People of the Earth (84 page)

 
          
 
Brave Man stood on the high ridge and looked
out over the vast
Wind
Basin
where it spread to the south. A thunderhead
rose in billowy mounds against the dome of sky to the east.

 
          
 
Before him, the flank of the mountain dropped
off to grassy foothills spotted with stands of sagebrush that fanned out into
the parched lowlands. Out there he could see herds of buffalo, antelope, and a
band of cow elk. Farther away, to the south, he could make out the sharp edges
of badlands and the folded curves of the basin, where drainages ran in patterns
like roots.

 
          
 
"Soul Flier?"

 
          
 
Brave Man turned. Fat Elk stood among the
tumbled boulders beneath the point, a hand shielding his face from the sun. His
tracks could be made out where he'd bruised the thick grass in the meadow
beyond. Yarrow and balsam spotted the green with dots of white and blazes of
yellow.

 
          
 
Brave Man eased down from the rocky point,
taking special care with his bad leg. The pain had subsided as the bone
strengthened. If only he could do something about the headaches. Sometimes they
throbbed until his vision doubled.

 
          
 
The way of Trade is that something must be
given in return for something else. To receive Power, I must give pain.

 
          
 
He scooted his way over a slanting slab of
rock and found better footing on the loose slope below. Fat Elk's face puffed
with cautious excitement.

 
          
 
"Find anything?" Brave Man asked as
he walked stiff-legged through the thick grass of the ridge top toward the
dense spruce and fir beyond.

 
          
 
"Plenty," Fat Elk told him, a veiled
look in his half-lidded eyes. "You were wise to send us out. But the news
you expect isn't what I have come to tell you."

 
          
 
Brave Man entered the dark green belt of rich-limbed
fir trees. 44 I expected the Black Point to be moving into the country the
White Clay tried to occupy."

 
          
 
"Not the Black Point—the Hollow
Flute."

 
          
 
Brave Man stopped and studied Fat Elk in the
cool shadows. The delicate odor of lush needles lingered in the air.
"Hollow Flute? In the Fat Beaver valley?"

 
          
 
"Yes," Fat Elk told him. "And
the Snow Bird are hunting in the lands occupied by the Black Point last winter,
while the Wasp . . . well, I found a camp of theirs on the very ground where we
wintered."

 
          
 
Brave Man scowled at the brown needles under
his feet and fingered the curious stones on the necklace he'd stolen from the
one-armed man. A gray-and-black nutcracker fluttered its wings and gave a
hoarse, squawking cry as it bounced from limb to limb above. "Then where
are the Black Point?"

 
          
 
Fat Elk lifted his hands helplessly. "I
can't tell you. But know this, Soul Flier. Almost all of the clans have wounded
among them. There's been fighting—a lot of it."

 
          
 
"The Black Point were strong—but if all
the clans moved south? Have they gone the way of the White Clay?"

 
          
 
Fat Elk sucked at his lip nervously. "I
have more news, Soul Flier. The Wasp clans have sent scouting parties into the
northern part of these mountains. What do we do? Take the people north and
drive off the Wasp who invade our land?"

 
          
 
Brave Man tilted his head, thoughts racing.
"No, my friend. Let them have this pile of rock. I have a better place for
us to warm our darts in blood than among the Wasp. And perhaps your manhood
needs warming, too, eh?" Brave Man gestured over his shoulder. "In
the south, the Earth People are waiting for us."

 
          
 
Fat Elk frowned. "These aren't bad
mountains to live in, Soul Flier."

 
          
 
"No, they're not, but glory lies to the
south. Which would you rather have? Honor, and more women than you could ever
bed? Or an endless war with the Wasp?"

 
          
 
"What have you Dreamed?"

 
          
 
Brave Man threw back his head and laughed.
"I've Dreamed of your family becoming so large you spend more time hunting
to feed all the children you planted than you do coupling. South, my friend.
South."

 
          
 
Fat Elk rubbed the back of his neck, a
sheepish expression on his face. "I'll look forward to the challenge, Soul
Flier."

 
          
 
Brave Man led the way down the narrow, winding
elk trail. Thick green walls of spruce and fir shaded the path, the branches
interwoven overhead. He stepped out of the trees into a grassy clearing. Here,
they'd set up the main camp. Tan lodges stood around the belt of timber and
beside a clear stream that cut through the meadow. The dogs barked at him and,
after checking his scent, returned to the shade to lie down.

 
          
 
“Fat Elk?''

 
          
 
“Yes, Soul
Flierf
"

 
          
 
"The Snow Bird—did they seem as
interested in the south, too?"

 
          
 
Fat Elk shifted nervously. "Yes, I'd say
they were moving south. I don't understand it. They should be up north of the
Dangerous
River
—and now they're hounding our heels again. I
don't think all the wounded warriors I saw had been hurt by the Hollow
Flute."

 
          
 
Brave Man clapped him on the back.
"You've done a good job, my friend. Go, take your deserved rest—and good
luck planting the first of those children."

 
          
 
Fat Elk grinned and nodded, trotting off
toward his lodge.

 
          
 
Hollow Flute south of the Fat Beaver? But
where are the Black Point?

 
          
 
South, the voices whispered.

 
          
 
South ? Impossible!

 
          
 
Nevertheless, unease nibbled at Brave Man as
he walked to his lodge and settled himself in the sun to think. What if he had
to race the Black Point to the Earth People's land?

 
          
 
He started to lean on one elbow, but something
in his belt pouch poked his hip painfully. He squirmed around and pulled out
the black stone wolf.

 
          
 
He drew his arm back to pitch it, but decided
against it. Instead, he held it up to the light, admiring once more the skill
that had gone into the fashioning. The heavy effigy gleamed in his fingers, the
luster so deep the carving seemed translucent, as if he stared into an endless
darkness.

 
          
 
Against his better judgment, he dropped it
back into his pouch again and leaned the other way. Across the camp, voices
rose in greeting. Friends welcoming Fat Elk home, no doubt.

 
          
 
He studied the tops of the firs. They rose
like dart points against the sky. A playful breeze rustled the grass.

           
 
He was so close to finding the way to the
golden haze and the Power it represented. Night after night while Pale Raven
slept, he sat by the fire and traced the pathway he'd been developing in his
soul. That had to be the key. To find the way, he must look inward. Each time
he came closer, feeling the fuzzy gray haze. His soul heard the soundless call
of the Power. He knew he could find the way. That wondrous golden Power could
be his. With it, he, Brave Man, could control even the Wolf Bundle—and the
other source of Power he'd experienced and been rebuffed by. Some evil Spirit
had thrown him out of the golden haze that day south of the Fat Beaver River.
He'd heard the voice.

 
          
 
"And I will face you again someday,"
he said out loud. "When I do, I promise I will dominate you. No one is
stronger than Brave Man. I survived the Camp of the Dead, not just in my soul
like most Soul Fliers, but in my body, I have the voices of the Spirits
whispering in my mind. The Wolf People's Bundle couldn't destroy me. I will
Dream the new way."

 
          
 
In the distance, thunder rolled hollowly.

 
          
 
If only worldly problems didn't keep intruding
on him.

 
          
 
He'd hoped to leave here just after the first
snow. By then, more meat would be dried and ready for the journey. But now? If
the Hollow Flute were pushing the Black Point south?

 
          
 
Pale Raven appeared, leaning around the curve
of the lodge. "I found him," she called over her shoulder to someone.
To Brave Man, she added, "There's news."

 
          
 
He placed his hand on hers as she knelt beside
him. "I know, Fat Elk has already told me."

 
          
 
"Fat Elk?" A brief confusion traced
her proud face.

 
          
 
Long Bone rounded the corner of the lodge,
looking uneasy. The young warrior's dusty hunting shirt was scratched here and
there, grease-stained and water-marked. His high moccasins looked scuffed. The
bones tattooed into his cheeks wrinkled as the warrior smiled shyly.

 
          
 
"And you are back, too!" Brave Man
greeted. "Come, sit. Wife, bring us something to eat. Long Bone looks worn
out."

           
 
Pale Raven ducked into the lodge while Long
Bone sank to the grass to sit cross-legged.

 
          
 
Brave Man studied him, noting the fatigue in
the man's eyes. "What news? Did you find the Earth People? Do they look
wary? Alarmed by our presence?"

 
          
 
Long Bone rubbed at his thin face. “No, Soul
Flier. I don't think we need to worry about the Earth People. They'll be no
trouble to us at all."

 
          
 
“Oh?" Brave Man raised his eyes as Pale
Raven set a horn bowl before Long Bone.

 
          
 
The warrior picked up the carved horn, crafted
from the boss of a mountain sheep, slurping loudly as he drained the contents.
He fished around with his fingers for the last pieces of meat and wild onion
before handing the empty bowl back to Pale Raven. “I went south into the
Wind
Basin
as you asked me to, Soul Flier. I felt
proud that you had entrusted me with the task. I used every skill and bit of
cunning I possessed. No one saw Long Bone as he slipped through the sagebrush.
I crisscrossed the land below these mountains and found warriors, all right.
The basin down there is bristling with them."

 
          
 
“And do they look like we can beat them? Are
these Earth People as weak as I Dreamed?"

 
          
 
“Soul Flier ... the Black Point have already
taken the basin from the Earth People."

 
          
 
“Black Point?"

 
          
 
“Yes, Soul Flier. They're everywhere, moving
south."