The Children of the Sky

A dozen seconds passed. The rattling had spread beyond hearing, but no arrows had been triggered.

Screwfloss spoke up, sounding a bit nervous with his explanation: “When it comes, it could be an avalanche of arrows, my lord. Perhaps we have, um, overextended ourselves.”

Chitiratifor gave him an amused look. “Perhaps you have overexposed yourself, you silly asses. I see a small bush behind this tree. It may be enough for you. Burrow deep!” Then his attention finally returned to Ravna. “Chop us more wood, human.”

She turned back to her tree. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Amdi was all hunkered down, stubbornly refusing to take cover. What’s the game, Jefri?

Do it. Do it. Do it.

She held the axe by the handle and the haft and took out all her fear on the poor dumb wood. Whack. Whack. Whack.

The arrow needles clattered louder than ever, and the alarm pollen grew chokingly thick. When she triggered the cascade, the pain was like arrows piercing her ears. She dived for the ground, trying to find cover in even the most shallow troughs of the earth. But the pain was not from real arrows. The pain was in the sheer power of Tinish screams.

“Get up! Run!” Some of Amdi was around her, trying to pull her to her knees. She came up, saw the rest of him racing toward Jefri.

It was chaos that didn’t make much sense at the time. She staggered to her feet, still crouching against the ambuscade. But there were no arrows flying. Anywhere. And yet across the trail, the screaming grew louder, backed up by the fainter, whistling mouth noises of Tines in terrible pain. She couldn’t see either of the wagoneers. The bushes they had been hiding under seemed lower and wider than before, and they trembled as if something struggled beneath.…

Amdi pushed and pulled her. “Back to the wagons!”

As she stumbled along, she saw that not all the other Tines had disappeared. Most of Screwfloss was standing just at the edge of a root bush, hacking at its branches. His limper hadn’t been fast enough to jump away; it was tangled at the edge.

Some of Chitiratifor was clear of the bush that was munching on him. He was fighting back with all his remaining hand axes. He almost had his bow carrier free of the trap. Then he noticed Ravna and Amdi. He gave a roar of anger, and his three free members raced after her.

Ravna ran. Ordinarily, that would have been a futile gesture. On open ground, pack members could outrun any two-legs, and packs with military training could give up consciousness for a brief killing charge. But the part of Chitiratifor that couldn’t follow must be in terrible pain. The three that raced after Ravna seemed to be on an invisible leash. Never slowing, they circled wide around, heading back to the rest of their pack, where they resumed hacking at the bush that trapped them.

Screwfloss was doing much better. He had freed his one trapped member. It staggered along with a three- legged walk, but the pack was making progress in their direction.

“I’ve got him,” shouted Jefri. He was closer to the wagons than she, but now he rushed back, scooped up Screwfloss’ limping member in his arms.

“Help me, help me!” It was Gannon. The boy was on his elbows, his lower body hidden by the bush that had flattened itself upon him. Stark terror was on his face and his hands were reaching out to her.

She had not known Gannon Jorkenrud when he was a small child. At best, he’d been a snotty teenager, growing more malevolent with each passing year. But in the beginning she had seen him as she had all the Children, as someone she could help. There had been a time when he had not seemed evil.

By some miracle, she still had that axe in her hand. And now she was running across the trail, toward Gannon’s beseeching hands.

Amdi was still pulling at her. “No! No! Please—”

Someone else just sounded angry: “Well, damn! Okay.” That was the able-bodied part of Screwfloss, running back from where Jefri had set down the wounded part. Jefri came right behind him. They circled around in front of Ravna, blocking her from Gannon.

But they were doing what she wanted done. Jefri got to the tree, used his reach to attack the bush near its base, where there was no danger of striking Gannon. The four of Screwfloss used knives to cut the branches, then grabbed at Jorkenrud’s jacket and began pulling him out.

Ravna was in the midst of Screwfloss now, pulling with him. She had Gannon around the shoulders. Every blow that Jefri struck with his battle axe sent a spasm through the bush and won another centimeter of freedom for Gannon.

Screwfloss shrieked and staggered back, losing his grip on Jorkenrud. Ravna looked up in time to dodge the metal tines. Raggedy Ears’ loose members were among them, slashing. At least one part of a wagoneer had freed itself and joined the attack.

Jorkenrud slipped from her fingers, the relentless pull of the bush winning at last. As his body disappeared from view, there might have been one last scream, silenced with a crunching sound.

Bodies tumbled all around, bleeding.

She was on her feet, staggering back. She had never been in a fight before, but Johanna had regaled her with stories. Against even one pack, an unarmed human would be the loser. Stay on your feet. Climb some place where packs can’t follow.

Something slammed into her from behind, sweeping her off her feet. Jefri! Then she was looking down, from over his shoulder. He was quickly backing away from the battle, of which she could now see nothing! Parts of Amdi swirled around them, bloodied. Amdi was unarmed, but Jefri still had his axe. She could feel him swing it, hear the screaming. He staggered, turned, and she had a glimpse of Screwfloss. That pack was armed in every jaw and forepaw, even the limper. Between them, Screwfloss and Jefri were making a controlled retreat from—not so much a pack as a killing mob, three from Raggedy Ears, two from the wagoneers.

They’d reached the nearest of the wagons. They had all of Screwfloss; if she wasn’t counting anybody twice, Amdi was still eight. He had split into three groups and raced ahead, heading for the kherhogs

Jefri shrugged Ravna to the ground. “Help Amdi. We’re getting out of here.”

In this, Ravna really could contribute. One two-legs was worth at least four pack members when it came to dealing with kherhogs. She got her animal hooked up to the front wagon before Amdi was done with the other animals. Her own kherhog was cooperative—maybe too much so; the wagon was already moving forward. The kherhog didn’t want to be near the screaming carnivores.

“Don’t let it run away!” shouted Amdi, even as he scrambled to guide the second and third wagons. There was blood all over him, but he was eight for sure.

Behind them, Jefri and Screwfloss were continuing the defense. The enemy mob ran back and forth across the trail behind them, darting forward repeatedly. Jefri held the center of the line, but Screwfloss—all but the limper—was rushing back and forth, cutting and slashing, matching the desperation of the attackers with his own brand of mad rage, chasing any who tried to flank the rear wagon and go after Ravna and Amdi.

Meter by meter, their three wagons proceeded away from the campsite. Ravna walked beside the lead kherhog. It wasn’t pulling so nervously now. She had no trouble keeping up and staying on her feet. She glanced back. From somewhere under her own mortal panic, a tiny horrified vision rose … of the nightmare that faced their enemy: The two from the wagoneers, the three from Chitiratifor, they were now about fifty meters from the trees that held the rest of themselves. They were beyond the reach of their mindsounds. Pursuit would be mindless and would give up any chance of pack survival.

The two wagoneer members broke first, turning and heading back toward the campsite. The three of Chitiratifor shrieked rage at this desertion, then shrieked rage at the escapees. The fragment took one more wild charge at Jefri and Screwfloss, and then turned back, desperate to save itself.

•  •  •

“The ones in the bushes, they’re all dead, or they will be soon, either suffocated or crushed.” That’s what Screwfloss said when she asked him about Gannon and the others. His words were flippant, even more than usual. “Heh. What we gotta hope is Chitiratifor dies slowly, so what’s left doesn’t come after us till we are well gone.”