It Dreams in Me (2 page)

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Authors: Kathleen O'Neal Gear

BOOK: It Dreams in Me
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THUNDERBIRDS RUMBLED ACROSS THE SKY, AND LIGHTNING flashed through her dreams like a war lance.
Chieftess Sora woke with a start. Tears ran down her cheeks as the last of the nightmare faded.
She looked up and blinked at the palm-thatch ramada that sheltered her. The four poles and roof had been hastily thrown up, for there were gaps in the fronds that allowed the rain to penetrate. Drops beaded the foot of the buffalohide that covered her.
She felt weak and bewildered. Where was she? She didn’t recognize this place.
Cool wind eddied through the cypress trees, scenting the world with a pleasant tangy fragrance. She inhaled, hoping it would ease her nausea … while she tried to remember the past few days. Images flitted, bare scraps of horror filled with the scent of blood.
Her stomach heaved. She rolled to her side and vomited onto the ground.
Brush thrashed in the forest as someone trotted up the trail. Priest Strongheart emerged into the small clearing and hurried toward her with his long deerhide cape flapping around his legs. He had seen twenty-three winters, nine winters less than she had. Tall and skinny, he had short black hair. He was a homely man, his round face too wide, hooked nose too long, but his luminous eyes seemed to contain all the light in the world.
“Please, lie down,” he called as he gracefully walked toward her. “You haven’t eaten in two days. If you rise too fast, you’ll be even sicker.”
He picked up a flat piece of bark, scooped up the vomit, and tossed it out into the rainy forest; then he knelt at her side. His large calloused hand felt cool when he placed it against her forehead. “You’re still hot, but much cooler than last night. Let me get you a cup of tea.”
“Have I been ill?”
“Your reflection-soul has been out wandering for at least three days.”
It was the reflection-soul that traveled to the afterlife at death. But sometimes, while a person was still alive, it wandered away from the body and became lost in the forest. That’s what caused insanity. It took a very great Healer to find the lost soul and make it stay in the body.
She watched him walk over to the fire pit sheltered by the moss-covered branches of an old oak. Hanging from a tripod at the edge of the flames, a tea pot swayed in the wind. The misty background highlighted the shape of his tall body. He had broad shoulders that narrowed to a slim waist. Yellow starbursts decorated his buckskin cape.
Strongheart dipped two wooden cups into the pot and brought them back. “Drink this. You’ll feel better.”
She propped herself on one elbow and took the cup. The
pungent fragrance of magnolia bark bathed her face as she sipped it. “Where are we?”
“Near Blue Heron Swamp,” he answered, and blew on his tea to cool it.
“What—what happened?”
He stared at her as though he could see straight to the darkest depths of her souls. “I’m not sure. I went out into the forest to hunt, and when I returned Flint told me you were gone, that you’d slipped away from him. I said I would search the trails heading north; he searched the southern trails.”
“Who found me?”
“Flint did. He said you had gone back to Eagle Flute Village. We brought you here as quickly as we could, and then Flint left. He told me he’d return soon, but it’s been two days.”
“Where did he go?”
“I don’t know.”
She drank the tea one sip at a time. His concerned gaze never left her. He seemed to be examining every bruise on her face and scratch on her arms.
Worriedly, he asked, “Are you better?”
A strange feeling gripped her, as though someone had reached inside her chest and squeezed her heart. “I had a nightmare.”
“About what?”
She took another drink of tea to steady her nerves. “The same one. I’ve told you about it before.”
He knelt beside her. “The dream about Flint and the Red Hill?”
“Yes, I—I don’t have it as often as I used to. Only on rainy nights. And even then, over the past quarter moon, it’s lost some of its reality. Now, when the dream comes, I usually know that the pain in my belly is not poison. I can tell myself that it’s the wind I hear, not Flint singing me lullabies. And …”
A deep soul-wrenching ache swelled her chest. “My souls don’t rip apart when that tiny blue boy is born.”
He reached out and brushed the black hair away from her eyes, then tipped her chin up to force her to look at him. His luminous eyes bulged slightly. “It wasn’t your fault. I’ve told you that before, but you still don’t believe me, do you? That’s why your shadow-soul keeps walking backward in time to relive that event.”
She fumbled with her tea cup. “I can’t help it. My—my son is growing up inside me. Every night he gets a little older. Every morning I grieve his death.”
Though she had been faithfully married to Flint for fourteen winters, he’d been afraid she was pregnant with another man’s child. She wasn’t. But he hadn’t believed her. He’d wanted to kill the baby and make certain she could never have another man’s child. The poison he’d given her had worked better than he’d planned. It had killed her ability to have anyone’s child. At least, no man’s seed had planted in her womb since that day.
Strongheart shifted to sit cross-legged on the edge of her buffalohide. “Do you recall anything from the past few days?”
“Just images. Things that make no sense.”
“What things?”
She closed her eyes and watched them again. “Screaming children running through the forest … houses burning … a—a dead man propped against a tree.”
His expression slackened, but he said nothing.
“What is it?” she asked. “Do the images mean something?”
Blessed gods, what have I done this time?
“Do you recall that Eagle Flute Village was attacked?”
Her hand trembled; she had to set her cup down.
Several days ago Flint had taken her to Eagle Flute Village hoping that Strongheart could Heal her. She suffered from the
Rainbow Black, an illness that caused people to see rainbows just before they fell down jerking all over.
“I don’t recall anything,” she answered. “What happened? Who attacked?”
Strongheart reached out to gently touch her hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you so soon. You just awakened.”
“I was once the high chieftess of the Black Falcon Nation. I
must
know what’s happening out there. Who attacked your village?”
“Flint tells me they were members of his clan, the Water Hickory Clan.”
She gave him a searching look. “Did your village fight back?” “The Water Hickory warriors attacked at night. Many of our people were in their blankets. Some escaped, but not many.”
“Your family?
He bowed his head and for a long time just stared at the wet ground. “Several were killed.”
Lightning flashed overheard, and Strongheart’s hooked nose cast a curved shadow on his cheek. He was making an effort to keep his voice even, but she heard the pain just beneath the surface.
She said, “This is my fault. If I’d been in Blackbird Town, I would have found a way to stop it.”
Blackbird Town was the capital of the Black Falcon Nation. Their leader, High Matron Wink, was her oldest and most cherished friend.
Strongheart looked up. “You think that the other clans knew about the attack, then?”
“I don’t know, Strongheart.” She ran a hand through her tangled hair. “I don’t know.”
“Perhaps it’s best not to assume you could have stopped it,” he said in a kind voice. “At least until we know what really happened.”
“You once told me that guilt was fear, that it was my way of punishing myself for being afraid. I think I finally understand what you meant.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. I’m afraid that my best friend, Wink, needs me desperately … and instead I’m here with you.” Angry tears burned her eyes. She blinked them away. “I’m here wasting your time.”
He finished his tea and got to his feet. “Are you telling me you don’t believe you can be Healed? Or you think I’m too poor a Healer to accomplish the task?”
She clenched her fists and in frustration shouted, “I’m too broken to be Healed! Can’t you see that? Let me go home where I can be of some use!”
As he walked back toward the fire pit, he asked, “Are you hungry? There’s some duck soup left over from breakfast.”
She didn’t answer. She felt shattered, certain that no one would ever be able to fix her wandering reflection-soul in her body. Finally, she responded, “I might be able to keep down some broth.”
He dipped a cup into the pot sitting at the edge of the coals and walked back. As he handed it to her, he said, “You realize, don’t you, that if you go home before you’re Healed, you will probably be killed by your own people?”
She clamped her jaw to keep it from trembling.
The illness that Strongheart called the Rainbow Black took a strange form inside her. Sora had seen it. It was a dark wicked spirit, a
Midnight Fox.
Flint believed that her reflection-soul wandered away, roaming the forest while her body committed murder. If Strongheart couldn’t find her lost soul and make it stay in her body, her clan would have no choice but to protect itself.
Gently, he pointed out, “If the Midnight Fox seizes you
again and someone—anyone—in the village dies, you will be blamed.”
Blamed and killed for it. Not even Wink would be able to save her, not this time.
As her throat tightened and tears burned her eyes, she set her bowl down.
Strongheart smoothed her hair. “Eat. Then get some sleep. We’ll be moving again soon. You will need your strength.”
VOICES PENETRATED AROUND THE DOOR CURTAIN TO THE council chamber in the Matron’s House at Blackbird Town.
For a few moments, High Matron Wink stood in the dim hallway, listening to the three men inside the chamber. She couldn’t make out any of their words, but their indignant tones told her a great deal.
She straightened the conch shell combs that pinned her graying black hair behind her ears and smoothed the wrinkles from her purple dress. She had seen thirty-six winters and felt every one today. Weariness draped her body like an iron cape. As she ducked beneath the door curtain into the torchlit council chamber, the three men rose to their feet.
The council chamber was twenty paces across, and sacred masks lined the walls, divine beings that watched over the Black Falcon People. Birdman, Sun Mother, and the different Comet People were her favorites. Their empty eye sockets seemed to be staring straight at her. As she walked by, the
streaming hair of the Comet People swayed and the scent of long-dried herbs filled the air.
Four log benches framed the fire hearth. When she neared them, the men bowed.
Her sixteen-winters-old son, Chief Long Fin, stood directly in front of her. He looked regal today. His golden cape fell around his tall body like sculpted sunlight. One long black braid hung down his back. To his left stood War Chief Feather Dancer, a heavily scarred man with a thumblike nose; to his right was a short man with hunched shoulders. He had small shining eyes and a twitching nose that reminded Wink of a trapped packrat.
Red Raven.
Matron Sea Grass’ secret messenger. Every time she had a task too onerous for a decent person to complete, she paid this snake to do it. While Wink had never met him, she had several allies in the Water Hickory Clan who’d been watching him for winters.
“Please sit down,” she said as she walked to the one open bench and sank down atop it. “We have a good deal to discuss. I assume you are Red Raven?”
The little man swallowed hard. “I am, High Matron. I was surprised when you sent War Chief Feather Dancer to drag me out of my chamber. May I ask why I have been summoned?”
The pearls on the sleeves of her long purple dress shimmered when she reached for one of the cups resting beside the tea pot and dipped it full. The fragrances of bumblebee honey and dried palm berries wafted up with the steam.
For ten heartbeats, she sipped her tea and studied the men. Long Fin grimaced as though he, too, was upset by being ordered to appear in her council chamber at such short notice. Feather Dancer, on the other hand, glared so steadily at Red Raven that the man couldn’t sit still. He kept shifting on his bench.
Wink set her cup aside and said, “I understand that you are the man who found Chief Short Tail.”
Red Raven’s eyes darted around the chamber before coming back to her. “How do you know about that?”
“Did you or didn’t you?”
Feather Dancer drew his war club from his belt and placed it across his lap.
“High Matron, please,” Red Raven said without taking his eyes from Feather Dancer. “I was on a personal mission for my clan matron. I’m sure she would not wish me to discuss the details—”
“Rumor has it that you saw a woman in the forest just before you discovered his body. Is that true?”
Red Raven’s jaw clenched. He seemed to be assessing the situation, wondering how she knew this information. He must know he couldn’t get away before Feather Dancer smashed his skull, and even if he did, she would order him hauled back and held under guard until he answered her questions … or disappeared never to be seen again.
“I have also heard that there was a man who came to get her. Are these things true?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
Wink got to her feet. “Three days ago, Water Hickory Clan went against the Council of Elders and attacked a Loon village, Eagle Flute Village. It was treason. Because the council wished to avoid civil war, it voted not to throw Water Hickory Clan out of the Black Falcon Nation, but we will be reassessing that decision at dusk today. Your clan’s position is very tenuous.
Your
position is even more tenuous. Do you understand me?”
“But I am just a humble messenger, High Matron!”
She turned to Feather Dancer. “War Chief, I must go and prepare myself for the council meeting. I’ll be occupied for the
rest of the day. In my absence, please convince Red Raven that his cooperation is necessary.”
“Yes, Matron.” Feather Dancer gripped his war club and walked around the fire to loom over Red Raven.
Long Fin paled as though he found his mother’s methods distasteful. He knew so little about the way the world worked. She blamed herself. All of his life, she’d sheltered and coddled him.
Boldly, Long Fin said, “Mother, as high chief I must tell you that I don’t like—”
She turned her back on him and strode for the door.
Just as she gripped the curtain and pulled it aside, Red Raven called, “Well, maybe I—I do recall some of those things.”
Wink looked back over her shoulder. “For your sake, I hope you recall all of them.”
He looked up into Feather Dancer’s scarred face and, in a very conciliatory voice, replied, “I would take it as a great favor, High Matron, if you gave me your oath that no one will ever know I spoke with you tonight.”
She nodded.
He heaved a sigh and said, “Very well.”
She marched back across the chamber and seated herself to his left. “Go on.”
Feather Dancer didn’t move. He continued standing beside Red Raven with his war club in his hand.
Red Raven glanced up at him before saying, “Five days ago, Matron Sea Grass sent me off with a message for Chief Short Tail. I was supposed to find him before the attack on Eagle Flute Village, but instead of waiting for dawn, as she’d ordered him to, the fool attacked at night.” He ran a sweating hand through his black hair. “I had to hide until the battle was done. And it wasn’t easy! Enemy warriors swarmed all around me. Were it not for my courage—”
“Tell me about the woman.”
His lips pursed, unhappy that he hadn’t been able to regale her with stories of his bravery. He said, “I saw her long after the battle was over. She walked through the forest, sat down on a log, and looked out at the smoldering village. She said, ‘He’s dead. I want you to know that.’ I don’t know what she meant. She seemed to be staring down at two dead Water Hickory warriors.”
“What did she look like?”
He gestured uncertainly. “Tall, with long black hair. It was dark; I couldn’t see very well.”
“What was she wearing?”
“Nothing.”
Wink paused, absorbing that. “Then what happened?”
“I was thinking about killing her when a man ran out of the forest, gasped at the sight of her, and said, ‘What are you doing here?’ Then she said something like, ‘He was a fool. He defied our matron.’”
“Did you recognize her?”
“No. But, as I said, it was dark.”
“What about her voice—had you heard it before?”
Red Raven tilted his head. “Now that you mention it, there was something familiar about it, but I didn’t recognize it.”
Hope reared like a wild animal inside Wink. Sora had been her best friend for twenty-five winters. Since the attack on Eagle Flute Village she had been desperate to know if Sora was alive or dead. She’d sent search parties out to comb the forests. She’d even hired a woman to pick through the ruins of Eagle Flute Village for any sign of Sora’s body. They’d found nothing.
The woman Red Raven saw might have been Sora. It sounds like Sora.
“What did the man do after she left?”
Red Raven shrugged. “He went over to Short Tail’s body—though, at the time, I didn’t know it was Short Tail’s body—flipped him over, and said, ‘You fool, now who will tell our clan matron that I received her message?’”
“What message?”
“I don’t know! I didn’t deliver it.”
The sound of the rain and the scents of soaked wood grew stronger.
Red Raven added, “And I won’t even swear that’s what the man said. He was muttering. That’s what I
thought
he said.”
“Did you know him?”
“No, but he must be a member of Water Hickory Clan,” he answered a little too glibly. “Don’t you agree?”
Feather Dancer thumped his war club into his open palm.
Red Raven glanced up at him. “Then the man ran off after the woman, and I never saw either of them again.”
“Why did you go over to the body?”
He shrugged. “It looked odd.”
“In what way?”
“Well, for one thing, the man had a sash tied around his throat and his eyes were bulging out of his head.” Enthusiastically, he added, “The most interesting part was what the murderer had done—”
“What do you mean, ‘murderer’? Short Tail had just attacked a village. He must have been killed in the battle.”
Red Raven’s lips quirked into a semblance of a smile, showing his rotted front teeth. “That’s what I thought at first, but when I looked closer I saw that all of his belongings, his copper jewelry, his stiletto, bow and quiver, even his clothing had been arranged around him.”
Wink sat back on the bench and stared at the ugly little man. “You mean like a Healing Circle?”
Red Raven’s smile widened, as though pleased that she’d come to the same conclusion he had. “Curious, isn’t it? I can’t figure out why a murderer would—”
“One last question,” Wink interrupted. “What was the message you were carrying to Short Tail?”
Red Raven blanched. He looked up at Feather Dancer, then across at Long Fin. “High Matron, if Sea Grass ever finds out I told you—”
“What was it?”
Feather Dancer edged closer to Red Raven and searched his skull, as though trying to decide where to land his first blow.
Red Raven hesitated before lifting both hands in surrender. “I was supposed to tell him that his next target was Fan Palm Village.”
“Another Loon Nation village!” Long Fin burst out. “But the council voted against attacking any more Loon villages!”
Wink’s teeth clenched so hard it set her jaw askew. She longed to stride across Blackbird Town, drag the old woman out of her bed, and slit her throat.
She said, “Feather Dancer, escort Red Raven back to his chamber.”
“Certainly, Matron.”
Feather Dancer used his club to gesture to the door, and Red Raven hurried out with the warrior close behind him.
Long Fin rubbed his temples as though in pain. “Dear gods, I can’t believe it. Sea Grass has defied the council again!”
An odd light-headedness had seized her souls. For a time, she sat there as though made of wood.
“It seems, my son, that Water Hickory Clan is waging its own secret war against the Loon Nation.”
She had been trying very hard to prevent civil war, but after this …
Long Fin said, “What about the woman that Red Raven saw? Do you think she was Chieftess Sora?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure about that part yet, but I’m almost certain the man was Flint. He recognized Short Tail and said ‘our clan.’”
“But if Flint is alive, if he survived the attack on Eagle Flute Village, why hasn’t he returned to the Black Falcon Nation?”
Wink shook her head slowly. Dire thoughts had started to weasel into her souls, treachery on a scale she had not imagined.
“There’s only one thing that would keep him away.”
“What’s that?”
A hollow sensation filled her as she answered, “The orders of his clan matron.”

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