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Authors: W. Michael Gear,Kathleen O'Neal Gear

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BOOK: People of the Raven (North America's Forgotten Past)

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Not more than ten paces from where he hid in the tall ferns, someone crept furtively through the dead. A half-dazed moan broke her lips. That, and the light step, led Tsauz to conclude it was a woman. She moved slowly, as if mindless of the warriors racing around her or the groans coming from the pillars. Tsauz puzzled at the sounds as she shifted heavy limp objects. Some gurgled; others hissed or made flatulent sounds. The woman whispered under her breath, grunted, and wept as another body flopped wetly onto the stone.

Mist blew over his face. He shivered so hard his teeth chattered. Was he freezing to death?

Where’s Father?

The woman let out a small terrible cry, and he heard her fall to her knees. “Wake up now, baby,” she wept. “It’s morning. We have to wake up.”

Tsauz’s fingers knotted and flexed and knotted again.

Warriors ran by calling, “Tsauz? Tsauz!”

He opened his mouth to call back, but no sound came out. He opened it wider—and tried to force air from his lungs.

Tears streamed down his face, but his throat remained frozen.

Nineteen

“
R
ain Bear?
”

He jerked awake to see pale blue light falling through the smoke hole in the lodge roof. Long black hair spread over his chest as he sat up and pawed it out of the way.

Footsteps, coming fast up the trail.

He grabbed his war club, shoved out of his bedding, and lunged outside wearing only his loincloth. A few people had risen. Breakfast fires sparkled across the meadow. Frost glistened on the slender lodgepole pines. Dogrib ran toward him with his white hair blowing around his pink face.

“What is it? What’s happened?”

Dogrib extended an arm. “There’s smoke rising above War Gods Village.”

Rain Bear swung around to look.

Black oily smoke rose through the layer of clouds that cloaked the mountaintop. Not the smoke of ritual feast preparations, but the smoke of burning lodges.

Evening Star ducked out of her lodge ten paces away and looked around, a frown on her fine brow. Long red waves of unruly hair fell down the front of her cape. “What’s wrong?”

Rain Bear ignored her, but gripped Dogrib’s arm. “Find Talon and Sleeper. Tell them to rouse their warriors.”

“Understood.” Dogrib left at a run.

Rain Bear turned to Evening Star’s guards, Wolf Spider and Hornet. “While I’m gone, let no one come near her! Do you understand? It’s the perfect opportunity for an assassin to sneak in.”

“No one will get by us, Chief,” Wolf Spider called, and slapped his war club in emphasis.

The North Wind elder Rides-the-Wind threw back his lodge flap, and his dark eyes lifted to War Gods Mountain. Thick gray brows pulled down over his flat nose. Very quietly, he said, “If you hurry, Rain Bear, you’ll catch them at the fork in the trail.”

A
faint sliver of gold marked the place on the western horizon where Raven had flown the sun to sink into Mother Ocean’s belly. Drifting Cloud People shimmered and winked.

“I can’t believe they did this!” Dogrib raged. Blood splotched his buckskin cape and long shirt from where he had cradled victims while he checked for signs of life. “They have desecrated War Gods Village! And we did nothing!
Nothing!
We promised to
protect
these people!”

Rain Bear stood beside Dogrib just below the twin pillars of rock and stared down the narrow ridge, over the smoldering village, to the ocean beyond. “For the moment, we wait.”

The rich purple gleam of dusk flashed in Dogrib’s angry blue eyes. “Wait?” he hissed. “For what? I say we track them down! We stalk them like the vermin they are! One by one, we catch them, stake them down, and cut pieces from their bodies as they wail their souls into oblivion!”

Rain Bear lifted a clenched fist and glared. “I know! I understand your anger, but this is
my
fault, War Chief. I could have killed him when he entered our village. Do you understand?
I let him go!
”

He closed his eyes, a sick pain in his heart.
Evening Star told me to kill him. But he had his son! His son, by Raven! What sort of man would risk a young blind boy?

He watched a petite woman’s body being dragged up the slope by two older women. Her head hung, swinging loosely as her long black hair tumbled in the muck. Her sightless eyes were gray, half-lidded, her mouth agape in a loose, soundless scream. Her sea-grass cape had been ripped away. In an effort at modesty, the women had tried to cover her, but the glistening stains on her pubis, as well as the
bites on her one exposed nipple, gave witness to what her last moments must have been like.

Rain Bear wavered on his feet, a tingling lightness in his gut. All he wanted was to sink to the ground, put his head in his hands, and weep.

They had pulled most of the corpses down from the pillars and carried them to the north side of the mountain, but much remained to be done. They still had to search the collapsed lodges but couldn’t until the embers cooled.

Dogrib gripped the shaft of his spear and glowered down into the valley. “This is not like Ecan. Lying so that he could do this within days of one of our most important ceremonies! It’s insane!”

Rain Bear tipped his head back to the wounded sky. “It’s as Rides-the-Wind said. He’s shown us that he’s not afraid of us … or the gods.”

“Then we must teach him different.” Murder lit Dogrib’s eyes.

“Yes, my friend. And no, don’t look at me that way. I will unleash you, but when the time is right. When we can hurt them in a way they’ve never been hurt before.” Rain Bear’s heart felt empty as he watched Roe and Evening Star pull a decapitated body across the ground toward the plaza. Wind Woman’s breath was redolent with the stench of burning human flesh and the coppery tang of blood.

Rain Bear steeled himself. “What about Dzoo? Has anyone found her body?”

“No, but many of the victims were badly burned. Roe searches every corpse, looking for her fluted spear point, a shred of her clothing.”

Rain Bear could see the tiny flame of hope that flickered in Dogrib’s eyes. “If she’s here, Roe will find her. Pitch is going to try to come up this afternoon to help her hunt.”

“My Chief?” Dogrib shifted. “Do you think Dzoo escaped?”

Rain Bear’s eyes traced the shapes of the Cloud People. “They may have captured her. If Ecan is this Coyote, and given the things Pitch told me …”

Dogrib narrowed his odd blue eyes. “I’m not certain which is worse: death, or her fate as Ecan’s captive.”

Rain Bear studied Dogrib from the corner of his eye. “If he’s got her, we
will
get her back. I promise you. For right now, however, she may actually be exactly where we need her most.”

Dogrib’s gaze fixed on something over Rain Bear’s shoulder.

Rain Bear turned to find War Chief Talon trudging up the hill toward
them. Wind Woman tormented the hem of his hide cape and whipped white hair around his wrinkled face. His expression boded ill.

Talon called, “Just as you said, Great Chief. We caught Ecan’s rearguard at the fork in the trail. I killed four, took two alive. The rearguard fought well enough to let the others get away. Sleeper took a small party to track them.”

“How many escaped?”

“Maybe ten. Maybe more.” Talon shoved loose hair away from his sharp old eyes. “There’s another thing you should know.”

“What is that?”

“They definitely took a woman captive. We found her tracks at the head of the party. She was shuffling along between two warriors.”

Rain Bear held Talon’s gaze. “Dzoo is missing.”

“Dzoo?” The old chief’s eyes widened. Then a sour smile came to his lips. “If they took Dzoo, may the gods show them mercy.”

“I know her step. I’ll have the answer for us soon enough, my chiefs.” Dogrib loped off down the trail.

Rain Bear considered for a moment. “Ecan didn’t do this without approval from the Council. Cimmis, however, is no one’s fool. He knows that he plays a very delicate game. He hopes to frighten us into submission, to demonstrate his strength in a way that will ensure the delivery of tribute, even if it means starving our own people in the process. He wants to push us to the edge, but not over it. So, even if the Council ordered her execution, I doubt that Cimmis would carry it out. He knows that coupled with the desecration of the Moon Ceremonial and the raids, Dzoo’s execution would incite rebellion among the slaves. It would drive the Raven People into a frenzy of hatred that would overwhelm his people.”

Talon chewed on that for a moment as he watched Evening Star carrying a little boy’s limp body. The child’s skull had been smashed, and some of his brains hung from the wound. “I’m surprised to see her here.”

“She warned us, Talon.” Rain Bear glanced around at the smoldering wreckage and then watched Evening Star gently place the little boy’s body in the growing line of corpses.

My fault. All my fault.

“In the past, I have acted as a peace chief should. I have sought accommodation and the ways to maintain the peace.” He glared into Talon’s eyes. “By taking Ecan’s word,
I
killed these people! I will not rest until I have destroyed the Council and trod upon Cimmis’s headless corpse.”

Talon gave him a bitter smile. “Then I am yours, Rain Bear. If Dogrib is your right arm, I am your left.”

Rain Bear nodded. “Thank you. I would like to speak with the two warriors you captured.”

“I’ll have them brought here immediately.” Talon looked around at the dead that scattered the slope. Scavenger birds fluttered over the corpses. “My people are outraged, Rain Bear. They want every person in Fire Village dead.”

Rain Bear clutched his cape closed beneath his chin and stared up at the twin pillars. Were the hero twins looking down upon the carnage and thinking the same? Or had they sided with the North Wind People?

“We are after the Council and Cimmis and those who work for them, Talon. Just remember that it’s not all the North Wind People who have done this.” He started down the slope toward where his daughter worked.

Talon trotted after him. “No one has said that, Rain Bear!”

“Not yet, but they will.”

Twenty

War Chief White Stone leaned toward the fire and rubbed his nervous hands together. He had lost six of his warriors. Four were reported dead; two were thought to have been captured. Three wounded men slept rolled in blankets beside a crackling fire. One, Cedar Bark, would probably be dead by morning. The moans that punctuated their disturbed sleep mixed hauntingly with Wind Woman’s shrill voice in the trees.

Ecan paced on the opposite side of the fire, hands clasped behind his back, tread slow and measured, as though time was his to command. His magnificent white cape and jewelry flashed with his slightest movement.

Ten paces away, Dzoo sat with her bound hands propped on her knees. The hood of her cape was thrown back. Long red hair fluttered around her beautiful face. With large black eyes that might have been openings to a nightmare, she followed Ecan’s every move.

White Stone glanced at the guards behind her and tried to swallow the nervous lump in his throat. Wind Scorpion had volunteered for the duty when the others held back. He was a cunning old dog whom nothing seemed to frighten. His fathomless eyes were fixed on Dzoo. Two more guards stood on the high points watching their back trail. Was that enough to protect them?

White Stone returned to the uncomfortable topic at hand.
“Blessed Starwatcher, I assure you I did everything I could to protect your son!”

“Don’t you dare attempt to assure me of anything!” Ecan held up a stern hand to stop White Stone’s defense. In the fire light his pointed face and beadlike green eyes resembled a weasel’s. “You are the one who talked me into taking my son. You said Matron Weedis would let down her guard if she saw me enter her village holding my son’s hand.” The vein in Ecan’s neck throbbed. “You
guaranteed
my son’s safety.”

White Stone gaped, having said no such thing in this lifetime or any other. “But, Starwatcher—”

Sweat trickled from White Stone’s armpits down his sides. “I personally searched every possible hiding place. You saw me! I did everything I could to find the boy.”

Dzoo smiled—and White Stone’s flesh crawled. What was it about her eyes? Something dark and inhuman.

Ecan had his back to her. Lucky for him.

White Stone raised his hands, imploring. “I will find your son, Starwatcher. I give you my oath. I’ll return to search for him tomorrow.”

“Do you know what they will do to my boy if they capture him?” Ecan’s mouth quivered with lethal intent.

White Stone nodded. “Yes, I think so.”

“They will cut my little Tsauz apart and bring me a piece at a time. With each ear, or hand, they will send word that Tsauz lives. Only at the end will they include a demand, and by then I will do anything, give them anything, say anything.” He stared hard into White Stone’s eyes.
“Do you understand me, War Chief?”

The words hung in the air.

Dzoo tilted her head, and her full lips parted, as if hungry for White Stone’s answer.

White Stone wondered when he had ever felt this miserable. “Yes, I understand.” He glanced warily at Dzoo. “We have our own captive, Starwatcher. Never forget that.”

Dzoo laughed—a deep-throated sound, more growl than amusement—and the forest seemed to burst to life as every sleeping warrior lunged to his feet and reached for his weapons.

Ecan turned to glare at her.

When their eyes met, the very air seemed to sizzle and pop.

Dzoo leaned forward and whispered,
“In the end, Starwatcher, your soul will howl in darkness.”

Ecan’s expression remained cool, aloof. He just stared at her.

White Stone reached up to finger the polished fluted point that hung at his throat, wondering if even that amulet would protect his soul.

L
ost in thoughts, Evening Star walked down the narrow trail, stepping over moss-encrusted deadfall, twisted roots, and occasional stones that protruded from the winding way. Overhead interlocking fir boughs muted the evening light, turning the forest floor into a gloomy dark place that mirrored her wounded soul. Only when faint traces of breeze stirred in the damp darkness did she catch a breath of the moldy duff and loam. The rest of the time, the stench of death rose from her dress, hands, and hair. Each of the corpses she’d carried had leaked fluid onto her.

She had thrown herself into the cleanup like a slave woman. The others had shied from the more horribly mutilated corpses. Those she tackled herself, as if by her diligence she could personally atone for the actions of her people.

The children had been the worst.
Why,
her soul wailed,
do they murder the children?

She couldn’t help but be aware of the mixture of emotions aimed at her by the Raven People: Some barely hid their loathing; others were pensive as they watched her through dark, questioning eyes; and there were those few who nodded, as if it were only appropriate that she deal with the horror of her people’s decisions.

Meanwhile, her guards prowled like silent mountain lions behind and to either side of her. They had become her shadows, following discreetly as she carried the corpses, laid them out, and used a fouled bit of matting to clean their cold dead flesh in preparation for the funerary rites.

What am I doing here?
She huddled in the midst of a people who didn’t want her, hated her, in fact.

I should go. Tomorrow, just after sunset.
Rain Bear needed all of his people for the coming trial, and she was tying up two of his young warriors each day.

Yes, that was the right decision. Pack her belongings and creep out tomorrow, just after dark. No one would know her destination, or which trail to follow in pursuit. She would have a full night’s travel before she went to ground for the day. By traveling at night, she
could make her way far to the south. There among some amiable people, she could find a place for herself. Not as a matron of the North Wind People, but as a simple woman competent at certain tasks. A woman who was willing to work could always find a place. She was still young and strong. She could bear a man enough children in return for a place to sleep.

You would do that?
the voice of her soul demanded.
Submit yourself to some hunter whose language you can’t even speak? Live like a slave in the dirt?

She took a deep breath, and couldn’t help but gag on the odors rising from the gore clinging to her dress, hands, and hair.

Yes, after the last two moons, after this day, the meaning of life had changed. Illusions no longer burdened her. These days she needed only food, water, shelter, and a semblance of security.

The trail switchbacked down into a narrow cut, choked with willow, raspberries, currants, and chokecherry bushes. There, under an overhang, water dashed into a small pool before burbling down the rock-choked streambed toward the ocean.

Placing her spattered moccasins with care, she descended the last of the slope and stopped short. In the gloom she could see the man crouching on a flat stone that jutted out over the water. At first glance she thought him sick from the hang of his head and the loose drape of his muscular shoulders. Then she caught the spasm that ran through him and instinctively knew it for what it was.

Too late to turn back now, and in a moment her guards would catch sight of him. She reached out and stepped full on a fallen branch, snapping it loudly. Then she hesitated and mimicked a sneeze.

The man’s reaction was instantaneous. He shot a quick glance over his shoulder, and in that instant she recognized Rain Bear. For a lightning instant she stared into his swollen eyes before he averted his face, bent down, and cupped up water from the pool, splashing it into his face.

By the time her guards eased down the incline, Rain Bear looked like a man just finishing his ablutions.

“Chief Rain Bear?” she greeted, feigning surprise. “I did not mean to intrude.”

“No, it’s quite all right. Come, Matron. After your day, you need the water more than I do.” He reached for his war shirt, used it to wipe his face dry, and stood. She watched him pull the damp hide over his head and down his muscular body. More than once that wide-shouldered frame had intruded into her imagination. It had
Danced at the edge of her fantasies as she imagined what it would be like to be touched by him, to feel that warm strength pressed against her. In her Dreams she had allowed herself to run her fingers over his thick chest only once before she banished it as impossibility.

She turned, feeling oddly shy after witnessing his vulnerability. “Hornet? I would speak to the chief in private.”

“Yes, Matron,” Hornet called, and waved his opposite back.

She picked her way down to the slab of rock and studied Rain Bear. He sought to look everywhere but into her eyes.

“What is it?” she asked. “Can I help?”

He smiled wistfully. “Can you conjure the dead? Breathe them back to life?” He made an open gesture. “Can you fly back in time far enough to convince me to split Ecan’s skull before he reaches War Gods Village?”

At last she understood. The model of strength she had watched all day had been dying inside. “He did this. Not you. If you are guilty of anything it was acting with decency and honor.”

His voice took on a bitter twist. “A mistake I’ll never make again, Matron.”

She reached out, saw the blood and offal on her hand, and hesitated to touch him. “Don’t become like them.”

The pain behind his eyes stung her. “If I had listened to you, none of this would have happened. Those people would be alive today.”

“I was wrong, Rain Bear. There was more at stake than I understood,” she countered. “If you’d killed him, it would have given Cimmis a reason to hunt you down and kill you. With you dead, no one could stand against him.You are the one man alive who can rally the Raven People against the Council.”

“Those people died—”

“Yes, and in doing so they have become the binding that will tie the Raven clans together. But only if you are there to weave that knot.”

She couldn’t decipher the look he was giving her. Some mixture of hurt and hope, despair and rage. For long moments they stood thus, each searching the other for resolution.

In a low voice, he finally said, “But for the presence of his son, I would have killed him that day.”

“Then the boy was the key to the Raven People’s future. And it’s the future that you must face. Your people need to be shaped and molded. The story is told that when you came to this land, it was as a few scattered clans, loosely affiliated, and then only by your language. Canoe load by canoe load, you drifted down from the north, hunting, and moving on. Is that what you wish to be forever?”

“We can no longer be subject to the North Wind People’s caprice,” he countered.

“No, you cannot.” She turned away then, stung by her circumstances. “The North Wind People … Song Maker help us, what have we become? We’re like the great firs, so tall we scrape the clouds, ancient and towering; but cut into our thick trunk, and you’ll find a fungal rot. Massive as we might look from the outside, we cannot survive the coming wind.” She looked down at the dried blood that coated her fingers.

“Assuming I can create this new alliance of which you speak, what of you, Matron?”

“I believe I shall leave tomorrow night, Chief. Slip away with your help, and vanish. Perhaps somewhere to the south is a land where my daughter’s ghost doesn’t wail in my dreams. A place where I can forget Ecan and Kenada, and the way their bodies felt against mine.”

He stepped to her. An odd thrill leapt at his touch, at the strength in his hands as he rested them on her shoulders. “Stay,” he whispered.

“Stay?” she echoed, trying to understand the quiver that ran through her.

“I am going to need your counsel.”

“You will have plenty of counselors.”

He hesitated. “Why did you warn me you were close just now?”

She blinked, surprised. “I—I didn’t want your warriors to see you.”

BOOK: People of the Raven (North America's Forgotten Past)

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