Walker of Time (21 page)

The haunting feeling washed over Walker, and he swayed on his feet. Again the low tones of the strangely familiar voice reached his ears. The feeling sucked at him, like a giant whirlpool pulling him deeper and deeper. His hands battled their way up to his pendant. Grasping it as he would a life line, Walker fought to stay conscious.

“Walker,” Great Owl's stern voice reached through the encroaching darkness that was pulling at him.

Walker's eyes were blurred. It took every ounce of strength for him to concentrate on Great Owl's voice. He was guided by it as a ship is guided by the moans of a foghorn in a thick fog.

He felt Great Owl's dry, leaflike hand on his arm. At the old Seer's touch, air finally reached his lungs. The ferocious pounding of his heart slowed. Walker's eyes and head began to clear.

Great Owl stood in front of him, holding Walker's tensed arms. Great Owl's face was calm, his eyes shining. “You must sit.” He turned so that Walker could see a man, who had to be Lone Eagle, lying in a bed of furs on the floor.

Walker dropped to the hard ground. Lone Eagle's face was hidden in the shadows of his fur coverings. With a slow, determined movement, a dark, wrinkled hand raised out of the skins. “Come closer,” his low voice held great authority.

At the sound of the words, the haunting feeling again threatened to overcome Walker. He strained to keep his eyes in focus, moving his leaden body next to Lone Eagle, who was struggling to sit up.

The small fire nearby flickered and brightened as if it had been suddenly fed. The shadows over Lone Eagle's face faded away. The overpowering feeling broke over Walker like a violent thunderstorm, leaving him shaking to the quick.

“Qeni Wayma, Walker of Time,” Lone Eagle's warm voice said, reaching through the raging storm to Walker. “Welcome home, my son.”

“. . . my son.” The words filled Walker's panic-stricken heart with calmness. The magical veil that had hidden Walker's memories for so many years slipped away. The haunting feeling dissolved into sweet, warm memories of this home and this kind and loving man.

With tears blurring his vision, Walker slipped into Lone Eagle's open arms. “Father!”

This is incredible!” exclaimed Tag, his tired eyes now wide. He and Walker sat at Great Owl's fire. “I can't believe it!” He shook his head, his tangled hair looking like an abandoned hawk's nest.

Great Owl had stayed with Lone Eagle, and White Badger was next door with Son of Great Bear. Flute Maiden, sensing Walker's need to talk to his friend alone, had excused herself to go check on Morning Flower and the baby. She had kept her eyes lowered, never letting them meet Walker's, as she quickly left. Walker appreciated her kindness. He was not sure he could have looked into her face and read what was written there. He had to first sort things out in his own mind and heart. He needed time to totally accept what lay ahead of him.

Tag rubbed his chin with a dirty hand, leaving smudges on his face. “It is all amazing. Unbelievable actually.” He paused, looking around at the one-room dwelling, the mat-covered floor where he sat, the small, flickering fire in front
of him, and the sick child sleeping next to him. With a wide, sweeping motion of his hand, he continued, “Actually all of this, not to mention just being here, is totally unbelievable. So what you just told me should make perfect sense.”

Walker smiled at Tag. He knew that Tag was having as difficult a time as he had had comprehending and accepting what had happened—as he still was having, in some ways.

“Okay. Let me make sure I got it all,” Tag stated. He pinched his lips together, thinking. “Years ago when your uncle, Náat, was a young man, he came here to Walnut Canyon looking for eaglets. It started to storm, so he took refuge in the same cave we did. Zammie! Somehow he was zapped back here the same way we were.”

Walker nodded. “Yes, but this was many years ago. Great Owl and Lone Eagle were also young men then.”

“Sounds logical to me,” Tag said, pumping his head. “He starts to climb down from the cave but falls, gashing his head and hurting his leg. Boy, it's easy to accept that part.” Tag chuckled. “Along comes Singing Woman and finds him. Singing Woman is the friendly, blind lady who weaves the mats, right?”

“Right, but she was young and had her full sight then,” Walker answered. Hearing Tag retell the story that Singing Woman had told him as he had sat next to his father seemed to be helping to confirm things in Walker's mind.

Tag shifted his long legs. “She takes him back to her home to care for him. Lone Eagle is Singing Woman's brother, and while Náat is staying there the two young men become very good friends. Since Singing Woman is of marriageable age, it isn't proper for Náat to stay at their house for very long. Once he is well, he goes to live with Lone Eagle's best
friend, Great Owl. Great Owl's parents welcome Náat and treat him as a second son. This made Náat and Great Owl like brothers, right?” Tag grinned, as if he were pleased with himself for his own deduction of the two men's close relationship. “Before long, Náat and Singing Woman fall in love and get married. That makes her your aunt, right?” Tag paused, his faced screwed up in thought. “Don't aunts play a pretty important part in the Hopi culture?”

“Yes, they are almost as important as one's mother. It is the same here,” Walker answered. He was sure that was why Singing Woman had been the one to tell him of his past, with Lone Eagle and Great Owl adding bits of information only when needed.

Tag ran his fingers through his hair, only to get them tangled in the matted mess. “Did Singing Woman say whether Náat had ever told anyone about where he had come from?”

Walker looked into the small, smoky fire. Only two small flames licked the air. “She said that they had been married many moons before Náat had told her about his home on the mesas. He also confided his secret to his close friends, Lone Eagle and Great Owl, but to no one else.”

“I can see why. I am sure the others would have thought that he was nuts, or—or a witch,” Tag said in a low voice.

“Some did,” answered Walker, looking up at Tag. He tried to remember the exact words that Singing Woman had used in describing the situation back then. “Times were very bad. Discontentment had started to fill the people's hearts. They were no longer as one with the spirits of the canyon or with each other. The people's harsh, unkind words had driven the rain clouds away. Their selfishness had kept the snow from falling. Because of the many contentions among the people, the crops became stingy with their
harvests. The deer and antelope grew tired of hearing the complaining and bickering. They and our other animal brothers and sisters left to find a place of harmony to live. The people's belts were cinched tight against hunger by the time Náat arrived.”

Walker paused, reaching up to touch his pendant. It was easy for him to visualize Náat living and working here. “Náat taught the people many new farming techniques, which probably helped them survive this long. But even with this, some people whispered that Náat had appeared out of the air and was two-hearted.” A cold shiver slithered up Walker's back. His kind and loving Náat had also faced the serious accusations of being a witch.

“Then for many years there were few babies born, and very few survived. Witchcraft was whispered louder. To make things look worse, Náat and Singing Woman, Great Owl and his wife, and my parents, who were all considered a family, did not have any children for years and years. Fingers started to point at Náat.”

“This is all so incredible,” Tag said, standing up, his knees creaking. He began to pace back and forth in the small dwelling as if to expel a sudden burst of nervous energy. “Then your father, Lone Eagle, was chosen chief.” Tag stopped. Making a quick turn, he walked in the opposite direction. “After many years and to everyone's surprise, Morning Flower and then White Badger were born at Great Owl's hearth. A few years later, again to everyone's surprise, you were born to Lone Eagle and your mother . . .”

“Summer's Song. My mother's name was Summer's Song,” Walker said. It was the first time in many years that he had said her name. Her kind face swept through his memory. He recalled the sound of her warm voice singing prayer songs. Her name had fit her well.

Tag came to an abrupt stop. “Do you remember White Badger? I mean as a boy?”

Walker nodded his head. “Yes, and Flute Maiden. She is just a few months younger than I am. The three of us were always together. I also remember Gray Wolf bloodying my nose many times.” Walker shook his head. “He was a bully even then.”

“That would explain why they recognized you,” Tag stated, resuming his pacing. “But Singing Woman and Náat never had any children. I bet that really helped the witchcraft rumor mill.” He plodded back and forth twice in silence. Walker watched his friend, knowing that he was trying to accept what he was saying. It was hard to comprehend. Walker remained quiet, waiting for Tag to continue.

“When you were three or four years old, sickness or plague hit hard. People started dying just like they are now.” Tag looked over to Small Cub's limp body.

“Worse,” Walker said in a low voice, remembering Singing Woman's words. “In a star's twinkling, Masau'u claimed all the elderly ones but was still hungry. Babies in their mother's arms closed their eyes, never to wake again. Children stopped their games and lay down, never to play again.”

With tears in his eyes, Tag stood perfectly still, staring down at Small Cub. “I can really understand and accept that.” He brushed his eyes with the back of his hand. With a deep sigh, he plopped down beside Walker. He sat with his shoulders hunched forward, gazing at the sick child. Gently he lifted Small Cub's hand into his and cradled it.

Silence filled the stale air for many minutes.

“Your mother gets the sickness really bad.” From Tag's weary voice, Walker could tell his short spurt of energy was gone. “Just before your mother dies, she has a vision or something. She sees that you, her son, will some day lead
her people. She also realizes that you could get sick, too. So she asks Great Owl to use his magical powers to save you.” Tag searched Walker's face. “Do you think that she knew about him sending you with Náat into the future?”

“I don't know.” Walker stared into the low flames. “She knew that Great Owl had seen the same images of me leading the people that she had. I think she just trusted him to use his powers in any way possible to protect me.”

Tag thought this over for a minute. Nodding his head, as if he accepted it, he continued, “So somehow, Great Owl zaps you and your uncle back to the future, where you have been for the last eleven or more years, right?” Tag turned to look straight into Walker's eyes. “But how?” Even before Walker could shrug his shoulders, Tag answered his own question. “I know! I know! It's not polite to ask.”

Walker smiled at his friend. Silence again filled the thick air.

“While you were living in the twentieth century, things here just kept getting worse with the drought and everything. With Lone Eagle getting old and sick, Great Owl brings you back here. And now things get downright dangerous. Tomorrow at the fort, in front of all the people, your father is going to announce that you are their new leader and chief.” Tag shook his head. “It sounds easy enough. Except that Gray Wolf also wants to be chief and is willing to kill anyone who stands in his way.”

“Yup,” said Walker with a tightness in his chest. “You know, you're pretty good for a bahana.” He winked at Tag.

Tag ignored the teasing, his face remaining deadly serious. “How are you going to prove that you are Lone Eagle's son? That is, without getting one of Gray Wolf's arrow's straight through your heart?”

Walker reached up and touched his eagle pendant. “It will be done,” he said, trying to sound confident. Fear began pumping through his body at the thought of what he must do in the morning. Could he take on such overwhelming responsibilities? Would he be able to deal with Gray Wolf and his followers? He swallowed the growing knot in his throat. “Now, Tag, we need to talk about you.”

“Me?”

Walker smiled. “Yes, my friend, you. You just happened to ‘tag along,' into all of this. Like you just said, things are going to get dangerous. Tag, I value your friendship too much to have your blood on my hands if something goes wrong.”

“But . . .”

“No, hear what I have to say. Then you, and only you, must decide which path to take.” Walker took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Great Owl has the power to send you back into the future.”

Tag sputtered, “What?”

“Yes, back to the future. I can't tell you for certain what lies ahead for me or my people. You, however, have the option to return home to your own time and to your own people.”

Tag's mouth opened to speak, but nothing came out. Closing his mouth, he looked down at his hands that were clenched together.