Storm runner, p.26
Storm Runner, page 26
He nodded. “He does not trust us yet.”
She glanced at him with a frown. “How could he? Look what he has been through. He has no family, no friends. He is lost here, and the other children are the same. We have taken them from their home and told them everything is better now, that they are safe. And all the while we openly admit that the raiders are on our borders—they could sweep into Ariye at any moment. Do you wonder that Tomi still feels fear? What if he were to trust us, come to like—or even love us—and then lose us to the raiders, too?”
Aranur scowled. He did not speak as they continued, and Dion put her hand on his arm. “Give him time,” she said softly.
“That is what you always say,” he retorted.
She smiled faintly at him. “Must mean there is something to it.”
He glanced at her sourly. “There’s our ghost now,” he said under his breath.
Dion looked toward the armory. Near the doorway, standing quietly, was the boy. He did not move until they were close, then he fell into step behind them. Aranur quelled his urge to turn and shoo the boy away.
As they entered the training building, Gamon looked up and waved. Dion nodded a greeting, taking the arm squeeze from the older man with a wince. “What wild ride have you planned for me now?” she asked curiously, glancing over his maps.
He grinned, the seams deepening around his mouth and eyes with the expression. “Why, nothing daring, fast, or dangerous, Dion. You know I would not put you in such a position—or let you volunteer for such.”
She snorted. “I would bet on the speed of the fourth moon before I would believe that.”
He chuckled. “Here—” He indicated the map carved into the surface of the table. “Sobovi’s sprain is not yet healed, so it will be you and Rafe who ride to the Slot and down.” She raised an eyebrow, and he nodded. “Even with the raiders moving north, you still have a better chance of crossing unseen there than anywhere south. Besides, if you cross to the north, you can scout their camp as Sobovi did. We would then have a good idea of how fast they are expanding.”
She nodded.
Beside Gamon, a gaunt woman looked up: Tehena, whom Dion had first met in a Bilocctar prison. After the escape, she had followed the wolfwalker to Ariye, where she was rapidly proving her worth as a brilliant strategist, despite her youth. “Here,” she said, pointing. “When you return from Bilocctar with the wolves, head for Digger’s Gully. It is the last of the Black Ravines, and we can wait for you there. If you lead the wolves into the opening, we can ambush the raiders who follow.”
Aranur glanced at the map. “The only problem is communicating. We will have to have scouts out at all times to be sure to be ready when you come across.”
The skinny woman shook her head. “Not if Dion’s Gray One stays with us.” She held up her hand, her white-scarred forearm stalling Aranur’s automatic protest. “The healer should not take the wolf into Bilocctar in the first place unless she is prepared for it to be captured and used against her. Besides, it would give us a clear picture of where she is at all times.”
Dion nodded slowly. “Aranur, you can hear Gray Hishn.”
He shook his head. “And how well would you run trail without her? I am not about to let you and Rafe risk crossing the border with only your own ears against the raiders’ wolves.”
Gamon gave him a sharp look. “There is more to Dion than a wolfwalker’s skills,” he reminded his nephew.
Dion, irritated, nodded curtly. “I was trained as a scout long before I bonded with Hishn. I am perfectly capable of running trail without her.”
“As for the raiders’ wolves,” Tehena added, “Hishn can let Dion listen to them even if the Gray One is with you, Aranur.”
Aranur looked surprised, but Dion nodded. Aranur could hear Gray Hishn easily when he looked into those yellow, lupine eyes, but he still did not fully understand what the wolf could do.
“If you get in trouble…” His voice trailed off, and Dion touched his arm.
“If I get in trouble, Hishn will stay with you still. I will not,” she said vehemently, “let her cross the border to me, no matter what happens.”
Tehena nodded as if it was settled, and Gamon called in the rest of the fighters, going over the general plan, and discussing their gear. Aranur listened with half an ear. Many of the faces were new to him—at least ten of the men and six of the women had ridden in from a town farther east—but his mind was on Dion. Such a tenuous bond to stretch across a river. Dion would be near the other wolves, but she had already admitted that they could hunt her and she would be able to do nothing about it. He was not sure he trusted Hishn to keep her safe. If the raiders had several wolves, the packsong there would be as loud in Dion’s mind as Hishn’s voice from the distance. When Dion linked in, she could be drawn to them as they hunted her, and Aranur would not be able to do anything about it.
Two days later, Dion stood at the stable and lashed her gear onto the back of her saddle. Rafe, a man not much older than Aranur, checked his own pack, then patted his riding beast on the neck and mounted. Beside him, Dion gave her dnu’s cinch a last tug.
Aranur handed her the reins. “Ride safe,” he said.
“With the moons,” she replied soberly, swinging into the saddle. Hishn made a low, growling sound, and Dion made a face. “We will be fine,” she reassured. “Just make sure you are there to meet us when we return. I don’t mind running like rabbits before the wolves, but I have no desire to become dinner.”
He nodded reluctantly, hiding his uneasiness until she cantered off. But he could not hide his concern from Gamon.
The gray-haired man watched Dion and the other scout speculatively. “Someone walk on your path to the moons?”
Aranur raised his hand as Dion turned and waved at him before entering the forest. “I do not care how safe their plan seems,” he said shortly. “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”
The older man glanced after Dion and the other scout. “Then it is best,” he returned slowly, “that we prepare for everything.”
Aranur nodded. They made their way back to the armory with purpose.
Chapter 14
When the ancients landed.
The domes arose.
The Sky Hooks descended,
The satellites glowed,
The roads were planted,
The animals freed,
And what was left to do
But spread human seed?
Dion reined in at the top of the lower ridge, crossing her wrists on the double horns of the saddle as she leaned forward to view the flattened mountain. Beside her, Rafe brought his dnu to a halt and removed his warcap, wiping the sweat from his brow with a dirty sleeve and ignoring the smears it created. Dion hid her smile. Dirt was hardly a consideration at this point. Soon, they would both be smearing mud and leaf dyes into their clothes, covering their skins with streaks to break up their shapes and hide the pale color of their faces. Rafe, his forehead already dark brown and an earthy mustache above his lips, had a head start on his disguise.
Ahead of them were the Black Ravines. Shadowed by the steepness of their sides and hidden by their trees, the Black Ravines cut the land into ragged slices. In early spring, the storm torrents washed the bottoms clean; later rains clogged them again with debris. In this shadowed gully, the clear, cold creek splashed on rocks and bounced over dozens of fallen logs. All along the race, white curves hid air pockets beneath the water’s path and rushed south, to give the Phye its swollen strength. At least they were far enough north, Dion thought in relief. They could ford these creeks by dnu, and later, when she and Rafe were on foot, they could wade or cross by stepping on the debris that cluttered the fluid paths.
Dion studied the two trails that ran up and across the ravine. If they took the trail that led down and up again, they would stay in the ravines until they reached Sobovi’s camp. If they took the other trail, they would approach the Slot from the northeast. Dion frowned. The northeast trail would take twice as long as the steep one. It was also more open to the sky. With the shadows of hungry lepa spiraling overhead, Dion had little desire to leave the shelter of the ravines, even for an easier ride. Glancing at the sun, she bit her lip, then pointed toward the skinny trail that led into the draw and back up the other side.
Rafe grunted. “That the short cut?”
She nodded. “It should take us only two hours from here to reach the top of the ridge. The main road is at least six kilometers longer, but,” she added, “it is smoother.”
Rafe shook his head. “I’d as soon get this over with as you would.”
Without comment, Dion urged her dnu off the wide path and onto the narrow trail. Its once-smooth gait became ragged as it humped over the buried rocks that broke the surface of the dirt. As they approached a stand of redwood on their right, Dion threw her right leg up over the saddle horns so that she rode sidesaddle, hoping to avoid being stung by the sharp barbs on the tree bark. The hairlike needles contained parasites, which injected with the tree’s sap into the bloodstream and made life a burning hell for ninans. Dion was not concerned about the dnu; their fur was thick enough that the needles would get caught in it, and the parasites squirted onto their hair died when exposed to air. Neither did she have to warn Rafe. The other scout, seeing what lined the trail, was quick to swing his leg across the saddle, too.
The trail did not flatten at the bottom of the gully. Instead, it barely acknowledged the ravine, crossing the stream at a narrow point and climbing abruptly again on the opposite slope. Lurching across the creek, the dnu clambered up the far side, unsettling Dion’s warcap against a twiggy branch. When she reseated it, her hands automatically brushed over its surface, dislodging the two ticks that had dropped onto its enticing leather-and-metal mesh. She wondered sourly how many had already managed to crawl down her cap and inside her collar.
Leaning low across the saddle, she avoided the overhung branches that spread out from the steep side of the hill. Under most of them, the trail was bare, but some spots showed signs of digging. These she regarded carefully. If the digging was from a rodent hunter, it would be harmless enough, but if there was a breathing hole nearby, the disturbed earth could indicate a badgerbear trap instead. She had seen badgerbears erupt out of the ground before, and being unseated from the dnu on as steep a slope as this was to court a broken arm or leg from the fall.
The trail switched back along the side of the hill, and they shifted in the saddle to compensate. They were a full kilometer up the trail before they caught another glimpse of the top. By the time the trees opened enough to let them see their goal, they were sweating even though the dark ravine was cool. There always was a chill in the Black Ravines, Dion reminded herself. Even in summer, the heat never quite seemed to break the coolness free. Here, the chill of melted ice still clung to the ground, and she noted the patches absently. By the end of the ninan, though, even they would be gone.
Rafe gave her a wry look as she glanced back over her shoulder. “When you said this trail was steep,” he called ahead, “I did not think you meant vertical.”
Dion grinned, the expression disappearing as a branch snapped across her ear. She ducked, flinching instinctively, and gave the offending bough a dirty look. “I did not think so, either,” she returned dryly. “Gray Hishn has different ideas of trail conditions than I do.”
“You can still sense her?”
Dion nodded. “The distance makes it harder, but since Aranur is only a day behind us, it is not too bad.” She shrugged. “If I need to ask her about details for this path, I can still remember through her.”
Rafe twisted after her. “I’ve always wanted to ask you about this remembering you do.”
Dion ducked another branch. “It isn’t my remembering—it’s the wolves’. I just listen in.”
Rafe grunted noncommittally.
“They have racial memories,” she explained. “Nothing they do is ever really lost. The details of their trails, their hunts, their births, their deaths—all these are kept in each mind. They share memories through the packsong. So when I want to know about a particular place, I ask Hishn to remember it for me.”
“Sounds simple.”
“It would be,” she admitted, “if I did not get more than one memory at a time. The only problem with going through the Gray Ones is that since their memories are shared, I have to read more than one wolf. Like this trail—” She gestured at the path. “When I asked Hishn about the shortcut, I got not only the memories of the last time she ran this trail, but also the memories of the other wolves.”
Rafe ducked a branch and guided his dnu around a rock. “Can you tell them apart?”
“Sort of. It’s going to take me years to figure out what all the differences are between Hishn and the others. Sobovi and Gray Yoshi have been bonded for over a decade, and Sobovi still has trouble distinguishing the memories from each other.”
“I take back anything I said about simple,” Rafe said with feeling. “I have enough trouble with my own memory—as my mother told me often enough when I was a kid.”
Dion laughed. “See the spot coming up? Last year it washed out—you can see the slide that took those trees down. But the washout this year exposed enough bedrock to make the trail passable again. Hishn ran this trail a month ago; the memories of the other wolves told me of the slide last year.”
“Which are stronger?”
She shrugged. “The memories of the last wolf at the site are always strongest. But the packsong itself is like a group of voices in the background—like an echo in your mind. Since I am bonded with Hishn, not them, Hishn’s are the only ones that really catch my attention. With Hishn, I just let her flow into my mind. With the other wolves, I have to concentrate. It’s only when I look one in the eye or when there are many of them around that I can read them easily. Then, like Sobovi, I get sucked in to their song.”
“Like at the council.”
“It can be confusing,” she admitted. “That is why, even when Gray Hishn is on the trail with me, I sometimes look only through my eyes, not hers and mine together.”
He nodded. They fell silent again, twisting up one ravine, dropping down into another, and rising ever higher against the Slot. They were perhaps an hour from the main trail on top of Digger’s Gully, the last of the Black Ravines. At that point, Dion thought, they could take the low trail into Dog Pocket and cross the Phye at the ford, or climb the high trail above Lepa Wall and hike over the ancient Slot itself. The high trail was strenuous, but they would gain the vantage point of the Slot. The only real danger on the Slot Trail was from the lepa. Dion chewed her lip thoughtfully. Lepa were huge birds—some wingspans were over three and a half meters in length. They were feathered, but their legs were covered with scalelike skin. Their mouths were sharp, serrated beaks with inner teeth that tore flesh apart in seconds. Their talons were long, the tips sharp as broken glass. They could spot movement kilometers away, swooping down from their cliffs like lightning. When they flocked, the skies turned black. They swept across the land like night, gathering in a thunderhead of death that attacked anything that moved. Dion glanced up, watching that circling figure against the sun. It was spring, and lepa flocked in spring… No, she told herself, it was past time for their migration. The lone birds circling above could only be parents of the young ones hatched out of season. Still, she shivered. Even four or five could be a mortal threat.
As she rode, the north side of the mountain fell away more steeply, exposing the basalt columns that made up the underlying rock. When they reached the last ravine, they could see up along Lepa Cliffs and all the way down to the Phye. The green expanse of Dog Pocket spread from the base of the cliffs out to the darker lines of green that bounded the river. Though the river itself was hidden by the line of trees along its twisted length, Dion raked her gaze across it anyway. She was not studying the lushness of its green, but searching for something different—the smoke of a raider’s camp, the flash of color that did not belong, the sparkle of metal in the pale spring sun. If they were there, their smoke would not be seen as a thin tendril or straight column up; instead, it would be as a barely discernible cloud—like a tiny patch of fog clinging to the upper branches along the bank. The wood they used burned clean, and the canopy near the river spread what little smoke there was like a filter. By the time the smoke reached the height above the trees, it would be nearly invisible to her eyes. Rafe, letting Dion scan the trees, stared north and south, letting his peripheral vision catch what movement there was. He shrugged at her questioning look. Nothing. Reluctantly then, Dion turned to the wolves’ song, opening her mind to Hishn and, through that dim link, tasting the senses of the Gray Ones who ran the ridge around them.
Hishn howled joyfully at her mental touch. Wolfwalker! Her cry swept out, calling the other wolves to join her, and faint echoes rang in Dion’s head.
She smiled involuntarily at the happy welcome to the pack. You honor me, Gray Ones. The images carried no taint of men that could be raiders—or refugees.
Wolfwalker, one of the wolves sang. Hurry—the winds are up and the scent of deer is strong.
Dion touched her cheek. The faint sensation of cold air blew there, but it was not real. She was on the lee side of the mountain, still sheltered from the downdraft of the slope by the lower branches of the trees under which she rode. The senses that filled her mind were on the ridge. I thank you, she sent back, but I must ride. Hunt fully.
The Gray Ones’ disappointment was strong, but hunger was foremost in their images. The wolf who had called hesitated only before racing away to join the rest of the pack already heading up the trail. Dion closed her thoughts to the images. The trace that slashed across the mountainside was easy to see, but difficult to climb, and she needed to keep her senses on its rough surface, not on the loping run of the wolves. The dnu was bred for the mountain steppes, and it could be trusted to keep its footing, but there were other hazards she had to guide it from— and redwoods not the least of those.
