Western Shore ac-3

by Juliet E. McKenna

  'Which is what these people did in Chazen,' Naldeth said pointedly as they returned to the bright day outside. 'Are you sure you aren't taking revenge?'

  'No.' Kheda sat down and drew his belt knife.

  Risala sat a little distance away. 'No, you're not taking revenge, or no, you're not sure?'

  'Weren't the people who came to Chazen just fleeing that drowned island?' Naldeth looked troubled.

  'Perhaps, but they attacked first rather than trying to sue peaceably for sanctuary. And whoever they were, they were driven on by their wizards, who showed no one any mercy. This battle should free the cave dwellers from such tyranny.' Kheda began stripping the bark from the curved branch with deft knifestrokes. 'Risala, can you cut me some thong from those hide strips, please?'

  'What are you making?' Naldeth watched him work, mystified.

  'A bow.' Kheda worked his way around an irregularity in the wood.

  Naldeth looked at him open-mouthed 'You can't be thinking you can teach these people archery in half a day?'

  'They don't need to shoot the topknot off a palm pigeon.' Kheda looked down the length of the crude bow

  stave and resumed shaping it. 'A shower of arrows against people not expecting them doesn't need to be aimed. Now, can you summon water or do I need Velindre to do that?'

  'I can summon water, but there's not much more I can do with that element,' Naldeth admitted. 'Not hereabouts anyway.'

  Kheda looked up as the relentless pounding of the women's staves in the hollow tree slowed and faltered. Heads were turning all across the enclosure as the savages realised he was doing something. 'Can you find me a bone splinter that will make a decent needle? About as long as your smallest finger.'

  'You'll be lucky to get a handful of shots out of that before it breaks,' Risala remarked as she tossed him a skein of thin leather strips.

  'We don't have time to go hunting for decent wood or to craft proper bows.' Kheda used his dagger to scrape damp pith from the newly peeled wood and then carefully gouged deep notches in each end of the wood. 'We can hope that that mage in the beaded cloak is taking some time to try to fathom our presence here, but don't forget, he's hardly exerted himself as much as Velindre or Naldeth. We have to be ready for him and his followers to make another attack.'

  Men were drifting towards them now, some with children hiding behind their legs while older boys came scampering ahead with lively curiosity. As Naldeth searched among the bones in the hearth, the women gathered round him, speculating audibly.

  'Risala, do you think you could persuade these women to make us some strings?' Kheda cut a long strip, three fingers wide, from one of the hides offered the night before and used the tip of his dagger to pierce holes along both edges. 'And lend us a bowl, to soak the leather in?'

  'I can try.' Risala teased some fibres from the discarded

  strips of bark. As she walked over to the village women, she began twisting them into two thin spirals. When she had a finger's length, she wound them together against themselves, so each one stopped the other from unravelling. The women clicked their tongues and smiled as they recognised what she was doing. As Risala touched the cords holding a gourd on one woman's shoulder, her expression beseeching, the women nodded readily.

  'Well done,' Naldeth commented as she and he both returned together.

  'It's hardly magecraft.' Risala was amused despite herself. She handed Kheda a shallow vessel roughly fashioned from a piece of hollowed log.

  'Will this serve as a needle?' Naldeth diffidently proffered a sharp shard of bone unmistakably shaped and pierced by magic.

  Did you learn how to do that from that black dragon '$ magic?

  'I should think so. Can you fill this with water for me?' Kheda indicated the shallow trough.

  As Naldeth nodded and steam gathered in the hollow of the wood to condense into shining droplets, the considerable crowd now gathered around them murmured, openly inquisitive. The wild men and women watched intently as Kheda laid the leather strip in the water to darken.

  Patience. More haste makes for less speed.

  As soon as he judged the leather was wet enough, he took it out and stretched it as best he could. Laying it down, he carefully arranged a dense layer of long, dry grass in the centre and put the bow stave precisely in the middle. Kneeling, he threaded a length of leather thong through the eye of the bone needle and bent over the bow stave to begin sewing the leather tightly around the wood and grass. 'It should dry fast enough

  in this heat,' he commented, 'so the leather will shrink still tighter.'

  'It'll dry still faster and tighter if you let me do it with my magic,' Naldeth pointed out, somewhat exasperated.

  'That's true enough.' Kheda looked up apologetically from his awkward task. 'Risala, do you think you can persuade these folk to find me some thin, straight sticks?'

  'I can try.' She tossed him the coil of stout string that one of the women had just given her. She smiled briefly at Kheda and he felt memory of the night's passion twist deep in his stomach. He would have held her gaze longer but she turned away to her new task.

  A few children followed at a respectful distance as Risala began searching the closest length of the thorn barrier for suitable twigs. The rest of the men and women continued to watch Kheda as he laboriously completed the finger-cramping task of sewing the leather tightly around the curved wood, compressing the grass inside. From time to time he tried to look around the enclosure but there were too many people moving about for him to get a clear sight of Velindre.

  Kheda handed the stave in its case of damp leather to Naldeth. 'Very well then, Master Mage, dry that out for me.' He addressed himself to measuring a length of cord for a bowstring and tying tight loops in each end.

  Naldeth took the bow stave, which immediately began steaming gently. Soon the darkness was fading fast from the leather. The savages murmured among themselves again and most took a pace or two back.

  'Will these do?' Risala returned with a handful of long, whippy sticks.

  Kheda nodded as he took the bow stave back from the young mage. 'Naldeth, help her, if you please. Strip off the bark and make me some arrows, about this long.' He indicated the standard shaft length reaching from his

  fingertips to his breastbone. 'Put a point on one end and a notch in the other.'

  'I know I said I'm no hunter,' Naldeth complained mildly, 'but I have seen an arrow before.'

  'How are you planning on fletching and barbing them?' Risala asked.

  'Let's see what our new allies can offer us.' Kheda watched the wild spearmen edge closer to see more clearly as Naldeth took up one of the sticks. Some were intent on the dagger itself, others on the blade's action on the wood. As soon as the young mage set the first peeled wand down, one of the older hunters, bolder than the rest, immediately picked it up. He was short and stooped with some old, ill-healed injury twisting his back, his face wizened and his hair a thin grey fuzz on his fleshless skull. After studying it, he shrugged at his companions; their puzzlement was equally plain.

  The whole circle of watchers took a pace backwards as Kheda stood up. He settled one loop of the string into the notch he had cut in one end of the improvised bow stave, tugging at it till the cord bit deep into the leather. Flipping the wood over, he braced the lower end against his foot and slowly leaned on the top, gradually bending it sufficiently to accept the second loop of the bowstring. His shoulder muscles protesting, he gently released the pressure until the string alone held the leather-encased wood in a new smooth curve.

  So far, so good. It hasn't snapped at the first test. Risala can call that an omen if she wants to.

  Kheda gave the string a tentative pull. The bow was stiff and the leather creaked but he couldn't feel any hint of the wood within cracking. 'Naldeth, some arrows please.'

  The wizard complied. 'They're not very good, I'm afraid.'

  'As long as they're good enough to show these people

  what we're doing.' Kheda moved t
o get a clear view across the upper end of the enclosure. There was plenty of space past the dead mage's hut where the skins of the lizards that had been slain the day before yesterday were drying stretched on stoutly lashed frameworks of wood. Drawing the crude bow in one fluid action, Kheda loosed the blunt, featherless shaft. It shot across the emptiness and vanished over one of the skins to be lost in the thorn barricade.

  A murmur of surprise ran around the gathering. Before it ran its course, Kheda loosed a second rough shaft and this time he hit the lizard skin almost dead centre, the arrow bouncing off. Unmistakable interest lit the hunters' faces.

  Naldeth rolled the next arrow between his fingers and the sappy point darkened and hardened. 'Why do you suppose none of them have ever contrived a bow?'

  Kheda shot again and this time the arrow pierced the lizard hide to hang there quivering. 'I don't imagine their life offers much leisure for sitting and thinking.' He had to speak up to be heard over the hum of excitement all around.

  Risala was still stripping bark from the thin sticks. 'And I don't see many elders around to turn their experiences into new ideas.'

  'Do you imagine those wild mages let anyone showing more than usual intelligence live for long?' Kheda picked up another arrow. 'Tyrants like Ulla Safar soon cut down anyone with the wit to be a threat.'

  'They certainly seem to like this idea—' Naldeth broke off as the stooping spearman who'd been the first to pick up a rough arrow tugged at his arm. 'What does he want?'

  The wild man pointed over towards the ash-filled hearth and then tapped Naldeth's empty hand. He repeated the gesture a second time and then a third, looking a little frustrated at the mage's slowness.

  'He wants you to light the fire.' Kheda's spirits rose.

  If they can make themselves understood, surely so can we.

  He shot again and missed the lizard skin, the arrow gouging a shallow groove in the dust. The crowd didn't care, their voices growing louder, edged with excitement. More savages came to see what was afoot.

  'Be careful,' Risala said sharply as the mage held his hand up and a scarlet flame danced on his upturned palm. 'We don't want to draw any dragons.'

  'A spark like this is lost in the confluence of elements around here, believe me.' Naldeth dropped the flame onto the ground and bent to pile the detritus from the bow-making on it. The red magelight shivered and turned to the comforting yellow of natural fire.

  The stooped hunter glanced over his shoulder, wrinkled face expressive. Several of those behind him made encouraging sounds. The stooped hunter drew a deep breath and crouched down on his heels to hold the peeled stick out over the little fire. His hand was shaking so much that the wood wavered wildly in and out of the flickering flames. Grinning, Naldeth hunkered down and steadied the other end with his free hand. The hunter licked his lips nervously as he watched the wood intently. As the moisture that had lurked underneath the bark was drawn out of the wood, he snatched it back and deftly ran it through his leathery fingers. His hands steadier, he returned it to the flame. After a few such passes he was satisfied and, smiling shyly, he handed the arrow to Kheda.

  'They know enough to understand that a straight shaft flies faster and truer.' Kheda rolled the blunt arrow between his fingers and looked down its length.

  'It'll fly better still for some fletching—' Risala caught her breath on a recollection. 'And I know where to find some feathers.'

  As she hurried into the dead mage's hut, Kheda loosed the newly straightened shaft at the lizard skin. It flew noticeably better than the first ones he had shot, striking the hard scales of the lizard's spine with a sharp snap. The stooped hunter shared a gleeful grin with his companions. Three of them set diligently to work straightening more sticks and two more sat to peel bark from the rest with their black-stone knives. One kept casting envious glances at Naldeth's dagger.

  'Now we set these people making as many bows as they can before we find ourselves under attack.' Kheda watched Risala approaching with a twist of hide in one hand. 'What have you got there?'

  'Feathers from those women.' She untwisted the soft leather to reveal a handful of vivid orange plumes.

  A new sound ran through the crowd, this time of considerable disquiet.

  'Is that wise?' Naldeth shared their unease. 'We've no real idea what the significance of such adornments might be, beyond marking out the mageborn. What will they make of us using such tokens like this?'

  'I don't know.' Kheda set the bow down and took a feather from Risala. It had come from the wing of some as yet unseen, sizeable bird. 'But how else can we show them what we need?'

  And we'll be showing them that such tokens have no meaning for us, no power in themselves, no more than the meaningless patterns we Aldabreshi men draw in the sky to comfort ourselves.

  Using his dagger, he carefully stripped one side from the central quill and cut it into an arrow flight. He glanced at Risala. 'May I have some bark fibres, please.'

  As she handed them to him, Kheda gave her the arrow shaft to hold. Lacking any kind of glue, he could only lick a finger and stick the strips of feather on with spittle. That

  was good enough to hold them as he began carefully tying the feather tightly to the wood, splitting the black-tipped orange barbs apart with the hair-thin binding. As he worked, an apprehensive murmur passed among the wild men and women. Here and there an emotional voice rose and was hastily hushed.

  'What do you suppose they are saying?' Risala kept her face impassive.

  'Does it matter?' Kheda tied off the bark fibres as solidly as he could and smoothed the fractured feather to a sleek smoothness once again. Looking down for the bow, he saw several of the older hunters were squatting beside it, stroking tentative fingers along the leather-bound wood and the taut string. Kheda grinned at them as he bent to retrieve the weapon.

  'I could make some steel arrowheads if we can find something like ironstone.' Naldeth looked thoughtfully around.

  'Which would use a lot more magic and might well catch a dragon's curiosity,' Risala said instantly.

  Kheda carefully bent the bow, drawing the newly fletched arrow to his chin. 'Let's see what these people can come up with.' He let fly and the shaft soared over the lizard skin to clear the thorn barricade entirely and vanish into the distant thistly plants. The gathering hummed with excitement.

  Perhaps they think there's magic in the feathers to make the arrow fly more true.

  Kheda turned to the stooped hunter and offered him the bow. Everyone else immediately fell silent.

  The stooped hunter licked his lips, blinking rapidly. His hands shook as he picked up a naked arrow. He mimicked Kheda's action in drawing the bow but lowered it awkwardly without loosing the unfletched shaft. Taking a deep breath he drew a second time and shot. The shaft

  flew across the enclosure to fall short of the lizard skin. The hunter looked at Kheda, plainly chagrined.

  Kheda grinned back and nodded emphatic approval, pleased to see the man's face clearing. 'I think they've got the idea.'

  Several of the other hunters shuffled closer, patently eager to try this new weapon themselves.

  Naldeth looked at them with amusement. 'Where did you learn to make bows like that, Kheda?'

  'My father taught me and my brothers,' the warlord said with a pang. 'He said we never knew when we might find ourselves without the trappings of privilege, so we needed to know how to keep ourselves alive with no more than a sharp knife and sharper wits.'

  'A man of some forethought,' Naldeth said approvingly.

  'Or one who foresaw you'd have need of such knowledge.' Risala challenged Kheda with a brief glance.

  'Can you both help them make more bows, while I see if we can fashion any kind of arrowheads?' Kheda went back to the dead mage's hut. The wild men and women followed readily enough, though none would go inside. Kheda passed out handfuls of wood, leather and grass. Risala immediately had to stop the eager hunters layering them together without soaking the leather first
. The women laughed as they sat in a loose circle, twisting fresh lengths of cord from the grasses they had commandeered.

  Finally convinced she had made her meaning clear, Risala sat back on her heels and glanced up at Kheda as she wiped sweat from her forehead. 'These people may lack knowledge but they don't lack wits or dexterity.'

  'No,' Kheda agreed. 'Naldeth, can you make us some more of those bone needles without catching a dragon's attention, please?'

  'Oh yes.' Naldeth hurried off towards the hearth with a few curious savages trailing after him.

  Kheda turned to the stooped hunter and, drawing his own dagger from its sheath, he tapped it with one finger before tapping his own chest. Sheathing the steel, he tapped the hunter's bony breastbone and held out his empty hand expectantly.

  Curiosity flickered across the man's brow as he delved in the folds of his ancient, stained loincloth to retrieve his crude knife of black stone. Seeing the fineness of the edge, Kheda couldn't resist trying it on the dark hairs dusting his forearm. The razor-sharp stone shaved his skin clean. He nodded his approval, then, raising his elbows and shrugging his shoulders, he mimicked trying to break the tip off the end. The hunter reached involuntarily for the knife before he realised Kheda wasn't actually damaging it. He frowned, trying to understand.

  Kheda reached down and picked up a rough arrow shaft, holding the black-stone knife to it so that the tip jutted over the end of the wood. The hunter's face cleared and he nodded rapidly. Clapping his hands, he barked brisk instructions to someone at the back of the crowd.

  'Let's hope they've got that idea.' Beyond the old men huddled round the stooped hunter, Kheda watched two men each carrying a bundle of spears rounding up a gaggle of lads. One waved an arrow shaft, self-evidently explaining what they would be seeking. With the hunters vigilant for any threat, they disappeared out beyond the thorn barrier. 'Now what I need is a good big gourd and a long forked stick.'