From his place in the line of march, White Stone watched as Ecan staggered away from Dzoo. The Starwatcher stopped in the middle of the trail, his eyes focused on something in the distance. White Stone gazed curiously that way, but could only see Raven Bay, Gull Inlet, and the distant islands.
Dzoo, meanwhile, was looking down the slope ahead of them, where patches of firs grew. He followed her gaze first to the low rise to his left—at which she smiled for a time—then down to the grove of firs. Dzoo’s face turned stoic enough to have been carved from some pale hardwood.
White Stone lifted his war ax and called, “Hunter! Close up on the prisoner.” She wouldn’t think of trying to escape into those trees, would she?
As the procession continued plodding down the winding trail toward the trees, the ocean breeze mixed with scents of mud and damp firs to form a heady fragrance. The Four Old Women on their litters hissed questions to each other. Everything was going as planned, and they were ahead of schedule.
He watched his two lead scouts trot into the trees. He had almost forgotten Dzoo’s interest in the trees when two warriors in mangy hide capes charged out from the timber. A half heartbeat later, a screaming horde broke from cover. Keen obsidian points glinted on the tips of their spears.
White Stone shouted, “Get into position!”
Just as Cimmis had planned, three tens of spear throwers separated from the circle around the Four Old Women, and the men behind moved forward to take their places. The first group ran downhill to form a solid wall against the attackers.
The litter bearers quickly set their burdens down and huddled around the Council and the matrons accompanying the party.
All except Kaska, who stepped off her litter, shoved through the ring of guards, and looked down the slope at the Raven People. White Stone smiled at the thought of her confusion. By now, according to her plan, Sand Wasp should have been looking to her for orders.
Instead, the Salmon Village war chief stood tall, his jaw set, not two paces from White Stone. White Stone said, “Sand Wasp, have your warriors form a second line behind the first!”
“Yes, War Chief!”
For a moment, when he turned around, Sand Wasp’s gaze touched Kaska’s. The man seemed to freeze; then he motioned to his warriors. “You heard White Stone, form a second line!”
Three tens of Kaska’s warriors ran down the slope and knelt behind the first row of defenders.
“Ready!” White Stone called as the Raven People dashed up the slope, their spears over their heads. Casting uphill was risky at best, but on the run?
As they neared casting range, the Raven People split in half in a clumsy pincer movement.
Blessed gods, they’re fools! White Stone watched the ineffective tactic develop. The attacking warriors were panting from their long run up the hill. Worse, their formation was disintegrating as they scrambled over the rough hillside.
White Stone filled his lungs. “First line, cast!”
Sunlight flashed down the polished shafts as the spears arced into the sky, seemed to hover like birds for a few eternal instants, then plunged down.
The lethal missiles met flesh; the screams began—ragged, breathless. At least half of the Raven People fell. Most writhed on the ground, trying to jerk the shafts of wood and stone from their bodies. Some stood dumbfounded, staring at the carnage. Others threw down their weapons and ran, but a few kept coming.
The few enemy spears gleamed as though afire as they lanced through the sky. Three of the throwers in the first line went down. Then two more.
“Second line, cast!” White Stone ordered.
Kaska’s warriors took aim and threw.
White Stone turned to look at Dzoo. She stood tall, utterly unafraid, watching the battle. Cimmis had hoped that by leaving Dzoo out front, it might stem the ardor of the enemy spear throwers. The great chief had apparently miscalculated.
“Ready!” White Stone’s remaining warriors nocked spears in their atlatl hooks.
“Let them get closer, closer …” When the Raven People were less than two tens of paces away, he shouted, “Cast!”
Several went down instantly, but the others charged forward, screaming like gutted birds.
“Use your clubs!” he shouted, and as his men rushed to obey, tens of spears clattered onto the ground.
The war chief who led the enemy warriors headed straight for White Stone. He was stocky, with a scarred face and granite-headed war club.
White Stone lifted his ax, braced his feet, and waited for the man to come to him.
“Meet your death!” The Raven warrior swung his club at White Stone’s head.
White Stone sidestepped, pivoted, and drove his ax into the panting man’s back as momentum carried him around. The Raven warrior let out a surprised yip as the blow severed his spine. He tumbled to the ground, screaming, his upper body flopping helplessly. Several others went down around White Stone as Sand Wasp waded into the onslaught.
Then, abruptly, the few remaining Raven warriors broke and ran.
“Hold!” White Stone bellowed to keep his warriors from dashing in pursuit. Nevertheless, a handful did, carried away by the moment. He ground his teeth. Better if they were killed by the fleeing Raven warriors than if they had to face his wrath for disobeying orders. At the calls of their fellows a couple turned back, glancing sheepishly in his direction.
Cimmis came striding down the line. His gray bun had come unpinned and hung around his wrinkled face. White Stone watched as Matron Kaska lifted the hem of her cape and fell into step behind Cimmis.
As Cimmis passed the Four Old Women, he ordered, “Lift these litters! Be ready to move at my command!”
In less than five heartbeats they’d hoisted the litters and stood stiffly waiting.
“Where is Rain Bear?” Cimmis demanded when he arrived. His
sharp old gaze darted over the dead and wounded that scattered the slope.
“I didn’t see him, my Chief.”
“Where could he be? Still in the trees?”
White Stone shook his head. “It isn’t like Rain Bear to hide in the trees while his men go out to meet the enemy. He usually leads the charge.”
“Hunter?” Cimmis sharply called. “Go and search the bodies for Rain Bear.”
“Yes, my Chief!”
White Stone turned to watch Hunter kick over the first body and barely heard the soft grunt behind him.
He turned back in time to see Sand Wasp stagger as Kaska repeatedly drove a stiletto into his back. The war chief didn’t even try to fight back, but wavered as his knees buckled and he collapsed at her feet.
Sand Wasp gasped, “Forgive me, Matron. I did not wish to … to do it, but …” His gaze flickered to Cimmis, as if caressing his face.
White Stone clutched his ax a little more tightly and noticed the two new shiny copper nuggets that gleamed on the dying war chief’s throat.
Kaska shouted at her warriors, “You obey my orders now, and mine alone! Return to your positions. We must make it to Wasp Village as soon as possible!”
White Stone glanced at Cimmis and raised a questioning eyebrow. Kill her now?
The great chief shook his head.
White Stone wasn’t sure he agreed, but perhaps this really wasn’t the time.
Cimmis whispered, “I’ll have my special agent attend to it tonight. When everyone else is asleep.”
White Stone nodded.
Kaska’s warriors muttered, stared forlornly at Sand Wasp, then started back to regroup in front of the litters.
Kaska had turned her hard glare on Cimmis, knowing full well he was going to kill her, and calmly went back to climb onto her litter.
“That’s a brave woman,” White Stone said softly.
Cimmis ground his teeth. “Yes, much too brave. I want her separated from her warriors.”
“But my chief, we need every—”
“It would demoralize our men to have to kill their own people, War Chief. Do as I say.”
He bowed stiffly. “Of course.”
Occasional screams still rose from the firs down the slope, but White Stone had no way of knowing if they were torn from his men, or from Raven warriors.
Hunter trotted back up the slope and said, “My chief, I have looked into the eyes of everyone lying on this slope, alive or dead. Rain Bear is not here.”
Cimmis wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Then who are these people? They are Raven warriors, aren’t they?”
“They are Raven warriors,” White Stone said. “It took me a few moments, but I recognized the man who attacked me. He was the war chief of Shell Maiden village.”
Cimmis seemed to be considering that. “I may have underestimated Rain Bear.”
“I hope not. He is the one man in the world I would not wish to underestimate. Especially not now when we are tired from marching all night. Our quivers are half empty, my chief. If this was some kind of diversion, it did work to weaken us.”
Cimmis rubbed his chin. “Tell our warriors to pick up every spear that can be thrown, even if the point’s broken. Then we’ll go. We won’t be safe until we’re in Wasp Village.”
White Stone lifted his ax and shouted, “Move through the meadow. Collect every spear!”
People ran through the grass, picking up spears, pulling stilettos from the bodies of dead warriors.
He turned, looking down the mountain’s flank to where a green thumb of land protruded into Raven Bay. A faint blue haze of smoke could be seen.
Their haven still lay a hard march away.
And somewhere out there, Rain Bear and his warriors were waiting.