The Storyteller Trilogy (65 page)

Chakliux looked to his left, waited until he saw movement, then crept over to catch the leg of Blue-head Duck, the old man crawling on his belly. He turned with his knife raised.

“I am Chakliux.”

“You were almost dead,” the old man said.

“Come with me toward the river,” Chakliux told him. “Stay low.”

“Our stupid women,” Blue-head Duck whispered. He raised his hand, beat against the side of the nearest lodge and called out, “Douse your hearth fire. The Cousin River men can see us. You give their eyes light to find us.”

Chakliux heard the muffled sound of voices from inside the lodge, then suddenly the light was gone. He crept ahead to the next lodge, poked his head into the entrance tunnel and told them the same thing. All along the edge of the village, as they moved toward the river path, they warned the women, and when they found a hunter, told him to follow. As they gathered more men, they split into threes and fours, moving separately, afraid a large group would catch the Cousin River hunters’ eyes, even in the darkness.

Chakliux, Blue-head Duck and Carries Much were the first hunters to reach the path. The shadows were deep, and for a moment Chakliux considered standing and throwing a spear at the Cousin River hunters who stood closest to them on the ridge. But he could not see well enough to be sure of his target. Besides, if one fell, the hunters closest to him might send their arrows into the cleft the path made through the ridge.

Chakliux clasped Blue-head Duck’s wrist, whispered, “Do not throw your weapon. They will know we are here,” then said the same to Carries Much. He felt the boy let out his breath, realized he had a spear in his thrower, ready.

“Go to the river,” Chakliux told them, “then where the bank is low, creep up into the forest. Take a place behind the Cousin River men, pick your target, but do not throw your spear until you hear me call out.” He squeezed Carries Much’s shoulder, felt the boy tremble. “Go now. Go quietly.”

Blue-head Duck and Carries Much left him, and Chakliux waited for the next group. They came, led by Sok. Chakliux could think of no words to express his joy that his brother was still alive, so only told them what be had said to the others, sent them also to the river, and waited again.

Five groups of men came, three or four hunters in each group. Finally, Chakliux also went to the river, followed it to the low bank and climbed up to disappear into the spruce forest. He found the Near River men just inside the forest, waiting, each a few running steps behind the trees that hid the Cousin River hunters.

Many Cousin River hunters were standing at the rocky lip of the ledge. Some were laughing, calling out insults, as they sent their arrows into the village. They were men Chakliux had grown up with, and he could not let himself think of the years they had lived together, could not let himself imagine the destruction that would come to both villages no matter who won the battle. He stepped forward, called out, threw his spear. It hit solidly between a Cousin River hunter’s shoulder blades. The man slumped, and the hunter next to him turned to look. His exclamation of surprise became a froth of blood when he, too, was hit.

Then the Near River men were crying out their victory. Several hunters stood on the ridge to crow their delight, and arrows took them, but the others—most of the Near River hunters—crept back into the forest, hid, waited for light, waited for the Cousin River men to come to them.

They did not come. At dawn they swarmed down from the trees and into the village, where they began fighting lodge to lodge. Chakliux led the Near River men into the village, and they fought, knife to knife, hunter to hunter. Chakliux’s strong arms allowed him to kill two men, but then his legs grew weary and his muscles were torn with cramps. He crept into a lodge, fended off the knife in the hands of one of the Near River women. She wept her regret, then gave him water, offered food. He took the water, but did not think he could eat anything. His belly was twisted too tightly in anger, in fear.

When he went outside again, he crept up behind a Cousin River hunter who was fighting with Fox Barking. Chakliux killed the Cousin River man with his long-bladed knife, then in the same way killed a hunter who was fighting with Sok.

Chakliux fought one man then another until he lost track of the sun and no longer felt his pain. Finally there were no more to fight, and he heard the cries of victory, the ululations of the women, then affirmations that the Cousin River hunters had fled.

As the women found husbands and sons dead, mourning songs drowned out cries of celebration, but Chakliux’s weariness was so great that at first they did not pierce his heart. He stared up at the sky, saw that the sun was still high. How could so much have happened in such a short time? Surely they had fought for years. Surely it had taken them longer than one morning to destroy themselves.

K’os counted out the days on her fingers. Three to walk to the Near River Village, though the men, being hunters and not slowed by women and children, should make it more quickly than that. Another day to prepare weapons and complete plans. One day to fight. Perhaps two? She counted two. Another day to celebrate and take the spoils, divide the women and children. Then what, four days to return home? With women and children hindering them, with their wounded, yes, probably four. That made one more than two handfuls. She should not be worried yet. It had been only one handful and three more.

She squatted beside her fire and stirred the coals. The village seemed too empty without the men, and for some reason, K’os could not stay warm. It was as though the wind, knowing the women and old ones were alone, blew harder. She dug through the bundle of furs she stored for making boots, leggings and parkas, found a large wolf pelt, turned it fur side in, and wrapped it around her shoulders.

She had intended to sew a parka while the men were gone. She would make it beautiful to celebrate their successful battle. She would wear it to honor her revenge against Fox Barking and Sleeps Long. They deserved to die, as did their wives and children. And what about that woman who had left Chakliux on the Grandfather Rock and tricked K’os into raising a cursed child? She, too, should die.

But though K’os had planned to sew, her fingers were too full of nervousness. They dropped awls and needles, tangled sinew thread. She had cut out the pieces of the parka, had even dyed the caribou hair she would use to embroider a pattern on shoulders, cuffs and chest, but that was all she had done.

She heard a shout just outside her lodge, raised her head. It was a woman’s voice. Some child had probably managed to hurt himself. Or a woman had foolishly dumped hot broth on herself. K’os dropped the wolf pelt from her shoulders and went to get her medicine bag. She had goose grass for burns, though the dried stems were not as good as juice taken fresh from the crushed plant. She had yellow violet leaves mixed into a goose grease salve for scrapes, cuts and bruises, and she knew how to make birchbark casts for broken bones.

More shouting, a scream. K’os sighed, then smiled. She got a good price for her work—usually some charm highly valued by the one who was sick or hurt. Later, K’os would wear it often, or better yet, destroy it and leave the remains in plain sight at the refuse pile at the edge of the village.

She took out several strings of beads, fastened them around her neck, then picked up her medicine bag. Why make them come and get her? Why not go now? People who lived in the same village should help one another.

“Listen,” Night Man said. He propped himself higher against his backrest, flinched at the jostling to his shoulder.

He had good ears, far better than Aqamdax’s. She crawled into the lodge entrance, heard the thin sound of voices, women crying.

“Stay here,” she told Ghaden, who had followed her, then she went outside.

She could see nothing, but again she heard the voices. They seemed to come from the south side of the village. She went back into the lodge.

“Something has happened,” she told Night Man.

She pulled on leggings and boots and her outside parka. Ghaden began to struggle with his parka, but Night Man shook his head at the boy. “Stay,” he said. “If you go, Biter will go, and he could cause problems if someone has been injured.”

“Do you think the men have returned?” Yaa asked.

“If they had, Star would be here to tell us,” Aqamdax said, but did not miss the look of dread that passed over Night Man’s face. If the men had returned, it was not good. There were no celebration cries.

“I will be back,” Aqamdax said, and hurried outside. She ran through the village, joined other women who also ran, and, when she saw the group of men, she, too, lifted her voice in mourning.

Only six hunters had returned: Fisher, Runner, Sky Watcher, Take More, Man Laughing and Tikaani. Each of them showed some sign of injury. Tikaani lay on a travois; he was so pale Aqamdax thought he was dead. Star and K’os were huddled beside him. K’os looked back over her shoulder and saw Aqamdax.

“This man, we must get him to my lodge,” K’os said. She raised her voice and spoke to the women. “Take the others, each to a lodge. Check their feet and hands for frostbite, give them water and food, wash any wounds and let them sleep. I will come later and bring medicines.” She turned and looked at the men standing beside Tikaani’s travois. “Do any of you have strength enough to get him to my lodge?”

“I do,” Sky Watcher said. Then Take More, an elder, slumped to his knees.

“Bring him as well,” K’os said, lifting her chin toward the old man.

Aqamdax leaned down beside Star, helped her get Take More to his feet. On the way to K’os’s lodge, Aqamdax saw one of Yaa’s friends and asked her to tell those in Star’s lodge that the men had returned. “Tell them I am in K’os’s lodge with Tikaani and that I will come home when I can.”

The girl ran off, and Aqamdax wished she could have been the one to go. How would Night Man react, hearing that his brother was wounded? She needed to be with her husband but did not want to leave Tikaani alone with K’os.

Aqamdax helped Star settle Take More on pelts K’os had laid out on the floor, then the two of them removed his outer parka, his boots and leggings. The man had several gashes on his arms, another across his forehead, but none seemed infected. He opened his eyes, looked at both of them, croaked out a request for water. Aqamdax got a water bladder and held it so only a trickle went into Take More’s mouth.

He roared out a protest, and Aqamdax told Star, “This one is just tired.”

“I cannot see right,” he whispered. “I see two of all things.”

Though K’os was working over Tikaani, she asked, “Did someone hit you in the face or head?”

“The back of the head,” Take More said. “For a whole day I did not know anything. They had me on a travois with Tikaani.”

K’os lifted her chin toward Aqamdax. “Put your hands on the back of his head. Touch with your fingertips.”

Aqamdax did what K’os told her.

“Do you feel a lump or a sunken area?”

“A lump,” Aqamdax said, and made a circle with her thumb and forefinger to show K’os how large it was.

“You will see better tomorrow, at least by the next day,” K’os told Take More. “Stay with me tonight. I have a tea Aqamdax will make for you.” She thrust her hand into the medicine bag and drew out a packet, tossed it to Aqamdax.

“Only a pinch. Heat it to boiling, then let it cool. Make him drink it all.” She laid out several packets of powdered woundwort leaves and told Aqamdax and Star to skim fat from her boiling bag and mix it with the powder, smooth the fat over Take More’s cuts.

She turned back to Tikaani and worked over him for a time, probing with her fingers, cleaning wounds. Finally she looked up. A smile on her face gave Aqamdax hope, but K’os said, “He is dead. A belly wound, not an easy way to die, at least the first few days.” K’os looked at Sky Watcher. “You should have left him, saved your strength,” she said.

“He was my mother’s cousin,” the young man answered. “He fought well. I could not leave him.”

“Are any more of our hunters coming back?” K’os asked him.

“No. We are the only ones left.”

At his words, Star raised her voice in a hard wail of mourning.

K’os whirled toward the woman. “Shut your mouth!” she shouted, then she lowered her voice and asked the young man, “And how many Near Rivers died?”

“Many,” he said.

K’os tipped back her head and sang out a chant, strange words mixed with laughter.

“Did you know any of them?” she asked. “A man named Fox Barking, another named Sleeps Long, did they die?”

“I do not know,” he answered.

Take More said, “I fought Fox Barking. He is still alive, but cut here.” He drew a finger down his forehead and over one eye to his jaw. “Sleeps Long is dead. I killed him.”

“Hah!” K’os screamed out. “I celebrate your bravery.” She reached into her medicine packet. “Put this into the tea you are making,” she told Aqamdax. “It will taste better and will relieve some of Take More’s pain.”

She went over to Take More, began to check his wounds, finally nodded as if satisfied. “There is nothing serious here,” she said, then pressed her hand to the back of his head. “Even this. I have seen worse.”

“My son Chakliux. Did you see him?” she asked Sky Watcher.

“He is alive,” he said. “I saw him as we were leaving. I thought he would kill us, but he held back the hunters, though some were angry. I could hear their shouts. Still, they did as he said.”

K’os sucked in her cheeks, said nothing for a long time, and when she spoke again, Aqamdax saw blood froth at the corners of her mouth.

“You are so proud to drag that one home,” she said, and lifted a foot to prod Tikaani’s body. “Are you proud enough to carry him to her lodge?” She nodded toward Star. “Let his mother and sister prepare him for burial. I do not have time. My work is with the living. Besides, if any of our men deserved death, he did. He was the one who planned the attack against the Near Rivers.”

“I know who planned the attack,” Sky Watcher said, then he lifted his head and spit full into K’os’s face.

She screamed curses, but the man ignored her. He hoisted Tikaani’s body to one shoulder and followed Star and Aqamdax from the lodge.