Authors: Kathleen O'Neal Gear
It Dreams in Me (20 page)
STRONGHEART KNELT ON THE SHORE OF SASSAFRAS LAKE, tossing pebbles into the dark, moonlit water. Dawn was still a full hand of time away, but anxiety knotted his belly.
Sora hadn’t awakened all night. She lay curled on her side in the lodge, lifeless. He’d felt her throat, searching for a heartbeat, but found none. He’d placed his ear to her chest to see if her lungs moved. Nothing.
“Oh, Sora, forgive me. I just wanted you to walk through the doorway. I never thought it would close behind you.”
He felt as though wet strips of rawhide were drying around his heart, squeezing the life from it. He picked up a pebble and gripped it in a tight fist.
He had sent many people on journeys to the Land of the Dead. All had returned. Had he done something wrong? Perhaps he’d used too many thorn apple seeds in the tea?
“Perhaps the ghosts in the Land of the Dead wouldn’t let her come home,” he whispered to himself, and squinted in pain at
the water. As the wind blew, moonlight glimmered from the surface.
the water. As the wind blew, moonlight glimmered from the surface.
Grief and guilt combined into a searing brew in his belly, making him sick to his stomach. “How could I have been so careless? If I’ve hurt her …”
He tossed the pebble out into the water and heard it splash. A sleeping goose honked in surprise.
He watched silently as the goose paddled closer. She murmured to him and tilted her head first to the left, then to the right, as though asking him a question he was too obtuse to understand.
“I don’t understand, my sister. I wish I did.”
The goose peered over his shoulder, at the lodge, then turned and paddled away, heading out into the middle of the lake, where three other geese slept, bobbing gently on the water.
Strongheart frowned, and turned toward the lodge. The soft breeze tousled the thatch, and Sister Moon’s gleam shone from the freshly cut saplings, but he saw nothing unusual. He looked back out at the four geese. They appeared to be sleeping again, their bills tucked securely beneath their wings. He’d reached for another pebble when he heard a low sound coming from the lodge.
A weak voice called, “Strongheart?”
He spun around with his eyes wide. “
Sora!
”
Sora!
”
He ran and ducked beneath the door curtain into the dark lodge. The fire had burned down to red glowing eyes of coals, casting a carnelian gleam over the walls and her pale beautiful face. She lay propped on one elbow. Long black hair spilled around her naked body in a glistening wealth.
“Blessed gods,” Strongheart said, “I’m glad to see you. I was afraid I’d—”
“I found her,” she said faintly, and gazed at him so steadily he saw the flickering coals reflected in her eyes.
“Who?”
A cool lake-scented breeze blew through the lodge, fanning the coals to a crimson hue. Sparks crackled up and lazily spiraled toward the smokehole.
“Who did you find, Sora?”
She blinked and slowly, as though with difficulty, said, “My reflection-soul. I found her in the forest. My mother was with her.”
“Did she speak with you?”
“Yes, she …” The word faded to nothingness, and her dark eyes fixed on the doorway, seeing something not in this world. “She told me the pitiful cries never stopped. She had to leave. She was going insane.”
“I understand.”
As though she hadn’t heard, she continued, “Every time she comes home, they start again. She can’t stand it.”
He cocked his head. Her eyes had gone vacant, as though her shadow-soul was, even now, walking in the Land of the Dead, seeing the faces of long-lost ancestors.
“Did you speak with your mother?”
She nodded. “Mother has been caring for my reflection-soul for many winters. Every time my reflection-soul flees to the Land of the Dead, Mother finds her and comforts her.”
“That’s probably why you’re still alive. Your mother keeps talking her into returning to this world. Most people in your circumstances would have died—”
“I told her I didn’t kill Father,” she choked out, and tears filled her eyes. “But she already knew.”
He reached out and smoothed a hand over her silken hair. “Yes, at death, all things are made clear. What else did you tell her?”
“I told her I was sorry I hadn’t caught her the day she fell.” She wiped the tears from her cheeks with one hand.
“Did she forgive you?”
“She told me that she’d never blamed me for her death. She …” Emotion welled in her voice, cutting off her breath. She swallowed and continued, “I asked her about the cries.”
A mosquito flew through the gap in the door curtain and buzzed around her head, catching her eye. She watched it for a time before saying, “Mother told me to stop being foolish, that every night I knew where the cries were coming from, and every morning I refused to remember it.”
Strongheart sank to the floor as though the wind had been knocked out of him. A hollow pounding began in his chest and spread through his body. “Did you understand what she meant?”
The answer had been there all along, right in front of her eyes. He wondered if she could see it now.
Tears welled in her eyes and drained down her cheeks. “Yes. I know who the ghost person is.”
Strongheart touched her hand and said, “Sleep now. I know how exhausting a Spirit journey can be. Sleep, Sora.”
IN THE CERULEAN GLEAM JUST AFTER DUSK, SORA WOKE to find Strongheart lying beside her with his head propped on his hand, watching her. His short black hair had fallen forward, fringing his forehead.
“A pleasant evening to you,” he said. His eyes shone with a strange warm light.
Wind flapped the door curtain, revealing glimpses of Sassafras Lake, and the mist that lay in gossamer clouds around the trunks of the trees. She pulled the blanket up around her throat. “It’s chilly.”
“Yes, rain fell most of the day.”
“You were up all night and all day?”
He smiled. “I needed time to think.”
She noticed that Flint’s war club leaned against the wall beside the door and his stiletto rested on the floor above Strongheart’s head. Sometime during the day Strongheart had untied them from their belt and left them in strategic locations, just in case he needed to protect her.
She said, “About how to cure me?”
His dark eyes were kind as he heard the winters of buried desperation leak into her voice. “No, I was thinking about the future.”
“You mean what happens after you’ve cured me.”
Gently, he said, “Sora, you
are
cured.”
are
cured.”
“What do you mean?”
He smiled forlornly. “Tell me what you would like to do for the rest of your life?”
As the Cloud People shifted, starlight flashed on the lake, then vanished, veiling the world in gray again. “I just want to go home.”
“And take up where you left off?”
“No. I can’t do that. Long Fin is high chief of the Black Falcon Nation now. Wink has been grooming him to be chief all of his life. I won’t take it away from him.”
“But if you are not chieftess, what will you do?”
She ran a hand through her long, tangled hair. “Maybe I’ll go home, barricade my bedchamber door, and sit by the fire for a few moons. Which, of course, sounds ridiculous.”
He trailed his fingers down her arm, and she heaved a deep sigh. His touch had become the heart of her world.
“It doesn’t sound ridiculous,” he said. “There are times when I wish I were back in Forbidden Village with Juggler. Life was simpler when it was just the two of us.”
“And safer,” she said as she once again looked out the doorway. Some nagging sound out there made her uneasy. Like the distant hiss of voices … though it was probably the rain falling through the branches.
Strongheart reached up and smoothed her hair off her shoulder. His tender touch made her shiver. “You are safer now than you have been in many winters, Sora.”
“I don’t feel safe.”
“I don’t mean from the outside world. I mean from what lives inside you.”
For a time gray veils of mist blew by the doorway like twisting scarves, fluttering the curtain and filling the lodge with the scent of the lake. Strongheart stared at her, and she saw her own reflection in his dark eyes. It was a shock. Where once a beautiful woman would have looked back, now she saw a tired and ghastly pale version of herself.
“You mean you killed the Midnight Fox?”
He shook his head lightly. “No, the Fox is still there; you just don’t have to worry about him now.”
She pulled away, almost angrily, and said, “Don’t say things like that unless you plan to explain them.”
His smile faded, and she felt shaken by his gaze. He sat up and leaned over her, as though to make certain she was looking straight at him when he said, “For many winters, the Midnight Fox has kept guard over the child. It’s been his sole purpose. Last night we—”
Strongheart jerked around to stare at the door.
Then she heard them.
Steps pounded up the shore, running, and there was more than one man.
ROCKFISH LEANED FORWARD ON THE BENCH AND PROPPED his elbows on his knees. Wink sat a few hands away, staring at the leather-wrapped bundle that rested on the bench between them. Her eyes were tight, but dry. The flickering torchlight showed the exhaustion in her face. The lines across her forehead cut much deeper now than one moon ago.
Wink put a hand over the bundle, as though to touch her son. “You did well, Rockfish. The Black Falcon Nation appreciates your service.”
“It was my honor to serve.”
He grimaced at the sacred masks on the walls before asking, “What do you think of the new Water Hickory matron, Tern?”
“She’s starting out well. She seems truly dedicated to the survival of the Black Falcon Nation.” Wink smoothed her hand over the bundle. “She understands the terrible mistakes made by her former clan elders.”
Rockfish tucked a dirty strand of white hair behind his ear. He’d been running hard since the battle, trying to get back to
Blackbird Town with Long Fin’s bones. Mud spattered his tan shirt and red leggings. “Did you … ?” he started, then stopped. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to know.
Blackbird Town with Long Fin’s bones. Mud spattered his tan shirt and red leggings. “Did you … ?” he started, then stopped. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to know.
“Did I what?”
“The rumors flying down the trails are that you personally murdered the Water Hickory elders.”
“No,” she answered. “I didn’t.”
Relieved, Rockfish said, “Thank the gods, but if you didn’t do it …”
Wink patted the bundle and drew her hand back to her lap. She straightened her spine and looked at him with cold, tired eyes. “Rockfish, do you understand the Black Falcon Law of Retribution?”
He shrugged. “It seems simple enough. If I were to kill a member of your clan, you would have the right to claim my life or the life of a member of my clan.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
When she didn’t go on, his bushy white brows drew together.
Long Fin?
“Are you saying that because Water Hickory warriors killed your son, you claimed the life of someone in their clan? Matron Sea Grass?”
“No, not Sea Grass. I claimed the life of Tern’s daughter, Kite.” Wink pulled her gaze from his and stared sightlessly at the fire. “I claimed her life in advance.”
“I don’t understand.”
Through a tired exhalation she said, “You wouldn’t. You aren’t of our people.”
Rockfish thought about it. “Do you mean you … ?” He blinked as the implications came into focus. “You went to Tern before you decided to send Chief Long Fin with the war party? That you told Tern that if Water Hickory killed him, you would—”
In a strained voice, she interrupted, “Yes.”
That raised a series of disturbing questions. Wink was a master politician. Had she played out every possible outcome in her souls, and finally understood that the death of her son was the only way to keep the nation together? And she …
Rockfish asked, “Kite has seen barely fourteen winters. Why would you choose her?”
“I knew Tern would bargain for her daughter’s life. Someday soon, Tern will rule the Black Falcon Nation as the high matron, and her daughter will be high chieftess. Of course, I had to explain it to her. She has a few obstacles to overcome.”
Rockfish leaned back on the bench and blinked in amazement. “Dear gods, when that day comes the Water Hickory Clan will have more power than it ever dreamed of.”
Wink massaged her forehead. “Yes, providing Tern has a nation to rule. I told her that civil war would shatter the nation and probably be the death of Water Hickory Clan. She genuinely loves the Black Falcon Nation. She knew what she had to do.”
What she had to do … dear gods.
Rockfish softly said, “As you did.”
Wink’s eyes just tightened.
He sat unmoving for a time, then rose to his feet. “Has there been any word of my wife? Was she killed in the Eagle Flute Village massacre?”
As though it broke her heart, Wink’s voice went deathly quiet: “I heard a rumor from an unreliable source, Rockfish. Are you sure you wish to hear it? It may make things worse for you.”
“Tell me, Wink.” Despite the age difference between them, he’d genuinely loved Sora. If she was dead, he needed to know. Only then could he start healing his world. “Please.”
Wink nodded. “I heard that she was being held north of Minnow Village.”
“Held? By whom?”
Wink looked at the floor, and her brows lifted. “Two men. Priest Strongheart and Flint.”
Rockfish let his weary souls absorb that before he said, “I assume you’ve already dispatched a search party?”
“No search party, Rockfish. I believed, and still believe, that sending out a large party will only attract attention in these desperate times.”
A knot formed in his throat. She was probably right. There were too many war parties scouring the forests. A large party would almost certainly be attacked. But he had to know … .
“I thank you for telling me. Once I’ve rested, I’ll go myself.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.” He got to his feet. “Before I go find my blankets, there’s one last thing you must know.”
“Yes?”
“Before Long Fin died, he asked me to tell you he was sorry.”
She frowned in confusion. “Sorry?”
“Yes, he wanted you to know that he was sorry for being a bad chief.”
The sob caught in her throat. She closed her eyes and turned away so that Rockfish couldn’t see her face.
When her shoulders began to shake, he hesitated. In less than one half moon, Wink had lost everyone important to her: her best friend Sora, and now her only child.
Rockfish started to go to her, and Wink thrust out a hand, and said, “No, please, just go.”
His heart might have been stone as he left her chamber.
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