Children of the Dawn (20 page)

“You did it. I did it. Everyone does. It
is
hard. It’s
supposed
to be hard. Little ones have to learn courage if they are to survive and grow up and become useful to the tribe.”

“I meant hard for
me.
I never realized how much harder a power quest is for the mother than it is for the child.”

“Oh,” Tor said, understanding. “Just remember how smart he is. Remember all the things you taught him when you two were alone
in the old man’s cave. I know he won’t forget.”

K
AI
E
L
’
S POWER QUEST WAS THE MOST EXCITING THING
that had ever happened in his life. They said
something
would happen out here, but what? They said he’d be different when he returned, but who would he be?

Soon he would know!

Proud, brave, feeling very grown-up, the son of Ashan and Tor strode across the prairie on a summer morning so fine that he
sometimes forgot the seriousness of his quest.

He felt a bit of fear following him like a shadow, though he wouldn’t have admitted it. He could never catch it when he whirled
around, so he just laughed at it. But he wished they had let him bring a weapon. Maybe
most
little ones didn’t know how to use weapons yet, but
he
did. He felt better after he picked up a hefty stick. Now he could bash any bad animal that tried to get in his way. And
it was a good walking stick, too.

Flat prairie gave way to low hills. The sun was high in the hot blue sky. After yesterday’s feast to celebrate the seven summers
of his life, Kai El still wasn’t hungry. But he was thirsty, and a bit tired, so he stopped for a drink and a rest.

Amah said he’d feel something to tell him which way to go. He hadn’t felt anything yet. What would it be?

“Be alert, and you will know,” was all she would say.

Kai El knew that some little ones never returned. Maybe
they
never
felt the thing that told them which way to go, so they just kept walking until they fell over and died.

If little ones are so important to the tribe, why aren’t we given more help for our power quests?
he wondered.

After more aimless walking, he worried about what he should do if he never felt the thing that would tell him where to go.
Then he thought he heard something. Standing still, he emptied his mind. An invisible whisper tugged from the direction Where
Day Begins. He went that way, and the pull strengthened. He climbed up a long slope that ended in a steep decline.

The little boy sat at the edge of the drop-off, the late sun warm on his back. A breeze feathered the strands of the magnificent
horsetail headpiece. Higher than the surrounding lands, he could see forever in all directions: hills behind hills, then distant
mountains.

He noticed a slight heat rising into his bottom. He closed his eyes and put his hands flat on the ground. Yes, it was really
there. The air around him had a mild sting. And a smell like after a thunderstorm, though the sky had been blue for days.

Kai El knew that he had found sacred ground. He stood, crossed his hands on his chest, and announced himself to the spirits
of the place.

“I am Kai El, Sun River. I have come to meet my guardian.”

Sensing approval, he claimed the spot by kicking a circle in the tall yellow grass all the way down to dirt. He got inside
the circle to wait.

Kai El said prayers as the sun went down, speaking in a loud voice—if bad animals were waiting for dark to attack him, they
would hear the voice of a large man and leave him alone. After thanking the Four Directions for another day, and for guiding
him here, he prayed to his unknown guardian.

“I don’t know you, but you know me. You have waited since I was born. Now I am ready to meet you.”

Ignoring his powerful hunger, he drank water. Night came. In moonless black Kai El tried to keep his mind empty, open and
ready for his guardian spirit. He should stay awake, they said—that was easy. Scary sounds filled the star-pricked night:
birds, bugs, coyotes, wolves, and who knew what else. The
skinny moon rose just before morning. He drank, stood, stretched, walked around inside his circle. Stood at the edge aiming
a yellow stream out. Prayed again. Sat back down. Fell asleep in the sun for a while. Night again. Harder to stay awake, even
with the noises. Another day. Hunger had stopped bothering him. Strange thoughts wandered through his mind. His eyes and ears
played tricks on him, seeing and hearing things that weren’t there. But none of the real or the unreal was his guardian spirit.

Night came for the third time. Lying on his back, arms crossed behind his head, one leg straight out on the ground, the other
knee cocked up, Kai El stared at the sky. Instead of standing still, the stars swirled and swooped, trailing sparks. He tried
to use his gaze to stop them, but it didn’t work—his eyes watered with the effort. He squeezed them shut. Blinked. Opened
them—

In the center of a golden glow, a red-tail hawk perched on Kai El’s raised knee. Wings folded, shoulders hunched, the bird
stared at him with fierce eyes and stern beak. Kai El didn’t feel its weight, or the talons digging into his legging, but
its stare bored into his forehead. He did not move.

“Skaina, Hawk Spirit,” he said. “It is you.”

He heard wind as the hawk must hear when it flew. The bird cocked its head and spoke in his mind.

I have always been your guardian. Now you know.

“I am honored.”

The red-tail hawk was a magnificent animal. Kai El had felt like a hawk sometimes, his heart and thoughts soaring free, as
if nothing could hold him back.

Beyond the wide glow cast by his guardian spirit, the stars were crazier than before, twirling, sweeping across the sky, as
if they were birds. Kai El couldn’t feel his body.

Listen
…

He heard drums and singing; saw a shadow-boy dancing in the glow; and it was he. He listened to his other self. The song became
part of him.

“With the eyes of the hawk, I see what others can’t. With the heart of the hawk, I have the courage of ten men. With the wings
of the hawk, my spirit soars.”

That is your power song. There is no other like it. Spirits
will know who you are when you sing it, and all creatures will be warned of your power.

Hot tingles passed between the spirit and the boy, rushing through him, filling him up. In that moment, he knew Skaina’s love,
and love was born in him.

“What name have you chosen for me?”

What name do you wish?

Kai El didn’t know that it mattered.

“Any name you give me, Skaina… that is what I wish.”

You are free to name yourself

“But I thought you would give it to me. That’s what they said.”

Amotkan wants people to listen to themselves. You are the first.

Kai El said, “But… but… ”

This was too strange. For a moment he thought he was dreaming, instead of talking to an actual spirit. And then fear rushed
in.

“You mean I won’t have a guardian spirit?”

No. I mean that you may choose your own name.

He had no idea what to say. Before he could think of anything, the Hawk Spirit disappeared between eyeblinks.

The people of Teahra Village cheered when Kai El returned. They gave him special things to eat, knowing how hungry he’d be
after four days. His friends had many questions, though no one asked who his guardian spirit was, or what his new name would
be. They would have to wait to find out, until the Naming Ceremony at the Autumn Feast, three moons away. Even parents had
to wait. Only the Moonkeeper would know between now and then.

That night, Ashan sent away Tor from the Moonkeeper’s hut so she could talk to their son. She and Kai El settled together.

“Tell me all about it.”

She listened to a story much like others. The same story was different, though, coming from her own son. She
heard
the sounds,
felt
the fear,
tasted
the hunger,
knew
the courage.

“I opened my eyes,” Kai El said. “There was a red-tail hawk on my knee.”

“Hawk Spirit!” She hugged him. “I knew you were special! Will you be called Skaina, then, or did he give you some other name?”

He didn’t answer.

“I’m the Moonkeeper. You are supposed to tell me.”

Kai El cleared his throat.

“Skaina said that I am to choose my own name.”

“What?”

He nodded.

“No! You must be mistaken!”

“That’s what he said. I am the first.”

“I’m not in the mood for your tricks. What name did Skaina give you?”

Kai El heaved a big sigh.

“I told you what he said, Mother. On the way back I decided—since it is up to me—that I’m not going to have a new name. I
will still be Kai El, Sun River. I like my name.”

The child wasn’t playing. He believed himself. Her mind raced. What was she going to do about this?

Tor burst through the doorskin. Mother and son jumped to their feet. She instinctively put her arms around the boy.

“How dare you listen to the Moonkeeper speaking to one of the tribe!” she said.

“He’s my son! Of course I listened, you fool of a woman! What are you talking about, boy?”

Kai El was shaking. Ashan thought he couldn’t talk, but he did.

“Father, I found my guardian spirit.”

“So I heard. What name did he give you?”

“Skaina said Amotkan said that we—”

“The name. Just tell me the name.”

Ashan said, “Give him time, and maybe he will. Go on, son. What did Amotkan say?”

“That people should… I don’t know… stop asking spirits for everything… they are tired of doing everything for people… something
like that. All I know for sure is that Skaina said I am the first. I asked and asked, and he would not tell me a name. So
I decided to stay Kai El.”

Shaking his head violently, Tor said, “Well—I don’t—it just can’t—that’s not the way it’s going to be. Not
my
son.”

“Father, all my life, you talked of guardian spirits, and said we should trust them to guide us. I’m not going to say no to
the first thing Skaina asks me to do.”

“You made a mistake. Or maybe something worse. I don’t think you met your guardian spirit. Maybe you just hid in the cliffs
like that boy Nubish.”

Kai El jerked away from Ashan. He strode to his father, fists clenched at his sides, and shouted up at him.

“How can you say that? You know Tor’s son is no coward!”

The rage went out of Tor. He sat down, head in his hands.

“A man’s name… next to his family, it’s the most important thing he has. Our son doesn’t want a name. What are we going to
do, Ashan?”

Kai El said, “There is nothing you
can
do, Father.”

Over the next three moons, his parents tried to change his mind. They suggested names, made him think about them. Especially
his father, who thought a name meant much more than Kai El did. But he would not be swayed and could not be forced.

At the Naming Ceremony, he stood with other little ones before the gathered tribes. The Moonkeeper commanded him to step forward.

“I am Kai El, Sun River. Skaina, the Hawk Spirit, is my guardian. My new name is my old name because my guardian said it should
be.”

Shahala people were shocked, offended, angry.

Ashan defended Kai El, speaking as the Moonkeeper.

“I told you things are different now. Why do you keep being surprised? What happens between a person and his guardian spirit
is not the concern of other people. This boy is Kai El, and I suggest you call him that.”

So they did, and a few other things.

O
ONE MORNING IN
K
AI
E
L
’
S TENTH SUMMER, HE WOKE
up from a dream—such a crazy dream he couldn’t tell anyone.

It was about Tsilka’s daughters. He dreamed he had seen them naked, and they had boy-parts growing between their legs. The
dream bothered him all day. Though most Tlikit little ones went around naked, Kai El realized he’d never seen those two, not
that he could remember. He tried to tell himself it was crazy; it couldn’t be true. But… being daughters of a god, the twins
were
different from other little ones. Could they be different in
that
way? Part-girl and part-boy? He had to find out.

Kai El thought he was lucky when the twins left the village walking to the Great River. If they were going to bathe, he could
see them naked—and prove the dream right or wrong. Of course he could be
killed
if women caught him peeking—but he had to know.

He followed them. But the twins didn’t go to the women’s washing place. They turned away from the trail and joined some other
girls in splashing, laughing play. Kai El thought of going back to the village, but now that he was this close to water on
a hot day, he might as well cool off. And maybe he’d see something yet.

Hidden by tall bushes, he stood up to his thighs in cold swirling water, leaning forward on his spear, peeking through
a bare spot. The girls splashed and pushed each other, shrieking with laughter.

He wondered what was so funny about getting shoved under water?
Girls,
he thought, shaking his head.
They’re so silly,

Something large brushed against his leg. He looked down and saw a fish the size of a grown man! A sturgeon! The biggest he’d
ever seen!

His spear came up without being told, thrust out, and stabbed the monster, in one side of the flesh behind its head, and out
the other.

Perfect!

With a hand on each side of the head, Kai El gripped the spear—
huge—Amotkan, it’s huge!
—throwing his weight back to haul it up on the rocks.

The fish leapt straight up out of the water, shook in the air, slammed back down. Kai El hung on in shock. He and the fish
headed for the bottom. He couldn’t see anything in the blood-colored bubbles rushing by, except that it was getting darker
fast. The thing-that-should-have-been-dead thrashed, bucked, and rolled, but Kai El was not about to let go.