The People of the Black Sun (33 page)

“What happened?”

“Night attack,” he answered. “The enemy set their own village on fire with our warriors inside.”

A man called, “Gods, who made it out alive? Where's my brother?”

Someone else yelled, “Where's my wife? She was assigned to guard the Yellowtail palisade!”

Negano felt physically ill. He should never have used Yellowtail …

“Stop it,” Nesi said as he trotted up beside him.

Negano turned. The square-jawed giant wore a threatening expression. His facial scars twitched.

“Stop what?”

“Stop second-guessing yourself. You did the right thing sending those warriors into Yellowtail Village.”

“But Nesi—”

“Listen to me!” He stabbed his war club at Negano's chest. “Joondoh was in charge of the Yellowtail Village defense. He missed something. I don't know what, but this would have never happened if he'd been paying attention. You know it as well as I.”

“Maybe, but—”

“It was Joondoh's fault. Do you
understand
?” Nesi's eyes glanced suggestively up the slope toward the crest of the ridge where Atotarho's camp nestled.

The chief stood before his fire, propped on his walking stick. Silhouetted in front of the flames, his hunched form was black as coal. Because of the way the mist eddied and shifted, Atotarho appeared to be standing in the midst of the blaze with flames shooting up all around him. Even from here, Negano could sense the old man's rage: it shivered the air.

“I understand, Nesi.”

Negano had to concentrate. He needed an explanation. It hadn't occurred to him that as soon as he set foot in camp, Chief Atotarho would be waiting for him.

“Good,” Nesi said. “Now, before you have to face him, stop and let me pull this accursed arrow out of your quiver. A finger's width to the left or right, and you'd be back there dying with the rest.”

 

Twenty-nine

Jigonsaseh slung her bow and turned to Deru where he stood beside her on the catwalk batting out the sparks that alighted on his hair and shoulders. The sweat had mixed with ash and filled in the hollow of his crushed cheek; it created a black oval that extended across his squashed nose. “War Chief? I'll return shortly. Keep a close eye out. They may return with reinforcements.”

“Yes, Matron.”

As she walked away, Deru began marching up and down, his red cape swinging, praising his warriors, clapping exhausted men and women on the shoulders.

The moans and cries of the wounded that had been carried to the council house drifted through the falling sparks and ash.

Jigonsaseh climbed down to the plaza where the three teams she'd organized waited for her just outside the inner gates. Her stride lengthened as she hurried toward Kittle.

“High Matron,” Jigonsaseh said. “I don't like it that you are going out there. You should—”

“The scouts you dispatched will warn us if we are in grave danger. Any final instructions?” Kittle's beautiful face had a haunted expression. She used her sleeve to pound out the flickering sparks that landed on her hood. She must know, and fear, how enraged Atotarho would be when he discovered what they'd done to his army.

“Just work quickly. The enemy could be rallying to return. The mist and smoke make it impossible to know. We need to act now. Tell your party to collect as many usable arrows as you can find. Grab quivers, bows, and any other weapon you can carry.”

Kittle nodded, lifted a hand, and ordered, “Open the gates. We're going out.” She waved to the women in her group, gesturing for them to follow her.

Jigonsaseh shouldered through the crowd to reach Taya. Her fourteen-summers-old face had gone as pale as frost. She'd been vomiting every morning, and feeling queasy most of the day. Jigonsaseh had no doubts but that Taya carried her son's child.

“Taya, waste no time. Strip the corpses of belt pouches, packs, and water bags. If you have time, dispatch a small group with the water bags and meet Tutelo in the marsh to fill them. But hurry! Any questions?”

“No, Matron.” Taya gave her a confident nod.

“Good. Be fast.”

Taya called to the elders in her group, “We have to hurry! Our job is only food and water bags! Let's go.” She led the elders through the gates.

Jigonsaseh turned to Tutelo, who stood ten paces away, talking with her group of fifty children. Each carried an empty pot.

“Tutelo? Are you ready to head to the marsh?”

“We are.” Short black locks, irregularly layered, stuck to her cheeks.

“Go.”

Tutelo and the children flooded for the gates.

When everyone was gone, the village seemed stunningly empty. Jigonsaseh looked around. The warriors on the catwalks had their bows nocked and aimed at the billowing smoke and firelit mist. The fires in Yellowtail Village had died down somewhat, but sudden roars and hisses still erupted at odd moments, and tornados of sparks spun continually into the night sky.

Like black snow cascading from charred heavens, ash fell. It coated everything. She absently brushed at her cape. Then she marched back for the ladder, climbed up to the catwalk, and returned to her position.

Outside, villagers worked in grisly silence, jerking quivers and packs from shoulders, racing across the meadow collecting arrows, rolling corpses over to find belt pouches and water bags. Tutelo's children in the marsh had already started streaming back through the gates with filled water jars. They lined them up neatly along the walls of the Deer Clan longhouse.

As Jigonsaseh unslung her bow and nocked an arrow, her gaze drifted out across the marsh to the hills in the distance where enemy campfires sparkled. They'd still be picking up the pieces, caring for their wounded, assessing what went wrong. But tomorrow morning …

“Matron?”

Sindak trotted down the catwalk. He carried his bow nocked. “We must talk.”

“I want to know everything.”

“First, did Papon and Wampa make it back?”

“Yes, unharmed.”

He heaved a sigh of relief. “Next, Gonda is wounded. He—”

“Badly?”

“The small bone in his lower leg is broken.”

She gripped his arm. “So he can't walk. Did he make it back?”

Sindak gave her a wry smile that barely cut the sadness in his eyes. “He's in the council house. It—it's a long story. When the shooting stopped, two of my warriors carried him there.”

She loosened her grip and let her hand drop. She let out a relieved breath. “Then Bahna, our Healer, is already caring for him. I'll check on him later.”

“We need to speak, Jigonsaseh. What is your plan for dawn?” His soaked cape conformed to his muscular shoulders.

Jigonsaseh surveyed the people flooding back through the gates with armloads of arrows, packs and belt pouches. Tutelo was also herding her flock of children with the last water pots toward the gates. Soon, everyone would be back inside, and she could at least get a deep breath into her lungs.

“You think he'll hit us just after dawn?” she asked, fixing him with tired eyes.

Sindak used his wet sleeve to wipe soot from his nose. “I think we'll be lucky to make it to dawn.”

She leaned back against the palisade. Warriors stretched up and down the catwalks, talking, ruffling ash from their hair. Bone-weary, there would be little rest tonight. She had to think despite that. “How will he organize the attack?”

Sindak slung his bow and sank against the palisade beside her. “Right now, news is passing around every campfire. Rage and indignation are building … as well as fear. Few of Atotarho's warriors will be able to sleep, and they're already exhausted. Even more than we are.”

“More than we are? How can you say—”

“Please let me finish. Negano is definitely War Chief. Gonda and I heard his warriors talking about him.” He took a deep breath. “Even though we struck him hard tonight, Negano knows he still greatly outnumbers us. But he'll be cautious tomorrow. He won't commit all of his warriors to the assault on the palisades.”

“Five hundred shooting at us will keep us plenty busy.”

“My guess is he'll commit one thousand, Matron. With our losses today he'll be wagering that the terror alone will be enough to shock our meager forces—”

“Yes, and we will have our hands full dragging the dead and wounded off the catwalks.” A familiar sinking sensation invaded her belly.

Sindak leaned closer to her. Softly, for her ears alone, he said, “That means Negano will be leaving two or three hundred in camp, as reserves. If he's smart, they'll all be grouped together, but if he's not…”

She fixed him with intense eyes. For a while, she didn't say anything. “Do you think Negano knows which Hills warriors switched sides?”

“No. Many fled the battle. He knows most probably went home. But I suspect Negano hopes a few just ran away briefly and plan to return.”

She massaged her forehead as she forced her exhausted brain to think.

Sindak said, “It's a suicide mission. I don't know how many we can kill, but getting away again—”

“I don't want you to kill anyone.” She lowered her hand, and considered him. “You've enough on your souls, old friend. We need another way. A smarter way. I want you to help me make them sick to death of Atotarho.”

Sindak's bushy brows pulled together over his hooked nose. She could see him sorting through the possibilities of what else she might want him to do. “Are you thinking of kidnapping the old man, poisoning cook pots? Whatever it is, if we're going to do it, we have to hurry. My warriors need to get out of this village and into the forest before—”

“I agree. But I have another idea. Meet me under the porch of the Bear Clan longhouse. I'll be right there.”

“I'll get them organized as quickly as I can.” He spun around and jogged down the catwalk, tapping his warriors on the shoulders, speaking with them briefly, moving on.

Down in the plaza, Kittle's arms moved, pointing to people, assigning them duties. Already women searched the belt pouches and packs they'd looted from the battlefield, separating out anything edible. Elders stacked arrows and quivers along the palisade walls. Tutelo had groups of children carrying water jars, making sure they were equally distributed to each longhouse and the council house.

Jigonsaseh turned and walked down to where Deru stood speaking with Wampa. The woman warrior shivered in her wet dress.

“War Chief Wampa, you did excellent work tonight. Now, I want you to return to your chamber. Warm up, eat, get some sleep. Deru will wake you in a few hands of time. Until this is over, I want one of you on the catwalks at all times. Switch off sleeping when you can.”

“Understood,” Deru said.

“Yes, Matron.” Wampa nodded respectfully to her, and wearily walked toward the ladders.

Deru gave Jigonsaseh a quizzical look. “What about you? Are you planning on sleeping any time soon?”

They'd been friends for twenty summers. He knew how she thought. “We've seen some terrible battles together, haven't we?”

“Don't try to distract me. You have to sleep.”

“I will. I give you my oath. There's just … much to be done. What kind of shifts are you planning for your warriors?”

Deru used his bow to scratch his chin. “I'll have blankets brought up to them. They can sleep on the catwalks. But I was thinking I'd keep one hundred on duty at all times.”

“Good.” She clapped him on the shoulder. “You were brilliant tonight, War Chief. The way you targeted the piles of debris in the plaza, then when Negano's forces arrived and you hit them squarely the instant they rounded the palisade wall…” A proud smile twisted her lips. “No one could have done it better.”

He nodded briefly. He'd always been uncomfortable with praise. “Every warrior, even the children, performed exceptionally. They know the survival of our nation is at stake.”

Deru seemed to be considering his next words. Finally, he said, “I was just wondering what you plan to do about Sindak?” He gazed at her through slitted eyes, as though he expected to be reprimanded for asking.

“What do you mean?”

“He disobeyed your direct orders. You told Sindak and the others to leave the wounded behind and get back to the gates as soon as they could. Even though everything worked out, it sets a bad example.”

“Worried that other warriors may now think they can disobey me, too?”

“Our warriors, no.” He shook his head. “But his?”

If Sindak's warriors disobeyed her at a critical moment…? If Sindak was close at hand, she'd no doubt they'd obey him. But what if Sindak wasn't at hand?

“You're right, Deru. I'll speak with Sindak about it.”

“Thank you, Matron.”

As she walked away, heading for the Bear Clan longhouse, she pulled CorpseEye from her belt.