“You are the margalus and know all about murgu, that is what I have been told.”
“What do you want?”
“Come with me, please, it is important. There is something I must show you.”
There were strange beasts of all kinds here, Kerrick knew. The boy must have found something that he didn’t recognize. He started to turn him away, then thought better of it. It might be something dangerous; he had better look at it. Kerrick nodded then followed the boy away from the fire. As soon as they were far enough distant so that Armun could not overhear him the boy stopped.
“I have killed an owl,” he said, his voice trembling. Kerrick wondered at this, then remembered the stories that Fraken told about the owls and knew why the boy was so frightened. He must find some way to reassure him without violating Fraken’s teachings and beliefs.
“It is not good to kill an owl,” he said. “But you should not let it bother you too much…”
“That is not it. There is something else.”
Harl bent and dragged the owl out from under a bush by the end of one long wing, then held it up so that the light of the nearest fires fell upon it.
“This is why I came to you,” Harl said, pointing to the black lump on the owl’s leg.
Kerrick bent close to look. The light from the fire reflected back a quick spark as the creature’s eye opened and closed again.
Kerrick straightened up slowly, then reached out and took the bird from the boy’s hands. “You did the right thing,” he said. “It is wrong to shoot owls, but this is not an owl that we know. This is a marag owl. You were right to kill it, right to come to me. Now run quickly, find the hunter Herilak, tell him to come to my tent at once. Tell him what we have seen on the owl’s leg.”
Har-Havola came as well when he heard what the boy had found, and Sorli who now was sammadar in Ulfadan’s place. They looked at the dead bird and the live marag with its black claws clamped about the owl’s leg. Sorli shuddered when the large eye opened and stared at him, then slowly closed again.
“What is the meaning of this?” Herilak asked.
“It means that the murgu know that we are here,” Kerrick said. “They no longer send the raptors to spy us out for too many did not return. The owl can fly at night, can see in the dark.” He poked the black creature with his fingertip and its cool skin twitched, then was still. “This marag can see in the darkness too. It has seen us and told the murgu. It may have seen us many times.”
“Which could mean that the murgu might be on their way now to attack us,” Herilak said, his voice cold as death.
Kerrick shook his head, his face grim. “Not may be — but must be. It is warm enough for them this far south even at this time of year. They have sought for us, and this creature has told them where we camp. They will seek vengeance, there is no doubt of that.”
“What do we do?” Har-Havola asked, glancing up at the star-filled sky. “Can we go north? It is not yet spring.”
“We may have to go, spring or no spring,” Kerrick said. “We will have to decide about that. In the meantime we must know if we are to be attacked. Hunters will go south along the riverbank, hunters who are the strongest runners. They must go one, even two days’ march south of this camp and watch the river. If they see the murgu boats they must warn us at once.”
“Sigurnath and Peremandu,” Har-Havola said. “They are the fastest of foot in my sammad. They have run after deer in the mountains and they run as fast as the deer.”
“They leave at dawn,” Herilak said.
“There are some of my hunters who have not returned,” Sorli said. “They have traveled far and sleep away. We cannot leave this place until they come back.”
Kerrick looked into the fire as though searching for an answer there. “I feel we should not wait any longer than that. We must go north as soon as your hunters return.”
“It is frozen still, there is no hunting,” Har-Havola protested.
“We have food,” Kerrick said. “We have our own meat and the meat in bladders that we took from the murgu. We can eat that and we can live. If we stay here they will fall upon us. I feel that, I know that.” He pointed to the dead owl and the living creature tight-clamped to its leg. “They watch. They know where we are. They come to kill us. I know them, know how they feel. If we stay we are dead.”
They slept little that night and Kerrick was there at the first light of dawn when Sigurnath and Peremandu set out.
Both of them were tall and strong, wearing birchbark leggings as protection against the underbrush.
“Leave your spears so they will not weigh you down,” Kerrick said. “Take dried meat and ekkotaz, but only enough for three days. You will not need the spears because you will not hunt. You are there to watch. You will have your bows, and you will take a hèsotsan as well for protection. As you go south always stay within sight of the river, even if it takes you longer that way. Go until it is dark and remain by the river at night. Return on the third day if we have not sent for you, for we will stay here no longer than that. Watch the river all of the time — but leave it at once if you see the murgu. If you see them you must get back here as quickly as you can.”
The two hunters ran. An easy and steady, ground-eating pace. The sky was overcast, the day cool, which made the running that much easier. They ran along the bank of the wide river, and splashed through the shallows when they were forced to, or climbed the high banks, never letting the water out of their sight. The river remained empty. When the sun was high they stopped, soaked in sweat, and drank deep from a clear stream that fell in a waterfall over a stone bank, then splashed into the river below. They cooled their faces in the spray, then chewed some of the smoked meat. They did not stop long.
In midafternoon they came to a place where the river cut a great loop into the plain. They were on a rise above it and could see where the course of the river curved out, then back.
“It is shorter to cross the bend here,” Sigurnath said. Peremandu looked at it, then rubbed the perspiration from his face with the back of his hand.
“Shorter — but we will not be able to see the water. They could pass by and we would not know. We must stay by the river.”
As they looked south they became aware of a cloud on the horizon that billowed upwards. It grew while they watched, puzzled, for they had never seen a cloud like that before.
“What is it?” Sigurnath asked.
“Dust,” Peremandu said, for he was known for his keen sight. “A cloud of dust. Maybe the duck-bills, a large herd.”
“As long as we have hunted them I have never seen a thing like this. It is too big, too wide — and it grows.”
They watched as the cloud of dust came closer, until the animals could be seen running before it. A very large herd indeed. There were some of them out ahead of the pack and Peremandu shaded his eyes with his hand, trying to make them out.
“They are murgu!” he cried in sudden horror. “Death-stick murgu. Run!”
They ran, back along the river bank, clearly visible in the knee-high grass. There were harsh cries behind them, the thunder of heavy feet and sudden sharp snapping sounds.
Sigurnath reared up, fell, and Peremandu had only a quick glimpse of the dart that sprouted suddenly from the back of his neck.
There was no escape on the plain. Sigurnath veered left, dirt crumbled from under his feet. He fell from the high bank, turned as he dropped, then hit the water far below.
The two great beasts slowed and stopped at the edge of the bank and their two Yilanè riders climbed down from their high saddles to look down at the muddy river. There was nothing visible. They stood, motionless, for a long time. Then the first one turned and led the way back to the tarakast.
“Report to Vaintè,” she said. “Tell her we have come upon two ustuzou. They are both dead. The rest of them will not know of our presence. We will fall upon them just as she has planned.”