Passion's Series (33 page)

Chapter Ten

He Who Dances In Battle called to answer the blood cry immediately.  His younger brother had been a good warrior, and many mourned the loss of one whose future had seemed so bright.  The bride-to-be of Soft-Spoken Hawk wrapped bandages around her arms though her face was unreadable.

Raven was about to go in search of Dawn when he saw her standing a short distance from the crowd.  He knew at once that she stood back so he would be able to spot her.  She smiled and gave him a slow, small nod.  He returned the gesture, knowing she told him she was well and happy to see his safe return.  Seeing his little Funny Face gave him strength of purpose.  He fought for his family.

Raven Cloud turned his attention back to the Chief.  He wanted to be among those who would go with Dances in Battle.  He offered to do so, and was surprised when many agreed that his choice was a good one.  After the burial ceremony all the braves as well as New Moon gathered with the Chief in the council lodge.  The women who attended sat behind and a little back from the braves that gathered to give a full account of their mission.

Raven’s mistakes made during the hunt were no longer mentioned and seemed to have lost importance.  He knew, of course, this was not true.  They had merely lessoned in priority.  He could admit to himself now that the experience had been valuable.  Had not Uncle told him over and over again, a warrior’s strength is in his love for
Ani Yunwiya
, The People.

He reasoned in his mind and in his heart the possible consequences of his actions.  Dawn and Small Thunder could have been hurt or even killed.  Dawn’s skill of covering her trail alone could have cost her life.  The thought of death brought Hawk to mind.  He blamed himself while he also knew he had chosen well in the campsite.

The other braves that had been along spoke well of Hawk, and Raven.  They attributed much of their survival to Raven Cloud's leadership.  None found fault in his leadership or skill in battle and to him, far more surprising was that none seemed to blame him for Hawk's death. 

Climbing Bear and New Moon had been back for a day before Raven Cloud's group had returned.  Because of their story, the presence of rogue Choctaw and Spanish men was not as surprising to the village.  Still, it was troubling news.

At least four Spaniards had already been killed, and several Choctaw.  How many more were lurking in the woods?  It seemed likely that this all had to do with Red Panther's disappearance.  Raven's warning had spoken of mercenaries that might attack.  This was much like warring with the French had been.  Those foreigners too had set walled forts in the woods, attacking whom they wished and stealing away people without reservation.

A day after Raven returned to Chota Town, Derek returned from the mission he'd been given.  Truthfully, it had been New Moon's errand, but her name was not mentioned.  The trader had been at the trading post for quite some time, and there was beginning to be question as to whether he'd been able to retrieve any information.  Moon was tense and Golden Dawn unusually quiet.

In the Chief's lodge, a group gathered to decide on the next course of action.  There would be a blood cry, that was unquestionable.  The chosen warriors were already preparing, forgoing food, and ridding themselves of any stray hairs.  However, they would gather their information together and choose the best path for the warriors to take.

Derek Smith sat with them this time, enjoying a long drag from his own pipe as the others spoke.  They were leading into his information, New Moon mentioning that he had been sent to find out what he could from the other traders.

He leaned forward, pipe resting idly in hand, “So yes, I was able to figure out a couple of things that might help us.  You see, there's been talk of Spaniards in the area lately, and several have been seen buying goods for a tidy sum of people.”

Chief Dancing Cloud frowned, “How many is this sum?”

Derek grimaced back, forgetting himself for a moment and meeting eyes with the chief.  He jerked his gaze to a random spot on the wall before continuing, “Ah, the goods they were buying suggest at least a good company of men; twenty or so.  However, as some of you have seen, they have apparently hired some rogue Choctaw that are no longer associated with any clans.  Some were seen at the trading post with the Spanish.”

He Who Dances In Battle clenched and unclenched his fists, staring into the fire, “It will not matter, we will find where they hide and overwhelm them with numbers, skill, and ferocity.”

Here, Derek couldn't help but smile, “Fortunately, I think I can help with that whole hideaway part.”  He pulled a folded bit of paper from one of his pouches, hardly more than a scrap, “I found this at one of the taverns.  I believe it might be a map.”

Raven Cloud and New Moon took the scrap of paper, eyeing it carefully to try and decipher the crude marks.  It was rough, but the trading post and Chota
Town were well outlined.  It seemed to match up with what they'd found in their search.

“This is accurate,” said New Moon, handing the paper to Dances In Battle, “If we had continued along the trails we followed in the woods, we would have found a place near there.”

Raven Cloud nodded, “I agree.  Had we traveled for only another day, we would have come upon their main camp.  I feel that we can depend on this to be true.”

Derek beamed.

The conversation slipped into English at one moment, then lapsed back into the beautiful speech of the Cherokee for the next hour.  They spoke softly, calmly, but the firelight was not the only thing that burned in their eyes.  A plan began to take shape.

Late that evening, the group inside of the lodge finally began to leave.  Many were stiff from the long hours of sitting in on the discussion.  There were still ceremonies in preparation and chores to be tended.  As Raven stood to depart, Dancing Cloud gestured that he stay.  Soon, only the two of them remained inside.  Even the chief's wife and child were outside, preparing a meal and drawing water.

“Raven Who Flies To Meet The Clouds,” the elder spoke in contemplation, as if considering the meanings interwoven in that name, “The Raven is a symbol for messenger, and you brought the message to The Principal People so we would be forewarned and ready.  You have been brave and have shown great strength when protecting The Principal People.”

Raven stared at his Chief's shoulder, “Yet, you are not happy with me, do not know what to think of me and the way I am?”

“Oh, so you are telling me my own mind?  You know what a man thinks, why should other men even bother to speak?”

“I... forgive me, Chief Dancing Cloud.”

The chief chuckled, shaking his head, “Here is where you do confuse me, child.  You work so hard to be as one of the Principal People, yet white man's ways are ingrained into you.  One moment you apologize for being white, the next you apologize for being Cherokee.”

Raven found it hard to swallow being called a child, but the next words went beyond stinging him, “I do not apologize for being one of the Principal People.”  He gritted his teeth, fighting to control another rush of anger.

“What is it that causes you so much fear?  Why are you always so close to exploding, as if you were a bear infected with old steel?”

The young brave felt defeated by the words, and his proud-shoulders sagged, “I do not believe that I can be as I should be.”  His voice hardened, “I truly begin to wonder at my purpose, my place.”

Dancing Cloud's face was grim, “Raven Who Flies To Meet The Clouds, I am not angry with you.  Truly.  I worry.  You worry so much, lash out so readily, many do not know what to think of you.  They find you brave, they have seen your battle prowess, and yet they wonder if you might attack one of them for a misplaced word.”

Raven Cloud took a deep breath, trying to straighten his shoulders, “Are you prohibiting me from joining for the blood cry?  Is that what this is about?”

Silence filled the room, and here Dancing Cloud stared straight into Raven's eyes, unblinking.  Time stretched in the quiet, and the fire's crackling life was the only sound.  Finally, the chief spoke, “I will not prevent you from going on this blood cry, but I think you must find your place soon, young warrior.”  He rubbed his chin, gaze falling to the flames, “Perhaps you should consider that this is not where you should be.”

Raven grunted, feeling as if he'd been struck physically.  It was not an order to leave the village, but it was a strong suggestion that he might want to.  He stood up slowly, “I will consider this.”

Dancing Cloud frowned as he watched the young man leave the tent.

***

Derek Smith sat at the edge of a fire under a clear sky.  Stars were scattered across the great blue above him, their glow surpassing the brilliance of the flames below.  Golden Dawn sat across from him next to her mother, New Moon's gaze one of a person lost in thought.  Farthest Running Antelope was there as well, another who would answer the blood cry.

They sat near the council house at the head of the ball field, the large open expanse where ceremonies and games were held.  Several groups were out here on that night, some for purposes of mourning, and others for purposes of preparation for the war party.  It was mostly quiet now, talk and activity dying down as many readied to go to their lodges for sleep.

Derek's eyes widened as a shooting star leapt across the sky, and he pointed up to follow it, “There, do you see it?”

Dawn peered up, following the streaking light with bright eyes, “I have been told that such are great strange creatures,” she spread her arms as wide as she could, “There bodies are round and covered in downy feathers.  Perhaps that one looks for a lost loved one?”  Her gaze flicked toward New Moon, but the comment hardly seemed to register.

Moon was conflicted.  She wanted to run with the warriors again so as to help find her husband.  However, she worried that Dawn might follow as on Raven's hunt, and then there was the question of what would happen if her son and daughter lost their mother while Panther was missing.  New Moon would not risk leaving her children without parents.  She would stay behind despite the ache she felt to do otherwise.

Derek was smiling at the stars, oblivious to the interplay between mother and daughter, “Oh, if the twinkles of the sky are feathered beasts, then why are they so bright above?”

Dawn's expression lightened, worry for her parent's pushed to the side.  There was nothing she could do about it.  Instead, she grinned, “It is said that showers of sparks erupt from under their feathers when ruffled by the wind.”  Dawn pointed upward, “That's why you see the trail when one of them is chasing something across the sky.  The sparks take a bit to go out.”

Derek laughed, “Oh is that it?  I suppose that's why the whole Milky Way is full of them.”

Shaking her head, “Of course not, silly.  That's where the dog ran!”

Antelope nodded toward Derek, “It is known.  A great dog stole cornmeal, yet was caught while trying to escape with its dishonest prize.  Running from pursuers, the creature scattered the meal as it raced away in flight.”

Suddenly, Golden Dawn jumped up as she saw Raven Cloud leaving the chief's lodge, “There you are.  We were wondering where you'd gone.”

Raven Cloud could not help but smile, Dawn was the brightest part of his life right now, “Don’t worry, Funny Face.  I just had to speak with Dancing Cloud for a moment.”  Walking up beside Dawn, they both took a seat next to Derek.

Derek nodded, “I figured as much.  I am glad that my information was helpful to the group.”

Raven's expression went dark, “It was very helpful, and now I almost wish we hadn't gone searching the woods.  You were able to get much of the same knowledge without risking lives.”

Antelope shook his head, “What we learned was of great value.  We know how they fight, we know what manner of men they are.  Their numbers are now lessened as well.”

Golden Dawn frowned a little, “I'm glad you weren't hurt, Little Buffalo.”  She smiled with eyes showing worry, “I wouldn't know what to do if you left my life.”

That hurt Raven, so much so that he didn't even bother to correct her from using his old name.  He glanced up to the stars, “I will always be in your life, Dawn.”  He looked down at Dawn and smiled.  “Come on, it's going to be a rough day tomorrow.  We should all get some rest.”

Farthest Running Antelope stood with Raven, clasping a hand on his friend's shoulder, “Rest will come, but first we have more to prepare.”

Chapter Eleven

The entire village was up early, three days later, watching as the warriors ran toward the gate.  All of those going to avenge Soft-Spoken Hawk's death had spent their time in the Asi, sweating and undergoing a cleansing of mind and spirit.  Raven found himself feeling lightheaded, yet somehow thinking clearer all the same.

He Who Dances In Battle had been selected as
Opae
, the war leader for the group.  His uncle, Moves Like Wind, was to be the
Hetissu
.  It would be his responsibility to carry and protect the sacred
ark of war
.  They were both powerful braves, experienced and well loved throughout the village.  Dances in Battle led them in position and in song, chanting solemnly on their way out of the village.  Everyone hungered for the party to be successful, and a look of determination settled on many a face.

A strange sense of thoughtful calm filled Raven Cloud.  Silence cloaked the men as they passed through the gate, and every thought rang clear in the mind.  As he ran amidst the column of warriors, Raven found himself thinking of Chief Dancing Cloud's words, then New Moon's counsel, then the wisdom given by Red Panther.  Even conversations with Golden Dawn replayed themselves.

Much of what they said resonated within his heart, and some of those thoughts were painful to face.  Dancing Cloud's suggestion that he might not belong hurt the most.  It reopened the wounds of being cast aside by a parent he'd never known, echoes of the past converging in his mind.

Terrain passed by, and Raven was not nearly as aware of his surroundings as he should have been.  He looked to his left and right, but much of the background was a blur because of an unfocused mind.  Soon the pace would pick up, and it would be paramount that his focus returned to their travel.  So much kept happening, he always felt torn between responsibilities.  To stay behind would have been demoralizing, even if it might have allowed him to figure things out.  Going to fight became more important.

Shaking his head, he set aside the thoughts within, steeling himself against further introspection.  Dancing Cloud let him join on this path to blood, and the result of the chief's harsh words would play out upon his return.  There was no need to worry over it further.

The braves darted through the woods, their legs pumping in a rhythm of one.  Each warrior's footfall was practically a shadow of that from the man before them.  In this way, they left little trace of their passing, and their silence was nearly absolute.

They headed in the direction Raven Cloud had spoken of when recounting his experience with the scouting party.  It was a quicker pace than the last time as they had no need to stop and check for signs.  Derek Smith's map also gave them a clear idea of their target.

Nonetheless, soon enough Raven was beckoned to take the lead so that he could show them the thicket where that short battle had taken place.  When they got there, it was still undisturbed from the days before.  Animals had been in the clearing.  The decaying bodies of the enemy, left to feed the forest without the dignity of burial, told of an ending suitable to their actions.

The group made a rudimentary search for any other information to be gleaned then took off once more.  They were making excellent time.  He was sure they would reach a good place to observe the enemy camp before nightfall.

After setting aside his worries, Raven began to feel as if he were a part of the group.  A deep bond connected the warriors in the closeness of each step and their single purpose.  They embraced unity.  His help in leading them to the thicket added to a building sense of belonging.  After seeing the scene of battle, the braves had flashed somber glances at Raven.  Their eyes were full of respect.

Farthest Running Antelope gave Raven a grim look.  They had battled the Spaniards in their leather armor and helmets, yet at least Antelope's group had been able to ambush their prey.  Facing a sudden rush of enemies in the night was a dark prospect.  You always wanted to be on the attacking side of such a plan.

The bond between the war party seemed to strengthen, their purpose reinforced, and the pace increased yet again.  Around them was a forest that was increasingly cleared, trails snaking back and forth and underbrush hacked up sloppily.  They were close.  Someone had cut into the woods in this area for timber.

With twilight, nearly an hour away, Dances in Battle brought them to a halt as the land began a sharp descent.  Growth was getting thicker, and it seemed likely that the drop in elevation was leading toward a well-known gulley.  Dances motioned for the group to veer away from the trails the Spanish men were likely responsible for.  The many trails converged into one, and it was evident that their camp was probably along an outcropping of rock that made up one of the ravine's edges.

It made sense to setup base in such a place.  It would be nearly impossible to attack from the direction of the gulley's steep cliffs.  Their enemy could use the natural rock outcroppings to shield one of their sides as well.  Yet, such decisions were made without considering those who had lived nearby for their entire lives.

Dances in Battle split them up, gesturing for half to climb down into the gulley to approach from below.  The other half were to climb the rock outcropping ahead.  He pointed at his eyes, then forward.  This was to be a scouting attempt only.  They had to find out what they were facing.

For both groups, it was slow going.  The way was treacherous down the rocky slope where moss-covered boulders teetered and vines crisscrossed between arching saplings.  Thicker, older trees were rare, and those that had grown large enough to support a man's weight often seemed precariously close to falling over from their own weight.  Some grew nearly horizontal.

Handholds were easy enough to find on the cliff's side, but the rock was sandstone.  It crumbled easily if weight was distributed badly.  Those climbing up left two on the ground to watch extra rifles and other gear.  Moves Like Wind and Dances in Battle stood guard there, watching as the others crept down or clambered upwards.

Their suspicions were confirmed once the scouting groups got into position.  A small camp surrounded by a wooden palisade was fitted snugly against sandstone walls.  The logs were at least twelve feet tall, and a doubled-gate guarded any from easily broaching the main entrance.  There were few walls inside.  Two single-roomed houses built along the wall furthest from the cliff and a tower rose from one of these.  A thin walkway ran along the top of the walls.  The boards were built to meet the rocky protrusion's upper ledges, allowing guards to use the higher parts of the cliff for over watch.  Below, wedged right into a crack in the rock, was a small caged enclosure barely covered with rags and rough-hewn burlap.  The rest of the space was primarily filled with tents.

Raven studied the location carefully from atop the rocks, keeping as flat as possible to the stone to prevent from being seen.  A Spaniard stood on one of the lower ledges, hardly a breath away from the climbers.

The half-breed gritted his teeth.  It was a good thing the guard had decided it too troublesome to climb the rest of the way up.  Flecks of shale and sandstone dug into Raven's arms and chest, scratching at him with sharp edges.  He hardly noticed the minor discomfort, and could not afford to.  His blood seemed thunderous in his ears, adrenaline surging at being so close.

‘
Red Panther is in there
,’ his mind screamed as he pictured the man who had raised him and molded him into a warrior.  ‘
We will get you out of this prison, Uncle
,’ he silently swore.

He refused to consider the enemy might have tortured his near-father to a point near death or that he might not live at all.  Was Panther’s death not the goal
of this evil plan all along?  He’d promised Dawn before he left the village he would save Red Panther, and he had every intention of doing just that.

Raven considered the enemy’s plan.  They were to kill James Fitzgerald and then a Will would be found that would instruct all his business ventures in London to be sold to Allan Radcliffe.  That plan steeped with foolishness.  What court would believe James Fitzgerald would leave his legacy to the crook Radcliffe?

So why would Panther still be alive?  Did they think to force him into writing the Will so his script could be verified in London?  Did they not know Panther?  Did they not know death held no fear over a warrior such as Red Panther?

Panther would die rather than…His mind froze as an image of Dawn materialized.  They were after Dawn.  They would have used Dawn to get what they wanted and then leave them both dead.  The fools did not know he traveled back to warn of their plan.  They would think to torture Dawn, get what they wanted, kill them both, and then stage some mishap to divert any suspicion. 

It was all he could do not to leap down onto the men below with wild rage.  Such would have been suicidal and all would be lost.  Now was the time to pull in his anger, to focus and to be the warrior he needed to be.  He no longer was Little Buffalo.  He was Raven Who Flies To Meet The Clouds.  He would met the clouds today.  He would face his enemy, and he would defeat them.  Today would be a good day.

He studied the enemy below.  The party of mercenaries was just as large as estimated.  With a rough approximation, thirty seemed to be a good accounting for the number of men within.  Most were lounging in tents, some playing cards while others dozed.  A single guard stood in the wooden tower, a companion for the one along the rock wall.  He could not see inside what was undoubtedly a prison, but the location's occupant seemed obvious.  There could be only one man inside such a small space.

Dances in Battle signaled with a wave of his hand, beckoning everyone to rally back to him.  As they did this, the warrior and his uncle heard the faint scratch of a careless step.  Alerted, both of the Cherokee turned to look toward the base's entrance.  They crouched, readying weapons as Dances tightened the straps that held the ark of war he swore to carry and protect.

Moves Like Wind sprang on a Spaniard who had just rounded the corner, thankfully catching the foreigner by surprise.  Wind jammed his forearm into the enemy's mouth, gagging and quieting the man all at once.

Dances in Battle sprinted around the fighting pair as he caught sight of a Choctaw peeking around the corner of rock.  If the other brave called out to the camp, all would be lost.  Leaping at the bewildered warrior, Dances in Battle wrapped his legs around the other's back, bear-hugging about the chest and neck with fists clenching together to lock in the grip.  The Choctaw struggled, but Dances in Battle was already smothering the man by pressing his chest into the rogue's face.

Rustling, jerking spasms were the only sounds that the two fallen made as they died.  The Great Spirit was surely with them.

As the rest of their group returned, all were astonished to see that first blood had already been drawn.  A vicious bite-mark oozed blood on the chest of Dances in Battle where his adversary had tried to escape for want of breath.  Moves Like Wind had a rising welt on the side of his head from a pounding by the Spaniard's helmet.  Neither had suffered any other injury of note.

Still, the group would have to move quickly.  Close calls would be ever-present this near the enemy, and luck would not always hold out.  Once night fell, they would creep into the camp and kill as many of the villains as possible.  Dances in Battle mimed his intent to the others and all agreed readily.  Dragging the corpses with them, all crawled carefully back down into the ravine.  When next they
arose from those depths, wrath would carry them into the walls of criminals.