West of Eden

“Which could mean that the murgu might be on their way now to attack us,” Herilak said, his voice cold as death.

Kerrick shook his head, his face grim. “Not may be — but must be. It is warm enough for them this far south even at this time of year. They have sought for us, and this creature has told them where we camp. They will seek vengeance, there is no doubt of that.”

“What do we do?” Har-Havola asked, glancing up at the star-filled sky. “Can we go north? It is not yet spring.”

“We may have to go, spring or no spring,” Kerrick said. “We will have to decide about that. In the meantime we must know if we are to be attacked. Hunters will go south along the riverbank, hunters who are the strongest ru

“Sigurnath and Peremandu,” Har-Havola said. “They are the fastest of foot in my sammad. They have run after deer in the mountains and they run as fast as the deer.”

“They leave at dawn,” Herilak said.

“There are some of my hunters who have not returned,” Sorli said. “They have traveled far and sleep away. We ca

Kerrick looked into the fire as though searching for an answer there. “I feel we should not wait any longer than that. We must go north as soon as your hunters return.”

“It is frozen still, there is no hunting,” Har-Havola protested.

“We have food,” Kerrick said. “We have our own meat and the meat in bladders that we took from the murgu. We can eat that and we can live. If we stay here they will fall upon us. I feel that, I know that.” He pointed to the dead owl and the living creature tight-clamped to its leg. “They watch. They know where we are. They come to kill us. I know them, know how they feel. If we stay we are dead.”

They slept little that night and Kerrick was there at the first light of dawn when Sigurnath and Peremandu set out.

Both of them were tall and strong, wearing birchbark leggings as protection against the underbrush.

“Leave your spears so they will not weigh you down,” Kerrick said. “Take dried meat and ekkotaz, but only enough for three days. You will not need the spears because you will not hunt. You are there to watch. You will have your bows, and you will take a hèsotsan as well for protection. As you go south always stay within sight of the river, even if it takes you longer that way. Go until it is dark and remain by the river at night. Return on the third day if we have not sent for you, for we will stay here no longer than that. Watch the river all of the time — but leave it at once if you see the murgu. If you see them you must get back here as quickly as you can.”

The two hunters ran. An easy and steady, ground-eating pace. The sky was overcast, the day cool, which made the ru

In midafternoon they came to a place where the river cut a great loop into the plain. They were on a rise above it and could see where the course of the river curved out, then back.

“It is shorter to cross the bend here,” Sigurnath said. Peremandu looked at it, then rubbed the perspiration from his face with the back of his hand.

“Shorter — but we will not be able to see the water. They could pass by and we would not know. We must stay by the river.”

As they looked south they became aware of a cloud on the horizon that billowed upwards. It grew while they watched, puzzled, for they had never seen a cloud like that before.

“What is it?” Sigurnath asked.

“Dust,” Peremandu said, for he was known for his keen sight. “A cloud of dust. Maybe the duck-bills, a large herd.”

“As long as we have hunted them I have never seen a thing like this. It is too big, too wide — and it grows.”

They watched as the cloud of dust came closer, until the animals could be seen ru

“They are murgu!” he cried in sudden horror. “Death-stick murgu. Run!”

They ran, back along the river bank, clearly visible in the knee-high grass. There were harsh cries behind them, the thunder of heavy feet and sudden sharp snapping sounds.

Sigurnath reared up, fell, and Peremandu had only a quick glimpse of the dart that sprouted suddenly from the back of his neck.

There was no escape on the plain. Sigurnath veered left, dirt crumbled from under his feet. He fell from the high bank, turned as he dropped, then hit the water far below.

The two great beasts slowed and stopped at the edge of the bank and their two Yilanè riders climbed down from their high saddles to look down at the muddy river. There was nothing visible. They stood, motionless, for a long time. Then the first one turned and led the way back to the tarakast.

“Report to Vaintè,” she said. “Tell her we have come upon two ustuzou. They are both dead. The rest of them will not know of our presence. We will fall upon them just as she has pla

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 ru

“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, ru

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.”