by Mark Eller
* * *
Sehr found him in the morning.
Ard Chuk opened his eyes to see her staring down at him. Unlike the others, she wore no souvenirs from the previous night's massacre. Her dark hair was tied back with a simple thong, and traditional mud daubs decorated her face in a warrior's pattern. A rip showed in the left shoulder of her hide shirt.
"Been going through their effects," she said unhappily.
"What did you find?" Sitting up, he bushed the loose dirt off his clothes and ran fingers through his hair. A quick glance to the east showed the sun was just now thinking of waking up. No wonder his eyes felt like wet sand.
"Several heads," she answered. "Two have markings from the tribe. One belongs to us. Do you remember Chivy?
"Yes."
Chivy had been an older woman, too old to tie her hair in a warrior's braid but too unwise to become an elder. As Ard Chuk recalled, both her hands had been badly broken when she was young. Neither healed straight. Chivy had been a danger to nobody.
He frowned, remembering other facts about the older woman. Chivy began his archery lessons when he was not yet seven summers old. She once cuffed him hard during a sword lesson when he wanted to give up.
"We called this a retaliatory raid," he said after the lump in his throat retreated. "We didn't know we retaliated against the people who did the original raiding."
Sehr remained silent for a few moments. "It's a shame about the cattle," she finally said.
"We couldn't force them to come with us," Ard answered, wondering what bothered the woman. Sehr was usually much more sensible than her last statement indicated. "I don't know about you, but I, for one, am not willing to travel with them. This area isn't healthy for us."
"I agree," she said. "I've been reading their dust. They will rejoin the main herd sometime today."
Cursing, Ard rose to his feet, shaded his eyes against the sun's first rays, and peered into the distance. A faint haze rose from where the cattle ambled along and, yes, it did look as if they angled toward the larger herd.
"How many were in the main encampment?"
"Several hundred," Sehr answered, "unless you count the children and yermod."
Ard sighed. He had known he took a chance by attacking a grouping so close to the main camp. It might have been better if he waited a few days. It would have given the cattle time to separate further or to discover the beasts would soon rejoin the main herd.
"Get everybody up," he ordered. "Tell them to leave every nonessential behind. It'll be a long, hard run. Tell them to thank the One God and the ghost we prepared our retreat."
She nodded, and he started running every type of trap he remembered through his head. He hoped he remembered more than his brother did, because the man would be incensed. L'mane, the woman Ard recognized the previous night, had been Ard's first lover. When he did not suit her, she moved on. Three months later, L'mane married his brother. She had only been his third wife, but Ard's brother once confessed she was his favorite.
It would be a very long run.
Chapter 7
She stood before him, panting slightly, face set in anger, her features cast ice cold and granite hard. Fury blazed from her dark eyes.
"I have found them," she said.
"Well, where the hell are they," Clack demanded. He allowed his eyes to leave her face as they flickered over the people he called his own. They were lined up in rows, one before the other, drilling on how to march in formation. His plans were, he knew, archaic, but they were decades and centuries ahead of what Turner's Chins would be doing. Besides, he liked watching his warriors form up in rows hundreds or thousands long. He liked the idea of seeing them shoulder their firearms as Turner's ragtag army approached. He absolutely loved the thought of calling out the order to fire and then seeing the enemy mowed down until nothing remained except bloodied bodies lying on the plain.
The beauty of his plan was he had the firearms to do it. He had arms and ammunition to spare while Turner scrambled to discover a way to supply ammo to the few rifles he had left and scrambled even harder to scrounge up and restore the weapons his people had left rusting on the plains.
When this was all over, if he still lived, Turner would kneel with his head pressed against a wood block, waiting for Clack's sword to fall. The way Clack saw it, removing Turner's head would almost pay for the loss of a hand.
"They are dead," the scout said.
Clack brought his attention back to her. "What?"
"They have been killed. Some show wounds of spear and knife and arrow. Most bear no serious wounds at all. I looked and found only small injuries." The anger in her eyes grew deeper, but behind her anger Clack detected the beginnings of fear. "They possess magic of a most evil kind."
"Fire!" a voice called from the field.
Baroom
"Fire!"
Baroom
The scout winced but did not cover her ears as he halfway expected. Hearing four hundred rifles fire at once wasn't an easy thing. The noise could make a man's head ache. Faint wisps of smoke drifted on the air. Clack smiled.
"There's no magic," he told the scout. "There's only science that's not yet understood. Bring me Han Chuk."
Nodding, she trotted away.
Clack continued smiling as he watched her leave. It was still early days for a full confrontation, but it was good to know his efforts had been noticed. He wanted Turner's people to learn how to respond to the anticipated so he could crush them with the unexpected. Clack wanted more than their deaths. He wanted to see their despair when they realized he had played with them all along. He wanted to see their eyes when they realized they never stood a chance.
"Fire!"
Baroom
"You wanted me?"
Han stood by his side. Clack had no idea how the man walked up on him without being seen, but then Han had a knack for being unobtrusive.
"There's been an incident," Clack told him. "Make sure our people know we're aware of it."
"Incident?"
"Those who went with the split herd were caught unaware by Turner's people."
Han Chuck's face stilled. "Who survived?"
Clack gestured the scout to come forward. "What name do you use?"
"I am Lioth."
"Well then, Lioth, the general wants to know who survived."
She shook her head. "None. There were thirty-two bodies. Nine were attacked by twenty-five. The others already lay dead."
"Nobody can be so sure of the enemy's numbers." Han Chuk said. His voice was tightly controlled.
"I can," she answered confidently.
"Nobody," Han Chuk insisted.
"Test me." Her stance both challenged and deferred. Despite the weight of her news, Clack felt pleased to finally meet somebody willing to stand up to Han Chuk. Of late, the man's ego threatened to become too large, and that could eventually create a problem.
Han Chuk's lips thinned. "They murdered my wife."
"You have others," Clack pointed out. He ran a quick mental count. As best he knew, Han had eight wives remaining. Losing one or two shouldn't matter, not when others waited on the sidelines. Women came easy. Hell, Clack had married so many times he couldn't remember all their names. Han stood not so far below Clack so the man could recruit as many wives as he desired.
"Honor demands revenge," Han Chuk stated.
Now that sentiment Clack could understand. "Take this scout with you when you leave. She knows where you can pick up the trail. Run them down, Han. Kill some if you must, but no more than half. I want the remainder to report back to Turner."
"My honor demands them all." Dark anger roiled within Han Chuk's eyes. "None can live."
Clack shook his head. "Half, give or take a few. Kill the leaders if it makes you feel better. I don't care who dies just so long as half live. I want them to think we're soft."
"They will become complaisant."
"Exactly," Clack agreed. "Take our best warriors with you. Bring back thir
teen heads."
* * *
Keraloo Kerchak Keraloo
The gerabil's alarmed cries were muted in the thick grass. A faint rustling spoke of its attempt to draw Lioth away from its nest. She listened, hearing one frightened cheep quickly silenced. They were not wary enough, those young chicks, but today they were safe. She hunted more tempting game.
The sun rode high in a clear sky, casting its springtime rays down over the already tall grasses and weeds. Lioth, eyes wary and searching, took three short steps before stopping to study the nearby terrain. She felt puzzled, and the puzzlement made her smile. Being unsure rarely happened to her.
These people were good. In fact, they were more than good. She seldom had difficulty following a single person's trail. She found losing the trail of a war band frustrating and embarrassing and satisfying at the same time. Finally, she had something approaching a real challenge.
Turning her head, she studied the others. They were spread out, carefully looking for sign. One of them might find something before she did, but it was doubtful.
Straightening, Lioth shifted her slung rifle more comfortably across her shoulders before drifting six feet to the left to study the ground once more. She had to find the trail before any other. Han Chuk, the great general, led the band. This was her first and possibly only opportunity to show him her skills. She refused to fail. A person had to stand above any other to advance their status within his command. Somebody with few family credentials had to stand out even further.
Lioth took another half pace forward, paused, and smiled as the pieces finally fit together. Yes, these people were good, but they were not equally good. One of their number had proven to be the least little bit clumsy.
"Over here!" Lioth waved a hand and smiled faintly as her waving drew the notice of only one or two. As the lead scout, she was far in front of the others.
Almost a minute passed before Haldor arrived with Ver Len only a few steps behind.
"Where?" Ver Len demanded. Her coarsened face registered nothing of her thoughts. In all the years Lioth had known Ver Len, she had never seen an expression on the older woman's face.
Lioth gestured toward a tuft of grass. Haldor appeared puzzled, but Ver Len's gaze only questioned as she tried to see what drew Lioth's attention.
"The seeds on the sunward side," Lioth supplied, though she knew no better than an even chance existed the others would see it. These two were not poor trackers, but they did not exist in her class. Nobody existed in her class.
"I don't see it," Haldor admitted.
"Too many seeds missing on the sun side. The plant's been brushed against, and look over there, a hair from a tanned deer skin."
"How do you know it's from a tanned skin," he protested. "The hair could be from a living deer."
Lioth sighed. "Look closer! It's the wrong shade. This hair is the dusky gray of late fall. It is now spring when deer tend to be darker, so the hair had to come from a pair of leggings."
Haldor grinned. "I can't even see the damned hair, but I'll take your word for it. Never known you to be wrong." Turning his head, he spat. "Which way?"
Lioth gestured toward the southeast.
"I still don't see it," Val supplied.
Lioth nodded while, inside, satisfaction hummed. Innate modesty usually kept her from pointing out other people's shortfalls. She took pride in her trailing ability, the only truly different thing about her she dared display. Everything else had to remain hidden.
"These people are good, but they went," she gestured, "that way."
Val released a shrill whistle. Heads turned to look in their direction.
"Lead out," Val ordered.
Lioth looked toward the war band. Han Chuk stood at the front. His expression appeared grim and unhappy, but this was not unusual. She had been told he always looked displeased in the field. He was an efficient killer who hated killing.
When Han Chuk's eyes fell on her, she allowed a part of her inner smile to touch her lips. He had noticed her. For now, it was enough.
"Leading," she told Val and followed a trail only she could see. She started at a walk, slowly building into a distance eating trot once her eyes became accustomed to the subtle signs left by the enemy's one clumsy member. Before long, the trail became so clear she increased her speed to a slow run, a pace she had trained into herself during these last years. Her body was light and agile and not overburdened with muscle so she could maintain the pace for hours.
Lioth ran. Around her, the world slowly disappeared until the only thing existing was her and the sign she followed.
"Hold!" Han Chuck called out several hours later. His voice sounded strong and strident, showing little strain. To Lioth, captured in her singular focus, his call was an unimportant distraction.
"I said hold!" Fingers slapped her arm.
Wrenching her attention from the trail, Lioth slowed and then stopped. Eyes still fastened on the sign; she set the direction of travel into her mind for later use. Sometimes people wandered where they should not. When they did, trail sign became ruined by careless feet. She heard those people now, the warriors, gasping and stumbling behind her.
Satisfied she held the correct bearings; Lioth smoothed a place in the grass and sat down, cross legged. Breathing deep, she felt a weariness which said she was near, but not yet past, her limits. This pleased Lioth when she heard many others breathing desperately. For most of her life, she received contempt for her small size, but her size now proved its worth.
Closing her eyes, she concentrated on slowing her heartbeat.
The grass rustled, and a body settled next to her.
"How far ahead are they?"
Han Chuk spoke with easy control. He smelled of fresh sweat. His odor made her blood flow just a little faster.
"We should catch up near noon tomorrow if their pace remains steady," she replied, "but that won't happen. When they stop hiding their trail, they'll move faster." Pausing, she thought the matter over. "There will be clear skies tonight. They may travel straight through to the morrow. They'll pay for it eventually, but they may think distance now is more important than efficiency later."
"We'll catch them," Han Chuk promised with firm assurance. "We have you to lead us."
Lioth stiffened. A warm flush ran through her body, and she felt her face redden. Honesty and ambition forced her to remain silent. Han Chuk's words were her just due. Without her skill, the war band might be hours from here, but more likely, it would have lost the trail.
"I seldom saw what you followed," Han admitted.
Lioth raised her eyes to him. He did not look back. Instead, he studied the few traces of sign. "We've stopped, and I still find it difficult to see what you follow."
"My mother trained me since I was a child. She was named Fron." Lioth carefully avoided mentioning the other things her mother's blighted heritage had gifted on her.
"Ahhh." His sighed understanding. "There's no telling what she might have become if she hadn't disappeared as suddenly as she originally appeared. An amazing woman." His voice turned serious. "As are you. I will be watching you. You might earn a second name of your own making on this journey."
Lioth remained silent, not quite knowing how to respond. A second name was a thing hard won, something only the elite could hope to obtain. Chiefs had two names, as did leaders in war and warriors of great achievement. The best shamans and healers were awarded a second name. Lioth could not remember anyone being offered such great honor for following a trail.
The thought gave her a warm glow. The fact Han Chuk said such a thing made the glow even warmer. Refusing to show her churning emotions, Lioth turned her mind back to the chase.
"They're growing careless. The trail is easier to read. They'll soon stop trying to hide their way."
Han Chuk grunted approval.
He rose to his feet. Lioth followed suit, pleased to note her muscles did not feel cramped or tight. Though fatigued, she still had hours of running left in h
er. This was a result of her training, though some part was due to the Wild Talent inherent in her mother's cursed bloodline.
"We go," Han Chuk called to the band. He looked at Lioth, nodded once.
Returning his stare, she refused to nod or smile. She showed him nothing but a warrior ready to do her duty. And then she ran. Han Chuk's footsteps sounded behind, growing closer. Drawing beside her, mouth closed tight and eyes focused ahead, he moved with effortless efficiency. Lioth maintained her pace until, shortly before sun fall, the enemy's attempts to hide their trail ceased. Bent grass and broken stems showed plainly. Han Chuk's speed increased. Soon, he was half a step, and then an entire step, in front of Lioth. The gap between them slowly opened.
Firming her lips, Lioth lengthened her stride until she drew even. Grunting, Han increased his pace.
They ran. Grasses pulled at their feet as their strides lengthened until Lioth felt she almost flew over the ground. Her Talent lay silent, so she ran only on her own training and stamina. Her lungs burned, and her legs wanted to collapse. A quick glance over her shoulder showed the war band had fallen behind. Some were only distant dots.
Just before sunset, her lungs burned, and her mouth gaped. Han's breathing came in gasps, but his eyes contained challenge and purpose, daring her to fall away.
Lioth wanted to quit, wanted to stop running, wanted to collapse on the ground and curl into a pained ball, but she refused to do so. Han Chuk tested her, challenged her. She had no choice but to play his game.
Her foot hit something she could not see. Lioth stumbled…stumbled again, and then his hand held her arm as he also stumbled and barely regained his own footing.
Stopping, Lioth heard flowing water and saw a small creek set in a rocky bank less than seventy yards ahead. Approaching, the water looked too deep to wade, too wide to jump, but a log had fallen across another. If she were to leap from the end of the log, she might clear the distance.
She was about to try, but Han Chuk's hand still held her arm. He guided her to stream's edge.
Exhausted, Lioth fell to her knees, drawing in breath after hard won breath, only partially aware Han did the same beside her. A full minute passed before footsteps announced the arrival of a young warrior. Cilla's ragged breathing only added emphasis to Lioth's own.
