Climate of Change (20 page)

“Don't get close to it!” Keeper cried.

But she was already in motion. “Go, go, go!” she screamed, waving her arms.

But this time the beast did not spook away from the noise. It had been injured several times, and was in a frenzy. It oriented on her and charged.

Keeper's vision became preternaturally clear. There was the woman. There was the mammoth, twice her height and enormously more massive. Its whitish tusks were coming at her like twin twisted spears.

He loosed. The arrow struck just below the right eye and lodged in loose flesh. The mammoth tossed its head as if flinging the nuisance away, and continued its charge.

Keeper snatched up another arrow. He had time for only one more shot before the monster trampled the woman.

He drew and aimed, but the target wasn't right; even a perfect shot would glance off the bone of the eye ridge. He held his fire, cursing.

Crenelle, realizing that it wasn't working, stopped. She tried to turn to flee, but wasn't going to make it in time.

Then the head turned slightly, bringing the eye into line. Keeper loosed the arrow before he knew it.

Suddenly the arrow was in the mammoth's eye, embedded deeply, penetrating to the brain. The creature's knees buckled and it tumbled to the ground, just short of the woman. It struggled a moment, its tusks tearing up turf. Then it relaxed.

“It's dead!” Crenelle cried. “You got it!”

“Great shot, brother!” Hero called as he ran up.

Keeper felt weak and shuddery. It was the best shot he had ever made, and he doubted that he could have done it again. Superior skill had come to him in his moment of most desperate need. Because otherwise the woman he loved would have been killed.

Crenelle came to him. She embraced him and kissed him. “You saved me,” she said. “And you have won whatever you wish from me. You killed the mammoth.”

Keeper remained in a numb state. He knew she would marry him, without rape, if he asked her now. But he knew that wouldn't be perfect. So he went for his second ambition. “Come with me, to explore the ice,” he said. “To go to the other side.”

She looked at him. “I thought you would say something else.”

“I don't think you want something else.”

“But to demand of me what I don't want to give—that's rape.”

He saw her rationale. “But I'm not a rapist.”

She sighed. “Indeed you are not. Then I will go exploring with you.”

“We'll all go,” Hero said. “As soon as we butcher this animal and store the meat. We won't need to hunt again for months. We can take time to explore.”

Crenelle hesitated. “I think he wanted to travel alone with me.”

Craft arrived. “You can't go into the ice alone. You'd die. It has to be an organized excursion.”

She nodded. “He's right, Keeper. But if you want to ask something else—”

Keeper found his voice. “No, that's good. I'm glad to have us all go. It will be safer and better.”

She shrugged. “Maybe something good will come of it.”

All of them were now standing around the fallen mammoth. Craft began organizing the butchery, which was no simple task.

Several days later they set out on the exploration. All seven of them were going, using three boats. Hero and Crenelle shared Keeper's boat, while Harbinger and Rebel were in another, and Craft and Haven in the third. Each craft carried a ballast of supplies: piled fur cloaks, sections of roasted mammoth meat, spare spears and arrows, and enough dry sedge twists to start a fire. Just in case they didn't get beyond the ice. Because they knew this could be as much of a challenge as killing a mammoth.

There was also one dog riding in each boat. The dogs had been nervous about this at first, but when they realized that all the people were going, they didn't want to be left behind. Whitepaw was hunched by Crenelle's feet, in the center.

Keeper was thrilled to have their support, and to be undertaking the exploration at last. He wanted desperately to marry Crenelle, but this was his second desire, and to have her participating made it almost as good. And perhaps he would still find a way to win her.

They paddled along the wall of ice as it descended into the sea. The ice did not like yielding to the water, but the sea was so deep that there was no alternative. There were gouges in the wall where the waves had eaten it out.

When the ice submerged, they paddled on into its territory, following the wintry shoreline east. The ice rose up in a shining cliff that leveled off high above. So they had not gotten around the wall; they had merely followed it around a turn. They still didn't know what was behind it.

There was a commotion in the water. Keeper watched closely, and was able to see what it was: seals. Seals were swimming near the wall, catching fish. There were also gulls flying low, inspecting the waves for something worth catching. Whitepaw was interested; she was losing her concern about the deep water and was sniffing the breeze.

The ice wall was interminable, seeming to have no end. But then it curved north. It was, however, no end; another wall came in from the east. The walls did not meet; they moved north parallel to each other.

“A river!” Keeper exclaimed. “This is a river, flowing into the sea. The ice walls follow its shore.”

“It must flow from land,” Crenelle said. “Maybe we should follow it to find that land.”

Keeper was pleased to agree. The ice seemed determined to wall off the entire sea, but the river might rise above it, and they might reach the land beyond by following it.

They paddled up the river. Soon it narrowed, with the walls of ice closing in. There was more of a current, so they had to paddle harder to make progress.

The walls on either side came closer, until there seemed hardly to be room for the river. They leaned out over the water. Then they touched, forming a tall cave with the river in the bottom. Keeper was not the only one who stared, finding this fascinating. Ice covering over a river, not by freezing its surface, but by arching above it.

Still, the river had to flow from somewhere. So they continued to follow it, entering its huge cave. The wind died down, and the surface of the water became calm. This, too, was strange; the sea was always restless, with waves constantly going somewhere. This river was relaxed.

The arched ceiling thickened, cutting off more of the light from above. But some still came through, making the ceiling seem to glow.
They had reed torches, but those were for emergency use. If it got too dark, they would have to turn back. That would be too bad; Keeper was enchanted, and wanted to follow this quiet river to its source.

Whitepaw woofed. They looked where she was looking, and saw a seal swimming past the boat. It went to the edge, where the ice wall rose, and climbed out onto land.

Land?

They steered the boat there. Sure enough, there was a sliver of land. The ice had retreated just enough to expose some of the river's natural bank. This was the first actual land they had seen since rounding the sea corner.

The seal was gone, but it had done them its favor by showing them the land. They paddled up along it, and saw an opening in the ice. A trickle of water flowed from it. A tributary stream, making its own cave in the monstrous mass of ice.

Whitepaw sniffed the air, then scrambled to get out of the boat. “No!” Keeper said sharply, and the dog paused.

“Don't be silly,” Crenelle said. “Do you want her to poop in the boat?”

Oh. “But she might get lost,” Hero said.

“Then I'll go with her. I have to poop too.”

This was a detail Keeper hadn't thought of. How could they spend days in the boats, caught between ice and water, without any trench to bury their dung? So he kept his mouth shut as dog and woman climbed from the boat and disappeared into the tributary cave.

Soon Crenelle returned. “This is interesting,” she said. “You'll want to see, Keeper.”

So he climbed out, leaving the boat to Hero, and followed her into the little cave. “This winds around like a regular cave,” Crenelle said. “Only it's all ice. And Whitepaw smells a breeze.”

“That means it connects to the surface,” Keeper said.

“Yes. So maybe we don't have to follow the big river all the way up. Maybe this little one will take us to the other side of the wall.” She followed the dog into the farther reaches of the cave.

Keeper, excited, returned to let Hero know. “Maybe it leads out,” he said. “We'll check.”

Hero nodded. The other two boats were pulling up to join him. They could all uncramp here for a while.

Keeper turned and went back after Crenelle. There was no question of losing track of her; there was only the one winding cave.

He walked along it, setting his feet on the narrow banks beside the trickle flow. At spots the cave became tight, as the sculptured ice closed in from the sides, but then it opened out again. He was exhilarated; this was exactly the kind of exploration he had craved, without knowing the precise form it would take. A cave of ice!

He squeezed through another bind, and came to Crenelle and the dog. “This is as far as I can go,” the woman said. “Whitepaw can go farther, but I'm afraid to let her. If she fell in a freezing hole, how could we rescue her?”

Keeper nodded. “I love this, but we mustn't take bad risks.”

She didn't move. She just stood there, leaning against the ice, gazing at him.

Oh. She could not get out until he did, clearing the way. The passage was now too narrow for anything but single file. He began to back out.

“You could ravish me here, and I would not be able to escape,” she remarked. “No one would hear my screams.”

He paused, startled by her thought. “Whitepaw would protect you.”

“Not from you.”

He wasn't entirely sure of that; she had befriended the dog with the same energy she befriended men. But it didn't matter, for he would never attack her. “You will never be in danger from me.”

“You could pin me against the ice and wedge my legs apart.”

She was so suggestive! Merely arguing the case got him sexually excited. “I couldn't get past your thick clothing.” For she wore stout fur leggings under her cloak, as they all did, and a warm loinskin. It was all protection from the cold, as were her gloves, hood, and foot bindings, but effective against other kinds of intrusions too.

“Yes you could. Come here.”

Bemused, he reversed course again and approached her. There was just room for them, both standing, their fronts touching, with the dog in the smaller continuation of the cave.

She opened his cloak, and her own. She adjusted her loinskin. “Bring it out.”

She really was ready to do it! The air was cold, but their merging cloaks provided warmth between them. He drew his own loinskin aside, freeing his erect member.

She took it and guided it. Sure enough, she had made an access there. He felt the warmth of her groin.

“Are you sure you don't want to do this by force?” she inquired.

“I wish I could.”

She guided him farther, and adjusted her body to accommodate him. “One day I will lead you to this point, then deny you. Then you will be unable to stop yourself.”

“But don't you see,” he said, frantic with desire for her. “To make me do that would be to violate my belief. I would be—be less of a man.”

“I do see,” she said. “That's why I haven't made you do it. But maybe someday, maybe as a seeming game, you will be able to.” Then she moved onto him, taking him inside her.

“Oh, Crenelle,” he breathed as his body plunged deep into that ecstatic warmth. “I love you.”

“All three of you love me. But I can marry only one, unfortunately.”

And that one could be him—if only he could make himself take her by force, one time. And he could not.

He realized that he had told her that he loved her, but she had not spoken love in return. She had expressed interest in all three brothers. She was honest about that: she would marry the one who raped her, and surely be true to him thereafter. Within that framework, she was taking turns with them, trying to achieve that rape. She had given him several chances, and he had failed each time.

It was such a stupid thing to bar his prospective lifetime of happiness with her. All he had to do was take her without her given permission, one time.

“Why do I suspect that your mind is elsewhere?” she inquired.

It was time to disengage. “I want so much to do. . . what you want. I wish I had done it this time.”

“When this trip ends, and we return to the plain, your turn will be over.”

“I know it,” he said, ashamed.

She kissed him. “I do like you, Keeper. You saved me from getting trampled by the mammoth. But you must win me.” She drew back, and they came apart, that small necessary amount.

They put themselves back together, and then made their way back through the winding tunnel to the main river. Whitepaw scrambled past them and went ahead to let the others know.