Spirited (20 page)

He
means to shoot Major Whyte, not the demon!
She didn’t know how she knew that, but she did. As surely as she stood there, Wusamequin meant to kill the Englishman.

Isabella shouted, “No!” and rammed Wusamequin; she ran forward with her spear, lodging it hard in the demon’s side.

The monster reared back its head and began to shriek as blood gushed from its side. Isabella pushed hard on the spear, and the monster grabbed at her, its clawtips mere inches from her face.

Wusamequin let fly his arrow. It lodged in the demon’s neck; as the creature staggered and bellowed in fury, he raced forward, wrapping his hands around hers, shouting, “Mahwah, away!”

She shook her head. Together they forced the creature against the wall, Isabella shrieking in fear but not retreating; and they drove the spear through the creature, pinning it to the wall. Blood bathed the side of the building. Her hands and his were wet with it. Smears covered her dress.

The demon screamed and bellowed, and then was still.

It was dead.

Panting and triumphant, Isabella and Wusamequin threw their arms around each other. He pressed his lips against hers, holding her. Her body sang. She held him tight, held him as if to let him go would be to die …

“Wusamequin, nia ktachwahnen,”
she said in her mind, and in her soul.

He responded, ardently. Then suddenly he broke away from her. Stepping backward, he pulled the scalping knife from his waist, pivoted on his heel, and started after Major Whyte.

“No!” Isabella cried. Then the baby magically appeared in Isabella’s arms. It was howling, drowning out Isabella’s screams.

“No!”

But as Wusamequin raised his knife and prepared to bring it down on the major, who still didn’t know either of them were there, the wigwam disappeared. Wusamequin and Major Whyte vanished, and Isabella was back in the chamber, holding nothing in her arms.

She opened her eyes. The room was softly glowing. There was no blood on her hands or her dress. She panted and smoothed back her hair. Wiped perspiration off her brow. Her hands were trembling.

Curled on her grass bed, Afraid-of-Everything raised his head, watching her.

Did I dream it?
she wondered.
Was he going to kill Major Whyte?

She slipped on her moccasins and hurried out of the chamber, into the pitch-black tunnel. The wolf padded after her, then caught up and trotted beside her.

At once the torches appeared, lighting their way.
She saw the turn she had missed before, the one that led to the side egress. She took it, rushing along the smaller passageway, and was greeted by gauzy pink sunlight. The new day had dawned … and Wusamequin had not returned to the chamber.

Then a woman appeared to her right, trudging down the incline, probably from the entrance to the cavern. It was Wabun-Anung, with snowshoes strapped to her moccasins. Odina and Keshkecho were with her, each carrying a basket on her hip, each also wearing snowshoes.

Afraid-of-Everything growled softly, but when the women hailed Isabella and indicated that she should join them, he slunk forward. She moved with him.

Wabun-Anung handed her basket to Isabella and spoke to her in her native tongue. Then she rattled off a few words to Odina and Keshkecho, who nodded seriously. Wabun-Anung swept past, apparently heading for the main entrance to the cavern.

Isabella understood that she was to go with the two women. She was filled with dread, but Wabun-Anung had ordered it, and she knew she must obey.

They headed for the thick copse of trees where she had seen them emerge yesterday. The snow was dry and powdery, and difficult to walk in. She sank up to her hips. The two Indian women laughed and quickened their pace.

By the time she had caught up with them, they had moved through trees to a vast frozen lake. They
were taking off their snowshoes; as she watched them, her gaze traveled to a man-sized hole that had been cut in the ice. They were going to go ice fishing.

Soon they stood in their moccasins. Odina stepped gingerly on the ice, then seemed to think better of it. She waved at Isabella to go first.

Isabella had no recourse but to obey. She walked over the berm of snow and planted her right foot on the frozen water. The cold penetrated her moccasin; she was unsteady from lack of sleep and the ice was slippery. Moreover, she was not wrapped in a fur, as the two other women were.

She began to shiver hard as she minced forward. She knew they were watching her; she could imagine one or both of them rushing forward with a scalping knife, eager to plant it into her back.

Then she reached the hole, set down her basket, and stood beside it, seething with resentment as Odina and Keshkecho sauntered over. Chatting to each other, they pulled coils of what appeared to be fishing lines from their baskets. Each had one; a bone-colored hook was attached to one end. Isabella looked into her own basket, but there was no line. Perhaps Wabun-Anung hadn’t planned to stay and fish.

From Odina’s basket they also took two pieces of raw fish and baited the hooks with them. Then they lowered the lines into the hole.

Keshkecho’s basket also contained a nice bear rug, which she unfolded and laid out on the ice. She and Odina sat down, making no offer to Isabella to join
them. She stood on the frozen ice, dizzy with cold, her teeth chattering. Odina pointed at Isabella’s mouth and the two laughed heartily.

Mere minutes had passed, but the bone-deep cold was taking its toll. Isabella began to falter, her knees buckling. She held onto Afraid-of-Everything to catch her balance. The wolf leaned against her, supporting her, and giving her as much warmth as he could.

Then Odina gave a happy cry. She jerked on her line, and nodded eagerly at Keshkecho. She had a bite.

“Mahwah,” she commanded, pointing imperiously at the line.

Isabella could barely move. She said in English, “I’m freezing. I can’t.”

Odina scowled at her and pointed again. Then Keshkecho rose, glided over to Isabella, and cuffed her hard on the ear. The blow staggered her.

Afraid-of-Everything growled and bared his teeth.

“No,” Isabella rasped, more afraid for the wolf than of the bullying woman. Her ear was ringing. She swayed, and Keshkecho made a fist to hit her again. Isabella moved forward, Afraid-of-Everything shadowing her, protectively moving between her and her tormenter. Keshkecho dropped slightly behind, showing her fist.

Isabella leaned over the hole. Black water greeted her gaze. She could see nothing; she looked at Odina to trace where the fishing line went into the hole, then bent over to pluck it above the water line.

A wave of vertigo hit her. She wobbled back,
forth, back …

With a soft shout of protest, she tumbled into the hole, and into the freezing cold water below

The frigid black water seized her at once. She began to sink as a stinging paralysis numbed her from head to toe. She was so cold she couldn’t move; she could barely think. She knew she must not open her mouth, but the pressure to do so was terrible. She had not taken a breath when she’d fallen in, and she was desperate for air.

As she fell through the water, she thought she could hear laughter, but she knew that was impossible.

They are killing me
, she thought, as she realized that neither of the woman had jumped in after her.
Afraid-of-Everything, get Wusamequin!

Wusamequin had left the happy mother with her infant daughter. She did not know that without the help of the white skin woman she had insulted, the baby would be dead.

Wusamequin was both elated and very puzzled.

With Mahwah’s help, I used magic to shroud the village from sight. Oneko has confirmed that his envoys could not see any sign of us when they returned this morning from scouting for
les Français.
We did that together, guiding the stars last night

With her help, I healed the baby. And I found the British soldier who escaped our war party.

Together we are more powerful than I am alone. My
medicine begins to approach the prowess of my father’s—but only by joining with a white skin woman. How can that be?

He didn’t mention any of that now as he sat with Oneko and Sasious in Oneko’s tent, telling them how he had seen Major Whyte in a vision, in the long-house of their village.

All three men were alarmed. Oneko said to Wusamequin, “We must send warriors at once to capture this man.”

“Agreed,” Sasious said. He rose. “I’ll go with the warriors. We will return with him in three days.”

That made sense to Wusamequin. Warriors could travel at least twice as fast as the village, and it had taken three days to reach the falls.

“Leave warriors here with us as well, in case the Yangees come,” Oneko ordered. He turned to Wusamequin and added, “I have faith in the magical veils you placed around our encampment. But we must take all the care we can.”

“Agreed,” said Wusamequin. Then he turned to Sasious and said, “If you will assemble the warriors, I’ll get pollen and sacred ash to anoint them for strength and speed.”

“Agreed,” said Sasious.

Both men rose. Oneko said, “I sense in my heart that this Yangee has been brought to you in your vision for your final vengeance.”

Wusamequin smiled. “My heart soars, Oneko. The spirits are kind.”

He left the tent first, refusing to yield to Sasious, who had to stand back and allow it. It was foolish to insult Sasious, however mildly, but he wasn’t quite able to restrain himself.

Then as he began to walk briskly toward the little tunnel that led to the chamber he shared with Mahwah, Afraid-of-Everything bounded toward him, barking in the manner he had been taught to signal the presence of danger.

Wusamequin ran toward him and knelt on one knee.

“My brother, what’s wrong?” Wusamequin demanded.

Afraid-of-Everything whined and gazed at him. Wusamequin stared into his eyes. He felt himself falling forward, falling…

He had an intense, detailed image; he saw it clearly, as if he were there.

Mahwah, sinking in the icy dark water…

Wusamequin leaped to his feet and raced out the main entrance of the cavern.

He swam to her. She was cold and lifeless but he jumped in and swam to the bottom of the river, searching for her. Her spirit was working to push off the coil of her body and he swam toward it, holding it by the shoulders, and begging it to go back inside.

He carried her to the chamber and he danced for her life. He chanted and begged and sang.

He knelt beside her, wrapping her first in cold leather
,
and then in warm fabric. The Makiawisug knelt with him, weeping. They blew warm breath on her.

All this Mahwah saw as she floated above her body, bathed in a brilliant yellow light. Then he shook his rattles and threw back his head and shouted her name, her Christian name:

“Isabella!”

When Mahwah opened her eyes, Wusamequin knelt beside her, wrapped in a fur that revealed his bare shoulders and forearms. With a sharp intake of breath, he silently grabbed up both her hands in his and kissed her fingertips, one by one. His lips were warm; she felt a glowing energy seeping into her near-frozen flesh.

His eyes shining, his features gentle, he placed her hands on the sides of his face and held them there, warming them even more. They remained that way together; as her chest rose and fell, his did as well.

Then he gathered her in his arms and kissed her forehead, her nose, her temples. His mouth was on hers.

She felt herself coming back to life. She began to shiver violently from the crown of her head to her heels; the pain was like a series of severe blows all over her body.

Wusamequin threw off the fur. She saw his coppery, smooth shoulders and the twin bear tattoos on his chest as he lay down beside her on the fragrant grass bed. He pressed the length of his body against hers. His heat began to melt away the cold. She clung to him, and he to her.

Her four little friends held each other, weeping with joy that she was still with them.

“Do not die, Isabella,” Wusamequin whispered. “Do not die.”

She burrowed against his warmth, her frozen lips cracking as she replied, “I am called in the manner of Mahwah.”

Chapter Fifteen