The Gathering Night (43 page)

Zeru and his brother were running downhill after their dogs. Sendoa's dog hadn't moved. Sendoa signalled across to me: ‘No!'

Men and dogs vanished into the trees. We heard dogs barking, and a sudden silence.

Across the River Sendoa traced a flowing Animal in the air with his two hands: ‘Otter!'

Koldo and I glanced at each other. ‘That dog of Zeru's has a mind like an empty basket!'

‘Most dogs can't think sideways,' I said. ‘When did we ask them to hunt a man before?'

‘Lost children?'

‘Ah, but then they're looking for their own.' I glanced down the glen once more before turning to follow Koldo. Itzal was already well ahead, running uphill as light as a cat. ‘Here's Edur! Here come his dogs!'

Oroitz wasn't far behind the dogs. ‘We got as far as the boats,' he panted. ‘We didn't pick up anything.'

Edur came up next, looking glum. Surely Basajaun couldn't have outwitted us so easily! The dogs trotted on, nosing the ground this way and that along the banks, which were rising now to the gorge that cuts its way down from the watershed. I looked down at the white water – narrow enough here for a man to leap across – and the steep cliffs where rowans clung between the rocks. A strong man
could
push his way up through the falls – the River wasn't in spate – but he'd be risking his life. A hunted man faces greater risks than a few falls of water – but if Basajaun had still been struggling upstream he must have come out before the long fall below the ridge. Up there the rock is sheer and slimy with moss. Even the falls we'd already passed would be hard to climb. He'd have the water in his face and the rock was slippery. He'd be climbing through swift water by touch alone. All the while he'd be losing his lead on us.

Yet his plan made sense. Soon after he'd leaped out of the dance, the Moon had set. The stars were hidden: he'd been travelling in the dark. The wind would have pushed him off course even if he'd known the woodland paths as we did. There was only one certain path away from Gathering Camp, where a man might feel his way through unfamiliar lands however dark it was, and where his smell would be washed away. The wind had brought rain with it – but from the sea, not the hill. Spate was a risk, but an unlikely one. Yes, it made sense.

I heard dogs behind me. Sendoa and his brothers were coming up from the beaver pools, running to catch up. Soon Edur's dogs had overtaken the men and joined mine, sniffing the high banks, stopping short at the edge of the gorge. I waited for Edur. As I stood there, the Sun cleared the hill and touched me with its finger. The morning was growing fast. The Hunted had had daylight on his side for longer than I cared to think. This was Auk land, not Lynx. He'd never been in this place before in his life. He had no dog and no weapon. The Auks would be shamed for ever – we would never thrive again – if he got the better of us now.

My dog gave one sharp bark.

That bark spoke to the stillness. That bark was the beginning of the Hunt.

The dogs milled together and were off. I spared two heartbeats to glance down the gorge and see where Basajaun had climbed up. Yes – it could be done, just. But he must have had light to see by. When he'd stood here the day must already have been breaking. We weren't so far behind him after all.

‘He's heading for the watershed.'

‘Yes.' I shaded my eyes so I could see the dogs running straight into the morning Sun. ‘He'd see the Black Lochan from the top,' I said. ‘Either he'd keep on the High Sun side and head uphill—'

‘Or he'd go for the Sunless side,' said Edur, ‘and follow the water down. Or he could break off uphill towards the Sunless Sky –'

We whistled the reluctant dogs to wait, and broke into a run. Every man dropped to the ground before he reached the col, and edged forward on his stomach, his dog crawling at his side, until we were over the ridge. Only then did we cautiously raise our heads and look down.

The two divers that winter on Black Lochan weren't in sight. It might have been Basajaun who disturbed them . . . it might not. A hand-full of hinds grazed just below the summit of Sharp Peak – it was too far away to see clearly, but they showed no sign of anxiety. High above the eagles were soaring. They'd be watching us – maybe they could see Basajaun too. The young one was still in its nest on Eagle Crag, but the eagles stayed high in the sky. They knew no Eagle had agreed to give itself that day.

We let the dogs creep downhill ahead of us. Soon they were sniffing along the shores of the Black Lochan – of course Basajaun had taken the chance of throwing them off the scent. He'd have known from the lie of the land there'd be water down there, but his first sight of Black Lochan must have seemed like a gift. But he'd have been in a hurry . . . sure enough, the dogs picked his trail up quite quickly, on the High Sun side of the loch under Eagle Crag. I watched my dog lead the way across the screes towards Black Corrie. I whistled him to wait. The dogs gathered at the foot of the screes, ears alert. Perhaps they wonder sometimes why we don't get down on four legs and run properly – life with men must seem like one long wait. A man hunt was better than usual for them – they're used to staying at heel until the final chase.

‘That's our man,' I breathed in Edur's ear – out of habit, for a man can no more hear like a deer than he can scent like a dog. ‘I
knew
he'd do the difficult thing – the thing we wouldn't find obvious.'

‘That's his mistake,' breathed Edur. ‘For if he's on Eagle Crag we have him. He's climbed into his own trap.'

‘If we're quick enough. He'll be down the other side—'

Edur slid down the heather off the ridge. Off the skyline, we quickly divided into three bands. The fastest runners – except for Arantxa's sons – and their dogs went with Sendoa. They had to get above the precipices that faced the Evening Sun Sky, and fan out on the far side of Eagle Crag before Basajaun could climb down. Edur led the next band, with its dogs, across the head of the Black Lochan, to head round Eagle Crag on its morning side. I took Arantxa's sons – they're fast climbers – and we scrambled after our dogs as they picked out Basajaun's trail across the tumbled scree. Sometimes they lost the scent – in spite of the dangerous slope, Basajaun had jumped as far as he could from boulder to boulder – a lot further than most men – but it didn't matter. Now we knew what our quarry was doing.

If he were still on the summit he'd see every move we made on the open ground. Sendoa and Edur had a thin cover of birch and willow scrub, but they were moving too fast to go unnoticed. A pair of ravens rose from the crags above Edur, croaking the news of men passing. Two young stags and an old one moved out of the birches beyond Sendoa, and drifted away over the hill. They didn't hurry any more than the Aurochs had done. They knew no Deer had agreed to give itself that day.

If Basajaun were watching he'd see how the trap was closing round Eagle Crag. If he were still stuck up there he'd be sorry he'd made the less obvious choice. He might now be racing down – the High Sun side of Eagle Crag was a trap – he wouldn't see the cliffs from above – he'd be hurrying – sliding down the scree slopes – could easily meet his death over a precipice – a deer running into a trap – but if he managed it – if he broke out before Sendoa and Edur met – he'd have to run fast – the chase would be on again.

If that happened – I was thinking all this out as I panted uphill among the boulders – even if he were a match for our fastest men he'd tire long before the dogs did. Even as I climbed, I hoped it wouldn't come to that. The dogs would pull him down and tear him to pieces – and yet – if the spirits wanted it . . . Hadn't Bakar's dog been killed before his master, and flung away into the marsh with Bakar's body? I remembered how Bakar and I had made a platform for my old dog after the boar killed him – how we'd laid him there as if he'd been a man. If Basajaun were forced to give himself to Auk dogs in the end, he'd surely know why.

Arantxa's wiry sons climbed faster than I did. They were two man-lengths ahead of me. The dogs were in front of them, scrabbling on bare rock. Dogs can't climb like men: Oroitz and Itzal were right on their tails. I followed as fast as I could, swinging myself up by small birches that grew out of islets of solid soil among the scree. Nothing grew on the loose rock up above. I wiped the sweat out of my eyes and glanced up. Two ravens flew up as the dogs approached. They circled overhead, waiting to see what we did next.

A rock rattled down the mountain.

Before I could shout, the rock struck. Oroitz' dog was crushed under it. Oroitz went flying. I reached the man first. His leg was doubled under him. Another rock crashed down the boulders. I ducked, hands clutched to my head. It missed us by several lengths.

‘He's up there!'

‘Scatter!' I whistled to the dogs. They fanned out across the screes into a hand-full of small shifting targets. The men followed them, except for Koldo and Itzal, crouched over their brother.

A rock the size of my head tumbled between me and Arantxa's sons. ‘Scatter!'

‘We can't leave him!'

‘He's safer if you do!'

Oroitz said through clenched teeth. ‘Amets is right. Get away from me!'

‘But . . .'

I dragged Itzal away. ‘Scatter, you fool! He'll leave the wounded man – it's the rest of us he needs to stop. Go that way – go up by the gully if you can!'

Under the crag I was out of sight. Another boulder crashed behind me. I flattened myself against the rock. He'd know I was down here. He couldn't reach me. My dog whined at my heels. It was too steep for a dog, but I knew where I could climb. I was in too big a hurry to heave my dog up with me. I needed both hands as it was. I took off my bow and quiver and laid them by the dog. I slung my spear across my back so it was out of my way. I told him to wait. His tail went down. I heard him whining as I scrambled up. I couldn't see Itzal or Koldo. I couldn't climb like them, but if they got to Basajaun ahead of me they didn't have the weight . . . If anyone was to take on Basajaun at bay, it had better be me.

I reached the worst bit. I curled my body over the hanging rock. Last night's wind was still strong up here – it tried to catch me off balance. I clung to the rock face. Basajaun would see me from above if he'd found the nick in the ridge. I begged the spirits not to let him find the place. He couldn't send a boulder down from there, but he could throw stones . . . My left hand scrabbled for a hold. I knew it was there. I'd done this before. But I hadn't been hurrying – and there'd been no wind. My head was turned the other way – I couldn't see. I couldn't reach – I'd forgotten to get my right foot into the next hold – a little crack on the far rock. I slid back, feeling for the place. My toes felt their way, hampered by my sealskin shoe. I found the hold – I thought it was the right place, but I was curled over the rock and I couldn't see. If my foot slipped . . . but I had to hurry. I shifted my weight. My toes gripped the edge of a crack. I pushed myself up, reaching for the left handhold. No . . . no . . . yes! There it was. My fingers gripped a little stony edge. I got a hold. My right foot slid, and kicked out at empty air. I shoved upward with my left foot, and threw myself over.

I'd have been faster going round by the easy way. I pulled myself over the rock, ran up the last length of scree and on to the ridge. The wind swept in from the sea and drowned all other sounds. I found the head of the gully where I'd seen Itzal going up. There was a bit of shelter in the dip. He wasn't there.

The ridge is barely the length of a man above the gully. I looked to the Evening Sun Sky and the Morning Sun Sky and back again. Both ways the ridge was empty. I saw where Basajaun had thrown down the boulders. Either he'd run back to the summit when he sighted Itzal and Koldo, or – he'd know he'd be trapped that way – he'd seen the precipices on the Evening side – he could have headed down the High Sun slopes to get away. Had he attacked Arantxa's sons? Had he seen the lines of men moving round to cut him off? Where were Itzal and Koldo?

In a heartbeat I'd made up my mind. I ran for the summit, against the wind. From there I'd be able to see. I leaped up the last crag and stood at the edge, looking down the High Sun side of the hill.

Basajaun was there.

My heart leaped to my throat. He was here! He was running across the scree, rocks sliding as he went, dragging him downhill. Just as I'd thought, he was trapped because he couldn't see down. Then I saw Koldo. He was running across the sloping rock above Basajaun as easily as if he were on level ground with no sheer drop below. Itzal must be below me, hidden by the jutting crag on which I stood. That's why Basajaun was running away from me. He couldn't see Koldo heading him off. He wouldn't hear any of us against the wind.

There was one place he could still get down – the scree chute we call the Dogs' Path. It's very narrow – he'd never see it from above – the gap in the rock might make him chance it. If he did . . . I scanned the foothills of Eagle Crag below me. No sign of man or dog. A cloud of starlings had risen from the birches below the evening end of the crag. Edur was sure to have got that far. I peered into the Sun for any clue to where Sendoa might be. I saw none.