People of the Earth (105 page)

 
          
 
Wind Runner cried, "Is this the way Brave
Man honors his word?"

 
          
 
More warriors appeared, pushing Blue Wind and
Snail Shell before them. Anger and terror twisted the two warriors' faces.

 
          
 
Pale Raven laughed bitterly. "The Soul
Flier knew nothing of this." She stepped closer to White Ash, ignoring the
charged air. "Brave Man said you had great power. Make him live!"

 
          
 
"I can't."

 
          
 
"Then you'll die on Broken Stones war
darts!"

 
          
 
"You'll die first," Sage Ghost
promised, eyes glittering.

 
          
 
White Ash faced the warriors who had crept out
of the night, darts
nocked
for throwing. Power filled
her voice. "Stop there! There will be no war here. Power has made its
choice!"

 
          
 
To a man, the warriors pulled up, glancing
quizzically back and forth.

 
          
 
White Ash locked eyes with Pale Raven. The
woman's lips parted as her soul curled. Try as she might, she couldn't break
the stare she shared with White Ash.

 
          
 
"I told you the Dream wasn't over, Pale
Raven," White Ash repeated. "Watch the way of Power."

 
          
 
White Ash walked into the fire, lifting her
hands toward the stars while the flames licked around her. Horrified cries
broke from the warriors' throats as they backed away. The black wolf lifted its
nose to the sky, ears laid flat, and howled, the dirge mournful.

 
          
 
From the crackling flames, White Ash called,
"Hear the vision of White Ash! I Dream the Spiral. Power allows you a
choice, Pale Raven. You and the Broken Stones may remain and fight. And in the
passing of the moon, the name of the Broken Stones will be as one with the
White Clay. Or you may leave this land! Travel a full year's journey to the
south. There you will find a land to fight for. Seek the golden-haired plant.
There your children's children will rise in greatness until a star burns in the
day. What do you choose?"

 
          
 
Pale Raven shook her head as she struggled to
control her trembling body. She turned to Flying Hawk. He was staring awestruck
at White Ash where she stood in the blistering fire.

 
          
 
"She doesn't burn!" Flying Hawk
yelled, pointing. "Why doesn't she burn?"

 
          
 
Pale Raven nerved herself, taking the dart
from Flying Hawk's limp fingers. She stepped closer, fear pumping with each
beat of her heart.

 
          
 
"Make my husband live," she
commanded. "Make him!" She leveled the dart, muscles taut to throw.

 
          
 
Flames swirled around White Ash's smooth legs
as she stepped out of the fire. "Didn't Brave Man ever tell you? You're illusion,
Pale Raven."

 
          
 
Pale Raven cried out and lunged, driving the
dart into White Ash's breast with both hands. The dart sailed through her, as
if it traveled through air, and rattled on the ground.

 
          
 
"She doesn't bleed!" Flying Hawk
cried, stumbling backward. "There is no wound!"

 
          
 
"Your dart is illusion, Pale Raven. Only
the One exists." The Dream danced in White Ash's eyes. "What do you
choose, Pale Raven?"

           
 
The black wolf stepped through the flames, its
fur un-singed, eyes glowing golden in the night. Pale Raven's soul withered
beneath that eerie gaze.

 
          
 
“Choose?" Pale Raven glanced down at
Brave Man's body and swallowed. She placed her hands over her belly, feeling
the swelling of life Brave Man had planted within her. She backed away slowly
and glared her hatred at White Ash. "The Broken Stones choose the south. A
full year's journey we will travel. That land we will take for our own. And
there we will await your star that burns in the daylight."

 
          
 
"Then go," White Ash ordered.
"Runners will ensure that no Black Point bother you on the way."

 
          
 
The black wolf raised its muzzle and howled
into the night.

 
          
 
Still Water tucked his robe around White Ash's
still trembling body. A desert-scented wind rustled in the sage around them,
tousling the fringes on Sage Ghost and Wind Runner's sleeves as they knelt
before the red coals of the fire. Aspen sat cross-legged a few paces to the
side, gazing tiredly at the glimmering stars.

 
          
 
White Ash looked up through red-rimmed eyes.
"I did it, didn't I? I Dreamed the One . . . and came back to you."

 
          
 
Still Water smiled. "You did."

 
          
 
"I did it for you . . . and our
child."

 
          
 
He bent down and brushed his lips on her
forehead, holding her until her breathing deepened. Then he gently eased her
down to the warm sand and rocked back on his heels, rubbing a hand over his
face. Had he ever felt so weary?

 
          
 
The Wolf Bundle lay on his robe, glowing
orange in the light of the coals. A sense of peace filled Still Water for the
first time in his life. He glanced up and found Sage Ghost gazing at him
curiously.

 
          
 
"Still Water?" Sage Ghost asked as
he twirled a dart in his stubby fingers. "What next?"

 
          
 
"Tomorrow we go back to the Black Point.
White Ash must tell them about the Spiral and First Man's Dream." His gaze
drifted aimlessly over the camp, and he frowned at Brave Man's dead body. On
the ground near the corpse's knee, something gleamed in the firelight. Still
Water got to his feet and went to examine it. He picked up a beautifully
polished carving of a black wolf, and he felt a tingle of Power. The tingle
grew to a fiery intensity, and something told him it had once been part of the
Wolf Bundle. He opened his soul and listened; he could faintly hear the echo of
the Bundle's many voices coming from the tiny wolf. He held it more tightly. It
made him think of Left Hand, and his soul ached. Left Hand would cherish
something like this. The Power of Trade? A sharing of souls? It is a small
thing, my friend, and maybe a great thing. Once you gave me a gift at the
beginning of the journey, but who knows when it will end?

 
          
 
One day he would meet a Trader going east and
he'd send the tiny wolf to his old friend. Just the possibility made his heart
swell with longing.

 
          
 
Out in the darkness, a pack of coyotes erupted
in song. Still Water clutched the carving and put it in his pack; then he
reached for the stone-teeth necklace Brave Man had torn from him. He jerked it
from around the dead man's neck and slipped it over his own head again.

 
          
 
A bit of soul goes into making something, into
cherishing it. He touched the teeth fondly, remembering the day Left Hand had
given them to him. Never again will this leave my neck. I swear it on the Wolf
Bundle.

 
          
 
Out across the starlit sands, the coyotes had
broken into a trot, loping across the crests of the dunes, their black shapes
silhouetted against the indigo horizon.

 
          
 
White Ash used a stick to turn the rocks that
lay in the crackling fire. Sounds carried from the Black Point camp: children
yelling in shrill voices, dogs barking, the calls of women, men laughing.

 
          
 
She sighed, drifting off to the peaceful days
high in the Sideways Mountains when she and Still Water had been alone with
each other. She looked to the north, toward Singing Stones’ distant shelter. By
now it had become the home of packrats. The hangings would eventually rot away,
and the old man's possessions would become the domain of mice and insects.

 
          
 
A small dart of pain entered her soul.

 
          
 
“White Ash?" Aspen called as she walked
up, eyes wary.

 
          
 
"Yes."

 
          
 
"What is this thing?" Aspen gestured
at the low dome made of hides spread over bowed willow sticks.

 
          
 
"A sweat lodge. A place to cleanse your
spirit. You could join me."

 
          
 
Aspen hesitated, a frown incising her forehead
before she decided. "Show me what to do."

 
          
 
White Ash handed Aspen a pair of sticks and
showed her how to use them to carry the hot rocks into the lodge. When they had
transported enough, White Ash pulled off her dress, laying it on the sagebrush.
"I don't think you want to do this in that pretty beaded dress, Aspen.
Sweat means just that."

 
          
 
Aspen slipped out of her dress, laying it next
to White Ash's. "And sweat cleanses?" she asked as she followed White
Ash into the darkness of the lodge, staring at the hot rocks piled in the
center. A tripod holding a gut bag full of water stood in the back.

 
          
 
"Wolf Dreamer taught us long ago that
sweat purifies the body and soul." White Ash closed the flap to seal the
lodge in darkness and sat down at the rear, near the bag of water. . “I can't
see a thing," Aspen remarked.

 
          
 
"Your eyes will adjust. It helps you to
concentrate. You're not so easily distracted by what you see. Please, sit down,
take a deep breath." White Ash cupped a handful of water and cast it on
the rocks. A sizzling eruption of steam arose to fill the lodge. She breathed
deeply, letting the warmth massage her. "I feel your curiosity, Aspen."

 
          
 
Aspen lowered herself to the dirt floor and
gasped in the heat. "My whole body tingles."

 
          
 
"That's not what you're curious
about."

 
          
 
White Ash cast more water on the stones,
feeling the heat sink through her skin to loosen muscles and joints. Her soul
warmed.

 
          
 
"There is talk in camp," Aspen
began. "Some say you are a witch. Even Still Water's own relatives say so!
People have watched you build this and wondered about the purpose. You have
said you will Dream tonight."

 
          
 
Sweat trickled down White Ash's body, dripping
from her chin and tracing around the curve of her breasts. "I must sweat
to Dream well. Is that why you came? To ask me if I'm a witch?"

 
          
 
"My people have never seen a Soul Flier
who could stand in fire or run darts through her flesh and not bleed. Our holy
people don't Dream men to death like you did Brave Man."

 
          
 
"That's because the Sun People had no
real Dreamers. Oh, they had some very good Healers ... but no Dreamers. I'm not
a witch. Tonight I will explain the One to the Black Point. I will tell them
about the Spiral and the Dream of First Man."

 
          
 
"And change our ways?"

 
          
 
White Ash smiled in the dimness. "Aspen,
I've seen First Man turn from human to Wolf to Thunderbird. The Sun People are
the People of the Sky. First Man's were the People of the Earth. Sky and Earth.
Opposites crossed. What were separate must be made one—they'll be stronger for
it. That is the Spiral. That is what I will Dream for the People. I come not to
take away, but to give. I am the way between the worlds and the Peoples."

 
          
 
"I have wondered what to do with you. My
people are asking my advice. I thought perhaps I should come and hear your
words."

 
          
 
"You and Wind Runner are good leaders for
the Black Point."

 
          
 
"He still loves you," she said.

 
          
 
White Ash reached into the water.

 
          
 
"No more, please." Aspen shifted.
"This is new to me."

 
          
 
White Ash drew her hand out of the bag and
smoothed the cool liquid over her hot cheeks. "Wind Runner's love bothers
you? I've faced my temptation, Aspen—and it wasn't a man." The One called
to her. She needed only to close her eyes to float in that serene golden haze.
The rapture lay there, just beyond the horizon of her soul. "Still Water
is the only man who can understand my deepest longings. He's felt them
himself." She smiled, warm within at the thought of him rescuing her from
the One.

 
          
 
Aspen remained silent for a moment. Then she
said, "Throw a little more water on the rocks. If you can take it,
lean."

 
          
 
White Ash dipped her hand in the water bag.
She closed her eyes as she splashed the liquid on the stones, letting the
tension drain from her body. The One pulsed within, rising from the glowing
soul of her daughter. She didn't fully understand what had happened, but she
felt as though her child had become a sacred bundle that lived inside her—a
bottomless well of Power.

 
          
 
Aspen spoke deliberately. "I think I'll
tell any who ask that your dream is for the good of the people."

 
          
 
White Ash nodded. "I will Dream as hard
as I can for them."

 
          
 
Still Water bit his lip uneasily as White Ash
stepped before the bonfire that burned and crackled in the middle of the camp.
The eyes of over a hundred watched her warily. She raised her hands, Singing
her Power in the awkward tongue of the Sun People. On the horizon, lightning
flashed in a bank of black clouds that blotted the stars.

 
          
 
Wish I could understand what she's saying,
Still Water thought. She held her listeners spellbound.

 
          
 
On quiet feet he slipped behind Sage Ghost's
lodge to where his and White Ash's robes lay. His pack hid in the folds of
hide. He gently dug it out and reached inside to take the Wolf Bundle. White
Ash had said she wouldn't need it ... but the expression on the faces of the
Black Point left him uncertain. In his hand, the Wolf Bundle grew lighter,
seeming to float. He tucked it up under his coat where he could keep it in
place with his bad arm.

 
          
 
Ghosting around the rear of the lodge, he
intently studied the crowd. A group of warriors had begun whispering behind
their hands, hard looks on their faces. Two old women shook their heads
disbelievingly and brusquely made throwing-away motions, as if to discard White
Ash's words.

 
          
 
Still Water edged through the lodge's shadows.
Something squished under his foot. He winced. "Wonderful. Dog droppings.
And next to our robes. Sleeping tonight is going to be . . ."He froze,
hearing someone approach.

 
          
 
"Witch!" a muffled voice carried to
him.

 
          
 
Still Water's spine stiffened. He craned his
neck and peered into the darkness. The Wolf Bundle suddenly surged. Still Water
reeled on his feet. Power fluttered over his chest like spectral fingers of
ice, then it blasted outward, shredding the night, drawing his attention to a
place beyond the lodges.

 
          
 
Silhouetted against the firelight, Still Water
saw two skulking shadows. One he recognized: Tuber!

 
          
 
Then he saw the weapon in the boy's hand. His
heart pounded sickeningly against his ribs.

 
          
 
White Ash looked out at the people. The fire
flickered in golden patterns over their pinched faces. Their uncertainties
seemed to make the air thicker, heavier, pressing the air out of her lungs. She
let her gaze drift over the starlit tops of the lodges to the lightning-gilded
clouds beyond. Bats wheeled and dove, catching insects.

           
She raised her arms and the people
went silent. “I have come to tell you about the Dream of First Man—whom you
know as Thunderbird. In the beginning, the Creator made the four worlds. Three
of them were dark and cold. Our ancestors climbed up through a hole to reach
this place, the fourth world of light. Thunderbird—First Man, the Wolf
Dreamer—led the way through the darkness.

 
          
 
"He fought his evil brother in order that
people might live in harmony with the land. Here, he Dreamed the Spiral. All of
Life is a Spiral—without beginning or end, constantly changing and forever the
same. First Man gave us that Dream, and the way to find the One. I am here to
lead you in search of the One. There your soul will find First Man and the way
of Power. Seek, and you will know the harmony of the land.

 
          
 
"That is the legacy of the Wolf Dream,
and I pass it on to you. Your blood is new to this land, Sun People, and it
will make the land strong. What the Earth People have lost, you have replaced."

 
          
 
She closed her eyes, the vision forming in her
mind. "One day your children will meet Traders bearing the golden-haired
plant. Its soul will become yours. Here is the Dream that will be:

 
          
 
Sun God! Born of Light!

 
          
 
Spiral, you god of gaudy feathers! Carry the
plant upon your back. Parch the seeds upon the rack. Rocks like sky are passing
by. Hot, dry, war is nigh. Sing, Sun God, blood rises . . . stingers in the
sky! Further . . . further south they go. Shelters. Rock piled high. Raise the
infants to the God in the sky. Earth, hey earth, from it spread. Raise the
underworld from the Dead. Flight of the bird, so big, so loud. Calls the
lightning from the cloud.

 
          
 
White Ash opened her eyes. "I’ve seen our
children. They've grown strong, filling the land, their souls swaying with the
coming of the seasons. I've seen them calling upon Thunderbird to bring rain from
the heavens to nourish the golden-haired plant. The bounty is raised to the Sun
and bellies are full. Stones the color of the sky drape their necks.

 
          
 
"If we seek the One and remember the
Dream of First Man, the earth shall be the womb of our People. The Sun shall
nurture the life provided by the earth. Opposites crossed. I've seen feathered
Dancers rising from the ground to represent the journey of First Man from the
underworld. I've seen them Dance to the Sun and cast pollen to the four sacred
directions. This legacy can be yours if you accept the Dream. But if you don't
..."

 
          
 
She studied them, noting mildly that one of
the warriors had turned his back to her. White Ash lifted her voice, "I
have seen other lands where the One is denied. I've seen people living like
ants, scarring the soil for the profit of others. I've seen forests cut down
and the earth bleeding as its soil is washed into the rivers and carried to the
oceans. The One is not just for men, but for all life. What we take, we must
give back. That is the heart of the Spiral.