Yuen-Mong's Revenge (12 page)

     
Trembling shadows of tree trunks projected into the forest as the fires
became alive. It was time. She took three arrows from the hollow tube
she carried on her back and climbed back on top of the rock to a spot
where she could reach the clearing in one leap. The headman and his two
deputies were standing in her line of sight to Atun, about twenty feet in
front of him. While his two deputies were showing her their backs, the
headman was facing toward her.
Just perfect!
Placing two of the arrows
in easy reach, she readied the third on her bow. She took careful aim and
let fly. A second later the arrow found the headman’s throat. For a split
second, he remained upright, his hands reaching for the arrow, trying to
wrench it out, before he fell backward with a gurgling sound. By then the
second arrow was already on its way and hit the back of the deputy on his
right. He fell forward almost instantly. She leaped into the clearing and
raced toward Atun. The second deputy had turned around and was
retreating backward, howling like a wounded animal, and then turned and
ran to the periphery. Most of the men had scrambled to their feet.

     
She covered the distance to Atun in three seconds and stood over him,
aiming her taut bow into the men. The dozen or so who had taken a few
steps toward her fell back immediately, howling. She quickly bent down
and cut the ropes. Then she yanked Atun upright and pulled him running
toward the women and children. Twice he almost fell over, but she kept
him going. The screams of the women and children joined the howling
of the men, who now started after them. Like prearranged, a path opened
up through the women, closing behind them again, and they were past the
fires, running through the trees. For a short moment, some men followed,
but soon gave up.

     
Relentlessly, she dragged Atun along. Whenever he flagged, she
pulled him upright again. She could sense the first stirring of the night
scavengers. They had to get to the river before they were lured out of the
ground by their presence. Twenty minutes later they both stumbled into
the water. Atun simply collapsed on his face, and she had to hold his
head out of the water. She turned him over and cradled him on her lap.
His eyes were closed, but she knew that he was conscious. She washed
his face. It was strange to hold a man, a man helpless like a little child.
Since her parents had died, she had not held another human being in her
arms or had been held by one. In the subdued light of the ring, she could
see the outlines of his face, and removed a strand of curly hair from his
forehead. "You silly man," she whispered. Only then did the realization
sink in that she had pulled off the impossible.

     
After recovering her breath, she forced Atun to get up. Although they
were safe from both the savages and the night scavengers, they were still
in danger. They could not remain in the cold water, and there lurked
creatures similar to leeches. Sooner or later they would find them and she
did not want to have to remove those from her skin. They usually left
their head inside, causing nasty infections. She searched the river
downstream until she found a set of boulders, sticking out of the water
and large enough for them to sit and find temporary refuge.

     
Atun had not said a word yet. "Drink a bit of water, in small sips," she
ordered.

     
He did, and then she gave him a handful of the dried sweetberries.
"Chew them well."

 
     
He shivered, and she took off her vest and wrapped it around him. He
seemed on the verge of fainting, so she held him against her. A short time
later she became aware that he had fallen asleep.

     
It was a long night. Toward morning, there was the usual short rainfall
and she started to feel chilly. She woke him. He briefly glanced at her and
then lowered his gaze, murmuring: "Yuen-mong, please forgive me."

 
     
"You are a silly man," she said softly.

     
"I know. Please, forgive me."

 
     
"I will now get my gear, and then we go. The faster we are back home,
the better."

 
     
After she had retrieved her gear, she forced him to eat some more and
gave him the soft leather blanket she had used as protection against the
cold up in the mountains, so that he would keep warm. She took back her
vest to cover her own upper torso again.

     
He did not have the strength to run. While walking, she kept out a
constant vigil for any emanations from the savages, but they remained
strangely silent. She was sure that no party was after them. She had killed
two of their leaders, so they would be in considerable confusion for
several days until a new one had asserted himself.

     
Atun was silent, only nodding or shaking his head in answer to her
questions, never meeting her eyes. When she stood still, he stood still;
when she resumed walking, so did he. He acted like being on automatic
pilot. She tried to reach him, lift his spirits, give him strength —
something she had never done before — but she could feel that he was
almost beyond reacting, in severe shock, and she also suspected that he
was concussed, judging from the bulging swelling at the back of his head.
She would have to deal with his state of mind once they were back in the
cave. Right now her only worry was to get him safely back there, hoping
that his strength would not desert him before then. Since he was emotionally beyond her reach, all she could do was to monitor him, making sure
that he would not faint on her.

     
She also knew that she needed to treat his many wounds before they
infected beyond the healing power of her herbal plants. Whenever they
passed by swampy areas, she was on the lookout for the disinfectant plant
the root of which exuded the scab-forming gum. With the many jab
wounds all over his body, she needed quite a few of them.

     
Getting him up to the cave was a major struggle. He was unable to
jump to reach the rope. So she first had to climb up and lower it some
more. Then she got him started, staying right below him, giving him
additional support for his feet, letting him stand on her shoulders when
his strength threatened to fail him and he needed to rest.

6

Struggling up that rope sapped the last bit of energy Atun could muster.
He sank to the floor and would have remained there if Yuen-mong had
not carried him to his sleeping alcove. He was shivering from exhaustion;
his whole body felt on fire; worst of all, he was loathing himself. All he
wanted to do was to close his eyes, never to wake up, never having to
face Yuen-mong again.

     
She covered him, and he heard her get water to the boil. He did not
know how long he had been floating in and out of consciousness, when
she raised his upper body and put a cup to his mouth.

     
"Small sips … swallow."

 
     
He swallowed. It tasted bittersweet. It seemed to have a soothing
effect. A short time later she removed the cover and carefully cleaned
every nick on his face, arms, chest, stomach and legs with the crushed
green tops of the swamp root. It stung. He did not even have the strength
to wince, keeping his eyes closed, letting it happen. He did not protest
when she took his penis into her palm and cleaned a small festering
wound there. Then she again dabbed each nick with the scab-forming
milk of the swamp root. He must have fallen asleep while she did this.
When he woke, most of the pain on his body had gone, only his head still
hurt.

     
She made him sit up, putting another cup of the bittersweet liquid into
his hand, saying: "Drink, and stay sitting while I clean your back."

 
     
He felt that he was getting drowsy and that even the pulsating pain on
the back of his head diminished. He vaguely registered her pushing him
down gently and feeling the cover lightly hug his body before sleep
wiped consciousness.

     
The first light of dawn entering the cave found him awake. He had a
vague memory of having been haunted by nightmares and that somebody
had held him in her arms, while humming a soothing melody. At the time
he had thought it was his mother. He also remembered being helped by
Yuen-mong to empty his bladder. The throbbing pain on the back of his
head had returned, not as intense as before, but constantly demanding his
attention, although he did not feel as feverish anymore.

     
He was just wondering whether Yuen-mong was still asleep, when he
became aware of her kneeling next to him, offering him a cup.

     
"Drink. This will ease your headache a bit," she said.

     
How had she known? And then he remembered that she was an
empath. He raised himself and eagerly drank the liquid.

     
"Small sips," she reminded him. "Are you hungry?"

 
     
He nodded. She went over to the cooking area and a moment later
brought him a bowl of spiced hot mash containing small pieces of
smoked meat. He did not need to be reminded to eat slowly and chew
well. After eating she ordered him to lie down again.

     
As he lay there, he wondered whether he would ever find the courage
to look her in the eyes again. She must utterly despise him, the way he
despised himself. And she had not even rebuked him. All she had said
was "you silly man," like you would talk to a small child who reached for
the flame of a candle, trying to take it away. She must see him as a
helpless, useless fool. He wished he could wipe his slate clean and start
over again. Would he ever be able to redeem himself in her eyes?

     
But how could he? She was so superior to him. She surpassed him in
everything he could think of: courage, strength, stamina, willpower, wisdom, intelligence, cunning. There was nothing he could offer her. He was
only a burden, a fool who did not learn, who did not listen. He saw again
her sparkling blue eyes when she had teased the echo on top of that ridge
— was that only two days ago? That beautiful angry face when he had
called her stupid. Her fearless stance, like a supernatural apparition,
keeping two score savages in check. He wanted so badly that she liked
him, that she respected him. It was a yearning that was new, that he had
never experienced. To be liked by a woman … no, to be liked by that
woman who was out of his reach. Was this what they called love?

     
Where is she?
He looked around the cave, the balcony. Maybe she
was on top of the rock, where she took refuge to be away from him. He
lay down again, wishing that she were near, that he could hear her
puttering around, watch her. He must have fallen asleep, and she was still
not there when he woke. He felt a mild flutter of anxiety.
She is fine
, he
tried to convince himself, but it did not help. What if something
happened to her? But he would be of no help anyway. So far he had only
been a burden and he sank into a new wave of self-loathing.

     
He did not remember how long he had been lying there, when he felt
a cool hand on his forehead, and opened his eyes, meeting hers before he
looked away.

     
"The fever is gone. Here, have another cup of tea. It will numb the
pain," she said and helped him raise himself.

     
He remembered taking small sips. When he had finished, she said:
"Lie down again. I want to check if any of the wounds are infected."

 
     
She uncovered him, and he felt embarrassed being naked. She
checked each scab briefly. "They are healing well." She covered him up
again. "Tomorrow you will be able to get up and spend some time on the
balcony. I will soon bring you some food. I know, you do not feel like
eating, but you need to restore your strength."

 
     
He said nothing and did not think that she expected an answer. He
watched her put more wood into the hearth and then blow fire into the
coals. While a pot of water was heating, she prepared spiced patties of
timoru mash. When the water was boiling, she added bark to make bark
tea. He had developed a taste for its tart flavor. Next, she baked the
patties to make flat breads.

     
He liked to watch her. Her movements were flowing, graceful. There
was no tentativeness. She worked efficiently, no effort wasted. Occasionally, she hummed softly. At one point, she briefly looked at him, and he
felt caught, looking away.

     
She smiled and said: "It is OK, Atun. I don’t mind being watched."

 
     
He blushed that she had read is mind, but loved it that she called him
by name. Rather than pronounce it ‘Atn’, as most people did, she gave
equal weight to each syllable, dropping the pitch for the second, like
when she had called the echo. It sounded melodious. His eyes were
irresistibly drawn back to her.