Shadows in the Cave (32 page)

“This will be worth it.”

He walked to the back of the house and came back with an elk antler in each hand. Rather, they’d once been elk antlers. The branches had been cut away. The thick ends of the remaining stems were polished to a high gleam and—Aku had trouble crediting his eyes—carved into graceful images of bounding elk. Though the Galayi liked to carve, Aku had never seen anything finer. On the other ends were …

Shonan knew immediately. “What spear throwers!” He grabbed one and swung it overhead. “Balanced, strong, beautiful.”

“They are made with strong materials and strong medicine,” said Yim.

Yim knew few villagers were as skeptical as Shonan. “And I have something even better for you,” he said. “Tell me, Red Chief, who is a better spear thrower than me?”

“No one,” said Shonan, “not even me.”

“Wrong. I have taught my son slowly and carefully. Since you left he’s proved his mettle in a buffalo hunt.
Truly
proved it. He is the best in the entire Galayi nation.”

Yim wanted to show his boast was good, and Shonan was willing. They found Fuyl practicing for an upcoming ball game. The handsome youth was probably the village’s best ball player.

Fuyl got his darts and one of Yim’s beautiful elk spear throwers. “With these throwers,” said Yim, “and my strong boy, you can throw thicker and heavier spears.”

The three went hunting and rousted out a buck. Fuyl hurled a spear through it so hard that the point sank deep into the ground beyond.

“That’s power,” said Shonan.

“Let me show you power and accuracy,” said Fuyl. He drove a dart all the way through the trunk of a sapling.

As they walked back, Shonan told the young fellow, “You’re the best with your weapon.”

Fuyl said, “That’s good, Red Chief, but I’m tired of throwing at animals—I want men.”

“I can give you all the challenge you want,” said Shonan.

“I’ll hold you to your promse.”

As he strode off, Aku said, “Spears won’t hurt Maloch, Father.”

Shonan huffed out a laugh. “Do you believe all the gossip you hear? Anyway, think about Maloch trying to bite someone when he has six or eight spears down his throat, each one tall as me.” Now Shonan laughed out loud. “Or think about him trying to eat supper that way.”

Shonan led Aku around the village, deciding on the best men. Shonan picked three or four husky ones and told them to cut the shafts of their spears short. “I want you to be able to stab with them,” he explained, illustrating with a gesture. They looked doubtful. “Listen, that’s what I’m going to carry for my own main weapon. A short spear. Also the heaviest club I can swing.”

The men set to work.

As the Red Chief and his son walked away, Aku asked, “How will you get close enough for a stab?”

Shonan turned to Aku, his eyes aflame. “I’m going to ride the dragon. One way or another, I’m going to get on the bastard’s back. Then, if the heart is in that place, I’m going to slide down and …”

He lifted his short spear and pantomimed driving it home. “The one to kill Maloch is me.”

For a few steps he enjoyed the picture. Then he said seriously, “You get your flute and your song ready to bring your sister back to life.”

Aku said gravely, “Yes.”

“That’s the most important part.”

“Yes.”

They walked.

“And what will you do, Father, when you possess the diamond eye that reveals the future?”

“Well, if I see anything in it, I might start believing old women’s stories.” He nudged his son with an elbow. “Let’s get a good meal and rest. We’ve got a ten-day march to Equani. We’ll get some more men there. Then a long way to Amaso. Carrying Salya, we’ll be slow.”

Aku looked down at the tops of the low hills, across the forest, and beyond to the sea. Its horizon cradled the last of the sunlight, fire fading into water. He turned into the wind and dipped and looked down at his father, their dozen men, and their pack dogs trudging along the trail, within steps of the tops of the foothills. There the trail to the other Galayi villages met the trail to the Brown Leaf village. The place was simply called the Junction.

At the Junction Aku’s Galayi companions from Tusca and Equani would see the ocean for the first time, most of them, and they would stop at the good campsite there, and get their first look at Amaso, where they would fight for their lives.

Aku wished he could stay up here, in his eagle form, riding the winds. But eagles didn’t have night vision, and he had a duty that was worse than painful. Once he spoke the words, he certainly would not sleep.

He could see the rest of his life with perfect clarity.

Tomorrow he would carry the body of his sister Salya into the village, rescued from the Underworld but still dead. Then he would fold his arms around his beloved, Iona, and around the child in her belly. He would breathe in Iona’s warmth.

And the next day he would die. All the men of the village would die. The lucky might live an extra day, as they were hunted down one by one.

Aku’s woman and child would be taken as slaves. Iona would share robes with some Brown Leaf man. That man would raise Aku’s child in a world he didn’t know, speaking a tongue not his own, or hers.

He would fail his sister forever. She would never get her life energy back, never return to walk the good Earth. Worse than dead, far worse.

He looked up into the sky for other eagles, as though he might search out an alternative life there. But almost everything he loved on Earth was below, within sight, and doomed.

The wind from the sea was rough—it buffeted his big wings. The world buffeted his feelings, knocked them topsyturvy.

There was nothing left but to do his duty. It made him want to scream. Not an eagle
scritch,
a human scream.

He glided down through the cooling air. As his little fighting outfit trudged up to the campsite, he cruised over their heads, out of reach, as he did every day. This time they didn’t lift a hand, didn’t even look up. They didn’t look at the ocean, either. They were in a sullen mood. Shonan had pushed everyone so hard that even the pack dogs were worn out.

Aku lit on a low branch well away from the dogs, changed into human form, dropped to the ground, and walked into camp. He didn’t know how to tell his father and their friends that they were about to die.

Four men lowered Salya to the ground on her litter. Then they walked away quickly, not even glancing at her, shaking the ache out of their fingers. They were weary of shifting off and on, off and on, bearing the never-ending burden of the
dead woman. Their eyes said, though their lips would not,
This is pointless
.

Oghi sat down with Salya, like he was keeping her company. He did that a lot. Everyone else was setting up.

“What’s the news?” said his father. Every day the same words, every day the same expectation. Shonan didn’t really think avian eyes in the sky would bring back any intelligence the men could use to fight.

Only pain ran through the words Aku had to say. “The Brown Leaves are marching toward our village.” He addressed his father, but all the men could hear. Oghi rose and came close.

“How many?”

“About two hundred,” Aku said.

Every man of them figured out what Shonan now said. “Outnumbered three to one.”

“Maloch is out in front. He might make it four to one.” Aku felt a need to be blunt.

“Where?”

“They were setting up camp on Squirrel Creek.” They both knew the place, had walked the trail. Shonan asked himself whether Aku in his inexperience could make a mistake.
No, as high as he flies, he can see the whole country.

Aku said, “They’ll stand right here tomorrow, in the middle of the afternoon, looking down at our village.”

“Then they won’t want to make a move until the next day at dawn,” said Shonan, thinking out loud.

Every man was considering what the move would be. No reason for a siege. No reason for a negotiation of any kind. Surely an all-out blitz. Kill the men and adolescent boys, take the women and children as your own. Why else come in such force?

Eyes traded emotions.

Finally Shonan said, “At least they won’t surprise us.”

“In fact,” said Oghi, “we may be the ones springing a surprise.”

“My idea,” said Shonan, “is for a surprise that comes sooner. In fact, I say, right now.”

Oghi started to go on, but Shonan held up a hand. “Is this something you can show me tomorrow afternoon?”

Oghi thought and said, “Yes.”

“Good. Zinna, you’re in command until I get back.” Zinna was the most experienced hand, and sneak attacks weren’t his style.

“Fuyl and Kumu, come with me.”

Fuyl reached for his spears and spear thrower.

Shonan said, “Bring them, but we won’t waste the spears.” He hadn’t told them about Maloch, and wouldn’t until the day of the fight. “This is a job for knives, throwing knives.” Kumu was the man for that. Shonan was glad to give the young man a job. Every day, all day, he had carried Salya or marched alongside her. The clown in him was squelched, and his pain was hard to witness.

“I want to go,” said Aku.

“Your job is to be the eyes of the men who defend our village tomorrow.”

Shonan, Kumu, and Fuyl tucked away a little dried meat. “We’ll be there tomorrow about the same time you will, midafternoon.”

Aku felt drop-jawed. He said to his father quietly, “I admire the way you lead.”

“Decisive,” said the Red Chief without turning back to his son. He nodded to Fuyl and Kumu, and they were off.

Shonan and his two young men ran through the twilight. Armies were slow. Whatever distance they could march in a day, determined runners could cover in less than half the time.

The last lingering light faded, and Shonan walked along by starlight. When they came to the bottom of a little valley, he stepped into the small stream, scooped water up and drank. He said to his two companions, “When will the Sun that Dwells in the Night rise?”

“Less than a quarter through the night,” said Fuyl. The young man was exact and intense.

“And Kumu, which quarter will it be in?”

“Gibbous,” said Kumu. The three-quarter moon.

Shonan smiled. Kumu was bucking up.

“Good fellows.” They were observant, as Shonan taught them to be when he was Red Chief of their village. A fighting man needed to know what part of the night would invite him to move and what would not.

They sat in comfortable silence. Soon the sounds of the night came back. The insects, the birds, the four-footed animals accepted these men as part of the scene. An enemy venturing along this little creek would find nothing to make him suspicious.

When the Sun that Dwells in the Night rose out of the sea, Shonan simply started running again, followed by the two novices. They ran, ran, ran. They stopped for nothing but quick mouthfuls of water. Shonan could feel the excitement of the two friends. He used it as a pulse to drive him. He ticked off the creeks they crossed. He didn’t want to walk into the middle of an enemy camp by accident, especially not these enemies. He’d flung mud in their faces once already.

Well before the middle of the night they came to Any
Chance River and made an awkward crossing in the moonlight. Rivers were always mysterious, and in the dark they were spooky. His companions followed Shonan without a word, and he felt proud of them. When they stood on the far bank, dripping, he whispered, “This is the last hill. From the top we see the drainage of Squirrel Creek.”

They walked slowly to the crest and stopped before they could make silhouettes. They crept forward, raised their heads, and looked toward the bottomland along the stream. Shonan couldn’t see the camp, but he knew it stretched along the creek, more than a thousand paces away. He nodded to the left side, and they eased off the trail.

He pulled Fuyl and Kumu close. “The sentries will be near the camp, not up here. We will move in absolute silence.” He put a flattened hand on the chest of each. “When we get there, we’ll watch. Then we’ll put fear into their hearts.”

He could feel it all now. The cool night air. The danger. Blood, enemy blood.

He also smelled the anxiety of Fuyl and Kumu. They had hunted, but they had never hunted men. They had reason to be afraid, far more reason than in an ordinary battle. If you died at night, your spirit might get lost, or bad spirits might confuse it and keep it from the road to the Darkening Land. By leading them into this skirmish, Shonan was making a rare guarantee: we will kill with no risk to ourselves, none.

“Do exactly as I do,” he said.

He padded along a grassy verge beside the well-worn trail. After several hundred slow paces he turned into the woods. Now he placed each step slowly and shifted his weight carefully. His companions imitated him well. Shonan didn’t care how long it took to get near the camp. Concentration and care—nothing else mattered.

Finally he pointed. They saw the glow of embers of many campfires, and humped shadows near them. Two hundred men made a lot of humps.

They crept cautiously, slow step by slow step into the forest and toward the camp. After what felt like a long time Shonan led them onto a low boulder. Shonan pointed to his eyes—
Watch!
They fanned out slightly, lay down, and looked for movement, or any clue at all.