People of the Nightland (North America's Forgotten Past) (45 page)

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Authors: W. Michael Gear,Kathleen O'Neal Gear

BOOK: People of the Nightland (North America's Forgotten Past)
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He looked from face to face, emphasizing his words. “When they are safely out of sight, you will simply go home.”
They gave him a puzzled look.
“That’s right,” Kakala said. “Go home.” He made a gesture. “It’s over. We’re finished. Go to your families, pack your things, and join the rest of the people. Say nothing about what we have been through. Say nothing about me, or the deputy. You have done all … no,
more
than your duty to your people. You have earned the right to live the Guide’s promise.”
“And what of you, War Chief?” Corre asked.
“When I have ensured that Windwolf has his people headed south, I will be along.” He smiled. “I, too, will have fulfilled my obligations.” He glanced at Windwolf. “All of them.”
They nodded. Only Goodeagle looked perplexed. But since traveling with Windwolf, the man had remained unusually quiet. Contemplating his faults, no doubt.
“Any questions?”
Keresa asked, “What if one or more guards refuse to leave?”
Kakala shrugged. “He might be surprised to wake up after taking a short but very unexpected nap. You know, caught by surprise from behind when the Sunpath made their break.”
“If that happens, War Chief,” Bishka pointed out, “the Elders might put you in a cage with Hawhak.”
Kakala shrugged. “I’ll take my chances. I owe a debt to Windwolf. I have given him my word that he can take his people home.” He searched their eyes. “We all know the fate of those women and girls if they enter the Long Dark. The war is over. We have won. Having fought this from the beginning to the end, I say it is not too much to let them go.”
He could see the agreement.
“Very well, warriors, you have your last orders from me. I ask only that Raven Hunter bless you all, and especially those who are not with us today. They will live in our memories forever.”
More grunts followed. Kakala gave Windwolf a slight nod, then gestured to Keresa. “Lead the way, Deputy.”
 
 
W
indwolf trotted along behind Kakala, asking, “That’s it? Just walk in, tell the guards to leave, and open the gates?”
Kakala said, “What do you expect? I lay awake that last night at Headswift Village, asking, ‘What would Windwolf do?’”
S
kimmer glanced up at the rounded ceiling of ice over her head. The fact that she could see so well in pitch blackness still amazed her.
Raven Hunter’s gift!
She prowled up the winding tunnel, awed by the way it rose and fell, only to twist to the left or right. The place reminded her of the wormholes she had observed in a clod of freshly turned earth.
“And now I am a human worm.” Was this how the little beasts felt? Oddly safe and protected? She had never thought of the earth as a thing to live
in
, but something to walk on.
She closed her eyes, letting her soul drift, feeling the cold eternity of the ice, but this, too, was passing. Year by year, it melted, the waters draining away. One needed only walk north from the distant oak and pine forests to see the moraines, kettles, and boulders left behind.
“Where will it end?” she mused. “With all of the world’s ice melted?”
She remembered the ever-present winds blowing up from the distant
south, warm and balmy, even in winter. The world was changing, warming. The old ways were about to die, and how were people to adapt? Could they become one with the new land, the new plants? And what of the animals, creatures like the mammoth, sloth, and short-faced bear who clung to the spruce barrens?
“We live with death,” she murmured. “Everything in its time.” But now time was running out.
So she stood, savoring the darkness, feeling the ice. It moaned and creaked, the wind keening through the tunnels, forever drawing warm air into the depths, only to have it cool, and suck more warm air down into the slowly melting ice.
For that moment, she felt eternal.
A voice broke the peace.
She turned, hearing someone say, “This way, Kishkat … I think.”
The faint flicker of a light shone around the tunnel’s curve.
Skimmer reached down and slipped the ax from where it rode on her belt beside the Raven Bundle.
“Kishkat?” she called. “Is that you?”
Silence. Then a tentative voice called, “Skimmer?”
“I’m just around the corner.”
She squinted at the faint light the warrior held before him. His eyes widened in surprise as he stared at her.
“You have no lamp!” he stated.
She looked past him. “Greetings, Tapa. But what are the two of you doing here?”
Kishka lowered his eyes. “Looking for you.”
She smiled grimly. “Missed my company?”
Kishkat sighed, and to her surprise, slumped to the floor. “We’re supposed to kill you.”
“I see.”
“Where’s your lamp, Skimmer?” Tapa asked.
“I don’t need one.”
“You don’t?” Kishkat wondered; then he stared down at his flickering flame. “This is the last of our fat. When it burns out …” He closed his eyes. “What seems like an eternity ago, when the big quake struck, it blocked the tunnel we were in.” A pause. “Tibo was on the other side.”
“I just want out,” Tapa said fervently. “Nashat can lock me in a cage. Break my back, but I’ll be able to see the stars.”
“Nashat,” Skimmer said softly. “He ordered you to murder me?”
Kishkat nodded. “We found out why. It’s because you protected the Guide.” He looked up. “But I guess you’re as lost as we are.”
“Nashat ordered you to kill me …” She stiffened. “Ti-Bish!”
“What?” Kishkat asked.
“Come. We have to hurry.”
“Is it on the way out?” Tapa asked anxiously.
“It is. Follow me. As soon as we know the Guide is safe, I’ll show you the way out.”
She left at a run, chafing at the slow progress they made trying to follow her. They didn’t dare let their precious flame blow out in the draft rushing through the tunnel.
 
 
W
ith his light flickering before him, Nashat stalked down the tunnel, gleamings of yellow reflected on the ice around him.
He took the familiar turn, watching his footing as he descended a steep slope, then rounded a bend. He paused, listening.
No voices could be heard.
He swallowed hard, hating the fact that he couldn’t bring a warrior with him. He’d thought about Karigi, but wasn’t sure he could trust the man in the long run. Karigi had an utterly practical streak, one that might be held against Nashat in the future.
Nashat crept closer, holding his lamp behind him to shield the light, and peeked past the hanging. Ti-Bish sat, back straight, eyes closed. He had a slight smile on his lips, and wore a ragged-looking hide shirt.
Nashat could see no one else as he slipped his head back and forth. Relieved, he let the flap fall, calling, “Guide? Are you there?”
“Y-Yes?”
Nashat pulled the hanging back and stepped into the room, satisfied that his first impression was correct. No woman waited to ambush him.
“I’m surprised to find you still alive. I would have thought Skimmer would have murdered you by now.”
Ti-Bish stood, then gave a small shrug. “She’s off with Raven Hunter.”
“Oh, is she?” He fought the urge to smile.
“Are the people ready?”
Nashat paced idly around the room, staring in disdain at the shabby hides, the piles of clothing. “They have most of their things packed. In fact, that’s what I’ve come to discuss with you.”
“We can leave in the morning. Raven Hunter told me the water is coming.”
“Water?” Nashat frowned. He had no interest in water.
“We don’t have much time to get everyone into the tunnels.”
“Yes, well, Ti-Bish, that’s the problem.”
“H-How?” He swallowed hard. “The Councilors told them, didn’t they?”
“Oh, yes. Everyone is excited. Ready to go. Even the Lame Bull People are gone. The Sunpath have fled west to the Tills. All of the south is open. Ewin sent a runner with that information, and Karigi arrived last night with a large contingent of slaves.”
Ti-Bish frowned. “Then what is the problem?”
Nashat reached down to his belt, fingering the handle of a stiletto crafted from an elk’s brow tine. “The caves, Guide. We don’t want to go starve ourselves to death in some hole in the ice that leads to who knows what kind of disaster.”
Ti-Bish gave him a look of absolute incomprehension. “But that was Raven Hunter’s Vision.”
“I’m sure it was.” Nashat smiled. “But it is certainly not mine.”
Ti-Bish’s confusion grew. “But, you heard—”
“Of course, and it worked splendidly! We have opened the entire south, driven the Sunpath People out. All of those nice forests are ours for the taking. The people are packed, just ready for their Guide to walk out and give them a new vision.”
“I don’t … What new vision?”
“The one where you raise your arms and tell them that Raven Hunter has changed his mind. That instead of into the ice, we’re headed south, to spread the word of Raven Hunter throughout the great forests of the south.”
“That wasn’t the Dream.”
“Ti-Bish, it doesn’t matter. They will believe anything you tell them.”
Ti-Bish closed his eyes, shoulders slumping. In a voice little more than a whimper he said, “You have never believed.”
“Oh, I believed. I believed in you. Now, come, like a good Guide, and tell the people we are headed south.”
Ti-Bish shook his head. “It’s too late, Nashat. The water is coming. A fast warrior might make it, but women and children carrying loads, and the elderly and frail, they’ll be washed away.”
“We can take the high trails,” Nashat mused. “It might even make the tale easier to accept.”
Ti-Bish opened his mouth, but words seemed trapped behind his tongue.
“It’s not so bad,” Nashat told him, his finger tapping on the stiletto top. “You will have everything you need. Just do as I say and you can even keep Skimmer. What do I care who you fill your bed with? As long as she keeps a decent tongue in her mouth and stays out of my way, I won’t even insist on taking a turn or two with her myself.You’ll have more—”
“No!”
“What did you say?”
“I said no, Nashat. I am going up and telling the people to pick up their packs and start into the tunnels.” Ti-Bish crossed his skinny arms.
“That is your final word?”
“It is. You’ve worked your poison long enough. You’ve broken the Dream, muddied the Vision, and I have let you.”
“I’d reconsider,” Nashat said as Ti-Bish walked past him.
“No. Raven Hunter protects me.” Ti-Bish reached for the door hanging as Nashat spun on his heel and drove the sharpened tip into Ti-Bish’s back.
Nashat watched Ti-Bish stiffen as he twisted the antler cruelly, pulled it out, and drove it in again. Then he grasped Ti-Bish’s collar, thrust the stiletto in a third time, and jerked the man back into the room.
Ti-Bish sprawled on the hides, staring up in pain and disbelief. His mouth hung open in a surprised circle. With one hand, he reached around and felt the crimson rush that poured from the punctures in his back.
“Raven Hunter protects you?” Nashat laughed. “It seems he doesn’t do a very good job.”
Ti-Bish made a gurgling sound, eyes blinking.
“That punctured your liver, and most likely the bottom of your lung. It won’t take long.”
“Why?” Ti-Bish croaked.
“Because, with you dead, we have no choice but to head south. No Guide … no way to find the way to the Long Dark.” He made a face. “Long Dark? Who’d want to live there?”
“Those who believe,” a sober voice said from behind.
Nashat whirled to find Skimmer, breathing hard, standing behind him. He backed up, raising the stiletto. “This time I’m armed. And, well, your timing is perfect. A Sunpath assassin has taken our Guide from us. All the more reason for the people to joyously head south. It makes reaping the benefit of your old lands even more precious to them.”
Skimmer smiled coldly, stepping forward.
Nashat caught the cold glow of her large dark eyes, as if they no longer had pupils, but watched him like some great raven’s. “Better that you ran, Skimmer. You’d at least have a chance before we hunt you down.”
“There’s no running, Nashat.”
Even as she spoke, Kishkat and Tapa stumbled in behind her, staring first at him, then at the bloody stiletto he held, and finally at the Guide, flat on his back, blood pooling blackly on the hides.
“Take her,” Nashat said. “Drag her out to the people. Let them tear her apart. She’s killed the Guide.”
Skimmer’s smile grew. “It’s too late, Nashat. You’ve uttered your last lie.” She cocked her head as a low wailing rose from the ice tunnels. The sound was eerie, keening, one he’d never heard before.
Skimmer fixed him with her liquid-dark eyes. “Hear them? Those are the voices of the Sunpath dead. The Nine Pipes women are screaming for your soul.” The smile widened. “And I’m going to give you to them.”
He watched her pull an old ax from her belt, raising it. Then, she jerked her head toward the door. “Go on, run. But leave the lamp behind. They’re waiting for you. Just out there in the darkness.”
Nashat swallowed hard, hearing the eerie wail rise like a thousand screaming voices.
“Kishkat, Tapa, seize her. I’ll give you anything you want. Women? I have them. Would you like to be war chiefs? Elders? I can make it happen.”
“Go,” Skimmer ordered, her voice little more than a whisper. “Run! They’re reaching out, their fingers as cold as the very ice.”
“Skimmer?” Kishkat asked, staring in horror at the Guide.
“Let him go.” She continued to glare at Nashat. “Death at the hands of the ghosts will be more horrible than anything we could imagine.”
Nashat turned, threw down the stiletto, and bolted for the doorway. He shoved past the two warriors, scrambling down the tunnel, slipping, falling, grunting as he ran headlong into the walls.

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