by Bev Allen
“A man blinded by ambition,” Jon suggested, and the warrior nodded.
“I wonder just how blind,” he muttered to himself. “However, that will have to wait. We must get this meat smoked.”
While Lucien and the men took the deer back to the mound, Jon searched the surroundings and when he re-joined them he told of the remains of a camp fire in the direction of the river.
“How many?” one of the warriors asked.
“Difficult to say,” Jon replied. “The sign is old and it has rained, but more than five, less than twenty I would guess.”
“We will follow them.”
“We will indeed,” Jon agreed.
Chapter 13
In little more than a day it became obvious the party they were following was heading in one direction, but the trackers constantly checked there was no deviation.
Jon began to teach Lucien how to look for sign, encouraging him to learn from the other experienced men. There was little for them, as grass recovers quickly from passing disturbance, but Lucien discovered that in the long light of early morning and evening, shadows can show things direct sun hides.
He also learnt a great deal more about human spoor than he wanted to know.
Two days hard march took them over the dome of the grassland and back into woods. The trail became easier to follow, broken twigs, crushed under growth and the occasional snag of deer skin or fabric on a sharp thorn.
“They’re heading back to the river,” Jon noted. “Iesgood may already have found some trace of them.”
Eventually they reached the river and began following it east again. Every now and then they would find more evidence of their quarry, until early one afternoon they came to a bend and found a muddy beach full of familiar canoes.
Vlic spotted them just after the guards gave a signal and ran to greet Lucien.
“They were here,” he said excitedly. “They must have had canoes waiting, because Dad thinks …”
“Quiet!” his father ordered. “Noisy brat.”
Vlic grinned at him, but shut up for a while.
“Greetings, Harabin bietriwer” Iesgood said formally. “We arrived yesterday.”
“It’s good to see you,” Jon replied. “We’ve tracked them here. Did you find evidence of their camp and how many they are?”
“It wasn’t hard,” Iesgood replied, “They made no attempt to conceal their presence. We’ve tidied up since.”
Jon’s eyebrows flew up; this was not normal tribal behaviour, to leave detritus lying around.
“Do you know where they’ve gone?”
“Upriver by canoe,” Iesgood replied. “We found no traces of them on the way here, but we did find a broken paddle when we arrived.”
He signalled and one of his men came forward with the paddle. He handed it to Jon for inspection.
“No wonder it broke,” Jon remarked, frowning. “Who the devil made this?”
“Someone who knows how it should be done, but who either didn’t have the skill or the patience to do it properly,” Iesgood replied.
Jon showed Iesgood the arrowhead they had found back in the meadow.
“This has been cast,” Iesgood said. “Then sharpened. No attempt has been made to beat it to a better shape.”
“Copper is easy to work,” Jon said. “But not the best material for the job.”
“This wasn’t made by someone good at his craft,” Iesgood concluded. “It makes me wonder about …”
“Interesting,” Jon replied. “My thoughts were heading in that direction as well.”
They both fell disappointingly silent at this point and Vlic groaned, but knew better than to pursue the matter.
Lucien, of course, did not know better and was full of questions.
“Who do you think made it?” he asked, eagerly examining the paddle. He was not entirely sure what was wrong with it or why it had broken, but suspected the wood might have been ill chosen and, as he looked more closely, he saw it had split around a large knot hole.
When he looked closer still he saw the shape was ill conceived and it would have been hard to maintain a smooth, even stroke, and the handle was roughly finished with no thought to the state of the paddler’s hands.
“I don’t know,” Jon answered, taking it from him and handing it back to Iesgood.
“No-one from The People would make a paddle as bad as this,” Lucien stated confidently.
Iesgood and Jon exchanged a glance.
“What?” Lucien demanded, seeing the look.
“Best keep quiet,” Jon advised.
“But …”
“Lucien!”
“Oh, all right!” he growled and walked away to discuss the whole thing with an equally intrigued Vlic.
“There’s something Dad’s not telling me. I know he suspects something, but he won’t come out with it. And none of the other men are talking either.”
Curiosity eating at both of them, they speculated for a while, but came to no sensible conclusion, so they made do with telling each other what had happened since they were separated.
They did not learn anything more around the huge camp fire either. There was a long and serious discussion about what to do next, an improvised talking stick being passed from hand to hand as every idea and suggestion was thrashed out. Lucien, Vlic and the other boys were disgusted to find the stick never seemed to end up in their hands and all their brilliant schemes never got an airing.
There was little to base a decision on, so in the end it was decided the war band would stick to the original plan, continue on upstream until the river divided itself into many tributaries; they would then separate to look for traces down every branch.
“We must be weeks behind them,” Lucien said bitterly to Jon.
“We are,” he agreed. “But not as far behind as you think. They’ve not been moving as fast as we have and they took their time killing Clieviis and his wife, especially his wife.’”
Lucien suddenly felt ill.
“And they’ve not been in any hurry since,” Jon continued. “You probably didn’t work out just how long they stopped each time they camped, but several times it was a lot longer than overnight.”
“Were they hunting?”
“They certainly stopped to hunt at least twice. I’m glad you spotted the sign, but there were at least a dozen times when they made scarcely a mile or two before they stopped again and were there for a couple of days.”
Lucien’s brow cleared.
“I saw that,” he said, triumphantly. “But I thought I’d got it all wrong and had mixed up human shit with animal shit.”
“Why didn’t you ask?” Jon demanded.
“I can’t keep coming to you every time I tread in something and asking which arse it came out of!” Lucien retorted.
Jon gave a shout of laughter and told him that matching the shit to the arse was a vital tool for any woodsman.
Lucien grinned back, but was not to be diverted. “Why are they going so slowly?”
“I have an idea,” Jon replied, but he refused to be drawn further on what the idea was.
“You know enough for the time being,” he said. “I think we’ll gain even more on them, they aren’t exactly competent, are they?”
“I was wondering about that,” Lucien admitted.
“And you were right to wonder,” Jon replied. “You found the arrow which pointed us in the right direction. Can you imagine Iesgood or Vlic losing and leaving an arrow?”
Lucien shook his head- they were precious items that took time and skill to make, the loss of one was a major blow.
“Or make a paddle unfit for purpose?”
Again Lucien shook his head.
“And they’re moving slowly and they’re slovenly,” Jon continued.
“Settlers?” Lucien suggested after a moment’s thought, keeping his voice down.
“That was my first thought,” Jon admitted. “But for all their apparent lack of craft, they show knowledge and
skills I don’t think any ordinary settlers would possess.”
“But tribal people wouldn’t do something like this,” Lucien protested. “Not to each other!”
“I’ve told you how many people there are out here in the wilderness,” Jon reminded him. “And not all of them are like the river folk. We’ve only the sketchiest idea of how people have developed to the south and east.”
“But this lot know about canoes and the river …” Lucien began.
“I know,” Jon replied. “But it would be best if you didn’t talk about any of this. There is a reason.”
“But …”
“Let’s make it an order, shall we, that way you might remember to keep your mouth shut.”
The following morning they set off upstream again and came to the first confluence around noon. It had a wild look to it as it poured into the main channel, full of rippling under currents and snarling eddies. The calm water on the other side of the river was full of debris, leaves, and twigs and in some places whole logs washed down from somewhere. The men speculated about a cascade not too far up or maybe a beaver damn that had catastrophically failed. They all agreed it was probably impassable by canoe, but a small party of two boats was despatched to check things out.
They re-joined the main fleet by nightfall, reporting a series of small, but near vertical falls and not a trace of human beings.
They had camped on an island in the middle of the river. It had formed where three or four creeks came wandering out of the surrounding forest to empty into the main channel. The great river itself narrowed as it went back into the forest, dumping whatever silt it had picked up on its way from far beyond and creating a series of these small sandy places just above the water line.
It made a comfortable resting place and one where plans could be made, equipment checked and decisions taken about the next stage of the search.
The following day the band divided. Canoes headed off in every direction, taking small parties of men down each of the tributaries.
Lucien watched them go, and then joined Jon, who with Iesgood was to carry on up the main part of the river.
“Should we have divided our force?” Lucien asked Jon. He had once read a book on tactics and while much of it went completely over his head, this principle of military thinking had taken root.
“I’m not happy about it,” Jon admitted. “But we’ve a lot of ground to cover and Iesgood is the soldier here. In matters of war I have to be guided by him.”
Lucien pulled a long face. “I just have this feeling that when we do find this bunch, they aren’t going to play by The People’s rules.”
Jon’s look of approval at this statement made Lucien feel rather pleased with himself.
“You’re probably right,” he said. “So keep your rifle dry and make sure your ammunition is where you can find it in a hurry, but you do nothing unless I say so.”
“Yes, sir,” Lucien muttered, but resolved to be alert.
There was more danger here than he had considered when they left the village. Then it had all seemed like an adventure, but as time went along and the full implications of what those they were searching for had done and were, presumably, more than happy to do again, bore in upon him, he began to realise the true seriousness of the situation.
He was also bothered by what was going to happen when they finally caught up with their quarry. Bothered, but also excited and eager for whatever sort of fight there was going to be.
They followed the main channel for three full days, but it became harder and harder work as the river narrowed and the banks began to rise on either side of them and the power of the downstream current became more and more demanding. Lucien began to develop muscles in his arms and chest to make his shirt strain at the seams.
It was Vlic who spotted the wrecked canoe first. His cry brought the paddles to the break position and all eyes went to the half-submerged boat lolling and banging itself to splinters against some rocks.
“Looks like they may have struck here,” Iesgood called as he moved over the water towards it. “Yes! There are a couple of broken ribs and there’s a hole in the hull.”
Jon paddled over to inspect the damage.
“This will have slowed them,” he said with some satisfaction. “And we know which way they are heading.”
After some discussion, four boats were sent back to collect the rest of the war band, and Iesgood and Jon continued on up stream.
The only interruption to the powerful downward surge of water was from a small sluggish stream that joined the river at an angle and went back into the hills following the contours. It was half choked with reeds and the water barely moved.
“We should have a look up there,” Lucien said, but Jon shook his head.
“They won’t have gone that way,” he replied. “It will be impassable in a few hundred yards. It’s not even a proper creek, just run off from the hills. It will end in marsh quickly and I don’t want to get stuck in that sort of muck.”
“I don’t think so,” Lucien said, craning his head back to look up the fast disappearing course.
“We don’t have the manpower for detours at the moment,” Jon replied, “When the rest of the band comes up, if we still haven’t found them, we may go back and take a look.”
“We should do it now,” Lucien insisted.
Jon sighed. “Why?”
“Cos it’s easy paddling,” Lucien responded. “And I think they’re too lazy or too useless to tackle this part of the river.”
They were traversing areas of white water, steering a dangerous path between rocks and areas of deep surging pools.
“Maybe,” Jon replied, “But for now, we go on.”
“But …”
“Shut up, Lucien!”
Lucien did, but his face set in his old mulish expression and, seeing it, Jon decided a little discipline was required and gave him a lecture on the subject of orders and the need not to question them, which made all the men in the nearby boats grin and Lucien wish he could quietly drown himself.
Jon had some sympathy with the boy’s disappointment and no wish to discourage him, but he was not prepared to allow him to have his own way on flimsy evidence, and he certainly did not want him to get any ideas about independent action.
When they camped, he assured his apprentice that if they found nothing in the next couple of days, they would return and give his idea a try. Lucien’s apparent acceptance of this and his dutiful responses lulled Jon into a state of false security.
Chapter 14
Vlic was awoken by someone’s hand clamped firmly over his mouth.
“Shush!” Lucien commanded, glancing in the direction of the nodding guard.
Silently Vlic threw back his blankets and followed him away to the river’s edge where the sound of the rushing water would mask their voices.
“What’s up?” he demanded.
“I’m thinking of going back to that slow stream, the one full of reeds,” Lucien replied.
“Why?”
“Because I’m certain they went that way.”
Vlic frowned. “What makes you so sure?”
“If I wasn’t a good canoeist and I’d already lost one boat, that’s the way I’d go. There’s no way that idle bunch would have come this far, its bloody hard work.”
The logic of this was not lost on Vlic. “Dad’s keeping something from me,” he confided. “He knows or suspects something about these people he’s not telling me and I don’t know why.”
Lucien nodded. “Jon told me to keep my mouth shut when I started asking questions.”
They both reflected silently on the strange behaviour of adults and then Vlic, who was way better at thinking from cause to effect than Lucien, said, “We’ll be in a hell of a lot of trouble if we go back without telling anyone.”
Lucien shook his head. “Not if we’re right.”
Vlic’s teeth flashed white in the darkness. “Don’t talk rubbish.”
“Well, m
aybe a bit of trouble,” Lucien admitted. “What’s up? Scared of a bit of grief?”
“I’m never sure with you if it’s bravery or stupidity,” Vlic said. “Or perhaps Harabin dheillwer doesn’t have as heavy a hand as my father.”
Lucien grinned. “I’m not sure either,” he admitted. “Are you coming or not?”
“Of course I’m coming.”
They slipped quietly back to the camp and gathered their weapons and some food, but as they prepared to go a figure loomed out of the darkness. It was all Lucien could do to bite back the exclamation that rushed to his lips.
“Where are you going?” one of the girls asked softly.
He considered lying to her, he even wondered if she might be silently overpowered, tied and gagged, but it took little further thought to dismiss this as ridiculous.
Knowing she could raise a fuss in a fraction of a second and Jon would be even angrier with him if he lied; he decided to tell her the truth.
“We want to see if our prey went up the stream we passed,” he whispered back.
She was silent and unmoving. He could see she knew exactly which stream he meant and he could also see from the look of speculation that crossed her face the same idea had occurred to her.
There was a pause that went on for far longer than either boy liked; then she whispered, “Two days. If you aren’t back by dusk the day after tomorrow I will tell Harabin dheillwer where you’ve gone.”
She melted back into the darkness to take up her guard again.
“That was lucky,” Vlic remarked when they were far enough from the camp for speech.
“Why?” Lucien demanded.
“Us getting permission from one of the girls.”
“Will it make a difference?” Lucien asked, surprised.
“Well, it will as far as I’m concerned,” Vlic replied cheerfully. “Dad can’t say anything if one of the women said it was okay. I’m not sure if your Guild has the same sort of customs and rules.”
