Exile's Children (79 page)

Had the Breakers come?

He threw off his sleeping furs and, naked, unlaced the lodgeflap to thrust out his head.

The sky was yet dull, dawn no more than a faint promise on the eastern horizon, but the Meeting Ground woke noisy. Dogs barked and he heard people shouting. His heart beating fast, he tugged on shirt, breeches, and boots, and draped a blanket about his shoulders as he hurried out.

Then he shouted his joy as he saw the line of Grannach moving through the lodges, Rannach and Arrhyna leading their horses at the head, Colun and Marjia striding beside them.

There were too many for the Council lodge, so they all sat as if in Matakwa, circled within a ring of guardian warriors, all others—both the People and the Grannach—standing beyond and listening eagerly. What grim news there was was swiftly exchanged, and they settled to discussing the future.

Colun said, “The Breakers own the mountains now. There is nowhere safe.”

“Nor the grass,” Racharran said. “Nowhere in all Ket-Ta-Witko.”

Colun grunted as if this were no more than he expected and combed his beard with stubby fingers. “So, Morrhyn?”

All eyes turned toward him: those of the men seated about the inner circle and the ring of guards, and all those beyond. Silence descended; even the dogs fell quiet. The morning was yet young, the sun barely above the treetops, the surrounding hills still shadowy. But when he turned his face toward the Maker's Mountain, he saw the pinnacle bright-lit, shining like a burnished golden blade raised against the sky. The eternal snow still decked the uppermost heights, but it was lit all golden, and glittered so that it was hard to hold his eyes open against that illumination. But he did, even as he felt tears stream down his cheeks, and so he saw the white stallion that reared up over the Mountain, hooves pawing the heavens, and felt all his faith come flooding back, washing doubt away.

For long moments he stared, watching the burning Mountain and the ethereal horse, and then both were gone. The horse shook its head and became a drifting cloud; the Mountain became again a looming peak not yet touched by the sun.

He wiped his face and said, “You saw?”

Colun stared at him. Racharran shook his head. Kahteney asked, “Saw what?”

He pointed toward the Mountain and saw incomprehension on their faces. He felt his mouth stretch in a triumphant smile.

When he spoke, his voice was confident.

“The Grannach are come,” he said, “and now the Maker will reveal his promise. This I know.”

Blunt as ever, Colun said, “When?”

He shook his head, smiling still. As if forever imprinted on his eyes, he saw the vision still. “Soon,” he promised. “The Maker will show me soon.” He looked to where Kahteney sat. “You've pahé left?”

Kahteney nodded solemnly.

“Good.” Morrhyn stretched. “Do you give it me, I think I shall dream well.”

He was deep in dreams when the scouts came in on lathered horses, their reports all the same.

The Breakers were two days' ride out, approaching from all directions. Like the migrating buffalo, they came fast, following the trails of all the clans, converging on the Meeting Ground which they must surely reach even as the Moon of the Turning Year reached its fullest.

Morrhyn lay dreaming as the news spread like wildfire through the camp. Racharran thought to wake him, but Kahteney warned against that.

“The pahé owns him now,” the Lakanti Dreamer explained, “and it should be dangerous to interrupt him. Likely you could not, anyway. And does he dream the means of our salvation …”

He shrugged, his eyes troubled as he faced Racharran. In them the Commacht akaman saw his own fear, his own dread doubt—
and if he does not, then what point to waking him? We are doomed, so let him sleep on and die in his sleep.

Racharran nodded and turned to Colun. “You've Stone Shapers with you?”

“Yes.” Colun's eyes narrowed under craggy brows. “Baran's the strongest, but there are some seven others.

Swiftly, Racharran outlined his plan.

Colun frowned and tugged at his beard and said, “I don't know if the golans can work their magic here.”

Racharran fought to hide his frustration at the slow, deliberate Grannach ways and asked, “Why not send for them, that we might find out?”

Colun grunted and shouted for a man to bring Baran.

When the squat Stone Shaper was put the question, he chewed on his luxuriant moustache awhile and gave the same answer. Then he grinned through his beard and said, “But we can find out, no?”

“The Breakers will be on us within two days,” Racharran said. “Two days at the most, and likely less.”

Baran nodded as if this were all the time in the world. “Then we'd best set to work, eh? This shall be interesting.”

He ambled away, voice raised in a bellow that summoned his fellow golans. Racharran turned back to Colun.

“Can your folk take the defenseless ones into the hills?” His voice was hoarse, his expression desperate. “Does Morrhyn not wake …”

“There's no point.” Colun shook his head, his own face rueful. “We sealed our passages when we left.”

Racharran said, “Even so.”

Colun shook his head again. “The valleys are all sealed off, and nowhere else for so many. This Maker-cursed winter's not yet all gone up there, and you've not enough food for all of them. Also”—he turned to glance mournfully toward his lost mountains—“the Breakers have left their foul beasts roaming up there.”

Racharran's hands stretched wide and closed into fists. Almost, he shouted curses at the Maker, at Morrhyn. Almost, but not quite: a spark of faith still burned. He opened his mouth to speak, but Colun forestalled him.

“There's no escaping into the hills. They'd die up there; better they die here. It should be easier.”

“At the Breakers' hands?” Racharran stared at him, aghast. “Under the teeth of their beasts?”

“No.” Colun took a deep breath; sighed. “Remember, I saw what the Breakers did to the Whaztaye. It should be better if the defenseless ones took their own lives. Better none live if the Breakers prevail.”

That “if” sounded to Racharran most horribly like “when.” He nodded. “Then so be it.” He looked around, at the somber faces surrounding him. “We fight here. The Maker willing, we shall survive.”

Softly, Yazte said, “The Maker grant Morrhyn wakes and fulfills that promise.”

“The Maker grant.” Racharran ducked his head in earnest agreement. “But meanwhile, best we ready for the worst.”

They set to planning their defense, which did not take them long:
there was little enough to decide. Less, could Baran and his fellow Stone Shapers not block the entrance; and even if they did, it could still be only a matter of time before the Breakers climbed the hills.

Rannach faced Nemeth and Zeil and bowed his head, saying solemnly, “I'd ask your forgiveness.”

Husband and wife exchanged a look, and Nemeth said, “For what?”

“For the unhappiness I've brought her.”

“Unhappiness?” Nemeth frowned, gesturing to where Arrhyna sat, her belly larger now. “Our daughter is unhappy?”

“I am not,” Arrhyna said.

Rannach said, “Had I not slain Vachyr, perhaps none of this would have happened.”

“Ach!” Zeil chopped air. “Vachyr
stole
your bride, our daughter.” He shaped a sign of warding. “The Maker forgive me, but I was glad when I saw Vachyr's body across your saddle.”

“Even so; Morrhyn has told me that sin was a part of what delivered this.” His hand indicated the camp, all abustle with preparations for war.

Zeil said gently, “And also Morrhyn has said that he could not have survived the journey back without you.”

“And that he believes the Maker must forgive you, no?” Nemeth said. “Then how shall we not?”

“Still, it seems that we all shall …” Rannach shrugged, glancing at his wife.

Arrhyna smiled calmly and ended the sentence for him: “Die?” She turned, still smiling, to her parents. “Sometimes my husband's faith wavers. He forgets Morrhyn's promise.”

Rannach frowned. “Morrhyn lies adreaming.” He sighed and took Arrhyna's hand. “Likely he'll be dreaming when the Breakers come.”

Arrhyna said to her parents, “You see?” and set a hand on Rannach's cheek so that his face was turned toward her. “You must believe, my husband. You
must
!”

Rannach said, eyes wide and loving, “Do you? Truly?”

Confidently, she answered, “Yes.”

He touched the hand that touched his cheek, and a darkness filled his eyes. “Even so—are you wrong, and I not with you …” His hand fell, a finger tapping the hilt of the small knife she wore.

She said, “It will not come to that. But should it, then I'd not live on without you.”

•   •   •

“It can be done.” Baran beamed as if proud of that knowledge. “I'd wondered if our magic would work here. But—yes: we can do it.”

Racharran sighed and offered silent thanks to the Maker. That must buy them a little time at least.

The Stone Shaper perched himself like a hairy rock on the very edge of the pass, peering curiously up and down its length, with Colun squatting beside him. Racharran, none too easy so close to the drop, watched them.

“How much?” Baran asked. “We can seal it all now, or just the egress.” He turned, grinning wickedly. “We might allow them entry and then bring down the stone. I should enjoy that.”

Racharran looked past him to where the lodges covered the Meeting Ground. They could be struck in moments. The horses were already gathered into one great herd. The People knew what came against them, and the defenseless ones wore blades now. Warriors were chosen to dispatch those too infirm to slay themselves. They waited: for Morrhyn to wake or the Breakers come, none—even those strongest in their faith—any longer certain which should come first.

The sun shone bright, warmer than ever, and the Moon of the Turning Year would reach its fullness in two more nights.

And the Breakers be on them before then.

Morrhyn, he thought, wake up!

He looked to Yazte and Chakthi, who stood a little way back from the rim with Perico and Kanseah, and asked, “How think you? All now, or as they enter?”

Colun said, “Seal the farther end now. Let their vanguard enter this end, and then …” He clapped his hands.

Baran nodded enthusiastically.

Yazte said, “Our bowmen might wait here.”

“And my Grannach,” Colun added.

Racharran sought Chakthi's response: the Tachyn shrugged as if the decision were not his to make.

Kanseah said nervously, “Might it not be better to block all the pass?”

Colun grunted, twisting to eye the Naiche warrior. “They come in their thousands, no? Do they find a wall of stone before them, they'll halt and look to climb it. And that shall not take them long.”

“And if it's done as you suggest?” Perico asked.

Colun smiled. “We slay no few of them on the first day, perhaps that shall give them pause.” He rose, staring to where the Maker's Mountain
shone in the sun, and gestured obeisance. “Perhaps pause enough that Morrhyn wakes.”

Racharran said, “The Maker grant it be so.”

Yazte said, “It might at least surprise them.”

“And kill them,” said Baran.

“Your way.” Racharran touched the Stone Shaper on one broad shoulder. “With bowmen and Grannach stationed to the sides. Slay as many as you can; and when the rest attempt the climb, we'll be waiting.”

The two Grannach exchanged a look of triumph and rose to their feet. Grinning, Colun said, “I told you these flatlanders would see sense.”

Baran chuckled and cupped his hands about his mouth. A long, loud wailing rang out.

“What's that?” Racharran asked.

“The signal,” Colun replied. “The magic's readied—now the walls go down.”

“The People!” Racharran clutched the Grannach. “They'll not be harmed?”

“None, my word on it.” Colun's smile spread like a crack splitting a rock. “My folk stand guard and hold yours back. We decided all this last night.”

Racharran began to speak, but his words were lost under the thunder of breaking stone. Where the pass fed onto the Meeting Ground, the walls shifted, bulging outward as if the stone lost its solidity, becoming for a moment elastic. Then great shards and boulders fell away from the walls to tumble down in one great, rumbling descent. Dust filled the afternoon air, darkening the sky like the smoke of a forest fire, hiding the Meeting Ground awhile. The cliff shuddered under Racharran's feet and he sprang back, clear of the rim, where Colun and Baran stood grinning proudly. The others stood wide-eyed. Kanseah looked afraid, as if he doubted the safety of their position.

When the pall settled and the earth had ceased its trembling, Racharran saw the Meeting Ground was sealed off by a wall of jagged stone that stretched across the pass from rim to rim. A few last boulders still dropped, bouncing down the near-vertical face to shatter at the foot.

“That was well done!” Colun clapped an enthusiastic hand to Baran's shoulder. “The rest?”

“We'll work it now.” Baran pointed along the rimrock, to where his fellow Stone Shapers came running. He smiled, the expression prompting Racharran to think of wolves. “When they come, it shall be to a Grannach welcome.”

“We'll leave you to it, then.” Colun beckoned the Matawaye away. “This is Stone Shaper work, and best left to them.”

Racharran nodded. His ears still rang with echoes of the avalanche. This surely shall buy us time, he thought. But how much?

“When Baran and the others have set their spells, we'd best set our guards.” Colun spoke as if toppling passes were an everyday event. “Meanwhile … has anyone a flask or two of tiswin?”