“You beat yourself too much,” Yanu told him when they paused by a stream to slake their thirsts. It was an hour past sunset and night was fast enfolding them. David’s stomach was an agony of emptiness.
“I have to,” David gasped between swallows. “I’ve got a sick friend, remember?”
“But you will do him no good if you kill yourself before you come to him. And as for that other thing that is hurting you: you did the right thing by taking your time. Why, think, boy; had you come to Atagahi as you are now: tired, without sleep or food; do you think you could have fared as you did against Yanu Tsunega? There had to be a battle, I knew that as soon as I saw him there. And you had to be wounded for my plan to succeed. But it took careful timing, for I had to be certain he would admit that you were wounded, yet could not wait too long for fear you
would
die. Had you arrived fatigued, and I then overestimated your strength, he might have killed you before I could stop him, and then where would you be?”
“Dead,” David panted, and threw himself on his back by the stream, gazing past the tall pines to the ragged doily of purpling sky beyond. “One thing still puzzles me, though.”
“What might that be?” Yanu wondered absently, as he waded into the stream to fish.
David propped himself up on his elbows. “Well…gee, this is hard to put. But, well, I’m confused about how I was able to shapeshift. From what I’ve heard, magic—or medicine, or whatever—is supposed to always be strongest in one’s own World—or at least that’s what the Sidhe—the
Nunnehi
—say, and it seems to be true, as far as I can tell. But I can’t shapeshift back home, so according to them, I shouldn’t have been able to here, either.”
“Have you ever tried?”
“Once,” David replied sheepishly. “It didn’t work.”
“It was mostly the scale, then,” Yanu told him, snapping a paw into the water to casually flip a shining rainbow trout onto the gravelly shore. Another followed immediately. They lay beside David’s feet, bodies arcing up and down in blind panic, gills fanning helplessly for air.
“I know
that
much!”
“Very well, I will tell you. You have magic, Sikwa Unega; that much is obvious—and evidently in both lands. In that you are like the uktena, for it is a unique creature, being part of many things at once, thus it was only reasonable that you would respond to a part of it. You needed only to be awakened.”
David frowned uncertainly. “Sorry, but you’ve lost me.”
“The uktena is neither serpent nor beast nor vermin. It has the form of a rattlesnake, but the horns of a goat; it lives mostly on blood like a leech or a tick, but has the soul of a man.”
“Wha…?”
“The uktena was formerly one like yourself, did you not know that? Once, when your folk came often to Galunlati, one of them insulted the Sun, and She sent heat to burn this land. But the people asked Kanati to help them, and he turned two men into serpents and sent them to kill the Sun, knowing She would not die, but would well learn a lesson. So it was that he made the rattlesnake and the uktena. The former succeeded, but the uktena was afraid when it saw the Sun and crawled away into the Lying World, where it stayed and terrorized the Ani-Yunwiya for many years. Always, though, it held a grudge against the folk of Galunlati who had made light of its cowardice, and so, when it heard that the Ani-Yunwiya had asked deliverance from your kind, it saw a chance for revenge and crept back into this land. And when Galunlati was removed from the Lying World, here it remained to torment its former tormentors.”
“So,” David said finally. “Its power really comes from my World?”
Yanu shook his heavy head. “Its
substance
comes from your land, its power both from Galunlati and the World Above; it is some of all, and all of neither. But because part of it
is
of your land, its power responds to you—and yours to it.”
“I see,” David sighed, though he didn’t. He could go to sleep so easily…so easily.
“Eat those fish,” Yanu said. “And I will let you.”
For the first time in two days David slept with a full stomach that evening.
* * *
Toward sunset on the second day David found himself once more cresting the ridge where Alec had slain the uktena. The charnel reek was fading now, the scavenger birds gone except for a few sated buzzards staggering among the withered bracken. David allowed himself a side jaunt to survey the remains. From a little distance, the gully appeared empty, the burn scars on the far side already putting forth new growth. But as he stepped nearer and peered in, he saw what he expected: a vast skeleton, intact in places, disrupted in others, its half-moons of ribs describing a century of seasons across the land. Scales lay about in profusion, proving dangerous underfoot—as he learned to his regret when he kicked at one and found the edge piercing not only his boot, but his big toe besides. Ignoring the pain as much as he could, he limped downward where the head had been. Like an alligator’s skull it was, or more like that than anything else—except that the upper jaw was about the size of the hood of his car, and the eyeholes big as schoolroom trash cans. Of the ulunsuti there was no sign save a small cavity in the middle of the forehead between the two ivory horns.
“A mighty victory that must have been,” Yanu said. “The uktena has grown since last I saw him. And truly I hope it is a year for every rib, and that times the sunrises in those years, before I see him again—though everything has its season and I know someday we will come against each other once more.”
“The price of immortality,” David murmured.
“All things have their price,” Yanu answered: “Joy and sorrow besides.”
“Yeah, and speaking of sorrow, I’d better boogie on and see to Alec.”
Yanu followed him to the first line of trees below the summit. “I must leave you here, Sikwa Unega. It has been long since I wore my hide, and I would not leave it again as soon as I might were I to venture further. Uki’s sisters have sharp eyes, as I have learned to my pain. I think I will journey in the north for a while—or maybe westward,” he added, “for I am not certain I want to see my chief again so soon.”
David nodded mutely, and a sort of snuffle from Yanu seemed to express a like sentiment. Impulsively, David grasped the bear around the neck and hugged him tight. “Thanks a bunch, man. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”
“Died, most likely: frozen or eaten. I did not tell you that Spearfinger came near last night.”
“Spearfinger?”
“An old woman with an immense finger like an awl which she keeps hidden until she is close to a victim—whereupon she stabs him. She likes to eat livers.”
David could only gape.
“She has followed us since our first night together,” Yanu continued, “but she fears me. Beware, though, for she is likewise a shapeshifter.”
David scanned the surrounding woods nervously. “We’re clear now, though, right?”
Yanu raised his head and scented the breezes. “I do not smell her, and I would, for she reeks of blood.”
“I
bet
.”
“Truly I must be going,” Yanu said, turning.
“Carry on, then,” David called, as the bear started back up the trail.
“Farewell to you too, Sikwa Unega,” Yanu growled over his shoulder. “And be kind to my kin in your land.”
“I sure will,” David replied, and continued on down the mountain.
Little more than an hour later he trotted out of the woods above Uki’s cave. Coolness struck his skin, and he realized the close-grown forest had been almost stiflingly warm. But he was in clear air now, and the strong evening breeze brought with it a tickle of spray and the tingle of ionized air. He halted for a long, breathless moment, and simply stood there, enjoying the breeze, letting the falls’ steady pounding slowly drum the fatigue from his bones.
He had just started on again when another sound insinuated its way into the water’s rhythm: the high, sweet buzz of a harmonica playing Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy.”
“Calvin!” David shouted, gazing left to where the trees blazed red with sunset fires above a ruby river. Before he knew it, he was running.
The music stopped in mid-note, and another voice rang out, “
Siyu
,
White-Possum-Man!”
Calvin himself came into view an instant later; prancing along the opposite bank with his shirt tied round his waist and his boots thumping against either hip. The new bow was slung across his back, and he had acquired different war paint, if the lightning bolts of blue and yellow slashing across his chest, shoulders, and cheekbones were any indication. An explosion of pheasant feathers was knotted in his hair, and instead of his headband he was wearing Fionchadd’s torque.
David waited on the nearer side, while Calvin made his way along the stepping stones as if he had been crossing them all his life. A yard from shore, the Indian suddenly paused, threw back his chest—and frowned sullenly, his arms folded across his gaudy pecs.
David froze in the act of extending a hand, but then Calvin’s jaw muscles twitched, his eyes sparkled, and he broke into a grin.
David grinned too, and then the two of them were standing in knee-deep water, arms wrapped around each other, giggling like utter fools.
“I did it!” David gasped.
“So did Finny and me.”
“You’re kiddin’!”
“No way.”
“I…”
Calvin’s face turned suddenly serious. “I wasn’t sure we’d ever make it, either, Dave. It was just…too remote, I guess. I’ve just been kinda drifting along like all this was an extended dream, or something—kinda goin’ with the flow and all. But when I saw Fionchadd put that ship in the water and sail off, suddenly I knew it was real. That…”
“Let’s finish inside, okay?” David interrupted. “My feet are killing me—and I’ve
got
to see to Alec.”
“Sorry, man; it’s just that I haven’t said a word for two days.”
David flopped an arm across Calvin’s shoulders and steered him toward the cliffside trail. “I figured you’d be used to your own company by now, what with a year on the road, and all.”
“Well, you can only live in your own head so long ’fore you start to go crazy.”
“With only a crazy man to talk to? I don’t doubt it! Or maybe you already have; ever think about that? This may really
be
a dream. You may still be up on Lookout Rock!”
“Or with Our Lady of the Smokies.”
“Nah, you wouldn’t have any clothes on then.”
“Good point.” Calvin laughed, and followed David toward the gorge.
*
Alec was no better when David arrived, but neither was he any worse, though his sleeping face was gaunt and pale and he had obviously lost more weight than a few days without food could account for. His hands had healed a little—maybe; but David wondered if he’d ever be able to use them properly again, because a closer inspection revealed a drawing of tendons and muscles he did not like, as if they were drying out like the body of some dead animal left in a parching sun.
“He sleeps mostly, now,” Uki told him, as David crouched by the pile of furs. “We wake him for what food he will take, but I doubt it is sufficient. And the charms are no longer working.”
David shrugged helplessly. “Well, you tried, that’s all you can do. But I guess he’s just not designed for it—the medicine can’t get a hold on him, or something.”
“I fear not,” Uki said. “But perhaps you will be more successful.”
“No time like the present,” Calvin said, squatting beside them and pointing to the canteen. “How do we do this?”
“Good question,” David echoed. “Does he drink it, or do we bathe him in it, or what?”
“All,” said Uki. “But to drink he must awaken.”
“Alec!” David whispered, reaching out to gently shake his friend’s shoulder. “Alec, it’s me, Davy.”
The only reply was a faint moan.
“Alec? Come on, man, wake up! Speak to me!”
Uki drew him back. “I think part of him hears you and would answer, but there is another trouble: he has waited so long that he has lost the way. Anticipation has kept him alive; now the relief that replaces it may kill him.”
“Can’t you do anything?”
“One thing more I will try. You bathe his limbs. I will do what I can.”
David nodded and drew back the furs that covered his friend, and now he saw how completely the uktena’s poison had wasted Alec’s body. Ribs showed like fences where before had been smooth flesh; muscles hung slack; hip bones arched high above a shrunken belly. He looked, David, thought, like one of those AIDS victims he was constantly seeing on television. Calvin’s only reaction was a half-suppressed whistle of dismay.
“What now?”
“Rub the water over his arms and legs,” Uki said. “But save some for him to drink. My charm requires access to his chest.”
David did as instructed, pouring a thin trickle of the water across Alec’s shins and spreading it out with his palms; feeling, as he worked his fingers around, how flabby the calf muscles had already become.