Chapter 58 - Nyal's Story part 7

She told little Maia that their men would bring back her sisters, but they did not. The men managed to save three of the tribe's children, and returned them in relatively good health—and they brought back the heads of three Foul Ones, which they planned to place upon spears at the perimeter of the village to deter any further raids-- but not Nyal's granddaughters. Not Korte-Anthe and sweet little Ganni.

When Nyal learned that her granddaughters had not been saved, she fell to her knees. She didn't shout or cry or beat at her breasts with her fists, but the strength went out of her legs. All she could think of was the unkind thought that had flashed through her mind when she saw Ypp'ham's grandson lying dead beside the path—Not one of mine, thank the ancestors!

Was she being punished for that flash of selfish relief?

Korte-Anthe and Ganni's parents were beyond consoling. Their mother did wail and beat at her breasts with her fists. One of her husbands bent to lift her from the ground, but Breyya spat like a cat and raked his face with her nails. Nyal was ordinarily disgusted by Breyya's displays—she had always been such a stormy child!-- but her daughter's fit was justified this day. It took both of her husbands to drag her, kicking and screaming, to their hut.

Nyal spotted Gilad standing near the back of the crowd. She rose laboriously and limped to him.

"Can you do nothing for the girls, Gilad?" she said pleadingly to him. "Is it truly hopeless?"

Gilad was exhausted, his body smeared with dirt and dried blood. He had killed one of the Foul Ones himself, and bore the badges of his victory: a gash on the upper arm where the beast had slashed him with his blade, and several scratch marks on his chest and the left side of his face. The wounds to his face looked as if they were already becoming infected.

Gilad glanced toward the west, where the sun had fattened like an overripe fruit. He appeared reluctant to answer his grandmother. Finally, he sighed. "I lost their trail, Grandmother. They are very good at hiding their tracks."

"Then they are gone," Nyal whispered.

If Gilad could not track them then no one could.

He shrugged miserably.

"I hope they perish quickly," Nyal said. Her face was grim, drained of all color. She looked as pale as Eyya had the night she passed away.

She didn't want to imagine all the terrible thing those devils would do to her granddaughters, but she was helpless to stop the visions from capering through her mind. Again, she wondered why Gon had not interceded in their battle. Where had he been? Why had he abandoned them in their moment of need?

And then her mind seized on a thought.

Perhaps he simply had not seen the raiders coming. Perhaps he did not know that his granddaughters had been taken. He was no god. He could not see all things. He was simply a man who had been terribly cursed. And yet, he was not only a man. He was the Ghost Who Is a Man. He had strange and awesome powers. He could move faster than the human eye could follow. He could leap great distances through the air, fly like a bird through the treetops. If she sent word to him that his granddaughters had been taken by the Foul Ones, he would come down from his mountain lair. He would hunt the Foul Ones down. Kill them and bring back her babies. She knew he would, just as surely as she knew her name was Nyal.

Nyal clutched Gilad's bicep, her nails digging into the flesh. "Gilad!" she hissed. "Come with me now!"

She pulled him away from the crowd gathered at the mouth of the Siede. Judging by the expression on his face, Gilad must have thought she'd gone mad. She had the gleam of madness in her eyes. Yes, she could feel it herself. In her eyes. On her face. But it was not madness that made her frantic, unless hope was a kind of madness.

"What is it, Grandmother? Why are you so excited?"

"Hush!"

She did not want the others to hear. What she was going to ask—no, demand—that her grandson do was for his ears alone. If they overhead her plans, the men would insist on marching to Gon's lair in numbers. Her husband had already confessed to her that he was tormented by human contact. Her nearness alone had distressed him when he came to retrieve Eyya. If a large group of men approached Gon's hideout in the mountains, he would be forced to retreat from them, and just when they needed him most. No, only two would be journeying to Old Stone Man to find him, and those two would be Nyal and her grandson.

It was a good thing Gilad was strong, and she so frail and light.

He was going to carry her there.