Obsidian and Stars (Ivory and Bone #2)(59)

I have to look. I have to be sure I see Dora’s body broken on the rocks or floating in the tide.

But the tide has come in. The rocks have disappeared. High water splashes against the base of the cliff wall. I do not see a kayak waiting for her. And I do not see Dora’s body.

I stand looking out at the sea for a long time, but I never see a sign of any living thing.

I don’t find Kol at the edge of the trees where he gave me the spear. Instead I find him back at Noni’s side. He has found Noni’s pack, and he’s searching for something.

“We need to signal them,” Kol says, pulling something small from the pack. “We need to set the signal fire—”

“What you need to do is stay out of sight. Move farther back from the cliff, away from the beach and sea. Take Noni and Black Dog with you—”

“And you will do what?” Kol asks, getting to his feet. He’s shaky and avoids putting weight on his left leg, but he stands. “Give the Bosha the chance to kill you? You agreed to use a signal. It was your idea.”

“He’s right.” It’s Noni’s voice. Her eyes are open. She’s found the feverweed and packed a bit more around her wounds.

I recognize the thing in Kol’s hand—a fire starter. “We’ll find a place near the edge of the trees—a place where the fire will be seen,” Kol says. “Noni says she can walk that far.”

Kol turns, expecting me to follow. But from beyond the ledge a sound rolls up, mixing with the beat of the waves that whip against the cliff. It echoes back again—not the sound of water on water, but rock falling on rock.

Rocks are falling, and I can’t help but worry that someone is making them fall. Maybe Dora survived after all. Maybe it’s Noni’s father.

I stride to the edge of the trees, peering through the eerie glow of twilight. Motion shifts at the ridge where the ground drops away. A silhouette takes shape, climbing to the top of the cliff face and rising up into the slanting light, stretching to the full height of a man.

Thern. He stands and unfolds his arm, and in his hand is an atlatl. He loads a dart. His focus shifts—I wonder if he is searching for me, or Kol, or even Anki or Dora—but then something in his movements strikes me as halting. He lifts his other hand, drawing it over his eyes, and I know he is blinded by the setting sun over my shoulder.

For one small moment—a moment no wider than the breadth of a single hair on my head—I feel relieved. He can’t see to shoot the dart. He doesn’t have a clear view.

But then the moment dissolves like foam on a wave, and Thern takes the shot anyway. The atlatl comes forward and the dart flies straight. He’s luckier than Anki, and nothing deflects his shot. But it flies wide, sailing past the place I stand, landing somewhere in the trees behind me.

I turn. Kol still stands with the fire starter in his hand, but his eyes are on Thern. I wonder if he—like me—is wondering where the others are. Hoping that they are still on the beach with the boats. That nothing has happened to them, and they are still coming.

“Go set the fire,” I say. “Keep this near you.” I toss Lees’s smaller spear onto the ground beside him, but keep Anki’s with me.

Thern loads another dart. His arm cocks back, the dart stabbing the sky as he readies his throw. I hesitate for only a moment, knowing that I will have only one shot. I squat down, hoping I can’t be seen in the undergrowth, and I raise Anki’s spear to my shoulder.

Thern’s attention sweeps left to right, scanning the trees, searching for a target. Is it possible he does not see me? He takes a tentative step into the space between us.

He may not see me yet, but I have only another moment or two before he does.

My hand goes damp with sweat, the heavy shaft of Anki’s spear slipping in my grip. Thern takes a half step closer, then another. With each step, the time I have to prepare my shot contracts, but the chance I have of landing the shot grows. So I wait.

Behind Thern, something moves. Something calls my attention to the ledge that drops to the sea. A shadow that bends and changes—one moment long and flat to the ground, the next crouching, then straightening into a man. Just as Thern did before him.

Morsk.

He hurries to his feet, raises his spear overhead, and locks his eyes on the place where I crouch. Unlike Thern, he sees my hiding place.

And he is running hard right for me.





TWENTY-THREE


Morsk flies across the open grass, his eyes locked on mine, his spear ready.

My heart pounds in my throat and in my temples. Could I have misjudged Morsk completely? Could he have been helping Dora and Anki all along?

But then Morsk sends his spear toward its goal—not me, but Thern. The shot is strong and accurate, but Morsk’s target is quick. He drops to the ground and Morsk’s spear flies over his back, landing in the dirt behind him.

This is my chance. Thern doesn’t know I’m here. He believes Morsk to be his only opponent—an opponent who is completely unarmed.

Thern leaps up. Ignoring the dropped spear, he pulls another dart from the pack slung over his shoulder. He turns his attention to Morsk, who stands empty-handed with only the cliff behind him.

I know I will have only one shot before I’m exposed. While his attention stays fixed on Morsk, I creep closer. I don’t want to squander my chance by rushing.