Visions (17 page)

Finally, her inner clock told her it was night, but barely so. Perhaps he would be outside, at least for a moment. At this distance the mind touch was a whisper in the wind, not to be relied on. It must be now, though she knew the risk was considerable. If Hidaig caught her, even his superstition would not prevent her death.

She searched the grotto for what she needed, feeling with her hands because of the dim light of her tiny lamp of tar-saturated fur. Anka’s meditation crystal, a thumb-sized piece of clear quartz, twinkled at her from a shallow niche in one wall. She fumbled in and around the sleeping furs, pulling out small, hide bags, checking their contents, putting them back again: herbs and seeds, crushed and dried flowers, a dark crystal with which it was said she cast spells, but was really just a pretty thing she couldn’t throw away, and finally her flints. One thing worked in her favor; this time of year the ledges were covered with dried leaves, twigs and small branches blown there by the wind. She would have a plentiful supply of burning material.

Anka moaned as Tel crawled out of the grotto.
Dear one
, she thought,
I fear your pain, but I must leave you for a little while.
She crawled on, the little bag with her supplies dangling from a long thong draped around her neck. It was an effort to move upwards; the walls were smooth, and her knees protested the pressure as she pressed feet hard against rock to gain friction for pushing ahead. Dim light from the grotto disappeared, and she was advancing by feel and memory in total, inky darkness. In the crack the climb was easier, the channel an inverted triangle with solid bottom and rough walls where hands could be placed flat for balance. She moved quickly along the channel without a stumble, until she saw the glimmer of light coming up from the floor. A hole was there, dropping into a snarl of short fumaroles, one leading to the torch-lit tunnel thrusting upwards to outside ledges.

Tel crouched at the edge of the hole for several minutes, listening, probing for a thought or vision. Nothing. She slipped through the opening, and with a short slide was in the tunnel. She could hear faint voices coming from the main cavern. Watching her feet to avoid loose stones, she hurried upwards, a sense of mission coming to her along with a sharp pain in her chest. She slowed to the point that the pain was a dull ache, and the exit to night appeared ahead, wind hitting her face as she crawled out onto the narrow ledge. She crawled along it on hands and knees, picking up twigs and dried leaves caught in cracks and crevices in the rock, disappointed at how little she found to burn. One larger limb was lodged in a crack above head. When she stretched high to reach it, something gave beneath her foot, and for one horrible instant she felt herself toppling backwards over the edge and into the trees below. She jackknifed her body back onto the ledge, heart thumping so wildly she saw flashes of light before her eyes. She stretched again, grabbing the limb and angrily jerking it free before breaking it into pieces with her hands. It would be a small fire, visible for only a short time. She arranged the sticks in crisscross pattern over the tinder she took from her bag, added some leaves and twigs, then went to work with her flints.

She hunched over her work, batting the pieces of hard stone together until the first wisp of smoke arose from the tinder. Cupping her hands about the glowing fluff, she blew on it gently, adding twigs until a tiny flame burst forth. She added more twigs as the flame grew, a small breeze encouraging it. Only when she added the few large pieces of wood could she feel heat, a transient thing of only a moment. There was no more wood on the ledge. She watched the little fire burning brightly within sight of the valley for only a few heart beats, then crawled back along the ledge and into the tunnel.

Her hand brushed a hairy ankle, and strong hands seized her, pulling her roughly to her feet and shaking her furiously.

Hidaig.

“So I’m not imagining strange sounds in the tunnel. Perhaps you will tell me how you got here without being seen, eh? And what have you been up to? Let’s see.”

He released her, got down on his hands and knees, and crawled out onto the ledge, dragging a spear with him and looking to his right.

“This is a bad thing you’ve done, Tel.”

Her mind whirled. If she pushed hard, he might go off the ledge—or grab her—or run her through with the spear.

Tel fled. Hair streaming behind her, she stumbled down the tunnel as fast as old legs would take her.

Hidaig hesitated, then crawled outside, reached out with his spear and swept the now weakly flaming signal fire off the ledge and down into the canyon below. When he crawled back inside, he could still hear her feet pounding the floor of the tunnel. He leveled his spear and charged after her, having made the decision that even though she was a Keeper, he, Hidaig, was now chasing only a doomed, old woman.

But Tel had a good head start, heard him now, and knew he could quickly catch her if she remained in the tunnel. On her left were countless fumaroles leading to nowhere, except in one tangled cluster. It was already in sight, and she darted into it, twisting painfully around two corners, legs burning from the short run. She took a deep breath, palms pressing down on smooth rock, and pulled her self up into the ceiling with a grunt, the sounds of Hidaig’s feet right behind her. Her feet were last up in the darkness, and she rolled away from the opening as her pursuer thundered past in the tunnel, never breaking stride. A few seconds later she heard him screaming at someone in the main cavern.

She’d been seen. Hidaig would realize she had somehow reached the tunnel from the grotto. Any minute they would search for her, but their time was running short. Hidaig planned to attack the valley settlement in the morning; she’s overheard him talking about it. Only hours to dawn, and he’d have to be in position by then, so if she could find a good place to hide....

Pitch darkness, and she moved back towards the grotto by feel, despairing that her signal fire had not been seen. It was so tiny, and surely Hidaig had quickly destroyed it. Her efforts had only endangered her life, and what about Anka? But he knew nothing; he hadn’t even seen her leave. Surely they wouldn’t....

Suddenly she was filled with a terrible fear.

She scrambled forward in the crack, calling up visions of what she had seen under torchlight, checking against what she felt with feet and hands until she found what she wanted, and stopped abruptly to feel the rock on her left. A wide crack above a quartzite nubbin, a jagged cut up the shallow wall to the ceiling, or so it seemed at first sight. In fact, the wall ended in a shelf just below the ceiling, invisible until she was right there. Now where was the crack?

She clawed frantically with her hands, and found it.

The climb upwards was harder than she remembered. How long had it been? And she’d had a torch then. Now, in blackness, she moved by feel as the floor dropped further and further behind her. Not a vertical climb, but steep enough so that a slide back to the floor could break her old bones. Her hands hurt from gripping rock, growing weaker by the second, but then as she reached forward for a new hold there was nothing but air. She explored over her head, and found the ceiling. Inch by inch, feeling ahead, she pulled herself onto the shelf, a rocky womb at the top of the wall.

Exhausted, and feeling secure in her hiding place, she slept—

And was instantly awake.

To light—and voices.

Yellow light flickered on the ceiling near her face, though her hiding place was in darkness. Below her a scraping sound came from the direction of the grotto, followed by a mumbled curse.

“Here it is. Above their sleeping chamber.”

There was a short pause of silence.

“Can you hear me?” There was a scraping sound, perhaps a spear against rock. “Can’t even turn around in here. I’m in a kind of tunnel.”

There was no answer. The light was moving below her, now, and she heard the crunch of footsteps. “Where are you?”

Suddenly she heard a reply, quite faint. The footsteps quickened, the nearby ceiling again fading to darkness. “I see a light! Can you hear me?”

Another muffled reply. Whoever it was must now be near the exit. There was another scrape of spear against rock. “Here! Over here. I see your shadow.”

She heard Hidaig’s voice. “A tunnel. So she came through here.”

“Empty, now,” said the other Tenanken.

“She must have come out again when I passed here the first time. There’s too many of these things to hide in, and she can’t help them now. Check the tunnel again, then join us in the big cavern. We have to leave soon. Tel can rot here by herself, and bury her dead. Hurry!”

Tel’s heart froze. Bury her dead?

The footsteps were below her again, light moving across the ceiling. She held her breath as the light stopped, moving around in a circle, then forward again towards the grotto. A moment later it flickered out, plunging her into blackness. She kept her mind blank for several minutes, dozed again, but the thought of climbing down the wall in darkness jolted her awake. She felt around a long time until she found the crack, listening for voices, hearing them loud, quickly fading to nothing. Silence lasted an eternity. They could be waiting quietly for her to come out. But it must now be morning, and Hidaig would surely spare no warriors as cave guards during the attack. Her risk was calculated.

Slowly, steadily, she climbed down the crack to the tunnel floor, and picked up a fist-sized pebble for a hand weapon. Soon she was at the grotto, looking down at it from the ceiling.

Anka was not there. His sleeping furs were in disarray. She listened carefully, heart pounding, then dropped feet first into the grotto, and peered along the short tunnel to the great cavern.

Someone was lying on the cavern floor.

Haltingly, she crawled out of the grotto, and looked around. The cavern was empty, warriors and bodies of the old ones gone. But in front of her lay the broken and bloodied form of her life-mate. She hurried to him, leaning over to touch his mutilated face, blood trickling from his mouth. His eyelids fluttered, opened, amber eyes showing recognition. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a horrible gurgle.

“Oh, dear heart, what have they done to you?”

Anka managed a weak smile, then gurgled again.

“I think they have killed me,” he said.

WATCHERS

It was daylight when Baela was startled awake by her mother’s moans. She looked over at the thrashing form on the bed next to hers, certain that moments before she had heard her grandmother’s name shouted in the room. Baela herself felt vaguely uneasy, an uncomfortable frightening feeling of emptiness, then sorrow, then nothing, as if a piece of her mind had been suddenly cut away. She sat up abruptly, looking around at the sleeping forms, then at her mother, whose eyes were now open, face glistening.

“Mother, what’s wrong?” whispered Baela.

Da stared at her a moment, still returning from sleep, blinking her eyes twice and licking her lips. “I had a terrible dream about Mother. She called to me, and it was like she was in shadow, reaching out at me. I tried to touch her, but something pulled her back into darkness, and then I felt—no, I
feel
like I’ve lost her. I feel like I’ll never see her again.”

“She’s in the cave, Mother.”

“I know. It was a dream, Baela—only a dream. Go back to sleep, now.” Da closed her eyes.

Baela sat quietly for a moment, listening to her mother’s breathing slow and deepen. All the others were asleep, and here she was, wide-awake, instantly bored. She sat on the edge of the bed, swinging her legs and waiting for the dull feeling to come and tell her to sleep some more, but it didn’t come, and then she heard a door slam at the big house a hundred paces away. Someone else was awake! She’d slept in her clothes: jeans and a thin, white blouse with tiny, yellow flowers on it. Shoes and socks she had taken off, already deciding not to like shoes because they strangled her feet. She tip-toed bare-footed to the door, and let herself out into the vastness of her new world, the big house and grass before her tinted orange as the orb of the sun peered over the edge of a nearby hill. She marveled at the sudden warmth as the fiery ball lifted into full view, and she was immediately thirsty.

Baela watched Bernie carry a box from the house, put it in the back of Pegre’s wagon, then go back inside. In a moment she reappeared with a cloth satchel, and Pegre was behind her, a long pointing weapon in one hand. These items also went into the wagon, while Baela watched silently, bothered by the sight of a weapon in her teacher’s hand.

They saw her as they turned to go back into the house. Pegre waved, and Bernie gestured at her to come inside with them. “Breakfast is on the table!” she shouted, while behind her Pegre smiled, pointed first to his mouth and then to the house. Baela understood, and trotted happily through tall grass to reach them, arriving smiling and a little out of breath.

“Mornin’, Darlin’,” said Bernie, and then to Pegre, “You think we might have one who looks like that? Bounces through the grass like a young deer.” She put an arm around Baela’s shoulders. “Hot cakes and sausage this morning. We need to fatten you up a bit.”

They went inside to another table filled with food. Pegre and his mate had already been eating. Bernie bustled around the kitchen, and plunked a full plate in front of the girl, delighted by the hungry look on her face. Coyly, Baela mimicked everything Pegre did with knife and fork, buttering her hotcakes, pouring syrup, carefully cutting a piece and putting it slowly into her mouth. Pegre laughed at her expression when she tasted the sweetness. He laughed again when she tasted the sausage, delicious, but stinging the inside of her mouth.

“Everything’s new,” said Pegre.

“Do you like it, Baela?” asked Bernie.

Baela nodded vigorously, mouth filled with food.

“Good. There’s plenty more, now; you just ask.” But then Bernie’s smile faded, and she looked at Pegre, who Baela had learned was called Peter or Pete by the Hinchai. “When’re they coming over?”

“Any minute. The plan is to get back by dark, but it didn’t work out that way last time. I really don’t expect to find anything.”

“All those men, and all those guns. I don’t like it, Peter. I’ve got an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach about the whole day.”

“Baby’s kickin’ again.” Pegre smiled.

“Baby’s fine, and not long in comin’. I want him to meet his father, so don’t you go gettin’ yourself shot out there. If these are hill people you’re after, they’ll go to ground in daylight, and you’ll never see ’em.”

“Don’t have to. We’ll have four dogs with us. They followed a track clear to the creek, but we’ve got to pick it up again. It’s only a mile from here, Bernie.”

“Everybody goin’? Jake, too?”

“Yeah, everybody.”

“Great. Every woman in town is left alone today.”

“I’m sure the people we’re after skipped our area yesterday.” Pegre looked at Baela, knowing she sensed his lie even though her understanding of English was still poor. She was leaning over her plate, chewing thoughtfully.

“You’re not back by dark, I get the women together, and we come lookin’ for you. I can handle a shotgun as well as any man, Peter.”

Pegre reached over, and touched his mate’s chin. “Okay, okay. We’ll be back by dark. Anything happens here, you lock yourself in the house, and use the shotgun. Don’t forget our guests in the bunkhouse, and upstairs. Several of them can give any man a good fight.”

Bernie was silent for a moment, but Baela could feel and smell her fear, now, detecting a sudden unease of her own, a sort of apprehension that remained after she left the table. She helped Bernie wash the dishes and utensils at the sink, drying each piece as she had regularly done with simpler things for her parents in the cavern. Pegre went outside to wait, and in a short while they heard the rattling and clop-clop of wagons and horses pulling into the yard while Pegre directed traffic to parking places. Bernie sped up the washing, then wiped her hands and left the house while Baela finished her drying chore.

One wagon was parked close to the house, and in the back were four huge dogs, sleek, black coats and lolling tongues. The men were heavily armed and grim-looking, different from the scene of the welcome the night before. Some of them waved to Baela when they saw her standing by the window, and so she went out on the porch for a closer look. When she got there, the dogs took one look at her and started barking furiously, deep-throated sounds that turned into moans and then howls until one of the men stepped up to the wagon and screamed right into their faces. The howls became whimpers as Baela nervously stood her ground, knowing the animals sensed she didn’t belong there, that she was one of those they searched for. Likely it was the basic Tenanken diet that produced a unique flesh odor the dogs could smell even at a distance. With time, it would disappear, and for now she was safe. She wondered what Hidaig and his band would feel like when the dogs were on their heels. From two nights before, she knew what it was like to be the hunted.

The men piled back into the wagons, Pegre getting in with the hawk-faced man she knew as Jake. Baela saw kindness and sadness in the slender man’s eyes, noticed the way he looked all around after seeing her on the porch. It occurred to her that he was searching for the Tenanken female called Diana, the one he had hovered around during the welcome just hours before. She was surprised at how quickly a bond was forming, for Tenanken males were traditionally aloof around females, carefully choosing their mates on the basis of hearth skills rather than feelings or emotions. These often came later, as with her own parents, who had become quite close only after her birth, and now often coupled for the pure pleasure of it.

Bernie went to the wagon, and kissed Pegre as reins snapped and drivers yelled, the vehicles pulling out of the yard and moving slowly in a line up the dirt tracks towards the hill. Soon they had disappeared beyond the trees, and there was silence. Bernie came back on the porch, eyes welling up with tears, and putting an arm around Baela’s shoulders. “Wish he wouldn’t have gone with ’em today. Don’t know why, but I’ve still got a bad feelin’ about this whole day.”

They stood and watched the trees for a moment, then went back inside as the first Tenanken adults emerged sleepy-eyed from the bunkhouse to feel the sunlight on their faces.

* * * * * * *

Maki waited anxiously on the ledge, surrounded by warriors who had brought him quickly outside when Tel’s attempted signal fire had been discovered. He was afraid for his mother, though he knew her cleverness was underestimated because she was female. He knew also that she was an experienced wanderer of the cavern mazes. She could blank her mind well, and if determined not to be found she would not be found. But her foolishness had only incurred Hidaig’s anger, accomplishing nothing and again putting her own son in an awkward, dangerous position. Obviously, Hidaig had decided to take power for himself, but he lacked both the intellect and spiritual presence to be Keeper. Maki still hoped that Hidaig would accept his usefulness in coaxing support of the conquered band for their new leader if the son of their old one were made spiritual advisor and Keeper of The Memories. From this base he could be patient, for the day would come when a devoted follower would slit Hidaig’s throat, and all power would be his. For the moment, he would bide his time and survive. But he feared for his mother—and his father, feeling nothing coming from them.

Kretan emerged from the cavern, Hidaig close behind. Both glared at Maki.

“Have you found her?” Maki probed with his mind, scratching at the barrier Hidaig had raised. Its presence worried him. What was he hiding?

“We don’t have time to search every tunnel and hole, but eventually she’ll have to come out There are more important things to do. My question to you is, do you stand with us this day, or must we throw you into the canyon? I have no desire to constantly watch my back.”

“I join with you, Hidaig, but Pegre is mine, and I ask you to leave him to me. I will need my weapons.”

Hidaig thought for a moment, Maki feeling the weak probe, and letting him see hatred there, all seemingly directed at Pegre, and so there was reason for trust. Hidaig ordered Kretan to retrieve Maki’s weapons from the cave, and shortly after the huge warrior reappeared with a fur bundle under one arm.

The bundle contained the rifle, but the pistol was gone.
Pegre
, thought Maki. As the others watched him suspiciously, he levered the rifle just enough to see that a projectile was in place. Probing lightly, he could feel the tension and fear all around him as he fingered the weapon.

“You know how to use this?” asked Hidaig.

“I have killed Hinchai with it before. Today, I will use it to kill Pegre.” He closed the breech of the rifle with a snap, and looped the weapon across his chest. “I will do it at close range, so I can watch his face when his body explodes.”

“Such strong feelings for an enemy,” said Hidaig. “I will keep you in front of me today, and if you point that weapon in my direction Kretan will run you through. Those are his orders.”

The big warrior smiled, and fingered the sharp, stone tip of his spear.

“I understand,” said Maki, “that I must prove my loyalty to you. You will feel differently at the end of the day.” He hoped that Hidaig would sense only his hatred for Pegre, and not the other feelings he now kept shielded from the probe: his hatred of Hidaig for betrayal, the mixed love and resentment he felt for his parents, and overwhelming guilt for having stood by passively while his father was struck down. But all these things would not have happened without Pegre’s plan to take the Tenanken from the caves, and so he focused the blame on the one who would be his victim this day.

They moved out in a line, Maki, Kretan and Hidaig bringing up the rear, climbing to the end of the canyon past Baela’s hidey-tree, and close to where both Tenanken and Hinchai had been buried under stone, one remaining there still. Far below them, on the canyon floor, beneath thick pines, beetles and worms began work on the corpses of several old ones and a loyal friend named Han, whom Maki had already forgotten.

They rounded the end of the canyon, and came back along the other side, past the open entrance of the cave they no longer attempted to hide, because soon there would be nobody left alive to hide it from. They picked their way along the edge until the canyon veered sharply towards the valley, and there they went back into the trees, following them out to a sharp ridge descending to a grassy floor dotted with buildings. Pegre was in one of those buildings. Pegre, and his Hinchai mate. Maki focused on a vision of killing them both.

Hidaig called them to a halt at the edge of the trees, and there they sat down to watch and wait as the sun rose, turning the valley golden. The buildings were near; it would be a charge of three hundred paces down the ridge and across a field to reach them. There was activity at one building, a door banging and a Hinchai female rushed out with something in her hands, which she deposited into a vehicle before going back inside. When she appeared again there was a big male with her, and they loaded more things into the vehicle.

“There, you see Pegre,” said Maki. “The other is his Hinchai mate, and she carries his child.” The disgust in his voice was impossible to conceal.

Hidaig squinted, and looked closely. “So it is. He is not exactly as I remember him, but we were younger then. I see fat from the easy Hinchai life.” He chuckled.

“Don’t be deceived by sight,” said Maki. “He’s strong, and his spirit is not diminished. Remember, he’s mine.”

“Yes, yes,” said Hidaig, smiling. “Ah, what have we here?” He pointed to another building, from which a figure had emerged into the sunlight. “They have another child?”

A young girl with long, blonde hair stretched lazily, bringing slender arms up over her head, then running towards the other building. Maki recognized her immediately. “No, that is one of the Hanken from our band. The rest of them must be in the building she came out of. If we attack now, we might catch most of them asleep.”

Hidaig shook his head. “Not so fast. I don’t know how many are inside, or the number of males who can fight. Pegre must have at least one pointing weapon, so surprise will have to be the main element of our strategy, and the strike must be swift. If pointing weapons are used against us, our numbers will mean nothing. We will wait until we see who is down there, and exactly where they are. Now, we watch.”