Time of the Eagle (26 page)

F
or a heartbeat there was silence. Then everyone was jumping up, cheering, laughing, dancing, hooting wild war cries, jubilant. People hugged one another, trampling the remains of the feast, Igaal and Hena warriors and Navoran soldiers all embracing like old comrades. Mudiwar's sons were hugging him, almost knocking him over, and Ramakoda was kissing the old man's balding head, fierce and smiling and triumphant. Then Ishtok was hugging me, laughing, crying, saying something I could not hear for the clamor. And all the time amid that mighty tumult I thought, with astonishment, almost with disbelief,
It is come! The Time of the Eagle is come!
Then joy-wildness swept over me, overwhelming and glorious, and I thought of my mother, of Yeshi, of old Zalidas and all my people, their time come at last. I thought of the ones I loved at Ravinath, and lifted the amulet from Sheel Chandra and pressed it to my brow, and knew that he would know.

Then quietness fell, and I realized that old Mudiwar was standing with his arms raised and that he wished to speak. Pushing
aside the trampled baskets and dishes, we sat down again. Mudiwar too sat, very erect and dignified.

He said to me, “Avala, tell my words to the man Embry and his soldiers, for this is talk of war, and must be clear to all.”

So I interpreted, and the words he said rang like a summons.

“I say we need to march soon,” Mudiwar said. “Before the Emperor in the stone city gathers his army together against us and Embry's army, we need to move. While our hearts burn, and while my son Chetobuh's wounds are still fresh to goad us to act, we must move. Before the next full moon, we must move.”

A cheer went up, but Embry lifted his hand, wishing to speak. “I honor your words, chieftain,” he said. “But it will take time to gather up the tribes. It will take maybe until the middle of summer. There is much to be prepared for. And the Shinali, too, must be called to arms.”

“Within three days,” said Mudiwar, “I can have all the Igaal tribes gathered together. My pledge-son, Ishtok, can ride to the marshlands with these Hena kin of his, and they can gather up their tribes. In four days we can be ready with an army of twenty times a thousand warriors, ready for battle. Is that soon enough for you?”

“How can you call all the Igaal tribes together so soon?” asked Embry. “They are scattered over hundreds of miles.”

“There is a plain in the middle of all the Igaal lands,” said Mudiwar. “It is where we meet for the Gathering of all our people, at the beginning of every other spring. On that plain where we meet is a dead forest, many trees very tall and tinder dry. Long have we had a plan, that if ever the need arose for all the tribes to gather urgently, that forest would be set on fire, and
make a great beacon-light that can be seen from all our lands, and that will draw every tribe swiftly to it. That dead forest is but a morning's ride from here.”

“That is well and fine,” said Embry, “but even the Lord Jaganath, with all his powers, cannot find the Shinali. Even if I sent out fifty scouts, it may take all summer to find them.”

“I can find them by day's end,” I said, and could not help smiling at the look on Embry's face. His soldiers talked quietly among themselves, and there were a few chuckles.

“I will vouch for her powers,” said Mudiwar, “for she found us, after being away from us for more than a year, and only the gods could have told her where we were.”

Embry said something to one of the Navoran soldiers, a big red-haired man with a wild beard and a nose like a hawk, and for a few moments they talked quietly together. Then Embry said, “It seems that you are right, Mudiwar, and we can indeed march within the next few days. But we must work out a battle plan, and choose a leader whom all—Shinali, Hena, Igaal, and Navoran—will follow. There must be total unity among us. But first we need to know where the Shinali are. Even leaving tonight, it may take many days to bring them to us, and to tell them the plan. I hope they will be ready.”

Suddenly the children on the edge of the camp began to shout, and people started running. There were calls for Embry, and some of the Igaal men came running from the tents with their bows. We had visitors. Looking along the riverbank toward the gorge, I saw one of Jaganath's soldiers riding in, slowly, with a small group of Igaal captives walking beside him. The Igaal people walked free, and before long they were running, and the
soldier did not prevent them. People ran out toward them, and there were hugs and glad cries.

Embry went out to meet the soldier, and they talked on the edge of the camp. We saw the man draw his sword, and several Igaal arrows were aimed at him. But he placed the sword on the ground and knelt down, with his hands folded on his brow. When he stood, he and Embry shook hands in the Navoran way, and embraced, and Embry gave him back his sword. The man got on his horse and rode away through the gorge again, and Embry came back to us. He was smiling broadly, and there was a lightness in his step. He came back to the council mat and said to Mudiwar, while I translated, “Those soldiers who fought us yesterday, they wish to come back and join us. Every one of them.”

Mudiwar gnawed on his lower lip, and looked suspicious. “How can we trust them?” he asked.

“Their commander—the man I just spoke to—was my friend when I was still in Jaganath's army,” Embry said. “His name is Oren. He would have joined me then, but his wife was very ill and he did not want to leave the city. She died in the winter. He's a fine soldier and a great leader, and his men are loyal to him—more loyal to him than to Jaganath. They are ready to surrender to me and my army, and to fight beside us all in the Time of the Eagle.”

“You trust him, this Oren friend of yours?” asked Mudiwar.

“I'd trust him with my life,” replied Embry.

“Would you trust him with the lives of my tribe, my children?” asked Mudiwar, still unsure.

Embry smiled. “Oren was obeying orders yesterday. Now he
returns the Igaal captives he took, unharmed. If we accept him and his men, we have on our side almost six hundred more Navoran fighters. There are other advantages. Oren and his battalion were not sent to this valley; they were on their way north to seek out tribes for slaves, when they saw the entrance to the gorge. On a chance, one of the soldiers was sent to investigate. He spied your people, and so the slaves were taken from this tribe. Jaganath does not know that we are here. So far as he knows, his raiding party is still riding north. If you accept the surrender of these soldiers, your camp here remains secret. I trust my friend, Mudiwar. There is no treachery in him. But your caution is understood, and if you wish, your warriors may search the soldiers and keep all their weapons, while they are in your camp.”

“They may join us, on that condition,” said Mudiwar.

For the rest of the day our camp was in chaos, but in a good way. Although the soldiers surrendered all their weapons, even their small eating knives, old Mudiwar was still deeply suspicious. However, I talked with Embry's friend, Oren, and saw the colors of his soul about him, strong and true, full of courage and a hunger for justice. I saw the same colors in his men, and sensed the liberty they felt, to be out from under the yoke of Jaganath. I recalled things told to me in Ravinath, how many Navorans would welcome the Time of the Eagle and the new life it would bring, and saw the evidence of that hope in these soldiers. From my talks with them, I discovered that not one of them had volunteered for the army, and many had been told that, if they refused to fight in Jaganath's name, family members would
disappear, or homes would be confiscated, or sons imprisoned on false charges. “Life was always hard under Jaganath's rule,” one old soldier told me, “but after the bulai fever hit the city last summer, killing thousands, it's worse than ever. Over the winter there were food and fuel shortages, and the city's water system was contaminated. People starved and died of disease, while at night the palace lights burned and there was music, and Jaganath and his lords feasted. People are at the breaking point. There have always been rumors of the Time of the Eagle, and people whispered of it with dread; but now they are in the temple every day, praying for it.”

That afternoon I went to Mudiwar's tent, got the map I had made at Ravinath, and walked along the lake shore toward the gorge, where, undisturbed, I could seek out my people. At times I walked on ground stained by blood, and every now and again passed a garment torn off in battle, or a bloodstained shoe, or a broken arrow. Strange feelings went through me—a huge, immeasurable joy, that the Time of the Eagle had come, and that all the nations were so ready for it; but I also felt a deep apprehension over the looming battle that would end all battles. I had tasted war now—had seen it and smelled it and heard it and been in the midst of it—and was more certain than ever that I did not want to fight, but only to heal afterward. Yet how could my people go to war this last momentous time, and I not be with them?

Torn, confused, I sat on the stony ground near the mouth of the gorge and spread the map out on the ground. My hands
trembled as I selected stones and placed them on the corners, so the wind would not blow the parchment away. Then, sitting very straight and still, I made my being calm, and looked at the map through half-closed eyes.

Along the great rivers my spirit flew, through the mountain gorges of the far north, over the borders of the Hena and the Igaal lands. But my people were not there. South I came, down through the snow-topped ranges, and down farther yet, toward our old Shinali lands. And there, in a canyon deep in the Napangardi Mountains, I felt a throb of life. I went along that place again, down a wide flat valley with a river, aware of the dizzy height of canyon walls all around. Then, in a vast natural cavern hidden by the sweeping cliffs, I felt the presence of my people. About halfway between Ravinath and the coast they were, and—as the eagle flies—only five miles from their old homeland. It seemed strange that they were so close to the place where the battle would be fought, almost as if they knew the time had come.

Nearly all the people were out on the flat ground in front of the cave. Shooting targets had been set up on sticks, and everyone strong enough to draw a bow was lined up in ranks, bows in hands, and Yeshi was going back and forth in front of them, shouting instructions. Beyond them, on the cliff face, a huge eagle had been painted in black. Under the eagle sat old Zalidas, more wrinkled and frail than ever, his hair pure white, yet with the strength of his dreams about him like a light. Very still he sat, dignified in full ceremonial and priestly garments, holy signs
painted on his face. He was watching the archers, and his lips moved, as if in prayer.

As I looked at him, at the orderly ranks of archers, at the eagle painted on the cliff, a joy went through me, a wonderful astonishment, and I realized what they were doing: my people were preparing for war. Hardly able to contain my joy, my gratitude, I crouched in front of Zalidas. His lips became still, and his eyes widened. He was halfway in the other world, half entranced. With all my will, I passed to him two words:
four days.
I repeated the words several times, but Zalidas gave no sign that he received them. And then another idea struck me, though I did not know if it would work, or if I could do such a thing within a vision such as this: I decided to make an illusion of an eagle in flight, that would be seen by him and all the tribe.

Standing, I looked along the canyon, past the towering cliffs, and called up an image of my people's sign. At the head of the canyon my eagle began its flight; it swooped low, gliding right over the heads of the archers, its wings almost sweeping their bows; then it turned and came along the cliff, past Zalidas, who was standing now, transfixed, his hands raised in salute to the giant eagle that passed, so close to him that the wind of its wings lifted his white hair; then it gave four loud cries, soared away, and vanished into light.

Everyone there saw it. For a few moments they stood looking up, and some of the little children ran to their mothers, screaming; but the young people gazed up in amazement, the old ones began chanting prayers, and Zalidas cried out in a loud voice, “The Eagle has come! Four days! Four days we have, and then
they will join with us, our allies! Shoot well, my children, shoot well with your bows! Soon you will be on the battleground, fighting for our lands!”

I lifted my head, and saw that the
shoorai
wind had blown bits of grit and sand across my map. It was near evening. I looked along the shore of the lake to where the camp was and saw that several big cooking fires had been lit, for the usual pits were not large enough to contain meat for all that great company. Mudiwar and Ramakoda were still sitting on the council mat on the grass, with Embry and some of his soldiers, obviously still talking battle plans.

Shaking the dust off my map, I rolled it and began walking back, trying not to look at the signs of battle beneath my feet, for they spoke too clearly of the greater war to come. Despite the joy that my people were in readiness, I could not understand the heaviness on me, the feeling that although the Time of the Eagle had come, my part in it was somehow skewed, out of tune with who I was. I could not imagine picking up my bow and firing an arrow through the wondrous chambers of a man's heart, even if that man was the soldier of the Emperor Jaganath. But neither could I imagine not marching in that mighty army, not being alongside my mother, and Yeshi, and all my people I loved, when they fought their last great fight for freedom. I felt torn, painfully divided.