by Sue Harrison
How foolish to think they would not come, one old woman said. She remembered other battles. When a village is left with only children and women, why not come, raid caches, take slaves?
The men spoke as though they wanted to fight, but in their eyes K’os could see they did not. She let them talk for a long time, but she asked questions now and again to remind them what the battle had been like. Finally she offered her own plan.
“Let the women meet them,” she said, and ignored the horrified gasp that came from the old ones, from women with children at their breasts. “Not all of us, just a few. I will go. I will act surprised that they are coming to attack. I will say we were traveling to the Near River Village to surrender. We will be loaded down with stores from our caches. We will promise to go with them, and we will say that we do not want to fight.”
“You think that will keep them from attacking those who are left here?” said Sky Watcher.
“No, of course not,” K’os replied. She nodded her head at Fisher and asked, “If a group of women came to you, offering to surrender, what would you do?”
He thought for a moment, then said, “I would leave one or two elders with them and take the rest of the men to fight as we had planned.”
“Would any of you do differently?” K’os asked.
They murmured their agreement.
“But what if the other women, the boys and old ones in the village—anyone able to leave their lodge—went to the forest, hid until the men attacked, then came from the woods in a surprise attack? Then we who met the hunters also returned to fight with the spears and knives we had hidden in our packs.”
“Women do not know how to use spears and knives,” Take More said.
“We have a day or two to learn something,” said Star, her eyes shining. She bared her teeth. “I would like to kill one of them.”
Twisted Stalk tottered to her feet. “The Near Rivers killed my grandson and two of my sons,” she said. “I do not care if we win. I only want to take as many as we can.”
She began to sing, a battle chant, a warrior’s song. For a time, her voice rose alone, then one of the men joined her, and several boys. Then everyone sang, hitting the ground with feet and fists to beckon the force of the earth to help them with their revenge.
K’os sat silent, head bowed, deciding which women, which boys, she would take with her to meet the Near River hunters.
Chapter Forty-nine
THERE WERE TWELVE OF them, not counting the babies. They used walking sticks as though prepared for a far journey. They and their dogs carried heavy packs. K’os had chosen carefully, taking women who were docile but strong, with some beauty to face or body. Three were young mothers, all widows, all with babies; two had children old enough to walk. She had included three unmarried girls, all past their first bleeding. One of their mothers, Keep Fish, had insisted on accompanying her daughter Sun Girl, though K’os did not want her. Keep Fish was a woman of strong will. K’os had also taken two boys, nearly grown, in case they needed protection, but both took orders easily.
The three boys who watched the forest trail had come to the hunters the night before and told of sighting fires, hearing war songs from a group of men camped half a day’s walk to the south. The next morning K’os started out with her group.
When they broke from the far edge of the woods, one of the boys ran ahead. When he came back, his mouth was drawn tight against his teeth, and K’os sensed his fear.
“They are close,” he said to her.
“Good,” K’os replied, and ignored the look of surprise on the boy’s face. “The Near Rivers do not yet know it, but the next battle has begun.”
Chakliux watched from the forest. This day also Aqamdax had not come. When he saw K’os and those with her, he followed them. Walking silently behind, hidden in the brushy places of alder and birch, he watched them and wondered where they were going. When they disappeared in the convolutions of the land, he made his way to the river, walked through the brush there until he came to the group again. They were slow, with mothers and children, and though the river was still frozen, the earth in midday was soft, the mud sucking at their feet.
He saw the boy run to them, heard his message and K’os’s reply.
So the village had a battle plan, some way to fight. He wanted to stay hidden, to see what happened, but instead, he crept down to the river, walked carefully over stones and ice, trying not to leave tracks, and made his way back to the forest. If there was going to be a battle, he should be with Aqamdax, to offer her whatever protection he could.
They were led by Fox Barking, as Chakliux had told her. Hatred boiled in her heart. It would be difficult to surrender to him, but, K’os reminded herself, it would be only the first of many difficult things. She would have to spend time as slave, but she knew how to please men. Soon she would be wife, perhaps even to Fox Barking. Yes, most likely to him.
Suddenly she was glad he was still alive. She would enjoy being his wife, and he would be grateful that she was a healer.
They met on open ground. K’os stepped to the front of her group, called out, “I am K’os, woman of the Cousin River Village, a healer among the River People. I and these few, we travel to our brothers in the Near River Village. We hope to find a place for ourselves among the people there.”
Fox Barking stood with his mouth open as though he would speak, but he said nothing. Finally a smaller man beside him, another elder, spoke, his words coming out in short bursts of sound, as though he were not used to speaking his thoughts in front of others. “How m-many are … in the village?” he asked.
“Few,” she answered. “Six hunters, one nearly dead, two of the others wounded. Six handfuls of young women.” She shrugged. “Another four handfuls of old women. Children and babies. Several boys.”
Finally Fox Barking found his voice. “Those others, they are in the village?”
“Some are,” K’os answered. “They will fight you, but we have had enough of war. We have no argument with the people of the Near River Village. Why should we? We share the same grandfathers. Allow us to go on to the Near River Village. We will wait there for you.”
Fox Barking raised his voice into laughter, and the men behind him also laughed. There were about six handfuls, K’os decided, which meant that the Cousin River men had killed more than she thought, or that some of the Near River men had chosen not to come.
“So I allow you to go on your own,” Fox Barking said. “What if you decide to walk to the Black River Village? What if you decide you will join the battle and attack us from the rear?” The boy nearest K’os looked up at her, but she ignored him.
“We will not,” K’os said.
“You think I do not remember you, K’os?” Fox Barking asked. “You think the years have changed you that much?”
“We have both changed,” K’os answered. “Things done are often regretted. I have had my revenge. I seek peace.”
“I have not had my revenge,” Fox Barking said. “You will stay here. You and your group. Set up shelters and wait until we return. There are those among us who will be glad to have slaves.” He lifted his chin toward the elder beside him, then at two young men, not much more than boys. They both groaned when he chose them.
“If you complain, you will get nothing,” Fox Barking said, “but if you keep these people here until we return, you can have your pick among them as slaves and split their goods and dogs between the two of you and Sun Caller.” He looked back at K’os, then said, “All save the healer K’os. She and her belongings are mine.”
K’os clamped her teeth together to keep from smiling.
When Fox Barking and his men left, K’os and her group set up their shelters. They made lean-tos of bark and caribou hides, placing two so they faced one another, a shared fire in the gap between. K’os set up a lean-to for herself, and as she worked, the young boys came to her, each of them, and asked when they would kill the men who watched them, when they would set out to attack
Fox Barking and his warriors.
“Tonight, when it is dark,” she told them. She promised to put a powder into the men’s meat that would make them sleep.
When she had finished building her lean-to, she sat near the fire she shared with Keep Fish and her daughter, skewered strips of dried caribou meat on a sharpened stick and held the meat over the flames to soften. When the meat was ready, she took some to one of the young Near River men, invited him to share the food with her.
Soon they were wrapped together in her sleeping robes, and K’os whispered into his ears, told him that the boys planned to kill them that night. She told him that there was supposed to be something in the stew to make them sleep, then the boys would attack, slice open their throats.
The hunter looked at her with anger in his eyes, then he laughed. “They are boys,” he said. “They can do nothing against us.”
“Then eat only the meat I give you,” she told him.
“Why should I trust you?” he asked.
“You think I want to be slave to Fox Barking? By helping you, perhaps I will show my worth. Perhaps you will decide you need another wife.”
He smiled at that, puffed out his chest, took her quickly, with strong thrusts and loud groans. Afterwards she lay under him, his body limp and heavy on her chest. She poked him until he stirred, then whispered: “You would sleep after what I told you?”
He left her bed, and she pulled leggings and boots back on, twisted her parka down over her hips and went to find the Near River elder Sun Caller.
Aqamdax gasped when Chakliux crawled into the lodge, but as her husband reached for his throwing spear, she grabbed his wrist, stopped him.
“Wait,” Aqamdax said.
“He killed my brothers!” Night Man’s words seemed to suck away his breath, and he had to lie back for a moment, but he held his face in a grimace, his eyes open and staring.
“I am here to help, not to kill,” Chakliux said. “The Near River People are less than a day’s walk away. Since you did not come to the forest, I have returned to fight with you.”
Night Man looked at Aqamdax, questions in his eyes.
“You know Chakliux visited this village three nights ago,” she told him. “You heard K’os. He also came to this lodge, offered to help us escape so we would not be here during the attack.”
“You would not go,” Night Man said softly.
“I would not leave you,” she told him, and did not look at Chakliux. It had been easier to say those words to him in the night, when she could not see his eyes.
“You should have sent the children,” Night Man told her. “They are Near River.”
“They would not go,” Aqamdax said.
“They know me,” said Chakliux. “Ghaden, why wouldn’t you come? My brother and I have a camp three days east. You would be safe there.”
Ghaden hid his face in the dense fur of Biter’s back.
“He wouldn’t go because of Sok,” Yaa said. “We have a chance here, even in a battle. Sometimes they do not kill children. We are also Near River. If they see us, they will leave us alone. With Sok, we are not safe.”
The long days of waiting, the worry and frustration of wondering why Aqamdax did not come, brought out Chakliux’s anger. He looked at Aqamdax. “What foolishness is this?”
She spoke slowly, with eyes lowered, as though it were difficult for her to say the words. “On the night before the Cousin River men left to attack the Near River Village, they made chants and prayers and dances of war. We heard the noise of their voices, the clatter of caribou hoof rattlers on their feet.
“Ghaden had been asleep, but he awoke and told Yaa about the boots the one who killed his mother—my mother—wore. They had caribou rattlers and were decorated with pictures of the sun on the sides.” She spread her hands like rays of light. “Only Sok wears boots like that.”
“It was not Sok,” Chakliux said quietly. He turned to Ghaden. “You are not the only one who saw the killer. Fox Barking also saw. He was visiting my grandfather that night, and hid himself in the darkness between lodges. He saw the killer leave my grandfather’s lodge.”
“And he did nothing to help?” Aqamdax asked.
“He is a selfish man,” Chakliux said. “These many moons since, he has had many favors given to him because of what he knew, and finally, when it was to his benefit to tell the killer’s name, he did, but only to Sok and to me, because we were chosen to lead the Near River People, Sok as chief hunter and I as chief of the elders. Fox Barking wanted all power for himself.”
“If Sok is not the killer, then who is?”
“Red Leaf.”
Aqamdax sat without moving, the words like the thrust of a knife to her chest.
“She took her husband’s boots and parka to disguise herself,” Chakliux said. “She used one of his knives.”
“Why?” Aqamdax asked.
“Red Leaf thought Sok would throw her away so he could take Snow-in-her-hair as wife. She thought if he could get his grandfather’s dogs and weapons, he would become the chief hunter and hold enough honor in the village that Snow-in-her-hair’s father would allow her to come to Sok as second wife.”
“And my mother …”
“Just happened to see her.”
“So Fox Barking drove you and Sok from the village.”
“Yes. Our mother also chose to come with us, and Ligige’, Snow-in-her-hair and her baby, Cries-loud and—”
“Snow-in-her-hair is Sok’s wife?”
“Yes. She was pregnant with his child, so her father let her become second wife.”
“And you have Sok’s sons?”
“Only Cries-loud.”
Aqamdax sighed, pressed her lips together. “The other … is dead?”
Chakliux nodded. “We also have Red Leaf.”
Aqamdax pulled in her breath. “No one killed her?”
“She carries Sok’s child in her belly. Still, Ghaden has no reason to worry. She has nothing more to hide.”
“And when the baby is born?” Aqamdax asked.
“Then Sok and I will decide what we must do to avenge our grandfather.”
That night Aqamdax and Chakliux took turns sitting at the door. Star had taken her mother with the others to wait outside the village, then they would use bows and spears against the Near River hunters in ambush while the few who remained in the lodges fought from within.
It was not until dawn that Aqamdax noticed the first sign of movement. Her heart quickened, and she squinted, trying to see in the gray light. Their best chance for survival was for the Near River hunters to recognize her, to realize she also had Ghaden and Yaa, so she stood outside the lodge, waiting for the first men to come.
Chakliux had asked her to awaken him as soon as she saw anything. With the two of them, they had a better chance the Near Rivers would leave their lodge alone, but still she knew that in the frenzy of fighting the Near River men might not care.
She had raised chants and prayers when she awoke; in the tradition of the First Men, she had thanked the Maker for her life and welcomed the sun. She had stilled her heart with quiet songs each time the fear of death washed over her.
Now, for a moment, the horror of what she was seeing held her captive, and she could not move. The Near River men came from all sides of the village, each with spear and spearthrower in his hands. The head of each spear glowed with fire.
Aqamdax’s scream woke Chakliux, and he jumped to his feet, grabbed his spear. Night Man was sitting up in his bed, knives in both hands.
Aqamdax ran into the lodge, grabbing not for weapons but for water bladders.
“Fire!” she screamed. “They shoot fire at the lodges!”
“Stay inside!” Chakliux called to her, then grabbed one of the scraped caribou hides that lined the floor, took it with him, waited in the tunnel until one of the fire spears hit the top of the lodge. Then he jumped out, flipped the caribou hide over the fire, smothering it before the flames could spread.
&n
bsp; Already other lodges were burning. People fought the fires with water and hides, but soon the flames spread through the whole village. Near River spears took a few of the boys and men, but most of the Near River hunters stood by the food caches, stomping out flames that caught in nearby brush, preventing the fires from consuming the caches.
When the flames roared at their worst, Chakliux knew he could no longer keep Star’s lodge from catching. “Bring what you can carry,” he called to Aqamdax. “Get the children outside. I will help your husband.”
The smoke had seeped into the lodge so that Chakliux almost had to feel his way to Night Man’s bed. His eyes burned, and the heat from the fire seared his throat and lungs as he fought to draw in breath. He grabbed the corners of Night Man’s sleeping mats and pulled him outside. The smoke was not as dense lower to the ground, so he bent almost double, gulping in the cooler air.
He could not see Aqamdax and the children, and though he called out for them, the voice of the fire, as loud as wind or sea, smothered his words. When they reached the edge of the village, he told Night Man he would go back for Yaa and Ghaden, for Aqamdax, but then, as though he had been given a gift, they were beside them, their hands also on Night Man’s mat, and the four of them pulled Night Man to safety.
They did not fight. Why die for no reason? Two Cousin River boys and a woman who had tried to attack were killed. Fisher also was dead, and Runner had a spear in his back. He would not live, the old women said. That gave the village only three hunters and Night Man.
The Near Rivers left that day, taking whatever they could carry from the caches and most of the young women, all the dogs except Biter. They left the elders, the wounded, to live in the charred remains of the village with not even enough food to last through the next few days.
And what about K’os and those she had taken with her? Why had she not returned? the few who remained in the village asked themselves. Had the Near Rivers killed her? More likely, she and the boys had been unable to overpower their guards. Well, less mouths to share what food they had. Besides, the old women said, they did not need a healer. They would be dead before the next winter. Most of them would be dead before summer arrived.
