Kalik (9 page)

In the last light, I dragged myself up the hill to the hut. Nip followed head down, sway-backed. She caught my glance, her eye gleamed, tail wagged, and she slumped. I fed her and boiled myself some bear meat.

“That’s your last hunt for a while,” I told her.

As I lay down, chanting came from the Roundhouse. It continued almost all night now. I woke later to the touch of fingers on my lips.

“Shh! I must speak to you.”

“Lutha!”

“Keep your voice down.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Has Kalik told you to keep inside your hut the next three nights?”

“Yes.”

“Be inside before dark; don’t go outside till daylight! Eat and drink nothing from anyone else’s hands. If anyone asks why, say I ordered it. Bar your door. It’s your life I’m talking about!”

Something flashed in my mind.

“What are you laughing at?”

“I’m not laughing. Just remembering you coming to my cell on the Floating Village. Nip must have remembered it, too. Maybe that was why she let you in without barking.”

“I whispered her name. She knew my voice.”

Lutha had not come just to give me the warning. She sat on the edge of my bunk, and I could feel her tension, a slight shiver.

“Tell me, Ish –” She cleared her throat, began again. “How do you find Kalik?”

“What do you mean?”

“Going up the lake; at the timber workings; hunting. You spend much time together.”

“He’s good company, got lots of stories.” Why was Lutha asking? Were they not the close friends I took them for? At first I had even thought they were lovers.

“Come on, Ish! I know he has a lot of stories. Listen, I have to rule the Headland, make Kalik’s people and mine one. It is not easy when Kalik mocks Hekkat.”

“Not to me.”

“Only because he is more subtle. Undermining. Ridiculing. Encouraging people to question my authority.”

If I felt uneasy with Kalik, how much harder for Lutha! What she and the Maidens were doing was sacred – and he made fun of it. Just the way he held himself, looked, smiled. And his physical attractiveness made his mockery all the more trying.

But there was the torture of the Salt Men. Lutha’s ritual killing of the three prisoners after the battle. Cannibalism. The way she struck Maka when the baby cried. If Kalik was cruel, so was Lutha.

I would not betray either one to the other. Nip and I were safe because of Lutha’s protection: just as I was still grateful to her for saving our lives on the Island of Bones. But that did not mean I had to approve her cruelty. Her father had taught me not to confuse gratitude for one thing with approval for another.

As if I had spoken my thought aloud, Lutha talked of him. Childhood. Her ambition to be the priestess-ruler of the Floating Village. Now ruler of the Headland People.

“It is not easy. Kalik is always trying to betray me through my Maidens. He seduced one so she broke her vow of chastity, her obedience to me.”

“The one who wanted to spear me, the day we arrived?”

“Raka knew there must be an extraordinary reason for a man being in my canoe. Remember, Kalik did not get back until later?”

I nodded.

“I already knew Raka had been sleeping with Kalik. Doing his bidding. Without being told, she understood she must kill you. When I had her tortured, she confessed, said she heard Kalik’s voice telling her to do it. He looked strangely at you, when he arrived. And then at me.”

I remembered the glance that passed between Kalik and Lutha when he first saw me. But that was nonsense! He did not even know I was there until he returned. How could he have told Raka to spear me? I went to say that to Lutha.

“Kalik has unusual powers,” she said.

There were those times I felt Kalik’s mind trying to penetrate mine, when he seemed to know what I was thinking. Even so, I said, “That’s too much to believe.”

I heard the brush of the thick plait on her shoulders. “Kalik had seduced Raka’s mind as well as her body. She knew he would not want you here, someone who might have influence with me. So she went to spear you, but saw my emblem around your neck.”

“Yes. That makes more sense.”

“Kalik will stop at nothing. He makes me crueller than I want to be.”

Was that true? Lutha must be responsible herself for what she did.

“I dare not get rid of him. I must keep our two peoples as one, or we’ll be defeated by the Salt People. They are always waiting for a chance to attack again.”

“Of course. But why risk coming here?”

“To make sure you will be safe. That you know not to eat food from anyone else, not to go outside. No matter what you hear.”

“I’ve got my own food, and I’ll draw my own water.”

“It is only natural for Kalik to lust after power. What I have to do is stop him from actually trying to overthrow me.”

“I think I understand.”

“I know Kalik sent Raka to sleep with you.”

“What?”

“She died before telling all – the torturers were clumsy – but she confessed much. Her death was a warning to Kalik not to go too far. I need him, but in his proper place. If he interferes with the Maidens, uses you, then he will have to die.”

My last glimpse of Raka, the sway of her tall figure, the wine jar at her side. So she had slept with me on Kalik’s orders…. Was that why she wept?

Then what about Kalik’s story of her disappearance? He had said she was left on the Island of Bones. Who was I to believe? Should I tell Lutha that Kalik said Raka was her lover? That she had her destroyed because she had taken another?

“Kalik is putting about an old story,” said Lutha, “of a Stranger who came and overthrew Hekkat. He is telling people you are the Stranger who will overthrow the Goddess. That a man is going to become King of Grave Mountain again.”

“What?”

“He says you came out of the Western Mountains, down the lake, went under Grave Mountain, and returned with wisdom as in the old story. People are talking about it.”

“He told me that story on the way up to the timber workings. And he said I might be the Stranger. I thought he was joking. I don’t want to be a ruler!”

“I believe you!” Lutha’s voice was quick, firm. “But that is the story he is putting about. And everything fits together. People like to believe a story, especially one that makes a prophecy.”

“But why does Kalik want them to think I’m the Stranger?”

“He would kill you once you had served your purpose.” There was that sharpness in Lutha’s voice, as if I wasn’t intelligent enough to understand. Like the way she’d called me “Idiot” that first day. Leadership, I knew, had that effect on people.

“I’ve no wish to overthrow you – nor anyone else.”

Lutha’s hand felt for mine in the dark. “Do you swear that?”

“I swear it. You saved our lives on the Island of Bones. And I loved your father.”

Her hands carried mine to her breasts. I felt the nipples under my fingers. A pair of cold lips touched my forehead. It was wrong, the touch, the kiss. I remembered her other kiss in the cell on the Floating Village. That one kiss I dreamt about in the Land of the White Bear. Around which I had built up a whole illusion of love for a Lutha who never existed.

Suddenly, as if the door had opened, the hut seemed cold. Lutha was using me. As was Kalik. I wanted no part of their cruelty and deceit.

“Lutha!” A whisper from the door.

“Here! Hide it.” Something shoved into my hands. “Nip is going to have pups?”

“Yes.”

“Lutha!” The whisper again. Urgent.

“I will take her,” said Lutha. “She should be in the Roundhouse when she has them. Under Hekkat’s protection.”

“Lutha!” The voice this time came from inside my hut. Had one of the Maidens been with us all the time?

I touched Nip’s head. “Go with Lutha,” I said, and heard a scuffling. I shoved the thing Lutha had given me under my bunk, had just lain back when, “Ish? Ish?” The door was opening again. A voice calling, “Nip! Ish! Are you all right?”

“Kalik!” I mumbled.

“Just making sure you’re all right. Where is Nip?”

“In the Roundhouse till she has her pups.”

I heard his movement as Kalik nodded. “Lutha and her Maidens are wandering tonight. They’re not drinking the wine yet, but I was worried.”

“What about yourself?”

“Oh, I’m all right.” He moved quietly but, by the sounds, he was feeling around the hut. Anyone else there could not have escaped his touch. “I just wanted to be sure about you. Now, bar your door!” And he was gone.

It felt strange without Nip. A gust of chanting came from the Roundhouse, and the wind dropped again. I barred the door, and felt under the bunk. Lutha had given me back my book!

So she distrusted Kalik! And had fled at the warning of his coming. But she had been accompanied by at least two Maidens. Was she being honest in what she said of Kalik?

He must have been sounding me out with the story of the Stranger. Using me, as he had Raka. After which he would get rid of me. That’s if what Lutha said was true. Or were they both lying?

I wrapped the book in deerskin. Dug a hole in the earth floor with my knife. Lined it with wood, and hid the book. Stamped the floor flat again.

Two Maidens brought Nip down to my hut next afternoon. She lay quiet, close to her time. When the Maidens called her, she looked at me. I crumpled her ears, stroked her belly, and sent her after them. That day I ate only what I cooked myself and drew my own water. I saw the Children settled down and returned to my hut well before dark. Women warriors had taken over guarding the Children’s stockade, and both gates in the palisade.

The first night, laughing and singing, the Maidens ran past my hut. An edge to their voices. There were other sounds around the Headland that night. Strange bird calls. A surprised cry. Yells of disagreement. Women’s voices. A fight.

Next day, watching work on the canoe, I heard one of the carvers say, “They killed several goats and a couple of deer last night. Tore them to pieces with their bare hands.”

“I saw them lying outside the Roundhouse this morning,” said another. “Sleeping it off. Blood and wine all over them.”

“Keep away from there!”

“It’s all right during daylight.”

“I’d avoid it.”

There was no talk about a Stranger. Perhaps Lutha was imagining things. That night, I woke to a frenzied screaming.
Many voices, rising and falling. A sobbing rhythm. I thought of the Children, but they were safe, barred inside their huts. Guards on the gates. Much later I woke and heard the Maidens chanting, returning from their hunt in the hills.

Next day, hollowing of the great log was complete. There were finishing touches to be done, but the carvers tried the canoe on the water where it floated, all shapeliness. Kalik came down. “The canoe will lie on the water this night of the full moon,” he said, voice low. “Tomorrow, Lutha will order work to begin on a carved bowpiece and sternpost. It will be dedicated to Hekkat. Only Lutha and the Maidens will use it.” He turned and walked up the Headland, subdued.

Some Maidens brought Nip to me, down there on the beach. We sat together as I stared at the hull beautiful on the still water and remembered its first slide to the lake.

Under the full moon that night, the Maidens rampaged out of the Roundhouse. Shrieking. Again, strange calls, movements around the Headland. Then feet pounding down towards the causeway. The Maidens, led by Lutha, their last night of Hekkat-madness.

I had dug up the book earlier, when I dug up the jars of wine, worked out their stoppers and poured in the powder to make any drinker sleep. Now I stuffed the book in my pack with the cooked bear meat and a cured deerskin, and opened the door just a crack. Nobody in sight. I swung up my pack, took bow, arrows, spear, knife, and slipped outside. Cloud covered the moon. I looked up the hill towards the Roundhouse, thought of Nip, but dared not risk it.

The guards on the stockade gates were asleep, drunk. In the disarray of the Headland, it had been easy giving them the wine while the Maidens slept that afternoon. They had taken the jars with a grin.

The Children woke and followed me through the shadows. Maka and Tulu carrying Chak and Kimi behind me. The others in pairs as I had told them. Paku and Tepulka at the back.
Down through the lake gate where the guards also slept drunk. Into the great canoe.

Paddling through darkness towards the mouth of the river. Behind, a terrible cry thrilled. The returning Maidens had found their quarry. A man wandering amazed.

The river’s current gripped, swept us towards the Island of Bones. Moonlight slashed a break through the clouds. The island’s boulders shone like tumbled skulls.

“Where’s Nip?” asked Chak.

“I had to leave her,” I said. “Lutha will look after her.” I could say no more.

We put the rest of the Children ashore on the river's southern bank. In the lightened canoe, Paku, Tulu, and I paddled hard down the middle of the current, rammed the Island of Bones. Rent its full length, the swamped canoe jammed between white boulders, the weight of water tearing off, carrying away the split side.

“Lutha will think we've gone under Grave Mountain,” said Paku.

But, as we swam, I said aloud, “Kalik won't be deceived,” and took in a mouthful. Tulu smacked my back, giggling to herself, helped me up the bank.

“That should fool them!” Paku was enjoying himself. He was going to be good under pressure.

“Not if they bring Nip.”

Maka was waiting with the others. When she heard me mention Nip, her face went still in the moonlight. I shook my head. “Chances are they won't.”

Maka and Tulu had stolen the bows and arrows of the two snoring guards, Paku and Tepulka their spears and knives. I had my bow and arrows, spear, knife. The pregnant Kitimah and Sheenah had each grabbed a string of fish as we ran past the smokehouse.

There was no time to cover our tracks. We hurried the little ones along, retracing the way I had followed the spiker. The moonlight helped.

“See that bluff on Grave Mountain,” I told Paku. “At its foot there's a clearing with a tall grey rock. Behind the rock, there's a hole under a flat stone, a branch dragged over it. Get everyone down the hole. There's plenty of room.”

“What about you?”

“I'm telling you just in case. Hide there till it's safe to move.”

Paku grunted and took my pack. I dropped back. Listened but heard only the Children ahead. When I caught up, Paku had kept the right direction.

“Not long now.” Tama and Puli were struggling, but Puli actually tried to smile! “You're doing well!” I patted them. Through scrub. Under trees. Stark, the bluff heaved higher.

Something? So faint, I stopped, held my breath, cupped both ears. The bray of a distant horn. Would sound travel all this way from the Headland? I ran to catch up to the others. Paku was glad to slide off the pack.

When the horn sounded again, it was closer, probably on the river. Kimi yelped. I swung Chak up on top of my pack. Maka carried Tupu. Tepulka and Paku picked up Kimi and Hurk. Tulu carried the bows and arrows, the spears. Kitimah and Sheenah were keeping up well. Far to our left a different horn brayed. “It's all right. They're across the other side of the river,” I called.

We neared the bluff. Horns moaned around us. “Just echoes,” I called. “Not far now!” And I heard Nip crying.

The clearing. The tall grey rock. Around its back. Throw the branch aside. The black hole. I pointed. “Be rabbits!” Kimi and Tupu laughed, scrambled out of sight. Chak. Hurk. Puli. Nip yelped closer. The Maidens' screams, Lutha's highest.

Tama dithered. Shove him aside. Kitimah, Sheenah sank and vanished. Tulu. Paku and Tepulka. “What about you?” asked Maka.

“Get down!” I pulled out the deerskin, threw her my pack.

Tama rocking in his old hunch, I knocked him out with my spear shaft. Rolled him in the deerskin. Shoved him in. “Grab his feet!” Halfway down, he woke, fought, jammed across.

A bark. I slide down backwards, feel Tama with my feet. Drag at a rock above my head. Creak! Drive the spear into the roof. Dirt tumbling in my eyes. In the moonlight I see Lutha leading
the Maidens. Arms, faces, breasts patched with black daubs.

Nip crying. A spear strikes beside me. I lever and bring down part of the roof. Nip's bark, and the shrieks. My feet feel Tama disappear. I let myself go, slide, and land on something soft. A rumble. Air pushes against my face. I reach up, drive the spear into the roof again and lever. The shaft bends, snaps. Rocks thump, the roof collapses, the howl of shrieks and Nip's whine cut off.

“Go further into the tunnel! To the right!” I levered down more debris with the broken spear shaft. A sliding roar. Rubble seized my feet, gripped around my knees. Rose sudden up my thighs, waist. Helpless. Unable to breathe. And something hit my head. Lights. Pain! The Children's cries fading.

Then returning from far off. The little ones sobbing, voices echoing. And the sound of water running. Hands digging me out. Lifting me. Breath coming back. My own voice mumbling something.

“He's awake!” Maka.

“Take his legs.” Paku.

“I'm all right!” I pulled myself up. Running both hands over the wall of rocks and soil. Clambering over uneasy, shifting rubble, I came to the curved roof of the tunnel. Well-blocked, not just the hole but the tunnel itself. No way now to the left, what I thought was north. I felt my way down the pile, touched a painful lump on my head. Wetness down my neck. I licked my finger, tasted blood, and stepped into water over my knees.

“Are you all here?” I felt their faces. Said their names. All twelve! Hugged them together. Moved them further along the tunnel. Sat them in a huddle, arms around each other. Tama sounding dazed. And because I didn't know what else to do, I told them the story of the Five Friends who ran away and found a place of their own. The whimpering stopped. Just the twelve Children pressing around me. Their breathing. The trickle of water in the dark.

“Hee-haw!” went Chak. And they howled, and brayed, and barked, and crowed. If our hunters could have heard, it
must have been more terrifying than the bray of their horns. I laughed, told the Children, and they laughed, too. A desperate sound.

Maka had kept hold of my pack. My broken spear, bow, and arrows were under the rockfall. Tepulka's spear gone. I had my knife, Paku and Tepulka theirs. Tulu still had the guards' two bows, but only three arrows. I took Paku's spear, felt with it, but could find nothing. Water pooling deeper.

“I think I dropped a couple here,” said Tulu. She splashed to my left. “Yes!” She found one arrow, then another. “Get out!” said Paku's voice. Tulu came out of the water just as there came another rumble and splash.

“Quick!” Down the tunnel I counted everyone again, touching them, hearing them say their names. Making sure. Saying their names aloud myself. The two older girls, Maka and Tulu. The two older boys, Paku and Tepulka. The two pregnant ones, Kitimah and Sheenah. The two depressed ones, Tama and Puli. And the four little ones, Tupu. Hurk, Kimi, Chak. “Twelve!”

The tunnel was heading south, I hoped, the direction we wanted to go. “Twelve!' I said again.

On a sandy patch we sat and shared some bear meat. The Children drank thirstily. At least the air was good, and we had water.

I led, feeling with the spear, remembering the holes in the floor of the Droll's tunnel. We were walking over fine silt and small pebbles, the water running shallow towards us. The Children in pairs, holding hands. Maka and Tulu feeling for the walls with their bows. Tepulka and Paku at the back, making sure nobody fell behind. Now and again I raised the spear, but could not feel the roof. The walls were as smooth and even as the tunnel behind the Shaman's cave.

“How are we going to know when it's morning?” the sick little one, Tupu, asked. I had taken her on my back, hearing exhaustion in her voice. Her face burned against my neck, the fever of her disease.

“It depends how long the tunnel is. We'll keep going as long as we can. Then have a sleep.” At least the floor was clear, nothing to stumble over. And always the sound of water.

I counted the Children each time we rested. Checking by touch as well as voice. “Keep in your pairs.” The older girls, Maka and Tulu; the two little boys, Chak and Hurk; the boy and girl I had despaired of, Tama and Puli; pregnant Kitimah and Sheenah; the older boys, Paku and Tepulka taking it in turns to carry Kimi. Twelve! In the dark, it was as if I had to learn their names, their voices, their appearances all over again.

Lutha must think we had been crushed by the rockfall. If they dug after us, they would find only a hole filled with water. A few days, and it would be as if we had never lived on the Headland. Kalik would change his plans and start plotting something else. What about his cold rage? “I give up nothing,” he once said. Neither he nor Lutha would understand what I had done. Nor why.

All that time in the Land of the White Bear I had loved Lutha's memory. I remembered the night she helped me escape from the Island of Bones. Telling me how the priestesses had ordered a Salt Man killed. “He took a long time to die,” she said, and I heard again the catch in her voice. But that was before, corrupted by leadership, she learned to use cruelty herself.

Then I was back in the tunnel, hearing our feet splashing through water. The Children's voices tiring. We found a raised heap of dampish sand and slept, but first I made everyone drink. It would keep them feeling full. The four little ones slept on the deerskin in the middle, the bigger ones around them. Paku's confident voice said, “We are escaping!” and I heard an excited sigh from Kimi. A tired chuckle from Chak.

“Where's Nip?” he asked.

“Lutha had her on a rope. I couldn't get her.”

“Will Lutha be cruel to her?”

“She'll be kind to her. And her pups.” There was no point in telling him Nip had died, crushed in the hole.

Everyone woke hungry. Maka and Tulu cuddled the youngest ones, reminded them where we were. Tepulka made them laugh. Not what he said so much as the way he spoke. We finished the bear meat, shared a smoked fish. “Suck every bit off the bones,” I said. For some reason, that made Kimi laugh. And we all laughed at her. Then Chak laughed at the sound of somebody piddling. I felt, counted all twelve, and we went on.

I didn't say that the run of water had increased. I had known by its sound, the moment I woke. Nobody else seemed to notice.

Then we saw a lighter shade of darkness, felt air on our faces. But the light came from above. Paku climbed and stood on my shoulders, Tepulka, Maka, and Tulu supporting his legs. He reached up into the dark with the spear, said he could feel a round hole in the roof.

I told the Children the hole was built by the people who made the tunnel. “To bring in fresh air. We couldn't climb it.”

“Did somebody really build the tunnel?” Chak wanted to know.

“The Old People, the People of the Walls, they tunnelled through the hills to save climbing them. The tunnels were their Ways, what they called their Roads.”

“Remember,” said Puli, “‘…the donkey ran down the road.' In the story?” I listened astonished to her voice. It was one of the few times Puli had spoken. There was a new spirit in the Children: they had something to live for.

“I remember!” said several others.

“Well,” said Puli, “we're running away from our cruel owners, too. Down a road through a tunnel.”

“Up!” said Chak's voice, “because the water's running down,” and we all laughed.

Then it occurred to me, the tunnel might be one of those the Old People used to carry water. For making the thing they called electricity. The sooner we got out, the better.

“How do we know we're going the right way?”

“There isn't any other,” Tepulka told Chak. “The water's
running back to where we came from, so we should come to where it starts.” There was a long silence as Chak thought.

“Does the water come in through the mouth of the tunnel?”

“I don't know,” said Tepulka.

“How far have we got to go?”

“Not too far.”

“How long have we been walking, Tepulka?”

“Most of the night and the next day.”

“But we've been going for days and days!”

The younger children thought we must have been going several days at least. I knew it couldn't be that long, or we'd have run out of food. And because I had to cheer up the others, I felt no distress myself.

“We're getting there,” I said, but there were times it seemed the darkness would never end. At least the water showed we were heading in the one direction. Not wandering lost in different tunnels. I didn't say anything about that.

“What if the tunnel just goes round and round?” asked Chak.

“Does it feel like it?” Maka said to him, her voice warm, comforting.

“No.” Chak didn't sound very sure.

“Who would build a tunnel that goes round and round?” asked Maka's sweet voice. Somewhere in the dark, a little voice said, “Chak!” And we all laughed at Kimi.

The next rest we had, they asked about Nip again. There were more tears, and they asked for their story. They wanted it again before we started off. I didn't tell the story of the Dark Forest and the Showman.

The water had deepened while we were resting. Holding hands, the smaller children walked along the side of the tunnel. I kept checking their names. Trying to sound unconcerned.

We had two smoked fish left when I smelled fresh air. No point in exciting the Children if it was just another ventilation hole. The floor of the tunnel was more uneven and slippery with larger stones, water running fast. We had to feel our way.
Waiting for someone to catch up. Making sure every pair was in touch. Six pairs. Twelve children.

I took Tupu on my back, and Tepulka carried Kimi. I felt my way around a large stone, and another. The biggest so far. As I crossed from one side of the tunnel to the other, the water was over my knees. Again, there seemed a lightening, a greying. Then I became sure of it. I stopped. Despite the rising water, I had not felt the closed-in feeling, the choked breathlessness of the Droll's tunnel.

“You haven't got time to worry too much about yourself,” I said under my breath.

“It's lighter!” Chak shouted. “We're out!” he cried.

“Don't run outside the mouth of the tunnel!” I felt it myself, the urge to burst into the light.

Water roaring nearby. The air fresh. The tunnel shrinking. Bigger rocks and sand half-filling it. Something like a net between us and the light. A grating of huge metal bars rising into the roof just above our heads. Between their criss-cross a glimpse of a brown and green valley in sunshine! And the other side of the barrier of rocks and sand outside the gate, the tops of waves, the rapids of a river. Its surface almost level with where we stood.