Dustfall, Book Three - The Baying of Wolves Read online

  “Yeah, the bridge is solid,” said Rav. “No worries there.”

  Chapter 3

  The Brother sniffed at the air and then the ground. The scent was there, clawing at his senses.

  Many Walking Ones have passed this way, so many that they are like the grass on the open fields.

  He turned to his pack, who gathered behind him in the low brush. They were more silent than the still air as they crouched low to avoid any eyes that may be nearby, watching.

  It was morning, and the pack should still have been sleeping after such a large meal. The dead Walking Ones and the almost dead one had filled their bellies and would keep them going for a few days. Now most of them wanted to find somewhere quiet to hide—sleep. But The Brother had awoken them all and made them move until they reached the black and hard surface the Walking Ones used to travel.

  Too many of them, The Brother thought. Many more than the pack, even if all the lost ancestors still walked among us. Too many.

  And he could sense something else. These travelling ones had been running, moving swiftly toward the great break in the land. They had blood in their sights. A battle was coming; he could sense it.

  Should he and his kin stay? There would be easy pickings after the Walking Ones had fought each other. Much easier than hunting down the prey themselves.

  Movement to his right caused him to turn. There, the big male with the broken eye, a deep scar running across it, was standing just a few feet away from him. This one was brave, he thought, and not frightened at all of him. Well, maybe he was a little afraid, but he showed no signs of it and held himself with a pride that was almost an insult, just shy of a challenge. Soon he would show himself, The Brother thought. Yes, this was his next challenger.

  The large wolf looked at him then looked down at the ground, seeming to detect his scrutiny, his curiosity, and it also seemed that this brave male was not yet confident enough to face him.

  Not today, then, thought The Brother. But you must watch this one.

  The Brother growled low, a noise inaudible to humans but which would be heard clearly by his pack. He trotted across the blacktop to the trees on the other side. The rest of the pack followed quickly.

  Another scent on the wind caught his nose. There were more Walking Ones not far away, over the other side of the great hole in the ground. He wondered if the first group even knew the others were there. Probably not.

  The trees to the south, and the low hills empty of man, beckoned him.

  Stay or go, he pondered. The battle will be soon, but if you keep the pack here and it doesn’t happen, then the Walking Ones may decide to hunt you, or one of the younger warriors of the pack may grow impatient and attack anyway. That would be disastrous.

  Go south, he thought. They could head into the deep forest. The migrations would be heading home soon, and the pack could rule the forest until the next cold came.

  The wolves passed quietly from the road, vanishing into the forest.

  ***

  “Well?” Andmar asked as the scout jogged through the trees and stopped, heaving for breath. The tall, slim chief of the Cygoa band rubbed impatiently at his bearded chin.

  “Still held, from what I can see,” said the scout, “but there is another group on the other side of the ruins, one that is not of our kin. It’s too far away for me to tell if it’s T’yun or someone else.”

  Andmar started walking again, and the rest of the warband followed, increasing the pace to keep up with their chief. “How far are we from this breach? How far to the bridge?”

  “Three, maybe four days. All downhill, though,” said the scout. “Three days if we push it, but once we pass the rise ahead you can see all the way down into the valley and the plains, and you can make out the bridge in the distance. It’s a lot further than it looks, though. We will need to push it if you want to get there within three nights.”

  Andmar nodded. “Then we will push it.”

  Chapter 4

  “What is going on?”

  “A scout,” said Sasha. “One of the boys who went with Declan.”

  Jonah drew a deep breath and rocked back on his heels. He glanced to his left, where Keana and Neave wound their way through the bustling camp in search of rope to tie down the carts. Gideon had spent the morning with the Elk warriors, sharpening blades.

  “Excellent,” said Jonah.

  He put an arm around his wife as they watched the boy jog down the middle of the old roadway. His battle axe hung from his belt, secured around his thigh, and his hands were free, signs he had not felt threatened while traveling alone back to the plains on the outskirts of Eliz. Jonah pulled Sasha tightly to him and waited.

  The rest of the Elk hustled about, preparing for the inevitable departure that would be initiated on Jonah’s command. The stream of refugees had thickened over the last twelve hours, and Jonah pretended not to hear whispers of the Valk. He had enough humans to manage without being concerned about sub-humans.

  “Hey, boy,” Jonah said as the young man came to a stop before them.

  His hair dangled in his face, flushed from the run but with the rosy glow of youth. The boy smelled of sweat and venison, and Jonah noticed a tiny flickering in his right eye. He did not know the boy but trusted Declan to take only those capable.

  “Sir,” the boy said while bowing to Sasha.

  “She is not a queen and I am not a king. We are all Elk.”

  The boy stood still, unsure of how to respond.

  “Declan sent you back with word?” Jonah asked.

  The boy nodded.

  “And?”

  “There are things.”

  “You need to speak clearly, son. I don’t know what that means.”

  He looked at the ground and then at Jonah. The boy bit his bottom lip and then huffed. “The bridge. It ain’t right.”

  Jonah waited. He felt Sasha’s shoulders tighten beneath his one-armed embrace.

  “What’s not right about it?” he asked.

  “Parts of it are rotten. And the bottom is a long way down.”

  Jonah shook his head. “So? That pretty much explains the condition of this entire world. Say what you mean.”

  “We stood and watched as an entire section broke loose and fell.”

  Jonah waited for more but the boy did not continue.

  The fact that I must pull the words from him is troubling, he thought.

  “Is the bridge passable?” Jonah asked.

  “Declan believes it to be.”

  “But you don’t.”

  “It’s not that,” the boy said. “There’s also…”

  “For fuck’s sake, tell me.”

  “Cygoa.”

  Sasha stepped away from Jonah, turned, and walked in the direction Keana and Neave had gone earlier. Jonah watched her depart, his mouth crawling into a snarl.

  “Are they trying to cross the bridge too?”

  “No.”

  “Then what are they doing there?”

  “Building an encampment,” said the boy. “They’re taking control of the bridge.”

  Jonah felt the blood rush from his face. He brought his hands up to his beard and turned his head to hide the fear in his eyes from the boy.

  “Declan. The rest?”

  “They are all safe. Hidden. They sent me to ask for your presence. They say the bridge will be impossible to pass until the Cygoa are cleared out.”

  Jonah felt Sasha’s presence behind him. She had stomped off but remained within earshot.

  “Send for Solomon and Gunney.”

  The boy ran off into the camp as Sasha stalked up to Jonah and jabbed a finger into his chest.

  “You cannot leave your clan here. Not now. You can’t.”

  “Is it the clan you’re concerned about?” he asked.

  “Listen,” Sasha said, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Those creatures—monsters—are coming out of Eliz. Some say they’re cannibals. They eat human flesh.”

  “I know
what a cannibal is.”

  “Stop being so damn stubborn and listen to me,” Sasha said. “There has to be another way to the other side.”

  “Declan would have sent word if there was. I don’t want to leave you—or the kids. But we can’t stay here, and we can’t get back to Wytheville with the Cygoa entrenched at the bridge. What do you expect me to do?”

  “You called for Solomon.”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Leave him here. In charge.”

  Jonah thought about it, and although he had not considered leaving Solomon, Sasha’s idea made sense. He could take a war party, along with Gunney, and combined with Declan’s crew, they could have a go at the Cygoa on the bridge.

  “Okay,” he said.

  Sasha took a gulp of air, prepared to blast her husband with a verbal tirade. She stopped and turned her head sideways. Jonah continued before she could speak.

  “I will put him in charge of the camp. He will lead the Elk in my absence.”

  Gideon approached from the left. He looked at Jonah’s face and then Sasha’s, having not heard any of their conversation.

  “I’ll leave you with your father,” Sasha said to Gideon. She turned and walked toward the center of the camp.

  “Come. Sit,” Jonah said, motioning for Gideon to join him on a rocky, raised outcrop beyond the earshot of the people passing by.

  “What’s up with Mom?” Gideon asked.

  “She’s worried.”

  “Are you?”

  “No,” said Jonah. Then, “Yes.”

  “Are we leaving soon, crossing the bridge?”

  Jonah put his hands in his lap and stared through the camp to where the trampled grass met the road. He shook his head and sighed.

  “I have to go. Declan needs help. If I don’t go, the Elk won’t be able to cross.”

  Gideon nodded, catching Jonah by surprise. He expected a fight from his son. He wanted resistance.

  “What do you need me to do, Dad?”

  “I need you here. Our people need you here. Solomon will take charge of the clans in my absence, but as my son, you have a voice that the council cannot argue with while I am gone. I need you to back Solomon in any way he needs, if the time comes.”

  Jonah smiled at Gideon and ruffled the boy’s shaggy hair.

  “In two days, I need Solomon to order the camp to pack up and follow the road until you catch up with us. Tell the council that is what I have commanded. If the other elders dispute it, you will take the Elk and leave...”

  “But what if—”

  “No,” Jonah said with a forceful interruption. “No what ifs. That is what we’re doing. That is what will happen. I need to take that bridge back from the Cygoa, and I can’t guarantee I’ll be back within a few days. It’s quite a distance there and back, so I may need you to meet us there. Don’t worry, son. I’ll tell Solomon exactly what I’ve told you, and I’ll also tell the council. Just make sure you back Solomon up if he makes a decision and needs the support.”

  Gideon leaned over and put his arms around his father. Jonah squeezed his son into his chest.

  “Okay, Dad.”

  Jonah watched Gideon leap up and walk down the trail, kicking at the branches and skipping along. Like a boy should.

  I only wish that I can keep him from most of this for as long as possible, thought Jonah. Let him be a boy for a while longer.

  Chapter 5

  Jonah couldn’t shake the worry from his head. He tried not to show it to Sasha, and he would never expose the raw nerve to his men, but there was something off about the time, the grumbles, all of it. Jonah had made the Walk before. Dozens of times. Despite the inherent danger and unknown threats, which could take the Elk at any moment, there was always a sense of normalcy. Judas took the clan south. They survived the winter in relative comfort. They returned north. Jonah had expected his journey to be the same, and yet, here he was, walking the road toward the bridge surrounded by Cygoa while leaving another in charge of the clan. The ground had continued to shake, the refugees kept coming, and now they brought with them the talk of the Valk.

  Quiet, he thought. How crazy that all I want is silence within a world that is almost dead?

  A crow cawed and drew Jonah’s attention back to the road. The sun dropped below the tree line and the temperature fell with it. Winter’s grip had not entirely relented, forcing Jonah to pull his cloak tight around his neck. He reached down with his right hand and caressed the worn leather wrapped around the handle of his axe.

  The bird senses something.

  He stopped walking and the burn in his calves intensified, his thighs pounding with a sharp, satisfying ache. Jonah had walked most of the day, lost in thought, and now his muscles would bring him back to reality. He wasn’t sure how much further he’d have to walk to arrive at the bridge. Both the road and the chasm caused by the grumbles seemed to stretch out forever.

  “Camp,” he said aloud, the first words he had spoken in hours. “We need to camp the night.”

  Gunney nodded and signaled to the men that followed. An entire third of the warriors from the Elk were with them, and each man moved off the side of the trail to set up for the night.

  Jonah kept one eye on the tree line and another on his rucksack as he unfolded his tent. He secured the edges with pegs, keeping two trees behind the tent to avoid an unseen attack. The cloth fluttered in the wind and snapped at the split where the tent opened. Jonah took a hunk of dried meat from his pouch and began to chew it, no longer able to tell what animal he was eating. The massive amounts of salt were needed to preserve it but burned the taste from his tongue.

  Warriors gathered wood for a fire but decided not to build one. There was something wrong. The crow knew it, and so did Jonah. He sat still, sipping a cold tea as his eyes scanned the road. Several times, Jonah blinked at shadows floating silently over the chasm and part of him thought they could have been spirits departing their world.

  They may be gone, but they’re free, he thought.

  ***

  The snapping branch on Jonah’s left jolted him from his reflection and could not be mistaken for a shadow, real or otherwise.

  “I’m armed,” Jonah said. He stood and pushed his cloak off his hip, removing the axe from its holster and repeatedly slamming the bottom of the handle into the palm of his left hand, making a loud slapping noise.

  Another bird fluttered and shot through the trees and into the night sky. Jonah could not tell if it was a crow or a pheasant.

  “Come on, coward. I’ve got nothing of value in my pack but you’re welcome to challenge me for it.”

  No reply. The wind blew through the camp, pushing the flap of Jonah’s tent open.

  He stood and waited. Minutes turned to hours, and Jonah could no longer stand lone guard. His eyelids slammed down and he realized he would have to sleep. He turned around and saw no shadows, no birds and he no longer felt the sensation of being watched. Whomever—or whatever—had been spying on him, was gone.

  “So be it. If you smash my head while I sleep, then at least I will no longer be tortured by this world.”

  Jonah saw flashes of Sasha, Gideon and Keana in his mind. He scrunched up his face and wished he could retract those words, if only for their sake, and then he awoke.

  A dream of being alone, he thought, but he glanced over at the fire and listened to the sounds of snoring warriors. The night remained cold, unchanging and silent.

  Certainly not alone, he thought, but then he considered the decisions he had made and the ones he would have to make in the future. In some ways, he was alone even when surrounded by his entire clan.

  Jonah lay down and closed his eyes. The next time he opened them, the first gray gauze of dawn had crept up from beneath the trees.

  ***

  “How many?” he asked.

  “Three dozen we can see,” said Declan.

  “But how many we can’t?” asked Rav.

  Declan shrugged in reply.

&nb
sp; Jonah smiled at the old warrior and winked. “You two have been on the road together for too long.”

  “Make him keep his boots on,” said Declan. “For the love of all that’s holy, make him keep that stink to himself.”

  The hunters stood back several yards, hidden behind Ice Age boulders and old oaks. Declan had told Jonah their names and he had shaken their hands, but the introduction had been too short to be meaningful. He would get their story in due time. For now, they would remain at a respectable distance while he, the Elk chief, assessed the situation.

  “Have they tried repairing it?” he asked.

  “Nah,” said Rav. “They just keep sending more men to where it’s still connected to the road.”

  Jonah put his hand over his forehead and watched as the Cygoa warriors crawled over the road leading up to the bridge, reminding him of a swarm of black ants.

  “I should call for a palaver.”

  “No fucking way,” said Rav. “We’re not letting you go out there to talk to them. They’ll kill you on sight.”

  “I’d approach with my arms wide, weapons holstered.”

  Declan pushed out a low whistle while Rav remained standing, facing Jonah with his mouth agape.

  “You can’t be serious, Jonah. These are Cygoa.”

  He looked at the old man’s eyes and Jonah felt the fear in them. He turned to Declan.

  “You think it’s a bad move.” he said. “Point taken.”

  “I wanted to rush them as soon as we figured out what was going on, but Rav persuaded us to wait for you. Now I’m regretting not attacking when I had the chance.”

  “You were vastly outnumbered,” said Jonah. “That would have been foolish. Now we have the numbers we need.”

  Before Rav or Declan could say another word, Jonah leapt from behind the rock and trotted out onto the road. “Just me,” he called back. “Then they won’t know the numbers we have.” Behind him, he heard Rav cursing, but carried on.