The Shaman's Curse (Dual Magics Book 1) (13 page)

Vatar spent his days with the weapons makers, rather than helping
to guard the herds. There was no question of taking a small group across the
plains right now to return Boreala and Cestus to Caere. That was much too
dangerous. Apart from tripling the guards on the herds and warning everyone to
stay inside after dark, when the tigers were most likely to hunt, there wasn’t
much more that could be done until the Horse Clan, last of the clans to arrive
at Zeda this year, finally turned up. Then there’d be a tribal council to try
to come up with a plan. There had to be something they could do.

Vatar worked on hammering edges on the bronze spears. He’d
learned to work bronze and copper at the Guild Hall. Bronze weapons were fine
for most of the Dardani’s purposes. As good as iron in most ways, but they
weren’t steel.

Pa stopped by the workshop to pick up some fresh spears for
the men riding guard on the herds.

Vatar handed them over, but couldn’t help venting his
frustration. “If I just had steel and the tools to work it. Then we might be
able to accomplish something. I bet steel would penetrate the tigers’ thick
hides.”

“I wish you did, too,” Pa said. “We need any advantage we
can get. But there’s no way to get those things now.”

A sudden outcry to the east made them both stop and turn in
that direction.

“That’ll be the Horse Clan coming in. We’ve been expecting
them for days. I hope the herdsmen were able to get to them before the tigers
did. But, from the sound of it, I’m afraid they didn’t.” Pa said. He clapped
Vatar on the shoulder and headed off to find out what was going on.

The uproar over the arrival of the Horse Clan masked the
arrival of a much smaller party—just two riders and three pack horses—arriving
from the west. Vatar saw them as they crossed the open space at the center of
the village.

“Arcas!” Vatar strode across the square to meet them. He
noticed the glint of a brand new torc around Arcas’s neck. There’d be time for
congratulations later. There were more pressing concerns right now.

The two riders turned to intercept Vatar in the middle of
the open space.

“What’s going on?” Arcas asked.

Vatar shook his head. “You may wish you’d stayed safely in
Caere.” He filled Arcas and Bolar in on what had been happening since the clans
began to assemble at Zeda. He ended with, “I’ve got nothing to work with but
copper and bronze. If I had some steel and the tools to work it, maybe I could
forge some weapons that would be able to kill those tigers.”

Arcas gestured to the extra pack horses. “Then we’ve come at
the right time.” Father decided it’d be a good idea to send along your forge
tools and some raw materials. He thought that as long as you’re here, you could
start showing off your new skills by taking care of most of the repairs and
maybe doing a little new work. Start building your market.”

Vatar grinned. “Come on. We need to start setting up for
some real work.” He led Arcas to the busy workshop.

Vatar looked up from setting up a corner of the workshop as
a blacksmith’s forge when a shadow crossed the floor.

Pa stood in the doorway, watching. His eyes were serious.

“How bad was it?” Vatar asked.

Pa shrugged. “Not as bad as it could have been. The tigers
dragged off a goat and a horse. If the horse hadn’t bolted and thrown his
rider, the boy would have been killed, too. The tribal council is set for
tomorrow morning. I only hope we can come up with some solution to this.”

~

Vatar and Arcas gathered with the rest of the Lion Clan
along one side of the open central space. They called it a square, although it
really had six irregular sides. The other clans gathered similarly. Horse Clan
to one side of the Lions and Wolf to the other. In the center, a temporary
tent, its sides rolled up, had been set up to allow the chiefs to confer in
private, but any Dardani old enough to have received his or her Clan Mark was entitled
to be heard first.

Pa, Mother, and Uncle Bion gathered at the tent with the
other chiefs. Since this was a very formal occasion, each of them wore the
fringed sash that marked their status. The only chief Vatar didn’t see in the
group was the tribe’s shaman, Maktaz. Odd, but Vatar was just as glad not to
have to face Torkaz’s father again. He’d been dreading that since they’d
arrived at Zeda.

The eldest chief of the Horse Clan stepped forward to open
the council. “We are here to discuss solutions to the problem we all face. How
are we to deal with these tigers?”

“We have to move! We can go back to the river. If we remove
the herds, take away their food, the tigers will go back to the forest,” one
man said.

Vatar shivered at the very mention of the river.

“No! If we move, they’ll just follow us. They followed the
Raven Clan all the way here. They would follow us and our herds to the river,”
a woman said.

“And both the herds and the Clans would be spread out on the
move. It would be impossible to protect them all,” Uncle Bion said.

“Then we must kill them,” someone else said.

“How?” one of the herdsmen asked. “Our arrows cannot
penetrate their tough hide. It’s impossible to get close enough for a
penetrating shot. Those who have tried are dead.”

“We might kill one. But two together are impossible. If we
concentrate on one, the other comes up behind us. Nothing we’ve tried works,” a
Raven Clan herdsman said.

“Maybe with enough men, we can corner both of them,” said
one.

“Or maybe we can lure them into a trap,” said another.

Vatar stepped forward. This was getting them nowhere. With
iron and steel to work with, at least he could supply better weapons for the
Dardani to fight with. “I can make . . .” Vatar broke off and shuddered at the
prickling feeling between his shoulder blades. The tigers couldn’t have stalked
into the village, could they? Should he try to send someone to check on the
younger children who were supposed to be playing safely in the clans’ main
huts?

Silence fell and all heads turned as Maktaz strode into the
square, wearing his full regalia as shaman.

“I have sought guidance from the Spirits on this current
crisis,” Maktaz announced as he reached the center of the square—where all eyes
were on him. “Their answer is clear. The tigers are a test. Specifically, they
are the test that the Spirits have set for the manhood rites this year.”

Boys all around the square blanched. Vatar could see Ariad
make the warding sign against evil and Daron shake his head in disbelief. They
must be wishing that their fathers hadn’t held them back from the test last
year. Vatar reached up to touch his torc. At least he and Arcas were safe. Now
he had to think of a way to save his friends, too.

“That’s murder!” someone shouted. “We can’t possibly send
boys against monsters that have killed seasoned men.”

“The Spirits are clear on this. If we fail to accept their
will, worse will come,” Maktaz answered.

It seemed to Vatar that the shaman struggled against an
unpleasant smile. The itch between his shoulder blades flared to fire.

Maktaz turned to face Vatar directly. “The Spirits also
decree that you, Vatar, must undergo the rites of your people. Proof of manhood
amongst the city people is not sufficient.”

For a moment, Vatar saw white spots in front of his eyes
that pulsed in time with his heartbeat and rapid breathing. He clenched his
fists and his jaw to slow his pulse. Arcas moved to stand closer to Vatar.
Boreala and Cestus, who had been watching from the back of the crowd, moved to
flank them, as if they could protect him.

“It was sufficient for me,” Pa said loudly.

Maktaz did smile at that—a smile that sent chills down
Vatar’s spine. “I cannot speak to what the Spirits had to say about that. It
was in my father’s time as shaman. But the Spirits spoke very directly on this.
Vatar must be part of this test.”

“The chiefs will overrule him,” Arcas said.

Vatar shook his head. “Only the shaman has the right to set
the test. He. . .” Vatar froze, not finishing the thought. The solution, clear
as day, flashed through his mind like a bolt of lightning. Inspiration. He’d
seen it on a mural. That picture filled his mind’s eye—a man on horseback with
a long metal lance. It had worked then and it would work again now. The tigers
were awesome beasts, but surely not worse than a dragon. What he needed was
time.

Vatar stepped forward again. “The test isn’t for more than a
month, yet.”

A surge of agreement rose from all sides. Too many Dardani
had sons or nephews ready for the test this year. It was only a delay of a few
weeks, but they were willing to seize on it. Even Maktaz didn’t dare try to
alter the timetable of the test against that rising tide. They’d tear him
apart.

“What will we do until then?” someone asked.

“I will pray daily to the Spirits to halt the depredations
of the tigers until then,” Maktaz answered weakly.

“And we’ll keep trying to kill them,” a nearby father said,
but not loud enough to carry across the square.

After several more minutes of protestations, the chiefs,
including Maktaz, retired to the tent and let the sides down. The whole tribe
stayed in the square, waiting to hear their answer.

“What good did that do?” Boreala asked.

“It’ll give the chiefs time to find a way to stop this
madness,” Arcas said.

Vatar started toward the workshop. “More than that, Arcas.
It’ll give me time to make weapons. Spears. I have the tools and materials now.
I can make spears like the one that Tabeus used to kill the sea dragon. That
ought to be enough to kill a tiger, too. And you’re going to help me.”

Arcas grimaced. “I was never very good at smith craft,
Vatar.”

Vatar shook his head. “I don’t need you to make the spears.
I need you to help me set up the forge and tend the fire. Maybe to hammer out
the blanks for me.”

Arcas nodded. “I can do that.”

Daron and Ariad met them as they crossed the square. “What
about us?”

Vatar blinked as the image of the rider with the spear
appeared before his mind’s eye again. “Search the herds. Get your father to
help, Daron. Find horses with enough courage to stand before the tigers.”

“No horse will stand before those beasts,” Ariad said.

“They will if we believe they will. The brave ones will. The
spears will have more force with the weight of horse and rider behind them.”

Daron nodded. “I know what you want.”

“What can I do?” Cestus asked.

Vatar shook his head. “I don’t know. This isn’t your fight.”

Cestus jerked his chin up and set his feet a little wider
apart, as if he was preparing for a fight. “To the deep and the dragons with
that! You’re my brother.”

Boreala grabbed Cestus’s arm. “You’ve had weapons training,
haven’t you?”

Cestus shrugged. “Yes. Years ago, before I joined the
Temple. I haven’t kept up with it, though.”

“Then do what you do best. Teach. Teach those boys how to
use the spears to best advantage,” Boreala said.

Vatar looked around his small circle of friends. “Let’s get
started.”

Vatar and Arcas continued to set up the forge and prepare
for working steel while the five young men discussed strategy and Boreala
looked on. They fell silent when Pa appeared at the edge of the workshop.

Pa’s shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry. The chiefs tried
persuasion and threats and everything else we could think of. Maktaz insists
the Spirits have decreed this test—and that all the boys of age must stand it.”

Daron and Ariad swallowed hard.

Vatar merely nodded. He’d known that nothing would move
Maktaz on this.

Boreala stepped into the center of the group. “There is
nothing of ‘Spirits’ in this! That man hates you and Vatar. And these other two
boys, too. He’s willing to send I don’t know how many others to their deaths
just to get to them.
That’s
evil.”

Vatar nodded miserably. “It’s because of what happened to
Torkaz. He’s waited a whole year to take his revenge, but he expects to get it
now.”

Danar nodded. “I know. I thought a year would give him time
for his grief and anger to cool. I should have known it would only fester. It
has unhinged him. Last year we might have been able to hold him short of open
murder.”

Grief and anger.
Incredible as it seemed, this was
really all about Torkaz’s death. If only he’d been able to save Torkaz, none of
this would have happened. He bet he’d be strong enough now after months of
working iron and steel. He and Ariad and Daron might have failed to save
Torkaz, but they had tried. They certainly hadn’t killed him. But Maktaz was
definitely trying to kill them for their failure. And not just them, either.
All the other boys would be at just as much risk. Vatar’s nostrils flared and
his body tensed with sudden anger of his own. “How many are there?”

Pa blinked. “What?”

“How many other boys trapped into this farce of a test?”
Vatar asked.

“Seventeen others,” Danar answered.

“Twenty.” Vatar spoke through clenched teeth.
Twenty boys
to die because one was killed in an accident.
“I’ll need more steel.
There’s not nearly enough here.”

“I’ve got a few knives I brought to trade with the Modgud.” Arcas
shrugged. “We’ve got to go back to Caere anyway. I can replace them. This is
more important.”

“What are you talking about?” Pa asked.

“Spears. Weapons that can kill the tigers and give us a
chance. I have the tools, now. I can forge them.” He gestured around the
circle, taking in Arcas, Daron, Ariad, Cestus, and Boreala. “We’ve started to
formulate a plan. But I need more steel to make that many spears.”

Danar handed over his own Caerean steel long knife. “Can you
use this?”

Vatar took it and turned it over. “Yes. But—”

Pa nodded. “I’ll talk to the other Clan Chiefs. We’ll get
you as many knives as you need. The fathers and kin of those twenty boys will
be glad to have any hope. We can replace the knives later. We can’t replace the
boys.” He took a step nearer and placed his hands on Vatar’s shoulders. “Or
you.”

~

Vatar looked up from his work when Cestus appeared at the
other side of his anvil. “Shouldn’t you be training the others?” The boys were
all familiar with spears, but Cestus had been a big help in drilling them on
working together, so that they could protect each other on this hunt.

Cestus nodded. “They’re drilling right now. I’ll go back in
a moment, but I think this is more important.”

Vatar put down his hammer and gave Cestus his full attention.
“What’s that?”

“I think those boys will have a better chance against the
tigers if some of them have javelins instead of spears.”

Vatar’s brows furrowed. That was a term he’d never heard.
“Javelins?”

“It’s a type of throwing spear.” Cestus knelt and drew a
diagram in the sandy floor of the forge. “The point is triangular, like a
punch. That’s exactly what it’s supposed to do, punch through shields or armor.
Sometimes, a weight is added to give the throw extra force. That can be
anything, but usually it’s lead. The boys with javelins would be able to stand
off and throw at the tigers from a distance. I think a steel point should be
able to penetrate the tigers’ hide. Depending on their aim, a single javelin
strike may not kill a tiger, but many strikes will.”

“How many strikes?” Vatar asked.

Cestus shook his head. “I don’t know. I have no experience
with these tigers. The only things I know about them are what you’ve told me
and the wounds I’ve seen.”

Vatar nodded. “Let me try one and we will see.”

Cestus nodded. “I’ll cut some shorter poles and see which of
the boys have a good throwing arm.”

~

In the evenings, Vatar and his friends honed their strategy.
Daron had a place in mind where they had a chance to corner the tigers against
a high, curving rock outcrop. Eleven of the boys—the best throwers—would be
armed with as many javelins as Vatar could provide to drive the tigers into the
trap and hold them there. Six would have the shorter thrusting spears common to
the Dardani. Their job would be to protect the javelinists. Ariad would be
their leader.

Three riders—the best—would have long, heavy lances. Daron
chose himself, Vatar, and another Horse Clan boy, Alion, for the mounted
contingent of their hunt. They were the only ones he thought were good enough horsemen
to keep their horses from bolting away from the tigers at the first scent of
the predators. Their job would be to ride into the teeth of the tigers with
long lances and kill them as Tabeus had killed the sea dragon.

Vatar was forced to split his time between training with the
others and working at the forge. Arcas could do the beginning work for him, but
forging the actual spear points was something Vatar had to do himself. He spent
the most time on the points for the three lances. Everything depended on these
blades. They had to be especially strong to penetrate the thick hides of the
tigers. The shafts also had to withstand the force of horse and rider. He’d
have liked to draw out iron rods, as the legends said Tabeus had done, but he
didn’t have enough iron for that.

He’d have to improvise. In the end, he made the spear
points—long and leaf-shaped—from the best steel he had. He forge welded the
blades to long iron sockets that would attach the point to the shaft. When the
blade and socket were welded into one unbreakable piece, the socket gave
greater weight to the point, magnifying the force with which it could strike,
as well as providing a longer metal shaft, so that the point could be sunk
deeper into the target.

Vatar sang as he worked, but his song was different than it
had been back in Caere. He wasn’t just singing along with the steel. Instead,
he sang his anger at Maktaz and his fear for himself and all the other boys and
the steel answered.