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The Broken Land(85)

By:W.Michael Gear


“Don’t get overconfident,” Koracoo warned. “It could be a ruse to make us feel safe.”

“Yes,” Wampa agreed. “It’s a lot easier to hack people to pieces when they’re inside your palisade than outside where they can run.”

As they came around the curve in the river, Koracoo saw the crowd at the canoe landing. There had to be thirty people.

“What’s this?” Wampa hissed, and her eyes narrowed.

“I don’t know, but I don’t like it,” Jonsoc said.

“Wait,” Koracoo breathed, and clutched CorpseEye tighter.

Standing near the front of the assembly was a tall man with a black roach of hair down the middle of his shaved head. As the canoe slid closer, she could see the snake tattoos on his cheeks. He’d seen forty-one summers now, and had moved up through the ranks from war chief to the Chief of Wild River Village. He wore a black cape decorated with turtle shell carvings, symbols of his clan.

When Jonsoc dragged his paddle, steering them toward the landing, Chief Cord walked out of the crowd and down to the water’s edge. As the canoe came slapping in over the waves, Cord reached out, grasped the bow, and dragged it ashore.

Wampa leaped out first and stood beside Cord with her hand on her belted war club while she gave him threatening looks. “You are Chief Cord?” she asked.

“Yes, warrior.”

Wampa extended a hand. “May I present the esteemed matron of Yellowtail Village, Matron Jigonsaseh.”

Cord’s gaze warmed when he looked at her. She gave him a small smile, for old times’ sake, and he walked forward and extended a hand to help her from the canoe. Jigonsaseh took it and stepped onto the sand. He must have been standing outside waiting for her for a long time. His grip was iron and ice. The knife scar that cut across his jaw had puckered from the cold, and his long pointed nose was flushed.

In a deep voice, he greeted, “You are welcome in Wild River Village, Kor … Forgive me, Matron Jigonsaseh.”

“It’s all right, Chief. It is new to me as well.”

He nodded. “My warriors have orders to protect you and your guards with their lives. We have prepared chambers for you, if you wish to spend the night here.”

“That is gracious. We will consider it.”

“Good. If you’ll follow me, I’ll escort you to the council house.”

Jigonsaseh turned and handed CorpseEye to Wampa. “Please take care of him while I am gone.”

Wampa took the legendary war club. Her eyes widened, as though she felt his Spirit tingling her fingertips; then her gaze shot back to Jigonsaseh. “Gone? What do you mean, gone?”

“I want you and Jonsoc to remain with the canoe until I return.”

Wampa’s mouth fell open. “But, Matron, you need a guard! What if they—?”

“I trust the chief,” she said with soft, implacable precision, and started bravely walking through the enemy crowd toward the palisade gates.

The villagers pushed and shoved each other trying to get closer, to see her. No Standing Stone matron, least of all a member of the Ruling Council, had ever set foot in Wild River Village. Their expressions were mixtures of awe and suspicion, but there was an undercurrent she didn’t quite grasp. They were too calm. Not a single stone had been hurled yet. If a Flint matron had suddenly appeared in Yellowtail Village asking to meet with the chief, Jigonsaseh would have had to order half her warriors to encircle the matron for protection and had the other half put down the violent protests.

Cord walked easily at her side. His voice was measured and peaceful, a little reproving. “If you’d come earlier, I doubt our alliance would have collapsed.”

“I couldn’t have done much, old friend. Four moons ago, I was not in a position to influence war policy. As Speaker for the Women, I only relayed decisions.”

His gaze scanned the black bear paws on her white cape. “That has changed, I see. I was saddened to hear of your mother’s death. She was a strong, courageous leader.”

She turned. Very few men were as tall as she. It was strange to look at someone eye-to-eye. “You didn’t have to say that. It was kind, especially given what happened at Flatwoods Village.”

His bushy black brows drew together. “That is something we will speak of, I hope.”

“Yes.”

As they neared the upright log palisade, he lifted a hand and warriors scurried to pull back the heavy gates. The men and women on the catwalk watched her with tight eyes, but not a single weapon shifted in her direction. Koracoo nodded in admiration.

“Your warriors are well trained.”

“I take that as a compliment to my war chief. She will be pleased to hear you said that.”