A Journey of the Heart (14 page)

"How long will we wait?"

She shrugged.

After a time that felt like ages, Vintel stepped again into the clearing. Breda's shield hung from her shoulder, and she had one of the prisoners with her. His hands were tied behind his back. She pushed him ahead of her to the center of the clearing and forced him to his knees. Then she held Breda's shield high over her head, showing it to whoever might still be watching from the opposite hillside.

Vintel set the shield down and raised her right hand. A flash of sunlight glanced off the blade. She showed the knife to the unseen warriors of the northern tribes, then plunged it into the back of the prisoner who knelt before her. He made no sound, but only swayed a little before he fell. With the dead man lying at her feet, Vintel took up Breda's shield and drew her sword. Alone, she stood waiting for the northerners to answer her.

The silence lasted so long that I began to think the northerners had all vanished and left their comrade to die for nothing. Then a loud cry went up from the hillside opposite. Other voices joined it, and from our side, Laris and her warriors ran to join Vintel. Side by side, shouting their own war cries, they waited for the northerners' attack.

From the woods at last the northern warriors came. More than I could count, many more than we had seen at first, they rushed down upon Vintel's tiny band. Vintel and her warriors turned and fled.

So terrifying was the sight that I too might have leapt to my feet and run if I hadn't had the hillside at my back. It was now the enemy's turn to see our warriors flee, and they pursued Vintel and Laris and the others at full cry. Thinking they were chasing only a small band, they charged across the clearing and into the woods, where the rest of our warriors awaited them.

I could see nothing for the trees. At first we heard only the sounds of Vintel's flight through the thicket and the shouts of the pursuit. Then a roar went up as our hidden warriors showed themselves. Now we heard the clash of sword on shield, and many of the cries we heard were cries of pain.

For a time we listened to the sounds of a battle we couldn't see. Then the sounds receded, as our warriors pushed theirs back toward the clearing. Several of the northern warriors fled back across it into the trees. Behind me a cheer went up from the apprentices. I would have added my voice to theirs, but Sparrow turned and shouted at them to be quiet.

I thought that the northerners would soon be in full retreat. Instead the sounds of fighting continued. I was watching the woods below us, trying to catch a glimpse of the battle, when I saw something move out of the corner of my eye. I looked up at the opposite hillside. Warriors of the northern tribes poured out of the woods. There seemed to be no end to them.

Sparrow's attention was still on the fight below us. I nudged her and pointed at the clearing.

"The Mother keep us," she whispered.

"Are we outnumbered?"

"We are now."

She gestured to one of the apprentices closest to us.

"Get everyone ready to go to the cliffs," she told him. Then Sparrow turned to me. "Our warriors will try to cover our retreat, but you might get that bow ready, just in case."

With shaking hands I loosened the strap of my bow case and slipped it off over my head. I drew my bow out of it and managed to string it by lying on my back, bracing it against my foot, and bending it around my thigh. Then I fastened the quiver to my belt and took an arrow from it.

"Listen," said Sparrow.

I heard nothing.

"It stopped," she said.

"What?"

"The fighting. It stopped."

We waited, listening.

Something moved on the hillside below me. I fitted the arrow to the bowstring.

"That's one of ours," Sparrow whispered.

Nothing was moving now in the woods below me, but I did see a patch of color in a thicket that seemed out of place. It might have been a bit of someone's cloak.

"They've retreated," Sparrow said.

"The northerners?"

"No, our warriors."

"Where are the northerners?"

"Still down there, somewhere."

"Why did they stop?"

"I don't know."

I thought about their first disastrous pursuit of Vintel's handful of warriors. "Perhaps they fear there may be more of us."

"Perhaps."

Another movement below us caught my eye.

"Our warriors are pulling back to where the gully narrows," Sparrow said.

Just as the narrow trails that led to the caves could be defended by a few against many, so too could the narrow neck of the gully, at least for a little while, and the northerners would have the added disadvantage of having to fight uphill.

I peered down into the woods. "Why can't I see them?"

"Most of them are still farther down the hill. Those below us here will cover the retreat of the rest, if it comes to that."

We waited. The anticipation of what would happen next was sending tingles up and down my spine. I was more excited than afraid. I had been too busy trying to understand what was happening to think about the danger we were in. I had yet to see the enemy close up or any of the fighting. But Maara was somewhere down on that hillside, and I did fear for her. I tried not to think about it.

A shout made me jump. Another answered it. Then the war cries of the northern tribes rose up through the trees. At once our warriors' cries rang out. Again the sound of battle filled the air. This time it was much closer.

A warrior burst out of the shelter of the trees, running toward us up the hill. She carried no shield, but from the color of her cloak I thought it must be Laris. Her sword was in her hand, and blood ran red down the arm that held it.

Taia cried out behind me. Before Sparrow could stop her, she slid down the steep hillside and started toward Laris. Laris saw her and shouted to her to go back. Taia stopped, but she didn't return to the safety of the rocks. She stood where she was, below the ledge where Sparrow and I lay. Laris turned then and stood between us and the enemy, as though she would hold them all back herself.

Sparrow gestured to the apprentices to begin the retreat. They slipped down the hillside, and some started back up the gully, but Taia still stood below the rock ledge, and many of them joined her, as if they were there on an outing, to watch the battle.

"They're going to get themselves killed," Sparrow said. "And they're going to get warriors killed trying to defend them." She backed away from the edge of the rock. "Stay here and cover our retreat."

I nodded and turned back to the hillside below in time to see a warrior of the northern tribes burst out of the woods and run at Laris. I forgot the bow in my hands. I watched in horror as he raised his sword. I heard Taia shout a warning, and Laris turned to face him.

More of our warriors ran out of the cover of the trees. Maara was among them. She saw that Laris was in trouble and started toward her, but she was too far away. The northerner struck at Laris. She had no shield, so she raised her sword to deflect the blow. His blade descended, and Laris's blade shattered.

Laris took a step backward and tripped. She fell to the ground, and it was her fall that saved her. Before the northerner could reach her, Maara's sword arced by his shoulder. He caught it on his shield, but the tip of it drew blood.

The northerners had followed close on our warriors' heels. The open ground below the rock where I lay was now filled with warriors. I lost sight of Maara in the confusion. Our warriors could retreat no farther, and so they turned and fought, some with fury, some with cold anger, some with desperation, as they sought their last partner in a deadly dance.

When my eyes again found Maara, the man who had attacked Laris lay unmoving at her feet. As I watched, another man ran at Maara with such force that their shields crashed together and Maara was hurled backwards to the ground. Her sword flew from her hand. The northerner stood over her, his sword above his head. When the blow fell, Maara met it with her shield. His blade sliced through the leather cover and bit deep into the wooden frame. He struggled to free it.

By the time the northern warrior raised his sword again, I was on my feet. I drew my bow and set the arrow's tip at the center of his chest. Then I thought of Maara, lying on the ground between my arrow and its target, and I raised the bow just a little before I let the arrow fly.

He stood still for a moment, his sword high above his head, his eyes open wide and staring. Then he dropped his sword and with both hands clawed at his throat, where only the fletching of my arrow protruded from below his jaw. His mouth opened as if he meant to scream, but no sound came out of it. Blood welled up out of his mouth, spilled down his beard and over his hands. I watched him, fascinated, while his eyes searched for me. Just as they found me, the light died out of them. He fell to his knees, pitched forward, and lay still.

From below me a new cry rang out. Taia, brandishing a stick as if it were the finest blade, launched herself down the hill. The apprentices followed her, fists upraised, howling like a pack of wolves. None of them was armed, not even with sticks or stones, but the northern warriors didn't wait to see what their enemies had loosed against them. They fled. Many dropped their heavy shields, and some cast their swords aside. Terrified, they ran down the hill and across the clearing and disappeared into the thicket.

I watched our warriors fall upon the stragglers and bring them down. There was no stopping the pursuit. Warriors and apprentices together vanished into the woods.

Suddenly Maara was beside me, standing on the rock.

"I'm fine," I said.

"Good," she said. "Come down."

She held out her hand and backed away from me, away from the rock's edge. Out of habit, I followed her. She stepped aside and gestured for me to descend first, down the steep hillside. My feet skittered on loose rock as I slid down, but I arrived at the bottom still on my feet. She followed close behind me.

"Come with me," she said.

She walked away from me toward the open ground. Toward his body.

I didn't move. She turned to face me. I felt my face crumple like the face of a child about to cry, but the place around my heart was ice.

Maara came back for me. Her fingers closed tight around my upper arm. She pulled me along with her, as a mother pulls a reluctant child, until we stood beside his body.

I refused to look.

"You dishonor a brave man," she said.

Her voice was colder than the ice around my heart.

Dishonor?

"Look at him," said Maara.

I looked down at the ground beside him. Blood dappled the leaves around his head. Maara turned him over. I looked away and closed my eyes.

"Take his shield."

At last I found the courage to look at him, although I couldn't bring myself to look directly at his face. His shield lay beside him, still strapped securely to his forearm.

I bent to pick it up, but even in death, he held on to it with a grip I couldn't break. I drew my knife and cut the strap that bound it to his arm. Then I was able to wrest it from him.

"Tamras."

I turned to her. Her face was so close to mine that I couldn't avoid her eyes.

"Your enemy lies at your feet," she said. "He was a brave man, a strong man who was made to yield to someone stronger. His power is now yours, if you will take it."

"His power?"

She spoke a word I didn't understand. It had a sharp edge to it. She saw that I didn't understand it. She let go of me and knelt beside the northern warrior's body.

"I don't know the name for it in your language," she said. "Your language may not have a name for it. It encompasses many things. Among them is the part of him that may yet prove stronger than you are." She dipped two fingers of her right hand into the blood that had pooled around his wound and stood up. "Are you strong enough to add his power to your own?"

Although I didn't understand what she was asking, I knew what she expected of me. I nodded.

"Well done," she said.

She touched her fingers to my temple and drew them across my brow and down both cheeks. The blood, warm at first, chilled my skin as it dried. Maara went to the body of the warrior she had killed and marked herself with his blood, as she had marked me.

Someone behind me said, "I would wear war honors too, if I could."

It was Laris. She approached Maara and, drawing her a little away from me, said something to her I couldn't hear. Her wound still bled.

Our warriors were returning. Elated by their victory, they showed off to one another their spoils -- swords and shields, knives, bits of armor, helmets. One woman wore a necklace of boar's teeth taken from the dead. I had seen her in the melee. Only minutes earlier hatred had twisted her face into a contorted mask, and I thought I saw it smoldering still behind her self-satisfied smile.

Sparrow touched my arm. "I'm fine," I said.

She murmured something in my ear and went to join Vintel.

I watched the activity around me. Several of our warriors sat on the ground while their apprentices washed and bound their wounds. One of the apprentices cut two saplings and tied her cloak between them to make a litter for her wounded warrior. We stayed where we were only long enough to gather everyone together. Then we retreated to the cliffs, where our wounded would be safe until we could bring a wagon to take them home.

Sparrow had been right about the trails that led up to the caves. They were so steep and so narrow that I couldn't imagine how anyone could reach the caves if there were even one person to oppose them. In single file we straggled up the cliff face, taking the hand of the person in front for help over the difficult places and then extending our own hand to the person behind.

Halfway up the cliff we arrived at the mouth of an immense cave. The narrow ledge in front of it was large enough to accommodate all of us and more. Fires were laid, ready to light. One of the apprentices took out her firestones.

"Won't the northerners see our fires?" I asked Sparrow.