People of the Earth (93 page)

 
          
 
Still Water lifted the Wolf Bundle from the
pack. The council lodge went silent.

 
          
 
Power sought White Ash's soul, and she blocked
it, fearing what had happened to Singing Stones. She tried to drown herself in
the world, taking a deep breath of the hot, sage-scented air. With all her
will, she struggled. Sweat beaded on her brow; she clamped her teeth until her
jaw ached. Too close! I'm too close!

 
          
 
Still Water spoke softly, raising the Bundle
to the cloudless sky: "Wolf Bundle, now is the time for you to use your
Power. I flew on the wings of Thunderbird. Tell Thunderbird to send a sign ...
a sign that First Man and Thunderbird are one.

 
          
 
Thunder cracked in the distance and echoed
across the still land.

 
          
 
Gasps and shouts broke out in the assembly,
people whirling to stare at the clear, pale-blue sky. A few ran out across the
desert, going to high points to search the heavens.

           
 
“He called Thunderbird," Sage Ghost
translated. "That's what he said in the Earth People tongue!"

 
          
 
White Ash sighed with relief as Still Water
replaced the Bundle in the pack. She slumped, sweat running down her face.
Fragments of the One whirled within her, calling to her, extending fiery,
golden hands . . .

 
          
 
Still Water's fingers tightened over hers.
"Are you all right? What happened?"

 
          
 
She swallowed hard and grinned weakly at him.
"The Wolf Bundle calls. It would fill me with its Power and the craving
for the One. Next time I'll sit farther from you."

 
          
 
Outside, a withered old woman lifted her
voice. "Thunder! Did you hear it? And not a cloud in the sky."

 
          
 
Apprehension grew in Black Moon's eyes.
"How do we know that you haven't come to destroy us? Perhaps this Power
you bring is evil. You come with an Earth man, an enemy of the Black Point. You
yourself came from the Earth People."

 
          
 
She gave him a serene smile. "If I had
wanted the Black Point dead, I would have given myself to Brave Man long
ago—and today the Black Point would be as much a memory as the White
Clay."

 
          
 
"I only have your word for it."
Black Moon sighed. "I would rather have Hot Fat's."

 
          
 
"I have heard of him. He's a good man. I
would welcome his wisdom."

 
          
 
A strained silence fell on the camp.

 
          
 
"He's dead," Sage Ghost told her.
"Two days ago he was murdered."

 
          
 
Her vision blurred for an instant as she
raised a hand to her throat and gasped.

 
          
 
"What's wrong?" Still Water asked.

 
          
 
She forced her voice to remain steady.
"Someone murdered their Soul Flier."

 
          
 
Still Water's spine prickled. The people
outside the lodge had gone silent. "Murder? Singing Stones warned us.
Someone's killing the Dreamers. Some evil Power we don't understand? Or is it a
person—some witch we haven't discovered yet?"

           
 
White Ash felt herself go pale. "You've
brought me this far. I know you, you'll keep me safe."

 
          
 
Still Water put a comforting hand on her
forearm and squeezed.

 
          
 
Sage Ghost translated their conversation into
Sun talk as they spoke. He scrutinized Still Water with a curious mixture of
disbelief and unease. His brows knit in that old expression White Ash knew so
well—the one he adopted when presented with a problem he didn't really want to
find the answer for.

 
          
 
She turned her attention back to Black Moon.
"Are we welcome in your clan?"

 
          
 
Black Moon looked around, reading the faces.
"I think we would rather that you had never come among us. But you are
here. If your prophecy of the Broken Stones is correct, then they have eluded,
or killed, my scouts to the north. If there is to be a battle between Dreamers,
I would wish that it happened somewhere far from the Black Point." He
worked his lips nervously. "I would also hear the counsel of Wind Runner
and
Aspen
before I offer my opinion. This should not
be decided in haste.''

 
          
 
White Ash studied Black Moon, aware that the
clan leader fidgeted under her knowing glance. "The Black Point are lucky
to have a leader of your wisdom. Still Water and I will rest. Tomorrow we must
prepare. Your warriors will find the Broken Stones coming through the gap in
Green
Mountain
tomorrow night. The night after that, Still
Water and I will face Brave Man."

 
          
 
Black Moon didn't look reassured. Peering
inside herself, White Ash found her own fear-—one as desperate as Black Moon's.

 
          
 
Wind Runner sat on the crest of a dune west of
the camp, pouring sand from one hand to the other. The brush-covered hills
gleamed with a lavender sheen in the fires of sunset. The dune field stretched
as far as the eye could see. Who would have thought country like this would be
so rich in foods? The evening breeze massaged his face. To his right,
Green
Mountain
caught the slanting light, shimmering and
golden. Before him, in the distance, irregular sandstone-capped buttes cast
soft shadows over the land. The air smelled sweet here, laden with the odors of
sage and greasewood,
hopsage
and buckwheat.
Rabbitbrush
had turned a bright green; its deep-yellow
flowers would bloom soon. The spikes on the sagebrush rose above the aqua
leaves and shivered in the breeze as they prepared to cast their pollen to the
wind.

 
          
 
Below him, in the lee of the dune, the leaves
on the giant wild rye rasped against each other. White patches of hard clay lay
cracked and dry where water had stood at the end of the spring melt. Moisture
remained but a memory—vanished like his hopes for White Ash.

 
          
 
Who was this woman who walked out of the
desert? The penetrating look that filled her eyes, where had it come from? Who
was the homely one-armed man she called husband? What gave him his hold over
her?

 
          
 
He shook his head. And now I've lost her. I
agreed to be her cousin once again. He let the sand trickle through his fingers
the way hope trickled from his soul.

 
          
 
Light steps swished in the sand behind him. He
knew those steps; for the past few weeks he'd even heard them in his dreams. He
couldn't bring himself to look up.

 
          
 
“Wind Runner?"

 
          
 
He stared vacantly at the sand between his
feet. His fingers had traced angry lines through it.

 
          
 
She sat down next to him, silent, waiting.

 
          
 
At last he snorted in self-derision. "I
feel like a fool."

 
          
 
"I'm sorry. I know how your soul longed
for her."

 
          
 
He made himself meet her worried gaze. Love
and sorrow reflected in
Aspen
's eyes, bruised by his distress. "It's my fault." The sun
glowed red-gold above the dark-indigo shapes of the buttes. "I should have
listened to my soul that night at the White Clay camp. I searched, and all I
found was emptiness. It was the Power speaking within me—and I ignored it.
Today a stranger returned to my life."

 
          
 
"People change. Especially when Power
touches them."

 
          
 
He ground his teeth. "It's that Earth
man. He has a hold on her. Maybe if I kill him—"

 
          
 
"I don't think so."

 
          
 
He glanced at her, skepticism possessing him.

           
 
Aspen exhaled nervously. "I slipped
around behind Black Moon's lodge to listen to the council. White Ash speaks
with her own Power, not Still Water's. Though he has a Power of his own. You
heard the thunder? That was his doing. He called it with the Bundle he carries.
I think ..."

 
          
 
"Goon."

 
          
 
"I think both of them have Powers unlike
anything we've ever seen."

 
          
 
He winced. "I still love her. I'd give
anything to turn her back."

 
          
 
"Wind Runner"—she shook her
head—"I don't think you can. Even if you killed her husband, little would
change. She doesn't belong to him. She belongs to Power. You can feel it when
you hear her talk." She hesitated. "And if she's right, nothing
matters but Power—not your love for her, not her husband. Nothing but the
battle ahead."

 
          
 
He frowned. "What are you talking
about?"

 
          
 
"The day after tomorrow She says she must
face the Soul Flier of the Broken Stones. She says he's the real danger. He's
bringing a new Dream that may destroy the Black Point—may change something she
calls the Spiral. The way she spoke sent fear through me. She says if she
doesn't stop this Soul Flier, this Brave Man . . . What's the matter?"

 
          
 
"I know Brave Man." His soul
chilled. "If he's really become a Dreamer, Thunderbird help us all."

 
          
 
She rubbed a fidgety hand along her shin while
the breeze flipped long strands of hair over her shoulders in raven waves.
"What about you and me? What about now? Do you want me to move back into
my own ..." She closed her eyes against her pain.

 
          
 
Wind Runner took her in his arms. Such a
beautiful woman. So fragile now, with the death of her grandfather still an
unhealed wound in her soul. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I
wouldn't have hurt you—"

 
          
 
"I know. I meant it when I said the most
important thing for me was that you find your happiness. I'll leave. You
mustn't worry about that."

 
          
 
A moment of twisting doubt ate at him. What
should he tell her? Could he live without those long nights of shared thoughts?
He took a deep breath, trying to decide.

 
          
 
She loosened herself from his grip and stood,
brushing the sand from her dress. "Let me know your decision. Listen to
your heart—as well as to your soul. Choose your happiness, Wind Runner. You owe
me nothing. What has happened between us is no thong to bind you. We lived by
the day, and I accepted that. Be honest with yourself."

 
          
 
She turned then, walking away through the
sagebrush, her back straight, her step proud.

 
          
 
Wind Runner clamped his eyes shut, as if by
doing so he could squeeze the indecision from his soul. Dropping his head, he
asked himself, What if I can change White Ash? Bring her back? She said she
still loves me.