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The Dawn Country(83)

By:W. Michael Gear


“That’s worrisome,” Sindak noted.

Cord watched her for a time; then he whispered, “What’s happening? I’ve seen her do this before. It’s as though …”

“CorpseEye is speaking to her? Oh, my friend, I have seen things you would not believe.”

“For example?”

“CorpseEye is old,” Sindak replied, and calmly stroked the water. “He often hears or sees things that humans do not, and when he does, he tries to get Koracoo’s attention.”

“How?”

“She told me once that Power flows from CorpseEye into her hands. It’s a warmth that can be painful.”

As he said the words, Koracoo shifted CorpseEye to her other hand and scanned the trees on the eastern bank as though deeply worried.

Sindak said, “There must be something out there.”

“Something good? Something bad? Is CorpseEye warning her?”

Sindak shook his head, and snow caked off his hood and piled on his shoulders. “The last time I saw this, we had completely lost the children’s trail. We were desperate, biting each other’s heads off. CorpseEye led us to the trail again. Good? Bad? We’ll find out.”

“Curious,” Cord murmured.

Every warrior breathed Spirit into his weapons, and knew they were alive. For that reason, they were cared for and treated with respect. In the worst of times, the weapon’s soul might save the warrior. But CorpseEye was different. He’d been around for so many generations that warriors for two moons’ run in any direction knew the club’s reputation. It was rumored that CorpseEye could kill even when it was not being wielded by its owner. Just looking at the ancient weapon with lust or greed in your heart was said to bring death.

Cord had known many shamans who possessed great Spirit objects. Usually it was a carved mask, or a stone fetish, maybe a tortoiseshell rattle. Once he’d seen an old woman who carried a turkey tail fan that she claimed cured illness. But very few weapons were endowed with such Spirit power. That’s what made CorpseEye the subject of legends.

Koracoo shifted to face the eastern shore, and her forehead lined.

Cord called, “What’s wrong, War Chief?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she lifted a hand and waved them toward the shore. “We’re stopping for the night. Sindak, call back to Gonda, and make sure he hears you.”

As Cord dragged his paddle, turning them toward the bank, Sindak cupped a hand to his mouth and shouted, “Gonda? We’re putting ashore!”

From the torrent of snow, Gonda answered, “We see you.”

When they neared the bank, the swift current jostled the canoe, sending it bucking and splashing through the waves until they got close enough that Koracoo could jump into the shallows and guide the bow onto the sand.

“Keep your eyes on the trees,” Cord said. “My stomach muscles just went tight.”

Sindak’s eyes narrowed. He stowed his paddle in the stern and nodded. “Yes, War Chief.”

Koracoo reached into the canoe to collect her weapons, and while she slipped on her quiver and slung her bow, her eyes continuously scanned the towering trees.

The underbrush was especially thick here. Willows and maple saplings crowded against each other. No clear trail could be seen through the thicket. And if the animals couldn’t penetrate it, could a human? Still, Cord felt uneasy. There might be warriors hiding in that dense undergrowth, and they’d never see them until too late to get to the canoes. To make matters worse, there was nowhere to run except down the thin skirt of sand that lined the water.

“Mother?” Odion called. “Can I get out?”

She studied the forest for a long time before she answered, “Yes, but try not to wake Tutelo—and I want you to stay close to the canoe.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Odion picked up the heavy puppy and carefully climbed around his sister to leap ashore. Sindak grabbed his war club and followed the boy.

Cord remained in the canoe, gathering his weapons. He slung his quiver and bow over his left shoulder, checked to make sure his stilettos and knife were tied on his belt, then clutched his war club. As he started forward, Gonda’s canoe came slapping across the waves, and the man called, “Sindak? Give us a hand.”

Sindak trotted over and waited for the canoe to come in close enough that he could grab the bow and drag it onto the bank while Wakdanek and Towa paddled hard to keep the boat from being dragged back out into the current.

Gonda wasted no time. He seemed to sense something was amiss. He picked up every weapon he owned and strapped it on, then leaped ashore and stalked toward Koracoo. He said something to her that Cord didn’t hear. She nodded and replied, “CorpseEye … this grove of maples.”