The Broken Land(141)

Atotarho cries, “Drop your weapons! Do it or the girl dies!” He lifts a hand, ready to give the order to plunge the stiletto into her heart.

Negano is ready, the stiletto poised for a lethal blow.

I shove away from Sindak, pause for only a moment, then my war club drops from my hand. Every other Standing Stone warrior follows my lead. Dull thuds sound as the weapons fall.

Atotarho turns to Hiyawento. “Order your warriors to cease fighting! Retreat!”

Without an instant’s hesitation, Hiyawento turns to a warrior I do not know. “Call retreat.”

“But War Chief!” the man objects.

I bellow, “Do it now!”

The man hesitates for a moment; then the horn trumpet blares three times. Warriors turn to stare, confused, afraid to step away from their opponent for fear their skulls will be crushed.

The words go down the line like dropped rocks, stop, stop, retreat.

Gradually, like a gigantic monster dying, the roars and grunts dwindle to an agonized base note of moans spiked with sobs. The battlefield seems to churn as the mist swirls around retreating men and women.

A breathless silence descends.

I am sucking air, my exhausted arms like dead weights.

Atotarho careens as he turns and sternly orders, “Bring me that child.” The rattlesnake skins flash and flutter in his hair.

Negano carries her over and dumps her at Atotarho’s feet. A hoarse cry explodes from Hiyawento’s lips, and he struggles ferociously against the muscular arms that hold him. The little girl’s sobs shred my heart. They must be tearing Hiyawento apart. His face has twisted with a mixture of rage and hate.

“Kahn-Tineta,” Atotarho says in an affectionate voice. “You’re such a pretty child.”

I look at Sindak and find him staring at me. His eyes plead for me to wait, wait.

I know if I make one wrong move, that little girl will be the first to die.

Now that we’ve stopped fighting, my body is cooling down, the sweat chilling on my skin. A rhythmic whooshing thump pounds in my ears. After several heartbeats, my vision goes strangely gray and shimmering, as though a veil of tears wavers between me and Wrass. He has not looked at me. He has eyes only for his daughter. She’s reaching for him with her bound hands, her fingers flexing in a please, please gesture, crying against her gag.

Atotarho twines clawlike fingers into her sleeve and drags her to her feet. Holding her, he says to Hiyawento, “You dare to defy me! I should kill your daughter before your eyes! I will kill her if your forces do not surrender and pledge themselves to me.”

Hiyawento’s face twists with hatred. “I don’t have the authority to—”

“I know that! Get it!”

Hiyawento turns to look out across the battlefield toward where Zateri and the other matrons stand on the southern hilltop. He’s dying inside. I can feel his agony in my own strangling heart. He gives Kahn-Tineta a desperate smile. Nods. “Tell your forces to stand down and I’ll speak with the matrons.”

Atotarho nods to Sindak.

Sindak turns. “Saponi, tell them to back away!”

Saponi trots out onto the field, and the order flies through the ranks like swallows diving. Men and women step back.

Atotarho flicks a hand at the men who hold Hiyawento, and they release his arms.

Hiyawento braces his feet, seems to be trying to resign himself to this last betrayal, and slowly trots away. He does not even look at me.

A strange crawling sensation, like icy ants, runs up my neck. My head swivels toward the war lodge. The Bluebird Witch is staring at me. When he walks toward me, it is as though he’s gliding on air. His feathered cape faintly rustles as he spreads his arms like a huge bird and hops around in a bizarre dance that resembles Crow hunting mice in a field. Shrill caws rip from his throat. “I saw it, you know,” he hisses. “I saw what he did to you after he dragged you into the forest.”

I can’t feel my body. Just the air cooling, growing unbearably icy. My insides are freezing into amber pools of brilliance. Images flare … A muscular giant swaying, his eyes rolling … “You, Standing Stone boy, go with War Chief Manidos. Get up, boy!” … Tutelo wailing in a high-pitched voice I’ve never heard before, “Leave my brother alone! Leave him alone!”

I stagger backward. As though to defend myself from the memories, I thrust my hands out before me.

Manidos crushes my hand, drags me away into the forest. My heart is thundering. He’s walking very fast. I keep tripping. I …

Atotarho says, “What’s wrong with you? I asked you a question.”

Facedown. His heavy body crushes me. A rough hand covers my mouth. Lips against my ear. “Lie down, boy. Stop crying or I’ll cut your heart out.”