe place before setting his trap.

What’s she still doing here?

Keresa took a deep breath, grip tightening on her atlatl with its nocked dart. Karigi, grinning, leaned against the back wall. He reached for his weapons, saying, “On to the next victory.”

“Goodeagle!” Bramble sobbed, oblivious. “Goodeagle … get out!”

In a tight voice, Goodeagle said, “Kakala, you told me you wouldn’t hurt her!”

“Goodeagle?” Bramble called, as though he were the last sane thing she could cling to. Then, understanding seemed to dawn. She blinked, and Keresa watched the woman’s fear turn to disbelief, and then hatred.

Eyes wide, Goodeagle backed until he hit the wall.

Yes, you see now, don’t you? Keresa shot Karigi a thin stare. I never liked you, animal.