Runestone (77 page)

Another quick glance at her son … Dove did not want to appear too concerned, both for his sake and for the old woman. The flat, unemotional expression of that one told that she would slit the boy’s throat without hesitation if the situation called for it. Sky’s face, though showing fright and concern, certainly revealed no panic. Dove tried to appear more confident than she felt, nodding to him reassuringly. It was a terrible moment, one which could result in the deaths of her entire family in the space of a few heartbeats if things went wrong.

Again, the urgency of the situation thrust itself upon her.
Who
was out there, trying to negotiate with her captors? She fought down panic, and forced herself to think more calmly. Since they were here, at least one of her companions, it must be that they were aware of her capture. Of course, they had followed the trail. Knowing this, they would negotiate cautiously, while they tried to learn where she and Sky were being held. Probably they knew already, because all three of the men were clever and observant.

She still did not know how many of the three had survived, or whom it might be. Her greatest concern in that respect was for her husband. She had
seen
him pulled under. But of the three, his was the most powerful medicine. She must hold fast to the faith that he
had
survived. Whether by his great physical strength or by his spirit-powers, it made no difference. He could change himself into a white wolf. Why not into a fish if he chose, to swim out of the danger?

Outside, there seemed to be some kind of a decision. Movement, a milling around of the crowd, and then she heard an excited ripple in the crowd. Then a long pause. She heard the crackle of a newly kindled fire. Yes, of course. They would need a fire for council. Probably Odin would start it with the striker, making a great ceremony out of it.

As if in answer to her thoughts of a ritual, there began a
singsong chant outside. Quickly, she recognized the voice of her brother.

“We have come to help you, my sister. Be ready. …” Odin chanted.

His song went on, mixing his message with sounds that were pure nonsense, to keep the rhythm of the chant. Now there was a pause in the song, and a gasp from the crowd. The fire? No, that had been already crackling. Something else … She did not know the fate of her husband, but now that question was answered in a wonderfully reassuring way.

“Odin, the tree on the ridge to the north …”

Tears of relief flowed freely, and she tried to stifle her joy at the sound of his voice. All three must be alive, then.

There was more conversation outside, but it was in hand signs, so she could not tell what they said. But her confidence was rising. The others were all alive, and she had faith that they would devise a plan. She must be ready.

The council outside dragged on. They were probably exchanging stories, and that was good. It gave the men of the People a chance to learn all they could about these Shaved-heads. Her own situation had relaxed now, too. The old woman put her knife away and released young Sky, who crept over to sit beside his mother. There were more signed threats, and Dove nodded agreement. She spoke softly and briefly to Sky, urging on him the need to continue his silence. The old woman stared harshly at them, and finally signed once more a demand for silence. Dove nodded agreement. Now they must wait. For what, she was not quite sure, but when it happened she would know, and she and Sky must be ready.

   The three men of the People readied for the night with a great show of preparation. They spread sleeping robes around their small campfire, gathered a pile of sticks, and appeared to settle in. They even carried a brand from the council fire to light their small one. To use the striker again would be to draw more attention, and they wished to be as inconspicuous as possible.

They were busily planning, though.

“You see the lodge where they are held?” Snake asked.

“Do not look at it,” Odin warned.

“Of course. But see, it is on the edge of the town. We could come around behind it.”

“They will be looking for that,” Nils protested. “They are probably watching us now.”

“That is true. But something to take their attention away. A fire, maybe?” Snake pointed with a toss of his head toward the nearest of the grass-thatched lodges.

“Yes!” Odin agreed. “But that will make them very angry.”

“They will want to kill us anyway, when we free Dove,” Nils said.

“Yes. We must be ready to move all at once,” Odin agreed. “And they may be tied.”

“Let me see what I can learn,” Snake suggested. “When the fire darkens some, I will go. I am made to think that one man watches us from the trees to the north, there.”

“Yes, I saw him, too,” Odin said.

The autumn night was uncomfortably cool, but they made an extra show of preparing beds and bringing firewood. They moved around, changed places, anything to confuse an observer, while pretending that they did not know they were watched. They rolled themselves in their robes and allowed the fire’s light to die. Then one of them rose to replenish it.

By the new light the observer saw two other sleeping forms on the ground, but was unaware that one of those beds had no occupant. That robe was arranged with sticks and a rawhide pack to appear that someone slept there.

Snake returned during the next period of darkness, sliding back to his bed and rearranging the robes. Then he sat up, threw a couple of sticks on the embers, and began to tell of his findings.

“One man watches us, as we thought,” he said. “Another, near the lodge where Dove and the boy are. That one is lazy, half-asleep. This one, more dangerous. I am made to think we must take down both.”

The planning continued, quiet talk as they openly warmed themselves by the newly rekindled fire. The position of the Seven Hunters told that the night was more than half over.

“Afterward, we should start back east, the way we came,”
Odin suggested. “They will expect that. Then circle, meet at the hill, and go northwest.”

“But that is not where we want to go!” protested Nils.

“True. And they know that,” Odin explained. “That is why we go that way. The first thing is to escape these Shaved-heads. Then we decide what is next.”

Nils had to agree that it made good sense, though it was frustrating to head in a direction away from where he wished to go. But first, they must escape.

They stretched, yawned, and lay down in their robes again. As soon as it was dark enough, Snake wriggled out. The other two waited, quiet but sleepless, waiting for Snake’s signal, the cry of a night bird. That would signal …

“There!” Odin exclaimed. “Snake’s signal. We go!”

They parted, Odin with the fire-starter and Nils to circle to the rear of the lodge where his wife and son lay. There he would meet Snake, who had disposed of the sentry who watched them, the dangerous one. The night bird’s cry signaled the completion of that grisly task.

Nils skirted the village and approached the lodge carefully. He did not know where the watcher might be. That clump of trees? There was the sound of a scuffle, and then silence. He knelt, close to the ground, to see in silhouette an approaching figure against the starry sky. He made a slight squeaking noise, like that of a deermouse, and saw the dark figure turn toward him.

“Snake?” he whispered. “Here!”

The warrior knelt beside him, breathing a little hard.

“It is done,” said Snake. “Now we wait for Odin’s fire.”

   Dove lay in the dark, listening, waiting. She could hear the breathing of other people in the lodge, and the soft snores of the old woman with the knife. Bright Sky snuggled against her, twitching nervously in his sleep. Gently, she touched him with her elbow. She did not know whether he would live to see morning, or whether she would see morning herself. She only knew that sometime before the dawn came, there would be an attempt to free them.

She wished that her hands were free, so that she could defend herself and her son when the time came. Well, Wolf
would surely realize that they were helpless. She would stay alert and try to be ready. Meanwhile, she worked quietly at her bonds.

Now she noticed the square of the doorway, where the doorskin hung. It was fitted loosely, and there seemed to be a crack of light that was growing lighter. Surely it was not yet dawn. No, a fire! Of course! Her heart leaped, and she sat up. Bright Sky came sleepily awake.

“Ssh, my son,” she whispered. “Hold tightly to my dress, and stay with me. Your father will come soon.”

   Nils watched, waiting for the spark that would begin the events that would lead to their escape or to their deaths. Snake crouched beside him, breathing more calmly now.

“There!” Snake whispered.

A flicker of light blossomed at the far side of the village. It took only the space of a few heartbeats until there was a shout, then another. People were running, screaming, the whole town coming awake. They must hurry. As Nils tore aside the thatch at the back of the lodge, hacking at it with his short sword, he prayed that no one had been designated to kill the prisoners in case of an escape attempt.

He half crawled, half rolled through the opening and collided with someone in the darkness.

“Dove!” he called softly. “Where are you?”

“Here … right here. My hands are tied, Wolf!” Quickly, he slashed the thong and she gave him a quick hug.

“Where is Sky?” he asked.

“Right beside me. He understands.”

A dark form rushed at them, a weapon upraised, and Nils hacked at it with the sword. His attacker screamed and fell.

The fire some distance away was shedding a growing, flickering light now. Figures in the lodge were silhouetted against the lighter square of the doorway, as someone tore aside the hanging skin.

“Out,” urged Nils, pushing Dove and Sky toward the hole in the thatch. “Snake is outside.”

A woman rushed toward them, swinging a short knife of some sort. Dove turned back.

“Wait!” She spoke a one-word exclamation. With the fury
of a wolverine, she was on the woman. Dove seized the outstretched arm, pulled the woman forward, tripped her, and wrested the knife from her hand, all in one motion. She paused for a moment, apparently considering further mayhem, as the other woman lay gasping, the breath knocked from her lungs.

“Dove! Come on!” Nils cried urgently, pushing Sky on out through the hole.

Reluctantly, Dove turned away.

Outside, they drew in deep breaths of crisp night air and Snake led the way out of the village.

“Where is my brother?” Dove asked in alarm.

“He started the fire,” Nils explained. “He will join us later. Now let us hurry!”

T
hey were almost clear of the area around the village when it happened. Snake, in the lead, was suddenly confronted by a large dog. The creature did not appear ready to attack, only to bark. Snake raised his bow and launched an arrow to silence it.

Somehow in the poor light and flickering shadows, his aim was not true. It was not a complete miss, which might have been better, as it turned out. The dog gave a yelp of pain, and then began a thin, high-pitched squeal, running in a small circle and biting at the arrow in its flank. This would surely alert any pursuers to the direction of the fugitives’ retreat.

Nils ran forward, swung his sword, and the dog stopped in midcry. But even that, he now realized, would help the Shaved-heads locate their position.

“Hurry!” he called.

They heard the sounds of people running toward them now. Three or four warriors, maybe. Nils could hear them calling to each other. He turned to Dove.

“We are to meet Odin on that hill,” he pointed, “Go on. We will follow.”

“No!” she insisted. “We must stay together.”

Now he saw in the dim starlight that she carried a war club. Apparently she had picked it up as they left the lodge.

“It is good,” he said, thinking to himself that it was not.

They could see the warriors rushing toward them now. Snake loosed an arrow and the first man stumbled and fell.

“Behind that tree, Sky!” Nils cried, giving the boy a gentle shove. Then he turned to face an assailant who rushed at him, swinging a club or ax. Nils ducked beneath its arc, coming too close for such a weapon to be effective. They grappled, wrestling for advantage. Nils thrust at the man’s legs with the sword, and knew from the other’s flinch that he had inflicted damage. He kneed the man’s groin, and as the Shaved-head doubled in pain, clubbed the sword’s hilt on the back of his enemy’s neck and the blade swung again. He turned to help the others.

Snake was just finishing off another attacker, but yet another rushed him from behind. Nils started to his aid, but before he could reach the struggle, Dove stepped from behind a tree with a long looping swing of her war club.

Quite possibly the Shaved-head never saw it. There was a sound like the bursting of a ripe pumpkin as the club struck him full in the face. He tumbled backward from his interrupted momentum, and struck the ground with a loud thump.

“Come,” said Snake, trotting on.