Hunters Unlucky Part 44

Storm lay down, conscious of how the cave seemed to have shrunk. He wondered whether he'd even be able to use this cave by next year. Not comfortably. Storm thought about the seal. I could never have killed something like that last year. He decided that he would gladly trade access to some hiding places for the size and power to kill a creasia. With that thought in mind, he drifted off to sleep.

Storm woke to the chirp of evening insects. Far out across the plain, the rays of the sinking sun shone golden on dying gra.s.ses. The foot of the cliff was already in cool shadow. Something about the light seemed odd to Storm. He scooted to the lip of the cave and squinted upward. The sky looked almost green, and the clouds made odd, tortured patterns overhead. Far away to the north, he could see sheets of rain sweeping the plain, although the sun shone directly behind him.

"Storm!"

He turned towards the shout. Someone was standing at the junction of the sheep trail and the main path. Storm thought he knew who it was. He considered going back into the cave.

"Storm!" The other ferryshaft took a few tentative steps onto the sheep trail.

"Ghosts take you." Storm started towards his visitor with a growl. Please don't fall off before I get a chance to push you.

Kelsy backed onto the main trail again as Storm picked his way towards him. "I thought you'd show up when we reached the cliffs," said Kelsy. He seemed pleased with himself.

Storm stopped a few lengths away, not yet on the main path. He said nothing. He wondered how many ferryshaft had seen him among the boulder mazes and then down by the river. Word of his arrival had obviously traveled. I should have taken better care.

Kelsy's smile faltered. He watched Storm for a moment and waited for him to speak. When he didn't, Kelsy said, "Is anyone else with you?"

"If you mean Sauny," said Storm, "then, no, she's with the telshees and likely to remain there. Her left foreleg is so badly maimed that she'll never walk straight again."

Kelsy winced. He started to say something, but Storm interrupted him.

"Or perhaps you mean Valla? Since you're looking to replace a mate? They seem to be interchangeable to you. But she's in Syriot as well. Lucky for you, since I'm sure she'd kill you if she could see you now."

Kelsy shut his mouth. Storm glared at him. At last, Kelsy said, "What did you hear?"

"I heard that you and Arcove are great pals now!" Storm exploded. "I heard that you're looking to take over the herd with his blessing! That's all you ever really wanted, isn't it? You thought you could get your own herd by defying the creasia, but now it turns out that the easiest way is to serve them."

Kelsy bristled. "It's not like that, Storm."

"No? Well, tell me what it is like, Kelsy. You're willing to make common cause with Faralee's killers? Did you love her at all? And Sauny! Was she anything more than a stepping stone to you?"

Kelsy sat down on the trail. "Do I get to talk, or are you just going to shout at me?"

"Talk," spat Storm.

"Arcove did not send the summer poachers," said Kelsy. "One of his officers did that without his knowledge. The officer was injured and nearly killed for it."

"Nearly," mocked Storm. "My oldest friend, Tracer, was completely killed for it."

"The officer was demoted," continued Kelsy, "and the other poacher that we tracked that day by the lake was killed. I do not think those kind of raids will happen again."

"Just the winter kind," said Storm bitterly, "with a crowd of onlookers and bodies ripped open in the snow."

"I am trying to negotiate about that," said Kelsy, his voice exasperatingly calm.

"Negotiate?" Storm thought of Keesha-the pain and fury in his fathomless blue eyes. He thought of the Battle of Chelby Lake, of Coden, of the countless ferryshaft who had died in the fifteen years since the war. "There is no negotiating with Arcove."

"He'd like to talk to you," said Kelsy quietly. "He wanted to talk to you right after the fighting."

Storm laughed. "And by 'talk,' you mean 'disembowel'?"

Kelsy smiled. "That's what I thought at first, too. But if he says he wants to talk, then that's what he wants. If he plans to kill you, he'll tell you plainly." Kelsy hesitated. "Storm, it would help to have you at those meetings."

Storm nearly choked. "You can't be serious."

"I am. Fighting is not the only way to solve things. There are other ways, better ways."

"Never," snarled Storm. "The only way to solve what's happened between our two species is with a lot of dead cats."

Kelsy's ears flattened. "That's never going to happen, Storm. I do understand how you feel. I think about Faralee every single day. I wake up, and she's not there, and it hurts, but getting even more ferryshaft killed won't bring her back! Remy is angry with me for the same reasons you are, but I can't fix that, either. Yes, I want to lead the herd, and that means I've got to think of what's best for all of them, not what would bring me the most satisfaction.

"Arcove isn't going away. You can't kill him. I can't kill him. But he does seem interested in avoiding future conflict by parlaying with us if we can meet his terms. We could make things better for everyone if we just-"

Storm's lip curled. "I can't believe I'm hearing this. You wouldn't even be alive if I hadn't broken all the rules."

Kelsy looked hurt. "I know that." He hesitated. "But you can't run away forever, Storm. They will catch you."

Storm snorted and took a step back onto the sheep trail. "You're threatening me? I think we've had this conversation before."

Kelsy shut his eyes. "I didn't mean it that way."

Storm turned and started back towards the cave. Kelsy called after him, talking fast. "Storm, please listen! There's a Volontaro coming! I came up here to warn you. We're all going to the Great Cave. I was hoping... There's a truce in the cave. We could talk..." His voice was lost to the wind as Storm continued on along the trail.

In the Cave of Histories, Valla inched her way up a rock with little attention to the rising water. She had moved around the cave in response to the tides for so many days now that she'd stopped thinking about it. Her favorite was low tide-when she could almost see the oldest writing in the cave near the bottom of the ancient wall. The very oldest writing was never above water, and Valla had begged Ulya until the telshee had agreed to hold her still beneath the surface so that she could view the ancient text herself.

Ulya didn't like doing it. "You're not a sea creature, Valla," she had complained. "I'm afraid you'll drown. Can't I just tell you what it says?"

"You don't know what it says," countered Valla. "I can hold my breath for a little while."

The bottom line of text was pure gibberish to the telshees-circles and lines that did not represent any known sounds or words. The oldest writing that could be read was simply a series of names. Then came simple sentences. "I have been Rog." "I have been Nysi." "I have been Cathul." The "have beens" went on for some time, and then became a little more complicated. "I have been Terra, who survived the famine." "I have been Olla, who swam the deep mountain." "I have been Solon, who fought with great beasts."

Then, quite suddenly, the structure of the sentences changed. "I am Mirra. I am awake." "I am Tosla, who spoke with humans." "I am Kavith, who saw a hundred sh.o.r.es." Eventually, they became brief stories-a record of the telshee's most notable exploits.

Valla was fascinated by the vast spans of time represented on the wall. She was particularly fascinated by the points where the style of the record changed. What made this telshee decide to write something different from the last five generations? Why change "I have been" to "I am"? Some of the stories spoke of creatures unknown to Valla or to any of the telshees now living. What are harpies? What are dragons? What are fauns?

She was having trouble reading today because the afternoon light had been inconstant-with brief sheets of rain and strong gusts of wind. The wind had begun to make a strange whistling in the c.h.i.n.ks overhead. Valla was surprised when she looked down and saw that she was standing on the very tip of the rock. It was one of the highest rocks in the cave. She'd never seen it underwater.

She was still puzzling over this when she heard a splash from the entrance. She blinked when she saw Sauny-paddling madly through the water towards her. "Valla, you have to get out of here. Keesha says there's a storm coming."

"Keesha?" Valla had never seen the huge telshee stir, though Sauny claimed that he sometimes woke. "You're swimming!" Valla had not seen Sauny swim since the injury.

"Yes," exclaimed Sauny impatiently. "The caves are in an uproar-telshees trying to move all the pups and eggs to safe places. I figured they probably forgot about you. Come on!"

Valla leapt into the water and paddled towards her. The wind moaned in the c.h.i.n.ks overhead, and the tide was as high as she'd ever seen it. Her skin p.r.i.c.kled. "Is this a Volontaro, Sauny?"

"I think so." Sauny was paddling unevenly, but still making good headway. Valla thought that she might actually be faster in the water than on land.

They reached the spot where the rising tunnel should have brought them to dry ground, but there was only more water. They were swimming in complete blackness now, without even the little acriss jellyfish to guide them. The water had begun to heave. Valla had never noticed waves in this part of the caverns before. It made her a little sick. The sounds of their splashing echoed in the dark tunnel, so that Valla wasn't even sure Sauny was still ahead of her. She b.u.mped suddenly into a wall, lost her bearings, and went under.

Valla kept her head enough to avoid gulping sea water, but when she surfaced again, she was completely disoriented. "Sauny!" She knew her voice sounded panicky. "Saun-!"

"I'm here." Sauny was right beside her, nudging her forward in the black water. "We'll be able to stand soon. We've just got to keep going until we reach high ground."

Valla felt her stomach settle a little. This was the old Sauny-the Sauny who followed her brother over sheep trails when she was only a year old, who was confident and quick, who sometimes did the wrong thing, but always did something.

Sure enough, Valla's hooves brushed the bottom a moment later. They swam-walked for what seemed like an eternity before the water level dropped low enough for running. Sauny couldn't run, though. Valla had almost forgotten. She adjusted her pace to Sauny's limp. "Thanks for coming to look for me."

"If it was me, you would have come," said Sauny.

Valla smiled in the darkness. "Do you think Storm is alright?" she asked.

Sauny snorted. "He's with the curbs. I'm sure he's fine."

Chapter 6. The Storm.

Storm returned to the cave and lay down, fuming. I really will become a curb, he thought. I'll leave the herd forever. If Eyal wants to hunt ferryshaft after the winter migration, I'll do that, too. They're no more than sheep to me. I'm not one of them. He knew he was being ridiculous and did not care.

The wind was picking up. Far below and off to the south, he could see a milling ma.s.s of animals pushing their way up the trail that led to the stone bridge and the Great Cave. It looked even less organized than what he remembered from the previous Volontaro. Storm squinted. He thought he saw both ferryshaft and creasia, all packed together on the trail. Those on the ground pushed and shoved for their chance to start up. As he watched, one of the climbers-he could not tell what species-fell from halfway up the cliff.

Stupid ants. "I'm glad the herd has such organized and thoughtful leaders," he announced to the wind.

The rational part of his brain pointed out that the storm had come up suddenly, after the danger had seemed pa.s.sed. Conditions on the trail would be nightmarish-panicked animals struggling along a steep and increasingly narrow path. Foals would be trampled or separated from their mothers. Anyone who was careless or unlucky would be pushed over the cliff. The bridge itself would be the worst-single-file over a thread of stone, animals piled up waiting to cross, an endless stream coming up behind them, pushing...

Storm gave an involuntary shiver. That can't be the best plan for a Volontaro. He wondered whether the elders had invented or exaggerated the danger of the storm. Because the creasia require it? So that they can get an accurate count of our numbers? Volontaros were the one time when the creasia were guaranteed access to the entire herd. But, then, why risk bringing all of their own species? It seems dangerous for them as well.

Storm shook his head. Doesn't matter. I'm not a ferryshaft. I can wait out the Volontaro right here. Even if the mazes are underwater, I should be safe. It only lasted for about a day last time.

Below him, the occasional straggler pounded past. Storm watched with indifference. The sky had darkened, and it had begun to rain-stinging darts that hurt when they hit his nose and eyes. The wind was making an eerie noise as it gusted among the rocks. Storm saw the scrubby trees among the boulders laid almost flat. He was grudgingly impressed. The clouds overhead looked like a bruise-purple and violet and black. Lightning bounced between them.

Storm knew that he should scoot to the back of the cave, where he would be most sheltered from the elements. However, each time he moved away, he returned to the lip moments later, unable to drag his eyes from what was happening outside. The light had almost gone. He heard a sound that he could, at first, not identify. Then he recognized it. The sea. The waves must be tremendous if he could hear them breaking from this side of the cliff.

A niggle of doubt began in the back of his mind. Maybe staying here wasn't such a good idea...

In a flash of lightning, Storm saw something out across the plain-a gray column as tall as the cliffs. One flash, and then it was gone. Storm blinked in the shadows. His heart pounded. What was that?

Thunder crashed overhead. The wind howled like an animal in agony. It was growing louder. Storm backed into the farthest corner of the cave. It was too dark to see anything outside, and he no longer wanted to.

Then the rock shuddered under Storm's feet as something slammed into the cliff. For one moment, he was completely submerged in water. He came up gasping and sputtering. Something slick and wet was thrashing against his flank. Lightning lit the world again, and Storm saw water gushing from the cave he was now sharing with a tentacled monstrosity the color of day-old meat. Storm swallowed a scream as the world plunged into blackness again. The thing in the cave writhed. Octopus? Squid? Something else? He'd never seen anything like that in a tide pool. Can it bite, sting?

He couldn't get away from it in the small s.p.a.ce, so he tried to kick it towards the mouth of the cave. He'd barely begun this effort, when he heard a noise that he would never forget. He'd imagined that noise before, heard it in nightmares, strained for it during winter storms, but never heard it in reality...until now. It was the sound of a ma.s.sive rockslide.

The telshee caves were in chaos. Everyone was scrambling to s.n.a.t.c.h eggs and young pups from the pools. Valla did not see any of the telshees she recognized. "Where are you going?" she tried to ask, but no one seemed interested in stopping to answer her.

"They go to deep caves with air pockets," Sauny said. "It's less dangerous than the higher caves during the storm, but we can't dive that deep. We'll go to the Dreaming Sea. I know they don't drown."

"But they can hold their breaths for a long time," said Valla doubtfully. However, she didn't have a better answer.

As they started towards the pa.s.sages that lead into the deep mountain, the water level of the pools began to drop sharply. Sauny saw it and frowned. "Oh, that's not good. That's not good at all."

Every ferryshaft old enough to have visited the cliffs had heard about rockslides. They were the most dangerous disaster one was likely to encounter. Rockslides could bury dozens of animals in the time it took to draw breath, and they could hopelessly trap ferryshaft in caves or on trails. The only warning was generally a rumble and a plume of dust. Fortunately, large slides were rare, and every ferryshaft who climbed the cliff took care not to needlessly disrupt stones.

Storm had seen small slides, and he'd heard the characteristic rumble, which died immediately as a minor slide subsided. The noise he heard now was not minor. It grew to a roar that drowned the wind, and then the opening of his cave vanished in a deadly curtain of falling stone. The tentacled creature was swept away, and Storm cowered in the back of the cave, expecting it to collapse and crush him at any moment. After what seemed like a lifetime of terrifying noise, the outline of the cave mouth came back into view, and the grinding roar was replaced by the howl of the wind and the splatter of hail.

Storm staggered back to the cave's mouth. Well, aren't you more clever than everyone else? What a fantastic idea-staying up here for the Volontaro.

He waited for the lightning. When it struck, he saw with relief that most of the sheep trail seemed to be intact. However, a huge portion of the cliff to his right had been wholly ripped away. Lucky. For once. Don't expect it twice.

Storm had seen something else in the flash of lightning-two more gray columns swaying across the plain. I have to get out of here.

Chapter 7. No Different.

Storm did not think about the sheep trail. He knew that if he thought about it, he would fall. He waited for the lightning, got one good look at where he had to land, and then bounded to the head of the main path. He teetered only once on a shelf of stone that was half-missing. He was certain that his memory had not betrayed him. That bit of cliff had simply been washed away.

Storm hit the path running and almost slipped over the edge. Another jagged shaft of lightning showed him a gaping wound across the main trail. Again, he did not stop to think, just jumped, scrabbling at the far side, and then he was running again. Water gushed along the trail, spilling in cataracts from the edge. The rock was slick, and he forced himself to slow down as he reached the steepest section. Rain was coming in torrents now.