The Dawn Country (12 page)

“Are you sure she was in Gannajero’s group? The group she’d just purchased from our village?” Pain tightened his eyes, and he clearly hoped that Odion would say that she hadn’t been in that group, but elsewhere in the warriors’ camp.

“She was roped with Gannajero’s children.”

Wakdanek lightly squeezed Odion’s shoulder. “Thank you. You’re a brave boy.”

Shara waited until Wakdanek rose before asking, “You said you rescued several children last night. Who were they?”

“We freed our two children, plus one girl from the Flint People, named Baji, and a boy named Hehaka, whose people we do not know.”

Suspicious, Winooski said, “Why don’t you know? Have you asked him?”

“He says he can’t remember his people.”

“Was he that young when he was captured?”

Koracoo looked at Odion, who said, “Hehaka was captured when he was four. He’s been Gannajero’s slave for seven summers.”

Maunbisek pinned Koracoo with hard glistening eyes. “Do you know our tradition of the Ghost Fire, War Chief?”

“No.”

“Among our people the dead are always buried, because the Spirits of the unburied dead remain around the bones as living fire that can destroy anything they touch. Many of our children are now Ghost Fires. Because of Gannajero. I didn’t tell you earlier, but my own son was taken by her twenty-two summers ago. I watched her buy him, and I never saw him again.”

Sorrow filled his eyes, and she suspected he had mourned that child for most of his life.

“Then you do not wish to delay us for long, Elder. To have any chance of catching her, we must leave before dawn.”

Their ancient faces drew tight with indecision.

Wakdanek said, “Elders, if you will allow it, I would like to go with War Chief Koracoo to help her free the children being held by Gannajero.”

“Do you think your daughter is there?” Shara asked.

“I fear she may be. But it doesn’t matter. There are Bog Willow Village children there. One of us must try to rescue them.”

Shara thoughtfully twisted the parchmentlike hands folded in her lap. “I understand, Nephew, but we need you here. Very few of us escaped the slaughter—almost none of our warriors lived.”

Wakdanek’s face fell, but he tipped his head in obedience. “Yes, Aunt.”

Maunbisek lifted a hand. “I cast my voice to allow Wakdanek to go in search of his daughter and the other children. One warrior, more or less, will make no difference to our survival.”

Winooski sucked his lips in over his toothless gums. After a time, he blew out a breath and said, “If it were me, I wouldn’t care what the council said. I would go find my daughter. Let him go, Shara.”

Shara’s gaze moved to the last council member. “And you, Kinna? What do you say?”

Kinna’s pointed hood was canted at an odd angle, as though he’d accidentally tugged it to the right. “Before I vote, I have a question for Maunbisek.”

Maunbisek frowned. “Yes?”

“Did you search for your son?”

Maunbisek’s eyes clouded. He bowed his head. “I searched for moons. I traveled from village to village, asking if anyone had seen Gannajero or a boy resembling my son.” He shook his head. “I never found a single trace of him.”

“Knowing that, would you do it again?”

Maunbisek’s head snapped up. “Of course I would. If I hadn’t searched, I’d always feel as though if were my fault because I’d given up. I’d be certain I could have saved him if only I’d tried. Now, and for the rest of my life, at least I can say I did my best to find him, even though I failed.”

Kinna lifted his gaze to Wakdanek, and the man’s shoulder muscles went tight, bulging through his shirt. “We must let him go, Shara. He will hate us if we don’t. And I, for one, could not bear it. I have loved Wakdanek since he was a boy.”

Wakdanek whispered, “And I you, Uncle.”

Koracoo looked around. Were Kinna and Shara husband and wife? The touching way they stared at each other suggested they might be.

Shara sighed and nodded. “War Chief Koracoo, do you have any objections to Wakdanek accompanying you on your journey?”

Koracoo gave him a hard look. “I welcome anyone who is good with a bow, Elder. Is he?”

Shara softly said, “He’s the best shot in the village, though he prefers Healing to killing. Go, Nephew. I pray that Tabaldak, the Owner of the world, watches over you.”

“Thank you, Elders. I’ll gather my things.” He trotted into the darkness.

Shara turned to Koracoo. “If you get into trouble, War Chief, look to Wakdanek. For fifteen summers, he has been studying the ways of the Healer. His skills in that regard may save more lives than his skill with a bow. Now, help me up.” She extended a hand.

Koracoo stood and supported the old woman as she rose to her feet. “If there are no further questions from the council, I’ll walk the war chief back.”

The three old men shook their heads.

Shara held Koracoo’s elbow as they headed toward the ravine. Odion followed a step behind.

“Your council is wise, Elder. I’m grateful to you.”

“Don’t be too grateful, Koracoo.” Her old eyes scanned the lip of the ravine, moving methodically through the boulders. “Our warriors want revenge, but I’m tired, as are the other elders. We just want to go back and bury our dead; then we must find a new place to rebuild our village. That’s why we did not demand to know the identities of the other members of your party. However, I suspect you have Flint warriors with you who were involved in the attack on our village. They are your enemies as much as ours. At some point, they will turn on you. Then, I wager, you’ll have more on your hands than you’ve bargained for.”

Koracoo hesitated. Finally, she carefully answered, “I won’t forget your words, Elder, and I’ll do my best to guard your nephew’s back.”

Shara clutched Koracoo’s elbow tighter, as though afraid of falling. “We will camp here tonight. But you should not, Koracoo. Get as far away as you can. I fear some of our young warriors may not agree with the council’s decision.”

Koracoo turned. “Odion, quickly, find your father and tell him the elders’ words.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Odion charged away, scrambling up the frosty slope toward the boulders where Gonda hid.

Twelve

Odion

The old leaves are icy. They slip beneath my moccasins as I climb the steep side of the ravine. Just before I reach the top, my feet go out from under me, and I have to claw at exposed tree roots to keep from rolling back down the slope. On all fours, I manage to crawl to the lip of the ravine and pull myself over. The scent of frozen earth is strong.

Breathing hard, I see Father standing with his bow half-drawn, aimed down at Shara where she talks with Mother. War Chief Cord is asleep, lying curled on his side against the boulder.

Father says, “I didn’t have the heart to wake him.”

I whisper, “Father, Elder Shara says they will camp here tonight, but we must not. She says she’s not sure her warriors will agree with the council’s decision to let us go.”

Father’s mouth drops open. “They’re letting us go? Are you sure?”

“Yes, Father. And Wakdanek is coming with us, to search for his daughter and the other Bog Willow children.”

Father releases the tension on his bowstring and sags against the rocks. “Unbelievable. I thought we were dead.”

“Should we wake War Chief Cord now?”

Father looks down at him. The man is sound asleep, his mouth ajar. “Not yet. He needs every moment he can get. We’ll wake him after your Mother has finished her talk with Elder Shara, and—”

Shara steps away from Mother, tips her head back, and howls like a wolf baying at Grandmother Moon. It is a lonesome sound that echoes through the cold night air. War Chief Cord does not even move. In the distance, a pack of real wolves yip, and howl back. Instantly, all the warriors hiding in the brush or behind rocks stand up and trot away, down the hill to assemble around the circle of elders.

Father looks amazed. “Those chilling calls sound so real, even the wolves answer them. Odion, find the other children. Bring them here immediately.”

“Yes, Father.”

I run away toward where Baji, Tutelo, and Hehaka hide in the boulders. As I near them, Tutelo pats her lips with her hand, telling me to be quiet; then she points. Her pretty face is tight with wonder.

I follow her hand to a cluster of downy juneberries. Some of the scrub trees are forty hands tall, but most are young, and more like shrubs. The undergrowth spreads two hundred hands in every direction through the boulders. The shriveled, reddish purple fruits that cling to the branches look pitch black in the moonlight.

“What are you looking at?” I squint hard, searching, and whisper, “The Dawnland People are letting us go. Father wants us to come right now.”

Tutelo hisses, “Odion. You’re not looking. Don’t you see him?”

“Who?”

With fear in her voice, Baji whispers, “It’s a Forest Spirit.”

Up the hill, beyond the juneberries, I can make out the dark triangular shapes of pines so tall they seem to pierce the belly of Brother Sky. My gaze lingers on the frost-covered ground. Against the white earth there is something utterly black—as though the object absorbs all light. A boulder? No. In the moon’s gleam, even the rocks glitter. What …

Odion.

I feel the whisper like fire in my lungs. I can’t move.

Tutelo smiles. “See, Odion? It’s Shago-niyoh. He’s back.”

For a long while, the only sounds in the night are the soft hissing of Tutelo’s breathing and the slamming of my heart against my ribs. The Darkness turns, and there is a sustained glow, as though it is staring at me with one silver eye.

I don’t know what it is. There are many supernatural creatures that inhabit the forest. This may be one of the Faces. The Faces are Spirits who control sickness. They can cure or kill. They often appear to Healers in their dreams and instruct them in the usages of sacred plants, or confer upon them the power to cure diseases afflicting people, animals, or crops. Our people carve their images upon trees, or posts erected at gates, but most importantly upon masks—False Face masks.

“I don’t see anything,” Hehaka says, annoyed. “What are you looking at?”

My gaze slides to Hehaka. He is my age, eleven summers. He has a face like a starved bat’s, all ears and flat nose, with black beads for eyes. Shoulder-length black hair hangs over his cheeks. He was Gannajero’s favorite slave. I know he has seen many horrors, and I should feel sorry for him, but I don’t. I can’t. I fear that if he could, he’d run back to her and tell her exactly where we are, maybe even lead her to us.

Tutelo says, “Shago-niyoh came to warn us that Gannajero is looking for us.”

Hehaka lifts his head and stares at us. His beady eyes glint. “She
is
coming. She’s coming for me. Soon.”

“What are you talking about?” Baji asks. Her hands clench to fists.

Hehaka whispers, “Gannajero will never let me go.”

“Why not? You’re just a boy,” Baji says harshly. “Just another boy. She has new boys now.”

“It doesn’t matter! Every time I ran away, Kotin hunted me down and dragged me back. She’s coming for me. You’ll see. There’s a warrior on the trail right now. Gannajero will recapture all of us again. Then she’ll punish the three of you. She’ll sell you to bad men.”

An enraged sob constricts Baji’s throat. She starts shivering and can’t stop. Tutelo keeps watching the Face, but I glare at Hehaka. He lifts his chin arrogantly, proud that the old witch wants him.

“Go away, Hehaka,” I order.

He lifts his nose and sniffs our scents like a curious predator, then tramps away down the hill toward Father and War Chief Cord.

“Are you all right, Baji?”

She sucks in a halting breath. “Yes. Thanks for making him go away. I was on the verge of strangling him with my bare hands.”

“He doesn’t know any better,” I say. “His souls are wounded.”

I return my gaze to the Darkness. The frost beneath it has ceased to twinkle, and as Grandmother Moon rises, the shadows around it do not move. How can that be? It is as though the Spirit exists in a bubble where time has stopped.

Very faintly, the pines rustle, and I’m sure there are dark wings amid the shadows.

None of us breathes. The frosty pines and leafless hickories glitter. This Darkness that calls me by name seems to have the ability to step inside the forest shadows and hide, waiting. But when we need him, he’s always there. I don’t und—

Father shouts, “Odion? Tutelo? We’re almost ready!”

We each take one last look at the dark moonlit forest, and Tutelo hisses, “Shago-niyoh says Wrass and Zateri are alive.”

Baji glances at her. “Is he talking to you? Can you hear him? Right now?”

Tutelo nods.

“Ask him—” Baji begins.

Father’s shout interrupts her, “
Odion,
bring the children now!”

“We’re coming, Father!”

The other children run away.

I take one last look at the moonlit forest. He’s still out there. I know he is. I feel his presence moving through the trees. In some strange way that I don’t understand, he has become my Spirit Helper.