122
Changing targets, Baver shot at another, and with the sound, this man fell backward, sliding off his horse’s rump, one foot hanging for a moment in a stirrup. The others hesitated for just a moment, then Achikh sent an arrow into another, and he too went down.
The other two turned their horses and charged back the way they’d come.
Baver stood watching after them, immobilized by the realization that he had killed—at least wounded—four human beings. And felt no shock or guilt at it! He wasn’t quite sure how to take this latter fact.
Two high soaring ravens had watched the chase with interest. Beneath their individual awareness, ravens have something of a hive intelligence. Thus they knew, from the experience of others, that men pursuing men often means death to men and horses, and food for ravens. They are scavengers who find their food by sight, not scent, and have superb vision. They are also very curious, noticing the incidental as well as the important. They were aware, for instance, that one of the humans was exceptionally large and had unusual hair, with long, straw-colored braids.
Even their sharp eyes couldn’t make out what went on beneath the thicker growth of pines, but they heard an unusual booming sound that repeated, heard a horse scream, and another. Men and horses drew up in the opening, then two turned back to where their horses could begin picking their way up the steep slope. After a minute s hesitation, the other horses charged on into the forest growth.
The great black birds began to circle downward to investigate more closely, croaking loudly in their deep harsh voices. Finally they perched in the top of a pine, peering down between the branches. There were bodies on the ground, of men and horses. Another human stood on the trail with arrow nocked and ready, watching the big, yellow-haired man climb the slope above. He shot just one arrow; it rattled and fell among the dense young
123
pines on the slope. Then the bowman settled back to watch and wait.
There were more booms farther along the ravine.
The watching ravens continued to call. Another, near the edge of hearing, passed the report on, both the simple cry and the mental imagery beneath it. Except for the fallen men and horses though, it meant little to the birds.
A few minutes later, the Kalmul riders who’d ridden on, came back to where they’d first been ambushed. By now dusk was definitely settling, and the refugee on the slope was lost to their sight among rocks and trees. They counseled briefly, then called to those who’d climbed their horses to the ridgetop to cut off the refugee’s escape. There was a moment’s exchange of shouts, then they all started back the way they’d come, back to their cohorts who’d been told off to collect the pack horses and remounts. They’d lost nine men and three horses— Choban would be enraged by that—but at least they wouldn’t return to camp empty-handed.
And obviously the people they’d chased were not entirely human. The one, the giant, had yellow hair! And equally obvious, they had a very strong kam with them, a powerful shaman who made small thunders to kill with. And anyone with any sense at all feared thunder. With luck, then, Choban would settle for the horses, and not send them out to track these people down.
SIXTEEN
Achikh, Hans, and Baver backtracked, hoping to find Nils alive, riding warily most of the way, then finishing on foot. They found his horse first, grazing in a glade, with a Mongol pony which Hans made his. The Kalmuls were gone. By then dusk had thickened enough that they didn’t see Nils till he’d climbed most of the way down the slope.
Briefly they consulted. Achikh’s guess was that the Kalmuls would return to the big encampment, and that in the morning the Kalmul chief would send a force to hunt them down.
They continued on in growing darkness until a grassy slope gave them a climbable route to the ridgetop. There they rode on till there was only starlight to see by—a somewhat risky situation, given their lack of remounts. Then they lay down on the ground and slept, each, including Baver, telling himself to wake up when the moon rose.