People of the Earth (46 page)

 
          
 
"Come on," she told him, taking his
hand. "It's wonderful."

 
          
 
She sat down with Bad Belly, keeping a hand on
his knee, imagining him as he walked along the ridge top, eyes to the sky, no
care of where he was or that a misstep would dash him on the rocks below. Her
heart skipped; but then, such things made Bad Belly who he was. She didn't just
need him; he needed her!

 
          
 
"The Bundle," Singing Stones
whispered in a dreamy tone. "The Bundle of First
Man.
The Wolf Bundle. That's the key to all the
Power you'll need. What I can't teach you, the Bundle will."

 
          
 
Bad Belly chewed thoughtfully, swallowing.
"You mean the sacred Bundle of the Wolf People?"

 
          
 
Fear drove like an icicle through White Ash's
chest.

 
          
 
"Yes. It's been calling to me."
Singing Stones glanced slyly at Bad Belly. "You'll have to go steal it
from them, you know. The Wolf People won't just turn loose a Power object like
the Wolf Bundle."

 
          
 
Bad Belly gaped at the old man.

 
          
 
"Steal the ..." White Ash's words
choked in her throat. "Are you crazy?"

 
          
 
Brave Man held his tongue as the debate began
around the Broken Stones council fire. Power pulsed through him, accompanied by
the driving ache in his head. The voices whispered, Now is the time. Now you
will make your place.

 
          
 
The crackling fire lit the Broken Stones camp,
dancing off the tan lodge covers in the background. It shone on the anxious
faces of the people who ringed the council circle, waiting to hear about the
failed raid. Many had buffalo robes over their shoulders; others had dressed in
their best elk-hide jackets, decorated with elk ivories and breastplates of
tubular bone beads arranged in parallel rows. The warriors wore their long
hunting coats, each coat painted with the symbols of his Power. The women stood
in knots, whispering to each other, casting suspicious glances at Flying Hawk.

 
          
 
Brave Man studied Flying Hawk through
slitted
eyes. The warrior sat cross-legged, stoic face lit
by the rising flames of the bonfire. The red-talon tattoos on his cheeks
gleamed gaudily. He had done his hair in two simple braids that hung over the
shoulders of his bear-hide war shirt. Despite the fact that his fate as a war
leader would be decided here, his face could have been carved of stone.

 
          
 
The clan leader, Buffalo Tail, and the old
Soul Flier, Sun Feathers, were seated across from Flying Hawk. Buffalo Tail's
wife, Cloudy Sky, a large woman with a round face, sat to his right.

           
 
Other warriors, including Fat Elk, Long Bone,
and Buffalo Leg, sat in a wedge behind Flying Hawk. Their position argued in
the war leader's favor since they backed him despite the disaster.

 
          
 
Brave Man had been placed to one side as
befitted a new voice at the council. He ignored the speculative glances cast at
Pale Raven, who sat beside him. He could feel the warmth of her body, and it satisfied
something in his soul. Let the people stare and whisper behind their hands.
Opinions about his woman wouldn't change what would happen tonight.

 
          
 
The rest of the camp packed around the council
circle, eager to hear every word. Children crawled between their parents' legs,
staring out at the solemn event.

 
          
 
"Tell us what happened," Buffalo
Tail began.

 
          
 
Flying Hawk told them, starting at the
beginning, finally coming to the ambush. "I stopped short of the
place." Flying Hawk gestured to emphasize his words. "Brave Man had
warned me. He had told me we would be discovered by the Black Point and that an
ambush would occur in a drainage between two sandstone-capped walls. I then had
to decide what to do. Should I let this lone warrior go? If I did, would Brave
Man's vision come true? Would we suffer a terrible defeat when this man escaped
to tell his people of our presence? Or was this the place Brave Man had seen in
his vision? The sandstone couldn't be climbed where we were, so I couldn't send
one of my men to look over the top."

 
          
 
Brave Man nodded to himself as he fingered his
chin. Just as I saw in the Dream. Yes, Power fills the gray mist of the Dream.
Imagine what I would know if I could penetrate the gray haze and command the
golden bliss!

 
          
 
Flying Hawk continued, "I thought about
it as we chased the Black Point warrior. I sent two warriors ahead since the
Black Point had hurt himself fleeing from us. I thought the two warriors would
spring the trap if there were one—and might kill the lone warrior if there
weren't. Meanwhile, we waited. The brush was thick in the canyon and offered
many places for the Black Point to hide.

 
          
 
"After a while it looked like it wasn't a
trap. Would the Black Point let one of their own be hunted like a wounded
rabbit? The two men I had sent ahead called out for me to come and to bring the
rest of our group so we could kill the hiding warrior and be on our way. No
sooner had we stepped into the canyon than the
caprock
above exploded with darts.”

 
          
 
Flying Hawk turned to stare at Brave Man.
"It was just the way you warned me. Of the ten I took with me, four are
dead: Flute, Two Shields, White Smoke, and Claps Hands. Their widows are
mourning, cutting off their hair and slashing their arms even as we
speak."

 
          
 
Sun Feathers leaned his head back to stare at
the night sky. Behind him, the weathered leather of his lodge reflected the
yellow flickers of the fire.

 
          
 
Buffalo Tail asked in a soft voice, "Do
any of the warriors who followed Flying Hawk wish to add anything? Dispute
anything?"

 
          
 
Yellow Rock cleared his throat. He had a long
face with a hooked nose; a round circle had been tattooed on his forehead.
"I went with Flying Hawk. I was present during all of these things he
spoke of. I would want everyone to know that I urged him forward when the Black
Point ran into the canyon to hide in the brush. He held me back, fearing a
trap. I do not blame Flying Hawk. I would follow him on a raid again. I have
spoken."

 
          
 
Buffalo Leg called out, "I do not think
Flying Hawk made a mistake. I think it was Power. I think Power worked against
us."

 
          
 
People shifted uneasy glances toward Brave
Man. He nodded slowly. t4 It was Power. We were meant to learn a lesson."
He looked around, finding nothing but suspicion and worry in the faces of the
audience.

 
          
 
“It is the wrong time to war on the Black
Point," he continued. “I’ve discussed it with the voices in my head, and I
have heard their counsel. I was warned about Flying Hawk's raid, and I tried to
stop it. I called Flying Hawk to my lodge to warn him. I didn't understand why
the Power would have gone bad. But it's come clear to me since. Thunderbird
does not want us warring with the Black Point right now. Power calls us to war
against the Wolf People. They block the way to the south. As they wiped out the
White Clay, they would wipe out the name of the Broken Stones."

 
          
 
Brave Man paused, making a circular gesture
with his palm down. "Just like a man might smooth dirt with his hand. The
name of the Broken Stones would be heard no more. Where we sit this evening,
only silence would remain. Not even the whisper of the wind in the sagebrush
would recall the Broken Stones."

 
          
 
People gasped. Those standing closest to Brave
Man backed up a step, crowding those behind.

 
          
 
"That is the warning of the Dream,"
Brave Man continued. "The time has come for us to turn on a greater enemy—
the Wolf People. The lesson is there for all to see. The White Clay warred with
the Broken Stones and the Black Point. Their warriors were killed and their strength
disappeared like blood through an open wound. In the end, the Wolf People
dragged them down like an old buffalo bull. The bones of the White Clay lie
bleaching in the sun. What do the Broken Stones wish for their bones?"

 
          
 
In the following silence, only the yipping of
distant coyotes could be heard.

 
          
 
Sun Feathers hawked and spat into the fire.
"I have had no such Dream."

 
          
 
"Nor did you Dream about the ambush of
Flying Hawk's war party," Brave Man countered. Words came to him,
whispered by the voices in his head. "I don't know what to think of your
Power, Soul Flier. I think you have a different kind of Power from mine. Maybe
stronger, maybe not. But men must hear the words of Power and then make their
own decisions. My Power says we should go south. I don't know why we are pushed
that way. Power uses people in different ways for its own purposes." He
took a malicious pleasure in the use of Old Falcon's words. A doubling of Power
came from turning the dead man's words against him. The voices chattered and
giggled in Brave Man's head.

 
          
 
Flying Hawk raised his hands. "When we
were fleeing from the Black Point, I called out to Thunderbird, telling the
messenger of Sun's Power that if he would save the rest of us, I would follow
the Power Brave Man has brought us."

           
 
Sun Feathers didn't move a muscle as he
studied Flying Hawk.

 
          
 
Buffalo Tail shifted uneasily. "Do you
think Brave Man has brought us Power?"

 
          
 
People had begun to whisper to one another.
Brave Man could hear feet scuffing the earth and the rustle of robes being
resettled.

 
          
 
"I think he brings Power," Flying
Hawk answered with certainty. "We all watched him kill Hawks Beard. Some
people said that Brave Man would die of his wounds. But he survived—and warned
me about the trap." The keen-eyed warrior looked around. "I refused
to believe him at first. I believe him now. If Brave Man's Power says we should
war on the Wolf People, then I think we should. I have no more to say."

 
          
 
A babble of conversation broke out.

 
          
 
Buffalo Tail stood, gesturing for silence.
"My people, we have heard Flying Hawk's story of what happened on the
raid. I think he did a good job leading the raid. I think we shouldn't hold him
responsible for what happened." He turned his heavy-lidded eyes on Brave
Man. "Instead of worrying about Flying Hawk's courage and sense, we should
consider Brave Man's vision of raiding the Wolf People."

 
          
 
Brave Man struggled to stand, leaning on Pale
Raven to cushion the throbbing pain in his stiff leg. He studied the people,
reading uncertainty in their eyes and in the tight set of their mouths. Some
glanced worriedly about. Others looked grim. Fear glittered in the eyes of the
elderly.

 
          
 
To the people, he spoke. "Our way has
always been south, People of the Sun! For the moment, we have a chance to catch
our breath. But how long will it be until the Snow Bird, or the Hollow Flute,
or the Wasp clan begins to cast covetous eyes at the rich lands we now hunt? I
know, some will say, ‘Let them come! The warriors of the Broken Stones will
send them running north again, bearing their dead to weeping widows.' "

 
          
 
Brave Man pivoted on his good foot,
challenging those who watched him with reservation. "The White Clay told
themselves that very thing. With my own ears I heard it spoken just that way.
The warriors who laughed and threatened the Broken Stones and the Black Point
are dead . . . their clan is only a memory."

 
          
 
“We are the Broken Stones," Buffalo Tail
insisted, pulling himself up to full height. “The White Clay were never strong.
They never had the Power with them. All they wanted to do was stay in the
Bug
River
valley and hunt. They had no heart for
war.''