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  For the Good of the Clan

  By Miles Archer

  Copyright 2012 by Miles Archer

  Cover Copyright 2012 by Dara England and Untreed Reads Publishing

  The author is hereby established as the sole holder of the copyright. Either the publisher (Untreed Reads) or author may enforce copyrights to the fullest extent.

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  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to the living or dead is entirely coincidental.

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  For the Good of the Clan

  By Miles Archer

  Ulat crept slowly, so the undergrowth trembled no more than if a cold breeze had touched the leaves. The doe did not sense him. He was downwind, of course.

  He drew to within twenty paces, then froze. The doe raised her head for a moment, vaguely sensing her fate, but returned to grazing the fragile spring grass, her last mistake. Ulat softly fitted his spear into the throwing-stick notch, drew his arm back and with a sudden snap launched the spear across the space. It struck hard into the doe’s neck. She leaped and ran a dozen steps, stopped, wobbled her head as though wondering why she was dying, then collapsed.

  Ulat was on her almost before she fell. His flint knife plunged into the carotid artery, draining her blood before the heart stopped beating, necessary to preserve the meat. He licked the blood from his hand and sang softly to the doe.

  “Thank you, little sister, for your life. Thank you, little sister, for providing food for my family and my clan. We will become you as you will become us.”

  He slung the animal across his shoulders and started toward the clan’s home, a collection of rough huts made of tree limbs and woven grasses five miles away, across the river. The breeze spoke to him of winter passing. All around him he could hear the sounds of his world—small creatures scattering invisibly in the grass, the birds warning each other of their territories, the song of the melting snow giggling in the stony brook.

  Like the deer, he sensed something a moment before it struck. A sharp pain in his back, a sudden weakness in his legs, the weight of the carcass carrying him down to the muddy grass. He tried to turn over. There was a crashing blow to his skull and Ulat was no more.

  * * *

  I, Ledeth, am medicine man to my clan. My name, given to me by my chief many years ago, means “One who knows secrets,” and that is true, I know many secrets. It is my gift and my curse. Because of this, the clan fears me, while at the same time they need me. They resent needing me and thus envy me as well. There is nothing I can do about this. It is my fate, just as each man and each animal has a fate. None can escape it. One might as well run from the sky.

  Evening cloaked the mountains purple and gold, the brilliant face of the sun god lighting the heavens at the end of day. Smoke the color of stone rose all about from the cooking fires. The children gathered about their mothers, ready to be sent on their evening chores. I sat in front of my hut as I usually do at this time, watching the never-changing routine of life as it saunters its way from morning to night. Balog, chief of the clan, nodded to me as he passed, then called to one of the boys to stop fighting with a smaller child.

  “Nikko, you know better than that,” he admonished the boy. Nikko stood, head down, not daring to look the chief in the face. “Go gather some wood, boy, make yourself useful.” Balog knows boys who fight need harder work.

  Matha brought me a bowl of stew. She is my sister’s eldest daughter and thus responsible for my needs, now that Mari, my wife, has passed beyond. Matha does a good job, even though she is now busy with two young ones. I make few demands, for I am feeling my age; the time is coming for me to go to the long sleep. There is no point in making extra work for her. I eat my meals, tend to the sick, show my apprentice Donathan my secrets, such as he can understand. He is a willing young man, but I fear I will die before he learns all he needs to know.

  When it was full dark and the fires of the sky gods were burning brightly, I made my way to the central fire to listen to the day’s news. Mokim had found a great patch of sweet berries. There was no fruit this early in the year, of course, but they promised much delight this summer—wine and pomma. I admit to a great weakness for the wine now. It eases the aches in my back and knee, especially when mixed with nalla flowers.

  Matha sat next to me.

  “Father Ledeth,” she began. She always is respectful of me. “Ulat has not returned. He went hunting at first light.”

  I understood her worry.

  “Ulat is a great hunter, Matha. Perhaps he is tracking a large herd. You’ll see in the morning. He will return with meat for all. He will need six men to help him fetch it.”

  She nodded. “Of course. I am foolish to worry.”

  “No, Matha. You are not foolish to worry. There are many evils that can befall a man. But his fate is his, and neither you nor I can change it. He is strong and wise. That is enough to protect him.”

  I know this is not enough to protect one from evil, but I didn’t want to upset her. There is enough pain in the world without creating more.

  In the morning, when Matha brought me some hot porridge, she told me Ulat had still not returned. I walked to Balog’s hut. He was directing the men who would hunt that day.

  “Balog. I must speak to you of Ulat.”

  “Speak then, Ledeth. Where is he? I understand he went hunting yesterday and has not returned.”

  “Yes. Can the men who hunt today look for him?”

  “We must seek him. Perhaps he has been injured.”

  He turned to the five men who waited.

  “Follow Ulat’s trail and find him. He is a good man and we must help him if he is in need.”

  They nodded silently. Turning as one they trotted off to the west, through the grove of white birch trees, following the brook.

  Daneel, the fastest of the group, returned before the day was full. I saw the disturbance at Balog’s hut and started in that direction.

  Daneel spoke to the group.“Ulat is dead. We found his body along the brook, at the sharp bend near the red rock, just before the crossing.” His breath came harsh and fast.

  Balog gave me a sharp glance. “You must go and see what you can learn.”

  I could hear Matha keening in the distance. The news had reached her ears. I went back to my hut and gathered my medicine bag, threw a skin over my back and followed Daneel to where the rest of the men remained, protecting Ulat’s corpse from scavengers.

  Daneel lead the way, slowing his pace out of consideration for these old bones. We traveled only a short distance, perhaps two parts of the day, when we came upon the scene. The other four hunters stood many paces from Ulat’s body. They feared evil magic might touch them. I am protected by the bear’s claw and my amulet, which I always wear. Man must protect himself from the power of the spirit world with strong spells or he will succumb to them.

  Daneel stopped nea
r the others. I proceeded slowly. The men had driven off the carrion eaters—birds and skunks. The wild dogs had their fill last night, apparently, and there was much damage to the corpse. I could see a dark smear of blood trailing away toward the sunrise.

  “Daneel, take another with you and go that way,” I pointed toward the sunrise. “See what you find.”

  I saw some tufts of fur. Behind a rock I found a hoof.

  “I expect you will find the carcass of a deer. If you find anything else, do not touch it.”

  They set off reluctantly.

  The night cold had kept the stink of death from the corpse. But it had not discouraged the beetles and small flies. They scurried about their business. I motioned to another one of the hunters.

  “Bring a large mat so we can carry Ulat. And tell Donathan to begin preparations for the dark journey.” I used my stick to turn the body over. Most of the large sections of muscle had been taken, and Ulat’s face was torn in places, especially the soft parts. As I turned him I saw the back of the skull was damaged, the skin torn, fragments of bone pierced into his brain. I did not see where this injury came from; there was no rock nearby bearing the bloody mark where his head might have struck upon falling.

  His back musculature was mostly gone, as were the organs of the belly. I saw great wounds from some large beast, larger than wild dogs would make. A boar must have found him. Terrible beasts, boars, feared by even the bravest hunters, for they will charge a man as soon as flee him. Their powerful jaws and vicious tusks can slash a man open and spill his life in seconds. Could Ulat have met with a boar?

  I started to walk in ever-widening circles about the rocky edge of the brook. Where the soft earth started there were indeed tracks of a large boar. But the pace seemed leisurely, not the tracks of an animal charging, but those of a cautious approach, one who moved slowly, testing the situation before deciding it was safe to feed. I did not know what had happened here.

  Ulat’s spears and atlatal, his spear-thrower, lay next to him. I could not tell if he was trying to throw against the boar or if he was taken unaware. Not like Ulat to be taken by surprise, here, in the open. The nearest cover for the boar is many paces away. I followed the trail of hoof prints to the tangle of sedge and brush. Only the boar’s tracks could be seen.

  I turned in the other direction, to the setting sun and slightly toward the winter sunrise. When I reached the tall-grass meadow I could see where the leaves were bent, and in one or two places, the print of a moccasin. The size of the print matched Ulat’s; he was a big man, very strong. Very quick, too. It must have been the evil spirit of a boar, not the flesh-and-blood kind, to have killed him so quickly, without struggle or fight. Ulat could not have missed the sound of an animal rushing towards him, but a spirit demon? That he might not have sensed. I had made a powerful amulet for him. Had my magic failed to protect him? Were my powers too weak to fend off this thing from the spirit world?

  I pondered how I might remake all the clan’s amulets. First, I had to know what spirit did this, then gather the necessary plants, bone and stone. If it was the boar spirit, the men will have to hunt its living counterpart and bring me its bones and teeth. The flesh is good and will feed us many, many days, but I hate to send them after so dangerous a prey unless it is absolutely required. I could not make a mistake here or others might die. What was it that killed Ulat?

  When the mat was brought I carefully laid Ulat’s remains onto it, then bound it with strong twine. Now the hunters might carry him in safety. They bore him back to the village.

  Daneel and his companion returned. They found the remains of a deer carcass some distance away, in the dark dense firs, but nothing else. I made the guess that Ulat was returning with the deer, successful yet again in his hunt, when he was set upon. Perhaps that was why he had not defended himself; he was burdened with the carcass and did not have time.

  We took our solemn cargo to my hut and the men set it upon the bench there. Tonight I will prepare Ulat’s body for his journey into the spirit world, the alum al mithal, where Ulat can join our ancestors, sit at the fires, telling his life-tale to the elders who have gone before, just as I will tell his life-tale to the clan. Just as I tell the tales of all the important events of our tribe, year upon year, as the griot that taught me told them, and the griot before him, and as Donathan will tell them after me. Thus we know the lives of our forebears and the memory of the clan is preserved for all time.

  Donathan joined me. I was pleased to see he had brought the necessary items. Perhaps the boy was finally learning what he needed to know. The herbs, the grasses, Ulat’s wolf skin cape, his bowl, all were there. I opened the grass matting. Donathan turned away, pale. He wanted to vomit, but his stomach was empty, like mine, for we should not eat today, before doing our final duty to Ulat.

  I arranged the remains as best I could. Ulat will be reborn in the sky, complete and whole, but I wished his body to lie comfortably in the earth. His spine was clearly visible from the front, where the viscera were missing. Something shiny winked at me in the dim glow of the fire inside my hut. I used my knife to pry it free from between two bones. A large flake of obsidian. Sharp, translucent, gleaming black in the red firelight.

  “What is that you have, Master?” Donathan leaned forward, overcoming his fear and sickness.

  I held it up for him to see. “This was wedged into the bones of Ulat’s back.”

  “It is a piece of spear!”

  “Indeed.”

  “How could a piece of spear get into Ulat’s bone?”

  The boy is sometimes hopeless.

  “How do you think, foolish boy? He put it there himself? You think he was born of black rock instead of woman?”

  “You mean he was stabbed?”

  “Of course he was stabbed. Haven’t you ever found the broken blade of a knife, arrow or spear in the body of slain beast?”

  Donathan flushed in the darkness.

  “Yes, of course, Master. I just hadn’t thought about a man being hunted, like a beast. Who would do such a thing?” He paused. “Did they eat him, then?”

  I shook my head in exasperation.

  “Look here, this leg bone, the long one. Do you see the marks, here, and here? Have you not seen these marks upon the bones thrown to our own dogs? And here, where the pelvis is crushed? Only a boar or a bear could do that. I saw no bear tracks, but boar tracks were all around. No, Donni boy, poor Ulat was killed by an evil spirit with a spear of obsidian, then left for the creatures to feed upon.”

  “An…an evil spirit? A demon?” The boy’s voice shook and he clutched the leather spirit bag at his neck. “Will it come after us as well?”

  “That remains to be seen.” I put my arm around his thin shoulder. “Let us finish our duty to Ulat now, and in the light of the next day we will try to learn just what it is that walks our land, taking the life of a brave hunter.”

  I did not tell him that to my knowledge, no spirit had need of spear or knife. Only man kills with these.

  * * *

  Matha’s cousin, Neidre, brought my breakfast this morning. She spoke no word, but set the steaming bowl down, keeping her eyes on the ground. She ran away before I could thank her. I had made some nalla tea, for I expected to walk far and wide today and did not relish the effort.

  Donathan came as soon as he finished eating. I motioned to the pack. “Come, my young apprentice, let us go and be medicine men.”

  He hefted the pack easily. Ah, to be young and strong again. We set out for the place where poor Ulat had fallen. This evening, with the sleep of the sun god, we will lay him to rest. Already the women were digging a hole and the children collecting rocks.

  I motioned Donathan to stop when we came to the place. “Look about, tell me what you see. Take your time.”

  I sat upon a large smooth boulder and waited, letting my ears listen and my eyes see. In about the time it takes for a man to love a woman properly, Donathan returned.

  “I see where a m
an with moccasins as large as Ulat’s came from the meadow behind that copse of white trees. I found the place where he took the doe.”

  “And how do you know it was a doe?”

  “Well, obviously it was a doe, the hunters found no antlers.”

  “Very well. Continue.”

  “His footsteps returning are deeper than those going out, showing that he bore a burden. He followed the same path, only he did not stop and creep through the brush, naturally. He reached the ford of the brook and there he fell. I saw some blood on the ground and on the rocks, but not as much as I expected.”

  “That is because he was dead when the animals began to feed. He had been dead for some time and his blood no longer flowed.”

  Donathan nodded. Then he held out a rock, a little larger than his fist, pointed at one end.

  “I found this, over there in the long grass. There were no others around it.” He handed it to me gingerly.

  The pointed end was black with old blood, and bits of hair and fragments of bone clung to it. “Tell me, Donathan, have I ever spoken to you of a spirit that kills with rocks?”

  “No Master. Is there such a spirit?”

  “Only one I know of.”

  His lip trembled slightly and unconsciously he touched the amulet at his neck. “Does this evil spirit have a name?”

  “Yes.” I paused, for effect. The young learn so much better when you have their full attention. “It is called ‘Man.’”

  His head snapped up. “You’re telling me Ulat was killed by a man? Who? Why?”

  “That is what we do not know and must discover.”

  “How?”

  “By thinking.” I stood up and started to move about the site in widening circles again, as I had the day before. But this time we moved very slowly and for a long time. My hip ached and my back was tired when we came to what I knew there would be, somewhere.

  We had searched the far side of the ford without finding anything of interest. Then we crossed back over the brook, stepping from stone to stone, thoughtfully placed there by elders who had come before. I had helped to carry the last of them when but a small boy. The borders of the bank were paved by stones or fine gravel that would not hold a footprint, until the trail to the village began, where the trees and grass took hold once again.