People of the Mist (9 page)

 
          
Nine
Killer tightened his grip on his bow, reassured by the resilient wood. He’d
made the weapon himself, carved it from the fire-hardened branch of a hickory
tree. Of all the warriors he’d met, only five had been able to draw it to full
arc. With it, Nine Killer could drive an arrow clear through an enemy warrior’s
oak shield and into his body—no matter what intrigues good or bad spirits might
contrive.

 
          
He
had been thinking about this new alliance between Hunting Hawk and Copper
Thunder. As War Chief, who wouldn’t? After all, he would have to bear the brunt
of Water Snake and Stone Frog’s rage.

 
          
Things
were changing. The old, ordered ways had crumbled, largely because of the
arrival of Copper Thunder. Were it not for him, and the expansion of the upriver
clans, things might have stayed pretty much the same around the great Salt
Water Bay. But, like Okeus after the Creation, Copper Thunder had brought chaos
to the country. Those three stones were closing in on the Independent villages,
grinding away with ever more determination.

 
          
Nine
Killer frowned. Thinking of Okeus always made him nervous. After all, temples
and shrines were erected to the dark god. He was worshiped and placated,
whereas Ohona, god of Creation and order, was mostly forgotten. Okeus always
made Nine Killer feel as if he were standing on a high point while lightning
flashed and banged in the sky. A man never knew when he was going to be
blasted.

 
          
Okeus
and the Weroansqua had a great deal in common. Perhaps old Hunting Hawk had
saved them again by this alliance to Copper Thunder’s Pipestone Clan. The test
would be to see if Hunting Hawk was truly capable of handling Copper
Thunder—and Okeus only knew what would happen if… A young girl came dashing
down the trail, her long black hair streaming out behind. For the briefest of
moments, Nine Killer thought she was Red Knot, then recognized his niece, Quick
Fawn.

 
          
“Warriors!”
the girl cried. “Warriors, Uncle! Almost two tens of them!” She pulled to a
stop before him, bent double and gasping for breath. “By the … old oak. They
passed … bows ready… faces painted. Coming this way!”

 
          
“Whose
warriors?” Nine Killer put a gentle hand on his niece’s head. “Did you
recognize them?”

 
          
“The
… the Mamanatowick’s!”

 
          
Nine
Killer turned to his warriors. “Water Snake’s warriors are on the west side of
the ridge. If this is a raid, they’ll stick to the bottom of the slope, just up
from the trails along the beach. Stone Cob, break left, warn the others. Flying
Weir, assemble your men. Let’s lay a trap for these cunning infiltrators, and
see what comes of it.”

 
          
At
his signal, the two warriors charged off through the trees toward the other
parties of searchers. The two remaining warriors quickly strung their bows,
plucked arrows, and looked to him for orders.

 
          
“Stay
with me, niece. We’ll climb down the slope. I think I know where they’ll pass.”
He dropped to a knee and looked the gasping Quick Fawn in me eye. “Was Red Knot
with you?”

 
          
“No.”
Quick Fawn panted. “Is something wrong?”

 
          
“She’s
missing. And now you tell me the Mamanatowick’s warriors are out there.”

 
          
“But
she should be long …” She tossed tangled black locks back as she straightened,
sudden worry shining in her eyes. “I… yes, I see, Uncle.”

 
          
“One
thing at a time, girl.” Nine Killer gave her a reassuring smile. “We’ll deal
with the warriors, and then we’ll find her.” He patted her on the back. “Go
now. Warn the village. Two tens of warriors is hardly a threat, but they could
cause mischief.”

 
          
Winged
Blackbird hurried forward, balancing speed against silence. His line of
warriors followed behind him.

 
          
He
didn’t particularly like this situation, sneaking down the narrow neck of land
controlled by Flat Pearl Village’s renowned warriors, but being War Chief to
Corn Hunter, Weroance of White Stake Village, carried risk along with status.
Winged Blackbird had trained all of his life for this, and now, in his second
year as War Chief, he knew just how tenuous his position was.

 
          
His
only hope was stealth. They had to get in fast, accomplish their task, and get
out before that cunning Nine Killer figured out just how weak they were.

 
          
Only
three days past, he’d been sitting before the fire in his family long house in
White Stake Village. His wife, Sees-Through-Shell, had been relating the gossip
as Winged Blackbird knotted a new fishing net from cordage. Then Corn Hunter’s
runner had arrived.

 
          
Winged
Blackbird had taken a moment to don his best shell necklace and tie on his
stuffed blackbird. He wore the bird on the shaved right side of his head, just
above the ear. Then he picked up his war club and went to see the Weroance.

 
          
Corn
Hunter had been surrounded by his priests, some of the clan leaders, and a
stringy, tattooed fellow: a Trader by the name of Barnacle. Winged Blackbird
knew of him, a shiftless sort, and not well liked. From the stories told, he
must have had no less than four or five different mothers—for no other
explanation could account for his various claims of clan affiliation. In all
the years that Barnacle had been plying the waters of Salt Water Bay, no clan
had ever claimed him, and, it was said, those who had investigated his lineage
had never found anyone who knew of him or his family.

 
          
Corn
Hunter wore a grim expression, brooding, his square jaw propped on a meaty palm
as he stared thoughtfully at Barnacle. The Weroance had begun to gray, his body
gone soft and round in the gut. Old tattoos had faded into his age-darkened
skin until they were barely recognizable. Water Snake had placed Corn Hunter,
his younger brother, in charge of White Stake Village nearly twenty years past.
The appointment had been enforced by the Mamanatowick’s warriors in the
beginning, but over the years Corn Hunter had proved a solid man, if somewhat
unimaginative. His duty to his older brother had consisted mostly of
stabilizing the northern borders, and checking on Flat Pearl Village and the
allies of Greenstone Clan.

 
          
Few
failed to realize that Water Snake wished to control the territories held by
the Independent villages. Over the years, he had sent several expeditions to
bring Flat Pearl, Three Myrtle, and Oyster villages under his sway by
intimidation or conquest. Each had been met and repulsed by Greenstone warriors
and their allies. Winged Blackbird owed his appointment as War Chief to just
such a raid, when his predecessor, Net Sinker, had been killed in combat with
Nine Killer.

 
          
“Barnacle
has brought news,” Corn Hunter had told him. “Hunting Hawk, of Greenstone Clan,
has promised her granddaughter to Copper Thunder. As we speak, the girl is
becoming a woman. You will take warriors and go north. See if what the Trader
tells us is true.”

 
          
Shocked
by the news, Winged Blackbird had asked, “How soon, my chief?”

 
          
“Now.
Tonight. Make sure that Hunting Hawk knows that this marriage will displease
the Water Snake.”

 
          
“Tonight?
But I’ll need several days to collect my warriors. Some are hunting, others are
fishing. It—”

 
          
“Tonight,
War Chief!”

 
          
“And
what am I to do? Just tell her she can’t marry off her granddaughter?”

 
          
“I
leave that to you. You are War Chief. You may pursue the matter as you think
best, but this marriage must not take place.”

 
          
Winged
Blackbird had managed to pull together two tens of warriors. What he could do
with such a tiny force remained to be seen. The first part of his plan was to
arrive unexpectedly at
Flat
Pearl
Village
—posing as a hunting party that just
happened to be in the area. A peaceful visit, that’s all.

 
          
Hunting
Hawk was smart. The old woman hadn’t held her position and maintained her
independence all these years by being a fool. She’d see the subtle threat. His
greatest challenge would be the artful delivery of the message so as not to
threaten overtly, but to imply dire consequences should the marriage proceed.
“We are getting close,” he told his warriors. “Be alert.”

 
          
Not
a stick of fallen wood lay on the forest floor, and some of the stumps had been
chopped down with stone axes. Beneath the nut trees, the soil lay beaten down
by the collectors of hickory, pinaquin, and walnuts.

 
          
So
far, so good. With luck, he and his warriors could just walk up to the palisade
and call out a greeting. A little more luck, and Hunting Hawk would receive him
politely, and provide a feast. He’d be hurrying south by nightfall, his message
delivered.

 
          
Just
as he decided he might have a glimmering of a chance, a man stepped out from
behind a thick tree trunk to block his way.

 
          
Winged
Blackbird held up his hand, bringing his warriors to a halt. His heart skipped
as he recognized that short figure, the bandy legs, and muscular arms. The
famous ash-wood bow was strung, and Nine Killer had an arrow nocked.

 
          
“Greetings,
War Chief,” Nine Killer called out. “What are you doing skulking around in Flat
Pearl country?” He cocked his head skeptically. “Not a raid, I hope?”

 
          
Winged
Blackbird gestured the “hold” command to his nervous warriors. Nine Killer
couldn’t be alone out here, could he? Anticipation raced in Blackbird’s veins.
If he could take Nine Killer’s head home to White Stake, they would sing honors
in his name for moons. He’d prepared for this, ready to kill any lone villagers
before they could raise the alarm—but Nine Killer, that would be some trophy!

 
          
“A
raid, great Nine Killer? No, we are a small hunting party. Since we were just
south of your lands, we thought perhaps we would come and visit. A gesture of
our goodwill to let you know that we were in the area, and not the cause of
alarm.”

 
          
Nine
Killer gave him a brazen smile. “I’m glad to hear that, noble Winged Blackbird
… but I’m puzzled. Why didn’t you come down the main trail?”

 
          
“It
was out of our way,” Winged Blackbird lied, and gave the subtle signal for his
men to fan out.

 
          
If
Nine Killer understood the shifting of warriors, he gave no sign. Rather, he
seemed very sure of himself. A sickening premonition grew in Blackbird’s gut.

 
          
“Out
of your way? On this narrow neck of land?” Nine Killer drew his arrow back.
“That’s far enough, Winged Blackbird. If your warriors take another step, I’ll drive
this arrow through your heart and into that tree behind you.”

 
          
“A
man alone shouldn’t make threats, War Chief.”

 
          
“Make
a move, War Chief, and you’ll be the first to die.”

 
          
Someone
hissed from behind Winged Blackbird, and he caught movement out of the corner
of his eye. Flat
Pearl
’s warriors stepped out from behind the trees, each with a strung bow,
surrounding his small party.

 
          
His
mouth went dry. If this went wrong, his party would be caught in a crossfire,
wiped out to the last man.

 
          
“Nine
Killer, I come in peace, wishing nothing more than to speak with Hunting Hawk.”
He lowered the butt of his bow to the ground, smiling in what he hoped wasn’t
visible bravado. “Had I come for war, do you think I’d have brought but two
tens of warriors with me?”