Time of the Eagle (28 page)

Ishtok came and knelt before Yeshi, as I had done.

Rising, he said, “To Yeshi, chieftain of the Shinali, and to all
the Shinali nation: my father, the chieftain Mudiwar of the Igaal Tribe of the Elk, sends greetings, and the vow of allegiance in the battle for the Time of the Eagle.”

Then Atitheya, too, bowed to Yeshi and said, “My father is Serdar, chieftain of the Fox Clan of the Hena nation. This day he does not have it in his knowing that I am here, but they know who are also members of his household, and they swear their allegiance. In days soon to come, my father will also know of the Time of the Eagle and come with all his tribe, and with as many Hena tribes as will join with him, to stand beside you in the fight for freedom.”

As he looked on those young men a light seemed to pass over Yeshi's face, and he drew them to him and embraced them like sons, and wept, and was not ashamed.

“With all my heart,” he said, “I thank you. I honor you and your tribes. I offer you my love, and the love of all my people.”

He turned and beckoned a man forward. It was Zalidas, just as I had seen him in the vision of the other day, bent and feeble, limping—but it was Zalidas still strong with visions, with sublime faith. Yeshi went to the old priest and embraced him, then knelt at his feet.

“You were right, wise father,” Yeshi said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “All your dreams were right. I thank you.”

Zalidas bent down and said, “Stand up, Chieftain. Of course my dreams were right! And you were right to take heed. Now the time has come, and our people are ready.”

Then Zalidas went and put his hands on the shoulders of Ishtok and Atitheya and blessed them. “We have been waiting for you,” he said. “In this winter just past I had a vision of you.
Of both of you. I saw you, Ishtok, on our old Shinali land, and over your head there flew a flag with our Shinali sign for dreams. And you, Atitheya, I saw in battle, fighting Navoran soldiers. I knew you would soon come to us. And I knew Avala would bring you. We are ready to march.”

He turned to me, then, and I went to him, and he placed both hands on my head. There was no weight in his hands, just a brush like an eagle's feather, the kiss of a great blessing.

“You, daughter,” he said, “I saw also in a vision. You wore a red robe such as your father had once worn, and you were in a high place. You have drawn together the tribes and done your work well.”

“I did not do it alone, Zalidas,” I said, taking his frail old hands and kissing them. “I have been given help by many people.”

“I know,” said Zalidas, nodding. “But in my vision I saw someone else, too. A Navoran soldier, with hair like flame.”

“He is here,” I said, loving our old priest, honoring his gifts, and marveling that I had ever been afraid of him or doubted him. How well he and Sheel Chandra would get on, when they met! I said to Yeshi, “A Navoran soldier came with us, a friend and fellow-fighter with Embry.” Briefly, I explained about Embry's army and about Boaz waiting around the last bend in the cliffs.

“You had better be getting him,” said Yeshi, “this Navoran friend of ours.”

So I went to bring Boaz, and that big man came with a grin wide as his face and laid his sword at Yeshi's feet and swore allegiance to him and to the Time of the Eagle. And so Boaz, too, was welcomed and embraced and blessed.

I took Ishtok to my mother, and she welcomed him in the
Shinali way. “I have been living with Ishtok's tribe, Mother,” I said. “Ishtok is my truest friend. He took me to our Shinali land once, and we ate a meal on it.”

“You have been looking after my daughter well, Ishtok,” my mother said, smiling. “Caring for her heart, as well. I thank you, with
sharleema.
You will have many stories to tell at the feast tonight.”

Then Yeshi said, “Come—you must be thirsty and tired. We will drink and eat, and celebrate, for this day we have been awaiting a long, long time. But you, Avala, go first, and meet all your friends and family.”

Word of my arrival, and of the Igaal and Hena ambassadors I had brought with me, along with the wild-looking Navoran, flew around the people, and by the time we reached the cave, everyone knew. I had to explain nothing and simply enjoyed all the other welcomes, the embraces, the cries of joy and surprise.

The first of the welcomes was from my grandmother, with her lovely white hair and soft old cheeks and scent of herbs she used to keep fleas out of her clothes. Always she had used those herbs, and the scent of them, the comfort of her embrace, was one of my childhood's most pleasant memories.

“I've missed you, Grandmother!” I cried, hugging her, in tears. “I've missed your wisdom, at times.”

“It seems to me that you've had quite enough wisdom of your own,” she said.

Then Santoshi was hugging me, and we laughed and stroked each other's hair and face, and could not speak, for emotion. I was
welcomed by all the others crowding around, and it was good, so good, to see the old familiar faces, and the young ones, to hug the girls who were like sisters to me, grown up now as I was grown up, changed yet not changed, more sure of themselves, taller, two or three with babies on their hips. Others showed me the wedding tattoos on their wrists, and pointed out the youths they had married. Some of those I remembered as little girls were women now, blushing and curious as they looked sidelong at Ishtok and Atitheya, the first people from outside our tribe they had ever seen up close.

The Shinali youths, too, had changed. They were men, and the ones who had been gangling boys when I left were tall and handsome now. And suddenly even the familiar seemed strange—the men seemed suddenly alien, with their long hair decorated with bone beads, and their faces bare of tattoos. With shy smiles they all gave me the Shinali greeting, many of them shaking their heads in wonder that I had come back, touching my hands and my face to make sure I was real. Then I noticed Neshwan standing in the shadows. He had changed little, and the mocking curve was still about his lips. I went to make the Shinali greeting to him, and as I pressed my hand against his breast, he said, “Are you still afraid to fight, Avala?”

“I have fought battles already,” I replied, “in my mind and in my heart. And I have been in the middle of a battle with swords and arrows and fought hard to save the wounded and the dying. No, I'm not afraid, Neshwan.”

He said, with a sudden smile, heartfelt and admiring, while he made the welcome, “Your heart and mine are in harmony.”

I went back to my mother, and we went outside with our arms about each other. Ishtok and Atitheya were meeting the elders of my people, being welcomed like kinsmen long awaited. As for Boaz, he was already showing some of the Shinali men how to thrust and parry with his huge sword, clapping them on the backs and encouraging them in Navoran, though they understood few of his words.

“That young Igaal man, Ishtok,” said my mother as we watched him, “he loves you a high lot.”

“He hasn't said a word to you,” I replied, smiling. “So how can you be seeing that?”

“He looked at your face once, when I was giving him welcome,” she replied. “It was the way your father used to look at me.”

T
hat night's feast is engraved forever on my mind. Never had I known such joy among my people, nor heard the old battle songs sung with so much fervor, nor seen Yeshi so empowered. Even Zalidas seemed to grow in the light of that big fire on the flat ground outside the caves; he sat straight, his majestic old face beaming, and many times I caught his gaze on me. As I looked about the faces that I loved, at my mother next to me, and Ishtok on my other side, and Atitheya next to him, I thought how generations of my people had longed for this night, this beginning of the unity, and I marveled that all things had come together in such wondrous ways.

While we ate I told my mother of my life with Mudiwar's tribe, of its joys and difficulties, and of how I had not been able to persuade the old chieftain to join our Shinali cause. I told her about Chetobuh, and how he had been the one to finally give Mudiwar the reason to march on Navora. When I mentioned walking in Chetobuh's memories, my mother gave me a questioning look, and when I had finished speaking she said, shrewdly,
“You weren't the whole time with Mudiwar's tribe, then. You went somewhere else, and got the knowing of powers only your father's teachers knew.”

“She was away from my tribe for more than a full turning of the seasons,” said Ishtok. “But she won't say where she went.”

My mother looked at the silver ring I wore, with the seven stars of the Citadel, and when she looked at my face again, there were tears in her eyes. “Zalidas was right about you, too, in his vision,” she said. “He saw you dressed in red, the color your father wore. He is always right, Zalidas. Even when you first disappeared, he said things were well with you, though Yeshi and all the tribe thought you were dead. Yeshi feared that the soldiers had come back and taken you, and would return in greater numbers to attack our camp, so we moved. After a time I, too, thought you were dead, but then, in that first winter you were gone, I felt that your spirit came to me and gave me peace. I knew, then, that you were alive and well.”

“I've been very well,” I said. “But tell me of you. Of the Shinali.”

So she told me of their hard journeys, and of the time the Navoran soldiers discovered them near a wood one winter, and yet miraculously passed by; and of the last few weeks.

“Two full moons ago,” she said, “we were camping very far north, in the mountains on the edge of the Hena lands. One night Zalidas had a dream of days not yet born. Before sunup he woke all the tribe, and told us of it. His face shone while he spoke, and the light was on him from the realms of the All-father. The eagle was in flight, he said, and the tribes of the Hena and Igaal were gathering. He said that Navoran friends were gathering, too, though none of us could understand that, at the time. He said
we must be ready, because when the eagle summoned us for war, we must be swift. So the next day we began the journey here, to these caves, to be close to our land, close to Navora. Each day since then we have been preparing, making arrows, sharpening our spears, making strong our bow arms. Every person more than twelve summers has been practicing archery every day, nearly all day. Each night we have sung our old war songs, our freedom songs, waking up the spirit of our strength. And one day we all saw a giant eagle and knew it was a sign. Then, just as Yeshi was satisfied that we were ready, you came.”

At that moment Yeshi stood up and lifted his arms for silence.

“Boaz is wanting to tell us the plan for battle,” he said. “Will you tell us his words in Shinali, Avala, so we have it strong in our knowing, what we must do.”

People were silent, intent, while I interpreted Boaz's words. While he spoke, talking of my people's march to Taroth Pass tomorrow, to meet with Embry and all the tribes, I realized that this was my only night here, with my people; that the next time we met it would be on our Shinali land, and the battle would be over. I looked at the faces about me and wondered how many I would see again, alive. I looked at my mother, at Ishtok, at their faces shining in the firelight, full of hope and courage; and a fear fell on me. I finished interpreting, then went and sat down again.

A woman began singing, her words silver clear in the still night, soaring with the flames against the stars. A Shinali love song she sang, and we all were utterly quiet, listening. While she sang I lifted the amulet to my brow and sped my thoughts across the heights and saw Sheel Chandra in his room.

Majestic he was as he meditated, his eyes closed, his beautiful old face full of peace, yet strong, so strong. Before I even touched his hand or spoke his name, he said, “We are prepared, beloved. When the battle rages, we will be there, in our minds, shielding and protecting. When you do what you must do, we will be there, in our minds, shielding and protecting. When the city is free, we will be there ourselves, restoring and rebuilding, leading the great reformation of our Empire. Go in peace; the All-father is with us.”

I opened my eyes and lowered the amulet, and saw Ishtok's face as he watched me, his eyes wondering and afraid.

“You've seen a vision,” he whispered.

“I've visited a man,” I replied. “You'll meet him one day soon.”

The woman was still singing, and when she finished the last word hung about the cliffs and lingered long in our hearts. Then, spontaneously, all the people began singing a famous war song, and when that was finished there were other songs, and stories, and several youths got up and did a war dance just outside our company, where the firelight met the dark.

The moon was high when we went to bed in the caves.

I slept between my mother and Ishtok, with a small lamp burning near our heads. During the night Ishtok moved out of his blanket and slipped under mine, and put his arms about me.

“I'm sorry I can't be with you tomorrow,” he whispered. “I vowed that I would, and I am breaking my word.”

“It's being broken for you,” I said. “Sometimes even vows have to bend to greater things. I know your heart will be with me.”

“But it's not right—you've had two vows to you bent to greater things. Mine, and Ramakoda's.”

“The All-father had other plans,” I said.

We lay without moving, our faces close, lips almost touching. He slept, but I lay awake a long time, looking on his face in the dimness. As I felt his breath go in and out across my skin I thought what a wondrous thing it was, the human breath and heartbeat and life, and how easily and swiftly, with one sword stroke, it all could be finished. Weeping, I kissed his lips and eyes while he slept, and thought how beloved he was to me; and with all my being I covered him with light, and shielded him, and prayed for his safekeeping.

“Line up, all of you!” ordered Boaz. “Let's see how well Yeshi's trained you for battle!”

He had moved the archery targets farther out and halved the size of some of them. All those who would fight had gone out with their bows—men, women, and all the young people twelve summers old and upward. Even some of the old warriors were there, though I doubted Yeshi would let them march on Navora, since some were crippled with illnesses, and there were three who were half blind. Still, they all wanted to impress Boaz, so they lined up, and the first row drew their bows, their arrows notched, ready.

Ishtok and Atitheya had been invited to show their skills as well. They were in the first group to shoot, and I saw the Shinali girls watching them admiringly. Ishtok was excellent with a bow, steady and sure; but Atitheya had a shooting style all his own. He turned to his target and drew his bowstring with an ease and gracefulness that was stunning to see, and his shot was always perfect. Many of our Shinali shooters were almost equal to him in skill,
and Boaz was impressed. I overheard him talking with Yeshi, saying that his Shinali warriors were to be commended for their skills.

“All times, I am keeping my people's arrows sharp, their bow arms full of strongness,” said Yeshi, in his broken Navoran. “This battle to come, all we were born for it.”

“Later, I'll tell them the weak spots in Navoran armor,” said Boaz. “They must make every arrow count. The battle will be all yours for a time—yours, and Embry's—until the Hena and Igaal arrive. It'll be a hard fight.” Then he caught sight of me watching, and came over.

“You don't have a weapon, Avala,” he said.

I replied, “I won't be fighting in the battle.”

“True, not beside your people,” he said. “You'll be fighting in the palace, beside the slaves and us. Do you have any skill with a bow?”

“I have a high lot of skill with a bow,” I said. “I've hunted often, for food.”

“Good. Ask Yeshi for a weapon.”

“I will not fight,” I said. “I'm a healer.”

“Ask him for a bow!” repeated Boaz, his face growing red, his big voice raised.

Behind him, the people stopped their archery practice and turned to look at us.

“I will not,” I said. “I will not shoot an arrow into a man one hour, and the next hour cut it out. I will not do it. And you will not command me.”

The redness in his face changed to white, and his blue eyes
blazed with wrath. “By God, you shall take a bow!” he said. “And you shall take commands from me, else I'll not have you among my men.”

“Then I wish you well, going through the catacombs,” I said.

He swore and for a while stood glaring at me. At last he said, through clenched teeth, “And what will you do, healer, while you wait for us in the palace? Roll up bandages?”

“No,” I replied. “I'll go and capture Jaganath.”

“Excellent!” he said, still furious. “And after that you can go and raise Salverion and the other Grand Masters from the dead. We could do with their wisdom, when we build the new Navora.” He stormed off, muttering to himself, “God help me! Right when I need warriors, I get landed with a peace-loving lunatic!”

In the afternoon I was to leave with Boaz, to meet up with Embry and his soldiers in a concealed valley near the entrance to Taroth Pass. Then, with fifty of those soldiers, Boaz and I would ride on to the coast, and that night enter Navora through the catacombs. Embry would wait for the arrival of the Shinali people, who would march with Atitheya and Ishtok to Taroth Pass under cover of darkness. Meanwhile, if all was going well, the Hena and Igaal tribes would be gathering, ready to ride to the plain just east of the pass, also after sunset. By tomorrow's dawn every one of us would be in our place, ready.

For the first and only time, I wished I were staying with my people, to fight with them. As I watched the men and women painting their faces for war, saw them dancing, and heard the
thunder of the drums echoing around the cliffs, all the old battle stories of my childhood came back, and for a time I was wholly Shinali, my soul afire for the battle for our lands. Ishtok knew, and came and stood by me.

“You'll dance with them in the Time of the Eagle,” he said, “when they celebrate on your Shinali land. We'll both dance. But now Boaz is asking for you. It's a long ride to Navora, and it's time you left.”

Boaz must have forgiven me for defying him earlier, for he was amiable, though gruff, as he brought my horse to me, already saddled for the journey, the saddlebags packed with food. Then, too soon, it was time for the farewells.

The drumbeats ceased, and the people stopped dancing. Soon they, too, would leave on the march to Taroth Pass, to be there by nightfall.

Yeshi came, and he and Boaz exchanged last-moment words. Yeshi was in full war paint, naked from the waist up, and beads of sweat ran down the glistening colors. He made the Shinali farewell to Boaz, pressing his hand against the soldier's chest.

“Time to end the dancing, my friend,” said Boaz. “You've an eight-mile march to Taroth Pass. Leave soon after us. You know where to find Embry and his soldiers, concealed just the other side of the pass. At nightfall you'll be joined by the nations of the Hena and Igaal. Fight well in the morning, brother. Be strong like the Eagle.” He made the Shinali farewell, and got his palm covered with blue paint. He wiped the paint off down the front of his cloak, proud, as if he wore it like a badge.

Then Yeshi said farewell to me, and my mother and grandmother came forward. My grandmother blessed us and kissed
both my cheeks. She would be staying here in the cave with the other elders, to mind the children until they were sent news. Then I said farewell to my mother. Fearsome she looked, with her face painted blue and red, and her bow across her back. We made the Shinali farewell, and she said, “I'll be seeing you on our land, my love, in the Eagle's bright morning.” Memories of the battle at Mudiwar's camp swept over me, and I gave her the ring of the seven stars, a link with the powers at Ravinath, and shielded her with all the force of my mind. “I love you,” I said. “Fight well.”

I said good-bye to Atitheya, and then turned to Ishtok. So fine he looked, so brave and steadfast! The Shinali youths had painted his face in bold stripes of blue and white, and there was the Shinali sign for dreams painted above the Igaal tattoo on his brow. As my hand touched his breast in our Shinali farewell, he placed his own hand over it. Neither of us could speak. Then, though the eyes of all the tribe were on us, he kissed me.