Murgu, Yilanè, the two words merged in his mind. They would be coming to the island soon. And he must attack them just as they attacked the Tanu on the other side of this sea. As they must be attacking them, even now.
* * *
“They will not fight,” Herilak said, his lips white with anger. “They will not attack us—and when we attack them they hide behind their poison walls where we cannot reach them.”
“They are murgu and murgu cannot be expected to war as Tanu or Sasku do,” Sanone said, reaching out with a stick to stir the fire so that sparks rose high and blew away on the cold breeze. In winter, at night, even in this protected valley the air grew chill, and he was no longer young with the warm flesh of youth. He drew his thick robe closer about him and looked around at the sleeping valley. Only he and Herilak remained awake; the others slept.
“They learn, the murgu learn,” Herilak said with some bitterness. “In the beginning we could spear them at night, cut them down and kill them. Now we cannot reach them at night. Nor during the day. They stay secure and do not advance until we have gone. Then they come on, slowly, but always closer.”
“How close are they now?” Sanone asked.
“They surround us, on all sides. Not within sight, not yet, but still there, four days’ march in any direction. The circle is not complete; they have separate armed camps, but all of them are invulnerable. If we attack one they stay inside and do not move. But while we do that the others come closer. One day they will all be here and the valley will be surrounded and that will be the end.”
“Then we must leave before it is too late, before we are trapped.”
“Go where?” Herilak’s eyes were wide with mixed feelings, their whites glowing in the firelight. “Is there any place that is safe from them? You are the mandukto of the Sasku, you lead your hunters and women. Do you know of any place of safety to lead them to now?”
Sanone shifted uneasily before he spoke. “Across the desert to the west. It is said that there is water, green grass on the other side.”
“Do you wish to lead your Sasku there?”
The fire crackled and a log fell in and it was a long time before Sanone answered. “No, I do not wish to take them away from this valley. We have always lived here. It is fit and right that if we are to die that we should die here.”
“I do not wish to die—but I am tired of running. So are my sammads. I will lead them away from here if they wish to go, but I think they feel as we do. The time for running has ended. Sooner or later we must stop and take a stand against the murgu. Let it be sooner. We are all tired.”
“The water in the river is lower than it should be. This time of year the rains in the mountains fill it to the banks.”
“I will take some hunters in the morning, follow it back toward the hills. Do you think this is some murgu doing?”
“I do not know. But I fear.”
“We all fear, mandukto. The murgu drift toward us like the snows of winter and are just as hard to stop. One of the women saw green vines growing down from the cliff tops. She said that she could not get close but they had the look of murgu poison vines.”
“The cliffs are high.”
“The vines grow long. When I sleep I dream of a death song. Do you know what that means?”
Sanone’s smile was cold and grim. “You do not need a mandukto to read that dream, strong Herilak. I hear death songs too.”
Herilak looked up grimly at the stars. “When we are born we begin dying. I know my tharm will be up there one day. It is just the closeness of that day that chills me more than this wind. Is there nothing we can do?”
“Kerrick once led us against the murgu, led in victory.”
“Do not speak his name. He has gone and left us to die. He will lead us no longer.”
“Did he leave you—or did you leave him, strong Herilak?” Sanone asked quietly.
Herilak stirred with quick anger and started to speak in anger—but was silent. He lifted his hands and clenched them into hard fists, then opened them again. “If a hunter had asked me that, had spoken to me in that manner I would have struck him. But not you, Sanone, for you can look inside someone and know what their secret thoughts are. Since all in my sammad were destroyed I have been two people inside one skull. One of them boils with anger always, wants to kill, heeds no council, rejects all friendship. That is the Herilak who turned away from Kerrick at the time when he needed my help. But that is done. If he were here I would have words for him. But he is gone, dead in the north. Now that we are in this valley with murgu all about us I find that my anger is dying and I feel one person again. But this is perhaps a little late.”
“It is never too late to walk the correct path to Kadair.”
“I do not know your Kadair. But in a way you are right. Ermanpadar blew the spark that became my tharm. My tharm will glow in the stars very soon.”
“The track is stamped into the rock for us to see. We can only follow it.”
The fire died down to a bed of glowing coals and the wind grew stronger, hurtling down the valley from the north. The stars were bright and sharp in the clear night sky. The sammads and the Sasku slept and the murgu grew closer with every passing day. Sanone looked at Herilak’s slumped head and wondered who would be here in the valley when the first green shoots of spring pushed their way up through the ground.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
The coast of Entoban* was a dark shadow on the eastern horizon that was barely visible in the dying light. As the boat rode up on a wave they could see the peaks of high, snow-covered mountains far inland, still touched red by the setting sun. As they dropped into the trough between the waves the sail flapped in the dying breeze.
Kerrick looked at Kalaleq slumped over the steering oar and spoke again, this time carefully choosing his words, fighting not to lose his temper.
“The water is almost gone.”
“I have no wish to drink.”
“But I do. Armun is thirsty. We must go ashore and refill the waterskins.”
There was just enough light left for Kerrick to see the shiver that moved across Kalaleq’s body, stirring the fur down his neck so that it rose into the air. He had discarded his clothes many days before when the air had grown warmer, when the worst of winter had been left behind. “No,” he said, then trembled again. “That is the land of the murgu. I saw them once, killed them once. Never again. I am hot, we must go north.”
He pushed over on the oar and the sail flapped loosely as they went all aback. Kerrick started toward the stern, angrier than before, and stopped only when Armun laid a restraining hand on his arm.
“Let me talk to him,” she whispered. “Shouting at him does no good, you can see that now.”
“Talk to him then.” He pushed her hand away and moved to secure the sail. “Convince him. We must get fresh water.”
Kalaleq’s fur trembled at her touch and she stroked his shoulder until the quivering stopped. “Plenty water,” he muttered.
“You know that is not true. It will all be gone soon then we will have to land.”
“Land in the islands, go back, not ashore.”
She stroked him again, spoke to him as she would to a child. “We do not know how far the islands are from here—and we cannot turn back. The spirit of the wind would not like that. Not after all the fair winds we have had so far.”
“Not today, not yesterday.”
“Then the spirit has heard you and grows angry.”
“No!”
Kalaleq held tightly to her, then realized what he was doing and let his hands move up under her loose coverings, to rest on her bare back. She did not push him away, not this time. Kerrick could not see what was happening in the darkness. They must make for the shore despite Kalaleq’s fears. He was the problem now, for the voyage south seemed to have driven all the dark thoughts from Kerrick’s head. Driven them into the Paramutan’s skull instead! Now she had to humor him instead of Kerrick, must still be the strong one
. She knew how to do that well enough. The Tanu hunters and the male Paramutan were the same, quick to anger, ferocious in battle, washed by storms of feelings. But it was she who had to endure. To follow when needed—to be strong when that was needed even more. Now this one must have her help as Kerrick had had before. But he wanted more than that. His hands moved over her skin, moved from her back—and she pushed him gently away.
“Kalaleq is not afraid of the great ularuaq that swim in the northern sea,” she said. “He is the mightiest slayer of ularuaq and the strength of his arm feeds us all.”
“Yes,” he agreed and reached for her again but she moved back.
“Kalaleq not only kills the ularuaq but he has killed the murgu. I saw him kill murgu. He is a mighty slayer of murgu!”
“Yes,” then louder, “Yes!” He stabbed out with an invisible spear. “Yes, I did kill them, how I killed them!”
“Then you do not fear them—if you see them you will kill them again.”
“Of course!” His mood had shifted completely under her guidance and he beat his chest with his fists. “We need water—to the shore. Maybe find some murgu to kill too.”
He sniffed the wind, then spat unhappily. Still growling he unshipped the oars and slipped them into place. “Not enough wind, lower sail. I’ll show you how to row.”
But not this night.
In a short while he was gasping and running with sweat. He let Armun pull him aside and he sipped at the last of the water when she held it to his lips. Kerrick took his place, pulled hard on the oars, pulled toward the land. Kalaleq sank into a troubled sleep, and Armun hoped that when he awoke his mood would be unchanged.
The night was still and warm, the stars hidden by low cloud above. Before Kerrick tired Armun replaced him at the oars so that they moved steadily toward land. A ghost of a moon slipped in and out of the clouds enabling them to stay on course. While Kalaleq slept, they spelled each other, turn and turn again, until they heard the rumble of surf distantly ahead. Kerrick stood in the bow and could just make out the line of foam where the waves ran up onto the shore.
“It looks like beach, not rock, and the waves are small. Shall we go straight in?”
“Wake Kalaleq. Let him decide.”
The Paramutan came awake at once—thankfully possessed by none of his earlier fears. He clambered part way up the mast to look ahead, sniffed the air then let his hand dangle over the side in the sea.
“We land,” was his firm decision. “Row straight and I steer.”
When they were closer in he saw a break in the shore and turned toward it, then guided the boat in between sandbanks to the outlet of a stream or a small river.
“No one knows boats, knows the ocean like Kalaleq!”
“No one,” Armun agreed quickly before Kerrick could say anything to dampen the Paramutan’s new-found self-esteem. Kerrick started to speak, then had the good sense to keep quiet. He rowed until they touched bottom, then jumped overside with a line to pull the boat further in.
The water was salt here, but when he walked a short distance upstream it suddenly became fresh and sweet. He cupped his hands and drank, then called to the others. Kalaleq rolled and splashed in the delightful coolness, his earlier fears forgotten. They pulled the boat up as far as they could and secured it there, all of them exhausted. They would refill the waterskins in the morning.
It was first light when Kerrick took Armun’s arm to awaken her. “Up here,” he said. “Come quickly.”
Kalaleq was lying behind the mounded dune, shaking his spear and calling out loud insults. But he was careful to stay behind the cover. They ran to join him, dropping and crawling the last bit to look over the top.
Out to sea, just off the coast, a large creature with a high fin was swimming slowly by. Two smaller sea-beasts surged ahead of it.
“An uruketo,” Kerrick said. “It carries the murgu.”
“How I wish they were closer so I could spear it, kill them all!” Kalaleq’s eyes were red with hatred in the first light, his temper restored and all traces of yesterday’s fear vanished.
“Look at the direction they are going,” Kerrick said, glancing toward the sun on the horizon, then back to sea. “North, they are going north.”
He watched until the uruketo had vanished from sight, then hurried to the boat, rooted out the Yilanè charts.
“We have come too far south, see, we must be here on the chart. The uruketo is going north to the islands here.”
Kalaleq understood the maps, Armun did not. They would decide. “It could be going to the ocean here, through the mouth,” Kalaleq said. Kerrick shook his head.
“Not this time of the year, it is too cold, there may even be no cities left on the shores of Isegnet. It has to be going here, to Ikhalmenets.”
While they argued she filled the waterskins.
By late morning they had all of the water they could carry and their course had been decided. They would follow the murgu swimming creature. It had been agreed that the island they searched for was in that direction. The breeze was coming from the land now and filled their sail, carrying them swiftly toward the horizon and what lay concealed beyond it.
They sailed all of that day through the empty ocean, the land out of sight behind them and nothing visible ahead. When Kalaleq’s fears returned Armun asked him how he killed ularuaq and he showed her his skill, carried away, shouting with pleasure. Kerrick sat silently in the bow, staring ahead. He was the one who saw the snow capped mountain first.
“It is there, Ikhalmenets, it can be nothing else.”
They gazed in silence as they sailed forward and the island slowly emerged from the sea. Kalaleq called out worriedly when other specks of land appeared.
“There—and there. Other islands, there are more than one. Which is the one we seek?”
Kerrick pointed to the white peak, now glowing warmly in the evening sun. “That one, it can be no other, that is the way it was described. An island with a single, high mountain at its center. There are others nearby, but this is the largest, the mountain the tallest. Sail toward it.”
“The other islands we pass, we will be seen.”
“No, they are uninhabited. The murgu live in only one place, in their city on that island. That is where we are going . . .”
“To our deaths!” Kalaleq cried aloud, his teeth chattering with fear. “Murgu beyond counting. We are three, what can we do?”
“We can defeat them,” Kerrick said, strength and surety in his voice. “I did not come all this distance just to die. I have thought about this over and over, planned everything carefully. We will win—because I know these creatures. They are not like Tanu—or Paramutan. They do not do as we do, each of them going his own way, but are ordered in everything. They are very different from us.”
“My head is thick. I fear—and do not understand.”
“Then listen and you will see clearly what I mean. Tell me of the Paramutan. Tell me why you, Kalaleq, kill the ularuaq, not any other?”
“Because I am the best! Am strongest, aim straightest.”
“But others kill as well?”
“Of course, different times, sail on other ikkergaks.”
“Then understand, the Tanu have sammadars who lead. But if we do not like what they say we find a new sammadar, just as you may have a new spearer of ularuaq.”
“Me—I am best.”
“I know you are, but that is not what I mean. I am talking about the way things happen with Paramutan and Tanu. But that is not the way of the murgu. There is one who orders all of the others, a single one. Her orders are always obeyed, never questioned.”
“That is stupid,” Kalaleq said, pushing over the oar as the wind gusted about and flapped the sail. Kerrick nodded agreement.
“You think so—I think so. But the murgu never think about this at all. The one on top rules and all of the others obey.”
“Stupid.”
“It is, but that is a very good thing for us. Because
I can speak to the one who rules, order her to do what must be done . . .”
“No, you cannot,” Armun cried out. “You cannot go there. It is certain death.”
“Not if you both help me, do as I ask. None of the other murgu matter, just the leader, the one they call the eistaa. I know how she thinks and I know how to make her obey me. With this,” he held out the carved Sasku firebox, “and the bladder of ularuaq poison Kalaleq has stowed away.”
Armun looked from his face to the box, then back again. “I understand none of this. You make fun of me.” Without realizing it, she drew a fold of her clothing over her mouth as she spoke.
“No, never.” He put the box down and held her to him, pulled the skin aside, touched her lips, calmed her fears. “It will be all right, we will be safe.”
They came as close to the island as they dared in the fading daylight, then dropped the sail and waited. There were no clouds and the snow on the high mountain shone clearly in the moonlight. Kerrick went to raise the sail and Kalaleq called out to stop him.
“If we go close we will be seen!”
“They sleep, all of them. None are awake; I told you I know them.”
“Guards posted?”
“That is impossible. None move after darkness, it is a thing about them.”
Kalaleq steered reluctantly, still not sure. The island grew ever closer until they were moving slowly north along its rocky shore.
“Where is the place of the murgu?” Kalaleq whispered as though he could be heard from the shore.
“On this coast, to the north, keep on.”
The rocky coastline gave way to sandy beaches with groves of trees beyond them. Then the coast curved away into a harbor and the row of dark forms was clear against the lighter wood of the docks beyond.
“There,” Kerrick said. “The uruketo, their ikkergak-creatures, like the one we saw. This is the place, this is the city. I know what it will be like for they are all grown in the same manner. The birth-beaches beyond, the barrier surrounding it, the ambesed which will open to the east so the eistaa, sitting in her place of honor, will get the first warmth of the sun. This is Ikhalmenets.”
Winter in Eden Page 34
