Tsuga's Children (21 page)

When the sweet air came again into his lungs, all was quiet except for a low, musical sound that softly repeated itself over and over. He raised his head and looked cautiously around him. The sounds came from Runa and Arel, who sat cross-legged on each side of Amu, their heads nodding together, almost touching as they hummed and moaned.

Lado’s arrow, now broken and pulled from Amu’s chest, lay beside them, its shaft smeared lightly with Amu’s blood.

Nearby lay the third half-wolf, killed by Arn. Blood was bright everywhere on the snow and needles. Arn himself was sticky with it. The man transfixed above the hips by Runa’s first arrow lay slumped against a tree, his open eyes sightless, his bow caught beneath his leg. Lado lay near him on his back, his dead hands still seeming to try to pull Runa’s second arrow from his own neck. A trail of blood and footprints led away to the east and disappeared among the trees.

Arn looked all around this enclosed place within the forest, this forest room that had been so violent and was now so calm. The dead men were so still; they were like stone. His eyes seemed to see the point of every needle, the texture of the bark of every tree. But something was wrong even beyond the horror of the blood and the dead. Jen should be here for him to see and to speak to; he should hear her voice. She would be frightened.

Amu groaned; he was still alive. Air bubbled in a light red froth from the hole in his chest as Runa rebound it with a coarse woven cloth. Arn came nearer. Arel saw him and cried out in fear before she recognized who he was. Her face was paler than the skeins of snow that shaded the ground.

Amu’s eyes were open. His skin was a dull iron color, but his eyes were clear. “They have taken Jen,” he said. “I could only watch. She was alive.” Then he was out of breath. A fine rim of blood encircled his lips. He breathed several short, quick breaths, then wanted to say more. “Runa, your arrows made them fear Ahneeah in their hearts. They ran away.”

“Arn killed the half-wolf,” Runa said.

Amu’s dark eyes sought Arn’s, and he nodded, as if to say yes, good. He tried to speak again, but blood caught in his throat, so he used his hands to say that he would soon be dead and they must go on. The Chigai, even without Lado, might grow brave and return for them.

“I will not leave you,” Runa said.

They all knew that there was no other meaning in her mind or heart, so they said no more about it.

Arn thought of Jen, carried away by the Chigai. Maybe she was hurt, her small bones broken. The arm that had held him had been cruelly hard. He must follow their trail, at a distance. What else he might do he couldn’t think of; what could he do against them, or against the half-wolves who would surely get his scent? He looked off into the dim forest, where the snow sifted down through the branches of the pines, thinking,
Should I follow the Chigai? I am only a boy, but I have good eyes, a good knife, a good bow and nineteen arrows.

Then he thought he saw, off in the dimness where the corridors of the trees narrowed, a small figure dressed all in brown. Its arms were crossed. Some smooth, quick thing about the way it stood there, or had appeared there just at the moment he first saw it, told him that it was the old lady; it was Ahneeah. One of her arms unfolded from her breast and pointed to the east. Then she was gone, leaving only darkness and a mist of snow where she had stood. But had anyone stood there? In the swirls of snow were shadows, changing and fading, that even now suggested a small brown figure to him, but were in the next moment only snow and shadows.

Arn and Arel gathered wood so that Runa could make a fire to warm Amu, whose breath came in short, shivery gasps. Runa had made him a bed of pine needles covered with his sleeping-skin, then her own sleeping-skin over him to keep him as warm as possible, though he shivered badly whenever he awoke. The arrow had pierced his lung without having cut any of the major veins or arteries, so there was one chance in a thousand that he might live.

When Arn and Arel had gathered a large pile of dry pine branches, the only wood there was in that part of the forest, Arn said, “I must follow the Chigai and find Jen.”

Runa looked at him gravely, for a long time, before she nodded her head. She was a person who was hard to please, Arn knew. She would think and then give her judgement, and now she had judged that his course, though it might seem impossible, was the right one.

“Arel will go with you,” Runa said.

Arn could not understand that at all. He was fairly certain he would be scented by the half-wolves as he followed downwind.

“Arel knows where they will cross the river of the handeh, so you can make a circle and not be upwind. And she has the forbidden gift, which might help you.”

Arel gasped when her mother said this.

“I knew it when you were a baby, Arel, when birds spoke to you in your crib. And though you seem pale and weak, you are not weak.”

“I’ll help find Jen,” Arel said.

After they had eaten at midday, Arn and Arel left Runa and Amu and began a circuitous journey toward the northeast. Amu had awakened enough to take some hot soup and to say goodby to them. Arel was crying as they left, but quietly, to herself. Amu had thought they were going toward the western mountains and safety. Now she turned again and again to see the small camp in the forest grow smaller and then, after a hundred yards, disappear behind them.

All afternoon they made their circle, coming finally to what they hoped was the edge of the meadow not far from the winter camp. The snow had thinned; occasionally in an opening where a tall tree had fallen they had been able to perceive a faint shadow to tell them where the sun was, and their direction. They followed the edge of the meadow then, going directly east until they could see the hogans and drying racks of the winter camp. No smoke rose from the hogans, but they didn’t dare go near. They followed the river upstream until, just before dark, they found the crossing place—a series of stepping stones across a wide, shallow place in the river.

The stones were covered with unbroken snow; either the Chigai had not yet come to the crossing or they had crossed somewhere else. Darkness was falling quickly. Then Arn had a thought: Runa might have guessed that the Chigai would come back to finish what they had started, and that was why she had sent Arel with him. Amu could not be moved, and she would stay with him to meet whatever fate would come.

Although the fight in the forest had been confusing, Arn thought there had been three other Chigai beside Lado and the one Runa had killed. Then there was the one who had picked him up and whom he had stabbed deeply with his knife. That one would be sore. There were four of them left, one wounded; even so, they might have gone back.

But as darkness fell, shade by shade across the snow and the dark moving river, they heard voices coming from the forest. Quickly they went back on their tracks until they found some low junipers to hide in. Three large men came tramping out of the forest, all armed with bows, axes hanging from their belts. One carried a bundle over his shoulder which might have been Jen. They stopped on the riverbank, brushed away the snow and sat down. No half-wolves were with them. Arn and Arel could just hear their words.

“You
sure
Lado got him?” one said. He was the one with the bundle, which he had roughly dumped in the snow.

“Stop asking that, will you?” another said. “I saw the arrow hit him in the back. I even heard it hit. I saw him go down.”

“Lado was a good shot,” the third one said.

“Not as good as that woman.”

“Now it’s dark and well have to sleep in the snow; we shouldn’t have waited for Gort,” the third one said.

Then a fourth man came slowly along the trail, limping badly and using his bow as a crutch. He mumbled and cursed as he limped up to the others, one leg stiff and his pants dark and shiny with what looked, even in the dim light, like blood.

“Teach you to pick up strange little kids, Gort!” one of the others said, laughing.

“I just want to live long enough to get my hands on that kid again,” Gort said as he lowered himself to the ground with a moan of pain and anger. “I should have stayed long enough to finish him off.”

“Except the woman had you scared blue with that quick bow of hers.”

“Did you see her center Lado in the neck?”

“Listen,” the first Chigai said. “We’ll have to tell Mori we got both of them or he’ll flay us alive. He’ll hang our pelts on the hide stretchers. We’ll say we killed the other two kids, Amu and his woman, all right?”

“If he finds out, we’ll pay for it later.”

“Well, we got one live kid anyway.”

“And we lost three wolves, Lado and Tromo, and Gort’s all chewed up. If those people fight like that …”

“Shut up,” Gort said. “Just shut up and build a fire. I’ve got a chill. He stuck me deep.” Then Gort gave a hard low moan of pain that chilled Arn because he was responsible for such hurt.

But Jen was alive, and the Chigai had been told, evidently, to keep her alive.

The men went to the edge of the trees to gather wood for a fire, then brought their branches and sticks back to where another chopped and split them with his ax. Arn knew they must have crossed his and Arel’s tracks several times, but none of them took notice. They were not good hunters. The way they clumped and stumbled around, they seemed not to care about the earth beneath them and what it might tell them. They had lost all of their half-wolves, too, so they would have no sentries who could read the wind.

Soon a large fire was blazing on the riverbank. Arn saw that in order to keep it going, the men would be scouring wider for wood. He tapped Arel on the shoulder and motioned for her to follow. In the dark they went back down the river until they found a depression in the bank covered with a roof of junipers. From here they could just see the fire and the men’s shadowy forms as they crossed in front of it.

Once they settled into their little cavelike place and felt around them to see what room they had, they undid their packs and got out their sleeping-skins of wolf fur, then had something to eat—jerky and dried fruit, washed down with water from the river.

“We’ll wait until they go to sleep,” Arn said. “I’ll stay awake and you can sleep, Arel.” She was shivering, so he wrapped both their sleeping-skins around them. Arel’s arms slipped around him and her head lay against his chest. Her dark hair smelled of woodsmoke. As his hand smoothed her hair down into her collar he felt a surge of care and tenderness for this young girl who had so bravely agreed to leave her father and mother and come with him. Her arms squeezed him, as if to thank him for smoothing her hair, and soon she had stopped shivering and was asleep.

He woke, not remembering how he had fallen asleep. He had the heavy feeling in his eyes that meant much time had passed, though he didn’t know how much. He was no longer sitting up, but had fallen back against the sandy bank. Arel murmured in her sleep as he sat back up again; then she made a small whimper at an unhappy event in her dream.

“Arel,” he said softly. “Wake up.”

Her arms squeezed him and her head snuggled down, wanting more sleep. The clouds had thinned, he noticed, and a moon rode faintly behind them.

“Arel,” he said. “I think it’s near morning. Wake up.”

“What?” she said in a small voice that was submerged in the skins and the fur of his parka. “Yes,” she said, coming awake. “It’s Arn,” she said, as if she were talking to someone else. “Warm Arn.” Her dark eyes, now wide awake, looked up at him. He could just make them out, black in her face that was as pale as the moon.

“I’m going to see if they’re all asleep,” he said. “Maybe I can cut Jen loose.”

“I’ll come with you,” Arel said.

“No,” he said, thinking only that Arel was so small and pale.

“I have a knife, and I can run, too,” Arel said. “I can move without making any noise, and I came to help you and Jen.” Arn realized how little he wanted to approach the Chigai alone on this cold night. His feet were damp in his boots, and that small chill seemed to go all through him. “All right,” he said, “but let’s be slow and quiet. We’ve got to make sure they’re all asleep.”

They covered their packs and Arn’s bow and quiver with the sleeping-skins and crept out into the snow, going up the riverbank. The soft gurgling of the moving water would help mask whatever noises they did happen to make. The snow was still fluffy and quiet, but it hid stones and sticks that they might kick or step on. They tested each step with a tentative pressure before putting their full weight down.

The fire had embered but still threw enough heat to let the Chigai sleep. The four men lay around the fire on mattresses of evergreen boughs. Near one of the men was a bundle that might be Jen, so they made a circle around to that place, listening to the sleeping breaths, then crawled slowly up to the skin-covered bundle. Breath had frosted an opening at one end. In the diffused moonlight Arn could see the leather thongs that bound it. He put his mouth to the frosted breath hole and whispered, “Jen, is that you?”

The bundle moved convulsively and a soft sound came from it, a sob that was Jen’s.

“Don’t make any noise at all now,” Arn whispered. “I’m going to cut you loose.” His knife slit the thongs, from top to bottom, without a sound. Then, as he was trying to unroll the stiff skin in order to free Jen, there was a ragged, triumphant shout and big hands grabbed him and threw him over on his stomach.

“Did you think I could sleep with all the holes you put in me? I’ve got you now, you little rattlesnake, so enter the blackness!” It was Gort’s voice. One hand pressed Arn’s back, squashing him against Jen, while the other reached for ax or knife.

But then Gort gave a cry of pain and let him loose.
“Owl Another
one!” Gort yelled. He had Arel by the ankle and pulled her roughly into the pile made by Jen and Arn. “I’ll skewer the whole mess of em!” Gort yelled, his knife raised. But Arn still had his knife in hand, and he stabbed Gort just above the knee. The point of his knife stopped on bone. Gort howled. Before he could stab down with his long knife the other Chigai pulled him, screaming and bleeding from his new wounds, over onto his back.