Bonesetter (21 page)

With a doubtful expression, she gummed a small piece.
“It’s been ruined by cooking it in a smoky fire!” she exclaimed.
She apparently didn’t find the flavor too dreadful though—she wadded up the rest of the piece of spirit meat and put it in her mouth.
“How do I know it won’t rot?” she asked with a sly grin about the wad of meat she was slowly masticating with her few remaining teeth.

Pell shook his head at this obvious ploy, but gave her another piece to keep until the next day.

The old woman was still expressing her doubt about any “preser
ving magic” in the spirit meat
—
while continuing to inspect the second piece Pell had given her
—
when the beautiful young woman walked up.
Pell had seen her coming and had already lost the train of the old hag’s questions.
The girl asked the old woman what she was studying so closely. As the young woman looked curiously at Pell, her penetrating gray eyes arrested him.
She was slender and perfectly formed, having not a single deformity that Pell could see.
Scars of disease or injury, deformities of birth or accident, it seemed that everyone had one or two, even if minor.
Not this girl, her skin and even her teeth were flawless.

“This young fool says that it is meat preserved with ‘magic’ so that it won’t spoil.”

“Really?!” the young woman queried in an amazed tone

Pell desperately wished to explain “his” spirit meat to this beautiful creature but found himself completely tongue-tied.
As he was struggling to get a word out Tando spoke over his shoulder.
“Oh yes, this is a very powerful magic wrought by Pell, our Shaman and Medicine Man.”

Pell stared at Tando in startlement.
Shaman
?
Medicine Man
?
Where did Tando come up with these ideas?

“Shaman
and
Medicine man?” queried the old hag.

“Yes,” said Tando.
“Pell has immense powers.
He has the magic of catching animals, and of preserving meat.
In addition, he is a powerful bonesetter.
Look at my arm, broken and horribly deformed at the beginning of this very summer!” He displayed his thickened but straight wrist.

Pell’s brows rose even farther.
How could Tando equate his simple tricks to “powerful magic”?

The old woman looked querulously around.
“Where is this Shaman, ‘Pell’?”

Tando put his hand on Pell’s shoulder.
“This is he.
Did you not know with whom you spoke?”

Pell felt the twin gazes of the haggard old woman and the beautiful young one boring into him.
Surely they could see through to his tremulous core?
To Pell it was obvious that he was no “powerful Shaman” and certainly,
he
could comprehend the doubt in their eyes.
Why would a “
great
Shaman” be wearing a loincloth of poorly cured old leather?
Surely a “
p
owerful Medicine Man” would have something better?
Pell felt extremely self-conscious and a hot flush rose up in his face.
Stomach flip-flopping, he almost turned and bolted.

The old woman grunted.
“If this young upstart is such a powerful ‘Medicine Man’, why is he over here needing some of my medicines?”

Pell was trying to get up the courage to disclaim himself as a “Medicine Man” when Tando responded, “So far
his
power has shown itself in bonesetting, but I am sure that he will prove to be strong with the medicines too.
Look at my wrist!
It was terribly deformed!
My old tribe’s medicine man tried seven times to set it straight without success—then I went to Pell who immediately made it perfect!
He even applied a ‘healing stick’ to it.
This magic stick relieved the pain, held it straight and made it heal quickly!
As yet, he hasn’t gained his full powers over medicines so we
could
use some of your medicines.
You keep that piece of spirit meat until tomorrow and, after you have seen that it is still good, we can discuss a fair trade for some more.”

Tando moved on without another word, as if he had dismissed them.
Pell followed, still tongue-tied and wishing fervently that he had been able to say
something
intelligent in front of the beautiful girl.
Eventually, after handing out a few more small bits of spirit meat here and there, they walked back to their campsite and conferred with Donte.
Donte and Tando went back to the market area so that Donte could see what was available.
T
his time
Pell stayed to guard the campsite.

Pell went over to where Ginja was still hiding in the bushes.
He gave her a bit of spirit meat and they played a while, wrestling around on the ground.
Pell also explored the immediate area within sight of the camp in the hopes of finding some edible plants, roots or berries but had no luck; presumably, the many people in the area to trade had picked everything over.
Back at the campsite, he lay down for a nap, in a reverie over the beautiful girl with the gray eyes.
He awoke from another of his erotic dreams—into a nightmare.
His longtime nemesis, Denit, stood sneering over him!
The Aldans must have arrived at the trading area!

“Look at what I found.”
Denit’s voice dripped vitriol.
“That
girl
that used to live with our tribe—before she got thrown out for trying to hunt.”
Exen stood off to the side snickering,
even
though
he had
a somewhat uncomfortable look on his face.

Pell started to sit up but Denit dropped to sit on his chest, boxing him on the side of the head.
Pell reached down but Denit pulled Pell’s knife out of its sheath and cast it away, then drew his own.
Pell’s eyes darted about desperately, but no one else seemed to be nearby.
“What’s the matter, little girl, no one here to save you this time?” Denit taunted, flicking his knife towards Pell’s face.

Fear flashed through Pell, with no adults about to temper his judgment, Denit might seriously injure or kill him!
Pell convulsed up, driving his knees into Denit’s back with all the force he could muster.
To Pell’s own surprise this launched Denit off Pell’s chest and onto his own face.

Pell scrabbled to his feet, eyes darting about for his knife.
To his dismay, Exen held Pell’s knife, though fortunately he didn’t appear to be threatening Pell with it.
But it didn’t look like he was going to hand it back either.
Pell looked about for a weapon—a club, a staff, a rock?
Nothing!
Spirits!
Denit groaned and began to slowly push back to his feet!
Denit held his back and heaved to get his breath.
His color, at first pasty white, gradually took on an enraged red cast.
Pell dithered, what
could
he do?
He thought of running for the market, but in races, Denit had always been faster than Pell.
Mentally, he berated himself for not attacking before Denit completely recovered from losing his wind; however, the ingrained memories of
years
of defeats in fights at Denit’s hands had
petrified
him.
Uncertainly, Pell backed away. Denit finally stood all the way up.
Startled, Pell realized that Denit was no longer taller than Pell!
Huskier yes, but not quite as tall.

Pell had known that he had been growing rapidly all summer.
He had been eating more and better than anytime in his life and had gotten to be much taller than Donte who was tall for a woman.
But Pell had assumed that Denit would be growing too.
Denit was just bigger than Pell—had been for Pell’s whole life.
It seemed a fact of Pell’s existence.
Denit’s eyes narrowed as he absorbed the change in their size differential, but he shook off any surprise—and charged.

Pell, heart in his throat, dove to the left, out of Denit’s path and into the dirt.
He scrambled back to his feet expecting Denit to be almost on top of him.
To his surprise Denit lay sprawled on the ground beyond him.
With a snarl Denit began to rise to his own feet.
Blood dripped from Denit’s knee!
But, unfortunately if the injury was serious, Denit seemed unaware of it.

“What’s the matter Pell?
Can’t fight like a man either?
We all know you throw like a girl but even I didn’t think you’d scurry away from a fight like a rabbit!”

Denit charged again, this time with arms spread wide and not so fast, wary of overshooting
like
before.
Pell dodged to the right, away from Denit’s knife hand but Denit, expecting it this time, swerved to catch Pell about the waist, throwing them both to the ground.
Pell, once again amazed at Denit’s strength, wrestled to escape, but Denit scrambled atop him. This time Denit didn’t sit on his chest to be easily dislodged with a knee.
After struggling a while, Pell found himself on his stomach, left arm agonizingly twisted up behind him.
Denit, astride his back, took a wider based posture than before to avoid being cast off.
As if in the distance, a horrified Pell heard Denit ask Exen, “
Where do you think her heart is?
A
bout here?” Pell felt the prick of Denit knife on his back and his heart hammered in his chest like a beast fighting for its own life.
Mind gyrating wildly, he tried desperately to think of some way to beg for mercy—some way that would not further inflame Denit
’s beastiality
the way
such requests had in the past.
Pell surged again, trying to roll away but Denit just forced his hand higher detonating a blast of pain in Pell’s shoulder.
Pell rolled his head trying to see Exen.
Might Exen help?
It seemed unlikely that Exen would think to thwart Denit now.
A
s far as Pell was aware, Denit had never progressed all the way to murder
while he was
tormenting those weaker than he.
Maybe Exen would draw the line
and stop him
here?
Agony lanced from his back as the knife was driven in deeper.
A grating torment pierced him as the blade struck a rib and stopped.
Denit laughed and then wiggled the flint point a little
,
seeking to slip it past the rib.
Pell realized with
horror
that he had reached the end of his life...

Then a snarling explosion blasted Denit’s weight from Pell’s back!
Pell rolled away from the direction Denit had fallen and scrabbled to his feet looking wildly about.
Denit lay struggling beneath Ginja, as the young wolf clawed and slashed for his throat.
In his endeavor to keep the wolf from his throat, Denit drove his wrist into the wolf’s maw.
Ginja shook her head from side to side lacerating Denit’s forearm.
Exen stood motionless, goggling at the events before him.
Denit’s knife lay at Pell’s feet and he picked it up.
Then he took a step towards Exen.
Exen started back in fear, dropping Pell’s own knife from paralyzed fingers.
Pell stepped over to where Denit and Ginja struggled, Denit beating at Ginja’s side with his free arm.
Pell stepped on the flailing arm on its downstroke and leaned down, laying his knife across Denit’s throat. He tensed to sever the soft flesh at the front of Denit’s neck, much as they did to finish off an animal during hunts.
The knife creased the skin but seeing the quailing, blanching dread in Denit’s eyes, Pell couldn’t go through with it.
“Ginja,” he said
quietly
.
Ginja let up on Denit’s forearm a little and, though she continued to snarl through her nose,
she
looked questioningly at Pell.
“Let him go girl.”
After a moment spent with their eyes locked, Ginja slowly released Denit’s bloody arm and backed away, still rumbling in her throat.
Pell looked down into Denit’s still panic-stricken eyes.
“You would have killed me…” he said this almost meditatively.
“Really, I
should
finish you off, just so that I don’t always have to worry about this happening again….”

“It, it—it won’t.”
Denit rasped out pleadingly.

Pell eased up with the knife and slowly stood, both hands holding knives, Denit’s in his left and Pell’s in his right.
Both hands trembling in reaction and poised to strike.

Denit struggled back to his feet, holding his bloody right forearm in his left hand and regarding Pell and the wolf as if he gazed
at
horri
fying
demons.
Denit
and Exen slowly backed away from Pell’s campsite and, reaching the path, they turned to scuttle away at Denit’s best possible limp.