CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The distant shouts brought Kerrick suddenly awake, staring into the darkness of the tent. Armun was disturbed as well, murmuring something in her sleep as she moved the warm flesh of her body against his. The shouting was louder now: Kerrick pulled away from her, groped for his clothing among the furs.
When he threw back the tentflap he saw the group of hunters running towards him. They were carrying torches and two of them were dragging a dark shape. It was another hunter, limp and unmoving. Herilak ran on ahead of the others.
“They’re coming,” he called out, and Kerrick felt the hair stir on the back of his neck.
“It is Peremandu,” Herilak said. “He ran all day, most of this night as well.”
Peremandu was conscious, but completely exhausted. They carried him to Kerrick, his toes trailing in the dust, then sat him gently on the ground. In the flickering light of the torches his skin was pale: sooty patches ringed his eyes.
“Coming…” he said hoarsely. “Behind me… Sigurnath, dead.”
“Are there guards at the river?” Kerrick asked, and Peremandu shook his head weakly when he heard the words.
“Not on the water. Land.”
“Run,” Herilak ordered the hunters who had carried Peremandu. “Wake everyone. Get the sammadars here.”
Armun slipped out of the tent and bent over Peremandu, holding a cup of water to his mouth. He drained it greedily, gasping with the effort. His words came a bit more easily now.
“We watched the river — but they came by land. First a dust cloud bigger than anything we had ever seen. There were murgu, they could not be counted, running fast, heavy feet, death-stick murgu on their backs. The murgu also rode another kind, bigger, faster, scouting ahead. When we ran they saw us. Killed Sigurnath. I went into the river, holding my breath, as long as I could. Swimming deep, with the current. When I came up they were gone. I stayed in the water a long time.”
The sammadars hurried up while he was talking, while more and more hunters gathered silently to listen. The torchlight flickered across their grim faces.
“When I came out of the water they were gone. I could see the dust of their passing in the distance. They went very fast. I followed their track, wide as a river through the trampled grass, marked with much dung of the murgu. Followed until the sun was low and I could see that they had halted by the river. Then I stopped too and went no closer. The margalus has said that they do not like the night and do not go about then. Remembering this I waited until the sun had set. As soon as it was dark I circled far to the east so I would not pass near them. I did not see them again. I ran and did not stop, and I ran and I am here. Sigurnath is dead.”
He dropped back onto the ground, exhausted again by the effort of speaking. What he had said struck terror into the listeners’ hearts for they knew that death was striding close.
“They will attack,” Kerrick said. “Soon after dawn. They know exactly where we are. They plan these things carefully. They will have stopped for the night just far enough away not to be observed, yet close enough to strike in the morning.”
“We must defend ourselves,” Herilak said.
“No! We must not stay here.” Kerrick spoke the words quickly, almost without thought; they were driven from him by a strong emotion.
“If we leave they will attack us while we move,” Herilak said. “We will be defenseless, slaughtered as we run. It will be better to remain here where we can make a stand.”
“Hear me out,” Kerrick said. “If we remain here that will be exactly what they want us to do. It is their plan to attack us in this place. You can be sure that the attack has been worked out in all details and is meant to destroy us. Now we must stop and think of the best way to survive. The beasts they ride, I have never seen or heard of them before. That means nothing. They have the resources of an entire world out there. There are strange creatures beyond counting, murgu we cannot even imagine. But now we know about them, now we are forewarned.” He looked around. “We chose this place to camp because there was water and we could defend ourselves against attack from the river. Do they come by water as well? Did you see any boats?”
“None,” Peremandu said. “The river was empty. They are so many that they need no aid. Their numbers were like the birds when they gather to fly south in the autumn. Like leaves, they could not be counted.”
“Our thorn barrier will be trampled down,” Kerrick said. “So will we. We must leave at once. Go north. We cannot remain here.”
The murmuring died away. No one wanted to speak, for all of this was too unusual, too new. They looked to their leaders. The sammadars looked at Herilak. The decision was his. His face was as grim as theirs, grimmer — for the responsibility now was his alone. He looked around at them, then straightened his back and slammed his spear butt onto the ground.
“We march. The margalus is right. If we stay here it is certain death. If we have to make a stand it will be at the spot of our own choosing. The night is only half gone. We must make the most of the darkness remaining. Strike the tents…”
“No,” Kerrick broke in. “That would be a mistake — for many reasons. It will take time, and time is one thing we do not have. If we pack the tents the travois will be heavy laden and that will slow us down. We take our weapons, food and clothing — nothing more.”
The women were listening as well and one of them wailed at this loss.
“We can make new tents,” Kerrick said. “We cannot make new lives. Load the travois with only the things I have said, the babies and small children can ride as well. Leave the tents standing. The murgu will not know that they are empty. They will attack, use up their darts, that will take time. We need all the time that we can get. This is what I tell you to do.”
“Do as the margalus orders,” Herilak said, pointing his spear. “Go.”
The mastodons trumpeted their complaints at being disturbed, but cruel blows in the delicate corners of their mouths moved them out. The fires before the tents were stirred to life and the travois were quickly lashed into position. Kerrick left Armun to load what was needed and hurried out of the encampment, to the head of the forming column where Herilak was waiting.
Herilak pointed north.
“The land rises there, you will remember. The hills are wooded and rough, with the stone of the mountains pushing through the ground in some places. We must get there before they catch up with us. It is there that we will find a position that can be defended.”
The moon rose before they were ready and dawn was that much closer. They went out in single file, the mastodons squealing as they were goaded into a shambling run, the hunters trotting alongside. They had hunted this land for a long time now and knew every crease and fold. The sammads took the easiest and fastest track north.
When dawn spread the first gray light over the landscape the column was stretched out, no longer running, but still moving. The mastodons were too weary now to complain and slogged steadily on, putting one great foot ahead of the other. The hunters walked as well, looking behind them although there was nothing there to be seen. Yet. The march continued.
A long, wearying time passed before Herilak called a halt.
“Drink and rest,” he ordered, looking back the way that they had come, waiting for the straggling column to close up. He waved Peremandu to him. “You know how far away from our encampment the murgu were. Will they have reached it by now?”
Peremandu looked to the south and his eyes narrowed with thought. He nodded reluctantly. “It took me a longer time, but they are much faster. They will be there by now.”