Authors: Kathleen O'Neal Gear
It Dreams in Me (18 page)
“I don’t know how to explain it, but I suspect the reflection-soul flees the body at the first sign of the attack. When it returns the only way it can explain the things the body heard while it was gone is that they must be true memories.”
Confused, she squinted at him. “You mean the memories aren’t real.”
“The memories
are
real, but they’re memories of a story, not a real event.”
are
real, but they’re memories of a story, not a real event.”
A sudden loneliness clutched at her belly. She gazed up at the glittering Star People and felt that she, too, had lived in utter darkness her entire life. She’d never really understood the important things. Somehow she seemed incapable of looking straight into the eyes of her souls.
Strongheart must have read her expression. He took her hand. “I have a gift for you. And a task.”
“A gift?”
“Yes. Please, follow me.” The deep calm of his voice mesmerized her.
Fatigue weighted her shoulders like a granite blanket, but she forced herself to stand, and to follow in his footsteps along
the sandy shore. A finger of time later, she saw a freshly built domelike lodge; it sat on the very edge of the lake, two paces from the water.
the sandy shore. A finger of time later, she saw a freshly built domelike lodge; it sat on the very edge of the lake, two paces from the water.
“You built a new lodge? I’m so glad,” she said, her spirits lifting. “I was getting very tired of the smell of moldering wood.”
She started to walk to it, but he grasped her hand. They stood eye to eye for several moments. His gaze caressed the starlit glints in her hair, the smooth lines of her face. She could feel her pulse increasing.
He said, “There’s something else I must tell you. About the task, but not just yet.”
“Why not? What is it?”
He released her hand and gently wrapped his arms around her. A surge of warmth flooded her veins. It felt soothing to be held by him. She pulled him against her, holding him tightly, and he bent and kissed her. His lips were soft and enticing, and she melted against him, her body conforming to the hollows of his. In the back of her mind, a voice whispered,
I’ll find you. You know I will … .
I’ll find you. You know I will … .
“Strongheart, I—I—”
He held her tightly, whispering in her ear, “Don’t listen to his voice, Sora. Just be with me.”
“But he said—”
“It doesn’t matter.”
She stood rigid in his embrace, shaking. “He asked me if I loved you.”
Strongheart’s hold slackened, and he looked down. “What did you say?”
“Nothing. I didn’t want him to know.”
For a long time, their gazes held; then he took her hand and led her into the lodge.
Three body lengths across, and two tall, it smelled sweetly of fresh-cut pine saplings and thatch made of spring grasses. A
buffalohide rested in the rear; the dark brown hair glimmered in the crimson light cast by the fire’s coals.
buffalohide rested in the rear; the dark brown hair glimmered in the crimson light cast by the fire’s coals.
In a graceful motion, he untied Flint’s weapons belt and dropped it by the door. “Tonight is the night, Sora. I can’t wait any longer.” He gestured to a white-and-black painted pot that rested on the hearth stones. “The task will be difficult.”
She took a deep breath, preparing herself, and noticed that a faint bitter odor permeated the air. At first, she thought it was pine resin, then …
“The doorway?” she asked.
He nodded. “The ritual is much easier when there are two people, but Flint is clearly not interested in helping me. The two of us must do it alone.”
She hated the very thought of drinking a Spirit Plant tea, but she heaved a sigh and said, “What must I do?”
“COME AND SIT WITH ME ON THE BUFFALOHIDE,” STRONGHEART said.
Sora let him lead her to the rear of the house, where he gestured for her to sit down.
For a time, he didn’t speak. He went to the hearth, pulled branches from the woodpile, and added them to the coals until the flames leapt and crackled. When he rose, he picked up the small pot. The flames threw his tall shadow over the walls. The expression on his face was calm and knowing.
He came back and sat beside her. As he extended the pot, he said, “Drink it slowly.”
She took the pot and sipped the tea. A bitter moldy flavor coated her mouth. She took another sip. “Is it the skunk cabbage or the thorn apple seeds that give it this awful flavor?”
“Both.” His lips turned in a faint smile. “Please remember that if the gods decide to help us, the door will open.”
“How will I recognize it?”
“It is a dark hole in the world. You’ll know immediately what it is.”
She took another sip and winced. “Where does the doorway lead?”
“Into the forests of the Land of the Dead.”
A shudder ran up her spine. In a frightened whisper, she asked, “Why am I going there?”
“There’s someone you must see.”
Firelight reflected in his dark eyes.
She stared at him. “Who?”
He gestured to the cup, and she realized she’d stopped drinking.
My souls don’t want to do this any more than I do.
My souls don’t want to do this any more than I do.
She lifted the tea and took a long drink, then another. A curious sensation seeped through her blood … . She felt as though she were floating on a calm vast ocean. She finished the tea and handed him the cup.
Strongheart took it and set it aside. “Are you ready?”
“No, but tell me what to do.”
Strongheart pulled his shirt over his head. His magnificent tattoos gleamed. Her gaze clung to the bands of interconnected human eyes, red and black, that ringed his muscular legs from groin to ankles. They seemed to blink in the firelight. His short black hair framed his round face, making his large sad eyes seem to bulge even more. A fine mist of perspiration covered the arch of his hooked nose.
She let him pull away the blanket that draped her shoulders; then he slipped her dress over her head and placed it to the side. Despite the flames, the cool night wind that breathed through the doorway ate into her skin. She rubbed her arms to keep warm.
Strongheart gestured to the hide. “Lie down beside me.”
Sora stretched out facing him and looked at his lean, muscular
body. Her souls felt awash, rocking like a tiny boat in a sea of warmth.
body. Her souls felt awash, rocking like a tiny boat in a sea of warmth.
“Stay here with me,” he said, and lightly placed a hand on her arm. “Try not to let your shadow-soul walk the same paths it has with Flint. It must head directly to the Land of the Dead.”
“I’ll try.”
“Good.” He brushed his lips against her throat. They felt cool and soft.
She shivered, and he reached down and pulled the blanket up over them, asking, “Better?”
“Yes.”
Strongheart smoothed his hand down her arm to the tips of her fingers. His touch was so light, she almost didn’t feel it. For one hundred heartbeats, he trailed just his fingertips over her skin, never lingering anywhere for long, circling her nipples, following out the lines of her ribs, then her hip bones, drawing downward as though outlining her right leg bones, toes, moving to her left leg, and rising. When his fingers moved between her legs, she shuddered, but his fingertips only lightly glided over her opening and little manhood before they proceeded up her belly.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “Are you still here, with me?”
“I’m here,” she answered.
He lifted his hands to warm them before the flames; then he placed his fingertips on her forehead and smoothed them around her hairline. The tension in her shoulders eased. He lightly traced the bones of her cheeks, and brought his fingers down around her jaw to the point of her chin. Then his hands dropped to her breasts, and he caressed them with exquisite patience.
She had a quick glimpse of Flint’s jealous eyes, and she—
“Where is your shadow-soul walking, Sora?”
“I’m sorry. Paths I’ve walked with Flint.”
“Come back to me. Concentrate on me.”
She concentrated on the feel of his hands, the warmth they stirred in her body. No man had ever touched this way, with this infinite tenderness. It frightened her a little.
“You’re trembling,” Strongheart whispered. “Are you all right?”
“I’m afraid.”
“Of me?”
“No. I—in my entire life, I’ve never wanted any man but Flint, but now—”
At the mention of Flint’s name, Strongheart kissed her. His lips were like warm velvet. A tingle ran through her body, and a shimmering halo of light swelled around him. She marveled at how it glittered in his hair and flowed like liquid sunshine over his skin.
Against her mouth, he whispered, “Do you see me?”
“Yes, you—you’re glowing.” Tears filled her eyes. She did not know why, but they trailed down her face.
He patiently wiped them away, then took her in his arms and laid his cheek against hers. The tension of a thousand winters seemed to drain away. She slipped her arms around his back and pulled him down on top of her, clutching his tall body like a shield against her memories.
Into her ear, he said, “The glow is going to grow brighter and brighter. Stay here with me for as long as you can, then let yourself walk down the path of light, and it will lead you to the underworld. But I need you to tell me when Flint comes into your heart.”
“So you can defend yourself?”
“Yes. And you.”
He pressed his lips to her hair, and a branch broke in the fire, filling the lodge with sparks that whirled upward toward
the smokehole. They joined the brilliant halo around his body and began a dancing, spiraling conflagration.
the smokehole. They joined the brilliant halo around his body and began a dancing, spiraling conflagration.
As she watched them, she murmured, “I love you.”
He didn’t move. He kept his lips pressed to her hair, and she could feel his soft, steady breathing. After a moment, he replied, “Yes, I know you do.”
The sparks spun like tiny tornadoes before being sucked up through the smokehole and out into the night. Because he had not told her he loved her, she didn’t feel pity for him. Had he done that to keep her from walking down the “same paths” she had walked with Flint? It made—
“Stay with me, Sora.”
She squeezed her eyes closed, blocking all memories, focusing only on the blinding light and the sensations he stirred in her body.
He tenderly touched the inside of her thigh, and she opened herself to him. To her surprise, he did not enter her. He lay with his body pressed against hers, his chest rising and falling in a steady, comforting rhythm. No matter how hard she tried to fight them, images of loving Flint appeared and disappeared on the fabric of her souls.
Strongheart pressed his cheek against hers. “Do you have a favorite memory of being with me?”
She thought about it. “Yes. The first night in Eagle Flute Village. After Flint had dragged me into the forest to rape me, you came to get me. You—”
“Close your eyes and think about that. Try to remember every detail.”
She took a deep breath and let her soul drift backward in time.
It seemed to take forever before she found the right moment … .
I shakily walk back to the village with my heart an open wound.
Behind me Flint and the two Loon warriors, Snail and Black Turtle, laugh. He has promised them that if they help him, he will let each have a turn with me. I clench my hands to fists to keep my mind off the fact that I long to lie down in the grass and weep.
Behind me Flint and the two Loon warriors, Snail and Black Turtle, laugh. He has promised them that if they help him, he will let each have a turn with me. I clench my hands to fists to keep my mind off the fact that I long to lie down in the grass and weep.
Through the trees, I see Eagle Flute Village: crude thatched houses, hungry people, things I have feared my entire life.
As I step out of the forest, soft murmurs fill the air. Every eye is upon me. I draw myself up and march straight to the guards standing in front of the Captives’ House, where I am being held, and order, “Get out of my way.”
The big man tips his chin to something behind me, says, “I have orders to hold you for him.”
Strongheart flows through the darkness as though part of it. His cape billows around his long legs. When he gets closer, he glances at Flint and says, “I’m sure you won’t object if I, too, take a turn with her.”
My heart goes cold and dead in my chest.
Flint …
Strongheart whispers, “Don’t think about him, Sora.”
She swallowed hard and nodded.
As we walk, Strongheart says, “You’re shaking. Did they hurt you?”
“No. Given more time, they might have, but Flint was in a hurry.”
He leads me to his house and holds the door curtain aside. “Go in. There are warm blankets by the fire. You must be cold.”
I duck into his house and look around. The firelight silhouettes the baskets and pots that sit beneath the bench encircling the walls. Blankets rest beside the fire, as though prepared for me. I walk to them and ease down.
Strongheart kneels to my right and studies me for a long time. He gestures to my bleeding mouth. “Which one did that?”
“Flint.” I touch my lip and wince. “He was a little too ‘eager.’”
Strongheart doesn’t say a word. He rises and walks around the fire
to the pot that sits in the coals. As he picks it up by the handle, he checks another small pot that perches on the hearthstones and says, “Are you hungry?”
to the pot that sits in the coals. As he picks it up by the handle, he checks another small pot that perches on the hearthstones and says, “Are you hungry?”
“No. I was, but … not now.”
“A cup of tea, perhaps?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
He dips a cup into the pot hanging from the tripod at the edge of the flames and hands it to me.
“Won’t your chief be angry that I’m here, rather than in the Captives’ House?”
“I’ll risk it.”
I drink slowly, savoring the sweet flavors of maple sap and dried cactus fruit. “Why did you help me?”
“You needed my help, didn’t you?”
Strongheart’s hand moves to my opening. He touches me lightly, and I feel him slide inside. My body reacts as Flint has trained it to, and I lunge against him.
“Don’t move,” he whispers. “Keep remembering that first night in Eagle Flute Village.”
His voice spins out of my memories like silk … .
“ … Do you know why he hurt you?”
“We hurt each other for fourteen winters. Nothing has changed.”
“You are the accused murderer of Chief Blue Bow. Every action Flint takes to demean you raises his status among my people. Hurting you gives him power.”
Strongheart pulls the small pot from the fire, and the fragrance of soap fills the air. “I want you to tell me more, much more, but for now, I imagine you are feeling dirty.”
After what I’ve been through, I feel filthy … .
He squeezes out a cloth and uses it to wash my arm.
I let myself float in the sensations.
When he reaches my face, his touch becomes feather-light. He washes my forehead and around my eyes like a mother cleaning a
frightened child. The cloth moves over my mouth and throat, then slips lower, cleaning my chest above my dress.
frightened child. The cloth moves over my mouth and throat, then slips lower, cleaning my chest above my dress.
Just when I think he will slip the cloth into my dress to wash my breasts, he stops and patiently unlaces my sandals. He washes my feet. The cloth moves up my calves, and I long to lie back and fall asleep while he works.
Strongheart moved against her in a slow, leisurely rhythm, and her entire body flamed. She began moving with him. She couldn’t think of anything but Strongheart now.
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