David Gilman - The Devil's breath

If she had useful information, he could pass that on to the man in England who was hunting the boy and his father.

The chilled night cramped their muscles, and for a long time Max had lain, staring into the cave’s void, knowing his father had been there and had left a message. Only the exhausting anxiety of not knowing what that message meant had finally sent him to sleep.

!Koga shook him awake and, as he rubbed what little sleep he had from his eyes, gestured to Max to follow him to the mouth of the cave.!Koga pointed, smiling contentedly. “!Kognuing-tara -the Dawn’s Heart,” he said.

Max looked. Low on the horizon was a fat ball of light. Max had seen that star before. Years ago when they were in Egypt, his father had woken him early, wrapped him in a blanket and taken him out into the cold desert dawn. He pointed. “See that light? That’s Jupiter.” Max realized that’s what the drawing in the cave meant. His father was pointing to the “morning star”-the planet Jupiter, the Dawn’s Heart. Telling him where to go: east, beyond those mountains. Max smiled. The dawn swept away his self-doubt as the storm had blown away the clouds of darkness.

Max ran with renewed energy towards the rising sun. Spears of light shot through the ragged mountain peaks. His long strides kept up comfortably with!Koga, whose feet seemed barely to touch the ground. The grass was still sparse, barely ankle-deep, but it made the ground softer underfoot and running easier. They had clambered down the slope from the cave and pushed hard to reach the opposite mountainside, whose sweeping grassland curved up to embrace massive, sculptured boulders. The baboons had raced for the safety of the rocks during the night’s storm, so as they drew closer!Koga slowed the pace. The last thing they wanted was to burst unannounced into a baboon colony’s breakfast; their curved, razor-sharp canines could inflict lethal wounds.!Koga stopped as Max caught up with him. They were halfway up the mountainside, a thousand meters from the summit, where the jagged teeth barred any entrance. Down at this level the ground undulated, and if they stayed on course they could skirt the mountain range using these lower slopes-but they had to negotiate their way through the baboons.

A gateway through the boulders led them to a three-sided bowl in the hillside: a small amphitheater of grassland and trees, which offered shelter from severe storms and a collection point for any precipitation. Max and!Koga stood in silence. To reach the far side they would have to walk for at least a kilometer through what looked like a couple of hundred feeding and grooming baboons. The boys had not yet been noticed. “Walk slowly, yes?”!Koga told him.

“You bet,” Max said, licking his lips nervously.

Although they were scattered across the grassland, the baboons were in family groups; at various points big male baboons stood guard, watching over their females and offspring.

“The big baboons …”!Koga indicated them with a lift of his chin.

“The males?” Max asked.

“Yes. They come for you, they run at you, like attack … you stay. Stand still. They want to see if you a threat. OK?”

“Oh yeah, I’ll invite them for tea while I’m at it.”!Koga seemed uncertain about Max’s sarcastic answer, so he reassured the Bushman boy. “I’ll close my eyes and think of England. I won’t move.”

From somewhere ahead came a sound like a guttural dog bark. One of the guardian baboons had sounded the alarm. A sudden ripple of fear ran through the troop; youngsters ran to their mothers, but it was not the boys’ presence that had frightened them. The baboons crouched, looking up. A shadow drifted across them. Max searched the sky. A martial eagle had stepped off a high peak and glided into a thermal. The warm morning air carried him easily across the gathered baboons, but he was still too high to swoop and make an attack on any vulnerable youngster.!Koga tugged at Max’s arm. This was a good time to make their way through the distracted baboons.

After a few minutes the huge eagle, showing first its dark-brown back feathers, then its speckled white chest, curved lazily in the air and drifted away. Perhaps it had spotted easier prey further down the valley. Max reckoned it was big enough to take a small antelope, so a young baboon would certainly not have posed a problem for the winged predator, which could strike with stunning power. Its talons could pierce a skull, biting deep into the base of the brain, causing instant death. Then it would carry the prey to its nest and dismember the carcass, tearing out the intestines, severing the head and limbs to be eaten. The baboons obviously knew the ominous reality of the raptor’s shadow.

The danger passed, and now Max and!Koga were in the midst of the baboons. One of the males stood on its hind legs, watching them from a distance; the others returned to their nit-picking duties while the youngsters played in a chattering, raucous rough-and-tumble. A huddle of boulders lay in Max and!Koga’s path; baboons scattered as they approached. Some of the rocks were scooped out, worn down by centuries of weather and baboon activity; now they acted like the granite drinking troughs Max knew from Devon. A distant memory, Devon: gentle, forgiving Devon, where the enfolding hills nurtured the traveler into meandering pathways and fields, where the wildest creature likely to be seen might be a barn owl looking for field mice. Max’s mind wrenched back to reality. The baboons had stopped whatever they were doing and were watching them.

!Koga crouched at one of the basins; his hand tickled the water and brought it to his lips. “It is from the storm. It tastes good.”

Carefully they edged closer to the water. Would the baboons fiercely protect their invaluable resource or let them share it? Max pulled off his bush hat and peered down. The reflection that stared back looked nothing like the boy who had started his quest only days earlier. His fair hair was tufted and streaked with dirt. He was leaner, gaunt even, and the caked dirt made him look older. His eyes were red-rimmed from the sun’s glare, and his tears of the previous night had washed a couple of tracks in the grime. Beneath the dirt a tanned, weather-beaten face glared back at him. He looked like a wild man. And maybe now he was.

Without another thought he dipped his cupped hands into the cool water and drank thirstily. Then he pushed his head under, scratched his fingers through his hair, and rubbed his face. As he pulled free of the rock pool a baboon took fright and fled, chattering. Maybe Max was more acceptable as a dirt-clogged creature from the bush. A young baboon sitting in a rock bowl gazed back at him like a boy in a bath, then dragged one hand over its head, spiking its own short hair, punk-like. Max pulled the binoculars from his shirt to stop them banging against the rock and put them down next to him on his bush hat, as he took another luxurious wallow.

Lifting his head clear, he snorted dust and mucus from his nose. He would never take water for granted again. It was sobering to think how much of the precious liquid he wasted at home. He gazed out across the curved hillside. Watching the baboons was a momentary diversion. Max sensed their caution at his presence, but they did not seem to register any threat.

!Koga’s gleaming, dripping face emerged from another pool. “Max,” he said quietly.

Following his gaze, Max saw that the punk baboon had stolen his hat and binoculars. Max tentatively reached out towards it, but it jumped back and scurried into another’s arms, where they hugged and gazed warily at him. Max needed those binoculars. He stepped carefully towards the youngsters. A bark warned Max. He turned. A big, heavily built male was stalking towards him. Its front paws supported muscled shoulders and the mane of long hair around its neck and shoulders made it look even more threatening. It was a meter tall and the doglike muzzle snarled as it barked again. Max stood still, sensing the ripple of tension in the animals around him. The baboon bared its fangs. Max saw!Koga slowly ease an arrow into his bow. “Don’t kill it,!Koga. It’ll be OK.”