People of the Raven (North America's Forgotten Past) (54 page)

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

BOOK: People of the Raven (North America's Forgotten Past)
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P
ain was an old companion. Cimmis ground out a cry as Deer Killer tried to pull the slim spear from his hip.
“The stone tip is lodged in the bone, Great Chief.” Deer Killer looked as if he was going to throw up.
Cimmis blinked, his vision sliding in and out. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath. “Just pull it out! You, Hunter, grab on to that shaft and yank!”
They both grasped the polished wood, looked at each other, and pulled. The scream tore out of his throat, deafening even to him.
He felt his body jerked, and then both Deer Killer and Hunter tumbled backward, the slim shaft clutched in their hands.
“Quick, you fools! Take my cloak. Wad it up. Use my belt to bind it over the wound to stop the bleeding.”
By Gutginsa’s balls, where was a Healer? He considered calling Dzoo for a moment, and decided against it. She might take the opportunity to finish the job that three-times-accursed Dogrib had started.
“Great Chief?” Deer Killer asked, his voice tight with fear.
“What?”
The warrior held up the spear as Hunter attended to his wounded hip. “The point, Great Chief. I think it’s still inside. The binding gave way.”
Cimmis blinked, staring at the end of the spear. Although blood-soaked,
he could see the broken sinew that had once held a keen stone point. “Men have lived with points in them before.”
He almost bit his tongue as Hunter pulled the makeshift bandage tight. Gasping and sweating, he asked, “How is the fighting going?”
Deer Killer turned his attention from the spear to the fighting below. “Our warriors are after them. I think it was just a small party.”
“Yes, well, there will be a larger one waiting. Call up Kaska’s warriors and be ready for a counterattack. If I know Rain Bear, this won’t be as easy as it was at the burned ridge.”
 
 
R
ain Bear led his forces to meet the howling North Wind warriors, leaping brush and deadfall, bursting through the tall grass. The spears of the enemy glinted like tens of membranous wings.
When they were within thirty paces, the voices of his men rose to a roar. Spears whistled by as his warriors cried out with the thrill of battle or shrieked in pain. He saw gaps in his line after the North Wind warriors cast their first volley—but he kept going, leading his men headlong into the North Wind warriors. They met with a clattering of spears, wild shouts, screams, and howls.
A tall North Wind warrior headed straight for Rain Bear, his mouth wide open in a scream of rage.
Rain Bear drove a spear through his chest. All around him men clashed in a snarling, grunting chaos.
He waded into a tangle of North Wind warriors and brought his club down hard on a man’s head. The warrior fell like a limp strand of sea grass.
“Rain Bear!”
Wet Fern shouted. “Behind you!”
He leaped sideways as a club smashed into his left shoulder. Pain staggered him, and the North Wind warrior whooped in victory as he lifted his club to finish the job. Rain Bear ducked the blow meant for his head and broke his attacker’s ribs. The man’s breath shot from his lungs in a loud
whoosh
.
Rain Bear’s next blow took him squarely in the chest. Amid the screaming and shouting, he barely heard the man’s breastbone crack.
The familiar odor of battle permeated the air: a powerful mixture of sweat and the coppery tangs of blood and torn intestines.
Rain Bear pushed himself up the hill. He could see White Stone.
The war chief stood like a sun-bronzed statue, his face stern as he shouted orders. Dzoo was poised slightly behind him, her long red hair blowing around the dark frame of her hood. Where was Pitch? Ecan?
And in that instant, the North Wind line broke, went tumbling back. Warriors dropped their weapons to flee up the hill. Rain Bear shouted in triumph, knowing that this single greatest victory would have to be surrendered.
“We can take them!” Talon bellowed as he smacked his war club into the back of a fleeing man’s spine. The warrior staggered. Before he could fall, Talon split his skull.
“No!” Rain Bear cried. “Follow the plan! You
must
follow the plan!”
He might have been a whisper in a gale. His warriors went charging past him, heading up the hill.
“No! Do not do this! You are making the same mistake Bluegrass did!”
“Bluegrass led cowards!” Three Shells bellowed in reply as he charged headlong up the hill. Rain Bear watched as Three Shells ran down a straggler, beating the man’s head in with a stroke of his club. “For War Gods Village!”
“For War Gods Village!” The cry was picked up by the charging warriors.
On the ridgetop War Chief White Stone separated from the group of warriors that surrounded the Four Old Women and strode forward, shouting orders.
“Back!” Rain Bear shouted after his warriors. “Come back! Follow the plan!”
A few of the Sandy Point warriors glanced at White Stone, longing in their eyes, but instinctively moved closer to Rain Bear.
The others rushed past, their excitement a living thing. He could feel it creeping through his own blood like tiny worms. Every fiber in his being cried to follow, to take the fight to Cimmis.
“Hold!” he ordered his remaining warriors. “We’ve got to prepare. They’ve got their blood up now, but they’ll be headed back soon.”
“But great chief!” one of the warriors cried. “If we don’t support them, they’ll be killed.”
He stomped toward the men, anger building. “Yes! They will, unless we devise a plan to save them!” He thrust out his club. “You and you, into that patch of brush. Robin, I want you and others to take cover in that patch of fir trees.” He searched their frantic eyes, knowing
he was about to lose them to the fever of combat. Imploring, he asked,
“Do you remember the plan?”
It was Bark Hare who said, “Yes, Great Chief. I do.” He looked at the others. “Gods, yes. It’s up to us. We’ve got to lay the ambush.”
“That’s it.” Rain Bear slapped his shoulder. “Hurry. We don’t have that much time. Gather as many spears as you can. We’re going to need them.”
He quickly placed his warriors, judging which route his absent warriors would take when they fled the fight. Looking down the hill, he could see where Dogrib should be, the war chief still assuming that the plan was working.
“When we go, you run there!” Rain Bear pointed to the gap in the rocks. “After we pass, we set up another ambush. Remember how it works?”
The craziness of battle had been replaced with a rabid excitement. He’d held them.
Even as he laid his trap, the first of the Raven warriors, a man streaming blood from a head wound, came pelting past. He was but the first of a flood.
Up on the ridge, Rain Bear knew that White Stone had called in his reinforcements. Kaska’s warriors would have joined the fight.
Now warriors fled in absolute panic past Rain Bear’s position. As the first of the North Wind warriors came whooping down in pursuit, Rain Bear stood, signaling his warriors. Each picked a target and cast.
Rain Bear turned and ran for all he was worth.
A flood of warriors rolled down the hill with him. “The gap!” he called, pointing. “Make for the gap!”
He shot a quick glance over his shoulder. The North Wind warriors were close, but some slowed as they stopped to kill a straggler.
“My warriors!” he screamed against his tearing lungs. “Stay with me! Stay close and don’t lose your weapons!”
He led the way through the gap, followed by wheezing and gasping men. As he passed the rocks, he could see Dogrib, a spear balanced in his hand.Yes, blessed gods, Dogrib was where he should be.
Past the rocks, Rain Bear pointed to the stony outcrop below. “There! We’ll set the next ambush there!”
Lungs laboring, he scrambled up into the rocks in time to look back. Screams erupted from the gap as Dogrib and his men stood, bodies twisting as they speared the first pursuing North Wind warriors.
Then Dogrib and his three remaining companions turned and ran for all they were worth, headed straight past Rain Bear’s outcrop.
The race would be long, fraught with danger, and if he failed to cross the finish line ahead of Cimmis, a great many people were going to die.
T
sauz sat beside Matron Astcat and listened to her labored breathing. She hadn’t moved at all since they’d arrived in the spacious new lodge in Wasp Village. The place smelled of sappy wood, green bark, and freshly cut vines. Packs had been placed along the walls, and a row of magnificent shields stood across from him. He had run his fingers over them, learning their size and shape. On one, the figure of Killer Whale had been created out of round beads.
Longing tingled in his chest. He needed to speak with her, to ask her advice.
“Just fill Matron Astcat’s bowl with broth,” Evening Star had said. “No meat.” Then she had gone back outside to ensure that the prisoners were safely locked away and guarded. War Chief Tsak’s shouts of rage and disbelief as he was marched off at spear point still echoed in Tsauz’s ears.
Tsauz lifted his pointed chin, and the cold ocean breeze tousled his shoulder-length black hair. The rich scent of fish soup made his empty stomach growl, but he was saving it for Astcat.
A flash.
Tsauz tilted his head and stared toward what he assumed to be Mother Ocean. The roar of her voice grew louder, and tiny fleeting spots of brightness lit up the dark curtain behind his eyes.
“What’s the matter, Tsauz?” Rides-the-Wind asked as he entered the lodge.
“Are—are the Thunderbirds coming?” Fear stung his veins.
“Yes. Why?”
He swallowed hard. “I see them.”
“See who?”
“Their flashes are bouncing around behind my eyes.”
Rides-the-Wind tucked a bowl into Tsauz’s hands and grunted as he sat down. “Eat, Tsauz. If Thunderbird is coming for you, you’ll need to have a full stomach.”
Tsauz felt for his horn spoon and tasted the soup. The flavors of the fish and venison pemmican created a mouth-watering combination.
Rides-the-Wind slid across the sand, and the matron’s blankets rustled.
Around a mouthful of pemmican, Tsauz asked, “What are you doing, Elder? May I help?”
“No, you just eat. I’m arranging the matron’s head on my lap so that I can try to feed her.”
After a few instants Rides-the-Wind said, “Matron Astcat, I’m going to put a few drops of broth in your mouth.”
Tsauz heard Rides-the-Wind stir the broth—the spoon raked the sides of the wooden bowl—then Rides-the-Wind said, “That’s good. See if you can swallow a little more.”
“Is she eating?” Tsauz asked hopefully and touched her soft cheek.
“She’s taken two swallows so far. I’m slowly trickling another spoonful into her open mouth.”
Tsauz heard her swallow this time; it sounded difficult, as though she might be on the verge of choking.
“I’ll just pat her hair, Elder,” he said, and drew his hand away from her wrinkled cheek. When he started stroking her hair, she gasped suddenly and coughed with such violence he jumped back.
“What’s happening?” he cried. “Is she choking?”
She drew in a sharp breath.
Rides-the-Wind’s voice went so gentle Tsauz almost didn’t recognize it. “Matron? Can you hear me?”
“I … I hear you … Holy Hermit.”
Tsauz’s eyes jerked wide at the hoarse sound of her voice.
“Please, lie still. Don’t move too quickly. Your soul just came home. We want it to stay.”
“How … long?”
“Have you been gone? I don’t know, Matron. Your warriors brought you to us for safekeeping. But I think you’ve been away for at least a day.”
She took several deep breaths, as though enjoying the feel of air
moving in her lungs. “R-Rides-the-Wind,” she asked in a pitifully small voice, “do you have any … willow bark tea? It seems to help fasten my soul down.”
“I do, Matron. Let me get it from my pack.”
Rides-the-Wind rose, and his pack rustled.
“Matron, are you all right?” Tsauz asked, and edged as close to her as he could.
She took several breaths before she said, “I always feel confused, empty, for a time after I return. But I think I’m all right.”
He could feel her staring at him as she asked, “Did you fly very high on Thunderbird’s back?”
“All the way to the Star People, Matron.”
“I do not understand this.”
Tears welled in his eyes. “I don’t understand it either, Matron. I just know that you need me.”
She let out a breath, and her hand crept out and found his. “I saw you in a Dream, boy. You were standing, tall and bloody. You had stones for eyes.”
“Will you marry me?”
“Your mother was one of the Raven People.”
Tsauz blinked. Bolts of lightning shot around behind his eyes again, flashing so brightly they hurt. “Thunderbird … Thunderbird said that Father murdered her because she was Raven.” He winced. “I asked Rides-the-Wind if Spirit Helpers ever lied.”
“In that case, no.” She seemed sad. “Red Dog told me about it.”
“Why would Father do that? He loved her.”
She said nothing, but he could feel a sad anger brewing within her. When he looked her way, he could see a glow behind his eyes.
Frightened, he said, “Does that mean you don’t want to marry me? Because of my Raven blood?”
She squeezed his hand with no more strength than a sparrow. “Quite the contrary. Power is all around us. And in the end, you can’t fight Power.”
“No,” Rides-the-Wind whispered from the side.
“Poor Cimmis. Oh, gods, this is going to hurt him.”
“There is no way out of this that isn’t painful, Matron,” Rides-the-Wind said. “Not for you, or for Cimmis. Each of you must make choices. Power will be the judge.”
“Very well.” The matron’s fingers felt icy in Tsauz’s grip. She swallowed and said, “Do you give me your oath … that you will be a good and faithful chief? That you will always put the good of both peoples before your own happiness?”
Tsauz’s throat constricted. “Yes, Matron. I will try very hard to be a good chief.”
“Then I think perhaps I will take you as my husband.”
Tsauz wet his lips nervously. He’d heard her say those words before, when he’d been riding Thunderbird’s back, but they sounded different, kinder, coming from her own lips. “Thank you, Matron.”
 
 
D
zoo crouched over a dying warrior, placing a finger on his neck to feel the pulse weakening. As she did so, she slipped an obsidian knife from his belt and tucked it into her legging. When she straightened, it was to see the Four Old Women staring bug-eyed at Cimmis where he was being placed on a litter by Deer Killer and Hunter. Blood smeared the bindings on his hip, scarlet in the slanting light.
Dzoo looked just in time to see the last of Rain Bear’s warriors break. Even as they turned and fled, they were being run down. As with the dying warrior, she could do nothing for them. Idly she turned her attention to the brown stand of cattails that filled a hollow to the south of the trail. The dry stalks were head-high, winter-brittle, and rattly.
Cimmis had ordered Kaska’s warriors forward, but for the moment White Stone was keeping them out of the battle. They didn’t look happy about it. Many grumbled and stamped their feet, eager to be in the fight.
She could see Ecan leading Pitch down the slope to stand at the head of the party. Presumably so the Raven warriors would see him. Hunter and Deer Killer had taken positions on either side of Cimmis’s litter. Her own guard, Wind Scorpion, had disappeared. She looked again at the cattails. Threads of dark Power filtered through the stalks like a malignant mist.
“Of course we’re winning!” Old Woman North shouted gleefully from her litter. “It will only be a matter of moments before we push the Raven People into the sea!”
Old Woman South lifted her wrinkled chin and said, “Good riddance. The Raven People have always been thieves and maggots.”
Chuckles burst from the others, and Dzoo’s heart went cold.
Old Woman North called, “Warriors! Prepare to move. We are going closer to get a better view.”
“But, Elder!” one of the guards objected. “The battle could shift! You should remain here where it’s safe.”
“I said we’re moving lower on the mountain! Accompany us!”
Dzoo’s attention fixed on Cimmis. She had seen the warriors pull the spear from his hip, but how badly was he wounded? He was propped in his litter, calling orders, using his shriveled arm to point this way and that.
She glanced at the cattails.
Yes, it is time, my stalker. The final Dance has begun.
She glanced out at the storm brewing over Raven Bay. Sunlight outlined the tall bank of clouds in a halo of gold. She waited for another crack of lightning. In the rolling growl that followed, she stepped into the cattails.
A cheer went up when Cimmis’s forces charged after Rain Bear’s fleeing warriors. With that as cover, she made another step. And then another.
She sniffed: The dank odor of cattails barely masked the mossy scent she had come to associate with him.
Step by step she made her way through the stalks and leaves. With a careful hand she parted the dry plants, looked around, and was in the process of taking another step when a shape rose from one side. She started to turn as the whistling club slashed through the cattails and blasted lightning behind her eyes.
As she fell, she heard the Thunderbirds booming in defiance.
Yes, Coyote. How clever you are. Ever the patient one …

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