West of Eden

“Do that.” Vaintè’s crest was erect, vibrating. “I think that Kerrick is out there. Only he would have the temerity to come this close to Alpèasak, to bring other ustuzou with him. Kill him for me, Stallan. Bring back his hide. Pin it with thorns to this wall where we can watch it dry.”

“Your wish is my wish, Vaintè. I want this death just as you do.”

“This is the last of the smoked meat,” Kerrick said, using a twig to clear the maggots from the hard lump. “A few of the hunters have ekkotaz left, not very much though.”

Herilak chewed firmly on his leathery fragment of meat, maggots and all. “There is game closer to the city. We’ll have fresh meat then.”

Even here, in the shade of the pine trees, the air was close and hot. Flies buzzed about their heads, landed in the corners of their eyes. It had been a long march, and a tiring one. Yet weary as the hunters were, there were no complaints. Only a few of them were visible beneath the trees, the rest out of sight. But Kerrick knew they were there in the forest, tough and ready. His only fear was that he was leading them to their certain deaths. He had this morbid thought more often now, the closer they came to the city.

“We march,” Herilak said, climbing to his feet and slinging his bow over his shoulder where it rested against the hèsotsan in its carrying bag. The big hunter felt more secure with his spear in his hand when they walked.

Kerrick signaled to the nearest hunter who passed on the order. The march began again with Herilak leading as he always did. They followed him across the rolling, brush-covered plain, then along the edge of a tree-hung swamp where stinging insects rose up in swarms. The swamp had its outlet here, through a gorge between low hills. Herilak slowed, nostrils flaring, then signaled a halt. When the command had been passed he walked over and sat by Kerrick under the shade of a willow at the water’s edge.

“Did you see the birds ahead? They circled the trees, then flew away without roosting.”

“No, Herilak, I never noticed.”

“You must notice everything in the forest if you wish to remain alive. Now smell, breathe in deep. What do you smell?”

“Swamp.” Kerrick smiled, but Herilak’s face remained grim.

“I smell them ahead. Don’t turn to look. Murgu.”

Kerrick felt his heart beat wildly and it took an effort of will not to turn his head. “You are sure?”

“There is no doubt.”

“What do we do?”

“Kill them before they kill us. Stay here. Wait until I send word, then go slowly into the valley. Keep your death-stick ready.”

“Do I go in there alone?”

“No. The Sasku will be with you. The hunters will be with me. They know how to stalk.”

Herilak slipped silently back along the trail, spoke quickly to the hunter sitting there. They both vanished among the trees. Soon after that Sanone appeared leading his spear-armed Sasku.

“What is happening?” he asked. “Herilak signaled us forward speaking your name. Where have he and the hunters gone?”

“Keep spread out along the trail,” Kerrick called out. “Don’t bunch up.” Then in a lower voice he told Sanone what was happening. The mandukto was not happy.

“Are we bait for a trap then? When we have been killed will their deaths be our vengeance?”

“I think that we can trust Herilak to stalk them among the trees. He has done it before.”

They waited in silence, looking around at the dark wall of the jungle that concealed unknown dangers. Something moved and Kerrick raised his weapon before he realized that it was one of Herilak’s hunters. The hunter waved them forward before vanishing among the trees again.

Kerrick led the way, trying to ignore the fear that gripped them all. The dark gorge looked menacing; an army of Yilanè might be concealed there. Weapons ready, aimed, about to fire… He took step after slow step, clutching the hèsotsan so hard that he felt it stir in his grip.

There was a sudden scream of pain from among the trees, then another, followed instantly by the sharp crackling fire of hèsotsan. Kerrick hesitated, should they go forward? What was happening in the gorge? He waved the Sasku down, ordered them to seek cover and keep their weapons ready.

There was the sound of breaking brush, ru

A Yilanè! He aimed, fired, missed when the dart was deflected by a bush. The Yilanè turned and looked at him.

Time stopped. He was close enough to see the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she fought for breath, the wide-gaping mouth and rows of teeth. To look into her face and recognize her. There was recognition in her eyes as well, a change in posture that revealed naked hatred.

The moment ended as one of the Sasku spears slammed into a tree at her side. She dived sideways and vanished between the trees before Kerrick could aim his weapon and shoot again.

“Stallan!” he cried, “It is Stallan!”

He crashed wildly after her, heard the Sasku following him, but stopped again when he saw how thick the undergrowth was. He would never find her in there — though she might find him. He went back to the game trail just as Herilak came trotting up. Soaking in sweat, but smiling and shaking his spear victoriously.

“We hit them from behind, stupid murgu. They lay in hiding and never stirred until we reached them. All are dead.”

“All but one. The leader, Stallan. I shot and missed.”

“That happens. It does not matter. They know we are here but there is little that they can do about it. But we are warned now and they won’t get that close a second time.”

“What do we do?”

“Take their death-sticks. Go forward. I think that the battle for this city has begun.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Vaintè was conferring with Malsas‹ over details of the pla

“Disaster, Eistaa. All dead. I alone have returned.”

“I do not understand. Dead, how?”

Stallan raised her head and her back straightened with anger. “I set a trap. We were to kill the ustuzou when they came close. But they are animals, I should have known better. They came behind us and we were not even aware that they were there. Every hunter and fargi, killed. I fled. If I had stayed to fight I would be dead. You would not know what happened. I have told you. Now I die for I am shamed. You have only to speak the words, Eistaa…”

“No!” Vaintè called out as loudly as she could, angry and demanding, the negation rude in its intensity. Stallan gaped, alarmed, her death request forgotten for the moment. Even Malsas‹ reacted only with shock at this interruption. Vaintè spoke quickly then, before surprise turned to anger.

“I mean no insult, Eistaa. I spoke as I did only to save the life of Stallan. Do not command her to die. She is too loyal to the city, the city must be loyal to her. I ordered her to take her hunters and trap the ustuzou. If there is blame then the blame is mine. We need this brave fighter. The deaths were not her fault. We war with the ustuzou. Do not let her die for taking that war to them. I know I spoke in haste. I now await your judgement.”

Vaintè stood with lowered head. She had taken a terrible risk speaking out like this and might very well die herself for her temerity. But Stallan was too valuable to lose now. Stallan, the only Yilanè who had greeted her when she was the outcast within this city.