Earth Called, page 27
“Yes, my Lord,” Thaddeus said quickly, throwing off the pelt cloak so that the frigid night wind kept him awake.
Death paced all night, and Thaddeus struggled to stay awake and aware enough to feed the fire. Just after dawn, the Hunter almost shouted with relief as the spirit of the dead bison finally trotted up along the path and directly to Death.
The creature stopped before the God and bowed his massive head.
“Well? Lead Me. How do we cross this chasm?” Death asked.
Slowly and carefully, the spirit of the bison bull went to the edge of the path to the place where the useless bridge hung loosely from its anchor and still flapped against the frozen side of the gorge. The beast tossed his head and pawed at the ground. He moved forward as far as he could and still be on solid ground, stopped, pawed at the snowy path again, and then craned his neck to look at Death.
“Ah. I thought as much. It is why I did not rest all night. No matter. I have, of course, thought of an alternative plan. Wait near. I shall require your services again soon…” The God paused, then bellowed, “Thaddeus!”
Thaddeus swallowed the response he wished he could give the God: I am only feet away from You, You great blustering fool. You need not yell. Instead, he hurried to Death’s side and bowed. “I am here, my Lord.”
“Excellent. I need rope—as long as we have. Get it. Now.”
Thaddeus bowed again and scrambled back to his Hunters. “The God needs rope. Immediately.”
Wilson nodded and bared his teeth in a Terrier-like smile. “We have rope. We use it to make snares.”
“Get it. Tie it together so that it is as long as possible. Hurry,” said Thaddeus. “Then bring it to me. I will be with the God.”
Thaddeus scrambled back to Death, Who had stopped pacing and was squinting through the swirling snow and the grayness of morning at the opposite side of the gorge.
“My Hunters will bring You the rope, my Lord,” said Thaddeus.
“My Hunters,” Death corrected him, but without His usual malice.
“Yes, of course, my Lord,” Thaddeus agreed quickly. Then, because the God seemed distracted enough that He might actually answer a question, he asked, “I know You must have a plan, my Lord. Will You share it with me?”
Death glanced down at Thaddeus and smiled. “I believe I shall surprise you.”
That worried Thaddeus as much as it intrigued him, but all he could do was nod and bow—and wait for his Hunters to bring rope, which they did quickly.
“Ah, excellent,” Death said as He tested the knots in the long length of braided hemp Wilson delivered to Him. “Now, which of the people who used to belong to the Tribe of the Trees is the best climber?”
“The best climber?” Thaddeus repeated.
“That is what I said. Is your hearing failing?” Death stared down at Thaddeus.
“Not at all, my Lord…” Thaddeus paused as he considered. Then he answered the God honestly, “Jason is the slightest of the Hunters. He easily scales trees. I say he is the best climber of the Tribe of the Trees.” Or at least of those who are left alive and with me, he added silently.
“Hunter Jason, to Me,” Death commanded.
On all fours, Jason scrambled up to Death. He cringed and bowed low before the God, his forehead pressed into the snow. “Yes, my Lord?”
“I need you to climb.”
Jason looked up at the God. “Climb? There is an absence of trees here, my Lord.”
“Then it is good that I do not need you to climb a tree,” said Death.
“What shall I climb, my Lord?” Jason asked.
Death’s smile was fierce. He pointed at the dangling bridge. “That. You shall scale the broken bridge.” The God lifted the end of the rope. “You need not go far. Just a third of the way down it will be enough. Then I shall feed this rope to you. You will tie it securely around the bridge and simply climb back up.”
“I do not understand, my Lord,” said Jason.
Death’s look darkened. “Do you understand that you must scale the broken bridge, tie the rope to it, and then return?”
“Y-yes, my Lord.”
“Then that is all you must understand.”
Jason looked over the edge of the gorge and shuddered. “But I might fall.”
“I command that you do not unless you have already tied the rope to the bridge. I will be quite annoyed should you fail me in this, Hunter,” said Death.
Thaddeus could not stop himself from speaking up. Was this fool really going to send one of my Hunters to a meaningless death? “My Lord, I think—”
Death spun around and backhanded Thaddeus, knocking him into the rocky side of the mountain. “You do not think. I do.” Then Death turned to the Hunter who trembled before His cloven hooves. “Climb!”
Jason nodded and drew a deep, shaky breath, and then on all fours he crawled to the edge of the gorge. He turned and his gaze lifted to beseech the God silently.
“Do it. Now,” Death commanded.
Slowly, Jason descended over the sharp edge. Thaddeus crawled back to Death’s side so that he could watch his Hunter as he disappeared.
“That is excellent,” said Death as He peered down at Jason. “Keep climbing. I will tell you when to halt.”
Time seemed to pass slowly as Jason carefully climbed down the ladderlike bridge. Thaddeus was amazed that he was able to find toeholds in the slats. Twice, the Hunter slipped so that he dangled, clutching the frozen bridge with hands white with cold and fear.
Silently, Jason’s Companion, Midnight, a solid black Terrier, joined Thaddeus. The little canine stared over the edge with no expression, making no sound, as Jason continued to climb.
“There, that is far enough!” Death shouted against the wind. He wrapped one end of the rope around His thick waist. The other end He fed down to Jason. “Take the rope. Tie it securely to the bridge.”
Jason looked up and nodded jerkily as Death let the rope down to him. The small Hunter wrapped his legs through the thick suspension ropes that served as rail and support for the bridge. Thaddeus thought Jason looked almost like the monkeys that lived on the ruins that jutted from the surface of Lost Lake as he clung to the bridge. He was actually able to free his hands enough so that when the rope reached him Jason quickly and efficiently tied it to the thick, braided cable.
Then he looked up at the God, baring his teeth in a wide smile. “It is done!”
“Well done. You may climb up now,” said the God.
Jason began scrambling up, but after climbing just a few feet his toe slipped from the ice on a wooden slat. He hung by his hands for a moment. Even through the snow and morning gloom, Thaddeus could see that Jason’s arms trembled with exhaustion. One hand let loose. Jason stared up. He met Thaddeus’s gaze.
“Help me!” Jason cried just before the grip of his second hand failed, and with an agonized shout he fell.
Beside Thaddeus, Midnight stood very still—like a carving of a Terrier—for several long moments, and then the little canine’s body jerked as if someone had hit him. He whined pitifully, drew in a ragged breath, and stepped silently over the edge of the gorge to follow his Companion.
Behind them, the Terriers raised their muzzles to the whitewashed sky and howled miserably.
“Shut them up, Hunter, or I will toss each of them over the edge,” said Death.
Thaddeus raced back to his group of Hunters. Their canines were still huddled together, several feet from their Companions, howling.
“If they do not shut up, Death will be sure they follow Midnight,” Thaddeus told his men, who immediately went to their Terriers, cuffed them on the side of their heads, and demanded, “Enough!”
The little canines went silent, but their gazes, filled with sadness and condemnation, never left their Companions.
I do not like it, Odysseus. I do not like what is happening to the Terriers.
But Thaddeus had no more time to consider the changes in the canines. Death was suddenly there on the path. The thick rope was wrapped around His waist. His cloven hooves bit the hard-packed snow as He moved away from the edge of the gorge, step by step, drawing the massive suspension bridge up with Him. Death kept trudging until the top third of the bridge rested up on the trail.
Then the God returned to the edge of the ravine. He bent, took the broken bridge in His massive fists, and hand over hand the God of Death pulled the entire rest of it up onto the trail until it was piled atop itself—an enormous mound of frozen wood and rope.
“Thaddeus, to Me!” Death roared.
Fighting a terrible feeling of foreboding, Thaddeus joined the God.
“Do you understand yet?” Death asked him.
“No, my Lord. Your wits are beyond mine. All I see is a pile of useless wood and rope.”
“Watch and learn. Watch and learn.” The God untied the knot Jason had made. With the rope in hand, He went to Thaddeus. “Stand like a man—unless you’ve forgotten how.”
Painfully, Thaddeus forced his bowed spine to straighten as he faced the God, Who had made a noose-like loop in one end of the rope. He slipped it over Thaddeus’s head and tightened it around his waist.
Thaddeus staggered back a step. “My Lord?”
“Oh, do not fear, Thaddeus. You are not as expendable as the other Hunters. I shall take care you do not follow Jason. Your death is not required—not yet.” Death quickly and efficiently tied the other end of the rope tightly to the end of the bridge close to the frayed cable Daniel had so recently sawed through, so that Thaddeus could not move without the huge suspension bridge moving with him. “There. I have secured you to the bridge. The bridge is secured to this side of the gorge.” Death pointed to the anchors. “All you need do is not slip backwards once you are on the other side, but if you do you shall not die. I will simply pull you up and we will begin again and again until we get it right, and when you do get it right anchor the bridge well enough that I can cross safely. I shall then join you and secure it so that the rest of the army may cross after us.”
There was a strange humming in Thaddeus’s head. Sweat had broken on his face and ran like melted ice down his neck and chest. “I—I still do not understand, my Lord.”
“You shall. You shall. Now, as I said, do not slip backwards.” Death grabbed Thaddeus by the fur that sprouted thick and Terrier-like at the scruff of the back of his neck, and lifted him so that He could also grab Thaddeus’s leg. Then, as the Hunter whined in terror, with preternatural strength Death swung him once, twice, thrice—and released him so that he soared across the gorge, the broken end of the bridge strapped to and following him.
Thaddeus had no time to think. He could only act on instinct. He hit the far side of the trail so hard that the air was knocked from him. He expected to be pulled back and down with the broken bridge, but the God’s aim was as true as His incredible strength. Enough of the bridge fell beside him that it piled on the wide landing and didn’t automatically fall back.
“Anchor it, Hunter. Now!” the God roared.
Gasping for air and holding one arm tightly against what he was pretty sure were several broken ribs, Thaddeus crawled to the boulders that had been placed as anchors for the original bridge supports. Forcing himself to continue to move, Thaddeus painfully slipped the rope from around his waist. He flicked the rope out, so that the noose was wide enough to fit over the top of the boulder. It settled around the frozen rock and snapped taut as the bridge began to slide back down into the abyss.
“Well done, Hunter.” The God grasped the rope rail and started across, hand over hand, the rest of His massive body swaying in the snowy wind as He crossed the gorge.
Thaddeus watched the God dangling from the bridge, and hoped beyond all hope that His grip would tire and He would join Jason and Midnight at the bottom of the gorge. He even briefly considered pulling the noose from around the boulder so that He would fall.
But Thaddeus did nothing. It was not possible to kill the God of Death. Trying would only enrage Him and make Thaddeus the target of that rage.
No, Thaddeus would wait. He would survive. And someday he would take his Hunters and make a new Tribe as far from Death as the Wind Rider Plains allowed—and Thaddeus already knew those plains stretched on so wide and so vast that he could easily settle well away from Death and the rest of His horrible army.
We will survive, my Odysseus. We will survive Death.
* * *
The doe roused them the next morning before sunrise. They quickly heated the watery soup made from rabbit bones and handfuls of juniper berries and broke their fast, and then they trudged after the doe, who did not return to the wide main trail. Instead, she headed up the side of the mountain, sloughing through the snow, displacing it just long enough for the two humans and their Companions to follow before white covered everything again.
This time she led them in a serpentine pattern in a northeasterly direction, and she pushed them harder than before. Time lost meaning. Ralina could not keep track of what day it was. All she or Renard had energy to do was follow the doe, gut and skin or pluck whatever game miraculously ran across their path, and keep moving, always moving, past sunset to begin again before sunrise.
Ralina couldn’t tell if it was still snowing, or if the unending white that swirled around them came from the massive drifts the doe displaced. It really didn’t matter. What mattered was that they put one foot before another and did not give up.
Though Ralina listened closely, and even asked Bear, with his superior canine senses of hearing and smell, to alert her the moment he caught sound or scent of Death and His army, Bear did not alert her—nor did Kong. And Ralina heard no more unnatural bellows drifting with the snow behind them.
“We haven’t heard any sign of Death for days. Bear and Kong haven’t scented or heard Him, either. Maybe your father cutting the bridge stopped the army completely,” Ralina said one night to Renard before they gave way to exhaustion and slept.
“With all of my heart I hope so, but I think were that true the doe would not be pushing us so hard to get through the last of these mountains.” Renard held her close as they talked softly, not wanting to wake either of their sleeping Companions.
Ralina sighed. “You’re right. I just want it to be over. I want to be free of Him.”
Renard kissed the top of her head. “We are free of Him. We have been from the moment we followed the doe away from His army.”
“But to be truly free of Him we must reach the Wind Riders before His army does,” said Ralina as she snuggled wearily against Renard.
“We will. I believe it with every fiber of my being. Sleep now. The doe will wake soon.”
The next morning felt different from the very beginning. As had become their norm, the doe woke them before sunrise. They ate whatever was left from their evening meal and then followed the doe from their impromptu shelter. The first difference came when the doe led them down instead of up. They were still headed into the east, but now their serpentine path wound in a descending pattern along the side of the white-faced mountain.
The second difference was that around midday the fitful snow was replaced by rain—steady, soggy, cold rain.
This descent felt quicker, easier than the one that had led them to the gorge bridge, but it was still exhausting to slide and stumble, trudge and slip behind the doe, especially in the constant rain. While it was nice to be out of the snow, the rain turned the ground to mud and muck, soaked them, and made travel as miserable as it was treacherous.
Shortly after midday Ralina was so focused on staying on her feet and keeping them moving, one step and then another, that at first she didn’t realize when their descent was over. She had no idea how long they’d been walking on level ground, surrounded by tall pines and winter-naked aspens, when Renard touched her arm to pull her to a halt.
Ralina wiped rain from her face. “What?” She squinted ahead, looking for their faithful doe, but though the muddy path they’d been following was clear, she didn’t see the doe. “Where is she?” Ralina’s eyes scanned the forest. “Did we lose her?”
“I don’t believe we could lose her—not unless she wanted to be lost. She’s probably just ahead past those trees, but look at Bear and Kong,” Renard said.
Ralina’s weary gaze easily found their Companions, who were not far ahead of them on the path. Both Shepherds had stopped. Their ears were pricked and their tails were lifted as they stood silent and tense, staring ahead.
“Bear? What is it?” Ralina reached out through the bond they shared. Bear had never been very articulate, but he was excellent at understanding her and sending her feelings that allowed her to understand him. As she relaxed and found their bond, Bear flooded her with excitement and anticipation—and some nervousness, too. She glanced up at Renard. “He’s excited, but I can’t tell about what. What’s Kong say?”
Renard shrugged one shoulder. “Like Bear, Kong doesn’t actually say much, but I’m getting the same excitement from him. Maybe you and Bear should stay here, on this side of the aspen grove. Kong and I will scout ahead. I’ll see where the doe has gotten off to. You know she usually isn’t far.”
“No, Renard. I don’t think we should separate. We need to stay together. I can’t lose—”
Her words broke off as the two canines backed to their Companions. Bear whined and Kong barked twice—and then the outlines of huge beasts materialized in the gloom, creatures who moved quickly toward them, plowing through the mud and rain as if it was nothing.
Ralina stumbled back several steps with Renard. “Bear, Kong, stay close!”
The Shepherds pressed against their Companions’ sides but showed little aggression, though they thrummed with excitement.
Ralina shielded her eyes with her hand and blinked against the rain—and the group of creatures got close enough to be identifiable.
“Oh, Great Goddess of Life,” she murmured as her legs went numb with relief and she staggered to her knees. “Wind Riders! We did it! We found them!”
