People of the Nightland (North America's Forgotten Past) (22 page)

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Authors: W. Michael Gear,Kathleen O'Neal Gear

BOOK: People of the Nightland (North America's Forgotten Past)
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“Wolf Dreamer told you to pick up the bundle?” Ashes gave him a mean look.
“I don’t know why … he just did.”
“My father once told me a story about the Exile. He said that in the
Long Dark there were many Spirit bundles, and each one had a voice that helped to guide the people. But right after the emergence from the hole in the ice, the People of the Nightland stole all the bundles, so they were the only ones who could hear the voices.” Her brows lifted. “If they stole them all, how did you get the Wolf Bundle?”
“It has always belonged to my clan. Foxfire, Wolf Dreamer’s half brother, gave it to his son, and he gave it to his son, on down to my grandfather. When I become a man, it will belong to me.”
“Wolf Dreamer is your ancestor?”
He nodded.
“Since he was the good twin, I guess that’s all right.”
“Yes, he was good, and Raven Hunter was bad. Wherever Wolf Dreamer goes, people are happy. Wherever Raven Hunter goes, there is war and suffering.”
She exhaled and looked around the rockshelter at the sleeping people. “What did your mother mean when she said, ‘Blessed Ancestors, not my son’?”
Silvertip wet his lips, and remembered what Wolf had told him in the Dream.
I have to die.
To Ashes, he said, “The prophecies say that when Raven Hunter sneaks into our world again, Wolf Dreamer will send a new Dreamer to save us. He will come from Foxfire’s family line, my family. I think Mother is afraid it might be me.”
“Would that be bad?”
He stammered, “It’s just that being a Dreamer is very hard, and they’re usually k-killed in awful ways.”
She glared at the Wolf Bundle. “Why would Wolf Dreamer let his chosen Dreamer be killed?”
Silvertip sat up in his hides and reached for the Wolf Bundle. When his fingers touched it, a tingle ran up his arms and flared in his chest. “Here,” he said, handing the bundle to Ashes. “Ask him.”
She scrambled backward. “I don’t want to talk to him!”
“Then stop asking me silly questions.” He drew the bundle back and tucked it under the bear hide next to him.
As though frightened, she remained silent for a long time. Finally, she whispered, “If you’re a Dreamer, have you had any Spirit Dreams?”
Was Wolf telling him he had to die in a Spirit Dream? “I’m not sure what a Spirit Dream is. I … I did have a strange Dream the night before Aunt Mossy was killed.”
“What was it about?”
He patted the Wolf Bundle, and felt better, as though the bundle had given him courage. “It started out with horrible thunder … like the world was shaking apart. Then I saw Raven Hunter swooping down over Headswift Village. He was huge and flying very fast. His black wings filled all of Blue Sky Man. When he flew right over me, I looked up and his wings turned into a terrible wind. I’ve never felt anything like it before: black, howling, bringing a black darkness like death.”
“Did it blow you away?”
“I don’t know. I woke up. But I kept hearing a name in the wind’s roar.”
“What name?”
“Keresa. I don’t know who that is.”
Ashes got to her feet and gave him a scorching look. Like she didn’t believe him. They stared at each other for ten heartbeats before she said, “Keresa is a terrible Nightland warrior. She’s killed lots of boys like you.”
Without another word she went back to her hides.
Silvertip lay down and petted the bundle. It felt suddenly warm. He lifted the bear hide to look at it. “Wolf Dreamer, are you in there?”
A mournful sound, like Wind Woman roaming the forests in winter, whispered from the bundle. As it did, he felt a sucking, as if it were trying to pull his soul out of his body.
Silvertip pressed his ear against the soft hide and yawned. “If I have to die to become a Dreamer, it’s all right.”
But down around his frantically beating heart, he was very much afraid.
A
bitter wind roared out of the northwest. It ripped at clothing, clawed at the mossy tundra, and sent men staggering.
Keresa had picked a deep kettle, one of the depressions in the tundra that had formed after the retreat of the ice. Here, out of the wind, small fires consumed dry moss, wormwood, and willow stalks. Above them, the wind howled around the rocky outcrops and seemed to shake the very Star People so high above.
“How are you feeling?” Keresa asked.
Across from her, Kakala hunched under a caribou-fawn cape. He shot her a look of annoyance. “Everything aches.”
She grinned, snugging her blanket—made of arctic fox hides—close about her shoulders. Around them, the rest of the warriors slept wrapped in hides, or huddled over the low fires, feeding just enough twigs, moss, and collected dung to keep the coals hot.
“I see. So, you’d prefer to be back in the cage?”
“I’d prefer to have you shut up.” Then he relented, a strained smile curling his lips. “No, actually, I prefer your voice to the ones in the cage.”
She lifted an enquiring eyebrow.
He gave a nervous shrug. “Just like last time … Well, I heard things. Voices.”
“That told you what?”
“Nothing that would make either of us feel better.” He changed the subject. “The Guide is an interesting sort.”
“He is.” She tucked the soft white hide around her chin. “But I’m more confused now than I was before. He doesn’t give the orders; Nashat does.”
“Maybe he’s still just the same old Idiot that everyone thought he was.”
“No, Kakala. He knows things. He said that you and I were the binding. Something about the two of us tying everything together. That somehow, we are supposed to heal things.”
Kakala gave her a disdainful stare. “Of course. But first we’d better destroy Headswift Village, kill Windwolf, and find Skimmer. Who we both know was delivered to Nashat in the first place.”
Keresa gave him a flat stare. “She’s dead.”
“Dead?”
“I asked around. Nashat sent a party of Karigi’s warriors in one night and clubbed all the Nine Pipe women to death.” She stared miserably into the flames. “The story was that the Council didn’t want to feed them.”
“Clubbed them to …” Kakala slowly shook his head. “Nashat kept Blue Wing. Remember her?”
“One of the women Goodeagle raped.”
“Nashat sent her to the Guide instead of Skimmer.” His expression hardened. “So, what happened to the bodies?”
“They were dragged out into the tundra for the wolves.”
“Great. So we have to find a dead woman for the Guide.”
“We’ll have to tell Ti-Bish the truth when we get back. But first things first. Do you have a plan for attacking Headswift Village?”
He made a face. “Find Goodeagle.”
Keresa set her cup down and rose to her feet.
Kakala watched her walk from one pile of sleeping hides to the next; finally she spoke to someone. When he didn’t get up, she kicked him hard and a soft grunt sounded. Louder, she said, “Get up. The war chief wishes to speak with you.”
A string of curses rose, but then Goodeagle crawled out of the
hides. Very tall, with long black hair, he had a “pretty” face for man. It was just one of many things Kakala despised about him.
Goodeagle walked to Kakala’s fire and impertinently asked, “What do you want?”
Keresa wanted to smack him in the back of the head.
Kakala ignored it. “Survivors from the Sunpath bands are flocking to Headswift Village. They—”
“I doubt it,” Goodeagle interrupted. “Maybe the old and very young are flocking there for refuge, but any man, woman, or child who can wield an atlatl is running to join Windwolf’s warriors. The man inspires loyalty the likes of which you will never know.”
Kakala leveled a hard finger. “Don’t interrupt me again, or I’ll forget the part of our bargain that says you get to live.”
Goodeagle stared at him. “Then don’t lie to me. I know my people.”
“I hope you know your former best friend as well. You must have some idea what he’s up to.”
“Where are his warriors?”
“Leaving the caves I heard that Karigi ambushed them on the trail west of Spineshank camp. Fighting was spirited. Silt managed to withdraw most of them. Karigi stopped to lick his wounds. When he sent his scouts out, they found several trails. All were headed west toward the Tills.”
Goodeagle squeezed his eyes closed for several heartbeats.
Keresa watched the man. He had to be thinking about which friends had been killed. Perhaps he was telling himself it would never have happened if he hadn’t betrayed his best friend at Walking Seal Village.
Goodeagle said, “Do you have any idea where Windwolf is?”
“No.”
“All right, here’s what I suspect is going on. Anyone who knows Windwolf understands the way his gut works. He’s made an alliance with the Lame Bull.”
“Yes, so?”
“You’d better hurry.” Goodeagle slowly lifted his eyes to meet Kakala’s.
“Explain that.”
“When we attacked Headswift Village, we made our own future.”
“And how did we do that?”
“By failing to take Windwolf.” Goodeagle waved down Kakala’s protest. “It doesn’t matter. Windwolf
knows
we have to destroy it. He’s expecting this attack, because you can’t leave Headswift Village as a symbol of Nightland defeat.”
Keresa scoffed, “Why would he stay there when his warriors are off to west?”
“Nonetheless, plan on it. He’ll be there.” Goodeagle’s voice grew sarcastic. “He’s a man of
honor
.”
Which you have never been.
But she bit her lip.
Kakala exchanged a glance with Keresa. “And what would his strategy be? To delay us? The caves are an impregnable fortress. There are only two entries; both are heavily guarded. Will he wait for his warriors to arrive?”
Goodeagle ran a hand through his long hair and exhaled anxiously. “No, he’ll do it alone. That way he’s risking only himself. Unless …” He paused, clearly worried. “Unless he knows we have survivors flocking to Headswift Village. Then he’ll want to make certain they are safe first.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“Will he try to talk the elders of Headswift Village into moving south?”
“He will, but I doubt they’d listen to him. The Lame Bull People consider their village to be as impregnable as you do the Nightland Caves. You will recall that once the villagers scurried into that rocky maze, you couldn’t root them out.”
Kakala glared at him. It was true, but he hated hearing it from Goodeagle. “I have forty-four warriors this time.”
“And what would you have had when you began this mad venture?” Goodeagle asked. “Two hundred? More?”
Keresa ground her jaw. Yes, that would have been about right.
Kakala mused, “Spineshank Camp is eight days’
hard
run from Headswift Village. And Silt was west of that. We’ll be there tomorrow. He can’t—”
Goodeagle laughed. “Silt may have split his warriors long before Karigi hit them west of Spineshank territory. In fact, I suspect he did. Which means you have not inflicted nearly the losses you think. It also means Silt may have been on the trail for days, running straight for Headswift Village.”
“Why would he go there?”
“I suspect it’s the last place he saw Windwolf. And he’s probably aware that many Sunpath People are scurrying there for protection.” Goodeagle leaned forward with a smirk on his handsome face. “If Silt and Windwolf get together before you crush Headswift Village, you’ve lost, Kakala. Windwolf will box you in and destroy your forces just as you tried at Walking Seal Village.”
Keresa studied Goodeagle’s expression. Pride had stiffened the man’s neck. Pride in his onetime good friend Windwolf’s abilities, and for their warriors: people he’d loved and trusted with his life.
Can we use that against him?
It took mere moments for that look to vanish and be replaced by despair. Goodeagle’s eyes went tight. He bowed his head and stared at the ground.
Keresa added, “Karigi’s runner reported Silt was evacuating Spineshank Camp. Which means he didn’t split his forces before the attack. He has tens of villagers slowing him down. He can’t travel fast or light. If he plans on protecting them, he must first feed them. That means sending out hunting parties every day.”
“But that was days ago,” Kakala mused.
A strange gleam entered Goodeagle’s eyes, and a smile played at the corners of his mouth. “If Silt hasn’t already split his warriors, he will. Once he knows where Windwolf is, he’ll take half of his warriors and run hard to join him.”
Keresa turned to Kakala. “Then we should send a runner to Karigi, tell him to expect that. He might be able to intercept Silt heading back east.”
“Do it,” Kakala ordered. “And tell our runner to instruct Karigi that once he’s finished with that task, he is to bring his warriors straight to Headswift Village. The more warriors we have there, the better.”
Keresa nodded, wary eyes on Goodeagle. The man looked frightened, but defiant. “Now help us think like Windwolf. Without his warriors, what will he do?”
“Hide the people in the rockshelters.”
Kakala asked, “If I capture women and children and threaten to kill them unless he surrenders, what will he do?
“He’ll be expecting that.”
“Which means?”
Goodeagle shook his head. “I—I don’t know, but for every move
you plan to make, he’s designed a countermove. If I were you, I’d stop thinking like a war chief and start thinking like a Prophet. The only way you’re going to beat him is if you can see the future.”
Again, that pride …
It certainly annoyed Kakala; Keresa could see it in the set of his lips. “If I capture ten tens of children and aim darts at their little chests, then he’ll be cornered and he—”
Goodeagle laughed loud and long.
Kakala just watched him through flat eyes. “I gather you’re trying to tell me something, Goodeagle.”
“I’m surprised after fighting against him for so long, you could entertain something like that. If you put the Lame Bull children at risk like that, you’ve played right into Windwolf’s hands. He’ll order every man, woman, and child to take up weapons and rush you.” He smirked. “And, they’ll do it.”
“That’s suicidal.”
“Of course, but he’ll take a lot of you with him, and that will ease his conscience.”
“Ridiculous! He wouldn’t risk killing women and children.”
“The Sunpath People aren’t like you soft Nightland dogs, Kakala. After our women have used their hide scrapers on your warriors’ faces for a time, you’ll understand that.” He tried to suppress the insane chuckle that shook him. Tears welled in his eyes—but not from amusement. “And if that doesn’t stop your attack, Windwolf will just do something so totally unexpected that not even I can imagine it.”
“Try?”
Goodeagle felt the smile fade from his face. “He’ll be thinking of Walking Seal Village. It haunts his soul. He’ll trap you, just as you tried to trap him.”
“But you told me that he wanted to trap us at Walking Seal Village. That Bramble was the bait.”
“Oh, yes, and what an irony this will be.”
“But this time, he doesn’t have any of my people for bait the way we had Bramble.”
“He has himself.”
Kakala snorted. “Impossible.”
“I’ve told you. Go on, fall headlong into it.” Goodeagle folded his arms tightly across his chest and squeezed, rocking back and forth, apparently trying to force the ache from his heart.
He’s ready to fall apart.
The realization took Keresa by surprise.

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