Ancient Forces Collection (8 page)

Scott reached for the keyboard and typed:

Then what should we do?

As they waited for a reply, there was a rumble of thunder in the distance. Becka glanced out the window. “Looks like the wind’s picking up.”

As if in answer, lightning flashed again, followed seconds later by a much louder clap of thunder.

Scott sighed impatiently. “What’s taking him so long to respond?” For the briefest second the lights in the store dimmed and the computer screen flickered. “Oh no,” Scott groaned.

“What’s wrong?” Mom asked.

“The phone line may be going.” But the screen stabilized, and Scott said, “It’s coming back.” And then a moment later, “Ah, here we go.”

Once again Becka leaned forward to read the words as they came on:

You have encountered situations similar to this. You
know your authority. Swift Arrow need not be afraid.
However, be careful not to underestimate Dark Bear’s
power.

Scott and Becka exchanged glances. But Z wasn’t finished.

Did you receive the Bible verse?

Scott typed:

Yes, but we didn’t understand. Who’s it for? What does it
mean?

Once again the lights and the screen flickered, and once again power returned. Mom, Becka, and Scott watched as Z’s answer formed.

You are waging two battles. One is offense, the other defense. I am very concerned that one of you is about to fall. And if one falls, you all will fall.

Quickly Scott typed:

Who are you concerned about?

No answer. Scott tried again.

Z? Z, who are you concerned about?

And then once again the verse formed.

“The Spirit clearly says that in later times some will abandon the faith and follow deceiving spirits and things taught by demons.” 1 Timothy 4:1

Scott let out a sigh of frustration and typed:

Yes, yes, we have that verse, but what are we supposed to

Scott never finished. There was another flash of lightning, and the telephone line went dead. The computer was disconnected.

7

T
he next morning Swift Arrow came to their camp at daybreak. “I have decided to call a council of my own a day before Dark Bear’s. I will speak to the people about my beliefs.”

“Hey, that’s great,” Scott said.

Swift Arrow nodded. “But I need your help to get the word out.”

“We can do that,” Becka said. “When will it be?”

“It must be tonight.
For it is tomorrow that Dark Bear will try to incite the people to drive us out.”

Scott and Becka agreed to spend the morning going through the village and telling everyone about the meeting. At least that was their plan. Unfortunately they ended up spending most of that time looking for Ryan. Apparently he’d taken off before sunrise with Little Creek, and no one knew where they had gone. And now Becka wasn’t just kind of worried. She was really worried.

“This is a waste of time,” Scott complained. “We need to tell the village about Swift Arrow’s council. We’d better forget about Ryan until later.”

Becka sighed. Forgetting about Ryan was the last thing she wanted to do, but she knew her little brother had a point. “I suppose you’re right. I just feel like he should be with us, that’s all.”

Scott nodded. “I know. But we’ll look for him later. I promise.”

It didn’t take long for the two to visit the people of the village. In less than an hour they had nearly finished going up and down the rows of small homes, speaking to the people they met. Whenever they encountered a villager who wasn’t quite as fluent in English, they showed a message Swift Arrow had written out for them in the tribal language. In fact, they were showing this very note to an old woman when Dark Bear himself stepped out from behind the door of the house.

When Becka saw the shaman, she went cold. He looked even more menacing close-up than when he was perched high atop the rock. He approached them, his eyes steely and full of rage. Instinctively, Scott and Becka stepped back.

“Depart from here,” he growled. “This is not your battle. It’s about the ways of my people.”

After a moment Becka finally found her voice. When she did, she was surprised at how even and controlled it sounded. “No. That’s not all that this is about.”

“Beck . . . ,” Scott warned.

But she had already started, and there was no backing down. “It’s about truth. Spiritual truth. And that is the same for everyone.”

Dark Bear glared at her. “You risk much, girl . . . This is not your fight.”

Becka was breathing harder now, but she forced herself to continue, trying to stay collected and calm. “Listen, Mr . . . Dark Bear. Why don’t you come to Swift Arrow’s council tonight? Not to fight, but just to listen to what he says. Later, after you’ve heard Swift Arrow’s side, maybe you can decide what’s really right for your people to believe.”

She waited for an answer as Dark Bear’s eyes shifted from her to Scott. She wasn’t sure what he was looking at . . . until she heard the choking sounds.

She turned to see Scott holding his throat with both hands. He was gasping for breath.

“Scott!” she cried. “Scotty, what’s wrong?”

But Scott couldn’t answer. All he could do was gasp, pointing to his throat, trying to catch his breath.

Becka spun back to Dark Bear. She’d seen this before in past encounters. And she knew the solution. The shaman’s gaze was fierce, intimidating, but she knew who had the real authority. “Release him!” she ordered.

Dark Bear glared at her, but she would not back down. “In the name and power of the Lord Jesus Christ, I command you to release him.”

At first Dark Bear smiled, but then, as Becka stood her ground, he realized she meant business. Slowly his smile faded.

Scott coughed loudly and started breathing, dragging in deep gulps of air. Becka glanced at him. She knew the choking was a tactic to try to scare them. But she also knew that, because they were committed believers in Christ, Dark Bear had no real power over them. These were just more “special effects” in an attempt to frighten them. And they weren’t going to work.

Becka smiled at Scott, and he nodded. They turned to face Dark Bear, to continue the encounter . . . but the medicine man had disappeared.

Ryan and Little Creek sat cross-legged in the coolness of the cave. Little Creek had lit a small lantern, and the light hit the wall. Immediately, the painting of the great warrior hunting the buffalo appeared in the light. Ryan stared intently at the warrior’s face. Was Dark Bear really a direct descendant of this brave as he’d claimed?

Ryan’s thoughts were interrupted as Little Creek took a small flask from his shirt pocket. “It’s the tea I told you about,” Little Creek said, smiling.

“Tea?” Ryan repeated.

“Yes, remember? I said it will help you better hear the call of the Great Spirit.” He leaned toward Ryan and held the flask out.

Ryan hesitated.

“Don’t worry. There is only a small amount of the red berries in this mixture.”

“Red berries?” Ryan asked, staring at the flask.

“Yes. It is berries that give the tea its hallucinogenic powers. I just put a little bit in because this is your first time. It won’t hurt you, honest.”

Again Little Creek held it out to him, and again Ryan hesitated.

“It’s okay. I promise. You’re a spiritual person, Ryan. It will be easy for you to contact the Great Spirit, but you must do so with the tea.”

The little tug hit Ryan again, telling him it was wrong, to be careful . . . But weren’t they all talking about the same God, the one and only Great Spirit? And if this were really a way to connect with God, if he could combine the best of both worlds — his Christian faith and this spiritual ritual with the tea — then what was the harm?

Little Creek continued holding the flask out to him. “If you really want to understand our ways, this is the fastest and easiest method. Please, it is okay. I promise.”

Ryan watched as his hand reached out to take the flask. It was almost like watching someone else. Then he raised it to his lips. He hesitated and looked at Little Creek one last time. The boy smiled, and Ryan opened his mouth to drink the tea.

For a while nothing happened. As before, they discussed the history of Little Creek’s tribe, his beliefs, and his heritage. Then Ryan felt a wave of dizziness. At first he shrugged it off. They had left camp before breakfast, and he was getting pretty hungry. It was only natural that he would feel a little light-headed.

Then he noticed something else. On the cave painting. He hadn’t seen it before, but in the right-hand corner perched on a cliff was an eagle. It was so small, it was no wonder he hadn’t noticed it before. But as he watched, the bird started to grow.

Ryan turned to Little Creek and tried to tell him, but the words wouldn’t come. “Thhhhe paintttting . . .” was all he managed to slur.

Little Creek smiled. “Relax, my friend. The tea is taking effect. Focus inward, and see what the Great Spirit will show you.”

Ryan couldn’t focus on anything. He felt like he was going to throw up. His head began to spin, and his stomach started to churn. When he looked back at the painting, the eagle appeared as large as the hunter. What was worse, its wings moved in a steady rhythm!

Ryan closed his eyes, hoping to force himself back into reality. It was as if he were looking over the edge of a very high cliff or stumbling through a dark tunnel knowing that there was a great hole somewhere in front of him . . . a huge chasm that went on forever. If he wasn’t careful, he would stumble and fall to certain death.

When he reopened his eyes, the eagle loomed so large that one of its wings pushed out of the painting, extending across the cave wall.

Ryan’s heart began to pound. He started breathing rapidly. What if the drug didn’t wear off? What if it damaged him? What if he had to live like this, with his brain scrambled, for the rest of his life?

Or,
worse yet, what if the images he was seeing were real?

All of these thoughts froze when the eagle turned its lifeless eye directly toward him. It had seen him. Ryan was sure of it. Just as he was sure that it wanted him. Slowly, with great effort, it detached itself from the wall and started flying toward him.

With open beak, it drew closer and closer. Ryan covered his face. And still, somehow, he could see it coming — its jet-black, lifeless eyes growing larger and larger as it flew closer. Suddenly Ryan realized it wasn’t the creature’s beak but its eye that was going to devour him. That eye was going to absorb him, swallow him . . .

The eye . . . the eye . . . the eye . . . the eye . . .

Two hours later, Ryan woke up. He lay outside the cave, vaguely aware that Little Creek was wiping his forehead with a damp handkerchief.

“How are you feeling?” Little Creek asked.

Ryan bobbed his head. “I don’t know. Woozy, I guess. How did I get out here?”

“You got up and started to run. We were just sitting there looking at the painting when you jumped up and tried to run. You managed a few steps before you crashed into the wall. It knocked you out cold.”

Ryan winced as he touched the lump on his forehead. “That would explain this headache.”

“I carried you out here hoping the fresh air and sunlight would help. You’ve been sleeping for a long time.”

Already memories of the vision were returning. “I – I saw an eagle,” Ryan stammered.

“An eagle?” Little Creek’s mouth dropped open. “Really?”

Ryan nodded. “It flew out of the painting right at me.”

“There is no eagle in that painting,” Little Creek said, unable to hold back his excitement.

“But I’m sure — ”

“No, no, but this is a wondrous sign. The Great Spirit is sending the eagle to you. This means he has much to teach you!”

“Really?”

Little Creek smiled broadly. “I was right! You
are
an initiate. The Great Spirit will use you in many ways. Congratulations!” Little Creek extended his hand toward Ryan.

Ryan looked at it for a moment and then shook it warmly. “Thanks,” he murmured. It was hard not to catch Little Creek’s excitement. So he had been chosen. Chosen by the Great Spirit himself. And the eagle, the eagle was coming . . . coming just for him!