They stood ready all day waiting for the attack, some guarding while others slept. The morning passed and the attack never came. By afternoon, still without a murgu attack, Herilak was beset by volunteers who wanted to scout the enemy positions. He refused them all. Nothing would be gained by losing more lives. When dusk came — still without any sign of an attack — he and Kerrick had themselves wrapped in cloth once again. They went forward carefully, weapons ready, but there were no defenders lying in wait for them this time. Still as cautiously they crept up the river bank and raised their cloth-wrapped heads above the edge, peering through the slitted fabric.
The plain was empty.
As swiftly as they had come the enemy had vanished, their tracks and animal droppings pointing to the horizon.
“They are gone. We have beaten them!” Herilak roared, shaking his fists victoriously at the sky.
“Not beaten,” Kerrick said, suddenly dizzy with fatigue. He dropped cross-legged to the ground, tearing the suffocating cloth from his face and looking out at the retreating track. ”They have been defeated here, pushed back. But they are like poisonous thorns. We cut them in one place and they only grow stronger in another.”
“Then we will root out these thorns once and for all. Destroy them so that they cannot grow and return.”
Kerrick nodded solemn agreement. “That is what we must do. And I know just how it can be done. Now we will call together the sammads and the manduktos of the Sasku. The time has come to wipe the Yilanè away just as they have tried to root out and kill us.
“We are going to take the battle to them.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The two boys, dripping with perspiration from their proximity to the flames, added sticks of dry wood to the fire whenever it died down. These blazed up brightly, bathing the cavern interior with a wavering golden light so that the animals painted there appeared to move as the flames flickered. Sanone had not arrived yet, but the other manduktos sat beneath the image of the mastodon as was their right. Kerrick, Herilak, and the sammadars were all seated on the same side of the fire as well.
Beyond the flames were the hunters, with others from the sammads behind them. Sanone had agreed to this with great reluctance since it was the custom of the Sasku for the manduktos to make all the decisions, and he found it difficult to understand that the sammadars did not rule with the same authority. This compromise had finally been reached, with the leaders on one side and the sammads on the other. The Sasku were not sure what to make of this unusual arrangement and only a few came close and listened from the darkness, looking expectantly over the shoulders of those seated before them. They stirred with mixed emotions, pleasure and fear, as a mastodon trumpeted in the darkness. There was a thud of heavy feet, torches coming close, dark forms moving.
Into the circle of light the mastodons came, the great cow Dooha being led by Sanone, one of the Tanu boys high on her neck, guiding her. But the Sasku were not looking at her, but at the newborn baby at her side. Sanone reached out and touched the small creature’s trunk and a murmur of happiness welled up from the darkness. Only then did he join the others by the fire.
Armun sat just behind the hunters, the baby burbling gently in its sleep, comfortable in the deerskin carrier on her back. Then Kerrick rose to speak and the talking died away. She covered her face with her hands so others would not see her smile of pride. He looked so erect and strong standing there in the firelight, his long hair bound about by a charadis cloth, his beard now fully grown. When there was silence he turned so that they all could hear him as he spoke.
“Yesterday we killed the murgu. Today we buried them, so all here know how many of them died during the attack. We killed them in great numbers and the few that lived have now fled. They will not be coming back, not now.”
There were shouts of approval from the hunters at these words, and from the darkness the sound of rapid drumming and the clatter of the Sasku gourd rattles when he had translated his words for them. Kerrick waited until they were silent again before he spoke.
“They will not be back now — but they will be back. They will come back stronger, with better weapons to kill. They always come back. They will return again and again and will not stop until we are all dead. That is the truth and must always be remembered. Remember too those of us who have died.”
The silence now was a grim one, Herilak’s voice just as grim when he spoke.
“This is indeed the truth,” dark bitterness in his voice. “Kerrick knows because his sammad was the first one the murgu destroyed. He alone lived, he alone was taken by the murgu and was held captive by them, learned to speak with them. He knows their ways so you must listen when he talks of murgu. You must listen also when I talk of death for I am here and Ortnar sits there — and all others in our sammad are dead. Every hunter, every woman and child, every mastodon, slain by the murgu.”
The listeners moved with the pain of his words and Sanone looked up at the mastodon above him and whispered silent prayers to the memory of those great beasts as he listened to Kerrick’s quick translation.
“There is no place to flee to, no hiding place where we cannot be found,” Kerrick told them. “The sammads who sit here fought them on the beach of the great ocean, on the plains of the duckbills, and yet again in this valley after crossing the high mountains to escape these murgu. Now the time has come for us to stop running away. We know now that they will always find us. So now I tell you what we must do.”
Kerrick paused for breath, looking out at their expectant faces, then he spoke.
“We must bring the battle to them, go to their city — and destroy it.”
There were shouts of disbelief at this, mixed with cries of approval. The Sasku called out questioningly and Kerrick translated what he had said into Sesek. Then Har-Havola’s voice rose above the others and they grew silent again and listened.
“How can we do this? How can we fight those armies of murgu? How can we destroy an entire city? These are things I do not understand.”
“Then listen,” Kerrick said. “Here is how it can be done. Herilak knows all the trails that go to the city of Alpèasak because he has led his hunters there and killed murgu there — and returned alive. He will do that again. Only this time it will not be a handful of hunters he will lead but many hunters. He will lead them by stealth through the jungles so the murgu armies will not find them no matter how they search. He will lead the hunters to Alpèasak and I will then show them the way to destroy that city and every murgu in it. I will tell you now how it can be done, I will show you now how it will be done.” He turned to the manduktos and repeated what he had said so that they would understand as well.
The silence was absolute. Not a watcher moved. Every eye was upon him as he stepped forward. A baby cried thinly in the distance and was instantly hushed. One stride, then another, brought Kerrick to the fire. He seized up a dry branch and thrust it into the blaze, poked it into the glowing embers until a cloud of sparks rose up. Then he pulled it out, crackling and blazing, and held it high.
“This is what we will do — we will bring fire to their city of trees where there has never been fire before. The murgu do not use fire, do not know of the destruction it can cause. We will now show them. We will set fire to Alpèasak, burn it, raze it, burn every murgu within it and leave nothing but ashes behind!”
His words were lost in their wild howls of agreement.
Herilak strode forward to join him, holding up a burning brand as well, shouting his allegiance, his voice unheard in the tumult. The other sammadars did the same while Kerrick was translating for the manuktos. When he understood Sanone held back, waiting until the noise died away, before striding to the fire. Seizing a burning length of wood and holding it high.