Runestone (75 page)

The bushes parted, and a tall, nearly naked warrior stepped out, followed by three more. They were armed with bows, and she saw that their hair was cut very short except for the strip up and over the center of the head.
The Hair-cutters
, she thought. She gave the palm-forward gesture for peace and then started to sign boldly.

“I am Calling Dove, of the River People,” she began. “How are you called?”

The four stared at her for a moment, and then one began to sign. He did not answer her inquiry, but asked questions of his own.

“Where is your man? What are you doing here?”

“We were on the river. Our canoe broke up in the flood. Will you help me find him?”

There was no answer for a few moments, and then the tall warrior who had signed before did so again.

“There is no need. He is probably dead. We will find you a man.”

A couple of the others smiled at their leader’s unkind joke. Calling Dove did not like the quality of their humorless grins, or the way their eyes kept roving over her body and legs. Even worse, she had no weapon except her small knife.

“T
hey came ashore here,” said Odin, pointing to the tracks in the sand and gravel of the bar. ’They had a signal fire last night.”

“Both of them?” asked Nils anxiously. He was still feeling a little weak and shaky, but was recovering quickly. The warm sunlight seemed to have restorative qualities.

Odin nodded. “Both are active, Wolf. It is good. I am made to think they came on that log, there.”

“Then where are they?”

“I do not know. Let us look around. Something is wrong.”

“Why did we not see their fire?” asked Snake.

Odin glanced up and down the river. “We were downstream. There is a little bend in the river here. See, the trees … Their fire was hidden from us.”

“But they did not spend the night here, in the open,” Snake replied. “Where did they go?”

“They must have had another fire,” Odin decided. “Stay here, let me look for tracks.”

“Should we call to them?” asked Nils.

“No,” Odin advised. “Let us learn more, first.”

He picked up his bow and slipped into the timbered strip. It was only a short while until he returned, though to Nils it seemed much longer.

“I have found their night fire,” Odin said quickly, concern showing in his face.

“What is it?” asked Nils.

“They are gone. Tracks of others, maybe three or four men. Come.”

Quickly, they drew the canoe ashore and concealed it in the thicket.

“What if the flood rises and takes it?” asked Snake.

There was only a brief hesitation.

“Tie it,” said Odin. “That tree, there. But more important is to find my sister.”

They made their way along the dim trail to a clearing, where the acrid scent of dead ashes hung faintly.

“Here was their fire,” Odin pointed. “The ash is still warm. They sat here for the night.” He pointed to an area of flattened grass near the fire.

“They had no robes,” Nils noted.

“True. But a good fire. Dove is clever, Wolf. But look, here. Tracks not theirs … see … three, at least. I think four men.”

“There is no sign of a struggle,” Nils observed. “Is there?” he added, unsure of his tracking skills.

“No,” Odin agreed. “They left with no struggle. There would be no reason to struggle. She was outnumbered, and had no weapon.”

“Her knife,” said Nils. “She would have her little knife.”

“Yes, unless she lost it in the accident. But come, we need to follow them. They left on this trail.”

He indicated a game trail that seemed to lead vaguely westward, away from the river.

“Let me go ahead to look for tracks,” Odin suggested. He studied the trail before entering the dark tunnel-like course through the woods.

“Ah!” he exclaimed. “She leaves sign! They went not by choice, but are not mistreated. Not yet, anyway.”

That was not very reassuring to Nils.

“How can you tell this?” he demanded.

“No struggle. No choice but to go. But she leaves signs for us to find, that these others will not see.”

“What?” Nils asked.

“We must hurry, Wolf, but look … this twig. It is broken, but not just by brushing past it. Someone took it in a hand and bent it
upward
to break it. But come, let us go.”

Odin disappeared into the dim shade of the forest. Nils took a long took at the broken twig, dangling loosely on its thin strip of bark. It told so much, yet so little. He followed Odin, and Snake brought up the rear.

• • •

“They stopped here,” Odin pointed out much later.

It was nearly noon, and the captors of Dove and Bright Sky were moving swiftly. There was a spring here, and more signs of travel. The game trail had become a path.

The three dropped their packs and drank at the spring, then sat to rest while Odin explained some further observations.

“I am made to think this is a hunting party,” he explained. “Four men. I am sure of that now.” He paused to point to moccasin tracks beside the spring. “They are probably one sleep from home, and this trail is known to them. The spring …” The others nodded and he continued. “Dove still leaves sign, so they are captives. These men will not let her wait for us.”

“You think they will reach their lodges before night?” asked Nils.

“I am made to think so, Wolf, but not long before. They hurry a little.”

“They may think they are followed,” Snake noted.

“That is true,” agreed Odin. “We must be careful not to come into an ambush. But I am made to think this: They think their safety is in reaching home. That makes them hurry.”

At the next stop, Odin was not so confident.

“Ah, this is not good. They have learned that she leaves a trail for us to follow.”

He pointed to a bush beside the trail with many broken twigs. The appearance was as if some large animal had forcefully damaged it. Odin reached behind the bush and brought out a clublike stick. Obviously, it could have been used to create the damage to the bush that had caught his attention. He tossed the stick aside and seemed to study the bush itself.

“Ah! Here,” he muttered. He pointed to a single broken twig, its tip completely missing. But on the remaining part, the curl of bark told plainly that it had been broken upward and quite deliberately.

Nils began to understand. One of Dove’s captors had seen her break the twig, and they had torn it away and vandalized the bush to conceal her sign.

“Let me look ahead again,” Odin suggested, disappearing on down the trail.

He was soon back. “They still hurry. Maybe more now,” he panted. “They are close to home. If it was a long way, they would stop to wait and fight. This is not good. They travel faster now. We must stop and plan.”

“Stop?” Nils’s patience was wearing thin. “Should we not hurry
faster?”

“Look, Wolf, now they suspect they are followed. We do not know what Dove might have told them, so let us think on it. She might try to put them off guard by saying she was alone with her husband, and fears him lost.”

“But she knows they might have seen two canoes,” reminded Snake. “Then she might tell them there are more,
many
warriors.”

“That is true.” Odin glanced at the sun, lowering in the west. “They have not harmed her. I am made to think we should let them reach their village, and then see how it is.”

Nils was not pleased with this decision, but realized there was little alternative.

“What weapons do we have?” Odin asked. “Two bows, mine and Snake’s … Wolf, it is good that your long knife was around your neck. Shall we make a spear out of it?”

Nils still carried the short swordlike weapon that they had salvaged after the massacre. It had been an object of wonder to all tribes they had encountered. None had been familiar with metal objects except of copper, used mostly for ornaments.

During this river trip, he had once dropped the weapon into shallow water. It was easy to retrieve, but it brought concern. What if the water had been deep? From that day on, the big knife had been carried on a thong around his neck, wrapped in a skin sheath. It had been a mixed blessing. He had felt for a moment while he was drowning that he should drop it to free himself of the weight. No matter. Now he was glad to have it.

“I will use it this way, if we fight,” he told Odin. In a battle such as they might encounter, a sword, even a short one, would be quicker than a spear.

They moved on, well aware that those they followed might
be watching. It was still well before dark, though, when they saw a smoky haze ahead.

“That must be their town,” Odin said. “I will go ahead and see what I can find.”

“No, I go,” Snake protested. “You are a tracker, but I have two eyes. Better for looking at far things. I will go.”

He turned and started away.

“But—” Odin began.

Snake turned with a smile. “It is not time to argue, my brother.”

That, certainly, was true. And Snake’s scouting skills were well respected.

“Let us meet on that rise to the west of their town, after dark,” Snake pointed. “Be careful.”

And he was gone.

“Almost-brother,” Odin said seriously, “let us plan. After we get them out, where to go.”

“How can we plan?” Nils asked.

“Much, we cannot. But a place to meet. That hill where we will meet Snake might be good.”

“But that is farther from the river!”

“Of course. They will expect us to go back. We head west, it delays pursuit, because they do not think we would go that way. But it is only a meeting place.”

Nils nodded.

“Odin, who are these people?”

Odin gave his quizzical gesture.

“Who knows? I am made to think they might be the Hair-cutters we heard of. They were said to be undependable.” He rose. “Well, let us go to meet Snake.”

This was little comfort. They circled carefully, and arrived at the little hill just at dusk.

“Be careful,” cautioned Odin. “They might use this for a lookout, too.”

They saw no signs of scouts, however, and the view of the town was good. The light of the setting sun behind them was a great advantage.

“Their lodges,” observed Odin, “smaller than ours. They are covered with … what? Skins?”

“Not a thatch,” Nils answered. “Grass, maybe. Yes, woven
grass. Like square robes made of grass, tied over poles, maybe.”

“That would not be very warm in winter.”

“True. But, my brother, we are far south now. Winters are warmer here, maybe.”

Snake suddenly appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, in the deepening dusk.

“They are here,” he said. “I saw them. They are unhurt.”

“Where?” asked Nils quickly.

“The lodge on the far north,” Snake pointed. “They are guarded, but not closely. There are many warriors here.”

“Can we get them out?”

“I do not know, Wolf. The Shaved-heads may know we are coming. They will have many warriors ready.”

“They are Shaved-heads, then?” asked Odin.

“Yes, I saw them.” Snake made the hair-cutting sign they had seen before.

“We cannot attack them,” Odin mused. “I am made to think that maybe we should just walk in, in the morning, and ask for our woman and child.”

Nils was astonished. “They might kill us! What good—”

Odin held up a hand to stop him. “Almost-brother,” he said with a smile, “do you not remember how your power impressed the Downstream Enemy long ago? You still have the sun-stone, no? And I can do Fire Man’s ceremony. Yes, we can do this thing. Besides, that will let my sister know we are here.”

“We have nothing to trade for them,” Snake noted.

“A canoe, one day away,” Odin said.

“But then we are on foot.”

“We are on foot now, Snake,” Odin smiled. “Let us see what happens in the morning.”

Nils spent a sleepless, uncomfortable night, wishing for a fire, wishing for many things. He silently breathed a prayer to whatever gods might be appropriate, and wondered if Odin might have more of a plan than it appeared. He devoutly hoped so.

T
he three entered the village of the Shaved-heads pompously and with great dignity. They had circled back to the east side before daylight, to appear from that direction.