The Elder Gods (The Dreamers 1)

Red-Beard looked at the beach. “I think you’re right, Longbow. The brush sort of hides it, but brush usually means fresh water. Let’s go have a look.” He turned his agile canoe toward the beach with a single backstroke.

“Are you at all familiar with the coast on this side of the bay?” Longbow asked as they smoothly paddled the canoe toward the beach.

“No. The fishing’s so good off the beach at Lattash that I’ve never had any reason to come this far out. Besides, I didn’t want to offend the local fish at Lattash by trying my hand somewhere else. Fish are very sensitive about that sort of thing, you know. They get miffed if you ignore them, and sulky fish don’t bite. Everybody knows that.”

“You’ve got a very warped sense of humor, friend Red-Beard.”

“How can you say that, friend Longbow? I’m shocked at you! Shocked!”

“Oh, quit.” Longbow peered at the brushy beach. “The river’s a bit larger than I thought. We might want to explore this area.”

“I don’t think the people of the tribe would care for the wind very much,” Red-Beard said dubiously. “Lattash is sheltered, but this area’s right out in the open.”

“Wind isn’t as bad as melted rock,” Longbow reminded him as they drove the canoe up onto the beach. “Let’s have a look at this river. If the water’s brackish, this wouldn’t be a good place for the new village, and we’ll have to move on. If it’s fresh, though, we might want to explore the surrounding countryside.”

“Lead the way,” Red-Beard agreed, and they fought their way through the wind-whipped brush toward the slow-moving river. “Isn’t it odd that the sun was going down just as we reached this place?”

Longbow shrugged. “Coincidence, probably.”

“There’s no such thing as coincidence, friend Longbow. That’s why we have gods. They make everything happen. If you happen to stub your toe, it’s because some god knew that you’d be following that trail someday, so just as a joke he put a rock in the middle of that trail along about the beginning of time. Gods are like that. They play tricks on us all the time.”

“Will you stop that, Red-Beard?”

“Probably not. I like absurdity. It makes life a lot more fun.” Red-Beard ducked under a stout limb that jutted out from a substantial bush. “All this clutter’s going to have to go if we move here,” he grumbled. “The women of the tribe will get very grouchy if they have to fight their way through this every time they go to the river for water.”

They reached the bank of the slow-moving river, and Longbow bent and scooped up a handful of water and tasted it. “Not as bad as it looks,” he said. “It’s a little muddy, but it should clear up later in the summer. When morning comes, we might want to explore the ground upstream. If there happens to be a meadow nearby, we should give this place some serious consideration.”

“Maybe so,” Red-Beard agreed, “but we should probably see if we can find some other places as well. That way, the tribe will be able to choose—and to argue. Arguments are good for people, did you know that? They stir up the blood, and lazy blood isn’t good for people.” He looked around. “I’ll put out some setlines,” he said. “If we’re going to dawdle around here on dear old windy beach, we’ll need something to eat.”

“Sound thinking,” Longbow agreed.

As the sun came up the next morning, it turned the cloud of smoke hovering over Lattash a bleary sort of red, almost as if reminding Red-Beard that Lattash wouldn’t be there much longer. That had been happening every morning since the twin mountains at the head of the ravine had ended the war, but Red-Beard was still unhappy about the whole thing.

He fought his way back through the brush to the river and pulled in the setlines he’d put out the previous evening. He was just a bit surprised at the size of the fish the untended lines had hooked.

“Not bad at all, friend Red-Beard,” Longbow said when Red-Beard carried his catch back to the campfire. “We might want to mention that when we get back to Lattash. If the fishing’s good around here, it might take some of the sting out of leaving the old village.”

“We’ll see. Why don’t you build up the fire while I clean these? Then we’ll have fish for breakfast.”

“Sounds good to me,” Longbow agreed, piling more limbs on the fire. “The wind seems to have backed off,” he observed.

“What a shame,” Red-Beard said. He held up the iron knife Rabbit had made for him. “This makes cleaning fish go a lot faster,” he observed. “Iron makes good tools. Let’s hope that Zelana will let us keep them after we’ve won all these wars and the Maags go home.”

“Why would she tell us to throw them away?”

“I don’t know—maintain the purity of our culture, maybe. She might not like the idea of contamination. Gods are strange sometimes.”

“You know, I’ve noticed that myself,” Longbow replied with no hint of a smile.

The fish were of a different variety than the ones that were common out in the bay, and they tasted very good. Red-Beard hoped that might help to persuade the members of the tribe that this would be a good place to live despite a fair number of drawbacks. It would never be as pretty as Lattash, and the constant wind would irritate the tribe almost as much as the thick brush and muddy river would.

After they’d eaten, Longbow stood. “Let’s have a look around,” he suggested. “So far we’ve found fresh water and good fishing. Let’s see what else this place has to offer.”

The morning light had a bluish tint to it as the two of them entered the forest that lined the upper side of the sandy beach. The trees were large, and they blocked off the perpetual wind that had made the beach so unpleasant.

“Deer,” Longbow said very quietly, pointing off to the right.

Red-Beard turned slowly. Quick movements usually startle deer.

It seemed to be a fairly large herd—two dozen or so at least—and there were quite a few spotted fawns grazing with the adult deer. “They look to be in fairly good shape,” Red-Beard noted.

“I’d say so, yes. Let’s ease on past them. There’s no point in disturbing them while they’re busy eating.”

The two of them moved on quietly through the damp forest. After about a half mile the light ahead seemed to grow brighter, a fair indication that there was a clearing in that direction.