The Hunter (12 page)

He had paused on the crest of a small hill to find the pup, to make sure that he was still with them, when he first caught
glimpse of the follower. At first he thought that he had been mistaken, that it was a trick of the light, for it vanished
almost immediately and did not reappear. He did not say anything to Carn, preferring to make certain before he spoke, but
subsequent sightings proved his suspicions to be correct. And it was no animal.

He could not tell whether the follower was Duroni, but a Duroni would have no reason to hide and the follower was definitely
attempting to conceal his presence. He was good, fast and clever, moving from one bit of shelter to another; but Braldt was
better.

He wondered if it could be a slaver, one of the roving bands who enslaved and sold those who were vulnerable or too weak to
protect themselves. But this one was traveling alone, at least Braldt could detect no sign of more than one, and slavers were
rarely found in less than large numbers. A wise precaution in view of their practices.

They made an early camp at Braldt’s insistence, stopping
beside a small rivulet of water that flowed through the narrow valley through which they were traveling. Carn protested, but
it was obvious that his heart was not in it, and he sank to the ground wearily and made no objection when Braldt examined
the wound.

It was ugly. The flesh was red and vastly swollen, the ankle appearing like some grotesque, obscene fruit. A pulse throbbed
visibly and blood still seeped from the torn flesh. “Why did you not speak?” Braldt demanded angrily. “Are you determined
to be brave and silent at the cost of your leg or even your life?” Carn did not reply.

Braldt built a fire quickly and set the gourd of sour milk to warm at its edge. Carn covered his eyes with the back of his
arm and made no sound as Braldt washed the leg and ankle. with water from the small stream. Braldt could feel the heat of
the flesh beneath his hands and knew that if he could not stop the sickness before it grew, Carn might easily lose his leg.
At the very least they would be unable to travel for many days.

Carn had fallen into a deep, exhausted sleep when Braldt slipped out of camp. He had placed both pouches beneath the spread
of a large tree, deep in its shadows, and covered them with his robe. It would not fool anyone for long or sustain close scrutiny,
but with any luck, it would not be necessary.

He crept out of camp silently, glad for once that the pup was nowhere to be seen, and hid himself beneath a clump of cibas,
the acrid stink of their leaves filling his nostrils. He had a clear view of the camp, the burning fire clearly visible as
was Carn’s sleeping figure and his own crumpled robe. From a distance, it looked quite acceptable. Now, all he had to do was
wait.

Darkness closed in quickly, fading from dusty grey to dark in short order as it did every turning when the seasons grew shorter.
The fire drew his eyes like a lodestone and he was forced to keep his back turned to it for even a single glance destroyed
his night vision. He hoped that his quarry would be drawn to it as well.

With the coming of the Cold Season, much of the
underbrush was dead and the grasses rustled and crackled underfoot. He waited for a long time before he heard the sound he
was waiting for, the stealthy advance of one treading carefully through the dry undergrowth. The approach was all but silent
but clearly audible to one whose ears were waiting for just such a sound. Braldt had picked his spot with care, placing himself
alongside the route he himself would have chosen.

At last his patience was rewarded by the sharp snap of a twig broken underfoot, followed immediately by a long silence where
even Braldt found himself holding his breath. The sound was very close. He saw a shadowy figure, no more than a darker bit
of shadow, move toward him in a sinuous, silent glide.

He waited until it had passed him and then rose up swiftly bringing the hilt of his sword down hard. His quarry had heard
him or sensed his presence at the last moment and begun to turn just as the heavy blow caught him a stunning blow that crumpled
him to the ground in a silent heap.

Anxious to learn his identity, Braldt turned the fellow over none too gently. There was a sharp intake of breath and a muffled
curse as Braldt recognized his unlikely foe by the wan light of Mother Moon, now rising over the far horizon.

It was Keri.

Angry words leaped into his mind, along with concern, for he might easily have killed her. What was Keri doing here? What
game was she playing at? Why, by the name of the blessed Mother and all the gods, had she followed them?

He examined her more closely in the pale light and saw that the blow had landed on the side of her head above her left ear,
rather than at the base of her neck. It was swelling quickly and her short hair was wet and sticky with blood. She would have
a headache, but she would live (a fact that she might regret by the time he was done with her). Slinging her over his shoulder
with all the concern he might have given a sack of pankow feed, he returned to camp.

He dribbled the remainder of the warmed milk down Carn’s throat, rinsed the gourd, and filled it with water and a handful of
ciba leaves, setting the mess to boil beside the
fire. Soon Keri stirred, groaned, and raised herself to a seated position before falling back and groaning even more loudly,
pressing her hands to her head.

Braldt waited for her to draw herself upright, without making any attempt to help her, knowing how her head must ache and
taking grim satisfaction from the fact.

She stared at him dully, taking in the sight of the camp and her brother lying before the fire with his leg red and swollen.

She stared up at Braldt with a mixture of fear and defiance.

“You aren’t sending me back.” It was no plea for forgiveness, no graceful attempt to sway him, but a straightforward attack,
blunt and to the point like the girl herself. Angered though he was, Braldt could not help but admire her nerve.

“Don’t be stupid. This is no place for you to be, Keri. We don’t know what to expect and I don’t have time to be worrying
about you.”

“Why would you have to worry about me?” Keri rose to her feet and faced Braldt defiantly. “I can handle myself just fine.
I’m better than most of the boys and can throw a knife as good as any of you and I can run faster and longer than Carn, though
it doesn’t look as though he’s going to be doing any running for a while. I can help take care of him. Between the two of
us, we can carry him, you know, make a litter; otherwise you’ll have to stay here and that will cost you many dawnings.”

Braldt opened his mouth to speak, to tell her that it would never work and that she would return at first light, but before
he could utter a single word, Beast began to bark in the shrill puppy voice that signaled alarm. The high-pitched agitated
tones carrying an obvious warning. The pup bounded into camp and skittered to a halt before Braldt, his tail erect and pole
stiff, the fur standing up all over his back and neck as though it had been rubbed backward by an uncaring hand.

Braldt acted swiftly, kicking dirt over the fire, plunging them into darkness as Beast rose up on his hind legs, now
nearly half Braldt’s height, and danced on his toes, giving little hopping leaps as he peered intently into the darkness,
yipping sharply.

Braldt did not attempt to silence the pup for whatever had caused his alarm had no doubt seen the fire extinguished and knew
that they were warned. The pup fell silent of his own volition, whining softly and trotting back and forth nervously.

“What…?”

“Not now,” Braldt said, swiftly gathering up their few possessions and thrusting them at Keri. “Take these!” Then he scooped
Carn up from where he lay, ignoring his muttered queries, leaped the narrow stream, and trotted off into the darkness without
even looking to see if Beast and Keri were following.

Beast appeared beside him almost immediately, and after a moment he could hear Keri following as well. Carn was heavy, a dead
weight that he knew he could not carry for long without tiring. He paused to settle his weight more comfortably and to listen,
but heard nothing but the sounds of the night, the mournful cry of a night bird and the chittering of insects in the dry grass.
Keri appeared silently at his side, asking no questions.

The rising moon was small, a thin sliver of silvery light, in its earliest phase, casting little light on the scene. For a
moment, he thought he saw something, a movement, a passage of bodies, but then it was gone and did not reappear.

But Beast showed no diminishment of concern, rising up on his hind legs frequently, peering forth into the darkness with his
strange vertically slitted eyes. The pupils opened wide at night, allowing him to see like a cat, and his head moved back
and forth while he whimpered and growled low in his throat, his small body trembling, shaking visibly. He had no trouble seeing
whatever danger stalked them and from his behavior it was apparent that the danger had not abated.

“I do not know what it is,” Braldt said in a soft undertone, whispering directly into Keri’s ear. “But he
would not behave like this, were there not some very real danger. We must find a place of safety until the dawning.”

Saying was easier than doing for there was little light and they were traveling over unfamiliar ground that rose slowly but
constantly beneath their feet. The trees, what few there were, became fewer still. The underbrush thinned and became a mere
cushion underfoot. There was no camouflage, nothing to hide them from whatever it was that had alerted Beast. Braldt stopped
and looked around, searching for some place where they might take cover that would provide them with safety.

The land rose and fell on all sides in a series of low, smooth-topped mounds like little islands of mud built by a child after
the rain, then stranded after the puddle dried. It appeared to be a watershed, a drainage for the larger hills and mountains
that rose in the distance. There was no cover, no place to hide. Their only choice was at the base of the mounds; perhaps
they could find a cave or lose their pursuers in the myriad of confusing channels.

Braldt signaled to Keri to follow and made his way down the slope in a slithering rush of stones and gravel. Beast preceded
them, his tail curled above his back, seemingly more comfortable in the dark gully than he had been on the higher elevations.

It was Keri who found the place they had been seeking. It was a narrow gulch, its mouth solidly plugged with twigs, branches,
and leaves. Braldt would have passed it by without thinking, but Keri caught at his arm and brought him back, nodding at the
tall mound of debris that rose higher than their heads.

He stopped and studied the mass, seeing its possibilities and nodding in agreement though angered that he had not seen it
himself. It was so very obvious, so conspicuous as a hiding place, that it would be overlooked for that very reason.

Braldt placed Carn on the ground and felt his eyes upon his back. But Carn had not been named the Stalker for nothing and had
sized up the situation swiftly. There was no need to tell him to keep silent but Beast was another matter.
He danced nervously from one paw to the other, rising up on his hind legs with great frequency and whining softly.

Keri had already begun to dig into the mass, hollowing out a nest into which she thrust their few possessions. Braldt followed
her lead, digging out a hole large enough to hold the three of them, and Keri added her efforts to his until the hole was
deemed large enough. Dragging his injured leg behind him, Carn struggled into the nest and covered himself with the soft debris.
Braldt piled the stuff in front of him until he was satisfied that there was nothing to be seen, nothing unusual to show that
the pile had been disturbed. He motioned Keri to go next, but she shook her head stubbornly and nodded to him. He hesitated
for a moment and then did as she wanted, knowing that she was right. He settled himself in the waiting hollow and hissed to
Beast to join him. The pup would have none of it and would not even meet Braldt’s eyes.

Braldt was still trying to call the pup when Keri closed the hole, silencing his efforts. He felt the stuff cover him, cover
his face and nostrils, and felt a moment’s panic that he stifled. After a moment, he found that he could carefully move within
the space. Any abrupt movement caused the entire mass to shift and threatened to expose him, but slow movement enabled him
to clear a breathing space as well as a small opening to see. His hands were closed upon sword and dagger and there was nothing
left to do but wait.

Beside him there were small cracklings and whisperings of sound as Carn settled himself as well. Keri patted a few handfuls
of leaves in place, satisfying herself that all was well, and then burrowed into the face of the mound and settled herself
into place with a minimum of noise. There was nothing left to betray their presence other than Beast who snuffled at the wall
of debris and whined, then began digging furiously with both paws. Braldt hissed angrily and Beast barked in return, clearly
puzzled. His attention was then caught by a sound farther up the gulch and his large ears swiveled forward.

Braldt stifled an impulse to sneeze as well as the desire to scratch, for the clinging stuff was dry and itchy and home
to numerous insects and other crawling things. He watched Beast intently. They had not seen or heard anything unusual, nor
caught any sign of an enemy, but had fled their camp and hidden themselves away at no more than the pup’s say so. For a moment,
Braldt wondered if he had been wrong to do so. The pup’s reaction could have been caused by anything, a wandering omnicat
or a merebear or even an unusual scent carried on the wind, for the pup was relatively young and could easily be mistaken.
But Braldt had learned to value the pup’s keen nose during their time in the amphitheater when the pup was even younger still.
He had not been mistaken then and never had he acted thus except to warn of approaching danger.