The Legend of the Bloodstone (5 page)

“Aww, lamb, it’s all right now,” he soothed her, his deep voice humming through his chest. He took something from his pocket, and placed it in her hand. “Here, my ma gave this to me when I was a wee thing like you. It keeps the nightmares away.”

She looked down at the grey metal figure. Heavy in her hand, it was the size of her palm, the edges pitted and scarred. It was a bird, its wings just beginning to lift in flight, with a slightly
open beak that seemed to cry out some unanswered promise.

“It will keep them away?” she asked.  He nodded.

“Of course.  It’s a raven, a great brave bird. The raven keeps safe those he loves.”

“Well,” she sniffed, “how do I know he loves me? He just met me!”

Marcus chuckled.

“He’s always known
ye, lamb. He’s loved ye forever.”

It was the second time Maggie woke in a strange place, but this time the disjointed feeling lasted for only seconds
as the echo of her dream dissipated.  She could not explain how or why she was in another time, however she was painfully aware of the reality of her predicament as her hands twisted against the rawhide ties. Her damaged shoulder throbbed in time with her rapid heartbeat as she glanced furtively around the unfamiliar place.

Above and around her a rounded roof over a circular walled structure protected her slumber, and Maggie vague
ly recalled something about Indians who lived in wigwams. Lined with thatch and shingles of rough-hewn tree bark, it confined the warmth from the fire into the space, giving it a cozy ambience. A soft pile of fur cushioned her spot on the ground, and she could feel the lick of the flames warm her skin as they funneled upward in a wisp to escape through a soot-stained smoke hole.  Across the fire, she could see a girl in a rawhide dress bent over a large basket, rummaging through the contents.

When Maggie tried to push herself up and failed, the
girl noticed. She left the basket, shaking her head at Maggie as she muttered to herself in that other language. The agitated gesture tossed her two dark braids around her head as she kneeled down, and Maggie bit back a scream when the girl produced a knife from her waistband. Was the girl going to stab her? She had done nothing wrong!

Maggie scrambled backward as the woman crawled toward her.

“No! Please, I didn’t
do
anything!”

The Indian girl paused and tilted her head, then her lips widened in a smile.

“Shhhh! Be still!” the woman laughed, her English stilted but easily understood. Maggie thought it was decidedly
not
funny, but she did as the woman demanded and prayed it was the right thing to do. 

With a quick practiced flick of the knife, the woman sliced the rawhide binding around Maggie’s wrist. She then sat back on her heels and chuckled, continuing to shake her head in amusement.

“I’m glad you think that’s funny,” Maggie replied.  She rubbed her sore wrists, glad to see the skin was not broken, just a bit raw. Her wristwatch remained intact, shimmering in the firelight.  The woman reached for her hand and Maggie let her examine it, figuring she would be dead already if the Indian girl wanted to kill her. 

“You wear
a strange bracelet,” the girl said softly. “And you carry the Bloodstone.” Maggie nodded.

“I-I didn’t st
eal it. I already told him that.”

“I know.
It marked you. It belongs to you now,” the girl agreed. She smiled again and closed her small brown hands around Maggie’s fist. “I am Teyas, sister to Winkeohkwet. I cleaned the wound. The bear marked you…make a deep cut. You understand?”

The girl spoke slow and careful, her English edged with uncertainty but still quite understandabl
e. Grateful to her for her kindness, Maggie smiled back.

“Yes, I understand. Thank you, my shoulder does feel better.”

Both women relaxed in a mutual appreciation and curiosity. Maggie allowed the girl to remove what was left of her parka, and watched as Teyas examined it in fascination.  The girl rubbed the fabric between her fingers and squealed when it made a scratching sound, then she held it to her pert nose to catch a scent. Seeming satisfied, she placed it aside and reached for the basket.  Made from woven reed, the large flat basket held an assortment of garments similar to the ones Teyas wore.  Maggie did not want to undress in front of the girl, but she was fearful of damaging the tenuous bond between them so she did what the girl asked.  Her cheeks flushed as her exposed skin remained bared longer than necessary, since Teyas insisted on careful inspection of each item of clothing removed.  Maggie eventually ended up in a plain tan dress with bits of rabbit fur on the edges, her legs wrapped in fur-lined leggings and soft flat moccasins decorated with colorful beads.

Teyas picked up an object that tumbled from the heap of clothes. It was the heavy raven figurine.  Maggie held out her hand for it, hoping the Indian girl would return it.  After turning it over in her fingers a few times, Teyas placed it in her palm with a smile.

“My friend gave it to me, it’s just a toy,” Maggie explained. “A raven to keep bad dreams away.”

“Raven? Ha!” Teyas snorted with a giggle. “They bring trouble. Just ask my brother.”

Maggie shook her head.  She tucked the raven into a fold of her soft new dress.

“
Uhm, that’s okay, I’d rather not.”

Her shoulder ached, but the bleeding was finished and the bandage wrapped snugly around her gave it support. 
She gladly took the cup Teyas offered, not knowing what it was, but too thirsty to care.  It was a sweet, thick fruit nectar that did little to quench the dryness, but felt warm as it settled in her belly. 

“Thank you,” she said after finishing the entire cup.
Teyas said she was Winn’s sister.  She wondered if the man was still nearby, and if so, what were her chances of leaving?  He made it abundantly clear she was here to stay, whether she objected or not. She wondered why the man seemed at ease with the notion she was from another time. Maggie was in tentative acceptance of the idea, but still had hope of waking up in her own bed at some point. Winn, however, almost behaved as if he
expected
her to drop into his lap.  Did he know something about how she arrived? And if he did, could he send her back?

The bear-skinned door flap
being pushed aside interrupted her musing. An older woman with one long grey streaked braid entered the enclosure, followed by Winn. She was dressed in a simple doeskin skirt, with a loose fur shawl covering her bare breasts. Winn had discarded his buckskin leggings and stood glaring at her behind the woman, his jaw rigid and any emotion he might have had well hidden. Anger welled inside her as she boldly glared at him in return, and she was certain he noticed. His eyes widened for a moment and his lips parted as if to speak, but he quickly clamped his mouth shut and face returned to an impassioned blank slate.

Teyas tugged at her hand. The old woman spoke, and both Teyas and Winn deferred to her with the respect of their attention. Teyas began to smile and nod, but Winn remained
silent. He said nothing until the older woman folded her arms across her chest and gave an emphatic nod. At that point, Winn said something abrupt and tense. It was frustrating to have no idea what was being said, especially when she could plainly see they were discussing her. After a terse exchange, they turned to her.

“Ma-gee, my mother
, Chulensak Asuwak, gives you welcome. She is happy to meet you.”

Teyas served as translator, listening to her mother and then relaying the message with careful enunciation. Winn observed, but remained so
tight she could see the outline of each muscle across his folded arms.

“I, uh,
please tell her I said thank you. And for the clothes, and for taking care of me, as well,” Maggie stammered. At least they were including her in the conversation, but it would take some time to get used to speaking through translation.

Teyas nodded and smiled, and relayed the message. Her mother nodded as well, but
there was more she wanted to say.

“Mother asks from what time you traveled, and she
says she wishes you had a good journey.”

“What time?
You mean…what year?”

Teyas nodded. “We do not keep time like the white man, but understand it. Yes, what year?”

The words felt alien on her tongue, but akin to a confirmation of reality. It took her a few moments to compose herself before she could reply.

“Two thousand twelve. The year twenty-twelve. That’s what it was when I left,” she answered.
Winn uttered a sharp retort in response but otherwise kept silent.   The older woman knelt down beside Maggie and patted her hand. Maggie could not help but smile at the comforting gesture.

“It must be very different, the time you come from,” Teyas said, her eyes wide.

“Yes, I guess it is,” Maggie agreed. She looked up at Winn. Although the two women settled down beside her on the furs, he kept his distance, arms crossed and legs planted in a rigid stance. “Where am I? I mean, what is this place called? None of this makes sense to me.”

“We are the Paspahegh people, of the Powhatan tribe. This land
is called
Tsenacommacah,
where all Powhatans live. Does that have meaning to you?”

Maggie swallowed back the lump in her throat
as she nodded. Yes, it did have meaning, but it still seemed ridiculous.

“Teyas, I don’t understand
how this happened, how I got here. I just really want to go home.”

She noticed Winn stiffen when she made the confession. Why did it matter to him if she left?
The man bordered on infuriating. The span of emotions he incited in her within one day was enough to make her head spin.  First he saved her from certain death, then he tenderly comforted her through her fear. Then he turned into an angry, stubborn ass that tackled her like a linebacker and proceeded to fondle her breast. Yet he stood there glaring as she spoke, obviously bristling at the notion she wanted to go home.

Well, he could take a flying leap. If he
refused to help her, she would find someone who would.

“Ma-gee,
we cannot send you home. The Bloodstone magic is very powerful, but we do not control it. You are here for a reason,” Teyas tried to explain. Chulensak Asuwak spoke rapidly and Teyas struggled to translate her message. “Mother says she gives you her protection. She remembers the summer when the Time Walkers lived among us. We have never met another woman Time Walker, and she tells you she will not let harm come to you.”

“That is very kind, but I don’t understand-what reason do you think I’m here for?
Why would anyone want to hurt me?”

“You have traveled here
by the Bloodstone. Our Weroance seeks death of all Time Walkers.”

Maggie did not protest when Teyas took her hand, squeezing it in her own
, but she swallowed back the stiff lump in her throat at the implied threat.

“
Death?” she whispered. She knew she was not ready to hear any more, nor would she ever be, and when she saw the puzzled look Teyas sent to Winn, her worst suspicion was confirmed.

“
We will keep you safe, Red Woman. Winn did not kill you, he brings you here to us. There has been no other woman Time Walker since the Pale Witch. The Great Creator must have sent you to us for a reason.”

So
they would not kill her…for now. Maggie reached up and twisted a strand of her own copper hair between her fingers.  It gleamed against the shimmer of the fire as she studied it. Red Woman, indeed.

***

Teyas and Chulensak Asuwak left the house after showering her with tearful embraces and welcomes. Numbness seeped through her skin, and although she appreciated their heartfelt acceptance, she could not yet process what had happened or what she should do about it. The absence of the two women was purposeful and it now left her alone with Winn. The blasted Indian still stood there, silent. She must have misunderstood what the girl meant.  It had to be some mistake, she was part of no prophecy, especially one that meant to see her dead. She was just Maggie McMillan, a terribly lost woman in a strange place.

The silence between them stre
tched as tense as the muscles in his crossed arms. Maggie remained seated on the furs at his feet, and the irony of the position suddenly occurred to her. Is this what Winn expected of a woman? Submission and silence?  A laughed escaped her at the prospect but she tried to stifle it.

“What is funny?” he demanded.

“You,” she laughed, letting it out in a glorious release. “Me? I must look like a filthy mess. And you? You look like you’d rather be anywhere but here!” Frustration waned for the instant as she rocked back and laughed so hard tears squeezed from her eyes. His eyebrows rose and his eyes gleamed cobalt in the light as he watched her laugh. For a moment she feared he would be angry, but she was relieved to see his shoulders relax and his arms slowly fall to his sides.  The corner of his lip twitched and then turned upward in a lopsided grin.

“
You may be right. You do need a bath,” he agreed as he laughed with her.  Her laughter slowed when he held a hand out to her. His grin remained but tightened somewhat as he waited for her to respond.