People of the Earth (101 page)

 
          
 
He tilted his head back. "Then we Dream
the new way. Heal the sick, if we can. Teach the young who seek Power how to
find it, and Dream the Spiral. We raise our children, and watch them grow.
Maybe . . . maybe ..."

 
          
 
She shifted to peer up at his contemplative
face. "Yes?"

 
          
 
"You remember that day above Singing
Stones' shelter when we hoped for a lodge of our own? Maybe we can sit in the
sun like that and watch this child grow." He reached down and patted her
belly.

 
          
 
She closed her eyes, knowing the pain of hope.
Brave Man quested into the One again, and her soul twisted. A disgusting
glowing green light reflected in her soul.

 
          
 
She bit back the urge to cry.

 
          
 
And I'm carrying Still Water's child? So much
to lose . . .

 
          
 
Brave Man sat motionless, back propped against
a boulder. In front of him the land dropped off into the expanse of the Red
Earth Basin. The western horizon glowed with the final traces of the burning
sunset, while evening eased over the colored soils and dulled the greens of the
geasewood
. His senses had grown keener since he began
to seek the Power. Now he learned this new land, scenting the spiced musk of
the dry air, aware of the soul that pulsed in the weather-worn buff-and-tan
sandstone and the rich red soil. Alkali had woven a bitter trail through the
dirt. The plants had their own Spirit here, enduring, bristly, and curiously
delicate. A different sort of soul filled this land, one that Sang with the
wind and Danced with the stars. This land would change a person, or a people.
Brave Man couldn't allow it to change him—he would be the master. So much would
be settled in this new land where he led the Broken Stones.

 
          
 
Down there, tomorrow, I will solidify my
Power. The last obstacle—White Ash—will fall before me, crushed as all have
been before. And with her Power I will be the greatest Soul Flier any people
have ever known.

 
          
 
The shadows deepened among the flat shapes of
the low buttes that stretched in ranks toward the western horizon. They waited
in indigo majesty against the darkening aqua of the sage flats. The lumped
patterns of dunes rippled over the earth to the south—dunes locked in place by
the sagebrush and greasewood that grew in their moisture-rich sands.

 
          
 
Out there, somewhere, White Ash waited for
him.

 
          
 
A nighthawk flipped and darted on the still
air as it searched for insects. A soft chirring came from the creatures of the
sage.

 
          
 
Brave Man closed his eyes, allowing peace to
seep into his soul. The nagging ache in his head subsided. As darkness fell, he
searched for the touch of the gray mist. Bit by bit, he forgot his body,
turning to the silence within that would lead him to Power.

 
          
 
He had no awareness of the owl that glided
past, or of the fluttering shapes of bats on their night hunt. He didn't hear
the scream of a cougar in the rocks above.

 
          
 
He drifted, surrendering himself.

 
          
 
Tendrils of the soothing mist bathed him, and
he allowed himself to fall ever deeper into the shimmering gray. He became
aware of White Ash's fear hovering somewhere beyond, and extended himself,
challenging. She retreated, providing him satisfaction. He had no doubt about
the outcome of their confrontation. His strength swelled, and he surrendered
more of himself, awareness growing.

 
          
 
He recognized the Power of the Wolf People's
Bundle. And knew the boundaries of its Power again. The voices in his head
whimpered somewhere behind him. Ah, so the Bundle was the source of the
one-armed man's Power. I've beaten it before.

 
          
 
He extended himself toward the Bundle, only to
be rebuffed. Force it? Was he ready for that?

 
          
 
Soon.

 
          
 
The gray fog lightened, developing a golden
hue. Like a diving falcon, he fell further toward the golden haze, and then it
shimmered and glowed around him. He filled himself with it, feeling the unity,
craving more. The thunderous silence held him, pulsing around him.

 
          
 
"You seek. " A sad voice echoed
silently through the sifting mist.

 
          
 
"Who . . . what are you?" Brave Man
gathered his strength, wary, unsure of this place or the way in which he must
conquer it.

 
          
 
' 'All that you are not. ''

 
          
 
The golden clouds whirled and shifted, forming
into the image of a golden man, a youth of incomparable beauty.

 
          
 
"Who are you?" A tingle of premonition
shot through Brave Man's awareness.

 
          
 
“I am First Man, the Wolf Dreamer. I Dream the
Spiral, the way of the People. You are Powerful. Your danger to the Spiral
grows.''

 
          
 
"What is this Spiral?"

 
          
 
“Circles within circles without ending or
beginning. The reflection of the harmony I Dreamed.''

 
          
 
"And you were a man once?"

 
          
 
'I was. My Dream led the People into this
land, made them One with it. I Dreamed the Spiral, changed the patterns. Now
the Sun People have come, and you would change the Spiral. Why would you do
this?''

 
          
 
"To become a god," Brave Man
answered. "I escaped from the Camp of the Dead. I have come to lead the
Sun People, to remake them into something stronger. I am the new way. This
Dream proves it." Purpose filled him. "What you did, Wolf Dreamer, so
shall I."

 
          
 
"And this time, Raven Hunter, you have no
brother to Dream against you. ''

           
 
"I am called Brave Man.”

 
          
 
''Names are illusion. ''

 
          
 
The golden man's features shifted, becoming
those of a huge golden wolf.

 
          
 
"You do not frighten me. You're nothing
but Dream—and I fear no Dream."

 
          
 
The wolf's appearance changed, shifting,
becoming Thunderbird, and for a brief moment Brave Man thrilled with fear. A
Dream. Only a Dream. He chuckled at the apparition. “You do not fool me for
long."

 
          
 
"I do not seek to fool you, only to
demonstrate, to show you that the One is for all. As I am Wolf to some, I am
Thunderbird to others. Perhaps I can make you see, turn you from your Dream of
separation. The One is everywhere, and is not. "

 
          
 
"You talk in riddles."

 
          
 
"You would Dream men apart from the One.
You would destroy the harmony with your foul Dream and make men lose their way.
They would never again understand how to share their souls with the soul of the
world. "

 
          
 
“Is that so bad? The world is meant to bend
for men. Power is for the strong and the cunning. By strength, I survived the
Camp of the Dead. By strength, the Sun People take what they need."

 
          
 
"And what do they give back? Are men more
important than buffalo? Than elk and deer? Than the plants and the rocks? That
is your Dream, Brave Man. You would Dream that men could take, exploit, and
believe themselves more than they are. You would veil them in so much illusion
that they would think themselves Creators. "

 
          
 
Brave Man flexed his strength, feeling the ripples
of the One around him. “Only a god could do such a thing. Why should men remain
a part of this Spiral of yours? If men can rule the world, they should do
so." He asked cunningly, “Or will you strike me down?"

 
          
 
Wolf Dreamer closed his eyes, and the sorrow
of his expression touched Brave Man's heart. Angrily, he rid himself of the
weakness.

           
 
We could have. The Wolf Bundle wanted to
tighten around your heart and split your soul from your body. I told it no. We
placed our hope for the Spiral in another soul Power cannot dictate the actions
of people. It can only influence them through Dreams. What we planned for you
was changed. "

 
          
 
Brave Man considered. "Changed?"

 
          
 
"We recognized your strength early. We
hoped to use that strength. We gave Sage Ghost the Dream so that he would steal
White Ash. She loved you once—as you loved her. We planted the Dream of you and
her together. But we cannot dictate free will. When the camp on the river you
call Fat Beaver was attacked, a Black Point war club changed all that—damaged
your soul and turned you into an abomination."

 
          
 
Brave Man chuckled. "I never would have
guessed that Power took so many gambles—and lost."

 
          
 
"Learn this lesson well, Brave Man—and
think seriously about it. Nothing is certain—not even for Power. Creation is
made so that the flight of a butterfly over Green Mountain might change the
patterns of the air to create a storm half a world away. No action comes
without risk. Not for us . . not for you. "

 
          
 
"So I was your chosen? What about White
Ash?"

 
          
 
"Together, you would have Dreamed the
Spiral for the Sun People. You would have taught them the Dream. Old and new,
male and female. Power comes from opposites crossed. North-south and east-west
create the world. The One and the Many of the illusion. All are tied together
and become the Spiral, the circle without beginning or end. ''

 
          
 
"And tomorrow I shall destroy White
Ash."

 
          
 
The golden man's sorrow filled the pulsing haze.
"We ask you to reconsider, to learn the harmony of the Spiral. We ask you
to Dance—"

 
          
 
"Your argument is persuasive, Wolf
Dreamer, but I see my opportunity now. That which you are, I shall become
someday. Let us see which Dream is stronger in the end."