Two Rivers (6 page)

Chapter 6

The razor-sharp stone snapped with a smack, coming off the
wooden handle with what looked like finality. Some of the strips clung to it,
not letting it fall off the handle entirely, but the sap could not hold it in
anymore. A serious damage demanding a thorough repair.

Two Rivers cursed. He'd known the axe was going to break, but
he'd counted on it to hold on until the end of the day. And it would have, had
he been more careful. However, the stubborn tree, although blackened from fire
and wobbly, was not damaged enough, and so he had lost his patience and struck
too hard. Time after time. And now his axe was gone and the tree was still
standing, challenging him.

He listened to the pounding all around, as the people worked on
the few of the remaining trees, taking them down. The new field had been
overdue for clearing. The women of the Turtle Clan demanded it to be ready by
the Planting Moon, but now it was already near the first harvest. No maize would
be planted here now, but another crop of squash and beans could definitely make
use of the newly cleared ground.

“You should have let it burn for longer than you did,” said the
middle-aged man, one of the Beaver Clan’s esteemed members who came to help. He
brought his axe down carefully, making it slide alongside the thick trunk,
deepening the cut.

“We were afraid the fire would get out of control,” muttered
Two Rivers, frowning direfully at his broken tool. “It was raging too fiercely
for anyone’s taste.”

“Well, then you should have planned it more carefully from the
beginning.” The older man squinted against the glow of the afternoon sun. “As
it is, this field may not be ready in time for planting even the squash.”

Two Rivers grunted, then threw the remnants of his axe to the
ground, enraged.

“It’ll take you time to repair that.” The young warrior that
toiled around the nearby stump straightened up and wiped his brow, smearing it
with lumps of fresh earth.

“I know that!”

“Throwing it all around won’t help the matter. Did you know
that, too?”

“No, I was sure I’d pick it back up as good as new.” He kicked
the wooden handle, making it roll toward the stump. “It helps, it helps a lot.
It makes me feel better.”

“Oh, then go on, by all means.” The young man grinned widely,
unabashed. “Want to take my axe for a while, to channel your anger into a more
useful direction?”

“Well, actually, yes, I do.” Strolling toward the offered tool,
Two Rivers found it hard to suppress his own grin, his mood improving. Iraquas
was a friend of quite a few summers. Much younger and not interested in
politics and the tortuous ways of the various councils, Iraquas, nevertheless,
had offered the kind of friendship Two Rivers needed most – a simple, loyal
companionship, with light banter and no difficult dilemmas. The youth had been
a promising warrior, destined to become one of the leaders in all probability,
but so far, the glorious destination of his people did not bother him. And so
were the strange far-fetched ideas of his older friend.

“Don’t break it,” said Iraquas, offering the axe. “I love this
particular tool. It will cost you more than just a repair if something happens
to it.”

“I will cherish and revere this sacred tool of yours.”
Grinning, Two Rivers went back toward the thick trunk. “Oh, I do need to best
this old forest giant. It’s time it cleared the path for the younger saplings,
anyway.”

Making himself comfortable upon a half-burned stump, Iraquas
picked a greenish staple and began nibbling on it.

“You will not best it today, this much I promise you. It looks
wobbly, but mark my words, it still has a lot of spirit under its bark.”

“Like I said, you should have burnt this patch of earth more
thoroughly,” repeated the older man, stopping his chopping to wipe his brow.
“We won’t make it in time. Not with the War Chief planning another raid for the
beginning of the Plants Growing Moon.”

“A worse mistake than not to burn this field up more
thoroughly, if you ask me.” Chopping at the same cut with equal intervals, Two
Rivers was pleased to hear his voice even, not gasping or trembling with an
effort. It was a difficult task, but he needed to best this tree before
nightfall. “Why would we raid the Rock People villages? They are small and
unimportant.”

“Because they attacked us, maybe?” suggested Iraquas, immersed
in his tasty treat.

“They did not attack us. They raided the settlement of the Deer
People to the west. It happened almost a whole span of seasons ago. Since then,
we went to war against the Deer People as well. They are not our allies anymore.
Still, we are eager to avenge this long forgotten raid on the people whom we
consider our enemies now, too.”

“It is not as simple as that, Two Rivers,” said the older man,
pausing to catch his breath. “You speak well, and you do have a gift of good
thinking. But sometimes this clear thinking of yours is not enough. Sometimes
the matters are more complicated and they include honor, certain old ways, a
measure of cunning thinking. Sometimes a simple display of power is required,
to make our enemies think twice and thrice before planning their raids into our
lands. This way, we spare our women and children the unnecessary fright and the
need to run back behind our town’s defenses, harming their spirits and their
efforts in the fields.” The old, squinted eyes flickered kindly. “Sometimes
simplifying is not the best course of thinking. You should listen to the people
around you, and not to your heart only.”

“Well spoken,” said someone, and many men stopped their work,
pausing to nod appreciatively.

Two Rivers nodded too, impressed.

“I appreciate your kind advice, Honorable Elder.” He paused,
studying the wooden handle of his new tool. “I will try to follow it, although,
sometimes I cannot but stop and wonder. Our people’s plight would not give my
spirit rest. Sometimes, we may need to pause and examine our ways. Sometimes,
we may need to restore to less usual solutions.”

The older man’s gaze measured him, kind, slightly amused.
“Listen to your heart, do not close your ears to its whispering. But do not
forget to listen to your peers as well. And to your elders.”

He could feel the eyes of the people upon him, wary, their
disapproval barely concealed.

“I cherish your advice, Honorable  Elder,” he said with a
certain difficulty. From the corner of his eye, he could see Iraquas frowning,
attempting to hide a grin, most probably. “I’m grateful.”

To argue with the older, highly respectable man would have been
the height of bad manners. He pushed his resentment away, resuming his
treatment of the old tree, instead.

“He silenced you quite neatly, that old man,” said Iraquas as
they proceeded down the trail, heading back to the town. The dusk was still far
away, but they could see the late afternoon shadows spreading down the fields
of the various clans, as the women were leaving in a colorful procession that
pleased the eye.

Two Rivers shrugged. “He spoke well. His advice was good.”

“Oh, how very reasonable of you. But I bet that under this calm
‘thank you for your priceless advice’ you were like the rapids of the Northern
River, swirling and shooting white foam.”

“Oh, please!” He grinned, against his will. “Since when can you
see through people? Or since when do you care?”

“I don’t, but I want to see you losing this temper of yours.
It’s quite a sight, so they say.”

“It is not.”

Two Rivers squinted, trying to see against the fierce glow of
the setting sun. A group that neared them seemed to be in a hurry.

Iraquas saw them too, and, as the newcomers hastened their
step, their hands made their way to the knives tucked in the sheath of their
loincloths, just in case. A group of men hurrying up and looking agitated bade,
usually, no good news. Was a raiding party spotted in the town’s proximity?

The men were closer now, their faces glittering with sweat,
eyes sparkling.

“Glad to see you are on your way already.” One of the men waved
his hand, his smile wide. “We were sent to hurry all of you back.”

“Why?”

“Good news! The War Chief received the formal agreement of the
Clans’ Mothers to proceed with the raid into the Rock People’s lands. We will
leave in two dawns.” The man’s smile widened, while his companions nodded
vigorously. “The War Dance will be held with the coming of the first star, so
you all should wash yourselves and prepare.”

Iraquas’ whoop could be heard on the other side of the Northern
River, of that Two Rivers was sure.

“A raid in two dawns,” cried out the young man, slapping his
thigh with such force the smacking sound echoed between the trees. “Oh, how can
life get any better?”

The other men laughed, their elation matching.

“They are in a hurry to proceed with the War Dance, aren’t
they?” commented Two Rivers, trying to share their excitement.

What was wrong with him? he wondered. He was no coward. Why
couldn’t he help but to think about the futility of it all?

“Well, there is no need to postpone the ceremony. The warriors
should get into the right mood. And maybe we will be able to start out even
earlier, if the Clans’ Councils would prepare our supplies in a hurry.”

“Also, it would be wise to make this raid official, before the
Clans’ Mothers should change their minds.” Two Rivers found it hard to suppress
his grin. “With those women, one never knows.”

The grins of the others sparkled mischievously.

“Yes, that’s true, of course. One could never be too careful
with the leaders of the Clans and their switching moods.” Seeta, an impressive,
wide-shouldered warrior, chuckled. “Women!”

“They would never dare to go back on their word,” cried out
Iraquas. “It would be just too much.”

But the others laughed.

“You are young, Iraquas. You haven’t seen much,” said Seeta.
“And you haven’t taken a wife yet. Wait and see until you learn how their
devious minds work. You will be amazed.”

“So what?” protested the young man, his eyes flashing. “I know
how our councils work, and I say that the Clan Mothers had better not try to
change our plans!” He glanced at Two Rivers, still seething. “Can they do that?
I mean, can they tell us not to go after they had agreed? Would our customs
permit something like that?”

“Yes, they can.” Two Rivers hid his grin, amused by his friend
naivety, but unwilling to humiliate him by showing his amusement. The open
laughter of the others was more than enough. “It would be frowned upon. And
yes, it might not be too lawful. But they can do that. After all, they are the
ones expected to provide us with food and clothing for the journey.”

“Oh, yes? And we are the ones expected to protect them, aren’t
we?”

“Yes, of course. That’s why they don’t use their right of veto
too often.”

“They are using it often enough,” muttered one of the men. “But
yes, Two Rivers is right. Our laws and ways are well-balanced.”

“Not well enough,” insisted Iraquas, kicking at a stone. “We
should not be forced into asking their permission at all. We are men, and our
leaders are chosen and know better. We should be allowed to do our work
uninterrupted.”

“Chosen by those same Mothers of the Clans. Didn’t you know
even this?” Seeta’s grin was challenging, openly amused. He enjoyed baiting the
young man, taking pleasure in putting him in his place, and it made Two Rivers
angry.

“He knows who is appointing whom,” he said impatiently. “Don’t
start feeling too good with yourself just yet. You are not that well-versed in
our laws, either. You are not the War Chief and not the Council member.”

“And you are neither of these, too,” growled Seeta, coming a
step closer, threatening. “And you will never be one of them. You will spend
your life arguing, speaking of your nonsense, not listened to at all.”

“That’s what you think.” Two Rivers didn’t move, glaring at the
darkening face of the man, knowing that no attack would come, not this time.
Seeta was a good warrior and a brave man, but he was bluffing more often than
not. “You just wait and see.” He shrugged, turning back toward the trail. “Go
and talk to the rest of our party. They were leaving the field too, but might
have been lingering.”

“Don’t give us orders, foreigners’ lover!” Seeta’s voice
trembled now, his rage spilling. “I wonder what you are doing, spending your
time in respectable company. I would expect you to huddle here in the woods
with the savage cub you were defending so eagerly yesterday, maybe enjoying him
like the last of the captive women. You are good for nothing else, you coward!”

He heard it like a thunder behind his back, the words hanging
in the air, lingering, filling his whole being with the black wave of hatred,
so intense he could feel its bitter taste in his mouth. The world stopped, died
for a heartbeat, the regular sounds gone, with nothing left but those words.
They pierced him and made his heart freeze, filling his stomach with ice, the
blackish, muddy ice of the springtime.

He didn’t remember himself moving. One moment he was on the
trail, stunned, breathless, staring in disbelief. A heartbeat later, his body
was pressed against his slightly taller rival, pinning the broad man to the
tree, slamming his back against it, his knife pressing at the exposed throat,
his eyes seeing nothing but the hated face and the widely opened, gaping eyes.

“Take that back, you filthy lowlife!” he heard someone saying,
and it took him a moment to realize that it was he who had been talking. “Take
it back, or I swear I’ll cut your filthy throat and feed your rotten flesh to
the wolves.”

The eyes staring at him did not blink, glazed. Through the wild
pounding of his heart, he could hear the others coming back to life, rushing
toward them.