Children of the Dawnland (North America's Forgotten Past Series) (21 page)

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Authors: Kathleen O'Neal Gear,W. Michael Gear

BOOK: Children of the Dawnland (North America's Forgotten Past Series)
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T
WIG WOKE WITH a start when she felt herself being dragged over the icy floor. “Greyhawk?”
“Twig! Oh, thank the Spirits, you’re awake!” Greyhawk gently lowered her to the floor again and crouched at her side. “I thought you were dying.”
Twig sat up. She had a terrible headache that made her sick to her stomach, but she said, “I did die.”
“You did?”
“Yes. I went on a Spirit journey, and my Spirit Helper, Eagle-Man, tore me apart with his beak and swallowed me.”
Greyhawk looked at her with wide eyes. “I definitely don’t want him for my Spirit Helper.”
Twig smiled. “He had to do it. When he pecked away my head, I grew bird eyes, and then I could see the hole in the roof that led to Cobia. I flew across the river and into the Land of the Dead.”
“Did you find Cobia?” Greyhawk whispered.
Twig heaved a tired sigh. “Yes.”
“Is she coming to help us?”
When tears caught at the back of Twig’s throat, her head hurt so badly she thought she’d pass out. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly to calm down. “No, I don’t think so.”
Greyhawk glanced back down the tunnel at the pile of glowing coals that were melting out the ice. Men had started shoving the pile deeper into the tunnel.
He said, “Are you well enough to crawl farther back into the tunnel? They’ll be coming soon.”
“I—I’ll try.”
Twig got on her knees and started crawling.
But it didn’t take long.
The tunnel ended in less than fifty heartbeats. Just ended. There was no way out.
Twig leaned against the solid ice wall, breathing hard, her head aching, and Greyhawk positioned himself in front of her, holding Puffer’s atlatl like a club … waiting for the raiders.
I
N LESS THAN two hands of time, the raiders had done it.
Twig shivered when they started raking out the piles of glowing coals, clearing a path big enough for a man to slide into the cave.
Greyhawk breathed, “Here they come, Twig,” and gripped his atlatl.
The raider who started in was small across the shoulders. His eyes glinted in the red light cast by the few coals that still lined the tunnel. When Twig and Greyhawk slid as far back as they could, pressing hard against the ice wall, the man laughed, “You brats look like cornered chipmunks!”
The man reached for Greyhawk’s leg, and Greyhawk bashed his hand with his atlatl. The raider yipped in pain and instead grabbed hold of Twig’s foot.
“Greyhawk! He’s got me!” Twig shouted.
Greyhawk battered the man’s head with his atlatl.
The raider shouted, “Boy, I am going to roast you like a rabbit when we get outside!”
“Try it!” Greyhawk shouted back, and kept beating the man in the head and arms.
Twig squirmed and kicked as the raider dragged her down the tunnel and out into the starlight, where he shoved her into the arms of another warrior and said, “Here, Hook. She’s all yours.”
When Hook clamped his big hand around her arm, Twig shrieked, “Let me go!” and as she struggled to wrench free, her eyes landed on the knife tucked into his belt. The long blade was shining black obsidian. Could she—
Hook ordered, “Go back in and get the boy, Catfish.”
The first raider slithered into the tunnel again and a little while later dragged Greyhawk out and shoved him hard to the ground.
Greyhawk cried out when Catfish grabbed his atlatl, broke it over his knee, and cast the broken halves out into the darkness, saying, “Now stand up, boy! Just so I can knock you down again!”
Greyhawk, shaking badly, got his feet under him and stood up.
Catfish drew back his hand to knock him down …
but Netsink grabbed Greyhawk and dragged him out of the way. “This one is mine.”
“No, he’s not!” Catfish objected. “Look at my head. He beat me bloody! He should be mine to kill.”
“You didn’t have to fight off the huge dog he sicked on you! He’s mine.” Netsink wrenched Greyhawk’s arm and flung him to the ground; then he kicked Greyhawk hard in the back, and kept kicking him.
Greyhawk grunted and groaned and rolled into a ball, trying to shield his head from the brutal attack.
When Netsink stopped kicking Greyhawk and pulled a spear from his quiver, hot blood surged through Twig’s veins. She dove for Hook’s knife.
The war chief had been smiling, watching Netsink. Twig’s desperate move took him completely by surprise. He gasped when she ripped the knife from his belt and, before he could stop her, plunged it into his belly.
“What?”
Hook shouted. He grabbed her wrist and twisted until she cried out and let go of the knife. “The brat stabbed me!”
He slapped Twig hard, and she staggered backward, watching as he jerked the knife from his belly. Dark, foul-smelling blood gushed from the wound.
Twig stared at it and felt sick. What had she done? She’d had no choice, but … her stomach heaved. She rolled to her hands and knees and vomited on the ground, over and over, until there was nothing left to come up. Her head was swimming when she looked back at him.
Hook staggered, dazed. He dipped his hand in the blood and laughed.
The other warriors hissed amongst themselves. The tall raider named Shrike sniffed the air and said, “The girl lanced your guts, Hook. You’re as good as dead.”
Hook blinked and looked around. “Don’t even think—”
Shrike called to the other warriors, “I have been Hook’s deputy for three summers. He’s dying. You all know this kind of wound. He’ll be useless before morning. I now claim the title of war chief.”
The hissing grew louder. Some of the raiders smiled their support. Others scowled angrily.
Copper Falcon said, “You are not fit to be our war chief! I challenge you for the right.” He stepped forward, drew his knife, and spread his legs, prepared to fight.
Shrike chuckled and drew his knife. The two men began circling each other, jabbing and feinting.
Twig quietly backed away, all the while searching for a place to hide. For the briefest of instants, Greyhawk looked up and their gazes locked.
Sealing a bargain
…
Neither of them would leave this canyon without the other.
Copper Falcon slashed open Shrike’s left arm. At the sight of his blood, the raiders roared.
Hook shouted, “Stop it. We shouldn’t be fighting each other! We … we have to …” As though the gut juices were soaking into his veins, poisoning him, he couldn’t seem to remember what he’d wanted to say. Then he shouted, “We have to find the Stone Wolf!”
No one paid him any attention. Every eye was on the fight.
Shrike glared at Copper Falcon. “I’m going to slice your liver out a piece at a time and eat it before your eyes!”
“You arrogant fool!”
Copper Falcon lunged again, but this time Shrike spun out of the way and landed an elbow in the back of Copper Falcon’s neck, staggering him. In the half a heartbeat it took Copper Falcon to catch his balance, Shrike plunged his knife into Copper Falcon’s kidney and ripped upward.
Copper Falcon shrieked, dropped his knife, and awkwardly pulled his war club from his belt. As he spun around, trying to clip Shrike with a hasty swipe of his club, Shrike kicked the club from Copper Falcon’s hand and sent it cartwheeling high into the air.
The raiders cheered and closed in around the two men, waiting for the kill.
Twig looked at Greyhawk, but his eyes were not on her. He was watching the club fall. It landed in the snow three paces from him.
A high-pitched, blood-curdling cry of pain rang out.
Twig jerked around and saw Shrike kick Copper Falcon’s feet out from under him. Copper Falcon toppled to the ground and Shrike was instantly on top him, plunging his knife into Copper Falcon’s chest. Copper Falcon’s hideous cries echoed down the canyon.
When the cries stopped, Shrike stumbled to his feet
and lifted both arms into the air, shouting, “I am the new war chief!”
Most of the men began dancing, clapping, and cheering. But two warriors stood to the side, glowering hatefully at Shrike.
Twig silently took a step toward Greyhawk.
And Shrike saw her.
His eyes blazed. “You. Girl. Come over here.”
Twig stood rooted to the spot.
Shrike stalked over and grabbed her by the hair. He wrenched her neck around so he could stare down into her eyes and said, “You are Twig, aren’t you?”
She refused to answer.
“A boy in your village said you had the Stone Wolf. Where is it?”
Twig tried to stall, to think of something … .
“Where is it?”
He leaned down and shouted the words right in her face.
Twig was shaking so badly her voice seemed to have left her.
Shrike lowered his face until their noses almost touched and hissed, “Tell me now, or you die.”
He lifted his bloody knife and placed it against her throat. The sharp edge burned, already cutting into her skin.
“Stop it!” Greyhawk shouted. He got his feet under him and stood up. He was hiding something in his right hand, tucked up into his sleeve.
Shrike laughed. “You little idiot. Catfish, club the boy.”
Twig screamed and threw herself sideways, struggling to break free from Shrike’s grip … and the Stone Wolf flopped out of her coat and lay shining and black on her chest.
Shrike said, “There it is! I knew you had it.”
He grabbed the Wolf and ripped it from Twig’s neck. Then he laughed as he looked down at it. “I will be cheered as a hero when I give this to Chief Nightcrow!”
Catfish removed his war club from his belt and stalked toward Greyhawk. When he swung, Greyhawk madly dove out of the way, rolled, and came up with Copper Falcon’s war club in his hand. He slammed it into Catfish’s lower leg.
Catfish shrieked and dropped to the ground, staring in horror at the broken bone that thrust out of his leg just above his ankle. “The boy broke my leg!
Kill him!
”
Netsink charged after Greyhawk, who was desperately trying to crawl away, kicked the war club from his hand, and grabbed him by the back of the coat. “You’re dead, boy.”
Twig screamed,
“No!”
As though she’d triggered it, a fiery gleam swelled on the northern horizon.
Netsink, holding tight to Greyhawk’s coat, stammered, “Wh-what’s that? Do you see that?” He released Greyhawk to look.
The gleam expanded, growing larger and larger until it filled the entire sky, and they stood in an ocean of orange light. The towering ice walls glittered with it.
“The sky is on fire!” Shrike said, and shoved Twig to the ground to squint upward. “Look!”
Far in the north, a rumble started, growing louder, coming toward them … then the gleam exploded! Thousands of Meteor People blasted across the sky, leaving fiery trails, and a rolling wave of flames consumed the heavens.
Greyhawk shouted, “Twig, is this your dream?”
Before she could answer, a thunderous boom split the air and the concussion knocked all of them off their feet. The boom was followed by a deafening ripping sound, like the sky was being torn apart by the hands of the gods.
The raiders screamed and covered their ears.
Netsink shouted, “What’s happening?” but Twig barely heard him.
The ripping sound turned into an inhuman shriek and quickly rose to a constant stunning roar, as though a thousand mountain lions were fighting inside the light.
“Blessed Spirits!” Shrike cried. “The girl is a witch! She’s called the Star People down upon us!”
While he was staring upward, Twig scrambled over and jerked the Stone Wolf out of his hand. He didn’t even try to take it back. He just kept his terrified eyes on the burning sky.
Twig slipped the Stone Wolf over her head and …
… saw something move in the black maw of the ice cave.
Twig blinked. “What’s that? Greyhawk? Do you see that?”
He whirled around, ready for a fight. “What? Where?”
Twig lifted her arm to point.
Against that charcoal background, a slender woman moved, rushing toward them. Tall and willowy, she wore pure white hides and had long shimmering white hair. She was beautiful, with large dark eyes, full lips, and a turned-up nose. A small medicine bundle decorated with a black raven hung from her belt.
In awe, Twig whispered, “Cobia. It—it’s her!”
Greyhawk hissed, “Are you sure?”
In her dream, Cobia had had black hair, but the medicine bundle was the same. “Yes!”
The woman moved quickly but with such grace she seemed to be floating through the brilliant orange glare that filled Hoarfrost Canyon. Her black eyes had fixed on Twig. She ran straight for her without saying a word.
The hair at the back of Twig’s neck prickled as if stroked by an unseen hand. “Cobia?”
All of the raiders turned to look when they heard her name. A din of shocked cries rose. “It is her! It’s really Cobia!”
Thousands of Star People streaked across the sky, leaving brilliant flaming trails as they headed south. And from somewhere in the distance, Twig heard a staccato of thumps as they struck earth.
Shrike cried, “The Star People are hunting us down! Run and hide! We have to get away!”
He dove for the cave they had melted out to get to Greyhawk and Twig, quickly disappearing inside, as though
hiding would protect him from the gods. Another warrior scrambled in after him.

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