Path of the Crushed Heart: Book Four of the Serpent Catch Series Read Free Page B

Then she used some symbols Fava did not understand.
    Fava sat and waited, wondering how big the army was. This far north it could only be an army of Blade Kin. The question was, would the Hukm attack tonight or be forced to retreat?
    As she waited, Phylomon and Ironwood Woman galloped past on their mastodons, and Fava urged her own mastodon ahead without asking permission.
    They crossed one hill, a second, and after nearly an hour came to a bowl-shaped valley where the pines opened into a small meadow.
    Camped in the snow were probably three thousand people, all Neanderthal households with women and children dressed in furs and occupying half as many tents as they needed. Many were forced to camp in the open.
    They had trampled and dug the snow out around camp, which seemed strange, since the snow should have provided good insulation, and they had ringed the camp with torches.
    Within this perimeter the Hukm had frightened the Neanderthal spearsmen witless, and their faces shone pale even in the moonlight. But as Fava rode closer, she saw that the Neanderthals did not have pale faces: They had painted their faces with white skull masks.
    “Okanjara,” she hissed.
    When Fava and Phylomon got near, the Okanjara retreated a few steps, staring in wonder at Phylomon. The blue man had taken off his coat and wore only a necklace and a breechcloth, so that his blue skin was naked to the air. Phylomon called, “How does the sky feel this night?”
    A white-haired woman answered. “The kwea of our meeting is good, Phylomon Starfarer—” she said almost as casually as if they’d exchanged greetings in town. But then she added darkly, “considering our many misfortunes and the strange company you keep.”
    “The Pwi and the Okanjara have long shared a common enemy with the Hukm,” Phylomon said. “We’ve all battled the Blade Kin together. How can it seem strange to find me riding beside Ironwood Woman?”
    “It is strange that you have so many Hukm here in the dead of winter,” the old woman said, “where the Hukm must carry food.”
    “Just as I find it strange to meet Okanjara east of the Dragon Spine Mountains,” Phylomon said. “Does your war against Craal go ill?”
    The old Neanderthal woman struggled forward through the deep snow, and Fava saw that she wore black moccasins and leggings, with the silver crow of a Spirit Walker. Fava touched her forehead in respect.
    “Our war goes ill,” the woman said, “but it is not Craal we fight. We have a new enemy, one I do not know how to defend myself from. Have you not seen the snow eels yet?”
    “Yes, Mother,” Phylomon said. “I’ve seen gray eels, carried in the beaks of large gray birds.”
    “I haven’t seen them with birds,” the old woman said. “The eels we’ve spotted are white and as cold as ice. They burrow under loose snow and bite those who dare walk or camp in the open, poisoning our people, and then they leave. They do not feed on us. They come only to kill.”
    Phylomon frowned.
    It has started, Fava realized. The Creators have begun trying to kill us all well before Phylomon has had time to attack.
    “When did you last see one of these eels?” Phylomon asked.
    “A week ago,” the woman answered. “They were thick around the Dragon Spine Mountains, and even a few days from there. Still, we keep a good watch. We’re going to Storm Hold, to the protection of the city walls, but the snow delays us. We have seen many Blade Kin coming down out of the north this year, at least three Dragon Riders with full contingents, all headed south from Bashevgo. It gladdens me that the serpents will be attacking them instead of us.”
    Fava considered the obstacles: three hundred thousand Blade Kin along with poisonous snakes in the snow—all waiting on the road ahead?
    Phylomon asked, “Will we find Blade Kin nearby?”
    “Not many,” the old woman said. “The snow is too deep for travel, and most of the Blade Kin passed through here before