simply used tactics unknown to this era. He was a troll broken free, and terror seized them.
They didn’t run, but they milled beyond his edge of clear vision. The diaglossa hinted what to cry: ‘I will eat the next man
who touches me!’ Their horror winded through the night.Sky Father’s worshippers still feared the earth gods for whom, further inland, a human being was devoured every harvest.
Slowly, Lockridge turned and walked off. His back ached with the tension of awaiting a spear, an arrow, a skull-crushing ax
blow… and not looking behind. He saw the world through a haze, and his heart kept sickeningly missing beats.
An oak reared gnarly before him. The leaves whispered. Somewhere a nightjar echoed them. Lockridge passed into the dark of
the far side.
A hand plucked at him. He recoiled and struck out. His fist brushed softness. ‘Lynx,’ quivered her voice, ‘wait for me.’
He must husk several times before he could speak, dry-mouthed: ‘Auri, you should have run off.’
‘I did. I stopped here to see what befell you. Come.’ She pressed close, and the universe was no longer a fever dream. ‘I
know ways to the forest,’ she said.
‘That is well.’ Self-possession returned to him, like a series of bolts snicking home. He could think again. Peering around
the tree bole, he saw fires scattered wide across the fields, figures that flitted among them, a rare gleam of polished stone
or copper. The bass babble was just too distant for him to make out words.
‘They will soon get back their courage,’ he said, ‘especially after Brann is told what happened and reassures them. The woods
are not close, and they will search for us. Can we stay hidden?’
‘She of the Earth will help us,’ Auri said.
She urged him out into the open and went on all fours. Weasel slim and supple, she traced a winding path where the grass grew
tallest. Lockridge followed her more clumsily. But he had stalked this way before, ages ago, in that unborn future when he
was a boy.
Beyond enemy view, they rose and loped south. Neither spoke; breath was too precious. Lockridge’s pupils expanded until he
could see how the grass rippled in a breeze and how the copses stood pale on top, solidly black below, under the high constellations.
Through foot-thuds, he heard a fox bark, ahare scutter, frogs chorus. Auri was a moving slenderness beside him, her mane white in the star-glow.
Then a wolf howled from the woods that began to show darkling ahead. As if it were a signal, the bison horns moaned, and he
heard men yelp in pursuit of him.
The rest of the flight was a blur. He would never have escaped without Auri. Running, twisting, dodging, she led him through
every dip of ground and patch of shadow that her Goddess afforded them. Once they lay behind a boulder and heard men go past,
a yard away; once they got up a tree just before spears went bobbing underneath. When finally the forest enclosed him, he
fell and lay like one whose bones had been sucked out.
Awareness returned in pieces. First he noticed glimmers of sky overhead, where the leaves left small open spaces. Otherwise
he was nearly blind in the night. Bracken rustled and brushed his limbs with harsh fronds, but the ground was soft damp mould,
pungent to smell. He tingled and throbbed. Yet Auri was curled against him, he felt her warmth and breath and caught the faint
woodsmoke odor of her hair. Everything had grown most quiet.
He forced himself to sit up. She awakened when he moved. ‘Did we really get away?’ he mumbled.
‘Yes,’ the girl said, her tone more level than his. ‘If they follow, we will know them by their trampling’ – a note of scorn
for all clumsy heathdwellers – ‘and find concealment.’ She hugged him. ‘Oh, Lynx!’
‘Easy. Easy.’ He disengaged her and groped for the ax. Wonder touched him. ‘I never expected we both would escape.’
‘No, surely you knew what you did. You can do
They didn’t run, but they milled beyond his edge of clear vision. The diaglossa hinted what to cry: ‘I will eat the next man
who touches me!’ Their horror winded through the night.Sky Father’s worshippers still feared the earth gods for whom, further inland, a human being was devoured every harvest.
Slowly, Lockridge turned and walked off. His back ached with the tension of awaiting a spear, an arrow, a skull-crushing ax
blow… and not looking behind. He saw the world through a haze, and his heart kept sickeningly missing beats.
An oak reared gnarly before him. The leaves whispered. Somewhere a nightjar echoed them. Lockridge passed into the dark of
the far side.
A hand plucked at him. He recoiled and struck out. His fist brushed softness. ‘Lynx,’ quivered her voice, ‘wait for me.’
He must husk several times before he could speak, dry-mouthed: ‘Auri, you should have run off.’
‘I did. I stopped here to see what befell you. Come.’ She pressed close, and the universe was no longer a fever dream. ‘I
know ways to the forest,’ she said.
‘That is well.’ Self-possession returned to him, like a series of bolts snicking home. He could think again. Peering around
the tree bole, he saw fires scattered wide across the fields, figures that flitted among them, a rare gleam of polished stone
or copper. The bass babble was just too distant for him to make out words.
‘They will soon get back their courage,’ he said, ‘especially after Brann is told what happened and reassures them. The woods
are not close, and they will search for us. Can we stay hidden?’
‘She of the Earth will help us,’ Auri said.
She urged him out into the open and went on all fours. Weasel slim and supple, she traced a winding path where the grass grew
tallest. Lockridge followed her more clumsily. But he had stalked this way before, ages ago, in that unborn future when he
was a boy.
Beyond enemy view, they rose and loped south. Neither spoke; breath was too precious. Lockridge’s pupils expanded until he
could see how the grass rippled in a breeze and how the copses stood pale on top, solidly black below, under the high constellations.
Through foot-thuds, he heard a fox bark, ahare scutter, frogs chorus. Auri was a moving slenderness beside him, her mane white in the star-glow.
Then a wolf howled from the woods that began to show darkling ahead. As if it were a signal, the bison horns moaned, and he
heard men yelp in pursuit of him.
The rest of the flight was a blur. He would never have escaped without Auri. Running, twisting, dodging, she led him through
every dip of ground and patch of shadow that her Goddess afforded them. Once they lay behind a boulder and heard men go past,
a yard away; once they got up a tree just before spears went bobbing underneath. When finally the forest enclosed him, he
fell and lay like one whose bones had been sucked out.
Awareness returned in pieces. First he noticed glimmers of sky overhead, where the leaves left small open spaces. Otherwise
he was nearly blind in the night. Bracken rustled and brushed his limbs with harsh fronds, but the ground was soft damp mould,
pungent to smell. He tingled and throbbed. Yet Auri was curled against him, he felt her warmth and breath and caught the faint
woodsmoke odor of her hair. Everything had grown most quiet.
He forced himself to sit up. She awakened when he moved. ‘Did we really get away?’ he mumbled.
‘Yes,’ the girl said, her tone more level than his. ‘If they follow, we will know them by their trampling’ – a note of scorn
for all clumsy heathdwellers – ‘and find concealment.’ She hugged him. ‘Oh, Lynx!’
‘Easy. Easy.’ He disengaged her and groped for the ax. Wonder touched him. ‘I never expected we both would escape.’
‘No, surely you knew what you did. You can do
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