With a skill born of practice the men made a ring around the Leafies, and worked together to lift the net off. A little one got caught in the tangle, but with a couple of brisk shakes he fell down like an overripe fruit.
The Leafies moved stiffly, pissing, licking leaves on the ground for their dew. Then the men moved in on the Leafies with their knives, knotted rope and clubs, and tested the tethers attached to the loops at their necks, getting ready to move them.
Soon the men started calling to each other, big gruff bellows like bull aurochs, and they formed up into their groups.
And then they started to run, heavy in their huge leather cloaks, their faces dark with blue and black paint, the scars over their brows vivid. The Leafies had to move too, only heartbeats after they had woken, driven ahead of their handlers on their leashes.
Me could barely see what he was running into. The light, such as it was, came from the dawn sky to his right, slightly paler than the rest. It felt like a nightmare, as if he had not yet fully woken up. But as he ran his muscles warmed up, and his nighttime aches started to fade, as they always did.
They came to a line of hills, low, grassy, sandy. Here the Leafy group was split in two. Some were kept back at the foot of the hills, and were taken off to the east. But Me and others were driven forward, to scramble over the soft dunes. He had no time to think about that – scarcely time to wonder if he would ever see the Leafies in that other party again.
When they got to the crest of the hills, though the light was still uncertain, Me could see the ground fall away to a shallow beach, littered with rock and mounds of some dark weed – and beyond that there was water, nothing but water, a great lapping lake of it that stretched off as far as he could see. Me froze in shock. This endless blank flatness could not have been a greater contrast to the enclosing green of the forest canopy where he had spent almost all of his conscious life. It was as if the world had been stripped away.
The advance broke up into chaos. All around him Leafies were crying, or standing, shocked. But the men were soon on them with their fists and spears and boots and snarls, and yanking their tethers. Me was driven on at a stumbling run.
The Leafies were sent down to the beach, and then turned to the right, towards the light of the gathering dawn. They ran and ran.
And, somewhere in the blocky dunes at the head of the beach, a point of fire flared brightly.
82
When Jurgi touched Ana’s shoulder she woke slowly.
Oddly, as word had come of the Pretani’s approach, she had slept as well as she had for years. Maybe it was the banishing of doubt: better to face a real enemy than to fear worse in ignorance. Or maybe these deep, dreamless sleeps were merely a rehearsal for her own imminent death.
She opened her eyes. Jurgi’s face, above her, was just visible in the low glow of the house’s night hearth. She reached up and cupped his cheek, feeling the priest’s tattoos he had worn since he was a boy, the circular mark of Etxelur. He covered her hand with his. One last moment of tenderness.
He murmured, ‘The signal fires have been seen. They come.’
‘Today’s the day, then.’
‘I think so. The others are waiting for you.’
She nodded.
He withdrew, and hurried out of the house. She saw from the loose door flap that the dawn was not yet far advanced.
She rolled off her pallet and sat up, aware of the weight of her belly, how heavy and slow the pregnancy made her. Well, she wouldn’t have to fight today, not unless all their elaborate schemes failed. She pulled on her tunic, swigging water from a hide flask as she did so. Then she squatted over the night pot, trying to ensure it caught every drop of her piss to feed the tanning pits. Of course by the time night fell even the pits might be in the hands of the Pretani. When she was done she pulled on her boots and cloak, and picked up her own fine-bladed knife and a short-handled stabbing spear.
She took one more deep breath, and glanced around. The house was tidy, the embers in the hearth dying.
Then she pushed her way out through the door. They were waiting for her in the dawn, Arga, Dreamer, Dolphin, Kirike, Novu, Wise, a circle of grim faces, bodies hidden by heavy hide cloaks.
This house, not her own, was on the northern coast of Flint Island, set on a mound of fresh-dug earth. The holy middens were bulky shadows just paces away, and the sea lapped quietly, the rush of the waves an oddly soothing sound. Thunder was on a tether, tied up to a house post; it wasn’t a day for friendly little dogs to run loose.
Cries overhead made her look up. A flock of birds swept over the sky, cool and graceful, early departures for their winter homes.
Arga saw her looking. ‘Our own autumn migrants are on the way here, it seems. But we’re still some days short of the autumn equinox.’
‘Seven days,’ said the priest, ‘according to my counting sticks. Many of us had thought they would attack on the day of the equinox. Such moments in the year mean as much to the Pretani as to us.’
‘Perhaps they are trying to catch us off guard,’ Ana said. ‘Shade is their Root. Shade was never a fool.’
Kirike said, ‘They came from the south. They seem to have split into two. One group is heading inland, making for the Bay Land. The other is coming in from the west, along the coast. They must mean to use the causeway to get to Flint Island.’
Jurgi said, ‘It’s what we planned for. They’re aiming their forces at the two targets we expected: the flint store in the Bay Land – and you, Ana, here on the coast.’
Novu grinned. ‘I am no fisher. If I was, I would say the fish is nibbling at the bait.’
‘I wouldn’t feel so happy about it,’ Jurgi said. ‘Especially as the “bait” is what is most precious to us. And it shows they have been watching us.’
‘You should take comfort,’ Ana said. ‘We let the Pretani traders stay in Etxelur so they could tell Shade what we wanted him to hear. That was the whole point.’
‘Maybe,’ said Jurgi. ‘I just don’t like being at the mercy of forces I can’t control.’
Wise nodded. ‘And traps can fail.’ His Etxelur-speak was becoming fluent. ‘Our legends speak of the sky gods who set a trap for the Great Eel. The Eel swam in, took the bait, and then with a flick of his mighty tail smashed the trap to pieces. This is how the world was born, from pieces of that great cage.’
‘Today we are the trap,’ Ana said evenly. ‘It is up to us to prove strong enough to contain the eel.’
Jurgi glanced around. ‘Are we ready? Do we all know what we must do? Then let’s look forward to the end of this day, when we will celebrate a great victory – and honour our dead.’
They turned and moved off, some heading for the causeway, the rest to the Bay Land.
Kirike hefted his spear and would have moved away with the rest, but Ana touched his arm. ‘Stay with me.’
He looked frustrated. Dolphin glanced back, but she was pulled away by her mother. Kirike said, ‘Stay here? But you’re not going anywhere.’ That was the plan. As a key target for the Pretani Ana was to wait by the middens, in the hope of drawing Pretani forces to her. But Kirike was sixteen years old and a slab of muscle. ‘I’m supposed to go to the causeway with Jurgi and the rest. I’m ready to fight. I’ve been practising!’ He raised his spear and jabbed it in the air.
‘I know. I’m sorry. I changed my mind. Look at me – I can’t fight. If the worst comes to the worst I need someone to protect me. There’s no higher honour you can win today,’ she added, a point the priest had advised her to make.
Kirike was confused. ‘Why me?’
‘Because you’re family,’ she said, linking his arm in hers. ‘My nephew.’ She patted her belly. ‘Until my own child grows up, who else should I rely on?’ And besides, she added silently, if the rumours were true about who might have joined the Pretani and stirred up this whole war in the first place, Kirike too might be bait, even more valuable than Ana.