Chapter 10: The Legend of the Tall Ones

As winter progressed Marcus carved a solid trail up into the nearby hills, where he began harvesting trees for the logs needed for his cabin. After felling them, he cut them to length and stripped each of its remaining bark and branches. He placed scrap logs crosswise at strategic points to assist him as he maneuvered them down the hill toward his building area. Every day he was able to retrieve 2 or 3 logs and soon had staged a considerable pile of building material for the coming Spring.

Four months after Tehya’s birth, he began to notice the gradual thawing in the ice and snow around him. While she was still figuring out how to lift her head and roll over, the pups had become fat, vocal, and quite mobile. They were always underfoot, and it seemed to amuse Pepper every time one of them tripped up a human. Their curious wanderings were put to a sudden halt after a near-fatal scare to the first wife.

Nita was preparing wheat flour for the evening bread when she was startled by the loud terrified yip from one of the puppies that had wandered outside. She raced out of the pavilion in alarm, just as a large feathery shadow darted overhead with an ominous whoosh. Spotting the male pup ducking under a nearby crate, she raced over to grab it into her protective arms. She looked about and searched the sky before she spotted the large, winged predator circling low overhead. It was dark in color and featured a redhead with a crooked neck. Marcus called them turkey vultures. Angrily she stormed back into the pavilion and ordered Kuwali to watch both of the pups as she unwound her sling from her left wrist. Pepper was off with her master up in the hills.

Stepping back outside, she armed herself and removed one of the round lead bullets given to her by her husband, after she impressed him with her accuracy. She seated the lead ball and snapped the strings tight as she glanced around for her target. Given its big size, she felt comfortable in her ability to bring it down in mid-flight. However, vultures were never the brightest animals, and this one chose to perch on a tree branch right next to the supply tent. She smiled grimly as she faced it and let her sling hang by her side, swinging slightly back and forth. She preferred to aim by pointing with her opposite hand, which she did now. Then with a sudden sweep of her right arm, she waved the sling about in a wide arc before releasing the tether and sending the bullet flying with a loud snap. It struck the bird square in the chest with a sickening thud. Feathers flew outward as the vulture squawked one last time and fell to the ground.

With a satisfied harumph, Nita began rolling the weapon back into a bracelet as she walked over and retrieved the dead bird. She carried it back to the pavilion and allowed the puppies to tear it to pieces out front, under her watchful eye. A bloody ball appeared in the carnage, and she retrieved her bullet, wiping it clean in the snow before returning it to her pouch.

Marcus made periodic forays back to the stricken ship to check that it remained in place and to search for new items along the shore. The aft section had been pushed closer to the beach by storms, but the midsection remained unchanged. He found two of the huge water barrels sunk into the sand on the gravelly shore and emptied them of their stagnant water before levering them up the slope to his old campsite. He likewise salvaged several dozen planks of various sizes and conditions. All of the freshwater springs that he had encountered before were still frozen into incredible icy sculptures. It was far too cold for him to consider swimming out to either wreck to investigate further. But he was certain that his anvil and iron ingots were still in place, so he would wait for warmer conditions. He gradually moved the heavy barrels over to the homestead and placed all of the salvaged planks in his supply tent to let them dry.

The natural hot spring was the first to thaw and begin flowing. With every passing day, he watched as the pool it emptied into grew wider and deeper. Once the foundation for his cabin was clear he began shaping the logs by flattening the top and bottoms with a draw knife and adz. Notching the ends was the final step before he began stacking them and securing them with metal spikes. As he got familiar with the tasks, he was soon able to stack 3 to 4 logs per side daily.

With the melting snow came the saturated ground and inevitable mud, and it soon mired every task and left him filthy and cold. The hot spring became a welcome conclusion to his work and Kuwali, Nita, and Tehya joined him. Occasionally members of the tribe would visit and observe his work, often helping him and gaining a better appreciation for the strength and durability of his structure.

Kuwali and Nita busied themselves with preparing the main terrace (the same one holding the camp and cabin) for planting by walking through it and pulling rocks, shrubs, and small trees. They intended to begin plowing it after the last of the snow melted. Marcus showed them how he wanted to arrange the furrows and illustrated how he planned to irrigate them in the future. With the help of spades and the wheeled cart, they made short work of it and had it cleared in a single week.

Their work halted one day when they awoke to find a dense fog blanketing the area, limiting visibility to only a few yards at best. Marcus was intrigued by the behavior of the two women who were afraid of the mist and refused to exit the pavilion except under considerable need. He soon learned that the basis of their fear was due to a legend or history of violent men known as the ‘tall ones.’ The mysterious tall ones had been known to arrive on the river once the dense fogs began, and they would attack villages, taking young women and children as slaves while killing everyone else. They were vicious, evil, and moved like phantoms, striking terror into their victims. It was speculated that Kuwali was descended from a tall one who probably captured and raped her mother.

The tall ones did not raid every year or even regularly. But he learned that the current village was only recently established from the scatted survivors of several previous tribes that had suffered from raids only two years prior. With that little information, Marcus began planning his defensive posture in the event of such an attack. Eventually, he would journey to the village and speak with Lakota and Keely.

Despite the fog, he continued working diligently on the cabin until he had the main walls completed. Then he began raising the trusses for the roof. He managed it by himself with the help of his block and tackle, which he rigged to a tall tripod of logs. He also opted for a wood floor and intended to use the salvaged planks from the ship, that he didn’t use on the roof. Cutting out the doors and windows went quickly with the carpenter saws he had salvaged. He fabricated his door from solid timbers that he squared and stacked, with a sturdy drop beam to secure it from inside if needed.

As the snow and ice melted the river began to swell. He watched it closely to determine its highest flood stage to better prepare the lower terrace for farming and his eventual forge. He had already laid out the floor plan of the structure where he felt it would be most suitable. Once he had completed his fireplace, he began working his small quarry for the stones he needed to build the shed and forge, staging them nearby.

Marcus sat within the largest shelter of the village, listening attentively to the descriptions and tales of several elder tribal members. One woman, Soma, claimed to have been captured by the tall ones when she was only 15 years old, then escaped before they could return to their lands. She described being repeatedly raped by the warriors whenever they stopped for the night. The women and many children were abused horribly for the entertainment of their ruthless captors.

“How was it that you made your escape, grand-mother?” he asked her softly.

“One evening the fog was very thick on the river and in the woods,” she began, these Tall Ones were arrogant in their sense of conquest. They never set patrols or guards at night and each slave was used near continuously or put to labor, so they provided little threat or concern.” She winked with a grin. “When one of the warriors was done pleasuring himself with me, he fell asleep and I simply got up and walked into the fog, disappearing. I kept walking all night, I was no longer afraid of the demons in the mist—I had experienced their wrath in full.”

Keely draped a second shawl over the older woman’s shoulders and hugged her briefly as she glanced at Marcus. “Many have told us tales of similar escape,” she said.

“They traveled on the river in canoes so large as to make three or four of our own,” Lakota explained with slow careful gestures, “they carved them from trees, and they carried 12 men each.”

“These canoes,” he asked, “by carving them out of trees they would be very heavy, right?”

Lakota nodded. “This is so. It took ten of the twelve men to propel it. And on the return trip there were areas of the river that had to be avoided so the captured slaves would have to carry the boats across the land to safer waters,” he stared into space, “it sometimes took up to 20 slaves to carry one canoe.”

“This could be why they only raid after the snow melts,” Marcus suggested, “it would make the river high enough for them to traverse it in their larger vessels.”

The others agreed.

“We are far enough into the Spring weather that a raid seems unlikely now,” he added and they hesitantly agreed, “You only have 17 or 18 able-bodied men to defend you if another raid should happen. We need to prepare you all for this certainty.”

“Your words are wise Cariba,” The tribal leader said, “what would you have us do?”

“I wish to take your warriors and young men, even the women, and show them ways to prepare for these tall ones,” Marcus replied, “I will teach your men to fight better and arm them with better weapons. I will teach you how to make fortifications to protect you, barriers to force them into a different direction, and traps to await them there.” He rose to his feet and gazed intently at Keely. “Even your younger girls and women can serve in the defense of your homes. Preparing weapons, digging pits, setting trip hazards.” She nodded back at him.

“I will teach you how to make the fog your ally and use it to hide your passage. You must be ready to flee in the mist and dark, along prearranged paths, to other shelters. We will make means of signaling in the fog so that we can communicate with each other and coordinate ambushes.” He made fists with both hands and held them together in unity. “The next time these Tall Ones visit, we will teach them not to be so cocky.”

A group of seven boys, all aspiring to be warriors one day, gathered around Marcus with their bows and slings ready. He was teaching them fundamental archery techniques and how to volley their shots accurately. They took to his lessons eagerly and absorbed everything he shared like sponges. He found that the younger villagers were less fearful of the dense fog when it appeared, so he took them out frequently to train and practice in it until they were completely unaffected by it. Often, they spent hours just playing hide and seek and ambushing each other, which suited Marcus perfectly.

He handed an odd-looking arrow to one of the smaller lads. “Ferret,” he called him (the boys were amused to no end that he chose to give them all nicknames) “I want you to aim high and shoot this arrow over the heads of those men over there.” He pointed to a group of warriors who were sparring with each other with staffs. “Try to put it in the river.”

Curiously the boy obediently nocked the arrow and raised his bow high, drawing the string back to his ear. Marcus calmly adjusted his elevation slightly before nodding. With a twang, the arrow shot into the air and made a peculiar shrill whistling noise as it soared overhead. Everyone in the village, including the warriors looked up startled as the missile completed its trajectory, keening loudly until it splashed into the water.

Ferret was grinning ear to ear at his shot and Marcus clapped him on the back as he took the bow. “Don’t just stand there boy!” he chided, “my arrow is getting away!” With a laugh, the boy and two others darted over to the river’s edge and dashed in to rescue the arrow.

The warriors eyed him curiously as he approached them holding a similar arrow that he passed around. “This is how we will signal in the fog,” he declared and went on to explain his thoughts for next spring and how he intended to have the boys lay in wait further upriver to provide warning of any tall one raids.

Okami and Tabo were the more experienced of the warriors and Marcus spent many hours in discussion with them and Lakota and his wife Teekah, discussing defense tactics and the roles of each of the villagers when the time came. He prepared drills for evacuation and pre-staging food and supplies in other parts of the forest if flight became necessary. The women were taught how to prepare long sharpened stakes and arrange them into clusters that an enemy had no choice but to navigate around. The “Hedgehogs” as he called them, were built, and placed in areas to herd the raiders along a pre-determined path or were concealed behind low shrubs or in shallow pits. An incautious or hasty enemy was sure to regret tripping over a concealed rope and landing face-first onto one of the spiny traps. Whenever they had a spare moment, he encouraged every woman and child to practice with their slings and to gather as many stone missiles as possible, in preparation.