Winter in Eden

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

The coast of Entoban * was a dark shadow on the eastern horizon that was barely visible in the dying light. As the boat rode up on a wave they could see the peaks of high, snow-covered mountains far inland, still touched red by the setting sun. As they dropped into the trough between the waves the sail flapped in the dying breeze.

Kerrick looked at Kalaleq slumped over the steering oar and spoke again, this time carefully choosing his words, fighting not to lose his temper.

“The water is almost gone.”

“I have no wish to drink.”

“But I do. Armun is thirsty. We must go ashore and refill the waterskins.”

There was just enough light left for Kerrick to see the shiver that moved across KalaJeq’s body, stirring the fur down his neck so that it rose into the air. He had discarded his clothes many days before .when the air had grown warmer, when the worst of winter had been left behind. “No,” he said, then trembled again. “That is the land of the murgu. I saw them once, killed them once. Never again. I am hot, we must go north.”

He pushed over on the oar and the sail flapped loosely as they went all aback. Kerrick started toward the stern, angrier than before, and stopped only when Armun laid a restraining hand on his arm.

“Let me talk to him,” she whispered. “Shouting at him does no good, you can see that now.”

“Talk to him then.” He pushed her hand away and moved to secure the sail. “Convince him. We must get fresh water.”

Kalaleq’s fur trembled at her touch and she stroked his shoulder until the quivering stopped. “Plenty water,” he muttered.

“You know that is not true. It will all be gone soon then we will have to land.”

“Land in the islands, go back, not ashore.”

She stroked him again, spoke to him as she would to a child. “We do not know how far the islands are from here — and we cannot turn back. The spirit of the wind would not like that. Not after all the fair winds we have had so far.”

“Not today, not yesterday.”

“Then the spirit has heard you and grows angry.”

“No!”

Kalaleq held tightly to her, then realized what he was doing and let his hands move up under her loose coverings, to rest on her bare back. She did not push him away, not this time. Kerrick could not see what was happening in the darkness. They must make for the shore despite Kalaleq’s fears. He was the problem now, for the voyage south seemed to have driven all the dark thoughts from Kerrick’s head. Driven them into the Paramutan’s skull instead! Now she had to humor him instead of Kerrick, must still be the strong one. She knew how to do that well enough. The Tanu hunters and the male Paramutan were the same, quick to anger, ferocious in battle, washed by storms of feelings. But it was she who had to endure. To follow when needed — to be strong when that was needed even more. Now this one must have her help as Kerrick had had before. But he wanted more than that. His hands moved over her skin, moved from her back — and she pushed him gently away.

“Kalaleq is not afraid of the great ularuaq that swim in the northern sea,” she said. “He is the mightiest slayer of ularuaq and the strength of his arm feeds us all.”

“Yes,” he agreed and reached for her again but she moved back.

“Kalaleq not only kills the ularuaq but he has killed the murgu. I saw him kill murgu. He is a mighty slayer of murgu!”

“Yes,” then louder, “Yes!” He stabbed out with an invisible spear. “Yes, I did kill them, how I killed them!”

“Then you do not fear them — if you see them you will kill them again.”

“Of course!” His mood had shifted completely under her guidance and he beat his chest with his fists. “We need water — to the shore. Maybe find some murgu to kill too.”

He sniffed the wind, then spat unhappily. Still growling he unshipped the oars and slipped them into place. “Not enough wind, lower sail. I’ll show you how to row.”

But not this night.

In a short while he was gasping and running with sweat. He let Armun pull him aside and he sipped at the last of the water when she held it to his lips. Kerrick took his place, pulled hard on the oars, pulled toward the land. Kalaleq sank into a troubled sleep, and Armun hoped that when he awoke his mood would be unchanged.

The night was still and warm, the stars hidden by low cloud above. Before Kerrick tired Armun replaced him at the oars so that they moved steadily toward land. A ghost of a moon slipped in and out of the clouds enabling them to stay on course. While Kalaleq slept, they spelled each other, turn and turn again, until they heard the rumble of surf distantly ahead. Kerrick stood in the bow and could just make out the line of foam where the waves ran up onto the shore.

“It looks like beach, not rock, and the waves are small. Shall we go straight in?”

“Wake Kalaleq. Let him decide.”

The Paramutan came awake at once — thankfully possessed by none of his earlier fears. He clambered part way up the mast to look ahead, sniffed the air then let his hand dangle over the side in the sea.

“We land,” was his firm decision. “Row straight and I steer.”

When they were closer in he saw a break in the shore and turned toward it, then guided the boat in between sandbanks to the outlet of a stream or a small river.

“No one knows boats, knows the ocean like Kalaleq!”

“No one,” Armun agreed quickly before Kerrick could say anything to dampen the Paramutan’s new-found self-esteem. Kerrick started to speak, then had the good sense to keep quiet. He rowed until they touched bottom, then jumped overside with a line to pull the boat further in.

The water was salt here, but when he walked a short distance upstream it suddenly became fresh and sweet. He cupped his hands and drank, then called to the others. Kalaleq rolled and splashed in the delightful coolness, his earlier fears forgotten. They pulled the boat up as far as they could and secured it there, all of them exhausted. They would refill the waterskins in the morning.

It was first light when Kerrick took Armun’s arm to awaken her. “Up here,” he said. “Come quickly.”

Kalaleq was lying behind the mounded dune, shaking his spear and calling out loud insults. But he was careful to stay behind the cover. They ran to join him, dropping and crawling the last bit to look over the top.

Out to sea, just off the coast, a large creature with a high fin was swimming slowly by. Two smaller sea-beasts surged ahead of it.

“An uruketo,” Kerrick said. “It carries the murgu.”

“How I wish they were closer so I could spear it, kill them all!” Kalaleq’s eyes were red with hatred in the first light, his temper restored and all traces of yesterday’s fear vanished.

“Look at the direction they are going,” Kerrick said, glancing toward the sun on the horizon, then back to sea. “North, they are going north.”

He watched until the uruketo had vanished from sight, then hurried to the boat, rooted out the Yilanè charts.

“We have come too far south, see, we must be here on the chart. The uruketo is going north to the islands here.”

Kalaleq understood the maps, Armun did not. They would decide. “It could be going to the ocean here, through the mouth,” Kalaleq said. Kerrick shook his head.

“Not this time of the year, it is too cold, there may even be no cities left on the shores of Isegnet. It has to be going here, to Ikhalmenets.”

While they argued she filled the waterskins.

By late morning they had all of the water they could carry and their course had been decided. They would follow the murgu swimming creature. It had been agreed that the island they searched for was in that direction. The breeze was coming from the land now and filled their sail, carrying them swiftly toward the horizon and what lay concealed beyond it.

They sailed all of that day through the empty ocean, the land out of sight behind them and nothing visible ahead. When Kalaleq’s fears returned Armun asked him how he killed ularuaq and he showed her his skill, carried away, shouting with pleasure. Kerrick sat silently in the bow, staring ahead. He was the one who saw the snow capped mountain first.

“It is there, Ikhalmenets, it can be nothing else.”

They gazed in silence as they sailed forward and the island slowly emerged from the sea. Kalaleq called out worriedly when other specks of land appeared.

“There — and there. Other islands, there are more than one. Which is the one we seek?”

Kerrick pointed to the white peak, now glowing warmly in the evening sun. “That one, it can be no other, that is the way it was described. An island with a single, high mountain at its center. There are others nearby, but this is the largest, the mountain the tallest. Sail toward it.”

“The other islands we pass, we will be seen.”

“No, they are uninhabited. The murgu live in only one place, in their city on that island. That is where we are going…”

“To our deaths!” Kalaleq cried aloud, his teeth chattering with fear. “Murgu beyond counting. We are three, what can we do?”

“We can defeat them,” Kerrick said, strength and surety in his voice. “I did not come all this distance just to die. I have thought about this over and over, planned everything carefully. We will win — because I know these creatures. They are not like Tanu — or Paramutan. They do not do as we do, each of them going his own way, but are ordered in everything. They are very different from us.”

“My head is thick. I fear — and do not understand.”

“Then listen and you will see clearly what I mean. Tell me of the Paramutan. Tell me why you, Kalaleq, kill the ularuaq, not any other?”

“Because I am the best! Am strongest, aim straightest.”

“But others kill as well?”

“Of course, different times, sail on other ikkergaks.”

“Then understand, the Tanu have sammadars who lead. But if we do not like what they say we find a new sammadar, just as you may have a new spearer of ularuaq.”

“Me — I am best.”

“I know you are, but that is not what I mean. I am talking about the way things happen with Paramutan and Tanu. But that is not the way of the murgu. There is one who orders all of the others, a single one. Her orders are always obeyed, never questioned.”

“That is stupid,” Kalaleq said, pushing over the oar as the wind gusted about and flapped the sail. Kerrick nodded agreement.

“You think so — I think so. But the murgu never think about this at all. The one on top rules and all of the others obey.”

“Stupid.”

“It is, but that is a very good thing for us. Because I can speak to the one who rules, order her to do what must be done…”

“No, you cannot,” Armun cried out. “You cannot go there. It is certain death.”

“Not if you both help me, do as I ask. None of the other murgu matter, just the leader, the one they call the eistaa. I know how she thinks and I know how to make her obey me. With this,” he held out the carved Sasku firebox, “and the bladder of ularuaq poison Kalaleq has stowed away.”

Armun looked from his face to the box, then back again. “I understand none of this. You make fun of me.” Without realizing it, she drew a fold of her clothing over her mouth as she spoke.

“No, never.” He put the box down and held her to him, pulled the skin aside, touched her lips, calmed her fears. “It will be all right, we will be safe.”

They came as close to the island as they dared in the fading daylight, then dropped the sail and waited. There were no clouds and the snow on the high mountain shone clearly in the moonlight. Kerrick went to raise the sail and Kalaleq called out to stop him.

“If we go close we will be seen!”

“They sleep, all of them. None are awake; I told you I know them.

“Guards posted?”

“That is impossible. None move after darkness, it is a thing about them.

Kalaleq steered reluctantly, still not sure. The island grew ever closer until they were moving slowly north along its rocky shore.

“Where is the place of the murgu?” Kalaleq whispered as though he could be heard from the shore.

“On this coast, to the north, keep on.”

The rocky coastline gave way to sandy beaches with groves of trees beyond them. Then the coast curved away into a harbor and the row of dark forms was clear against the lighter wood of the docks beyond.

“There,” Kerrick said. “The uruketo, their ikkergak-creatures, like the one we saw. This is the place, this is the city. I know what it will be like for they are all grown in the same manner. The birth-beaches beyond, the barrier surrounding it, the ambesed which will open to the east so the eistaa, sitting in her place of honor, will get the first warmth of the sun. This is Ikhalmenets.”

Armun did not like it when he spoke of these things because of the strange sounds he made and the jerking motions of his body. She turned away but he called to her.

“There, do you see the dry stream bed where it runs into the ocean? That is where we will land, where we will meet again. Steer for the shore, Kalaleq. This is the right place, it is close — but still outside the barriers that surround the city.”

The shore here was mud and sand, carried down from the hills during the rainy season. They grounded on a sandbank, gently rocked by the ripple of the tiny waves.

“We will stay here most of the night,” Kerrick said. “But we must leave while it is still dark. Armun, you will stay behind and wait until there is enough light before you try to climb.”

“I can go in the dark,” Armun said.

“No, it is too dangerous. There will be enough time. What you must do is climb up there until you are above the city. Make everything ready as I have told you.”

“Dry wood for a large fire, green leaves for smoke.”

“Yes, but do not put on the leaves until the sun is two hands above the ocean. The fire must be large and hot with white-hot coals. At the proper time all of the leaves must be put on, to burn and smoke. As soon as you have done that you must come back here. Quickly — but not so quickly that you fall. Kalaleq will be waiting. I will come along the shore and join you as soon as I can. Is everything understood?”

“I feel that this is all madness and I am filled with fear.”

“Don’t be. It is going to go just as I planned. If you do your part I will be safe. But you must do it at the right time, neither earlier nor later. Is that understood?”

“Yes, I understand.” He was distant from her then, his voice so cold, thinking like a murgu — and acting like one as well. He wanted only obedience. He would have it — if only to get this over and done with. The world was a lonely place.

She dozed fitfully in the rocking boat, waking to hear Kalaleq’s rasping snores, then dozing again. Kerrick could not sleep but lay, open-eyed, staring up at the slowly wheeling stars. The morning star would rise soon, and after that it would be dawn. By nightfall this work would be done. He might not be alive to see the end of the day, he knew that. He would be taking an immense risk and victory was not as certain as he had assured Armun. For a moment he wished that they were back on that frozen coast, safe in the paukaruts of the Paramutan, away from all danger. He brushed the thought aside, remembering, as though it had happened to another person, the darkness that had held his thoughts for so long. There were too many people inside his head. He was Yilanè and Tanu, sammadar and leader in battle. He had burnt Alpèasak, then tried to save it, lost it again to the Yilanè. Then he had fled from everything — and now he knew that he could flee from nothing. Everything was inside his head. What he was doing was the right thing, the only thing.

The sammads had to be saved — and in this entire world he was the only one who could do it. All of his efforts, everything he had ever done, had led him to this place, to this city at this time. What must be done would be done. The stars lifted above the horizon and he turned to waken the others.

Armun waded ashore in silence. She had so much to say that it was easier to say nothing. She stood knee-deep in the sea, clutching the fire-box to her, watching as the dark shape of the boat moved silently away. The moon had set and the starlight was not bright enough to reveal his face. Then they were gone, a black blur in the greater darkness. She turned and waded wearily ashore.

“Oh we are dead, dead,” Kalaleq muttered between his chattering teeth. “Consumed by these giant murgu.”

“There is nothing to fear. They do not move at night. Now put me ashore for it is almost dawn. You know what you are to do?”

“I know, I have been told.”

“I will tell you again, just to be sure. Are you sure the ularuaq poison will kill one of these creatures?”

“They are dead. They are no bigger than a ularuaq. My stab is sure death.”

“Then do it, swiftly, as soon as I am ashore. Kill them — but just two of them, no more. Be sure of that because it is most important. Two of them must die.”

“They die. Now go — go!”

The boat moved swiftly away even before Kerrick had reached dry sand. The morning star was bright on the horizon, the first gray of dawn below it. Now was the time. He took off his hide coverings, the wrappings from his feet, until all that remained was a soft leather breechclout. His spear was still in the boat, he was unarmed. He touched the metal knife that hung about his neck, but it had no edge, was just an ornament.

Shoulders back and head high, limbs curved slightly into the arrogance of superiority, completely alone, he strode forward into the Yilanè city of Ikhalmenets .