Feather (17 page)

You and Feather are going to warn her people. I will leave you here tonight under guard. We will make the raid without you. Come.”

He gestured with the torch toward the campsite, but Tag shook his head.

“You defy me?” Lex shook his head in disbelief.

“You should have brought all your warriors to take me back,” Tag said.

Feather wondered at his bravery, but she did not see how Tag could win the standoff.

“Oh, you think I can’t handle you alone?” Lex sneered. His wild eyes reflected the blazing torch light, and Feather began to shake.

“I will not go back,” Tag continued, louder, and Feather stared at him.

A quick movement behind her and Lex startled her, and she jumped toward Tag as Lex grunted and sank to the ground.

In the dusk Denna stood wide-eyed, staring down at Lex. She opened her hand and let fall a stick of firewood.

“I thought you’d never make your move,” Tag said. He reached to take Feather’s hand in his. “Thank you, Denna. I don’t know why you did it, but we must go. Quickly.”

“Wait! I’m going with you!”

Feather stared at Denna. “We can’t—”

Tag hesitated, then bent over Lex. “He’s breathing.”

Feather exhaled. “I’m glad.”

“Yes, but when he wakes up, he is going to be furious. Denna—”

“If I stay here, he’ll kill me,” Denna pleaded.

Tag shrugged and pulled Feather along beside him. “Come, then. We must hurry.”

“What about Patch?” Feather asked.

“I am hoping he is clever enough to follow my scent.”

They stumbled through the grove and came out on a hillside. “Up this slope,” Tag said. “Lex said he found you on the other side of the hill.” Now do you recognize anything?” Tag asked an hour later.

Feather looked all around, fighting back the terror that threatened her sanity. “I . . . No! It’s too dark, and I only left the valley a few times.” Tag sniffed the breeze. “No smoke.”

A sudden chill shook Feather. What if her people were no longer in the valley? What if they had been scattered . . . or killed? What if her brother was gone, and she never found a trace of him and the others?

A sudden swish sent prickles down her spine. Before she could turn, Tag cried out, “Patch!” He laughed as the panther bowled him over and wrestled with him in the long grass.

At last he sat still and let the cat lick his face. “Good Patch! Brilliant Patch!”

“Are you . . . sure he’s safe?” Denna asked.

“With me he is.” Tag rose. “Come on. We must be nearly there.”

“Tag,” Feather asked, “what if we find the village, and my people are . . . gone?”

He was silent a moment. “Then we will begin a new tribe. The Panther People. And no one can join us who steals and bullies people.”

They walked onward down a slope until the ground slanted gradually upward again. Feather stopped walking.

“Tag.”

He and Patch were a few paces ahead. He turned toward her but continued walking backward. “What?”

“This . . . this may be it. Those rocks over there . . .”

“Halt!” A voice rang out in the darkness, and Denna screamed.

"Come no closer,” called a voice Feather did not recognize.

It was not one of the Blens, she was sure. The accent was smooth and the words clear. But neither was it the voice of one the Wobans.

“We are peaceful people,” she cried, hating the way her voice trembled.

“Feather?” This time she recognized the incredulous voice.

“Neal!” She ran forward and flung herself into the arms of the Woban warrior.

A second man stepped forward. “I will run ahead and tell the others.”

“Sam, this is our Feather,” Neal said.

The man laughed. “So I gathered. Feather, I am pleased to make your acquaintance. I shall greet you again later.” He hurried off into the night.

“Who is he?” Feather asked.

“A new friend. A member of the tribe now.” Neal suddenly caught his breath. “Don’t move.”

“There’s a wolf right behind you. No, a . . . a cougar.”

Feather laughed. “Relax. He is a friend.”

Feather’s heart pounded as she led Tag and Denna down the steep path to the Woban village. Patch drifted along at Tag’s heels, noiseless.

When she reached the bottom of the path she realized several people were coming toward her.

“Feather!” Her brother’s whisper was full of joy. She hugged him tight.

“Karsh, I’m so glad to be here,” she sobbed.

He clung to her, breathing in quick gasps. At last she pulled away.

Hunter stepped up. “We need to talk to Feather and her friends. They can give us information that might make a big difference in the outcome of this night.”

“We’ll have time together later,” Feather promised her brother, and she followed Hunter into the lodge, answering the glad greetings of the other men she passed.

Alomar was waiting for her inside the building. “My dear, we are so thrilled to have you back,” the elder said. He smiled down at her, his light blue eyes glimmering in the lantern light. “Are you sure we can trust these newcomers?” He looked at Tag and Denna, who stood uncertainly between Hunter and Rand, blinking and looking around. Patch sat on his haunches beside Tag, licking the fur on his shoulder.

“Yes, oh, yes, dear elder,” Feather said, standing on tiptoe to kiss the old man’s cheek. “Tag is the staunchest friend there ever was, and Denna risked her life to aid us. They can both fight, and they will do so to defend the Wobans. The panther too. So long as Tag commands him, he will obey. But he is afraid of fire,” she added.

Alomar sighed. “Good, good. But you and the young lady must go to the tree houses.”

“No,” Feather said firmly. “Denna and I have lived a life that has hardened us. We wish to fight for our freedom, and we are capable.”

Slowly Alomar nodded as Shea came to join them. “All right then, we have some extra warriors. We have this man, Clyde, as well, who brought his family to us two days ago. He it was who gave us the first warning of the Blens. And there is Sam, the teacher, who came to us late in the fall. So perhaps . . .”

“Perhaps we have a chance,” Shea said.

“Yes,” said Alomar. “With all these people and our new weapons . . .”

“New weapons?” Feather stared at him.

Hunter laughed. “We are a clever people, Feather. You shall see the wonders of Woban Valley soon. But first, you and your friends must have food, and we will give you weapons. I see Tag is well armed, but if you and Denna plan to join the fray . . .”

He hurried away, and Karsh came to pull Feather toward the food cupboard. “Here, eat some corn and meat.”

Feather sat down and ate the dry food. Tag and Denna sat near her on the benches, and Patch lay on the floor, chewing a strip of meat.

Karsh brought them a water skin to share. “We have to eat cold meals,” he said.

Feather looked toward the empty fireplace. No smoke, she remembered. But something else was missing.

“Karsh, did you find Snap?” she asked, almost afraid to hear his answer.

His eyes shone. “Yes. He’s out in the forest with Bobo and the boys.”

“You mean . . . he’s alive?”

“Yes, silly. Otherwise we wouldn’t have kept him.”

She laughed. For all his newfound maturity, Karsh was still very much a boy.

Sam entered the lodge at that moment. “Douse the light. Jem says take your places and be still.”

Tag clutched Feather’s sleeve. “That’s . . . that’s Sam.”

“Yes, so I’m told.”

Tag stared at the door, but Sam had gone back out, as quickly as he entered, closing it behind him.

“But . . . don’t you see? He was my teacher.”

“You mean, Sam is from your village?”

“Yes! Yes! My town in Pretlea.” Tag grinned and stood up, still looking toward the door. “Perhaps he can take me back to my family!”

Feather looked at Karsh, but her brother did not seem to share their excitement.

“What is it?” she asked.

Karsh shook his head. “When Sam came to us . . .” He turned and ran out the door.

Tag looked at her bleakly. “He knows something.”

The door opened and Sam came in with Karsh at his heels. He looked toward them and made straight for Tag. A pace away, he stopped and stared at the boy.

“Penzander?”

Tag’s eyes were riveted to the teacher’s face. “It’s me. But I am called Tag now.”

Sam closed his eyes, then opened them. “I didn’t recognize you out there in the dark.”

“Nor I you. But I’m glad to see you. I’ve not seen any Pretleans in three years, since the Blens raided our farm. I kept hoping the leader would take us back there, but he never went so far west again.”

Sam nodded and said hesitantly, “We must talk later. There is no time now.”

Tag swallowed. “But my family! How long since you left Pretlea? Do you know if my family is safe?”

Sam looked down and shook his head. “I am here because our town no longer exists. Your family was killed the night the Blens took you and Arnolf. Two years later, a horde came in ships and destroyed the town. There may be a few others who escaped, but I have not met them. I traveled east all alone for many months until I found this place last fall, and the Wobans took me in. I’m sorry I do not have better news for you, Penzander.”

“You are certain about my people? My parents . . . my sisters?”

Sam nodded. “I’m afraid they are all dead. I wish I could tell you otherwise.”

Tag’s shoulders slumped, and Feather put her hand to his shoulder.

“What of Arnolf?” Sam asked. “He is not with you.”

Tag shook his head. “He . . . he is also lost. I will tell you sometime.”

Sam nodded. “So be it. We must take our places now.”

Tag nodded, and Sam went out.

Hunter led the young people outside and down the slope a short way toward the mouth of the valley. He placed Denna with Karsh and Rand at one of the catapults, then took Tag and Feather to the other.

“These are new weapons. We have practiced with them, and . . . well, we found it good sport. But we hoped we’d never have to use them in a real battle. Just sit here with your bows and knives handy. Hardy will man this machine, and he can explain to you how it works. Don’t touch anything until he gets here.”

“All right.” Feather reached out and touched Tag’s arm as Hunter hurried away. “Sit, Tag.”

They settled near the huge machine, and Patch paced back and forth before them.

They did not speak. After a minute, Feather pointed toward the western ridge. “Look! The moon is rising, finally.” She shook her fist at it. “We could have used your help earlier!”

Tag’s shoulder shook, and she knew he was crying. She put her arms around him.

“I thought I’d given up hope,” Tag whispered, “but now I can see that I hadn’t.”

“I’m so sorry,” Feather said. “We will be your family now.”

His hand closed over hers, and they cried together.

The cat snarled, and the man stopped in his tracks.

“Hardy?”

“Feather! You scared me. Muzzle that cat or something.”

“Here, Patch,” Tag said, and the panther went to him. Feather and Tag stood.

“Tell us what to do,” Tag said, and Feather was glad for his sake that his voice was nearly steady.

“They’re coming up the valley, down there, the way most people come in.”

“Not over the ridge?” Feather asked.

“No, but we have a couple of men up there too. We’ve aimed this thing at the trail, but we have to fire it when they’re in exactly the right spot. Now, when I release it, it swings around, so you’ll have to stand back. Then, when it stops, you can help me winch it down and load it again.” 

“What do we load it with?” Tag asked.

“Rocks. I’ve got a stockpile right here. We fill the basket with them.”

“Good,” Feather said. “And, Hardy?”

“What?”

“We have a secret weapon too.”

“What is it?”

“The cat.”

Hardy laughed, then went silent. “You aren’t joking.” 

“No. He obeys Tag better than a dog would.”

“You mean . . .”

Tag said, “If an enemy goes for me, Patch will protect me. And I’ve never tested him, but I think he would attack anyone I told him to.”

Hardy whistled softly. “What does he eat? I mean, we have goats and . . .”

“He hunts game,” Tag said. “I think I can make him understand your livestock is off limits. I’ll try.”

“That’s good.” Hardy sounded doubtful.

“He’s very helpful in peacetime too,” Feather said.

“He’ll hunt for us. He’s an excellent stalker.”

Patch sat at Tag’s feet, swishing his tail back and forth. A little sound like a gulp came from Hardy’s throat, and Tag grinned.

Through the darkness came a faint whistle, repeated louder and louder across the valley. Hardy responded with the same sharp call.

“That’s it,” he said. “They’re coming.”

Tag handed Feather an arrow, and she nocked it on the string of the bow Hunter had given her.

My arrows,
she thought.
For my people.

A deep rumble came from the lower end of the valley. “What’s that?” Feather asked.

“A rock slide. We set it up at that narrow place in the trail. You know, where it runs beneath the cliff. Sam and Neal are up there.”

A scream tore the air, and Feather stiffened. “Stand back,” Hardy warned. “They’re almost at my target spot.” There was a moment’s silence, then he jerked the trip rope, and the long arm of the catapult swung up, while the counterweights fell.

A cluster of Blen warriors made it past the target areas on the trail and rushed toward the village. The Wobans, with Denna, Tag, and Clyde swelling their numbers, rushed out to shoot arrows and hurl rocks at them.

The enemy scattered and took cover. They were too close to be in danger from the catapults, and after using all his arrows Karsh began rapidly firing stones at them with his sling. His heart raced, and he moved as fast as he could: load, swing, fire; load, swing, fire.

“Be sure of your target,” came Rand’s deep, steady voice, and Karsh took a deep breath and broke his rhythm. He wouldn’t want to hit one of his own people by mistake.

Denna kept up a constant volley of rocks as well.
Throws like a girl,
Karsh thought, but he couldn’t help but admire her spirit
.

Rand, the maker of bows and arrows for the tribe, had begun the evening with nearly a hundred straight, lethal arrows. He stood, feet apart, firing and then nocking the next. When he glimpsed movement, he drew back the string, then waited until his quarry showed itself, and loosed the missile. Karsh had tried to pull Rand’s bow once, but it was far too powerful for him. Rand had stopped going out with the hunters because of his age and sore joints, but tonight he seemed a different man. He was a warrior again, as he had been in youth. Surely tonight his joints and muscles were screaming with pain and fatigue, yet he stayed in the battle.

“Bring my quiver,” the older man said quietly. He bent low and darted toward the outdoor table. Karsh picked up the big elk-hide quiver and followed.

“You stay down,” Rand said. “Use the table as cover and hand me the arrows, one at a time.” He stood hunched over the table, his eyes searching for a target. Suddenly he straightened and brought his bow up, firing it so quickly that Karsh could barely follow his movements. Karsh held another arrow up, and Rand plucked it from his hand.

In the confusion, Hardy left Tag and Feather in the moon shadow of the catapult. They hadn’t bothered to winch it down after their second load was fired, and the arm stood tall above them, higher than the lodge roof.

Feather waited nervously. She wanted to help, but she was afraid. Was she foolish to insist on taking part in the battle? She had no training in combat, other than the archery practice she had taken in the past few months to test her arrows. Perhaps a willing heart was not enough.

There was a clash of metal on metal not far away, and she could hear the grunts and panting of two men who struggled.

A dark form tore past them, and Feather recognized the flowing white of Alomar’s hair and beard. Blens did not survive to wear the badge of great age.

“The old man fights?” Tag whispered in wonder. “They say he was immensely strong in his youth,” Feather replied, but she was suddenly fearful for the elder.

“Hardy!” the old man’s voice came, and a moment later there was a flurry of activity and struggle.

Feather held her breath until she heard Hardy gasp, “This one’s yours, sir.”

“There’s a pack of them down by the stream,” Alomar said, catching his breath. “They need you.”

“Patch, stay with Feather,” Tag said suddenly.

“Where are you going?” Feather asked, although she knew he had heard the elder’s words as well.

“I need to go where the fighting is.”

Don’t go,
she wanted to cry, but she knew she mustn’t hold him back. She had no right, and it was what he must do to show himself a worthy warrior for his new tribe.

The panther made a deep burbling sound in his throat, but Tag stooped and said sternly, “Guard Feather.” He stood and told Feather, “Put your hand on his head.”

Feather reached out and fondled the cat’s broad forehead, then scratched behind his ears.

“Now, stay,” Tag said, “both of you,” and disappeared into the shadows.

Feather gulped and clutched the hilt of her knife. Should she hold her bow ready? She wasn’t sure she could tell Blens from Wobans in the moonlight.

The sounds of fighting were farther away and scattered now, and she wondered where Denna was.

The cat stiffened and tensed, and Feather stared in the direction he was looking. A massive figure came across the clearing, making for the catapult. The man moved stealthily, and a chill went through her as he looked up in wonder at the throwing arm of the siege engine.

Lex!