People of the Earth (104 page)

 
          
 
. . . And the whole world went quiet. A
glimmering golden haze filtered around her the way snow did on a crystal winter
morning.

 
          
 
"Now, Mother of the People, " the
Wolf Bundle told her in its chiming voice, "use our combined strength.
"

 
          
 
She opened the arms of her soul and soared on
the Power of the Wolf Bundle, letting it charge her with its might. From
somewhere far away she heard Brave Man scream, then sensed the jumbled echo of
the voices in his head crying out in horror.

 
          
 
She stood on the edge of the golden abyss.

 
          
 
The One called to her in a voice as sweet and
as soft as honeyed snow.

 
          
 
1 'Step over the edge, [ ' the Wolf Bundle
urged. ' 'Surrender yourself to the One. Brave Man is only confused. He's
gathering his strength to . . . "

           
 
Lights flickered and flashed, slamming her
back. She cowered, stunned, as the eerie green brightness coalesced around hen

 
          
 
"Let yourself go!" the Wolf Bundle
ordered. "Step over the edge! It's your only hope . . . "

 
          
 
She recalled Still Water's homely face, felt
his loving touch—and sensed the life of their child growing in her womb. If she
couldn't resist the One, the infant would die. White Ash sobbed as she leaned
over the abyss, farther and farther, until she fell. She sailed through the
golden haze, feeling the ecstasy of the One, become One with the Spiral.

 
          
 
"Where are you?" Brave Man's angry
voice called, breaking up as if coming through waves of silvered water.

 
          
 
"Here," she answered. "I'm
here." She longed so to free her soul, to let it soar formlessly in the
bliss, that she could barely stand it. Singing Stones surrendered to the One.
He let his soul merge like a drop in the ocean. He . . . Hope sprang to life like
an ember fanned to flame. And White Ash knew the way to victory.

 
          
 
"Follow me if you can, Brave Man. See if
you can Dream the One as Powerfully as I. See if you can Dance the Spiral
without stumbling to your death."

 
          
 
White Ash sensed Brave Man's plunge into the
golden mist with her, his soul rising in the wake of her passage.

 
          
 
The immensity of the One stretched before her.
On wings of fire, she soared through the Dream, leading Brave Man deeper and
deeper. She could sense his rapture, his awe at the magnificence and utter joy
of the One. Then she lost him. She couldn't feel his soul any longer. A torrent
of wary relief washed her.

 
          
 
Wolf Dreamer rose beside her, a silver-shot
eagle drifting on the currents of light. "You haven't won yet, " his
haunting voice said. "You’ve only stepped into your own snare. Are you
strong enough to leave here, to go back to your people?"

 
          
 
"I don't want to go back," she
whispered as an encompassing bliss filled her. Ecstasy and peace wrapped her in
golden warmth as her soul expanded to experience it all. Expanding . . .
growing . . .

 
          
 
"Still Water will die, and your child
with him . . . and, finally, the world will wither. Where is your love?"

           
 
She felt the fragile tendril that tied her to
the Wolf Bundle stretching, ever thinner ... All she had to do was to cast
loo.se
and Dream the One forever. She could let herself go
and sink into the silent thunder, drift . . . drift . . .

 
          
 
''Man of the People,” the myriad voices of the
Wolf Bundle called. "You must Dream, Still Water. White Ash is losing
herself in the One. Call to her! Seek . . . or all is lost. "

 
          
 
An uncontrollable shudder possessed Still
Water's body, as though too much Power had been poured into his flesh too
quickly. White Ash losing herself? No! Oh, what agony! Grief and loss sucked at
his soul.

 
          
 
“How much do you love the Dreamer?'' the Wolf
Bundle's muted voices asked. "Enough to risk your own soul to save her?”

 
          
 
Warm Fire's words echoed hollowly: Love the
Dreamer. Still Water yielded, seeking to trace that delicate link of love to
White Ash. He followed the path the Wolf Bundle made for him through the gray
film and into the shimmering golden mist, where fire and snow spun in
contradictory swirls.

 
          
 
His soul pulsed in dread and desperation. His
love for White Ash sent a blinding spear into the shifting gold around
him."White
Ash?"

 
          
 
Only thunderous silence answered:

 
          
 
"White Ash! Where are you? Come back to
me?"

 
          
 
Still Water's voice penetrated the One. She recoiled
at the fear and longing it sparked in her soul.

 
          
 
In the flickering gold, Wolf Dreamer's face
appeared, his dark eyes wistful. "I share your Dream, Mother of the
People. I feel your joy, but you must return. A new direction must be Dreamed
or the people will lose their way. And everything you love will die. Is that
what you want?"

            
"But life in the illusion
hurts so much."

            
"If you don't return, it will
grow much worse."

            
A vision formed. She stared down
at human beings laboring in fields. Clusters of crowded baked-brick structures
lined a muddy river. Strange, ornate domes stood in the center of the human
hives. There magicians burned incense on blood-stained altars. She saw wars
raging in the name of vengeful gods. As she watched, rains scoured the denuded
land, washing the earth into the rivers. Where lush stands of oak once covered
the hills, only barren rock remained. Men dropped seeds into the ground and
worked to nurture it . . . but no plants sprang to life.

 
          
 
"What is this?"

 
          
 
"What you see before you is a people who
have lost the One. They live far away, across the vast seas that the Traders
told you about when you were a child. They have forged the Power of illusion
into a lance that will sunder your world, White Ash. Their civilization will
rise for thousands of years before men cross the waters and bring their
perverted Dream to your land. They seek to change the Spiral in the same way
Brave Man does. The battle to keep the Spiral in balance never ends. If you win
tonight—if you go back and Dream the new way—the world is still not safe. A
thousand generations from now another Dreamer must face them. If you live,
White Ash, she will have your blood in her veins . . . If you don’t, there will
be no Dreamer to fight them. The decision is yours.' '

 
          
 
"White Ash! Come back to me!" The
yearning in Still Water's gentle soul reached her, and their unborn child
quickened in her womb. She hesitated, staring into Wolf Dreamer's sad eyes.

 
          
 
Sage Ghost, Wind Runner, and Singing Stones
shimmered in the golden mist. Each called to her.

 
          
 
She could make out the rainbow filaments of
the Wolf Bundle and Still Water's soul; they wove into a tenuous strand that
she could follow. She wept as she soared back along the strand. At the edge of
the One, she stopped. Am I strong enough? Can I go back to the hunger, war, and
cold?

 
          
 
“The choice is yours," Wolf Dreamer
repeated.

 
          
 
The cry of her unborn child pierced the mist,
echoing in her soul like the voices of tortured millions. She crossed the
threshold into the gray haze.

 
          
 
"White Ash?" Still Water's tremulous
plea stung her.

 
          
 
Wearily, she willed herself back into her body
and opened her eyes to blink up at Still Water's worried face. He knelt beside
her and brushed the wet strands of her black hair away from her cheeks. The
honeyed fragments of the One drifted in her soul.

 
          
 
She lay on the ground, the black wolf curled
around her, his yellow eyes gleaming as he watched the enemy warriors. The
crackling fire wavered in the cool wind that swept the desert night. White Ash
stared down at the Wolf Bundle where it pressed against her heart. The tendrils
of its Power no longer twined with her soul. They'd woven into a thick cord of
light and snaked into her womb.

 
          
 
She could see the rainbow threads of the
Bundle tightening around her child—and she felt her daughter's joy as a tiny
golden flame was born in the baby's heart. The glow spread outward, creeping
through White Ash's limbs like a fiery wash of molten amber.

 
          
 
Brave Man lay facedown in the sand. Pale Raven
went to shake him. "Wake up! Wake up!"

 
          
 
White Ash climbed to her feet, and the big
black wolf rose and stood side by side with Trouble next to the fire and Sage
Ghost. Her father grimaced slightly, but he made no attempt to walk away from
the animal. She gratefully leaned against Still Water for support and watched
Pale Raven through haunted eyes. White Ash said, "He won't awaken."

 
          
 
Pale Raven rolled Brave Man over and gasped.
Something black rolled from his pouch, gleaming in the firelight. She leaned
closer, placing her ear against his chest. She felt for his breathing and
squeezed the end of his finger. The blood retreated, leaving the fingernail
white.

 
          
 
"No!" Pale Raven cried. "This
can't be!"

 
          
 
White Ash closed her eyes. "He's joined
the One." Then she added gently, "He didn't have the strength to
return."

 
          
 
Pale Raven glared up, eyes flashing.
"Save him! Bring him back to life. Do it, woman—or you’ll burn here!”

 
          
 
White Ash stroked the Wolf Bundle tenderly,
sensing its anger. "The Dream's not over yet, Pale Raven."
Reverently, White Ash handed the Bundle back to Still Water.

 
          
 
For a moment Pale Raven seemed lost and
uncertain, as though the icy fingers of reality had began to clutch at her
frantic soul. She rose unsteadily to her feet, stepping into the light of the
fire and raising her hands. In frightened rage, she called to the night,
"Thunderbird! Hear me! Come to the aid of the Soul Flier!"

 
          
 
White Ash expelled a long breath as she
watched. For long seconds Pale Raven held that posture, jaws clenched against
the ragged uncertainty that shredded her soul. Then she glanced around the
edges of the camp and turned to face White Ash. She thrust a hand at Brave Man's
limp body. "Make him live!"

 
          
 
White Ash shook her head. "It's too late.
He wasn't strong enough to come back. He chose to remain in the One." And
I don't blame him.

 
          
 
Sage Ghost let out a small grunt of surprise
and shouted, "It's a trap!" He
nocked
a
dart in his
atlatl
and fell into a crouch, ready to
cast, as enemy warriors eased into the light of the fire.

 
          
 
"Don't throw, Father," White Ash
ordered. She could sense the struggle within him, the driving desire to repay
treachery. "Sage Ghost, this is a thing of Power, not darts and
blood."