Hangman swam back to his senses and felt the pain of a dozen wounds in his legs. The memory came back to him of yesterday’s fight against the Renegades. At least he didn’t have to worry about them anymore.

  He pried himself out of the tree branches and winced when he straightened his legs. They hurt—a lot—but at least they weren’t infected.

  He started to make his way through the canopy, but his injured legs interfered with his balance. He lowered himself painfully to the ground and set off at a slow walk through the jungle.

  He would have run to catch up with his uncle’s hunting party. He really hoped Cross and Shadow weren’t worried about why Hangman disappeared for so long.

  If they weren’t worried now, they would be when he came back injured. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  He didn’t try to rush it. He returned to the spot where he left his kukris, retrieved all his weapons, and continued on his journey.

  He had to climb into the branches more than once to avoid dangerous creatures. He couldn’t fight them—not now.

  He overtook his uncle’s hunting part after dark that day. Hangman wouldn’t have been able to overtake them at all if they hadn’t stopped for the night.

  Shadow and Cross shot to their feet when Hangman limped into their camp. “Where have you been?!” Shadow’s eyes darted down to Hangman’s body. “What happened?!”

  Hangman wilted next to the fire. “You’ll all be happy to know that the weapons aren’t in the west country. The Renegades don’t know where they are.”

  Butcher’s head snapped around up. “How do you know?”

  “They told me.” Hangman held out his hand to Vulture. “Give me some food, will you please? I’m all out.”

  Vulture handed over a fistful of the dried Gorlock strips. Hangman sank back on his elbow and flinched again when he straightened his legs. They were starting to stiffen after the effort of walking here.

  “You’re hurt, Hangman,” Cross murmured.

  “It’s nothing, little brother.” Hangman waved his dried meat at his father and brother. “Sit down. When are you going to learn not to worry about me?”

  They wouldn’t stop staring at him. Viking had gotten to his feet and grabbed his weapon when he heard someone coming.

  He, Shadow, and Cross took a long time before they resumed their seats, but they didn’t relax.

  Butcher broke the uncomfortable silence. “What do you mean—the Renegades told you about the weapons? You better not have told them we were looking for those weapons.”

  “Don’t worry, Uncle,” Hangman replied. “All of the Renegades I questioned are dead now.”

  “You questioned them?!” Alien snapped. “How did you question them?”

  “They tried to question me about why the Godless are in this area so far west. I pretended to be delirious and I kept babbling that I had to find the valley of stone between the mountains. They had no idea what I was talking about. They’ve never even seen it.”

  Butcher scratched his chin. “That’s interesting. I wonder what it means.”

  “I just told you. It means the weapons aren’t in Renegade territory. They would have seen a valley of stone that wide. If you’re right that the west country doesn’t have any mountains beyond the Jagged Points, then the valley of stone can’t be there.”

  “You’re right,” Viking murmured. “Excellent thinking.”

  “It was just something to do to pass the time.” Hangman put another piece of dried meat in his mouth and looked around. “What’s been happening here while I’ve been gone? How is your leg, Vulture?”

  Vulture nodded. “It’s coming along. It isn’t infected anymore.”

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  “That’s good. I’m tired. I might go to sleep.” Hangman stretched out on his back and shut his eyes while he chewed his Gorlock meat.

  His pain exhausted him more than anything else—and he really didn’t want to talk about his escapade anymore—to anyone. He didn’t want to see the way they were all looking at him.

  His personal brand of entertainment didn’t quite mesh with anyone else’s. He’d never met anyone who enjoyed his particular taste in adventure.

  He didn’t think what he did with those Renegades was an adventure—at least, he didn’t think so when he started it or while he was in it.

  He did things like that all the time. His family and relatives always treated his exploits as unusual, heroic, or dangerous. He didn’t see them as any of those things. He just did them without thinking much about them first, during, or afterward.

  He wanted to find out what those Renegades knew about the weapons, so he did it. What more was there to say?

  He really didn’t understand why all the men of the Godless Clan didn’t do it this way. He knew on a rational level that he was different from the others. He just didn’t understand why.

  The others had been talking when he showed up. It took them a long time to restart their conversation.

  Butcher went back to talking to Shadow about traveling south, but not before meeting up with the rest of their band for at least a few days’ rest.

  “The whole party doesn’t need to come,” Butcher decided. “We can leave behind some of our men and the women more distantly related to the family.”

  “We’ll need to leave behind a defensible party,” Shadow pointed out. “They’ll need to be able to repel incursions if they happen.”

  Butcher nodded. “Yes, of course. We can decide all of that when we return to our long camp.”

  Hangman didn’t open his eyes or participate in the discussion. He stayed where he was even after the others started dropping off to sleep.

  Butcher set Viking, Cross, Vulture, and Magnet on the first watch. “You’ll stand the second watch, Hangman,” Butcher told him. “Get your sleep in now because you’ll be on your feet again in a few hours.”

  “Of course, Uncle,” Hangman replied. “I’ll be ready.”

  He dragged himself up on his elbow, now that he couldn’t pretend he’d been asleep all this time. He squinted in the firelight and spotted a water gourd sitting by the rocks surrounding the fire.

  He held out his hand. “Hand me the water, will you please?”

  Cross handed it over and then squatted down next to Hangman. “How bad is it, Hangman? I can bring you some Gooji sap if you need it.”

  “I’ll be fine, little one. Go on watch with the others. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  Cross dragged himself away, but not without looking back over his shoulder.

  Hangman didn’t move. His legs hurt. He didn’t want to get up to go back on watch, especially not if something came to attack their party during the night.

  He hauled himself into a sitting position, chugged down some water, and flopped back on the ground.

  He crashed hard, only to wake up a few hours later when Cross shook him by the shoulder. “It’s time to go on watch, Hangman. It’s your turn.”

  “Thank you, little brother.” Hangman had to brace himself and take a few deep breaths before he summoned the will to bend his legs, much less put any weight on them.

  Cross held out his hand to help him. Hangman grabbed it, and right at that moment, Magnet called from the other side of the camp. “Ants!! Ants coming!!”

  Those words woke up everyone else in a heartbeat. Viking and Vulture had both been about to lie down to go to sleep.

  They launched to their feet in a flash. “Everybody out!” Butcher ordered. “Everybody—up into the trees! NOW!!”

  All of Hangman’s pain evaporated. He took off running into the jungle. He only slowed down long enough to make sure Cross kept up.

  The other men bolted in all directions. Most of them raced away from where Magnet raised the alarm. He ran across the camp heading away from where he’d just been standing guard.

  The men plunged into the trees, scrambled into the branches, and kept climbing to get as high as possible.

  Hangman didn’t feel the pain in his legs until he sat down on a sturdy branch next to Cross. Shadow, Alien, and Chaos perched nearby. Hangman couldn’t see anyone else, but they must be here.

  This position gave all the men a perfect vantage point to see the camp they just vacated. The fire still flickered and glowed in the center.

  Butcher, Shadow, and Fang had all built shelters for themselves. Three of the cousins had woven reed mats to sleep on. The cousins left their mats behind when they fled from the ants.

  Hangman didn’t see anything at first, but he heard them coming through the darkness. A steady hum of scuttling, scratching. rustling, and chewing sounds spread through the trees in a wall of unbroken noise.

  The ants took a long time to get to the camp—at least it seemed like a long time. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds because the ants traveled fast.

  They flooded out of the darkness and invaded the camp by the thousands. Each ant stood as high as a man’s knee. Their pinchers could snap bone. A swarm this size could devour a full-grown Crusher in seconds.

  The ants marched in a carpet of black bodies that covered the camp chewing up everything in their path. All three shelters disintegrated under all those marching feet and snapping jaws.

  The ants even crawled across the fire. It didn’t damage their exoskeletons. Their feet scattered the embers and put the fire out.

  The coals gave enough light for the men to watch the ants flow out of the jungle, cross the camp, and keep going into the undergrowth on the other side.

  Each ant bumped into tree trunks, started to climb up them, and corrected to stay with the swarm. None of them crawled more than a few feet off the ground.

  They kept coming without end, but the swarm eventually passed. The last ants crossed the camp and vanished. They left nothing behind them, not even the woven mats or any trace of the shelters.

  End of Chapter 15.

  ? 2024 by Theo Mann

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