People of the Nightland(81)
She might even find that answer before she was finished.
A dead Guide is a false Prophet. Lookingbill’s words drove her forward.
She wound through a stand of spruce, smelling the sweet scent of the trees, and turned onto the trail. Making better time, she continued at a fast walk.
The sounds of the fighting had vanished behind her, sealed by distance and the breeze in the trees.
“You there!” a sharp voice called.
She turned, fear leaping within, and saw four winded warriors trotting down the trail; two were already fanning out, ready to cut off her escape.
She focused her frightened eyes on the lead warrior. Yes, she knew him: one of Kakala’s warriors. He had marched with them on that long walk up from the Nine Pipes camp.
“I am Skimmer,” she called, trying to muster courage. “The Guide wishes to see me.”
The warrior approached warily. He carried only one dart, and it was nocked, ready to be cast. Then, unexpectedly, he glanced worriedly over his shoulder.
He’s as scared as I am!
“I take it the fight didn’t go well?” she asked, trying to ignore the frightened beating of her heart.
He turned his attention back to her, making a hand signal to the other warriors. “No, it didn’t go well at all.”
The second warrior muttered, “I say we just kill her. After what we just survived, I’m ready to pay them back any way I can.”
“No,” the first replied. “I was in the Council chamber with Kakala and the Guide. He asked about Skimmer.”
“So?” the second demanded.
Skimmer watched the remaining warriors close in from the sides; like the first man, each had only one dart left to him. They looked like they were more than eager to use them on her. She tensed every muscle in her body to keep from shivering.
“Are you a fool?” the first demanded. “If we go back to report Kakala’s destruction, just who do you think is going into the cages? After what just happened at Headswift Village, Brookwood is nothing!”
“That’s right,” Skimmer said, fighting to think clearly. “But, well, say that you captured me before the fight. Say that Kakala sent you back with me.You’d have no part in what happened later, would you?”
The lead warrior tilted his head, running the idea through his soul. He rolled the long war dart in his fingers. “You would agree to that story?”
She nodded, hoping they didn’t hear her dry swallow. “Let’s just say that it has a certain appeal when the other option is being raped by four warriors, and then having my throat cut.”
The warriors looked back and forth. Then the first nodded. “You’re a smart woman.”
She smiled, trying to keep her voice from breaking. “And you four would be even smarter by delivering me directly to the Guide. Last time, that fool Nashat almost killed me.” The whistling sound of clubs shattering bone lived in her memory.
The warrior took a deep breath, shooting another worried look over his shoulder. “You may not be so glad you found us, woman. I have no idea how many warriors are following our trail. You’re going to have to run like you never have before.”
“I—I’ll do my best.” Then, in what she hoped was a firm voice, she added, “But the four of you had better remember that without me, you’re headed for a miserable couple of moons in the cages.”
“Oh, you can bet on that,” the leader replied. “Now, let’s see how fast you can run, woman.”
Skimmer looked down. Her hands were trembling.
Come, Skimmer. You can do this.
Thirty-four
Keresa dusted off her cape and looked up at the rocks over her head. Between the gaps in the boulders, she saw the gray gleam of dusk. There were still men out there, moving around. She could hear them talking.
She shouted, “I want to talk to Windwolf!”
No one answered.
“Where’s Windwolf? Tell him Deputy Keresa must speak with him!”
Whispers rose, as though they were discussing it; then she heard nothing but silence.
A short time later, a sliver of Windwolf’s face appeared in one of the gaps. “What is it, Deputy?”
“Let’s talk.”
“I’m listening.”
“I should think that telling you we surrender is a little ridiculous, but if you need to hear it—”
“I don’t.”
She exhaled hard. “What can I do to save the lives of the rest of my war party?”
Windwolf hesitated, and it occurred to her that he was about to tell her “nothing.”
He asked, “How many warriors can the Nightland clan Elders gather to attack us?”
She stared up, confused at first, until it occurred to her that he was already thinking five steps ahead: What will happen if I don’t kill them? The Nightland Elders will catch wind of it. What will they do? They’ll probably order Deputy Karigi to attack the village and free the hostages. What if they decide to make a full-scale assault? How many warriors can they muster?