People of the Nightland(7)
“War Chief Karigi?” Kakala asked in an unsettlingly calm voice, like the hush that falls before the storm strikes. “Why is she still here?”
Karigi propped his dart over his shoulder and said, “I know you ordered us to—”
“Windwolf is right behind us! Get your warriors out there … and support Hawhak!”
Karigi blinked. “What? Why? Isn’t that Windwolf’s destruction we hear?”
“No! We’re discovered! Surprised. Do it!”
Karigi took a step back, ordering, “Terengi, take your men and bring me Windwolf’s head.”
Glancing at each other, the men filed out, striding past Goodeagle.
Kakala stood so still, so quiet, that Keresa saw Karigi fidget nervously.
“War Chief, I intended to bring her to you as soon as my warriors had finished—”
Kakala slammed a fist into Karigi’s stomach. When Karigi dropped to his knees, his dart cartwheeled across the floor.
Kakala hissed, “If I didn’t need you … !”
Karigi staggered to his feet, shaking. “I’m Wolverine Clan! You struck me! When I tell our Elders—”
Kakala grabbed him by the front of his war shirt and threw him brutally against the wall. “You were supposed to be ready to attack Windwolf!”
“But, he was … was …” Karigi stammered, glaring at Bramble.
“You were so involved with your toy you forgot everything? If you’d prepared your warriors, as we agreed, by now Windwolf would be dead!”
Kakala backhanded Karigi and sent him toppling over a woodpile. Karigi got to his feet, bellowed like an enraged mammoth bull, and rushed. Kakala’s kick caught him in the chest.
Keresa’s eyes shifted, watching Bramble. She edged a foot toward the dropped dart, toes moving spiderlike toward the shaft. Keresa started forward.
“She’s after my dart!” Karigi shouted from where he had sprawled onto the floor. He lunged, grasping the dart before the woman could.
Outside, one of Karigi’s warriors shouted, “We’re overrun! Run! Windwolf’s warriors! There must be ten tens of them!”
Keresa hesitated, looking back at the door.
Bramble screamed.
Keresa spun back as Karigi drove the dart into Bramble’s chest.
Karigi’s eyes gleamed. “She might have killed someone!” he explained, ignoring Kakala’s clenched fists and enraged face. Outside, someone screamed in pain and fear.
“Let’s go!” Kakala shouted, glaring his boiling rage at Karigi. “Windwolf’s warriors are getting closer!”
Goodeagle stumbled back against the wall. “I didn’t know he’d do this, Bramble. I swear.”
Faintly, almost inaudibly, she whispered, “Goodeagle?”
Keresa hesitated at the door, hatred brimming as she watched Goodeagle’s horror. “You coming? Or staying?”
“Coming.” He took a fumbling step toward Bramble, then blindly turned and ran. “This way! We’ll go out the back.”
She pelted after him, her atlatl at the ready. Where had Kakala and the rest gone?
Feet pounded through the chamber across the lodge, and she heard Windwolf’s agonized shout, “Bramble?”
Keresa winced, soul pierced by the fear in the man’s voice. By Raven Hunter’s breath, if they didn’t get away what had happened to Bramble would be child’s play compared to what they’d do to her.
The memory of the bite marks and semen on Bramble’s body sent a chill through her souls.
Bramble was too good to deserve that!
Then she was out the door, racing Goodeagle for the safety of the forest. As she ran, a voice in her head asked, What kind of people have we become?
Three
TWO WINTERS LATER—THE EQUINOX MOON
How did this happen? The Nine Pipes woman known as Skimmer walked with her head bowed. A heavy pack hung from her back, filled with half-cured meat.
She shot a worried look at her daughter, Ashes, who stumbled along the forest trail ahead of her. Ashes, too, carried a pack, smaller, but all that her ten-summers-old body could manage.
They were but part of a line that wound down from the spruce-pine forests above Lake River. The way descended shale slopes, and into a narrow gap that led down to a gravel beach bordered by thick stands of willows.
Skimmer shot a wary glance to the side, seeing Nightland warriors, each carrying weapons, ensuring that none of the women tried to step into the brush, drop their pack, and slip away.
I am a captive! The notion still stunned her. Only days ago, she had been free. Free! Oh, Hookmaker, why didn’t you listen to me?
But he hadn’t. And now, her only memory of him was his broken and bleeding body, lying before the great hearth in the Nine Pipes’ winter camp.