Visions (14 page)

“I was comin’ out to get you. The critters have been seen again a little south of town. Ez’ Pike came in lookin’ for Tom, sayin’ they killed his dog. Just shows how often
he
gets to town. Anyway, Ez’ says they had spears and axes, and raggedy, old clothes. Ten of ’em at least, and they’re headed this direction, but south of town a few miles this mornin’. We’re formin’ a posse to bring ’em down before they kill someone else. Want to go along?”

“Can’t, Jake. My relatives just came in, and I’m on my way to pick ’em up. Especially now, with trouble around. It’s nearly dark.”

Jake peeked at Baela again. “That one of ’em? Relatives, I mean.”

“This is Baela,” said Pegre, turning to whisper to her, “Jake is my neighbor.”

Baela smiled shyly, cocking her head coyly to one side as Pete looked back at Jake, and thought,
My God, he actually smiled at her.

“Little blonde,” said Jake.

“Right.”

“Didn’t know there was such a thing as a blonde Greek.”

Pete laughed. “We’ve been sailin’ the seas a long time, Jake. Want to know if she has an older sister? She doesn’t, but there’re some other sisters I think you’ll find interesting if you let me go pick them up.”

“What about Bernie? She’s alone, and those critters are runnin’ around loose. If you want, I can watch out for her.”

“Thanks, Jake, but she’s not helpless. All Bernie needs is her eyes and ears, and that twelve-gauge. She can hear deer tip-toeing around at night, and now I’ve
really
gotta get out of here. Can’t make the curve till you move your wagon. C’mon, Jake. Tell the men I’ll try to catch up later, after I get my people settled in.”

“Okay,” said Jake. “I’ll follow you down.” He snapped his reins, and the wagon moved past them.

“Hope he doesn’t follow us,” said Pegre. “Sometimes I wonder how much he really knows.” The wagon jerked forward, and they were bouncing and swaying again along the rough road, Jake close behind, gaining speed as they descended the hill. Baela stretched to watch the town coming up at them, a group of Hinchai clustered by one building, waving then yelling as they passed, and Jake stopped there. “Thank God he stopped,” said Pegre. “Now we get the others.” He slapped with the reins, and Baela squealed as the road rushed by them.

Pegre had changed, or perhaps this was a side of him she had never seen before. In class he was gentle and fun, quick to make a joke or do his little dance that made them fall down with laughter, and at times Baela felt closer to him than to her own father who kept to the silent, dignified, traditional manners of the Tenanken. But now her teacher brooded, heavy brow ridges prominent, mouth pressed into a thin line, eyes black and bottomless. It frightened her a little, this new Pegre, but at the same time she sensed a determination, a power, making her feel safe so that she found herself sitting close enough to lean on him, feeling a startled shudder when they touched.

Pegre gave her a quick glance. “Don’t worry yet, Baela. They won’t make a move until it’s light, and we’ll be gone by then. But it’s important we get everyone we can
out
, because there won’t be a second chance with Hidaig around. We have to destroy his force, Baela, and that means Tenanken can be hurt or killed. I don’t want you to be one of them. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she said quietly, snuggling up a little closer, close enough to feel hard muscle and warmth.

“Promise me you’ll do what I say, Baela. There won’t be time for argument when things start happening.”

“I will.”

“Good. I’m hoping Maki will be asleep when we get there. You’ll have to go in first, because I’ll make too much noise. You can push the brush over from the inside to let me in before Maki can make a move. After that, we do what we have to, and get everyone out. Understand?”

Baela nodded, face grim.

Pegre pulled off the main road, and they swerved along two faint ruts in tall grass until they were engulfed by brush and scrub trees, crashing through dried stalks and hard limbs until a graded road appeared, leading up to a freshly painted, dark brown cabin. “This is where
my
teacher lived, when I was young and wanting to learn everything,” said Pegre, and there was sadness in his voice. “We’ll go on foot from here, but it’s a short climb to your tree, and then down to the cave. Ready?”

Baela smiled at him, jumping out quickly when the wagon stopped. Pegre pulled a Hinchai hand weapon from behind the seat and strapped it on, noting the look of disapproval from the little girl. He walked over to the cabin door locked with a new lock, rattled the door, looked sheepishly at Baela and said, “Nothing of value in there, just a lot of old memories. Stay right behind me.”

They walked past the privy into thick brush fringing a grove of young fir trees, a rocky base sloping upwards until they were grasping at exposed roots to anchor themselves when loose earth gave way beneath their feet. A few minutes later they reached a wall with a wide crack angling up to the left, forming a rough shelf they ascended easily some twenty meters to the top and a dense stand of trees and thick brush through which a trail had been broken. A few steps later, Baela was looking up in amazement at her own hidey-tree in which she had spent countless hours looking out over the canyon without ever exploring what lay beyond. They crouched by the tree, and Pegre took her elbow in his hand, whispering, “Now, you show me the easiest way to the cave. Remember, everyone will have to follow us back, so it can’t be too difficult, even for us older ones.”

Baela nodded, and moved out crouched down onto the flat near the cliff, looking for the nest of the great hunting bird, seeing it, and veering to the right towards a wide crack dropping down a meter to a series of descending slabs and the faintly visible shelf along the cliff face. Stepping out on the first slab, she had the usual stomach flutterings, and quickening of breath from the severe exposure to a seventy meter fall straight down to spear-like trees below. Pegre followed close behind, and she heard him grunt when a slab creaked under his heavy step, but in seconds they were on the shelf, watching their feet carefully as they picked their way to the hidden cave entrance in near darkness.

The brush blocking the cave entrance had been woven together to form a wedge-shaped plug most easily moved from inside by pushing. Baela stepped up to the plug, and stood there for a moment, listening, for Maki’s bed was only two meters from the entrance, and he was often awake long after darkness. She heard and felt nothing, knelt down and pulled on the brush lightly, wincing when a twig snapped.

The plug gave a little, but moved no further.

It was tied in place from the inside.

Baela looked up at Pegre, shook her head, and he jabbed his fingers angrily in the direction of the cave.

She tried again, the plug snapping and crackling, moving just a little so that a black, rectangular hole opened up on one side. She listened again, for breathing—the scratch of a moving pebble. Nothing. Pegre was kneeling down now at her side. She felt his warm breath on her neck. She crawled forward into blackness, pushing the plug aside with a shoulder, widening the hole to accommodate her tiny frame. A faint gleam of torchlight lay ahead, and she kept her head up, looking for sudden movement or a shadow, or a hand clamping down on her. She swallowed hard and crawled silently through the hole, eyes sweeping the area.

Maki’s bed was empty. Baela stopped holding her breath.

She crawled the rest of the way through, then turned and untied the two, braided-hair ropes someone had used to tie the plug in place. Perhaps it was Maki, preventing visitors from sneaking in so close to where he slept. Did he
know
there was a Tenanken force waiting nearby?

Baela pushed on the plug, moving it out an arm’s length, and Pegre was on her immediately, crawling past her into Maki’s small grotto with the pile of furs and tiny pool of green water. He gestured, and she pulled the plug back in place without tying it, then crawled over to where he was tearing apart Maki’s bedding. He found the Hinchai hand weapon, and pushed it under his belt, then picked up the long pointing weapon and thrust it towards her, whispering softly as he pointed to the hole at one end. “Get small pebbles and dirt to make a paste with water, then push it all down this hole until the cavity is filled. Tamp it in hard with a stick, but
don’t
touch any other part except this long piece. If you touch
any
other part, the weapon could explode.”

Pegre’s intensity frightened her, but she sensed a great responsibility connected with this simple task, and so it pleased her to do it. As he crawled out of the grotto to stand up, she was already scraping up a pile of dirt and small pebbles on the floor, and sprinkling water on it with her hands.

“I’ll be back quickly, so be ready to leave.”

Baela sprinkled harder, mushing the dirt into a thick paste as Pegre disappeared down the dark tunnel leading to the main cavern, leaving behind the nearly burned out torch above the cave entrance. She rolled the paste into little cylinders between her palms, and dropped them one by one into the barrel of the weapon until it was full, then rammed a small stick into the hole as hard as she could and repeated the process. When the stick would no longer penetrate into the hole, she wiped the weapon clean with her hands, and wrapped it in the long fur just as Maki had left it.

Someone was coming up the tunnel.

Baela pressed herself against the grotto wall. If it was Maki, he’d kill her for being here. She wanted to run.

“Where are you, Baela?” Whispered softly.

Pegre.

She peered out of the grotto. He was alone.

“Everyone’s asleep, and Maki’s with his father. We’ll have to wake people quietly, and get them out before Maki awakes. Come on!”

Suddenly she was frightened. Veins at her temples throbbed, and she felt hot all over. She swallowed hard, then followed Pegre’s broad back into darkness, reaching ahead of her to touch him until she saw glimmering, yellow light. A few more steps, and they were in the main cavern, weakly lit by a few remaining torches, Tenanken sleeping in clusters around the shelves. Pegre motioned her to stay where she was, then walked out onto the shelves, stopping at each sleeping form, kneeling, poking with one hand, and she felt the Mind Touch again, a vision of herself leading a line of Tenanken along the shelf towards the bird’s nest and the trees. People stirred in their sleeping robes, looking first at Pegre and then at Baela, getting up silently and leaving everything behind except the Hinchai clothes they wore in sleep, forming a line to leave their home forever.

Baela turned to lead them from the cavern, and then she stopped, overwhelmed with sudden grief, looking to one side to see Tel standing at a fumarole entrance, looking down on the line of shuffling Tenanken, her eyes dark and sad, but without tears. All felt the wave of love and hurt that came from her, bowing their heads as Pegre rose after awakening one last figure, and looked at his adopted mother with the calm and quiet dignity that reminded Baela he was truly a Tenanken in blood and spirit. No words were exchanged in the tense quiet of the cavern, and then Tel extended both arms towards Pegre, raising them enough so he could see her face. He responded with one arm, and in that instant all felt a surge of energy, an urgency to leave quickly and do what needed to be done. Tel turned stiffly on one heel, and disappeared into the darkness of the fumarole as Baela motioned to the others to follow her out of the cavern.

They left without sound; even two babies strapped securely to their mothers’ chests did not cry out. Baela had seen her own parents with Pegre at the end of the line, helping the slower ones. Her grandmother had chosen to remain behind with old friends who could not be moved. She pulled the plug from the entrance, pushing it to one side, then gesturing to everyone to join hands for the precarious walk along the shelf. Most of her flock had been outside only a few times, and she heard the gasps when they first saw the drop off from the narrow shelf ahead. She led them across in a shuffle step, stopping only once when there was a muffled cry and sudden tension in the chain of hands and arms. A young male had stumbled off the trail, dangling in space for one heart-stopping instant before being jerked roughly back onto his feet. But they arrived intact at the slabs angling upwards to the crack, where Baela stood aside to get each one started properly for the short climb upwards. As they came, she counted their number. Including Pegre, three hands and two more fingers. So few? Had so many stayed behind, those who were old or sick? Of course others would join them later, but it was dangerous to stay here now. She whispered to each person to wait by the big tree ahead, and suddenly found herself saying it to her own mother, very adult and serious, while her mother smiled back and patted her on the cheek. Pegre was behind, wrapping an arm around her warmly and pushing her up ahead of him, grunting because the crack was barely wide enough to accommodate his girth.

On top, they found the others huddled under Baela’s hidey-tree, looking cold and frightened. It was a clear night, and although the moon had not yet risen, the sky seemed to cast a dim illumination that helped them find the way. The path downhill was easier to see, but they moved closely together in a line, Baela at the end and Pegre in front. As they went over the crest of the hill, Baela glanced back at the bird’s nest, wondering if she would ever see the little ones again, imagining herself standing in the tall grass of the valley, watching the mother bird soaring in higher and higher circles until she was a dot in the sky. When Baela came back to her senses, they had reached the bottom of the hill, stopped to rest, and some of the others were looking at her strangely. Pegre came over, and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Ah, the little bird has returned to earth.”

Of course
, she thought,
he has looked into my mind again, even though he knows I do not like it.
She frowned, and pushed past him to stand next to her mother and father, pouting.