Flight of the Crow (The Southeast Series Book 2) Page 2

  She smiled at him as if admiring him, and then went away.

  Calling Crow noticed Black Snake’s crossed eyes harden and knew the woman meant something to him.

  A commotion began as the village leaders entered the council house. Calling Crow could not see them over the crowd of people. Someone roughly pushed him inside. The hut had woven cane walls, smoothed over with a mud plaster. Light streamed down from the fire hole in the peaked center of the roof.

  In the center of the great hut, the village’s sacred fire burned in a pit, wood stacked next to it. Against the far wall, five old men sat upon bear skins spread out upon platforms raised up off the dirt floor. One of them was an ancient medicine man, wearing a mantle of green feathers. Even from a distance Calling Crow could see that his eyes were as black and deep as the night sky of the new moon. The man looked at Calling Crow, but his face registered nothing. Calling Crow knew he was blind. The cacique sat in the center. A thick, bright shaft of sunlight streamed down from the fire hole in the roof, illuminating him vividly. The cacique was old, but strong-looking, and wore a blue-painted doe skin wrapped around his head, out of which spilled his long, thin white hair. A mantle of white feathers covered his broad, bony shoulders. His eyes bored into Calling Crow’s, trying to see what was in his heart.

  Calling Crow bowed slightly to the cacique out of respect. Behind the cacique a life-sized panther was painted on a skin hung on the wall and Calling Crow decided that it must be the tribe’s sacred animal. Lances, bows and ceremonial masks hung from the walls. Next to the old men, a bitch dog eyed Calling Crow warily while it nursed its pups.

  Another, younger medicine man, wearing a mantle of green feathers, entered the hut and knelt at the cacique’s feet. Calling Crow noted the man’s dark, snoutish face and extreme hirsutism. Thick black hair, like the moss on a rock, covered the man’s back, shoulders, and arms, all the way to his knuckles. His head hair was pulled back into the distinctive topknot.

  The medicine man extended a calabash of burning sweetgrass toward the cacique, blowing the aromatic smoke toward him. Calling Crow looked around at the men sitting in groups according to their clans. Despite the great number of huts he had seen when they brought him here, there did not seem to be many people. He thought that perhaps most of their men were off fighting a war.

  The cacique spoke. “What people are you?”

  “Muskogee. I am Calling Crow of the Turtle People.”

  The old cacique’s eyes were hard as stones. “Why are you sneaking around our lands, spying on us?”

  Calling Crow kept his face proud as he met the cacique’s eyes. “I am moving south. I am looking for my woman who was stolen from me.”

  “Atina, he is lying. He is probably a spy for the white people, like the others were.”

  Calling Crow turned. It was the big, muscled bravo who had cut him with his lance.

  The cacique who was called Atina looked calmly at the bravo. “That is enough, Kills Bear. You have not been asked to speak.”

  Calling Crow saw the bravo’s face harden. He looked around at the others. Some flinched in fear, others glared at him with hate. What was wrong with these people, Calling Crow wondered.

  “Stranger,” said Atina.

  “I am Calling Crow.”

  “Do you know the white people Kills Bear spoke of?” said Atina.

  “Of course,” said Calling Crow. “My woman and I were slaves of the white people who call themselves ‘Spanish.’ We managed to escape from their island, but then they took my woman away.”

  Atina nodded. “Not long ago there were strangers who came to our village. They were people who looked like you and I. They said they were fleeing from white people. None of us had ever seen or heard of white people, but we let the strangers stay with us anyway. Then almost all of our people got sick, and many of them died.”

  Now Calling Crow understood their fear and anger. The same thing had happened to his own people when he had returned to them.

  Atina indicated the hairy medicine man to his left. “This medicine man, Running Wolf, says that these people cast a spell on us and that maybe you were sent by the white people to do the same thing.”

  As he listened to the cacique’s words, Calling Crow wondered if these people would get sick now that he had come here. He hoped not. He had not wanted to come here. He raised his hand to speak and the cacique nodded.

  “After the Spanish took my woman away, I went back to my village. The people there got sick too, and many died, but it was not my doing.”

  The people in the hut began murmuring nervously. Atina raised his hand to quiet them.

  Calling Crow went on. “Perhaps one of our enemies cast a spell on us too, but it was not me. As I have already told you, I am on my way south to find my woman. That is all. If you think my presence here a danger to you, let me be on my way. I mean you no harm.”

  Atina’s eyes were unmoving. “We shall have to decide whether or not that is so.” He looked at cross-eyed Black Snake.

  “Black Snake. You found him, so you shall speak first. What should we do with him?”

  Black Snake bowed slightly. “Cacique, it was my cousin Kills Bear who tracked and found him. He should speak.”

  Kills Bear’s muscled bulk rose like a mountain from the throng of bravos. He looked around the hut, including everyone in his words. “We have suffered much these past few seasons because of strangers.”

  “Yes,” said a man in a sad voice.

  “It is so,” said another.

  Kills Bear continued. “As Atina has already said, strangers came to us and cast spells on us. As you all know, my mother was the first to die of the fever. Then many others died. This time we must not let that happen. We must kill him.”

  The people shuffled nervously at Kills Bear’s suggestion. Muffled conversations filled the hut as different groups talked quietly among themselves. A tall bravo with a deep scar in his cheek raised his hand. “Kills Bear speaks true. I too, say we should kill him.”

  The ancient medicine man sitting at Atina’s left raised his hand. The movement was so slight as to be almost imperceptible, but Atina was immediately aware of it. He addressed him with respect. “Speak, Sees Far. What do you say?”

  The almost-polished skin of Sees Far’s head shone through his wispy white hair in places. Calling Crow thought it odd that the man did not get to his feet to speak.

  “Let us not act too quickly,” said Sees Far in a voice that was strong for one as old as he. “It has been a long time since anybody died of the fever and this man does not sound evil to me. He sounds like a brother.”

  One of the young bravos scoffed.

  Sees Far ignored him as he waved his hand to include everyone in his speech. “I cannot see this man, but we should give all the other old men a chance to look into his eyes and see what is in his heart. Then, if it is felt that he is good, and a brother, let him go on his way, or, he can become one of us and live here in Aguacay. However, if the old men feel that he is bad, then we should kill him.”

  Atina nodded. “We shall do as Sees Far says.”

  The old men rose one at a time to stand before Calling Crow and look into his eyes. A commotion followed as people argued. Those who favored letting Calling Crow live seemed to be in the majority and the argument gained ground. Atina looked at Kills Bear. “It seems that most of them are against killing him.”

  Kills Bear glared at the people. “Very well. However, he has willfully invaded our territory, ignoring our signs and taking our game. I demand a contest to prove his innocence or guilt!”

  “That is your right,” said Atina. “What do you propose?”

  “He shall fight one of us at the river.”

  Grim silence gripped the people and Calling Crow wondered why.

  Atina looked at Calling Crow. “What do you say to that?”

  Calling Crow grew angry. “I say that you have already lost many men, either to sickness or to war. Must another die just so I c
an prove my innocence?”

  Kills Bear struck Calling Crow from behind, knocking him to his knees. “Hah! I will fight you over the river and it is you who will die.”

  Atina’s face was set. “That is enough, Kills Bear.” Atina stood and addressed the men. “Choose one of our honorable women to feed him and then he shall fight.”

  The people filed out of the hut in silence.

  Calling Crow was taken outside and pushed into another, empty hut. After a short space of time a woman entered carrying a wooden bowl full of food. It was the same woman who had given him water. Without a word, she put the food down before him. Her face glowed with health and her well-proportioned body was evident under her woven skirt and doe skin top.

  “What clan are you?” she said.

  “I am of the Turtle Clan.”

  She smiled. “I am of the Bird Clan.”

  Calling Crow nodded, but said nothing. He knew she was interested in him. She made no secret of that. As the woman left, he looked up at her. She walked with a proud, strong bearing.

  Chapter 2

  Not long after Calling Crow finished eating, several bravos entered the hut. They yanked him to his feet and tied his arms behind him. Calling Crow worried that they might take his medicine pouch. He was still weak and he would need the help of his spirit guide. They left it hanging from his belt however, and he said a prayer of thanks.

  Half dragging, half pushing him, the bravos shouted and laughed as they ran through the forest. Calling Crow’s belly ached from the food he had just eaten and his head seemed filled with fire. Finally the column came out into a clearing through which a broad shallow stream made a wide, sweeping turn. They stopped. Calling Crow could barely keep his feet.

  They cut Calling Crow’s hands free and two bravos stood on either side of him. Pulling him roughly, they led him along a muddy path that, for some strange reason, came to an end in front of a huge tree. The tree was as old as Mother Earth herself, and extended many broad branches out like hairs from a giant’s head. Calling Crow saw that it was possible to cross the stream on some of the fatter, longer limbs, dropping down when one got to the other side.

  Calling Crow studied the stream. The water appeared to be as high as two men standing atop one another in the deeper pools. Everywhere else it was so shallow that tree trunks had floated round the bend had become stuck there. As Calling Crow stared at the clog of trees, he watched one glide away-- against the current! He realized with a start that they were not tree trunks at all, but alligators. They crowded together and in some places lay atop one another.

  Calling Crow’s guards shouted and joked as they discerned his sudden realization. They laughed as they told him that the alligators were very hungry and knew that they would soon eat.

  A shouting came from behind. Calling Crow saw the big bravo named Kills Bear approaching with Black Snake. The crowd grew quiet. The gentle sigh of the slowly running river filled the air. From high in the tree, a solitary bird cried out shrilly.

  Kills Bear spoke with an authoritative tone to the bravos as he looked at Calling Crow. “I shall show you how to treat those who knowingly invade our territory.”

  The bravo called Black Snake turned to Calling Crow. “A bravo will put a club up in the middle of the tree. Whoever reaches it first can kill the other. Do you have any questions?”

  Calling Crow frowned. “Yes. Can we begin now?”

  Several bravos laughed at Calling Crow’s bravado.

  Kills Bear made a move toward Calling Crow, but Black Snake pushed him back. Black Snake turned to the bravos and yelled out a war cry. The bravos cheered, jabbing their lances at the sky. They grabbed Calling Crow by the arms and hurried him toward the tree. A young boy climbed up the folds of bark, a war club clenched in his jaws. Reaching one of the broader limbs, he slid his feet along, using another nearby limb to steady himself. He went out to the center of the stream and hung the war club from a limb by a curving hook carved into the club’s handle. He returned in the same, quick, sliding fashion.

  Calling Crow looked over at Kills Bear and the man put on a brave face. The bravos surrounding Calling Crow shouted encouragement to Kills Bear as they anticipated the spectacle.

  Kills Bear disappeared around the broad trunk of the tree. The bravo behind Calling Crow gave him a push and he began climbing into his tree. Two bravos scrambled up behind him, poking him in the back with their lances, forcing him higher.

  Calling Crow saw Kills Bear’s huge form already starting out along the limb toward the club. Calling Crow started out on another limb. He was surprised at how quick he could move and his confidence grew as he watched Kills Bear’s slow, cautious movements. A stiff breeze moved Calling Crow’s hair as he neared the middle of the stream. He hungrily eyed the club. He was no more than the height of two men away when the limb he was on jerked sideways, throwing him. He barely managed to grab hold of another limb and bounced jerkily, hanging by one arm as the river moved below. Kills Bear bellowed out a laugh and the limbs and branches of the tree jerked as he inched toward the club. Calling Crow grew angry, realizing that the big man must have fought many times on this tree and knew well what he was doing. Calling Crow prayed to his spirit guide. He must prevail. He had a mission. He must resume his search for Juana and the child.

  Using his weight to move the springy limb up and down, Calling Crow wrapped his legs around the limb and pulled himself back up. Kills Bear’s harsh laugh echoed across the void.

  Calling Crow regained his footing on the limb as Kills Bear’s hand closed around the club. Calling Crow’s heart darkened. The big man moved very fast.

  Kills Bear advanced. Soon he was within range. He swung the club, whipping the air as Calling Crow jumped back out of reach. Calling Crow used his own weight to move the limb up and down, but it did not slow the other man. Aieyee! This could not be his destiny. Not after all he had overcome!

  Calling Crow backed up. Kills Bear smiled as Calling Crow leaped to another nearby limb. The action threw Kills Bear off balance for a moment, but he quickly recovered. Swinging the club back and forth, Kills Bear edged closer.

  Calling Crow kicked at the other limb, moving it about wildly.

  Kills Bear laughed as he kept his footing like a dancer. “Why do you delay so, fool. You know I shall kill you. Accept your fate.” He swung the club in a wide arc.

  Calling Crow ducked out of the way and lost his footing. In the next instant, the club clipped his shoulder. Dizzying pain flooded through Calling Crow as he prayed to die brave. He looked up. Kills Bear was silhouetted against the sun, his club raised for another blow.

  Something dark flitted down toward them. A leaf? It came from the very top of the great tree, twisting and turning, falling, racing. Calling Crow couldn’t hide his surprise.

  Kills Bear paused. “Oh?” he said loudly so that those below could hear, “you see something, eh? And you want me to turn around!” His laugh boomed out.

  Calling Crow watched in amazement as the leaf came nearer and became a small black bird. It flit about Kills Bear’s head, raking his hair with its claws. Kills Bear turned in shock and Calling Crow kicked hard at the big man’s legs. Calling Crow lost his footing and fell, managing to wrap his good arm around a stout limb which swayed and bounced wildly. He looked up for the blow that he knew would come, only to see Kills Bear drop the club. His chin caught on a limb as he fell, snapping his head back.

  Kills Bear hurtled down and splashed in the stream. The long dark shapes began moving. Tails undulating, they swam toward the source of the sound. Kills Bear surfaced and swam feebly for the shore as three ominous dark shadows approached him. Kills Bear screamed as the alligators tore at his limbs and flesh. A red stain drifted down river.

  Calling Crow closed his eyes. He heard the people shouting up at him in anger. With his smashed shoulder, he knew he could not climb back up. And he could not hang on much longer. His head throbbed and his vision blurred.

  He felt vibrations thro
ugh the limb and raised his head. Two bravos were climbing the tree. He knew they meant to kill him. Down below, most of the elders who had argued against killing him had already left. He looked down at the water. The alligators had moved downstream as they fought over Kills Bear. Calling Crow grew faint. The tree limb dipped and swayed. One of the bravos was very close, his club in his hand. Dizziness washed through Calling Crow and he felt the tree limb slip from his hand.

  He was falling. A great wind washed over him as a chorus of voices chanted the death song. He crashed into the water world and sank, tumbling end over end. Soft green light filled his eyes and he could hear muted thrashing sounds far away. His feet gently touched bottom and he instinctively kicked for the surface. Above him, a long dark shape glided by. He broke the surface and a cacophony of noise and air assaulted him as the current carried him down river.

  Calling Crow was aware of faces on the bank as he floated in the warm water. An old man pointed at him excitedly and something slammed hard into him and his body vibrated with a crushing pain. Calling Crow turned his head weakly and saw that he was in the jaws of a large alligator. The animal evidently thought him dead. Its jaws were clamped about him to carry him away, not to crush him.

  They began moving rapidly through the water. Gulping air, Calling Crow barely managed to keep his head above water as the faces on the riverbank blurred. One of alligator’s raised eyes was blind, the socket crusted over with scabs; the other eye regarded Calling Crow possessively. The eye narrowed and the beast started to submerge. Calling Crow drew as much air as he could into his lungs. Soft green light and quiet enveloped him as they entered the water world, going back down to where Calling Crow’s father had met his death. Weeds leaned with the sluggish current; round moss-covered rocks lay here and there on the bottom. The alligator bore Calling Crow along as his life’s breath leaked out in a flow of bubbles. A school of fish scattered into a clump of weeds at their approach. Calling Crow’s heart pounded as he slowly lost consciousness. Something slammed hard into the alligator and Calling Crow found himself free of the powerful jaws and drifting with the current. In the dim, green light he saw two great shapes and realized that the alligators were fighting over him. He struggled to the surface. Sound burst upon him. Air! He gasped for breath as pain almost knocked him out again. He looked at the bank and saw no people. Not far behind him the water churned as the alligators fought. With his good arm, Calling Crow swam weakly for the bank.