BIRANA

 

Nallei was sleeping, I sat with her, wanting desperately to speak to her, but knew that awakening her would only make her conscious of her pain.

I had expected her to unburden herself before dying, but she suffered silently. During the past days, she had even stifled her moans at night, as though she feared waking me. I wanted her to open her eyes one last time, to listen as I told her how much she had meant to me, and yet I also hoped that she might slip away peacefully. I did not want her to learn of the ship; I wanted her to die easily, believing I would still live.

Balan was squatting by the hut; he stood up and pointed down the slope. Two men were climbing toward us along the trail. My hopes for escape had already faded; when I saw Yerlan walking toward me, the little hope I had left died.

Wirlan was with him. The healer knelt by the fire and set out his pouches of roots and herbs. Yerlan watched me for a long moment, then beckoned to Balan. “Go to the boat,” he commanded. “The boy Tulan waits below. Stay there while I speak to the Holy Ones.”

As Balan left, Yerlan sat down at Nallei’s side. His hand trembled as he smoothed back her silvery hair. His face contorted; he cried out and gathered her up in his arms. “You cannot leave me. You cannot die.”

Nallei stirred and moaned softly as I moved toward them. “You mustn’t,” I said. “She’s in terrible pain. You must let her rest.”

He set her down gently and lay at her side, his hand covering hers. Wirlan gave me a cup; Yerlan took it from me and guided it to her lips. The healer stood up and motioned to me. “Let us leave them for a little,” he said.

We went into the trees; he stopped and leaned against a trunk. “Lady,” he said, “I must tell You something I think You would want to know. Yerlan has returned to himself, but he is now angry with Your messenger, Vilan. The Headman has raised his hand to Vilan and shamed him before the band, but at least he allows him to live.”

I clasped my hands together. “Is he all right?”

“He won’t be harmed for now, but I urge You to be cautious with the Headman.” Wirlan folded his arms. “The sight of the Lady’s ship has changed him. He speaks of our curse being lifted, of rains that will come. This morning, after we sighted the Lady’s orb, he went to the horses and freed them.” I let out a gasp. “He said he would not harm them, but that we could no longer feed them. I know they were Your creatures, but they might have given us meat. The Headman did a foolish thing for You, Holy One.” He paused. “Vilan spoke against this act and raised his hand to Yerlan. It is a wonder the Headman didn’t kill him then.”

I tried to calm myself. “Wirlan, I’ll tell you what that ship might mean. This camp may be in danger now. Don’t ask Me how I know this, just believe Me. The men would be safer if they left, if they went far away. Someone has to tell them this. There may be little time.”

He shook his head. “They will not listen to me.”

“I can tell them. Take Me to the camp—they’ll listen to Me.”

“You cannot lift this curse. This is what they will say. They see hope in the omen. They won’t abandon the land where they have lived for so long. Your power wanes, Lady. Don’t give them a reason to believe that an evil spirit might be speaking through You and that it was evil You brought with You here.”

“Is that what you believe?”

His lip curled. “I do not deal with spirits, only with what I can see. What I see is that You may have reason to lie in order to keep Your messenger safe from Yerlan.”

“I’m not lying!”

“I cannot know that, Lady.”

I held out my hands. “Please listen to Me.”

“I have served the Headman and the one before him for all my life. I won’t turn against him now, when our band may need him most. You would be wiser to give the Headman no reason to vent his rage upon Vilan. He is still the best of those who have learned healing from me, and I would not want to lose his skill.”

I went back to the hut. Yerlan sprawled at Nallei’s side, stroking her hands. He lifted himself on an elbow and looked across at me. “I hear Her moans,” he said, “I feel Her pain.” Nallei’s lips moved; he bent to hear her.

As Wirlan came near, Yerlan sat up. “Healer, I must ask you this now. What would you do for a man who suffers in this way?”

“I can only ease the pain until death comes.”

“And if you knew he would suffer for many days before death could claim him, what would you do then?”

Wirlan’s face hardened. “I shouldn’t say this to you, for it is a secret of my craft. There is a potion I can give that will bring an easy death.”

Yerlan cradled Nallei’s head in his arms. “If you could restore Her to what She was, I could bear the sight of Her pain. If you could take Her disease and pain from Her, while leaving Her as She is now, I would rejoice that She lived, and the memory of Her beauty would make Her seem beautiful to me again. But I cannot bear to see Her pain prolonged when there’s no hope.”

“There is no hope, Headman.”

“Then you know what you must do,” Yerlan said. Wirlan nodded. “Brew your potion and then go to Balan and the boy. I would have them go to the camp and bring those who are closest to me here. We will not speak of your potion. I won’t have them know that it is we who will free Her spirit at last.”

 

 

Yerlan sat with her for the rest of the day. It was he who cleaned her, gave her what little she could drink, covered her with a hide when she shivered, and soothed her with whispered words. A covered jug with Wirlan’s potion stood next to him, yet he held back from giving it to her.

He would not let me tend Nallei. Tears glistened in his dark eyes, but he did not let them fall. I thought of all the times he had entered the hut with her and of the cruel smile on his face when Nallei had ordered me away from the hut so that he could lie with her. I had not known there was any tenderness in him.

By late afternoon, we heard the sound of voices below. Wirlan stood up, “Headman, your men approach,” the healer said. “It is time.”

Yerlan closed his eyes for a moment, then reached for the jug, pouring the liquid into a cup. He held Nallei as she drank. I watched as he gave her another cup; he warded me off as I tried to move closer.

The men gathered below us; Arvil was not among them, although I knew Nallei would have wanted him there. Wirlan raised his arms. “The Lady’s body weakens,” he said. “I believe Her spirit will leave us soon.”

The men had known she might die, but a few cried out at this; Aklan covered his face as he leaned against Balan. Only Tulan, head bowed, was still. I saw Nallei whisper to Yerlan as he folded her arms over her chest.

I could no longer restrain myself. I crawled to her side and leaned over her, ignoring Yerlan. “I’m here,” I whispered.

“You will live, child,” she said faintly.

“Because of you, because you helped me.”

She closed her eyes. The men were whispering prayers. I knew she was gone when Yerlan threw himself across her body and wept.

The men fell to the ground, hitting their heads against the earth as they covered their hair with dirt. Wirlan pulled at the Headman’s shoulders and helped him to his feet.

“We must not weep,” Yerlan said at last. “The suffering of Her body is past, and Her spirit will live. It is the time to bury Her body and remember Her spirit. The Lady gave us a sign today. Her ship came to call this Holy One’s spirit to the Goddess. Now Her soul is free, and the evil that lies over the lake will be lifted.”

The men began to dig a grave in the clearing. I knew that they expected some words from me, but I could not speak, knowing I would weep if I did. It was evening when Yerlan placed her body in the grave. I stood with Wirlan, keeping back my tears as Nallei was covered with earth.

Yerlan looked from the grave to me, then held up a hand. His tears were gone; the harder look with which I was so familiar had returned to his face. “The Holy One whispered Her last words to me,” he said, “and I must now reveal them to you. She is gone, but a Holy One still lives among us. Part of Her spirit remains inside this Lady.” He moved his hand in my direction. “She told me that it is now the task of this Holy One to take up Her duties. A full moon comes again in three days. The Lady will be carried into our camp and will commune with the Prayergiver, and will grant Her blessing to me when we return here.”

I gazed at him in horror, too shocked to protest. My legs shook; I stepped back and leaned against the wall of the hut. Yerlan was still speaking to the men. “Return to the camp, all of you. Tell the others that our sorrow is past and that the Lady will smile upon us again. Tulan will wait by my boat for me while I pray here.”

The men filed away from the grave. Weak with sorrow and fear, I sank to the ground. Yerlan stood by the grave, head bowed.

“You lied,” I said at last. “I know what My companion would have said. She never told you such things.”

He lifted his head. “I waited. I wanted her to tell me that she regretted leaving this life, that she understood my longing, that she wanted me with her.” He was no longer speaking of Nallei with the formal words the men used in talking of us; I tensed. “I wanted to ease her, and all she told me was that she would be rid of me, that she wanted to die, that she was happy she was dying at last. She cared nothing for me even then.” He shook a fist. “All those times I went to her, and yet whatever pleasure I took, I could give none to her. She didn’t fight against me—even that could have roused my passion a little. She endured me and drank her wine so that she could forget.”

“It wasn’t in Her power to care for you that way,” I said.

“I longed for her, and she only suffered me. There were times when my power failed me and I couldn’t grow hard with her. She said the potion might have robbed me of my strength, but I rarely drank of it. I didn’t need it to long for her, to worship her. It was she who took my power from me.”

“She hated the touch of men,” I said. “You might have been kinder, reached out to Her, been a companion who didn’t force himself on Her, but you couldn’t do that. You’d rather take what you want even from one who couldn’t bear the sight of you.” It no longer mattered what I said; he could do little more to me.

“I wanted her to welcome me, and she shrank from my touch. You will never be what she was to me, but perhaps I can forget my grief with you. I know now that you don’t despise the touch of a man.”

I felt the blood draining from my face. “What are you saying?” I whispered.

He walked toward me; I could not look up at his face. “I have other eyes,” he said. “Tulan has been my eyes. He has seen what has passed between you and Vilan. Vilan was foolish. He allowed the boy to long for him but did not return his love. He didn’t see that a boy’s fierce love might become hatred and a longing for revenge. Vilan let me believe that he lay with the boy. He would have been wise to do so, but the Lady’s spell was over him by then, that spell that can keep a man from seeking out other men.”

My chest was so tight that I could hardly breathe.

“The boy saw Vilan longed for you,” he continued. “He saw that you were often alone here and that you rode into the wood together. He followed you at a distance and discovered where you went. He began to go out there and wait for you this spring, concealing himself so that you would not discover him. He saw what you and Vilan did under the trees.”

“He lied,” I managed to say. “He’s trying to turn you against Arvil.”

“He did not lie. He could not lie about such a matter. He waited, and you came there. He saw you move your body upon his and described to me what you did. He was frightened when he first saw this—he believed you might punish him for seeing it, and so he kept what he knew to himself, thinking this might be some holy matter he did not understand. Then the land grew parched, and no rain came, and he began to believe that you and Vilan had brought the curse upon us. He knew that you were not to lie with us, yet you lay with him. Perhaps if Vilan had shown him love, he would have kept his secret, but Vilan did not. Tulan heard you both when you were together, planning to escape from us. It was then he knew that he would have to come to me. He told me of your secret this morning, before the omen appeared. He told me much of how you sought pleasures with Vilan.”

I clutched at my stomach, afraid I might be sick. “It is not for you to question My ways,” I said. “You know what I am. Would you bring a greater curse upon yourself?”

“You’ll bring no curse,” he muttered. “You have no powers. I learned this with your companion long ago, that she was a being like us, for I knew her body well. I learned that she had no power over us, that I could do as I liked. But it served me to keep this knowledge to myself to strengthen my position as Headman. It served me to let her believe I still worshipped her so that she would not betray me to others. It will be different with us. You will see me as I am, and I shall know the truth about you.”

“I’ll never lie with you,” I said. “If you carry me into the camp, I’ll denounce you—tell them all you lied.”

“Then Vilan will be the first to die.” He dragged me up and pushed me against the wall of the hut. “Consider his fate before you speak. Tulan will keep your secret for now, but if I don’t have what I want from you, he will speak of what he knows. I will not even have to order Vilan’s death—the men will take his life for bringing a curse upon us.”

He pulled at my shirt as I struggled against him. “Get away from me,” I whispered. He dragged me away from the wall and pushed me through the hut’s entrance; I fell to the dirt floor.

He came toward me; I tried to kick him with my legs. He grabbed my ankles and forced my legs apart, then fell across me, pinning me to the ground. My hand darted toward his face, ready to scratch at his eyes; he held me down with one arm as he fumbled at my belt.

The holds Arvil had taught me were useless. His bare chest was a heavy weight squeezing the breath from me; I was afraid I would faint. He twisted against me as he loosened his belt. I tensed, clenching my teeth.

“I see why she hated you,” I said with what breath I had left. “She hated you, and she mocked you, and sometimes she even pitied you.” He felt at me roughly, hurting me. I stiffened and turned my head from him, unable to struggle any more.

He pushed his member against me, then sat back on his heels. His hand struck me hard across the face; I took the blow and tasted blood. “My power is gone from me,” he muttered. “Do you have an evil power after all?” He raised his arm, as if to strike me again, then struggled to his feet. “It had better be different when I’m with you again. If I am not roused, you’ll find ways to rouse me, or you will see Vilan die.”

As he was about to walk through the door, I said, “You will bring Arvil with you when you come to take me to the camp. Otherwise, I have only your word that he lives.”

“I’ll bring whom I please.”

“You will bring Arvil. When I know he is safe, I’ll do whatever you want.” I forced myself to say those hateful, bitter words. “You won’t regret it, Yerlan. I want him restored to his former place and honored by you, I want to know that he won’t be harmed, and then you’ll see what pleasures I can show you, but if you hurt him, your powers will never return.”

He strode from the hut without answering. I crawled into a corner and lay there, bruised and aching with sorrow. I had no hope that Arvil would live for long. Yerlan’s jealousy would grow; or Tulan would tell others what he knew eventually; and sooner or later, I was sure, a ship would return to strike at this camp. I had only the hope of seeing Arvil once more before he was lost to me forever. I wanted him to know that it was he whom I loved, whatever Yerlan might tell him now.

 

 

I sat in my hut the next morning, staring at my knife, knowing that a slash at my throat could free me. Nallei would have wanted me to live somehow. Arvil would suffer if Yerlan discovered I had taken my life; the Headman would not make his death an easy one.

At last I went outside. The sky was still clear, but the air had grown stickier. I took out my sling and aimed my stones at the trees, imagining that each trunk I hit was Yerlan. The Headman would come for me and return with me to the hut. Arvil had shown me that I could love a man; Yerlan would teach me to hate all men. I searched the sky, hoping that a ship would come, wanting to die before Yerlan killed what was left in my soul and heart.

I tucked my sling under my belt and descended the trail. Aklan and Resilan were below, guarding the island; Resilan got to his feet. “What is it You wish, Holy One?”

I was silent.

“Rain will come,” Aklan said as he turned his head. “I feel it in my bones. We will be blessed by You in many ways now.” A new look of anticipation was in their eyes: the hope for rain, the wish that I might summon them to my side soon.

I left them and walked along the shore. I would not go to the camp; I would find a way to prevent it, whatever the cost.

 

 

The evening came when Yerlan was to fetch me. I had prepared myself, tested the bow Arvil had made for me. I tied back my hair, shouldered my quiver, and walked toward the trail.

I moved along the path until I was close to the shore, then left it to creep through the trees. Resilan and Aklan sat on the rocks, waiting as another boat moved toward the island. I squinted and saw Arvil’s blond head in the dusky light. He sat in the prow of the boat, hands at his sides as Yerlan paddled behind him.

The men below had not heard my movements. I had practiced creeping silently through the wood during the day, moving close to them without giving myself away. I stood against a tree as the boat came nearer.

Resilan got up and pulled Yerlan’s boat ashore. As Arvil stumbled from the boat, I noticed that his legs were bound, hobbling his movements. Yerlan put down his oar, picked up a spear, and handed Aklan a leather cord as he stepped onto the island.

“Bind Vilan’s hands,” Yerlan said.

“Why is he bound?” Resilan asked.

“Vilan has not yet learned his place,” Yerlan replied. “I think that, if he were freed, he would try to fight me even now.” He put a hand on Arvil’s neck as Aklan tied Arvil’s arms behind his back. “I would have to kill him then, and I would not want to lose so fine a man. I must protect him from himself. He brought a Holy One to us, and the Lady would be unhappy if he could not share our joy tonight. His anger will cool when he sees us blessed, and perhaps then I can free him from his bonds. I’ll allow him to share in our celebration, even bound as he is.”

Yerlan fingered the feathers around his neck as he gazed at the sky. “Rain is coming,” he said. “I saw the feathery clouds today. Even now the sky darkens.”

“The Lady will not be pleased to see Her messenger bound,” Resilan said.

“She will be pleased that I guarded him from himself, kept him alive.” Yerlan prodded Arvil with the point of his spear. “We will see what She ordains for him later. Wait here.”

Resilan was frowning. I retreated up the hill, moving as quickly as I dared until I was near the top of the trail. I took out one arrow, notched it to my bow, and waited under the trees. My heart was pounding so wildly that I scarcely heard anything else, but my hands were steady.

Yerlan’s voice drifted toward me. “This will be a new joy for me,” he was saying. “Pray that the Lady gives me everything I wish, because for every pleasure She does not grant me, I will bring pain to you.”

“She will never allow you to treat me this way.”

“She will allow it. She has no power to do otherwise.”

“You’ll have my life anyway. She’ll understand that. Tulan won’t keep silent forever—he will speak about what he knows and then your men will demand my life. You will never have what you want from Her.”

I heard the sound of a hand striking flesh. “Tulan will be silent for as long as I wish. Seeing you live and suffer for scorning him will give him more joy than a death that might bring you peace. The Lady will do as I wish for a time to keep you alive, and then I’ll teach Her to long for me. That is when you will die, Vilan—when She no longer longs for you.”

They were near me at last. Arvil walked stiffly, inhibited by the cord between his ankles. Yerlan was behind him, his spear at Arvil’s back. I held my breath as they passed. They moved into the clearing; their backs were to me. Arvil stumbled forward and fell to his knees.

“Holy One,” the Headman called out.

I stepped from the trees and took aim. The arrow flew, embedding itself in Yerlan’s back. He swayed and turned to face me. His eyes were wide with surprise. I saw no anger in his face, only hurt and an odd look of appeal.

My courage nearly left me then. He still held his spear and might have hurled it at me as I aimed another arrow, yet he did not lift the weapon. The second arrow landed in the base of his throat. He dropped the spear, clutched at his neck, and toppled forward.

I ran to Arvil and cut away his bonds with my knife. He crawled to Yerlan, searched the body with his hands, then pulled a knife from the dead man’s belt. “My weapon,” he muttered. “He took that from me as well.” He sat back on his heels. “You’ve killed our tormentor, Birana, but you’ve left us no escape.”

I was nearly sick. Arvil stood up and caught me before I fell. “It doesn’t matter. We’re dead already.” I could not look at Yerlan. “He could have killed me easily. Something held him back.” I shuddered as I leaned against him.

“Aklan and Resilan are waiting. If he does not come, they’ll climb up here. Are you prepared to take their lives as well?”

“I don’t know,” I said weakly. “I’ve killed already. Maybe it becomes easier the more one does it.” I pushed his arms away. “I wanted him dead. I didn’t think of what would happen later. At least we can die together now.”

“No, Birana. I won’t have him dead only so that we can lie at his side.” He lifted his head. “Yerlan spoke truly when he said that the rains will come. I sense a storm approaching.”

The wind was rising; trees swayed above us. I had been so intent on my deed that I had not noticed the sky. “The clouds will thicken,” he continued, “and hide the moon. There may be a small chance for us. One of the boats below can carry us from here. If it grows dark enough, we may not be seen.”

“There are also two men below,” I said.

“Send them away. Tell them you will lie with Yerlan here and come to the camp when the storm is past. They’ll listen. Tell them that you’ll lift the curse in this way.”

I dropped my quiver and bow, then walked toward the path. Arvil picked up my weapons and followed. We would never escape, whatever Arvil thought. The sky might darken enough for us to paddle away from the island, but even if we were not seen, a storm would force us toward land. We would have to flee through the wood on foot if rain came. Someone was likely to come for Yerlan in the morning; Tulan would tell his story when he knew the Headman was dead. The band would not rest until they hunted us down. We would, at best, have only a few more days.

Arvil left the trail and concealed himself among the trees as I stepped toward the rocks. Across the bay, in the camp, torches flickered in the open space as the men there waited for me. The wind wailed a little and then died down.

Aklan stood up. “A storm is coming,” I said quickly. “It is My wish, and that of the Headman, that you return to the camp before the rains arrive. I shall celebrate My rites with him here, and with the messenger he has kept from harm. In this way, I will end this evil time.”

The two men were still. “Go,” I commanded.

“Why has the Headman not come to tell us of Your wishes?” Aklan asked.

I searched for words. “He prepares himself for My blessing,” I replied. “Go.” Aklan and Resilan were hesitating. I pressed my lips together for a moment. “Obey Me, and it may be that I shall summon both of you before long.”

They bowed, then pushed their boat into the water. I watched as they drifted out onto the lake. The surface of the water was growing choppier; their arms rose and fell swiftly as they paddled. The distant sound of a song reached me from the camp, a song about the mercy the Lady showed to worthy men. The sun was gone as clouds swept toward us from the west.

Arvil came out and sat beside me on a rock. “My life here was a good one,” he said, “until this season. I learned much and there were friends for me. I had your love.” He was speaking as though he knew he would die soon.

I reached for his hand. This might be the last peaceful moment we would know. The men in the camp sang as they danced. Thunder rumbled softly and faded away; I heard a faint hum.

Arvil tensed as the hum grew louder. “A ship,” I whispered.

He grabbed me; we rolled together into the water, then hid under the rocks jutting out from the island’s edge. The gleam of three ships appeared in the south, over the hill above the camp. We sank down under the rocks until the water reached our necks; Arvil held me tightly. The men still waited in the open space, watching as the ships approached. Cries of joy escaped them.

Beams lighted the night as rays found targets. Flames blazed from the thatched roofs of the dwellings. Men fell from the wall as others ran helplessly toward the lake. Resilan stood up in his boat as a beam found him.

I pressed my face against Arvil, unable to look, but the screams of the dying men reached us. We huddled under the rock, hidden from the ships’ eyes. Beams struck behind us; I smelled smoke and burning wood. The humming faded and then grew louder as the ships made another pass at the island and flew on toward the camp. Rays shot from the ships; the camp blazed with light. The dwellings burned as men lay scattered on the ground. The wind caught the flames, tearing patches of burning thatch over the low dirt wall. Men were running from the open space; they shrieked as the beams struck them.

I hid my eyes again. Arvil buried his face in my hair; his body was shaking. Even then, the ships continued to strike at the camp, their sound becoming fainter as they retreated and louder as they returned; I knew they would not stop until every man was dead.

The island burned behind us. I was choking; I covered my mouth and nose with one hand. Smoke burned my eyes. Sparks glittered among the trees beyond the camp. The parched forest was suddenly ablaze.

The ships hummed above us, flew over the camp, and disappeared in the south. The land around the bay was an inferno; I glimpsed a deer trying to outrace the flames along the shore. The only sound now was the roaring and crackling of the fire. I was afraid to leave the shelter of the rock, even when I was certain the ships were gone. The smoke was soon so thick that I gasped for air, keeping my face close to the water. My legs were numb; I slipped below the water. Arvil held me up.

The sky rumbled; lightning flashed above the smoke. Arvil quickly pulled me out onto the shore. Thunder slapped against my ears as sheets of rain began to fall. The flames continued to burn for a while. The rain washed over us and beat down on the lake until the fire died.

 

 

The storm broke before dawn. We climbed toward the hut in silence. The path was lined with blackened, burned trees; I saw no sign of life. The hut was a mound of ash and burned logs; Yerlan’s body lay under a black tree trunk.

I knelt and sifted through the rubble, too stunned and empty to care if I found anything. Almost everything was gone—the clothes, the hides, the baskets of food. I dug through the ash and found one jug of wine, then sat down and pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes. I hated my kind, hated myself.

Arvil was standing by Yerlan’s corpse. “You may have shown him some mercy,” he said. “At least he didn’t live to see this.”

Nallei had, without knowing it, saved my life. Her city, or another, had saved me by wanting to be sure that she was dead, and that all the men who knew of her were dead. The gift of my life seemed meaningless now. The struggle to live had been the reason for all of our actions, including the cruelest ones. So that Arvil could live, Yerlan had to die. So that the earth could live, men had to die, before they could threaten Earth again.

I looked up. Now that the tops of the trees and their leaves had burned away, I could see the camp from the hill. I saw no movement, no sign that anyone had survived. The men must have thought of the ships as a good omen in that brief moment before the rays struck; they had been easy targets.

Arvil sat down next to me. I drank from the jug and handed it to him; he did not drink. I took the jug from him and swallowed more wine.

“Enough,” he said as he pulled it from my hands. “We must find what we can and leave this place.”

“I didn’t want my life at this price.”

“It doesn’t matter how you have it. It is yours, and mine as well. We must go to the camp and salvage what we can.”

He pulled me up. Too weak to protest, I followed him down to the boat. The hull was charred, but it was still sturdy enough to carry us across the bay. We climbed in and paddled toward the camp.

The lifeless bodies of men littered the banks, the open space, the top of the dirt wall. The dwellings had burned to the ground. Mud sucked at our feet as we left the boat. Arvil stopped near one body, then covered his face; he was weeping. I looked down and recognized the charred body of Tulan.

Arvil wiped the tears from his face. “We must search now. There may be some food, some spear points—other things we can use. I may find some of Wirlan’s roots and herbs.”

I shook my head. “I can’t…”

He gripped my arm. “Don’t be useless to me now. We must search. Try not to touch the bodies.” He turned away and walked toward what was left of Wirlan’s old dwelling.

He was right, of course. We had to search, and quickly. A ship could return to make certain the entire camp had been destroyed. Wings fluttered nearby; I looked up. Already, black birds were settling amid the rubble, pecking at the dead. Dagelan’s body lay in front of the burned logs that had been Yerlan’s dwelling. Wirlan lay across a boy, as though he had tried to shield the young one from the ships. Other men lay along the path leading through the gardens, caught by the rays before they could escape.

I searched listlessly, able to find little. The birds flew from me, then alighted behind me as I passed. In that place of death, we salvaged what we could for our own lives.

 

 

Only one undamaged boat remained on the bank. We dropped our packs into the boat and paddled away from the camp. I knew that we would have to go east; we paddled on, keeping near the shore, not speaking.

At last Arvil said, “We must stop now to rest. Others may see us from shore. We can go on at night.”

We were near a small inlet. On the shore, green trees and some foliage remained, a small untouched spot surrounded by burned trees. We pulled the boat up and concealed it among the ferns, then stretched out on the ground.

I had been dreaming for seasons, for years. The dream had suddenly become a nightmare during the past days, and now I was finally waking from my reverie. All of the past months and seasons had been dominated by my need for Arvil; I had thought of little else, it seemed. The men in the camp had been figments of my dream, unable to affect me; I had believed myself safe and had grown careless.

The dream was over. I looked at Arvil, wondering how my need for him had grown so great. He stared back at me with lifeless, gray eyes. I did not want him now; I might never want him again. I thought of all the times we could have left Yerlan’s camp, of how we might have persuaded Nallei to come with us, while she was still strong, and thus saved the camp from its fate. Our bodies and our dream had kept us from acting.

 

 

During our time with the lake band, we had learned of what lay on the eastern side of the lake. Three days later, we came to the gorge where a river fed the lake. The water cascaded over the rocks, spilling into the lake with such force that we had to paddle around the falls before landing on the eastern shore. To the north, invisible to us, lay the easternmost camp of the lake bands, and beyond that, unknown territory.

The fire had not spread here; the land was renewing itself after the recent rain. Flowers poked above the ground; tiny green leaves opened to the rising sun.

I studied the gorge and saw immediately that we could not paddle against the river’s strong currents. Arvil handed me a little dried fish. “We must decide what to do,” he said.

“We can carry the boat farther up the river,” I said, “and find out what’s along the banks. We’d have water and may come to a place where we can use the boat again.”

“We are also likely to come to a place where there are men.”

“There’s a camp not far from here.”

Arvil shook his head. “There may be no place for us there. They will learn of what happened to Yerlan’s men and perhaps blame us for it.”

They would be right to blame us, I thought. “You see what I’ve brought you,” I said then. “You can leave me and go west. Another band would take you in; you could forget all of this.”

His mouth twitched. The stubble of his beard was beginning to grow; his face was haggard, the face of a man who had endured too much. I expected him to pick up one of the packs, to walk away from me.

He lifted a hand to my shoulder. “We’ll leave the boat. Our way lies to the east now. We may find that refuge you once sought.”

“There is no refuge.”

“Then we will make our own. I won’t leave you now. I have suffered too much for you, as you have for me. It seems I am bound to you.”

“You don’t want to be bound any more, do you?”

His smile was bitter. “I am, nonetheless.”

 

 

We tied our packs to our backs, picked up the weapons we had salvaged, and began to walk east. I believed that we would find only the refuge of death, that this summer or the coming fall would be our last season.

We found water and fish; I gathered plants and roots while Arvil found us a hare or a bird. We came to a wide river we could not cross and went north until it grew narrow enough for us to reach the other side. We found berries one day and gorged ourselves until we were nearly sick. We left the forests behind and came to grassland, and saw no signs of men. Always, we continued east.

I grew more skilled at catching small game, and Arvil found herbs and roots like the ones Wirlan had gathered, but our walking tired us both. We did not speak of the past, or of what might come to us, but only of the route we would travel and of what food we might find. From time to time, we stopped for two or three days to make camp and to rest.

A night came when I felt Arvil’s hand on my arm. We were lying at the top of a hill under a shelter of hide and wood he had set up for us. By then, I was used to lying at his side and feeling him turn away from me, keeping to himself as he had when we first wandered together.

He held me for a moment and then embraced me, pressing his lips against my neck. He did not love me in the passionate way he had before, but as if he were seeking solace; his moans were filled with sadness and pain. He withdrew from me before his seed came from him and rested his head on my chest.

Our love had not died after all. We could not let it die. We had paid for it too dearly.

The days were growing shorter; the nights colder. The tracks of a herd led us south, and we found a fawn being devoured by two wolves; we killed one wolf with our arrows and frightened the other away. We would have to find a place to spend the winter, begin to think of shelter and provisions; yet, after we had dried what was left of the carcass, we were traveling east again. As long as we kept moving, there was still some hope of finding a safe place.

We came to hills where few trees grew, and here I saw the marks of the Destruction. Boulders and bits of rubble were the only signs of what had once been roadways; a bit of glass, lumps of fused metal, and piles of stone were all that was left of what might have been a dwelling or a town. We forded a stream and stumbled up a bank to another hill.

Arvil gestured at the slope. “We could stop here,” he said. “We would have water. We could make a shelter here—begin to set food by. We must think of these things now.”

I sighed. “We’ll find no one on this land.”

“Then at least we’ll be safe. Perhaps later, in the spring…” His voice trailed off.

I searched through the brush on the hillside. A piece of shapeless metal, another sign of ancient times, lay under a bush; I picked it up, wondering what it might have been, as I circled the hill. At the bottom of the slope, nearly covered by trailing vines and branches, was an opening. I approached and swept back a few vines, then gazed into the black space of a small cave.

“Arvil,” I called out. As he hastened toward me, I entered the cave and thrust out my hand. My fingers touched a metal wall. I pulled back more branches to allow light to enter.

I was looking into a small room. Overhead, a light panel had been set into the ceiling, but no light shone from it now. I walked inside and crossed to the far wall, where stones and dirt lay against a door, then pressed my hand to the wall. The door did not open; I had not expected it to move. I suddenly knew where I was.

“What is this place?” Arvil asked behind me.

“It’s the entrance to a shelter.” My voice sounded hollow. “These shelters were where our world began. Men and women lived below, raised their children, tried to stay alive. Men were sent out first when the earth had started to heal. After a while, women saw that life might be better if they lived apart from men.”

“And there are no men and women here now?”

I shook my head. “They left long ago.” I waved a hand at the door. “There’s probably a lift on the other side of that door, but there’s no power to feed it now or to open the door so that we could go below. We would find very little anyway.”

He sat down next to me. I thought of the corridors underneath, the rooms where men and women had once lived, clinging to life together until the next struggle came, the one that had separated my kind from men forever. Ghosts seemed to haunt the room, and I thought of the bones that lay under the ground, the dust of men and women mingled in death.

I said, “We might be able to make a shelter here.”

“Something has led us here, Birana.” He stood up. “Perhaps it’s a sign, this place where life had to begin again, where men and women were once together.”

We searched the hills during the next few days but found no other entrances that might lead us to the corridors underneath. We returned to the room, dug a space for a fire just outside the entrance, and set rocks around it. We had seen no signs of men in that deserted land; there was no need to hide our dwelling from other eyes. A ship was unlikely to pass overhead; the cities had abandoned this land centuries before.

We went out hunting and had luck once more. A herd of wild cattle had begun to move south through the hills. We tracked them, searching for a weak one or a slow beast who could not keep up with the rest. We found a straggler, hurled our spears, and tracked it until we were able to bring it down.

We dragged it back to our shelter, knowing that now we would have enough to eat for some time. We swept out the room with branches, then laid out our smoked meat, herbs, plant foods, roots, some apples Arvil had found in a grove near the stream, and dried fish. Our weapons were laid neatly against the walls, along with two coats of fur, two cups we had carried from the camp, and Arvil’s healing herbs and roots. Our bed was made with the hides of the fawn and the wild cow, while our packs were our pillows.

In that dark room, safe from the autumn winds that often raged outside and from the cold rain lashing the land, I could forget what lay outside, could almost imagine that I had gone back into the past to a time when another man and another woman might have clung together.

 

 

We continued to forage and to hunt small game until winter dominated the land and a blanket of snow covered the hills. During that season, we kept near our shelter, leaving it only to gather wood or collect snow to melt for water. Arvil found a large rock shaped like a bowl and insisted on dragging it back to our room; into the bowl, we could pour water, wait for it to warm, and then bathe.

“You are my true friend,” Arvil often said to me. “You are more to me than anyone else has been.” For the first time, we could share our love without desperation, without the fear of being discovered. I had thought we knew all the ways we could give each other pleasure; now we found ways to prolong and heighten it.

We were at peace, and yet as the winter wore on, some of our contentment started to fade. Arvil was often silent; at other times, he would speak of those he had known, as if wishing for new companions. He grew more insistent during the time he lay with me, as though this pleasure had to make up for all he had lost. Sometimes I could not respond, and Arvil would withdraw from me for a few days, refusing to touch me until I came to him. I was all he had and worried that I might not be enough for him. When the weather allowed, I found excuses to leave the shelter—to look for mint, to search out small game—refusing to admit the true reason to myself, that I needed time away from him.

 

 

Spring came late that year. I knew it was upon us not just because of the warmer days, or the tiny green leaves that showed where carrots and other roots were growing, or the sound of birds, but also because of Arvil’s restlessness. We roamed farther from the shelter to look for food; we strengthened our bodies and practiced with our spears, arrows, and slings. Arvil’s eyes were often on the horizon, searching; I knew he longed for companions, for men to hunt with and boys to teach. Often, I felt in the evening that our room was closing around us, imprisoning us.

Nallei occupied my thoughts as well. I missed her even more than I had earlier and wondered if I would ever hear a woman’s voice again.

I had expected to welcome the spring, to feel myself awaken as if from a long sleep, to grow more alert. Instead, as the weather warmed, my head ached when I awoke and there were days I had to force myself to rise. Foods I had eaten easily before grew distasteful; my efforts at cheerfulness grew increasingly false. Arvil noticed this but said nothing; he too seemed to be fighting a darker mood in himself.

 

 

I awoke. The air seemed oppressively warm; I had thrown off the hide covering me in the night. I sat up and pulled on the soft boots Arvil had made for me that winter.

He was awake, sitting by our rock, splashing water on his face as he cut at the beard he had grown during the winter with the sharp edge of his knife. “You’ve cut yourself,” I said.

He glanced at me. He had shaved nearly all of his beard away, but tiny cuts marked his face. “They will heal,” he muttered.

“You didn’t have to…”

“I did it for you. I know that you would have me without a beard, that my face is more pleasing to you this way.” He scowled. “I do little enough to please you now.”

I was about to reply when a wave of nausea flowed through me. I stumbled out of the shelter toward the trench he had dug for our wastes and felt my stomach heave.

He came to me and held my head as I vomited. “You’re ill!” he cried.

I gasped and wiped my mouth on my sleeve. “I’m all right now. This will pass.”

“You must rest.” He guided me into the room and made me lie down. “I will make a potion for you.”

My stomach had settled by the time he handed me a cup, but I drank the herbs anyway. “I wanted to explore the land to the east during the coming days,” he said, “but I cannot leave you if you’re ill.”

“I’m not ill.” I sat up. “Something I ate disagreed with me, that’s all. I can take care of myself while you’re gone. I’m sure my company’s grown quite tedious by now. You want some time alone, that’s why you want to explore.”

“It isn’t so.” He looked away as he spoke.

“It is so. I feel the same way. I’d welcome some time to myself.”

“I see.”

“There’s enough food here for me,” I said, “and all I’ll have to do is gather wood. I’ll be safe enough while you’re gone. I wish you would go. You obviously want to go.”

His face darkened. I picked up my spear and went outside, then hurled the weapon, pulled it from the ground, hurled it again and ran after it. Arvil watched for a while and then began to put some food and a waterskin into one of the packs.

He shouldered his quiver, picked up his bow and spear, and came outside. “You seem well enough now,” he said. “Perhaps you will miss me while I’m gone and welcome me when I return. You’ll have your time by yourself. I cannot seem to make you happy when I am here.”

“Farewell,” I said as I hurled the spear again. He walked away and soon disappeared among the hills.

I was suddenly dizzy. Swallowing hard, I grabbed my spear and leaned against it as I went back to the shelter. I rummaged through my belongings until I found a small piece of hide. I had marked the days of my cycle on this hide with a piece of rock. I counted, then counted again; I had not bled when I should have. I had refused to see this before. The hide fell from my hand.

A child was growing inside me; I was sure of that now. Perhaps it had started during a night when Arvil had taken me without seeming to care about my response; I had lain there passively, too tired to resist and provoke another argument. Maybe it had happened during another night when I had sat astride him as he entered and had felt warmth and pleasure as I had not for some time. I could not know. We had lain together so many times; I had felt myself safe.

I thought of what Nallei had done, what I might have to do. Arvil’s pouches of herbs were in front of me. A poisonous potion might rid me of the child; the risk to me would be no greater than the one I faced if I did nothing. A stick could be sharpened; some datura might dull the pain. Arvil would never have to know. I could lie, invent an illness I had endured while he was away. Nallei had done this thing and had survived.

I would have to summon all of my courage now. My hand reached for one of the sticks in our pile of wood; I took out a stone and began to sharpen a point.