The Dawn Country(17)

He glanced at Koracoo. The lines around her eyes were tight. She knew it, too.

When the trail entered a narrow ravine lined with boulders, Koracoo threw an arm out in front of Gonda, and said, “Stop. We’re being foolish.”

Gonda halted. Cord and his men staggered to a stop beside them. Sindak and Towa whirled, and Odion held the children in a group, waiting.

“Why are we … stopping?” Cord gasped.

“We can’t outrun them,” Koracoo said. As she turned to face him, the frost crystals on her hood winked. “The children can’t continue this pace, and you and your men will die on your feet if we try to. This is as good a place as any to make a stand.”

“Make a stand?” Ogwed said in shock. The youth’s entire body shook. If he cracked into a thousand pieces in the next heartbeat, it would surprise no one. “They outnumber us three to one! We won’t be standing for long. We should—”

“Let her finish,” Cord said, and stared at Koracoo with calm, utterly exhausted eyes. “What do you have in mind, War Chief?”

She looked around, studying the terrain. The ravine was fifty paces long and, in places, twenty or thirty hands deep. Granite boulders, smoothed into egg shapes, lined the slopes. In the crevices between the boulders, trees and brush grew. Some of the trees stood two hundred hands tall.

Koracoo said, “We have to try to talk to them. If we can—”

“Talk to them!” Ogwed exclaimed. “Have you lost your wits, woman? They don’t want to talk, they want to kill us! We have to run until we—”

Koracoo strode to within a hand’s width of him and with soft, implacable precision, said, “Are you prepared to fight me? If you ever challenge me again, you’ll have to.”

Ogwed blinked as though stunned. He backed away. “I … I don’t want to fight you.”

Cord said to Koracoo, “How do you plan to get the enemy to sling their bows long enough to exchange words?”

“I’m still figuring out that part.” She scanned the terrain again, apparently devising her strategy. “The first thing we have to do is lure them into the drainage. That way, if they refuse to talk, we can keep them busy long enough for the children to make a run for it.”

Cord smiled. “You realize, of course, that while they are pretending to talk with you, their warriors will be moving through the trees, surrounding us? When they’re in place, it will be a simple matter for them to push us down into the ravine and slaughter us like spring deer.”

Koracoo smiled back, but it wasn’t pretty. Gonda had seen it before, and it made the hair on his arms stand up. Wisps of hair fell over her high cheekbones, making her eyes seem huge and impossibly black. She had one of those perfect female faces that made men stare. Koracoo replied, “Then I expect you and your men to fight to the death, War Chief. No one is to lay down his weapons. The longer we’re on our feet, the more time the children will have to escape.”

Cord bowed his head and nodded. “Of course.”

Gonda scanned the terrain, noting the positions of the boulders and trees. “There’s a rock shelter near that pile of boulders. I say we hide the children in there.”

Koracoo nodded, “Towa, Dzadi, please see to that.”

“Yes, War Chief,” Towa said, and walked toward the children.

Dzadi hesitated. He turned to Cord and lifted his brows questioningly.

Cord said, “Go.”

Dzadi reluctantly stalked over to join Towa.

Koracoo continued, “Sindak, I want you and Ogwed across the ravine, behind that thicket of dogwoods.”

Sindak nodded, and he and Ogwed trotted away.

It disturbed Gonda that she’d split up the warriors, separating friends and forcing men from different peoples to work together. He’d never approved of that strategy. Gonda believed men fought harder with a friend at their back. But his way did not create alliances. Hers did. If an “enemy” warrior saved your life, he was no longer the enemy. She might be a war chief, but she was a peacemaker at heart. And that was another thing he’d never approved of. Peacemakers generally ended up dead.

“What about me, War Chief?” Cord asked. “Where do you want me?”

Koracoo studied the ravine with a practiced eye. “I want you with Gonda, up there.” She aimed her war club at the south side of the ravine.

Cord studied it, considered, and nodded his approval. “Good thinking. We’ll have clear shots.”

Gonda and Cord trudged up the slope to take their position.





Nine

Bright, tree-filtered moonlight streamed across the forest. Cord shifted, and his movements repeated in vast amorphous shadows on the surrounding boulders. When Gonda frowned at him, he went still. Fatigue had made him as stupid as a clubbed dog. If he wasn’t careful, he’d get himself—and everyone else—killed. The true sign of his fatigue was that he was almost past caring. He sucked in a deep breath. The night breeze carried the damp exhalations from the kicked pine duff underfoot. He concentrated on the scent, using it to focus on staying awake.