“That is certain death.”
“For animals, yes. Just go carefully.”
Kerrick found his legs trembling as he put one foot carefully in front of the other on the hard-packed sand. As they came close to the deer Nenne seized him by the arm, stopping him.
“The vine with thorns that has the deer by the leg, see how it arises from the sand. Just where the deer is standing, near the grass it was eating. Why did the deer not see it and avoid it?”
“I think I know.” Kerrick bent and dug a half-buried clamshell from the sand, then threw it carefully underhand so that it dropped beside the corpse.
Sand flew aside as a green, thorn-tipped length lashed out of the sand and struck the shell.
“Lying just under the surface,” Kerrick said. “They are released when there is pressure above.”
“They could be growing anywhere here,” Nenne said, stepping carefully backward, walking in the tracks they had just made. “This is a place of death where nothing can live.”
“Not quite, look there, right at the base of the wall.”
They stood, unmoving and scarcely breathing as the leaves rustled and parted. A mottled, orange and purple head appeared, bright eyes looked about, withdrew. It was back a moment later, further out this time, a lizard of some kind. With quick movements it darted across the sand — then stopped, frozen. Only its eyes moved as it looked about. An ugly creature with a flat, thick tail, with swollen bulges on its back, shining in the sun as though it were wet. Then it moved on again leaving a trail of slime in its path, stopping at a clump of grass. It began to chew this with sideways motions of its jaw. Kerrick reached slowly into his quiver when it looked away, nocked an arrow, drew it back.
Released it.
“Good,” Nenne said, nodding approval as he looked at the impaled creature that kicked out sporadically then lay still. They retreated in a long circle and approached it from the ocean side, walking in the edge of the surf, bent over and looked at it.
“Ugly,” Nenne said. “See it drips with slime like a slug.”
“Perhaps that is protection from the poisons in the wall, probably the thorns as well. This creature was grown to live where everything else dies. There has to be a reason for that; the Yilanè who grow things do everything with a reason.”
“It is sick though — those boils on its back, one is opened.”
“Those aren’t boils or sores; see how regularly spaced they are.” With the tip of his bow Kerrick reached down and prodded the open bulge, disturbing it so that brown particles fell free. Nenne bent close over and looked at them.
“They are dry, I do not understand. They look like seeds.” Kerrick stood slowly and turned to look at the deadly green barrier, felt a chill at the same time despite the warm sun upon him. “I understand,” he said. “I understand only too well. We are looking at defeat, Nenne. Certain defeat. I see no way that we can win this battle, no way for us to survive.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
One of the younger manduktos stirred the fire and added fresh wood. The light of the flames flickered over the small group about Sanone who were sitting across the fire from Kerrick. He had wanted to talk to all the hunters, but this was not the Sasku way. The manduktos made the decisions and they were obeyed. They were conferring now in low murmurs as Kerrick looked deep into the fire, trying to look into the future as well, seeing only despair in that warm light.
“We cannot agree,” Sanone said, turning back to Kerrick. “You are just guessing, you have no proof, we must wait and see.”
“Must you wait until we have the first deaths here? Can you not see clearly what has been done? Look south, to the beach there, to what appears to be an empty encampment. It does not matter that none of the murgu are there now — it is meant to be empty. Those plants are poisonous and deadly, but they must be grown somewhere so they can be harvested. Why not on the shore here? This is the environment they will have to grow in. They were planted there to grow and flourish — and when they are ripe, their seed will be harvested. And that explains as well the small murgu we killed.”
“This is just guessing…”
“Perhaps. But it has the real smell of truth to it. Think of that creature, designed to live among the vines and plants where everything else dies. Why bother breeding such a creature in the first place if the plants are just for protection? No, they have a more terrible significance. They are meant to be spread. Spread here. The little murgu will run and hide, and wherever it goes it will leave those seeds behind. It will run here in Deifoben until our city is filled with death and we will have to leave or die ourselves.”
“If the little murgu try to come here we will kill them,” one of the manduktos called out and the others murmured agreement. Kerrick fought to keep his anger under control.
“Will you? You are such a wonderful killer with the bow and the death-stick that you can hunt by night and day, over all this vast place, under every shrub and tree, kill each murgu as it appears? If you think that you are a fool. You are all being foolish. I feel as you do; I don’t want to believe this thing. But I must. We will have to leave here — and as soon as possible.”
“No, this will not happen.” Sanone was on his feet. “Kadair led us here, he will not desert us now.”
“Maybe Karognis brought you here instead,” Kerrick said, hearing the horrified gasps around him, hoping that they might be shocked into understanding. “We cannot kill all of the creatures when they begin coming here, we cannot stop the seeds from growing. We must leave before the first deaths happen.”
“It cannot be,” Sanone said. “They would not do such a thing because it would leave this city useless. What kills us would kill the murgu just as quickly.”
Kerrick ignored the cries of agreement and shouted louder than they did. “You reason like children. Do you think the murgu would design and grow these plants without knowing how to destroy them just as well? When this city is theirs again all the growing bushes of destruction will be cleared away.”
“If they can do it — so can we.”
“No we can’t. We have not the knowledge that they have.”
Sanone raised his hand and the others were silent. “We get angry and wisdom vanishes. We say things we will regret later. Perhaps everything that Kerrick has said will come to pass. But even if it does — do we have a choice? If they can kill this place, can they not follow and kill our valley, or wherever else we choose to camp? Perhaps Kadair led us here to die, perhaps that is part of his plan. We cannot know. It appears that we have little choice. It will be easier to stay.”
For the first time Kerrick was silent for he could not answer Sanone’s words. Was that the only choice? Stay here and die, or run away, across the great land. And find death waiting for your arrival. Without another word he wrapped his deerskin cloak around him, stood and went to his sleeping chamber. It had been a long and hard day and he was tired, yet he could not sleep. Lying in the darkness he sought a way out, a path to follow that they had not noticed yet. They would send for Herilak in the spring and he would come with the Tanu. They would launch an attack on the island where the Yilanè were, drive them off. Capture a scientist, make her reveal how the deadly plants could be killed. Kill the lizards when they appeared, dig up the plants when they started to grow. A lot could be done — had to be done…
The morning was clear, the sun warm, the fears of the night diminished by daylight. Kerrick was peeling an orange when he saw Sanone emerge from the leafy mouth of one of the connecting passageways. His face was twisted with lines of pain, and he shuffled as he walked. Kerrick stood, the fruit, forgotten, dropping to the ground.