The Broken Land (31 page)

“We will all mourn the loss of your grandmother,” Taya said sincerely. “She is a great leader. Matron Jigonsaseh must have been distressed when you told her you were giving up your weapons for good, and—”

“I haven’t told her. The one time I got to speak with Grandmother … I had more pressing concerns. I needed her advice.”

He seemed to be concentrating on the twinkling campfires of the dead. Or perhaps he was assessing how much smoke from their fire was escaping through the treetops into the sky beyond.

“Her advice about what?”

“My … treason.”

“So this was before your clan heard your vision?” It must have been, since afterward they’d absolved him of the crime, but his expression appeared uncertain.

He pulled a horn spoon from his pack and bent over the cook pot, stirring it. The delicious smell of boiling squirrel wafted into the air. As the rising steam coated his tanned face, it seemed to flow into the lines at the corners of his eyes, making them appear deeper.

“It won’t be long now,” he said in a mild voice. “You must be starving. We’ve been canoeing hard, and we walked a long way today.”

He kept staring down into the pot, stirring it, and she tried to fathom what he could possibly be thinking. He looked like he wanted to tell her something, but had decided against it. And she had the feeling it was more than just his discussion with Jigonsaseh about his treason. He was hiding something. His gaze had that haunted look that was becoming so familiar. He was no longer here with her, but traveling some war trail in the past. Perhaps, with
her.

“You’re dreaming about her again, aren’t you? Do you wish she was here, instead of me?”

He looked up. The moonlight sheathed his eyes with such strength she could see her own reflection. “She
is
here. They all are.” He touched his cape over his heart. “My friends never leave me.”

“I don’t understand what that means. I don’t see them here.”

His brows lifted, as though not surprised; then he drew wooden cups and another spoon from his pack. “Let’s eat so that we can get some rest.”

As he ladled soup into the cups, Gitchi watched him, perhaps hoping for the last dregs. Taya took the cup Sky Messenger handed her, and her gaze wandered as she blew on the hot stew to cool it. Just when she started to sip, she saw something in the branches overhead. Her cup halted halfway to her lips. “Did you see that?”

“Hmm? What?” he asked around a half-chewed a bite of squirrel.

An eerie chill prickled her spine. She went very still, as though her body sensed a predator nearby, even if her eyes didn’t see one. The moonlit sycamore limbs seemed unusually bright against the night sky. Faint tendrils of smoke threaded the canopy, but nothing seemed amiss. Gitchi, however, silently rose to his feet and stared at the same place in the canopy.

Sky Messenger instantly set his cup down and followed Gitchi’s gaze. His brow furrowed as he examined the trees. Barely above a whisper, he repeated, “What did you see, Taya?”

“Probably just one of Grandmother Moon’s tricks. A flicker of light, nothing more.”

That didn’t seem to soothe him. He stared at her fixedly, not blinking. “A flicker of light?”

“Well, yes.” A breath of wind swirled around the hole, and the flames leaped, casting a gaudy gleam over his concerned face. “It was nothing, Sky Messenger. Just eat. I’m sorry I said anything.” She took a drink of her squirrel soup, swallowing a chunk of squirrel whole, and forced a smile.

This time, he didn’t smile back. “What color was the light?”

“I don’t know, bluish, like a string of tarnished copper beads—”

In less than a heartbeat, he’d leaped to his feet and kicked dirt over the tiny blaze to smother it. Gitchi seemed to have turned to stone. Only his eyes moved as he watched Sky Messenger part the holly to stare out at the forest beyond.

Taya set her cup down, rose, and went to Sky Messenger’s side, whispering, “Did you hear something?”

He patted his lips with his hand, instructing her to be silent.

She had to stand on her tiptoes to see through the dense brush. Out among the forest shadows, she thought she made out the dark looming shapes of deer running the trail. It was a small herd, perhaps six or seven animals. She squinted as one animal veered closer to their hiding place. It must be a large buck for it … Against the tracery of black shadows, the elusive wink of moonlight flashed on shell.

Her breathing died.

Sky Messenger used a hand to gesture for her to be perfectly still, but it was unnecessary. She’d already gone rigid.

The figure moved as though not tethered to the ground, drifting through the moonlight like one of the Flying Heads. Awful creatures, they were just heads with long trailing hair and huge paws that were continually grasping at things, for they were forever hungry. Or it might be one of the
oki,
Spirits who inhabited Powerful beings, including the seven Thunderers, rivers, certain rocks, valiant warriors, and sometimes lunatics. Even shamans, witches, or others who possessed supernatural Power had a companion oki that helped them.

Taya kept her eyes on the figure. The only sounds in the night were the soft hissing of her breathing and the panicked hammering of her heart.

Moonlight caught in the shell beads sewn to his cape, and there was a prolonged glimmer. Was he examining the brush where they hid?

The hair at the nape of her neck felt like it was on fire.

Warriors. Had they followed them from Bog Willow Village? Other shadows closed around the first. From the bristly ridge of hair down the center of their scalps, all but one were of the Flint People. The last man, the man with long black hair, hung at the rear. It was difficult to see him. The warriors hissed to each other and sniffed the breeze.

Taya turned to …

Sky Messenger hissed,
“Not one word.”

She had to lock her knees to keep standing. There was something horrifying about the sudden quiet. It was unnatural. The wind had stopped. The silvered branches resembled thousands of ancient knobby fingers reaching down to grab her, and Gitchi stood like a grass-stuffed dog skin, his unblinking yellow eyes on Sky Messenger.

The lead warrior said, “I don’t see anything. I thought you said they’d be here. Isn’t this the place your
hanehwa
told you about?”

Taya shuddered. Hanehwa were human skins that had been flayed whole by a witch and served as guards. These skin-beings never slept. They warned witches of danger by giving three shouts.

There was a pause; then the man with long black hair replied, “They’re here. Somewhere close by.”

Another warrior said, “You’ve been saying that for days. I was sure I smelled smoke, but I don’t smell anything now.”

“You imagined it,” the lead man said, and swung his war club up to rest on his shoulder. “Come on. Let’s keep searching. I want to get home before dawn.”

Their words affected her bones like war clubs, striking and trembling them until she felt certain her skeleton would splinter to dust. A witch was hunting them, sending out his hanehwa to fly over the land and bring back information about their movements. That’s the only thing it could mean. When she knew she was going to collapse from sheer terror, Sky Messenger slipped an arm around her shoulders and physically held her up. All she could do was squeeze her eyes closed and lean heavily against him.

Finally, she heard their steps moving away and held her breath, listening for voices. When they seemed to be gone, her fingernails dug into Sky Messenger’s cape. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly.

“It’s all right,” he whispered. “They’re gone. We’re all right.”

Terrified beyond rational thought, she stood dumbly, feeling the hard muscles of his thighs pressing against her and the large shell gorget he wore beneath his cape crushing her breasts. A strange sensation, bewildering and frightening, came over her. Her thin body rigid with fury, she wildly slammed her fists into his chest, and just above a whisper, wept, “If you’d had weapons, I wouldn’t have been so afraid! At least you could have kept a few of them busy while I made a run for it! Let me go, you
coward
!”

Rage and hate flowed into her. She wrenched her body from his arms, and her quaking knees instantly buckled. She collapsed to the ground in tears and sat there with her shoulders heaving, not making a sound. Dear gods, she wanted to be home!

Sky Messenger took one last look out at the forest. When he seemed certain they were truly gone, he knelt before her and lightly touched her hair, stroking it comfortingly. “We’re going to be all right.”

“How can you say that? We’re being hunted by a witch! Didn’t you understand that?”

“I’ve been hunted by witches before. We’re going to be fine.”

She wiped her eyes on her cape. “How could you escape a witch? They have armies of hanehwa and gahai, and—”

“Just do as I say, and we’ll make it home. Can you stand up?”

“Of course I can.” She rose on shaky legs.

He whispered, “The last man in line, the one with long black hair and big ears, looked over his shoulder again as they left. He wasn’t satisfied with the decision to move on. He may return to search this spot.”

She scrambled for her pack. Sky Messenger kept watch while she hastily packed their things. His face was grim, and for the first time she saw the sweat pouring down his temples. It had glued his black hair to his cheeks.

“Why is a witch hunting us, Sky Messenger?”

With a warrior’s deadly agility, he climbed out of the hole and extended a hand to her. Gitchi slid past her leg like warm smoke and eased through the holly. She reached for Sky Messenger’s hand.

As he pulled her up, he whispered, “Evil needs no reason.”

Thirty-one

Sky Messenger

I
quietly examine the dark shapes that fill the forest. The warriors are gone, but there is still something out there. I catch glimpses of it as it moves between the trees, pale and flickering. One of the gahai?

“What are we waiting for?” Taya asks.

“There’s something I need to look at more closely.”

“What do you mean?” She grips my sleeve in terror.

“Just wait here for me. If you see anything suspicious, dive back in that hole. I won’t be long.”

As I trot for the place I saw the light, she calls, “Don’t get out of my sight? Do you hear me? I want to be able to see you at all times!”

I lift a hand, showing that I’ve heard, and slow down to enter the thick trees. Gitchi moves at my side with ghostly stealth. When the wolf utters a barely audible growl, I subtly turn to look in the direction he’s pointing.

As soon as my eyes adjust, I see them. Two small balls of light wander close to the ground. Prior to two moons ago, I’d never seen such things. Since then, I’ve seen more than I wish to, most floating aimlessly around destroyed villages.

“They aren’t gahai,” I whisper to Gitchi.

Gahai move purposely, in straight lines, because they always know where they are going. These lights float in one direction, then another, clearly confused.

I tiptoe forward and lean my shoulder against the trunk of a gigantic hickory to watch them. A herd of four deer emerge from the trees and keep watch on the lights, trailing them as they head into a narrow clearing surrounded by plum trees. The bucks are young. Their forked antlers blaze whitely when they pass through the thin bars of moonlight.

Gitchi has probably always seen lost souls roaming the forests, but it is relatively new to me. I am fascinated, still learning about them.

I shift against the hickory trunk, and the scent of wet bark rises. These lights are tiny, barely larger than my thumb. Are they the lost souls of children?

The two lights bob into the meadow with the deer trotting behind them. When the bucks can see the sky clearly, they playfully kick up their hooves and charge headlong for the glowing balls. The souls seem to understand. I sense a happiness in the air, or perhaps it is relief that someone has found them. They hover perfectly still, allowing the bucks to scoop them into their antlers and toss them into the air, high over the treetops.

In awe, I watch them climb into the night sky until they disappear among the glittering campfires of the dead that crowd the Path of Souls.

“
They’re on their way now.”

Yes, as you should be.

The words are so soft I’m not sure whether I actually heard them, or if they exist only in my souls. When moccasins crunch the dry leaves to my right, I turn slowly.

He stands four paces away, with his gaze focused on the bucks in the meadow. There is an eerie quality to the man, a stillness so complete it is as though he has been standing beside me unnoticed all my life, just waiting for me to see him. His pale hands are folded in front of him. Against his black cape they appear pure white. He wears sandals, apparently immune to the cold, or perhaps it is warm where he stands. He seems to be looking around the forest, and sadness pervades the air.