This man was easily the oldest person there. Thin, wiry, with a shock of white hair that fell over his shoulders and halfway down his back, he had no beard or moustache unlike a lot of the men
who favoured both (Cygan was another exception) and his nose was prominent and hawk-like. Standing in front of the brazier, he was cast in shadow, though his eyes still glittered like coals, and
behind both him and the brazier, on a shelf against the walls, were a row of skulls that glowed red in the fire, an audience of the dead joining the audience of the living. At length, when everyone
was settled, the man spoke in a voice deeper and more vigorous than might have been expected in a man of his years.
‘I have called you all here for two reasons. The first is to relay to you for those that may not know news of the passing of Fasneterax’s youngest boy. A child who like so many
others did not reach his naming ceremony. Ukka, the spirit of the underworld, has taken him. Her great spirit has joined with his lesser one, making both of them stronger. Together they now travel
the Great River that joins the Earth to the Heavens. By day he will be with Cygannan of the skies only to return to Ukka’s side at dusk as, of course, we must all do one day. Tomorrow, before
we hold the funeral feast here, we shall walk the path to Lake Meshallax where we will let Ukka claim him. Let your grief for the child be short, for he has gone to a place of radiance and
enlightenment beyond our humble imaginings, where he will be taught the way of the spirit world; once he has joined with Ukka he will be in every tree, every bird, every fish and beast that walks,
swims or flies upon this world. He will be with every Elder that has preceded me, every warrior, every huntsman. Where our words and thoughts and dreams pass as smoke in the wind, he will have an
eternity of peace, free of pain and torment. Our mortality is brief, a mere water droplet along the course of the Great River itself. He is now ahead of us in the great journey along that river and
on the morrow we will commend his spirit to Ukka and ensure his passing to her side is a smooth one. Praise Ukka.’
‘Praise Ukka,’ they all said as one, heads bowed. Many of them had lost children in similar circumstances so there was no artifice in their utterance. A distant rumble of thunder
could be heard and a fresh wind whipped around them, pulling at their hair and their clothes. Dumnekavax, the Elder, looked at them, his expression grave.
‘The second matter is one that you will not hear from my lips. Rather it is Vengefarak here who will tell his tale. He returned today from a visit to the Jagged Hill tribe, some three
days’ journey away. They are a tribe who live close to the sea where the water starts to taste of salt. Once he has told his tale, we must all decide what to do.’
Vengefarak, a dour man of middle years, powerfully built and scarred on his chest as all the men were, stood and faced his audience.
‘It is as the Elder has said. The purpose of my visit was to arrange a dowry for the wedding of my daughter as she has had her fourteenth summer this year. They are not so numerous as
ourselves and the son of their Elder had recently come of age. For those who have never been there, I will just say that they live some two to three hours from the sea on a small rocky hill in the
midst of a broad flat lake. The water is always choppy for they have little protection from the wind blowing in from the sea. They fish the lake using wide nets and constantly have to protect their
catches from the large seabirds. They also need to boil their water as the lake can get quite salty, though like us they collect rainwater in large butts to see them through the dry times. The lake
never freezes, though the winters there can be extremely bitter; the trees bordering the lake are low and twisted by the wind. The people there are fairer than us and this would be the first
marriage between our peoples. Both Elders sanctioned it some time ago and, as I have said, I had to travel there to finalise the details.’
He stopped, wiping his mouth on his arm; he was evidently unused to speaking in front of a large audience. No one interrupted him. After swallowing deeply, he continued.
‘My journey down there by round boat was uneventful. I saw no one on the way, even though I passed quite close by some other villages. The land changes as you approach the sea; there are
fewer trees and broader stretches of water, the days can be hotter and the nights colder. It is a strange land. Nevertheless, I made good progress and on the dawn of the third day of travel I
espied their jetty on the hill and made for it. I was expecting the Elder to formally welcome me as we would do here, with pipes and music and a small exchange of gifts; instead, when I got there,
there were armed men waiting for me. They bundled me out of the boat and propelled me to the great house at the centre of the hill. At this point I feared for my life but looking at the faces of
the other men I saw something unexpected. Fear.
Nearly the whole tribe were in the great house, including the Elder who greeted me warmly and apologised for the reception I had been given. Naturally, I asked him why they were behaving like a
frog that has seen a grass snake. He looked at me and said that earlier that day two men were out on the lake fishing when one of the boats capsized and the man who was steering it was pitched into
the water. The other went to aid him when he saw him being pulled underwater. The man stopped and hesitated before continuing. What this man saw was his companion being pulled underwater by the
Malaac.’
A shocked silence filled the great house as Vengefarak stopped for a second. Then everyone started talking at once.
‘The night devils, just three days away?’
‘Pah, they are a myth! The man’s eyes were addled by the sun.’
‘They go for the children; they eat the children first.’
‘We must form a war band – no one’s safe!’
The babble continued for a good minute until Dumnekavax threw more leaves on to the brazier causing it to hiss and smoke violently again. Everyone stopped talking. Another rumble of thunder was
heard, slightly closer this time.
‘I heard someone say the Malaac were a myth,’ said the Elder. ‘If only that were so. The Malaac are Ukka’s abandoned children, the night devils, an amalgam of amphibian,
reptile and man. They normally live in the Forbidden Zone, in the Lake of the Eye, where no man will live as the dangers there are so great and a quick death almost certain. That they have moved
such a distance northwards and westwards from there is disturbing. That they have attacked a grown man by the light of day is remarkable.’
Vengefarak continued: ‘This fisherman saw his companion surrounded by three or four Malaac; they were pulling him under to drown him. He had his spear with him and tried to get them off
the man. He stabbed two of them but they were relentless. The man disappeared under the waves and was not seen again.
‘I volunteered to stay and help them see out the night. The Malaac only venture on to land at night as their eyes are sensitive to too much light. The village was already fortified by a
stockade, so it was just a matter of reinforcing it, seeing it was in good repair and then waiting. I had my bow and spear and was asked to defend the women and children at the great house. All the
women there are like our own, well practised with sling and dart, so they, too, were not defenceless.
Night came. The sky went from red to blue, from blue to deepest purple, and then to black. From the lake came the strangest noise, a mournful whooping cry, from one voice, then two, and then
many more joined the chorus. Everyone’s blood was chilled. And then the attack came. From my position I could make out little, just shapes trying to scale the stockade and being repulsed. The
flaming torches outside the great house made vision even worse if anything. It was chaos – the cries of men and the howling of the night devils – I had my bow in my hand but could see
nothing to aim at. Eventually, the men at the stockade drove them back but it was only a brief respite.
In total, they attacked seven times that night. After the second or third attack I joined the men at the stockade. They are terrifying foes, fast and strong, slimy, with green lizard-like eyes
that shine in the dark. I wounded a couple and I think I hit some with my arrows. They did break through in the end, but the women aided us pelting them with stones. Just as we were weakening, dawn
broke. In total, six men were lost, with many more injured. Their bite has a poison to it that slows the healing of wounds; the Elder tried healing them with mud poultices but with limited effect.
We don’t know how many of them we killed; they took the bodies of their dead with them. I have heard they cannibalise their own. I spoke to the Elder and the other wise men. It was decided
that they would reinforce their stockade and send all of the older warriors that could be spared to other villages to ask for help. It was agreed that I should return here for that same purpose,
so, about one hour after the break of dawn, I departed and reached here after just over two days’ hard rowing and taking barely any rest. And I now humbly present the entreaty from the Jagged
Hill tribe for aid, whether through warriors or just supplies. We do not know if the Malaac will attack again or if they will move elsewhere, but if they continue to attack this tribe every night
they will not withstand them for long.’
With that Vengefarak bowed to his audience and returned to his sitting position among them. The Elder spoke again.
‘When I first heard this news I and the Circle of the Wise...’ he indicated a group of four or five men sat in the front of the assembly ‘...concluded immediately that we need
to do something. As to what, I am unsure; if these creatures do move on, then we need to look to our own defence. No one is safe from them. There is also another matter that concerns me. I have
been waiting for some days for an emissary from the Twin Snake tribe. As you all know, last year there was trouble between us concerning hunting territory; there were two or three skirmishes in
which, though no one was killed, several were injured on both sides, Vunatax here can confirm that.’ He looked at a young man who, on closer inspection, had several fingers missing on his
left hand. ‘We were going to settle the dispute and discuss recompense for the injuries done on both sides. When I last visited them they said they would arrive on the day of the next new
moon, and yet it passed some seven days ago and there has been no news of them. I am troubled by this, for when an Elder gives his word to another tribe it is never broken unless some cataclysm has
occurred. Vengefarak’s report has obviously heightened my concern.’
‘The priority has to be our women and children,’ said one of the audience, a tall man with red hair who stood out from the rest of the tribe who were almost universally dark.
‘Of course, the women can fight, but it is the job of the menfolk to see that they don’t have to.’
‘True enough, Raduketeveryan. Would everyone be agreed that we follow our normal course of action for when the camp is threatened? That is, withdraw everyone to the central island,
surround it with a stockade and sharpened stakes, arm everyone with at least a sling and stones, keep our food and livestock penned in the centre, along with our most vulnerable, and cede the rest
of the village, stripped of everything of use, to the enemy.’
There was a murmur of approval and a voice at the back shouted, ‘We only need do this at night, for that is when they come.’
‘Agreed,’ said the Elder. ‘Everyone in the village is to assemble on the island before dusk, bringing their weapons and valuables. Tomorrow, after the funeral feast, we will
construct the stockade. The Malaac dislike fire so we will keep several burning when night falls. Now, what of the other issues?’
One of the Circle of the Wise, a man almost as old as Dumnekavax but even thinner and wirier stood up and addressed the audience.
‘It is the opinion of the Circle, of which I, Mutreverak, am the spokesman, that a force of men is sent to the Jagged Hill tribe to proffer aid, whether through fighting, evacuating the
wounded, or repairing their defences. The number of men we send need not be large, but enough to be effective. We were surmising anything between ten and twenty men.’
‘Twenty is too many; we need a large force to stay here,’ said several people at once.
Order broke down at this point with people arguing about numbers or whether any men should be sent at all. This time the Elder let everyone have their say until they tired themselves out. The
noise started dying down when a flash of lighting was seen southward over the marsh, followed very soon afterwards by a slow rumble of thunder. It was apparent that the storm was growing ever
louder and closer. After everyone had finished the Elder spoke again.
‘I believe that a force should be sent, even if it does nothing more than discover further information about the threat we might face. If you feel we should send a force, then say so
now.’ At least two-thirds of the men present got to their feet shouting ‘Aye!’ over and over again. Clearly the majority were in favour. Cygan stood but did not shout; he was as
worried about the storm as anything else.
‘That is good – a force will be sent then,’ announced the Elder. ‘I propose three longboats carrying some eight men; this gives enough room to carry supplies and evacuate
some of the wounded, if we fit five or even six to a boat. I also propose that we send one longboat with four men to the Twin Snake to discover the reason for their silence. Once they have
completed their task, they will then travel on to the Jagged Hill and meet with the other boats there. Twelve men, a reasonable force and one we can afford. Does anyone disagree with this
proposal?’
There was a lot of head shaking and murmuring – the Elder saw this as affirmation of his proposal. ‘Then that is what we will do. The two parties will depart after the funeral
tomorrow; they need not attend the feast. Does anyone wish to put themselves forward for these tasks.’
People stepped forward and hands went up again; Cygan was one of the few not to do anything.