People of the Fire (27 page)

 
          
 
She reached down, wary of Heavy Beaver and his
hammer. 44 Can you stand?"

 
          
 
“Vile pollution!" Heavy Beaver growled,
having recovered his courage. "Take him! Get out of here. All of you. Get
out!"

 
          
 
She got Two Smokes up, every vertebra in her
back crackling. He leaned against her, and she could feel his trembling
muscles.

 
          
 
“You bet we're leaving," White Calf
added. "Considering what you've unleashed, I wouldn't stay within five
days' walk of this camp."

 
          
 
“You're the reason the People have come to
this. You and your kind. You're the reason. You've offended the Spirit World.
You've caused the Spirits Above to turn their faces from the People. And you
can stand here before decent human beings with your arm around a misbegotten
foulness like Two Smokes?" Heavy Beaver danced from foot to foot,
pointing.

 
          
 
“You've made your way, Heavy Beaver. Let's see
where it takes you.”

           
 
Two Smokes stiffened and gasped, pointing.

 
          
 
"No!" White Calf ordered.

 
          
 
A glazed look filled Hungry Bull's eyes as he
stood, a dart
nocked
in the hook of his
atlatl
. Heavy Beaver turned, caught sight of it, and
backpedaled in horror.

 
          
 
"Hungry Bull! Don't!" White Calf
snapped. "His time hasn't come! Curse you, Bull! You promised me on your
soul! Don't do this or you'll let loose Power you can't conceive of!"

 
          
 
"Hungry Bull?" Three Toes called
gently, stepping nervously in front of his friend. "Trust her. We
promised. White Calf knows what she's doing."

 
          
 
"You're Cursed," Heavy Beaver spat
angrily, face pale as he stared at the promise of death in Hungry Bull's eyes.
"Cursed, I say!"

 
          
 
Makes Fun cried out, a hand to her mouth as
she stared in horror at her husband, Black Crow. Meadowlark had rushed to hang
on Three Toes' arm, eyes glazed with fear.

 
          
 
White Calf turned sad eyes on the Spirit
Dreamer. "The only person you've Cursed, fool, is yourself—and those who
follow you. You've degraded the Wolf Dreamer's Bundle. Think on that for a
while."

 
          
 
"It is only an ancient myth," Heavy
Beaver insisted. "I know, I Dream the new way."

 
          
 
"He killed Dancing Doe and Sage
Root," someone said from the side. Mumblings of confusion came from all
sides.

 
          
 
White Calf helped Two Smokes hobble forward
until she stared into Hungry Bull's eyes. "Leave it be, hunter. I see your
anger. I feel your pain. But this is out of your hands."

 
          
 
The keenness in Hungry Bull's eyes sharpened.

 
          
 
"I mean it. You never wanted to mess with
Spirit Power. Don't do it. You're not ready for it. Heavy Beaver's made his
claims. He's the one dealing with Powers he doesn't understand. Power takes
care of its own. It's not your place to meddle."

 
          
 
Hungry Bull hesitated, the war within
reflected in his obsidian eyes. The will to kill, to strike back, eroded into
grief.

 
          
 
Chokecherry came sputtering from one of the
lodges. She pulled up, startled by White Calf's presence. As if all her stamina
had finally fled, her shoulders stooped. "Thank the Wise One."

 
          
 
"Black Crow, Three Toes. I'm not done
with you." White Calf turned her attention to the two ashen-faced hunters.
"Take Sage Root up on the bluff so I can Sing her soul to the
Starweb
tonight. There's nothing here for any of you
anymore. Help Hungry Bull pack his things. Then you can pack your own. I don't
think you want to stay here." She smiled ironically. "You're too
tainted with Power for Heavy Beaver and all his bluster."

 
          
 
She turned, Two Smokes hobbling as she moved.
Over her shoulder, she called, "Little Dancer? Follow along. You and I,
we've got a lot to talk about."

 
          
 
Wide-eyed, lost and afraid, he hesitated.
Chokecherry rushed forward, taking his hand. "Come on, boy. She only comes
once in a while. Good things happen then."

 
          
 
White Calf lifted an eyebrow. Good things? Her
sister had changed her tune over the long years. But then, Chokecherry didn't
feel the tremors, the welling and flowing of Power around her. A shiver ran up
White Calf's back.

 
          
 
Power moved on the land; forces had been let
loose that White Calf could only wonder at. In the back of her mind, an abyss
yawned and cold misty vapors lifted from the depths. No good would come of this
day.

 
          
 
Tanager sat high on the rocks, looking out
over the vast basin of the
Moon
River
. To the north, the
Mud
River
ran its snakelike course toward the
Buffalo
River
that in turn met the
Big
River
. Nevertheless, her eyes kept returning to
the faint trace of the
Moon
River
, no more than a shadow in the distance.

 
          
 
The rocky spire she'd climbed had been a
challenge. Only men with a need to prove their courage would try such an ascent.
Something she couldn't define had driven her to climb to this perch more suited
to eagles and lightning mil some internal need. The slight handholds had been a
challenge to her agility and balance, but she'd made it. A sheer cliff dropped
off where her thin legs dangled. Shed found a desiccated bone when she reached
the top. That she'd dropped, watching it fall away to shatter on the rocks so
far below.

 
          
 
Wind pulled at her hair, tangling it into a
knot. Its strong push tried to topple her into the depths. That lent a thrill
to the sensation that she could fall so easily.

 
          
 
She stared out over the plains, studying each
change in color until her eyes lost themselves in the distance.

 
          
 
The Short Buffalo People lived there. None had
come to raid this season, but why did she feel so uneasy? Her premonitions were
more than the chance of falling, as if her soul trembled within.

 
          
 
Tanager turned to climb down, catching
movement on the outcrop across from her. The wolf stood, separated from her by
a cleft in the rock, its front feet braced against the battering wind. For long
moments they stared at each other, Tanager meeting that knowing yellow gaze.
Then, like a flicker of shadow, the dark hunter disappeared, only the sensation
of promise left behind.

 
          
 
The Wolf Bundle complained into the wavering
haze of the Spiral, "The sacred number of seasons has passed, and what has
changed? I've helped bring the rains back. The buffalo calve with greater
regularity. For my help I see Heavy Beaver growing stronger and stronger. His
authority is consolidated. He unites the People under his standard and his new
way.

 
          
 
"Meanwhile, among the Red Hand, Blood
Bear proves just as much a fool. I am bandied about as a symbol of his authority.
At the same time, his scorn is apparent in his deeds, if not his words. Within
his lodge, I'm mocked. My Power is eroding. Is that your purpose? To kill
me?"

 
          
 
The haunting voice of the Wolf Dreamer
shivered out of the Spirals. ''My purpose is the boy.''

 
          
 
"My inclination is to pay Blood Bear back
for his ways."

 
          
 
''Be patient. The boy grows. ''

 
          
 
''And so does Heavy Beaver's way. He’s
changing the Spirals. Too many People believe him. In the end, we cannot defeat
an idea," the Wolf Bundle warned.

 
          
 
"There is a way. Remember the tripod.
Without another leg, we'll topple in the dirt. "

            
The world behind the
small band had vanished in a haze of gray. Gray everywhere—like the feelings in
their hearts.

            
Where could people go
when the world had gone insane?

            
Underfoot, the damp
ground grated, gravel crunching beneath the weary placing of each
moccasined
step. Silence lay heavy on the land; only a
slight sighing rose from the timber in the canyons below. The sounds of their
passage—the scuff of tanned hide on stone or brush, the muffled groan of
leather straps, and the puffing of breath accompanied them as they climbed.
Chill moisture hung in the air, stinging their noses,

clammy on exposed skin.

         
   
Three Toes looked up at the winding trail,
nervous at the way the clouds packed so thickly around the people he led.

            
A few wind-gnarled
fir trees clung to the reddish-brown rock with knobby roots twisted into the
Earth Mother's bones.

    
        
How high were they? From here, he
should have been able to see the whole of the basin,
Moon
River
to the south and
Mud
River
running north. The somber gray of the
encompassing clouds masked everything, even seeking to blur the edges of a
memory turned painful and cutting.

            
He and Black Crow had
no way back, no trail to return to the People. Now and forever, they would be
outcasts. Nothing remained for them, no sanctuary in a camp of the People.

            
In an irregular line,
they climbed, disjointed figures in the mist—people without place or context,
travelers in the clouds.

            
Behind him, Makes Fun
gasped for breath while she talked softly to her son.

            
And what if I can't
find White Calf's camp? What if we run into an
Anit'ah
party up here? What if Hungry Bull's dead? Killed? Then what's left for us?

           
 
He continued along the irregular game trail
tracing the ridge top. In the gritty soil he could see the tracks of bighorn,
deer, and an occasional elk. Moist air drifted coolly against his hot cheeks.
The damp skein of clouds pressed down to make the world unreal—a blessing and
curse. The gray dampness hid their passage from
Anit'ah
eyes, and obscured the landmarks White Calf had told him about in such detail
during their flight from Heavy Beaver those four years past.

 
          
 
Four years? The sacred number, the number of
the First Man, of the directions and the Wise One Above. So much had changed in
four years. Who could have guessed?

 
          
 
On the trail ahead of Three Toes, a shadow
shifted in the mist and brought him back to the present. Instinctively, he
tightened his grip on the handle of his
atlatl
, the
dart shaft resting securely in his fingers. He squinted past the blotchy
outlines of the conifers and stopped, dropping to a slight crouch.

 
          
 
As the faint ghost of breeze played with the
gray fog, the glimpse solidified into Black Crow's lanky shape.

 
          
 
"See anything?" Three Toes asked
mildly, unwilling to break the eerie silence.

 
          
 
Black Crow lifted a shoulder, his mashed-
turd
nose contorting as he sniffed the cool air.
"No—unless you Ye interested in what the inside of a cloud looks
like."

 
          
 
"About like this, huh?" He waved in
a sweeping gesture.

 
          
 
"About." Black Crow shook his head.
"I don't know how we'll find them up here. We could walk around for
weeks.”

 
          
 
"If we don't stumble into a camp of the
Anit'ah
in the meantime."

 
          
 
"There's that, all right. After that raid
Heavy Beaver made on their camps last year, I don't think they'd smile at us
and wave as we went by."

 
          
 
Three Toes nodded, hearing sighs of relief
behind him as Meadowlark, his wife, bent down to help his youngest daughter
with some problem. Makes Fun had sagged onto a rock. A haggard look lined her
face as she Stared anxiously up at her husband. Black Crow's oldest boy lifted
his flap to urinate. His water spattered on the hard ground.

 
          
 
"Nothing Heavy Beaver ever does leads to
any good. Raiding the
Anit'ah
will come back to haunt
us in the end like geese through the seasons."

 
          
 
A slight shiver played along Three Toes'
spine. He smiled without humor. "I kind of started to wonder if maybe this
wasn't such a good idea."

 
          
 
Black Crow propped hands on his lean hips,
shifting uneasily on tired feet as he looked down the obscured trail they'd
just traversed. "What other choice did we have? What was left? The Cut
Hair don't want anything to do with us. No matter where we go, we're moving
into someone's hunting grounds and people are mad and hungry. It's not a good
time for intruders."

 
          
 
"And the
Anit'ah
hate us more than anyone," Three Toes reminded him, wishing he could
recall his words uttered in council long months back. However, words, like the
wind, couldn't be captured and brought back. All the People had gone crazy.
Heavy Beaver's power had continued to grow, pulling together the splintered
bands. Two Stones, Elk Whistle, White Foot, all had joined with Heavy Beaver,
dancing his new Dance of Renewal. And when Seven Suns had decided to join with
Heavy Beaver, Three Toes had stood, drawing all eyes toward him.

 
          
 
"I cannot be part of this. If you go to
Heavy Beaver's camp, my wife and I will be Cursed. I know Heavy Beaver. I grew
up with him. I know his hate. I'll leave the People before I'll share a camp
with Heavy Beaver."

 
          
 
He'd been outvoted.

 
          
 
"Remember, you can always come to my
camp. I'll protect you. Feed you.' ' White Calf's words echoed in his head as
they had the day they'd parted company four years ago. "Follow Clear River
west through the red rock wall and take the Spirit Trail up the mountain. Stay
to the south of the canyon and you '11 find a trail. You '11 know it by the
rock piles. Follow that over the ridge top and you '11 find my camp in the
valley bottom beyond. You’ll be safe there.''

 
          
 
Three Toes sucked his lip. Safe? He'd bet his
life, and that of his family and friends, on that illusive promise. Only how
would they know the right trail in this dense fog? Up here in the land of the
Anit'ah
the clouds caught on the peaks, hiding everything.

           
 
A misty rain began to fall.

 
          
 
“It's getting colder."

 
          
 
Three Toes grunted. "All that time we
wanted rain and we get it now."

 
          
 
“The whole world's gone crazy. Maybe the Wise
One Above is tired of men." Black Crow lifted a bony shoulder in a shrug
and rubbed his sagging belly. “Maybe the end of the world is coming like Heavy
Beaver says."

 
          
 
Three Toes searched the somber grayness with
anxious eyes. 44 I hope you're joking when you say that."

 
          
 
Fire filled the world, roaring like thunder
mated to wind. Yellow red, raging, it burned up from below, beating at Little
Dancer in loud fury. Crackling and snapping, the fire engulfed him. He blinked
against the painful heat, trying to raise his arms in an effort to shield his
face from the searing.

 
          
 
The fire mocked him, walls of flame moving in
retaliation, wavering this way and that in a frightening dance. He tried to
turn away, only to have flames swirl in a countermove, roaring and hissing to
each of his movements. Little Dancer's breath caught in his throat. If he tried
to breathe, the fire would dart in to char his lungs and consume his very soul.

 
          
 
"We're One." Words formed in the
roaring thunder of the endless flames. "All the world is One. We're all a
Dream. Be with me . . . Dance with me. We're One . . . One.

 
          
 
He clamped his eyes shut, futilely shaking his
head in denial. Tears formed in his eyes, hissing and popping into steam as
they started from his cheeks.

 
          
 
“No!" he screamed. "No!"

 
          
 
The pressure in his lungs burned as feverishly
as the inferno outside.

 
          
 
“Free yourself, boy. Dance with me. Become One
with me. 'c
i
your fear. Trust yourself "

 
          
 
He jerked back as the flames twirled around
him like impossible whirlwind. As the winds drew him up, his flesh sizzled like
fat dripped on white-
ashed
coals

 
          
 
He squealed in fear—and snapped awake, heart
battering at his ribs

 
          
 
"Hey? You all right?" Two Smokes
halt stalled from his bedding, blinking owlishly.

           
 
"Dream. Just a dream." Little Dancer
tried to catch his breath, blinking as he dug his fingers into the bedding. The
touch of warm hide and the security of cool dirt below reassured him.

 
          
 
"What Dream?" White Calf demanded
from behind.

 
          
 
Little Dancer bit his lip, lowering his eyes.
"Nothing. Just a dream. Nothing."

 
          
 
"That so, boy?" He could hear the
skepticism in her voice. She'd started again, picking at him, never letting him
have a moment's peace.

 
          
 
"Just a dream." He stood up, the
beautifully worked mountain-sheep hide falling to one side. He swallowed dryly,
frightened by the sweat that soaked his clothing.

 
          
 
"A Dream about fire?"

 
          
 
How did she know?

 
          
 
"No. Just a dream about my mother."
There, use the old defense. He didn't have anything else to stand against the
old woman's constant questioning.

 
          
 
The roomy rock shelter consisted of a large
cavity in the cliff side that measured fifteen paces across where the limestone
had been water-hollowed in the distant past. The back wall curved around, lined
with nooks and caches that held White Calf's medicines and Power bundles. A
spiral had been pecked and subsequently painted on the wall above where White
Calf slept. Packs containing dried meat and berries hung from pegs driven into
the stone. Overhead, soot had formed a thick velvet covering that rounded the
angles of the rock.

 
          
 
A half-body length from the rear wall where
rodents weren't as likely to find them, rounded storage pits had been dug into
the floor. The cysts had then been lined with closely fitted stones to at least
hinder the insects and audacious pack-rats and ground squirrels from burrowing
into the stored reserves. Topped with a thick sandstone slab, these were filled
with limber pine nuts, rose hips,
yampa
, balsam and
biscuit root, and dried sego-lily bulbs. Tanned robes, a couple of carved
digging sticks, and a set of horn bowls had been placed neatly at the rear. The
outside wall consisted of a series of poles braced vertically against the
overhanging ceiling. Hide had been laced to these to block the evening chill
and retard the strength of the breezes. Enough gaps along the rough rock
allowed smoke to filter out at the top. Two fire pits had been excavated in the
floor. One consisted of a deep, bell-shaped roasting pit, the other a shallow
basin mounded full of rock to radiate the heat. A sandstone slab acted as a
reflector for each of the fires.