Obsidian and Stars (Ivory and Bone #2)(75)

“Which gives us eight to their eight,” Kol says. “One more would give us the advantage in number. Two more and we would be even stronger.”

“I won’t choose from among the Olen elders,” I say. I look into faces—the husband and wife who served as rowers for our betrothal trip, a woman I know to be an excellent hunter—they all wait to be told what to do. Chev would have told them. Self-doubt creeps into my thoughts, and I long for my mother’s voice, telling me she believes in me. I find myself turning to Mala. She’s not my mother—she’s not even clan—but I trust her. “Roon and Lees wish to volunteer and they have experience on the sea, but they are so young,” I say.

“I can’t tell you what to do to protect your own clan. You need to decide for Lees, and Kol needs to decide for Roon—”

“But you’re Roon’s mother.”

“And Kol is his High Elder. I can only say that as a mother, I’m scared.”

“Well, as High Elder of the Manu,” Kol says, drawing a deep breath and letting it out as a sigh, “I believe Roon should go. I’m sorry, Mother. I agree that he’s young. Probably too young. But I’ve seen him paddle for days. He’s strong on the water.”

“Mya,” says Lees, “please. Roon’s a stronger paddler with me than alone.”

I let this sink in. Lees and I were partners in the kayak to and from the island. At the worst times when I was the most tired, she came through with the push to keep us going. I watched her and Roon travel down the coast from the Manu camp. She isn’t wrong.

She would offer little help on her own, but with Roon, she makes a difference. They are stronger together. “All right,” I say. “You and Roon can share a double kayak, but you are there for a show of force and not to engage in fighting. You are to stay in the back—”

My words break off. Lees and Roon are already out of the hut, heading for the beach.

“Any others who wish to come with us to confront the Tama, we welcome you. We’ll be armed with atlatls and darts—the weapon of choice of the Tama and the easiest to fire from a kayak.” The husband-and-wife rowers—Evet and Niki—step forward. They were my brother’s close friends. My eyes meet Niki’s and I remember the last time I looked at her, as she helped steady me as I climbed from the canoe on the Manu’s shore—and I think how her steady hand will help me again. She nods at me as she and Evet duck out of the hut.

“Those who stay onshore need to alert the rest of the clan and ready a defense. Spears must be distributed. Every member of the clan should be armed with some sort of weapon—a knife or even rocks—and all must be able to defend themselves if the Tama reach the camp.”

“They’ll never reach the camp,” Morsk says so low it’s no more than a whisper, as if the words weren’t meant for me, but were between him and the Divine.

“I’ll help hand out weapons.” It’s Shava’s voice. She gets to her feet and steps to my side. “I’ll make sure the strongest hunters are armed with spears. I know I’m not Olen or even Manu yet, but Thern and Pada are helping out on the water. A Bosha should help onshore, too.” Shava has tears in her eyes. I don’t pull back when she embraces me. “Good luck, my future sister.” I nod my head against her hair. She pulls back, and slips out of the hut.

It isn’t long before Mala, Kol, Noni, and I are left alone in the hut. “You don’t need to do this,” Noni says. Her voice shakes but her eyes are dry. I think she must have learned a long time ago how to hold back her tears. “I could hide from my father. I could run away again.”

“This isn’t just about you,” I say. “It’s about me and my sisters, too.” Then I stop myself. There’s more that she should know. “But if it were just about you, we would still stop your father. We would do whatever was necessary to defend you.”

I say this without hesitating, without listening for my brother’s whispered advice before I speak or his hushed rebuke after. For the first time since Chev died, I am trusting myself to be the High Elder.

I turn to Mala, and this time it’s me who draws us into an embrace. Then I have Kol’s hand, and we are hurrying to the beach.

On the water we are ten in all: Kol, Morsk, and I are out front, with Pek, Seeri, and Kesh forming a second row, all in single kayaks. And in back, Lees and Roon in one double kayak, Niki and Evet in another. We paddle hard as the sun drops into a ridge of clouds that sit upon the western horizon, spreading a diffuse light. Thern and Pada had said the Tama were waiting for darkness to strike. We need to reach them first.

We pass the cave in the cliffs where Thern and Pada found us. The high waves that crashed against the rocks have quieted—the tide is going back out. It makes travel easier and quicker, as ten paddles stab the water, pushing us farther and farther toward danger. Still, rather than rising, my fears ease as we get closer to the Tama. I feel the camp growing safer and safer the farther we leave it behind.

Like Thern and Pada, we each carry an atlatl on the deck of our kayaks. We each carry a supply of darts. I glance at the pack of darts looped over Kol’s shoulders—ten in all—and I hope we have enough. Kol and I also found harpoons in the kayaks we took, left over from the last hunt for walrus or seals. Others may also carry them. We left them on board in case we were to need them, the ropes coiled at our feet.