Shadows in the Cave (6 page)

Shonan half-heard quite a few words but stayed in his hide blankets. He wanted no part of this conversation. Aku and Oghi—who were both human beings again—were locked in some deep discussion. Oghi was advising Aku on how to be a shape-shifter and a seer and a … magician. Shonan swallowed spittle, and it felt like burying the word.
Meli
, he thought,
Meli
… But he couldn’t curse the dead wife he still loved.

Meli had spoken to Aku about following his nature. Shonan put no stock in that idea. He saw life as choices. A human being was clay, like a pot. Your parents gave you the raw material. You yourself made the shape of the pot you wanted. Will mattered. Making decisions mattered. Determination. The clay was just clay, and it would take any form.

Now Shonan felt a sharp twist of pain in his loins, as though they were responsible for this unnatural creature who sat by the fire talking foolishness. He stifled a cry. What had he done wrong?

“Practice once now,” the sea turtle man said. “It gets easier every time.”

Aku made a murmur of protest, and then said, “All right.”

Shonan sat up, rubbed his eyes, and watched. Feet to talons, trunk to feathers, arms to wings, face to that crazy orange face disc of the great dusky owl. Oghi reached out and tugged at a human ear. “Next time get rid of these. The winged panther has his own.”

Aku felt his ears in embarrassment. He looked down to make sure he’d replaced his peeing equipment, his
do-wa
, with an owl’s.

Aku looked across at Shonan. “I’m sorry, Father.” Gradually, he changed himself back into the shape his family was used to.

Shonan stood up, getting his confidence back. “I suppose it can’t be helped.”

“Grandmother Tsola told me it’s the way I am.”

Shonan sighed. “Why don’t we all eat?”

As Aku reached for meat, he felt a surge of bloodlust, the spirit of the killer. He remembered that the winged panther was a deadly hunter. It was one of the few creatures that hunted animals bigger than itself. Worse, it hunted, killed, and ate its own kind, other owls.

“You’re uncomfortable with it, but it is part of what you are,” said Oghi. Shonan gave the sea turtle man a dirty look. Oghi went on, “Kind of fun when you get used to it, and handy.”

For a moment they ate in silence. Then Shonan said, “Let’s get going.”

Aku jumped up. “Yes.”

Shonan asked Oghi, “We’ve lost our chance to get ahead of the bastards on the trail, right?”

“Yes. You can still surprise them, but now only from behind.”

“Whatever,” said Shonan. He got the hide with the map from Tagu’s load and unfurled it.

“We’re here,” said Oghi, pointing, “at the mouth of Any Chance River. The next river is the one you want, Big River. You go along this side of the river to right here, where it intersects the trail. It’s no more than half a day’s walk.”

He glanced at Aku.

“I’ll be fine,” Oghi said, answering the question in both of their minds.

“You’re not going on with us, are you?” said Shonan.

“Fighting is not my medicine, and there’s no need. The way is wide and easy now. I prefer to swim home.”

Aku said, “Grandfather, do you foresee success for us?”

Oghi laughed out loud.

Shonan was surprised by Aku’s question and shocked by Oghi’s laughter. “Grandfather” was a term of honor not customarily given to a person outside the tribe. It was an acknowledgement of kinship and respect. Regardless, it was more of the wicky-wacky stuff he despised.

Oghi got serious. “Sometimes I can answer questions about the future, but I would have to gather materials and conduct the ceremony. You have no time for that.”

“We don’t,” Shonan snapped out.

The sea turtle man spoke directly to Aku. “You don’t need my help. Ask the owls. Ask the ones that cross your path in the ordinary world. Ask the ones you dream of. Ask the owl inside yourself. All will help you.”

Aku gave a wry smile. Shonan frowned at the owl feathers tied into his son’s hair.

Oghi stood up and grinned. Before their eyes he performed the metamorphosis again. Claws, carapace, beak—a sea creature on all fours.

He waggled his head at them, did a little dance with his front feet, turned, and crawled into the ocean.

“Let’s go,” said Shonan.

Aku stood up shakily. He made sure of Tagu’s lashings, stalling. He looked up at Shonan. “Father, do you want me to fly ahead and find them?”

“No,” said Shonan. It came out as a growl.

That was fine with Aku. When he touched the feathers in his hair, they said,
Trouble ahead
.

9

W
alking, Aku got oriented again. His father in front of him, their dog half a step behind him and just to his right—it all felt good. The Earth, at the fullest bloom of summer—all of this world felt new to him. Yesterday he had surrendered all that was above water, he had said good-bye. Twice in two days he had transformed himself into an owl, once saving his own life. Now every sight, the feel of the path under his moccasins, the sun on his skin, all of it felt like a hello. And if the father was distressed with the son right now, Shonan had helped save his life yesterday. That made Aku feel good.

Aku liked people. All the different ways they were, the odd ways they did things, the peculiar ideas they held to (sometimes held
fast
to), the way they loved each other and disliked each other and had fun together and quarreled and baited each other and somehow made a bond—every bit of that pleased Aku. He couldn’t explain why.

Some things grieved him. Having his mother die. Missing her every day. Shonan being gone hunting or fighting wars. Feeling like he had no real home.

He liked going to see his great-grandmother Tsola at the Emerald Cavern. That felt like home, and Tsola was the one person who would understand the strange things that went
on in his head. But no one could live with her in the Cavern, no one could interfere with the sacred duties that occupied her life. She would help him develop his powers to the highest, as she did for every seer, but that was all.

Well, I am what I am. And I am alone
.

If enemies hadn’t stolen his sister, and he didn’t have to walk until each muscle nattered to every other muscle about hurting, life would have been halfway decent.

I am what I am
.

Aku remembered well the day he’d met the tribe’s Seer and Wounded Healer. He’d been ten, and his mother walked him up to the Emerald Cavern, Tsola’s home. Though his great-grandmother was the most respected person in the tribe, with several titles and powers, she was also extraordinarily old. The tribe’s Wounded Healers lived far past a hundred winters, and she was the oldest of them.

Beside a low fire, Tsola poured them tea. His mother had told him that Tsola had lived in the Emerald Cavern so long she couldn’t see outdoors anymore—she lived entirely in these depths. “But she’ll see us coming with her special power.”

After they sipped, his mother said, “He shows signs of the gift.”

“Yes, I see that. You sometimes look beyond the appearance of the things of this world to what they truly are.”

The ten-year-old nodded. He had always seen things invisible to other people, but he’d kept his mouth shut about it.

“You also have your mother’s talent. You can change into the shape of another animal.”

“That scares me,” Aku said. His hands shook.

“It’s powerful,” said the old woman, “and it’s your nature. Every creature must follow its nature, or it destroys him.”

She spoke casually, but the words petrified Aku. He was tongue-tied.

“If you watch the animals, you will know which one you can become, or more than one.”

Aku stared at his knees.

“It’s not hard, for those who have the gift. Look at your feet and picture them as talons. Look at your arms, hold them out, and see them as wings.”

Aku shuddered. His great-grandmother had guessed that he pictured himself as winged.

The expression on her face changed. “When you’re older, when you want to know more, come to see me. I will help you.”

He’d never been back.

Now, following his father on the trail along Big River, he reminded himself: he was about to get a real home. Iona would give him one. Even if she didn’t have many relatives—just Oghi—it would be a real home because she would be there. In rhythm with his steps he daydreamed about her.

Shonan’s voice interrupted his reverie. “There’s the trail.”

They stopped at the crest of a hillock and looked carefully at all of the path they could see, which wasn’t much. It sloped to the river from the hills on both sides. No one was in sight.

“They’re well ahead of us,” Shonan said. He was impatient today, and moving fast eased his mind.

“Let’s have a look at the ford,” he said. The crossing was probably at the shallowest place in the river that was handy, because women and children sometimes had to cross, too. “Full and fast,” Shonan said. They’d gotten a lot of rain over the last week.

Without hesitation, Shonan stripped to his breechcloth, tucked his shirt and moccasins under Tagu’s lashings, held his spear and club two-handed over his head, and waded in. If Shonan ever got hurt, at least he wouldn’t suffer from
fretting about it first. Aku did the same with his clothes, lifted his spear and blow gun, and followed his father. Why he bothered carrying weapons he didn’t know. He couldn’t do any more than scare someone with them.

A third of the way across, Aku stepped into a hole and went down. He scrabbled along the bottom like a crab, felt for something higher to stand on, pulled himself up onto a rock, and stood up. Then he had to swim several strokes to catch up with his weapons. When he got them, he turned to look at Shonan, who was grinning. Aku grinned back.

As they got to the far side, Big River curved toward them, and the current clawed hard at the bank. The stream deepened and picked up speed. Waves splashed Aku’s underarms, his neck, his chin. He sloshed his way forward hard because there was nothing else to do.

Shonan got to the bank, reached his weapons onto the grass, hoisted himself up with both hands, and raised a knee onto the lip. At that moment a spear ripped through his thigh.

Shonan splashed backward into the river, bleeding. The spear floated away.

Without thinking, Aku leapt for his father and missed. He lost his footing and banged to the bottom. When he surfaced, he leapt for his father again. He barely caught the floating hair.

Two enemies howled out of the trees, jumped off the bank, and landed on top of Aku and Shonan feet first. Father and son went under. Aku flailed at enemy legs with his fists. When he managed to stand up, pain lightninged the back of his head, and the world went topsy-turvy.

When his mind stopped reeling, Aku felt himself being lifted onto the bank. Shonan was sitting up, a hand on his torn thigh and both legs splashed with blood. Tagu was raising a ruckus.

The enemies laughed at the dog and slapped at its face. Tagu barked louder and jumped harder. Two men got in good rib kicks. A commanding voice stopped the play.

The commander stood over Aku and Shonan. “Good,” he said in the Galayi language. “You came after us—that showed courage.” He smiled his victory. “In return you get to see your woman die.”

“Where is she?” demanded Shonan. His voice sounded a little shaky.

The commander pointed north. “Headed up to—”

His words turned into flying vomit. A rock the size of two fists bounced off his skull, and he collapsed.

Aku heard a
pffsst
and a dart stuck into the neck of the warrior behind him.

A buffalo dropped out of a tree. No, it only looked like a buffalo—it was a shaggy human being with a hump. “Get the bastards!” he yelled, but his words were smothered by everyone’s yelling and hitting.

The nearest enemy turned to run. Aku grabbed his ankles. The man fell and twisted his feet free by rolling.

Flat on the ground, Shonan flung himself across the enemy commander, grabbed a rock, and banged it onto the man’s skull again.

A skinny soldier swung his war club at the buffalo man. The monster grabbed the handle of the club, twisted it out of the skinny enemy’s hand, grabbed him, hefted him into the air, ran at the tree yelling, and rammed his victim headfirst into the trunk.

One warrior skittered away like a mouse.

The one Aku had grabbed tried to run away, but Tagu fastened his jaw into the man’s calf.

The last enemy swung his club and caught the buffalo
man on the point of the shoulder. The man-beast bellowed, lifted a leg high, and smashed his enemy in the face.

Shonan banged the rock down on the commander’s skull one more time.

Aku found an enemy club, got next to Tagu, and whacked the dog-bitten man on the back of the head. He fell like a dropped rag.

The humped beast stomped the smashed man.

It was over.

Aku breathed.

Shonan took some lashing thongs off the dog and tied the dazed, skinny man, hands and feet. Then he rolled onto his back and looked up at his son. “That was a lucky blow. Maybe you’ll let me show you how to swing a club so that it delivers next time.”

For the first time in his life Aku tasted a coppery bloodlust on his tongue. Yes, maybe he did want to learn the skill of using a war club.

He said, “Let me treat that wound.” Aku got out a salve of mountain allum he carried in a skin bag on his belt and poulticed his father’s thigh. Finally, he cut a hand-span swath off the bottom of Shonan’s breechcloth and bound the wound.

Shonan tried to stand up and couldn’t manage it. “No walking for a while,” said Aku.

“While they take Salya further and further away,” said Shonan.

The buffalo-looking man just stood there, mute, watching. He was a giant. He had thick, matted, curly brown hair. As Aku was half a head taller than Shonan, the buffalo man was a head taller than Aku, and twice as thick and broad. The hump on his back look uncannily like a buffalo’s.

The man-beast walked up to the three figures, raised his
huge foot, and smashed their necks. The sound of snapping bones told the end of their story.

Aku stifled a spasm of nausea.

As Buffalo raised his foot above the skinny one, Shonan said, “Let him be. We’ll question him.”

Buffalo stomped the man’s neck anyway, and the bones cracked.

Shonan started to spit words out, but Aku stopped him with a hand.

“Stranger,” Aku said formally in the Galayi language, “you saved our lives. Thank you.”

Buffalo said, “I want to help you.” His speech was a little odd, but it was in the Amaso tongue.

Aku thanked him again, this time in the Amaso tongue.

“You are welcome. My name is Yah-Su.” Shonan and Aku looked at each other, amazed. It was the word for “buffalo” in both the Amaso and Galayi languages. The big warrior tapped his breastbone with his fingers, the way Amaso people did when they introduced themselves.

“Strip the bodies,” Shonan said.

Aku hesitated. He’d never been to war, never had to denude an enemy of everything, so that the dead man would have nothing to help him get to the Underworld, no weapons, no clothes, no food.

First they collected the weapons. Aku threw the spears, clubs, and blow guns into the woods—they had no way to carry them. Yah-Su tested a couple of the clubs for feel and set them with his own club and spear.

“Always room for another knife on your belt,” said Shonan.

Aku started keeping the knives, which had blades of stone and handles of bone or antler.

At that point Aku had to face up to the ugliness of dead
bodies. He started undoing the belts, which he kept for lashings, and throwing the shirts and breechcloths away. He avoided looking at the dead
do-was
. But on the skinny man he found something clever.

“Look, I found this hidden inside the breechcloth.” He handed it to the prone Shonan. It was an obsidian blade no bigger than a thumb joint, scabbarded in rawhide. “He hung it on a thong from his belt.” Aku patted his backside to show where. Nothing was sharper than obsidian.

Shonan inspected it and held it out to Aku. “It’s a prize, keep it.”

“I don’t want to keep anything … down there.”

Shonan smiled and shrugged. “By the spirits, I will.” He tied the thong to his own belt, stuffed the holstered blade into the top of the cleft at his rear, and gave his reluctant son a fine grin. “It’s a clever idea,” he told Aku.

“Let’s see if any of the moccasins fit,” said Shonan. “Good to leave tracks that look like the enemy.”

Two pairs worked for Shonan and one for Aku. Yah-Su’s feet were much too big. Father and son put on two pairs and tucked one into Tagu’s load.

When they were finished, they backed away. “Leave the bodies in plain sight,” Shonan said. “I want to make some Brown Leaf hearts shiver.”

Aku turned his attention to the humpbacked Yah-Su. “You followed them.”

“Yes. They stole the pretty girl.”

“Do you know the girl?”

He jiggled his big head from side to side. “Yah-Su saw her twice.”

Aku and Shonan looked at each other, trying to make sense of this.

“Yah-Su … Yah-Su lives in a cave,” the buffalo man said.

Aku nodded to Shonan. A man who didn’t live in the village. A hermit, maybe ashamed of not being smart. Kind? Maybe. Violent? Maybe.

“They stole the pretty girl.”

“Did you see them get her?”

“No,” said Yah-Su. “Saw them carry her. Too many of them.”

“How many?” Aku went on.

Yah-Su thought, then held up two hands plus one hand. Fifteen.

Aku held up the same number of hands. “This many?”

“Yes, too many. Yah-Su wants to help.”

“You helped tremendously. You followed them, but there was no way to get the girl.”

Yah-Su nodded, his eyes drooping with sorrow.

“When they left an ambush, you thought you might be able to save us.”

“Yes. Yah-Su wants to help.”

“Yah-Su,” repeated Aku, “you saved our lives. Thank you.”

“So what are we going to do now?” said Shonan, stroking his bandage.

“Yah-Su wants to help,” said the buffalo beast.

Aku looked at Shonan’s bleeding thigh, thinking,
We’re desperate
. Then his great-grandmother’s words popped into his mind. “If you ever need help desperately, say out loud, ‘Little People, save us.’”

Aku said the words. He and Shonan disappeared.

Standing there alone, Yah-Su waggled his head back and forth, shuffled his feet, and said, “How’d they do that?”