The Hunter Returns

by David Drake

  Wolf nodded. “Then do it now,” he ordered.

  Kar jumped off the bank. The cold water was a shock. It rose almost to his chin by the time the old man’s feet came to rest in the soupy mud of the bottom. He felt for the tunnel mouth with his toes and rammed the willow pole down across the opening as hard as age and hunger permitted him to do. Shouting with haste and hope, the tribe’s women and children joined the Chief Hunter at the vent. They began to dig furiously.

  Bearpaw hunched beside Kar. He held his spear slanted in the water so that its point crossed the pole and protruded into the tunnel. If one of the beavers slithered down the underwater ramp to escape, the beast would impale itself on the spear. Nothing could go wrong.

  The Chief Fire-Maker shivered. The water was cold. He told himself that was the only reason he was trembling. Through his skin, Kar could feel the high-pitched shrilling of the animals trapped within the burrow, but nothing tried to force its way past the pole and spear.

  “Hurry!” Kar shouted, though he knew the others were digging as fast as their crude tools permitted them. The soil here was soft, and the lakeside vegetation did not have thick roots. By looking up at the bank, Kar could see dirt flung high by the hands after digging sticks had loosened it.

  The squealing from the burrow continued. Why didn’t the beavers try to escape?

  The realization struck Kar like a blow. The squeals came from beaver kits afraid to leave the den on their own. That meant their mother was somewhere close by in the lake. Beavers were not normally dangerous, but a mother with her offspring to protect—

  Kar looked over his shoulder. A ripple as straight as a spearshaft raced toward him and Bearpaw. “Behind us!” the Chief Fire-Maker screamed.

  Bearpaw looked at Kar in surprise. Kar thrashed sideways to get out of the way. The mother beaver’s head lifted just as she crashed into Bearpaw with the force of a boulder dropping from a cliff. The hunter cried out in terror. The beaver did not eat meat, but she was willing to use her curving teeth to save her young. Her great chisels sheared through Bearpaw’s shoulderblades and backbone.

  Kar sobbed and tried to scramble up the bank. He kept slipping back on the wet earth. Behind him, Bearpaw thrashed in convulsions. The hunter was face down in the water. His flailing arms had no strength. His spear had sunk. A spray of blood brightened the muddy water.

  Wolf grasped the Chief Fire-Maker’s hands and pulled the old man to safety. “What happened?” Wolf shouted. “What happened?”

  Kar wept uncontrollably. He looked back. Further ripples streaked the lake as the mother beaver led her kits out of the threatened den. Their bodies did not show above the surface.

  Bearpaw had ceased to thrash. His corpse bobbed in the beavers’ wake.

  “Hawk,” said the Chief Fire-Maker. “We must find Hawk and appease the spirits!”

  BESIEGERS

  Hawk quietly faded farther into the thicket. The dog stayed right beside him, making no noise and ready for whatever came. As the dog had fitted his hunting to meet the needs of his master, so he now fitted his other talents. He would do whatever was required, always looking to Hawk as a guide. Born to be a part of a pack, the adaptable dog had blended himself perfectly into the life of a human being.

  Beyond the thicket, Hawk broke into a swift run. He had no idea how the strange hunters had at last found him. It might have been chance, but more likely they had sought him endlessly, following every tiny clue and as patient as wild beasts while they traced the man and woman who had eluded them once. It mattered little how they had come here. It was important only that they were here, and that they had undoubtedly come to kill.

  When he reached the next thicket, a tangle of small trees and brush wherein visibility was limited to a few feet in any direction, Hawk slowed his pace again. He got down to crawl, staying on rock ledges wherever that was possible and leaving no more traces than he could help. The dog left his tracks freely, but Hawk could do nothing about that. He could only hope that the invading hunters would not connect the dog with the quarry they sought. Dogs were common wild creatures, and their tracks might be anywhere.

  Deliberately Hawk entangled his trail, crossing and recrossing the thicket and leaving a maze of signs that would be very difficult to unravel. Still, he had no real hope of baffling his enemies for more than a few hours at the most. They might not be able to see where he had gone, but they could ferret out his tracks. By trying to throw them off at this point, Hawk hoped only to gain time.

  When he reached the end of the second thicket, he grasped a trailing vine, climbed to the crotch of a great tree, and walked out on a limb to another vine several feet from the first. He slid down this, struck the ground with running feet, and dodged into the trees ahead of him.

  He stopped to reconnoiter, looking over his back trail. But in his haste to escape the men who pursued him, he had run with the wind instead of against it, and now the soft breeze brought him no evidence at all of the enemy. Hawk circled cautiously.

  The dog detected the first fresh sign of the invaders. He stopped, bristling. Hawk squatted beside him, trying hard to read the message which was already very plain to the dog. Then he caught it.

  The hostile hunters were evidently trying to work out the trail he had left in the thicket. Hawk guessed that there were more than ten of them and not as many as twenty; but certainly they were in formidable strength.

  Hawk ran to a clear-flowing stream he knew. He stepped in and, unmindful of the dog, who ran along the bank beside him, waded down the stream. Two hundred yards down he stepped out of the water on the bank opposite the one he had entered.

  The hostile hunters had come a long way, and they had worked out a very difficult trail to do so. They were not to be thrown off lightly; even if he got Willow and ran again, the hunters would find them. The battle had to come, and it might as well be at the cave. But first there were things to be done. Hawk stepped out of the stream and gave a precious moment to a long backward look.

  The invaders were not in sight; evidently they were still trying to work out the trail he had left in the thicket. It would be some time before they got this far, and he had a little time. The dog loped beside him as he set a direct course for the cave.

  He stopped in a clearing where deer usually browsed. The fight was close at hand. During it, he would be a virtual prisoner in the cave, until he had either defeated the hunters or they had killed him and Willow. They would need food to last out the siege that was sure to come, and the only food they had was some bear meat, the deer the puma had killed, and such dried food as Willow had ground. Meat spoiled quickly in weather like this and they should have some fresh-killed game.

  The dog cast back and forth, nose to the ground while he sought a scent fresh enough to hunt. Hawk watched anxiously, impatient to find game and be on his way. Willow was alone and should the hunters find the cave they would have little difficulty in killing her.

  After the dog had cast for ten minutes, and failed to rouse any game, Hawk abandoned the hunt; they would have to make out the best way they could. At a fast trot, he returned to the cave. Willow met him at the entrance.

  “Give me the water basket!” Hawk panted. “The hunters have come, and we will have to fight.”

  Willow brought him the basket without a word. Hawk ran to the spring, filled the basket, and returned to the cave. During his absence, Willow had been carrying rocks and boulders into the cave, and was now storing them in strategic places. Hawk waited at the entrance. Had there been time, he would have again tried to find game. But there was no way of telling just where the invaders were or what they were doing. They might arrive at any moment, and Hawk had no wish to be caught outside the cave or to have the enemy trap Willow alone. He must stay, and hope they had enough food.

  The dog slunk out, padded restlessly back and forth across the meadow, then returned to Hawk’s side. He stood still, close to his master, and waited tensely. The dog knew that something was going to happen without
knowing what it might be. He remained in the mouth of the cave, bristled and alert, while Hawk went back to inspect his store of weapons.

  He was glad now that he had made additional darts; there were nine in the quiver and sixteen in his reserve stock. In addition there were the two spears and his club, but lately he had seldom used these. They would be useful only in a close-quarter fight, when and if the invaders tried to rush the cave. Hawk laid both spears at the cave’s entrance, far enough back so that they could not be seized from the outside, and put his club beside them. Restlessly he prowled outside, and mounted the bluff above the cave to look all around.

  There was nothing in sight; evidently he had hidden his trail well and the hunters were having difficulty unraveling it. But they would come. They had come too far already to turn back now. Sooner or later they were sure to find the cave.

  Hawk considered their stock of firewood. He had carried much into the cave and Willow had brought more, but fire was their strongest weapon and their stoutest defense against constantly prowling beasts. Without fire, another bear, or a tiger, or a pack of wolves might try to enter the cave. They needed fire all the time.

  The dog padded close to his side as Hawk started across the valley and into the forest on the other side of the clearing. Willow took a stand in the cave’s mouth, standing guard and ready to call a warning should anything appear. Hawk found a dead tree, dragged it across the valley and into the cave. He went back for another, and a third.

  About to start a fourth time, he was halted by the dog’s warning snarl. Hawk stood quietly in the entrance, testing the winds. They brought no news to his nose, but obviously they had carried a message to the dog’s much keener senses. Something was coming. Silently Hawk retreated to the cave, and warned Willow.

  Two by two, she was bringing up her store of rocks and placing them near Hawk’s spears and club. Fear showed in her eyes, but she said nothing. Hawk appreciated her strength and courage; it was good to have her beside him in this crisis, even though she was only a woman.

  A moment later he caught a glimpse of the enemy through the trees.

  They were coming fast, on a clear trail. Hawk moved about, assuring himself that he had plenty of room, and fitted a dart into his throwing-stick.

  They came out of the forest, sixteen shaggy, hairy men with fur girdles flapping about their waists. The dog rose and stood ready, growling, but at a word from Hawk he subsided. The dog waited, uncertain what his master would do.

  The oncoming warriors halted in the clearing, and milled about uncertainly. While they stood still, Hawk appraised them.

  They were strange men, he saw, but doubtless of the same tribe as the three he had fought back near the river meadows. Their foreheads receded, and they lacked the firm chins which characterized the people of his own tribe. Their spears were also of a primitive type; a full half of the warriors carried only sharpened sticks that had been hardened by scorching them in a fire.

  The leader of the warriors looked directly across the valley and saw Hawk. He stood a moment, as though unable to avert his eyes, then leaped furiously up and down. His bare feet rapped a sharp tattoo on the earth, and he swung his arms wildly. Then an unearthly shriek rolled from his throat. The rest followed his glance and they, too, began a concerted shrieking, and all leaped up and down. Hawk braced himself to meet the attack.

  They came in a body, still yelling and waving their spears. Hawk forced himself to remain calm. He had already planned how he would meet such an attack if it came, and he knew the exact range of his darts. He could fling a dart twice as far as they could throw a spear, and certainly could kill some of the hunters before they were able to get within their spear range.

  The hunters pressed on, howling at the tops of their voices and brandishing their spears. Inflamed with the lust to kill, they ran recklessly, each inspiring the other.

  The dog was tense and ready to spring, but Hawk remained relaxed. He was afraid of this howling mob, but experience had taught him that he could not shoot straight when his muscles were tense. He must be relaxed and easy, and he had faced danger a sufficient number of times so he could force himself to be that way.

  The howling was fierce, but Hawk knew that there was nothing in that which was able to hurt him. It was only meant to strike fear into the heart of an enemy. There was no indication that the hunters intended, at once, to press right up to the cave’s mouth. Perhaps they would break and run, and launch half a dozen of these screaming attacks before they drove one home.

  However, they had ventured into dart range, so Hawk stepped out of the cave and shot. Before the first dart had reached its target, he shot again and reached for another dart.

  The foremost hunter stopped, a look of disbelief on his face as the first dart pierced his chest. He grasped it with both hands, tried to pull it out, then collapsed where he stood. The second dart struck another hunter squarely in the neck. He went to his knees, and fell limply backward, blood gushing from his jugular vein. The rest of the hunters turned and ran.

  Hawk took his time with his third dart. Carefully he gauged the distance between himself and the leader, knowing that he would have to shoot very well to kill the man at such a distance.

  Instead of shrieking, the hunters were now yelling in fear as they scrambled to get out of range. Hawk shot, purposely aiming high because the distance was so great. As the dart flew toward the fleeing men, Hawk caught his breath. He had aimed well, and if the dart kept on course it would strike the leader in the middle of his back.

  However, at the last moment, a gust of wind deflected the dart. It curved to one side and went past the leader. A shout of mingled fear and rage broke from the man.

  A moment later they were all safely out of range. Hawk did not pursue them. He had killed two and just missed a third in the first mad rush, but one man did not have even a faint chance of overcoming fourteen unless every advantage was on his side. To leave the cave would mean to give up his strong position and his only chance of meeting his enemies on something remotely like even terms.

  The enemy tribesmen assembled at the point from which they had launched their charge, and swung to look back. Bewilderment was plain on their faces, and fear. They had come expecting to kill a man armed with a spear and a club, the only weapons they knew. Instead, they had run into something utterly beyond their comprehension. Not one of them should have been in danger at the distance this cave-dwelling man was able to kill. For a few minutes they stared stupidly at the cave. Then the leader spoke to them, gesturing violently.

  Presently they came again, shrieking as before but spread in a thin line instead of grouped together. Again Hawk stepped out to meet them.

  Instead of rushing forward, in an attempt to overwhelm the cave’s defender by sheer weight of numbers, the hunters halted. They danced up and down, yelling, and made little dashes back and forth. Hawk tried desperately to reach them with a dart. He shot again, and again. Each time the dart fell short. Then Hawk stopped shooting, realizing what had happened.

  The hunters had once made the mistake of coming within range of his darts, but they could not be tricked a second time. They were dancing and weaving just out of range, knowing that Hawk must have a limited supply of darts and tempting him to shoot what he had. They might be primitive, but they were crafty.

  Hawk took stock of the darts remaining in his quiver and turned quickly to speak to Willow. Immediately she was there, handing him six darts to replace the six he had expended. Never taking his eyes from the enemy, Hawk maintained his stand just outside the cave’s entrance.

  He waited, watching carefully for someone to make a break and come a little farther toward the cave. When an unwary hunter did so, Hawk shot again. But his target was a leaping, writhing one, and he missed. Instantly the hunter bounded out of range, and Hawk resolved not to throw another dart until he was reasonably sure of hitting his target.

  Soon after, one of the men went into the forest and returned with wood and tinder.
He knelt to arrange his fire, and added wood to it when it began to blaze. Two others busied themselves gathering a great quantity of wood.

  Hawk’s heart sank. The hunters had been defeated in two initial skirmishes, but obviously they had no intention of leaving. Instead, they were going to besiege the cave.

  Three hunters started into the forest, probably to look for game. The rest gathered about the fire, and Hawk watched them closely. There seemed to be no immediate danger of another attack, but neither was there any indication that the enemy intended to leave.

  Hawk ventured outside the cave, and all leaped to their feet and stood with spears ready. Hawk understood now why only three had gone hunting. With their quarry cornered, the rest had no intention of permitting it to escape. They would attack again, but next time they would not rush forward foolishly, or give any advantages. As he retreated back into the cave, Willow questioned him.

  “What are they doing?”

  “Waiting. Either they have some plan, or they wish us to make a foolish move.”

  “Then they will attack again?”

  “I am sure of it.”

  Hawk sat down at the cave’s mouth, patiently waiting for his enemies to make a move. They did not, and an hour before dark the hunters returned with two deer. Their fire leaped higher, brighter, and the smell of roasting meat filled the air. Hawk came back into the cave.

  He and Willow were safe, at least until morning. Meat-eating beasts might not attack the hunters lying about their fire, but the odor of cooking meat would attract them to the vicinity. Already one saber-tooth was in evidence. The tiger had come, as usual, to patrol the camp in the hope that somebody would stray from it. In consequence, the hunters would be anchored to their own fire until morning.

  Furtive rustlings in the grass told of wild dogs that had come to tear at the slain warriors. Then came the hoarse cough of the saber-tooth, and the sound of the wild dogs disappeared. In the darkness, Hawk heard bones cracking and knew that, with morning, there would be nothing left of the hunters he had killed. Already they were filling the lean belly of the big cat. Hawk lay down to sleep fitfully.