Visions (12 page)

The flint blade jumped into his hand, and Baela’s eyes widened in horror as he pressed it against her throat. He felt fear, now, and leaned over so that their faces were only inches apart. “I will make an agreement with you,” he whispered. “If you do not scream, I will not hurt you, but otherwise your blood is on my hands, and your parents will die immediately after you. Do you understand this?”

Baela nodded, and made a muffled sound in response.

Maki probed at her mind, and saw nothing. How strange, he thought. Nothing at all.

“No sound, now, as I pull this from your mouth.” He pulled the gag down over her chin so it covered her throat. Baela took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving his. His face was still close, organ still hard and erect, but her body was motionless.

“When I look into your mind, I see nothing. Why is that, little one? How is it that you block my entrance so, when I can enter you in other ways?” He pressed against her again, and she looked confused.

“Remember, I said I won’t hurt you. But what were you doing in my things? You know I sleep here, you know all my belongings are here. Are you a thief? Must I disgrace your parents over your deed?”

“No, please, don’t tell my parents about this! They won’t let me leave the caves again if you do. Please!” Baela’s voice was a whisper, pleading with him, softening his heart.

“But what you’ve done is wrong. And how is it you know of my trick with the pebbles? When you entered here you disturbed not one of them. Can it be Baela has abilities we’re not aware of, abilities not expected in a Hanken?” Maki thought of the earlier, disquieting feelings, and the pounding of his heart. “Can Baela be some new creature in our midst?”

Baela shook her head back and forth, and a little tear welled up in one eye before trickling down her face. “Please don’t tell my parents; I can’t stand staying inside all the time. You get to go outside, and make long journeys over days and days. I want to do that, too, but they won’t let me. They say I’m too young; well, I’m not! You go out and return with things you’ve found and, well, I want to see and touch them, but I know you won’t like it, so—I look when you’re not around. I never hurt anything, and I’m
not
a thief!
Please
don’t tell anyone!” Now the tears flowed freely, and she was sobbing and lying there helpless, hands still tied behind her.

Maki felt merciful. And he suddenly felt badly about dominating the diminutive Hanken female beneath him. Despite her miserable heritage, something about her touched him deeply, and not just in a sexual way, although that was also present. She had spirit, and a sense of adventure, most unusual in a female. He sat up straight, hands on hips, looking down at her with great seriousness.

“Do you see your error, then, Baela?”

“Oh yes. Please let me up. I
promise
not to do it again, but maybe sometimes you can show me the things you find outside, and when I get older I can carry, and cook for the warriors like you who dare to explore the Hinchai lands.”

“They are not Hinchai lands for long,” said Maki softly, then quickly, “I’ll let you up, now, but what happened here and what you’ve seen here is between us. If you tell anyone, I will denounce you as a thief, and your parents will be disgraced. You can imagine what they will do to you after that.” He pulled her up into a sitting position, and loosened her hands with two sharp tugs on the thong. She rubbed her wrists, nodding her head in agreement with him.

“I won’t say anything at all, but someday—someday—can I travel with you, far away from here?”

What power she had over his heart; he marveled at the compassion he suddenly felt, both the physical and emotional attraction for her, yet when he probed at her mind he felt only a little fear, and perhaps excitement. At being close to him? “We will see,” he said, and she smiled sweetly at him.

She scrambled out of his sleeping quarters, and went straight to the cave entrance, turning with a smile. “It is still light, and I’ve found the nest of a hunting bird with new babies in it. They like me.” She pushed aside the branches at the entrance, and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

Maki returned to the main cavern for a day of conversation, eating, and dozing in the company of his father and mother. Later in the day, his light sleep was disturbed by the sudden vision of a giant hunting bird soaring high in the sky, then descending on him with outstretched, bloody talons striking at his eyes.

* * * * * * *

Hidaig’s journey to the west consumed eight days for the round trip, and was less than successful. Meandre was even more hostile than expected, giving them an exceptionally brief audience for a Keeper, and asking that all warriors be billeted in the forest surrounding the small cluster of caves occupied by his band.

The old Tenanken still spoke with bitterness about the break between Hidaig and Anka, without sympathy for Hidaig’s desire to be a warrior-captain, babbling constantly about Anka’s spirituality and compassion until Hidaig feared he would lose his own control and crush skulls. A few warriors were recruited for his efforts, but for the most part they were near-outcasts who had been found undesirable by the females of the band, primitive minds stimulated only by food, bloodletting and sexual pleasures. But they were adequate for his purposes, and they had weapons of their own.

One recruit stood out from the others: quiet intelligence, quick to understand and follow orders, curious about strategy for the coming battle, and constantly alert. Hidaig was immediately suspicious, and watched him constantly. Twice he followed this recruit late at night when the man quietly drifted away from camp to sit by a tree, watching a game trail for no obvious reason, then returning to camp without incident. But on the third night of the march, the recruit made rendezvous with a runner from Meandre, passing on accurate information on force size and attack time, Hidaig himself sitting only a few meters away listening to the entire conversation. When the recruit returned to camp, Hidaig followed the runner towards Anka’s caverns for an hour before leaping at him from the darkness, slitting his throat with a flint blade, then disemboweling him in the middle of the trail his band would travel on the following day.

Hidaig prided himself on a sense of the dramatic. The following day he asked Meandre’s young spy to join him on point, walking a hundred paces ahead of the others. He enjoyed the sudden gasp as the young one saw the intestines of his runner strung in long loops over the trail ahead, the doomed look when he saw what was in Hidaig’s eyes, and the pitiful cry of despair as he fled down the trail, feet splashing in human goo until Hidaig’s heavy spear pierced his spine so that he thumped heavily to the ground to shiver a moment before dying. Hidaig ordered the bodies cut into several pieces and buried in shallow graves accessible to the scavengers who would remove all evidence of death within a few days, and then they hurried on to where a few old females waited with eagerness for the attentions of new warrior males.

For two weeks they ate and drank and screwed, and then, forty-strong, they marched to a rendezvous with Han, who awaited them at a rocky prominence within sight of Baela’s hiding tree.

She had watched Han set up camp his first day there.

SEARCH

It was dawn when the tracking began. Ed’s two bloodhounds had gone all over the wagon before dragging him to where the men waited by the rocks. The dogs went frantic when they smelled blood and whatever else was spilled in the grass, and then they took off in a straight line up the hill, pulling Ed behind them in a stumble. Pete had already started up the hill because he had seen the faint gouges of the travois, saying nothing. The dogs raced by him, Ed grinning wildly, but Pete’s mind raced in a different way, and he felt despair at what he was certain they would find at the end of the chase. He had seen a skull crushed before, during a fight in the caves, and whether Tenanken or Hinchai the stuff that splattered out from the blows was all the same. Maki was involved. The townspeople would seek revenge, and the time for bringing out the children and young adults would have to be soon.

Jake moved up beside him, bleary-eyed, a rifle slung over one shoulder. Several of the men had gone back for weapons, and the group was now heavily armed. “Don’t like it at all, Pete,” said Jake. “Normal man can’t carry someone the size of Tom up this hill, even two men. It’s the critters again, Pete. They’ve killed Tom, and carried him away to hide. Must not have known his wagon was there.”

“That’s pretty speculative, Jake.”

Jake spat on the ground, and looked straight into Pete’s eyes. “No it ain’t, and you don’t think so either. All the time you spent with old Savas Parkos in that cabin of his, and you never heard or seen nothin’? Come on, Pete, there’s some weird folks living in these mountains, and you don’t want to admit it.”

“Right now, I just want to find Tom.”

“Yeah—so do I.”

They puffed up the hill, leading the others into the trees, the hounds baying ahead of them. “They’re headed back towards town,” said Jake. “Stupid—or very smart. All I want is another shot at ’em.”

Not likely
, thought Pete. With a travois, a Tenanken could run uphill and not be out of breath, and the grass was already straightening where the travois had passed. They were probably a day behind them, and Pete knew where they would likely be now, for above them the trees would soon disappear, giving way to gentle, grassy slopes with outcroppings of granite leading to the canyon which was the home of the Tenanken. What if there was a battle? Could he watch his own band destroyed, especially the children he had worked so closely with? The sense of desperation was there again; he wanted to run ahead and warn them. Run away—run away! The Hinchai are coming to destroy you! Baela, save yourself! Strange, how he thought of the blonde girl at this moment, and then of Bernie, with her long, blonde hair. Would his child be like Baela—or a brute with heavy brow ridges, and no chin. The thought chilled him to the bone.

Up ahead, the hounds were howling long and loud. “Got something,” said Jake, and he unslung his rifle. Several others did the same, and there was the sound of a couple of lever actions working.

“All right, sling ’em up!” shouted Ned. “We don’t need anyone shootin’ themselves in the foot, or blowing away a neighbor. Now sling ‘em!”

The men obeyed reluctantly, for the sound of the hounds’ baying had filled them all with excitement. They charged ahead through the trees until they reached grass again. Above and ahead of them, Ed was playing the two dogs around a rock outcropping, struggling to hold them when they suddenly became hysterical, howling and snarling, charging into each other.

“Zeke—Mordicai—what the hell’s got into you! Stop it. Stop it, now.” Ed jerked back hard on the two leashes, trying to separate the animals. “Found somethin’, boys. Dogs’re goin’ nuts!”

Everyone ran up the slope, stumbling over small rocks freshly eroded from the soil, and as they drew near it was only Pete who could smell the fresh stench of death. As the men pressed in close around the frantic dogs, Pete detached himself from them, following a new scent, walking off to the right and further up the hill where there was another rock outcropping. There he could smell new blood—fur—hides—the Tenanken sweat frozen in death. His mind raced. Before him was a pile of rocks most carefully placed to hide a Tenanken secret, oriented with the sun path so a spirit could soar. At dawn. Had it forgotten anything? Would it return? Pete stepped up to the rocks, unzipped his pants, and warm water splattered over the rough granite. Who lay beneath his stream?

Ned called up the hill. “Jesus Christ, Pete, this is no time to take a piss. I think we’ve found Tom!”

“Coming!” yelled Pete. He zipped up his pants and trudged down the hill to join the others. The dogs were still growling, and snapping at each other, but then Ed lashed out with a boot at both of them until they separated and cowed. He gave one leash to Lyle, and they pulled the dogs away from the pile of rocks, keeping them apart while the rest of the men went to work.

“I don’t think I’m gonna like this,” said Ned. He removed a rock from the pile, another, then another, Pete joining in, a couple more rocks as the first, putrid odors reached their nostrils. Grim faces looked on as they slowly, carefully uncovered the mutilated body of Tom Henley, sheriff of Crosley, and friend of everyone.

“Aw, Tom,” said Ned softly, tears coming to his eyes.

“God damn, what did they do to his head?” asked Jake, turning to look at Pete, but the big man was standing there with his eyes closed tightly, as if what was in front of him might go away if he didn’t open them. Tom was there, all right, crammed into a shallow grave on his side, the destroyed half of his head gaping open to the sky, cavity glistening grey and red, and attracting flies buzzing angrily over possession of a morsel here and there. The left front of his shirt was soaked in blood now dried to a black crust, but his badge was untouched, and the wedding band he still wore seven years after Emma’s death was in place. His pistol belt was gone.

“He’s been shot, too—right up there in the chest,” said Jake, pointing.

“Yeah, but I’ll bet money it’s the head wound that killed him. Jeezus, why am I still looking at this?” Ned turned away, and Pete was there, his eyes downcast, hands stuffed deep into his pockets. Ned took a couple of steps, and put a hand heavily on Pete’s shoulder, feeling it tremble. “He was a good man.”

“Nobody left,” said Pete, his voice far away and quivery. “No wife, no kids, no relatives—dyin’ alone—he was a better man than that. He deserved better’n that, Ned.”

“Yeah,” said Ned, and they leaned on each other for a moment.

“Well, what are we gonna do about it? Sit around and mope, or go out and find the murdering bastards?” Jake’s voice was angry, and there were supportive mutterings from the group. “This is it, Ned. We’ve got to take some action, and I mean clean out these hills once and for all. They’ve got to be around here close, and that means practically in town. Hell, if you walk up there a few yards you can look right down the canyon and see Pete’s place. They may be livin’ at your back door, Pete! I say we fan out and scour this whole area clear down to the valley, and on the other side. They’ve gotta have a shelter, dugout or cave somewhere, otherwise how’d they get through the winter here? Let’s do it now, Ned! Now, before they get away for good.”

“Hold on, now; first thing we have to do is get Tom out of here, and back to town.”

“Only need one man for that,” said Ed. “I’ve gotta get the dogs to home anyway, and I can be back here in a couple of hours with a horse. Dogs need calmin’ down before we go on.

“You’ll need help loadin’ and unloadin’.”

“I’ll stay here and help,” said Lyle. “The rest of you go on.”

Ed started to move, but then the dogs were suddenly wild again, baying, and clawing at the ground, pulling him up the hill. “Aw, shit, I’ve got to get these guys home; they’re just too riled up.” He jerked back on the leash as the animals dragged him to another pile of rocks, scrabbling frantically against it.

Ned spat on the ground. “Have fun, Ed. Pete just took a giant piss on those rocks.”

“I saw, I saw—oh, come
on
!” Ed jerked hard, and one of the dogs yelped in pain. He dragged them both whimpering down the hill. “Sometimes male dogs can get really disgusting,” he growled. “Be back in a couple of hours.” After a few steps, the dogs seemed to calm down, and trotted obediently ahead of him.

“Okay, we’ll split up into two groups, and follow both rims of the canyon down to Pete’s place. We can fan out in a line when we get down there. You got any horses, Pete?”

“Sorry, Ned. Stock won’t arrive for another week or so.”

“So we’ll do it on foot. Any objections?”

There weren’t any. Rifles were unslung, levers clacking as cartridges were chambered. Lyle offered his rifle to Pete. “Here, I won’t need this on the way back.”

“No thanks. I meet up with one of those guys I only need my hands, and besides, the law oughta be handling this.”

“You got it wrong, Pete. With Tom gone, I’m the law, as mayor of this town,” said Ned, “and I’m making this a legal, official search with all of you as deputies. The guys we’re after are armed, and they’re murderers. Now take the rifle, Pete.”

“Yeah, Pete,” said someone. “You can use your hands
after
you shoot ’em.”

Pete took the rifle, and pulling out the sling to its maximum length, he draped it across his huge back like a kid’s toy.

They broke up into two groups, Pete going with Ned and four others along the east side of the canyon, the rest searching thick stands of trees along the west side. As they stepped up to the edge of the canyon headwall, Pete turned inwards, directing his mind like a great bird to shriek warning, and suddenly there came to him a vision of just such a bird soaring into blue sky; he looked up to see it was not a vision, but real. An eagle was circling the canyon far above them, then falling like a released stone to land on a projection on the shear side of a cliff where Pete’s experienced eyes caught movement. Baela was there—watching them. Projecting as hard as he could, he warned her to get inside or otherwise hide herself. In response he felt nothing, but then the eagle took off again, flying on a line straight towards them, giant wings pumping air, talons up but head down, turning to watch them warily as it passed close overhead. All the men twisted and turned to follow the flight of the bird, for it was not common to see an eagle so close as this, an awesome sight which to a man was the symbol of the very freedom each sought in the mountains. Even Pete was captivated by the sight for an instant, but he turned his head in time to see what appeared at a distance as a bush moving to join another along the shear rock face of the canyon. She was inside.

“That sure is a purty sight,” said Jake. “I remember one time a smart-ass kid from Reno came up here and shot one of those. His mommy gave him a rifle, but never taught him nuthin’. Whatever, he rode home the same day with a busted face and a broken rifle. Can’t recall who did that to him, but whoever killed Tom is gonna get a lot worse.”

“No shootin’ unless I give the order,” said Ned. “And that’s only in self-defense. Everyone clear on that?”

There were a few assenting grumbles, but for the most part the men were stoically silent, and Pete knew that anything suddenly moving on this day would stand a good chance of dying.

The two groups went off in opposite directions, but soon were on parallel courses along the canyon rims, the men occasionally shouting to each other. So preoccupied was Pete with Baela’s safety and the progress of the men who even now approached the thick, stone dome of the Tenanken caverns that he didn’t feel the wave of surprise and fear coming from Han.

Just returning from a hunt, Han had nearly walked into the entire Hinchai party before scuttling to his rocky cairn on the hill overlooking the grisly death scene they had just uncovered. He slammed the slab door shut on the apparently random pile of rocks built like a beaver lodge, and sat shivering in the darkness until nightfall.

“See anything?”

“Nothing. Not even a dog turd. This brush is so thick in here you can’t see your feet. Hey, do you guys smell wood smoke?”

“No!”

“Keep smellin’ it over here. Comes and goes.”

“Well, look for an old campfire, or somethin’“

“Look at that mess in the canyon. Goddamned rattlesnake den! Oughta pour kerosene in there, and burn it out.”

“There’s the wood smoke again! It’s getting strong! Way the wind swirls around here, can’t tell where it’s comin’ from.”

Pete felt his heart skip a beat. The men on the opposite side of the canyon were moving just below the rotten, granite outcropping providing the lacy network of fine fumaroles from the main cavern ceiling to the outside air.
Someone is still burning a fire in there!
But when he looked down the canyon towards his ranch house, and saw white smoke pouring out of the chimney, the explanation seemed so perfect he smiled naturally. “Oh hell, Ned, they’re smellin’ wood smoke from my fireplace. Look down there.”

Ned looked. “Sure enough. Smoke’s blowin’ up here from Pete’s place! See anything else?”

“Naw!”

“Nothin’ over here, either!” They were looking directly at the entrance to the caverns, but all they saw was a thick, scraggly bush growing out of solid rock. Ned kept walking, Pete nearly running into his back in eagerness to keep them all moving.
Is anyone watching us, now?

And you, Pete-Pegre. Does clothing make you Hinchai? If someone runs from the cave, will you shoot them down like a lesser animal and enhance your status in town, or will you defend those who gave you life, and crush a Hinchai skull?

The thoughts were gone in an instant, leaving his face flushed and sweaty, but nobody noticed because they were now cursing their way through thick underbrush, and black clouds of biting flies swarming about their heads to attack bare necks and earlobes.

They veered away from the canyon to get clear of the brush, and found themselves on a short, steep ridge leading to the valley floor. They looked at Pete’s ranch, and thought about cold water or warm beer. A half-hour later that’s what they got, plus thick slabs of fresh-baked bread, when they dragged themselves up to the front porch where Bernie was standing, big hands on big hips, a smile on her face as always. Pete was so glad to see her he nearly crushed her in an embrace.