The Summoning God: Book II of the Anasazi Mysteries (48 page)

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

BOOK: The Summoning God: Book II of the Anasazi Mysteries
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Tears welled in Browser’s eyes. “She should have killed you for what you did to her!”
Springbank’s black eyes burned into Browser’s. “She would have if she’d had a little more proof. She even sent a messenger to Spider Silk to ask her if my father had hurt my half brother Bear Dancer when he was a boy. She suspected that I was treating my daughter the same way I’d been treated as a boy.”
Browser braced his feet, struggling to lift the club. “I curse you, you filthy …”
Browser stumbled and almost dropped the war club. He gripped it so hard his fingers went white. “What about the other old women who died at the same time as my grandmother?”
Springbank studied Browser’s eyes, then his gaze lowered to Browser’s jerky hands. A knowing gleam replaced the pain in his eyes. “Painted Turtle couldn’t keep her jaws closed. I could tell from the way those elders looked at me after the ceremonial that she had shared her suspicions. You know what our people do to those who commit incest. It was my life or theirs. What would you have done?”
Incest!
Redcrop glanced back and forth between them, struggling to understand.
Browser said, “I wouldn’t have hurt my children in the first place.”
Springbank smiled, as if gleeful. “Only because you don’t know what it’s like. If you knew the feel of that young flesh, you—”
“Shut up!” Browser staggered back, trying to prop himself with the war club, while his other hand went to his head. He’d started breathing raggedly. “Gods, how many people have you killed? How many children have you wounded—”
“Ash Girl’s mother would have discovered the truth much sooner if it hadn’t been for Stone Ghost. I was very grateful when he arrived to ‘solve’ the crime and found the blood-encrusted knife I hid in that young warrior’s chamber. Everyone, including Ash Girl’s clan, thought he’d found the murderer.”
Browser’s knees wobbled, and he nearly pitched over. “I had seen
eight summers at the time. I must have known you, or at least seen you at the gatherings. What was your name?”
Springbank glanced at Browser’s knees, then at the war club propped on the floor like one leg of a tripod.
Patiently, he answered, “I have had many names. As a boy I was known as Silver Shadow, but when I went through the manhood ritual—”
Browser blurted, “And Obsidian?”
Springbank’s eyes widened, as if surprised. “Did she tell you, or are you guessing?”
“I think she helped you to kill our Matron. I think—”
Redcrop shouted,
“What?”
“She didn’t help me, you fool!” Springbank broke into a coughing fit and his whole body spasmed. Blood bubbled at his lips. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and stared at the blood as though he had expected as much. “You may not need your club. It looks like one of my broken ribs punctured a lung, which means I don’t have long—”
Faint voices echoed in the tunnel.
Browser looked up, and Springbank smiled.
“I told you they were coming.”
Browser backed away unsteadily and staggered toward the tunnel. He stood to one side with his club up, blinking the blood from his eyes, waiting for the first person to come through. He’d be lucky if he didn’t raise the club and fall flat on his face.
Redcrop scrambled for the bone stiletto Springbank had thrown away earlier, and crawled to the opposite side of the tunnel. She braced her hands and dragged herself to her feet with the stiletto in her trembling fist. A stab of agony shot up her leg.
Browser gave her a confident nod, but his eyes kept drifting, as though he couldn’t keep them focused. He closed his eyes and sucked in deep breaths. It seemed to help. When he opened them, his fingers tightened around his club. He leaned against the cold cavern wall.
The whispers grew louder.
Redcrop had to fight her own hand to keep hold of the stiletto. Silent sobs shook her.
Feet shuffled, then dust puffed from the tunnel and shimmered in the gray light.
A head appeared.
Browser said,
“Catkin! Thank the katsinas
,” and his strength failed him. He crumpled to the floor.
Catkin crawled out slowly, her eyes glinting like polished stones.
That look told Browser something Redcrop didn’t understand. He scrambled to get to his feet and lift his war club …
“Put it down, or she dies!”
Redcrop saw the hand twined in Catkin’s red collar. A large, powerful hand.
Browser’s club clattered to the stone floor.
As the man emerged from the cavern behind Catkin, he ordered, “Sit down and don’t move, or we will kill your friends.”
“Don’t listen to them!
” Straighthorn screamed.
Redcrop straightened, her veins on fire, and clutched the stiletto in both hands.
Catkin knelt just outside the tunnel, facing Browser. The tall, black-haired man straightened behind her. His strong fist knotted in the fabric, he kept Catkin’s body between him and Browser.
Browser’s voice shook with anger. “Who are you? What do you want?”
The tall warrior gave him a crooked smile. “Didn’t Two Hearts tell you? I’m surprised. We came for the ritual feast.”
Redcrop felt the words like a blunt fist in her belly. She gaped at Springbank.
Two Hearts?
Browser said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who are you?”
Floating, Redcrop waited for the man to turn his broad back to her …
Springbank shouted,
“Ten Hawks, you fool, there’s one behind you!”
The man spun around and Redcrop threw herself forward, all of her weight driving the deer-bone stiletto into his chest.
Have to hold him long enough. Hurry, Straighthorn. Hurry!
The man flung his arm up and knocked her sideways. Pain, like fire, lanced up her leg, but she lunged again, driving the stiletto into his shoulder, stabbing at his chest, shrieking, sobbing. Blood spattered her face and smeared warmly on her hands.
Ten Hawks screamed, twisted away, and his fist slammed into Redcrop’s shoulder, knocking her to the floor. Stunned by the brutality, she had barely managed to get her hands under her when he dove headlong onto her. A woofing sound burst from her lips as his weight
drove the air from her lungs, and he wrenched the stiletto from her hand.
She looked up in time to see the primal rage in his black eyes. Then he struck her, blasting lights through her vision. Her head made a sickening, hollow thud as it bounced off the floor. Through the ringing in her ears, she heard his bellow. She blinked to clear her swimming vision, and saw him above her. Like a shimmering mirage, he plunged the stiletto down. Three times, in rapid succession, the white-hot pain pierced her breast. She was gaping, mouth open, when he heaved to his feet.
In the growing river of pain, fear, and shock, she almost didn’t see the four white-caped men who crawled through the tunnel.
Redcrop tried to rise, only to collapse onto her side. When she tried to breathe, her lungs gurgled and she coughed up blood. Panic powered her muscles. She writhed onto her side and watched the red pool fill the hollow in the cave floor in front of her. With each labored breath, the red spewed. Blood seemed to explode from her mouth. So much blood!
 
CATKIN SCRAMBLED TO ONE SIDE AS REDCROP LEAPED ON Ten Hawks. She roared at Browser, “Throw me your club!”
Browser, weaving on his feet, gave her a dumb look, his blood-streaked face oddly pale, his eyes glassy. Gods! How badly was he hurt?
Catkin got her feet under her, leaped, and ripped the club from Browser’s hand, tumbling him in the process. She turned just in time to see the four white-caped warriors emerge from the narrow cave. From the corner of her eye, she saw Ten Hawks stand, saw the blood bubbling from Redcrop’s mouth. Then she waded into the enemy horde, swinging her club with deadly intent. One man fell immediately, howling and jerking like a clubbed dog.
Browser, down and dazed, but not out, scuttled forward and grabbed the last man out of the tunnel by the ankle. The warrior tried to kick the hand off, then Browser was on him, pummeling him with his fists, kicking, biting. They rolled across the floor.
Inside the tunnel, she could hear Straighthorn’s screams and shouts.
Catkin spun in time to parry a blow that would have crushed her skull. Her attacker lifted his club again, but in that instant before he could kill her, she leaped at him, and swung the stone-headed war
club into his testicles. She sidestepped as he stumbled forward, his throat bulged from a stifled scream. She caught the barest glimpse of his pained eyes, then twisted, hammering him across the stomach. As he curled around the blow, she pirouetted on tiptoe, and crushed the back of his skull.
Springbank yelled, “For the sake of the true gods, Browser! We shouldn’t be fighting!
You are one of us.
Join us and we will let your Made People friends live!”
Catkin whirled, skipped aside as the third warrior’s club whistled past her head. With a desperate glance, she could see that Browser was losing—driven back against the wall by a much younger man with a body like a stout tree trunk. Browser’s hands were pinned, and blood gushed from his wound. His face resembled a shiny red mask.
Catkin blocked another blow, the sting of it transmitted through the seasoned wood of Browser’s club.
“Join us!” Springbank shouted. His bloody fingers dug into the sandstone wall as, ledge by ledge, he pulled himself to his feet. He leaned against the wall, coughing. Blood welled from his wounded lungs and poured down his chin. “You don’t believe in the katsinas, do you? I know you don’t!”
Catkin danced to the side, avoiding another blow by a fraction. Gods, this man was no callow youth, but a seasoned warrior. Her only hope lay in her agility. Ten Hawks? What had happened to Ten Hawks. She couldn’t spare the glance.
Think, Catkin! This man is going to kill you!
 
PANIC CLEARED BROWSER’S FOGGY MIND AS HE STARED INTO the warrior’s hard black eyes. The man was trying to raise his club.
Reactions fed by the years of war, Browser kicked his legs out and let himself fall, tearing free of his opponent’s hands. He grabbed the man around the waist and hurled him backward.
The rage came boiling up from deep within Browser’s souls. As they fell, he twined his fingers into the man’s hair and bashed his head into the stone floor. He screamed: “Murderers! You’re murderers! You think it is heroic to slaughter innocent people? Like the people in Aspen village!”
He butted his bloody head into the man’s face, spattering it into the warrior’s eyes. Browser got his hands on the man’s war club and
twisted it away. The white cape recovered too quickly, and they struggled, Browser intent on forcing the handle down across the man’s throat.
“They were witches!” Springbank cried. He had propped himself against the wall. “You know it! In the name of the gods, Browser,
think!
The coughing sickness comes from the katsinas! Good people everywhere are dying from it. As soon as they start to believe in the katsinas, the sickness nests in their lungs and—”
“Ah!” Browser cried as the warrior released his grip, and Browser lost the leverage.
They rolled across the floor, screaming, until Browser managed to get on top. He drove the club down onto the man’s throat. Their souls touched as they looked into each other’s eyes.
The stiletto flashed out of nowhere. Only Browser’s reflexes saved him. He jerked away and the keen point missed his eye by a lash’s breadth; the passing fist tore through his hair. Browser bucked, driving his knee into the warrior’s groin. With all his weight, he bore down, pressing the war club into the man’s windpipe, seeing the throat bulging around the wooden handle.
When the animal scream died in Browser’s throat, he was still driving his knee into the man’s crotch, still pressing down with all of his weight, glaring into sightless eyes. The man’s tongue stuck out between the lips like a bloated worm.
Browser stared at the mangled flesh of his left arm. When had the stiletto found him?
Catkin danced back, fear in her eyes, and Browser saw the triumphant look in her opponent’s face. As the man skipped, twisted, and raised his club for the deadly strike, Catkin spit in his face. In the split heartbeat it bought her, she hammered the man in the ribs. Spinning, she swung the stone head of the club in a high arc. The warrior saw, pivoted. The blow caught his shoulder. The collarbone snapped, the sound loud and meaty.
The man cried out and tumbled to his knees, gasping.
The cave, with its pots and piles of wealth, was eerily quiet.
“Join us,” Springbank whispered into the silence.
Browser shouted,
“I’ll never join you! Never!”
Springbank coughed and coagulated blood coated his lips. “Yes, you will. It’s only a matter of time.”

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