There was some discussion, but no disagreement. Kerrick returned to the spot where Ortnar and the other two hunters were lying under cover and watching the sea.
The long wait began… They filled their time during the next days in constructing a birchbark shelter deep in the woods. The nights were cooler now and there was some rain. But two of them were always on the ridge above the ocean during the day, hidden but watching. By late afternoon all four of them would be there, for that was the time of most danger. It was at this time, after many days of watching, from full moon to full moon, that Herilak came to join them on the ridge.
“What have you seen?” he asked, standing under the trees beside them.
“Nothing. Just what you see out there. The empty sea. The same as always,” Kerrick said.
“The hunters in the sammads have decided that there is enough meat now. They are grateful that we showed them these hunting grounds. They are ready to leave.”
“That is a good decision,” one of the watching hunters said. “None of us want this murgu attack.” Kerrick agreed strongly with these feelings and felt a leap of hope, yet kept silent.
“You speak for yourself,” Herilak said bitterly. “Yes, the trek has been successful. There is food enough now for the winter so I can understand why they are so eager to return. With their stomachs full they can forget their hunger and remember instead what happened to the two other sammads on this shore. This is to be the last night. They are eager to leave tomorrow at dawn. We stay here and march one day behind them in case the murgu attack after all.”
“We will move fast,” the second hunter called out. “They will not catch us now.”
Herilak turned away from them scornfully. Ortnar was as bitter as he. “We did not do this just to fill your stomachs. We came to kill murgu.”
“We cannot do it alone,” Herilak said.
Kerrick turned and looked out to sea so they could not see the relief on his features. They might argue, but in the end the sammads would go. There was nothing to keep them here and every reason to leave. There would be no battle. Small white clouds drifted in the clear sky above, casting dark shadows on the clear water. Large shadows. Moving shadows.
He stood still, gazing at the shadows, and did not speak until he was absolutely sure. His voice was tight and he could not stop it from trembling.
“They are out there. The murgu are coming.”
It was just as he said. The black boats were clearly visible now as they moved out from under the shadow of the clouds. They were going rapidly north.
“Are they not stopping?” Herilak cried out. “Are they going on to attack the sammads?”
“We must warn them — there is little time!” Kerrick said. One of the hunters turned to run with the warning, but Herilak stopped him.
“Wait. Wait until we are sure.”
“They are turning towards shore now!” Ortnar said. “Coming towards the beach below us.”
The hunters lay in silent concealment, filled with horror as the boats came close, bobbing in the gentle surf. There were loud orders and the armed fargi splashed out of the boats and made their way onto the beach. There was no doubt that a landing was being made when they began to pass supplies ashore.
“Now go,” Herilak whispered to the two hunters. “Both of you. Go different ways so that one of you will be sure to bring the warning. As soon as it is dark and they cannot be seen the travois must be loaded as planned, then the sammads will move quickly, go inland. Trek until dawn and then take cover in the forest. As soon as the travois are loaded all the hunters are to leave the camp and join us here. Run.”
The scene on the beach below was a familiar one to Kerrick, but shockingly new to the two hunters. They watched as the supplies were taken from the boats and the fargi, wrapped in cloaks, bedded down for the night. The leaders were grouped farther down the beach but Kerrick did not dare to move closer to see who they were. There was every chance that Stallan might be in command, and at this thought he shared some of the emotions of revenge that possessed the other two. Stallan who had beaten him and hated him, who had as good as killed Alipol with her unwanted and brutal attention. What a pleasure it would be to run his spear through that creature’s hide!
There was no moon, but the stars clearly lit the white sand of the beach below, picked out the dark forms resting there. More stars climbed slowly from the sea until, at last, there was a slight rustling from the forest behind them.
The first of the hunters crept close. By dawn the attackers would be in position.
CHAPTER SIX
Herilak had been thinking only of this attack for days now, had planned it over and over so often that he could see clearly in his thoughts exactly how it would happen. Kerrick and Ortnar had been instructed so they knew what must be done just as well as he did. Herilak left them there at the edge of the grove, watching the beach, and ordered the first arrivals back through the forest to an open glade. Here they rested until all of the other hunters had appeared. He was the battle leader; they waited expectantly for his orders.
“Ulfadan, Kellimans,” he said quietly. “Go among your hunters and ask their names. When you are sure that they are all gathered here come and tell me.”
They did not talk or move about while they waited, for they were hunters. They squatted in silence, weapons ready, waiting for orders from Herilak, the sacripex, ready for battle. Only when he had been assured that they had all arrived did Herilak tell them what they were to do.
“We must strike as one,” he said. “We must kill without being killed for their darts are instant death. In order to do this we will spread out in a single line, with each sammad taking half of the beach. Then we must crawl forward silently until we are in the grass above the beach. The wind is from the water so they will not smell us when we draw near. But they can hear, and hear well, so there must be nothing for them to hear. You must each take your position, and your sammadar will be sure that you are in the correct place. When you are there you will wait and you will not move. You will look at the beach. You will wait until you see me, Ulfadan and Kellimans as well, appear before you on the beach. That will be your signal to come forward. Slowly and silently. With your spears you will then kill murgu, remaining silent as long as it is possible.”
Then Herilak reached out with the butt of his spear and touched the nearest hunter with it just below his chin, while all of the others strained forward to see what he was doing.
“Try to stab the murgu in the throat if you can, for that is where they are most vulnerable. Their ribs are many and unlike the animals we hunt their ribs cover the entire front of their bodies and do not stop just below the chest. A strong blow will penetrate, but a badly aimed thrust will be deflected by the bones within. Therefore — the throat.”
Herilak waited while they thought about this, then continued.
“We cannot hope to kill them all in silence. As soon as the alarm is raised we will shout as loudly as we can to cause confusion. And keep on killing. If they run use your bows. Arrows will stop them. Do not hesitate, do not tire, but keep on killing. We will only be finished with them when they all are dead.”
There were no questions. What they had to do was very clear. If any of the hunters felt fear they did not show it. They lived by killing and were very experienced at it.
Silent as shadows they moved through the trees, left the darkness of the forest, and crawled in equal silence across the grass above the beach. Kerrick was still on watch. He looked away from the sleeping fargi and started as he saw the moving shapes. There was not a sound from them, not the slightest. Herilak appeared among them and slipped forward. Kerrick touched him on the shoulder, then leaned close to breathe the words into his ear.
“Their leaders must be among the first killed. I want to do that myself.”
Herilak nodded agreement and moved away. Slowly then, a step at a time, Kerrick moved back from the edge of the bank and along it to the position he had marked earlier.
A night bird called from the trees and he froze, waited a moment then moved on. The only sound now was the lap of small waves on the sand. Other than that the night was still as death.
And death was on its way.
There was no impatience. Once they were in position not a hunter moved, nor was there the slightest sound to reveal their presence. Their eyes were on the lighter gray of the sandy beach, waiting patiently for the expected movement.
Tension twisted a tight knot in the pit of Kerrick’s stomach. He was sure now that too much time had gone by. Something had gone wrong. Herilak and the sammadars should be on the beach. If they delayed any longer it would be light and they would be the ones who would be trapped…
He knew his fears were groundless, but that knowledge did not take them away. His fists were clenched so tight that they hurt. Where were they? What was happening? Clouds were thickening in the sky and obscuring the stars. Would he be able to see the figures when they did appear?
Then they were there, so silently and suddenly that they might have been shadows. Moving shadows that were soon joined by other shadows, until the dark line of half-seen forms stretched the length of the beach.
They stayed ahead of Kerrick because they could move quickly in absolute silence. He had to feel his way forward, lacking their skill at silent stalking of prey. He was well behind them when the line reached the first of the sleeping fargi. There were some muffled grunts, nothing more.
Now Kerrick could feel the soft sand beneath his feet, he could go faster. He ran forward, raising his own spear. He had almost reached the mound of supplies that were his marker, behind which the Yilanè lay, when a terrible screech of pain cut the silence of the night.
It was followed instantly by more screams and shouts; then the beach was alive with moving forms. Kerrick shouted as well, leaping around the stacked supplies and stabbing down at the Yilanè who was just standing.
She shrieked hoarsely as the point imbedded in her flesh, pulled away. He thrust again into her throat.
It was yelling, running, falling, dark butchery in the night. The fargi were awake instantly, but were panicked and frightened and in absolute confusion. If they remembered their weapons they could not find them in the blackness. They ran and sought safety in the ocean of their youth. Yet there was no safety even there for they were speared when they ran by, while sharp arrows flew after those who reached the surf. It was slaughter without mercy. The Tanu were efficient butchers.
Yet the fargi were so numerous that some did manage to escape, to reach the sea and splash in panic through the dead bodies there, to dive and swim to the boats. The hunters waded after them into the breaking waves, their bows striking death until their supply of arrows was exhausted.
The killing stopped only when there was nothing left alive to kill. The hunters walked among the heaped bodies, kicking at them, spears stabbing down at any sound or movement. One by one they stopped, exhausted, silent — until a hunter shouted a cry of victory. They all joined in then, an ululating call that was more animal than Tanu, a cry that carried across the water to the surviving fargi in the boats who moaned and cowered with fear.
The first light of dawn revealed the gruesome details of the night of slaughter. Kerrick looked about in horror, shuddering away from the dead that were heaped on all sides, tumbled one on top of the other. This sight did not seem to bother the hunters in the slightest. They called out happily, bragging of their exploits while they waded among the corpses in the surf to cut their arrows free. As the light grew Kerrick saw that his hands and arms were thick with blood; he went along the beach away from the fargi bodies and washed them clean in the sea. When he emerged Herilak was waiting for him, shouting with jubilation.
“It has been done! We have hit back at the murgu, struck them down, avenged the sammads that they destroyed. It has been a good night’s work.”
Out to sea the boats were fleeing south — most of them empty, or with just one or two fargi aboard. The slaughter had been most efficient.
Kerrick felt drained of hate and fear, exhausted. He sat down heavily on the heap of bladders of preserved meat.
Herilak shook his spear after the fleeing boats, shouted after them.
“Go back! Tell the others what happened here this night. Tell the rest of the murgu that this will happen to all of them if they dare venture north again.”
Kerrick did not share his unreasoning hatred, for he had lived too long among the Yilanè. In the growing light he saw the face of the nearest corpse — and recognized her. A hunter he had seen many times with Stallan. He felt himself shaking and had to avert his eyes from the horrifying sight of her ripped-open throat. A feeling of immense grief possessed him — though he was not sure what he was grieving for.
When Herilak had turned about at last Kerrick shook himself and called out.
“Did we have losses of our own?”
“One. Isn’t that a true victory? Just one, stung by a poisoned dart. The surprise was complete. We have done what we came here to do.”
“We are not finished here yet,” Kerrick said, trying to be practical, to forget his emotions. He tapped the bladder that he was sitting upon. “These contain meat. As long as the outer skin is not broken the meat will not rot. I have eaten it. The taste is vile but it will sustain life.”
Herilak was leaning on his spear now, thinking. “Then we have won life as well as victory. With this even more Tanu will survive the coming winter. I must send runners to the sammads, bring them here for this treasure.” He looked about the corpse-strewn beach. “What else here can we use?”
Kerrick bent and picked up a discarded hèsotsan and wiped the sand from its dark body. When he pointed it towards the empty sea and squeezed in the correct manner there was a sharp crack and the dart vanished in the surf. Wrapped in thought he prodded it and the tiny mouth gaped open; he smoothed it shut again then held the weapon up to Herilak.
“Gather up the death-sticks. And the darts, I’ll show you what they look like. We cannot breed these things — but if they are fed they will live for years. The poison on their darts will kill murgu as easily as Tanu. If we had had them tonight not one murgu would have left this beach alive.”
Herilak struck him enthusiastically on the shoulder. “This victory will be only the first of many. I will send for the sammads at once.”
When he was alone Kerrick took up one of the drinking bladders and drank deep, then looked around at the excited hunters. It was a victory, the first one for the Tanu. But he had a dark sensation that any future victories might not be this easy. He looked at the nearest fargi corpse, then stood and forced himself to begin a search of beach.
It took a long time to be certain; he even worked his way through the surf looking at all the bodies there, made himself turn them face upwards one by one. When he had finished he dropped wearily onto the sand.
Some of the Yilanè he had recognized, mostly hunters, but there was even one he knew who had been a boat trainer. But he had searched in vain for one familiar face. It had not been there. He looked down the coast to the south, where the fleeing boats had long since vanished.
Stallan had been on one of them, he was positive of that. She had certainly led this expedition, and just as surely escaped with her own life in the darkness.
They would meet again one day, Kerrick was very sure of that. This defeat would not stop the Yilanè. If anything it would make them more resolute. This was not the finish of the battle, but only the beginning. Where it would finally end Kerrick had no idea.
But he did know that what was to come would be a clash such as this world had never seen.
A savage battle between two races who were united in only one thing; their absolute hatred of one for the other.
CHAPTER SEVEN
nu*nkè a›akburzhou kaseibur›ak umuhesn tsuntensi nu*nkèkash
The ring of bodies was good enough before we had the wall of thorns: the future will not change its suitability.
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As a rain squall passed over the boats, gusts of wind set them to bobbing in the short waves. The heavy drops drummed on their wet skins and hissed into the ocean around them. The dark shore was hidden from sight now and the sea was empty behind. There was no sign of any pursuit. Stallan looked in all directions, then ordered her boat to halt and signaled to the others to do the same.
They came together in the gray light of dawn, without a command being spoken, seeking comfort in each other’s presence. Even the unmanned boats pressed close, staying with the occupied boats and confused because they were not being instructed. Stallan looked at the surviving fargi with growing rage.
So few! A panic-stricken handful, all that remained of the great striking force that she had led north. What had gone wrong?
Her rage grew: she knew what had gone wrong, but when she thought about this her anger was so great that she had to put all thought of it from her mind for the moment. It would have to wait until she had these survivors safely back in Alpèasak; this was her first responsibility.
“Are any of you injured?” she called out, turning as she spoke so all of them could understand her. “Raise your arms if you are.”
Stallan saw that almost half of them were wounded. “We have no bandages, they are gone with the rest of the supplies. If the wounds are open, wash them with seawater. There is nothing else. Now look around you, do you see the unoccupied boats? They will get separated soon and we cannot afford to lose a single one. I want at least one fargi in every boat. Make the transfers now while we are all together.”
Some of the fargi were still too confused and panic-stricken to think for themselves. Stallan ordered her own boat through the pack, pushing and calling to them loudly until they obeyed.
“This boat is not empty,” a fargi called out. “There is a dead fargi in it.”
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