People of the Earth (39 page)

 
          
 
"So he ran off!"

 
          
 
"Grandmother, they loved each other."

 
          
 
She waved a hand. "Well, he could have
fallen in love with Yellow Bird instead of Gray Needle. Yellow Bird gets the
camp when Bone Ring dies."

 
          
 
Basket's face darkened and she rolled her
eyes.

 
          
 
Green Fire ignored her, hitching across the
lodge. Curses, why did her back hurt all the time and grow more crooked with
age? She pushed the door flap back with a birdlike hand and stepped into the
cool sunshine of day.

 
          
 
She made a couple of tottering steps toward
the sunshade before a terrible pain lanced through her chest and she cried out.
She caught sight of
Owlclover
rushing toward her as
her balance failed. Black spots formed before her eyes and she felt her body
hit the ground.

 
          
 
Pain burned like a fiery brand in Green Fire's
chest. From somewhere in the distance she could hear
Owlclover's
frantic voice calling out to her.

 
          
 
"Witched," she whispered. "I've
been witched. It's in my chest, burning. Evil is there. I been witched
witched
..."

 
          
 
She fell into a gray mist, falling . . .
falling. . . .

 
          
 
White Ash walked along the
Bug
River
, listening to Sage Ghost tell the old
stories. Majestic piles of cloud drifted to the east in mountainous
thunderheads that gleamed white against the endless blue of the sky. A soft
breeze rustled the leaves of the
narrowleaf
cottonwoods growing where the
Bug
River
rolled out of the verdant foothills to the
west. Grass grew thick in the rich, black soil of the bottomlands.

 
          
 
Sage Ghost's face lit with happiness as he
told the story of Bear and Thunderbird. To emphasize his words, he gestured,
and his voice rose melodiously on the summer morning. As if in reply, the birds
warbled and chirped from the trees and raspberry bushes.

 
          
 
Bright Moon laughed as she shook her head.
"You'll talk the girl's ear off, old man."

 
          
 
"So?" Sage Ghost spread his arms
wide to the day. "What's a child for if you can't talk its ears off? She
needs to learn about Thunderbird, and Bear, and the Power of the Sun, and the
legends of the Sun People. It will be important someday. She has to know,
that's all. Important . . . Legends . . . Has to know . . . someday ..."
The words broke, echoing as if in a cave.

 
          
 
The dreams grew disjointed, coming apart as
White Ash fought to keep them. She lost her grip on the fragile filaments,
almost weeping as they floated away like fall leaves on the wind. The past
could live only in memories—and those carried a bittersweet character of their
own.

 
          
 
Something moved against her, triggering a
sudden revulsion. Three Bulls! Pain and violation! Not again! Please, she
couldn't stand it. Not again! She jerked awake in the night, forcing a knuckle
into her mouth to stifle the sudden tears.

 
          
 
"White Ash?" a gentle voice
whispered in her ear. "Are you all right? You jumped and cried out. It was
just a dream, that's all. A dream."

 
          
 
Bad Belly turned to nestle against her; he
patted her shoulder reassuringly. "Sleep now," he murmured.
"Trouble will wake us up if anything happens. Sleep, and don't dream. The
world is better now.''

 
          
 
A lonesome wind worried the sage and pierced
the juniper stand. She could feel the chill seeping up from the ground below.
Coyotes yipped and barked in the distance. "You believe that, don't you?
That the world is better?"

 
          
 
He hugged her reassuringly. "Sure I do.
Power sent me to find you. You're special, White Ash. Special and
wonderful."

 
          
 
She shifted, prodding Trouble as her feet
moved. The dog stood, shook, and padded up, stepping on her legs to fall with a
grunt in the hollow before her arms. Trouble snuffled a long sigh and tucked
its nose under its tail. The animal's warmth began to soak through the robe.

 
          
 
"Hold me," she whispered to Bad
Belly, feeling his arm draw tight around her.

 
          
 
"Safe," he reassured. "I'm
right here."

 
          
 
As his warmth drove away the chill, she
drifted into the realm of sleep again.

 
          
 
Pain.

 
          
 
Brave Man groaned.

 
          
 
"Lie still," a voice intruded.

 
          
 
"What? Where am I?" He sounded
muffled and funny-speech slurred as if his mouth had been stuffed with
feathers.

 
          
 
"You are in Buffalo Tail's camp, warrior."
The voice was a woman's.

 
          
 
Pain.

 
          
 
Brave Man gasped and opened his eyes. The
image blurred and he blinked to clear his sight. He lay on his back, staring up
at fire-blackened lodge poles and a stained buffalo-hide lodge cover. He could
see an overcast of clouds through the smoke hole.

 
          
 
His head ached as though someone had stabbed
spears into his brain. His mouth felt oddly swollen. When he worked his tongue
to swallow, it hurt. Feeling around the inside of his mouth, he discovered a
gap where his front teeth should have been. The splintered roots sliced at his
tongue. When he tried to sit up, white agony lanced his body. He blinked again,
breathing deeply to ease the torture that charred his nerves.

 
          
 
"Lie still," the woman repeated. She
leaned over and placed a cool hand on his brow. He could see that she had a
stately beauty. Long black hair framed her delicately boned face. She watched
him with emotionless brown eyes, her mouth thin-lipped and mobile. Her brow
rose smooth and high over intelligent eyes. She carried herself with a certain
grace and competence, and a measured determination lay behind her neutral
expression.

 
          
 
He moved again, and the tortured flesh in his
leg sparked light behind his eyes. He panted, trying to still the urge to vomit.

 
          
 
"Do you remember who you are?"

 
          
 
"Brave
Man.
" He swallowed, wincing. The stale
taste of blood lay heavily on his tongue.

 
          
 
"Do you know where you are?" N

 
          
 
He nodded weakly. "Among the Broken
Stones. I challenged. Fought Hawks Beard."

 
          
 
"That's right. Do you remember what
happened?" She had a sensual voice that pleased him.

 
          
 
He sucked cool air into his lungs, closing his
eyes. "I killed him."

 
          
 
A wry smile crossed her lips. "You did
more than that. You gouged his eyes out and ripped his jaw loose from his
head."

           
 
He reached up to rub his eyes. At least his
arm seemed to work all right. "I am deemed worthy of the Broken
Stones?"

 
          
 
"Hawks Beard was our greatest
warrior." She raised a shapely eyebrow. "It was thought that no man
alive could take him in challenge. Single-handedly he killed no less than five
silver bears. More than two tens of enemy warriors fell before him." She
paused. "And now he has fallen to you. You are accepted."

 
          
 
The voices of the Spirits whispered in his
head. Yes! See, we told you!

 
          
 
He tried to sit up again and almost toppled
sideways. Pain stunned him. The woman's strong hands caught him as the world
went gray. She eased him back to the robes.

 
          
 
Brave Man gasped; sweat began to bead on his
hot face. "What . . . what's wrong with me?"

 
          
 
A challenge lay in her veiled glance.
"Most of your front teeth are gone. Your nose is broken and your knee is
crushed."

 
          
 
He closed his eyes again to stop the lodge
from spinning crazily over his head. He remembered now. Fortunately, the blow
that had caught him in the mouth had lost most of its power.

 
          
 
Brave Man had staggered back, mouth full of
blood and bits of shattered teeth. The voices had whispered, overcoming the
sudden pain and disorientation. As Hawks Beard stepped forward to finish him,
Brave Man had spit blood and teeth into the warrior's face. Then he'd driven
his club down on the point of Hawks Beard's shoulder, breaking a collar bone.
Brave Man's next blow caved in Hawks Beard's chest.

 
          
 
The warrior hadn't been finished, however.
He'd shifted the war club to his good hand, staggered, and dropped to his
knees.

 
          
 
Brave Man had fallen for it, stepping close,
club high, when Hawks Beard delivered a side-armed blow that crippled Brave
Man's knee and left him shrieking on the ground. Only a mad scramble had saved
his life. He'd grabbed a fistful of dust and sand and thrown it to blind his
adversary.