My family.
“You’re willing to kill me,” Thern says, “to save men who are already dead. Olen is dead. Chev is dead—”
“How do you know Chev is dead?” Morsk calls.
“Anki told me,” Thern answers. “She told me she killed him herself. She is not far away. If I don’t kill you, she surely will, just to punish you for your loyalty to him.”
I want to shout to Thern that Anki has already been here, that she is already dead, and that he is next. But I hold all my words inside and stand to my full height. All I have to do is throw Anki’s spear. I think of Anki dying in front of me, as I ready to take another life. My hand is damp on the spear. Anki killed my brother, but this isn’t Anki. My arm shakes. My heart pounds in my chest. But then Thern takes aim at Morsk and I know I have to act.
My throw is straight. The spear sticks in Thern’s back, not far below his left shoulder. He spins, and his wide eyes meet mine. He doesn’t drop, doesn’t even fall to his knees. His rage fuels him. Reaching around with his right hand, he plucks the spear from his back. A thin trickle of blood seeps from the wound, but Thern shows no sign of weakening.
“How lucky,” Thern says. “I’d much rather kill you than Morsk.” He readies the spear. My eyes find Morsk’s dropped spear on the ground but I have no time to run to it. But I don’t need to.
Over Thern’s shoulder I see Morsk running toward him. He tackles him and the two men crumple to the ground before Thern can take the shot.
As they struggle, both of them reaching for Morsk’s spear, I run to it and claim it. Thern’s dropped atlatl is not far away. I hurry to scoop it from the grass, but Thern grabs at my ankles, tripping me as I run past. I fall, and Morsk’s spear flies away from my clutching hands. Anki’s lies only a few paces away, and the knowledge that I am completely unarmed sends a surge of fear through me. I clamber forward, my hand extended out in front of me. I am almost there when a dart lands just beyond my reaching fingers.
A shape shifts and stirs at the edge of the cliff. I look up to see a person standing right where Thern first appeared, and Morsk right after him. An empty atlatl hangs at her side.
Pada.
She laughs, a strange high sound. “Unarmed?” she asks. Her hand slides into her pack. Despite the fading light I can see the shape of the carved spruce dart, see her slide it into her atlatl. I dash toward Anki’s spear. Just as my hand closes around it I hear a cry—sharp and edged with pain—burst into the air and scatter on the wind.
Pada drops to her knees, a dart protruding from her arm.
Not a dart of spruce like the Bosha make. Not of ivory like the Manu make. I remember Noni’s answer when asked what the Tama use to carve darts. Bone.
The dart in Pada’s arm is made of bone. This dart was thrown by a member of the Tama clan.
With Anki’s spear in my hand, I climb to my feet, and I lose my breath. Behind Pada I see them coming. Boats—six kayaks—are heading for the bottom of the cliff. Just as her uncle warned, Noni’s father is here.
“Get down!” Thern calls to Pada, and he lunges for his atlatl. A woman climbs over the ledge not far from where Pada stands. In her hand is her own empty atlatl. She reloads with a new dart and aims again at Pada.
I have no time to think. I can only react. Not to protect Pada, but to drive the Tama woman back—to protect all of us, but Noni most of all. I reach back and make the throw, hand over shoulder, and Anki’s spear lands in the Tama fighter’s shoulder, but it doesn’t stick. My angle was bad, and it falls away. She drops to the ground and picks it up, her attention shifting from Pada to me. She reaches back, the spear held behind her ear, ready to repay my throw with one aimed right at my chest. But she’s careful, deliberate. As she steadies her aim, I grab Morsk’s dropped spear and send it flying toward her.
This second throw is much more accurate than my first, and much less tentative. The spear plunges deep into her side and she drops to her knees.
A flash of relief is washed away by panic when I see another figure—a man—scale the cliff, a dart already loaded and ready to throw.
It flies at me. I roll away, but not before it cuts my ear. But when I look back at the man who attacked me, I see him fall back, one of Thern’s darts in his chest. He tries to get his feet beneath him, but he can’t stop his momentum before he tumbles over the ledge.
While I try to pull myself together—try to sort friend from foe—Morsk runs past me. He grabs his weapon from the place it fell beside the woman I speared. He comes so close to her I fear she will throw him from the cliff, but she is too weak to do any harm. Instead she pulls Anki’s spear from her side, drops it to the ground, and retreats back over the cliff wall.
Pada grabs the dropped spear. She turns to me, and I flinch. But she nods. “Thank you,” is all she says as she tosses the spear to the ground at my feet. “More are coming,” she adds. Loading her atlatl, she turns again to face the edge of the cliff.
The battle with the Tama has slowed just enough for me to take note of not just Pada’s shift in allegiance, but Thern’s too. A loaded atlatl in his hand, he has a clear shot at Morsk. A pivot would give him a shot at me. But he readies, like Pada, for the next Tama over the wall.
But the next person to appear isn’t a Tama fighter. It’s my sister Seeri. She and the others must have seen the smoke of Kol’s signal fire. Whatever might have delayed them, I’m glad they are here now. Seeri clambers over the ledge and hauls Lees up behind her. Pek appears at the very spot where the Tama woman disappeared, his spear on his shoulder as he ascends.
Just as they all clear the wall, Lees calls out. A dart sticks in her upper arm—a Tama dart that came from below. Seeri scoops her up and sweeps her behind her as two Tama men come over the ledge at once—one carrying a spear, the other reloading his atlatl.
Before I can think or weigh my actions, Anki’s spear is out of my hand, heading for the man with the empty atlatl—the man whose dart protrudes from Lees’s arm.
It flies true, but the man has already turned away to seek his next target. The spear lands squarely in the middle of his back, lodging right between his shoulder blades.
He drops to both knees. His atlatl and dart slip from his hand as he falls. The fear pressing down on my chest eases just a bit at the sight of his dropped weapon, and a deep breath rushes into my lungs.
Anki’s spear stands out from his back at a hideous angle, like some grotesque and unnatural tusk. He flails, twists, and turns, but he cannot reach it. He cannot shake it loose. The more he tries, the thicker the trail of blood running down his back becomes. Turning in place, pivoting from his knees, he looks back to find his attacker. He sees me, but he also sees Thern and Pek, running right for him.