Bones of the Past (Arhel) (10 page)

“Tagnu—” Fat Girl said, loud enough to get their attention. “Time to run.” She raised her fist in the air, and added. “This time we run for us.”

“For us!” Four Winds Band shouted, raising their fists. They trotted to the broken part of the wall and scaled it. Then they hurried upward along the wall to the very top of the city, and clambered down the side of one of the whole towers on a length of vine.

Fat Girl had decided the band would be better off staying in the mountains above the treeline until they got too hungry—she wanted to keep them out of the trees as long as possible. They found the moss-covered, broken remains of a stone road that ran along the ridge, marked every so often by worn standing stones carved with the faces of monsters. They followed the road for three days, running hard, heading south. When the road veered east, they abandoned it. When the mountain ridge veered east, they reluctantly abandoned it, too, and moved down, into the scraggly semicover of twisted, windswept shrubs and evergreens—then lower, into the true jungle.

The air grew warmer and moister. Runs Slow spent more time perched on her brother’s shoulders, frightened by the things that moved through the undergrowth. Spotted Face and Three Scars had a big fight over something—Seven-Fingered Fat Girl missed everything but the outcome; they both pressed so close afterward to Toes Point In that the girl got angry with them and started running at the front of the pack.

South and west the tagnu fled, and with every step, the weight of the jungle seemed to pile itself heavier on Fat Girl’s shoulders.

Laughs Like A Roshi put Fat Girl’s feelings into words one night as the band crouched around the remains of a kret Dog Nose had killed. “It feels like it’s been waiting for us,” he whispered. “Like it’s angry with us.”

Fat Girl nodded slowly. She had never felt the anger of the trees so clearly.

“Keyu are bad,” Runs Slow added in a hushed voice. Her eyes were huge and scared.

Fat Girl pressed her finger to her lips. “Don’t ever say that here,” she hissed. “Don’t even think it. The Keyu don’t like it when someone says things like that.”

Dog Nose nodded his agreement. The other tagnu stared at Runs Slow, horrified by her careless words.

Then the jungle began to pulse—a thing felt before it could be heard.

“Drums!” Seven-Fingered Fat Girl cocked her head to one side, and froze.

Four Winds Band stilled. In the silence, the arrhythmic throb of distant drums grew louder. They rumbled and faded—and answering drums from somewhere nearer boomed in response. Fat Girl jumped. She hadn’t known they were so near a settlement of the Silk People.

She waited, while the drummers passed their riffs back and forth. When they finally fell silent, she frowned and rose.

“Pack up. No sleep tonight,” she told the tagnu.

The drums carried bad news. Big Fangs Band, rival tagnu, were in the area. Unknowingly, Seven-Fingered Fat Girl had led her band near their Paths—and if they discovered the presence of Four Winds Band, Big Fangs Band would kill as many of the invading tagnu as they could. Any secure tagnu band would. Tagnu suffered to find dependable food and a steady trade route. They didn’t dare permit even accidental interlopers.

Keyu’s Eye was dark—Seven-Fingered Fat Girl would have considered that a good omen, except without the pink light the Eye cast, the jungle darkness seemed a thing alive. Hisses and clicks and coughs filled the night air. Every step she took, she expected to feel the dry, rough hide of a merth under her foot. With each whisper of wind through the trees, she expected the weight of a keyudakkai on her shoulders, and the sting of its fangs in her neck. The band pressed together, beside and behind her, weapons ready. They were tired, and frightened, and Fat Girl had no comfort to offer.

We have a home
, she kept thinking.
A safe place, waiting for us in the mountains. We have good things to trade. Just a few more days—that’s all we need. Then the Keyu won’t be able to hurt us, the tagnu won’t be able to find us—

Her fingers wrapped tight around her dart stick, and she pressed her shoulder as close to Dog Nose’s as she dared. He pressed back, and she bit her lip. She had always had Dog Nose—but every other friend she’d ever had was dead. The jungle ate all of them, one way or another. If the jungle ate her, it wouldn’t matter. She wouldn’t know. But what if it ate Dog Nose? She didn’t want to think of a world without him in it.

Four Winds Band crept through the darkness, through the tangles of undergrowth, all of the children touching each other for comfort and protection. They stumbled, and huddled. Fat Girl had never felt closer to tears. Tagnu camped at night—they never, never ran.

How could they see myed vines that spread their traps so skillfully? How could they avoid the darkhunters?

But somehow, they did.

“Light,” Fat Girl whispered, hours later. She could finally see the outlines of trees, darker and lighter shadows—everything was still black and gray, but dawn was coming. She sagged against Dog Nose, relieved beyond words.

“Water ahead,” he said. “Listen.”

It was a thundering rumble, muffled by trees and distance, a muted roar. Seven-Fingered Fat Girl knew it. “The wild river. On the other side, it is only half a day’s hard run to the peknu places.” For the first time in days, she smiled. “Let’s run.”

Her enthusiasm infected Four Winds Band. The children raced over the tangled roots of trees, flew like stags over fallen limbs, galloped around boulders, homing in on the pounding growl of the river. They ran in complete silence, but their feet shouted their happiness.

At the river, they halted. They stared over the cliffs into the ravine, at the careening surges of dark brown water that pounded against huge white boulders.

“How do we cross?” Roshi asked.

“There are bridges—we’ll walk until we find one.” Fat Girl looked east and west, along the banks. She could see no bridges nearby. “West,” she decided, and trotted along the cliff edge.

Seven-Fingered Fat Girl, in the lead, was the first to sight the bridge. She stopped everyone and pointed it out. Two ropes, one over the other, were strung across the river from a massive tree to a boulder on the other side.

“The ground in front of the bridge is cleared. It’s part of a Path.” She frowned, unhappy with that.

“Whose Path?” Spotted Face asked.

“We’re out of Big Fangs territory—I have never run on this Path,” Fat Girl said. “I crossed the river farther west, on the bridge we hold. I don’t know who holds this.”

“Should we try for our bridge?” Dog Nose asked.

Laughs Like A Roshi shook his head vehemently. “We can be in peknu land just after midday if we cross here. I want to make our trades as fast as we can. We have a safe place for Runs Slow now—I want to get her there.”

Toes Point In frowned. “We could go east and try to find a bridge that way.”

Fat Girl bit her lip. “No. The other bridge could also be on a Path—and like Roshi, I want to get out of here as fast as possible.”

Dog Nose had been scanning the trees around them. “I don’t see watchers. And we would have to cross the Path to go on to our bridge, and maybe one or two more on the way. I say we cross here.”

Three Scars said, “Me, too. I’ll go last to guard your backs.” He pulled a hurlstick from his carrier and made a great show of hefting it. Then he smiled at Toes Point In, who smiled back.

Spotted Face glared at Three Scars.
I’ll
go last and guard your backs.” He looked quickly at Toes Point In, then pulled out a hurlstick of his own.

Fat Girl frowned at both of them, and then especially hard at Toes Point In, who was clearly encouraging the conflict. “Both of you can cross last—and Toes Point In will cross right before you. I’ll go first, then Dog Nose, then Roshi, then Runs Slow—”

“I want Runs Slow to cross before me,” Roshi interrupted.

“And I want you to cross before her so you can cover her from the other side of the river. Then Toes Point In, then Spotted Face, then Three Scars. I say it will be that way, and it will be that way. Of all Four Winds Band, only Dog Nose and Three Scars and I have crossed the river before. So you do it how we say.” She crouched down, and with a bit of twig, drew out the curves of the rope bridge, the line of the far side, and the anchor tree on the near side in the dirt. “When I am in the middle of the rope, Dog Nose will start across. When Dog Nose is in the middle, I will be on the other side, and I will kill anything I find on that side. If something kills me, turn back.” She looked up from her crouch into the faces of her band—serious, intent faces. “You run west to our Path, and you cross our bridge, and you take your trades to the peknu that way—if you live.”

She waited, and after an instant, her tagnu nodded their understanding.

“Good. So if nothing kills me, you come across like I told you. Hold the top rope with both hands, keep your feet pointing out, and never look down. You understand? Never look down. Never look back. Don’t stop, no matter what happens. Yes?”

“Yes,” they whispered, one at a time.

She stood and stretched. “Dog Nose, still no signs?”

“None.” He watched the canopy above them with worried eyes. “Not anything.”

“Right. Then we go now.”

She led the rest of the band up to the edge of the clearing, then waited while they found concealed positions and readied their weapons. When they were all well hidden and prepared, she bolted for the bridge, grabbed the top rope, swung her feet onto the bottom rope, and started across, keeping her hands and feet moving at an irregular rhythm. The tablet strapped to her back chafed and interfered with the free movement of her arms. She felt awkward. She felt trapped. She fixed her eyes on the far cliff and locked them there.

The rope was damp, and slimy, and very coarse. Patches of moss grew on it—her hands and feet encountered them and automatically slid forward to spots with better traction. Every time she had to move her maimed left hand forward, her breath caught. The hand was strong—but with just the thumb and one finger, it didn’t grip the way her good hand did. And the ropes swung—just a little at first, but more and deeper the further out she got. Mist from the pounding water beneath her slicked her skin; wind that blew down the river channel chilled her. On the bridge, she was completely exposed and completely helpless. It was a horrible feeling. Dooru or keyudakkau could see her and attack at any time. Enemies from either bank of the river would find her a vulnerable target. She could fall so easily. Her imagination painted the river beneath her as a gaping maw, waiting to gobble her up.

Her pulse pounded in her ears, louder than the crash of the current below. Then she felt wobbling pressure beneath her feet and in the palms of her hands.
There
, she thought.
Dog Nose is on the rope. So I’m halfway
.

She kept her pace irregular—rhythm was even more important with two people on the bridge. If they could stagger their paces, it decreased the swinging of the rope. If they moved at the same time, it made the swinging worse. Dog Nose knew about timing—she felt every step he took counterpointing her own. The arcs of the swinging ropes became smaller and less horrifying.

As she neared the opposite cliff, she began scouting for movement in the treetops or the underbrush. The clearing was empty, and the jungle seemed still. She held her breath the last four steps, not really aware she was doing it—until her feet hit solid ground again and she gasped. Then she was running, dartstick at her lips, dart loaded—looking for anything that threatened her tagnu. There was nothing. The jungle was still.

She took a position under cover at one side of the clearing to get a clear field of vision and waited for Dog Nose.

Dog Nose touched the center, and right on time, Laughs Like A Roshi moved onto the bridge. The ropes swung in deeper and deeper arcs for a few difficult moments as he tried to keep pace with Dog Nose. Then he caught the trick of keeping his movements random. He made the center of the bridge just as Dog Nose reached Fat Girl and took up a defensive position with his back to hers.

The two of them kept their weapons ready, and Fat Girl watched Roshi making steady progress across the bridge. Dog Nose checked over his shoulder from time to time. Laughs Like a Roshi crossed the center of the bridge… then moved steadily beyond it. “Where’s Runs Slow?” Dog Nose asked.

Fat Girl studied the other bank and muttered a curse at the gods. “I don’t see her—no, wait. There she is.”

Both Fat Girl and Dog Nose tensed. The little girl had moved out of her hiding place. She stood, in plain sight in the clearing, with one hand on the top rope of the bridge. She stared down at the cliffs and the river, frozen.

“Oh, no,” Seven-Fingered Fat Girl whispered.

She became aware of soft muttering at her back, and then of the words muttered. Dog Nose was chanting under his breath, “Come on, come on, come on, come on—”

Roshi was almost on the other side. His face was blank with concentration. Fat Girl knew he was aware of nothing right then but the rope and the movements of his hands and feet. But that would change as soon as he saw Runs Slow still poised on the other side of the river, unmoving. When he realized she wasn’t coming across, he would do something stupid. Fat Girl could feel it coming.

She whispered to Dog Nose, “I’m going to wait by the bridge. When Roshi gets off, I’m going to grab him, tell him to be quiet—maybe get him to wave Runs Slow across. Cover me.”

“Yah.”

She kept as close to the undergrowth as she could, moved without sound, watched as many directions at once as her eyes would take in. Roshi came off the bridge, unaware that she was beside him. He let out a long breath, and grinned—and Fat Girl grabbed him and said, “Quiet. Your sister won’t cross the bridge. Wave her over here without making a sound or we leave her on the other side.”

“I’ll go back—”

“If you try, Dog Nose will spear you. We don’t have time for this. The rest of the band still has to get across.”

Laughs Like A Roshi jerked around to where Dog Nose crouched. Dog Nose’s hurlstick pointed right at him. He turned back to stare down at Fat Girl, and she could see the whites around his eyes, and the trembling of his upper lip. Without another word, he moved to the point where the rope bridge crossed over to solid ground. He stood there, in plain view of anyone on either side of the river, held his arms wide, and began to beckon for Runs Slow.