People of the Earth (62 page)

 
          
 
Then at least one enemy will die in misery as
his guts fill with corruption. If only I could kill them all that way—pay them
back for what they've done to us today.

 
          
 
One of the warriors spoke in the choked
guttural of the Sun People. Left Hand could hear clothing rasp against the
thick fir branches. Fear flooded his body.

 
          
 
Don’t let them find me. Wolf? Don’t let it
happen.

 
          
 
Another laughed softly, smacking a callused
palm against his darts. They rattled meaningfully. From where he lay under the
thick duff, Left Hand could have reached out and touched one warrior's
moccasined
foot.

 
          
 
In the distance, a frightened scream split the
silent forest.

 
          
 
The warriors went ominously quiet; then,
whispering cautiously, they moved away, the sound of their deadly footsteps
fading.

 
          
 
Left Hand exhaled the breath he'd held
captive.

 
          
 
Stay put. Don't move. Wait until dark. They
might know how to stalk the timber, but they don’t know all the trails.

 
          
 
He moved a dry tongue in his vile-tasting
mouth and tried to swallow. How had it happened? The People had come together
for the Blessing. Today the Dance would have started, and the People would have
thanked Wolf for helping them through the terrible winter.

 
          
 
He had just stepped out of his robes to walk
down to the sweat lodge when that eerie cry had broken the dawn stillness. Then
warriors had seemed to spring from the very earth as they raced between the
lodges, casting darts and swinging wicked war clubs.

 
          
 
Left Hand had dived back into his lodge,
scrambling for weapons. Bright Morning, his
berdache
lover, had jerked up in the robes, startled from sleep. At that instant the
lodge was upended over their heads.

 
          
 
The Sun warrior had received the surprise of
his life when Left Hand had stood and driven a dart into the man's chest.

 
          
 
"Run!" Left Hand had yelled at
Bright Morning, then charged out into the fray. In a glance he knew that they'd
lost. He'd raced after Bright Morning, fleeing for the timber and casting his
darts to slow the pursuing Sun warriors.

 
          
 
In the shadows of his hiding place, Left Hand
clamped his eyes tightly shut. Until the day his soul rose to the
Starweb
Above, he'd hear those shrieks as his people bolted
like frightened mountain sheep in a trap. He'd watched Pretty Whistle darted
down. Great Water, his mother, had stumbled and fallen—only to have her brains
bashed out by a whistling war club.

 
          
 
And Bright Morning? Had the
berdache
lived? Or had that Power been destroyed with the
rest of the Wolf People's?

 
          
 
From every direction more and more of the Sun
warriors had appeared, as if there were no end to them. As many as the trees in
the forest. Left Hand's gut wrenched.

 
          
 
And what had happened to the Wolf Bundle? Had
anyone thought to save it in the last moments?

 
          
 
I have to go back and find out!

 
          
 
Brave Man sat before the shaman's lodge with
his chin propped on his good knee. In the twilight around him he could hear the
Broken Stones rummaging through the lodges and studying the spoils left by the
fleeing Wolf People. Brave Man shifted to a more comfortable position on the
furs he'd piled before the shelter. The women, children, and elders began to
trickle in from their wood gathering in the forest. All day they'd hauled in
deadfall, branches, and brush for the huge fire Brave Man planned for the
coming night.

 
          
 
He continued to stare thoughtfully at the
bundle. The object rested on the willow-stick tripod he had brought out of the
lodge. He could feel the bundle's Power. This thing of the Wolf People had
tried to kill him through a subtle constriction of the soul.

 
          
 
Brave Man looked up at the purpling sky. The
evening star gleamed above the tree line on the eastern horizon. But I
resisted. You failed, Power Bundle—and in the process, I learned just how
Powerful my soul really is.

 
          
 
His warriors returned one by one, having
assured themselves that the Wolf People had fled in panic. The bundle, unlike
the Wolf People, couldn't flee—but awaited his pleasure. What a gift for Bear
and Thunderbird! The guardians of the Sun People would grant Power and courage
for a gift like this.

 
          
 
A woman whimpered in the background, and male
laughter rose. His warriors were sating themselves on the captives, slaves for
the Broken Stones. Those women who had been taken alive would bear strong
children for his people. They would lessen the work of the Broken Stones women.

 
          
 
Where is White Ash?

 
          
 
A partial vision swam in his head—not of White
Ash, but of many working for a few. He pulled the vision to him. Many people
sweated in the sun, bearing the fruits of their labor before him on wide
baskets. He sat on high, a feathered headdress rising above his brow while he
lounged on beautiful pelts of mink, otter, and mountain lion.

 
          
 
I will be like a Powerful Spirit myself. They
will pray to me, make offerings so I shed my Power for their benefit. The
vision wavered like a mirage in the hot summer sun and faded, despite his
efforts to restrain it.

 
          
 
Brave Man shot a narrow glance at the bundle,
knowing the telltale trace of its Power. Yes, he'd captured the vision from the
bundle. What other secrets did it possess? For long moments he probed, trying
to bend the bundle to his will, but his efforts proved futile and he lashed out
angrily, knocking the tripod over.

 
          
 
How could he make all those people work for
him? In the beginning, the problems would be obvious. How did one control so
many captives? What kept them from simply running off? And how much work could
slaves do before the Broken Stones hunters spent more energy to feed them than
they were worth?

 
          
 
He narrowed his eyes. There's something here,
some Power for the future. Sun People have always taken captives—but only women
to breed and children to ransom back to other clans. How can captives be used
to lead us to a new way of living? One where Broken Stones tell others what
must be done.

 
          
 
Pale Raven walked out of the growing dusk to
settle on the robes beside him. She wore a soft elk-hide dress that had been
smoked to a golden brown. Tabular bone beads rattled on the fringes that lined
the hem. Purple designs had been stained into the shoulder yoke with dye made
from bitter-brush seeds. She wore her hair loose, a gleaming raven cascade that
the wind teased.

 
          
 
"A runner just came from Flying
Hawk," she told him. “All the Wolf People are fleeing to the south."

 
          
 
"Have they found White Ash?"

 
          
 
“No one has sent word yet."

 
          
 
Brave Man grunted and glanced irritably at the
bundle that lay spilled in the hides. "Have any of the Wolf People fought
back?"

 
          
 
"Flying Hawk said that one or two have
gathered their courage and have attempted to ambush our warriors—but that most
of the enemy are too panicked."

 
          
 
Brave Man chuckled to himself. "Some will
try." He lifted the bundle—it raised a prickling in his flesh—and turned
it in the evening light. "Tomorrow I will release one of their women to
tell those who would continue to fight against us that their heart has been
burned."

 
          
 
Pale Raven shivered, as if from the growing
mountain chill, and rubbed her hands rapidly along her arms. "I don't like
that thing. I can almost feel it. How can you handle it that way?"

 
          
 
He held the heart bundle before his eyes and
gave it a pensive consideration. "Because my Power is greater than its
Power. It has tried to fight me—and lost." He thumped the bundle with a
thick finger. "You see, the Sun is stronger than the heart. Everything
comes from the Sun. Even Thunderbird and Bear. Before there was anything, there
was the Sun, the only Creator and Life-giver. The Sun People are the new way
for the world . . . and I am the new way for the Sun People."

 
          
 
Pale Raven gave him a sober look. "I
would not be your enemy.''

 
          
 
He laughed, genuine appreciation for her
growing in his thoughts. "Nor I yours." He cocked his head.
"Tell me, how did you kill Sun Feathers?"

 
          
 
She hugged her knees and clasped her fingers,
looking out at the darkening trees. "How can you be sure I did?"

           
 
"You ask the most Powerful man among the
Broken Stones? You ask the Dreamer who Dreamed this?" He gestured at the
camp. Here and there a fire brightened the velvet lavender of evening.

 
          
 
She considered for a moment and then said,
"Age saps a man's strength . . . and he was an old man. I saw that he was
going to make trouble for you. I could tell by the look in his eyes. He
couldn't let you—a stripling, a White Clay youth-take away his status. When he
got to his lodge, I followed him inside and told him I had something to tell
him. He asked me to sit.

 
          
 
"When he'd lowered himself, I reached out
in the dimness and slipped a hide bag over his head. Then I lay on him and
pushed his head down into all those soft furs of his. He tried to struggle, but
he was too old, too weak. I waited for a long time after he ceased to
fight." She shrugged. "It was a good sack that I tied around his
head. If it could hold water, I figured he couldn't breathe through it."

 
          
 
"Did you hate him?"

 
          
 
She snorted in derision. "Among
others."

 
          
 
Brave Man extended his hand. "Help me up.
More warriors are coming in. It is time to start the Dance."

 
          
 
She stood and eased him to his feet. He winced
as his weight bore down on the bad knee. He placed the bundle on the tripod
again. "I think we have enough wood."

 
          
 
She steadied him and said, "From the pile
you had them drag in, we could burn the mountain down."

 
          
 
He looked up at the night sky. "Just so
it can be seen from the Camp of the Dead."

 
          
 
Brave Man limped to the nearest fire. There
two warriors grinned up at him as they ate something they'd found in one of the
captured
parfleches
. Pale Raven handed him a burning
brand before he walked over to the mountainous pile of wood the clan had
gathered. He lit the tinder at the bottom. Flames crackled up toward the sky.

 
          
 
People began coming from all around, watching
with wide eyes as they talked and pointed at the growing fire. Brave Man tilted
back his head to watch the first sparks whirl into the black sky. This night
would be talked about forever.