West of Eden. Book two. Chapter 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The Yilanè advance broke against the rock wall of the defenders. The fargi died. The spirit seemed to have gone out of them and the attack was not pressed home. It was the last attack of the day because the sun was low in the sky, hidden by a bank of clouds, by the time the few survivors had withdrawn.
Kerrick put all thoughts of future battles from him until the present one was finished. He stood atop the rock barrier, watching the crows and buzzards already starting on the luxurious feast that awaited them below. It would be dark soon. There would be no more attacks now since the Yilanè would be setting up their night camp and preparing its defenses. If he could only see what they were doing. There might be some way to harass them after dark. They could not be allowed to sleep in peace, to prepare themselves for the morning. Their attacks had come too close to succeeding this day: this must not be permitted to happen again. The prey must become the hunter now.
“We must do more than simply lie here and wait for more attacks,” he told Herilak when the big hunter had climbed up to join him. Herilak nodded solemn agreement.
“I must follow them,” Kerrick said.
“We will follow them.”
“Good—but we must not follow them in death. Something happened today. A dart hit Sanone’s headband but did not penetrate the twisted cloth. Darts are not like arrows or spears, they are light and do not go in very far.”
“They kill just as well. Just a single scratch.”
“Their deadliness is clear.” His hand swept towards the expanse of corpses and the gathering carrion birds. “I don’t want us to join them when we follow after the murgu. But think of this, what if we were to wrap ourselves in lengths of bundled cloth, cloth thick enough so that the darts wouldn’t penetrate? If we did that any guards they have placed out there would fire and reveal themselves. They would die, we would not. I do not intend to face all of the enemy. We need approach only close enough to observe them.”
Kerrick spoke to Sanone who was quick to appreciate his suggestion and sent two manduktos running for the cloth. He wound the fabric about Kerrick himself, arranging folds and draping it thickly to trap any dart. After folding a narrower length he wound it about Kerrick’s head and neck leaving only a slit for him to see through. Herilak took an unfired dart and prodded at the coverings but could not penetrate to Kerrick’s skin.
“This is a wonder,” he said. “Tell him to wrap me in the same manner. Then we will go out and take a closer look at the murgu.”
The wrappings were hot—but bearable now that the sun was low. Kerrick could feel the sweat on his forehead, but the cloths soaked it up so that it did not run into his eyes. He led the way down the outer face of the barricade.
The only way to reach the ground was by climbing over the piled corpses, which moved beneath their weight in a very unattractive manner. Kerrick ignored the sightless eyes and gaping tooth-lined mouths and stepped carefully until they had reached the cleared ground at last. He turned and called back to the watchers on the wall.
“All the murgu here are dead. Wait until we pass the turning ahead. Then you can come down and get all the death-sticks that they left behind. They took what they could, but there are still many we can put to use.”
The Yilanè had indeed posted guards. When the white-clad hunters came warily around the bend in the rock wall there were three sharp explosions. They ran forward as more darts were fired, then fired themselves at the fargi among the rocks. Two of them died while the third jumped to her feet and fled; Herilak’s dart struck her back and she fell. He reached out then and carefully plucked a dart from the cloth that covered Kerrick’s chest and threw it aside. “These coverings are hot—but we are alive.”