by Laura Taylor
“How is it?” Faith asked, when she was finally released and able to breathe again. “Are they treating you well?”
“It’s wonderful,” Sky told her honestly. “They have a beautiful village, and they’ve all been perfectly respectful. And Flame’s pregnant!” she squealed, jumping up and down in excitement. “She’s so happy. And Willow’s children are gorgeous. You should seriously get Whisper to teach you to fight,” she went on, jumping from one idea to the next.
“We know how to fight perfectly well,” Faith told her, looking a touch offended by the idea.
“Yes, you do,” Sky agreed. “But even so, he could teach you a couple of new things. And just because we’re good fighters doesn’t mean we can’t be better fighters.”
Faith pressed her lips into a thin line. “I’ll think about it,” she said finally, which, for the time being, meant no, but just as they’d come around about the horses, Aidan was fairly sure that, given time, she’d change her mind.
“And Dusk, it’s good to see you again, too,” Faith said next, opening her arms for a hug. It was a far warmer welcome than she’d given Aidan but, knowing what Faith was like by now, he didn’t bother being offended by it. She’d been leading her tribe for years, fighting endless bands of raiders, overcoming countless odds and enduring unspeakable horrors, and that fire had honed her into hard and unyielding steel. Aidan admired her achievements, and while her personality didn’t make it easy to deal with her, he respected her nonetheless.
“You know,” Faith said to Dusk, “when we first encountered you, we had no intention of stopping here. We were heading for Cann River; farm land, fresh water, not much in the way of population. Even after you saved our lives, I wasn’t going to turn around and change our plans just for you. And then you convinced three of our women to pull up stumps and join you, and God help me, but I was not going to leave them here without a backdoor to step out of when you lot turned out to be liars and louts, just like the rest of the world.” She looked Dusk up and down. “But then you had to go and turn out to be decent people. Damn you,” she said with a grin. “You are a force to be reckoned with.”
“My husband tells me the same thing,” Dusk replied, giving Aidan a sly, sideways grin.
“Your husband is a unique man,” Faith said with reluctant admiration. “And he drives a hard bargain!”
Aidan grinned. “It’s a perfectly fair deal, and you know it. Five ewes and one ram,” he said, waving Stick and Stormbreaker forward, “in exchange for two mares, both pregnant.”
“Which means I’m effectively giving you four horses for six sheep.”
“You know the saying ‘don’t count your chickens before they’ve hatched’? Those foals could be stillborn, for all we know, and even if they’re healthy, we’ll have to wait a couple of years for them to grow up, and then spend months training them. You’re not being short-changed here,” he said, unable to keep the smile off his face.
And finally, Faith grinned as well. “Fair enough,” she agreed. “You’ve made your point. Let’s see them then. I hope you haven’t given us the runts with a limp.”
She went over to inspect the sheep, Stick and Stormbreaker obligingly leading them in a wide circle so she could see them walk, then she got up close with them, checking their teeth, wool and feet. Meanwhile, Aidan and Whisper went over to look at the horses they would be getting.
Aidan hadn’t paid too much attention to the women who’d come with Faith so far, but as the two mares were brought forward, he was surprised to see that Rochelle was leading one of them. He wouldn’t have thought she would be interested in coming to see them again.
“How are you going?” he asked, genuinely interested in her wellbeing, at the same time as he was thankful that she wasn’t a part of his tribe anymore. Once the three new women had got married, everyone had settled down and got on with things in a way that hadn’t been happening since Dusk first joined them.
“It’s different,” Rochelle admitted, not unhappy, but not shouting the praises of her new tribe either. “The women are wonderful people, but going back to living in tents, hunting for food, always being wet or cold… We’re talking about building some lodges, now that we’ve found a place to settle. Things will improve,” she said, glancing over at the sheep. “We’ve got plans and strategies. But it’s been an adjustment.”
“So many things are like that, these days,” he agreed, running a hand down the mare’s foreleg. She obligingly lifted her hoof for him to examine the underside.
“Where did you learn about horses?” Rochelle asked.
“My grandparents had a farm near Bathurst. When I was a kid, I mean. They sold it when they got too old to look after it. But we used to go out there during school holidays and ride their horses, and race quad bikes, and swim in the creek. You know, all the kid stuff.”
“And then suddenly it’s not kid stuff anymore,” Rochelle said, echoing Aidan’s thoughts. “And we’re back there again, but this time, that’s how we survive.”
“These will do,” Faith suddenly announced, from over by the sheep, and Aidan quickly finished up his own inspection.
“All good,” he agreed, taking the lead rope from Rochelle. She headed over and took the leads for the sheep instead. Stormbreaker hadn’t been expecting to see Rochelle again; that much was immediately obvious. He stopped in his tracks as he saw her coming, then started forward again, avoided looking at her, then tried to smile. It came out awkward and lopsided.
“Hey. How are you doing?” he asked, sounding a touch breathless as she took the cords from him, their fingers brushing for just a fraction of a second.
“Good,” she said automatically. “And you?”
“Good. Yeah, good,” he replied. It was the sort of brief exchange disinterested colleagues in an office block would have had – back when office blocks were functional business hubs, and not abandoned death traps that would one day collapse onto an unsuspecting mob of kangaroos. “Things are going well over with your new tribe?” As far as conversation starters went, this one wasn’t going to win him any prizes.
“Yeah. Very good. A bit cold lately, but at least we’re not up in the Snowy Mountains, right?”
“Yeah, right.”
That was as much as he was going to get out of her. Now that she had the sheep in hand, Rochelle headed back over to the waiting women, not bothering to say ‘see you later’ or any of the other inane parting phrases that still came so easily, when they meant less today than ever before.
“Have you given any more thought to growing crops?” Aidan asked Faith, as she took the other three sheep from Stick and handed them off to one of her underlings.
“We’re not willing to trade any more horses,” she said firmly. “And we haven’t any bows to spare.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Aidan said simply. “You have two less women than you used to, and last time we met, I’m pretty sure every single one of them was armed. And then there’s been the whole of the winter for you to sit around making new equipment…” Perhaps he was working on the wrong tack here, he thought, as Faith simply folded her arms and raised an eyebrow.
“You must long for a fresh, ripe tomato.” He watched her face carefully, waiting for the moment when she took the bait. Then all he’d have to do was reel her in. “Sweetcorn? A crisp, crunchy capsicum? Think how easy it would be to feed your tribe if you just had to dig a few potatoes out of the ground. Or maybe you’d prefer pumpkin, roasted over an open fire -”
“One bow for two types of seed,” Faith snapped suddenly. “I don’t suppose you have any here, so -”
Aidan swiftly swung the backpack off his shoulder and had a handful of seed parcels out before she could blink. They collected their own seed each year for the following year’s planting, and had stored the seeds in pouches made of oiled rabbit skin. It had been an easy task to throw a handful of seeds into a dozen or so extra pouches and bring them along. He set them out on the ground, each one neatly labe
lled, and stood back while Faith looked over them.
“The slavers are getting bolder,” he said conversationally as he waited. “We’ve killed four scouts in three weeks. I don’t know if they’re specifically looking for us, or just looking for new territory.”
“We’re sending out scouts of our own,” Faith told him. “Firstly, to get to know our own land, but secondly to keep an eye out for intruders. I’ll let them know there are rats skulking around. Although,” she said, taking her attention off the seeds for a moment, “sooner or later, we’re going to have to clear out the Gully. It’s far too dangerous, just letting them sit there and stew in their own filth.”
Aidan shook his head. “Even together, we’d be outnumbered three to one.”
“Then we’ll need to plan the battle well. I’m done here,” she said suddenly, gathering up a handful of packets and handing them back to him. There were nine packets left on the ground, and she let him see them before she gathered them up. “Ten types of seed. Five bows. And before you tell me there’s only nine there, I want some of those potatoes as well. You have sweet potato?”
“We do.”
“Then that’s the one I want. Our scout will bring the bows next month for the usual meeting. You can bring your potatoes then, too. That’ll give us time to make sure these actually germinate, and you haven’t given us your duds from last year.”
“You really think we’re intentionally trying to cheat you? One day, Faith,” Aidan said, his patience beginning to wear thin, “you’re going to actually have to decide to trust us.”
She shook her head stubbornly. “God forbid that day ever comes.”
Walking back through the forest, Aidan felt oddly deflated after the meeting with Faith. Each time she threw a test at them, they passed it with flying colours, and yet she remained steadfastly unwilling to give them the slightest benefit of the doubt. As she’d said herself, if they didn’t have three of their members living with the Tribe of the Clear River Valley, they’d have cleared out and headed south long ago.
Although, to their credit, the horses they’d chosen were excellent. Aside from being in good health, they both had calm temperaments, and once they’d foaled, they’d be ideal horses for some of the men to learn to ride on. The women might not trust the men’s tribe, but they were holding up their end of the bargain, nonetheless.
Suddenly, at the head of the group, Whisper stopped in his tracks. He turned his head to the side, listening carefully, then closed his eyes, swaying just a little as he tuned into the minute signals coming from the bush around them.
“They’re coming,” he said, and that was enough for everyone else. Less than five seconds later, the entire company had darted off into the undergrowth, finding defensible spots behind rocks or trees, disguising their presence in clumps of ferns. They had their weapons out, and while Aidan was loathe to leave the horses out in the open, they had little other option at the moment without putting any of their tribe at risk. The horses, as valuable as they were, could be replaced.
Suddenly, a faint ‘thwack’ sounded, then a dim whistling… and Aidan looked up, to see a dozen arrows about to rain down on them.
“Heads up!” he shouted, ducking behind a tree. Fucking hell, the slavers had bows now? They hadn’t had those last time around.
Over to his right, he saw Dusk peering out from behind a boulder. She picked up a sizable rock, about half the size of her fist, and hurled it at something beyond Aidan’s line of sight. He heard it connect with something with a sharp crack, then a dull thud followed. Had she actually just managed to take one of them out with a plain old rock?
More arrows flew at them, and the instant the coast was clear, Whisper slunk off to Aidan’s left, into the undergrowth. A hiss came from over to the right, and Aidan saw that Stormbreaker had taken an arrow in the arm. He was gritting his teeth against the pain, not willing to cry out and reveal his location. Though Aidan was fairly sure their enemies already knew exactly where they were. They must have been tracking them for a while, and he wondered whether their scouts had failed to pick them up… or, in a sudden rush of fear, he wondered if they’d found one of their scouts and just killed him. His mind raced as he tried to remember when the next change of shift was, and who might potentially be missing.
A sharp cry came out of the undergrowth, and Aidan knew Whisper had found his mark. He was up out of cover a moment later, charging in that direction, and he stumbled upon two slavers crouched together in a ditch. A few hefty blows of his machete later, and both were dead.
Dusk was up by now, ducking from tree to tree as she tried to get closer to Aidan. The other men had fanned out, fast and lithe over the uneven ground, flushing the other slavers out from their hiding places. One popped up out of nowhere, grabbing Sky from behind, but before he managed to slit her throat with a knife, she threw her full weight against him, gaining enough leverage to duck down and elbow him in the groin. A moment later, her knife was buried in his throat.
There was one more lurking in the bushes and, seeing that he was the last, he tried to make a run for it through the undergrowth. Whisper was on him a moment later, a knife in his lung cutting short his retreat. Whisper wiped the blood off on a leaf, then stalked back towards the path where the rest of them were congregating. “They’re getting way too close,” he snarled, eyes searching the forest around them for any further hint of danger.
“Is everyone okay?” Aidan asked. “Stormbreaker? How bad is it?”
“I’ll live until we get back to the village,” he said through gritted teeth, while Mei-Lien was already trying to bandage the wound to slow the bleeding.
“Dusk? Is that your blood?”
“Someone else’s,” she replied, wiping at the red splatter on her face in disgust.
“Where’s Stick?” Sky asked, and everyone was suddenly looking around.
“Stick?” Aidan called. He’d been right there before the fight, and he wouldn’t have just run off…
“Stick? Stick, where are you?” The group spread out again, looking behind boulders, swiping at clumps of ferns…
“Oh, God, no…” Every eye was instantly on Whisper, and Aidan’s heart was in his throat as the man fell to his knees. Aidan couldn’t see what he’d found, so he rushed over…
“No. Oh, please, God, no, not you…”
Stick lay face-down on the ground, not moving, an arrow protruding from his back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The sound of the horses’ hooves carried through the quiet forest, so it was no surprise to find a group waiting for them at the top of the path as they arrived back at the village. “They’ve got the horses!” Torrent shouted, the instant they came into view, and then a flood of people began rushing up from the village. Those at the top of the hill ran towards them… but less than halfway there, they caught the sombre mood of the group, and their eager grins and joyful moods vanished.
“What happened?” Torrent asked, then he saw the arrow still sticking out of Stormbreaker’s arm. “Bloody hell, you were attacked!”
It was Willow who was the first to see the lumpy shape slung over the mare’s back, and there were instantly tears in her eyes. “Who?” she asked, scanning the group, trying to remember who had gone on the trip. Who was missing from the faces looking back at her? There was quite a crowd gathering now, the ones at the front sombre and silent, the ones just arriving asking eager questions about what had happened, to be quickly hushed by the others.
“We were ambushed,” Aidan told them, working hard to keep his voice steady. “On the path coming west, about a kilometre from the road. Stick was killed.”
They’d brought back the bows from the slavers as well, as they were simply too valuable to leave behind, but Aidan didn’t bother mentioning it now. No one would feel any joy from knowing they now owned a handful of the lethal weapons, when one of them had just been used to kill one of their own. In a day or two, he’d clean the blood off them and talk to Archer about settin
g up a practice range, but those concerns could wait for another day.
No one said a word at his grim pronouncement, the faces of those around him grief-stricken. Leading the horse, Aidan stepped forward, and the crowd parted before him to let him through. A few people reached out as he passed, touching the body reverently. Slowly and silently, he led the horse down the path, bringing Stick home for the very last time.
A funeral pyre was set up in a clearing on the east side of the village. The tribe’s cemetery was on the other side of the riverbank, though no bodies were actually buried there. Small wooden markers in the grass memorialised the names of those who had passed on. As a rule, they burned their dead, rather than burying them. As heartless as it might have seemed by civilised standards, digging holes deep enough to stop wild animals getting to the bodies was a waste of energy, and there had also been early concerns about water leaching from the graves into the river, carrying disease with it. Burning the bodies was better on both counts, and living in a forest, there was never a shortage of wood to gather for the pyre.
Flowers were scattered along the edges of the wood, and Stick’s body was neatly laid out on the top. They’d anointed it with oil – more to ensure it burned well rather than as any sort of ritual – and then he’d been covered in straw. Again, it was a practical consideration, rather than a religious one. The straw would help the body burn, and it also made the sight less gruesome. With no modern conveniences, the dead were far less attractive than the embalmed and sanitised versions from western civilisation had been. Aside from that, there wasn’t enough cloth or even leather lying around to waste it by burning it as a shroud. Animal skins were made into clothing, pouches or tools, and the few cotton sheets they had were preserved as well as they could be. The tribe was experimenting with growing flax to make linen, but until they got the hang of it, good old-fashioned cloth was in short supply.
