People of the Mist (70 page)

 
          
Nine
Killer started forward in a involuntary effort to pull the man back. Heat
seared his raised arm.

 
          
Black
Spike shrieked hideously, all that his lungs could manage before he sucked fire
into them. He kicked, and then writhed as his hair burst into a brilliant
flare. His skin charred, bubbled, and steamed, while greasy black smoke
billowed from the flames.

 
          
Nine
Killer staggered back, and saw Shell Comb, on her hands and knees, crawling
toward the inferno. Horror in her wide eyes, she extended one hand, reaching
toward the blackened figure.

 
          
Nine
Killer ducked down under the heat, pulling her back from the fire’s draft. She
fought for a moment, then went limp in his grip as he pulled her to safety.
Streamers of greasy smoke mixed with the wavering yellow light. Nine Killer
hugged Shell Comb to his chest. She sobbed like an infant.

 
          
As
he patted her tenderly, he looked across at The Panther, and asked wearily,
“Yes, Elder? What is it?”

 
          
Panther’s
sad face worked, as if he were trying to speak. In the gaudy yellow light, he
studied the blackened body that slid down into the coals, then he looked at
Nine Killer, and the grieving Shell Comb in his arms.

 
          
Shaking
his head, he turned, and walked slowly away, his old shoulders bent, the crowd
parting to let him pass.

 
          
As
the first light of dawn filtered through the gaps in the thatch, Panther sat by
the fire in Rosebud’s long house arms locked around his knees. Memories of the
terrible night kept spinning in his head. Sun Conch lay sleeping on the bench
behind him, her breathing labored. Nine Killer sat across from him, head bowed,
a great and terrible sadness in his eyes.

 
          
White
Otter puttered around the fire, attending to the cooking—as if anyone had any
appetite.

 
          
Panther
watched the long house fire pop and spark. What he’d uncovered had wounded his
soul. “Has anyone seen High Fox this morning?”

 
          
Nine
Killer rubbed his face wearily. “No. In the excitement last night, he slipped
away. Maybe, if we’re lucky, he went out and drowned himself. It beats being a
pariah.”

 
          
“He
hasn’t the courage, War Chief. For the moment, he has to blame everyone but
himself.” Panther paused. “Why didn’t Shell Comb simply marry Black Spike? Why
carry on like this and ruin people’s lives?”

 
          
Nine
Killer plucked at frayed bits of matting, some of it still stained by Sun
Conch’s blood. “The Weroansqua refused her permission. Her marriage to Monster
Bone strengthened the alliance. He’d given her a son, White Bone. The boy
drowned later. Another son, Grebe, was killed by a lightning strike.”

 
          
“What
sort of man was Monster Bone?”

 
          
“Just
the opposite of Black Spike. Blustery. Tough. He and Shell Comb fought like
cougars. In the end, I can’t say that I’d have blamed her for turning to Black
Spike. I think Hunting Hawk always expected too much from Shell Comb. Shell
Comb wanted excitement, ceremony, and adventure. Much like Thin Bird, her
father. I’ve heard that Thin Bird was the muscle, and Hunting Hawk was the
brain that carried Greenstone Clan to prominence among the Independent
villages.”

 
          
“Shell
Comb never remarried?”

 
          
“Oh,
she did. For a year here, half a year there, but she always came home divorced.
Now, I know why. She wanted to be close to Black Spike. Had she married Copper
Thunder, it would have been the same.”

 
          
Panther
blinked to clear Black Spike’s burned body from his mind. His soul felt like
old fabric, wrung out and empty of any joy it once might have held.

 
          
As
if reading his expression, Nine Killer said, “How will High Fox manage? His
only mistake was falling in love with the wrong young woman. As it is, he’s
ruined forever. What woman would marry him? What village will take him? He lay
with his sister. He’s forever tainted by it.”

 
          
“That’s
why Green Serpent heard Red Knot’s ghost sobbing.” Panther rubbed his face.
“Only in death did she find out what they’d done to her.”

 
          
“Why
did Black Spike throw himself on the fire like that? How could he do that?”
White Otter shook her head in amazement.

 
          
Panther
whispered, “He was afraid his nerve might fail him at the last.”

 
          
“What
nerve? He had only to endure.” Nine Killer plucked a piece of matting loose,
studying it absently.

 
          
Panther
closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “War Chief, this isn’t over. Black
Spike anticipated me. He acted before I could finish. You see …”

 
          
Voices
shouted outside, cries of, “Run!” and “It’s an attack!”

 
          
Nine
Killer jumped to his feet, grabbed his weapons, and dove for the doorway.

 
          
Panther
grunted as he climbed to his feet and hurried after, cursing his old bones all
the way. Outside, dawn had whitened the mist, leaving the long houses in
ghostly relief. Men and women seemed to appear and disappear as they sprinted
past.

 
          
“Where?”
a man called. “Where are they?”

 
          
“Beyond
the main gate! A big body of warriors!”

 
          
Panther
kept to the side lest he be bowled over, and hurried into the plaza. An arrow
stuck out of the ground, the feathered shaft slanting back to mark the
direction from which it had come. Shouts erupted from all sides.

 
          
A
knot of warriors huddled in the protection of the palisade, peering through the
cracks out into the fog. Every now and then, one would loose an arrow at a
darting shape beyond.

 
          
Nine
Killer stood just inside the palisade gate, gesturing with his heavy bow. “I
want women and children to check along the palisade! The enemy could be
circling, seeking to break through in our rear! Stone Cob, see to it! Leave no
area unguarded.”

 
          
Panther
sidled up to the palisade and stared out at the lifting fog. “Who is out
there?”

 
          
Copper
Thunder appeared at a run, flattened himself against the post next to Panther,
and glared out at the dawn, the tattoos pulled tight by his angry squint. “Who
comes here?” he bellowed. “Name yourselves, you gutless cowards!”

 
          
From
the curling mist, a voice shouted back, “The warriors of the Mamanatowick,
Water Snake! I am Winged Blackbird, and I will have your head before this day
is through!”

 
          
“Come
and take it!” Copper Thunder bellowed back. “We’ll see who is shorter come
sunset!”

 
          
Panther
sighed and shook his head. “Perhaps I can stop this.”

 
          
Copper
Thunder gave him a dismissive glance. “You, Raven? This isn’t your place! Who
do you think is out there? White Smoke Rising?”

 
          
Panther
ignored him and walked purposefully toward where Nine Killer lined up his
warriors. As he passed, an arrow thunked hollowly into the palisade above his
head.

 
          
“What
has happened so far?” Panther demanded.

 
          
Nine
Killer shot him an irritated look. “Elder, I don’t have time for—”

 
          
“What
has happened, War Chief! You will tell, and tell me now … or have you forgotten
your last battle at Three Myrtle?”

 
          
The
irritation vanished to be replaced by a wry smile. “Forgive me, Elder. One of
our two scouts—the ones I placed last night to guard against an attack by Black
Spike’s warriors—he warned us just in time. Many warriors are out there. It
would seem that Winged Blackbird has come back in force.”

 
          
“Come,
with me, War Chief.” Panther started for the gap in the palisade.

 
          
“What?
Are you crazy? This is not
Three
Myrtle
Village
. That’s Winged Blackbird out there! If you
step beyond the palisade, they’ll kill you!” “Perhaps, War Chief. But,
perhaps—as much as I hate to—I can stop this battle, too.” Panther hesitated at
the last of the palisades. “Your lungs are better than mine. Find out if Corn
Hunter is there.”

 
          
Nine
Killer stepped up behind him and cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting,
“Who leads this attack? Is that you, Corn Hunter?”

 
          
In
a sudden lull, a voice answered. “Com Hunter is here, but we come in the
presence of the Mamanatowick! He is here to personally watch the destruction of
Flat
Pearl
Village
!”

 
          
A
great shout went up from the fields as the Mamanatowick’s warriors shouted
their determination. Nine Killer winced and leaned back against a palisade
post. “From the sound of it, he must have tens of tens of warriors. Never have
we faced so many without warning.”

 
          
“How
long can you hold out?”

 
          
Nine
Killer rubbed his face. “Not long, Elder. If he is here in force, he can probe
and prod. Eventually, he will find a weakness. If the fog lifts, and he can
fire the long houses, well, it will only be a matter of time.”

 
          
Panther
chuckled, although sorrow built within him. “Everything for the clan, eh?” He
paused. “Very well, War Chief, raise your voice for me again.” Panther’s
stomach ached from an unaccustomed nervousness. “Tell the Mamanatowick … tell
him that his uncle, Eight Rocks, wishes to speak with him.”

 
          
Nine
Killer stared, expression incredulous. He swallowed hard, and asked, “Who? Who
did you say?”

 
          
“You
heard me. Eight Rocks. Go on, tell him.” Panther waved out at the mist.

 
          
Nine
Killer cupped his mouth, and shouted, “Mamanatowick! Hear me! Your uncle, Eight
Rocks, wishes to speak with you!”

 
          
A
long silence followed. Then a derisive voice called from the mist, “Eight Rocks
is long dead! Go suck yourself, you whining worm!”

 
          
In
the following silence, Panther shouted, “If I’m dead, why isn’t my body in your
House of the Dead?

 
          
Can’t
answer that, can you? It’s because I’m still living in it, you simple dolt!”

 
          
“Who
speaks?” A man had stepped forward, a mere shape in the mist, followed by
others.

 
          
“These
days, I am called The Panther!”

 
          
“The
witch!” the hiss carried through the gathered attackers.

 
          
“Call
me witch if you will! But this same man gave Water Snake’s mother her very
first piece of copper!” Panther cocked his head, hearing muted conversation
springing up from both sides.

 
          
“Come
forward!” came the reply. “You will not be harmed if you are telling the
truth.”

 
          
Panther
took two steps before Nine Killer matched his pace. “What are you doing, War
Chief? Go back before some glory seeker pins you with an arrow.”

 
          
“You’re
not going out there alone, Elder. Sun Conch isn’t here. If something happens,
you’ll need me to cover your back.”

 
          
“But
if it goes wrong, you’ll be needed to coordinate and lead the defense. One
can’t very well attend to that duty when he’s lying facedown on the ground with
his skull split open.” “Maybe, after last night, I don’t have much to live
for.”

 
          
“Fool!
You’ve got White Otter and the other Greenstone Clan children to see to.” As
Nine Killer matched him, pace for pace, Panther gave in. “All right, then,
we’ll be fools together.”

 
          
“Indeed,”
Nine Killer muttered out of the side of his mouth. “We’ve actually done fairly
well together, haven’t we?”

 
          
Panther
smiled, the first hope glimmering in his breast. “No matter what, War Chief, I
want you to know that I value your friendship.”

 
          
“And
I yours, Elder.”

 
          
At
that Panther squared his shoulders, walking forth with a renewed sense of pride
despite the quivering in his legs. After all the trials in his life, his soul
hovered on the verge of dissolution at facing his family. So many Comings of
the Leaves had passed. What would they think of the coward who’d run off so
ignobly? CouJd he stand to look them in the eyes?

 
          
As
they plodded across the bumpy field, warriors materialized from the mist, as if
suddenly sprung to life.