Chapter 39: Locking Horns

Bachi healed as they traveled, but it felt strange not to have his chatter accompanying them. Tavi did his best to fill the silence, but none of them had the gift of easy conversation like Bachi. The Wobanu boy looked especially morose whenever it grew quiet. He tried to speak once or twice the first few days, but he could produce nothing more than a whisper, and it hurt him. They trudged toward the northern mountains in grim silence.

Tarek was not surprised to feel that Kanga had started following them again. He had apparently feared to approach the Congress, but now that they were out in the wilds again, he picked up their trail. He was many hours behind them, much too far away for Pahtl to sniff him out, but now that Tarek knew that he was in the area, he could sense the man in very much the same way as his otter friend. He felt despondency and confusion from him, and he drew no closer to their party over the next handful of days, so Tarek didn’t bother the others with the information. In fact, now that all he felt was Kanga’s sadness without being burdened with the man’s actual presence, Tarek started to feel a little sorry for him. He may have been the one that started the whole sorry business between us, but I think at this point he’s just as lost as I ever was.

At least, that’s what he told himself when he started tucking away morsels of food for Kanga to find as he trailed behind them. He knew he shouldn’t – food was not plentiful in this rocky, remote part of the Land, and though Zulimaya was becoming proficient with the bow with remarkable speed, they still struggled to keep themselves fed – but he kept returning to the memories he’d seen through Kanga’s eyes all those moons before when he’d drunk his rival’s blood. Could I have been kinder? Done something different? We might have been friends, he said. Now that Yaretzi had shown him how she truly felt – no, don’t think about it – Kanga was Tarek’s only remaining link to home besides Tavi.

Tarek was careful not to let the others know what he was doing. He didn’t have the words to explain it and they wouldn’t have understood even if he did, but he felt guilty about Kanga. He was fairly certain Pahtl noticed what he was up to, given his keen nose and unwavering attention to all things edible, but the otter said nothing, for which Tarek was silently grateful. Maybe he can catch a little of what I’m feeling.

The sharp, jagged hills in this part of the Land were covered in irregular patches with gnarled needle-leaf trees that smelled of resin and earth. Nights were getting painfully cold, and their little group of wanderers was forced to take shifts through the night keeping their fire fed while the others slept in a pile like rat pups for warmth. Tarek and Tavi argued nightly over who got to sleep closest to Pahtl, and Bachi joined in with indignant gesturing. The only one who never joined in these spats was Zulimaya, who simply took one of the two spots flanking the beast every night and refused to relinquish it. Her semi-mystical devotion to him would allow nothing less, and given her casually violent nature, none of the men dared gainsay her. Pahtl, for his part, merely accepted as his due the fact that he was the most valuable member of the group once the sun went down.

Zulimaya was a hard one to understand. She could go an entire day without cracking her lips open, yet she never seemed bothered Tavi’s attempts to fill the silence nor Tarek’s efforts to draw her into conversation. She would respond reasonably to anything asked of her, but those replies always held only the minimum number of words necessary. She held the pace, assisted with whatever task was necessary, and otherwise kept to herself. The only time Tarek saw her deviate from her dispassionate reserve was one night when Bachi accidentally brushed her bare shoulder with his hand as he moved past. She flinched, her pale face flushed with rage, and she leapt on the hapless boy with a feral scream, clawed hands around his neck as she bore him down to the ground. Tarek and Tavi pulled them apart in short order, and despite Bachi’s silent fright no harm was done, but they were all careful not to touch her after that. Except for Pahtl. He was apparently exempt from any such rules, and Zulimaya cooed at him and flattered him outrageously at every opportunity.

As they travelled, Tarek found himself at a certain point trudging up yet another incline with Pahtl muttering complaints and Bachi huffing painfully at the rear. Zulimaya was in front, bow in hand and an arrow on the string. Tarek had fashioned a sling out of the remains of his ripped shirt and made the best use of it he could when Zulimaya held his bow. It had been handspans since they’d seen any hint of game, and Tarek found himself more concerned with the falling temperature of this strange northern climate. White glittered on the distant peaks ahead, and Bachi had whispered painfully that it meant snow, a kind of water so cold it was solid. Tarek had felt some very cold water in his day, and so remained unconvinced that such a thing was possible, but still, it seemed likely that it would only get colder. Bachi had thick, serviceable clothing, but Tarek was shirtless again, Tavi had only a loincloth, and Zulimaya was dressed in ragged scraps that amounted to very little more than that. He watched the smooth play of the back muscles under her pale skin as they walked, glad to see that she’d gained in both weight and health during their time together.

“Do you want some new clothes, Zulimaya?” he said to her.

She shot him a suspicious look. “Why?”

He shrugged. “It’s getting cold. I’m getting cold. I keep thinking about those furs Kanga was wearing and they seem like a better idea all the time.”

“How many rabbits would you have to catch to cover her? Or even me?” Tavi called from behind. “It would take forever.”

Rabbits had been their primary source of sustenance over the last fortnight, but they kept getting smaller and scrawnier as they moved north. It would have taken three of them just to make a new loincloth, much less a covering of any use against the cold.

“I will take care of myself,” Zulimaya insisted.

“I know, I know,” Tarek said. “I was just thinking out loud.”

“Listen to your thoughts inside your head first,” Pahtl said. “You will say fewer stupid things.”

Tarek opened his mouth to give a tart reply but stopped when he heard a bellowing animal cry echo through the hills around them. Everyone froze in their tracks, looking for the source of the sound. Nothing moved in the underbrush, and the birds had gone silent.

“I think it’s up ahead,” Tavi whispered. “Over the hill.”

“Stay here,” Tarek told the others quietly before scuttling up the slope on all fours, staying close to the ground. After a moment he heard soft sounds behind himself and looked back to see Zulimaya on his heels, bow in hand. He didn’t bother to argue with her about it.

The crest of the hill was bare but for tall grass, and he crept over the rise as quietly as he could. The meadow below held a copse of stunted trees with yellowing leaves, a small stream wending through it, and a profusion of purple wildflowers on the far slope. All this Tarek took in instantly, his head barely peeking out of the grass, before he focused on the two incredibly massive animals facing off in the center of the dell. The grasses underfoot had been trampled flat in a wide circle around them.

Tarek had no name for the beasts. The first thing he thought of were the great horned beasts from one of Ryki’s old stories. They were mountains of muscle draped in coarse black fur. It was hard to tell at a distance, but Tarek thought they might be four hands taller than the top of Zulimaya’s head at the shoulder. They stood on four hooved, stamping feet, with short, stiff tails and powerfully wide necks leading up to broad, long-snouted faces. Antlers branched from their heads in a ridiculous profusion of tines. Tarek doubted he could have reached from one tip to the other with his arms spread wide. They looked like some kind of deer in the same way that a capybara looked like some kind of mouse. He thought even the huge knuckle-walkers they’d encountered might be wary of these things. One of them bellowed again, and it was louder than a horn blast. Tarek covered his ears and saw Zulimaya do the same.

Then that one charged the other, both lowering their heads to skewer their foe with their antlers. The report of the impact sounded like war clubs the size of trees smashing together. Both combatants shrieked, churning the grass underfoot into mud as they pushed at each other, neither able to score a hit. They twisted their faces this way and that, and each one in turn spat forth a massive stream of spittle toward the other’s forelegs. Their legs danced back and forth, and the saliva fell to the ground, where it hissed and smoked, blackening the torn greenery. They drew apart, great chests heaving and teeth bared.

A flicker of movement within the copse of trees drew Tarek’s eye, and he saw a handful of slightly-smaller-but-still-monstrously-large animals of the same kind watching intently from within the shade. These beasts lacked the antlers of the larger ones, and he saw two juveniles that reached no higher than the bigger ones’ knees in the center of the clutch. It’s a mating fight. Two males battling for control of the herd.

From the corner of his eye Tarek saw Zulimaya raise the bow and take aim at the beast closer to her. He gestured frantically at her to slack off her tension, and she complied with a scowl.

“Do you really want one of those things coming at you?” he whispered fiercely as the beasts crashed together again. “That’s exactly what will happen if you miss. And I think their spit is some kind of poison.”

“I won’t miss,” she growled.

“You’re learning faster than I ever hoped,” he told her, “but this is dangerous game. Let’s wait.”

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The others crept up one by one to find out what was happening, and together they watched from the hilltop for nearly half a handspan as the two rutting males battered themselves against each other. One’s muzzle had more white around the lips and chin, and for a time Tarek thought he might tire first, being older. But the oldster was carved from stone, and never flagged. Meanwhile, his opponent, though deeper of chest and longer of horn, gathered half a dozen seeping, smoking wounds on his legs and flanks from the elder’s corrosive saliva. Red stained his lips, and he took longer and longer to recover from each clash.

Finally, the younger one tottered and lost the balance of his front legs. From where Tarek watched, it looked as if the smoking spit had eroded his shin bones. The wounded animal collapsed to the knees of his forelegs, lowering his rack of antlers to the ground in a show of submission. White-chin stepped forward and stamped the ground on either side of his rival’s head. Tarek breathed easier. The fight was over.

Then the oldster reared up on his hind legs, ducked his head, and rammed the sharp spikes of his antlers into the younger one’s neck. The wounded beast screamed in agony as the victor reared back and drove his points home again and again.

“Now,” Zulimaya growled, standing, taking aim, and letting loose.

“No!” Tarek cried, sounding strangled as he reached for her too late.

The shaft flew true and struck the old beast in the hollow of the throat beneath the jaw. It bellowed in shock and turned toward them.

“What did you do?” Tavi yelled. The woman stood there, perplexed that her prey had not fallen. The arrow stood proud from the creature’s neck, and deep red blood squirted in a heartbeat pulse around the shaft.

The creature pawed the earth and charged across the meadow toward them.

“He’s a mean one,” Zulimaya said, pulling another arrow from the quiver at her side. The monster had covered nearly half the distance toward them in just a handful of heartbeats.

“We should run,” Tarek said.

Bachi nodded enthusiastically.

“All right,” Zulimaya said distractedly.

Tarek hesitated. “What about you?”

“No.”

She lined herself up, letting her shoulders tense then relax. Tarek was reminded of old Shad, who always talked about finding his center. The bow came up smoothly, and the red-headed woman looked utterly peaceful.

Tarek was riveted by the creature bearing up the slope toward him. Thirty paces now. I can’t just leave her here. What if she misses?

“We should go!” Tavi hissed.

“Shhhh,” Zulimaya said. Her eyes fluttered closed and then open again. If she hadn’t been holding a bow at full tension, Tarek might have thought her on the edge of sleep.

She let loose, and her shaft buried itself in the giant beast’s left eye. It went down in a heap as if it were a toy with its strings cut. Tarek let out a pent breath. The thing was close enough that he could have pissed downhill and hit it.

“Maybe we should have run,” Zulimaya admitted.

Tarek’s heart felt as if it were faltering as it slowed from a racing tempo. “That was incredible. I think I’m done teaching you the bow.”

Zulimaya grunted. “I knew I would not miss.”

The females were moaning and lowing in the trees, and Tarek had a sudden idea. “Feel like doing that again?” he asked her.

Frowning, Zulimaya looked down at her kill. “This is already more than we can eat.”

“Yes, but there’s enough leather in that herd to clothe all of us. Tavi, Bachi: start skinning these two. We’ll be back.”

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