The Second Coming (13 page)

A deep look of
sorrow settled on the Clan Mother's face. She knew all too well
about Brahm's premonitions. If Gray Wolf had heeded them, the woman
might still be alive.

“
I know, child, but if the Peace Maker has advised you to
ignore your better judgment, I think it would be wise to follow his
advice. There is a path being laid out for you that you must
follow. The Great Mother has a purpose for us all, even in death.
But if the Peace Maker believes your death will serve no good
purpose, then you should challenge the Fates and do what he
suggests. Orenda, I do not want to lose another daughter.” The Clan
Mother’s hands shook.

Brahm stood in
stubborn silence, trying to face the old woman. Looking into the
eyes of the one person that could bring her world crumbling down
with a command, Brahm lowered her head and resigned herself to
Little Doe's wishes.

“
Mother, the Peace Maker said I should heed the summons of the
Great Mother. What does that mean?”

Little Doe's
eyes lit up, and she sat upon one of two stumps that were perched
outside of the longhouse.

“
Sit,” she said, and patted the vacant one. Brahm settled
herself as the Clan Mother spoke. “Years ago, before Gray Wolf
brought you to us, I had a dream; a dream that came from the Great
Mother.

“
In the dream, I stood on a great lake. My eyes could not see
its end and I walked its surface, lost. I walked until I thought I
could walk no further. The hot sun burned my skin. Then, in the
distance, a great land rose out of the water. I climbed onto its
beautiful shores. I rested there for a time and, as I sat in the
shade, a naked woman on a white horse approached. She held out her
hand to me and took me upon this great steed and we rode across a
vast plain with the wind blowing in our hair.

“
In the distance, I saw mountain ranges and we reached them
fast, as if the horse had wings. In the midst of the mountains
there was a valley with a great cave, dark and bleak. It was a
crevice of despair and hatred, a festering welt upon the Earth. The
woman took my hand and led me into the depths of the
cavern.

“
Down and down we went, deep into the belly of the Earth.
Finally, we came upon a doorway, inscribed with writing I could not
read. We stepped forward and the fear almost killed me, for staked
to the walls were the writhing bodies of people. Men, women,
children; they covered the walls and the roof of the cave from end
to end, top to bottom. They were alive and suffering. I slipped on
the floor that was slicked with their blood.

“
There was a small spot left on the wall where I saw the bare
rock. It was stained red and was just large enough for one last
body. I feared for my soul, that the space left was for me, and
that I would remain there to suffer for all eternity.

“
Then I saw a woman on an altar. Cuts and bruises covered her
body. I knew she had been tortured long. The stone surface of the
altar was wrapped around her wrists and ankles. She was alive, but
barely. I walked towards her, but the woman with the flowing hair
held me back.

“’
No’, she said to me, ‘you are meant only to witness. He must
not know we are here. Orenda will save her. You will know her when
you meet her. Your love for her will be forever bittersweet. Tell
her of this when the time is right. Tell her to heed the call of
the Great Mother. Her true destiny leads her elsewhere.’ Then the
woman on the altar screamed. The walls of the cave and the people
nailed to it laughed with the most loathsome sound I have ever
heard. Then I woke up.”

Little Doe
grabbed the deerskin flask that hung about her shoulder and took a
long drink. She wiped the water from her chin before she spoke
again. “For months I could not sleep and prayed I never be shown
that dream again. I think of it from time to time. It was a
message, and the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew who you were.
That is why I named you Orenda. I do not know what the meaning of
the dream is, but I know the Great Mother will have need of you.
Now that the Peace Maker has come and told you to heed the call, I
can finally relieve myself of this burden. The woman from my dream
was right about you. I love you like my own daughter, but you are a
constant reminder of Gray Wolf. It is a bittersweet love I have
come to embrace. You are dear to me and I would hate to lose
another daughter.”

Brahm reached
over to grab Little Doe’s hand. “Mother, I don't understand any of
this. Who was the woman in your dream? How am I to save her?”

“
I wish I had an answer for you, child. But perhaps she can
help you if you help her.” She pointed to Brahm’s chest.

Brahm offered
a slight nod. Only the Clan Mother knew about the presence inside
her. She had tried various concoctions and ceremonies to be rid of
it. Nothing had worked. But if the Clan Mother was right, maybe she
could be rid of the thing that was leeched to her soul.

Freedom.

Brahm gazed
about the village, at the mass movement of supplies and wagons. If
she had to leave, she at least wanted more time to enjoy herself.
Her shoulders stooped.

“
Do not fret, Orenda. When the time is right, you will come to
live among us. Perhaps by then you will be ready to settle down
with someone,” she said with a grin, changing the subject to her
insidiously favorite topic.

Brahm rolled
her eyes and laughed. With any luck, White Feather would leave for
Haven and all thoughts of settling down would be lost for a
time.

And in that
moment, born from something deep within her gut, she decided she
would venture out on the morrow as far away as possible. She would
search for Diarmuid. It was the only thing that gave her any sense
of sureness.

The Clan
Mother rose and offered her arm. “Come.”

Brahm took it
with neither smile nor grimace, and let Little Doe lead her into
the longhouse.

***

Friar John
ducked through the doorway of the crude hut, desperate for air.
Dark clouds inched across the late afternoon sun as Liesel's
laughter trailed him through the frail opening.

He paced,
trying to think.

The old woman
hobbled after him, a toothless grin adorning her leathered
face.

“
You did not know this.”

“
The first woman Pope,” he muttered.

Miguel
stumbled after the woman, holding Meega's tiny hand.

“
What does Pope Joan have to do with what we are looking
for?”

John sighed.
“Have you ever read the works of John the Evangelist?”

The fat friar
hung his head. “The Book of Revelation. I did not like what it
said.”

John pulled a
tattered bible out of his sack. He thumbed through it until he
found the passage he was looking for.

“
And the woman was arrayed in purple and scarlet color, and
decked with gold and precious stones and pearls, having a golden
cup in her hand full of abominations and filthiness of her
fornication: and upon her forehead was a name written, Mystery,
Babylon The Great, The Mother of Harlots and Abominations of the
Earth.” He paused. “I always thought the Whore of Babylon was the
Church itself.”

Miguel's eyes
widened. “What are you talking about?”

“
I was mistaken. The Whore is not the Church, but the head of
that Church, the first woman Pope.”

Miguel's mouth
fell open and he stammered, his fingers fumbling with the rosary.
“Do you know what you are saying?”

John ignored
the comment, and skimmed the passages.

Strange.

“
It says nothing of her carrying a child,” he said.

Liesel eyed
him. “Are you sure?”

John gave her
a silent look.

“
Is there only one woman mentioned in that little book of
yours?” she asked.

One woman?

He flipped
through the brittle pages. “A woman clothed with the sun, and the
moon under her feet, and upon her head a crown of twelve stars: and
she being with child cried, travailing in birth, and pained to be
delivered.”

But what did
it mean?

“
Are you saying Sephirah was the second woman?”

“
One of two, or two as one,” she said. She cast her glance
upon the bible in his hands, and nodded.

Two as
one?

He read
further. “And there appeared another wonder in heaven; and behold a
great red dragon, having seven heads and ten horns, and seven
crowns upon his heads. And his tail drew the third part of the
stars of heaven, and did cast them to the earth: and the dragon
stood before the woman which was ready to be delivered, for to
devour her child as soon as it was born.” He looked at the old
woman. “But it says nothing about them being the same woman, and
why would the Dragon devour his own child?”

Liesel
cackled. “Are you a master of prophecy now, heretic? Do you know
the mind of the Fallen One? Do not let your feet trip over the
steps of literalism. Read further.”

His eyebrows
furrowed at the old woman before he turned his gaze back to the
fine script. “And the woman fled into the wilderness, where she
hath a place prepared of God.”

She escaped
Him.

“
A place prepared of God,” he said. “But where did she
go?”

“
What place on Earth is mired in the worship of your
God?”

The answer
came to him, swift as the Lord's wrath. “The Confederation.”

John read
further. “And the serpent cast out of his mouth water as a flood
after the woman, that he might cause her to be carried away of the
flood. And the earth helped the woman; and the earth opened her
mouth, and swallowed up the flood which the dragon cast out of his
mouth.” He eyed the old woman. “She fled over the sea.”

Mirth lit her
eyes like a Nightwatcher's torch. “You are learning, heretic.”

The clouds
rolled across the sky, laying the sun to rest in a grave of heavy
gray.

“
And the child is who I think?”

Liesel
nodded.

Miguel pulled
out his own bible. He fumbled with it. “Who?”

The words
caught like phlegm in John's throat; this was worse to him than any
evil he could have imagined. And he had had a hand in its
making.

John grimaced.
He was going to have to kill this child. He looked at Meega.

“
The Beast.”

The Westwood
emanated a damp chill that seeped into Paine’s bones. Like a
tentacled shadow the forest’s presence inched across the ground. It
leeched the life and verdancy from everything it touched. The
shrubs and trees withered as it crawled towards Paine. He
side-stepped its reach.

The hunched,
pale creatures that surrounded them somehow made him less uneasy
than the forest. They gnashed their teeth and brandished crude
weapons, but something was out of place. Three of the twisted
creatures cocked their heads to the side, studying them like a new
bird. Beneath their repulsive visage lay a look of curiosity. It
left Paine unsure if he should laugh or run.

One of them
stepped forward.

“
Diarmuid,” he said. His appearance changed, from something
that was one with the dark woods to something human, or almost
human. He was regal and stunning with sharply defined eyebrows and
angled features reminiscent of—

From the
corner of his eye, Paine glanced at Lya. She was focused on the
being that now clasped arms with Diarmuid. The two spoke in a
strange language that sounded vulgar and clumsy. Paine clicked and
twisted his tongue, trying to emulate the sounds.

The tall man
put his arm around Diarmuid’s shoulder. Then the remainder of the
host sheathed their knives and lowered their bows. They stepped
forward from the forest’s shadow as well, yet for most, their
hideous appearance remained. For only a handful, it melted away
like yesterday’s lard on a hot, summer day.

Paine inched
forward, cautious not to stir any hostility. He tried not to stare
at the ones that looked almost freakish. It was difficult.

“
Diarmuid, what’s going on?”

The
pepper-haired man reached into his pack. “Here, take this. It will
help you understand.” He pulled from his ragged sack three
turquoise amulets, each on a leather string.

“
What is this, and who are they?”

“
Better yet, what are they?” asked Lya. The freaks shrank back
into the shadows at her advance, weapons bared once more. Only the
ones of beauty stood their ground.

Diarmuid
raised his hands in an appeasing gesture. “Relax. They live near
here. I was hoping to reach them. The amulet is a translator. Its
craft is similar to how you talk with animals, Lya.”

Puck donned
the amulet without hesitation. Seemingly excited Lya slipped it
over her head just as quickly. She frowned when nothing appeared to
happen. She hid it beneath her shirt. Paine examined it before
placing it over his head. Like for the others, he felt nothing.

“
Welcome to the Westwood. I am called Truitt,” said the man
who greeted Diarmuid. He appeared to be a few years older than
Paine, with brown hair that flowed just past the shoulders. He wore
a neatly trimmed goatee and a stern look upon his face. He was
garbed in a green tunic and blue pants, matched by the others. He
glided toward Lya, taking her hand in his. There was something in
his eyes that Paine found unsettling; it was part caged animal and
part something else, yet he couldn’t quite put his finger on
it.

Restraint?

“
Feel welcome in our lands, friend.”