The Kadaitcha Curse Read online

Chapter 5

  The sound of his brother’s muffled scream made Arunta stop swimming. With a tight grip on the strap of the bag the dog was trying to drown Burnum.

  By the time Arunta had turned and reached him, Burnum’s head had disappeared underwater but his strong arm was punching through the surface and making some glancing contact with the dog’s head. With all his strength Arunta leaped onto the animal’s back and rolled it over so that its head went under. In its desperate fight for air the dog finally released the bag allowing Burnum the freedom to use his good arm more effectively.

  By now both Arunta and the ngurakin were totally submerged. Burnum, fearing his brother would drown, reached down into the water and grabbed the dog by the scruff of the neck. With a mighty effort he lifted it halfway out of the water and with the fist of his weak arm hit the dog as hard as he could on the spot where his left ear used to be.

  With a sharp yelp the dog gave up. Whimpering, it turned and paddled back to the bank. Burnum reached in again and pulled his half-drowned brother to the surface.

  They dragged themselves onto the island. It was large enough for them to sit, but no more.

  “I owe you my life, Burnum.”

  “No, brother, nothing less than the fork-tongued serpent himself will see you off to the spirit world.”

  They grew tired as they watched the dogs pace back and forth. Only the leader stood still, eyes staring across the water, fixed on the boys. Occasionally it shook its head, still sore from the blow delivered by Burnum.

  “I’m hungry,” Arunta said finally. “Too bad you let walanyja go.”

  “I think you lost your memory in your fight with ngurakin,” offered Burnum. ”The last one to have him in his grasp was you, brother.”

  “Well, you can blame me if you wish, but an empty dillybag will not be of much interest to your little girlfriend.”

  “Yes, that is true. If indeed it was empty. You see, before you decided to go for a ride on the dinewan I was able to collect some eggs.”

  “I don’t believe you, brother. I don’t believe you because that would make you the clever one. And we have already decided today that this is not true.”

  “Here,” said Burnum passing the bag to Arunta, “see for yourself!”

  Arunta opened the bag. “Oh, I am very sorry. Miss Clare will be pleased… especially if she likes to eat broken egg shells.”

  Burnum grabbed the bag and looked inside. “Ngurakin! He has left us nothing.”

  With this the brothers looked back to the bank. It seemed that all but the leader may have tired of their out-of-reach prey and moved on. The big dog had stayed. He skulked around the edge of the waterhole seeking a way across to the island. And there was a way – a narrow strip of land that would suit his purposes perfectly. It lay just below the water’s surface but joined the bank to the island. The reflections on the water meant that the dog would not see the bridge until he was almost at the spot where it started. And he was almost there.

  Burnum pulled his spear from where it had lodged in the tree. “I must kill it!”

  “No! The others will smell the blood and they will return.”

  “If you die, brother, I will take your place with our father on his kahlawilhma. But if we both die then he must walk the journey himself. We both know he is too weak for that. The curse of the kadaitcha man will go on forever. The bad magic will continue.”

  “No, if we both die the curse will end because there will be no more sons.” Then Arunta became suddenly excited. “Look in the tree!”

  On the bank opposite to where they had jumped in the water there was a tall tree. High in the branches the boys could see the hazy movement of a swarm of bees busy around a large hive. The hive itself sat precariously on a branch and had, over time, grown big and heavy with honey. The boys had often found hives like this on the ground, dislodged by a falling branch, a strong wind or a curious possum.

  The wild dingo continued to walk around the waterhole. Burnum had difficulty finding a firm footing on the island but he stood poised with spear at the ready. At just the right moment he threw his weapon at the hive. It did not immediately topple from the tree as they had hoped. The spear appeared to have merely pierced the hive and now protruded uselessly from the side.

  “Now I have lost my spear and ngurakin will still tear us to pieces.”

  But their disappointment was short-lived. Burnum had fractured the hive and all at once his spear and half of the hive crashed downwards. It smashed into the ground beside the dog and angry bees sought revenge. The pack leader made a swift but painful escape.

  For a long time the boys stood very still, listening for any sound that would indicate that the dogs might be returning. Arunta made the first move and stepped into the water. “It is getting dark. We must hurry home.”

  Burnum ran around to where his spear had landed and retrieved it, taking care not to disturb any bees.

  “I should have finished him off,” he called.

  “You might have missed and made him even angrier.”

  “I would not have missed.”

  “And what of the others? Another would surely have taken over as leader.”

  “True,” said Burnum, “but while they were busy fighting for the privilege we could have escaped. Yes, I should have finished him. He has the devil’s eyes, that one. He will not forget us.”

  Despite the excitement of the day their spirits were low. There would be food and a special ceremony that night and although there would be plenty to eat the boys had hoped to contribute something on this special occasion. They knew well what Grandmother Mirrin would say: Good stories do not fill empty bellies. The adults would laugh and the boys would feel embarrassed by their poor hunting skills.

  Arunta was already out of the creek and walking well ahead when Burnum, who was splashing his way in knee-deep water, felt something move against his leg. In the space of a single breath he raised his spear and plunged it into the black shape.

  “In you go, noyang,” he said as he withdrew the spear from the body of the fat, writhing eel and shoved it into his bag. “And help yourself to the eggshells.”