It Wakes in Me (2 page)

Read It Wakes in Me Online

Authors: Kathleen O'Neal Gear

BOOK: It Wakes in Me
9.25Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
Teal whispered something he couldn’t hear. The little bald elder resembled a walking skeleton. His white-filmed eyes might have been frozen lakes.
“No,” Matron Wink whispered.
Feather Dancer wished she would just make the decision, give him his orders, and allow him to go back to his duties. Blackbird Town was in danger. She didn’t need him here. He needed to check on the guards he’d posted and make certain they were still alive.
“We can’t wait until morning,” Matron Wink said, barely audible. “Flint must leave now. There’s no time to waste.”
Neither Flint nor Priest Teal responded. They both just stared at her. Flint, a tall handsome man, had a perfectly chiseled face
and large black eyes. His cape was a splash of darkness in the firelight.
It set Feather Dancer’s teeth on edge.
The Black Falcon People loved colors, the brighter the better. The fact that Flint chose garments that blended with the shadows made Feather Dancer distrust him even more. It was as though the man deliberately sought to set himself apart from the rest of the people—just as witches did.
To stifle his raging emotions, Feather Dancer turned to study the beautiful woman lying on the litter beside the fire. Long black hair haloed Chieftess Sora’s pale face. Her blankets, the color of bloodred earth, had been woven from the finest buffalo wool and dyed with dog-tail weed. Her fingers jerked, grasping at something no one else could see. Feather Dancer feared that her shadow-soul—the soul that walked in dreams—was traveling through a terrifying land.
Priest Teal had tried to Heal her, but she’d kept denying the murders, and Teal had been forced to declare the Healing Circle a failure. Apparently no one, except perhaps Feather Dancer, believed her when she said she was innocent.
Chieftess Sora made a soft pained sound. Tears leaked from her eyes and dropped onto her red blankets like perfect dewdrops.
Matron Wink said, “She probably heard us talking about Long Lance.”
Flint swiftly walked across the floor and knelt at the chieftess’ side. His cape draped around him in sculpted raven folds. As he gently brushed the tears from her cheeks, he said, “Don’t cry, Sora. He won’t fail. I won’t let him.”
Matron Wink pressed her fingers to her lips as though to keep her own cries locked in her throat. In a shaking voice, she whispered, “Dear gods, I’ve betrayed her. I’ve betrayed her.”
The chieftess’ mouth opened in what might have been a silent cry; then she laughed.
Perhaps it was the resemblance to a sob, or the rage that lived inside the laughter, but the room went deathly quiet.
“No,” Flint answered. “You’re trying to save her life—and the thing she cherishes most, her people.”
Feather Dancer shifted irritably. Dawn was not far away. If Matron Wink wanted Flint to take the chieftess to Long Lance, then he
did
need to go, quickly. The trip was risky at best, and Flint had already lost the cover of darkness.
“War Chief?”
“Yes, Matron,” Feather Dancer squared his shoulders, glad that he was finally going to be dismissed.
“I want you to accompany Flint. Do whatever he says. Do you understand?”
“But, Matron …” Feather Dancer felt like he’d been bludgeoned. “We may be attacked at any moment. You need me here in Blackbird Town! You can’t send me away on a Healing mission when the lives of our people are in danger.”
She marched across the floor and gave him a hard look. “You’re the only one I can trust to make certain Chieftess Sora lives through this. Besides … there’s more going on here than your ears are hearing.”
“What do you mean?”
She turned away to grimace at Flint. “I can’t answer that, not yet.”
“Did you receive new information?”
“Yes. Just moments ago.”
Feather Dancer blinked. No one had entered through the front entrance of the Matron’s House. Had a messenger passed by the guard he’d posted at the rear entrance?
“Who brought you this information?”
“Flint. Flint told me.”
Feather Dancer glared. “The man is a scoundrel. Why do you believe him?”
“Because I can’t afford to disbelieve him! If he’s right, I must do something.”
Did she mean they were about to be attacked? Perhaps by the Loon People? “Do something? To stop what?”
She turned toward the chieftess and squinted as though it pained her to see her lifelong friend looking utterly helpless. “I pray she will understand. In the end.”
In a clipped voice, he said, “She may, Matron, but I certainly do not.”
Matron Wink ran a hand through her graying hair as though to ease a building headache. “I want you to obey Flint as you would me. Is that clear?”
He stepped closer to her and, just above a whisper, pressed, “Matron, if I am to protect our chieftess, I must know what I might be facing out there. Please tell me this new information.”
She seemed to be considering it. Her lips pressed into a thin bloodless line. “I can’t risk it. Just do as Flint says. He knows far more about this than I do.”
Feather Dancer’s gaze shot to Flint, and the man had the audacity to smile at him. His white teeth gleamed in the firelight.
Matron Wink would never give control of her war chief to anyone unless the situation was grave and a transfer of power absolutely necessary.
Feather Dancer asked, “Where is the Loon People’s war chief, Grown Bear?”
Grown Bear had stayed for the Healing Circle at the Matron’s request.
Flint rose to his feet, and his bushy black brows plunged down over his straight nose. “Gone. He left right after the Healing Circle failed. Grown Bear said that if he hurried, he could catch his warriors on the trail home. Why do you ask?”
“I don’t trust him. He believes Chieftess Sora killed his chief, Blue Bow. Grown Bear is in a difficult position. If he returns home without having taken some kind of revenge, his people will cut him apart and feed him to their dogs. Matron, I recommend you have a war party accompany us until we reach the northern lands of this Healer, Priest Long Lance.”
“No.” She shook her head. “As you’ve pointed out, we are in danger. We need our warriors here. You’ll have to protect yourselves.”
Though it angered him that she would throw him into a boiling pot with a man he would just as soon stab as look at, in her position he would probably do the same. Chieftess Sora was precious to the Black Falcon People, but her single life was nothing compared to the hundreds who might die if Blackbird Town was attacked. They would need every man and woman who could wield a bow.
“Matron?” Priest Teal propped his walking stick and gingerly started across the floor.
She hurried to meet him halfway. “Sit down, Teal, before you collapse. Over the past few days you’ve worked so hard to Heal her that you’ve barely slept.”
His head trembled. “I will rest once our chieftess is away. One last time”—he paused to give the matron a piercing look through his white-filmed eyes—“are you certain that Long Lance is the person you wish to Heal her?”
“Yes, I—I think so.”
Teal stared at her, apparently waiting, perhaps hoping she would change her mind. When she didn’t, he turned to Flint and said, “Don’t give the chieftess any more of the sleeping potion until tomorrow night.”
“But what if she wakes during the day?” Flint asked. “If she starts screaming—”
“Tie her up and gag her if necessary, but
do not
give her the
potion more than once a day or you will poison her and she will never wake up. I know you think you are a Healer, Flint, but trust me, you are a novice at best.
Listen to me.
”
Flint’s expression hardened, but he tilted his head in reluctant agreement.
Feather Dancer felt as if a huge hand were squeezing his chest. He narrowed his eyes at Flint.
All of this is your fault.
“Feather Dancer?” Matron Wink said. “Before you leave, I want you to come to my chamber. You may be questioned along the way. I must give you her ceremonial celt to verify her identity.”
A celt was a ceremonial chert war club, only carried by rulers. “Of course, Matron.”
Matron Wink pointed her finger like a stiletto at Flint’s heart. “Now you and I must talk.”
Flint followed her across the chamber, far enough away that it would be difficult for Teal or Feather Dancer to overhear their conversation.
Nonetheless, Feather Dancer strained to hear every word.
With the softness of an assassin’s footfall, she said, “Only you and I know … details … we are taking grave … if Sora dies, we will never … do you …”
Flint’s black eyes sparkled when he looked down at her. “I understand perfectly, Wink. Did you send … messenger … Strongheart?”
“Yes, I’ve taken care …”
A gust of wind flapped the door curtain and drowned out their voices.
The iron-gray flash of dawn briefly streaked the floor; then it was gone, replaced by the warm gleam of the fire. The clouds must have broken.
Feather Dancer’s hands clenched to fists at his sides. Flint had mentioned Strongheart, the chief priest in Eagle Flute Village.
Blue Bow’s village. Were they truly taking Chieftess Sora to Long Lance in the far north? His roiling gut told him Flint was engaged in a desperate game that had little to do with Chieftess Sora, but he couldn’t prove it.
The matron said, “There is one more thing I want to say to you, Flint.”
He straightened as though expecting something unpleasant. She had not always been kind to him. During the time Flint and Sora had been married, Wink had frequently threatened Flint’s life. Once, when Feather Dancer had seen fifteen winters, Flint had reportedly hurt Sora and Wink had chased him out of Blackbird Town swinging a war ax. “What is it, Wink?”
“For the sake of the gods, you
must
keep her safe.” Tears made her voice shake.
It took five heartbeats before Flint replied, “If your war chief follows my orders, she will be safe. If not, her death will be his fault.”
Feather Dancer propped his hands on his hips. “My matron has ordered me to obey you. Therefore I will. I don’t like it. I don’t like you. But so long as breath lives in my body I will obey my matron.”
A faint smile turned Flint’s lips, and behind those dark eyes Feather Dancer saw something akin to triumph. “Good. Then gather your things and let’s be on our way before it’s too late. We must hurry.”
IN THE DREAM, I LOCK MY LEGS AROUND HIM AND HOLD HIM tightly. “I just want to feel you inside me. This may be the last time we …” Tears constrict my throat. I start moving.
“Blessed gods,” Skinner whispers, matching my rhythm. “You cannot know how I need this. It keeps me here. Here with you. Just as it keeps your reflection-soul home. Tell me what to do. I’ll do anything you want.”
I sit up with him still inside me and move in frantic fits, bringing him close, then stopping, just petting him, before I slowly begin again. A low moan sounds in his throat. He doesn’t have to do anything except give me the freedom to please him. When my own body flushes on the verge of ecstasy, he rasps, “Harder, Sora. Hurry.”
I move faster. As the fiery wave builds, he grips my hips and violently shoves me down on his manhood.
He moans, “Oh, gods! I love you so much.”
His hands move up my arms and clench around my throat. When I start gasping for air, it is as though white-hot fire explodes inside me. My entire body bucks and quivers. He wraps his arms around me and
rolls us both over so that he is on top. His long hair falls around me like a dark curtain.
Abruptly, he lifts his head and chokes out, “Who … who’s there? Sora? Do you see him?”
“Who?”
“Him.”
I try to rise to look, but he shoves me down and his fingers tighten around my throat again. “Quickly, before he comes, tell me how you did it.” He glares at me with huge feral eyes, more animal than human. “How did you do it!”
“Do what?” I beg and tear at his hands. “What are you talking about?”
“How did you kill her? Did you slip something into her food? Did you hire someone to do it?”
I strike him with my fists, fighting to shove him away. “Stop it!”
He shakes me so violently I think my neck might snap. “How did you get that close to her camp without someone seeing you? Witchery? Did you fly in on raven wings?”
The edges of my vision go gray. Just before I lose consciousness two gleaming eyes blaze to life inside me and I …
Skinner rolls off me and shouts, “No, don’t! You don’t understand! Talk to Wink. She’ll tell you … Wait!”
Then he roars.
And keeps roaring.
Like a man fighting for his life.
 
 
… THE CRY OF A NIGHT BIRD JOLTS ME, AND THE DREAM dissolves into darkness.
I suck in a deep breath and slowly realize that the mossy fragrance of Persimmon Lake is gone, replaced by the sandy odor of the inland trails leading northward. Where am I?
I flex my fingers and touch blankets.
Below them, I trace poles.
I’m being carried on a pole litter.
This is real.
Blessed gods,
I’m alive.
I’m waking up.
“How many times must I tell you? She is sick! We are taking her to the one man in the world who might be able to Heal her. Why can’t you understand that?”
I would know Flint’s deep voice anywhere. We were married for fourteen winters. When he left me, my world ended. I loved him desperately. I remember running after him, begging him to come home, to …
“I can’t understand it because I don’t believe Chieftess Sora needs to be Healed. She didn’t kill any of those people. You did! Or you and your allies did.”
That’s my war chief, Feather Dancer … . His words are tiny sharp bolts of light behind my eyes.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you are plotting to bring about her downfall so you can put someone else in her place. If Matron Wink hadn’t ordered me to be here, I wouldn’t be.”
Wink ordered Feather Dancer to accompany Flint? Where are they taking me? And where is “here”?
“You really dislike me, don’t you?”
Flint asks, and I can hear the smile in his voice. He’s enjoying Feather Dancer’s hostility.
“If I could just slip a stiletto between your ribs, I’d like you much better.”
“And who do I have in mind to replace Sora?”
Feather Dancer shifts; his damp leather sandals squeak.
“I’m not sure, but I suspect you’re plotting to install Long Fin.”
“Ah, I see,”
Flint says with exaggerated interest.
“Then if I’m trying to replace Sora with Wink’s son, I must be plotting with Wink, is that right? Matron Wink and I want to overthrow Sora?”
Feather Dancer does not answer. He can’t. If he says yes and is wrong his traitorous accusation might result in his own death.
Somewhere out in the forest the night bird cries again. The shriek carries on the wind, rising and falling until it fades to silence.
I fill my lungs just to feel the air move. How far are we from Blackbird Town? How long have we been on this journey?
More importantly, am I ill?
I search through the shining jumble that has become my memory. Images flash; mouths move without words. I remember Wink’s face appearing out of the darkness, suspended above me like a war club. Wink is my oldest and most trusted friend. We are from the same clan, the Shadow Rock Clan. While she rose to the position of matron of the Black Falcon Nation, I became the high chieftess. If Wink ordered my war chief and former husband to take me to a man who can Heal me, I must be sick.
What’s wrong with me?
My fingers snake down over my hips. I am bundled in blankets. Wink must have wrapped me up for the journey. I know because on many occasions she has personally cared for me when I’ve been sick or injured. The way the blankets are layered and tucked around my body is her work. She made certain I would be warm. Love for her fills me, and for the first time I can take a full breath.
Somewhere close by a fire crackles. If I concentrate, I can hear tree branches rustling in the cool night breeze.
Feather Dancer’s voice again, angry:
“Know this, Flint. If she mysteriously dies on this trip, you will be next.”
I manage to tug up my eyelids and see them sitting in a halo of firelight five paces away, facing each other across the blaze like mortal enemies. Both men are tall, muscular, but where Feather Dancer’s heavily scarred face proves he has fought valiantly in many battles, Flint’s smooth features convey something far different. No matter where he goes, women’s eyes follow him, and he knows this. Long black hair hangs down over his buckskin shirt, framing his large black
eyes, straight nose, and full lips. Lips that seem to be suppressing mirth, but the amusement does not reach his angry eyes.
Flint responds,
“Just do as I say, Feather Dancer, and Sora will be safe. If you do not, the Black Falcon Nation will blame
you
for her death, not me.”
Feather Dancer’s scars contort. He throws the last dregs of his tea into the fire and stamps away into the darkness.
Flint chuckles softly. For a time, he stares at the windblown flames, listening until he seems certain Feather Dancer is gone.
Then he asks,
“Did you hear all of that, Sora?”
How did he know I was awake? Did I move? He must be watching me very closely.
“ … part.”
I’m not certain I’ve actually spoken, but he responds immediately by walking over and kneeling at my side. The firelight flutters across his handsome face like transparent orange butterflies.
“But you heard enough to know that we’re taking you to a Healer, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
He gently pulls the blankets up around my throat and bends to kiss me.
“You’re going to be all right. I give you my oath.”
His lips are soft. I started wanting this man when I’d seen fourteen winters, and I’ve never stopped
—
despite the fact that I am now married to another. My husband, Rockfish, is a great Trader. He …
“Stop thinking about him, Sora.”
“What?”
“Your husband. You were thinking about your husband. Your brows drew together like they always do when you’re feeling guilty.”
Flint knows me better than I know myself. In a curious way, our souls are linked. I concentrate on what I want to ask him.
“Are you … plotting against me?”
His hand moves down my blankets to my breast, and he squeezes
gently.
“Where were you a half-moon ago when White Fawn was killed? We were supposed to wed. Did you kill her, like you did all the others? Your father, your sister, your mother. Far Eye and Blue Bow? And many more, I suspect.”
The list of names stuns me. Especially Blue Bow. He is a chief from the Loon Nation; he’s holding eleven of Flint’s kinsmen hostage in Eagle Flute Village. It’s a battle over territory. The gathering grounds have belonged to the Black Falcon Nation for generations, but the Loon People now claim them. When the small party from Oak Leaf Village went out to gather fresh spring tubers, Blue Bow captured them. I’ll work it out; I just need more time. I …
“Answer me, Sora. Did you kill White Fawn?”
“ … Who?”
“You are such a good liar, my sweet murderess.”
Flint stretches out on the ground beside me and tenderly brushes away the hair that has tangled with my eyelashes. I am so weak, I cannot even find the strength to resist.
“Your reflection-soul is loose, Sora. We’re taking you to a Healer who may be able to fix it in your body. If not …” He makes a sound like a war club striking a skull. “Wink will have no choice.”
Insanity is caused when a person’s reflection-soul is jarred loose and gets lost in the forest. Only very powerful Healers can find it and bring it back to the body. If the soul can’t be found, it is the clan’s responsibility to ensure the sick person will never harm anyone else.
My reflection-soul is loose?
How did this happen? Was I struck in the head?
This stirs a feeling of horror inside me, as though something has happened recently that I should remember. There was a shadow-soul … loose … . It had stolen a living body … .
“My memory,”
I whisper.
“What’s wrong?”
Flint props himself on his elbow and smiles down at me.
“What are you trying to recall?”
“There was a … a shadow-soul … living inside someone … .”
Flint slips his hand beneath my blankets and slides it up my thigh.
“We’re giving you a sleeping potion. Your thoughts will be confused for a time. But a few days after we stop the potion, it will all come back.”
“A few days? Is that how long it will … take …”
My thoughts dissolve like ice in bright sunlight. I can’t recall what I wished to ask him. Images appear and melt behind my eyes: running, running through dark trees, screams in the distance, shouts … a shining copper breastplate … warriors calling insults … Far Eye’s muted laughter.
“Is that how long it will take us to get there?” Flint suggests.
“Yes.”
His hand moves to the warmth between my legs. As his fingers sensually press the fabric of my dress against my opening, he whispers,
“I love you, Sora. You know that, don’t you? You know I’m trying to help you.”
I have known him all of my adult life. I can tell from the dire way he’s looking at me that he’s telling the truth.
“Yes. I know that.”

Other books

Matt Archer: Monster Summer by Highley, Kendra C.
Bad Boy Boss by Abby Chance
Yours, Mine & Ours by Jennifer Greene
Graffiti Moon by Crowley, Cath
El caballo y su niño by C.S. Lewis
Armageddon Rules by J. C. Nelson
Frost Moon by Anthony Francis
The Gunsmith 386 by J. R. Roberts
A Reaper's Love (WindWorld) by Charlotte Boyett-Compo